A Tale of Life and Death
Dark Lord Rising; Year 1 | Masquerade of Snakes
Chapter 2 | Forefather's World Pt-2
"Family. It was just a word ... could see its letters all strung together. But it was a symbol, too. And people thought they knew what it meant ... it was a thing everyone had an opinion about - that it was all you had when you didn't have anything else, that family was there, that blood was thicker than water, whatever... most of these words and ideas just seemed like good excuses for people to behave badly and get away with it. Family wasn't more reliable than marriages or friendships ... maybe less ... the blood bond was nothing. It was the people that mattered. If they covered your back, and you covered theirs, then maybe that was worth calling family."
— Paolo Bacigalupi
Page 87, Chapter 2, the Statute of Secrecy, of Hogwarts; A History
It is important that a Wizard keeps the Statute of Secrecy, the existence of the Wizarding World is a burden in which all must carry and protect. It is vital that one takes the proper precautionary measures when introducing a Muggle, a person of ordinary, plain aspects, a being not of Magic, to Magic when they show signs of Magic.
Procedures and laws dictate that when a child of a Muggles, who is either knowing or unknowing of being a Magical Descendant from either a Squib, Wizard or Witch in their bloodline, is born, and is found, they are to be treated with the utmost care when introducing the child to the Wizarding World.
Only those with express permission and training may introduce the children to the Wizarding World, training and education of the Muggle world, which generally takes two to three years of...
Page 0, Prologue of Blood, Nobility, and Aristocracy I
Pureblood; a Wizard or Witch who is able to trace their Magical Lineage back at least seven generations, with no mention of their line marrying a Muggle or Magical Creature. To be pure of blood is to be of the Founding Twelve, or of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Vassal Forty, or the Noble Luminisa which were a group of twenty. This hierarchy is known as the Pureblood Centuria. One retains their purity through the marriage of another Pureblood or a Halfblood every three generations.
To uphold one's status as Pureblooded is for them to be better, superior to those not pure of blood, to be pure of blood is to have a history to one's family that is irrefutable, that is rich, immersive, and dark yet inspiring. To be ruthless where others are weak, kind, and shrewd when others seek advantage. Most of all, to be Pureblooded, is to survive, and to survive, one must seek and take every opportunity available to them.
Life as a Pureblood is no less easier than it is for a Halfblood, whose existence is that of controversy, or a Muggle or Magical Muggle, better known as a Newblood, whose life is seen as worthless and expendable to those in power.
Those who are Purebloods are expected by their fellow Lords and Ladies to be the next leaders of their world, of their future, and of their children and selves. As such, laws that are created were made for the benefit of Purebloods, and more and more frequent and biased as the times went on. In the days of old, such rights were an honor to have, now they're a guaranteed privilege and sometimes a loophole to excuse uncouth behavior.
This is what is known as the Old Ways.
One can easily figure out who follows the Old Ways, though it is tradition for Purebloods to teach their children proper etiquette and rules of engagement. It isn't required of them to instill such teachings into their life until the age of, but it's assumed that…
Page 129, Chapter 3, Wandlore, of Advanced Magic Theory I
…it was believed, theorized, and tested in 1346 that a wands' Core directly correlates to a Wizard's personality, as well as the wood(s) said wands are made from. This was true also for the length of one's wand as well as its flexibility. For a wand is sentient. Not truly alive, but it feels and knows, given that it connects with its original wielder, its true master at a deeper level than anyone else who would wield it.
Research from 1346 and later on concluded that the woods sometimes determined a Wizard or Witches potential, and the Magic they possess as well as any uniqueness they possibly could exhibit and their preferred leaning towards the archaic arts.
Those with wands made of Yew, Elder, Cypress, or Holly wood, will learn after much digging and research that their wand is most notably, and inexplicably linked to death, rebirth, or destiny. Research had also found that those given wands with Dual Cores are often always more powerful than others, they find that their Magic is harder to control earlier in life as they simply produce too much of it, causing an overpowering of even the simplest of spells. Those who have Dual Core wands usually find that their wands atone to their power about the time before they become of age.
The length of a wand does correlate with one's future height, those who have wands that are longer ten inches or longer will usually see their wielder to grow anywhere from 5'7" to more than 6' feet, or, rounded up or down, 170 cm and 180 cm respectively, at the very least. Those with wands less than ten inches will usually see themselves at five and a half feet or shorter. Though that doesn't mean there are some exceptions to this rule.
Furthermore, it is theorized that those with a longer wand are generally more capable of handling stronger and more dangerous spells and Magics. Though those with shorter wands are more adept to casting faster and weaker spells and Magics at a higher quality.
Such knowledge as to what Wand Core would suit a person best, or what wood the wand is made of, its length, shape, or color matters not if the process it is made with is inadequate, for inadequate Wandmakers, make inadequate wands.
The combination a Wandmaker must consider in order to…
- POV HARRY -
Harry sighed as he fell on his back, bouncing on the covers of his dinky bed, it fit him, just like his Cousin Dudley's bed fit him. The book, Advanced Advanced Magical Theory I, laid tucked in his crossed legs, open for all to read, not like anyone in the house would, because everyone, the three of them anyway, including him, respected each other's space that allowed for trust.
Going home after visiting and shopping in Diagon Alley was underwhelming, to say the least, even though his trip to the Wizarding World was literally a month ago. Everything seemed bleak now, normal, plain, and Harry, he didn't know why, hated it. He didn't know why, but it felt wrong to him after knowing the wonders of the Wizarding World. And so, reading the books that he paid and bought from the Acarna Santurium as well as the ones that Julius had bought for him for school was his way of escaping the dull life he currently existed in. It was his escape every day until the beginning of his Hogwarts education on September 1st. That and actually practicing the Magics he read, simple spells like shooting fire and water from his wand, though he learned the former first and set his entire bed on fire. Almost, thank goodness, his Aunt rushed up and put it out, admonishing him harshly for doing something so reckless, rash, and stupid.
After his fire fiasco, Harry took to learning some basic precautionary spells like Aquamenti and some simple protective spells to keep himself reasonably safe when practicing.
Julius had informed him that he was able to do so, even though it was illegal because House Potter, with its influence, would deal with any of the fees and legal trouble he may incur, playing with Magic. He casually revealed this as he didn't think or believe that Harry would ever be capable or even come close to achieving anything Magically special or significant like his twin, Charles, had already.
Oh, how wrong he was, oblivious to the fact that Harry found himself quite adept at Magic, more like Magic was adept with him, and he found that it came to him naturally. Harry couldn't wait for Hogwarts, to be able to freely practice Magic without being paranoid of someone seeing it was going to be so much better since he wouldn't have to limit himself. That was going to be a treat.
He began to wonder what Hogwarts was like, fortunately, he wouldn't have to wonder for much longer as his First Year was to start in less than a week. He was extremely excited to the point where he was losing sleep over it. Studying all his books was the only way to curb his excitement, either from reading about a legendary figure like Merlin to learning about the history of the Noble Centuria. Harry committed all the history books he purchased to memory, something that came quite easy for him to do with his near photographic memory, a curse and blessing.
Though, he didn't particularly enjoy learning of his own Noble House and their history. Which, after committing it to memory, made him think less of his family and ancestors, especially his grandfather, Fleamont Potter, The Butcher of Sicily. Dwelling on the possibilities of his birth family and what they could be like, brought dark thoughts to his mind.
Harry's opinion of them worsened the more he contemplated his predicament. They never cared, they never visited, nor even sent a card, and yet they had the indecency and audacity to send their butler to reveal their very real existence. They may have been related by blood, but that mattered little as they showed that blood meant nothing since they were willing to abandon him as a child.
Selfish was the only impression Harry knew of his parents. After all, what kind of supposedly dead parents reveal the fact that they are alive just a day after the said abandoned child's birthday?
Now the Dursleys, they were his family. They had raised him like their own, nurtured him into a humble young man, taught him to be fair, to be kind, to be selfless, and encouraged him to be smart in whatever way he could. And so Harry repaid his Aunt, his late Uncle, and his Cousin back their generosity. Harry had gone to Gringotts one last time before leaving Diagon Alley with all his intended things, his school supplies and personal study books along with his very own snake Familiar, a Boa constrictor. It was a curious thing that seemed to have taken an immediate liking to Harry when he entered Scamander's Menagerie to look for a pet, he named her Seline. He also purchased a white owl he later named, Hedwig. Besides that, Harry had also, by complete accident, found a shop that could fix his eyesight for a small fee,one that was well spent. To him, the world looked much more clear and beautiful without the need for glasses.
His business with Gringotts was done for the benefit of his Aunt and Cousin. Harry figured that since his family was apparently going to have him live with them from now on, he would no longer be seeing his relatives. So he set up a quick discussion with House Potter's Solicitor, one that was polite enough in his mind. After a quick but honest discussion, Harry had set up a recurring transfer and conversion of a hundred and fifty Galleons to British Pounds of his already high bank balance to his Aunt's banking account. Harry had stipulated to House Potter's Solicitor that the transfer they had agreed on was to happen weekly, and that he'd pay the bank five Galleons every two weeks to carry said transactions out without any 'unforeseen interference or problems' as the Goblin put it. The Goblins were more than happy to oblige their customer. And so Harry had set his Aunt up for retirement after years of watching her work long, tiring hours, day in and day out.
His actions, though noble, weren't seen in an as accepting light as his Aunt Petunia had vehemently refused the money, having told him that she cared for him because she wanted to, not because of some promise of potential money. Unwilling to accept his Aunt having to work for a good reminder of her years, he'd argued, and argued, and argued until she finally agreed on the condition that the allowance be used to provide his Cousin an easier life. Harry had agreed and conceded to her condition, but to him, it wasn't enough, as he later was able to convince his Aunt for an even half-and-half for the both of them. And on August 31st, much to Harry's surprise, sadness, and disappointment, Petunia and Dudley Dursley were all packed up to leave for the Americas. Dudley was to be accepted into a private school as well, just like Harry, free of charge and everything, something about a scholarship, he and his Mother were to fly to Boston, Massachusetts for the beginning of his school year on the 12th of September.
The news saddened Harry, but he was happy for them nonetheless, though he was now going to be all alone when his Aunt and Cousin moved to the Americas. And that, that terrified him. He would no longer live in the soon-to-be empty house on 4 Privet Street he grew up in, a nice, cozy place that, once upon a time, seemingly fit all four of them in perfectly as one happy family.
His Aunt had informed him that she and Dudley were leaving the day of departure to Hogwarts, they already packed everything they owned over the short month, and they would drop him off at the station before they headed to the airport. Their dinner together was one that was bittersweet, they ate lamb with mashed potatoes, fried greens and had chocolate cake for dessert, washing it all down with glasses of milk. The three sat with each other on the couch watching a random movie airing on the telly, wanting to spend one more moment together before they went their separate ways on the morrow, each bound for a completely new life.
***ATOLAD***
Hogwarts Express was an eventful place. After passing through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters when his Aunt dropped him off in the morning, Harry was greeted by the sight of many, many families with their children all huddled up on the platform, waiting to board Hogwarts Express. It looked to him that he was among the early, as he'd found the largest box for First Years, and took it for himself. It was spacious, enough to fit, Harry had to guess, at least ten people. Not only that, but the box was practically a fishbowl with all the glass acting as a window for him to see, it was furnished with fine leather embroidery and furs, with beautiful wood lining as well. He noticed that no one was staring at him and guessed that someone must have cast some Magic of sorts to make it one way, that, or it was one-way glass protected by Magic.
Harry took the opportunity to change into his school robes, his uniform was the normal attire for Hogwarts before one was Sorted to their Hogwarts House, a white long-sleeved shirt, with a grey or black sleeveless sweater over it, black trousers with an optional short overcoat and then a thick trench coach that reached their knees for the cold weather, finishing their look with a white tie. After changing, he sat back do on one of the seats lining the window to watch all the newcomers.
There was one particular group that caught Harry's eye, a group that consisted of blonds, a lot of blonds, and a brunette that stuck out like a sore thumb. He saw that Draco Malfoy was part of the group along with Gerrod and Historia, the two he met at Ollivanders' shop. The man and woman standing behind Draco, Harry guessed, were the Lord and Lady Malfoy, he didn't know who the brunette was with them, but he assumed that she was related to them somehow, given that Lord Malfoy was smiling and talking to her quite intensely as the two were dismissing their surroundings. It was a sight that made Harry a little… jealous.
With them looked to be another family that seemed to be related to the Malfoys, though Harry noticed that they spoke more curtly to them, so perhaps not. He noticed there were two girls with who he believed to be their Mother and Father, all four of them being blondes or light hair. The two girls looked to be sisters, they stood poised and haughty, almost looking down at those before them, Pureblood, was the first thought that came to Harry's mind when he observed them. One of the girls looked blatantly older than the other, and it seemed as though to him anyway that the younger was following the older's lead. Then there was also the last blond boy, who stood alone in the group, he looked extremely reserved, and yet, Harry could see that he was observing those around him, like a predator watching its prey. Odd. Very odd.
After watching the newcomers for a little more, Harry began rummaging through his leather briefcase, it was a version of it that allowed him to strap it over his shoulders. As he rummaged, he then noticed, realized really, that Gerrod and Historia had no present parents with them, perhaps they had sent them with the Malfoys. Speaking of them, Draco had gone off to a group of families to speak to a girl and two brutishly large boys, casually striking up a conversation with them. Their conversation was brief, as Draco's Father had called to him and directed him to board the train to find seats. "Go find yourselves some seats..., behave, ….trouble." Harry made out some of it from reading lips. "You… stuck with a… box to yourself… friends."
Harry then went reading one of the books that he had packed in his light carry-on briefcase. It was Blood, Nobility, and Aristocracy II, book one was mainly on Magical Lineage, most of the writing talked about the laws and society that came to be as well as the history behind it relating to all the Noble Houses. Book one mainly focused on giving a summary of the big picture of the Noble Centuria and the complex bloodlines, while book two focused mainly on the Noble Houses themselves and their history, and their relation to one another, while explaining it all in-depth.
Blood, Nobility, and Aristocracy II was a book that Harry had read over twice, and every time he read it there was always something new he hadn't noticed before. Which was why he was reading it a third time. He always found the history of the Noble Houses to be enrapturing of his attention, something about the bloody history, the turmoil, and struggle resonated with him along with the subtle messages and lessons each page imparted onto him. He particularly liked reading about the Founding Twelve as well as Hogwarts' Founders, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff.
"Are you expecting anyone to join you?" A polite voice asked. Harry looked up from his book to see Draco holding the door to the box he was in, open. Draco squinted at Harry, his mind was churning as he realized he recognized him from somewhere. "Harry?"
"Hello Heir Malfoy." Harry said with a smile. He gave the others a courteous wave. "Not really expecting anyone, you and your friends are free to take a seat in here." He indicated to the open seats around him.
Draco and his companions all filed inside, each taking a seat in the large train box. When all were seated, a hush fell over the box, no one spoke a word. Harry, having gone back to reading his book, realized what was happening was a game of power, a game of chicken, of who will break the silence first, a test of social etiquette. While he could have ignored it and leave it to go on longer, he wanted to talk to others to pass the time.
"Shall we all introduce ourselves?" He asked aloud. Many of those present just stared at him as he continued reading. Not caring for their stares, he knew how the 'Great Game,' as it was called, was played, having read about it in Blood, Nobility, and Aristocracy I. Snapping his book shut in a loud slap of the pages, he looked up at his observers. "We all know how to play, but we're not at Hogwarts yet. So we might as well have civil conversation until then. So who would like to go first?" He asked boldly.
A pregnant pause filled the void before another voice spoke. "I guess I'll go first," Gerrod stated. "My name, for those who do not know, is Gerrod Grindelwald. Next to me is my sister, Historia. I am the Lord Heir of the fallen Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Grindelwald of the Founding Twelve. Pleased to meet you all." He bowed.
"Pleased to meet you all." Historia said, following her brother's lead, she stood to curtsied as her station demanded of her. The others murmured their welcomes, none of them seemed surprised. Harry wondered why they were staring at him.
A girl stood up next, she wore her school uniform as everyone else, had blonde hair, but that of the color of gold unlike the Grindelwald's misty white blond, a sharp face like a nearly refined daimond, and deep blue eyes. "I am Daphne Greengrass, Lady Heir of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass of the Founding Twelve. A pleasure to meet you all." She curtsied. The brunette girl sitting next to her stood to introduce herself when Daphne gave her a pointed look.
"Hi, um, uh… I'm Tracey Davis." She said nervously, she played with her hands, and fidgeted, as she spoke. "Lady Heiress of the Noble House of Davis of the Noble Luminisa. Nice to meet you." She gave a nervous curtsy and sat back down. Hands shaking in embarrassment. Tracey had hair that was light brown, her eyes were green like Harry's except they were of a darker shade, contrasting his bright green. Her face was plain, it was sharp to say but not the regal sharp that Daphne's face portrayed, a little fat on the cheeks but her face was mainly thin. For a Witch, she was at best, a little above average for beauty. She was normal in the sense of being a Witch, compared to the commonality of Wizards and Witches being the pinnacle of manly and womanly traits, of beauty and perfection. Though recent times, many have let themselves go.
Draco stood up next. "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he said as he straightened his posture, one befitting of his status. "Lord Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Pleased to meet you all." He gave a curt nod before seating himself.
The brunette, the one who was sitting to the right of Draco, stood with a kind smile. "Hello, it is nice to meet you all, my name is Hermione Granger-Malfoy, sister to Draco, Lady Scion and Ward of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy of the Sacred Twenty-Eight." Hermione looked nothing like Draco, she brown eyes with slightly unruly brown curly hair. A gentle face, near pale skin, with a less angled, oval face. "Pleased to meet you all." She curtsied like Daphne.
"I'm Nermaius Lovegood," a boy with white hair said as he slowly stood, his hair was the same shade as Gerrod's. His hair was messy like Harry's, only messily parted back. White-eyed with a pointed chin and face, it was narrow, though not too narrow to the point it'd look unnatural, his thin face gave him a grim and sharp-angled look. He also had a mildly pointed nose as well. "Lord Heir of the once-great Noble and Ancient House of Lovegood of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It is nice to meet you all." He gave a quick, short bow before seating himself again.
"My name is Pansy Parkinson," the brunette sitting to the left of Draco said cheerfully. She was brown-eyed and tan-skinned. Her face was porcelain-like, symmetrical in every way, exotic if one could say. Hopping up, she continued her introduction. "Heiress Apparent of the Most Ancient House of Parkinson, of the Vassal Forty. An honor to meet you, my Lords and Ladies." She gave a curtsy before seating herself. Out of all of them, Harry thought that Pansy acted the most ladylike, well, by the book standard at least, he had no idea or clue what she was really like.
One of the two brutishly large boys stood. "Vincent Crabbe of the Ancient House of Crabbe of the Vassal Forty." The boy muttered out quickly, he clearly did not like being in the spotlight.
"I'm Greg Goyle of the Ancient House of Goyle," the other boy said, immediately standing. From what Harry could tell, Draco, Hermione, and Pansy were trying their best not to laugh out loud. "Um, nice to meet you all." He clumsily bowed.
If one had told Harry that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were brothers, he would have believed them, as they both looked damn near identical. Both stood at an abnormal height, were of massive physiques for a child of their age, both had shaved heads and fat faces as well. They most certainly were not the brightest in the room, from what Harry could tell, compared to the others anyway.
Draco choked his laugh in by coughing loudly. "Crabbe and Goyle are of the Vassal Forty." He revealed to those who didn't know. Which everyone had already knew, Draco only said it for Harry's sake. After Crabbe and Goyle's slightly embarrassing introduction, everyone was now looking at Harry who had been quietly waiting and listening.
The seating arrangement from left to right started with Crabbe, then Goyle, Pansy, Draco, followed by Hermione on her brother's right, seated in the middle of the cubed room, her spot was right next to Harry, who was content sitting on his window seat. Daphne followed next, seated by Tracey who was to her right, with Nermaius being the one ending the half-circle.
"Well, I guess it's my turn," Harry muttered under his breath, slapping his knees before standing. "My name is Harry Potter," he knew his name now caught the attention of everyone in the box. "Lord Heir of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter of the Founding Twelve, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintances." Harry then turned to Draco. "I apologize for earlier, Cousin Malfoy. It's nice to officially meet you." He said evenly.
Draco broke into a loud laugh. An act that seemed to scare his sister who was sitting next to him. "So that's what you meant about being the brother to a more favored sibling." He said as he broke into another fit of laughter. "You're good, I would have never guessed you of all people would be related to The-Boy-Who-Lived, you're nothing like that pompous git, not even close." Draco was practically choking on air at that point.
"Cousin?" Hermione asked, she was quite certain Malfoys weren't related to Potters.
"The Lady Dorea Black is the great-aunt of your Lady Mother, Lady Scion, your twice-great grandmother, I believe, she married my twice-great grandfather, Lord Charlus Potter. Making Draco and I, cousins." Harry explained informatively.
"Huh," was all Hermione could say as she thought on the solid, yet insane-sounding logic.
Harry gave an amused smile, looking at Draco to answer his question. "And yes Draco, it is ironic isn't it, but just because we're twin brothers, doesn't mean we grew up the same or are the same for that matter." He remarked absently, something many thought curious due to the dark, suggestive tone of his voice.
Harry, during his time of studying up on the Wizarding World, had learned that his twin brother was a celebrity styled, The-Boy-Who-Lived, because he was the only known person to have survived a spell was known as the Killing Curse. Harry wondered to himself why anyone would ever create such Magic that'd be labeled as such, and just who would intentionally create a spell just for killing, it seemed, pointless.
He had also learned that his brother Charles was famous for the scar that he received after surviving said Killing Curse, a scar said to be shaped in resemblance to a lightning bolt. Whe he saw a picture of it, it was anything but that, the scar was slanted. Straight with the top strike, the top zigzag, of the bolt to the right, slanting down, and the bottom strike, the bottom zigzag, to the left, slanting up. Almost like an uppercase N.
"So are you as special as they say your twin brother is?" Draco jokingly asked. Hermione gave him a look as Harry sat back down.
"I don't really know, could be better, could be worse," Harry answered back honestly, "but one thing for sure is that, he's not the only one with a special, stupid scar."
"Oh?" Daphne spoke up, her voice laced with curiosity. "Do tell, what kind of scar does the mysterious Potter Heir supposedly has?" Those in the box were all wondering the same, and such a revelation that Harry had a scar like his twin brother had snapped Draco out of his laughter. They all knew that Charles' scar was on the upper right side of his forehead.
Harry scoffed lightly at their teasing, rolling his eyes, he stood up again and loosened his tie, after that he unbuttoned the first two buttons to his long-sleeved shirt, pulling it down to show off his scar. His was a gristly thing, sharp and jagged, much more like a lightning bolt unlike Charles' scar which one had to really look to see its resemblance to one. Everyone stood and huddled around Harry, staring at the exposed, scarred skin on his chest. "Right where my heart is." Harry said as the others gawked. "Surprised I haven't needed any medical attention with the way it is." His comment made the others worry as they noticed that his scar was very much open and exposed, they noticed that it bled a little as well, again realizing that there was also a small, contrasting blotch of red on the white shirt.
The sound of the train horn went off, Hogwarts express was leaving the station. Harry buttoned his shirt up, silently signaling to the others to stop staring. They all went back to their seats and all proceeded to move on from the topic of scars. Instead, those in the box began to talk about Hogwarts and what they were most excited about, with Gerrod initiating the start of the conversation.
"What are you all most excited about when we get to Hogwarts?" Gerrod said, leaving the question in the air.
"Oh, mine's definitely Defense Against Dark Arts," Draco answered without hesitation. "My Father told me that we'll be getting an accomplished Auror as our professor this year."
"Really?" Daphne asked. "That's good, I heard that for the last couple of years that the Professors for Dark Arts have been quite subpar in their teachings."
"That and there's the Dark Arts Curse, something about the position only allowing for a single year of occupation, right?" It was Tracey who asked the question.
"I heard about that too," Hermione said excitedly, "the rumor is that a former student had come back in hopes of receiving the Dark Arts position but was denied twice, the first time because he was inexperienced, the second, I have no idea. But apparently the student Cursed the position for life, an if I can't have it, no one can, kind of thing." Harry frowned at that.
"That's some pettiness," Harry commented casually. He held whoever was responsible in low regard. "They never heard of, third time's the charm?" He said jokingly. The others scoffed at him or rolled their eyes.
"What are you-"
Slam.
They all turned immediately to the sound.
"Have any of you seen a frog?" A chubby boy with teeth just a little too big for him, asked, he looked to be on the verge of tears and in panic. "I'm looking for my pet frog my gran gave me." The others stared at him with various degrees of annoyance for interrupting their conversation, all except Hermione and Harry, who both looked at the newcomer in pity. Those two, and Draco, who looked at the boy curiously.
"Is that you, Longbottom?" Draco asked, the now named Longbottom boy nodded. "Merlin, you look... different."
Ignoring her brother's comment, Hermione gave the boy some advice. "Why not ask a Prefect that is on the train, Neville? They might know some spell or something to find your pet for you." She advised him patiently. Longbottom's face lit up, nodding quickly, he hurriedly thanked her and rushed off to find a Prefect, though not before closing the box door.
Prefects were essentially, from what Harry read and learned, hall monitors who also happened to be attending students of Hogwarts, they were teachers, if Harry had to put them in a category, with fewer responsibilities in a sense.
"Surprised you didn't pick a fight with him." The quiet Nermaius said. Pansy laughed at the comment because of her knowledge of Draco's confrontational personality.
"I'm surprised he didn't insult him more," Pansy added with a teasing smirk. Crabbe and Goyle, though content on listening with confused faces, even laughed at that comment. Soon almost everyone but Harry, who didn't know what was happening, Gerrod and Nermaius, joined in the laughter at the expense of Draco's dignity.
"Oh, come off it, Draco, it was only a joke." Hermione said to her red-faced brother.
"Easy for you to say," Draco muttered bitterly, seething in humiliation. Hermione slapped her brother's arm. "Hey, what was that for!"
"You're acting like Father whenever Mother goes and buys something expensive." She admonished.
"Well, you act like Mother whenever Father wants to go to a Quidditch game." Draco snobbishly retorted back, Hermione feigned indignation and the two went at each other, much to the amusement of the others.
"No, you're the one-"
"I am not-"
"You're such a prat!"
"La la la la la la la la la la, I can't hear you!"
"Merlin, you're so childish-"
"As if you're one to talk-"
"Yeah? What about that incident in Diagon Alley two weeks ago?"
"I distinctly remember it differently, besides I saw you last week hiding Father's-" The two argued and argued, though doing so in a friendlier manner. Their argument lasted for minutes, and at that point, Harry had gone back to his book and the others were taking bets on how long they'd go for.
Harry read his book with much ease, he had a knack for drowning out the noise that came to him when reading, something he subconsciously developed when he was younger when Dudley ran around the house with his toy airplanes, screaming to high heavens as he reenacted aerial fights. He was brought out of his reading when he felt the thumping of the box door open. He looked up and narrowed his eyes at the sight before him, Charlemagne Potter, in the flesh with a redheaded companion who was stuffing his face with food. The only people who noticed Harry's look were Gerrod, Nermaius, and Daphne, who all three wondered in concern of why Harry was eyeing his brother like he hated him. The others, though, they were too enraptured by Draco and Hermione's petty squabble to take notice of Harry.
"What the hell do you want?" Draco and Hermione yelled loudly, whipping their heads towards the people who dared interrupt them, giving them a very pointed and annoyed look. Though, their faces smothered to an impassive mask the moment they realized who it was.
'So this is what my twin brother looks like.' Harry darkly thought.
Charlemagne, 'Charles' Potter had fierce red hair, almost to the point that it looked like copper, it was unruly, it seemed untamable by anything. He wore round glasses that brought out his hazel eyes, he had a gentle, feminine face that, Harry guessed while observing him, came from their mother as he read that most Potters looked more of what he looked to be, their father. Harry noticed that Charles was still wearing casual wear, simple black robes and trousers, and black shoes. Harry also saw a glimpse of the fabled scar his brother was marked on the forehead with. The other boy who was with his brother, Harry observed, was a redhead with a freckled face, sapphire blue eyes, a disgustingly full and open mouth of food. He wore clothes that looked worn down but comfortable, the same as Charles.
"Well, Potter, what do you want?" Draco said near maliciously. He eyed Charles in suspicion.
"I'm looking for my brother." Charles said as he frowned disapprovingly at Draco as if it were an obvious matter of fact, Harry rolled his eyes. "Did any of you happen to see—Harry?" Charles said hopefully as he stared at the boy who was seated right across the box from him. The whole room fell to an awkward silence, with Charles smiling almost innocently and Harry maintaining a composed, yet hard look.
Harry stood up, remembered the page number to his book, set it down on his seat as the others watched anxiously for whatever he was about to do. Harry took slow and deliberate steps across the spacious box, he stopped in front of the box door and placed his hand on the door's handle as if to block entry. Looking his twin brother dead in the eye as he smiled back at his blank facade of a face, he spoke. "I only have one brother," Harry said in an even, emotionless voice, which caused the smile on Charles' face to immediately drop to one of confusion. "And he's in America." Harry violently slammed the door to the box he was in shut, locking it without so much as another word to his twin brother, who was completely stunned, shocked, and confused. Among many other emotions.
The vicious slamming of the door caused several to jump in their seats in surprise. The others just watched Harry calmly turn around and walk back to his seat, aptly ignoring his twin brother, who was now loudly banging his hand and yelling against the glass of the door panel. All of those inside the box just looked away from Charles Potter, disassociating him as if he were some sort of pariah. The atmosphere of the room was ominous and heavy, it felt as if one wrong word could spell the doom of any possible future relations. And so the box sat in silence as the train moved throughout the countryside, some read like Harry, some stared out at the greenery the train passed, others tried sleeping.
Near two hours into the eight-hour ride came a knock on the door, the snack trolley was outside their door, an elderly Witch was pushing the cart. Tracey stood to get it. "Anything from the trolley, dears?" The kind-looking and elderly Witch asked, she, oddly enough, wore a matron's outfit like the ones from a hospital, red and white were its colors.
And so everyone got up and went to look, buy, and pay for any snacks they would want. Harry himself bought several things, assorted jelly beans that had flavors ranging from puke to peach, he bought licorice wands, and also some chocolate frogs which apparently had collectible cards in them. Harry ate his licorice wands first, to him, they were alright in his opinion. Everyone in the box tried the assorted jelly beans, Draco got apple flavor, Daphne ironically choose and got a grass-flavored jelly bean, Nermaius did not reveal what he ate, Gerrod was emotionless when he ate his, yet everyone saw that he was straining in disgust. Hermione, unfortunately, had to suffer biting down on a snot-flavored jelly bean, Pansy was surprised with peach, Crabbe and Goyle both picked white jellybeans and each got toothpaste and peppermint. Harry got orange, and Historia and Tracey chose not to participate.
Harry went to open his chocolate frogs, as did the others. Apparently, chocolate frogs had everyone and anyone famous enough, or worthy enough, to have their face on the immensely popular collectibles. Printing out certain cards only in limited batches, making them worth more as collectors strived to have a complete collection, filled with multiple copies of each one. Some even went the extra mile to try and get the autograph of those still living to make their collection even more 'rare.' Harry thought it was a good gimmick and contemplated maybe even starting his own collection. He offered Crabbe and Goyle his chocolate frogs, wanting to see which cards he got, but not wanting to suffer from a sugar crash. He stacked the wrapped cards and picked the first one up, unwrapping it to be presented with… James Fleamont Potter. His Father.
Harry stared, unconsciously sneering, at the pristine engraved and colored card in disgust. "What'd you get?" Nermaius asked, noticing Harry's less than happy face. Harry eyed him before childishly tossing the card across at Nermaius, so he could see. Nermaius picked the card up, and laughed. He was in hysterics. "What are the odds! This is hilarious!" He exclaimed, completely baffled and amused, that Harry got his Father as his first Chocolate Frog Collectible.
"What?" Hermione asked, wondering what Nermaius was laughing about. He got up and walked unsteadily over to hand the card to her. Seeing it, Hermione nearly lost it as well, snickering in her hand as she showed Draco. Harry got up and indignantly took the offending card away from them, ripping it in half in the process.
"I hope a Troll or something like that gets you one day." Harry half-wished on his compatriots.
"Oh, don't be like that." Tracey said, "Look on the bright side, at least you didn't get your brother!" Everyone burst out laughing, giggling, and hollering at that. Even Harry.
"Touché," Harry choked out between his cackles of joy and amusement.
After their laugh, it was a quiet ride from there on out. There wasn't much conversation except for the random thought here and there, an hour later and they were served lunch. It was an assortment of sandwiches, soups and meats, mainly beef and pork. Their lunch was also a dull affair as no one talked, yet no one mind as they all wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet the train and their box had to offer. After lunch, several excused themselves to relieve themselvesn Harry included, as they, the group consisting of him, Draco, Gerrod, and Daphne all made their way down the train to the bathrooms.
"Wait for me, guys!" The voice of Tracey shouted as she ran down the corridors of the train to catch up to the group. "Changed my mind about that bathroom trip." She said as she took a breath, Daphne simply rolled her eyes and the boys just shrugged at each other, not really caring.
The group passed some other students in Hogwarts uniforms that stopped and stared at them, Harry guessed it was because they knew who they were, well who Draco and Daphne were. Family power, name, and influence really do speak on a person's behalf. They probably thought he was part of the Vassal Forty as the image of being in the back, following Tracey, made him seem the least noteworthy. Which to Harry was understandable, as even he would think that.
Their bathroom trip was quick, and the group was up and out in less than five minutes, surprisingly, when they stopped. Harry gave Tracey's back a curious look before peeking to the side to see what was holding them up. "Potter," Harry heard Draco call in an almost hissing manner from up in front. "Your brother is here." Harry peeked to the side more and lo and behold, his twin brother was speaking to the Longbottom boy in the middle of the corridor, the same boy who had barged in their box hours before.
"You should probably take the lead," Daphne turned and whispered to him. She wanted to see what would happen. Draco eyed her suspiciously and Gerrod silently watched. Tracey was too scared to speak, she saw that the situation was just waiting to go downhill.
"Great," Harry muttered darkly under his breath. He moved to the side and took the lead. Charles spotted him instantly.
"Harry!" Charles exclaimed loudly, breaking from his conversation with Longbottom, he went over to hug his brother. Barely taking less than five steps, Harry stopped what he was about to do the moment he realized what Charles was trying to pull.
"Do not… touch me," he said in a condescending manner. Charles froze in the middle of the corridor, an act that pleased Harry on the inside. "What do you want?" Daphne snickered at the cold manner he spoke to his brother with.
Charles frowned. "Can't I speak with my twin brother? Do I need a reason to want to connect with my older brother?" He asked innocently. Harry's face was a carefully crafted, emotionless mask, the same one he began to adopt the day his Uncle had died. A face he wore most, if not all the time, only revealing his true emotions to his real family, which Charles was not.
"You can," Harry said absently, not really caring the least bit about his brother's feelings, this was about him. "Though I'm not going to give you that satisfaction." He remarked cruelly with a deadly smile, one that seemed to promise retribution of sorts.
The Longbottom boy was too scared to say anything, he just watched the interaction between The-Boy-Who-Lived and his older twin brother. Not really sure what was happening and why for that matter, neither did the four with this Harry, though from what he observed of them, they seemed to understand more than him.
"Can we just talk alone?" Charles asked meekly.
"No, we may not." Said Harry, his tone final and hard, absolutely stern and unrelenting, not giving the slightest room for negotiation. "Whatever you wish to say about House Potter, our parents, yourself, or me, you can say it out loud, to my face… in the open." Harry glared menacingly at Charles, who seemed to gather a little courage to stand straighter before speaking.
"Mom and dad wanted me to tell you, if I ever saw you on the train, that they're sorry for everything and anything they did." Charles swallowed his spit and breathed nervously, he tightened his body, making himself appear smaller. Fidgeted and anxiously twitched under the scrutinizing gaze of his brother. "They hope you'll forgive them for what they did, and they want to repair their relationship with you." That little tidbit of information caused Longbottom and Harry's group to raise a questioning eyebrow. What exactly happened between the illustrious Potter Family?
Harry took a step closer to Charles before speaking. "Well, James and Lily," he spoke in a correcting, admonishing manner. "Can speak to me in-person, not use an errand boy to do it." Charles flinched at being called an errand boy, but there was some truth to it, he did agree that it was tacky what his parents were making him do. "And furthermore, there can't be a repair of relations when there hasn't even been an existing relationship to begin with, you dumb twit, or rather our parents, who are idiotic twits." As their nearly one-sided verbally abusive conversation continued, Harry got angrier and angrier.
"Harry," Charles pleaded weakly. "Mum and dad are really sorry." He pathetically tried to defend their currently absent parents.
"I BET!" Harry screamed, causing everyone present to jump in fright or wince away. His scream caused several students to stick their heads out of their box to investigate. "I BET THEY ARE! I bet they are sorry, I bet they're sad they threw their son away, I bet they feel bad not knowing that I starved, that I suffered, that WE, suffered hell. Do you have any idea of the kind of childhood I lived? What me, my Cousin, my Uncle, and my Aunt had to go through, huh?" He yelled forcefully, his mask completely broke and all his rage from the past month surfaced. "I bet they're bloody sorry that they got to live in a cozy mansion, eating the best damn food money could afford, with their chosen son-" Charles winced greatly at that comment, but Harry wasn't done, "-living life without a care in the world. After all, they didn't even bother visiting their eldest son once to see how he was doing. And not only that, but imagine my surprise when i was introduced to the Wizarding World by our mother and father's damn butler." Gerrod went wide-eyed, Draco went agape, and Daphne and Tracey gasped in pure shock. Harry Potter lived his entire life as a Muggle before learning about Magic?
Charles opened his mouth to speak, but not a word came out, guilt weighed his shoulders down, and shame drowned his thoughts.
Harry took more steps towards his brother, the others followed with several steps of their own, one reason was to intimidate, another was to hear properly. "I do not care about your apology, you tell our Lady Mother and Lord Father," Harry spat their titles out viciously, causing Charles to wince again, "they can go to hell for all I care."
To be continued...
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