The Hogwarts kitchens were bustling.
Elves were rushing from stove to stove while pots whistled, knives chopped, elves peeled, and dishes cleaned themselves.
Into this controlled chaos strode Harry. What he was about to do wasn't risk free, but house elves were among some of the least variable people he interacted with. They were usually fairly predictable. Besides, what was life without risk?
"Greetings Young Sir!" A house elf approached him who Harry recognized as Goopy. "What can we be doing for you?"
"Greetings head elf of Ravenclaw tower Goopy. I is seeking council and trade as head elf in loco Nympha between the house of potter and the houses of Hogwarts. I is apologizing for verbal speech, but as a free wizard I am currently unable to be speaking through the mind family."
Every elf in the kitchen had frozen, the only sounds were coming from the clink of pots and the boiling of water. All eyes, round and wide, were on Harry.
Harry knew that, despite their silent visage, every elf in the whole country had started shouting at every other elf over their telepathic communications network, which they called the mind family, trying to find who had taught this human their language of contracts and very private cultural secrets.
Eventually, Goopy, who suddenly found himself acting as spokes-elf for thousands of his kind, spoke.
"How… How is Young Sir knowing of our speech and ways?"
"In a past life, I was elf-friend and severed under Tropsy, completing a six year apprenticeship in house elf management and service."
Eyes went wider, if that were possible. Tropsy had been the personal house-elf of Merlin.
More silence. More assumed shouting through the mind family.
After a few moments Goopy continued, uncertain, but with a hint of hopeful awe.
"If what you is saying is being true, what color is Tropsy's eyes being?"
Harry smiled
"One blue, one red."
The uncertain but hopeful awe in the eyes of all present elves dissolved into pure awe.
"Young Sir is being one of us!" he gasped, "Never in a thousand years, has a wizard been apprenticed to an elf! Goopy was bouncing up and down on his feet with joy. "Hogwarts house elves is accepting your request for council and trade and sections the mind family to all but our master's elves."
"The requested item is the last few months of an elf's life."
Goopy stilled and frowned. "Such is a very large item Young Sir. What is the proposed trade item being?"
"An unbreakable vow that any Hogwarts elf, given clothes, will be immediately accepted as bonded to the Ancient and Nobel House of Potter."
Goopy slowly nodded. It was a fair trade. While receiving clothes wasn't common, the fear of receiving clothes was constant and very real.
An ancient elf popped beside Goopy, bowed to Harry, and spoke in a deep raspy voice that sounded an inch away from the grave. "I is being Goody Young Sir. Goody has been serving Hogwarts for over fifty-five years. It would be an honor, as Goody's last act, to serve my fellow elves in death."
Harry bowed to the old elf. "Thank you Hufflepuff kitchen elf Goody. I am honored to receive your trade."
Goody gazed at Harry with eyes shrewd from years of bargaining on the mind family. "You is having many secrets Young Sir. For while you served under Tropsy, that is not saying how you is knowing all our positions."
Harry merely gave a small, if slightly sad, smile.
"I'm hoping to have everything ready several hours before curfew tonight. Is that acceptable?"
"It is."
After making the unbreakable vow to the head Hogwarts elf, with Goopy using his finger in lieu of a wand, Harry left the kitchens. He had just a few minutes to spare before potions with the Ravenclaws. It was time to find out what this world's Snape was like.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
Potions master Severus Snape knew he was cynical.
After a lifetime of watching the things he loved taken from him and being forced into indentured servitude, he would be the first to tell you life was a pile of crap, which grew beautiful roses, which then wilted and died.
His own beautiful flower had wilted and died ten years ago, but not before adding to the pile of crap that was about to dump itself on his life. It would be too much to hope that Harry light-shines-out-of-his-arse Potter took after anything from Lily. It was just a shame he couldn't be overly aggressive against him in class. There was rule one after all.
'I've no idea what the sorting hat thought it was playing at, putting a Potter in Slytherin.'
He stalked into his classroom and up to the front podium, cloak billowing around him, pausing briefly to stare at a bushy brown haired Ravenclaw girl, who was faintly illuminating the dungeon and looking more than a little embarrassed about it.
After reading from the register and desperately wanting, but resisting, to make a snarky comment when he called Potter's name, he began his carefully honed speech.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
"Potter!" He rounded on Harry, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
He glared at the spawn of the tormentor of his life, who had narrowed his eyes in concentration. They suddenly widened, looking mildly shocked, before a calm mask re-established itself over Potter's features.
"Thank you, Sir."
Snape's mind shut down.
"And as for the other thing, I believe it makes draught of living death."
"…"
Impossible. The test had been unfair, so very very unfair, and he'd passed it. Instantly.
Right in front of his eyes, the spawn of James Potter was slowly morphing into the son of Lily, until all he could see were her eyes looking back at him.
"… Well done… ," he briefly considered calling him Evans or Harry before realizing it would sound too weird. "…Potter." He finished, the words slow as icebergs. "Five points to Slytherin."
The rest of the class proceeded as expected, with the exception of a perfectly produced potion from Potter and an almost perfect one from the Granger girl. He'd harangued her about that, causing a mild panic as the girl's illumination suddenly faded and everyone struggled to see their delicate work in the newly darkened room.
[A/N: If you have no clue what just happened, google - 'Snape the language of flowers']
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
"Harry, you can't keep on doing this!"
Draco had caught up to him outside potions and was whispering as urgently as he could.
"The whole of Slytherin house is going to be on your tail soon for helping Granger this morning, you need to make some kind of statement to show you understand rule one!"
"Rule one has been bastardized by those who have the foresight of a blind-worm. It's politically stupid to needlessly exclude three quarters of the entire population from alliance building efforts."
"…", "…Look, you want to make changes. OK, I get that. But wait until Carter's gone, and I'm the new King. Anyone with half a brain can see you're going to be top student in our year. You, combined with my family connections would make an unbeatable team.
Harry stopped walking and looked thoughtful. "Draco, I value our friendship, but for at least the next year, I'm going to be… away."
"Away? What do you mean, away?"
"I mean away, gone, unavailable, indisposed. But I will be back. And when I am, I'd be happy to talk about being a team."
"I don't understand."
"Just make sure you're in the common room tonight. Right now, I've got some important stuff to take care of. See you there." Harry hurried away.
"OK… I guess."
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
[7:00pm]
Deep beneath the school, far deeper than the potions dungeon, in a damp and dark chamber known only to legend and one big ass snake, Harry Potter was brewing potions.
Thankfully, the basilisk was amicable and quite happy to have someone to talk to. It turned out this time she'd been named Alice, and Harry had promised to bring back livestock sometime in the next few weeks.
The iron cauldron he'd found earlier stood in front of him, the final stages of blood replenishing potion bubbling away. He was going to need a good number tonight.
Eventually, he was happy with his work, and ladled it out into vials, charmed them unbreakable and stored them on the floor. It would be nice when he could get some furniture down here.
After clearing a circle in the middle of the chamber of bones and detritus, Harry wound his way back down the path he'd come, up the stairs, and back into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
Myrtle, who'd been absent on his arrival gasped when he appeared.
"You... You are!"
"Yes I am."
"The Master of Death!"
"Yes."
"!," she gave a little squeak.
"You will not tell anyone of my presence or status, either here tonight, or in the castle, or this world, nor anything that you've seen here now, or whenever I, or those working with me, are here in the future."
"Y-Y-Yes Master."
"Goody!"
Goody popped in front of Harry with *PoP*
"Goody is being here, Young Sir."
Harry nodded. "You ready?"
"Goody is being ready, Young Sir."
"Then lets go."
Back down in the chamber, Harry stripped naked and asked Goody to do the same, resisting the urge to shiver. It was quite cold down here.
He took the ritual dagger and made a clean cut on his body, wincing at the pain, and started draining his blood into vials, taking blood-replenishing potions regularly to stop himself getting faint, or worse.
Eventually, Goody lay down in the middle of the cleared space and Harry painted runes with his blood all over the elf's body, gradually extending the runes down to the floor and then outwards, creating complex patterns of stars and circles within more stars and circles.
The silence of the chamber become oppressive, the magic swirling around the ever-expanding runes added weight to the air. Water drops became drumbeats and ice extended tendrils from the circle to cover the previously damp floor.
After an hour of work, Harry picked up the ritual knife he'd been heating in the cauldron fire and turned towards the elf, painted from head to toe in the middle of the circle.
"Goody," his voice was soft, but amplified by the latent magic to fill the whole chamber. "Last chance to back out. We can clean you up, go back up to the kitchens, and have the vow broken by mutual agreement, if you don't want to continue?"
"Young Sir. Thanking you for option, but I have been given this chance to serve for many more years past my time and I will be taking it."
Harry nodded though knowing Goody couldn't see, and started to chant in Coptic. The goose bumps covering his naked body faded as magic poured into him in anticipation of what was to come.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
"But… I can't really afford a new broom." Ron mumbled.
"…Have you thought of making one?" Tammy asked.
"…"
"…"
"Making one?" Ron's voice was awe-stuck.
"Sure, that's what we're here in school for right? To learn magic, so we can do things like make brooms."
"…"
"…"
"That's… THE MOST AWESOME IDEA I'VE EVER HEARD!"
Tammy smiled. "So that's our goal? Learn enough so that by this time next year we'll both have brooms to try out for the team on?"
"OK!"
Tammy's smile widened to a full on grin, which suddenly died as a minor magical shockwave passed through the room.
"Whoa!"
"What?"
"What was that? Didn't you feel it?"
"No. What was it?"
"Not sure. I just could've sworn I felt something just then."
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
In Dumbledore's office, the paddlewheel of a gizmo on the headmaster's desk spun violently as the magical shockwave hit it, before slowly settling down again.
The Headmaster, smiling and chuckling, reading Madam Pomfrey's report on the mystery illness that had swept the first year male population of two houses, didn't notice.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
"Quirrell!"
"Y-Y-Y-Yes Master?"
"How many times have I told you to sleep on your face or side?!"
"S-S-S-Sorry Master."
"Wait! What was that?"
"…"
"…"
Quirrell wrinkled his nose, "…Sorry Master."
"ARGHHHH!"
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
"Seriously Su! Why does he have to be such a jerk! He's supposed to be a teacher! I had the best potion there, well apart from Harry, why did he pick on me?!"
"…"
"Su? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"…"
"Su?"
"…"
"OH MY GOD! I GOT IT RIGHT!"
Hermione beamed.
"DAMN IT!"
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
"So Fred, is she out and about?"
Fred was staring at the Marauder's map.
"Afraid not George… Our dear Miss Riddle is down in the common room with Ron."
"Rats."
"Yeah."
"Have to wait till the morning."
"Yeah… Um George." Fred's eyes widened slightly and a grin spread on his face."
"Yes, oh brother of mine?"
"Look whose in bed with our dear professor Quirrell."
"…"
"…"
"Oh. Oh! OH!"
"Yeahhh."
"Think we can use this?"
"I'm sure we can find a way," Fred breathed, his grin going full feral.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
"Neville…" Susan's voice was timid and worried, "You've been trying to change that matchstick for hours now. Maybe you should get some rest?"
"Grrrrrrrrr…"
"Ok… then," Susan backed away as one would from a wild animal, "I guess another 20 minutes wouldn't hurt…"
Neville closed his eyes again and continued to focus on the faint feeling of his magic swirling through him. He began to wave his wand again and suddenly something foreign, something powerful, surged through him.
*Tinkle*
He blinked
"…"
"…"
"…"
"I DID IT! TAKE THAT YOU SON OF A DEAD TREE!
Neville fainted.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
Harry woke up from where he'd fallen when the magic had surged, washed in some conjured water, and put his clothes back on.
He looked around and focused on a point a few meters away. If this were the first time he'd done this, he'd have had to have spent several years learning to feel the new magic within him, several more to learn to control it, then another few to release it in just the right way. As it was, that wasn't necessary.
*Pop*
*Pop*
He disappeared with a very distinctive pop and reappeared with another pop a few meters away. Success.
Of cause, it wouldn't do to let everyone know he could do elf magic. That would just remove the advantage—anti-elf wards did exist after all—and people in the Department of Mysteries would start asking awkward questions about dark magic and blood rituals. Far better to disguise what he could do as something new, or something taken from the Potter family magic archive. That would give him legal protection and plausible deniability.
Harry focused on the spot he just came from and added a two second silencing spell around himself, a one second illusion of himself fading, and a two second invisibility spell to wear-off over one second on arrival. All wordless and wandless, of course. Merlin, he loved elf magic.
He silently faded from where he stood and silently faded in where he'd been standing before.
Nodding to himself, Harry walked over to where the now deceased Goody lay and, after also washing him, gently gathered him in his arms before focusing on the entrance in-front of the kitchens, and faded.
The kitchen elves received him well, taking Goody and popping the old elf to some unknown place.
He spent a few minutes snacking—he had missed dinner after all—and telling stories of his time with Tropsy, which they drank in like the dying gasps of a wild and very messy party.
He was putting off what he hoped to be the last encounter of the day, but he knew it had to happen. If he messed this up it would make things a lot harder in a few years time.
Harry took a deep breath and faded to his four-poster in the first-year's dorm room. There was no one there. He quickly packed up the few things he'd unpacked last night and shrank the trunk, shoving it into his pouch and fading to the entrance outside the Slytherin common room.
Game time.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
Draco was restless. It was getting late and Harry still hadn't shown. He wasn't the only one. Cole Spenser—Harry's 'mentor'—was waiting close to the common room portal, only half paying attention to his homework, shooting glances at the entrance, looking ready to AK the first person to walk through it.
The common room was full, many of them looking forward to seeing the Boy-Who-Lived taken down a peg or three. If they were lucky, maybe he'd even wind up in the hospital wing. Spenser was a viscous beater after all, known for his force more than his skill.
"The little blood traitor is getting what's coming to him," growled Nott from opposite him.
Draco remained silent.
"Please don't tell me you're siding with him!" Nott looked incredulous.
"I spoke with him earlier. It sounded like he had some kind of plan."
Nott just snorted. "Oh. How very Slytherin of him."
Greengrass and Davis were sitting quietly doing homework, not adding much, although they probably privately agreed with Nott, at least in that Harry was about to be smacked into the ground.
Draco knew if Harry tried to be clever, he certainly would be.
Pansy and Zabini were eagerly waiting for the entertainment to start, while Crabb, Goyle, and Millie, looked like they couldn't care less.
Just then the common room portal opened and the room fell silent.
The scrawny, short, black haired boy walked through the portal, nonchalant and unconcerned, left it open, took a good number of strides into the room, turned to Spenser and said, loud enough for everyone in the whole room to hear, "Hey there. I heard you wanted a chat?"
Spenser looked ready to pop a blood vessel. He stormed over to the portal slammed it hard, and turned to Harry, cutting off his only escape route.
Harry looked around before commenting "Ah, yes, nice and private. I like how the mentor system ensures potentially embarrassing matters can be handled with tact and discretion."
"SHUT UP POTTER!" Spenser took a moment to calm himself. "You've been getting friendly with mud bloods in other houses and helping those from outside to the detriment of our competitive position. You can't do that. It destroys the unity of the house and opens us up to attacks from those who are prejudiced against us."
"Whoa. That was almost convincing. How long did you spend rehearsing that?"
A couple of the watchers gasped. This was a lot of trash talking from someone who had absolutely no power of any kind to fall back on. He couldn't even use his position as Scion of an Ancient and Nobel house, as there was currently no Head.
Spenser growled. "Looks like you aren't going to listen to reason, so we'll apply some physical persuasion before we get back to talking." He closed the gap and swung with a fist, fully expecting to send the little twerp flying. Instead, he hit air, felt the tug on his robes, and then red-hot pain shot through his face as his head slammed into the ground.
Harry backed off towards the center of the room, waiting for Spenser to get up. Of course, in most fights you would NEVER let your opponent get up, but this wasn't most fights. It would do no good to beat Spenser without letting him come at him with everything everyone knew he had.
"Urh you little piece of dragon crap." Spenser spat, pushing himself to his feet, sporting a slight nosebleed. The onlookers had started to whisper among themselves and Harry spotted at least a few coins changing hands.
Spenser stormed back to his desk, clutching his nose, grabbed his beaters bat, one and a half feet of magically reinforced solid oak, wiped the blood off his hand, marched over to Harry and swung again.
Before Spenser could process what was happening, Harry had closed the distance, blocked the hand holding the bat, and thrust his free hand, palm first upwards into his chin, while twisting on his hand. Spenser felt the bat leave his grasp before pain, stars and white light shot through his head as his bat, now in Harry's hand, slammed into his skull like an amorous hippogryph's mating charge.
He fell. Hard. But wasn't knocked out. Wizards were pretty hardy after all.
Harry chucked the bat to the ground, over his shoulder. "Get up," he commanded, voice flat, distancing himself a few more meters. He was almost level with the King's couch now. The crowd was defiantly picking up the volume. This was far more interesting then watching a first year get his arse handed to him, not least because, even with a good showing, the kid still wasn't anywhere near out of the woods. Many of the witches who'd grown up with the boy-who-lived storybooks, were defiantly looking on with more than a little interest.
It took Spenser more than a full minute to get up this time, but, this time, when he marched back to his table, he brought out the big guns. This time, the stick of wood he drew from his bag had a magical core.
Harry's wand appeared in his hand from no-where.
"Ah, about time. I was beginning to forget we weren't muggles." Some of the crowd actually chuckled, probably thinking much the same. Spenser was facing Harry now, wand in hand, waiting to fully recover from the beating he'd just received.
Those seated behind Harry were moving out of the field of fire, not wanting to be caught by a stray hex, although some of the older snakes had started putting up dueling wards.
Draco was sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes riveted on the spectacle in front of him. That muggle fighting had been damn impressive. Who'd have thought someone almost half the size of his opponent could clean the floor with him, even when armed. But now they were going for the wands. Harry was going to lose now. He was a first year. A first year with only one day of magical education. Even if he'd received under the table lessons, like he himself had, it still didn't change that his opponent had three more years of magical development.
Slowly, the noise of the onlookers died down, until the two were staring each other down in total silence.
Spenser moved first.
#Petrificus Totalus#
Harry actually had to stop himself from gaping as the spell shot towards him. Oh, the utter arrogance of it. Spenser obviously intended to finish the duel in one spell, and didn't think Harry was going to do anything to try and stop him, despite the fact that he'd not once failed to back-up his confidence. The spell was slow, clunky, and left no good follow up.
Harry sidestepped the spell and fired a standard beginner's spell chain.
#Reducto# #Stupefy# #Deprimo# #Expelliamus# #Incarcerous#
Spenser, shocked that he was actually being attacked, dodged the reducto by a hair, threw up a shield a split second before the stupefy slammed into it, absorbing it fully, but not the deprimo, which smashed through the shield, blasting him backwards, before the expelliamus ripped his wand from his hand and his body was bound with tight ropes from the incarcerous.
A good portion of the crowd was shouting now. Some were cheering, some were unhappy, but many were gazing at Harry with very calculating looks.
Harry threw Spenser's wand over his shoulder just as he done the bat, walked up to his bound enemy and pointed his wand at his legs. The noise died again and the room held its breath.
#Reducto# #Reducto# #Exomento# #Castreo# #Stupefy# #Ossio Dispersimus#
Two broken legs, a forced and violent bowl movement, a swift magical kick to the crotch, a good old-fashioned stunner, and the broken bones vanished.
Spenser cried out in pain, before passing out.
Many people in the seats surrounding the main event were now busily re-evaluating their opinion of the Boy-Who-Lived. He was supposed to be light wasn't he? Light wizards didn't torture bound and helpless opponents.
"Looks like he needs medical attention. Miss Tuft?" He called to a sixth year witch "I believe you are training to be a healer."
Abigale Tuft looked towards Carter, who'd been sitting in the King's lounge by the central fireplace, watching the show intently. Carter gave a small nod to her before turning back towards Harry.
He gazed at Harry, appraising him, weighing all aspects of his value—physical, social, financial, intellectual, magical.
"An impressive showing Potter. Truly. I don't think I can think of a single other first year who could've possibly defeated a fourth year of Spenser's level on his first day of school. I doubt even the Dark Lord could've managed it." Carter's comment produced shocked gasps from around the room. "Of course, this doesn't change anything. There are rules in this house that must be obeyed. But you have defiantly proven yourself as one to watch, both now and in the future. Accept the rules of the house, and I will grant you a position near the very top of the Slytherin table."
More gasps.
Draco's mind was going a mile a minute. Harry had won. He'd actually won. Against a forth year. And it didn't look like it had even been difficult. And now, this. It was the best deal Harry could've possibly gotten.
Harry smiled. "One moment if you would. I'd just like to check up on one of those rules… Baron!"
The Bloody Baron faded into being nearby looking very annoyed.
"Who the hell has the cheek to summon me?!"
"I do," said Harry simply.
The Baron looked at him before his eye's widened. "You are-!"
"-SILENCE! You will not reveal my secrets!"
The Baron shut up, much to the shock of the other students.
"I have called you here because I wish to declare King's Coup."
Total Uproar.
Everyone was shouting. Mostly at Harry. Although many of the younger students were turning to their older peers and asking "King's what?"
Draco's mind froze in abject horror at the words being parsed through it.
No. Harry had not just said that. He COULDN'T have just said that.
No one had been brain-dead stupid enough to call King's Coup for a hundred years. It was supposed to be used when the vast majority of the house was very unhappy with the leadership of the current king. It gave those who declared loyalty to the coup, the right to actively fight against the king, to attempt to expel him from the house by force. It was so rarely used because if you declared King's coup and didn't get the support needed to succeed, you'd be the one exiled from the house, forced to wonder the castle, homeless, until such time as you could persuade the house to let you in again, which, as the rebel leader, was probably never. Your reputation would be eternally damaged. You'd be considered worse than a blood traitor, worse than a mud-blood, worse than a muggle. If you were unhappy with a King, it was almost always better to wait until the current one left, or you graduated.
What the HELL was Harry thinking?!
The Baron waved for silence.
Carter was looking at Harry like he'd grown four heads and a tail. But behind the shock, the rage was building.
"Who stands with the rebel leader against the King?" the Baron asked.
No one stood, moved, or said anything.
"Then I declare the zero people who came forward followers of the rebel leader. Let the coup commence!"
"HEX HIM TO HELL!" Carter Screamed.
Well over a hundred wands were leveled at Harry, who smiled. The first dozen spells past straight through him and before any more even got close, he was gone.
"BLOCK OFF THE ENTRANCE AND STAIRS! DON'T LET HIM OUT OF THE COMMON ROOM! USE CHALK POWDER SPELLS TO FIND HIM! GO TO HIS ROOM, BRING HIS STUFF DOWN HERE, AND BURN IT! WHEN I FIND THAT MUDBLOOD BASTARD!…
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
Outside the room of requirement Harry paced while thinking, 'I need a place to sleep and relax specifically for Harry Potter's and welcome guest's use only'.
The door appeared and he walked in, greeted by the sight of a fully furnished, luxurious bedroom, complete with entertaining area, dinning room, and ensuite bathroom. Harry smiled. This would more than do until he could get the chamber furnished and under fidelius.
He cast some basic, and some not so basic, low power wards over the door, slipped off his clothes, slipped on his pyjamas, and snuggled under the thick and fluffy duvet covers.
Now, he just had to watch out for the few people who decided to get over zealous and target his friends outside Slytherin. There wouldn't be many of them. The illusion of house unity still had to be maintained after all, but they would have to be dealt with, and firmly enough to send a clear message.
It was certainly convenient that, in King's Coup, just like in the ritual of choosing the King, he was officially sanctioned to cause as much damage to his opponents as needed, so long as it wasn't irreversible or fatal. No inconvenient questions from his head of house. Snape would even be obligated to shield him from the other teachers and Madam Pomfrey, if caught in an embarrassing situation.
Of course, everyone in Slytherin would be gunning for him with the same rules.
Harry vaguely wondered whether a certain black haired witch would appreciate what he was doing. Had Tammy been through the Slytherin school of hard knocks and come out as Queen? Or was that King? Everyone agreed that the Voldemort in this world was male. Was she nothing more than Tom's daughter? Perhaps with Bellatrix? But… that name. Tammy… and the wordless magic she had shown at breakfast. That should be sixth year stuff. And if she was Voldemort, what was behind Quirrell's turban? Could she be a reborn horcrux? If Tammy was a horcrux why was she female? And younger than 16? Gender switch ritual? De-aging magics? What about her personality? You could only attribute so much to magic before you had to admit you were probably missing something far simpler. It all seemed far too convoluted.
Well, the question of what was behind Quirrell's turban could be answered easily at least.
Harry turned over and faded into sleep, thoughts alternating between Tammy and another girl who'd done something new…the chocolate-eyed witch whose face had so often lit up his world, and now seemed to be doing so literally.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
A/N: Thank you to everyone who follows and reviews! You keep me motivated to write more and keep me accountable to my errors! Thank you!
A/N: I can't remember where I first came across the idea of a house elf telepathy network, but I know it wasn't my idea originally.
A/N: If you don't know the hidden meaning behind Snape's first question to Harry, Google "Snape the language of flowers"
A/N: Spell chaining courtesy of A-Badgers-Champion and A-Champion-s-New-Hope
