"How do you feel about Lily's death?" Snape asked bluntly, shifting in his chair. He'd lit his fireplace and the flames from the fire cast the room with an orange glow.

"Well, she's dead..." Charlie shrugged. His mother had died before her time and that was that. He felt sad at the loss, but... He never knew her.

And that was that, really.

Snape was flummoxed by the answer. He felt no rage? No anger? His mother was slaughtered before him...

"I didn't see it. I was asleep. I am not the one you should be counselling, Professor Snape." Charlie snapped cruelly, his eyes lighting up in a glare Snape knew all too well. It was James Potter's glare, and he felt sick.

"Harry...?" Snape prodded the other boy, but he could feel that cold glare on his face. He wanted to run like a little boy again, but held his ground. This was a child. James Potter's boy, but a boy all the same.

"She - " Harry frowned. "She said 'Fuck you' and he held her under the Torture curse," His nose scrunched up cutely, like he was trying to remember. Charlie knew he was wrapping the hook nosed male around his little finger and withheld the dark smile. "And then she said 'You're dead fucked', snapping her wand. And then he killed her, but he didn't kill her, not really. She was still there, diverting the curse to the lightning symbol... And then He was ash, but she was still there..."

Severus' heart clenched at the pitiful sight the boy made but his heart also swelled in pride, because his Mudblood had stood up to the Dark Lord.

The days were all quite similar, really. Lessons, notes, read his books and get a little bit smarter each time. His routine was ruined when Professor Quirrell asked him to stay behind after his last lesson of the day. Charlie had been told to go ahead and "Yes I will fill you in later, don't worry!"

"How are you finding your lessons, Harry?" Voldemort asked politely, leading the boy into his private quarters and settling him down in a plush armchair.

"Fine, I don't really struggle at all..." Harry trailed off as he took in the mans' room.

"I know you don't," Voldemort snorted. "All the teachers keep gushing about you, Harry Potter this and Harry Potter that! Goodness child, you do know how to make good impressions, you know."

Harry blushed brightly and shuffled his feet. His mask seemed to be melted away by this teacher and he felt shy and awkward without it. "So why am I here, sir?"

"I would like to teach you advanced things, Mr. Potter." There. Blunt and to the point. "I am sick of seeing you excel in anything I teach you, so I want to make you struggle."

Harry's eyes widened before he nodded quickly. "Yes please! I've been learning from books and - "

"I know all about your learning, Harry," Voldemort purred, sitting opposite the boy, "I know all about your Parseltongue ability." He's a diamond, Voldemort thought contentedly. He was everything Voldemort wanted to be - born to a Pureblood and seen as a Pureblood, while having strong magic and political standing behind. Yes, Harry Potter was his little diamond.

Harry's eyes widened before he curled into himself. "Do you..." He licked his suddenly dry lips. "Do you dislike me for it?"

Those little green eyes met his own and the man wanted to purr in delight. He was so weak when everything had been stripped away, so malleable... Perfect. "No, Mr. Potter. I would never dislike you for such a wonderful gift." So easily tainted, with the right words.

"Sir..." Harry bit his lip. "I've been hearing things and I can't stop it."

Of course you won't be able to stop it boy, I've done it to you. Voldemort smirked inwardly. He'd called upon a mischievous spirit (or four) to threaten and tease the boy until he came running to Quirrell, but two weeks later and the boy still hadn't. He put on a concerned face and leaned forward. "What is it?"

"It's like they're telling me to hurt people..." Harry whispered, curling in on himself even more. He was just a scared little boy, Voldemort realised belatedly. Maybe his little trick wasn't as helpful as the man thought. "Please could you help me sir? It's... It's getting worse as the days go on and I know my magic is reacting to it, it's been building and building and Charlie keeps getting headaches because I can't release my magic without sapping away at his and it hurts, oh Merlin it hurts."

Voldemort placed a gloved hand onto Harry's own and murmured, "Release it into me. I will be able to withstand it." Really he just wanted a taste of the boys intoxicating warmth, and here he was going to get it.

Harry gave him a tiny once-over before nodding, holding the Dark Lord's hand in his own. He breathed deeply, in and out, until Voldemort felt a spark of magic in the air. It was heavy and oppressing and he realised that this was Harry's Necromancy magic that was reacting, not his original core. Wonderful, he thought, feeling the onslaught hit him. The dirty magic would help him greatly.

Harry grinned when he saw the notice. Flying lessons would be starting Thursday and the Gryffindors and Slytherins would be learning together.

Malfoy talked about flying a lot; he spoke of a time where he'd flown so high that he'd been attacked by a Muggle in a helicopter. Neville Longbottom, however, had never ridden a broom before in his life and it showed. He was shivering and his chubby face was pale. His grandmother had never let him near one (which Harry could understand, because Neville struggled on his own two feet) although Harry didn't know why.

Hermione Granger had never ridden a broom before either, from the way she was reciting Quidditch Through The Ages to Neville. Harry was pleased when the owl post interrupted her long tirade.

His beautiful snowy owl dropped another letter in front of him. Charlie's eagle owl dropped a long roll of parchment in front of him before taking the boys toast and leaving.

Harry, stay away from Quirrell and Snape. I'm not sure who, but someone left me a message on my desk saying that they were both suspicious individuals. Do not let Charlie be alone with either of them.

(Harry realised that his fathers focus was solely Charlie currently and fought down the intense feelings of jealousy, because Charlie must feel like this daily)

Alright pup. A high-ranking follower of the Dark Lord was behind the break in and there are several traps in place to guard the item we have already discussed. Have you heard anything from the Hogwarts rumour mill?

I am glad you are well, cub, but your sleeping patterns are curious. You're having nightmares?

I'm glad your favourite lesson is Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Now, you may be curious as to why everyone is fretting over Charlie. Please do not continue reading if he is well within eyeshot.

James has received over thirty letters threatening Charlie's life in Hogwarts because it would destroy you from the inside out. Albus has informed James that there is no way he could be on the school premises without due cause, such as an actual attack on his life, so you are our protector right now. I know you won't want this, but we need you, Harry.

You have received training so that you can hopefully hold up against a grown wizard until help has arrived; Charlie has his basic Hogwarts education and his extended learning. We were not prepared for Charlie to be targeted and now we are paying for it; we need you, Harry. I am sorry for pressuring you and burdening you with this, but sadly it is necessary until you are home.

You could probably persuade Prongs into giving you money, if you wish.

Harry burnt the letter and put his head in his hands. Someone had been threatening to kill Charlie. Somebody wanted to kill his brother.

He would be thrice damned to the gates of Hell if he let that happen.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry and Charlie hurried down the front steps to the grounds so that they weren't late for their flying lesson. Harry had wound his hand into Charlie's and, although the boy smiled, he didn't know why Harry had suddenly gone so clingy. He was worried.

Neville had broken his wrist and dropped his Remembrall and Malfoy jumped on the chance to humiliate the other boy. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him!" he chortled.

"Give that to me, Draco," Charlie challenged, stepping forward brazenly.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect - how about up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Charlie yelled, but Draco had leapt onto his broomstick and flew off.

Charlie snarled and shot after him, while Harry started to panic. "Give it here, Draco," Charlie pleaded but Draco shook his head.

Draco readied his hand and threw the ball, the shining ball whistling through the air. Blood pounded in the boy's ears and he shot after it, plucking it neatly from the sky.

Except.

He kept going and his broom had stopped.

Harry's heart was in his throat as his brother fell, until he too was shooting the air. Charlie was unconscious and there was a bloody stain on the wall he'd slammed into, pouring down his face. His right hand grabbed his brothers and he vowed to himself that he would never let Charlie do something so foolish again.

"MR. POTTER!" Professor McGonagall howled, near sprinting across the pitch to get to the pair. "Never have I ever - How could - Where is your teacher?"

Harry gave her a disgusted look and stormed away; was she blind to the fact his brother had a head injury? "Come back here!" she roared and something in Harry snarled.

"With all due respect, miss, my brother is bleeding from his head and you are hindering his healing!" Harry yelled, before there was a soothing hand on his shoulder and Charlie's weight was lifted from him.

"I will take them to the infirmary, Minerva." Professor Quirrell's silky voice broke the stunned silence - somebody had just shouted back at Professor McGonagall. "Come, Harry."

Harry followed the man's quick strides with his own, before the pair matched up. "Will he be okay?"

"I am not sure, Harry. And, rest assured, I'll have Minnie apologising to you before the days end," Voldemort winked at the boy. He was growing rather fond of him, actually. Once he got past the stammering school girl, there was a witty boy with an acid tongue and a smooth disrespect for authority. "Now... About your foolishness! Had you not thought to use the Levitation Charm on him instead?"

"I - I didn't think," Harry admitted. "But I also don't see why McGonagall didn't bother with using the Levitation charm or the Voice Enhancement charm to save Charlie or stop Draco?"

Voldemort lowered his head in agreement. Harry was a childish little boy, petty but very smart. "We are going to work on your emotions, little Harry. You are showing yourself to be a spoiled brat," A harsh truth, but he needed to hear it. "You are acting childish, immature and petty. Your teachers are more experienced than you and this cockiness in your ability, quite frankly, is disgusting."

Harry flushed and he blinked back the angry tears that came to his eyes. "Charlie has been getting death threats," Harry admitted quietly as they entered the Hospital Wing. "I'm worried and my family expects me to watch him twenty four seven. I have no problems with that, but the muttering is still there and it's upsetting me. I only found out this morning."

Voldemort hid his victorious smile. He'd gotten in contact with some of his ruthless Death Eaters and had them do it; they were all too eager, as well as finding him new ways to get his body back. "That is not your responsibility, Harry," Voldemort soothed, placing Charlie on a bed and calling for Poppy. He took Harry out of the room, into her office. "Your father should be handling it - "

"Headmaster Dumebledore says that unless Charlie is actually attacked, dad can't come anywhere near the school."

Voldemort pursed his lips in thought. Typical Dumbledore... but how could he hurt Charlie Potter? "Then... I shall look out for him as well." Voldemort nodded his head to add to his statement. Harry looked at him with bright eyes and then there was a slight pressure around his stomach. Voldemort blinked in surprise - had the boy just hugged him?

Harry bounded out of the room and sat on Charlie's bed, holding a cold hand in his own. "Will he be okay, Madam Pomfrey?"

The matron gave him the tiniest of smiles. "Yes, Mr. Potter. I am glad you got him to me when you did."

Harry gave her a small smile back and curled into his brothers body, eyeing the other boy's too pale face. "Will my father be informed?"

"Do you wish for him to be informed?"

"... Yes."

James Potter sighed, leaning back in his chair. He was head of the Auror department and got paid handsomely... but was it worth it? He barely knew his boys favourite ice cream flavour!

His darkened eyes shot to the window, where he saw a Hogwarts owl. He grinned and let it in, giving it a sickle. He opened the letter and he snapped awake.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Your son, Charles Potter, has been involved in a flying incident and it left him with a wound on his head. Your other son requested that I inform you.

The wound has been healed and Charles is fine, but Harry is very worried.

Yours sincerely, Madam Poppy

James felt a little bit sick. Flying incident? His boys were the best flyers he'd ever seen! Where was Harry through all of this? Just how did it happen? He grabbed his (Muggle) leather jacket and left to Hogwarts through the floo.

Harry sniggered. "Open wide, Charlie!"

Charlie pouted but obliged, opening his mouth. Harry shoved the spoon in and Charlie swallowed the chicken broth. "Are you allowed to stay here with me, Harry?"

"I'd like to see them move me." Harry told him, his green eyes darkening in anger. Professor McGonagall had apologised him to immediately, but he had detention for speaking against a teacher. Harry was perfectly fine with that.

Charlie smiled warmly and let himself fall into his pillows. "Has dad been told?"

"Yes, he has." The smooth voice of James Potter interrupted their conversation and the man took the spoon from Harry, feeding Charlie. "Why do you need feeding, son? I thought you had a head injury."

Harry burst into giggles. "Madam Pomfrey had to strap him down to the bed, see, because he wanted to leave the moment he woke up!"

James cracked a grin and murmured, "That's my boy. Harry, where were you when this happened?"

Harry flushed in shame. "I was on the ground but the moment he began to fall I got him, dad."

"The moment? That isn't good enough, Harold! You know - "

Charlie interrupted; "Know what? Is this why Harry has been so clingy? What's going on, dad?"

Harry pursed his lips and fought the urge to cry, again. He wasn't used to this - he readily admitted that, at home, he is allowed to run amok but... To have people actually call him out on it? It was upsetting him greatly. Were his emotions really so haywire that he couldn't function properly? "I need to go - um, to my lessons. I'll bring you homework and my notes, Charlie. Bye dad."

James didn't bother with a response and Harry left, shame welling in his stomach. He was a terrible twin.

Why did he think informing his father would be a good thing? It was his idea of hitting back - he had to watch his brother from people trying to hurt him, but what about when he hurt himself? What was he, an eleven year old boy, meant to do?

Why was it his fault?

Voldemort smirked to himself as he sipped his glass of firewhiskey. The bonds in the Potter family were already tense - just how long could they stretch, before something snapped?

A slow knocking at his door made him place the whiskey on the table and wave his hand, opening it. Before he blinked, his arms were full of a crying eleven year old boy.

Hm.

Well, that had never happened before.

"My dad hates me!" Harry wailed. Voldemort slowly pat the boy on the back.

"This is precisely what I mean, Harry," Voldemort purred - this was excellent. "You can't control your emotions effectively, in a healthy way. Pause. Breathe. Push the emotions away, to the back of your mind. You are fine. Just breathe."

When the sobbing slowly stopped, Voldemort pushed the boy off of him and flicked his hand to rid himself of tear stains. A gloved hand pulled Harry's face up to his own, but Voldemort saw sadness and misery in the boys eyes.

"Push the emotions away, Harry. They are not useful to you - do you have a journal or anything similar? Write down what upsets you, instead of sobbing like a little girl."

Harry didn't blink nor smile as Charlie embraced him again, but he felt his body why was he so numb adjust and he wrapped his own arms around his brother. "Are you well, Charlie?" Harry murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'm fine, Harry - dad told me that you were worried about the looks I've been getting. He admits he's overreacted."

Harry stiffened but a slow smile came over his face. Charlie felt no emotion coming from him. "That's good," Harry murmured again. "I'm sorry for being so clingy."

Charlie noted that Harry's eyes were red and bloodshot, a clear indication that he had been crying. Who had he been crying to? Why can't I feel anything from him?

"Let's go find the others, alright?"

Harry hummed in agreement. For some reason, this worried Charlie more than he'd like to admit. "What are you doing tonight? I know you'll probably go to the library, but I was hoping - "

"I'm going to see Professor Quirrell," Harry interrupted quickly. "He's offered to give me extra work, because he knows I find things easy in his lesson."

"Oh..." Charlie's excited smile dropped and he nodded his head. "Okay, Harry. Love you."

"I love you too, Charlie."

The walk to the Slytherin dorms was silent and long, but Charlie didn't want to talk. He felt... sick.

"He - " Charlie moaned, flopping down on his bed. "He said he was going to Quirrell but - "

"Calm down, Potter," Draco commanded; the glass on his bedside table was beginning to shake and Harry's curtains were being pulled taut by an unseen force. "What's wrong?"

"Harry! He - I was in the Hospital Wing and my dad came in, then Harry got really upset and left. Dad said that Harry didn't like the looks I was receiving and dad told him to guard me, basically. My dad even called him Harold, and he only calls him that when he's really upset! Now, Harry won't talk to me and I can't feel anything from him and he completely ignored me in favour of Quirrell!"

"I'm sure there's nothing wrong, Charlie," Blaise soothed, but there was a hint of worry as well. Charlie couldn't feel anything? "It's been a long day - the look he gave to Professor McGonagall could have destroyed diamond."

Charlie shivered and nodded, but he still looked sad. "Say," Draco murmured, checking the time. "It's only seven o'clock, maybe we should go find him? Walk him back? I would have thought he'd appreciate the company."

Charlie clearly brightened up and removed his school robes, changing into a dark grey turtle-neck jumper and black slouch trousers. "Let's go; maybe we could go to the kitchens?"

Blaise smiled in agreement, but his dark eyes were worried. Surely the Potter Lord would be falling over his First born son? Just what is going on?

"Now, the incantation is explodere. No, don't scoff, Harry, it really is." Voldemort hid a smirk himself at the childish, incredulous expression that crossed the boys face.

"Are the spells all so literal?" Harry asked politely, before removing his wand and flinging the Dark curse at the wooden dummy. When the thing exploded into tiny pieces, before the pieces themselves blew up too, he wondered what it would do to a human.

"Yes, and as for the spell on a body... Well." Voldemort removed a small, white mouse from a cage before murmuring, "Explodere," and flicking his wand in an infinity loop. The mouse squealed loudly before it's ribs and intestines were ripped from it's body and it exploded into a bloody mush on his oak table. The man watched impassively as Harry flinched and recoiled as if physically struck. "It isn't typically used in battle because of the mass damage it can cause. It is used for construction or destruction of a building, by destroying the pieces into usable rubble."

That wasn't so bad, Harry mused.

Voldemort inwardly smirked; Explodere was his own invention when he was a sixteen year old boy and yes, he had used it in battle. The effects were astronomical, really. He had taken out some of Grindelwald's followers with the spell, after they'd sneered about his heritage.

Needless to say, he was not taken lightly ever again.

Subdued knocking on his door had the man curse and give Harry a fond stare. The boy was a prodigy, he was sure. And a Horcrux, too, but Voldemort wouldn't tell him that. He'd just order his Death Eaters not to harm him.

"I do believe our time is up, Harry." Voldemort groaned and stretched his, Quirrell's, back before waving his hand. The door flew open to reveal Charlie, smiling sheepishly, flanked by a sneering Draco and a frowning Blaise. Voldemort was pleased to note those green eyes showed no extensive emotion, such as joy. Only happiness, which meant he was closer to hiding normal emotions on top of distinctive ones.

"Good bye, sir." Harry smiled brightly, picking up his bag and sliding his school robe into the bag. "Good night."

Voldemort inclined his head and the door slammed shut behind the group, leaving a nervously smiling Harry with two annoyed boys and one very happy boy. "Let's go explore, Harry," Charlie grinned. "Maybe the corridor we were told not to go down? It could be our very own Marauder adventure!"

"No, Charlie," Harry shook his head. "If it's forbidden, I don't want to go down there. Besides, I'm tired and I just want to sleep."

Charlie sighed forlornly and did those eyes. His lower lip jut out, his nose scrunching cutely and his eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Harry flushed and turned. "Damnit, Charlie - I'm not doing it!"

There was a tiny whimpering sound. "Merlin be damned, if we die so help me I will kill you a thousand times over Charles Everette Potter!" Harry spat, before taking Charlie's hand in his own and dragging him down the stairs.

Blaise hid his sniggers behind his hand but Draco just watched in disgust. The twin brother to the Boy-Who-Lived had such control over his brother... How would it manifest?

Would Harry do anything for his brother?

Would he kill for his brother?

They walked around the school for what seemed to be hours, before they finally reached the Charms Corridor. "We're going to have to be quiet now," Charlie whispered. "We're breaking the First year curfew."

The three boys nodded their agreement, before Blaise's foot clipped the side of an armour piece. The four froze, before the armour clattered on the ground.

"FIRSTIES BREAKING CURFEW ON THE CHARMS CORRIDOR! FIRSTIES OUT OF BED!" Peeves cackled, flying to the side of them with a whoop of delight.

"Please, Peeves, stop it!" Charlie begged, before he heard quick shuffling behind them. "RUN!"

The four boys leapt up and over the ruined armour while Peeves laughed loudly behind them. They ran to the end of the corridor where a large, heavy door was - but it was locked.

"Alohamora!" Harry removed his wand and tapped the lock. The lock clicked and the door opened; they leapt in and slammed the door shut behind them, but Harry pressed his ear to the door.

"Where are they, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Tell me, quick."

"Say please," Peeves had a smile in his voice.

"Don't mess with me Peeves!"

"What are you going to do, you pathetic Squib?" Harry hissed but carried on listening.

"Now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," Peeves sang.

"Fine then - please?"

"NOTHING!" That was when Harry took his attention away from the door, because Draco had been pulling on his jumper for a minute.

"What, Draco?" Harry asked tiredly, before he turned around.

This was the Forbidden Corridor.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish, hooked fangs that appeared to be sharpened into blade-like points.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

"A Cerberus?" he whispered in awe, before the door behind them slammed open and Charlie's hands were around his jumper collar, pulling him away from the massive beast.

Harry took note of the barely hidden trap door beneath the dog and wondered what it was guarding.

Lucius Malfoy neatly folded the newest letter from his First born and Heir, Draco.

Dear father,

Harry is completely devoted to his brother, but something has gone wrong. He was gone from being marginally expressive with his emotions, as he is very manipulative, really, to having little to no basicemotions. It's odd.

He has lessons with Professor Quirrell after lesson hours (Lucius frowned; who was Quirrell? Why was he so interested in the Boy-Who-Lived?) and you'll never guess what - we (Blaise and I) followed the Potter twins and Filch nearly caught us (Really father, could you not remove that Squib from the school?) so we ran to the Forbidden Corridor - you won't believe why it's forbidden! There was a three headed dog! What is Dumbledore playing at, father?

I think there is strife between the Potters, especially between Harry and James Potter.

Love,

Draco Malfoy

His son lacked structure in his writing, Lucius moaned mentally. Potters, three headed dog, Potters. Were all of those tutors for nothing?

His eyes flickered down to his left arm. The Dark Mark had been shifting and gradually darkening, signifying his Lord's return. He hoped he wouldn't be tortured for his lack-of-help, but he had a son to look after.

Dear Sirius,

I know where the stone is being kept. We went into the Forbidden Corridor a few moments ago and there was a Cerberus guarding a trap door.

Should I get the stone?

Love,

Harry

Your loving Godson