When Snape approached them in the Common Room, looking like he'd swallowed a rather bitter lemon, two perfectly-wrapped packages in his hands, Harry's grin threatened to tear his face in two. "You two - You two have managed to bend the rules of the school within your First year and have been allowed onto the Quidditch team. Charles, you will be trying out for Seeker and Beater, while Harold, you will be trying out for Chaser and Seeker."

Snape's face took on a rather angered expression now. "I have won a five-year streak against Minerva and if the admission of you two pests onto the team changes my streak, I will string you up by your underpants on the Quidditch stands. Here," He thrust the two packages at the pair. "Your father sent them."

Harry took the package with a smile, Charlie copying after he'd gotten over his initial shock. Charlie loosened the tight strings and the paper fell away, revealing his Nimbus 2000 that he wasn't allowed to bring with him to school. "We're on the team?" Charlie breathed. "Harry, we're on the Quidditch team."

"Don't worry sir," Harry beamed, caressing the smooth wood with a fond smile. "You'll have a six-year win streak if we pass the trials."

"Trials will be tonight; practice is every Friday evening from seven o'clock to nine o'clock." Snape nodded again, as if to show they had to be punctual, and swirled away, his robes flying behind him like a bat stalking its prey.

Harry and Charlie shared an identical grin and rushed down the steps to their bedroom, throwing open the door. "We've got our brooms!" Charlie yelled, placing it carefully onto his trunk.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand?" Blaise groaned in jealously. "I've got a Comet One Hundred at home."

"I have a Comet Two Sixty," Draco cut in with a smirk to Blaise. "But - "

"We might be on the team!" Harry beamed. "Dad'll be so jealous!"

Harry smoothed out the long, straight twigs and lovingly eyed the Nimbus Two Thousand writing near the top. Draco pouted to himself, inwardly seething with jealousy.

As seven o'clock drew closer, Harry got his broom and set off at dusk to the Quidditch field. The one at his home had nothing on this beauty - hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end.

He mounted his broom and kicked off, flying through the air without a care in the world. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed this.

"Potter!" Flint yelled and Harry floated down to the ground with a euphoric smile on his face. "Your competition today is Charles, your brother, and Albert Moon."

Harry eyed the other boy, with his pale eyes and the limp hair and hid the smirk. This would be easy.

When the trials had finished, Harry was appointed Slytherin Seeker while Charlie was the Slytherin Beater. The boy with the pale eyes was red-faced and his chest was heaving, but Harry paid him no heed. If he didn't want the full brunt of the Potter family breathing down his fathers neck, he'd leave it alone.

And, when they were stood in the dungeons, laughing with Draco and Blaise, Harry was very surprised.

"You cheated!" Albert Moon snarled, his friends surrounding the four of them. "I want you to admit to Flint that you cheated! No way can two First years be better than me!"

"Maybe it's our blood?" Harry retorted smartly, leaning back into his friends without even realising it. "After all... How diluted is the Moon blood now? Fae, Vampire... and then only a fourth wizarding blood."

Charlie piped up, "I'm surprised you can even get on a broom!"

Moon flushed an ugly shade of puce as both Malfoy and his friends began to laugh. "Watch yourself, Potter - don't want to end up the same way as your mother!"

The laughter hushed, waiting on bated breath for the Potter Heir's response. Draco leant froward in sheer excitement. "Is that a threat?" Harry purred, standing up straight and drawing himself up to his measly height. Charlie stood up straighter too, pressing himself to Harry's back, while Draco stepped closer. Blaise stayed behind, his eyes glinting an interesting shade of violet in the low light; he was remaining neutral, but Draco wanted to win some brownie points. "Let's see, hm? Let's figure it out. You, the Heir to the Noble House of Moon, are threatening me and my brother, the Heir and Second to Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. You are also threatening to the Heir and Second to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Charles Potter and myself - now, Moon, what exactly are you going to do? We would crush you."

"Probably whine to his Troll of a mother." Charlie whispered into Harry's ear, but Moon heard. Harry smothered his amusement.

Harry was left staring at the underside of a wand while Moon held it to Charlie's throat. He was so short. "I swear to Merlin, Potter - don't fucking test me!"

"Reducto." Harry spoke clearly, his eyes dark in anger. His wand never left his holster, his right hand twitching slightly.

Albert Moon began to scream as he was flung across the corridor; Harry had shot the curse at his stomach and he was bleeding sluggishly from a large, gaping wound in his belly.

Charlie slammed his hands down on Harry's shoulders as the small boy began to move forward; their bond was trembling in Harry's pure fury. "Somebody get Snape!" Charlie roared as the bond began to howl, making his head ring and his ears start to ache. There were war drums in his ears and the anger in the air was near tangible.

Someone shot across the hall, Charlie didn't see who - Harry's magic was slowly leaking out in visible white streams, tiny at first, invisible to those who couldn't see what Charlie saw - until a small, concentrated piece of magic was sent shooting across to the sobbing boy. Charlie pulled his brother back, before all he heard was, "Stupefy," and the pair were sent sprawling to the floor, unconscious.

Charlie was woken up roughly by the sound of his father's angry curse. "Well you know what, Moon - you can sure as hell try to sue us, but from every thing that we have heard it was your own worthless spawn that initiated it!"

There was the sharp sound of a curtain being drawn, so Charlie allowed his eyes to flicker open. "Dad?" he whispered, sitting up on the bed. "What's up?"

James' startled eyes met his own before the man collapsed onto the bed and wrapping his arms around the boy. Charlie hugged back.

"Moon says he's going to press charges," James scoffed. "The Malfoy Heir, the Zabini Heir and the portraits in that area all say that worthless Troll spawn initiated it." James' voice lowered. "Well done on stopping Harry, my son. The First Born's are always that much powerful, but they are anchored by their parents magic or by an item of use. You are his anchor, precious. He is your protector, but you are his anchor - perhaps, your role is so much stronger than his."

Charlie nodded into the man's neck, but he was starting to wonder - just how strong was his brother? "Is Harry awake yet?"

James' stubble rubbed against his face as the man shook his head. "He's magically exhausted, bless his socks. Plenty of sweets, too."

"How's the other boy?" Charlie murmured, his eyes starting to droop slightly.

James' chest rumbled and Charlie smiled warmly as the man began to laugh. "Massive wound across his abdomen, something that Poppy won't heal, and he's severely bruised across his chest. Poppy was beside herself when she saw him, but once she'd learned what he'd done..."

James pulled back and gave Charlie a wink. "Well. Any way - congratulations! Beater, aye? Didn't think you had it in you, but do your old man proud."

Charlie grinned. "I'm going back to sleep again - I doubt I'll remember anything you just said so I apologise if I ask you the same again."

Charlie's eyes slid shut and he fell limply onto the bed, while James started to laugh loudly. He didn't dare mention the Troll that had managed to destroy the girls bathroom.

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship. Harry had to make sure that didn't happen by catching the snitch as soon as possible and Charlie had to make sure that didn't happen by taking the Gryffindor Seeker out as soon as possible.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry or Charlie play because Flint had decided that, as their secret weapons, Harry and Charlie should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker and that Charlie was playing Beater had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse - people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress. Charlie thought it was the first one, but Harry rather thought it was the second.

Harry decided that he was lucky to have a smart brother, because the pair were struggling with the homework load. It wasn't hard, as they'd done the majority of this when they were eight and nine, but still. Homework required detail in order for them to get the top marks, and by Merlin was there so much detail to add!

He went to bed with a full tummy and his tummy was also doing flip-flops while butterflies tap danced their way out of it. He'd be flying in front of the school tomorrow.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

Harry filled a bowl with cereal and covered it liberally in sugar and milk, gulping it down with a large mug of sugary coffee. He took some toast and nibbled on it, ripping apart into tiny pieces, before popping them into his mouth one by one.

Charlie stumbled into the hall, with sleep-mussed hair and heavy bags under his eyes. Harry wordlessly pushed him his cup of coffee after putting a few more scoops in and stirring. Charlie grinned tiredly and began to sip at it, while Harry got a separate plate and piling it high with a full English breakfast coupled with breakfast tea and a Pepper-up potion.

Lily hovered nervously to the side of her two boys and was giving Harry praise after praise regarding the extreme care he took with his brother.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Draco and Blaise were up in the top row, a large banner enchanted to float above their heads. It read, "Slytherin; Slythertwin" which had set Harry and Charlie in hysterics. It was a nice thought, but tacky. The writing was green and silver, with a large, lovely snake painted beneath that flashed between green and silver, too.

In the Quidditch changing rooms, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their emerald robes. Flint cleared his throat and growled, "Win."

There were various hums and then Harry and Charlie were following the rest of the team out onto the pitch.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand. Her yellowish hawk eyes scanned over the assorted heads and she seemed to nod to herself.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to Marcus Flint. Harry rather thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry slid elegantly onto his shiny Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too-"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc - no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Harry hissed in frustration and flew up higher, his sharp eyes scanning for the Snitch.

He met Charlie's eyes with his own before his brother nodded and smashed poor little Angelina off of her broom.

"FOUL!" The Gryffindors roared while Harry hid his own smile - and then he saw a tiny fleck of gold, hovering over a large sand pit.

Blood was rushing to his head, but Harry shot down, down, down... The Gryffindor Seeker was following him, making Harry grit his teeth in frustration, so he plummeted to the ground and -

Pulled up before he could collide.

The Gryffindor Seeker wasn't as lucky and was sent to ground with a loud crack of his arm.

"FOUUUUUL!" Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Harry shot to the ground, privately smug. He had caught Sirius out with that move before; it was his personal favourite.

She spoke angrily to Flint who scoffed in her face, and the game started again.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul..."

"Jordan, I'm warning you-"

"All right, all right. One Potter nearly kills Angelia, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession. The other Potter has broken the Gryffindor Seeker's arm, so he's being substituted..."

It was as Harry dodged a cheeky Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts - he had half a mind to ask Flint to call time-out - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating. Nobody seemed to notice Harry, who was floating higher and higher in the sky while his broom lurched and bucked - "HARRY!" Sirius roared over the crowd, his wand out at the ready and his face pale and clammy. Remus was standing next to him, his amber eyes wide and worried, while Dad was pale faced and his eyes were murderous, stormy.

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

Hermione wiped at her eyes hurriedly and grabbed a set of binoculars from the boy next to her - Harry and her met up in the Library and he'd become her very first friend.

Her eyes landed on Snape, who was chanting beneath his breath and, her mind set, she dodged through students and teachers alike. Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row - Snape would never know what had happened.

Harry clambered back onto the broom, gave Charlie a cocky wink, and shot to ground before one hand shot to his mouth as he slowed to a hover. He gave a great retch, coughed and spluttered before something gold popped out of his mouth.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete and utter confusion.

"Snape was jinxing your broom!" Hermione whispered harshly before she was dragged away with the crowd. Her brown eyes were wide and a little bit glazed - she'd just set a teacher on fire!

James, Remus and Sirius shot towards them. "Who was jinxing your broom, Harry? Did you see?" Remus spat, his eyes frenzied and more than wild - he was animalistic.

"I didn't see Remy; calm down," Harry gave the man a tiny smile. "I'm fine, see? No harm done."

Remus shook his head stubbornly and opened his arms wide for a hug - Harry stepped close in as Remus began to sniff at him. He knew now that this wasn't truly Remus - the wolf in him was making sure he wasn't hurt.

"You both played fantastically well." Sirius chimed in and pulled Remus away, wrapping his arms around Harry in a tight hug. "Although your tactics were so Slytherin!"

Sirius leaned down and whispered, "You must get the stone." Harry hummed in response, while Charlie snapped his head to Harry.

His emotions had gone again, but why? Why was he hiding away now?

Harry holstered his wand and stepped back with a tight smile. Voldemort gave him a disapproving look. "You have been slacking. Last week, Lily was almost completely gone. Now, she hovers over you like a clingy child."

Harry bowed his head in acknowledgement. Couldn't Quirrell see it was too much for him, to get rid of his mother?

Voldemort let out a loud, disappointed sigh. This was the part he loved the best - warping little Harry's mind until the boy was reliant on him and only him. "What have you been doing, boy?"

Voldemort knew what the boy had been doing - he had passed the first, second and third puzzles to get to the Philosopher's Stone, while also training Charlie and balancing lessons and learning in between. He really was a marvellous little boy; perhaps Voldemort would make him his heir? Once the time was right, of course.

"Um - " Harry flushed. "Well, basically... There's something in this school that somebody wants, so I've been trying to get it for them."

"The Philosopher's Stone?" Voldemort purred, his eyes narrowing in amusement as the boy's head shot up in shock. "Leave it alone, Harry. It does not concern you."

Voldemort turned his back on the child as a content smirk bloomed on his face. He thumbed several books on his desk before removing two bulky ones from the pile. He carefully passed them to the boy. "The bigger book contains memory spells - ones that can increase memory span, or speed up learning. However," he added sharply. "They come at a price. Headaches, temporary mind blocks... Do not use them two days before exams, and do not leave it active if you sleep."

Harry grinned widely, flashing his canine teeth. His face showed clear hunger for these spells. "The other... It is a Necromancy book; very dark, buzzing with magic. Do not let Charlie or your father, better yet even Dumbledore see it. If they know you have it..." Voldemort let the warning hang in the air.

"Thanks, sir. Say, what are you doing for the Winter solstice?" Harry looked at him a bit too eagerly.

"I am going to visit family." Voldemort lied; really, he was going to his followers and seeing what they had come up with for restoring his body, just in case he didn't get the Philosopher's stone.

Harry tiptoed past Peeves and entered the hopefully abandoned classroom. Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

He froze at he sight of a large, shiny mirror in the middle of the room. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. "I show not your face, but your hearts desire." Harry murmured to himself. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped in front of it.

He saw, firstly, himself - he had bedraggled hair and his eyes were sleepy, his skin pale. And then, he was growing older, taller... He looked down at himself but he didn't change at all. He looked back to the mirror. There was another man stood next to him and Harry subconsciously checked to his left and right. Nobody was there.

The Harry in the mirror had cool, jaded eyes and his hair was neatly combed. His skin was radiant and pale. The other man... He had teal, slitted eyes and cropped dark hair. And he was - his hand was... It was wrapped around his waist and the Harry in the mirror blushed a pale shade of red, swatting the other man's hand away.

Harry's pulse quickened. What mirror was this? His hearts desire was this?

Another man stepped forward; his body was heavily muscled, his hair was shaggy and red in colour, his skin darkly tanned. The man grinned impishly and Harry realised with a blink of shock that this was Charlie, grown up.

Behind the trio, there was Draco, Blaise, his mother, his father, Sirius, Remus... They were all smiling, all happy... And Harry felt the bitter sting of tears prickle in his eyes. He turned his back to the mirror and left.

Because not even Necromancy could bring his mother back, and his father would never be happy. He stormed down into the dungeons, his magic frenzied and stormed into the First Year dorms. He packed his clothing away into his trunk before doing the same to Charlie's. He packed their things away before collapsing onto his bed, trying desperately not to cry. His father would never be happy.

Charlie entered the dorms just like Harry - his magic was howling and calling out to Harry. Those in the Common Room could feel it and their emotions were reacting similarly; he was in agony, feeling Harry's pure emotion, and now Charlie was passing it onto everyone he met.

"Harry?" He stepped into the clean room and saw a lump in the middle of Harry's bed. He pulled back the covers with his magic, not even realising that wandless magic was something he shouldn't be able to do, and lay next to his sobbing brother. "What's wrong?"

"Dad will - will never be happy," Harry hiccuped. "And it's all my fault!"