Well, here you go. Chapter 6.

Chapter VI- The Quietening of the War Drums

"Oh, terribly sorry, brother dear, but sadly, I wasn't paying attention and burned a waffle. Would you prefer I eat it while you take a good one?"

That was what Harry said.

For a moment there, he almost sounded submissive.

Hayden missed the sarcasm.

And instead of trying to think over that, Hayden decided to try and make himself look like the man in charge.

"Well, if you don't pay attention, don't cook! They're probably all dry. I would've just called a restaurant and told them to deliver breakfast...course, just because they'd deliver to me, doesn't mean they'd do the same for you."

Harry Potter was an Elumvian, a graduate at Ehynware Isles Magical School, one of the strongest in his age group, and nobody messed with him.

By that reasoning, Hayden was a nobody, because he messed with Harry.

Harry had watched Hayden's body language carefully, and his scowl had grown even more with everything he noticed.

A wave of the scarred hand. Rolling of the eyes. Trying to make a good facial expression. Trying to glare decently, as if Hayden could, it was an art not many could master.

Who the hell did Hayden think he was? Oh, right, the Boy-Who-Lived. Who cared?! Harry sure as hell didn't! Master Kain was right. Hayden surviving the curse had just made him an arrogant bastard rather than anything else.

And Harry, with the spirit of brotherhood, paid back his brother by proceeding to continue with his plan to scare the living daylights out of him.

Hayden had turned away, a stupid grin on his face as he strutted towards the fireplace, to demonstrate his "superiority" to Harry by fire-calling a restaurant for breakfast.

Less than a second later, Hayden felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Instinctively, he turned around, only to see his brother right behind him.

And then, he felt himself slammed against the wall as his brother held him up with the front of his clothes.

"What the- what the hell are you doing!?" Hayden half-screamed, shaking in Harry's grip, but Harry held him still.

"Be silent," hissed Harry. It was a deathly whisper, and Hayden felt fear, fear he had only felt in the company of others he'd rather not talk about.

"I don't care who you are, but to me, you are nothing but an arrogant child. You are no one special, until you prove it to me otherwise."

The statement seemed hypocritical, seeing as that was what everyone had once did to Harry, but Harry reminded himself of two things. One, he hadn't really tried to bully Hayden, just teach him an important lesson. Two, sometimes the easy thing was so much better and fulfilling to do then the right thing.

Angrily, Hayden tried to break his brother's grip while he opened his mouth to retort against his brother's words.

Another glare from Harry, and Hayden felt his mouth close.

"I was more than willing to give you a chance to prove yourself not to be some arrogant celebrity, but you seemed determined to prove me wrong."

Harry's eyes narrowed even more, and for a moment there, he seemed much more older and worn. "Didn't anyone teach you? Respect others, and they will respect you." Harry smirked sadistically, as he dropped his brother roughly. He began to walk away, but as he got in the doorway, he turned again, deliberately so the loose cloth from his bandana swung around dramatically. "Disrespect me...and let me say this, next time, I'll do more than a light shove."

Hayden watched as his brother stalked up the stairs, wide-eyed, and the silence was only broken by Oriana a few moments later.

"Woah...he calls that a light shove?" wondered the girl.

Harry had remained in his room since that event. Hayden had left some time ago to go to his friend's place, and who knew what Oriana was up to.

A quiet knock sounded at the door. Harry sighed, hoping it wasn't Hayden who had returned early to try and have some revenge.

Harry flattened himself against the wall next to the door, releasing his magic to sense who his visitor was.

Strangely enough, instead of sensing who it was, his magic returned forcefully back to his body. Harry winced at the mild pain, and decided to investigate the occurrence later. It could be the different wards, but Harry was taking no chances.

He opened the door a crack, a crack large enough to see the face of Oriana. Still flattened against the wall, he released his grip on the door, folding his arms, and allowed her to push the door open and enter.

Sadly, Oriana was not alone, as another red-head followed.

Oriana was silent for a few moments as she examined the room. "I've never been in here before," she remarked.

Harry did not bother saying anything, busy glaring into the eyes of his birth mother. The woman finally looked away, wringing her hands nervously.

"...It's been a while since I came in here as well. ...too many reminders, even when we took most things out..." Lily managed. That seemed to remind her that the only thing Harry had been carrying before he was kidnapped and forcibly brought to the Potter home was a single pack. "Do you have any belongings somewhere else?"

"Hm. If I had any useful belongings, surely there would be no point of leaving them somewhere."

Oriana suddenly turned around. "Wait, so the only clothes you have is the stuff you're wearing?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, unable to see where this was going. He answered anyhow. "I have three sets of clothes, and surely cleaning charms are adequate when the issue is hygiene, are they not?"

He neglected to mention his battle-armour, still shrunk down. After all, armour didn't really count as a clothes set...did they?

"Only three?!" Oriana half-shouted. Harry changed his gaze to one of an inquiring stare, and blushing furiously, Oriana apologised, and she turned to her mother.

The two began communicating entirely with facial expressions, when Lily suddenly nodded.

"Very well. I'll get my things." Lily left the room, but paused by the wall outside the room, so she was out of view from someone inside.

"Weren't you going to ask someone to do the cleaning charms for you?" asked Oriana.

"I think I am capable of performing a simple cleaning spell," said Harry, almost offended that Oriana would think him so incapable.

"Well yeah, I can do it too, but it's summer..." Oriana trailed off, noting Harry's bemused expression. "...Don't tell me you don't know about the underage magic laws!"

"Oh, of course." Harry smirked. "Since I've been missing and presumed dead for many years, I would presume I'm exempted, and I suppose the trace spells have been removed from the Ministry's side. By the end of this month, I suppose they will have placed me under the law again, but my magical signature will be registered under my Ollivander's wand." Harry stood straight, shoving himself off the wall. He stretched out his arm, summoning his shrunken staff from its place in his backpack.

However, nothing happened, and Harry pushed more magic into his spell, and the staff responded, flying into his hand. It expanded to its full size, and Harry gave it a slight twirl above his head before he pointed it at the floor.

A moment later, and the room was clean, free of dust, surfaces shining, and there was a slight aroma of lemons.

Still, Harry was worried why his magic was acting so peculiar. He shrunk the staff and pocketed it, before he looked back at Oriana, who was still in awe from the spell performed with the staff.

"Where did she go anyway?"

Oriana smiled brilliantly, showing her white teeth. "She's getting her money bag." The smile grew. "We're going shopping."

And now Harry had the misfortune of shopping in London with two women, or well, just a teenager, since his mother had been smart to enough to sense the tension and had backed off.

Harry sighed. He couldn't even try to concentrate on the war-drums, which were not only sounding quieter than usual, but since they sometimes had the effects of making him more aggressive, he might end up burning down half of Central London in his frustration.

"Try this one Harry!" said Oriana brightly. "You look good in green! And it might go well with the bandana!"

Frustration from things like this. Vomit-green. Strangely named colour, since vomit was actually rarely green, unless the person had eaten a whole load of vegetables before puking.

"Oriana," said Harry, trying to calm himself. "I think I've given you a bit too much freedom in this whole situation. You see, there are a number of colours that people shouldn't wear. One, strangely enough, is vomit-green, which only works if it is an obese person dressing up for Halloween as a puddle of vomit."

"Harry! Pleeease!" Oriana pouted. "You don't even have to show anyone else!" Her lower lip quivered as if she was about to cry.

Harry sighed again. "Oriana, if I wear the damned thing, you will stop acting like a child. And if I ever hear any comments about vomit-green, or if anyone else finds out, or if someone accuses me of being a pile of vomit, you will pay."

Harry drew his finger across his neck, before grabbing the cursed shirt. He stalked off to the fitting room and pulled off his own shirt and slid the hideous one on. The fit was comfortably loose, and if it wasn't that for that colour, he would have worn it...

Harry left the changing room and glared at his sister. "Happy now?"

Oriana smiled and revealed more shirts, identical to the one Harry was wearing, in different colours. "I just wanted to see if you'd actually put it on."

Harry sighed before walking back into the changing room.

"...I was just kidding you know," said Oriana hesitantly. "That's what sisters are for, huh? You aren't mad, are you?"

The door opened, and as she saw Harry, back in his clothing. He tossed the shirt back at her and ruffled her hair.

"Don't worry. I'll take good care to pay you back for that stunt."

"Harry!"

"That's what brothers are for, huh?"

Harry tumbled out of the fireplace. "What a ridiculous way to travel," he cursed, climbing to his feet. "You wizards have no imagination."

A heavy hand fell upon his shoulder. "Don't worry son, you'll get used to the Floo," James said.

Harry turned, shaking his father's hand of his shoulder, only letting a "Hm" escape from his mouth.

The fireplace was suddenly filled with green flames, and Oriana and Lily came walking out, not having fallen or even stumbled.

"James! When did you get back?" Lily asked, as she greeted her husband with a kiss. "I thought you'd still be busy..."

"Just arrived about a few moments ago. The uh, meeting was shorter than expected. Not much really happened."

And on cue, green flames burst out of the fireplace, and Hayden arrived.

"When did everyone get here? Just fire-called and no one was here." The green fires flashed again, and a tall red-head arrived. "Oh yeah, I invited Ron over-" Hayden cut himself off as he noticed the shopping bags, and he turned to his mother. "You took Ori shopping again? Don't tell me we're going to have to give her another room for her clothes."

"We were going shopping for Harry!" retaliated Oriana, before looking at Ron. "Ron, this is Harry. Harry, Ronald Weasley."

The two nodded at each other, Ron uncomfortable, Harry not seeming to care.

Lily dragged James away to start dinner, and by James' reluctance, it appeared Oriana had inherited her cooking skills from her father.

"So, why did you have to take him shopping?" said Hayden, still clearly having not forgotten Harry slamming him into a wall earlier.

"To ensure your new competition had suitable attire, obviously," said Oriana, poking Harry with her thumb, in particular the lean muscles on Harry's arm.

Hayden snorted, and left the room, Ron trailing after him.

"Sorry about all that," said Oriana. "Some of the girls he brings around here..."

Harry raised an eyebrow, but inwardly, he had guessed what she was talking about.

"I'm not a fan of the gold-digging sluts he brings over here all the time," said Oriana. "So I kinda thought if he's worried about you as competition, he wouldn't bring them over-"

Harry interrupted. "I'm not fond of being used," he said coldly, his harsh green eyes staring into hers.

"Sorry...I didn't mean to. I mean...I know how you'd feel. I won't do it again," said Oriana, breaking eye contact.

And then Harry remembered how he'd been used as a child...and since Oriana was Hayden's sister, it only made sense she had been used as well. And since she was older, she had clearly endured it for longer.

"Hn. Do you want to help me put this stuff away?" said Harry.

In Harry Talk, that meant: "Fine, I forgive you. Now help me put this stuff away."

Oriana's head shot up and as she realised she was forgiven, she smiled. "Sure! Let's go!" she said, starting to push Harry out of the room and up the stairs.

"By the way, Oriana. Does your mother know you use the phrase: "gold-digging sluts"?"

Harry watched as Oriana dumped out all of his new clothing over his head, and began folding the trousers.

"What? I hate folding shirts!" snapped Oriana.

Harry rolled his eyes irritably, and began to fold shirts as his sister began talking about random subjects, and he would respond by occasionally nodding or saying "Yeah."

Meanwhile, Harry had more pressing issues then folding shirts. His magic was still acting up, and he could swear the war-drums were sounding quieter.

There they were again, but he was sure they were quieter than usual...

"Ori! Harry! Dinner! Now!" shouted Lily.

"We-are-coming!" screeched Oriana for the fourth time.

A drawer closed behind her.

"Finished," said Harry. He walked over to the door and turned, Oriana still not having followed him. "...Let's go then before she...she decides we don't need dinner."

If Oriana noticed Harry's hesitation, it was ignored.

The two made their way to the kitchen- there was a dining room, but James and Lily saved that for when they had important guests- and they saw Lily still placing down dishes on the table, James already sitting at it.

"You know Lils," said James, noticing Harry and Oriana. "If you say dinner's ready, it's usually assumed in today's society that dinner is ready, not almost ready."

"Well, if I could get some help, then I could have had got dinner ready!" She glared openly at her husband.

"Well, if you just let us get a house-el-"

"For the last time, we are not getting a house-elf!"

Harry and Oriana watched the argument escalate, their heads turning from James to Lily as if they were watching a tennis match.

Harry glanced down at the table, and noticed that he couldn't recognise most of the dishes, but to be fair, he had spent more years eating Elumvian food.

"What's this rubbish?" Harry stuck his little finger into a white paste-like food, and withdrew some. He tasted it and contemplated the taste. "Not bad, whatever the hell it is," he stated, ignoring Lily's glare.

"It's mashed potatoes!" said Oriana. "How on earth don't you know that?"

Harry glanced over at the girl. "...Potatoes? Oh, potatoes...grow underground, have this brown skin thing that you only keep if you roast or bake them...you can also fry them, boil them, put them in stew...yeah, haven't had potatoes in well, eleven years."

"No potatoes?!" Oriana said, astounded. "What on earth were you living on? No potatoes? That's wrong. And stupid. And insane. Seriously, what were you eating?"

Before Harry could make a response, Hayden and Ron arrived.

"What's for dinner?" said Hayden, glancing over the table. He pulled up a chair for himself and was about to sit down when Lily interrupted.

"Wash your hands you two. I don't want your filthy hands all over the food." Hayden mumbled something probably offensive under his breath as he walked away, Ron following. Lily watched them, before turning back to the table. "You too as well," she said, looking at Oriana, "and you!" She pointed at Harry. "Already got your fingers in the food! Go on, wash up."

Hayden had finished washing his hands, and Oriana quickly shoved ahead of Ron, stating: "Ladies first," as her valid reason.

Harry wondered what Oriana used as a reason when she was dealing with other girls, before noticing that Ron kept glancing at him.

"What?" he said, turning to the Weasley son.

"Huh? Nothing, just...you look a lot like Hayden. I mean I'd never thought I'd meet his long-lost twin."

"I never thought I'd see much of my long-lost twin again, but I'm not staring at him, am I?" was Harry's response.

Once everyone was at the table (with clean hands of course), dinner began, but settled into a rather awkward silence. Subconsciously, Harry even started making sure his cutlery didn't clank too loudly against his plate.

However, Hayden eventually broke the silence, starting up a conversation about the newest brooms on the market with his father and Ron. Even Oriana was involved in the conversation.

Harry, obviously, was clueless. As such, he tuned out the noises, shovelling food into his mouth as if he was programmed to do so, focusing on the sounds of the war-drums – and he knew they were definitely quieter than usual.

If that had happened back at the Ehnyware Isles, Harry would have been pleased that those irritating drums were piping down. But here, with his ...family, and after his magic seemed to be so...peculiar lately, he was worried.

And as well as that, James and Lily kept sending him odd looks. Why, he had no idea. Surely they didn't expect him to know about brooms...so what did they mean?

Harry froze, as he felt a pain shoot through his right arm. The pain faded almost instantly, and Harry glanced at his arm. No physical damage...or at least, on the inside.

He concentrated on his magic, sending it to check if he'd hurt his arm somehow...but strangely enough, he felt a disorderly connection, varying in power, and he could barely feel his magic.

And then, the other instances when his magic acting strangely came to his mind. What the hell was wrong with him?

And suddenly, Harry was greeted by a hand waving over his face.

"Harry! Come back to Earth, please?!"

Harry almost jumped from his chair. What the hell was wrong? His magic acting up? The war-drums becoming quieter? Had he not been taught to always be aware of his environment?

Harry turned to see Oriana, staring at him.

"I was wondering do you want to go flying?"

The teen glanced around. James, Ron and Hayden were already gone, and Lily was doing the dishes, muttering about lazy husbands.

For a split second, Harry contemplated the thought of the two getting divorced and him happily being emancipated.

"Harry! Flying!?"

Harry only stood and pushed his way past her, striding powerfully to the stairs.

"...Was it something I said?" wondered Oriana out loud.

Harry made it to his room and slammed the door shut. His magic felt too strange, and he was not going to wait any longer to check on it...

He sat on his bed, moving into the lotus position. He inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply, closing his eyes bit by bit with every breath.

Soon, a near invisible yellow aura surrounded him. His hair and the loose cloth from his bandana swayed around in the air, as if he was underwater. Seconds passed...and his eyes snapped open, their usual harshness replaced with fear.

His staff was in its shrunken state, lying on the desk. Shakily, Harry extended his hand.

The staff didn't even return to full size, and wobbled towards him, before dropping onto the floor. It rolled on the floor as if it were nothing more than a dead piece of wood. And then, just like before, another quick stab of pain went through his arm.

His hand was shaking uncontrollably, as if he was having a spasm. What was wrong with his magic? And if his magic was affected so badly...what else could it be doing to him?

And he knew that magic did not randomly decide to start damaging itself. Someone or something was doing this to him.

Harry narrowed his eyes in anger. Whoever did it to him, oh, they would pay...

Harry's back. Much more aggressive then he was in the original Invisibly Jaded.

I told you that in the first chapter.

Remember, Harry's still a rookie in experience, and hence, may not act like a correct warrior all the time.