Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter, just this line of new stories. Please let me know what you think.

Summary - Ten Years after Neville Longbottom was declared the Boy Who Lived, that left Harry Potter, a Harry who was the son of Voldemort's most notorious Death Eaters. Leaving Magical Britain for the MACUSA so he can make his own path, Harry joins Ilvermorny. But the past won't let him go, now he has to succeed.

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Located at the highest peak of Mount Greylock in the Berkshires of Massachusetts, hidden behind clouds so thick nobody could hope to peer through them and shielded by numerous enchantments lay Ilvermorny castle.

Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one of several schools in North America, and it recruited students from all across the continent; students would receive their letters, which would appear via portkey and would give the students their congratulations letter of notification and the parents would take their students to the nearby magical shopping districts for their school supplies before embarking from the nearest portkey hub operated by the MACUSA and would send the students to the school instantly.

Standing among her soon-to-be peers, Melissa Picquery smiled even as she breathed in the filtered air provided by the numerous enchantments surrounding the castle to keep them safe at this high altitude. The great-niece of famed former MACUSA President Seraphina Picquery, Melissa was trying hard not to squeal like a little girl, even as she met some of her friends as they too chatted outside the school, waiting for the teachers to let them inside.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Melissa turned at the voice, instantly noting the strange accent that was clearly not American, and found herself looking into the vibrant emerald green eyes of a boy her age with a thin face and raven black hair, wearing the dark blue and cranberry uniforms of the school. The boy was slightly taller than her, but not by much. She liked him instantly, especially when she saw the roguish smile on his face that looked lopsided. The moment she saw him, she was instantly smitten, and she was just 11 years old.

"Yeah, it is. I've been looking forwards to coming to Ilvermorny since I was a little girl," Melissa smiled.

The boy smiled back with a kind, gentle and yet still roguish smile that was more like a smirk. Melissa had read many No-Maj books about adventurers and she could see this boy had the same devil-may-care attitude, but it was carefully blended with a compassionate soul. And yet as she looked at his sparkling emerald eyes, there was something there, a shadow of some kind… "I know what you mean; ever since I heard of this school when I was just 7, I've been looking forward to it."

Melissa and the boy shared a smile, but her expression became more quizzical. "Sorry, but I like your accent. Is it real?"

The boy blinked. "My accent?" He said before he chuckled. "Oh, that. You'd be amazed how many people comment on it but I don't really listen to the comments. Yeah, it's real. It's British."

"British? But don't you go to Hogwarts?" Melissa realised she was being rude. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you-."

"You didn't. I chose not to go to Hogwarts," the boy smiled, but there was something in his tone, something dark, a hint of warning and there was a glint in his eyes she didn't like, but it was gone before she could really dwell on it. "I left Britain and I'm being fostered in the MACUSA."

"Fostered? Sorry, but what happened to your parents?" Melissa asked.

The boy's expression darkened visibly again and his posture made it clear this was not a subject he wanted to discuss right now. "So, what did your family tell you about Ilvermorny?" He asked.

Recognising the change of topic which she welcomed while she thought the boy was a real cutie, Melissa nodded. "Well, my great aunt was the President, and she came here. She was one of the few students who was selected for all four houses."

"Is she boring you to death?" The scathing but still familiar voice of Talia Parkinson made Melissa stiffen. "She does that."

Melissa turned slowly and found herself looking into Talia's face. She had never understood why the Parkinson family had split up and one branch ended up in America. She wished they'd drowned in the Atlantic, or travelled to somewhere like Antarctica. The girl was their age with lank black or brown hair, with the typical pug-like face of a typical Parkinson.

"Do you really think he cares about your stories, Mel?" Talia went on, a sneer on her face before she turned to the boy, and her expression brightened. "Y'know, you can always spend time with me and my girls," she pointed to a group of girls who were standing there, their body language and expressions making it clear they were not very nice people.

"Actually, she wasn't," the boy replied, his expression making it clear what he thought of her. "And truthfully, since you were eavesdropping for the last two minutes and I saw you out of the corner of my eye, don't insult my intelligence by trying to tell us you had no intention whatsoever of just casually insulting her for no reason," the boy snapped while he pushed Melissa behind him slightly so then Talia's focus was on him.

Talia growled at him after a moment of staring at him in disbelief, but before she could come up with a decent and worthy cutting remark, the doors of Ilvermorny opened.

"First years," a magically enhanced voice called. "Please come in. We've been waiting for you."

The boy pulled Melissa back a little bit. "Let the pug and her bitch friends go first," he said to her.

Melissa couldn't help but chuckle at his description of her.

"How do you know that cow anyway?" The boy asked.

"Oh, it's a long story. My parents had put me into a day-magic tuition group. Unfortunately, Talia was there, and we've hated one another since. She insulted my little brother, and we became enemies."

"What was wrong with your brother?"

"Oh, he was playing with a little dragon plushie," Melissa said, thinking it was such a pathetic reason to start a bullying campaign. "He was only 4 at the time, and yet she goes for him and I defend him, and then suddenly we're at each other's throats. I hate going to functions knowing Talia Parkinson is nearby."

"Talia Parkinson? That's her name?" The boy asked.

Melissa nodded, her long dark hair with its streak of blonde-white bouncing in its ponytail. "Yeah. Oh," she gasped as she realised something important, "My name is Melissa Picquerry. What's yours?"

The boy turned to her, his original devil-may-care manner back. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Melissa Picquerry."