If I owned Harry Potter, the series would've gone a lot differently. All my OTP's would be canon and no one would've died! (Except all the evil peoples. Especially Lucius "Pretty Boy" Malfoy). When I do own it, all of you, my dearest readers, will get an email and a cookie. Don't hold your breath.

A Strange Encounter

Balisk sat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. The Sorting had been last night, and unsurprisingly, all the newbies had started off the year on his bad side by asking about his eye.

All of them but Harry, it seemed.

Balisk summed it up to the fact he'd met the boy prior (well, he'd also met Draco before, but he was a git) and had probably scared him half to death. He probably didn't want to speak to him at all, let alone make fun of him.

The blond sighed and looked around the Hall. From his view, everyone was enveloped in light clouds of different colors. He supposed this vision was a side-effect of what he now called 'the incident', as he remembered see a similar cloud around his mother after Ashton had pried his hands away.

Her's had been a black-ish purple.

After years of having this 'power', Balisk had worked out a system of coding the colors. He found that they told him what the person was like on the inside. Sometimes, he'd have to look into the person's eyes, as the clouds tended to change with the mind it surrounded, just so he could get a better look.

He'd found that a white cloud usually surrounded babies and younger children, then it would change as they were exposed to more of the world. The Slytherin table was a mass of red—meaning generally evil in an adolescent way—with a few dots of white-grey in it. Grey usually meant the person was neutral; not decidedly evil, but not innocent either.

Black was the worst—it meant that the person had done horrible, evil things in their past and felt no remorse. He hated these people the most, though he'd met very few with this aura. His father had been one of them.

There were also a variety of other colors: Blue, which meant a light soul, someone who was generally happy. Purple, meaning slightly confused or mentally ill, as his mother had been. Green meant that the person was often absorbed in their own thoughts. A red-orange color meant the opposite of blue. These people were often pessimistic about life. He hadn't been surprised to find that he himself had a this particular aura most of the time. Pink was a good-hearted aura, one that he'd seen very few people with. These were the people he loved, because even though they've been exposed to the evils of the world, they stayed kind and generous.

Balisk sighed and pushed his meal around on his plate. He hadn't apologized to Lee for blowing up, but he knew that Lee didn't expect him to. He blew up often, especially when the subject of his right eye became topic. This was why it wasn't brought up unless his friends thought Balisk couldn't get away. He always did, anyway.

"Hey, Balisk," Hermione said brightly, "How are you?"

Balisk had made friends with Hermione before the year had started when he'd been walking around a muggle library in London and found her in the thicker part of the shelves. They'd begun talking about different types of literature when Balisk had accidentally used a levitation spell out of habit on one of the books. Fearing the worst, he'd tried to make up and explanation when Hermione calmly pointed out that his wand needed polishing and he needed to work on his grip.

Shortly after, he'd learned she was a muggle-born witch and was Hogwart's bound. He'd hugged her tightly before saying he was heading to the same school at the end of the year. Ever since, they'd made study plans for the year.

"Hello, I'm fine." He wasn't fine, and knew she could tell, but he didn't feel like talking that much.

"I know you're lying," Gold star for Balisk, "Why won't you talk to anyone? Lee told me what happened. Balisk, it doesn't matter what your appearance is, it's what's on the inside that counts."

"The inside doesn't count when people don't see past the outside," He replied calmly, standing and walking away. As he predicted privately, Hermione followed.

"If you'd just give them a chance—"

"I give them a million chances, Hermione! They don't take them. The only people that know me for who I am were the ones that knew me before the accident."

"I didn't know you before the accident."

"I was wearing sunglasses when we met. You cannot honestly say that you would've treated me the same if you'd seen it before hand."

"No," Hermione confessed, "But I would've held out. You like Shakespeare, most people here think it's a brand of underwear. How could I miss out on a friend like you?"

Balisk smiled at her. Hermione had a green-pink aura. Smart and kind, the perfect aura in his eyes. Though he would've changed his sexual preferences for a girl like her, he saw Hermione has a younger sister of sorts. A younger sister he was damn proud to have.

Suddenly he heard a racket from the stair cases and ran to see what had caused it. When he got there, he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from his lips. He saw George hanging upside-down by his left ankle with his cloak dangling and his arms crossed. Fred had turned to Balisk and grinned.

"Very funny, Fred. Now put me down so I can smack you properly." George glared and him and Fred eased his twin down to the ground then released the spell.

Fred turned as he heard a sweet sound meet his ears. When he saw Balisk laughing—both from his mouth and his eyes—and he felt a tug at his heart, which had also picked up speed.

"Very funny, Fred. Now put me down so I can smack you properly."

Fred silently cursed his brother for interrupting, but put him down gently anyway.

His brother didn't have a chance to make good on his threat because Balisk had ran up the steps and embraced him. He hugged back and felt Balisk lean forward slightly.

"Thanks, Freddie," Balisk whispered, pulling away and turning to George. "You okay, George?"

"I'm fine. But I'm hungry, too. Let's go to breakfast."

"Sorry, I already ate. I'll see you two later, though. I'm almost late for Potions."

"Oh, right, I forgot. Someone's taking Advanced Potions this year. See you later, Balisk." Fred and George waved at him as he departed then raced down the steps.

Balisk sighed again and started off in the direction of the dungeon. Even though Potions didn't start for another twenty minutes, he wanted his pick of seats when he got there.

As he entered the large doors, he saw a few other student scattered around the dungeon and their professor seated behind his desk.

"Hello, Professor Snape." Balisk said, seating himself and his cauldron in the farthest right hand side of the first row.

Normally, Snape would loath the idea of having Balisk in his class. But he'd noticed that, when alone, Balisk was an exceptional student. It was obvious that the trouble-makers he associated with were the cause of his rare but still unruly behavior. He may even say that Balisk was his favorite student—not aloud, of course.

"Hello, Mr. Acton. Here is your ingredients list, so you can start early."

Balisk grinned and carefully took the parchment from his professor's hand. He scanned the words and memorized every one before going to the cabinet. He felt a tap on his shoulder and jerked up, see Percy Weasley standing behind him.

"Do you mind sharing that dragon's blood? That's the last bottle."

"Not at all," Balisk smiled, "You can just put your cauldron next to mine."

After getting situated, Balisk began to go down the mental list, putting in the ingredients as the list specified. After just a few minutes, he'd finished the potion and relinquished the dragon's blood to Percy while gathering his cauldron and getting a sample before using a spell to clean the rest.

"Here you are," Balisk said politely, placing the sample on Snape's desk.

Snape raised an eyebrow and dismissed him from class, though it officially hadn't begun yet. Balisk grinned and gathered his things, walking from the class room. He'd finished earlier than usual on purpose. It was his first day back at school from a summer of hell and he just wanted on moment where he wasn't being stared at by younger children for his eye or being stared at by teachers and equals for being so goddamned smart.

That brought him to another subject: Where his intelligence had come from.

From his mother, he'd only gotten good looks and the ability to rend grown men immobile. His father was no genius, following the strongest voice in the crowd, though at the same time fully aware of what he was doing. He knew that generally, one's genius was nurture, not nature. But when it came to being raised by his parents and his level of genius, it wasn't just his work. It had to be something in his bloodline.

Balisk sighed and looked up at the fat lady, "Mimbulus Mimbletonia," He muttered glumly.

"You look awful, dear," She commented, but swung open anyway. As soon as Balisk got up to the dormitories, he collapsed on his bed and snuggled closer to the pillow. Being in mostly Advanced Classes had its advantages; he had fewer classes than the normal students. He also got out of a few early for finishing his projects early, much like today. Though he didn't always leave before class started.

Since he didn't have classes until after lunch meant that he could sleep the day away.

So he did.

*Owari*

LAME CHAPTER IS LAME.

So, this explains a little more about Balisk, I think.

Someone asked if Balisk was pure-blood, that will be revealed in the next chapter. :D I've got to have a reason to keep the few readers I have coming back for more, don't I? And we know his brother's name now! I hadn't planned to reveal his name yet, but I didn't want to make the sentence more awkward by saying something like "His brother". It's four AM, but I'm going to work on the next chapter now.

P.S. Does anyone know of a good Beta reader? I don't have one and I need one badly because I suck D:

GOOD NIGHT.