Welcome back, dear readers, to "Infinity Keeps Me Alive"
Allow me to reintroduce myself.
Express
Harry's last month at the Dursleys had begun with a small "I, Lord Harry James Potter, hereby ask for my wand to be untraced." He was after all emancipated, recognised as seventeen, and a Lord. Because there was no reason for a trace to monitor someone of age, magic had complied and removed the spell immediately.
Free from this burden, he had started to experiment with his wand, to gauge what he had retained. As stated by the contract Infinity Inc. had had him sign, he'd kept his magical pool from a few days ago, seven years from now. Such large reserves were unheard of in a boy so young and they would only expense with time. It basically meant that he would be an absolute powerhouse, but with the worst control ever… it sucked.
Since he'd retained his full memories, he also remembered a good number of spells and incantations. The sad part was that this body was still malnourished and unused to the wand motions. He would need to build up some muscles and recreate his automatisms. Thankfully, with his relatives avoiding him, or pretending he wasn't even here, he was free to come and go. He used the kitchen as he pleased, and so ate properly.
Reading a few books to freshen up his memory, then practising wand motions before running a little and taking the Knight Bus to the zoo to discreetly practice – and rein in – his parseltongue with the remaining reptiles became his daily routine.
[So, you're going.] commented a smooth snake.
[I am.] confirmed Harry.
It was Saturday 31st August 1991 and tomorrow, the wizard-to-be would board the Hogwarts Express to begin his education – and the various cunning designs he had in mind.
[Ten months.] sighed an adder.
[It's going to be lonely in here.] complained another.
[I would write, but...]
[We would eat the owl.] completed the rare and protected slow worm.
[Yeah. That and you can't read.]
An awkward silence settled in, Harry absentmindedly thanking a passing-by visitor who'd just gave him a coin under the bored look of the gallery's guardian who was, by now, completely accustomed to the boy's hissing.
When he'd first returned to the zoo, the young wizard had been a bit too enthusiastic and forgotten that he wasn't alone. His conversation with a boa had unsurprisingly gathered a curious crowd in mere minutes, making him grow worried that he'd inadvertently screwed up and that some obliviators from the Ministry would come and charge him with underage magic.
But a little girl had soon accosted him, asking how he was hypnotising the snake and Harry had seen an opportunity.
Parseltongue was simply not flashy enough to be considered magical by muggles, so why not go along with it and pretend to charm the reptiles? Snake charmers, though unusual in England, were still more common than parselmouthes.
Nobody would think twice about it, the Status of Secrecy would be safe, plus he was making pocket money without even trying.
The snakes, lizards and iguanas were always grateful for the company and the occasion to speak properly. That Harry was making money on their back was of no importance to them.
[Well, you should go before we start getting sentimental and end up being downright sappy.] finally advised the second adder.
[Right. See you in ten months, everyone.]
[See you, Speaker.] replied the reptiles.
"Uncle Vernon."
"What do you want?"
"I'm off to Hogwarts."
"And? You need a lift?"
Wow, he'd half-expected the fat lump to make a derogative remark.
Was he giving his uncle way too little credit?
"No, I'll take the bus to the train station. I just wanted to warn you."
"Consider me warned." replied Vernon, before grumbling… something.
Harry had to hide his smile at what he was certain had been way beyond R-rated.
That was more like it.
Getting rid of the Knight Bus' after-effects was proving difficult as Harry stumbled across King Cross toward platform nine and three-quarters.
Nevertheless, he hurriedly got through the portal and boarded the train, eager to save a seat for the friends he would soon meet again. Taking over the first empty compartment he could find, he settled down and reluctantly opened his potion book.
The time travelling wizard still wasn't all that hot for the subject and rustier than a German submarine from WWII. Knowing Snape as he did, he half-expected his future Head of House to hijack the express and harass students with questions.
Ten minutes went by before the compartment door opened, the flaming red of a Weasley's hair coming into view.
Harry had to refrain from hugging one of his best friend.
"Hey, you know where's Harry Potter? I heard he's in the train."
The ever collected Lord Potter felt his jaw open wide.
Okay, what?
His friend clearly hadn't been sent back too, otherwise he would have recognize him… so why? Why was Ron looking for him?
Sure, his date of birth was well known and anyone with half a brain and a basic understanding of muggle mathematics could figure out that he would start this year, but Harry knew Ron Bilius Weasley better than the boy knew himself and the redhead would never ever bother himself with numbers and calculus, except for homework.
Which had to mean that he'd really heard about him being on the train and decided to seek him out, but from who? His parents? Maybe another student?
"Really? Who told you?"
Because it was faster to ask the redhead than to ponder this strange development for the entire ride.
"Some guy on the platform." answered his not-yet friend.
Someone had recognized him in passing then… probably a parent who'd known his father.
"But… why are you looking for Potter?"
And wasn't that the million Galleon question.
"Because we're going to be best pals."
Harry's eyebrow briefly reached escape velocity.
"Really?"
"Sure."
That bragging, bratty grin was definitely fishy.
Especially since the eleven years old had yet to realise that he was talking to his so-called future best pal.
"Well, I'm… new to this whole magic stuff but from what I read, it would help to know a proper wizard, so…" said a rather puzzled Harry, who couldn't for the love of merlin decide if he should or shouldn't let the redhead enter.
"Damn, you're a muggleborn." cursed Ron, before panicking as he suddenly realised what he'd just said. "And it's fine. Being a muggleborn, I mean. Even if you've never used a broom before… and don't know anything about Quidditch… or follow the Cannons, even if you totally should, because they're awesome."
Harry wondered when his old friend would learn to think before opening that thing he called a mouth and came to the sad conclusion that it would only happen when Hermione would herself learn to shut up when it was required… that is to say, never.
"Yeah, huh… I'll just… find someone more useful." stuttered the redhead.
More useful? So, because Harry was supposedly a newcomer, he was virtually useless and incapable of locating Harry Potter?
Merlin, Ron was just a bigoted as Draco sometimes. He may not judge one's blood purity, but if he knew something that you didn't about the Wizardry World, he would still make fun of you, even if he himself made no effort to learn about the muggle world.
What a waste.
"Sure…" replied Harry to the departing eleven years old. "Good luck, I guess?"
He didn't know if he was supposed to cry of catch up to the redhead and bash his thick head against every single window in the Express.
What the hell had happened to his friend?
The young wizard sighed and immersed himself in his book once more, trying to get this bizarre and quite troubling second first encounter out of his mind.
A few minutes later, the door opened again.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for –" began a brunette, stopping when her eyes settled on him. "Found him!"
"No need to yell." called a familiar voice, a blonde witch soon appearing behind the other girl. "Oh, hello Mr. Potter."
"Ms. Greengrass." he greeted her. "And who's you friend?"
"Tracey Davis." replied said future Slytherin, before gesturing to the couch. "Mind if we join you?"
Hallelujah, he was saved from death by potion-induced boredom and brain-melting rumination.
Harry almost hugged the girls, but that would have been rather impolite.
"Please, do." he invited instead, Sirius' trademarked smile on display.
"Thank you." nodded the blonde.
The two witches-to-be entered, placed their trunks underneath the couch and sat across the compartment, Greengrass burying herself into her transfiguration textbook as Davis gazed out the window.
Harry repressed a grumble and, frowning, reluctantly returned to his potion nightmare. Damn potions, damn bat and damn silent witches.
Pages turned and the silence soon became unbearable for the wizard. Not that he didn't enjoy a bit of calm every once in a while, but that business with Ron was quite maddening and he needed to focus on something else – preferably, anything but potions.
"So… what's that book you're reading?"
A~wkwa~rd!
But Harry had always been a rather timid person and time travellers didn't suddenly gain confidence, so he had an excuse… sort of.
Still, he much preferred to look dumb in front of those girls than to read any more of that god-awful book. Hell, he'd rather read the Necronomicon.
"Our transfiguration textbook." politely replied Daphne.
And oddly enough, that was enough to break the ice, the once Golden Boy of Gryffindor and Ice Queen of Slytherin shortly enough exchanging banalities, words flowing out even more easily when Davis finally joined in.
The Mr. and Ms. were rapidly dropped, Harry and Daphne staying on a last name basis – it seemed important to the witch to maintain a certain status – whereas Tracy, not one for formalities, invited him to use her first name.
Before long, the three children – and future housemates – were sharing more and more memories, cementing their building friendship as they rampaged through the mountain of sweets Harry had bought from the passing trolley.
It was an enlightening discussion.
Harry briefly mentioned his upbringing and relatives, downgrading their ill-treatment. It wasn't about being uncomfortable, he had been fine with his childhood for years now, but he didn't need Daphne and Tracey to pity him.
He quickly moved unto his encounter with Hagrid and his discovery of the Wizardry World. It wasn't difficult for him to alter the facts, as he felt the same love and compassion for the half-giant that he had seven years ago.
Tracey then proceeded to explain the rather perilous situation of Thomas Davis, her widower, hard-working, muggle-born Auror father, constantly overworked by the discriminatory Ministry. Consecutively, the young witch had practically been raised alongside Daphne, whose parents once were good friends of her mother.
A half-blood Slytherin, whose only protection and influence came not from her lineage, but from the memories of her dead parent?
It boggled the mind, but the reincarnated wizard had just, somehow, found a kindred spirit in Tracey Davis.
Daphne's turn came next, a small spark lightening up in the blonde girl's eyes. Harry was promptly introduced to the lovely picture of Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's little sister. She was two years younger than the Greengrass heiress and, as every little sister, was just unlawfully cute, when she wasn't unnecessarily annoying.
She had bugged the two girls on a daily basis ever since they'd received their acceptance letters, making both of them promise to write home often.
Apart from Daphne and Astoria, the Greengrasses also consisted of their two parents.
Lord William and Lady Abigail Greengrass were purebloods but had stayed neutral in the war. For this horrid 'betrayal' and the help they provided to Thomas Davis, they were constantly pushed by other pureblood families such as the Malfoys. Their trading business was under heavy pressure but they were still managing brilliantly, had stated Daphne with pride.
After witnessing so many smiles from her, and even a few laughs, Harry was understandably surprised. Never had he expected such a sweet, caring personality behind Daphne Greengrass' usually icy façade.
Well, not usual, more like the one she would use soon. She was a rather dignified girl already, but wasn't on the legendary Ice Queen level yet – yet being the operative word.
The wizard considered this strange development and came to a conclusion he really didn't like.
If Harry had been overly shy and Hermione annoyingly bossy when starting Hogwarts, they at least had had the chance to be sorted in Gryffindor. The House of the braves had allowed them to change, pushing them forward as the conflict with Voldemort grown closer.
But Daphne had ended up in Slytherin.
A neutral pureblood walking among dark wizard wannabes.
She'd somehow been forced to create the Ice Queen persona to keep others at bay, using that coldness as a mask in a House where her every move could have been used against her and her family. As sad as it sounded, she'd essentially locked her emotions away throughout all seven years she'd remained among the snakes, making herself appear untouchable to keep herself and Tracey from harm.
That couldn't possibly be healthy and he was pretty sure that, unless he did something about it, the Ice Queen would soon emerge again.
He REALLY didn't like it.
If only he'd spoken to those two in his previous lifetime, house rivalry be damned, perhaps things would have been different…
At the time-traveller's enthusiastic request, Daphne had started to explain how purebloods were usually raised. She was reaching the subject of underage magic – which wasn't that unusual in those households and was actually encouraged – when a bushy head entered the compartment.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." asked the bossy yet heart-warming voice of Hermione Granger.
Daphne had tensed when the door had moved, but Hermione's friendly attitude seemed to reassure her and she relaxed slightly.
"No, I can't say I have."
"Same here." added Tracey.
"Why don't you go to the prefects?" asked Harry. "They should know what to do."
He would have tried the Accio charm himself, but his control still sucked and he was fearing for Trevor's life.
The young witch looked sheepishly at her feet.
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that."
That was so Hermione. She was brilliant but could be such an airhead sometimes.
Seeing her embarrassment, Tracey tried to comfort her.
"Don't feel bad about it. You're muggleborn, right?"
"I… I am, why?"
"You're barely familiarising yourself with magic, no one's expecting you to know everything."
Except Snape.
"I know plenty." Hermione defended herself. "I read all the school books."
"You memorized them too?" playfully asked Harry.
"I… I…" she hesitated. "Yes."
Harry smiled and the witch blushed deeply.
"Books are good, but they're not all-knowing. Trust me, nothing's better than first-hand experience."
"And how would you know, Potter?" asked Daphne, raising an eyebrow. "You've been muggle-raised."
"That would be telling, Greengrass." he smirked. "You'll have to figure it out yourself."
"… I hate you."
"She truly doesn't." teased her brunette friend, smiling at the wizard.
A gasp stopped his boasting act.
"Potter? Harry Potter?"
There it was, Hermione's unhealthy fascination for famous and/or historical figures.
"Yes." he answered reluctantly.
"I know all about you."
"You do?" he asked, faking surprise.
"Sure, I... huh..."
Tracey laughed.
"Let me guess, you read it."
And with that, Hermione's eyes returned to her feet.
"In Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
"I should read them. I'd like to learn what I was up to since Voldemort's defeat."
Hermione shivered. Apparently, she'd heard of Voldy.
"You said his name." whispered Tracey in an astonished voice.
"You do realize it's an alias, right?" frowned Harry. "His parents would have had to be completely bonkers to call him Voldemort."
"Don't say that name." winced the panicked brunette, clearly expecting the dark wizard to somehow materialize out of thin air. "Nobody says that name."
"I can just call him Moldyshorts if it helps." helpfully offered Harry, smirking widely.
Daphne sighed.
"Grow up, would you Potter?" she advised, before steering the discussion back to its original topic. "And don't bother with those books, they're utter garbage."
"Still, they might be fun."
The blonde shrugged and waved her hands around, clear meaning 'Your choice.'
Harry grinned and turned back to his old best friend.
"How about proper introductions? I'm Harry James Potter, but my friends call me Harry. Nice to meet you."
"Daphne Greengrass. Likewise."
"Name's Tracey…" said the slowly recovering brunette. "Tracey Davis."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter, Ms. Greengrass, Ms. Davis. I'm Hermione Granger."
"As I said, my friends call me Harry."
"Tracey's fine too."
The muggleborn blushed.
"I'm fine with Ms. Greengrass."
"Of course you are, Greengrass."
"Shut it, Potter."
"You wish."
Harry would have gladly riled her up for the next thirty minutes, but Hermione prevented it by gasping loudly, remembering why she had entered their wagon in the first place.
"Oh no, Neville. I left him alone."
"Who?" innocently asked the wizard.
"The toad boy." explained Tracey.
"Oh, him."
"I'd better go back. Thank you again."
"What for?"
"Telling me to search for a prefect."
"Ah. Sure, you're welcome."
And without further ado, Hermione disappeared back into the train.
"I like her." commented Tracey.
"Me too." replied Harry.
That earned him raised eyebrows from the remaining witches.
"You teased her throughout the entire conversation." reminded Daphne.
"Your point being?"
She shook her head, smiled and said "You're a weird guy, Potter."
After Hermione's exit, Harry had been forced to explain why his bushy-haired best friend hadn't been hand-kissed.
"She's probably unaware of pureblood etiquette and would have flattened me. Or one of you would have if I'd done it. Wasn't worth the risk."
The three kids had then promptly resumed their former discussion on the topic of accidental magic in pureblood houses, when the door slid open again and an annoying voice made itself heard.
"Is it true?"
Right, the ferret was there too.
Harry couldn't have care less about Draco, but he'd just seen the girls tense noticeably, and that just wouldn't do. The idiot had to learn that he wasn't welcome here.
"They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's on board, but no one seems to know where."
Great, Ron had surely started a man-hunt by asking for him in every compartment.
Now, how to deal with the soon-to-be Slytherin but already big jackass and his pair of brainless bookends?
"And what makes you think that we would hang out with someone like Potter, Malfoy?" asked Daphne, using what had to be an unrefined version of her Ice Queen persona.
"Well, he's a half-blood and you already have one as a pet, don't you Greengrass?" smirked Malfoy, eliciting an angry hiss from the blonde witch.
And then he turned to him.
"Now who's the new one?" asked the blond. "Another dog… or perhaps a new toy?"
"It's none of your concern, Malfoy." growled Daphne, her grey eyes catching Harry' own green ones and conveying a crystal-clear message.
Shutting up, he could do that.
"You're wrong Greengrass, it does concern me." replied the arrogant brat. "It is my duty as a proper pureblood to ensure that your filthy pets know their place and won't pollute our world."
"Fuck off." snapped Tracey.
"I don't remember allowing you to speak, Davis."
"And I don't remember allowing you to enter my compartment, Malfoy." countered Daphne, visibly pissed. "So get the hell out and take your trolls with you."
Draco looked about to protest, but the wand that now rested in the witch's hand dissuaded him quite efficiently.
"Crabbe, Goyle, come on. This place is… unsanitary." scowled the ponce. "I wouldn't want to catch half-bloods."
A~nd they were gone.
Okay, Harry was really confused right now.
Since when had Draco bloody Malfoy known words like unsanitary.
"What the HECK was that?"
It was a lot less polite in his head.
"That was Draco Malfoy, an… acquaintance of ours." answered Daphne.
"And an asshole." added Tracey in an angry whisper.
And since when had he been such a downright bastard?
Oh, Draco had always been a nasty piece of work, but he hadn't walked into bastardy territory until the middle of their fourth year. Before then, he'd mostly barked uselessly like an angry dachshund.
"… I see." said the confused wizard. "Thanks for chasing that guy away then."
Seriously, how could a first-year Malfoy be so vile?
Had he actually been going easy on Harry in the last timeline, or had his father despised the Greengrasses so much that he'd taught the blood traitors' disdain advanced class to his son?
A prefect's voice chose to boom across the corridors at that exact moment, cutting his musing short.
"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time, be assured to wear your uniforms upon arrival. You must also leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
Following the prefect's request, Tracey immediately rose from the couch and went to her trunk to retrieve her school robes. Dumping her jacket in the case and passing her uniform on, she turned around… and found her scowling childhood friend and a red-faced wizard trying desperately to look at anything but her.
"What?"
"Very classy, Tracey."
"Come on Daph, don't be such a prude." laughed the brunette. "And nobody's that shy, Potter."
"You began to undress out of the blue, how do you expect me to react?" blushed the wizard.
"There wasn't much to see. It was just an outer jacket and I was fully clothed there."
"And how was I supposed to know that?"
"… I can't tell if you're deliberately messing with me or if you're actually serious."
"That's my godfather." mumbled the time traveller.
"What?"
"Nothing…" he denied. "Look, how would you react if I started to remove my clothes right now?"
A scary grin bloomed on the young witch's face.
"I would sit down and enjoy the view."
Harry's face entered a brand-new spectrum of colours.
He couldn't tell if she was sincere or not, nor how such a young girl could be such a minx. The saying that girls matured faster than boys had a grain of truth to it, he guessed. But even taking that into account and as glad as he was for having the witches as verbal partners, being teased by an eleven years old girl was seriously freaking him out.
He coughed, recomposed himself… and decided to even the score.
"Anyway… you're right Tracey, I shouldn't have worried like." he started, lips curling up in a playful grin. "After all, there wasn't much to see."
"Potter!" she growled.
"What? You said so yourself." he replied innocently.
"I hate you." she replied, echoing Daphne's earlier comment.
"No, you don't."