The Rise of Overlord Vulcan!

by The Dark Dragen

DEAD, BUT BEING WRITTEN IN THE REWRITE...

3. Chapter 3 - First Year: Part 1!

'Thoughts'

Chapter 3…

20th of June 1992:

Harry was sitting in the end compartment of the train, but this time he wasn't alone, he was with his friends Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff, Hermione Granger, the Weasley Twins and the Crimson Vixens Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, from Gryffindor and Su Li from Ravenclaw - he had another Cedric Diggory, but he was visiting his own friends, as he was a few years older than them. Harry wore a sad smile as he looked around at his friends. While he'd gained plenty of new friends, his friendship with Ron was barely hanging on. Ron didn't like Harry's new friends, and that they took much of his time away from him. There were a few other facts that caused the rift, but that was the main one.

'I was right, this was an interesting year.' Harry thought to himself.

1st of September 1991:

Harry and Ron were lead by Hagrid to boats that took them to the castle known as Hogwarts, in Harry's mind the sight was awe-inspiring and amazing. It felt as if he had came home after being away from it for years. The boat ride was about twenty minutes long, during that time Neville lost his toad again. After the boat ride Hagrid lead them to huge, oak front door - finding Neville's toad on the walk there - where he knocked on it three times.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face, leading Harry to believe she wasn't someone you wanted to be on the bad side of.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid greeted.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." The witch announced primly.

She pulled the door wide. The Entrance Hall was easily large enough to hold all of the first years, giving them plenty of room. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right - the rest older years had likely taken a faster route, Harry guessed - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. The first years crowded in, standing closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

Professor McGonagall saw Harry and the cat that he was holding and must of recognize who he was like everyone else, as she said, "Mr. Potter, I don't know if you know this, but you should have left your cat on the train." The children sniggered at what they assumed was a safety blanket of sorts for Harry. "It would have been safe and would be in your dorm by the end of the night."

"I know that Professor, and if she was a normal pet I would have, but Aneira isn't a normal pet; she's my familiar." Harry said politely.

"Please Mr. Potter do not lie to me, you're too young to have a familiar." Professor McGonagall said sternly.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I realize the oddity of the situation, but I don't enjoy being called a liar, Professor. There should be a spell you can use to check, if you'd like to confirm it." He suggested.

Professor McGonagall was of two minds, she didn't want to be made a fool of if he really was telling the truth, but then again, young Mr. Potter thought that his cat was his familiar. The spell that he spoke of was easy to cast, and would easily clear things up quickly, so she pulled her wand out and cast the spell. To her shock, the spell proved that Aneira was indeed Mr. Potter's familiar. "I apologize Mister Potter, you are right, she is your familiar. I shall inform the other Professors about this, as she'll need to be near you as much as possible until the bond is fully formed. You're the first student to have one at a young age in at least two hundred years or so. If you need anything, please let me know and I'll see what I can do for you."

The other students looked at Harry in awe and jealousy for having a familiar at a young age, but he ignored the looks as he replied, "Thank you Professor.

"Now that that's out of the way; welcome everyone to Hogwarts." The Professor declared proudly. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House Common Room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." Harry spotted a bit of venom at the word of Slytherin, as if Professor McGonagall hated that House for some reason. "Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.

"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." She instructed before she left the chamber.

"How exactly do they Sort us into Houses?" Harry asked Ron, who jumped at his sudden question. He'd apparently been lost in his thoughts.

"I don't know mate, some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." He answered.

"If it is from him, then it's more likely to be a joke…" Harry assured him confidently.

As he waited he looked around and saw that everyone else looked worried or stressed, some even outright terrified. No one was talking much except Hermione, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. His eyes rolled back to the door; any second now Professor McGonagall would come back and he wouldn't have to keep denying the rising level of panic he was experiencing. He blamed the other kids; if only they would calm down.

Harry felt himself jump, causing Aneira to give him a grumpy look before settling down as several people behind him screamed.

He spun around, only to gasp, which was mirrored by several people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. Harry had read about ghosts being at Hogwarts, but reading about them and seeing them up close were two different things. They seemed to be arguing. A fat little monk continued on from what he'd been saying, as if floating through the wall hadn't interrupted their conversation at all, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost-I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" The Fat Friar crowed, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know." The Friar boasted.

"Move along now, the Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Came a sharp voice. The ghosts looked over and saw McGonagall had returned, so they drifted away again, once more arguing over whatever they'd been arguing over before they met the first years.

"Now, form a line." Professor McGonagall told the first years. "That's it, now follow me."

After entering through a massive set of double doors they entered the Great Hall. Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them made the first years even more nervous, which annoyed Harry even further as he couldn't help but feel nervous as well. Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. It had a certain charm to it though, and Harry found he could easily imagine a wizard of old wearing it, both into battle and just around town.

He noticed that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it too, wondering what this was about. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and to Harry's shock, the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid !

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"You're the one that believed him." Harry whispered back with a grin. "You did say he and his twin were pranksters, and this seems like a golden opportunity to prank you."

Before Ron could say anything, Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

There was a lot of tension in the air, and whoever this girl was didn't seem to be moving. Harry thought about what to do, to lighten the mood up a bit. Although he couldn't do much in wandless magic, he did know a few spells from Curses and Counter Curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies). While he couldn't do them wandless like he hoped to do, he did try a few on his cousin with his wand a week before. Luckily for Dudley, Harry didn't use ones that would be pointed to him; sticking to Hair Loss and Jelly-Legs since the former wouldn't start to happen until Harry left for Hogwarts and the latter could be written off as a sudden case of clumsiness.

After some thought, Harry knew who he was going to prank and with what spell. So, slowly pulling his wand out so no one would notice him, and cast the spell. As soon as he cast the spell Dumbledore's hair popped off of his head and face with an audible *poof* sound. The sight was amazing… at first no one dared to laugh, but then from the far right of Harry he heard laughing. Looking over he saw the Ron's brothers laughing, and soon everyone else was laughing.

"Mr. and Mr. Weasley, how dare you prank the Headmaster!" Professor McGonagall said sternly.

Between laughs one said, "But we didn't Professor…"

"…We're neither that brave nor foolish to prank the Headmaster." The other twin continued while the first dissolved into laughter again.

"But whoever it was…"

"They are amazing!" they said together.

It took Dumbledore standing up and calling out, "Thank you… please calm down. Whoever has done this prank; well done, congratulations to you. Now please let us continue the Sorting…"

"Indeed, let's restart sorted." McGonagall agreed. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause before the Sorting Hat shouted out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

Mandy Brocklehurst went to Ravenclaw too, but Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

Millicent Bulstrode then became a Slytherin.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

To ignore his growing apprehension, Harry studied the habits of the Sortings. Sometimes the Hat would send the students on their way instantly, while other times it would take longer. Seamus Finnigan, for example, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to Morag MacDougal.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called… it was several minutes before anything was heard, and it was from Malfoy instead of the Sorting hat, "How dare you think of putting me into that House, wait until my father hears of this!"

The Hat said out loud, "He was right, you are a Daddy's Boy." Harry could see Draco's neck and chin - the only part of his face visible - turn pink as laughter filled the Great Hall. "No matter, you wouldn't last for long in that House with the way you act so it better be SLYTHERIN!" The hat announced with a put-upon sigh.

As Malfoy removed the Sorting Hat he gave Harry a glare, as if blaming him for what the Sorting Hat said. Granted it kind of was, but it was still worth it. Now everyone knew Malfoy was a Daddy's Boy.

There weren't many people left now.

Moon, Nott, Parkinson, then a pair of twin girls named Patil, then Sally-Anne Perks, and then, at last -

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

'You know, it's not normal for an eleven year old to want to model themselves after beings of pure evil…' Harry heard a voice in his head point out dryly.

'Who's there? Who's in my head?' Harry demanded.

'It is I, the Sorting Hat.' The voice of the Sorting Out said in Harry's head. 'Now, as I said, it's not normal to model one's self after beings of pure evil…'

'Well I'm not exactly normal.' Harry replied dryly. 'Besides, aren't children supposed to have role models?'

'True, look at that imaginary sister of yours. What normal person would create someone like her? As for the role model, that's one way of looking at it, yes, but I think we're at an impasse here; you honestly see nothing wrong with it and I, according to the guidelines sewn into my very brim, am compelled to convince you otherwise.' The Sorting Hat explained. 'At this rate we'll be here all night and I don't think either of us wants that.'

'True, I hope you'll keep what you learn from my mind to yourself.' Harry ceded. 'I'm sure your role model isn't a pile of ash.'

'I have spells place on me that prevent me from telling anyone what I find in a person's mind.' The Sorting Hat said calmly. 'Besides, I have a really pissed off bit of crazy in here kicking me in the metaphorical quad to get me out… I mean, you didn't hear that. Let's get on with this sorting, shall we?' The Hat's 'voice' grew strained, for no discernible reason to Harry.

The hat hmmed and hawwed for a little while before it finally said, 'You'll do well in either Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. You have the brains for Ravenclaw, and wanting to learn more about magic and the House of Ravens will help you learn how to do wandless magic better. You have the courage, pulling a prank on Albus proves that, no first year would do that. And you don't back down to anyone or anything. You have the cunning, resourcefulness and the ambition to do well in the House of Snakes. Out of all these three, I think you would fit best in Slytherin.' It finally decided.

Harry was quick to reject the idea; he disliked the thought of being in the same House that Voldemort was in, and having to put up with Malfoy, killing him would be exhausting. 'I'd light Malfoy on fire in self defence within a week. I already have a friend and a possible friend in Gryffindor, just put me there.' While Ron wasn't in Gryffindor yet, but Harry felt he had a good enough judge on Ron's character to say for certain he was a shoe-in for the red and gold.

'And am I to assume I would suffer an unfortunate fire related accident if I were to send you to Slytherin against your wishes?' The hat asked, sounding both amused and resigned.

'No comment.' Harry replied, trying and failing to keep a smirk off his face.

'Very well.'

'In that case you crazy little pyromaniac,' the Hat grumbled, before saying out loud. "Better be GRYFFINDOR…"

20th of June 1992:

Harry chuckled at the memory, his friends looking at him strangely as he did so. "I was just remembering the Sorting."

"Ah," Susan began. "I still can't believe that you pulled that prank on Professor Dumbledore."

"Will it did lighten things up a bit, didn't it Hannah?" Harry asked.

Hannah smiled as she remembered that night, it did help her to get Sorted, "Yeah it did, and thanks again for the prank, it did help with getting Sorted."

"I have to admit, it did help lighten the mood and help people calm down." Hermione admitted. "Still, did you have to rile up Professor Snape?"

"Yes!" Harry said simply. "Snape isn't Professor, or wasn't until I did what I did, even then he isn't a true Professor…"

As much as they hated it, the others couldn't help but agree to what Harry said. The raven haired boy himself sighed as he remembered that day…

6th of September 1991:

It was a long week for Harry, and he was now sitting at breakfast on Friday. As he sat there, he thought about the week he had. It wasn't that bad, although there was a few problems, the first being Peeves the Poltergeist. It was hard enough to get around the castle, but with the Poltergeist being around, it was even harder. He would drop waste paper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

However, worse than him, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. He would threaten the students to lock them up or chained them up in the dungeons if they crossed him. Him and Ron did just that by mistake, but were saved by Professor Quirrell. What didn't help was that Filch owned a cat named Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There were the magic classes and non-magic classes. The magic classes were Charms, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Charms, was taught by Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He was a laid-back teacher, and had a rich sense of humour and was always fair with his students, even those who were not in Ravenclaw. He was an excitable man, taking true passion in helping his students learn his craft.

Transfiguration, was taught by Professor McGonagall, Harry was quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a stern and firm lecture the moment they sat down in her first class. She warned about how dangerous her class was and told them all what would happen to them should they mess around in her class.

These two classes helped him a lot, as they began with theory, explaining to the students what they had to do to cast spells. Harry's goal of learning wandless magic didn't seem quite so far off after he experienced these classes. Both teachers stressed that they should get a feel for their magic and the image of what he wanted to be done before casting anything; the exercise they suggest may as well have been meditating, but a shorter, more abridged version. Harry was delighted by this technique because he was beginning to be able to feel him magic; literally feel it moving inside his body, instead of just being a mass that he powered things with. It wasn't much, but it was one heck of a good building block to start with.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, boy was that a big letdown, it was one of the classes Harry was really looking forward to, but it was taught by a stammering fool, Professor Quirrell. For a class that should have stressed perfect casting, Quirrell couldn't teach his way out of a wet paper bag. It took him twice as long to instruct anything, and it took the class two or three times longer to learn anything because it took quite a while to work out what Quirrell was saying.

As for the non-magic classes, they weren't too bad. Herbology, History of Magic, Astronomy and Potions, out of these classes, Potions was the only class that Harry hadn't yet taken.

Herbology was Harry's favourite of these classes. The class was taught by a stout little witch called Professor Sprout where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, followed by learning about their many uses. Professor Sprout informed them that over time they would learn how these plants could heal people, and how they could be used for harm - mostly so they knew what to look out for - but that would be later on, a few years down the road.

Astronomy was taught by Professor Sinistra, she was a gorgeous witch, one of the youngest on staff from what Harry had seen, and if Harry was just the slightest bit more mature he'd describe the woman as sexy. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a point to the class yet, at least from what Harry could tell. Learning the constellations and planets and such was fun, but there was little practical application.

History of Magic was taught by Professor Binns, the only ghost to teach. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates. For Harry, an eleven year old boy, even as interested in his studies as he was, was terribly bored in this class until he started reading independently in class; grabbing a history book from the Library and reading about other events aside from the Goblin Rebellions - which was the only thing Binns ever talking about. Overall, it wasn't the best class, but at least it was basically a free period, as long as he could shut out Binns droning.

Harry was sitting down in the Great Hall finishing his breakfast with Ron, and his new friend Hermione. Well, friend, was a strong term to describe the relationship they had, more like Study Buddies really. Harry would like to be friends with her, but Ron and Hermione fought too much. Hermione was making great progress as she socialized with others, but she was still grating at times as some of her old habits died hard. Ron wasn't helping and poked fun at basically everything he could, but he was Harry's first friend so he was willing to look past a lot, probably more than he should have.

They had Double Potions with the Slytherins that morning, something most of the first years Gryffindor's, apart from Hermione, were dreading. As Snape, the Head of House Slytherin, was teaching it and if the rumours were true, favoured his own House heavily. It was also said that he allowed his House to ruin other people's potions, and took points for the simplest things. Out of all the Houses Snape was rumoured to hate Gryffindor the most for something that happened to him as a child, something that a Gryffindor did to him. Harry was baffled by the whole situation. If you hated one fourth of the students because of what colour they wore, why would you teach? These were all rumours though, so Harry wouldn't go against the man, yet, but if he was as bad as they said he was Harry would happy to deal with the man somehow. Plus, he would also be seeing Hagrid that afternoon, so that was something to look forward to.

By the end of Potions class Harry learned something, at the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him, but by the end of the class, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry - he hated him. At least he gave him a reason to hate him though apart from whatever reason he had to begin with.

Potion lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity." Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from launching an insult back at the man's tone. It didn't help that Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making." He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Harry couldn't believe it, the rumour were true, even more so then he first thought. He had to wonder what kind of person the Headmaster really was to allow this person to keep teaching students. A teacher should be someone who would help and encourage a student, not put them down and make them look like a fool of.

"Potter!" Snape snapped suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry thought about it for a few moments, before he thought back and remembered what he read over the summer. He absently noticed Hermione's hand had shoot into the air, but Snape wasn't taking any notice of her.

It was a few moments before he remembered the correct potion from the book. "It would be a powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death, sir."

"Correct, Potter." Snape said with a sneer, not believing that the boy in front of him could answer a third year question, but with an even deeper sneer he asked again, "Lucky guess Potter. Let's see if it was a question or you really did know your work… where would you look if I told you to find me a Bezoar?"

Harry smirked, he remembered this one, it was in one of other books that he got that was all about poisons and antidotes - he saw once again Hermione stretching her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Harry was half-tempted to be cocky and say in the Supply Cupboard, or a Apothecary, but decided against it. It already looked like this person hated him, he didn't need to give the man a real reason. So with a smile that seemed to piss Snape off, Harry answered, "A Bezoar is a stone that's taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons."

Yet again Snape was shocked that this boy could answer his question, he picked these questions so that he could make a fool of Potter, to show him up, but it wasn't working! "So you think you're so smart, so tell me what's the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" The man snarled, losing his cool noticeably, causing the class to blink, or stop giggling, in the Slytherin's case.

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. Harry shook his head lightly; if Snape wasn't going to allow her to answer the other questions, why would she think that he would allow her this time? On the other hand, he was getting tired of Snape, the man was a petty asshole. He knew for a fact these questions were well above what a first year would know, even one taking their end of year exams. He knew the answer, thankfully, so he would be able to piss the man off further. He was already turning Vernon-3, Harry wondered if he could drive the man all the way up to 6. "Why don't you ask Hermione, she seems to know this one…?"

'Wow, from three to six, that's actually sort of impressive, in a sad sort of way.' Harry commented as Snape lost even more composure. "But I suppose you did ask me, so I'll answer. There is no difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, they're the same plant." He answered simply. Having basically single handily kept the Dursely's garden living over the years had its perks, he supposed.

Snape glared at him for several more moments, his face purple and a vain throbbing on his shiny forehead before he ground out, "Correct, Potter…" He looked around the room, his bloodshot eyes causing anybody he looked at to recoil. "Well, why aren't you all copying that down?!" He demanded.

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor for your arrogance and for being a know-it-all, Potter, along with your cheek."

There was a deluge of cries from the Gryffindors. Taking a point or two from Harry for his cheek would have been normal - something even Harry admitted would have been justified - but twenty points?! What's worse were the points lost for being a 'know-it-all'. The rest of the Gryffindor's may have disliked Hermione for this particular trait due to her habits of being condescending occasionally and a few times rubbed it in their face about it, but at least she earned them loads of points for knowing all the answers, and answering for them so they didn't have to. They couldn't believe they were suddenly getting docked points for correct answers, if this kept happening; the Gryffindor's hourglass would be empty by the end of the day.

Harry had remained silent, plotting how to get the man back for his petty ways. It all started with Snape telling the class that what they were doing a simple potion to cure boils, and the instructions were on the board and they had until the end of the class to finish it.

However, Harry noticed that Snape never showed them how to make it properly, nor explain why things had to be done in such a way so that nothing bad happens; exploding, for instance. Harry didn't touch his work, something Snape quickly noticed.

So when Snape got to his table, he predictably sneered down at him and said, "So, are you so arrogant that you think you don't have to do any work in my class?" Like the empty headed sycophants they were there was some giggling from a few of the Slytherin half of the class.

"Oh, no, nothing of the sort. I'm really looking forward to getting started." Harry said politely. "But you haven't shown us how to make the potion. Your speech in our first class really drove home how dangerous potions class could be, I was just waiting for you to further explain the brewing process and caution us about any mistakes that would cause cauldron melting, or explosions of scrap metal or deadly neurotoxins." Harry barely knew what that last one was, but it sounds appropriately poisonous and it just seemed to roll off the tongue.

"Are you telling me what to do Potter?" Snape hissed.

"No." Harry answered. He probably should have added a 'sir' in somewhere, but he refused to show that level of respect to a petty bully. "I'm just worried about myself and the others Muggleborn or Muggle-raised, and maybe even some of the Purebloods; some were brought up knowing about potions, but a lot of us may have never even seen a cauldron before. I've only seen a cauldron once on a school trip, and we certainly didn't brew anything in it. I could harm myself and everyone around me if I messed up on accident, from what you told us."

Snape didn't hear any of this though, too wrapped up in his own inner rant at the gall of the boy for questioning him. "Another twenty points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a Professor."

"But -" Ron tried to stop Harry from talking, so that he wouldn't lose more points from Gryffindor, but Harry wasn't having any of it. "I wasn't disrespecting you, I was just telling you why I wasn't doing my work." He answered.

All Snape heard was 'I'm not doing this because you're a greasy git.' Having grown so used to the nickname from students it was so ingrained in his mind he now thought everyone who wasn't a Slytherin called him that, something he only helped along. "Fifty points Potter, and you're coming with me to the Headmaster's office! Class dismiss…" Snape declared. He tried to grab Potter's arm, but the boy moved out of the way. He ignored this, playing it off, and walked out of the room anyway. The Potter brat was following him, the one act all day Snape couldn't accuse him of being a dunderhead for doing.

20th of June 1992:

Harry smiled as he remembered what happened as Snape took him to the Headmaster, Snape made it out that Harry was in the wrong. The Headmaster gave him a disappointed look, and told him that he should give Snape the respect that he was given. Harry then remembered the school rules about issuing formal complaints and he asked for his Head of House to be there.

Once Professor McGonagall arrived she asked what was going on and Harry explained what happened and began to explain his side of it all. When he was done, McGonagall asked if he had anything to back up his claims apart from the students, seeing that the two Houses never got along and it would seem that he was trying to get Snape into trouble and having his House Mates helping him. Harry reasoned that if he could use the school's Pensieve he could show her his memory. Snape and Dumbledore paled at this, shocked that Harry would know about it, and when asked, Harry told them that he read about it in Hogwarts: A History. Snape and Dumbledore were forced to allow Harry to show McGonagall his memories of his memories, something they didn't want happening, but the Pensieve was in plain sight and Mcgonagall was in her rights to see the memory.

Once McGonagall came out of the Pensieve Harry saw why teachers and students feared and respected her. She had an aura around her when she was really angry, something up to now Harry had never seen firsthand before. She asked Harry to leave, and she promised that all the points would be recovered and that things would be sorted out for once and for all. As Harry left the office he heard McGonagall arguing with Dumbledore and Snape about how things were going to change.

Harry smiled as he remembered days later that McGonagall informed the Gryffindor's that Potions were now going to be different. Snape would be behaving himself, and would be finally teaching Potions properly; following the ICW's guidelines, and if he didn't, they were to come to her and tell her.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt the train moving, announcing that they were leaving Hogsmeade Station. As the train was leaving the station, Harry looked at his friends and said, "I'm going to rest for a while, could you wake me when the trolley lady comes by?"

"Why are you going to sleep? You only got up a few hours ago." Angelina asked.

"I only got a few hours of sleep." Harry replied with a shrug.

"Alright, we'll wake you when the trolley lady comes by." The oldest of the Chaser Trio ceded.

"Thanks." He said gratefully as he his head back and went to sleep.

13th of September 1991:

It has been nearly two weeks since Harry started Hogwarts, and things were slowly coming together for Harry. His lessons were getting better, apart for Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic anyway, and they were finally learning to cast spells; having moved on from the practical side of Transfigurations and Charms.

At the moment he was walking down to the grounds for his first flying lesson, something Harry was interested in, as he wanted to see the difference between flying with a broom and flying without one. As he was walking to the grounds, he was thinking about this life outside of classes. His social life had certainly picked up, that was for sure. When he wasn't with his Ron and Hermione, he was sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower and exploring Hogwarts. This was something he had to do by himself, if Ron found out he would have wanted to come along with Harry and that would mean he wouldn't be able to use his skills to move around without been seen, and should Hermione find out, she would have tried to stop him, or more likely, informed a professor. The other first years had gotten lost so much that all of them were banned from wandering around after a certain time, which was fairly early in the afternoon. Harry refused to let the fallacy of the imbeciles hamper his enjoyment because they were incompetent.

The reason behind the exploring of Hogwarts, is to know where everything is so he could use his fire teleportation skill. As he learnt that, although his magic would allow it so that he wouldn't accidentally hit something, or fusing with a wall, desk or anything else, he needed a good mental picture of where he wanted to go. He could try and force it of course, but he feared that he may end up across the world or worse.

As for his skills, he hadn't yet found time to train them. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but the fact was that he didn't have a place to train that people wouldn't accidentally stumble upon at the worst possible time. Because of this, he decided to wait. Classes were going well anyway, and he hadn't found a weakness in his skills yet. Then again, they were doing material he could equate to 'connect two dots' level of difficulty, so that wasn't saying much.

The upside of this was that he could spend more time with his friends; training would have eaten up a good portion of his time. Between of Ron and Hermione, Ron was the easiest to get along with. He wasn't the smartest of people, and had some pretty major inferiority issues, but Harry wasn't exactly the picture of perfect mental health either. It was easy to hang out with Ron; with him it was mainly about chess, food and Quidditch. He could settle down and be normal with Ron, and oddly enough Harry liked the feeling. There were downsides of course, Harry was a smart kid, and he liked being around someone he could talk shop with, so to speak, and Ron either ignored any conversations above his IQ level, harped on the people talking until they stopped, or just left. Thankfully, that's where Hermione came in.

Hermione Granger wasn't known for being stupid girl, well, not intellectually anyway, she would admit her social skills were somewhat… lacking. She told Harry one night, she was like this because she'd never had a friend before, and she was bullied when she was younger because of how smart she was and for answering the teachers questions when they asked. She also told Harry that she really did cherish her sort-of friendship with him, despite her stand-offish nature leading some to believe otherwise. She also explained her trust in figures of authority; she said she was brought up to trust them and, unlike her peers, had been given no reason not to trust them. This was another reason that she was bullied, as she would often follow the rules rigidly and report people who broke them.

She was very grateful to him, as he was the persistent and patient type because she was sure if the roles were reversed she would have yelled at herself for being so annoying. What she didn't know was it was a hit and miss at times, the only reason that Harry haven't yet let her go, is because he could see some hope in her to change and so kept it up with her.

Harry was interrupted from his thoughts as he saw that he was at the pitch where the flying lessons were taking place. He saw that the Slytherins were already there, along with Ron and Hermione, so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flews lightly to the left. Frankly, they sounded like your standard shopping cart from a grocery that'd been around for more than a few years.

Before he could go back to his thoughts their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. He had to wonder why someone would want to fly on a broom like this.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!' "

"UP!" Everyone shouted.

Harry was shocked to find his broom jumped right into his hand at once, but he saw that it was one of the few that did. Hermione's simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Walking over to Hermione and Neville, he said, "Hermione, Neville, think of it like a horse." Both of them looked at him strangely so he explained his reasoning. "Horses can sense when their rider is afraid of them. Try and be more confident."

Nodding, the two of them held their hand put and a bit more confidently, they both said, "Up!" The broom shook for a moment or two before they flew into their hands. Both of his fellow Gryffindor's smiled at him, "Thanks Harry."

Once everyone got their brooms into their hands, Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry exchanged smirks with Ron when she had to correct Malfoy twice, who'd been bragging about flying brooms for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard." Madam Hooch instructed. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle; three, two-"

Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" She shouted, but Harry doubted Neville could hear her over the sound of his own terrified screams and he corkscrewed upwards. It was barely a few second before his grip loosened and he plummeted towards the ground.

A thud and a nasty crack were heard, causing the gathered students to wince. Neville's broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight. Neville himself was unmoving, face down in the grass.

Madam Hooch rushed over to examine him, casting a spell that caused the boy to wake up before she picked him up.

"Broken wrist I suspect." She muttered as she looked him over. "Come on, boy, it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you are to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy." Snapped Parvati.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy taunted. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."

"Look," Malfoy said with a smirk as his eyes locked on the Remembrall lying on the ground. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's Gran sent him." He was going to have some fun with it and try and bate the Gryffindor's with it, so with luck they would fight him and so he could get them in trouble. All he had to do was grab it and-

Before Malfoy he could even implement his plan, Harry Potter wordlessly picked up the glittery crystal ball and pocketed it. Malfoy absently heard him give a reply of, "Oh, thanks Malfoy, Neville probably wants this back." As he did so. Malfoy couldn't tell if the boy was mocking him or not, distracted as he was by his scheme shattering before it could even form; he couldn't even accuse the other boy of stealing it. Well, he could, but even he knew that was stupid; he was Harry Potter, and a fellow Gryffindor on top of that, and Gryff's didn't steal from each other, that was more of a Slytherin and sometimes Ravenclaw thing. Draco seethed as his scheme was ruined before it could even happen. How dare Potter interfere like that and walk away like he didn't even know what he'd done!

Harry didn't care if the Remembrall was broken or not, but it would be a nice gesture of good will to return it undamaged. Frankly, Harry thought the thing was tacky and spiteful; while it was common knowledge that Neville was terribly forgetful, to send something like this to him… it was like she was rubbing it in. It was like the woman didn't respect him. If the thing told Neville what he forgot instead just telling him that he forgot something, it wouldn't be so bad. Whatever the reason, Neville seemed to like the thing for some reason, so Harry grabbed it and slipped it into his pocket as the students started gathering into groups and chatting.

They spent the next fifteen minutes chatting, Harry drifting from group to group, seeing how the students reacted. He only tried a group of Slytherins once, but apparently he picked the wrong group - one that was close to Malfoy, or at least similar beliefs, and was glared at until he left. Speaking of glares, Malfoy himself had spent the entire quarter hour glaring and pouting like a child; Harry had no idea why, and his clueless expression only seemed to set the blond off further. Harry still couldn't believe the other boy had wound up in the House of Cunning. So far from what he'd seen Malfoy had yet to show any sort of cunning, or even a hint of subtlety. What's worse, if things didn't go his way he would threaten the other person with going his father. Harry suspected his father was the only reason he hadn't been eaten alive by what was no doubt a very fragile social hierarchy within Slytherin.

Once Madam Hooch returned she informed them that Neville's wrist was broken like she suspected, but he should be fine in an hour. Harry heard Malfoy mutter that it was a shame, and he'd hoped that it was worse. Harry had to suppress the urge to chuck a rock at him; with how backwards some of the rules in the magical word were he probably wouldn't be breaking any school rules unless he enchanted the rock, thus making it a Magic Rock. After she said this, she started the class.

The class went well, Madam Hooch said that Harry was a natural and could be on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team the following year. Harry thanked her for the compliment, but claimed he didn't like flying. Hooch was baffled, but Harry shrugged helplessly and told her that just because he had natural skill (apparently inherited from his dad) it didn't mean he liked the activity. It was a half-truth, really, he loved flying, but after flying on his so long own using a broom felt… uncomfortable? Wrong? Clunky? Just off in general really. He'd have to find time to fly on his own.

30th of September 1991:

Hermione Granger was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room thinking about her life so far. Until a month ago she was a lonely, bullied little girl. She was known as a smart person who believed in figures of authority to always do the right thing, and was a bit bossy when it came to rules and those who would break them. Because of her bossy attitude, she was alienated and eventually scorned by her peers. It hurt her emotionally, and turned into an endlessly repeating cycle, causing the girl to pull deeper and deeper into her shell and blindly following the only people willing to stand up for her; her parents and teachers.

Still, her social isolation did have some benefits; namely, Hermione considered herself to be good at examining people. It was a hobby she'd used to pass the time when her parents had a scheduling error in their dental office, or were running late for one reason or another, and she'd be left at school from anywhere between a few minutes up to half an hour - depending on traffic - and she'd read books and talked to her parents about recognizing signs in people, specially kids her own age.

This last detail had been after she'd overheard her parents talking about seeing a child that they thought was abused one day, recognizing the fact by his body language. Hermione had bookmarked these signs in particular, just in case she was in a similar position and could help, unlike her parents in that particular instance.

She didn't want to admit it, but her friend, Harry Potter, exhibited quite a few of the signs of being abused.

Hermione had only known Harry for a month now, so she could be wrong and there could be other reasons for the signs she was picking up. He was also her first friend and Hermione didn't want to think that he was abused; that was on top of the fact that he was a hero, she didn't want to think that a hero would be treated like that. There was also the fear of what would happen should she be wrong, she didn't want to push too hard about it just in case because she feared she might lose him. He was smart, although distrusting, he was loyal to those who had his trust, and was easy to talk to. Sure their friendship had its rough moments, but she felt they were closer for it when they made up a few minutes later. Not to say their spats were common, it was just nice to note that almost all of their uncommon arguments usually ended with one of them better for it.

She was somewhat sure that he wasn't physically abused, or at least not heavily. Mentally however, was another matter. He was so hard to read that it took her far longer than it would anybody else to feel confident in her findings; he seemed to be forcing himself to act a certain way, but what his true nature was she couldn't be sure. She was confident he was probably a very meek child though, because of the signs she'd seen. He didn't like being touched, even flinching when people surprised him, his knee-jerk reaction was to avoid other people before his mask slipped on and he was back to the extrovert he was pretending to be, there was also the physical evidence, his thin frame, while nothing that would raise any red flags, when combined with the other tells lead to an unpleasant picture. Well, that or he was a very unbalanced individual, but she didn't want to think that way about her first friend.

So, she kept her promise from all those years ago and discreetly met with the school nurse. Imagine her surprise when Madam Pomfrey, after along of pushing, admitted she'd noticed Harry had some minor malnutrition and a high amount of scars. The malnutrition wasn't that uncommon, though his case was somewhat worse than most children, but it could be easily explained away if the children were picky eaters. His injuries weren't overly numerous, but more than most active children had at his age. Hermione had been incensed. She knew why the nurse would dismiss these injuries; her wing always had at least one student, and the medical check-ups all students got during the first week after the Sorting meant she had to ignore the minor things and focus on the more serious ailments.

Thirty minutes later a red faced Hermione quickly fled from the Hospital Wing, embarrassed beyond belief that she'd just spend half an hour ranting at the now pale woman. She had gotten a promise from the woman to look more closely at her friend, so she supposed it was worth the mortification. Now all she had to do was convince Harry to go… she was deep in thought as she walked. Harry wasn't aware that she suspected he was abused, so it would be much easier to convince him.

So here she was in the Gryffindor Common Room. Since it was Friday afternoon, she knew he would be in the library doing his homework before the weekend so he could spend the weekend as he liked. So with a plan in hand she went down to the library.

By the time she entered the library, she was happy to find Harry there and without Ron. Hermione was glad that the idiot wasn't there; it would only make things harder. Hermione sighed at the thought of Ron; she didn't like the feelings the redhead brought out in her, it wasn't natural to hate another human being as purely as she did Ronald Weasley after only knowing him for a few weeks. The simple truth was though that he was one of the reasons that her and Harry's friendship was so difficult. Ron didn't like her; he felt that she took some of Harry's time from him. She both couldn't fully hate the redhead for this and despised him further for it. Ron brought out the worst in her, namely, the bossy part of her she was trying to grow out of, so his dislike of her was warranted. On the other hand, if he wasn't such a prat all the time he wouldn't bring that part of her out and it would be moot.

Seeing that Harry was alone, Hermione went up to him, failing to hide her nervous posture, the emotion leaking into her tone as well, something Harry noted. Of course Hermione noticed him noticing and grew more nervous. Another endlessly repeating cycle; her life seemed to be full of them… "Harry, Madam Pomfrey has been looking for you, she wants to see you."

"What does she want to see me about?" Harry asked suspiciously. Why would she be nervous about relaying a massage from Madam Pomfrey, he wondered internally.

"She lost your medical exam results, so she wants to redo the exam." Hermione struggled to keep calm, hoping he would believe her.

Harry was still cautious, Hermione would normally be proud of relaying a message for a Hogwarts Staff member, not nervous. Nonetheless, if Madam Pomfrey needed him for another check-up it would raise too much attention to refuse. "Alright, let me put my things away."

Half a minute later he was following a fidgeting Hermione to the Infirmary.

Once Harry got to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey asked him some invasive questions; mainly about where his scars came from, but also about his diet. As Madam Pomfrey was asking these questions he glanced over at Hermione and, noticing how guilty she looked, realized that she was the one that set this all up. After Madam Pomfrey ran some scans and kindly told him that while there were a few permanent problems, they weren't the sort she couldn't be fixed with a few potions over the next few months. When this treatment was finished it would be as if nothing happened to him and there would be no long term effects to him, physically anyway; he would be the right height and weight with almost no scars left. Harry was annoyed she wouldn't be able to fix the one on his forehead, but he gave it up as a bad job with a sigh.

Once it was over and the two were heading back to the Gryffindor Tower, Harry pulled Hermione into an empty classroom. Once inside Harry turned to look at the downcast and almost fearful looking girl. "Hermione, I'm not mad at you. Well, not really; I know you were trying to help me. In the future, just please don't go behind my back with things. I really don't like being left out of the loop."

Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding before brightening. "I will, Harry. I wanted to in the first place, but I didn't know how to. I saw the signs, but I wasn't sure if they were right or not. I remembered the check-ups we got during our first week and went to Madam Pomfrey and forced the info from her. I wanted to be sure I was right before doing anything, and then I needed to think of how to get you to her without you getting suspicious. I just… I… she knew, Harry, or at least suspected. Why didn't she investigate? That's her job!" She raged, rambling as her world view taking a serious blow.

Harry put his hand on her shoulder, and stiffened when she darted forward and hugged him tightly. She wasn't crying, but she was on the brink of doing so, so he let her calm down. He could see what was happening to her, her absolute faith in adults had just been shaken, hard, and she was reeling from it. Eventually pulled away, wiping her eyes of any lingering moisture and smiled at him, an almost inaudible 'Thank you.' coming from her lips.

"Come on Hermione, let's go back to the library and finish our homework." Harry suggested, feeling she probably wanted to put this situation behind her, something he wanted to do as well.

31st of October 1991

"It's no wonder no one can stand her." Ron said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor. "She's a nightmare, honestly. Hasn't changed at all…"

Harry grunted lightly as someone pushed past him, sending him into the wall. He looked up and saw a glimpse of Hermione, her face red and her eyes watery before she turned the corner.

"I think she heard you." Harry commented with a hard look directed at the redhead.

"So?" Ron said, looking uncomfortable at the look in Harry's intense green eyes. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

It had been a month since Harry started the potions to help him heal. They'd certainly done their job, his small frame growing outward quickly, gaining some pretty nice muscle tone from the small bits of exercise he did. He and Hermione had grown closer, telling each other about their respective childhoods. Harry held back a lot, but Hermione didn't seem to mind when he'd go silent. Harry had also learned about why she'd been so adamant about helping him; her parents finding the abused child and not being able to help him really affected her. The only problem they had was Ron, he didn't like Hermione that much and would try and pick a fight with her often.

"Ron I'm her friend," Harry said heatedly.

"You're the only one then." Ron replied flippantly, unsure of what he'd done wrong. "You know no one likes her because of her bossiness."

"Ron, you may be my best friend but at times you really are a jackass." Harry spat, his old personality making an appearance as his act was strained from the shear gall that Ron was displaying. "It makes it very difficult to be your friend. Now, I want you to apologize to Hermione when we see her in class."

"But -" Ron began, but before he could say more Harry interrupted. "No buts Ron, until you say you're sorry, don't talk to me again."

However, Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. Harry was growing worried for his friend, but promised himself he would talk to her when he saw her next, assure her that he was her friend and that she really was making great strides to be more social. However, on his way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Harry frowned as he saw Ron, on the other end of the small group of Gryffindor's making their way into the Great Hall, was completely unaffected by the news, showing no signs of regret.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. To Harry something felt off about his actions, but his thoughts quickly moved elsewhere, namely, his bushy haired friend being in possible danger.

It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!" He instructed, sounding surprisingly commanding for a normally so eccentric man.

Percy was in his element. "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the Troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!" As the first year Gryffindors got together and followed Percy, Harry stared at the older boy in blank amusement. Did he really think orders and organization would keep him safe if a Troll happened to find him?

Regardless, he followed the ginger Prefect. "How could a Troll even get in?" Harry wondered to himself as he climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid. Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke?" Ron said, apparently having forgotten about the no talking rule.

"No, that's not it." Harry said as he shook his head at his friend's ability to jump to conclusions about people. "Peeves may be many things, but he wouldn't put a student's life in danger."

Harry suddenly jerked as he remembered what he'd realized earlier before Percy made him lose his train of thought. "Hermione; she doesn't know about the Troll." Harry said worriedly.

"Who cares." Ron shrugged carelessly, "I'm not going to risk my life for someone I don't like. If you want to save her, be my guest, but I'm not helping."

Harry didn't say anything, but the glare he gave Ron caused the boy to trip over his feet. When he stood back up, Harry was gone, the raven haired boy had blended with the Hufflepuffs that were passing them and then slipped down a deserted side corridor and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. Harry had just turned the corner when he heard quick footsteps behind him.

Already on high alert, Harry hid behind a large stone Griffin. Peering around it Harry saw Snape. The man's gait was hurried, and he quickly disappeared from view behind the next corner.

"What's he doing? Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?" Harry whispered to himself. Quietly as possible, he crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor." Harry muttered to himself, wondering what the ass of a teacher was doing. But then he smelt something awful; it was a foul stench that reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seemed to clean.

And then he heard it; a low grunting and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. As Harry looked down to the end of a passage to the left, something huge moved toward him. He shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, pointy feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

Harry was about to dash off to the girls bathroom where Hermione was reported to be when he froze as he realized the room the Troll had just entered WAS the girls bathroom. In the same moment, he heard a high pitched scream of fright echo down the halls from the room the Troll had lumbered into.

Harry didn't know how he got to the room so quickly, but he launched himself around the doorway an instant later at a full sprint, only to pause as he saw the Troll with its club raised over a terrified looking Hermione. Without a thought he flicked his wrists and hurled two balls of flame at the creatures hand and face.

Harry was magically powerful, incredibly so; he was Voldemort's equal when he was fifteen months old so one of Fate's little games with the mortals, started with a prophesy of all things this time, could be fulfilled. Natural growth had only given Harry more power to work with, and his training with Lucy had fine tuned that power, refined it into something compact; deadlier, and easy and willing to be used.

Troll hide was resistant to magic, but only to a certain degree. The two bursts of fire hit the Trolls right cheek and left hand with a crackling sizzle as the flesh boiled, the magical fire almost ignoring the resistance it met. This made the Troll angrier, causing it to start swinging its club around in anger, destroying the bathroom some more in the process but not harming either of the first years. Seeing this, Harry knew that he had to do something or both him and Hermione could be hurt from the debris that was flying about. Clapping his hands together he combined both of the fire held in each hand and sent the combined blast at the Troll's club hand. This time the Troll screamed in pain and dropped the club as the more powerful bolt of fire did far more damage to not just the skin, but also the muscle beneath. The dropped club scarcely missed the cowering girl below, and stumbled backwards.

Trolls had a very simple mentality, almost animalistic, and like all animals its first reaction to seeing its hand being lit on fire and being burned was 'Fire Bad!' before trying to get away from it. The next reaction was to find the source of the fire and get rid of it in one way or another.

As the long armed creature turned to look for the source the Troll quickly spotted Harry, and its instinctive reaction to fire increased as it saw that Harry's arms were covered up to the shoulder in flame. A pipe from the stall it had destroyed earlier got under its foot and, not paying attention enough to notice it, the Troll fell over backwards.

Harry grinned in a way that was just a few inches to the left of sane as a shot of adrenaline poured into him. He hadn't felt this excited in ages, not since he'd committed his last arson and had almost been caught almost a full year ago. His vision was tunnelled as he focused completely on the Troll and he sprinted forward when it fell. Not missing a beat Harry ran up the creature's arm, a ball of heat growing a condensing in his right palm as he did so. His legs bent and he pushed off of the Troll's massive shoulder, the muscle acting almost like a trampoline.

Time seemed to slow as the Troll's eyes rolled down from where they'd been looking confusedly at the ceiling and saw Harry, or rather, the miniature sun he held in his hand. The beast had barely a moment to utter a shocked, 'Rada?' before the orb was slammed into its nose.

An ear-splitting explosion filled the room, alerting the Professors three corridors away.

Back inside the bathroom Harry rolled to a stop, the back of his head hitting the stone wall with a hard thud, next to an incredibly wide eyed Hermione, the girls brain locking up as she tried to handle everything that had just happened. It was probably for the best, if she was in her right mind she would have heard the unhinged, breathless little giggles Harry was releasing as he eyed what remained of the Troll before he broke out into a full blown cackle, but only for a few seconds before he doubled over and started coughing. He'd landed hard on his back, slightly to the side, and his torso burned.

Harry breath hitched as he tried to sit up higher against the wall. His attention was taken from the pain in his chest and the charred, headless remains of the mountain Troll as Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape - who Harry noticed had a limp - and Dumbledore entered the room, only to freeze as they saw the corpse… or the smell had hit them, Harry wasn't quite sure.

"Mr Potter, Ms. Granger, what is going on here!" The Lion's Head of House was the first to get over their shock.

Harry grimaced as he forced himself into a standing position. Hermione tried to answer, but her reply of, "It… he… bwah?" Didn't help much, so Harry took over.

With a boyish grin that he couldn't keep off his face he 'explained'. "Well Professors, as you know Hermione wasn't at any of our classes this afternoon seeing that someone upset her. When I heard from her roommates where she was, I was planning to find her after the Feast if she didn't show up, but when we heard about the Troll I went looking for her."

"Why didn't you tell one of the Professors or Prefects about her?" Snape asked with a sneer, "Trying to get more attention for yourself I bet, just like your father."

"The Troll was in the dungeons, or so the Headmaster said, so how was I, blindly accepting his words, supposed to know I would be lead astray." Harry answered, his voice getting more airy as he spoke, his eyes losing some focus as they wandered, seemingly unable to focus on one thing for long.

Snape grunted, taken off guard by the boy's strange behaviour and almost whimsical speech pattern.

"Now now, don't be grumpy, I'm sure whatever caused that limp of yours in on the third floor is probably very sorry it had to taste your pale arse." Harry giggled at his joke while Snape fumed, trying to ignore the other Professors suppressing chuckles of their own but also giving him a suspicious looks too. "Found Hermione in the bathroom, place was smashed to pieces and the Troll was about to attack her. Then stuff happened and here we are." He accounted cheerfully.

Snape ground his teeth and glared impotently at the rapidly nonsensical child, but Dumbledore pushed the man back. The eccentric Headmaster seemed to find it humorous, because his tone held some amusement as he inquired, "Stuff? Don't hold us in suspense my boy, tell us more."

"Oh very well…" Harry ceded magnanimously. "I entered the bathroom when the troll had its club raised, and I froze because Hermione was about to be flattened. Some accidental magic must have happened because the Troll's hand caught fire and he backed away, it got angry and started to swing its club and some more accidental magic happened and some more fire appeared around the Trolls hand again. The brute dropped its club this time, so I guess it hurt it more. I calmed down a little, just a little, enough to realize the Troll had committed a very grave offence, and very much needed to die. Some more accidental magic must have happened, because its head just… exploded. Kpch!" Harry pantomimed an explosion, starting with his fists clenched in front of him before quickly splaying his fingers. He gave a little giggle at his own actions before wincing and moaning, his head lolling to the side. He reached back to feel the back of his head, only to have it come back red.

Flitwick was quick to explain Harry's behaviour. "His magic is depleted; magical exhaustion can make people, hmm… loopy at times. He also has a head injury, we need to get him to Poppy."

Dumbledore nodded absently, more focused on Harry's declaration. The twinkle in his eyes dimmed as he declared gravely, "My boy, nothing deserves to die. One mustn't be so flippant about the taking of life."

"That's where we differ in opin… opininy… moral thingies, I guess. Don't have many friends, gotta keep 'em alive; anything that threatens 'em gets to die; simple." Harry said decisively, his voice slurring lightly as his eyes closed. His breathe hitched and his eyes shot back open as Hermione, his words sinking in and snapping her out of her comatose state, slammed into his side, her arms wrapping around his torso tight enough to take the air from his lungs.

"We'll talk later. Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter is in no condition to walk on his own, can you support him so we can may you both to the infirmary." McGonagall butted in.

Hermione nodded info Harry's chest, but only her fellow first year heard her shaky but determined whisper of, "Always."

Harry smiled, far too out of it to even begin to think about what she'd meant and started walking as she lead him somewhere, mostly leaning on her. Hermione had trouble, but voiced none of it as she followed the Hogwarts Staff, ignoring Harry as he started blaming Ron for everything, and not just getting them both in this situation, but also for completely unrelated things, like why it was so cold in the castle, why it rained so much, and why Quidditch made no bloody sense.

25th of December 1991

After everything was all said and done Gryffindor was fifty points higher, Harry had been diagnosed with a minor concussion, a cracked rib, and magical exhaustion. The latter of which had forced Harry to stay in the Hospital Wing, to make sure he both recovered okay and to make sure he didn't use any magic until his reserves had replenished. The rumour mill painted Harry as a story book hero for something he'd actually done for once (helped along by a hesitant Hermione telling her room mates of what happened later that night; Lavender had found the story incredibly romantic and had told it to everyone in her budding gossip network), and Ron had detention for a week and was forced to apologize to Hermione. His apology as not at all convincing, but Hermione knew that was the best she was going to get, and that while the friendship had taken a serious blow, he was still Harry's friend, so she accepted it.

When Harry was released he found that the students, Hufflepuff in particular, a lot friendlier towards him. He mainly gotten along with Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, and Cedric Diggory. Cedric only occasionally dropped by, having taken Susan and Hannah under his wing and watched out for them, but he and Harry talked whenever he did join them for a meal and it eventually bore a friendship. Hermione was also quite clingy, but Harry was completely out of his element with the new found flood of people being so nice to him and he didn't mind in the slightest. Hermione was just as out of her element as he was, and that empathy between them was something Harry appreciated greatly, the knowledge that he wasn't the only one confused and lost with the situation was nice. Ron was almost forgotten, but somehow managed to worm his way back into Harry's growing social circle. Harry wasn't one to forgive, nor forget, easily though, and kept a closer eye on Ron's actions.

During his stay in the Hospital Wing, Harry accidentally stumbled upon a new skill. He was bored out of his mind, he had nothing to do and was wondering what Madam Pomfrey was saying to herself in her office. Suddenly, the candle she was using next to the parchment she was writing on flickered violently before settling down. In the same instant he could hear what she was saying. It was warped at first, the matron's voice warbled and the volume fluctuated heavily, but Harry concentrated harder and listened to her dictate the day's events to herself. What she was saying was rather ordinary, just dictation of the days events for her journal.

It took a few moments before Harry realized he was hearing Madam Pomfrey by the flame in her office. After thinking this over Harry was thoroughly excited about the new ability. The potential for spying was quite high, Especially in the magical world where candles and torches were everywhere.

Before he knew it, it was Christmas time. No one could blame him for losing track of time; he was training his new ability, as well as touching upon his old ones, when he was able to, to make sure he hadn't grown rusty. He was also training Aneira to use her budding ice manipulation. She couldn't do much, granted, but spamming javelins of ice wasn't too difficult. Since her powers grew with age, Harry settled on helping her learn accuracy and endurance.

The bond that the two was growing nicely as well, Harry could now feel her emotions if he tapped into their link. Harry couldn't spend as much time with Hedwig as he could his Tigran, but the bond with her had reached the same level, oddly enough. Even though Harry did try and spend time with her, he knew it wasn't the same with Aneira, the bond was different. Harry was amused to note that Hedwig acted quite jealous; she would try and out do Aneira in any way she could. She was known as the fastest owl in school already, arriving in the morning with mail or the Daily Prophet several minutes before the other owls in the morning, and always managed to look her best. She would also give him dead animals as presents.

Apart from his training, he and his friend's study schedule increased, something not many people were happy about, not even him at first, but after his first O, with a glowing compliment from Professor Flitwick about taking after his mother, he was more than happy to stay up even later than Hermione to get a good grade, and thus follow in his mothers' footsteps, who, while a prodigy with Charms, was quite skilled at just about every branch of magic.

With so much of his time being taken up, with school work and exploring Hogwarts, he didn't think much about his darker goals. In fact, he enjoyed being normal; he had friends, he was doing well in school - and more importantly he was proud of this fact, since he was living up to his mother's reputation - and had no reason to become an evil being now. He decided it would be best to try and stay normal, and not run the risk of ruining everything that he had right now.

During this time, Harry learned that the object that was stolen from Gringotts was now at Hogwarts. The object was in fact on the third floor corridor. Thanks to Hagrid, who let the information slip, they knew that the object belonged to someone named Nicholas Flamel. They also learned that the object was protected by a Cerberus, and thanks to yet another slip from Hagrid, there was other things protecting the object. So when they weren't doing school work, or doing homework - or in Harry's case training or doing a few pranks every now and then - Hermione and Harry were trying to find out who Nicholas Flamel was and what the object was. As they searched Harry had a feeling that he'd heard or read about the man before, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember where. They had to stop their search when the school broke up for the Christmas Holidays.

Now it was Christmas, and Harry was asleep. This lasted for only a few more moments before he was rudely shaken by Ron.

"Harry, Harry, wake up mate." Ron said cheerfully.

Harry glared hot death at the redhead, half lidded and sleepy eyes boring into the other boy and he growled, "Ron I'm going to smother you with a pillow if you don't tell me why the bloody hell you're waking me up." Harry usually woke up earlier than the rest of his dorm mates for training, which that wasn't saying much considering who they were, but he was a person who deeply loved his sleep. Anybody who disturbed him before his body was ready to wake up by itself did so at their own peril.

Ron, either too excited or too stupid to realize his life was in very real danger, continued jumping up and down. "It's Christmas Harry! Presents! Presents!" He yelled.

Harry felt his eyes twitch, the cheek muscle under his eye trembling completely on its own. That did it; he was going to take over the world using the bloodiest means possible so this kind of cheer would never again wake him up. Yes… that was a perfect plan.

Thankfully for the first year male Gryffindor's, the potential multiple-homicide was averted when Harry grunted, rolled over, and fell back asleep, completely forgetting about his plans of mass genocide against people with too much holiday spirit.

Ron pouted, but was far too distracted by the thought of presents to bother trying to wake his best mate up a second time. Presents!

It was about noon by the time Harry awoke, and he was happy to see that Ron wasn't in the room. 'Most likely down in the Great Hall for lunch.' Harry thought as he looked at the time and shook his head in disgust. Harry often wondered why he kept up with Ron with the way he acts often. 'God forbid the bottomless pit misses a meal.'

As he got dressed, he was shocked to see a small pile of gifts at the end of the bed. To be honest, Harry wasn't expecting any gifts, he never gotten one before so why now? As he opened the first gift, he saw it was from Ron, it was a box of Chocolate Frogs. However, as Harry opened the box, he was disgusted to see that a few of the Frogs were missing, 'The fucking pig, I hope he choked on them.' Harry thought darkly.

The next gift was from Molly Weasley, prompting feelings of confusion and bafflement.He'd never met Ron's mother and she was already sending him gifts? Harry wondered what the hell was going on. As he opened the gift - he had no idea why he didn't throw it away - he found it had a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of home-made fudge inside it. There was a note saying that Ron told them that he didn't expect any gifts for Christmas. Although Harry knew that Ron was trying to be nice and that, he was still angry that Ron would tell people that Harry didn't know about his personal affairs, so he threw the gift aside in disgust; he would be having words with Ron about this soon. But not today, it was Christmas and he didn't want the trouble. And so he began to open the rest of the gifts that he got.

The next gift was wrapped in thick brown paper with the words To Harry, from Hagrid, scrawled across it. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it - it sounded a bit like an owl. Harry was grateful for the gift, he and Hermione spent some time with the giant size of a man, apart for liking dangerous animals and cooking awful food, he was an okay kind of a man.

The next was a very small parcel which contained a note:We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece. Harry found this strange seeing that they'd never give him anything before, maybe it was because he wasn't coming home that he got it. Whatever the case, Harry just threw it in the bin, he had no need for it.

His next present also contained candy; a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. From Susan, Hannah and Cedric he got boxes of pumpkin cakes, he smiled at the gifts. He'd actually, in a rare moment of genuine generosity, purchased the three Puffs Chocolate Frogs and Hermione a book voucher for Flourish and Blotts with an enclosed note saying that Hedwig had agreed to help her purchase the books.

Harry picked the last gift and weighed it. It was very light and felt like some kind of cloth, so he unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. A note landed on his foot, so he picked it up and read it: Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you.

There was no signature. With a shrug he picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material. Harry realized this was a cloak, not any cloak, but one that his father once owned. Putting it on he walked over to the mirror and was shocked when he saw his reflection; only it wasn't his fully body he saw in the mirror, it was just his head, seemingly floating in mid-air. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely. If he didn't already have the ability to become invisible himself, he would be more apprehensive about the gift. Still, he was grateful for the gift none the less, not for what it was, but because it belonged to his father. Seeing as he didn't want anyone else to know about it, Harry put it back in his trunk before he went down for lunch.

Now since nobody that had sent him gifts were currently at Hogwarts, and he hadn't managed to corner Ron to talk to him, Harry spent the rest of the day enjoying himself. It wasn't until later that night that Harry thought back about his father's cloak and the message that came with it, the three words in the note specifically; 'Use it well'. He could have kicked himself as he thought about it, all this time he was able to become invisible himself, and he never used it to go to one place that he and Hermione hadn't looked for Nicholas Flamel: The Restricted Section of the school library. And all it took for him to think of it was his father's cloak - he felt somewhat foolish for not thinking of it sooner.

So using his father's cloak instead of becoming invisible himself, Harry went down to the Restricted Section to look for Nicholas Flamel. However, as he tried to open one of the books in Restricted Section, that book, along with the rest of the books on that shelf screamed, as if they knew someone was there that wasn't meant to be there. Before he could do anything, Filch came into the library and looked around for whoever could be in there. Frightened of being caught, more by the thought of having his father's cloak taken away from him than detentions or point loss, Harry ran out of the library. However, Filch must of used one of many short cuts in Hogwarts, because before he knew it Filch was in front of him, and he wasn't alone: Snape was with him and he was telling him that someone was in the Restricted Section. Seeing that he was close to them, he had to put his back against the wall and hope not to get caught. Lucky for him though, Harry fell into one of the many empty rooms of Hogwarts.

As he sighed in relief, he looked around to see if anything of interest was inside. That when he saw a large bronze mirror, with strange lettering at the top of the mirror: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Gibberish, really. That thought triggered something and Harry's brain suddenly made a connection between mirrors and gibberish and he remembered reading about how ambulances had the word Ambulance backwards on the front so people in front of them could read it when they looked behind them using their rear-view mirror. Without looking through a mirror, the word 'ecnalubmA' printed on the front just looked like gibberish.

With that in mind it was easy to figure out that the letters said 'I show not your face but your heart's desirE'. Thoroughly curious as to what his heart's desire was, Harry looked into the mirror. On the mirror's surface he saw himself, his family - including his imaginary twin - and behind them were a few more people; none of which he recognized. Harry suspected they were other family members that he wasn't aware of. They were standing in front of burning buildings of all things, with bodies laying about, some were even on fire. In the mirror, Harry saw Lucy dancing around in the flames laughing as she did so.

Harry was intrigued by the mirror, and to his chagrin kept coming back to it for the next few nights. It wasn't the mirror itself that was pulling him back, it was like it was something else. Also, he had to think about the image behind the people he guessed was his parents, it had been a while since he thought about being a Dark Lord. He liked being normal, he had friends and he didn't want anything to ruin it and so it looked like he'd forgotten his heart desire so he couldn't lose what he wanted to keep.

On the third night of visiting the mirror, to see his family and to watch his sister, who he missed, dance and laugh in the flames, Dumbledore stepped out of the shadows.

"So, back again, Harry?" Albus Dumbledore said, sitting at one of the desks. Harry must have walked straight past him, he had to wonder how he'd missed him; Harry was normally very good at spacial awareness. Not even his almost blind journey to get to the mirror would have made him to miss the old man.

"I didn't see you, sir." Harry said, a bit annoyed with himself for not seeing him.

"Strange how near-sighted being invisible can make you." Dumbledore said with a smile. "So, you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir," Harry said honestly, "but I do know what it does; it shows a person's heart's desire. It showed my family. To be expected, I suppose; I haven't thought too much about my future yet so I have no grand aspirations as of yet." He analysed, giving a half-truth.

"I'm shocked that you guessed is so easily." Dumbledore said a bit surprised that Harry had figured it out.

"It helped that I was able to figure out the writing on the mirror, 'I show not your face but your heart's desire'." Harry admitted humbly with a smile of his own. "I'm sure if Ron was to look into the mirror it would show him stepping out of his brothers shadows, maybe earning the Captaincy for the House Team, something Charlie never did, but came close to doing, if I remember what he told me right."

"You're right young Harry," Dumbledore nodded, he couldn't believe that the young boy would figure the mirror out so completely without instruction. "I should warn you Harry, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. For this reason, the Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."

"True sir, but what's life without a dream to work towards?" Harry reasoned.

"Very true young Harry," Dumbledore said, impressed the young man would be so thoughtful, "Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up.

"Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"Myself? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks." Dumbledore said sagely. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he tossed Ron's rat across the room from where he'd been sleeping on Harry's pillow, it had been quite a personal question.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Authors Note: Here end the second chapter of Vulcan, I hope you like it, and if you did, please take a few moments more and let me know what you think.

I want to give a special thanks to Sicerness my Beta Reader for this my favourite part of the story: Harry felt his eyes twitch, the cheek muscle under his eye trembling completely on its own. That did it; he was going to take over the world using the bloodiest means possible so this kind of cheer would never again wake him up. Yes… that was a perfect plan.

I don't know about you lot, but that was my favourite part I laughed when I read it the first time.