Back in Black

by Byakugan789

Rescued from life on the streets, Eric Sirius Stark is about to discover the wonders of a hithero unknown magical world. Spells, intrigue and monsters await, buried between class and friends and rivals where no one completes their education unscathed. Enter stranger, but take heed… NOT SLASH, not SI, just OC

4. Chapter 4

AN: sorry about this chapter being two days later than promised. Some of the more narrative parts felt strained as I wrote them and I've lost another Beta. Hopefully I can get another soon so things will pick back up.

Chapter 4

Monday dawned bright and cold setting most of the boys in Eric's dorm to grumbling, but Stark himself was excited and, dare he say, giddy.

"Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble." Eric ignored his classmates, a wide grin on his face as he chanted Shakespeare's Macbeth outside the potions classroom. As he got to the line about 'liver of blaspheming Jew', the door the classroom door banged opened and the class began filing in.

The classroom was sparsely lit and built of shale. Four rows of four desks, wide enough for two people, were set across the back of the room. At the front of the room stood a single office style desk and blackboard, currently clear…and no teacher.

The first years spread out around the room, several taking desks with their opposite house, but mostly grouped as Claws or Puffs. Just as the whispering began to reach conversation level, a tall, pale man with long black hair billowed into the room, stilling the speculation with a glance. "Well now, isn't this pleasant…" the man said in a quiet voice, edged with distain. "A new batch of rug-rats."

Snatching a paper off of his desk, the gothic professor began to call roll, pausing on the name Longbottom with a sneer before turning to address the class. "Potions," the hook-nosed man stated, his voice quiet and serious as the grave, forcing them to pay close attention lest they miss a word "is easily one of the most dangerous classes you will take while attending this school and as such I will broker no foolishness from any of you. I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle power of a simmering cauldron or the artistic beauty of a perfectly concocted elixir, but for those of you fortunate enough to survive my class will find themselves capable of brewing fame, bottling glory, and even putting a stopper…in death."

Eric and, indeed, most of the class, listened in rapt attention as the man paused for dramatic effect. Whatever could be said about the man's appearance or health, he certainly knew how to control a class and had a real flair for the dramatic.

"Despite the lack of wand-work in this course, you will soon find yourself with the ability to bewitch the mind and mold the bodies of your drinkers like clay in the fists of Titans. Make no mistake, this is magic of an ancient and most powerful sort, predating all other forms of control, be it wands, staves, grand rituals or even runes. It does not care about your power, lending the careful brewer abilities on par with the greatest magicians of our time, be ye world-renowned dueling champion or lowly squib. That is what I can offer you… If you're not the dunderheads I'm usually forced to teach."

With that, he began going around the room calling on random people and asking questions from the text, occasionally awarding a point, two if he was really impressed, or taking away five depending on how he liked the answers. Eric himself managed to gain Ravenclaw 7 points by the time the first bell rang and Snape placed the directions of the first potion on the board. "The potion you will be brewing this week will be a simple curative for migraines; no doubt I'll need one by the end of the lesson. I trust you've all brought your tools and cauldron. Instructions are on the board, supplies in the student cupboard, you have till the end of the period to finish. I will be walking around the class correcting your errors. Do try to make my presence unnecessary, it's healthier that you do."

Taking a look at the ingredients on the board, Eric smirked as he noticed powdered willow bark halfway down the list. It would seem that Civilian medicine and potions making had at least something in common, if only in active ingredients. Turning his focus from the board to the student cupboard, Eric opened the doors and began levitating materials toward him, causing several Puffs to jump.

"Mr. Stark…" sneered a voice by Eric's shoulder. "I don't believe I said you could use your wand in my class. In fact, I believe I just made a speech to that effect. Hand it over."

"I would professor, but you see, my wand is upstairs in my trunk." Eric said politely.

The potions master's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe you're levitating objects without your wand?" he said, deceptively calm. When the redhead nodded, Snape's eyes tightened. "Detention Mr. Stark. Accio wand." When nothing happened, Snape looked at him strangely and Eric felt as if the sorting hat were trying to get into his mind again.

Professor Snape? Eric projected.

The man jerked back. "We'll talk about this later Stark. Finish your potion." The professor turned back toward his desk and swept off, before throwing over his shoulder, "Without magic." Severus spent the rest of the day distracted, reminiscing about simpler times and a girl named Lilly.

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The door to Dumbledore's office banged open as Snape swept into the room.

"Lemon drop?" the wizened politician offered, smiling as he looked up from a series of reports on his desk. Seeing Severus' dark scowl, Albus sighed. "Harry again?"

"Stark," Snape hissed, shaking his head. "He needs to be watched."

"Might I inquire as to why, Severus?" the headmaster asked, an edge to his voice.

"He uses wandless magic on a level I've only seen twice, and has a rudimentary grasp of Occlumency and Legillimency. He's dangerous, even if he doesn't end up being connected to the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "There'll be no need for that Severus," the headmaster stated, holding up a hand to forestall the pale man's objections. "Franz," he continued, gesturing at the sorting hat "was surprised enough by young Eric to perform a full scan of the boy's mind. He assures me there is nothing to be worried about."

"Irrelevant. The Dark Lord came to Hogwarts performing comparable feats and he only got better in later years. I don't like it."

Dumbledore gave his potions master a long stare, his eyes twinkling and Snape felt the man's presence skittering along his shields. "You said you've seen it twice before." Dumbledore said, quietly. "Who was the other?"

The two of them stared at each other for several minutes, locked in a battle of wills that was as literal as it was figurative. Finally, Severus twitched and looked away. "There were… rumors about Black being… capable," the sallow skinned man ground out.

"As there were about many several others over the years. Including yourself…" Dumbledore returned, an edge to his voice. "I remember a particularly amusing story about James Potter summoning Lilly's brazier from the other side of the common room without his wand, but you mentioned seeing someone." Dumbledore paused and the twinkling went up another level. "Who?"

As the pressure increased something faltered and a flash of red hair and a smile slipped through a crack in his opponent's shields. "Lilly." He breathed.

"Don't even go down that road, you old prune!" said a voice off to their right. Snape whirled to see the sorting hat animated and quivering. "Any connection between the two boys is superficial. They're friends, not brothers. Half or otherwise."

Snape huffed and looked away. "It doesn't change the facts of the matter. The boy is dangerous and needs to be watched," the potions master finished petulantly.

"I agree." Both Dumbledore and Snape looked at the hat in shock. "The boy is dangerous. He's also traumatized, brilliant, fiercely independent and cunning as any Slytherin. He watched his mother—Maria Stark, by the way—die as she was set on fire by a group of wizards. He escaped as they set the rest of the house on fire and made a name for himself on the streets. As I told you when you came in here Friday, bawling about Potter, if you don't curb yourself it will go badly, same as it did with Lilly. Except that unlike Potter, Stark has none of Lilly's compassion to keep him in check. Be his teacher, be his mentor, be the professor you're bloody paid to be and you'll have no troubles with Stark or Harry. Be yourself, and they'll fight you every inch of the way."

Snape snarled and left the room, his robes swirling behind him.

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Two days later…

Professor Dumbledore looked up as his door swung open with a bang to admit a flustered looking McGonagall.

"Albus!" she said immediately, voice almost shrill, "I need you to help me with something."

"Oh?" the white haired warlock said, offering his professor a candy dish full of lemon drops, which was sadly declined. "Nothing too troubling I hope? More news on that Stark boy you're so taken with?"

"What?" the emerald robed witch asked, momentarily confused. "No, no. Young Mr. Stark is doing fine, I haven't seen him outside of mealtime today. I need you to sign a waiver on the ban against first years having racing brooms."

Dumbledore raised his still greying eyebrows. "Do tell? Whatever for?"

"It's Mr. Potter, Headmaster." She said pulling out a vial of silvery liquid and placing it on the desk. "Young Mr. Malfoy was harassing the other students during flight drills, trying to knock Muggle students off their broom and other such shenanigans, I've given him a week of detentions. However, before I could reach them to put a stop to Mr. Malfoy's antics, he stole Ms. Grangers wand and threw it at the whomping willow…"

Dumbledore winced visibly at this. "I suppose we'll be owing young Ms. Granger a new wand then?"

"No, actually. Mr. Potter went into a dive, passed unharmed through the willow's attacking branches and retrieved the wand without anything being broken, broom, boy or wand! I intend to use him as seeker to fill in Charlie Weasley's vacated spot."

Dumbledore set back in his seat. Interesting. This was worth considering. The boy was needed for Voldemort's eventual defeat, so his life was likely to be short… Allowing him a privilege like this would go far towards both his happiness and further elevating his own position in the boy's confidence. "I'll allow it," he agreed after a short pause, taking the paper and signing it with a flourish. "Be sure to send out for a broom; I noticed he didn't try to smuggle one into the castle, so it's unlikely he already has one."

"Shall I charge it to his account, or the school discretionary fund?" Minerva asked, as she headed for the door.

"Hmm, do we have any special projects on the books?"

The green robed witch considered for a minute. "Nothing at the moment. Rubeus is petitioning to add dragons to the northern cliffs again and we're waiting on ministry approval to revive the manticore nest in sector 93. They're still upset about Professor Trask's death during last years' defense practical."

"The discretionary fund then."

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Eric's walked down the castle bluff Thursday afternoon, a spring in his step. Today, they were going to learn to fly! He'd been working on this for years, ever since he'd found that cache of superhero comics in the Belfast Public Library. He'd had little luck so far, only being able to levitate himself a few feet off the ground with his telekinesis, and the results were never particularly encouraging. It was simply too hard to hold the image of himself flying for any period of time, especially at speed.

This would be different, though, he assured himself as he joined the growing clump of students. Here, flying was taught by a professor though professional instruction built on thousands of years of cultural experience… Right? Eric looked down at the warped, splintery brooms dubiously.

Madam Hooch came out and ordered them to stand by a broom and Eric sighed. So much for dreams of riding majestic animals or intricately embroidered carpets. He'd have to write to Disney about this travesty.

"UP!" he said forcefully, following his teacher's instructions and resisting the urge to ply it with his power instead. He felt utterly ridiculous ordering the broom to rise while it just rolled along the ground at his command. He looked up and down the line and felt slightly mollified that he wasn't the only one. Several weren't even getting it to roll under their demands he noticed. Neville's in particular looked as if it was trying to get away from him.

"Don't be afraid of the broom!" Madam Hooch hollered down the line of Claws and Puffs. "The enchantments on these brooms are old and have acclimated to a great many riders, they can sense if you don't trust them! Grow a spine and give the command. UP!"

Eric frowned and clamped down on his emotions, pretending he was being taken to meet those guys from the IRA again like last year. No fear, no doubt, it's all or nothing. "Up!" and the broom rose, settling just below waist height and tilted up at an angle perfect for mounting. Madam Hooch smiled at him as she walked down the line.

"You too, huh? Good job," the cat-eyed blond said as she passed on, coaching others into raising their brooms.

Once everybody had managed to mount their brooms, Madam Hooch went around correcting their holds and positions, explaining about things like flight and breaking charms. It was all quite a bit more interesting that just sitting there thinking about holding a rod between his legs. I really need to get my mind out of the gutter. Keep this up and flying's going to be impossible.

When the class was seated to Rolanda Hooch's satisfaction, they were told to kick off lightly, hover for a moment and push forward to return to landing. "Baby steps, boys and girls. Have to learn to walk before you can run."

Unfortunately, Neville was too nervous to listen to her instructions and promptly freaked on lift-off. As he shot off, Eric's eyes went wide. Two thoughts ran through his head simultaneously, making him dive for his power. That oaf's going to hurt himself and catching him should go far towards gaining his trust. As the now familiar feeling of warmth suffused him, Eric thrust forward, imagining a pair of hands grabbing both the boy and his broom. Eric felt a slight drain as the pudgy boy's flight slowed and smoothed out from its earlier erratic pattern. Moving his arms in a pneumonic to relieve some of the stress on his mind, the red-haired sorcerer guided his blond acquaintance back to his position in line.

Neville set back down on the lawn lightly, his gaze locking with Eric's and the boy nodded, his face becoming oddly serious. Thank you, the boy projected causing Eric to smile.

Learn to fly, Eric sent back. Today, I'll be your safety net. The other boy nodded.

The rest of the lesson progressed smoothly. Aside from the constant stares of both houses and Madam Hooch, nothing more remarkable happened for the rest of the afternoon as the elder witch took them step-by-step through the basics of flight. While still near the ground, they learned how to land and take off, fly at varying speeds, fly upside down, and remounting your broom from such a position. After that, Rolanda began conjuring rings and ribbons of light for them to fly through, all the while giving them tips about turning and what grips to use for various speeds. She also kept watch as the more adventurous students began to take the rings at speed and try tricks they'd heard about with the spindly twigs. The brooms maximum speed was about 50 MPH, Eric estimated, pushing his to its limits once or twice, and the maximum height was only 300 feet.

It was still enough to kill you, but not enough that you or the teacher wouldn't see it coming.

Despite his concerns about the mode of travel, Eric quickly found himself having fun, taking the various rings at greater and greater speeds. He wasn't quite Green Lantern and others were doing better than him, but it was still a very freeing experience.

That was until he the adrenalin wore off during diner and he began to feel all of the splinters he had taken during the days flight. He spent the rest of the evening down in his trunk, removing them. One by painful one.

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Detention with Snape was an interesting affair, Eric decided as he headed towards the main library. It had stolen his Saturday morning, which he wasn't happy about, but he had expected the man to be openly antagonistic during the experience. He had done a lot of digging on Professor Snape through the various houses' gossips and every story had pointed to a shallow petty man who bullied anyone except Slytherins, and even then if you weren't somehow special.

The reality however, was different.

Upon entering the room at 8AM Saturday morning, Professor Severus Snape had told him under no uncertain terms that he was not to use magic beyond potions in his Potions Lab, be it wanded, wandless or otherwise. That done, he had made Eric go back and forth from his desk to the student store cupboard to retrieve and prepare items individually under the professor's watchful eye. It was a long and boring exercise, repeating the same potion they had been assigned in class earlier that week four times before the greasy haired man had left him alone to chip out cauldrons until lunch was served.

If he had to describe the experience, he'd have called the man clinical.

"Eric!"

The red haired boy looked up, a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth, to see his grouped friends standing around the entrance to the library. Eric examined the crowd, pulling the rest of the crisped pork into his mouth. It was a lot bigger than last time he noted nervously. Most of the first year Puffs and Claws were now in attendance apparently. "We're going to need a bigger room."

"It's fairly warm outside," Su said, shrugging.

"By the lake?" he returned.

"Be a good place for the 'proving your creed' part of the introduction," Padma cut in with a smile.

"I'm not too good with the elements yet…" Eric mumbled, looking around at the mass of eyes staring at him. "Though I suppose I could use Kinetics to compensate."

"If I may?" Eric looked up to see Penny making her way through from the back of the group of shorter students. Eric nodded, earning a smile from the blond prefect. "Just down the hall from our dormitories is a room that would be perfect for large groups," she explained with a playful grin.

There was some sort of secret there, Eric was certain of it. "Lead the way, good lady," Eric said bowing dramatically.

"One condition."

Eric cringed. He should have expected this sooner or later. Even he didn't offer these classes for nothing, after all. He raised a brow at the girl waiting for her to continue.

"If you like my private study, you've got to teach my boyfriend."

Eric nodded slowly, feeling inexplicably let down for some reason. Now why would that be? He wondered. It isn't as if she isn't entitled to a request, or a boyfriend. Shaking it off, he nodded to the older girl. "Lead on," he said, stepping back for the prefect to move forward. They followed her for five minutes, past the inconspicuous entrance to the Ravenclaw dorms, around the corner and halfway down the next hallway to stop before a massive portrait if trolls in ballerina suits. There was no door in sight, so he began examining the portrait looking for a clue to opening it. Banabus the Barmey teaches trolls to dance. He read. He was halfway through forming theories on how to pass through when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Eric, c'mon."

Eric turned around to see the crowd of students flowing through a door that hadn't been in the opposite wall when he'd been looking around earlier. "Tricky," he murmured. What better way to hide a room than to hide the door itself? The concept had been used in hundreds of mystery plots of various books he'd read over the years; it only made sense that wizards would have taken the idea a step further, seamlessly submerging the ornate mahogany door in the stone wall it was built into.

Walking into the room with Hermione, he found the room to be filled with bookcases, massive squishy armchairs and couches that you could easily sleep in. "Room, could you clear a space in the center for my friends?" Penelope asked, her voice polite, but somehow filled with laughter. The room responded with a shudder and the dimensions expanded like his trunk had until the armchairs and couches made a trio of enormous circles around the group with Penny in the center.

"Huh," Eric said. "Neat." As the rest of the people found seats, Eric craned his neck to meet Penny's eyes. "Deal. Definitely." Remembering his conversation with Blaise the week before, Eric grinned. There were two ways to build a paying crowd in his experiences as a magician: Get the crowd involved in the act, or start your act with shock and awe. He'd done shock and awe last time and saw no reason not to do so again. He'd need a different approach this time though.

"Magic," he started, igniting his fist with purple light. "It's the foundation of our society," the boy continued, allowing the light to flow over the rest of his body, assuming a rainbow hue. He summoned his stilts and hopped onto them, covering it up with the illusionary disguise he'd used earlier that year to set up a bank account. "It flows through everything," he said, furthering the illusion so that curtains and streamers of light danced across the entire room.

Eric faltered at this point. The power requirement of this performance was negligible, but to form the images, he had to imagine everything and that required an understanding of three-dimensional space which was usually reserved for artists and engineers. He was working on it, but it wasn't easy. "Connecting us," he said as the lights wove themselves through each person there, bringing gasps from most of the crowd. "Binding us…" he intoned, creating a feeling of pressure around the room. "Freeing us." The pressure lifted and suddenly everybody was floating just off their chairs, weightless.

The power cut off and Eric's illusionary form looked around the room sharply. "There are no limits to what magic can accomplish." He spoke forcefully, changing his illusionary form again to that of a 12-foot tall, six-armed woman in an exotic garb. "Not by wands, nor runes, nor potions ingredients." He shifted the illusion again becoming a small green, almost goblinoid Yoda, complete with high-pitched, creaky voice and gnarled walking stick. "Limited, you are, by imagination," the ceiling filled with stars like the Ravenclaw dorms; "understanding," the stars faded away to lines, calculations and diagrams he remembered from various books, "and power," Eric finished, trading all of the illusions for a violet light at each of the audience members' stomachs.

"Now," he said, clapping his hands together and letting go of his magic, "who wants to learn?"

The response was explosive, even from the people who had been there for his last presentation. Topping this is going to be difficult, I hope I don't have to do so every lesson, he mused. He set those who had been with him last time to levitating the ball bearings and for those like Harry, Hermione, Padma and Penny who had already gotten that far, he explained how to light a candle before turning to the new recruits. As he looked at Neville, sandwiched between Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones, he couldn't help but think.

This is going to be an interesting year.

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Harry carefully molded his power as he guided it toward the wick of the candle, focusing it towards creating heat. He was on his sixth candle, having blown the others up. He glanced at the splattered blobs of tallow and snorted. He was distracted and he knew it, thinking about last night's duel that wasn't with Draco Malfoy. He wondered what Eric would have done. Turned invisible to avoid Filch? Hunted Draco down and demanded Malfoy's answer? Hell, his other redheaded friend would probably have summoned the white rat to the trophy room with him like he did with Trevor on the train. Not for the first time he wondered, just how far beh…

"How's it going, Harry? I'm wiped." Speak of the devil, Harry thought as he looked up at the pale boy, sprawled out on the floor in front of him.

"I'm having trouble with the exercise you set me," Harry replied, gesturing at the dead candles. "Think you could help?"

Eric rolled his head to look at him and twitched, trying to shrug, but in a bad position for the action. "Sure, fire away."

Harry was silent for several seconds, putting another halfhearted attempt to light his candle in as he gathered his thoughts. "When I first came here I was afraid," he admitted quietly. "I was worried I wouldn't be able to measure up to the other students. I mean honestly, they'd spent their entire lives in the magical world and here I was, hardly able to believe that magic was real." He sighed and met Stark's uncharacteristically serious gaze. "It seemed like such a dream come true that I knew, just knew there had to be some catch to it. That if it wasn't going to blow away like the morning mist, then I'd be horrible at my classes or something else horrible."

Harry crossed his legs in front of him Indian-style and lit up his fist with the heatless violet fire of pure magic. "It had already happened once before you know?" Harry continued after a few seconds. "When I first started going to school, I pushed forward quickly. It didn't take much effort and I quickly got so far ahead of Dudley and the rest of my class, my teachers went to my aunt and uncle to ask them if I could join the first graders a month into grammar school." He gave his friend a smile that felt more like a grimace. "That was one of the few times my guardians beat me," Harry told his friend quietly, seeing those large grey eyes turn to steel.

"After that, I started holding myself back. Those were the rules they had set me after all. Don't ask questions, don't make a fuss, do what we tell you, and never, under any circumstances, outshine Dudley. Not that they put it like that of course. Thing is as time went on I noticed I got used to following those mandates, up until the point that it became unconscious." He laughed after that. "Do you know what I did the same night you taught me about my mindscape?" he asked bitterly. "I went back in and seeing what a disarray it was in, I started straitening it up. I couldn't help myself! At home, I'd gotten used to anticipating Petunia's orders and keeping everything spotless so when the eventual task list came, it'd be over quickly. Ron already complains about how I insist on fixing our dormitory when the others leave messes. Drives both of us spare.

"Thing is, when I came here, I was worried about falling back into old habits, so much so that I practically memorized our textbooks. They you come along. Everything's easy for you; spells, learning, you're a social force in these meetings and always partnering with someone else every class. It's not because nobody likes you either. And then there's this." He gestured around the room with one arm and at the candle with the other.

"So you're feeling inferior," Eric told him in that quietly furious voice of his.

"Yeah, sort of."

Harry was caught off guard when the rusty redhead smirked at him. He was about to get angry when the boy spoke again. "Last week I was feeling the same thing about you." The shock on his face must have been evident because Eric grinned wider. "Remember when I showed you your core? C'mon, I wanna show you something." Eric told him. The other boy eyes began to visibly twinkle and Harry felt himself getting pulled into mindscape.

This way, hurry up.

Harry found himself looking at the front of that same storefront he'd seen last week across the distance between.

You're not ready for proper magic sensing yet Eric projected to him as he opened the door to let Harry in so I gotta show you here. Don't feel bad, it took me nearly five years to learn once I started using my powers so even if you're another Hermione it'll still take you a few months minimum. She's already on her fourth lesson, y'know? I'm kinda proud of her.

Harry could feel the warm glow coming through his friend's thoughts when he spoke so he really did understand. There was also a clear hint of jealousy mixed in there to Harry noted with a small smirk.

Eric led him through an open, dirty cafeteria like room to a door that looked like it belonged more on a house than a broken down subway. The door was pushed open to a familiar void and harry took a look in.

Come on, Eric said, brushing past him into the void I won't let it burn you.

Harry entered and the door shut behind him, disappearing entirely. Eric's core looked a lot like his, a large violet and plum flame like the wick of a candle, only without the hole at the bottom where the string entered. As they got closer though harry noticed something different about the Stark boy's magic. Eric, what's that shadow, at the bottom left, see?

Eric approached the orb, looking closely. That's the black fire, the boy returned, closely examining the area he'd indicated. Thanks for pointing that out. Five years and I've never been able to find it.

Really? Harry asked. It hardly seemed possible as good as his friend was that he could have been searching for something that obvious about himself for five years and never seen it. Hadn't he pulled it out in front on Neville just two weeks ago?

You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to see something about yourself if you're afraid to see it. You always know it's there and loathe yourself for it, but it still eludes you. Did I tell you how I first found my magic? Sensing more than seeing his denial, Stark continued. I was living on the streets at that point. I'm sure I'd done accidental magic before but it really hit me around 8 months I'd started living on the lam. I suppose it had something to do with the fire that killed my mum and burned down my house, but it was winter and some boys were shaking down the local street rats. I didn't have enough money and the started beating me. I snapped and flames as black as their robes started pouring off my body.

Stark turned away from his examinations and Harry could feel the pain, horror and guilt of the memories through the thoughts coming his way. It was the first and most blatant sign I'd had of my power. Two traumatizing events dealing with fire in the same calendar year-I blamed myself for mum's death for nearly two years after that, despite my work in magic. I still do, I think; at least subconsciously. That's what's been keeping me from seeing this, from being able to control it. I've seen it nine times since then and never had any control over it. Harry felt a sudden spike of gratitude come his way. I think it might be possible after this, I guess those psych books on PTSD were right after all, sharing really does help.

NOW! To what I wanted to show you! Eric's sudden reversal caught him flat footed and he stayed silent waiting for his friend to continue. This is my core.

I can see that Harry snarked, a shit-eating grin on his face and thoughts. Eric gave him a dirty look before continuing.

It looks about as big as I am, as big as yours was, but that's because of perspective, not actual power. I'm using my magic sensing spell right now too so you can see what I'm talking about. Another orb of power about the size of a beach ball appeared off to the left and Harry looked at it quizzically. This is your friend Ronald's core. It's relatively respectable, about half of what mine was the first time I saw it. If you look at these striations' here he said pointing out various flickering patterns in the corona he's only ever done accidental magic before coming to Hogwarts. His wand is beginning to even out the burn, but it's not suited for him, if you remember he said it was his brothers old wand. It's part of the reason his casting is so bad. Where I've been using magic for near six years mine is a lot bigger than his.

Eric shrugged at his frown and disapproval coming over the link. It's true. Blood, experience and a dozen other factors affect the power of our magic. Another orb appeared next to Eric's. It was half again as big as Eric's own. This is professor McGonagall, Eric said as way of explanation her office is below us and a room or two over. She's a powerful witch with sixty years of experience. See all of these patterns in her burn? I haven't even the slightest clue what most of them mean, but it's all very strong and very controlled. She's a good bench mark for what any witch worth her wand can expect to become.

Now here's a memory of Dumbledore's Eric continued. The image was a bit fuzzy but the burning orb that appeared was enormous, easily dwarfing Eric's and McGonagall's. Whatever else you or I may now or may later come to think of him, the man deserves respect just for that. He's nearly 160 years old, well past his prime even for wizarding standards and he's easily three times as tall as Professor M. That takes something special.

So what's this all got to do with why you're jealous of me? Harry asked.

Because you need a frame of reference. Look at Weasley, that's what you should expect from someone who's never done magic, it's the power of most of the first years that came in with us, more or less. Hermione's a little bigger, and so are a lot of the half-bloods, but the carrot head's not bad as a benchmark. Eric ignored the reproachful glare Harry sent him and plowed on. McGonagall is good for what you could expect most of our classmates to be in their prime and I'm impressive for my age or so I've found. Again Eric ignored Harry's raise eyebrow as he preened.

This, the boy said, showing another orb. It was between Eric's and Professor McGonagall's in size. This Eric stressed the word and gestured to the new flame is yours. Eric looked at him as if awaiting something and understanding began to dawn in Harry's mind.

You've never done magic beyond accidental, Stark told him simply. At the bonding of your wand, you were a clean slate. See the near perfect burn? Only patterns are recent impressions from charms and transfigurations class. You've even got signs of under development over here the boy said, pointing to the dark plum that seemed to boil sickly at the base of the flame where the wick would normally be. This indicates the stagnation of a person's core from malnutrition and mental maltreatment. See here? Even I have striations from when I was first out on the street.

I think I get what you're talking about Harry sent back. Whatever it is that's making my core so big was held in check by my guardians' mistreatment. You're saying it'd be a lot bigger if not for that. That I'm still bigger than you despite my relatives handicaps is making you quake if your boots.

No need to rub it in, Eric whined. I've worked hard for my power…

Harry smiled back at him. I think I'm ready to try again. He said, falling out of mindscape. He woke up to see his friend slowly twisting on the floor, each movement accompanied by a staccato of wet cracking pops. He cringed at the sound. "Stiff, are you?"

"You have no idea," Eric groaned. "Four hours under Snape's thumb wasn't as scaring as I'd expected, but chipping cauldrons is no joke."

Harry gave his friend a curious glance before shrugging and grabbing a small mote of power to light the candle. There was a soft whump and a fireball appeared over the wick before shrinking back to a simple flame at the end.

"Nice," Eric commented. "You need a little more work on control and a smaller power output, but good. Practice that and you might be ready for the third exercise before the dinner." Eric stood up, further cracking pops heralding the movement, and Harry watched in amusement as his friend shook himself. It looked like a dog or cat shaking off after a bath.

"Making the rounds, Professor Stark?" Harry said, grinning.

"You know it, buster," Eric returned, grinning. "By the way," the redhead added over his shoulder as he walked off, "pushing yourself to learn like you used to would go a long way to clearing up that blockage and a visit to Madam Pomphrey could probably clear up the rest."

Harry stared after his friend for several seconds, then stood abruptly. Now, where did Hermione get off to?

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The six weeks passed relatively quickly for Eric, dissolving into a blur of books, classes and friends. He was used to manipulating people for his benefit from life as a street rat and magician, but it was odd to feel actual sense of friendship with them. It was different here at Hogwarts. Oh, he was still building a following like he had with his magic shows, but teaching them and building himself up as 'Oz the Great and Powerful' still gave him a certain glow that he'd never felt with his previous minions, especially whenever someone called him Professor Stark.

The only point of contention had come the week after their talk when Harry asked to cut off sorcery class early so he could go to his first quidditch practice. Not that he told Eric the reason of course; he remembered his friends contention with Ron on the train over the position and was still afraid of losing a friend over something stupid like he had so often with Dudley.

Eric had really hammed it up when Wood noticed him in the stands and he and Harry flew over to confront him about it. "Oh Harry, you wound me!" he'd told the dark haired boy, staggering around, hands over his heart. "You really do! It just hurts, right here. So soon after our little heart to heart and you up and join the enemy; however is this poor heart of mine going to recover?" he finished, posing and then falling dramatically, arm over his forehead.

"Who are you?!" Wood said, furious. "Who is this, Harry? How did he know we were out here? What did he mean, joining the enemy? Aren't those Ravenclaw robes?"

Harry, red-faced from embarrassment, put up his hands pleadingly, sending a dour glare at his friends grinning face and eyes, just peeking out from under his arm. "This is my friend, Eric Stark, and yes he's from Ravenclaw. But don't worry, he won't tell anyone. We had a conversation on the train about the position of seeker and he thinks it's stupid and shouldn't be part of the game." Wood's eyes bulged and Eric jumped up grinning, madcap.

"Another fanatic, huh? Don't go there, Mon' Capitan; it wasn't part of the original game as it was played for several centuries anyways. I read in Quidditch through the ages that the snitch was added because a minister of magic in the early 1800's released a golden snidget bird into a game and offered 150 galleons to the player of the six man teams who caught it. The golden ball replaced the bird because they hunted the poor thing to the point of extinction. The use of the position completely unbalances' the game."

Eric turned back to Harry. "Honestly I don't mind you being a seeker—the skill it takes to catch something that small in the middle of a battlefield isn't something to scoff at—I just think that either the points should be reduced and it shouldn't end the game or it should be its own sport altogether. I'm kinda disappointed you tried to hide it from me, but no big. Really."

And that was it. He talked Wood into not holding practice Saturday between lunch and dinner and left.

Things between him and Ron, however, were quickly deteriorating. Eric didn't particularly like the lighter redhead to begin with but, on Harry's urging, he'd made a real effort on his part to be civil with the boy. Unfortunately, every offer of help of oblique suggestion only made the lion angrier. To him, Eric and Hermione were 'those insufferable know-it-alls' and Eric in particular was reviled as fraternizing with the enemy for encouraging Harry to work with Blaise Zabini and Tracy Davis—those 'slimy snakes' as Ron called them. Eric had lost a few Puffs in his weekly meetings due to Ron's attitude, saying they had enough to go on for the moment and would return when Ron left. Eric wrote up a lesson plan and explanation for a dozen exercises and gave it to Neville for the others with an apology and explanation that Harry was still holding onto his friendship with the redhead and he couldn't kick him out without risking the loss of a real friend. Naturally, this got into the gossip network and created even more animosity between the two of them.

Harry, on the other hand, was beginning to open up to others. The spilling of their individual dark histories had mellowed the pair of them out somewhat and the constant forced contact with members of three separate houses, none of whom were frighteningly focused on him had allowed the dark haired boy to start making friends outside of his regular comfort zone. Eric had watched proudly as Harry and Tracy had teased Blaise about his hazy illusions, prompting the boy to charm their hair into grass. Susan Bones, one of the Puffs who had stuck around despite Ron, was also fast become one of the boys' close friends. The girl was a hex guru and had already managed to start learning several of her favorite curses wandlessly, something she was happily teaching Harry, a pretty blush occasionally gracing her cheeks.

It all came to a head, Thursday October 31st. In charms, Professor Flitwick had decided they were ready for the levitation spell, a charm which would allow them a narrow approximation of Eric's own telekinesis. The charm itself was fairly easy, broad strokes in a short pattern and a word in Latin. The word itself was honestly the hardest part of the spell and Flitwick, well used to Eric's typical battery of questions, spent a good five minutes making sure everyone had the pronunciation perfect.

After that, the class quickly dissolved into people tickling each other from across the room with their feathers. Even Hermione let herself loosen up for a few moments and let her feather get into a dogfight with Harry and Ron's.

Everything would have been fine except that Hermione then took the initiative to talk with Harry about the differences between the spell and Eric's own; effectively stealing all of the scarred brunettes' attention away from him and bringing up the freckled boy's nemesis in the same blow.

"Oh, just shut up already you insufferable little bookworm! It's always Eric this and Eric that; why don't you just trade houses and leave us alone! No one wants you here anyway." Hermione blanched and looked like she wanted to cry when the temperature in the room dropped suddenly. Everybody in the room shrank back as Harry and Eric turned in sync to look at Ron, expressions frigid.

"Now listen here you ignorant, acrimonious little twit; you will apologize to Hermione before I do something regrettable."

It was Ron's turn to blanch. "Harry, c'mon mate, back me up here!"

When Harry didn't say anything, Professor Flitwick took the reins of the class. "There will be none of that in my class, boys," he squeaked, somehow managing to sound dangerous despite his high, cartoonish voice. "Everybody will settle down or there will be detention for the pair of you."

Everybody got back to work, but the festive atmosphere was gone. Hermione was looking confused and hurt; Eric silently furious, and Ron desperately trying to get the attention of a suspiciously deaf Harry. As the day continued, Harry slowly warmed up and began talking to his friends as if nothing had happened, save that he was still ignoring Ron. By the time the feast rolled around Ron was sitting sullenly halfway down the table from Harry and glaring murderously at Eric. He still hadn't properly apologized to Hermione so Eric couldn't care less how the boy felt. It wouldn't save him from retribution later.

The Samhain festival was a blast. Hagrid had spent most of the morning hauling in pumpkins big enough for the half giant to stand in and, with the help of the house elves, had hollowed them out, set bonfires within and set the Hogwarts art classes to carving some pretty lurid faces and pictures into the rinds. A couple of them had even been charmed so that the images moved and the faces would rant like cheesy villains from a variety of popular literature. Candles floated through the air burning blue, black and green as they moved in a variety of patterns Eric was having a hard time deciphering and Eric swore there were live bats fluttering through them as well. The tables were similarly stocked with everything from fresh harvested fruit and vegetable platters and whole grain dishes to animated candies from Honeyduke's and Zonko's joke shop.

Eric was chatting with Fred, George and Blaise about how to best get back at Ron while viscously gnawing on an animated jelly rat. The twins had been reluctant at first but agreed that what their little brother had said to one of their friends had been out of order. Hermione was even more liked in Eric's weekly class than the sorcerer himself was and had apparently helped the freckled pair in ironing out a lot of the kinks in their usual shenanigans.

"So how about charming the word bully in zits across his forehead?" Eric asked. "Too harsh?"

The twins looked pensive for several moments, conversing with each other silently in a series of facial movements and hand gestures that Eric couldn't even begin to guess at. "Seems about right, not nearly so vindictive as your last few dozen ideas, but pointed and embarrassing enough to drive things home," said Fred.

"But it sends the wrong message," continued George. "And makes you look like a berk."

"What you're suggesting is textbook bullying," Fred explained with a shrug. "The reasons are good, but the message just comes out as you being a hypocrite."

"So I need a different word then, how about…"

"TROLL!" The doors of the great hall slammed open and professor Quirell tore through the center of the hall tripping over his own feet in apparent terror. "Troll in the dungeons!" he cried, his voice sounding shaky in its jumping, high-pitched terror. "Thought-thought you ought to know." And the man fainted.

As everyone starts screaming, the twins pull out a piece of parchment and put their wand to it, huddling close so Eric can't see. "Shit, it's not in the dungeons." Fred mutters.

"Oh bugger that, it's not near any of the dormitory paths, what's it matter?" George finished as Dumbledore quieted the crowd with a blasting charm.

"Well that's interesting," Blaise spoke up, having climbed onto the benches and sat on the table so he could see what the twins were hiding.

"Indeed it is," Eric replied as the headmaster directed everyone to head for their house dormitories where they could continue the feast in safety. "You've been holding out on us. I guess this answers how you always know when I'm looking for you two and how to get right up behind me."

"What?" George asked.

"We're professionally insulted!" Fred continued.

"Insulted mind you, that you think—"

"We need a rare enchanted item—"

"To appear when someone least—"

"Expects it; and not our own—"

"Wonderfully professional skill!"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Oh can it you two," he said, turning to his Slytherin disciple. "Blaise, I'm gonna go blow off some steam. The professors aren't going to find this troll any time soon running around the dungeons. See if you can't snag Harry and Hermione; I'm going troll hunting."

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Hermione was worrying silently, twisting her robes between her hands as she ran with Blaise, Harry and the Weasley twins towards the second floor. This was foolish, reckless! Certainly she was upset that Ron, someone she had thought was her friend, would say things like that, but far stranger to her was that Harry and Eric had gotten so mad at him about it. And now Eric was fighting a troll for her! It just didn't make any sense! Eric had already risked detention to defend her against Ron, what was the point of risking death, or worse, expulsion, fighting a troll?

There was a roar at the end of the corridor and the group looked at each other before sprinting forward. They rounded a corridor to find Eric standing there, arm raised and fending off blows from the brutes club on a shield of shimmering purple light and alternately throwing lightning and rubble at the creature. There was another roar as dust was redirected to cake in its eyes. Harry turned to them and began barking out orders as Eric pushed the troll back with an explosion of fire.

"Blaise, bind its feet; stop it from moving. Fred and George, distraction; Eric had a good idea trying to blind it, keep it busy. I'm going to help the pratt directly! Hermione!" Harry finished, looking directly into her eyes. "Get control of that club. GO!"

It was a testament to the scarred boy's force of personality that no one questioned him, immediately leaping to their assigned tasks. Blaise, who had shown himself to be a talent in transfiguration, dug his fingers into the stone of the corridor, hands glowing purple, and set the stone around the troll's legs to forming tendrils and snaking up the beast's legs to bind it. Fred and George continued their friend and teacher's work of charming debris to flow around and clog the eyes and ears of the grey-skinned goliath. As Harry rushed up to join his friend, the boy released a series of fireballs that splashed across the monster's face, making it roar again as it inhaled its own singed facial hair.

Hermione watched her friends as they systematically tore the troll apart, pausing only briefly as Harry's words came back to her and she grabbed the trolls swinging club in a telekine grip. All this because someone had insulted her. Is this really what it's like to have friends? Her mind whirled. To have people willing to stand up for you when you're hurt? Who get angry at the one who did it?

The troll looked up at its floating weapon, confused for a few seconds, before roaring again, enraged at the runts assaulting it and Hermione shook herself out of her ruminations. Eric had abandoned his shield and formed secondary fists of stone that were now wailing on the troll's solar plexus as they mimicked his wild motions. She looked up at her club as the beast took to directing two-handed overhead blows at her two best friends instead and her face tightened in resolve.

There were people willing to fight for her; she would fight for them too. With that she raised her hands as if the club was actually in her hands and the floating tree branch responded in kind. She brought her arms down in a baseball swing, clouting the beast over the head with a sickening crunch.

Silence reigned as the troll keeled over, its back arched like a gymnast because its feet were still stuck in stone of the corridors floor. There was another thud as the troll's head struck the floor and Eric started laughing. "What a rush! Man, do I feel better!"

There was a crack as Harry hit him over the head. "What in the bleeding hells was that for?" the dark haired boy roared at him. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Jeeze Harry, did you really have to hit so hard?" the auburn redhead whined.

"YES!" Harry and Hermione screamed in unison. "What in the world gave you the bright idea to take on a fully-grown mountain troll on your own?"

"…Well it seemed like a good idea at the time," the boy muttered. The five of them looked at him in disbelief, Blaise muttering about how he should have been in Gryffindor. "Figure better to work out my frustrations on something that could take a few hits than that berk Weasley, no offense Fred and George," Eric finished still rubbing his head.

He was about to continue when the sound of running footsteps rounded the corner heralding the arrival of the teachers. McGonagall went white at seeing the size of the troll and braced herself against the wall, clutching her chest while Professors Sprout, Flitwick and Quirell simply gaped. Dumbledore was the first to come to his senses, demanding to know what had happened. Eric watched as the five of them tried to speak at once before stepping forward and gesturing silently to silence them.

"This is my doing professor," he said clearly, causing everybody to look at him in varying stages of disbelief.

"Explain," Dumbledore said sharply as Snape stumbled into the corridor, his leg bleeding from a big tear in his robes.

"As I was leaving the great hall under your directions, I saw the troll at the end of a second floor corridor and followed it. The rest of them followed me, trying to convince me otherwise." He looked back at the hulk and shrugged.

"My lord, Mr. Stark!" Minerva McGonagall burst out, her voice higher and Scottish accent thicker than usual. "Why not send for a teacher!? You could have been killed! A twenty-foot mountain troll isn't something a first year should be dealing with, not even with your friends as support! What if you couldn't have handled it? You'd have been putting both friends and yourself at risk with your foolishness!"

"I had it well in hand, professor," Eric said, causing Flitwick to raise an eyebrow. "Though I am impressed how well my friends were able to work together and work themselves into my attack."

"Well," Flitwick broke in, voice bright. "All's well that ends well, I think I'll handle my own students punishment. Ten points to each of you, save Mr. Stark; if you'll all head off to your common rooms I'll deal with Eric in my office." He looked around at the rest of the teachers, grinning madcap. "I trust that's alright with the rest of you? Good!" With that, he walked off, Eric on his heels.

As the teachers dispersed, sending them off to their common rooms Hermione stopped them by a set of stairs. She hugged Blaise, the twins and Harry, planting a kiss on the dark haired boys cheek. "Thank you."

"What was all that for?" Blaise asked.

"You all stood up for me," Hermione said quietly. "That's never happened before. I know you three were helping Eric plan to get back at Ronald for what he said, and Harry, he used to be one of your friends. Normally it's people leaving me because of their friends, not somebody giving up a friend for my sake." She paused, hesitating for several moments before finishing. "It's sort of… nice." Then a look of panic came over her face. "N-not that I'd ask any of you to leave your friends over me! I wouldn't do that! I kn…"

Harry put a finger to the bushy haired girl's mouth as he'd seen Eric do on occasion, quieting her and turning her cheeks pink. He really had to figure out why that was, he thought off hand. "It's alright, Hermione. Ron's not a particularly nice person, we were getting distant anyways. Ron's constant treatment of you and Eric was just part of a building problem." He turned to Fred and George. "I just hope this doesn't mean I can't be friends with the pair of you. It's a real pleasure to work with you."

The twins looked at each other. "I suppose we—"

"Could be convinced—"

"To continue this association," they said smirking.

"Of course you'd have—"

"To do something for us," They finished their grins becoming Cheshire.

"How positively Slytherin of you…" Blaise drawled. "Weasling a favor out of a friend when you know you'd never hold something like that over his head."

"Oy! Weasels eat snakes, I'll have you know!" Fred sputtered.

"Peace, peace!" the Greek boy said, holding up his hands and laughing. "I'm off to my common room. Wouldn't want all the good parts to be singled out by the upper forums before I get there," he said, walking off.

The redheads turned back to Harry, their sour expressions fading to serious masks. "Nah, we just want your help with a few pranks is all."

"I guess I could do that," Harry agreed slowly.

"Me too," offered Hermione, holding out her hands. The twins looked at them in surprise for a moment and shook them. Hogwarts was about to get really interesting.

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AN: I don't particularly want to follow canon, but if I can't reason a damn good justification of why my butterfly's would stop or alter something I won't do it. In case I didn't explain things properly; removing Neville from the lions meant he wasn't there for Malfoy to pick on, but he's still Malfoy, who at this stage is still a little ponce. That being said, he WOULD have done something and the next logical target would have been Hermione. That being said, this changes things. Harry didn't meet Malfoy on the train because Eric traumatized Longbottom and he forgot about seeing harry, they didn't meet in the entrance hall because those who knew Harry hadn't started talking yet. They met in potions class instead and weren't given much chance to talk so the Rivalry didn't really start. But during flight class Malfoy turned on the first available target. Someone who was emotionally and physically weak and a 'know-it-all mudblood' to boot. Since Harry's already friends with her at this point he saves her wand and deeply dislikes Malfoy, prompting the challenge to save face which he didn't go to just like in canon. Only this time, Hermione and Neville weren't there with them, so no fluffy till the end of the chapter.