Disclaimer – Everything you recognise belongs to JKR. All the rest is simply me playing in her sandbox.

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The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Chapter 16

The door to the Trophy Room opened by itself. A minute later, it swung closed, leaving the second floor corridor looking exactly like it had been moments before. A few minutes later, the door at the opposite end of the room likewise performed an open-closed manoeuvre by its own accord.

The fact that there were no witnesses to this strange event, either living, ghost or poltergeist, immensely pleased the perpetrator. But then, one would expect the hallways of the ancient castle to be deserted at two o'clock in the morning.

Faint moonlight filtered in through the high windows of the Trophy Room illuminating case after case of cups, awards, plates and honour boards. Every one was filled with names and dates. Most, especially the cups and boards, were almost completely enveloped with engravings. But, after close to one thousand years of magical education, that was only to be expected.

In a blink, a small, black-haired first year materialised in the middle of the room, his invisibility cloak was bundled up and roughly stuffed in a pocket.

Sweeping his bespectacled gaze from one side of the room to the other, Harry wondered where to start.

After reading through the seven Hogwarts yearbooks of his parent's school years, he knew that both his parent's names would be in here somewhere. Both James and Lily had been Head Boy and Head Girl in their seventh year. He also knew that Lily had been a Prefect, although, strangely enough, that honour seemed to have skipped his dad, instead being given to Remus Lupin.

But then, his dad had been on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, meaning that it was highly likely that his dad's name would be on any Quidditch Cup memorabilia hidden away in the room.

Once again Harry's gaze travelled the length of the room and he idly wondered whether he should reconsider letting Hermione and Neville in on his idea and waiting until they were available to help him search. But then his stubborn side reassured itself. Hermione and Neville had been practically showing him everything in the library that they could find in the library. Just this once, he wanted to be the one doing the discovering – James and Lily were his parents, after all.

Finally, he decided to simply be logical about it. He'd start at one end and work his way down the hall. Besides, he figured that that way, if he was unexpectedly interrupted, it'd be easy to pick straight back up again from where he left off.

The first cabinet that Harry examined was filled with row after row of Special Service to the School awards. Harry was amazed at the vast number arrayed before him, even considering how old the school was. Not knowing what a person had to do to get one, he randomly plucked one off the shelf and tilted it to get a better look at it in the moonlight.

Awarded to Tom Marvolo Riddle – 1943

And that was it. Nothing else was engraved on the nameplate of the platinum shield with gold edging.

Harry shrugged and replaced the award, relegating the mystery of why these students were awarded this medal to another time. He was just about to move along to the next cabinet, when a half-hidden award caught his eye. Reaching in, he carefully manoeuvred the award out to where he could see it and gasped.

Awarded to Edmund James Potter – 1831

Harry had no idea who this Edmund Potter was, but the fact that his surname was Potter was more than enough to capture his attention. Potter. Harry stared at the name, the edge of the award nearly cutting into his hands with how tightly he was holding it.

Was this Edmund related to him? The question swirled around relentlessly in his brain.

Suddenly, he regretted not bringing the camera that Hermione had given him with him. He'd been so focussed on finding out about his parents, that the fact that there would be other Potters and Evanses around just hadn't occurred to him.

Clutching the award in his hand, Harry shot back up to his feet. Award after award raced past his eye as he studied them all once again only to come up empty. The Special Service to the School award in his hand was the only one given to either a Potter or an Evans.

Determining that he'd be back in the morning with his camera, Harry carefully replaced the award that his possibly great, great, something grandfather had been given and moved along to the next cabinet.

The next two cabinets that Harry checked were devoid of any mention of either his parents or of other Potters or Evanses. But the cabinet after that seemed to be filled with them.

These awards were all in the shape of massive ivory and gold shields dedicated to the various subjects that Hogwarts offered. Looking closer, Harry realised that one name for every year was inscribed for the top seventh year student for each subject.

Lily Evans appeared on two for 1978 – charms and arithmancy. James Potter also managed to achieve the same result for transfiguration. But these weren't the only Potters that Harry found on the massive shields.

Three or four times every century, a Potter was awarded top honours in a Hogwarts subject. And it seemed that almost every subject was represented at one time or another. Charms, potions, defence against the dark arts, astronomy, transfiguration, ancient runes, arithmancy, care of magical creatures and even some subjects, like enchanting, that Harry didn't think Hogwarts taught any more.

But strangely enough, as hard as Harry looked, Lily Evans was the only Evans that he could find. And then it hit him. His mother had been muggle-born. Of course, there wouldn't have been any other Evanses.

Now, he wished that he'd brought along his journal to write down all that he'd found. He could easily tell that he'd be spending a lot of time in the trophy room in the coming days.

A sound at the extreme range of his hearing froze Harry in place moments before he was about to take down the ornate gold Head Girl cup for inspection. A second sound had him moving faster than he'd ever moved before. A quick flick of his hand and a swish of his cloak and he was once more invisible.

Just as the end of his cloak was settling around his feet, the door to the Trophy Room opened. A mangy grey cat preceded the ancient, grimy caretaker.

"What is it, Mrs Norris?" Mister Filch asked his cat. "What's in here, eh?"

Harry shuffled sidewards as quietly as he could, his eyes fixated on Mrs Norris' stare. He knew that he was invisible, but the way that the cat was looking at him made him wonder if invisibility cloaks even worked on cats.

Thankfully, when Mister Filch and his familiar had entered the Trophy Room, they'd left the door ajar. It wasn't a large gap, but for the smallest and skinniest of the first years, it was more than wide enough to allow him to escape.

As soon as he was sure that he couldn't be heard, Harry raced for Gryffindor Tower, hoping against hope that he wouldn't run straight into Peeves.

-oOoOo-

"You should have seen them all," Harry babbled, "Edmund Potter, Josephine Potter, Richard Potter, David Potter …"

Hermione watched as Harry was practically bouncing in excitement as they, along with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years headed to lunch after their Herbology lesson. The instant that they'd left Greenhouse One, Harry had begun detailing his adventures in the Trophy Room, carefully neglecting the fact that he'd been there in the middle of the night with so many others around.

"I never knew that there were so many Potter witches and wizards! I wonder if they're all related to me," he said.

"Well, of course they're all related to you," a bored voice drawled. "They're all Potters, aren't they?"

Harry froze, Hermione and Neville only a step after him.

"What?" Harry asked, looking back at the blonde-headed Slytherin as he ambled up behind them, his ever present stooges, Crabbe and Goyle, at his shoulders.

"You are a Potter, Potter. So are they. There's only ever been one wizarding family with the name Potter. Surely even you can add one and one together and get the right answer," Draco Malfoy explained, the sarcasm dripping from his every word.

"He's right, Harry," Neville agreed.

Harry looked between the two, his eyes narrowed.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked.

Malfoy's snort or derision echoed around the grounds. "I thought that you were supposed to be smart, Potter. Not to mention descended from one of the Most Noble and Ancient Houses."

"Being a Most Noble and Ancient House means that you can trace your magical ancestors back at least fifteen generations," Neville explained.

"Are there many of them?" Hermione asked, her interest piqued.

This was something that they hadn't come across in their library searches about Harry's family.

"Quite a few, although not as many as there used to be," Neville replied. "Some lines intermarried, others simply died out."

"How many are there?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno exactly. My gran's been teaching me about the Most Ancient Houses as well as all the protocols, privileges and responsibilities that go along with it, but I don't remember an actual number."

"Why's she been teaching you that?" Harry asked.

At this, Neville looked embarrassedly at his feet. "For when I'm made Head of House Longbottom."

"And what a sorry day that'll be for the great House of Longbottom," Malfoy snickered.

"At least Longbottom is a Most Ancient and Noble House, not like the House of Malfoy," Neville shot back before looking like he wished that the ground would open up and swallow him for his audacity.

"Just the mention of the Malfoy name is enough to tell anyone that they're dealing with more money and power than the likes of you three can even imagine," Malfoy snarled. "I don't know why they let the likes of you three into Hogwarts – the pureblood squib, the ignorant half-blooded scarhead and … you."

This last was said with such loathing that it was only the flicker of Malfoy's eyes over her shoulder that alerted Hermione to the fact that what he'd intended to say had been curtailed by someone coming up behind them.

With a shoulder shoved into each of them, the three Slytherins pushed past and headed for the castle.

"Hello, you three," a loud voice boomed.

"Hi Hagrid!" they chorused.

"Can' stop just now, but how about you three comin' down for a spot of tea this afternoon, eh?"

"We'd love to, Hagrid," Harry replied for them all.

As soon as Hagrid was out of earshot, Hermione turned to Neville. "Isn't Malfoy an Ancient and Noble Wizarding House then?"

Neville grinned at her as they once more started their trek back to the castle. "The way they act, you'd think so, wouldn't you? But no, they only rate a Noble House of Malfoy. I think their wizarding line only goes back nine or ten generations. Can't really remember, really."

"What about the Potters? Any idea how long they've been magical for? It must be a while, judging by the number of names I saw last night," asked Harry.

"The Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter is even older than the Most Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom," Neville replied.

"Wow!" Harry breathed and Hermione saw that he was lost in his own little world.

"How many other Ancient Houses do you know the names of?" Hermione asked.

"Let's see, there's Bones, Weasley, Abbot, Greengrass, Black …"

"Hang on, there's people in our year with those names," Hermione interrupted. "Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Daphne Greengrass, even Ronald Weasley."

Neville nodded. "Most pure-bloods only marry other pure bloods, they'd never even consider marrying someone with muggle parents. But then there's other families, like Harry's, that have never minded who they marry."

This snapped Harry back to the present. "What do you mean?"

"Well, take your dad, for instance. He was as pureblooded as they come, yet he married your mum, a muggle-born," Neville explained. "Personally, I don't think it matters all that much. Look at me. My whole family's always been pureblood, but they got me and no-one knew if I'd even be magical at all until I was nine, which is really late. And then there's you, Hermione, you're the top of the class in everything, and both your parents are muggles!"

Hermione found her mouth opening and closing at Neville's rather impassioned statement. Finally, she decided that that was something to think about later.

"I'll tell you more about the Most Ancient and Noble Houses later, if you like," Neville offered. "But I reckon that if we don't hurry up, lunch'll be over before we get there."

With nods of agreement, the three of them raced up the path to the closest castle entrance.