IMPORTANT INFORMATION - PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU START ON THE STORY

Chaotic Neutral: Chaotic neutral characters follow their whims. They are individualists first and last. They value their own liberty but do not strive to protect the freedom of others. They avoid authority, resent restrictions, and challenge traditions. Chaotic neutral characters don't intentionally disrupt organizations as part of a campaign of anarchy. To do so, they would have to be motivated either by good (a desire to help people) or by evil (a desire to hurt people).

WARNING: This story is a slow burn. It takes a while for things to happen, and unlike some other fics where Harry resolves all of his problems in one year or less, the main "plot" in this story will gradually reveal itself over time. I'm not saying these other fics are bad, I'm just saying I'm not going to be speedrunning the Harry VS Voldemort conflict.

Now then: our story begins after the events of Chamber of Secrets. Harry never befriended Ron, was placed in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor and relies on Hermione as his only friend (who is also a Ravenclaw, as she should have been in Canon). The story so far has played out mostly as it did in the Canon version, only that Ron wasn't there. For now, I will ignore the plot holes that creates, as Harry's first two years really aren't all that important to my version of the story. So please just go with it.

All characters have been aged up by two years. This means that Harry and his friends are 15 in their Third Year, 16 in their Fourth Year, 17 in their Fifth Year, etc. This has been done largely for my own peace of mind, as this fic occasionally delves into rather mature topics and subject matter. Feel free to imagine them older if you want - I leave that entirely up to you. Oh, and Luna has also been pushed up a Year, so she is no longer a Year behind Harry.

Pairings consist of Harry/Hermione and Neville/Luna.

This story is largely considered to have hit its stride past chapter 7-8. The first half of the story is also of significantly lower quality than the second half. This is due to the fact that the first half was written a long time ago (2018-2020), when I was still finding my writing chops, as it were. So if you manage to get through the first half relatively unscathed, then I can promise you that things only go up from there.

In addition, if you ever feel like the pace is slowing down at certain points in the story, please don't be alarmed, as this is intentional. Most of what will happen in this fanfic has been planned out ahead of time, so certain segments may feel like they are dragging on when, in reality, they are just setting up events that are going to happen later.

And last but not least, Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

EDIT: We now have a Discord server! Dubbed "The Inklings Society", it aims to provide a safe place for ardent readers and aspiring authors to come together to discuss fiction, writing, music, art, and everything in-between (so not just fanfiction)! Feel free to drop by if you're feeling curious! Link below:

Discord followed by (dot) followed by (gg) followed by (slash) 6WcA4yuhaj

DADA Class

Harry Potter wasn't particularly fond of the British Wizarding Community. He disliked the utterly corrupt government masquerading as a functional governing body. He disliked the downright defective economy that lacked any sort of logical sense and allowed goblins to completely rip off any wizard with their monopoly on wizarding banking services. But most of all, he disliked the members that the community consisted of: the wizards themselves.

In Harry's more-than-a-little biased opinion, every wizard he had encountered seemed to suffer from a harsh case of Tunnel Vision. In other words, their minds seemed incapable of critical thinking, or thinking "outside of the box", if you would. To provide an example, most wizards went about their daily lives without a care in the world, rarely questioning the more than questionable decisions being made by the Ministry of Magic. From a logical standpoint, every man or woman with at least five functioning braincells should be able to see that Cornelius Fudge was an absolute wanker and a push-over with zero understanding of how politics actually worked outside of popularity votes. This, however, seemed not to be the case, as the man kept getting reelected every time the position for Minister of Magic came up. No wonder nefarious little cockroaches such as Lucius Malfoy had such an easy time manipulating the political landscape to adhere to his bidding, with Fudge acting pretty much as consequential evidence that human evolution could actually go backwards.

Prospects were not looking much better when it came to the economical side of things either. Seeing as Gringotts was the only bank dedicated to storing wizard currency in Britain, the goblins who managed it possessed a tremendous amount of power over the economy. This was not helped by the fact that the currency the goblins had put in place for wizards to use was nothing short of mind-numbingly backwards, with one Galleon equaling 17 Sickles or 493 Knuts.

That was not to say there were no loopholes in the goblins' system though, because there were. As a matter of fact, one of the first things Harry had done upon learning about the Potter Family Vault's existence was to research possible ways of circumventing the Regulations placed on minors when it came to withdrawals of currency. You see, according to wizarding law, any minor under the legal age of 18 was not allowed to withdraw more than 1,000 Galleons every month from their family's vault. This meant that Harry, despite being the only surviving member of the Potter family, had rather restricted access to his family's funds.

He had, however, managed to find a work-around to this of sorts by opening up a secondary bank account to which he would deposit the maximum amount of Galleons allowed to be withdrawn every month like clockwork. Over time, the monthly 1,000-Galleon-deposits would accumulate into a bigger pool of money in his secondary account, of which he had total control of and could do with as he pleased. A rather simple plan indeed, but definitely functional due to the Ministry's stupidity of not implementing another law simply denying minors the possibility of opening up their own bank accounts.

"Mr. Potter, your attention please," his teacher Remus Lupin coughed, dragging him out of his daydream. Harry had a tendency of zoning out in classes, spending his time thinking about pretty much anything else other than paying attention.

"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. Seeing as he had been plagued by a constant stream of nightmares ever since his First Year at Hogwarts, Harry struggled to get even a single night of good sleep, and often resorted to sleeping in class as a way of keeping himself energized... much to the dismay of the teachers. He wasn't overly bothered by this though - he had long since surpassed the relevant parts of the curriculum, and was considerably ahead of the rest of his class.

When Harry was first introduced to magic, he had developed somewhat of an unhealthy obsession with it. Look at it as the result of Harry not being in a particularly happy place when he got the Hogwarts letter. To him, magic had been so much more than the ability to perform kickass spells and incantations. It had been an escape, a ticket out of his previous life with the Dursleys, a life which had left him scarred in ways he was still discovering. He hadn't quite gotten over his paranoia of belt buckles for example, as that had been Vernon's primary form of punishment whenever he decided Harry needed to be disciplined.

So when presented with the opportunity to come to Hogwarts, Harry had been ecstatic to say the least. Finally, a world that might accept him for who he was, without people like Vernon and Dudley in it!

He had spent most of his First and Second Year in the library with Hermione, reading pretty much everything he could get his hands on. Even back in his old life, before he knew magic existed, Harry had loved to read. It was his escape - his mental palace of tranquility, away from the Dursleys and the other kids at school.

It was during one of these reading sessions in the library that he had learned about the existence of prophecies, and, after realizing that he was a Parselmouth during his Second Year, he had quickly made the connection between him and Voldemort. It was likely they were bound by something other than fate - it was the only reasonable explanation as to why they kept clashing with each other, and why the Dark Wizard seemed so intent on taking his life.

When he went to Dumbledore to present these findings, the old man had been surprised to say the least, no doubt taken aback by how quickly Harry had learned of such matters. He had chosen to tell him most of the prophecy right then and there, despite it not being in his original plan. He withheld the fact that Harry would ultimately have to die at the hands of Voldemort for the prophecy to come full circle, though, and so Harry remained ignorant of that to this very day.

Sadly, due to the Dursley's hatred and poor (borderline illegal) treatment of him, Harry had developed somewhat of a cynical world view, often thinking the worst of people before he had even gotten to know them. This had, however, proved useful to him when dealing with wizards, because no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't quite shake the feeling that everyone was out to dupe him. Which was kind of true, at least to a certain extent. He was the Boy-Who-Lived after all, so he supposed it would be unnatural for people NOT to take advantage of him.

The goblins had tried to scam him of his money. Dumbledore, who he had originally thought to be on his side, had apparently been trying to rope him in to this so-called prophecy he quite frankly wanted nothing to do with, and Draco Malfoy had offered him false friendship under the pretense of improving his own standing. Luckily, he had been able to see through that last one, and subsequently told Draco to fuck off at the start of his First Year.

There was no doubt that Harry had been through quite a lot during his two years at Hogwarts. He'd fought his own Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher over the Philosopher's Stone in his First Year, battled a monstrous Basilisk living underneath the girls' bathroom in his Second, and moved out from the Dursley's house at the start of his Third (and nearly died due to what could only be described as the most suicidal bus ride he had ever had the pleasure of participating in).

If one took a step back and thought about it, Harry was as far from normal as you could possibly get. But he was also tired of it. Tired of being everyone else's slave, doing whatever they asked or commanded him to. Dumbledore in particular had a nasty tendency of trying to manipulate him to do his bidding.

In fact, it was a large part of the reason why Harry had decided to study Occlumency already in his Second Year. He had learned about the Mind Arts from the books in the library, and quickly developed an interest in them. Being a private kind of person, who liked to keep his affairs to himself, the concept was... appealing, to him. Sadly, given the fact that he was also a teenager with little to no experience in the field, he hadn't made much progress yet.

"Harry, what did I just say…? I know that you are already ahead in the curriculum, but you still have to pay attention," Remus sighed, shaking his head at the child of his friends. Was the boy ever going to learn?

"I'm sorry Professor, I just… Well, I have a lot on my mind," Harry replied, pushing himself up so he sat with his back straight.

"I know, my boy, but that doesn't excuse poor behavior during class. I'll let you off this once, but please pay attention from now on, okay?" Remus nodded as he turned around to face the blackboard behind him yet again. It was one of the first DADA classes of the year, and Harry was already nodding off. That didn't bode well for the rest of the semester.

The professor was, of course, none other than Remus Lupin, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. They seemed to get a new one each year, with every former professor filling the role having been forced to step back due to weird circumstances that just seemed to come out of nowhere. Rumor had it the position was cursed, and could never have a permanent teacher. So far, the idea seemed to have some merit to it.

Remus had proved to be more interesting than the others thought. True, Quirrell had tried to kill him, and had technically been the host for a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul, but Remus had saved him on the Hogwarts Express at the start of the year, when the train had come under attack by several Dementors. One of them had apparently sensed something about Harry that made it attack him, with Harry being completely helpless to resist, as none of his spells worked on the thing. He hadn't known about the Expecto Patronum spell back then, but had since researched it thoroughly and tried to cast it multiple times.

For some reason, though, he just couldn't quite seem to muster up a positive enough memory for the spell to work. Even the one with Lily sacrificing herself for him didn't seem to cut it. And he couldn't think of any other explanation as to why he was unable to cast it, as Hermione seemed to be able to do it quite easily. Then again, Hermione was generally amazing at all things magic, so maybe that wasn't such a smart way to measure his own strength, by comparing it to hers.

Harry couldn't really say he had a lot of friends. His cynical view towards most things had a tendency of driving away any interested parties, but Hermione was different. They had met on the Hogwarts Express, and quickly hit it off. In the beginning, she had looked at him more as a rival than anything else. An uneasy friendship had eventually blossomed, based on the competition they had between each other. It had taken Harry weeks to lower his pride to the point where he would sit next to her in the library, but had since not chosen to sit anywhere else. It was one of the few decisions he did not regret making. Hermione Granger was a genuinely interesting person, one that he felt comfortable enough with to talk to without there being any tension or hostility. That was rare for Harry, as he generally did not "gel" very well with others.

It was just something about their… simple, optimistic look at life that annoyed him to no end. That hopeless, childish belief that "everything would be alright". It was unrealistic, and stupid. Harry had nearly died multiple times already during his relatively short life, and that had taught him that walking around with that sort of attitude could be dangerous.

Hermione, on the other hand, had a surprisingly neutral mindset when it came to these things. Despite her tendency to overthink, she was reliable and intelligent. It was the best Harry could hope for in a friend, at least.

If he somehow managed to survive long enough to actually graduate from Hogwarts, though, he did have a couple of plans for the future. One of his most prominent ones was to find a way to reverse-engineer the Elixir of Life to provide him with true immortality instead of just an expanded lifespan. But that would require a Philosopher's Stone, and as far as Harry knew, Nicolas Flamel was the only one who had ever succeeded in making one of those. And he was believed to be long dead at this point.

Some people might ask the question of what one would do with immortal life. Harry thought that those people were stupid. He for one would delve deeper into the nature of magic, unlock every secret known to wizarding kind and weave new and complex spells that only he could use. He would be the mightiest wizard known to man, undefeated by sickness nor death.

One could perhaps say that he was blinded by delusions of grandeur. But he chose to look at it as more of a pragmatic goal, something to work towards as he gained more knowledge about the mystical and very weird world of magic.

The Hogwarts Library

"Hey, Hermione, take a look at this," Harry said as he leaned over towards his female friend, allowing her a better view of the book he was holding.

"Hmmm…" she mumbled as she worked her way through the wall of text Harry had highlighted. "You are reading about the Draconifors Spell, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Huh… I mean, it's an interesting spell to be sure, but what are you going to do with it? I can't see how turning objects into small dragons could have any sort of practical use…" she perplexed, fixing him with a quizzical look.

"Take a wild guess," Harry motioned.

Racking her brain, Hermione tried to conjure an answer. Alas, her faculties failed to produce anything meaningful, and she was forced to admit defeat.

"I intend to use the dragons as a means of transport," Harry continued once he realized Hermione had given up.

The flat stare she sent him in response told him she was not impressed.

"You are going to use the dragons to fly you up to Ravenclaw Tower because you are too lazy to use the stairs?"

"Precisely."

Letting out a sigh, Hermione leaned back and used her hands to gently massage her temples.

"Your genius never ceases to impress, Harry," she muttered.

"I know; I am an underappreciated genius. Blame the staff for not installing some damn escalators around here," he responded matter-of-factly, closing his book on Transfiguration before reaching over towards the next one in his stack. He still had a plethora of subjects to get through before supper, including (but not limited to); the study of Grindylows, the inner workings of the Expecto Patronum spell and a deep-dive into the theory behind Animagi. The last one was especially interesting.

Ever since he had learned about Animagus forms, Harry had wanted to take a closer look at the magic behind it. Hermione had long since advised him to give up on this particular desire, as learning how to become an Animagus required vast amounts of patience and knowledge about your inner animal, but Harry still felt like the positives outweighed the negatives. However, after taking a surface-level look at the subject, he had quickly surmised that learning how to perform the transformation would be a strenuous process involving a ritual that would take months of preparation to get right, which was quite frankly something he didn't have the time to do right now.

"Well, well, well... what have we here? Potter and his Mudblood friend, enjoying each other's company, I see."

Harry didn't have any trouble recognizing that voice. Draco Malfoy had apparently deigned it a good use of his time to pay a visit to the library, no doubt to take yet another shot at mocking him and Hermione. It seemed to be his favorite pastime activity, which was sad in its own way.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry sighed, not lifting his eyes from his book.

"I was just going to grab some light reading material from the library, but I think I might have come to the wrong place, seeing as there is nothing but trash here."

"Clever as always," Harry deadpanned. "Tell me... does your bigoted father enjoy your incredible sense of humor as much as I do?"

A dark shadow cast itself over Malfoy's face at the mention of his father.

"I won't allow you to speak like that, Potter," he warned.

"Or what, Malfoy? You'll punish me?" Harry frowned. "You know that I'm ahead of you in most subjects, right?"

Pointing out the academic difference between the two did little to satiate Malfoy's anger, and Harry could see the boy growing more and more infuriated by the second.

"You're really itching for a fight today, aren't you, Potter?" he sneered, pulling up his sleeves in a ridiculous attempt at intimidation. Harry wasn't bothered by it in the slightest though. He had already decided that he wouldn't be fighting Draco, seeing as it was a complete waste of his time, and likely to result in little else than trouble with the Professors.

"Okay, look... I'm not going to fight you, Draco. I'm just not. So please, go back to doing... whatever it is you were doing with those two numbskulls, and leave us alone," Harry replied, his voice perfectly calm. By "those two", he was obviously referring to Draco's designated bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, who always followed him around no matter where he went.

"Hah! Crabbe and Goyle have simply learned their place. They were born to serve under the Malfoy family, and one day, you'll serve us too," Draco retorted, managing to sound even more arrogant than before.

"Yeah, that's... not going to happen. There's not a snowball's chance in hell I would ever serve someone as self-obsessed as you, much less the entire Malfoy family. But it's clear to me now that this discussion is not going anywhere, so if you're not going to leave, then I will."

At this point, Harry had already gotten up from his seat and walked past Draco and his entourage, heading for the exit. He had been planning on going to the Great Hall to eat supper anyway, and would gladly do so now that he knew Draco would not be there.

"What, running away Potter? Too afraid to fight me? I bet your parents wish they could've done the same thing when they had to face the Dark Lord."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his back still turned towards Draco.

"… What did you just say?"

An evil grin flashed across Draco's face when he saw Harry's reaction. He knew he had struck a nerve. What he didn't know, however, was when to stop.

"It hurts, doesn't it? Knowing how your parents begged for mercy, how your mother screamed as she watched your father fall to the Dark Lord. How she must have trembled at the thought of her only son being taken from her. Well, I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Potter," he continued as he slowly made his way towards Harry, the smirk on his face growing wider with every step. "They deserved to die."

"…"

A wave of pure, unadulterated anger suddenly flooded the library, showering everyone present with malice and tension. Akin to an explosion of despair, it spread from the epicentre to encompass all, blotting out the light as the boy became something other than human. A lifeless husk, its singular purpose to act as host for the endless abyss and void that seemed to permeate the room, erasing the notion of happiness.

"What are you doing, Potter?!" Draco squealed, visibly flinching as the waves of malice rolled over him. Fear swelled in his eyes as Harry ever so slowly turned around to face him. He clamored up against the bookshelf behind him, desperately looking for an opening. But Harry was not going to give him one.

"... Would you like to repeat that?" Harry said, his voice a blade of fury amidst the roiling thunderstorm.

He moved closer to Draco, so close that he could practically sense the anxiety and dread the Malfoy heir was attempting to mask. It felt good. Good to know that he held such power over the boy - the power to make him feel fear.

"W-What?" Draco replied, growing defensive despite his terror. "That your p-parents were two good-for-nothing losers who deserved to die?"

Wrong answer.

The end of that sentence also marked the end of Harry's patience, as he jerked his hand forward in a push-like motion. The hand never even touched Draco, but the boy felt the pressure all the same - the pressure of having Harry's magic ruthlessly forced upon him, shoving his frail body against the bookshelf with such force that it immediately broke his hip.

As the young boy fell to the floor, he let out a bloodcurdling scream of pain that echoed out into the hallway and far into the castle, no doubt attracting the attention of every Prefect and Professor at Hogwarts.

This seemed to wake Harry up from his trance-like state, which immediately put an end to the waves of anger. Like a flash in the pan, it shimmered out of existence.

The others present drew a relieved breath. None could explain what they had just witnessed.

Harry, on the other hand, was already starting to feel the repercussions of his anger-induced use of magic. His mind went fuzzy, his body throbbing from the overexertion he had just put it through. Forcing magic to obey one's wishes without the use of a shortcut such as a wand could be an incredibly taxing affair, especially if it involved manipulating reality in the way Harry had just done. He had wanted Draco to get hurt, and forced this wish upon the world. That did not come without a cost.

Hermione must have noticed the paleness of his skin, because she immediately rushed over to his side to support him.

"Thank you," he gasped, leaning his weight against her.

"Harry, what was that?!" Hermione hissed back, a mix of emotions swirling through her. Harry could not blame her for the reaction. She had just witnessed her friend turn into something... different. Something inhuman.

"I… We'll... We'll talk about it later, ok?" he whispered, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. This one was going to be hard to explain. I mean, how do you really tell someone that you think you have an Obscurus growing inside of you?

Harry wasn't quite sure whether or not his Obscurus theory was actually correct. After coming across the subject during a rather late-night reading session in the library, he had been convinced that what he had just stumbled upon was the explanation for his apparent uncontrollable anger. However, after thinking about it for more than 5 minutes, his certainty had lost its edge.

An Obscurus could be explained as the manifestation of the repressed energy of a magical child, which would certainly fit the bill for Harry. He had, after all, been told to suppress his magic every day whilst living with the Dursley's, and beaten when he failed to do so. That would be the perfect environment for an Obscurus to take hold and grow, especially considering the total seclusion Harry had been subjected to.

On the other hand, on every recorded instance of an Obscurial going wild, the host of the Obscurus lost any semblance of control, and was at the complete mercy of his or hers inner demons. Now, whenever Harry got so angry that he started triggering "self-imposed accidental magic", he never truly lost control. He could always direct the unstable force towards something, whether it be a person or an object. A regular Obscurial could not do this; they usually just ended up lashing out at anything in the nearby vicinity.

Many a night had been spent with Harry pondering this exact issue, trying to think of an answer as to why he seemed to be able to do something that most Obscurial could not. Due to this, he had ultimately decided to look for other possible causes of his "accidental magical outbursts" as well, and noted down the Obscurus theory as speculation and possible explanation for a later date.

Prof. McGonagalls Office

"Harry Potter… If I had to pick one person I would not expect to see in this office, I would pick you," Professor McGonagall said, shaking her head with clear disappointment. "You know why you have been called here, I presume?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry answered, deciding not to delay the inevitable. Most everyone had seen him attack Draco in the library, so he didn't see the point in lying about it now.

"Then I must tell you that I am extremely curious as to why you saw it fit to attack a fellow student like that," McGonagall remarked, fixing him with an iron stare. "What could possibly have been going through your head for you to think that such a thing would be okay?"

"Not to get technical or anything Professor, but... it wasn't like I just randomly decided to attack Malfoy out of nowhere. He came to the library for the sole purpose of provoking me, which, as made obvious by the fact that I am sitting here right now, he succeeded in. It just didn't end so well for him this time," Harry refuted, his face an expressionless mask.

"Didn't end so well for him? Harry, you broke the poor boy's hip, for Merlin's sake!"

"I didn't mean to," he frowned. "I overestimated his ability to handle my magic, and put a little more power into the push than strictly necessary, resulting in… well, a broken hip."

He knew he was technically lying when he said that. He had wanted Draco to get hurt, and would quite frankly have been a little disappointed if the boy had walked away with nothing more than a few, insignificant bruises.

"Harry…" McGonagall sighed, rubbing her tired eyes with her hand. "You have to understand that these things have consequences. You can't just go around hurting people that provoke you, even if you believe they deserve it. There is a reason rules exist."

"I know, Professor, and I promise that I'll try my best to uphold them from now on." Plus, Draco had already gotten what was coming to him, so Harry felt no need to press the issue.

"I can ask for no more, but sadly, I am expected to enforce the school rules, and therefore have to issue some kind of punishment, especially considering the nature of the violation," the Professor frowned, clearly not happy with the prospect of having to punish someone she was convinced regretted his actions. Harry obviously didn't, but the Professor did not need to know that. "As such, I am giving you mandatory detention for the rest of the week."

A small groan escaped Harry's lips at the mention of his punishment. Detention was by far the cruelest thing they could have done to him, simply because it was mind-numbingly boring, and Harry hated being bored. He had the discipline not to complain about it out loud of course, but he made sure his annoyance was visible in his facial expression.

"Then I believe we are done here, right?" he asked, shooting a quick look towards the door.

"Yes, we are. You may leave, Mr. Potter."

As Harry got up from his seat and moved to leave the relatively small office, McGonagall coughed lightly to get his attention again.

"In fact, before you go, answer me this…"

"Yes, Professor?"

"According to what I've heard, you never physically touched Draco… and, judging by your wand records, you have not used it to cast a single spell since Charms class earlier this day… but the young Malfoy was still pushed into the bookshelf with such power that it had to be the result of magic…"

Harry already knew where this line of questioning was going, and he didn't like it. He had no time to indulge the Professor's wishes to know about his accidental magic. And it would be rather hard to explain in the first place.

"... Let's just say that it was the result of multiple years of pent-up emotions and a dash of anger issues, Professor."

Malfoy Manor

Lucius Malfoy sat in silence as he watched the piece of parchment he had just read catch fire and burn to cinders. Draco's weekly letters were usually filled with nothing but mundane information that he quite frankly had no interest in hearing about, but this time, something of note had actually happened. Harry Potter had apparently attacked his son in the library.

The situation was… well, most troublesome. The Potter boy had turned out to be more proficient in wielding the magical arts than Lucius had initially expected, something that would no doubt trouble the Dark Lord, should he ever decide to return.

Ever since that night in Godric's Hollow, Lucius had never felt truly at peace. He had been relieved, of course, after hearing about Lord Voldemort's demise, but not to the point of elation. There was something about the way he had died that made Lucius worry. The Dark Lord had often bragged about his apparent immortality to his followers, so that he would then go ahead and die at the hands of a toddler seemed a little too good to be true.

When Lucius had decided to take on the mask and don the robes, he had not been aware of just how cruel his new master could be. He would kill mercilessly, and torture all who dared disobey him. Lucius himself had been on the receiving end of said torture multiple times, despite being a sworn Death Eater, and he still remembered the overwhelming pain he had suffered under the Dark Lord's Cruciatus.

As such, the thought of Voldemort returning to power never failed to send a shiver down his spine. Despite this, however, Lucius could not write it off as an impossibility, simply because of the immense power the wizard had wielded. If his master had somehow found a way to make himself truly invincible… well, then they would all have to be prepared for his return.

The young Harry Potter therefore represented a threat to them all, and Lucius would have liked nothing more than to get rid of him as fast as possible. This, however, had proven to be a rather difficult task, seeing as the boy was under the protection of Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. And no wizard, dead or alive, would dare stand against HIM, no matter how much gold Lucius tried to bribe them with.

But I can't just let the boy walk away without any punishment... That would bring great shame upon the Malfoy name and honor. I have to find a way to punish him somehow…

With the crackling fire as his only companion, Lucius sat for hours pondering ways of bringing harm to the Potter heir. At last, he finally gave in to his sleepiness, and headed off to bed.

It was, however, not before his head hit the pillow that an idea struck him, an idea so brilliant he immediately flew back up onto his feet again, waking up his sleeping wife in the process.

"Wh… What are you doing, Lucius?" Narcissa Malfoy murmured, opening her drowsy eyes ever so slightly so she could look at him.

"Nothing you should concern yourself with, my dear. Go back to sleep now, I have some urgent business to take care of."

"Mmhhhh… Okay then, if you say so," she resigned, happily returning to the land of dreams.

Leaving the bedroom he shared with his wife, Lucius headed down the hallway that lead to his personal study. He had already worked out the rough outlines of his plan, his mind going into overdrive at the thought of finally getting back at the Potter brat.

Sitting down behind a beautifully decorated mahogany desk situated next to a grand wall lined with bookshelves, he quickly pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and began writing a letter. Tomorrow morning, he would be visiting Gringotts in order to make a withdrawal, and as such, he would have to inform the goblins in advance so they could fill out the necessary paperwork. If everything went according to plan, he would have the item he was going to retrieve ready to be shipped again shortly afterwards.

The best part about all of this was that none of it could be traced back to him. If what he had heard about Potter was true, the boy would be the one inflicting this harm upon himself, without ever knowing of Lucius's involvement.

This time, there was no room for failure. Harry Potter had to die. And Lucius Malfoy would be the one to do it.

Transfiguration Classroom

"Curse the person who came up with the idea of detention…" Harry muttered to himself as he stared blankly at the wall. He had been stuck in the Transfiguration classroom for what felt like a small eternity already, and even Hermione had long since abandoned him to his boredom. Even a person as "academically inclined" as her couldn't stand to sit in one of the classrooms this late after class had ended, even under the guise of keeping him company.

Detention at Hogwarts worked more or less exactly like detention at a normal school - the likeness being that there was absolutely nothing magical about it. The students would stay behind after the final class had ended, forced to stay in the classroom for a predetermined amount of time, usually to do their homework or other such tasks.

Harry, being the knowledge-addict that he was, had no homework left to do of course, and as such, had no other choice but to sit in silence and think. Contemplate… in this case, suicide. Speaking of suicide, he would rather prefer to go up against Voldemort again if it meant he could skip his remaining days of detention. At least the Dark Lord would kill him quickly.

Just as he was about to give up and let himself fall into an eternal coma, Professor McGonagall coughed, catching the attention of everyone present.

"You may leave."

Finally…

Leaving the classroom behind, Harry couldn't help but feel a wave of newfound respect for inmates who were stuck in prisons all around the world, forced to stay in the same collection of rooms for years on end. He was quite sure he would have lost his mind in a place like that.

"Finally let you go, huh?" Hermione said as she caught up with him on his way to Ravenclaw Tower.

"Yeah. Even the Professor was starting to look a little bored by the end there," Harry responded, shaking his head in exasperation. "I can't believe anyone would willingly subject themselves to guard duty for a bunch of teenagers like that."

"Well, unlike you, they are actually getting paid to be there," Hermione pointed out with a shrug. "And it's not like they have much of a choice anyway. Someone has to do it."

"Hmm... Guess you're right. Oh, and by the way - you wouldn't have happened to find the book I told you about earlier, have you?"

"If by "the book", you mean the book on Dark Rituals from the Restricted Section you have been eyeing for the past couple of days, then no, I didn't find it," she deadpanned. "There's no way I'm sneaking in there just so you can feed your obsession with Dark Magic."

"Fine. I was going to pick it up later tonight with the Invisibility Cloak anyway, so no harm done," Harry retorted nonchalantly, ignoring the disappointed look Hermione shot him.

"Harry, dabbling in the Dark Arts is dangerous and often leads to disaster, you know that, right?"

"Yes."

"You are going to do it anyways, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You really don't care about the school rules at all, do you?"

"No."

Hermione knew when she had been beaten, and let out a defeated sigh as the duo arrived at the entrance to the Tower.

"The person who made it, never used it, and the person who used it, never saw it. What is it?" the eagle knocker placed on the door asked them. This was, without a doubt, the most obnoxious thing about living in Ravenclaw Tower. Every time someone wanted to enter the common room, they would have to answer correctly to a riddle posed by the knocker. Harry had long since memorized most of the answers, but every now and then, the shifty little bastard would throw in some new ones just for the hell of it.

"A casket," Hermione answered, requiring nothing short of a second to figure out the answer. The door flew open, allowing them entry into the common room, and Harry immediately set course for the boys' dorm. He had to get back to the library before it got too late, so he could pick up the book on Dark Rituals. Hermione, however, had other plans, and grabbed his shirt-arm with an iron grip before he managed to get very far.

"Harry, aren't you forgetting something…?" she asked, doing nothing to hide the poorly concealed threat he sensed in her words.

"Uhm… No? I don't think so?" Harry answered carefully, measuring her reaction to his words. Oh no. Her eyebrows furrowed. His answer had been wrong. He was in trouble now.

"Oh, you don't think so? Well, that's odd, considering your promise to help me with my Charms homework..." The ice in her voice was crystal clear this time, but Harry still didn't want to go down without a fight.

"Please, Hermione! I've just spent several of the most excruciating hours of my life stuck in a Transfiguration classroom, I just want some free time, please don't do this!" he pleaded, begging for mercy. Hermione wasn't having any of it, though.

"Mr. Potter, you are coming with me this very second!"

Ultimately, Harry had little choice but to do as commanded. He didn't want to risk suffering the wrath of a Hermione on the warpath. Women could be downright terrifying sometimes.

Diagon Alley

Diagon Alley was often referred to as the beating heart of Magical Britain, with thousands of wizards and witches visiting its stores and locales every day. Due to this, it was usually one of the busiest areas in England, but on this particular Friday morning, the normally crowded streets were all but empty, save for a couple of stray cats and homeless vagabonds. This suited Lucius Malfoy well, because it meant that he wouldn't have to bulldoze his way through a thick crowd surrounding the Gringotts Wizarding Bank to get to his vault. The decreased activity also meant that the chance of someone eavesdropping or spying on you was considerably lower than normal, which was just how he liked it. Lucius preferred to be the one doing the eavesdropping rather than the opposite, after all.

Approaching the massive bronze doors leading in to Gringotts, he let out a determined sigh before walking in.

The goblins all looked up from their desks along the wall as he entered the bank, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and hatred. It was a well-known fact that most goblins hated wizards, despite being the ones in control of their economy. The bloody Goblin Rebellions had, after all, only come to a halt due to a flimsy agreement between the goblins and the Ministry of Magic, in which the goblins retained the right to administer Gringotts, the only bank dedicated to storing wizarding effects in all of Britain. Needless to say, tensions were still high between the two races, and would most likely stay that way for eternity, at least until someone with the skill and charisma to unite them came along.

But that was not why Lucius was here today, to spar with the goblins. He was here to retrieve a rather special item from one of his vaults, an item that had the potential to wipe the Potter boy off the face of the Earth forever. That was, if he could get the item to Hogwarts in the first place.

Lucius walked with his head held high all the way up to the front of the marble hall, coughing lightly to get the attention of the goblin that sat behind the quite frankly massive desk in the middle.

"Ahh, Lord Malfoy. Pleasure to see you here today," the banker known as Bogrod droned with false hospitality. "Judging by your letters, I would presume you are here to pick up the item you wrote about?"

"That would be correct. And I would deeply appreciate it if this matter could be settled as fast as possible. I have places to be, after all."

"Why of course, Lord Malfoy. Right this way," the goblin answered, a rueful grin plastered on his face. Lucius knew the creature was only remaining formal out of necessity, and would most likely have flipped him off if what they were doing hadn't been related to the goblin's job. They took their responsibilities very seriously, after all.

The goblin lead him down a collection of connecting hallways and staircases, to a hollowed-out cave that contained one of the minecart-like contraptions they used to access the lower vaults. Lucius hated these things. They always made him feel nauseous. The goblin must have noticed the hesitation in his eyes, because a big grin appeared on his crooked face.

Wretched creature, Lucius thought-projected as he found his seat.

Wizarding scum, the goblin smiled back, taking great pleasure in seeing the flustered Lord Malfoy grab the edge of the cart with an iron grip.

It didn't take long for the cart to start moving, rapidly increasing in speed and transporting the duo deeper and deeper into the underground abyss beneath Gringotts. After a series of loops, twists and turns, they finally arrived at their destination.

Lucius got out of the cart slowly, his strong pride the only thing stopping him from bending over and throwing up right there on the spot. The goblin, however, seemed completely unfazed by the trip as he walked up to the door leading in to the Malfoy vault.

"As you know, the door to the vault is locked with a multitude of security measures. These measures include, but are not limited to, a lock requiring a very specific key, a detection spell that only triggers if it senses the presence of authorized personnel, a secret combination of words that only our employees know, and a hand sensor," the goblin informed as he started deactivating one lock after the other. "This makes it virtually impossible for anyone but trusted Gringotts personnel to access this vault, thus making it the safest place in existence to store your Galleons."

The door finally swung open, setting fire to a multitude of torches that illuminated the vast riches inside.

"Here you go, Lord Malfoy."

Lucius gracefully approached his family's wealth, any thought of nausea vanishing at the sight of such bountiful treasures. The Malfoys had managed to accumulate a rather enormous amount of Galleons over the ages, making them one of the richest pureblood families in existence. He was now staring at approximately 50 percent of all that wealth. However, Galleons was not what he was here for today.

"Open the innermost sanctum, if you please," Lucius said, turning around so he could address the goblin. The creature looked shocked for a second, before regaining his mask of professionalism and nodding his head.

"I have to tell you, nobody has requested the inner sanctum to be opened in at least a decade. I cannot promise that the item your family placed within that room still retains its original quality, as it has most likely suffered degradation over the course of time," the goblin droned whilst approaching the hidden door that rested at the back of the vault.

"That matters not, goblin, just open the room," Lucius stated, starting to feel impatient. He had wasted enough time here already. He had to get this over with, and return to Malfoy Manor as soon as possible.

"As you wish," the goblin responded, bowing his head ever so slightly before pulling out a rather peculiar-looking rock from his jacket. He then proceeded to hold the rock up against the door, whispering words of ancient magic. As he finished, the rock vanished from his hand as if it had never even been there, and the door let out a shriek as it slowly opened up.

"Here you go. The sanctum is open."

"Thank you."

Taking one last deep breath, Lucius strengthened his resolve and stepped inside of the small cave. The room itself was nothing special, just a small compartment that had been locked off from the main vault, but the item it guarded was nothing short of priceless.

And there, on a small stone table right in front of him, it lay, wrapped in cloth to hide its title. It was a thick grimoire, a seemingly innocent item with no extraordinary qualities. But Lucius knew better. This was perhaps the most exceptional relic in the entire Malfoy vault, containing knowledge that certain wizards would kill to get their hands on.

Lucius reached out and carefully grabbed it from its stand. It was heavy, heavier than it looked, but other than that, it appeared to be nothing but an insignificant thing that could easily pass unnoticed if placed in a proper bookshelf. He did not remove the cloth covering its title, though, because doing so could be dangerous if done in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"If I may ask, Lord Malfoy…" the goblin started, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "What are you going to do with that?"

Lucius shot the goblin a quick look, the traces of a small smile flashing across his lips.

"I'm going to give it to someone," he answered.

A/N: Read and review!