Me and my father were not close, so it shouldn't be too surprising that at 13 I went to the Train Station alone, for my very first year at Hogwarts.
That was fine. It wasn't that I disliked my father, or that he disliked me. He was just never home, and when he was, we rarely spoke. He locked himself away in his study, barely showing his face, and I lived in our family library. That is how it's been since I was 7.
Though, the night before, he had some words for me.
''Tomorrow is a big day. I know we don't talk, but I am proud of you. If only your mother was still here to see you now.''
That was unexpected. He never talked about her, and whenever her name was ever brought up he would go quiet and stare at you hard enough to make you swallow your words.
''Thank you, Father.''
That was all I could think to say. The last time my mother's name had been dropped, it had ended with him saying, ''Say one more word, and you won't be getting your wand. You won't be leaving here for Hogwarts, you won't be doing anything.''
Of course, they were just words. But he had still said it.
At times like this, I pondered about the past. it wasn't always this way. He never smiled or laughed, but once upon a time, he did. When my mother was still here, and before that day.
I left the manor early and made it to the Train Station before anyone else, my cloak buttoned up to my face.
It was uncomfortable, standing in my stuffy cloak, but it was better than the alternative
When the train finally arrived I made it to an empty compartment, that would quickly be filled by other first years. A large ginger boy, and a short, mousy-looking boy.
I leaned my head against the window, acting as if I were asleep.
They seemed to have bought it, but still snuck occasional glances, at the strange, other boy with his hood up, but thankfully ignored me for the most part.
The two boys were practising spells, which was easy to tell even with my eyes closed. They were noisy.
One of them messed up a spell, and a heavy force snapped my head back, into the window with a thud, but the one thing I cared about was that my hood had fallen.
''Oh, damn. sorry.'' The smaller boy apologised. ''You okay?''
Then, the other boy looked into my face, and his eyes widened.
''Wait, you're Harry Potter, I've seen your name in the Daily Prophet!''
I tried not to sigh. I should have been used to this by now, but I really wasn't.
''Harry Potter, who the heck is Harry Potter?'' The other boy asked, A Muggleborn probably, and I already liked him more.
''I'm not,'' I said. ''I get this a lot. We look similar, but I'm not him.''
''Really?'' The ginger boy asked and gave me a long look.
''Yeah. My name is actually Mark Evans. If I really was Harry Potter, I think I would say it. Why would I lie?''
''I dunno…''
He continued to eye me up. Even a blind man could see he still doubted me.
''Well, I'll be right back. I need to go to the toilet.''
That was a lie. I just went into another compartment, and this time made sure my hood did not fall.
It did not.
Hogwarts was not fun.
That is something I realised not even a week in.
The sorting hat sent me to Slytherin with a heavy consideration for Ravenclaw, which would've fit me far better.
When asked, it answered, ''You'll find out soon enough. I'm sure.''
Although to be fair it mattered little to me. Houses were just Houses.
My father, mother and grandfather were all Gryfindoors, but my grandmother and that side of the family were Slytherins.
But maybe it would have been easier if I was sorted somewhere else. Most of the groups had been formed instantly, and a lot of them already knew each other.
Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Vincent Crabbe and a few other pure-bloods were one. A group, that many were scared of. Not because individually they were intimidating, but because there was a lot of them.
Look at them the wrong way, and they'd harass you until finding another target, and everyone would laugh, joining in on the fun, until they were chosen next.
I didn't join in the fun, but I was still chosen next. After everyone had gotten sorted, Draco offered, ''I didn't think someone like you would be sitting on your own. If you would like, then you can sit with us.''
That was strange. Just at the welcoming feast, I had heard him backtalk a half-blood.
''I like where I'm sitting. Thanks.''
And ever since then rumours had been spread across Slytherin, and occasionally people would yell, ''Half-blood'' in the halls. But it never went beyond that. Maybe it was because of my second name, or maybe because of my big bad father who had locked away some of the darkest wizards in the Country.
That wasn't all either. On my first day, the Daily Prophet had already printed a paper that I had been sorted into Slytherin. How did they know? I had no idea, but that wasn't the worst of it.
They said that I attacked another student, and had to be restrained. That was a lie, of course, but it was hardly surprising.
Ever since I tried to leave the public eye and spent all my time at the manor, they had been besmirching me.
That was whatever. They had been doing this for two years now, but it made me realise something.
Back home, people stared and pointed at me, like an animal at one of those Muggle Zoos my mother once took me to.
It was the same at Hogwarts, but here there was nowhere to run off to.
I almost regretted coming to Hogwarts, and not some school overseas. But if my parents went here, then so would I, even if I now know the fanatical tales were just that, tales.
I used to fly with my father.
Of course, like many things in my life, that was a long time ago.
He was also a fan of Quidditch, and when I was very young I remember him taking me to a few games -- although it was so long ago that they were just faint blurs to me now.
So I wasn't really sure what to think when I went to my first flying class. After all, my skills must have deteriorated by now.
''Up,'' I said, and the broom flew into my hand on my first attempt.
Maybe they hadn't.
''Very good. Not your first time on a broom, I'm taking it.'' Madam Hooch said.
''Of course, it's Potter's first time,'' Draco said, who was still trying to get his broom up. ''His family is too poor to buy him a broom.''
''It isn't,'' I admitted, as if Draco had said nothing. ''I just haven't flown in years.''
It had been years, but it seemed I still had a handle on it. I was able to glide into the air easily enough.
But not everyone had flown before, and some struggled. One boy in particular was able to make it into the air, but quickly lost control of his broom and crashed with a crunch.
''My arm, my arm!'' Neville Longbottom yelped, curling up in the grass.
''I told you all not to go up so darn quickly.'' Madam Hooch kneeled beside him. ''But don't you worry. It's not as bad as it looks. Let's get you out of here.''
This just made me really glad that my skills had not diminished too much. People openly stared, gawked and whispered among themselves.
''I'll only be gone for a couple of minutes, and don't, I mean don't, touch that,'' She pointed at a wooden, locked box.
And then she left, with Nevile in tow, who staggered inside, leaving us alone in the cold, windy courtyard.
The few who had been able to make it into the air drifted back down, apart from me. I just looked down at everyone else and knew something was about to happen.
Without a teacher overseeing us, things slowly spiralled. Draco and Tracy Davidson were looking at each other, and knowing them a fight was going to break out.
On the first day, Draco and a few other Pure-Bloods mocked her for being a Muggleborn. She retaliated, and in a few days, she got all the Slytherin first years in their year -- a couple of half-bloods too, together to form a little group.
Tracy was not the only Muggleborn to stand up to the Pure-bloods but was the first to not cower when confronted by a group of them. Maybe that was why the other Muggleborns latched onto her.
Still, from what I could tell things weren't going perfectly. One day she got into an argument with them in the common room, and the next day she was in the hospital.
You didn't need to be a genius to know who did it.
Luckily though no spells were thrown today, and they turned away from each other. Tracy looked up at me. She hated Draco but didn't like me either.
As I was a Half-blood -- although I was closer to a Pureblood than a Muggleborn because of my upbringing, she tried to get me to join her group. Key word, tried. I wasn't rude about it, but she still wasn't happy and would send the occasional remark my way.
Still, at times like this, I wondered why I was sorted into Slytherin, somewhere like Ravenclaw would have suited me much better. But I still remembered what the hat said.
''You'll find out soon enough. I'm sure.''
No, I don't think that I would.
Eventually, I did fly back down. There was no telling when Madame Hooch would return.
''I'm surprised you even came down, would've thought someone like you liked looking down on everybody like that.''
Here we go again.
Tracy might have been the smallest girl in her year, and dressed in robes two sizes too large, but she still could look at you hard enough to kill.
''I like looking at people when I'm in the air?''
''That's what I said,'' she said, still glaring. ''You're probably thinking, look at me, I can fly so much better than you all. Why else were you still flying after she left?''
''Maybe because this is a flying lesson?''
That did little to change her mind. ''C'mon, I know people like you. Look at me, look at me, I can do this so much better than you. You always do stuff like this, 'cause you're just a show-off.''
At this point, I couldn't care less. ''Okay.''
''Okay?''
''If you want to believe that, then do so. I'm not going to try to change your mind.''
That just seemed to annoy her even more. ''I swear you're worse than Malfoy sometimes.''
Whether I was or not was up to her. I walked off, away and stood by the watchtower.
I looked back at Tracy, who was still glaring at me. Then at Draco, who with his friends, was approaching the wooden box which Madam Hooch had said not to touch, before finally at Ron.
He was looking at me like Tracy, just without the ferocity. He hadn't approached me since I lied about my name on the train, but he still occasionally stared at me.
But why would he care about someone he didn't even know lying about their name?
If only it was that easy.
I looked away and went for my broom, maybe I could go so far into the sky that no one would see me.
I didn't go that high in the end, but high enough where I could pretend to be alone.
Things should have been simple. Just wait until Madam Hooch arrived, but that wasn't so easy.
A golden snitch pierced through the air and I was barely able to dodge it. It came my way again, and I wasn't able to dodge it this time, so I moved my head, but golden wings still slid across my cheek.
Old instincts kicked in, and I chased after it.
The snitch darted around sporadically, and crashed through a window, two windows, before changing directions.
I went down, and everyone had to move out of the way, as we swerved through the middle. I reached a hand out and felt my fingers graze against it, only for it to fly back into the air, far out of reach.
That did little deter me. I returned to the air, my father's words from years ago ringing in my ear.
''Catching the golden snitch isn't hard. Now, catching it when another player is trying to stop you. That's when it gets difficult.''
Luckily for me, there was no other player. I gripped the broom hard and flew so close my fingers grazed against it for the second time, but it was still too far away. I quickened, and we headed for the clock tower.
It was now or never. I overextended my arm until my shoulder clicked, and caught it, grasping it in my hand and only just turned in time, to miss crashing head first into the clocktower.
I didn't let go of the snitch and just sat on my broom to feel the red-hot, metallic sensation coursing through my fingers. It had been a long time.
And then, the voice of Madam Hooch boomed.
''What is going on here, which one of you took the golden snitch and you better tell the truth!''
The courtyard grew quiet, no one daring to speak up for several seconds.
''We tried to stop Potter,'' Draco finally said, ''Like my father would say, he was acting like a muggle. We tried to stop him. He didn't listen.''
That was a lie, but at least I now knew who was responsible.
''Get down here.'' She commanded, ''We're going to have a talk.''
It wasn't my fault, but that didn't matter.
Draco, his friends and several other Slytherin said that I did it, while Tracy and her friends said I didn't.
Then there were the Gryffindors, which were split on who did it.
But I didn't care. Draco had done it to try to get me into trouble, or perhaps he was hoping I would fall.
For the first time, he had actually annoyed me.
We slept in the same room, so it wouldn't be hard to retaliate.
No, I wouldn't. I was here for one reason alone, to graduate. No more, no less. After seven years I doubted I would see anyone from here again, which was one thing I was looking forward to.
When everything was said and done Madam Hooch pulled me to one side. I expected her to have a go at me, but that wasn't the case.
''You've got a solid handle on the broom. I don't remember the last time someone caught the golden snitch in their first lesson.''
''Well, it wasn't my first time flying.''
''Course it wasn't. Nobody flies like that on their first time. Your dad taught you well.''
I didn't answer that.
''Your dad was real talented too, but he still wasn't able to catch the snitch on his first day. I never tell this to first years, but you should go to the tryouts. You sure got the potential to play.''
I tried to convince her otherwise. 'I don't think so. I was only able to catch it because of luck.''
She disagreed. ''No luck in catching something as pesky as the golden snitch. Quidditch is my life, and when someone has talent I can see it, and you have it.''
If this was six years ago then my answer would've been different.
''I am busy with schoolwork.'' I reasoned. ''I don't know if I would have time to play Quidditch.''
''Everyone on the team has time for Quidditch and their schoolwork. If you're not interested, just say it. I ain't going to force you to sign up.''
I told her honestly, ''I'm not.''
She shot me a disappointed look.
''Well, you've got a couple of weeks. Just think about it, alright?''
When we finally returned class had ended, but Tracy still had some words for me. ''Show off.''
While everyone went with their friends and left, I stayed in the courtyard, alone.
''You're almost as good as me now.'' James had once said, after a particularly long flying session.
''But I am better.''
He laughed. ''Not yet, not yet. I can still defend you.'' He ruffled my hair, and I only pretended to be annoyed. ''When you get to Hogwarts nobody is going to stand a chance.''
''I'll be the best seeker ever.'' I beamed. ''Mom even said I'll play in the World Cup one day!''
''I know you will too. One day I'll be bragging that I beat Harry Potter at all. Now let's head on back, your mom will be starting to wonder where we got off to.''
I laughed. That was so long ago, that I wondered if it was even real, and not some dream I took for reality.
It would have been easier if it was.
Classes were easy.
No, scratch that. They were downright boring.
They were, but the only person to blame for that was myself. I once had hobbies, like Quidditch, and the piano, which my mother passed down to me, but that was in the past.
What I am trying to say is that I had little to do, even at Hogwarts, so I read, and I read a lot.
''Mr Potter, you are not going anywhere. I want a word with you.''
That sent me for a loop. Professor McGonagall was strict and hard-handed, but she never held anyone after class, even the bad students.
''Did I do something wrong, Professor?''
She narrowed her eyes.
''Are you finding class boring?''
''...No.''
''You aren't, Then how come you never pay attention?''
''I do pay attention,'' I said, and then added. ''Professor.''
She shook her head. ''You lie about as well as your father did at the same age. He paid attention, but always caused trouble.''
''Trouble? I don't think you really know my father.''
''I knew your father before you were even a thought.'' She retorted. ''He wasn't always the man he was today. But we're here to talk about you, not James.''
''Are you going to give me a detention?''
''No, detention will do nothing for you, Mr Potter. I will ask you again. Are you bored?''
I wanted to say no, but she spoke for me.
''I don't think that you are a bad student. In your first lesson with me, you transfigured a match into a needle within five minutes, and today you turned a stack of sticks into a pile of stones. So I will ask a second time. Are you bored?''
This time I gave the truth. ''Maybe. I don't think that I have learned anything new.''
''Good. This is what I expect. The truth and nothing but the truth. How would you feel with something more difficult?''
''Something more difficult?'' I asked, for the first time interested.
She went for her desk and pulled something out, a matchstick and some sticks bundled together with elastic.
''You will not be transfiguring this individually. You will be transfiguring them as a single unit, and your end goal will be to transform it into a bundle of sticks and stones.''
''Do I have to do this?'' I asked.
''No, you don't. But you would be wasting your potential otherwise.''
''My potential?'' I said. People rarely cared about that, just my titles. ''I'll do it. When does it have to be done?''
She smiled thinly. ''There is no date. But don't take this lightly, it is very difficult for a first year, and remember to transfigure it as a unit, not individually. I will be able to tell the difference.''
''Yes, I know,'' I said, and for the first time since starting Hogwarts smiled. ''I will try to be done by the day though.''
''I very much doubt that, Mr Potter. I did tell you not to take it lightly. Transfiguring two objects takes intense concentration.''
Professor McGonagall was right, it was difficult. For the rest of the day, I skipped my other classes, instead staying in the Slytherin common room, and for the first time since starting Hogwarts, I was not able to grasp a concept instantly.
A few times, I accidentally transfigured it incorrectly or did it individually, but it always returned to its original form -- probably Professor McGonagall's doing, but after the fourth hour, I was done.
When all classes for the day had ended, and dinner was approaching, I went into the Transfiguration classroom to put the bundle of sticks & stones on Professor McGonagall's desk.
''Mr Potter?''
''I finished it.''
''I very much doubt that is the case. It hasn't even been a day.''
But she still put her glasses on to study the bundle for several seconds, and I was almost worried that I messed something up.
''I am surprised, but I shouldn't be. You have inherited your father's knack for Transfiguration, and then some.''
''You said that he was talented at Transfiguration. Was he really?''
She almost looked taken aback.
''Why do you ask? I would have thought he had given you some pointers.''
''He didn't,'' I said. ''He is...busy.''
''I see.'' She said, ''But how is your father? I have not seen him in a long time.''
I actually had to think about that.
''Well, he's fine, I guess.''
She looked me up and down. ''I see.'' She said again. ''I will not lie, I did not expect you to finish in under a day. I will have to give you more challenging curriculum.''
Maybe Hogwarts would become slightly less boring from now on.
The days were slow -- so slow that it felt like I'd been here for years, even if it was only December.
Things were only slightly less tedious than before. The work was still easy, though Professor McGonagall occasionally gave me harder tasks for Transfiguration.
Exam week had just passed, the first of the two for this year. I had gotten an O in all my classes, but that was more of a testament to how easy it was than anything else. You could have never studied a day in your life, and you'd still probably be fine.
But the further the year went along, the more I was glad I kept to myself. Drama filled Slytherin, at least among younger students. It was petty, like when Pansy Parkinson had said that the Bulstrodes had troll blood in them behind Millicent's back, but once she found out, chaos followed.
Not all of it was petty though, especially among older students. A fourth-year student had lost a game of chess, and because of a magical contract, he had to listen to all commands from him, which included giving up all his money.
That is what happened just recently, in the common room for all to see, which is what he wanted, probably. Another layer of humiliation.
Still, in my time there was one thing I noticed about Slytherin. No matter what you did, you better not tell anyone outside, because if you did, there'd be a huge target on your back, and maybe a hospital trip in the future.
Maybe that should have made me nervous, but it didn't. Nothing like that really happened in our year, and even if it did, I kept my head down.
Thankfully things had quieted down in the last few days. Christmas break had arrived, and only around 15 Slytherins remained on school grounds.
At first, I considered going home, but what would be the point? My father would barely be home to celebrate, so I stayed here. Of course, if he asked, then things would be different, but he didn't.
I was sitting in the common room, which was empty apart from me and a sixth-year girl.
Ever since my arrival the name, ''Catherine'' was one I heard frequently.
''You're a firstie, so you don't know a lot of the rules here. But don't, and I mean don't mess with her. Don't look at her, or even breathe in her direction, because if you annoy her, or even get her attention, you're screwed.''
Was just one thing I overheard, but that was only the beginning. I heard that she got a Professor fired, had connections with criminals and dabbled in dark magic.
But that shouldn't have mattered to me. I kept to myself, and hardly even looked in her direction.
However, it wasn't that easy. She sat in the other corner of the common room, away from her usual cohort, and was staring right at me.
I tried to ignore her. I read and didn't look up. She was probably just looking in my direction.
''The Enigmatic Arcana: A Comprehensive Retelling of the Mystical History and Evolution of Magic. I did not think that you had to read this until fourth year.''
I didn't even hear her move, but there she was, standing over me.
''You don't. I just got it from the library.''
''How studious of you. Did you know, every time that I have seen you over Christmas break, you have a book in hand.''
I raised an eyebrow at her. ''And how would you know that? I spend most of my time in the Library?''
She smiled. ''I know.''
I finally looked up at her. She had very long black hair, clear blue eyes and a disarming smile, but everything was telling me to get away from her.
''What do you want?'' I asked and tried not to sound suspicious. ''Can I help you with something?''
''Can I not just want to talk with you? We are in the same house.''
I kept my eyes on her. ''I suppose.''
''Is there a reason why you are looking at me like that?'' She said, sounding more amused than anything. ''I'm not going to curse you, really.''
''Looking at you like what?''
''Like that.'' She said. ''You're a first-year?''
'I am.'' I said simply.
''I see, then let me tell you a little something. There will be a Christmas Celebration at Hogwarts, for students that don't have a home to celebrate it.''
''What makes you think I don't?'' I asked, and this time wasn't able to not sound annoyed.
''Because you're here.'' She said as if it were obvious. ''You don't have to be embarrassed. Everyone is here for the same reason.''
This was getting ridiculous. I had a family, not a bad one either. I just decided to stay here.
''My family just doesn't celebrate Christmas.''
''If you say so.''
I was about to respond, but then saw her smile. ''Are you trying to annoy me?''
She laughed. ''I'm doing no such thing, trust me.''
''Really?'' I asked angrily.
''Really.'' She was no longer laughing. ''I am sorry, it is just when I was younger someone did the same to me, so I couldn't resist.''
I composed myself. ''It's fine. It would only annoy me if it was true, but it isn't. Only because that's why you're here, doesn't mean it's why I am here.''
If Catherine was offended she didn't show it. ''Who would have known you had a mouth on you, but you wouldn't be wrong. That is why I was here.''
I got up, book in hand. ''I should probably return this to the Library.''
''If I didn't know any better, then I would have thought you were trying to get away from me. That isn't the case, right?''
''No,'' I said, and had to crane my neck to meet her gaze. ''I'm not.''
She fell by my ear and whispered. ''If I took things too far then I am sorry. I was just joking, you understand that, right?''
''You didn't,'' I whispered back. ''It was just a joke.''
''Good. Oh and one more thing, Merry Christmas.''
The closer to Christmas it got, the more dread I felt, like a hole in my stomach that only grew as the days passed.
Why? I wasn't sure. Maybe it was the vague nightmares. Nightmares had followed me for years, but they had become more regular, until the images were burnt into my head for days
Or maybe it was Hogwarts itself. Once, life had filled the castle and the halls boomed with voices, but now it was silent -- dead, and even the decorations did little to liven it up.
No. It was just homesickness.
That is what I decided. I had been here for almost four months. Home was not something I particularly missed, but it was still home.
I tried to put those thoughts aside and looked for something to waste the time away. Usually, that is what my classes did, but unfortunately, there were none for the time being.
Things didn't change too much though. I would read, before deciding to brew some potions. I had even tried my hand at making a few spells, to little success.
The 24th of December came, and the morning was so cold and rainy that no one dared step outside.
I sat in the chair closest to the fireplace and watched as the green flames cackled.
In the Slytherin Common room, there was just another person beside me, who also happened to be the only other first-year in our house who was still at Hogwarts.
Tracy lay on the sofa. She had a blanket over her and was staring up at the ceiling.
She didn't bother me, and I didn't bother her. She hadn't sent any remarks my way, and now that I thought about it they had come very few and far between since the Christmas break.
I looked back at the fireplace, and suddenly the face of Professor Dumbledore emerged in the green flames.
''Mr Potter, please come to my office.''
''Sir?''
But the face of the Headmaster had vanished, but not quickly enough for Tracy to not of heard.
''Look who's in trouble.'' She mocked.
''Only because he called me to his office doesn't mean I'm in trouble.''
''Course it does. Why else would he call you?''
There could be other reasons.
The hole in my chest grew.
I could not even knock on the door before the Headmaster said, ''Come on in, Harry. The door is unlocked.''
I entered and made about three steps before stopping. This was my first time in the Headmaster's office. It was large, two stories high with a Phoenix peering down at us from the rails. It smelled of sweets and candy, but that didn't little ease my mind.
''Am I in trouble, sir?''
Dumbledore smiled at me. I saw through it.
''No, you are not. In fact, I have heard from your Professors that you are quite the diligent student. Would you like to sit down?''
I sat down opposite him and looked up at the two Aurors who stood beside Professor Dumbledore.
''Is this about my father?''
I knew the two Aurors. Kingsley Shackebolt and Gawain Robards, both who worked with my father.
''Afraid so. We haven't gotten word from your pa in a few days. We were just wondering if you've heard anything.''
Gawain always smiled, but now he couldn't even pretend to.
''I haven't,'' I said and did all that I could to keep my voice calm. ''I haven't seen him since September.''
''Nothin' at all? Maybe he sent you a letter, anything?''
''I'm sure,'' I told the man coldly. ''My father doesn't send letters.''
The two Aurors sent each other a look as if I wasn't even there. That infuriated me.
''Is he dead?''
''Course he ain't.'' Gawain tried to smile at me. ''Only cause we haven't seen him in a few days, don't just mean he's dead.''
''I'm not naive. I know his line of work. If he is dead,'' My voice cracked at the end, ''then tell me.''
''We don't know. It isn't like him to vanish for two days.'' Kingsley said, his arms crossed his chest.
''Thank you,'' I said. I was 13, not a baby that needed to be coddled. ''And you're right. It isn't like him. Even if it is Christmas, he is always working.''
''That is what is troubling. No one has heard from him in two days.'' Shacklebolt admitted.
''Have you went to the manor?'' I asked.
''Yes. No one answered, even if the lights were on.''
That made my stomach go. ''He never leaves the lights on. What about the House Elves?''
''We had no word from them either.''
I got up, now fully decided. ''And you came to me because I am the only one who can get past the wards.''
''Well, we came to ask if you've heard from your pa,'' Gawain said. ''But that too.''
''I'll do it.''
We began to leave, but Dumbledore had some words for me.
''Once, when your father was only a hair older than you yourself are now, he and his closest friends vanished into thin air.''
''And he came back?'' I asked.
''That he did, though I do have to say the story he told me was most certainly not the truth. Your father is a capable man, and he shall be fine.''
That did very little to ease my mind. Only because he came back once, wouldn't mean he would come back this time.
I exited the castle with the two Aurors and looked out into the ocean. I wore a long, dark cloak, but not nearly large enough for the rain. I shivered.
''I will not lie to you, Harry, '' Kingsley, ''We don't know what we will find, or if we will find anything at all.
''I know.''
Shacklebolt to a hold around my wrist. ''Have you Apperated before?''
The Potter manor was where I spent the majority of my childhood, minus the stretch where Voldemort hunted us down.
It was five stories high, painted in dark shades and very old. It was surrounded by woods, in the front and back, that even today I sometimes got lost in.
We entered through the gates, across the long, bending pathway.
I grabbed a hold of the door handle, and there was a shine. the wards recognized me, and the door opened with a click.
''Tomsy, are you here?''
Tomsy didn't come out. That wasn't a good sign. She would always come out to greet you.
''Harry I think it's best if you wait outside,'' Shacklebolt told him. ''We don't know what we might find.''
''This is my home. If something did happen, I will find out what.''
''Harry-''
''I know what we might find.'' I cut him off. ''But I am not waiting outside.''
The two Aurors didn't like that but knew it was better to search than argue.
I looked about and tried to think of what could've happened.
He drank a lot, so maybe he had blacked out. But for two days?
No, that was unlikely. What other reason could there be for my father to go missing?
He was here, that I was sure of. The lights were on, and his shoes were by the door.
The three of us looked through the first two floors and found nothing noteworthy. We had three House Elves, but so far none of them had come out.
''When was the last time you saw him?'' I asked.
''About three days ago,'' Gawain answered. ''I remember him working all night long, and we had to make him go home for some rest.''
''Three Days? A lot can happen in three days.'' I said.
''That is true,'' Kingsley said. ''Have you heard about what happened with Nictis Shade?''
''I do remember that name. He was a Dark Lord, right?''
''An Aspiring one. We were called overseas to deal with him and his cult.''
''Oh, Nictis. He was a dark, dark wizard.'' Gawain said.
''He was. He was not as dangerous, as He-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but he was able to take out our whole squad. But your father, on his own, hunted him down and defeated him in a duel.'' Kingsley looked me in the face. ''Your father is one of the most capable wizards I have met. He has found himself in several dangerous situations before, and survived.''
I said, ''I know.''
As we made our way through the third and fourth floors, I thought about the past — the last day of my mother's life.
From the start, I knew something was up. The night before I had a nightmare and my mother pulled me into a hug to console me.
''It was just a dream, Harry. I am here, and will always be.''
Of course, that did little to make my seven-year-old self feel any better.
I was intensely quiet the day after, and my mother must've filled my father in. He smiled at me for perhaps one of the last times and said.
''You're completely, and entirely safe here. And even if something does happen, you'll still have your mom and me. We'll always protect you.''
Hours after saying that, Voldemort found us. He killed my mother in front of my eyes, and James was just unable to pick up the pieces.
''You smell that?'' Gawain said, and I did.
It was a smell I knew, though hadn't encountered in years. I rushed up the stairs.
''Tomsy, Stumpy, Skinky…..oh no….''
Upon the fifth and top floor, the walls were painted in blood. All three House Elves lay dead. Heads crushed in -- burnt to a crisp -- their tiny bodies mangled.
''What happened,'' I gasped, ''What -- who did this?'' And I ran.
''Harry, wait!''
I ignored Kingsley and stormed towards his study room.
''I know you're in there dad, just open up!''
I transfigured the door to glass.
''Harry, just-''
''Flippendo!'' I roared and the glass shattered.
Kingsley grabbed a hold of my shoulder, trying to stop me. I jerked free and entered the study.
''Oh my god,'' I said, all strength leaving me.
''Oh, no. James.'' Gawain whispered, all colour leaving him.
Kingsley just said, ''James.'' His eyes lowered.
We had found my father.
I fell down to my knees. A man who was no longer a man sat in his chair. There was no blood. His face was burnt until nothing was left but a patchy, eyeless canvas. His hands had been torn off, his fingers skinned, and -- and...
It was almost impossible to tell it was him, but there was no mistaking it. One of the severed fingers was still wearing his wedding ring, which he still wore years after my mother's death.
''Harry, you don't need to see this,'' Kingsley said.
''Shut up!'' I screamed. Tears streamed down my cheek, as I clutched onto my father, or what was left of him. ''You idiot, why didn't you tell me to come home, then none of this would have happened!''
Gawain put a hand on my shoulder ''There's Nothin' you could've done.''
''So what? At least I still would have been here!''
I looked back to my father, and the image would never leave my mind for as long as I lived. At least my mother was given a quick death, but he had been tortured until he didn't even look human.
Whoever did this wanted to make him experience hell.
''Damn it! If only you told me to come back for Christmas, I would have! I don't care what would have happened, but at least I would have been here!''
My screams rang out and the windows shattered
Kingsley tried to calm me down. ''Harry, please calm down. Your magi-''
''Calm down?'' I cut him off. ''Calm down! Look at him, just look at him! Someone came into our home and did this, and you expect me to calm down? He wasn't perfect, but he didn't deserve this.''
''I'm sorry,'' Kingsley said, and he sounded like he meant it. ''James was a good friend. He did not deserve this.''
''Who,'' I said, and tried to compose myself, ''who did this, what case was he working on!''
''He wasn't working on a case,'' Kingsley admitted. ''These last few weeks have been quiet.''
This time I failed to keep my composure. ''Then why is he dead?''
''I'm sorry, but I don't have the answer for that,'' Kingsley said sadly. ''But I can promise you a that we will bring who did this to justice.''
''No you won't,'' I said, forcing myself to stop crying.
''Harry?'' Kingsley asked, confused.
I made a vow. ''I am going to find who did this, and when I do, I am going to kill them.''