Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I make no claim t any of the characters, save for perhaps my OCs.
AN: Happy Halloween to everyone who celebrates the festival, and I hope it went or goes with many happy moments and sweetness for all of you.
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AN-4: This chapter wasn't edited by anyone other than me, so please forgive any typos and mistakes, though do tell me what they are, so that I can correct them.
Weeks passed soon after that as they both settled into a routine. Both of them would wake up early in the morning and study their books and then they would go to the Great Hall for breakfast. The whispers still followed them everywhere they walked, but the words 'traitor' and 'death-eater scum' were now interspersed with 'prodigy' and 'powerful.
Not that they were the only ones to have earned those flattering praises—grudging though they were—Neville Longbottom's and Hermione Granger's names had also made rounds through the corridors as the upcoming 'Best Wizard and Witch' of the generation.
Their friendship with Daphne and Tracey was also going well, though they talked only when necessitated by something in a class or when they studied together in one of the abandoned classrooms in the dungeons.
While all this hiding had displeased Tracey somewhat, all of them understood that even if Dowager Longbottom and Albus Dumbledore groveled at their feet and proclaimed Harry and Persephone innocent, the stigma of being a Potter will follow them all of their life.
Their general knowledge about the Wizarding World, its culture, and traditions were increasing day by day with Daphne's and Tracey's help.
The bubbly girl had made fast friends with Persephone especially, with his sister smiling more and more in the girl's presence with each passing day.
In comparison, Daphne wasn't cold per se, but there was a boundary of sorts between her and the rest of the world. For every ten smiles Tracey would throw their way in every ten seconds, Daphne gave a quirk of her lips at the best. The one time she had laughed wholeheartedly and without reservations was when Harry had managed to somehow make the potion she had been teaching him to get into his hair and turn it completely rough and grey.
A hand touched his arm, jolting him out of his mind as he looked towards a concerned Persephone.
"What happened? Are you well?"
"I am fine, just thinking about something.", he reassured her before turning to his breakfast and eating it under her watchful gaze. Soon after that, they were out of the Great Hall with the rest of the first years as they walked towards the DADA class.
By now, almost everyone had perfected the Clypeus shield and Professor now had them practicing the stinging charm on each other. The incantation was aculeo, Latin for 'sting', and its wand movement was a simple jab towards the target and according to Professor Quirell, it could be done with a simple flick if the user was proficient enough.
They were practicing the spell too, however, this time they were moving slowly while shooting the stinging jinx and the partner assigned to them had to defend using the Clypeus, while moving.
Raising a shield to stop his partner's jinx in its tracks, Harry flicked his wand and whispered the incantation. It was visibly weaker than what he could when doing the 'jabbing' version of the spell but it still broke through Thomas' hastily erupted shield, striking him in the chest with all the force of a cotton swab.
Back and forth they went, the power behind Harry's flicked jinxes increasing slightly every turn. After a few minutes, Harry once again shot a stinging jinx at his partner, breaking through his shield and was about to strike his chest, but somehow at the last moment, Thomas tripped on his own feet and fell.
The bolt of light passed over his head and struck the boy behind him in his neck. To his growing disbelief over his fate, the boy turned out to be Ronald Weasley himself, the loudmouth of Gryffindor who followed Longbottom around like a lost hippogryph. Of course, he had to be launching a spell of his own at that moment, which sailed wild due to his flailing around.
It slammed into Brown's eye and she sent a spell back, which struck Parkinson's leg. Like a falling house of cards, the students began a free-for-all within moments, with everyone shooting spells every which way while he and Thomas looked on with growing horror at what he had inadvertently caused. But, before anything else could happen, a bang came from the front of the class and everyone fell silent immediately.
Professor Quirell stood up from his desk calmly, his face not betraying any hint of his thoughts as he walked forwards and stood between them all.
"Students", he began softly, making the hairs on his neck stand up with the slight hissing undertone there was to it like he was savoring the word on his lips.
"Two points from each student for such conduct in the class, we will discuss what defensive and preventive measures one can take in a mass spellfire from all directions tomorrow."
If it weren't for the fact that his eyes were narrowed upon each of them with his maroon irises more pronounced than ever, Harry was sure that a series of groans would have resounded through the room. As it were, all of them simply started to trudge out of the classroom.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Potter, and Mr. Longbottom, kindly remain behind please."
The Boy-who-lived, Vanquisher of He-who-must-not-be-named, The Order of Merlin First Class awardee, and Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom were the names by which he was known throughout the world. Considering the whispered conversations between his housemates, Gryffindor's Golden Boy might have also made it to the list.
From as young as he could remember, Neville knew what was expected of him due to all the glances and whispers aimed towards him. And if that wasn't enough, his grandmother certainly didn't leave any stones unturned in grooming him to be a public figure with all the lectures on different houses, interviews throughout his life, pictures and poses at events and charities in whatever corner of the world she could find.
At Hogwarts, he had hoped that he would be able to carve out a name for himself separate from what—in a roundabout way—had been a gift from the murderer of his parents. The first night in the Castle had dashed all of his hopes faster than he could have taken his name, every student looking at him with wonder, reverence, or in a few green cases, disgust. As decreed by his Grandmother, he had been sorted into Gryffindor by the hat, his stubbornness winning out against the words of 'ambition' and 'greatness' it had been whispering in his mind.
He had barely even settled in his house table when a name was spoken by his head-of-the-House. Growing up in the presence of his grandmother, he had been treated to several ramblings and curses upon the name 'Potter' and the world also spat upon the name of the man who had betrayed his friends. When he thought of the single photograph of James and Lily Potter he had in his possession, hate and anger were paltry compared to what he felt as he saw them smile at the camera, hiding the monster within.
He had never imagined that the world would ever see a Potter in the flesh, with Lily Potter lying in a ditch somewhere, James Potter in Azkaban and their mini-death Eater children vaporized by the magical attacks in '81. That night, two of them came to light.
Harry Potter and his twin, Persephone Potter were sorted into Slytherin promptly and the uproar started.
He had glared at them the whole feast, the students around him talking about the presence of 'Boy-who-lived' and children of traitors to his family in the same castle. That night he had raged in the confines of his mind, and for a moment he had considered the possibility of going to the Headmaster and demanding the expulsion of the two Potters but a moment of rationality had stopped him.
The next day was full of unusual things, the papers mysteriously burning through the hall and then Dumbledore striding out of the hall with definite anger on his face.
That afternoon his Grandmother had barged into the Great hall with a group of Aurors and the Minister in tow, demanding the Potter's arrest and incarceration in Azkaban.
And then...then it became nothing but a metaphorical and literal beatdown for his grandmother as Arcturus Black strode in. That morning, Arcturus Black had publicly and officially acknowledged the Potter twins as his scions and despite how strong and fearless his Grandmother was, she feared Arcturus Black more than she had ever feared anyone else, possibly even Lord Voldemort.
That day, one more thing became clear to him. The Potters were talented and powerful. He had always known he was a powerful wizard for his age—destroying a giant boulder in a fit of rage at seven years of age seemed like a good indication of his power—and understanding written text had never been difficult for him. Practical magic also came to him easily, with his match transfigured into a needle on the first try.
However, the Potter twins were still better than him in everything sans Herbology and possibly flying. Every spell and every inch of writing, the twins were the first to learn and the first to submit. Even in Gryffindor, the upper years were talking about the 'prodigies' from Slytherin.
And now he had been offered extra lessons in DADA by Professor Quirell, which would have been a fantastic event in any other case, but now? Now, if he accepted the invitation, then he would have to be in these classes with the Potter twins, who had gotten the same offer.
Sighing slightly, Neville pushed away his assignment scroll and looked up towards the shouting form of Ronald Weasley, a boy who had no talent except for chess, no drive or self-motivation except to eat, and not a modicum of respect for anyone.
"WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!", he finally shouted, cutting off the ginger-haired boy in the middle of his rant, no doubt having found something or the other to disturb everyone about.
He blinked dumbly at him with the rest of the common room. In all the time the house had known their resident celebrity, he had never raised his voice once at any of them, for him to positively roar at the brother of the Prefect was something no one had ever imagined.
"Whu-what?", Ron asked, unable to understand why Neville had shouted at him.
"Will you stop shouting for a moment and try your best not to annoy everyone around you with your incessant nagging about one thing or the other? I am sick and tired of hearing you rant about Slytherins, homework and Granger! Nobody likes hearing you whine, so fucking quit it!"
Complete and utter silence descended upon the common room before the jeers and laughter started from each and everyone save for the youngest and the oldest Weasley in the room.
"Mr. Longbottom! Apologize this instant to Mr. Weasley for your unkind words!", Prefect Weasley shouted as he walked towards the first years, his eyes narrowed upon Neville's furious visage.
"That is Heir Longbottom to you!", Neville snapped back, his intentional use of status getting to both of the Weasleys as their own pitiful status was alluded to.
"That is no-", Percy Weasley began hotly only for his brother to interrupt him.
"Leave it Percy, looks like he didn't have anyone to teach him manners growing up!"
Gasps sounded throughout the room, with most of the students too shocked at Weasley's audacity to show the anger that was steadily growing in their minds.
Neville breathed deeply before he stood up from his chair and spoke, "At least I grew up like I am, a respected, rich and responsible heir to my family's fortune and my parent's legacy. What do you have going for you, Weasley? Your father is a low-level Ministry worker in a department that no one gives a shit about. Your brothers are all talented at either magic or ass-kissing so they have that going for them...what the hell are you going to do? Suck up to someone rich and famous?"
On a certain level, Neville understood that his words were harsher and crueler than the oblivious, eleven-year-old boy deserved but he had already been close to blowing off with the events of the last few weeks. Ron simply was at the wrong place at the wrong time and received the complete fury of the Longbottom heir.
Ronald soon disappeared into the dorms, Percy following after him to his rooms. The common room as a whole was abuzz with whispered conversations and finger-pointing in equal measure, eating away even more of his brain by the minute.
Plopping down on the chair, Neville just rubbed his palms on his face before he too walked upwards to his dorms, knowing that his mind wasn't going to be useful for any writing now.
"So what are you going to do now? Arcturus has made it clear that he will protect the children and as old as he is, I still have no wish of crossing wands with him." a voice spoke in the almost dark room, the only source of light being a dying hearth by the couch.
"Arcturus may wish all he wants, but I will see the Potter name die out before I do so. They have nothing to their name save for what they have on their backs and no sane witch or wizard is going to marry those two. Arcturus himself doesn't have any heirs other than Draco Malfoy and thus his name is also going to die out unless Sirius Black had a bastard somewhere.", a rage-filled yet smug woman responded as she leaned forwards, revealing the aged and angry visage of Augusta Longbottom.
"And if Draco Malfoy brings back the Black name by naming his second child the heir to the Black?"
Augusta just snorted in response and drank a deep sip from the wine goblet in her hand, her eyes staring off into the embers of the fireplace before she turned towards the second person in the room.
"There is a reason Malfoy's were accepted as a match for Narcissa by Arcturus. It had nothing to do with Lucius being a handsome and rich wizard of a pureblood family. Arcturus knew that any Malfoy can only become a father once and by agreeing to the marriage contract between Narcissa and Lucius, he managed to keep each and every involved party happy without giving a way to the Malfoy's to usurp his family's legacy and name."
"And now it has come back to haunt him", the first voice whispered in realization before the person barked out a laugh and snapped its fingers, making the dying fire roar back to life, casting the room in light and revealing Augusta to be sitting alone in the dingy room, the chair in front of her rocking back and forth.
"So are you going to accept?", Tracey asked, her eyes peering curiously at Persephone as she almost bounced in her seat, reminding Harry distinctively of the excitable puppy they had once seen in Little Whinging.
"You should accept.", Daphne said from the couch she was sitting on, her gaze still on the parchment she was filling up with Harry's help as he taught her about the aculeo jinx and how she could make it more powerful.
"She speaks!", Persephone exclaimed with wide eyes and a shocked look on her face, causing Harry and Tracey to smother their laughter and giggles with their hands.
Daphne paused for a moment and looked up at Persephone, her blue eyes narrowed in thought before she mumbled something underneath her breath and got back to writing.
"Hey, I just thought this, but which of you both are older?", Tracey asked suddenly.
Daphne too stopped writing and turned her eyes towards them with a raised eyebrow, a silent question in her expression.
Harry and Persephone gazed at both of them before Harry broke the silence.
"We...we don't know to be honest. I just call Persephone my big sister because she was always there for me and also because she was a little taller than me when we were younger."
Daphne pursed her lips at that while Tracey made a very shrill, high-pitched sound as she brought her hands to her cheeks.
"So you are a sister's boy!", she exclaimed, her brown eyes shining with glee as she looked at Harry. Daphne just smiled slightly before turning back to the DADA homework in front of her, Harry's particular phrasing of how he came to call Persephone his elder sister echoing in her mind.
For a time the scratching of quills on the parchments was the only sound that could be heard in the room before Daphne asked
"I haven't seen you in the History class for several days, probably more than a month at this point. Where are you going during that period?"
"We just practice in any of the abandoned classrooms during that time", Harry shrugged. "Binns doesn't teach anything that we can't simply learn from the book itself, so no use of sitting in that room and listening to his droning."
Daphne chewed her lip for a moment before she asked, "How far along are you in the first year syllabus?".
Harry and Persephone both stiffened for a moment before Persephone said, "If you are asking about theory then Harry and I can easily pass the end of the year exams right now. Regarding practicals, it differs from subject to subject. Transfiguration and Defence against the Dark Arts we have covered up to almost the end of our books. Charms are halfway done and while we know every potion recipe by heart, we haven't made any of them except what Professor Snape makes us brew in the class."
"I believe you", Daphne spoke after a few moments.
"Where do you even find the time to learn and practice all this?", Tracey asked, the girl having an annoyed look on her face. "Do you guys have a time-turner or something?"
"What is a time-turner?", Harry asked only for Daphne to pinch the bridge of her nose and sigh loudly before she glared at Tracey, who excitedly started telling them about the said things. And thus commenced the introduction of Harry and Persephone to the mind-boggling inventions of the Magical World, from time-traveling hourglasses to toys that could warn someone of danger around them.
The next day after all of their classes were done, Harry and Persephone went to Professor Quirrell's classroom for their first extra lesson. Both of them were excited and apprehensive in equal measure for this. Almost all of their teachers had praised their capabilities, but it was for the first time in their lives that someone was offering them an opportunity to be better than they were.
Arriving at the classroom, Persephone knocked on the door and after hearing a faint "come in", they walked inside. Professor Quirrell was standing in front of his desk, his heavy bulky robes discarded in favor of a simple shirt and pants with his head covered by a black turban.
"Welcome Mr. Potter and Ms. Potter" he said, inclining his head slightly in their direction.
He waved his wand and three mannequins were conjured in front of them, each of the dolls matching them in height.
"We shall wait till Mr. Longbottom gets here, I am afraid he found himself in detention with Professor McGonagall.", he said with a sigh. Nodding at his words, Harry and Persephone sat down on the nearest bench and waited for the Longbottom heir to appear. A few minutes later the Professor looked at the door and snapped his fingers, startling them both at the suddenness of his actions before the Professor smirked at them.
To their surprise and wariness, the door opened slowly with its hinges making a horrible creaking sound, revealing Neville standing on the other side with his fist in the air and his eyes wide as he saw not a signal wand out in the air.
"Well, come on in Mr. Longbottom, you have wasted enough time as it were with that detention. Get in here and stand in front of one of the dummies.", said the Professor, his voice sharp and not at all like the sibilant, smug voice he had used till now.
Understanding the unsaid command, Persephone and Harry also stood up to stand beside Neville, their eyes turning expectantly towards their professor.
Crossing his arms behind his back, Quirell began, "You three have been selected by me to have advanced lessons in Defensive and Offensive Magic because of three reasons. You three are the most powerful students of your batch, with the talent and brains to match your magical power. And last but not the least, you have the necessary experiences to understand and master the full potential of whatever I am going to teach you."
"What do you mean by experiences?", Neville and Harry asked together, both of them looking at each other in surprise at their same words.
Professor Quirell chuckled a little before he walked towards the. Looking them all in the eye, he focused upon Neville and spoke, "Don't you feel the anger, Longbottom? Over the death of your parents, over the expectations, your grandmother has of you? Over the expectations, the public has of you? On the fact that your title, your status, and a majority of your life will be dictated by people who haven't even met you properly and they have the right to do so only because your parents were butchered?"
The Professor's voice was nothing more than a whisper, yet the words sounded louder than anything to their ears. Persephone, who was standing just next to Neville, felt the hairs on her arms rise slightly and she felt something unexplainable happen in her surroundings.
Neville had turned a probably unhealthy shade of red during the Professor's words but when he finished speaking 'butchered', the Gryffindor yelled loudly and flaked his wand into his hand as he opened his mouth.
The Professor's hand immediately snapped up with his wand pointed at Neville and the boy froze in his motion the very instant. Recognizing the spell as the Petrification Charm, Persephone watched as the Professor waited for a few moments before removing the petrification charm.
Before Neville could even take a breath after the verbal and emotional onslaught he had suffered through, the Professor turned towards them, his maroon eyes looking more crimson than brown as he walked toward them both.
"Harry and Persephone Potter, you both are much like Neville Longbottom, more so than anyone I have ever known save perhaps one person."
"What?" Neville seethed, his eyes glaring at them as if daring them to show some similarity to the Gryffindor.
"Oh yes! All three of you come from a long line of Gryffindors and Slytherins, all three of you are powerful beyond measure for your age. You are talented, smart, handsome," he pointed at Persephone and continued," beautiful and last but not the least, all three of you should be dead!"
If it weren't for the fact that they both were stunned by the parallels between them and Longbottom, and that the Professor had ended his heaps of praises with a quite morbid thought, then this moment would have been preserved as one of the most cherished moments of their life.
"And how does that relate to Defence against the Dark Arts? Professor?", Harry asked with a little annoyance seeping into his voice, something which the Professor caught and gave him a sharp smile in response.
"Everything Mr. Potter, everything."
With a wave of his wand, he created six glass sheets, two for each, the glass floating in front of them.
"I want you to strike one glass sheet in front of you with the stinging hex as powerfully as you can until you break it."
Bemused at his sudden change, the three students struck the glass panes with the stinging hexes. Each time the bolt of light struck the crystalline surface, it would chip off a little glass, however, it didn't make any overall difference to the object.
After fifteen stinging hexes, all three of them were thoroughly frustrated by their lack of progress in making any significant dent in the glass. When they raised their hands for the sixteenth time, Professor Quirell whipped out his wand and the three glass sheets floated in front of him, all in a single line.
"Aculeo!" he intoned, his voice echoing in the room as his own stinging hex shot forwards towards the glass sheets. It shattered the first one completely while cracking the second in the middle.
Before they could say or do anything else, three glass sheets were once more in front of them.
"This time, focus on the anger within you, the desire to see the glass sheets utterly wrecked like you would imagine stinging someone's face as harshly as you can. But don't lose yourself in your anger, control it and utilize it, but don't let it utilize you.", he said, his hand waving towards the three sheets.
The Professor's words made him think of the time when he and Persephone had been nothing but bags of meat and bones to be ordered and beaten around. His pained screams along with the sobs of his sister rang through his head once more and he once again felt the anger he had felt months ago when they had finally killed the Dursleys.
Raising his wand, Harry jabbed it forwards with a shout of "aculeo!" and the stinging hex flew forwards at much faster speeds than he had previously been capable of. It slammed into the glass and cracks spread out throughout it from the point of impact.
Two more cracks sounded beside him and Harry glanced at his heavily breathing sister and an equally panting Longbottom.
"That is the effect of emotions on your magic. Anger, hate, fear, love, apathy, and even desire can drastically enhance or degrade your spells depending upon the spells and the intensity of your feelings.", said the Professor as he vanished the glass sheets and brought the dummies forwards towards them till there was a ten feet gap between the students and the mannequins.
"Now that little test is out of the way, our first spell today is the Diffindo charm. It is a household cutting charm, but it turned into offensive magic within days after it was created. While not as powerful as the truly offensive curses of the cutting variety, a well-placed Diffinco can easily win you a duel or a fight."
Ending his words with a flick of his wand towards the three mannequins, all three of them watched dumbfounded as three arcs of blue light traveled towards their targets and sliced open the mannequins at the thigh, elbow, and wrist, each one a debilitating blow for any human if it connected.
"For the Diffindo, you wave out your wand in the arc you want the spell to travel in. Wider arcs will attack in more areas but will also take more power, therefore begin with smaller ones and work your way up once you are able to launch a satisfactory diffindo in the smaller lengths.", He explained and walked back towards his desk, watching them all with his maroon eyes.
Taking a look at the mannequins, Harry watched as the results of Quirrell's attacks desired, the dummy returning to its pristine condition within moments. Raising his wand in front of him, Harry focused on his intent to cut the object in front of him and waved out his wand with a shout of "DIFFINDO". A wave of green energy left his wand only to make a superficial gash on the chest of the dummy, which repaired itself within an eyeblink.
Gritting his teeth, Harry raised his wand and once again shot out a diffindo, his sister and Neville doing the same on his left. And in the corner of the office, Quirell watched with an impassive expression as the three strongest sorcerers of the first-year batch launched cutting curse after cutting curse at the mannequins, each of them failing to cut more than a gash at the best.
Twisting his wand slightly, he hardened the exterior of the mannequin fractionally, halting any progress the children might have made into cutting apart the objects.
An hour later as the thoroughly exhausted children left his classroom and went towards their common rooms, his eyes were trained on each of their backs. In the dimness of the corridors, his eyes flashed a deep crimson before he walked towards the Grand Staircase, his thoughts fixed upon the three children, who lived when they shouldn't have.
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