And the eighth chapter is finally here, enjoy!

* Review Response:
davycrockett100, Wyrtha, magitech, Slytherin Studios, The Richmaster, ALiveTodaytoWrite, Penny is wise, Shalifi, Ranmaleopard, alba, thank you for your reviews, folks!
Mangahero18, perhaps, perhaps...
lordamnesia, that's the Slytherin way.
serialkeller, Harry is just 10. He has every right to act like a moron every now an then. And, I don't really agree with you seeing Gemma like that. While you do have a point, she is acting in the interests of Slytherin as a whole. If someone is to be blamed from this, it's whoever wrote the in-story Hogwarts rules. Or, at least, the professors who will enforce it.
iStyx, and why would Harry be sticking to his guns? He grew up with the Dursleys, who most certainly don't approve of him being anything but weak and malleable... If he wants something that he is forbidden, he'd rather take it behind their backs, rather than argue to get them change their stance. Eventually, he'll grow more insistent, but that's not happening just yet. Also, thanks for noticing that mistake.

* AN:
Great thanks to Remilia - The Scarlet Moon and greysongarr for their help with the chapter.

Wow, it's been ages since I've updated this story... And I don't even have a good excuse for this, beyond my inspiration having fled me. Anyhow, I'm back now and, hopefully, I won't have you waiting for the next update for too long. No promises, though ;)

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own "Harry Potter" franchise. No profit is being made. Same goes for any books, video games, anime or manga I may or may not use for ideas.

"speaking"
'thinking'
written text

A Year Too Soon
Chapter VIII: Lucky Breakthrough

Despite having no success in finding an aging potions that met his requirements Harry didn't give up and abandon his little idea of aging himself up yet. Instead, he chose to re-examine his approach. And, after a bit of thinking, he came to a conclusion that he indeed was doing the things wrongly: what he needed wasn't a potion that changed his age outright, but rather something that made him mature faster. And that, in his mind, sounded a lot closer to what some nutrient potion could do.

Speaking of which, he could probably use some normal nutrient potions as well. While the Dursleys never truly starved him, he wasn't allowed to eat as much as he wanted under their roof either. That left him quite scrawny and made him appear even smaller when compared to his classmates. Perhaps, a visit to the hospital wing was in order?

After running a number of diagnostic spells on him, Madam Pomfrey agreed with his own assessment of his leanness and prescribed the young Potter some basic nutrient potions for the next month. That, however was the only thing that Harry managed to get out of his visit to the hospital wing: his attempts to discreetly fish some information about the potions that could make him mature faster out of the Hogwarts' matron yielded him nothing.

And between this and Madam Pince's increased vigilance, the green-eyed wizard found himself kind of without options to continue his research right now. Well, he had heard rumors that the Ravenclaw tower had its own library, but even if those were true, he was under no delusions that he, a Slytherin, would be allowed to use it. So he didn't even try asking about that...

~/ *** \~

On the second weekend of November the first quidditch match of the season took place, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. And despite having little interest in the magical sports, Harry still came to watch the game and cheer for the team. It was something he had to, if he wanted to remain in the good graces with the rest of his house.

The weather that day, however, was pretty awful: it was cold and windy, and the heavy lead-colored clouds covered the skies, spilling drizzle and sleet upon the lands. Even on the tribunes, with various charms to keep people comfortable, it was rather chilly. The players, Harry was sure, had it much worse. And, thus, his indisposition towards joining the quidditch team grew even stronger. There was no way in hell he would fly in such a weather to entertain others... Alas, given that Marcus Flint wanted him on the team, he might not have much choice. So, the green-eyed wizard silently prayed that the older Slytherin would forget about this by the next school year...

As for the match itself... Harry didn't find watching it to be particularly entertaining. At least, not enough to understand why so many were obsessed with the game. It could have been because the match was played between two teams of schoolchildren and not professionals, or it could be just him not comprehending the greatness of the most popular magical sport... Whatever the case might be, he still cheered with the rest of his housemates every time the Slytherin team scored a goal and booing whenever their opponents succeeded in their counterattack. It was what was expected of him, and he didn't disappoint, if only not to make his own life difficult.

And, well, that didn't make him enjoy the game any more...

~/ *** \~

Another week passed, and Harry was still no closer to finding a way to continue his research. And that was frustrating him quite a lot. His need to keep it all a secret wasn't helping any.

Not really knowing how to cope with predicament, yet unwilling to give up, Harry started wandering through the castle during his free time, perhaps to take his mind off his problems, or, perhaps, hoping to accidentally run across some forgotten room with old tomes full of arcane knowledge.

One day the young Potter found himself walking rather aimlessly through the seventh floor. Which, of course seemed to have nothing that could help him in his quest to age himself up... What it did have, however, was a strange painting, one depicting some insane wizard trying – and failing miserably – to teach some trolls dance ballet. Watching the depiction of that mad man's failures made Harry feel a tiny little bit better: he wasn't the only one who just couldn't achieve what he wanted... Immediately, his thoughts shifted towards his need to find some recipe of a potion that could make him mature faster. He really wanted it, he thought as he started pacing in front of the painting. And while he'd rather it be a potion, he would take anything that would let him achieve his 'goal'.

Then, suddenly, he felt something happen behind him. And when he turned around, he saw a simple wooden door on the opposite wall; a door that he was sure hadn't been there a few minutes ago. His curiosity about what lay behind this mysterious disappearing door got better of him and he opened it, inquisitive about what he might find behind it.

The room he saw was quite small and three of its walls were hidden behind floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with great many tomes of arcane knowledge, many of which look like they were at least a century old. Aside from those, this mysterious room also contained a secretaire with several more books, a stack of parchments and writing utensils on it; and a single comfortable chair garnished with brownish leathers... It was almost like this room had been designed as a perfect place for secret self-study.

Stepping into the room, the green-eyed wizard walked up to the nearest bookcase and ran his hand against the musty tomes as he read their titles. And, much to his surprise, they all appeared to be books about Potions. Most had titles too general to make a guess about what he might find inside, but a few all but screamed that they contained the recipes for aging potions, or potions that could make one mature faster... Harry couldn't help but wonder, whether this strange room had somehow read his mind in order to give exactly what he wanted.

Suddenly, his eyes caught a very unusual title: "Magical Aids for Stock Raising". What was such a book doing in this collection? His curiosity sparked, Harry picked the book and flipped through its musty pages, looking for an index or a table of contents. Surprisingly enough, despite its age, the book in his hands did have one. And, almost immediately, the young Potter saw why the room decided that this tome might be of interest to him: one of the potions listed in there was a special nourishment potions that tripled the speed at which cattle grew up... Were this potion designed for humans, it would have been exactly what Harry needed. But, alas...

Placing the tome back onto the bookshelf, the green-eyed wizard picked another one at random. Unfortunately, it had only instant-effect aging potions in it, as did the next three he tried. Then, Lady Luck decided to finally smile upon him, and the next tome contained an modified version of the cattle nourishment potion, the one that was meant to be used on humans... The note from the book's author stating that this particular potion had been developed by Spanish slavers did make the Potter heir pause for a few moments, but he quickly decided that it would be very stupid of him to ignore a potion that met his requirements nigh-perfectly simply because it had some disagreeable history.

What's more, as he read the recipe, he noted that the potion didn't need any rare ingredients. In fact, he was pretty sure that he had everything he needed in his Potions kit! Actually brewing this potion, however, might be a bit of a challenge: not only several steps had to be done in a very precise way, but he'll also have to do it all in a complete secrecy – something that was far from easy given how things rarely remained a secret for long at Hogwarts. And brewing the potion took a whole damn month.

Still, this was a potion that met his requirements, and having searched for it for weeks, Harry didn't feel like trying to find a better one. Plus, he noted idly, its long preparation time meant that by the time he had it ready, he'd finish taking the nutrient potion Madam Pomfrey prescribed him – not every potion played nice with the others, and he'd rather not take more risk than was ...absolutely necessary.

Thus, he went ahead and copied down the recipe, while also thanking the mysterious room for giving the books in his mind.

Now that he knew what to brew, Harry needed to find a place he could turn into his secret potions laboratory – some sort of a private location where no one would discover his 'work'. And he could think up only so many places that fit the bill... There, of course, was his room in the Slytherin dormitories, but he'd rather not sleep next to a cauldron full of simmering, potentially-volatile potion. Having an enchanted fire, held back only by some flimsy spell, next to his things also didn't inspire him. Thus, brewing in his dormitory room was out of question.

This left him with an option of using some abandoned classroom far away from Hogwarts' commonly-traveled passages. And so Harry spent the next few days wandering through the forgotten about parts of the castle, looking for a room that suited his needs the best. Eventually, he settled on turning an old Charms schoolroom that hasn't been used for at least a century into his private potions lab. There was much for him to do before he could start brewing, though.

First of all, he needed to clean up the layers of grim and dust that had accumulated in the room over the decades of disuse. Indeed, a clean workplace was all but a necessity for successful potion brewing. That, and he'd rather not sit in the dust... Still, given how dirty the old classroom was, tidying up even a single corner was not an easy task.

Then, he needed to secure this place: it would be quite disastrous for him if someone accidentally discovered his potion brewing. And while his knowledge of Magic was really limited, the young Potter was sure that a locking charm and a simple ward to subtly tell people go somewhere else would be enough to protect his new secret from those wandering aimlessly through the castle... In addition to that, he also needed to do something about the open flames he'll be using for potion brewing: he didn't want to burn Hogwarts down after all...

Finally, when all of the above was done, he'd have to smuggle his Potions ingredients and the spare cauldron from the Slytherin dormitories. And that was something easier said than done since there always were people in the common room and, while his housemates usually stayed out of his and each others' business, it was really doubtful that seeing him carrying out Potions equipment won't raise any questions with them.

~/ *** \~

It took him a whole week to accomplish that, but the Potter heir managed to set up something resembling a proper Potions lab in the abandoned classroom he had... appropriated. And so, now it was the time to start brewing! Harry was really excited about this, perhaps even too much as his world seemed to shrink down just the workbench and the cauldron in front of him. He was about to add the first ingredient into the water when a sudden voice coming from behind made him freeze and almost gave him a heart attack:

"My, my, what do we have here?" Someone said in a rather poor imitation of professor McGonagall.

"Looks like some firstie decided to play a Potions master..." A second voice said. Turning his head around, Harry saw Fred and George Weasley standing in the doors of the classroom.

"And what might he be brewing?" The first twin asked then. "Is it for a prank of some kind? Or is our little Slytherin friend turning into the second Snape?" Deciding that it probably wouldn't be wise to antagonize Hogwarts' infamous pranksters, Harry decided to play along with the twins.

"Y-yeah." He agreed with them. "It's for a prank." Well, and from a certain point of view what he wanted to do might actually be seen as a one... Fred and George grinned, perhaps happy to see that someone else decided to join the ranks of pranksters. Or, perhaps, they just wanted an 'apprentice', whom they could use to deliver their pranks to the Slytherin dormitories?

"And what this prank might be, eh, Harrikins?" The first twin asked then, sounding genuinely curious now. Harry, however, wasn't about to reveal his plans to them.

"That's a secret." He told the Gryffindor pranksters.

"Now, don't be like that. You can tell us what you have in mind; we promise we will keep it a secret from your would-be victims." The second twin said. The young Potter shook his head.

"Nope, not telling." Fred and George certainly didn't look happy about him keeping his mouth shut, but decided against prodding any further... Harry, meanwhile, had some questions of his own to ask. "And how did you two find me here anyway?"

"We've seen you come here a lot, so we decided to see what you're doing here ourselves, Harrikins."

"H-how?" The green-eyed wizard blurted out: anytime he came to this classroom, he made sure he wasn't followed. Was he not vigilant enough? Or did the most notorious pranksters of Hogwarts have some secret way to track the people within the castle? "How did you know I come here a lot? I was sure no one is following me!"

"That's a trade secret." The twin number two replied conspiratorially, implying that they might actually have some way to know where exactly everyone was.

"And can someone else track me the same way?" Harry asked, silently praying for a negative answer. And, it looked like Fates decided to answer his prayer:

"Not that we know of." The second twin replied. After a few moments he added: "Though, sometimes we think that Dumbledore knows about everything that happens within Hogwarts." The younger wizard wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried about this. On one hand, it looked like he was safe form being discovered by the professors: they likely had no way of knowing where he went unless they actually followed him, and Harry always made sure that he wasn't followed when he came here.

On the other hand, though... Harry really hoped that the headmaster didn't spy on him and that he wasn't already aware of his little Potions project. Which, thankfully, seemed to be the case since the man hadn't stepped in to stop him yet. Still, if the twins were right and Dumbledore had a way of knowing what was happening in his school regardless of how well one might try to hide their activities, the Potter heir sure hoped that the man refrained from using that ability of his... unless the students were in some great danger, of course.

In the end, Harry decided that whether Dumbledore had such power over the school or not, he was just too busy with his jobs to actually use it more often than once in a blue moon. And even if that wasn't the case and the man regularly checked who was doing what in Hogwarts, other four hundreds students – some of whom were less than perfectly obedient – should be enough to mask his secret Potion brewing, unless he blew the classroom up or did something similarly cover-blowing to draw attention to himself.

"That's a relief." Harry said finally. The twins shrugged in response, before making one more attempt to make him spill the beans about his upcoming 'prank'.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell us what prank you're brewing the potion for, Harrikins?" The one prankster on the right asked. "We might even help you with it. Merlin knows, Hogwarts needs more fun stuff happening within her walls." The young Potter shook his head.

"Nope, not telling." He replied. The twins sighed in disappointment.

"Oh well, have it your way." The one on the left said. "At least tell us when you're going to pull it off. We don't want to miss the show that needs such a mysterious potion."

"Alright." Harry agreed, hoping that the Gryffindor pranksters will forget about this 'promise' of his soon enough. "It won't be soon, though. This potion takes awhile to brew." The twins shrugged, apparently not bothered by the long wait.

"No problem, just don't forget to tell us, okay, Harrikins?" Harry nodded and, thankfully for him, Fred and George decided to let him have his peace and left...

Once the door closed behind them, the Potter heir shook his head as he turned his attention back to the cauldron in front of him. It was the time to start brewing!.. And brew he did. Adding an ounce of chopped toad liver and exactly seven Lady's Mantle flowers into the boiling water, Harry stirred his potion three times counterclockwise, smiling when it turned thinly-greenish, just like the recipe said it should.

~/ *** \~

Even though it was now the very end of November, weather in Devon was still pretty nice, and so one Draco Malfoy was enjoying a game of quidditch with his ...friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, in the backyard of his family's manor. Of course, it wasn't a real game as there were only three of them there, but that mattered not to the blond boy. After all, why would something so insignificant matter when his father promised to watch the 'game'?

Unfortunately for Draco, his father wasn't paying much attention to the kids playing in the manor's backyard. The thoughts of the Lord Malfoy instead were occupied by entirely different matters: Lucius was contemplating the list of the guests for the Yule party that he will be hosting this year. Or, to be more precise, he was trying to decide, whether inviting one Mr. Potter to it would be a good idea or not.

On one hand, having the Boy-Who-Lived as a guest at the party would greatly boost the standing of the house Malfoy. And the boy was in the same age group as his own son; if the two somehow made friends, all the better! On the other hand, though, the rumors said Mr. Potter was raised by muggles. And, if that was true, he knew not how to dress for and how to behave in the high society. Any embarrassing mistakes he makes would reflect poorly not just on himself, but on the hosts – the Malfoys – as well. And Lucius certainly didn't want his reputation and that of his house suffer because he invited a child with no manners to the party.

Furthermore, while his sorting into the noble house of Slytherin did show that Mr. Potter was, in fact, not a mouthpiece of the old fool Dumbledore, a number of the Dark Lord's followers still saw the boy as ...well, not an enemy, perhaps, but as someone to be scorned. Personally, Lucius didn't agree much with them, though: while having those of the pure and noble magical blood rule the world was an admirable goal, he liked his current life more than the times when he served Lord Voldemort...

After some more thinking, the Lord Malfoy decided that the potential gains from having the Boy-Who-Lived as a guest at his Yule party outweighed what he could lose should things go wrong. His decision made, the blond man ordered his house elf to bring him an invitation card and a quill. And while the little creature was away, Lucius tried to decide on whom he should ask to deliver the invitation to Mr. Potter – he didn't want to just owl it... Perhaps, he could ask young Mr. Flint to do that, hmm?

That's all, folks!
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