Scion of Sorcery, Dimensions of Destiny

Disclaimers: SEE FIRST CHAPTER

Review Answers:

Shizkane: Although it's not what's going on, that is a very interesting theory and would probably make a fun idea in another universe;

Dennisud: Oh, trust me, there's a reason she's so…early-days Hermione, and won't back down – hint: it actually involves an MCU character who I can't help but think of as what she might be like if she didn't have magic;

WhiteElfElder: After what's coming up, he'll be a little more open with his son, especially since his fears surround said youth;

"Show me…I have to know…was it…"

A wall of blue flames suddenly sprang up around him, earning a horrified scream from Stephen before, as quickly as they'd appeared, they soon disappeared, leaving him laid flat in his Master Chamber, his eyes wider than wide and his blood colder than cold.

"No…what…why couldn't I…"

"Naughty, naughty…"

Stephen's eyes widened again as he looked down, seeing only the shadows of his chamber…

And a pair of greenish-golden eyes that stared out at the Sorcerer Supreme with mocking amusement before the owner of those eyes laughed;

"No spoilers for you…Strange…doctor's orders!"

"NIGHTMARE?" Screamed Stephen.

The darkness became flooded with blue fire…

Phase One: Potter-Strange?

Chapter 7: Class Is Now In Session

By the end of the first week, Harry honestly couldn't decide on which emotion he felt more: bored, disappointed or seriously annoyed.

After his little display of power, Harry was able to spend most of his time alone in the dorms, his isolation in his Dormitory often-times helping him focus his mind and harness his strength for whatever trial would come next.

Of course, if he ever wanted to leave the dorm without anyone knowing where he was going or what he was doing, Harry slipped into the Astral Plane or used his Sling Ring Portals to get around, which confused some people when they considered they hadn't seen him entering or leaving the Common Room, much less his dormitory.

In Slytherin, Harry's placement was a mystery because, try as they might to find out things about him, none of the Slytherins discovered anything about the boy with the green eyes, the unusual sense of right and wrong and the neutral, accepting attitude towards magic and how he was rocking the boat at Hogwarts.

His only friend in Slytherin, if he could call her such, was Daphne Greengrass, who seemed to take it upon herself to be Harry's partner in lessons, but when he demonstrated a level of skill that put even the most-experienced of first-years to shame, she instead offered herself as someone Harry could talk to and come to if he had questions.

In this way, Daphne became a silent companion for Harry, both of them usually seen working on one piece of homework or another with a level of mutual respect for the other's privacy that just didn't happen in Slytherin.

And yet they were also left alone as word of Parkinson's episode on the first night had spread through the House like wildfire, bringing speculation and suspicion from the older years while even the most-curious of first-years, such as the blonde, Draco Malfoy, realised that Harry's warning was enough of a reason to keep your distance.

Not that he did such a thing at first.

In fact, on the first morning, the blonde Slytherin crossed the path of his raven-haired counterpart.

SoS

Day Damn One

Washed and dressed in the Slytherin robes, Harry made his way out of the dormitory where, as he stood in the door, he looked back inside, "Are you going to be okay here on your own, girl?"

'I will be fine, little one,' answered Mana, looking at Harry from the foot of his bed, 'If I need to leave, I assure you that I will be able to find a way. You just go; enjoy yourself and see what's so special about this so-called greatest school.'

Heaving a sigh, Harry nodded once before he turned and walked out of the passageway and into the Common Room, his only new accessory for the day being his Sling Ring, which rested comfortably on the fingers of his left hand. As for the rings of his family, given the reception he'd already received in Slytherin, Harry decided to keep them safe and secure in his trunk until he was sure that he needed to reveal them by putting them on.

SoS

Thanks to the information given to him by Master Rameses, Harry knew doing so would infuse him with the magical power, also known as Family Magic, and recognition of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter as well as the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell.

Unlike the infusion that had taken place when he'd released his magic, this one would truly mark him as a member of the family of Potter/Peverell and, whether he liked it or not, the traditionalists of this ass-backwards world would call him such a thing, no matter what he said in argument. More to the point, however, Harry would become visible in the Great Game that this world played with its politics and its ways of right and wrong, justice and law as well as allies and enemies.

And, as Harry had learned from a friend of his Father's, playing the game of nobility and being an important businessman with a legacy to uphold was a right royal pain in the ass…

He was quoting directly there, but still, even the wise words of Tony Stark couldn't sway Harry's opinion on the thought of what might or might not happen when he put the rings on, allowing himself to feel the true strength and have access to the wisdom of the ages and wizards before him coursing through his veins.

Would he be changed?

Would he become something other than the Sorcerer Supreme?

Would he even remember that he was just that as he embraced the bloodline he was adopted into rather than the one he was born into?

It was a child's worry and curiosity, but it was enough for Harry to hold off on making himself Lord Potter, Lord Peverell or whatever crazy new title the act would give him. He already had a title he'd never asked for and because of that, he'd chosen to be Strange and not Potter, but once the Family Magic accepted him, then he'd be known and that would mean trouble, nuisances and more pains in the ass than Hawkeye's arrows being fired all at once.

That was why he had a plan that, he hoped, would make everything okay in the end, even if only for Harry himself.

SoS

As Harry entered the Common Room, he was a little surprised to find that he wasn't the only early-riser.

Sat in one of the leather sofas that made up the centre of the Common Room was Draco Malfoy, the same boy who'd approached Harry the day before, only to realise that he wasn't dealing with some meek individual.

As Harry walked over to one of the chairs where Draco sat, he smirked amusingly, "So I'm not the only one that is used to getting up early enough, I see? But something tells me you're actually here waiting for me, am I right, Mr Malfoy?"

"You are," said Draco, lifting himself up, his hands linked together as he eyed Harry, "I wanted to say: it's only been one night, but you've made a real impact around here, Strange. First with your brash decisions to sit with our enemies and then your vicious slur against a man whom many of the sons and daughters of Slytherin stand with, not that they'll admit it if anyone said otherwise."

"Well, duh: of course you wouldn't admit anything about that particular rumour," drawled Harry, smirking in amusement, "You've got snakes on your robes for a reason, Malfoy: you hide in secret, never letting your enemy know you're there until you're sinking your fangs into their throats…at least that's how the rest of the school sees you."

"And…you?" asked Draco, his shock making Harry smile.

"Me? I see you for who you really are," answered Harry, tapping the snake on his robe, "Not as evil, venomous creatures out to ruin the world, but as beings whose minds and souls are as sly as foxes and as cunning as the greatest of strategists who see everything and can plan twelve different solutions before breakfast, after which they'd then pick the best one available to them for the purposes of the tasks at hand."

Draco looked positively thunderstruck, but Harry just smiled, "Basically, you're capable of seeing all opportunities and then picking the one best for you, which is good, but only as long as you know it's the right solution."

"Like the Sorting?" asked Draco, earning a nod from Harry, "The hat puts us where it feels we're best suited for the future we have at Hogwarts, but because of the reputation of the House, many of the Dark families wound up here."

"Precisely," said Harry, an amused, interested look flashing across his face.

"Then someone likes you turns up and breaks the status quo," added Draco, earning a mocking bow from the junior Sorcerer.

"What can I say except you're welcome?" chuckled Harry, earning a soft smirk from Draco, before Harry frowned, licking his lips slowly before he addressed his Housemate again. "On that note, Malfoy, could you explain something for me?"

"If…if I can," said Draco.

"You call them Dark Families, Light Families and…and what Parkinson called them," said Harry, earning a nod from Draco, who gulped softly as he remembered Pansy crying out about how hot it was, even though it was September and they were in the dungeons.

The self-preservation instinct of all human beings had kicked in there and then for Draco, hence this meeting between him and Strange.

Harry, ignorant of Draco's train of thought, continued with his inquiry, "But in life, magic is not something that judges one's blood or allows itself to be classed as Light, Dark, Good, Evil or anywhere in-between: it is what it is."

"I'm not hearing a question," argued Draco, earning a scoff from Harry.

"That's because you're not listening, fellow serpentine scholar," argued the young sorcerer, a faint hint of mocking amusement in his words as he linked his hands together, "But since you're a bit behind the times, I'll indulge you: put simply, dear Draco, tell me. What is it, exactly that makes someone Light or Dark or deserving of titles like the one I never want to hear again?"

As Draco opened his mouth to respond, Harry cut him off with a raised hand, "Ah! Before you give me an answer, maybe you ought to consider the fact that what you say will decide, if not confirm for me whether or not you're actually worth calling a real friend and not someone who just parrots the horse shit he's been fed since the cradle."

Draco's eyes widened with alarm as Harry lowered his hand, "And if you're not a friend, Draco, who's to say you truly understand what it is that I'm trying to achieve being in Slytherin. After all, as far as magic would be concerned, I wouldn't be Dark and I certainly don't come from a Dark Family, as far as anyone outside the shores of Great Britain are concerned. And yet, despite that bleeding obvious truth, I remember how, last night, you called me the very name I loathe because you didn't know me."

A light blush spread across Draco's cheeks, "But then I got into Slytherin and, when your peers made the same mistake, you got a taste of what I do to those who annoy me, so ask yourself this before you answer my question."

Leaning in close, Harry dropped his voice to a barely-audible whisper, "What would I do to someone who chooses to become an enemy?"

While Draco was left in a world of confusion, shock, awe and even intimidation at the sense of magic that seemed to lace each word Harry spoke, Harry rose up from his seat before he brushed down his robes, "Think on your answer, Draco Malfoy, and when you think you have the right sort of explanation, come and find me: until then, I'm hungry, so I'll see you in the Great Hall."

Then he was gone and, when he left, Draco released a breath that he hadn't noticed he'd been holding in, his grey eyes still filled with awe as he looked to where the young sorcerer had vanished.

And as he looked at where Harry had gone, Draco gulped before he whispered, "I…I can't answer that question…"

At least not in a way that wouldn't result in him making an enemy of that incredibly-powerful, Slytherin-worthy, sharp-minded sorcerer of a student.

So, what could he do?

SoS

After playing a pretty interesting mind game, using it as both a test of the boy's beliefs as well as the chance to help him do what he was sent to do, Harry noticed the blond kept his distance in the days that followed, but was civil enough to show courtesy and respect when they saw each other.

Unlike many others, Draco respected how Harry had his secrets and desired privacy, which being a lone wolf in the Snake Pit gave him, especially when, despite the best efforts of the loud-mouthed Prefect, the bossy brunette and the scowling redhead youth, Harry still spent his feasts in the company of Neville in Gryffindor, although he did make sure to inform Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster.

As for the Head of Slytherin, Professor Snape, he glared at Harry with seething hatred, but the raven-haired sorcerer didn't pay attention to him.

Instead, he did the best he could to get to know his classmates, which resulted in him gaining a foothold with Neville that, by the end of the week, resulted in the two cementing their friendship. As for the other Gryffindor who'd shown courtesy to Harry, Dean Thomas, he became a companion, though Harry noticed how the boy tended to stick close to Neville, the two of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder against the raging sea of red that came their way because they were not only friends with a Slytherin, but willing to accept the boy as one of their own despite protests from others.

And yet, for all their complaining, Harry was amused to notice none of the Gryffindors seemed to be in too much of a hurry to cross swords with him or his friends, which made him wonder if the Slytherins had leaked word of what happened if/when you pissed Harry off to the other Houses.

If so, it was a good thing because it meant that Harry didn't have to waste perfectly good magic on trivial things like schoolyard squabbles.

Not that Hogwarts had schoolyards, unless you counted the courtyards, but that wasn't the point.

SoS

Speaking of magic, outside of feast times and the odd moments in Slytherin, Harry really made an impact in his classes right from the word go.

His first lesson was Transfiguration, which, ironically, was with Gryffindor House and, when the lesson began, Harry knew right from the start that there was going to be a moment where someone would make a mountain out of the molehill that was his talents.

He just didn't expect it to be the Head of Gryffindor herself.

When Harry walked into the Transfiguration classroom, his first thought was one of amusement as, instead of stacks of books, examples of the art they were going to learn or their professor, the only thing that was there was a bedraggled, scruffy-looking tabby cat who proceeded to clean her paws as she sat at the front of the class.

Narrowing his eyes as he looked at the cat, a part of him knowing it wasn't unusual to see such a creature since students were permitted owls, cats and/or toads, Harry subtly triggered one of the powers of the Eyes before he smiled slyly, his eyes shining as he returned his gaze to normal. Then, Harry lifted his hands and, opening a portal, he reached through the hole and, when he removed it again, Harry held a small bottle of fresh milk.

A second portal allowed him to retrieve a bowl, which he filled with the milk and, walking forwards, he offered it to the cat, a coy smile on his face.

"There you go, you beautiful thing; such a shame age has made you look so…worn in places, but you're still a lovely little kitty cat. Not as cute as my dear friend, Goose, of course, but he's special in his own way."

To his amusement, the cat hissed, her hackles raised at him while Harry, sniffing once, leaned in close, "Please don't try and be aggressive to me; I've seen one man turn into a not-so-jolly green giant and another that can become both a giant that dwarfs Mr Hagrid, as well as shrink down to the size of a pinhead at will, Professor. Trust me, what you can do is child's play compared to real magic and the power beyond your borders, not all of which is even magic, but I digress. Nice touch: it'll certainly surprise everyone who isn't aware of your true skill; bravo."

Then, without another word, Harry sat down at his desk, drumming his fingers on the desk before, seconds later, he sniggered in amusement as the cat lapped at the milk and mewed thankfully, earning a curt nod from Harry, "You're welcome: next time, I'll bring Scotch."

This time, the cat growled warningly, but Harry raised his hands defensively, "As a gift, professor; by the Odinforce, you'd think I intend for a teacher to get drunk around students. Just because I learned how to be a bit of a prat from my dear funny-man Uncle, one Anthony 'Tony' Stark, it doesn't mean I'm completely without tact: I mean, who do you think I am, Minerva? James Potter?"

The cat's hackles raised again, but this time in alarm.

Harry, however, tapped his lips with a finger, "Let's make a deal, Prof: you want the best Scotch you'll ever taste, even as a Jock, then, until I say the coast is clear, you keep my secret: personally, I'd have expected the Head of Gryffindor to figure it out sooner, since she had Sirius Black's ward as a willing and true friend of the charismatic enigma that is me."

Before the cat could make another reaction, the door opened, admitting the other students, all of whom filed to their seats.

At the front of the class, Neville took a seat next to Harry, his eyes filled with curiosity, "What's with you? You look like the cat that ate the canary."

"Ooh, there's an idea," sniggered Harry, earning another yowl from the cat on the desk, who caught the attention of the other students.

"Where's McGonagall?" asked Draco, scoffing as he muttered, "Professor Snape would never keep us waiting like this."

"No, he'd probably swoop in from the back of the class with an attention-catching lecture about the lesson, Draco," argued Harry, still drumming his fingers on the desk as he added, "And to answer your question, hang on…three…two…one…"

Then, to the surprise of the whole class, save Harry, Professor McGonagall appeared where the cat had been, shifting her body from animal to human faster than any of them could recall.

As she stood at the head of the class, her eyes met Harry's, who just smiled appreciatively as he watched her eye the class before she cleared her throat, "Transfiguration is some of the most-complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then, as everyone watched, McGonagall drew her wand from her robe and flicked it at her desk, changing it into a large boar before, with another flick, she changed it back. Seeing the magic at work made a lot of people excited, but Harry rolled his eyes: showmanship was one thing, but these were first-years, so it was pretty hard for him to imagine they'd be doing something on that scale this early in the game.

In any other school, perhaps they'd be guided through it step-by-step, but as he'd previously noted on a few occasions, Hogwarts was stuck in the Dark Ages as was the Magical Community of Great Britain and Ireland, so Harry wouldn't have been surprised to learn they were starting off small.

He was right too as, once she was done showing them the extent of the art they were here to learn, McGonagall handed each student a matchstick and told them to transfigure it into a needle. Soon, the room was filled with people trying and failing to get the spell right while, when Harry looked up, he saw McGonagall had reverted to her feline form to watch over the class.

Just as people started to get into the exercise, however, the door to the classroom flew open and, to Harry's amusement, the redhead Ronald raced into the room, accompanied by the brunette, Granger, who was chastising him as she puffed and panted, "How…how can you…you get us…us lost on our…our first day? Can you imagine how much trouble we would have gotten into if our teacher was here?"

"Oh, I don't think you'll have to imagine," muttered Harry, holding back a laugh as McGonagall repeated her earlier performance by leaping off the table, shifting in mid-air so that she wound up walking to the two students, both of whom stared in awe and, in Granger's case, disbelieving desire, almost as though she actually believed she was here to learn that skill.

"That was bloody brilliant!" gasped Weasley, earning a few sniggers from the Slytherins as Granger chastised him for his language.

McGonagall, meanwhile, sighed, "Well, thank you for that assessment, Mr Weasley. Perhaps it'd be more useful if I were to transfigure Miss Granger and yourself into a pocket watch? That way, one of you might be on time."

"We…we're sorry, Miss, we…we got lost," said Granger, blushing furiously while McGonagall scowled.

"Then perhaps a map?" asked the Deputy Head, her eyes hardening as she heard a few titters, "I trust you don't need one to find your seats!"

While Granger and Weasley were left at the mercy of their peers' laughter, McGonagall made her way forwards before, stopping next to Harry, she eyed his desk as she asked, "Mr…Strange, where is your wand?"

"Oh, I don't have it, Professor," said Harry, earning a snigger from Weasley while Neville eyed Harry in shock, as though he'd only just noticed Harry didn't have a wand on his person.

"Then kindly take it out of your robe," said Minerva, but Harry held up his hands.

"No, Professor, I think you misunderstand. You see, I don't have it…I don't have a wand," repeated Harry, earning a horrified gasp from Granger while Neville watched in curiosity.

McGonagall, however, glared at Harry with outrage, "What do you mean you don't have it? Every student is required to have a wand to cast their spells, Strange: how on earth do you expect to complete your assignments without one?"

"Well," said Harry, trying not to laugh as, truth was, he'd expected this ever since he'd learned about the power he wielded with magic.

Power that this world would never believe existed and yet it was the true name of the arcane power they manipulated through foolish wand-waving and silly incantations in their classes.

Looking at the matchstick in front of him, Harry sniffed once as he said, "Maybe I should just…I don't know…wave my hand? Twitch my nose? Ooh, I know; let's see what happens when I click my fingers."

Laughter rose up with his absurd remark, but that laughter soon died down when Harry, doing as he'd suggested, snapped his fingers.

To the shock of McGonagall, Neville and those who could see the beyond-impossible act that had just taken place at his desk, Harry caused his matchstick to change into a perfectly-forged, sharp silver needle.

"That…that…that…" McGonagall gasped, her eyes as wide as saucers while, as she looked from the needle to Harry, she gulped hard, trying and failing to find the right words even as she asked him, "How…how did you…what did you do?"

"Dark Magic!" spat Weasley, but this time, it was McGonagall that cut him off as she seemed to regain herself.

"That, Mr Weasley, is five points from Gryffindor for shouting in class," said McGonagall, looking now to Harry, who was proudly showing his silver needle off to those nearby, including Neville, who tapped it and confirmed it was a real silver needle, and not just a botched Transfiguration.

As shocked as she was, Minerva still allowed the teacher in her to say something as she explained in a clear, but shaky voice, "And…also, for those who may be thinking along Mr Weasley's line regarding what…what Mr Strange just did, let me assure you all: what I…what we have just witnessed is not an act of Dark Magic, but a surprisingly-perfected feat of wandless, nonverbal magic."

"But that's impossible!" exclaimed Granger, jabbing her finger at Harry, who seemed content to stare at her through the eye of his needle. "No-one could learn to do something like that at such a young age: there aren't any books on it and no-one's even heard of Strange, so it's not like he learned it from someone. How did you do it? I have to know: tell me!"

"Um, how about no?" asked Harry, turning to Granger before he added, "But I'll gladly show you; here you go."

Then, before McGonagall or anyone else could stop him, Harry snapped his fingers again, causing the matchsticks on Granger and Weasley's desk to change into copper needles, which again surprised McGonagall, "Anything else, Granger? Perhaps solid gold?"

"Yeah," laughed Malfoy, watching with everyone else as Harry did just that, earning more shocked looks from the Wixen, since, as far as they knew, changing something into solid gold – and, again, Harry demonstrated it was such when he gestured for Weasley and Granger to touch the needles he'd conjured up – was meant to be beyond-impossible, much less beyond the skills of a Freddie First-Year, even one hailing from another nation.

However, that didn't stop Draco getting a shot in, "There you go, Weasley: some gold for you and that family of yours. Maybe now you'll be able to get some decent robes and a better class of friends."

"Or maybe crystal? That's much more expensive a material," said Harry, snapping his fingers again before he held up a perfectly-crystallised needle from his desk. "Any more requests? You know I've never tried vibranium, or adamantium; or shall we just accept some people are better than others and not everything needs to be in black and white in order for it to be real: hello? We do currently live in a magical school that can't be seen by the No-Maj where we make the impossible possible."

Weasley was turning redder than his hair while Granger stared at Harry with envy practically smeared across her face.

McGonagall, however, cleared her throat.

"Mr Strange?"

"Professor?"

As Harry turned to her, he was surprised by her next words, "Detention for a week for showing off and disrupting the class: also, you will spend the first detention going to Diagon Alley for a proper wand and you will not show off anymore, understand?"

Harry was shocked, admittedly, but, again, he went back to Uncle Tony's lessons.

"As you wish to the first, but Hell No to the second," sighed Harry, earning another alarmed look from Minerva, "FYI, I've been using magic and being taught to hone and wield my special skills like this for years, from much more-talented and higher-authority Wixen than you, Minerva. And, as much as you might want otherwise, as well as your nation of kindergartner-level magic users, I refuse to even be forced to lower myself to your level of so-called magic using, just so it can suit your ass-backwards ideals of what spellcasting means…and, just to prove my point and show you all that what I did was no small fluke, here, allow me to undo my work…or, as it's called, Reverse Trans-fig-u-ray-tion!"

The fact he emphasised each syllable of the lesson's name was not lost on anyone, neither was the message he sent in saying it.

Meanwhile, waving his hand, Harry caused all the needles to revert to matchstick form, save for the one in front of him, which, after licking his lips, he picked up the aforementioned crystal needle as he asked, "But I can keep this one, right? I might hang it on my mantel or show it to my Father: given the sorcerer he is, I know he'd definitely appreciate knowing my magic continues to grow stronger, which is what we're here to learn, isn't it?"

"Get out!" cried McGonagall, her face so red that she rivalled the colour of her House banner, but, to the shock – and rage – of several of her cubs, Harry didn't even flinch. "Don't come back until you learn to show respect for the craft you are here to learn, not show off like a monkey at the zoo."

"All right, I'm going," sighed Harry, sniffing once before he walked out.

As he reached the door, however, he added, "Don't cough up a hairball."

Gasps spread around the room as Harry left without another word, leaving a furious McGonagall, a shocked Neville, Draco and Daphne, an awed bunch of Gryffindors and Slytherins and an envious, disbelieving Granger in his wake.

Each and every one of them asking the same question, albeit with different intentions;

'How in Merlin's name did he do that?'

SoS

After the surprises that had taken place in McGonagall's class, word spread among the first-years about how Harry had not only shown a unique magical feat, but also how he'd shown up McGonagall about the way things were.

Of course, the Slytherins weren't pleased when Harry didn't even bother explaining to those who asked/demanded explanations from him as to how he'd done what he'd done, let alone where he'd learned to accomplish such powerful magical feats at age eleven. As for others, especially Harry's two friends in Gryffindor and Slytherin, they were impressed by the way that Harry stood his ground against someone whom was infamously-known for being someone you did not cross willingly if you had any ideas of seeing tomorrow at Hogwarts.

Even Su was amused by her honorary brother's antics, to the point she admitted to him how she wished she could have seen their faces.

Though when Harry used the Eyes to show her the memory, Su was left laughing and proud of Harry's willingness to stick to his guns about being both who and what he was and to Hel with what people thought.

SoS

Of course, Daphne and Neville knew the truth about their friend and, although he didn't say it, Neville was amused because his friend's attitude and the strength with which he'd stood his ground would have made his adoptive Father proud.

He also wondered how Sirius might take it if he knew what sort of wizard Harry had become.

However, since people knew him as Harry Strange and not Harry Potter, he knew he'd need Harry's permission to tell Sirius about the Slytherin's prowess, which would be something he'd need to be careful about since learning Harry was a Slytherin would likely grind Sirius' gears because of how James Potter had been a bit of a celebrity in Gryffindor.

All right, so Harry had said Neville could tell Sirius he'd met Harry, but as for the magical talent, the attitude, not to mention the Slytherinness of his demeanour, they were things Neville couldn't help but worry about.

As for Daphne, she was amused because Harry definitely had stones to be able to cheek off someone and not give a damn, but when she found him studying quietly instead of attending his detention, which resulted in a twenty-point deduction from Slytherin the next morning, she wondered what might be going through his mind.

Given they were yet to attend a lesson with Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House and someone who suspected the truth about Harry after what happened at the Welcome Feast, she was worried.

The man was an avid hater of Harry Potter and he was clearly someone with an agenda of his own given how he always glared at Harry in feasts and, worryingly, didn't say anything about the boy missing his detentions.

She didn't know what Harry's special talent was, but if it was something that happened in Potions, then there was only one thing Daphne could see;

Trouble.

SoS

Throughout the rest of the week, Harry's mood shifted constantly depending on the lesson or the situation he was forced to experience.

Firstly, after missing detention, he was deducted points by McGonagall and given another week's detention because he'd chosen, again, to join his friends at the Gryffindor Table, where he was put under the microscope by Granger as she watched him like a vulture circling its prey, trying to intimidate him into telling her the truth of his gifts.

'Given I've met the Prince of Asgard himself and seen Dad and even Uncle Bruce in a very bad mood, if she thinks she can intimidate me, she's sorely mistaken,' thought Harry, but he was loathed to notice that the girl's observations didn't stop.

However, his emotions took a turn for the better when, in his first Charms lesson, when Professor Flitwick gave them a test to practice any charm they'd read about without consulting the books.

Some went for the Lumos charm while others attempted Alohomora, Wingardium Leviosa or some other charm.

When it came to Harry's turn to demonstrate his skill, however, the young boy asked, "Are you sure you want to see what I know, Professor?"

Receiving a positive response was all the permission Harry needed as he let his magic loose on the room, causing books to levitate, quills to fly around the room like a flock of starlings, papers to fold into birds, frogs and other animals who paraded around the room like Noah's Ark. As if that wasn't enough, Harry even demonstrated the ability to undo his own work as he returned the room to its former state once he was done.

Needless to say that the twenty points he'd lost before because of McGonagall were no longer an issue as Flitwick gave him one hundred points for such an exciting and impressive display of Charms work.

Unlike McGonagall, the stout professor also encouraged Harry to experiment with his new powers and, if he ever came across any developments, to let Filius know immediately as the goblin professor would not squander Harry's potential.

After the lesson, however, Harry was surprised when the professor asked him to stay behind…

SoS

Once the last student – Su, since Charms was with the Eagles – left the Charms room, Harry looked up from his seat before, meeting the eyes of the professor, he politely inclined his head as he asked, "Is there a problem, Master Flitwick? I thought you said I did good in the lesson."

"Oh, this isn't about the lesson, Mr Strange," said Filius, before, to Harry's surprise, the goblin smiled slyly, "Or is it Mr Potter?"

"It's Mr Strange, or Harry to my friends, sir," replied Harry, his glare hardening in its sockets for only a moment before he sighed softly, "I should have figured that a goblin warrior with a reputation like yours would be one of the few to recognise me, even though I don't look like my adopted Father. Let me guess: it's because of the colour of my eyes?"

"Lily's eyes…yet not," answered Filius, a note of sadness in his words, which Harry took note of and added to the rapidly-growing list of reasons why he liked the proud warrior as his teacher. "I knew her as a student and as much of a prodigy as I see in you, Harry. Well enough to mourn her passing and yet not so well enough that I was aware of her having a child with…with your Father."

Surprise flitted across Harry's face as he looked up again before he asked, "You know my Father, sir?"

"Unlike the attitude of the human magic users, it may surprise you to know that all goblins know of the power, reputation and charge of the Sorcerer Supreme, ever since the first, in point of fact," answered Filius, a note of raw pride and homage in his voice as he locked eyes with his awestruck student while he pressed on. "And although I am only a half-goblin, I still hold the man's reputation, as well as his skills and all he has done for our world in the same regard, which means I know and fully understand why you choose to call yourself what you do. This is also how I applaud your magical control, which is something that, even when I last saw Lily, I never truly believed was possible."

"How do you mean?"

Levitating his stack of books to where Harry was sitting, Filius looked the boy in the eyes before he answered his question, "Years ago, after she left me as a student, Harry, I told your Mother the reason I believed so strongly in her was because of her eyes: their green colour was unlike any I had seen before or since…until today."

"I…I don't understand," muttered Harry, feeling his heart ache with this story being told of his Mother's potential.

"The eyes of a wizard," explained Filius, indicating Harry's eyes, "They are more than just genetics or chance DNA passing from parent to child: with our kind, Harry, the brighter the glare in a wizard's eyes, the stronger their magic is. And, as many people will tell you when you choose to share the truth of your legacy, your Mother had eyes so bright and full of hope and love that she was like an angel."

A tear rolled down Harry's cheek as he heard this while Filius put a gentle hand on Harry's, "I apologise if this hurts to hear, dear boy, but this is how and why I know you have every right to use your power as you desire. Your eyes are like Lily's because their greenery is similar, but the difference is yours possesses this Light that burns brighter than the sun and, although some may not know why that is, I see it is the power of your Father, the power of the Sorcerer Supreme that gives you this light."

"You have no idea, sir," whispered Harry, a part of him wondering whether or not his Father was aware of the existence of such an honoured advocate being at Hogwarts.

Here, Filius surprised Harry as he bowed respectfully to the boy, "And it is a power that I am honoured to be able to assist in its growth, no matter what that may mean for you, Harry Strange. So yes, unlike my colleague, whom I know is still unhappy with your desire to flaunt your gifts without thoughts for others, but unlike her, I want you to flaunt it, use it to accomplish feats of magic that show everyone why your last name is Strange and, if you ever need an ally, an advocate or even a friend, you will find one in my office and my House."

Harry blinked in surprise before Filius smiled as he added, "However, at the same time, I hope you will at least remember a famous saying, Harry."

"Let me guess," laughed Harry, rolling his eyes, "With great power comes great responsibility?"

"Well, I was going to say you shouldn't be in a hurry to grow up, but that's good too," laughed Filius, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, "You show a level of maturity that scares people, but then you act like you did in Minerva's class and, because they see you as mature, they see your actions as juvenile, so, if you must be someone with amusing anecdotes and a devil-may-care attitude, then be that person."

"Yes sir," nodded Harry, smiling once before, inclining his head, he asked, "Sir, might I ask you one last question?"

"Of course."

"My…my adopted Father, James Potter," said Harry, his eyes filled with curiosity, as well as a glimmer of hope, though he didn't say why that was, as he asked, "Is it true that he was a bit…juvenile at times? I've heard rumours about him, that's all, and…well, I remember this moment from when I was an infant and…and I can't help but wonder about him."

"He would be beyond amused to see you causing your own brand of juvenile chaos here at Hogwarts, Harry Strange," laughed Filius, his eyes filled with amusement as he added, "If you want stories of his own exploits, tame as they may be compared to what you have done thus far, then I would have a word with Mr Longbottom's guardian: of course, you might have to deal with him holding it against you that you're a Slytherin."

"I'm not Harry Potter, sir," argued Harry, smiling proudly as he added, "Thank you for the talk…and for your discretion."

"Good luck, Master Strange," said Filius, earning another smile from Harry as he left the class, leaving the goblin professor curiously-interested at the prospects of what the future could hold for this talented young man.

Whatever it was, woe betide anyone who chose to stand in his way.

So, Harry's made an impact, but it looks like, as impressive as his feats are, not everyone is willing to accept that not everyone does things the same way: how else might Harry break rules and defy the demands of deranged, damned and delusional?

Also, how long will it be before certain pink-obsessed problems, poisoned sweets and moronic imbeciles with a fondness for gold stick their oar in?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Just one annoyance left…and all right; it might not be Madison Square Garden, but…ladies and gentlemen…boys and girls…children of all ages…LLLLLETS GET READY TO RUUUUUMMMMBBBBLLLEEEEE!

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