I smiled as I walked through the brick wall that would lead me to Platform nine and three-quarters. Technically, this was the third time that I had walked through it, but only now was I beginning to appreciate and memorize the feeling of it. Having a lifetime of memories really stressed just how much I should appreciate these memories.
I tried to analyze the feeling of the magic that brushed against my senses, but I didn’t get very far. Ever since Dumbledore had casted at Remus’ funeral, I could feel the faintest traces of magic when I was near it. It happened when Dobby was cleaning, it happened during my last trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies, and it happened now. For the moment, I was chalking it up to my developing magical ability.
I can’t wait to show off a bit. I thought as I looked back on my relentless studying and practicing of magic during the summer. My second thought was how I shouldn’t try to show up children with decades less life experience than me.
I looked to the steam-powered magical train, only to be interrupted as the ambient noise in the room quieted to almost zero. When I discovered why, I wished that I would have just snuck on the train invisibly until I found Ron and Hermione.
Everyone was staring at me.
I was used to this, you see. But normally people stared at me with wonder and awe in their eyes for the boy-who-lived. I could always see them asking themselves what made me special, that I could survive the killing curse. This was not the look that I received today.
Today, there was fear in the children’s eyes, and disgust in the parents. It took me back for a moment, and I paused my walking to the train. Immediately, I rectified that and continued my walking. All the while, I was staring back at the people around me, especially the parents.
“I can’t believe they allowed him back…”
“Filthy werewolf.”
“Should have just died, instead of begging to be saved by Madam Pompfrey.”
“Mom, I don’t want to go to school with a werewolf.”
“I shall be writing to the board about this.”
My hearing had steadily improved over the summer. I didn’t even have to theorize where that might have come from. I was an apex predator in the wild, and I needed the best senses to hunt and survive. The murmuring, and voices didn’t stop when I boarded the train, if anything they intensified when the students saw me. Teenagers were relentlessly cruel, after all.
Why am I letting this affect me? I knew how they would treat me.
I squared my shoulders, and pointed my nose in the air as I turned to walk down the train and find Ron and Hermione. I made it down a fair distance before someone opened the door to their compartment and blocked my way. The blonde hair and two buffoons behind him gave him away immediately.
“Well if it isn’t the filthy half-breed.” He spat towards me with a smile.
Should I even engage this child? I thought as I stared at him without reacting to his insult. Even as I thought that, anger for him and his family stirred inside me. If I reacted improperly, I might even get detention for my actions. That’s when a lightbulb lit up in my head, and I pondered the benefits of such a thing.
“Nothing to say? Have you finally learned your place?” Malfoy asked as he laughed and looked behind him to the useless statues that followed him.
“Get out of my way, before I make you.” I told him as my anger grew slightly. I just wanted to go sit down and catch up with Ron and Hermione before we arrived at Hogwarts.
“What did you…”
He didn’t move, so I decided to make good on my statement. My hand reached out and I grabbed him by his throat before shoving him into the two fat fucks behind him, Pinning the three of them making it nearly impossible for them to grab me. Malfoy’s hand reached up to my wrist and tried to pull it away but I was pushing too hard and had a grip so firm he would be bruised for the next few days.
“Get the fuck out of my way, before I put you under my boot, like Voldemort did your cowardly father and grandfather.” I said applying more pressure to his throat.
He struggled against my grip before finally he nodded at me. I took that as an agreement for him to move, so I took my other hand and shoved him violently back into his compartment. This of course, allowed his two goons to be free and attack me.
I didn’t allow them the opportunity. Vernon had taught me a valuable lesson. So with a flick of my wrist, my wand was in my hand and pointed in the direction of them.
In the back of my mind, I knew what spells I could use to critically wound them. I also knew another spell that would end their lives fairly quickly. I eventually decided that I would only stun the two if they attacked.
They did not.
“Sod off, you two.” I heard a familiar voice say behind Crabbe and Goyle.
They were paralyzed though, not moving. I flicked my wand in the direction of their compartment, motioning for them to move. Finally they shuffled inside and closed the door, ending the confrontation.
“My father will hear of this!” I heard the muffled voice of Malfoy scream through the compartment. I ignored him and with another smooth motion, I sheathed my wand.
Ron was directly in front of me then, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards our compartment. As we went, I realized that the whole train was outside their compartments and watching the entire confrontation. That pretty much guaranteed my detention for the foreseeable future.
Soon we reached a compartment and turned inside it, where Hermione was waiting impatiently. As soon as I walked inside I was attacked by the bushy haired girl in one of her signature hugs. I returned it as best as I could and tried to quell the anger that was still simmering from Malfoy.
“Harry, we’ve been waiting for you!” She said as we disengaged from the hug.
“Had to give Malfoy a warm welcome.” I told her as I sat down opposite of her, next to Ron. “It’ll probably mean detention when we arrive.” I added at the end as I drew my wand and flicked it towards the door.
The door shut and locked, and with another wave of my wand, I made sure that nobody could hear into our conversation. I added the last spell to my arsenal recently and made sure I was good enough to cast it silently.
“What was that?” Ron asked as he watched me.
“Harry, you can’t cast outside of Hogwarts!” Hermione hissed towards me.
“The train is warded enough that the Trace can’t track us here. And even if they could, they would never be able to tell who cast it, because of all the underage wizards on the train. It’s fine.” I retorted while reaching into my robes and pulling out a book.
“Bugger that, how did you cast that wordlessly? That was incredible.” Ron asked, revealing that he had completely different intentions for asking his question than Hermione.
“Practice.” I told him immediately. “It’s a variation of the summoning charm that closes the door, followed by a locking charm, and then an anti-eaves dropping charm that has many, many variations.”
The both of them looked at me like I had grown a second head. Although Ron’s was a look of surprise and jealousy, while Hermione was looking at me in a different light.
“All of them can be found in the ‘Book of Spells’ by Miranda Goshawk. Along with a myriad of spells I would encourage every Witch or Wizard to perfect.” I told them, elaborating on my answer from earlier. I knew Hermione would be researching the book soon. But how to get Ron interested in bettering himself? School was a bore to him.
“I’ve heard about that. But Madam Pince told me that it was restricted.” Hermione said, her frown deepening into her forehead.
“Yes but it costs a galleon at Flourish and Blotts.” I countered with a wink and a grin. Immediately, Ron’s face fell at the abnormally high cost of the book. I almost rolled my eyes at him before I said my next sentence, causing a smile to bloom across both of their faces.
“However, borrowing the book from me shall result in no cost, and no late fees.”
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“Mr. Potter, would you join Professor Snape and I in my office after dinner.”
And there it is…
I caught Snape’s eyes and did my best not to smile at the man that had been avoiding me for the past three months. He had been conveniently busy during my last two transformations, and trips to Hogwarts. He only seemed to deal through Dobby since my conversation with him about learning to brew the Wolfsbane Potion myself.
“Of course, Professor.” I told McGonnogal before turning my attention to my dinner. They quickly ran off back to the Professor’s table.
The sorting of the First Years had already finished. It was the first time that I had actually gotten to witness the sorting from the perspective of an older year. The last two years hadn’t allowed me to watch it, unfortunately. I expected it to be a happy occasion, really it was just boring. Eventually, I began to tune everything out as I pulled out a fifth year textbook, specifically the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.
It wasn’t until I heard thunder, and the thumping of a cane walking into the Great Hall that I began to shove my book back into a satchel on my side. Mad-Eye Moody was currently walking towards the Professor’s table, drawing every eye in the school to him for his dramatic entrance.
“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Dumbledore called out to us, with a wave of his hand towards Mad-Eye. “Professor Moody.”
Barty Crouch Jr. I thought as I stared at the man that would
“As I was saying. We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.” Dumbledore finally revealed.
Just like in the books, Fred leapt up and yelled “You’re joking!”
I rolled my eyes as the student body began laughing at his antics. Then Dumbledore began rambling for a moment before getting back to the task at hand.
I felt my mind wander as I pondered my next actions. This was the year that Voldemort was resurrected. He needed my blood to complete the ritual he had planned. His current plan revolved around me entering the Triwizard Tournament. Which would lead me to winning it and grabbing the portkey he staged in the tournament.
Fuck that.
All I have to do to stop his resurrection is not get entered into the tournament. Then I could hunt down his horcruxes and destroy them, without him running rampant in the Wizarding World.
Then I can live my life, as I please.
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As I thought that, my eyes fell on my newest target. The man that would confound the Goblet of Fire to accepting my name under a fourth school. Barty Crouch Jr. would need to be outed, and sent back to Azkaban. Another solution is to arrange his death, but that seemed a bit harder to accomplish. Junior was an accomplished Duelist, and a very talented wizard. My magical prowess was improving but I had never been in a proper duel to the death, only dangerous situations.
That left me with dwindling options. A sneak attack was the one scenario, but with that eye attached to the fake Mad-Eye it would prove very difficult to catch him off guard even with the Cloak of Invisibility. That left me somehow revealing the information that it isn’t really Moody to Dumbledore. How would I accomplish that?
I’ll have to do it before October 30th, or I’ll have to resort to violence.
The Great Hall was filled with unhappy roars at the age limit to the tournament. Fred and George were especially angry. Even still, it was hard for me to concentrate on anything beside my plan of how to remove Barty Crouch Jr. from the equation.
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“Is it true that you assaulted Mr. Malfoy on the train ride, Mr. Potter.”
I finally looked up to Professor McGonnogal. Malfoy sat beside me, looking prim and proper the entire time he recounted his tales of the event. Naturally, he left out the part where he called me a ‘half-breed’ and all that. But honestly, I didn’t care that much about the name calling, it was more the fact that he implied he was better than me. That’s what had made me angry.
“Yes, Professor.” I answered truthfully, with a ‘can we get this over with’ look on my face.
“And what do you have to say in defense of your actions?” McGonnogal asked.
Look at McGonnogal, knowing that I’m holding information back, and prying to get it out of me. She really is a good Professor and Head of House.
“Nothing really. I would just tell Draco that there are consequences to the things he says and the names he calls people. Does he have every right to say what he wants? Yes. But certain people are brave enough to kick your ass for it and deal with the consequences afterwards. I am one of those people.” I answered while looking at Draco and staring him in his eyes. His jaw was clenched and his eyes screamed murder.
“Language Mr. Potter!” Professor McGonnogal hissed in my direction, while her perpetual frown deepened into her face. “Your situation is no reason to lash out at those around you.” She berated while pointing a finger towards me.
“Apologies, Professor.” I told her lazily. I didn’t like being talked to as a child, but I couldn’t fault her for it. She probably saw me as someone that needed direction and discipline in my life. From the outside looking in, she was exactly right.
“Now, I believe detention for the both of you would do you some good. Professor Snape, I trust you to take care of Mr. Malfoy, and I will deal with Mr. Potter here.” She said while her head dropped to the papers in front of her and she began writing again.
“But…” Draco began to protest.
“Be quiet.” Snape told the boy, causing him to clamp his mouth shut immediately. “Let’s go.” Snape commanded as he twirled around and began walking out of the classroom with Draco in tow.
I waited in my seat until they left, a little disappointed. I had hoped that McGonnogal would have assigned my detention to Snape because of our known dislike for each other. But apparently she was being merciful tonight. This was the one time I wasn’t praying for mercy however. I would just have to convince Snape to teach me another way.
Once the door closed, Professor McGonnogal looked up from her writing and gave me her attention. For a while, we just locked eyes. She had a searching look on her face, as if she was trying to figure me out, or as if she had never seen me before.
“I can see your anger, Mr. Potter. I would suggest you reign it in, and quickly. This is not the year to begin lashing out, the staff will be very busy.” Professor McGonnogal told me with her pursed lips. She was genuinely angry at me, or she was a good actor.
“Yes, the Triwizard Tournament will be strenuous.” I agreed wholeheartedly. I could only imagine the extra workload it was going to put on her and the other professors.
“Then you can understand how I need you to have a quiet year?” She asked rhetorically, while her hand reached down into her desk and grabbed a familiar piece of folded up parchment. “This arrived from Gringotts yesterday morning. Remus wanted you to have it.” She said while holding out the paper to me.
The Marauders Map. I realized as I reached out and grabbed it.
“It is a masterful display of charm work Mr. Potter. Lily must have done most of the workload for the boys.” McGonnogal told me as her eyes lingered on the map she just handed me. “I trust you will not use it for nefarious purposes.”
“Of course not, Professor.” I told her as I realized she just handed me the key to outing Barty Crouch Jr.
“Detention every Thursday night after dinner, until the other schools arrive, Mr. Potter. Should be around a month.” McGonnogal finally revealed as she went back to the paper on her desk.
I stood up, finally hearing a dismissal in her tone. The detention would cut into my time learning magic, but I would have to make due.
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I took a left, after leaving McGonnogal’s office, and made sure that no one was in the hallway I just turned down. It was already late and curfew would be in effect soon. Everyone would be getting ready for bed shortly.
I pulled on the veil surrounding my magic as easily as moving my fingers. I had become very comfortable with the Cloak of Invisibility recently. With a quick glance down, I confirmed that I was completely invisible.
I turned around, and began walking.
Soon enough, I was standing in the second-floor girls' lavatory staring at an elaborate fountain that I knew would open to the Chamber of Secrets. Only issue? I hadn’t spoken Parseltongue in a long time. Although I remembered staring at the snake, and almost channeling magic into my throat and tongue, but I couldn’t be sure. I wasn’t as familiar with my magic back then.
I looked dead at the engraved snake on the tap and decided to just try it out.
“Open.”
Immediately, as I heard the sound echoing off of the walls of the bathroom, I knew that I had failed my first attempt. I frowned and did my best to channel magic to my throat and tongue before trying again.
“Open.”
Once again nothing happened.
Something is off. I realized as I kept trying to open the Chamber. Before, I could feel… something before I spoke Parseltongue. Almost like I fell into a trance for a moment. I feel nothing now.
I paced around the bathroom, thinking on what might have changed between my second year and now.
Well it’s obvious that I am now a werewolf. Is it possible that werewolves can’t be Parseltongue’s?
I shook my head in denial, and stopped pacing before turning to one of the mirror’s in the room. With a thought, I was visible again and I leaned forward on the sink.
“Come on Harry, what is the problem?” I asked myself, looking over my face.
Unlike the movies, I had decided to get a haircut and ditch the long hair look. It was short on the sides, with a messy part to one side of my head. I hadn’t felt like buying the product necessary to tame the mop I was so famous for. So the longer hair on top fell in waves on one side.
This of course, let my scar be seen by everyone and I felt my eyes draw to it.
Is it getting smaller? I thought as I looked at the scar I had forever.
I had always thought it was odd that it never faded, and never became white over time. All my life, the scar looked red and slightly puffy, as if the wound had just occurred. But as I looked at it in the mirror, it was obvious that the scar was not red and swollen. It was white, and thin, almost like it was healing.
But that hadn’t happened in the books until after the Horcrux in my head was… destroyed.
A theory fell into place.
“I also lost the ability to speak Parseltongue when the Horcrux was killed.” I whispered to myself as my hand found my scar.
More clues began popping up in my head.
Why hadn’t I received the infamous visions from Voldemort yet? That was an entire plot line throughout the series.
Wasn’t I supposed to see Voldemort and Pettigrew in the Riddle house in my dreams?
A realization came over me.
Did I die the night Remus bit me? Killing the Horcrux in my head, and leading to my new memories?
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“Harry, where were you last night?”
I looked up from the Daily Prophet newspaper in my hands to see Hermione standing above me. She had that worried, motherly, look on her face that always showed up when her anxiety spiked.
“I slept in another part of the castle. When you get some free time, I’ll show it to you. Have you eaten yet?” I asked, while answering her question and quickly deflecting. As of last night, she was fasting for House Elves rights.
I didn’t particularly want to tell her of my full on meltdown last night. How do you tell someone that loves you, that you died a couple of months ago? And I didn’t even know how to explain the Horcruxes to a fourth-year. Should she even know?
“No, that’s why I’m here so early actually. My stomach woke me up.” She responded as she sat down next to me and began piling things on to her plate.
“Mmmm Hmmmm.” I hummed an agreement. “You’re a growing girl, Hermione. You need nutrients to fuel that growth, and to do otherwise is detrimental.”
That comment was rewarded with a sideways look from her. “Is that how you grew so much this summer?” She asked as she took a bite of bacon.
Once again, I tore my eyes off of the newspaper in front of me. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“Harry, you’re almost as tall as Ron.” She said through bites of food, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Well, I’m still a shrimp compared to adults…
“I believe the accident at the end of last term had a lot to do with that.” I said, pondering on how much I had grown. No matter how much it was, I still wasn’t tall enough in my opinion. I still needed another nine inches to be considered an average adult.
Hermione went quiet as I told her that. That was when I realized that we had never talked about that night. Hermione was the person that was with me at the time. How had she gotten me back to the castle to get treatment?
“It’s not your fault Hermione.” I told her in a low tone, so that nobody else in the hall would hear.
“No, but I almost got you killed.” Hermione retorted quietly. “I had to use magic to carry you back to the castle. That part was easy. What wasn’t easy, was having to wait for our other selves to disappear in time watching you seize on the floor before getting you treatment.”
I should have known that she would have just levitated me back to the castle, or used some other handy spell she knew. She was ridiculously resourceful, and brilliant under pressure.
“Hermione, did my heart stop that night?” I asked directly. Now that we were on the subject and she was revealing information, I wanted to pry more out of her.
She nodded, and put down the food she had in her hand, as if it had an awful taste. I knew I shouldn’t have pried anymore because I would upset her, but I was still reeling from last night. I wanted to know if my theory was correct
I leaned in close to her ear, and whispered.
“Did you see something from my scar, Hermione?”
Her entire body locked up, as if she was spelled that way. But I could see her eyes darting to her right, where some of the early risers amongst the staff could be seen. Although, I knew she was looking at Dumbledore, and when I turned to the old man I was not expecting the stare I saw.
His grandfatherly demeanor could not be found at that moment. He had his hands clasped in front of him and he was staring so intensely at us, it would be fair to assume he had heard everything. He, as well as Hermione, was also nearly completely still. I could only see the breathing in his chest.
What did he do to her? A magical contract not to say anything?
I stood up, and my wand leapt into my hand quickly. The anger and adrenaline I had become so familiar with flooded into my veins. Immediately, I stalked towards Dumbledore at the staff’s table. I didn’t know what I was going to do but it would be violent.
How could he do that to a fucking child?
“Mr. Potter…”
I vaguely recognized the threatening voice of Mad-Eye Moody from his corner of the table. I didn’t care who I would have to face to get to Dumbledore for what he had done in that moment. How could he have expected a fourth year student to be able to keep such a secret, and then to bind it into a magical contract? Something that could take her magic from her.
Unforgivable.
Before I could get there and do anything to him, Dumbledore sagged in his seat, released from whatever magic that held him there. At the same time, I heard a shuffling behind me where Hermione sat. That caused me to turn around, somehow breaking through my rage-induced fog of revenge.
Hermione had stood up, released from the magic, but her hand was on the table beside her stabilizing her. Her legs buckled once, and her eyes blinked while becoming unfocused.
The next time she buckled, I was prepared and I flicked my wand towards her, catching her in the air as she passed out. Immediately I began running towards her again out of instinct. The sound of chairs sliding backwards touched my ears behind me, and I knew that the staff and a few students in the hall were reacting to the situation.
When I reached her body, I gently lowered her to the ground before I grabbed her wrist and checked for a pulse. Once it was confirmed that she did indeed have a pulse, I confirmed that she was also breathing.
“Madam Pomfrey!” I yelled, knowing that she was sitting at the table beside the other early risers on the staff.
The hurried ‘clicks’ of her shoes on the stone floor told me that she was getting close, and I turned to see that nearly every staff member was following her to Hermione. Dumbledore being the first one, despite his age.
My anger was lost as I moved aside so that Madam Pomfrey could take over, although I still glared at Dumbledore, pondering his death in my mind.
Not that I could ever accomplish such a thing, with my current skill set.