Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Harry Potter's future is altered when Albus Dumbledore decides to keep him and raise him into someone who will have the power to stand up to Lord Voldemort. Too bad that little Harry is just as brilliant and uncaring as Tom Marvolo Riddle had been fifty years ago. But Headmaster Dumbledore believes in second chances and is determined to right his wrongs this time around, even if he has to allow a monster to prosper just under his nose to finally rid the world of Lord Voldemort.

**And so it begins**

It was still dark when he felt himself waking up, entirely too dark for the last day of July but then again, he would have been surprised had the day turned out to be bright and sunny. It had always been unusually gloomy on his birthday for as long as he could remember, a fact that used to confuse him to no end when he had been younger.

It didn't bother him these days though, nothing seemed to do anymore which had to be unnerving behaviour for a boy his age. Another thing to add to the long list of anomalies of one Harry James Potter and probably one of the less disconcerting things about him. Well at least the others thought so. All except maybe Dumbledore whose eyes always sharpened when Harry proclaimed indifference on most matters.

He still vaguely remembered days spent in a round office which had smelled of old parchment and muggle sweets and the beautiful song of a phoenix that had enveloped him and had made him warm and fuzzy inside. He also remembered holding the bird, Fawkes thrilling contently while he had marveled at the beauty of his red and gold feathers.

Those days were far away now though, he didn't gain any pleasure from a phoenix song anymore and the bird itself didn't seem to be very fond of him nowadays which put the old wizard even more on edge. He rarely ever saw Dumbledore anymore and only occasionally glimpsed his bright, hideous robes when he rushed past him in the corridor of the house he lived in.

It didn't matter, no one did to him anymore. His tutors came and went, never staying longer than a few weeks and always too eager to move on. They only stayed that long because the pay was exceptionally high and practically ran out of the house once they spent some time teaching him. He got the impression that he unnerved them greatly.

Not that they could ever tell anybody, Headmaster Dumbledore was one crafty old man and always made them swear oaths of silence before introducing them to him. He said it was to keep his location a secret but Harry knew better. It was to hide that something had gone terribly wrong as he grew up, to hide that he was too powerful for a child and to hide that he didn't care if he lost control and hurt somebody in the process.

Those incidents hardly happened anymore, he had been training for years and could direct his magic better now, but sometimes when he got angry his accidental magic manifested in a much more violent way than the Headmaster approved of and Harry got the feeling that the older man knew that those incidents had stopped being accidental years ago.

But it didn't matter today, nothing did because it was his eleventh birthday, the day he had anticipated for years. Today he would get his Hogwarts acceptance letter and finally be able to purchase a wand of his own along with a familiar when he would visit Diagon Alley. He would be able to make his own friends, not enduring the presence of an annoying batch of red haired children. He would be free.

Well as free as one can be while watched over by Albus Dumbledore and those loyal to him but still better than being locked inside a house in the middle of nowhere. Harry didn't know where the house stood, he only knew that it had been a safe-house for Voldemort's opponents at some point during the war.

It was a small cottage built of massive, light brown stone and dark wood. The building was surrounded by a small garden and a wooden fence, beyond which stretched oodles and oodles of fields. There were no other houses for miles around and the only people ever coming around were his tutors and the Headmaster himself.

The cottage consisted of a small kitchen with a fireplace, two bedrooms with adjoining bathrooms and a large room that had probably been a living room before the war. Now the room was filled out by a huge table and countless stools. The peach coloured walls were plastered with old maps of buildings and pictures of vicious looking people.

One of the bedrooms had been used as a sickbay at some point in the past and Blinky (the house-elf that took care of him most of the time) had had to arrange the camp beds alongside a wall in order to make room for his lessons. The other bedroom was his, with the walls painted a sky blue colour and some wooden furniture. A shelf with some toys and books, a wardrobe, a desk and finally a large soft bed right in the middle of the room.

The very same bed he was occupying but had no intention to reside in for much longer. He got up and stretched before making his way into the bathroom. It didn't take long for him to exit again and he opened the wooden doors of his wardrobe. In the end he looked into the mirror, fully dressed into his best robes, before he left the room and ventured downstairs for breakfast.

When Harry entered the kitchen, Blinky was already gone but the bacon, sausages and eggs were still steaming hot. He finished his breakfast just on time before the flames in the fireplace turned bright green and took the form of Headmaster Dumbledore who stepped out of the fire and waved his wand around himself to rid his hideous robes of ashes.

He smiled and his blue eyes twinkled merrily as he greeted the boy with a cheerful, "Good morning, my boy. Already waiting for your Hogwarts letter?" before reaching into the folds of his orange robe and pulling out a thick letter and placing it on the table right in front of Harry.

The letter was written on parchment with emerald green ink and Harry stared at the piece of paper for a long time without reading it. He already knew what was written inside (aside from the ever-changing book list) and the reception of the letter had more of a symbolic value to him. It was the mark of a change in his life, his very first step towards greatness and a bright future where he would be free.

After a while he looked up at the Headmaster, his letter still sealed in his hands, who took this as a sign that he was ready to proceed to the buying supplies-part. He stretched out his arm and Harry grabbed onto it and caught one last glance of twinkling blue eyes before he was introduced to the art of Side-Along Apparition.

They appeared in the corner of a blind alley and Harry had to tighten the grip on the other wizard to steady himself. It took him a few moments to stop his mind and stomach from spinning before he finally let go of Dumbledore's arm, not without shooting the wizard with twinkling, blue eyes a dirty look which only seemed to add to the Headmaster's amusement.

Harry swallowed his irritation and decided to take in his surroundings. They were standing on a cobbled street, presumably a side alley that connected to Diagon Alley and ended in a dead end, with tall buildings lining said street. When they started walking and passed some doors, Harry noted the soft brush of magic against his form. He had been right, they clearly Apperated into a magical part of London if he could feel wards on the buildings.

Soon the silence was replaced by the bustling of Diagon Alley. They easily navigated though the crowds, exited whispers following them wherever they went and masses parted to let them through. Dumbledore had adapted a superior air before they had entered the alley and it was probably the only thing keeping hundreds of well wishers from crowding them.

Their first destination turned out to be Ollivanders Wand Shop.

It looked old and shabby from the outside but was well kept, if no a little dusty on the inside. He heard the shopkeeper approaching before he saw him and caught the disappointment in his glassy eyes when his sudden appearance didn't scare him. When those disturbing eyes settled on Dumbledore, he received a meaningful stare from the headmaster and averted his eyes back to Harry without saying anything.

He waved his wand at a tape (it began to measure pretty much everything of Harry's body) before vanishing in the back of his shop, only his muttering reaching to the front where two wizards waited. When he finally returned, his arms were filled with various long boxes which he carefully laid out on the Counter, snatching one up and opening the lid. He then proceeded to offer the wand for Harry to take out and the boy did just that gave it an experimental wave.

The wand didn't fit, just like the next and the one after... Harry wasn't sure how many wands he had already tried but Ollivander seemed to get happier with each failed attempt which irritated the boy greatly. By the time the wandmaker wandered away to get another wand, Harry was positively livid. With anger boiling in his blood he didn't notice Ollivander hesitating shortly before opening the lid of the box he had just gotten from the back, nor did he notice Dumbledore stiffening after seeing the wand inside.

The fire exploded from the tip just as his finger closed around the polished, almost white wood and Dumbledore managed to contain it just in time before it hit Ollivander. The flames continued to flow from the end for a little longer before they vanished completely. The wand felt hot in his hand, hot but not unpleasant and he waved it over his head a few times and showered them all with sparks.

The feeling Harry felt when his skin connected with the wand was exhilarating and reminded him of happier times, days when the song of a phoenix had filled him with inner fire and where his whole time had been occupied with listening to stories about heroes and their great deeds. He had said that he wanted to be a hero too back then and had been overjoyed when Headmaster Dumbledore had promised to make him into one. He had been unbelievably foolish.

Headmaster and shop owner continued to watch silently as he picked up the box of and read the words scribbled on the tag.

_Holly, 11"_

_Phoenix feather_

_8 Galleons_

He then turned his attention back to his wand, disregarding Ollivander's speech about how a wand choses a wizard.

In the end, Dumbledore paid the eight Galleons and both he and Harry left the shop and continued to Madam Malkin's where he got measured for his robes quickly and were able to move on without much fuss. Since all the other things didn't require Harry's presence to buy and the crowd following them became increasingly larger, Headmaster and future student disappeared from Diagon Alley with a silent pop.

The Boy Who Lived remained hidden from then on, only seen again as he boarded the Hogwarts Express on 1 September.

**xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I want to thank those who reviewed my story so far. Don't hesitate to point out things which don't add up or are ridiculous in your opinion. As for those pointed out to me recently, please be patient for the time being. Those things will be explained gradually as the story progresses. I know that some things don't make much sense at the moment.

**And so it begins**

On September the first Harry Potter woke up with a smile on his face for the first time in years. He literally jumped out of his bed, managed to untangle his feet from the sheets and stumbled into the bathroom in record time.

He looked into the mirror hanging above the sink while he brushed his teeth and was greeted by the image of a young, narrow face. It was rather pale, an usual skin colour for someone from Britain. His black hair looked awfully messy and barely covered the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. Bright green eyes stared back at Harry as he paused to muster his reflection.

When he had been told that he looked like a copy of his father, he had been proud. When Dumbledore had continued to tell him (he had been four at that time) that his eyes were just like his mother's, he hadn't been able to stop smiling for hours. He had been happy to know that he resembled his parents and had often compared himself to a picture of them when he had stood in front of a mirror. Up until his eyes had been fixed for good.

He had always needed glasses but he only had realized how badly he needed them when he had started to read. He had misplaced them regularly back then and without them his world turned into a collection of curious shapes and colours, something that had worried Dumbledore greatly. If Harry were to lose them in a duel later in life, the boy would be utterly helpless. By the time his fifth birthday came around, Harry had already consumed nine of ten potions which had been brewed to cure his near-blindness in the span of three months. Later he had found out that those potions hadn't been exactly legal.

Not that he had ever cared about restrictions placed upon him. What he had cared about was the fact that he still had been forced to wear spectacles, even though they had been made out of simple window glass. Explanations had followed and "surprise your opponents when they think you are helpless" had sounded plausible. At least until Harry had realized that those glasses had only served to strengthen his resemblance to James Potter. Dumbledore had wanted Harry to be seen as his father.

That was when Harry had decided to destroy them and had chosen the worst day possible to do so. Dumbledore had been visibly agitated already when he saw the broken remains and the message they carried. After numerous attempts to persuade Harry into wearing them again for the greater good, the older wizard gave up and left the cottage angrily with his magic crackling wildly around him. Harry had been terrified and hadn't slept that night, too scared that Dumbledore would blind him in his sleep. It had been the first and the last time he had seen Dumbledore visibly angry and now that he looked back on the incident, he felt kind of stupid. The headmaster would never physically harm a child.

The loud sound of a mirror shattering tore Harry out of his musings. He cursed and tried not to step on any shards while leaving the bathroom. While his accidental magic had gotten progressively less accidental through the years of tutoring, there still were instances where it ventured out of his control. They were few and far in-between but he still caused explosions or fires when he lost himself in his "less pleasant" memories.

It had been worse though, before he had been able to control his accidental magic there had been several incidents where people had caught fire. There had been his very first tutor whose robes had gotten completely ruined before he had calmed down enough to cast an _Aguamenti_ on himself, a red-haired boy who had asked three tactless questions before his shoes went up in flames and one time Harry had managed to singe Dumbledore's beard when the man had insisted on bringing the red-haired boy over again. There was no need to say that the redhead had never entered the cottage again, especially after Harry had threatened to burn the idiot to ashes.

Dumbledore had, of course, been disappointed and had reprimanded him for his behaviour but after Harry had pointed out that the older wizard would have helped him to dispose of the remains had the boy ended up dead, the old wizard had fallen into a shameful silence. It had been the right thing to say, he hadn't been forced to endure another playdate ever again and his life had remained blissfully free of tactless red-haired boys.

At least up until now, he was pretty sure that the boy was starting Hogwarts this year too and that he would meet him soon enough. It remained to see if it would be on the Hogwarts Express or at the sorting. Harry was taking the train this year, and only this year, because Dumbledore insisted on it being an unique experience. His trunk had already been brought to Hogwarts, he only had to eat breakfast and then take a Portkey to the platform nine and three-quarters.

Breakfast was ready and placed under a Stasis Charm when he entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. Blinky was always busy with the preparations for the opening feast at Hogwarts at this time of the year and he reckoned that she had prepared his breakfast last night after he had finished dinner. He found a note and a sock next to his food, the parchment weighted down by four golden Galleons. He recognized Dumbledore's narrow handwriting and read the note while he pocketed the money.

_Dear Harry,_

_I wish you a pleasant ride and I'm certain that you'll enjoy yourself. Your Portkey leaves exactly at 10 o'clock._

_Enjoy the ride!_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore  
_

Harry snorted at Dumbledore's ridiculously long name but didn't miss the hidden meaning behind the letter. They had talked about the Portkey on the evening before, the note was unnecessary. No its real purpose was to remind Harry to behave and to keep his temper in check. He couldn't afford to antagonize people that might turn out to be useful in the future. No matter how much magical power and knowledge he would be able to collect over the years, it would be utterly useless without supporters. Even Voldemort would've never come far without his Death Eaters.

After one quick glance at the clock Harry took one final bite from his toast and went upstairs to get dressed in his school robes. He pocketed his wand, - he had been sleeping with it under his pillow - and returned downstairs just in time to see the wool sock (it acted as his Portkey) glow in warning. He grabbed it and counted to ten before the familiar pull behind his navel whisked him away.

The journey through space consisted of a mass of swirling colours that bled into a platform before his feet connected with the floor. His landing was smooth, much better that his first tries had been but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Aside from the large scarlet locomotive and him there was no one present. The train was obviously enchanted (the buzz of magic coming from it tickled his skin) and Harry had to admit that it was an impressive work of Charms to get such a huge object running.

When he finally entered the train and the feeling got stronger and he marveled at the strength of the magic. He was only able to feel large amounts of magic like wards and powerful Enchantments whereas Dumbledore could feel simple spells if he concentrated strong enough. It wasn't particularly hard to learn, everybody could do it but it took a lot of time to practice and Dumbledore had practiced for decades. While Harry was nowhere near the Headmaster's level, he had spent hours trying to feel magic each day for the last five years and was pretty satisfied with the progress he had made so far.

After he settled into a compartment and started to wait for the train to depart, boredom crept upon him and he realized that Dumbledore, - the crafty old bugger - hadn't taken his luggage to Hogwarts to help Harry. No, the old man did it to force him to communicate with his peers. Harry was livid but at the same time his respect for the old man rose up a notch. Dumbledore was good at manipulating people and Harry only noticed those manipulations because sometimes Dumbledore wanted him to notice. But he would get back at him eventually, it was only a matter of time.

With those calming thoughts on his mind, Harry finally settled into a seat and started to wait for the people to arrive.

**xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Sorry that it took me so long to update, I was on vacation and my computer died on me. This chapter turned out longer than I planned it to be which should make up for the long wait. I hope that I can update at least three more chapters before school starts because I won't have much time to write then but I WILL finish this story. Just a warning.

**Of giants and hats**

It was boring to wait for the train to depart but once it finally started moving, Harry found himself getting exited once again. It was finally time, only hours serparated him from the magnificent halls of Hogwarts. He couldn't wait to explore them all until he knew them better than all those who had wandered said halls before him.

But even though the castle was something he looked forward to seeing, it was the a stored inside it that tempted him most. While he had been tutored for most of his life, it had been on non-magical subjects for the most part, after all it wouldn't do for the Boy-Who-Lived to be a stupid little child without the ability to read his textbooks. There had been lessons on wandless magic, something that had been necessary to prevent him from burning his tutors to ashes and even some history and basic theory on Charms and Transfiguration but he had yet to learn how to do magic with his wand.

Not that he hadn't tried, he had, after an owl had brought him his school books, managed to perform the spells listed in them without trouble but they weren't quite what he wanted to learn. He wanted to learn magic, _real magic_, something useful in a battle. He wasn't defenseless without a wand like most wizards but wandless magic had its limits, no matted how powerful the wielder was. The were boundaries, boundaries that didn't exist when using a wand and while Harry was quite content with his wandless abilities, he still wanted _more_.

Dumbledore had shown him a memory of his duel with Grindelwald once, the legendary battle between two of the most brilliant wizards of all times and what a memory it had been. The magic used by both sides, the sheer power and the variety of the spells coupled with the obvious intellect of both men, it had been breathtaking. They had both been at the height of their power, wizards that had been in a class of their own but Dumbledore had been just a shade more skillful. The headmaster's power had been - and still was - formidable.

But Harry was sure that there was more, much more than even Dumbledore could do because even though the headmaster was rather unscrupulous at times, there were still many aspects of magic the old wizard refused to dabble in. No matter how desperate the older wizard was to rid the world of evil, there were lines even he didn't dare to cross. He had no clue what those aspects were, they only came up when they discussed Voldemort and even then Dumbledore never went beyond saying that it was the darkest of magic.

Harry didn't care, he had heard many things about Tom Marvolo Riddle while growing up and he knew that he hadn't been born insanely powerful. Oh there was no doubt that he had been a brilliant student, probably on par with Dumbledore and he certainly had been exceptionally powerful for someone his age back then but it was only years later that he had become almost invincible. He had turned from a remarkable youth into one of the most powerful wizards of alive and Harry had no problem with admitting that he respected that.

However, while many brilliant wizards had walked the halls of Hogwarts through the years, there were only two who had achieved true greatness in the end. Harry was sure that he would become the third. He was one of those extraordinary children, of that he was sure, and he was hell bent on rising higher than anybody before him. Only those who were ready to do _anything_ to reach their goal were bound to do so in the end - Dumbledore had taught him that much - and Harry certainly didn't lack ambition nor talent.

Harry's musings were interrupted by his compartment door slamming open, revealing the figures of a boy and a girl. The girl's presence was overly dominant with her hair a bushy mess of brown strands and chin held high, so much that he almost missed the chubby boy standing behind her. While the girl talked, Harry's gaze drifted over the mismatched pair with a distant feeling of amusement mixed with disgust.

The girl, Hermione, was speaking at a speed he hadn't considered possible until that day and the boy behind her, Neville, somehow managed to further shrink behind her each time she mentioned his name. That wouldn't have been as fascinating, if not for the fact that he was considerably taller and overall bigger than Hermione Granger. It was a truly pathetic sight and Harry hesitated only briefly before willing the door to slam shut. The noise was cut of immediately. He knew that he was bound to make some allies at some point of his education and if anything, the many hours spent watching memories of Tom Riddle on his rise to power had tought him that it was never too early to gather sympathisers around himself but he flat out refused to even consider allying himself with someone like Neville. If the girl would be of some use was still to be seen.

Without books and other means of entertainment, the journey seemed to be endless. Harry spent his time watching the ever-changing landscape until the sky changed from a steely grey dome to a sinister black colour, only broken by the occasional bolt of lightning flashing just above the train.

It was odd, albeit flattering, that his arrival was greeted by such a magnificent display. Even nature seemed to herald his presence with the skies spitting his sign as a warning to his foes. He knew enough about magic to know that it always left it's mark and the curiously shaped scar on his forehead matching up with the bouts of light cutting through the sky just _couldn't _be simple coincidence. It seemed that even magic was welcoming the Saviour.

The train slowed down at last, he could see lights in the distance long before the train finally stopped and the students began to exit. A loud booming voice cut through the chilly air, calling the new students to gather near its owner who turned out to be a huge man. He was huge, too huge to be fully human. His whole face was covered with hair and Harry only glimpsed two beady eyes under his massive eyebrows before they were led to a shore.

They were greeted with the sight of boats, floating on the calm surface of a lake so dark that it worried even the more cocky children around him. He couldn't blame them, the sight of it was greatly unnerving and the boats didn't look reassuring in the least. Only the soft buzz of magic around them made him climb into one of the brittle looking constructions after throwing a incredulous glance at the giant that accompanied them.

Just as the last student sat down the boats jerked onwards, eliciting more than a few cries as they did so. They moved with a fluidity that belied their appearance and Harry felt his nerves calming. While he had known that there were some enchantments placed on the boats as soon as he had been close enough to feel the magic, he hadn't known WHAT those enchantments had been. Even if nobody would throw children into the black depths of the icy water on purpose, accidents DID happen and swimming wasn't something he was keen on doing on his first day of school.

His concerns turned out to be for naught, the wood beneath him didn't even sway when one of the other children moved and even seemed to carry the weight of the gigantic man without any trouble. The ride was enjoyable, nobody was speaking and aside from the occasional rustling of robes and the sound of rippling water, it was silent.

When the castle finally came in sight, he wasn't the only one to gasp. It was magnificent, proud and tall and _magical_. So much in fact, that he found himself breathless, because the energy it was giving off was old, ancient even. It was a stunning sight, divine in its power and Harry couldn't but wonder if there was anything, _anything _at all, that could ever compete with such obvious might and knowledge. He doubted it. It was a fortress with walls so old, they were held together only by magic. Beautiful. It was only after the booming voice told them to climb out of the boats that he reculantly tore his eyes away from the castle.

They trekked through the darkness, moist soil splatting under their shoes and he watched - more than a little bit amused - as some children stumbled behind the giant, one girl even slipping before being caught by a friend just in time to prevent her face from connecting with the mud. The way to the entrance wasn't long but with their feet sinking into the earth with each step they took, their march was tiring. The weather was still ominous with lightning illuminating the sky from time to time and Harry was thankful that it didn't rain. He wasn't the only one who was more than a little winded when the group finally reached its destination.

The woman waiting for them at the gates looked strict but fair, qualities he respected in a person. Her gaze drifted over them, alert and sharp, her narrow lips pulled into a stern line before she turned to their guide and dismissed him. Her voice was dignified, just like her appearance and the giant - Hagrid - visibly faltered under her sharp glance before he turned around and shuffled out into the night. His form was swallowed by darkness almost immediately and everyone averted their attention back to the woman.

She introduced herself as professor McGonagall, launching into a practiced speech about the Sorting before leaving to announce their presence to the student population. The speech, while intimidating and serious, was hardly informative. Everything she said - from the four houses to the Sorting ceremony - wasn't exactly news to Harry and he was sure that even the Muggle-born students had had enough common sense to read up on the castle in _Hogwarts: A History_, where the house system was explained quite elaborately. While it didn't mention the Sorting ceremony, it held plenty of facts about the castle and its history to be considered educational and useful on more than just a theoretical level.

Several shrieks around him tore Harry out of his musings and he frowned when he discovered the source of the general distress. Apparently, nobody seemed to have read _Horwarts: A History_, it wouldn't have caused such an uproar if they had, ghosts were harmless and mentioned in the book quite often after all. Before he could ponder on the obvious educational gap, McGonagall returned and announced that Hogwarts was ready for their Sorting. With a sharp jab of her wand, heavy doors opened and they trailed after her into a vast hall, filled with countless people.

It was lit by thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting and he could only briefly gaze at the - seemingly endless - ceiling that was charmed to look just like the sky outside, before his eyes connected with twinkling blue orbs at the other side of the room. It was all it took to extinguish every ounce of childish awe he had begun to feel once he had caught sight of Hogwarts and he averted his gaze in favor of overlooking the four tables, all filled with students of various ages.

He knew of the houses, of their values and reputation but to him they all looked the same. Children of various ages from twelve to seventeen with the only difference in them being the colour of their ties. Their faces blended together into a mass of dots, ordinary and unremarkable but hopefully useful in the future. Chess-pieces to be moved around the board, faceless pawns in a game they didn't know they were participating in, easily sacrificed in order to achieve victory. That's all they were in the end and he was one of them, decidedly more valuable but still only a piece in the game of life in the hands of Albus Dumbledore. Well, at least for the time being.

Their journey finally came to an end in front of a stool that carried an old, battered hat which seemed einterly uninteresting. Well that was before at tear along its brim opened like a mouth and it started to sing. The voice was horrible and the tune even worse but the song itself was interesting. It explained the hat's purpose - sorting students - and Harry noticed tension leaving his muscles, a tension he hadn't realised that it had been there in the first place. So they only had to try on a hat. He wasn't the only one who looked a tad relieved.

The Sorting was one of the best kept secrets in the wizarding world, something only privy to those who had already been sorted. Nobody really knew how they would be sorted until the actual ceremony and most assumed it to be a test. While Harry was confident that he would pass such a test (how difficult could it have been? Some of his peers hadn't even known that magic existed until their letters had arrived.), it was still relieving to know that all it took was to put on a hat. The mind-reading part was worrying and while he was apprehensive about granting anybody access to his mind, he was pretty certain that the artifact couldn't share what it saw with anyone. He would have to research it to be sure.

The song ended quickly, something he was grateful for and Professor McGonagall brandished a scroll with a purposeful wave of her wand. She announced that she would call their names in alphabetical order, after which they simply would have to sit down and wear the hat until they were sorted. She started with a girl - Abbot Hanna - whom Harry was able to identify as the one who almost fell on the way to the gates. She was a bit chubby, her freckled face framed by two strawberry blond braids and looked awfully nervous as she stumbled towards the chair. The hat was quick to declare her a HUFFLEPUFF before she hurried to her house-table, her cheeks burning bright red.

All in all it was a tedious process, a name was called, the hat was deposited on a head and then it sorted the student. Some people wore it longer and some were sorted after just a second; Hermione Granger sat on the stool for quite some time after she eagerly jammed it onto her head whereas Draco Malfoy was declared a SLYTHERIN as soon as his hair connected with the dirty fabric. He noticed the older students staring into the distance with glassy eyes, none of they really paid attention to the whole ordeal. He guessed it got pretty boring to watch year after year and didn't blame them one bit, he was hard pressed not to yawn too and it was only his first time.

"Potter Harry"

His name snapped everybody back to attention and he heard whispers breaking out all over the hall as he made his way over to Professor McGonagall with his chin tilted up proudly. He had to stifle a smile when he heard students exchanging gossip about him, some pieces of it being outrageously unrealistic even for a world full of magic. He was in the process of overhearing a ridiculous story about his upbringing - "I heard that he had been trained by centaurs in the forbidden forest before moving into the black lake to learn the language of merpeople..." - when the Sorting Hat was dropped on his head. The fabric fell over his eyes and ears, cutting out all noise around him.

_"Aah, Mr Potter, how very intriguing... Lots of potential, oh my what a mind! Brilliant I would say. But there is more, much more. I see ambition and plenty of talent, not afraid of hard work, are you? Interesting... But where to put you? You are fearless but not brave, hardworking but loyal only to yourself, ambitious but not really cunning, you seek knowledge but only to become stronger. Now where should I put you...?" _The hat fell into a contemplative silence after that and Harry thought about its words so far.

He never really thought about it before, about his Sorting that is, he had never really cared where he would end up as long as he would reach his goal in the end and he still didn't. Now that the hat brought it up, he really didn't quite fit into any of the four houses but if he could choose, he would gladly go to Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Intelligence and ambition, qualities he possessed in spades and traits he valued most in others.

_"Oh yes, that is certainly true, you would do great in both houses but you have many enemies in Slytherin. Ravenclaw however, Ravenclaw will welcome you, will open many doors to knowledge you seek so desperatly. Yes I've decided, better be-"_

"-RAVENCLAW"

The hat was lifted off his head and he was met by the sight of his housemates who had risen up as soon as the hat had shouted out its decision. They all were clapping avidly, much louder than for those before him as he made his way over to the table and still continued even when he was already seated. Professor McGonagall had to pointedly clear her throat a few times before silence finally settled over his peers again and after one last look in their direction the Sorting went on.

Harry didn't pay any attention to it though, anticipation had settled in his bones. His journey to greatness had finally begun.

**XXX**

**A/N: **Please review! I really appriciate it! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Well, here you go! Have lots of fun and feel free to leave reviews (- hint), they make me really happy!

**Saviour**

Time passed quickly in Hogwarts and Harry found himself disappointed. Not only because of the slow progress is Charms and Transfiguration - some people needed _days_ to get the desired results in class - but also in their Professor in Defense Against Dark Arts.

Professor Quirinus Quirrell was an utter failure as a teacher and the cause of many headaches on Harry's side. Harry's scar had the annoying habit to throb, rather unpleasantly, during Quirrell's lectures. It didn't help that the man couldn't say a straight sentence without stuttering, it was maddening to listen to Quirrell and Harry always left his classroom with a splitting headache and without having learned anything. He wasn't sure what angered him more.

As a result of those abysmal lessons, Harry had to spend even more time at the library, which he enjoyed greatly. More time spent in the library equaled less time spent with his dorm-mates which was something Harry didn't mind in the least. Their relationship was friendly enough, they respected his academic prowess and kept their distance and he acknowledged them neutrally every time their paths crossed. It was no friendship but that didn't matter, they didn't need to like him to support his goal, they only needed to know that he was good enough to win.

All in all, Harry was quite content with the Ravenclaw house and its occupants. They were a lot less annoying and significantly more studious than people from other houses which made it easy to avoid them. His performance in class was enough to put them off for the time being but he was sure that someone would approach him sooner or later. He had no time for such nonsense. Beside the fact that he had no idea how to socialize, he had no time to waste on mindless chatter, not when there were so many things to learn and secrets to uncover.

All things considered, everything went well for him - his peers were tolerable and the Professors liked him well enough to push him into the direction of interesting books and independent study. Well, almost all Professors liked him. Professor Snape was an exception.

He was a tall, menacing looking man with pallid skin and greasy black hair that fell into his equally dark, lifeless eyes. He was by no means a good teacher and his character could only be described as nasty. He seemed to dislike everyone but there were people he enjoyed to torture more than others. The funny thing about him was that he obviously hated Harry and would just love to dock him a considerable amount of points for something as ridiculous as breathing too loud. He saw those lifeless eyes burning with hatred when looking in Harry's direction but each time he looked the Professor straight in the eyes, the flames were immediately doused and replaced by guilt and pain, endless pain. Harry used it to his advantage whenever he could which was pretty much all the time, he had yet to loose one single point in Potions class. Everything progressed smoothly.

It had only taken him one week to establish himself as the prodigious, calm boy at the end of the class and he felt more than a little smug each time Professor McGonagall graced him with a rare smile or Professor Flitwick enthusiastically clapped at his performance. The initial resentment his classmates had directed at him had passed quickly and his academical success had been shrugged off as a 'Boy-Who-Lived-Power'. Now it was seen as something natural and was mostly ignored by his peers. Well except for one girl.

Hermione Granger was a nuisance, albeit a smart one, with only one goal in life - being the best. She was always the first to raise her hand when a question was asked and always answered it correctly by reciting a passage from a book she had memorized. She was opinionated, annoying and downright hostile when bested by someone else (Harry), qualities that made her in every shape or form unappealing to others. She was intelligent though, he had to give her that. Not the same quick prodigious mind that he possessed but an amazing memory and a knack for research, both qualities that allowed her to stay at the top of their year, second only to himself. These qualities were reason enough for him to observe her from time to time.

She had no friends, both her attitude and plain appearance didn't endear her to her housemates and he always saw her alone, be it in the halls, the library or at meals. At the beginning Neville had kept her company but the chubby boy had been quickly discouraged from continuing by Ronald Weasley and his friends leaving the girl to her own devices. She always strutted around the castle with her head held high but the constant sneers and jeers, not only from her own house but also some first year Slytherins, slowly but surely got to her. It was amusing to watch.

But still, she could be useful to him, research was a time-consuming task, something he perceived as a mind-numbing chore and waste of his talent but had to do regardless. It would be great to have someone to do it for him but he would have to make her his friend in order to gain her support and aside from the fact that he had no idea how to make friends, there was also the matter of her being insufferable and not worth the effort. He would gladly fake it but like the hat had said at the Sorting, he wasn't really cunning and didn't know how to manipulate eleven years-old girls. Not that he hadn't tried to find out, there weren't any books that explained how to accomplish such a feat - he had checked - so he had given up.

In the meantime, life at Hogwarts went on and the ancient trees of the Forbidden Forest turned from their lush green into various shades of yellow, orange and red, clearly prepared to shed the leaves before winter arrived. October was coming to an end and Harry felt _almost_ bored enough to investigate the Forbidden Corridor on the third floor, the very same corridor Dumbledore had told them not to enter right after the Sorting. The manipulative old geezer knew very well that telling schoolchildren that "the Third Floor Corridor is out of bounds to all who do not wish to die a most painful death" would only make them seek it out on purpose. It was but an open invitation for Harry to pursue the matter but he wouldn't succumb to something as trivial as curiosity. If Dumbledore wanted him there then he'd better stay as far away as possible from the place, if only for the simple reason to spite the old man.

But he was so incredibly bored and had no desire at all to partake at the Hallowe'en Feast on the day his parents had died. His parents, was it really because of his parents that he avoided the Great Hall? Any childish adoration he might have held for them had dwindled over the years but he still felt grateful for their sacrifice and respected their capabilities as highly talented witch and wizard. He wasn't sure if he loved them or the idea of having parents but he was certain that it was wrong to celebrate on the day of their demise which left him sitting in the common room with only a marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw for company.

He had nothing pressing to do and the feast would go on for hours. And everyone was in the Great Hall... The castle was practically empty for the duration of the feast! Perfect time to wander the castle without being disturbed! Harry was out of the Common Room faster than one could say Quidditch.

It was strange to wander the corridors without running into people all the time, strange but not at all unpleasant. For the very first time he could hear his own heels clicking against stone as he rounded yet another corner before climbing a set of stairs and stopping in front of a massive wooden door. It took Harry only seconds to realize that he had somehow ended up on the third floor, just outside the Forbidden Corridor. He frowned and turned around to leave just as the stairs began to move, cutting off his way back. Once they stopped they led to a scarcely used hallway that was too close to the great hall for his liking, directly to the loos which were quite close to the library. If nothing else he had just found a good excuse for not only his absence from the feast but also his presence in the hallway, everything concerning him became so much more believable when books were involved.

His worries had been in vain, the way stayed clear and he had no trouble reaching the library. Unfortunately it was closed, a stupid oversight on his part, Madam Pince was obviously attending the celebration and would under no circumstances leave her precious books unsupervised. He really should have thought of it but there was no use to cry over spilt potion, he had wandered the halls for quite some time now, it was time to return to the common room. His Astronomy assignment could use an once-over anyway and the _Updated Counter-Curse Handbook _still waited unopened on his nightstand.

The Ravenclaw Common Room was located at the west side of the castle on the fifth floor and Harry turned into the hallway that led him back to the moving staircases. It was the same he had taken on his way to the library, the one where the toilets were located, but this time something was off. The door to the girls' lavatory was opened and he could hear soft sniveling coming from it which he opted to ignored. He rushed past the door, only catching a glimpse of bushy brown hair. It seemed that Hermione Granger broke down at last, self-righteousness and pride could only get one so far before the taunts got to one. He was ready to move on, ready to forget the crying girl but then the stench hit his nose.

It stank of rotten meat and dirt and Harry sprinted around the corner just in time to hide from the creature that carried the smell. It was twelve feet tall and had pale-grey skin with an ugly dumb face and two-toed, massive feet. The creature - he could identify it as a troll - was clutching a huge club in one hand and dragged it along as it made its way into the hallway only to stop right in front of the girls' loo. Then it entered.

He was alerted to the fact that Granger finally noticed the other occupant of the room by her terrified shriek, a cry that was closely followed by the sound of tiles and sinks breaking under the force of a wooden club. Curiosity drove him back to the scene and he stopped at a - more or less - save distance that still granted him a perfect view of the troll and the frightened girl. She was screaming again, a high pitched wail that hurt his ears and made him grimace. It seemed that the troll shared this sentiment because it let loose a low grunt before it took a swing and crashed its club against the spot the girl had previously occupied. Harry only saw a flash of bushy hair before she dived under one of the stalls and disappeared out of his sight. The troll let out an angry roar and followed while Harry weighted his options.

He could save her, while trolls were prodigiously strong and spell resistant, they also were very dumb and slow to react. Even though he knew no spells that were strong enough to penetrate its thick skin, he didn't need to because the beast had already provided Harry with a weapon. The club was certainly massive enough to knock it out if dropped on the head from the right height. Yes he was pretty confident that he could but _should_ he?

She was annoying and had no friends, nobody would really miss her and what did the life of one insignificant Muggleborn mean anyway. She had nobody who liked her, her parents would probably be put under Memory Charms and life would go on without her like it had before, only significantly less troublesome. Was she really worth the trouble and the risk (however small it was) to face the danger that presented itself in the form of a troll?

No, she wasn't. At least not to him. But he was the Saviour right? While annoying, she still was like any other witch or wizard out there and it was his purpose to save them all from the most powerful Dark Lord in history. Why not start with saving a girl from a simple troll?

His hand reached into the folds of his robes and was welcomed with a soft hum when his fingers touched polished wood. He pulled out his wand and marveled at its beauty when another shriek spurred him into action. The lavatory was a mess, cracked tiles, demolished sinks and loose toilet seats were scattered amidst splintered wood. Some pipes had been damaged during the rampage, water spurted from the walls an formed large puddles on the floor. Hermione Granger looked pathetic, her small form was curled up in a corner, hair stuck to her red, puffy face in wet strands and her mouth was opened in a silent scream as the troll raised its club for the final hit.

Harry raised his arm to perform the correct wand-movement. Swish and flick, then fingers tightened around white wood and the incarnation left his lips just a little louder than a whisper.

_"Wingardium Leviosa"_

Two simple words but he _wanted_ the club to soar into the air and his will was absolute. What could a simple, albeit insanely heavy club do against such steely resolve. His wand buzzed under his fingers as magic channeled through it and hit the wooden weapon with an invisible force. It was torn out of the troll's hand and Harry moved his wand upwards in an jerky motion, noticing that the club also sped up a little. Interesting, it seemed that he could control the flying object's speed slightly while it was in the air, his quest had just gotten easier.

The troll was still staring at its floating weapon in dumb confusion and Harry had no intention to let it gather its - nonexistent - wits again. With a fierce jerk downward and a mental command to _smash smash smash_, the club shot down at an incredible speed and hit its mark with a sickening CRACK. Twelve feet of greyish, stinking flesh went down like it was nothing and some mud-coloured substance mingled with the water on the ground.

It was eerily silent, aside from the spray of water and Grangers laboured breaths, only his footsteps could be heard as he entered the demolished room with his wand still secured in his hand. He didn't spare the trembling girl in the corner a glance but was very much aware of her stare on his person as he stopped in front of the fallen troll.

It wasn't a pretty sight, the beast itself was quite ugly but the force of the club (_smash, smash, SMASH!_) had been even stronger than he had expected it to be. The skin on its bald head was torn open by bone fragments of its shattered skull, little was left that could be identified as something remotely close to a face. The brain - a tiny shriveled something - was peeking out slightly and the muddy substance that he had noticed mixing with the water was its blood.

He was torn from his observations by the sounds of retching in the corner Granger occupied and watched her as her arms trembled under the weight of her body as it tried to rid itself of the contents of her stomach. It looked like she had seen the damage he had dealt to the troll. Harry was thankful that he was faring better. It truly was disgusting and his stomach rumbled in protest at the sight but he was okay. Yes his arms shook and he was tired but he was also _exited_. What he had done with that spell, it shouldn't have worked.

It was a firs-year spell, something wizards used to make smaller objects float and while he had known that it also worked on heavier things if the wizard had enough determination (he wouldn't have attempted such a stunt if he hadn't been sure) he hadn't known that it was possible to also control the speed of the object to such an extent. It _shouldn't_ be possible, he had read enough books to know that a simple Floating Charm couldn't do so much damage but the troll was _dead_ and he had used only one incarnation.

The sound of several people approaching forced him to shove all theories to the back of his mind and he turned around just in time to see Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape and Quirrell arriving at the scene. His DADA Professor was the first to see the damage and went out like a light, his body landing in one of the blood-infused puddles with his curious turban still in perfect condition. Professor McGonagall let out a gasp, her lips thinned and her face adopted a green sheen but she seemed composed enough, even though her right hand was clutching the area above heart.

Both, Snape and Flitwick, were not really bothered by the sight but he could _feel_ their eyes boring into him with caution that hadn't been there before. Dumbledore was just standing there, his eyes devoid of a twinkle but there was no disappointment in his gaze, only acceptance. Harry didn't know what to think but was spared the frustrating task of deciphering the Headmaser's thoughts by a pitiful whimper from the corner.

All eyes (except for Quirrell, the useless wimp) shot up and focused on the pitiful form of one Hermione Granger and Professor McGonagall had to grab a wall for support before she straightened up, face ashen but eyes blazing with fury. Her narrow lips parted and he steeled himself, prepared to endure the tongue lashing but it never came.

Somehow the girl had managed to stand up and straighten up. Her hand gripped the wall for support and her steps were wobbly but she managed to make her way over to him. Her arm fell away from the wall and settled around his left arm instead before she burrowed her face into his robes and sobbed like there was no tomorrow.

It was really uncomfortable, her fingers were digging painfully into his arm and her tears soaked through his cloak. He could feel the wetness on his back where her face was pressed against his body and he prayed to all forces above that she would release him soon. His wish was granted and she managed to collect herself enough to step away from him. Her arm still clutched his own appendage but she wasn't able to stand without support so he allowed it, just this once. Everybody looked at them expectantly and a sharp nod from Professor McGonagall finally prompted the young Gryffindor to start talking.

She was remarkably composed compared to her cowering self from five minutes ago as she told her audience why exactly she was in a lavatory during the feast in the first place. It turned out that Ronal Weasly had made a tactless remark (it looked like the boy had learned nothing) about her lack of friends, a remark she happened to overhear. Hurt and angry she decided to compose herself somewhere near the Great Hall before going to the feast and what place was better suited for such a purpose than the girls' lavatory? After that her face lost the little colour she had managed to regain so far and she threw a glance at the troll before retching again. From where they were standing, they got a first row view of the brains peeking out of the mangled skull.

Satisfied with the explanation and not willing to push the girl further all eyes focused on Harry, eager to hear his story. Professor Snape was looking almost gleeful, eager to finally dock him some points. Not if Harry could help it. He cleared his throat and started.

"Today, well it is the day my parents died and it felt wrong to celebrate. I know that the feast is to celebrate Hallowe'en but I don't really feel like celebrating, at all."

The admission was met with understanding nods and pitying looks, even Snape didn't sneer after their gazes connected. It the reaction Harry had been counting on.

"Well, I decided to wait in the Common Room until the feast was over, I know that attendance is mandatory but I thought that nobody would really mind if I just satyed there until curfew. After a while I got bored and figured that I could as well just go to the library and get myself something to read to pass the time. I totally forgot that Madame Pince would be at the feast too. I was about to return to our Common Room, well..."

Amusement briefly flickered through Flitwicks an McGonagalls eyes - hook, line and sinker. He just delivered them a plausible explanation for his absence from the feast and a good reason for wandering the halls. It wasn't exactly the truth but he certainly didn't lie, he really had skipped the celebration for that reason. Well, mostly, he also hadn't wanted to go, too many people always made queasy and loud noise had never appealed to him. How should he have known that a troll would find its way into the castle? Now that he had time to think on it, how the hell had the thing managed to enter Hogwarts in the first place, trolls were known for their idiocy after all. The whole affair was highly suspicious.

When Professor McGonagall addressed him at last, her tone was slightly accusing and carried a shrill note.

"Mr Potter, Miss Granger, well I've never...!"

Her gaze settled pointedly on the troll before she continued in a slightly calmer tone.

"I think that we all understand your reasons for avoiding the Great Hall this evening, however foolish it was on your side not to notify a teacher of your absence. What I don't understand, is how two first years managed to deal such, such _damage_ to a mountain troll."

Before Harry could speak up Granger started to explain, her hand tightening on his arm.

"Professor, It just turned up out of the blue and I, well I panicked and tried to hide from it. It started to smash everything with its club and then I didn't have anywhere else left to hide."

Her voice broke as she continued speaking and he could feel her eyes settling on his expressionless face.

"It was about to kill me, there was nowhere to run but then the club shot in the air above it and then it shot down really fast. I, it would have killed me if Harry hadn't found me."

She fell silent after that and Harry's form tensed when he felt her inching closer to him. The close proximity was awkward on his side and the only reason why he didn't push her away immediately was that he was busy participating in a staring contest with his Head of House.

Professor Flitwick was the first to blink, his sharp stare softened and melted into a contemplative gaze. His eyes darted to Harry's right arm that was still clutching his wand. Dumblerore wore a matching expression on his face and Harry had the feeling that the conversation was far from over, even when Professor McGonagall ordered them both to the Hospital Wing.

They were escorted by Snape who was limping ahead of them with his cloak billowing after him ominously. Even with a limp the man looked intimidating and Harry had trouble keeping up with his pace, a task that was made even harder by the girl that was still clinging to his arm. It appeared that some of the flying debris had scraped her legs, she was stumbling quite often, holding on to his arm in order to stay upright. She was a little shorter than him and fairly skinny but he was no powerhouse in the physical sense, he had to strain in order to support her weight, something that was fairly annoying coupled with her mumbled "sorrys" each time she leaned on him for support. Fortunately the doors of the Hospital Wing came in sight and the matron shooed them inside before closing the doors behind them.

Madame Pomfrey was a nice woman with friendly features and clad into an old fashioned nurse grown but as she looked over them, her face was pulled into an angry frown. Professor Snape wandered off into the Nurse Office and left them alone with the matron whose eyes roved over their bodies in disapproval. His protests that he was uninjured were silenced by her stern glare before he was led to a cot, Hermione Granger still clinging to him. He had to pry her fingers off his arm with considerable effort and sat down on the nearest cot. She stood before him, shuffling from one foot to another awkwardly but then finally sat down on the bed that stood right next to his.

The silence between them felt stifling and he opted to study her form while she played with the hem of her torn skirt. Her uniform was ruined and dirty, stained with blood that was partly hers, partly that of the troll. The skin peeking through was scratched, the bloody scrapes already crusted over. A few, rather large, splinters of wood were sticking out of her limbs and looked extremely painful, she didn't even notice them, a testament to how shaken she was. Her face was puffy, red and dirty, her drying hair a tangled mess of brown strands. All in all she looked awful and he couldn't help but feel that she deserved it because she was smart, a witch and just as old as him. She shouldn't have needed to be saved.

"Thank you. For saving me. I-I know that you don't like me and... What I want to say is, I'm really grateful for your help..."

The soft whispered words came unexpected and made him feel uncomfortable. She was looking at him through her eyelashes, her hands still tightly fisted into the fabric of her skirt, clearly waiting for an answer. He didn't know what to say. He hadn't cared if she survived, still didn't care but he _had_ saved her in the end. She was right to thank him but what did she want him to say to her? That she was welcome? She certainly wasnt. He answered her with a curt nod, a gesture that he hoped was neutral enough. Apparently it wasn't, she awarded him with a tiny smile.

Madame Pomfrey was quick in her examination, he was allowed to leave after she couldn't find anything wrong with his physical condition and he gladly did so under the weight of her disapproving eyes. Granger's eager "Goodbye!" was readily ignored and pushed out of his mind together with everything that concerned the girl. He was content with entirely dismissing her existence but had a nagging feeling that she wouldn't leave him alone in the future and while the thought irritated him, there were more important matters that demanded his attention.

The way he had used the spell was different from the description in the books but he got the feeling that Professor Flitwick knew what had happened during his encounter with the troll. Maybe not all details but there was _something_ the short professor knew that made him curious and this curiosity would spare Harry days, maybe even weeks of research. Flitwick's reaction indicated that he had seen something similar, if not the same before but it also told Harry that his Head of House hadn't expected to see it from the boy. This probably meant that the skill was widely known but advanced enough to be unknown to the lower years. He would pursue the matter as soon as possible, preferable on the next day.

Harry finally reached the door to his Common Room and answered the question asked by the bronze knocker before he groggily made his way to the dormitory. Everybody was already sleeping when he entered the room and made his way over to his four poster bed where his face finally connected with the soft pillow and his exhausted sigh was muffled by the fabric. He didn't bother changing his clothes, only shoved the wand he was still clutching in his right hand under the pillow and closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep. While he drifted into a dreamless sleep, he somehow he got the feeling that his life was about to get nastily complicated.

**XXX**

**A/N:** Aww yeah! That was a piece of work! Seriously, it's the longest chapter so far, I'm proud of myself! I finally show signs of discipline for the first time in my life. Now I only have to make it a habit... My holidays are over and there will be less updates from now on, sorry. I'm not sure if I'll post another chapter next week, I'll try my best though. If not... Well this one is long enough for two. Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: It's kind of hard do believe that there are people out there that actually like my writing because I read some works on this site and compared to those, my writing is pathetic. I don't own Harry Potter. Unfortunately. **

**Inferiority**

The events of the Hallowe'en evening were considered top secret, which naturally meant that the whole school knew what exactly had transpired in the lavatory. Countless rumors circulated, all ridiculously exaggerated versions of Harry Potter's battle with a troll. The involvement of a girl was whispered about but nobody really seemed to care about her role in the event and Hermione was relieved that her involvement remained largely unnoticed. She still drowned in embarrassment every time she thought about the way she had clung to him when he had escorted her to the Hospital Wing.

The all too familiar sizzle of a potion dissolving a cauldron elicited a defeated sigh from her as she rushed to collect her notes and books before they got ruined - _again_. Neville was muttering apologizes from his place next to her and Hermione swallowed her irritation and only nodded in his direction. She liked the shy boy, she really did, but that was the third cauldron he ruined in the span of one week alone and she wasn't sure how long she would manage to survive as his partner before one of his mixtures would blow up in her face and kill her.

A small snigger escaped Ron Weasley who sat just in front of her but her cold glare made his grin falter and he quickly whipped his head around to escape her piercing stare. He had no right to laugh at her, if not paired with a disaster on legs, she would have given him a run for his money like she had done in every lesson so far. She glared at the back of his head for a few more seconds - the tense line of his spine told her that her stare unnerved him - before she left her seat in order to get a new cauldron. She had tried to be nice, even though she knew that she could have died because of the redhead, she had stayed silent and had opted to forgive him and now the idiot had the gall to laugh in her face. She couldn't remember ever being so angry before.

She managed to find a cauldron fast enough - as Neville's partner it was a necessity to know where spare supplies were stored - and carefully placed some snake fangs, horned slugs and porcupine quills on the bottom before returning to her place as fast as possible without falling into a run. The workplace was clean and Neville was close to tears, it seemed that Professor Snape had paid him a visit while she had been away and those visits were always awful, especially for Neville. But now there was no time for pity, she had exactly forty five minutes to brew a passable Cure for Boils potion.

The potion wasn't particularly difficult to brew, only two aspects required perfect timing but the first part was very time-consuming. The potion had to simmer for quite some time, sometimes shorter, sometimes longer and Hermione prayed that it would be the former. If luck was on her side, she would manage to finish the potion just in time. Her hands moved over the cauldron rapidly as she crushed fangs, adjusted the flames and finally waved her wand over the liquid. She had done everything she could, now it all depended on luck. She worked fast, there were still forty minutes left until the lesson would end, hopefully just enough time for the potion to finish.

While her potion brewed, Hermione looked around the classroom. The Gryffindors shared Potions, Transfiguration and Charms with Ravenclaw, Herbology and Astronomy with Hufflepuff, the remaining subjects with Slytherin. Working with Ravenclaws was both, pleasant and frustrating. They were studious and attentive, nobody traded insults during their shared classes and she reveled it the pleasant atmosphere of the classroom. But then there was Harry Potter who outdid her in everything, be it a Spell to turn a match into a needle or the Fire-Making Charm, he always succeeded first and made it look ridiculously easy. Even now the boy was slumped in his seat in a manner that looked just as graceful as it looked bored, a posture that practically oozed confidence. The cauldron in front of him emitted bright pink smoke.

Her own potion had turned a dull grey colour by now and she swore that the smoke had a purplish sheen to it. Only five minutes left and it still wasn't ready but she had no choice. Four horned slugs were carelessly dropped into the boiling substance before the girl lifted the cauldron off the fire and added two porcupine quills. One minute. The cauldron was insanely heavy and Neville helped her to put it back on the fire. The five clockwise stirs turned out sloppier than she normally approved of but she continued on and waved her wand above the potion to finish it.

The smoke rising from her cauldron was murky pink, nowhere near the vivid colour that marked a perfect potion but it was better than almost every other potion in the classroom. She eyed Ron Weasley's green lumpy something with barely contained glee as she stoppered her own sample and carried it together with her partner's to the Head Table. Neville, the sweet soul, had offered to do it for her but she was too sacred that he would drop it that she had politely declined. She was exhausted, her robes were covered in vapour and she was sure that her hair looked like a frizzy monster thanks to the moist air in the classroom but she had managed to brew an passable potion that saved both their grades and she would rather die than put something as frail as glass into Neville's hands, especially since her academical success depended on that something.

Then, at last, students began to leave the dark classroom and Hermione grit her teeth in irritation as a person bumped into her and she almost dropped her bag. She saw a flash of red and her irritation grew as she realized that it was Ron Weasley. Once she would finally master the Curse of the Bogies he would be the first to get a taste of it. Okay, so that went a little too far. No she wouldn't jinx him, her mastering the Spell before him would be humiliating enough. The same went for Malfoy and his dumb friends. They could sneer at her if they felt like it, at the end of the day she was still smarter than them and she never missed out a chance to show them just that.

The DADA classroom was right in the center of the castle - really, it was pretty much in the middle, both vertically and horizontally. It wasn't too far away from the Dungeons where the Potions classroom was which allowed Hermione to adapt a leisure pace and fall back behind her rushing peers. Soon all Ravenclaws vanished around a corner and she caught one last glimpse of telltale messy, black hair before it vanished out of sight too. When she was finally alone, she noticed tension leaving her body not unlike a balloon out of air. Some days here were hard to handle. She made sure that the Corridor was deserted before she dropped her bag and leaned on the wall for support. She felt emotionally drained.

It had been difficult before, there had always been bullies, other children that had made fun of her and even though she had hoped that Hogwarts would be different, she hadn't been too disappointed when she hadn't been able to make any friends. So what? People like Ronald Weasley or Draco Malfoy and his goons were hardly new to her and she could handle them just fine on her own. Sure, some things they said hurt but she was a strong girl, she straightened her back, raised her chin and kept marching on because she was better than them. She had always been rather confident, not in her looks or her charm but in her superior intelligence. And then Harry Potter had happened.

He embodied everything she wanted to be, strong, prodigiously smart and charming in his own detached way. People listened when he talked, begged him for tidbits of information she distributed freely and admired him from afar for his academical achievements. She didn't understand it. Sure, she wasn't quite as bright as him - a fact that bothered her more than she cared to admit - but her academical performance didn't leave anything to be desired and she always tried to help her peers with her considerable knowledge. He on the other hand, hardly ever spoke to anyone, his silent nature almost bordered on rudeness but people didn't seem bothered by it. Lavender and Parvati called him distinguished, Hermione preferred the term unsociable.

Well, at least she had thought so before, everything had changed on that fateful Hallowe'en night. She was ashamed to admit that she had been jealous, that she still was jealous of the quite boy with the bright eyes because she had come to Hogwarts with something to prove and she had worked hard for every single Outstanding she had received so far whereas he seemed to get them with ridiculous ease. Sure, he spent as much time at the library as she did but even when she had started to work twice as hard as before, he still outdid her without any effort on his side.

To add insult to the injury he hadn't even seemed to be aware of her existence while she had desperately tried to measure up to him, all without success. It still hurt to admit that she had been bested seemingly effortlessly but she had no choice. She wasn't number one anymore. She had been content with her dislike for him, the rivalry - while one-sided - had motivated her to do better and his refusal to acknowledge her existence had only fueled her fire. Then he had saved her life.

She hated thinking back to the hurtful words of Ronald Weasley, the tears that hadn't stopped flowing even though she had tried to suppress them or the monstrous stinking troll that had tried to end her life with its huge club. She still had troubles falling asleep and had woken up screaming more than once in the past days. Her dreams were filled with suffocating fear, images of a smashed skull, with smelly blood that tainted the floor and exploding tiles and wood that scraped her skin and tore at her clothes. She missed her parents, they never failed to comfort her but she knew that she couldn't tell them what had transpired in the lavatory. They would pull her out of school faster than she could say troll.

No, her parents weren't an option but she needed to talk to someone about the incident. She had talked to Professor McGonagall after she had her injuries treated and the older witch had advised her to talk to someone who could relate to her, someone who had gone through the very same horror as she had, someone who would understand what she was going through. It was actually a very good idea, Harry Potter was probably suffering just as much as she did - if not more, he had killed a living being after all. She couldn't say that she liked the Ravenclaw, she didn't know anything about him aside from the fact that he was freakishly smart but she owed him to at least try. He had saved her live, it was only fair that she should try to help him in return and if her condition would improve in the process, well that would be just perfect.

Maybe they would even end up as friends, actually, the idea wasn't _that_ far-fetched. They had a lot in common, both intelligent for their age, they both spent most of their free time in the library and obviously valued knowledge. He was always alone and well, she was too so why shouldn't they spend their time together? She really missed talking to people about other things that hairpins and skirts and who was better to have an intelligent conversation with than the prodigious Harry Potter? The longer she thought about it, the better she liked the idea. It was incredible and frightening at the same time. One boy could turn her life upside down and give her everything she longed for. Acceptance, friendship, company, it all lay within her reach, she only had to get it. She had to talk to Harry Potter.

Unfortunately she still had Defense Against Dark Arts before she could go looking for the boy at the library. Even then it wasn't guaranteed that she would find him, she didn't know his schedule, he might as well have lessons in the afternoon. Still, first she had a class to get to, even great revelations didn't excuse tardiness. Professor Quirrell was treated with more than enough disrespect already, she really didn't want to add salt to the wound by being too late. She gripped the strap of her bag, slung it over her shoulder with considerable effort and inwardly cursed. She really should consider leaving some of her books in the dormitories in the future, it was impossible to run with such a load on her back. She wouldn't manage to arrive on time.

It turned out to be her lucky day, when she finally reached the classroom and peeked inside there was no Professor Quirrell to be seen anywhere. The day seemed to get progressively better and Hermione's good mood allowed her to ignore Malfoy's taunts with a genuine smile on her face that confused him and made him look like an idiot. She took the seat next to Parvati, pulled out her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 _and even smiled at Lavender Brown. It was no secret that they despised each other but at that moment nothing could ruin Hermione's spirit.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of her worst subject, no actually it _was_ her worst. She was still better than the majority of the class but she had to put a lot more effort into it than in Transfiguration or Charms and her results were never quite as good as she wanted them to be. So far, they only wrote down some theory behind the Curse of the Bogies and practiced the wand movements - a sharp jab forward. The incarnation was quite long for such a simple Jinx but it didn't look that hard to perform. She was careful to pronounce the words correctly but her _Mucus ad Nauseam_ only managed to make Pavarti sneeze once. Hermione pointedly ignored Lavender's gleeful smile, raised her wand and tried again.

Finally the lesson was coming to an end and they were allowed to leave. Lavender wasn't smiling anymore - Hermione had mastered the Spell before her but Hermione's good mood had passed in the process. Lavender wasn't very bright but she knew what to say to hit someone where it hurt the most. Coupled with her thirst for gossip the trait made her positively feral and nobody knew that side of her better than Hermione, she had been the target of Lavender's vicious jabs more than once. That was the reason why Hermione had understood what the girl had played at when she had casually mentioned that Harry Potter was rumored to be exceptionally gifted at DADA.

The bitter taste that had settled in her mouth as soon as those words had left Lavender's lips was still lingering in her mouth as she made her way to her dorm. There was enough time to make a stop at the library and talk to _him_ but she didn't feel like it. She couldn't face the boy now, Lavender's words had cut deeper than expected. She was aware that Harry Potter was better than her in most subjects, that he was considered one of those tremendously powerful individuals that were only born once in a century, she _knew _all that. It didn't mean that it hurt any less.

When she finally entered the dormitory she was glad to find it deserted. After a quick look at the watch on her nightstand she dropped her bag on her bed with a tired sigh. She had twenty minutes until lunch, enough time to unpack her bag and collect the books she had to return to the library before she went down for lunch. Fifteen minutes later a considerably calmer girl left the Gryffindor Tower for the Great Hall.

The enchanted ceiling showed a bright blue sky with a few fluffy white clouds scattered here and threre. It explained why both common room and dormitory were so empty, it was probably the last sunny day before winter arrived and everyone enjoyed the sun near the lake. Fay Dunbar had probably dragged her friend Sally-Anne to the Quidditch Pitch as soon as DADA had ended, Lavender and Parvati were most likely meeting up with Padma, Parvati's twin who had been sorted into Ravenclaw.

The great hall was unusually empty for that time of the day and Hermione's mood improved when she noticed the absence of Ron and his friends. Neville was also missing and she hoped that he hadn't been roped into one of Ron's idiotic schemes to get Malfoy in trouble. She was just waiting for him to mess up and get expelled. While she loaded some chicken and potatoes onto her plate, her eyes drifted over to the Ravenclaw table.

She immediately recognized him by the way his elbow was casually leant on the table. Even hunched he still slightly towered over Terry Boot who was talking to him enthusiastically. She couldn't see his face but when Terry stopped talking and waited for an answer Harry's reply seemed friendly enough because the shorter boy suddenly broke into peals of laughter. Not wanting to be caught staring, Hermione turned around and absent-mindedly started to poke around her plate.

She had intended to wait another day before approaching Harry Potter but why waste such an opportunity? He seemed to be in a good, talkative mood which would make everything easier for her. Her brain was filled with various topics that could lead to interesting discussions but she was by no means a social butterfly, she could take a conversation only so far. If he wouldn't answer it would get awkward very fast and she would embarrass herself in front of the school-genius. That would not do.

He had saved her live and she would repay him with her friendship, her notes - she would even do his homework for him if he so much as asked her but she would keep her dignity. She would not beg him to accept her friendship, if he didn't want it then it was his loss. A little, insecure voice in the darkest depths of her mind whispered that _he didn't need her brain nor her friendship_, that_ he was smarter, BETTER than her_ but she pushed it back, together with the nagging feeling of doubt that decided to announce its presence.

There was no time for that nonsense, she had begged the Sorting Hat to put her in Gryffindor, she had wanted to become bold and brave and that was the best opportunity to start showing a backbone and to charge into a situation ridiculously unprepared. If an oaf like Ronald Weasley could do that then it should be a walk in the park for her. Right after lunch she would go to the library where she would march up to his table and then she would confront him confidently and if he wouldn't respond, well then she would march away with her head held high. She was bold, she was brave and she would not yield. Her body burned with determination and she was sure that everyone who saw her eyes at that moment could see the flames burning in the depths of her brown irises.

She tried to eat her lunch slowly but somehow managed to devour everything at a speed that could have given Ron a run for his money. She only hoped that her manners hadn't been quite as appalling as his, only God knows how many times he had managed to ruin her appetite. But table manners aside, Harry Potter was still sitting at the Ravenclaw Table and it didn't look like he intended to leave anytime soon. The food before him was still untouched and another boy had joined the conversation while she had been eating.

She threw the boys one last parting glance, got up and left the hall. She considered going to the library but decided against it, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on books anyway. Besides, she planned to spend the whole afternoon there, right now she needed a good distraction to calm her nerves. The sun warmed her face each time she passed a window, making her sigh contently. The weather was truly wonderful, highly unusual for that time of the year but she wouldn't complain. No she certainly wouldn't, she just found an occupation for the next two hours. It didn't take her long to get one of her winter-robes from her trunk and she finally stepped out on the spacious grounds that surrounded the castle.

It was a breathtaking sight, something she had believed to only exist on billboards that advertised holiday-locations. Small groups of students were seated near the lake and she immediately recognized the dark complexion of the Patil twins next to the golden mane that could only belong to Lavender. Fay and Sally-Anne were nowhere to be seen and Hermione decided against approaching the three girls.

Hermione liked Parvati well enough, she was smart and outgoing, sometimes a little vain but nobody was perfect. She didn't know nearly enough about Padma to say if she liked her but she had talked to her once and the indian girl seemed to be a more mature and studious version of her Gryffindor twin. Lavender on the other hand, that girl was a piece of work. She was vain, air-headed, whiny and seemed harmless but that couldn't have been further from the truth. Her tongue was sharper than a dagger and she used it disturbingly efficient. No, she didn't want Lavender to ruin her good mood. She decided to walk to the Quidditch Pitch, even if Fay had already left, the walk in itself would be pleasant enough.

Fay was there, together with her best friend Sally-Anne. They were watching some older students as they raced past them on their brooms. Fay's eyes followed their forms longingly while her friend looked decidedly bored. When Hermione sat down next to the plump redhead, her face lit up as if Christmas had come early. She wasn't particularly close to Sally-Anne but they were on friendly terms.

Sally-Anne's blue eyes looked at Hermione pleadingly, she obviously didn't feel like staying any longer but didn't want to leave without her best friend. She took pity on the redhead. " You know, lunch started ages ago. I don't know if you already ate but if you don't hurry, you'll miss it." Hermione had tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, like it was a simple observation on her part and it looked like she had succeeded because Fay finally looked away from the players in alarm. Then she calmed down, let out a sigh full of longing, got up and hurried away in the direction of the Great Hall. The short form of Sally-Anne followed her but not before throwing Hermione a grateful glance.

She watched their silhouettes until they vanished in the castle before she faced the arena. Now she was alone again. On the Quidditch Pitch. And before her reckless lunatics raced on their brooms. Since she didn't like flying nor Quidditch it was probably the most unsuitable place for her so she wasted no more time and trekked back to the castle.

She entered the Enatrance Hall and her ears were immediately assaulted by countless complains. It looked like some people had missed lunch. None of the girls that shared a dormitory with her were present but she couldn't quite suppress a snicker when she saw Ron among the ones who hadn't gotten any food. He looked angry and she stelthily crept past him without catching his attention. She was in no mood for a confrontation, she had more important things to do. She left the crowd behind her and went down the corridor like a woman on a mission, each step brought her closer to her destination.

Then, finally the Library doors came in sight and she pushed them open purposefully which earned her a sharp glare from Madame Pince. She shrunk under the angry stare but straightened out again as soon as she caught sight od a familiar mob of black hair. She took a gulp of air and held it as she proceeded towards the table he was seated at. Only when she finally stood before him did she dare to exhale and let the air rush out of her lungs. That turned out to be a mistake.

Just like her lungs shrunk without air, so did her posture and with it her confidence. He sat with a book held in one hand while the other hung over the edge of the table carelessly. His languid pose gave off an air of graceful nonchalance that put her on edge because his half-lidded eyes were strikingly alert.

All of sudden she wasn't bold anymore and she wasn't a woman on a mission. She felt insecure, angry and hurt because he had obviously noticed her presence but still refused to acknowledge it. Seconds passed and he still ignored her and Hermione felt tears of humiliation and anger gathering in her eyes. She was about to turn around and run away when his gaze suddenly settled on her. His eyes were enviously pretty but his stare made her feel even more uncomfortable than before. She didn't dare to move or even breathe because she knew that she was one little step away from loosing her composure and bursting into tears.

He held her glance for a while, then turned back to his book and adjusted his pose. She felt the first tear as it made its way down and left a hot trail on her flushed cheek. That was it, she had failed, she had been intimidated and humiliated by a boy her age in the span of one minute and he hadn't even said a word. She finally turned around and lowered her face to hide her tears. She had the urge to run away but she wouldn't be completely defeated, not by him. She took a carefully measured step, then another. She was about to take a third when his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Well are you going to finally sit down or do you intend to stand around and look like an complete idiot forever?"

That did it, she started crying silently, stumbled to the seat opposite from him and sat down just in time before her legs failed her from shock. Was that a cruel joke? She searched his eyes with a desperation that she had never felt before but her gaze was met with even pools of bright green. He was being serious.

He had made her feel inferior, had ignored her presence and had just insulted the only thing that she liked about herself but in that moment she somehow felt happier than she could remember feeling since she had arrived at Hogwarts. Her lips formed a slight smile and she looked up at the boy across from her. It looked like she hadn't failed after all.

**XXX**

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I'm already pulling all-nighters in order to update at all. I'm afraid that I won't be able to finish the story if I stop working on it regularly so I write small bits of it at night. Since I'm constantly tired it takes very long to piece everything together and turn it into a chapter that actually makes sense. I hope you like it.**


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Harry Potter, Tragedy