Dark Reflections

"Oh, young man, you came back. Is there anything else you need?" Harry just opened the door when he heard the voice asking from above. The door was stuck, so he had to struggle a little bit before finally managed to burst it open, pushing the pile of books behind it aside. He stepped in, looked up to see the old man behind the high wooden counter. Harry assumed that he must be Ollivander, as the name of the shop.

"... Good morning, Mister. Pardon me, but this is the first time I set foot in here." Harry replied eventually with a greet.

The feeling of uneasiness crept up his back. Harry went to buy his stuff at the last minute, yet he almost bumped into a particular person that he desperately needed to avoid before the moment came. Why did Henry Potter also go at this time? Did the letter arrive late? It was unlikely, so something must have happened. Now that he thought about it, Draco might also be here right now, because that boy had been on his summer vacation in France when the letters started being sent. At the moment he had two people he needed to stay away from, in both appearance.

"Is that so?" Ollivander adjusted his glasses, trying to get a clear view of the small figure. The boy wore different clothes, yes, but other than that he couldn't point out any distinctive features. They made him feel like two separated people though, as this boy somehow looked more... risky. He mumbled: "I could have sworn... Am I already that old?"

Harry's smile froze a little, before he looked around and resumed talking to change the topic: "What happened here?"

"Oh no, nothing. Just another young man trying out his wand." He laughed. "He looks just like you, are you sure you're not playing prank on me?"

"How could I?" Harry raised his hands in surrender, exclaimed. His standards about pranks were very questionable. If he really pulled that off on this poor old man, people might need another shop for wands.

"Do you want me to help you clean up this mess? I'm not in a hurry." Harry offered after scanning around the room. This place was a mess, so it might take a healthy back to put it back to the original state. Ollivander seemed too old to do it though. On the other hand, he should stay here for a while to avoid those unexpected and unpleasant meetings.

"No no, it's okay." Ollivander waved off. "Just some flick of wand then everything will be back to normal. You're here for your wand, right?"

This time it was Harry who was taken aback. The sign of Henry Potter coming here before him had somehow thrown him off balance mentally that he forgot the existence of magic and offered something so... muggle. He smiled: "I'll be in your care then."

It was hard to concentrate when you realized how strange your day had happened. Harry found himself finally out of the delirious and angry state he had been in ever since the dungeon task and took a gasp of what situation he was current in.

"Must be the overdose." Harry thought while flicking a wand, which resulted in more mess at the poor shop. Books were dragged out of the drawer to the floor. He had always been strange every time he took the pain relief potion. Honestly after years of consuming it and multiple feedbacks coming from people around him, he had to admit that that potion did mess with his head from time to time. Why was he surprised upon the sign of Henry Potter? He was his magical clone, so obviously they were at the same age, which meant they would attend Hogwarts at the same time. Late or not, to solely relying on luck when going outside, it was dumb. He should feel lucky for not bumping into him while still wearing this face. Not to mention, he had done many things impractical today. Wasting a valuable potion to get a mere owl, refusing to heal his cracking bones already, and most importantly, not realizing father's true intention.

Now, thinking logically, finding the philosopher's stone was an extremely vital mission. To put it simply, once father succeeded, he would be resurrected and get his revenge. No matter how close their interactions seemed, there was no way father would put such important task on Harry's hands. He wouldn't trust anyone else also, therefore he would likely choose to do it himself. So what was it? What did father seek in sending Harry to Hogwarts?

"No good." Harry flicked another wand, and the bookshelf behind him collapsed with a loud thud. Yet he was too lost in thought to bat an eye. He had to do something while he still could. May be right when he achieved his wand, he would rush to the library and find whatever spell could work. He had to strike first. But to strike who?

The tip of the wand on his hand illuminated brightly, which snapped him back to reality. He looked around and saw the absolute ruin he had cause while trying from wand to wand. Perhaps this was not a good day for the old shopkeeper, because just when he was about to clean up this place, Harry's attempts put everything into a chaos more than it had already been. Honestly, at first, Harry felt a bit of guilt. But that didn't last long, when he heard about his true wand's history.

"I might not be very good at remembering people's faces and names, but I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Riddle. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather... just one other..." Ollivander mumbled darkly.

Harry: "..."

Of course, who would have thought.

Harry was expecting his wand, not just because of his personal intention, but also from now on he could actually call himself a wizard. Back then he was just a potion brewer and drinker, as he liked to call. Yet, just when he got to touch his destined wand, he wanted to throw it away.

There were several reasons why he did not want a twin wand with father. First and foremost, the unknown outcome when two wands collided. They were not twins for no reason. In the worst scenario, father had a bunch of Death Eaters to command, while Harry only had a betrayable wand to rely on. It was not like he aimed to go against father. He was not Henry Potter, the boy of miracles, who could triumph over Voldemort despite still shitting in his pant. If Harry could, he would never become the enemy of the most powerful dark wizard who actually managed to rule over Britain in the past, only stopped by bad luck. But father was temperamental, and he had already been in a position that would love to kill Harry just because he disliked his face. The future was really easy to be predicted, as lovely dear father would obviously get rid of him once things settled. Now back to the wand, just when he thought he could have a bit of guarantee for his own life, fate punched him in the face.

"Mister Riddle?" The old man asked.

"It's wonderful, sir." Harry forced out a smile. The fakest one ever. He hoped that Ollivander didn't notice. "I'll take this."

___

A certain man had said. "A smile is both your weapon and your shield. You use it to conceal your emotions, and to manipulate your opponents. So smile, even if you can't. Someday you may be able to turn this tormented life of yours into a game, where you can find some joy even in life-and-death situations."

"That's rich coming from a maniac who never smiles." was what Harry had thought. But all things he said was: "Didn't take you as a playful man." His tiny hands placed on a book that was basically as big as him. Harry was around 6-7 at that time. He turned the book to its next page, commenting absentmindedly. "The kind of joy that you seek on the brink of death is nothing but absurdity. I can't understand why you're so into it." That was borderline masochism.

"You will." The man said.

Too bad he never would.

All he ever wanted was to survive.

___

Nevertheless, Harry did take that advice to his heart. He always smiled, no matter how harsh the situation. He did it so much that by now it had become a kind of reflex. To see him almost failed like in the Ollivander shop was a rare sight, which meant he was truly disappointed.

Harry rubbed his face. It felt less stiff than before. The technique was more helpful than he expected. No, he still couldn't fool the adults around him, not yet. But he had managed to fool himself. Even when he was tossed into a dungeon filled with enemies, had nothing but unidentified creatures' corpses as food supplies, he was able to keep his full sanity. The scenario was unsightly, as a young boy, bathed in blood and rotten meat, smiled to his heart's content, but he was sane when he did it. He didn't lose his mind, moreover he even achieved his goal there. The enchanted chalice resided deep inside the dungeon that could revive anyone no matter how fatal their wounds or diseases were, but only before the complete death. Once the light of life had left, even god could not stop the decomposition from eating away your body. Father was more than dead ever since he divided his soul, so the desired effects were not as expected, or rather useless. In fact it was worse than unicorn's blood in terms of keeping father's body... moving. But they didn't know that beforehand, at least Harry didn't. It was worth a try anyway. Now the only option left for father is... the Philosopher's Stone, which brought us to where we were now. The empty grass field, and the railroad track that led to the horizon.

Harry had to admit. He and the dark lord may not have the real biological relationship, but he did somehow inherit the lord's unpredictable mood and shitty luck. Because there was no other explanation for why he was standing here, either trying to commit suicide or waiting to bomb a train.

How did this happen, someone might ask.

To be fair, when Harry stepped out of his door this morning, he never thought that he would perform this kind of stupidity. He was chaotic and temperamental, but not this much. Perhaps there were several factors that led to this outcome. The injuries that he was too lazy to heal, side effects of the pain killers that he had always overused, the fact that his wand was a twin with father,... Many things, but mostly the latter.

"My head hurt so bad..." Harry stared at the rail emptily, with wand in his right hand. He reached to his pocket and pulled out a vial of polyjuice.

The illogical part of his mind just wanted destruction. To vent out the frustration he had bottled up for a long time, when the most important step of his life had led him to hell. The not-so-logical part of him thought that if he managed to kill Henry Potter, he might acquire his ridiculous ability to win against father. Or may be if he made some achievement, father would let him live?

"Ha..." Harry laughed breathlessly. He pull the cap out of the bottle and gulped down the liquid inside. His body quickly grew taller as his hair become many silver threads. Harry put a mask on Lucius's face while his smile briefly turned bitter before completely covered by the layer of wood.

May be the true reason was to test his ability. He was created based on a miracle. Could he be a miracle too?

Harry looked at the far away figure that slowly approaching. Supposedly, the legendary train which had carried generations of Hogwarts students got attacked on a not-so-fateful day. Poor children were scared, yet not many adults were available around since the train had long been automated by magic. A tragedy, indeed. How unfortunate it was, when the boy-who-lived happened to be there.

Now for the real question, how good was the train's protection?

Harry flicked his wand until the sparkles of light appeared on the tip. The Malfoy's library was a collection of many valuable books. Draco did state that it was like a smaller version of the Hogwarts library, without the age restriction. Harry spent most of his childhood there. While reading was boring if not for survival, he still enjoyed those rare moment of peacefulness. He read a lot, so eventually he collected a bunch of unusable spells. But that should change today, as he had acquired his wand.

Harry pointed his wand forward. "Bombarda Maxima."

The impact was much stronger than he wanted it to be, as the light flashed and he was sent flying backward by the shockwave. Before his back hit the ground, all he could hear was a thunderous loud that made him deaf for a moment. It took him some time to realize that the sound was gone long ago. All he heard were its echoes in his head. He didn't hit the train directly, because he knew full well that there would be a shield blocking it. So he targeted the track under it instead. As the result, the locomotive teetered on the edge, almost crashed to the grass field on the side before finally stopped.

"How clumsy..." Harry huffed heavily. But that was expected in some way. This was the first time he used his wand, so mistakes were forgivable. At least he did manage to stop the train. On the other hand, his magic quantity might be more than he thought it was. An all-out attack, without the techniques and experiences, should be unwelcomed for now, since he would likely hurt himself more than his enemies.

He slowly got up on his feets to admire his artwork, ignoring the pain burning him from skin to bones. After all, he already had many injuries, it didn't matter whether one more or one less. Plumes of smoke rose to the sky, sending the unpleasant smell to his nostrils. Remnants scattered in every direction, leaving behind a deep, blazing hole on the ground.

"Strange..." Harry mumbled. The usual bombardment spell didn't involve fire. It worked like its definition, as things just shattered to pieces violently. But there it was, the flames twisted and curled, devouring the debris that normally weren't flammable. Not to mention, the spell technically backfired on its caster.

Well, as long as it worked, who cared if he did it right or not.

Now that the train had stopped, it would take sometime before the authorities arrived. To his knowledge, when accidents occurred, the train would drain its energy to steadied all the compartments. Its number one priority would always be the safety of the passengers, not itself. The people inside wouldn't even notice the circumstance, because the only thing they saw was the scenery outside stopped moving. That's thoughtful, but it also created a gap to attack, as the magical shield was temporarily removed. The train defense system was pretty old, so the time lag was minimum fifteen minutes before the shield was back again. That's more than enough to gut Henry Potter and decorate his seat with his own organs.

Harry flicked his wands a bit while walking towards the train. Today was not his lucky day, because the locomotive's door bursted open, releasing several figures. The moment he could see what those are, his pupils widen significantly.

They're golems.

The golem, one of the most ancient creations ever known to wizards, where the breath of life was blown to stone and mud. After proving its absolute power in the old wars, the creator destroyed its formula, making it a forever lost treasure of mankind. The folktales sang that, the dream he had for his whole life ruined the dreams and lifes of others, so eventually he had to kill it with his own hands. The final blood he spilled was of himself, as he had already lost his raison d'être, and also to atone for his creation's sins. Yet how ironic it was, when the mud created by his blood and the ground underneath his corpse gave birth to some other golems. The final golems. They're called...

"Luria's last blood..." Harry mumbled.

He thought it was some sort of legends, as there's no official documents about the golems beside the old story. But the creatures before his eyes had proved him wrong. They were magnificent. The dwarfs of clay, soulless yet more lively than anything. The pinnacle of ancient dark art and embodiment of regrets.

He wasn't scared though, more like amazed. The golems were pretty old-fashioned. They're only able to terrorize the old times as not many effective defense or attack spells were created that day. Not to mention, they're Luria's last blood, not traditional golems - giants who roamed through heaven and earth. Now the tale might be exaggerated, but compared to that, those little guys weren't exactly a threat. Even if he couldn't destroy their body, a simple trap spells should do the work.

Despite the grand entrance and introduction, the golems froze right where they were. The fight Harry expected never came, no matter how hard he knocked them or the train.

Harry rubbed his hair, wondering how strange his day was. Nevertheless, the work still needed to be done. He would bring one of these guys home if he could though, since they were invaluable treasures.

"Freeze!" A shout coming above. Harry looked up and saw many aurors on their broom, pointing their wands at him. "Drop your wand and raise your hands up in the air where we can see them."

They got here much sooner than he expected. Harry raised his hands up as commanded, but instead of dropping his wand, he swept it while lowering his body, like a conductor's gesture. "Ventupheris." A strong storm was summoned, stirring the ground violently. There were a few inexperienced flyers that almost fell to the ground, but most of them stayed on their brooms steadily. They're trained aurors after all, therefore this was hardly surprising.

Some freezing charm were sent in his way, but they're all blocked by the shield charm on his clothes. Harry scrunched his eyebrows at the sight of aurors circling around like vultures. This job might be more difficult than he wanted it to be.

The fight soon became unavoidable. Harry didn't know how much magical energy he had left in his body, so his calculations were mostly incorrect. Moreover, if he kept being distracted by his own mind, he might be defeated. As a results, after some wild evaluation, a green sparkling erupted out of his wand. "Avada Kedavra." The deadly flash sent to the sky made the aurors dispersed to many directions.

That came out lighter than he thought it would. Their reactions were strong, so he must have done it right. So the very first successful spell he managed to cast had to be the curse of death.

Perhaps at that moment, he had already cursed himself.

Nevertheless, Harry could be a genius, but that didn't make up for the lack of experiences. The first day of him touching a wand had already introduced one of the unforgivable curses. Yet he didn't hit a single target. Fortunately, the curse was surprisingly sufficient, so he could spam it around. The amount of magic it took was incredibly low, as if the only price you paid was your conscience. Harry's reasoning was, you could modify the destruction level of an explosion, but with a death curse, there was no quantity measurements. You could only be either dead or not, nothing between.

The shield charm on his clothes was quite powerful, so all of the attacks didn't reach him. But soon, Harry noticed their strange pattern of fighting. They didn't use any strong or offensive spell, only some minor immobilisation charm. Now this definitely didn't come from any goodwill, but rather... they were avoiding attacking the train at all cost. Sure they needed to protect the children, but Harry was only standing near the locomotive. A small public property's damage can be reasonable compared to their goal of capturing a highly dangerous, undocumented dark wizard.

But before he could think it through, an incident happened. An auror, and also an amazing flyer, leaped through the gusts of wind and the swarm of curses, drew her sword out of her back. She slashed through the shield, almost beheaded him, but thankfully he leaned back in time to dodge it. Yet, unfortunately, his mask was sent out of his face.

"Lucius Malfoy?!" Her eyes widen as she exclaimed.

"Oh dear." Harry thought to himself. "This is bad..."

The bend made his position unstable, and aurors wouldn't let that go unnoticed. They quickly seized the chance. The shield charm was slashed, which gave way for their attack to reach him. He must say it was not a pleasant experience. Even though he did manage to block all of them in time with a simple blocking charm to keep his consciousness intact, the distance was way too close. He couldn't block all the effects. As a result, his headache detonated. He was paralyzed completely as if being electrocuted. The sky spinning on his head had made him sick to the point of vomiting. Harry collapsed to the ground, emptying his already void of a stomach.

He was not panic, but this situation might be even more than hard. Getting caught by aurors was not the worst scenerio, as he used to be caught more than once, by aurors, by monters, by other Death Eaters in some hardcore hide-and-seek practice. But those were different, because those had plan, and his mentors had taken his incompetence into account. This, was his own intention, without any prior explanation to others, and more importantly, just in the day of getting into Hogwarts. Now this may sounded insane, but the fact that he's late for Hogwarts was worse than the fact that he's dead, because it led to a disruption in their crucial plan, which kinda also meant death so they were basically the same thing but eh, that's not the point. The point was they couldn't risk any suspicion. Father would be livid if he found out.

Harry pulled his wand to his chest. He was about to curse anyone who got near him then out of nowhere, a hand quickly seized his collar and dragged him up abruptly. "Stand up!" That voice was strangely familiar, as if it came out of his own throat, but Harry was too disoriented to see anything clearly. Then a chain of explosions bursted through the sky above. He could vaguely heard the scream and confusion before both of them got apparated. The disturbingly beautiful clear sky was replaced by a familiar, glamorous ceiling.

Harry had apparated before, not on his own obviously, so the side-effects were not very bad. Unfortunately, his rescuer didn't feel magnanimous enough, as he threw him on the floor like some sort of ragdoll. "What the hell was you thinking?" Lucius's voice came out thunderously. It echoed throughout the hall and shook the chandelier above.

Harry bursted out a laughter. He sounded much younger, which meant the polyjuice had run out. He slowly got up, greeting the man happily: "Hello, Bartemius." There was he, Barty with Lucius face, standing like a volcano that could erupt at any moment. Or not, because he already did.

Harry could guess from how quick and powerful the man's magic was, but the way he roared, that gave him away the most. Lucius behaved like an arrogant aristocrat, but he was in fact an aristocrat. He would not raise his voice more than how his elegance permitted. And his magic, not that it's bad yet it was quite sloppy compared to a trained soldier. Only Barty could be on that level.

"You're supposed to get your school supplies! Not to attack the school train! What was you thinking!?" Barty scolded. His face contorted with anger, and his voice was unforgiving. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't scared. Barty would not kill him, he knew that much. And what didn't kill him would hardly be considered a threat, therefore no need to be scared.

"I'm sorry." Harry dusted his sleeves. "I just got my wand and I was so excited to impress you."

Barty was even more enraged, so much that he laughed: "You know damn well that this does not work on me, yet you still try. I don't know whether you're stupid or brave."

"To you, aren't those the same thing?" Harry smiled shaking his head. He explained: "Once Henry Potter reaches Dumbledore's domain, he would be very difficult to kill. So I give it a try."

"You already know that the Dark lord forbade that." Barty said, seemingly calmer, but still furious.

"It's not like father would punish me if I succeed." Harry smiled.

"Well you don't. You even almost get caught." Barty said angrily.

Harry replied: "I know you will get my back."

"What?"

"I know you casted protection charm on my wardrobe." Harry looked at him in the eyes, continued. "I know you would be alerted if I happened to be in danger. I know what you did for me. And for that, I'm eternally grateful."

"..."

"I'm sorry that I made you worried. I just want us to be free from all of this as soon as possible. Forgive me for my childish dream. Now that I'm aware of my own incompetence, it won't happen again." Harry said eventually.

"You... Ah..." Barty was lost for words. After some moment, he sighed. "Forget it. You're still a kid after all. Don't ever do anything like that again. I will not report this to the lord, but the next time you disobey, there will be consequences."

"Thank you." Harry smiled.

Barty added: "Also, about this morning, don't provoke the lord any longer. Just because I'll save you doesn't mean you should dig your own grave for fun."

"Yes, Barty." Harry replied. He didn't look like learning any lesson though.

Harry's relationship with Barty was rather strange. Harry would not say they're on a bad term, but the hidden aspect was not normal enough to even consider it a good relationship. They're not shallow either, they talked on daily basis and knew about each other long enough to converse with just a glance. If Harry had to describe it, Barty would be both his elder brother, and a Cerberus. He cared about Harry, somewhat, but only if Harry remained obedient, or in other words, remained in prison. The sentiments were genuine, as long as no one crossed the boundary.

Barty looked at his messy raven hair. He raised his hand up to rub it roughly. "Don't overdo it. You are a student too, remember? Keep this coming then you'll have the hat scream out Azkaban."

Harry laughed, protested weakly. His head quickly became a mess. They looked like a pair of ordinary brothers.

"Now gather your stuff and I'll give you a ride to Hogwarts." Barty said.

If possible, Harry would love to go back to his room and check out his wounds, because it got worse after the fight and he felt like dying right now. But it seemed like he had no choice. He agreed and followed Barty outside. At midway, he stopped to look at the air above, seemingly looking for something. He called: "Barty, is father not here?"

Barty didn't stop or turn around, but he still replied: "No, why do you ask?"

Harry kept on walking to catch up with him. He answered with a hand on his scar: "Just a feeling."

___

After some brief examination, the train was sent on its way. The aurors remained at the scene to gather more information. A sample of magic was collected to investigated further, but their captain doubted that it would bear any fruit. That technique was trash, to be honest.

"Ben's patronus just arrived." An auror came to his captain. "Lucius Malfoy is clean. There are many evidences and witnesses suggesting that he was in Diagon alley when the incident happened."

It was not surprising since there were two of them at that time here. At least one of them had to be fake, if not both.

"That guy goes to hair salon once every three days, so he has many hair to lose." The captain sighed. "This is getting nowhere. Fiona, you fought him directly, and was the closest to them they apparated away. What do you think?"

Fiona answered without looking up from her note. "The first guy possesses good reflexes, a substantial amount of magic yet low accuracy. He's trained, just lacks experiences. However..." She continued grimly. "To be able to cast so many death curse, does that guy have any humanity at all?"

The curse of death was notoriously difficult not because of its complexity in wand movement or incantation, but the intent to kill. What kind of psychopath looked at strangers and genuinely, wholeheartedly wanted them to die? That thought sent chills up everyone's spines. "Were the dark lord not dead, I could have sworn it's him." The captain commented. "I will ask for a permission to kill if we ever come across that guy again."

Fiona sighed, shaking her head. "The second guy seems to be more dangerous though. I suggest we be more cautious with him." After all, he was the one who managed to hit them, not that deadly yet amateur wizard.

The auror said: "We still don't know their motive behind this attack. They just got out of nowhere, hit the tracks, fought us then left without elaborating further." That seemed so anticlimactic.

Fiona hummed: "Well since they assaulted this particular train at this time, I think we could guess."

The auror asked: "How?"

She said: "Did you not know? You see, the boy..."

The captain left the conversation and walked to the Hogwarts wizard. This man was responsible for maintaining the train and those golems. "Hey Chris, how are the little guys?"

Chris greeted the captain then said: "They're fine. No notable flaw, sir."

The captain asked suspiciously: "Then why they didn't activate? That man hit the train with his spell many times, yet they only looked at us as if we were the attackers."

"That's unlikely. If they think you gentlemen attack the train, they will pay it back right away. They just thought that your team was a potential danger, so they observed you closely first." Chris took off his glasses and kept it in his hand. He was hesitant, but he chose to said it out: "You remember how the golems were restricted beforehand, sir?"

The captain said: "Yes. They will only defend the train, and will not hurt children in any circumstances. Why do you ask?"

"Well, we can conclude that the attacker is indeed a child." Chris said.

The captain exclaimed loudly: "What?" He didn't want to shout, but he couldn't help it.

Chris put back his glasses on, answered: "I can check again if you want, but I don't think it will have any difference."

The captain was dumbfounded. It took him some moment to find back his words. "Right..." He said. "Thank you for your time."

How absurd yet logical it was.

The perpetrator was not actually inhumane. He's just a kid. He might not even aware of how sinful it was when he truly desired the death of others. He might have been raised by monsters, to become a monster himself.

Because there would be no other explanation why such kind of human existed.

Or could he really be considered human, if he already... at that age?

Chris said: "I'll call Dumbledore."