Chapter 1
Harry Potter looked around him with misty eyes. It's not because of his bad sight. After all, the glasses function the same as yesterday. But because he sees something that humans shouldn't be able to see. Yes, Harry Potter is a special child. Let's just call it that because he hates the 'weird' or 'crazy' jeers that people often throw at him. His tiny body due to malnutrition, made him seem to be immersed in the clothes of his former cousin Dudley Dursley, while he stepped following Hagrid's giant body down Diagon Alley towards Gringotts Bank. Every time he took a step, his gaze ran down the bodies bubbling with his eyes open which a second later vanished, replaced by the boys running into Zonko's joke shop.
Hagrid's stature made him look back at the restless man with a forced smile that waved at him to follow. Harry quickened the pace. But, not before catching a glimpse of the wizards who were fighting— (wands, interesting tools, he couldn't wait to get one)—and of course, the scene vanished as quickly as he arrived. He wondered; why hasn't he gone crazy to see all these horrible scenes? Maybe he is already immune or crazy in another sense. After all, he had long come to terms with fate and accepted the fact that—even the Dursley's said—he was a freak, even by wizarding standards.
When he walked into the bank, it was not the Goblins that surprised him. Rather, the figure of a dragon whizzing through the floor towards the roof, His mouth gaped in a silent cry, as if seeking freedom. For a few seconds, he was silently glued to the creature eyes wide-eyed. This is the first time he has seen a dragon! Apparently, he will experience an amazing adventure in the future, because nothing like this has ever happened to him before. His visions reveal a more extraordinary view like this: the view eventually vanished at the end of the roof, making its damaged floor and ceiling rumble intact again.
His eyes glanced at the warning;
'Come in, strangers, but notice from what awaits the sin of greed. For those who take, but do not produce. Have to pay a heavy price in turn. So, if you search under our floor a treasure that is not yours, Thief, you have been warned, beware of finding more than treasure there!'
It seems that he in the future to have read the warning once again.
When he boarded the rollercoaster to vault 687 belonging to the Potter family, he had a glimpse of the dragon that was restrained by his neck. Because the carriage moved very fast, it couldn't be seen clearly. But just a glance was enough to make him sympathize with the dragons poor condition. I don't know if he will later release the dragon out of pity or is there another reason?
It hasn't even been a day since he set foot in the wizarding world, he has seen so many interesting things to the point of thinking that there is nothing else that can shock him. But apparently he was very wrong because he saw his family's Vault make his mouth open wider than the dragon's mouth. The piles of gold there seemed to be endless, towering like hilltops. The more so, it was just the 'trust Vault!' that his parents gave him for snacks. Not the main Vault!
Griphook, the goblin who drove him, gave him a small pouch that could be filled indefinitely. He considered taking as much as he needed to buy school supplies, but finally decided to fill them as much as possible because he didn't want to go to the bank multiple times. After filling it to his satisfaction, he accompanied Hagrid to pick up the mysterious package in the name of the Headmaster.
The thing was stored in a dark vault, small and full of stalactites. Instantly, Harry saw a flash of red stone images, red eyes and purple turbans, making him shudder and strode quickly away from Hagrid. The man did not appear anxious or suspicious at the Headmaster's orders, no matter how serious the Vault and the items he took. Instead he simply tied the pouch around his waist and walked towards the pub where they had lunch; a place where anyone can steal the package. Looking at Hagrid with a furrowed forehead, he couldn't help but shake his head. Maybe his stupidity is because of the giant blood, who knows? It's not his responsibility. After all, who is the adult here? Harry looked at the beautiful Bank one last time, before returning to follow the big man's pace.
After lunch, Hagrid drove him to buy luggage and school supplies, such as parchment and quill. While walking, Harry asked a lot about Hogwarts, Pureblood, Half-blood, Muggle-born and Dumbledore. From that conversation, Harry drew the conclusion that Hagrid had a total loyalty to the principal which made him biased. There was a high subjectivity as he explained each of the Houses, specifically Slytherin. Moreover, he made Harry uncomfortable because he repeatedly convinced Harry that he was the real Gryffindor, like his parents. Though it wasn't his parents who determined his House, and it wasn't them who were stuffed with old hats to get his head in. He knew. He had already seen it, just after holding the letter from Hogwarts. He knew the hat was also one of the tools that could help him avoid manipulation.
In Madam Malkin's place, Hagrid left him alone. Inside there was already a customer, a child of his age with almost white blond hair and an official dress suit that gave him the impression of the upper class, standing on the podium, being measured.
"Hogwarts' first-year student?" asked madam Malkin just for the sake of courtesy, as one look at him anyone could tell that he is a first-year student.
Harry nodded.
Harry became acquainted with Draco Malfoy only by his first name alone, out of dismay at the consequences of his surname, which apparently was not taken for granted in the wizarding world. But that worry didn't happen because Malfoy was too busy talking about himself than finding out about Harry. He let the blonde tell him about Hogwarts and other things to show his prestige. And just reciprocated with a nod. Madam Malkin cast an amused look at them as if knowing Harry was just comforting Malfoy. After all, what is the loss of a little patience in an innocent child who later loses his naivety in the cruelest way, such as being forced to kill someone.
Before long, madam Malkin finished with him and asked Harry to come to the podium to get measured. Harry looked at the boy leaving with a black-haired woman with a silver chain on one side of him. A slew of their eyes crossed, instantly sending out a flash of a middle-aged woman squatting down to whisper to him "Is Draco alive?" Before finally his sight was cut off by the door of the shop that was closed again. As he turned his attention back to Madam Malkin, the woman smiled in amusement while holding the measuring tool. "Hogwarts uniform, dear?"
Harry nodded, "And can you find me clothes for everyday that wizards usually wear?"
"Muggleborn?"
Harry shook his head, "Half-blood, but I raised my muggle uncle and aunt because both my parents are dead."
"Oh, poor boy," she whispered, as she cupped Harry's cheek. Then a big smile graced his face. "Leave it to me, I will make you look like a puppet!"
He tried not to roll his eyeballs and let Madam Malkin do her duty. He believed in the woman's ability, because he saw that he would return here in the future. Harry walked out of the store with a pile of formal and casual robes neatly folded in his suitcase.
"Harry!" exclaimed Hagrid, stepping quickly through the crowd while carrying a cage filled with a snowy owl, "Happy birthday, Harry!"
Hedwig! A smile expands on his face as he finally meets his pet bird. He felt that he always had Hedwig, but he didn't know if Hagrid would it give him. "Thank you, Hagrid," Harry whispered as he took him out of the cage and hugged him. Hedwig seemed to have known him for a long time, perched herself on his shoulder.
"Clever bird!" exclaimed Hagrid between his laughs as they stepped towards Olivander's shop.
The first time he met the old man, I don't know what magnetism made him move to grab his hand. The man said his name softly and familiarly, "Mr. Potter, finally! Feels like it was still yesterday I saw your parents walk into my shop for the first time," he said choice letting Harry know that Olivander also had the privilege of it. He is also a person who can see what is invisible. "Come on... come... the dominant hand?"
"Right hand."
Then, they started an endless hunt. "What a curiosity," the man whispered as no wand matched him. Then, suddenly he spun fast and ran to one of the innermost corners where the boxes were arranged and picked up one. In front of Harry, he opened it slowly, allowing Harry to take it. The moment his finger touched the thing, his eyes rolled back, and the energy moved around him with green and golden light.
"Interesting! It's really interesting. Your wand is a Holly Wood with acore of Phoenix bird feather. I remember all the wands I have ever sold, Mr. Potter. The same Phoenix gave two of its feathers which became two different wands. One of them is in your grasp, and the other is the one who gave this scar," he whispered, touching Harry's scar. "I'm looking forward to something great from you, mr. Potter. After all, he also did something great. Bad, yes. But it's also great."
Voldemort. The man talked about Voldemort. It made him feel like he was being washed by ice on his back. So that he did not protest when Hagrid hurriedly asked him out of Olivander's shop. His pale face proved that the name was still a scourge for most wizards.
There are so many possibilities that he saw when he opened his eyes. It made him long for something he didn't already have or remorse for a mistake he hadn't made. The advantage of all that, he can avoid something bad. But there are times whenever he avoids, bad things will still happen to him. Like when he was in the Dursleys. The choice is only between being hit or kicked. Two equally painful possibilities. So, that reason is also what made him return to Diagon Alley after Hagrid left him in front of the house of No. 4 Privet Drive. With a wheeled suitcase and a bag of money in his pants, Harry walked through one of the inns in Diagon Alley; Witchcraft Boussra, a Hotel located close to Gringotts. After renting a room, Harry opened his suitcase and took out the contents inside. A lingering touch and an urge to stroke the quality material of his clothes. A luxury he never felt. Harry bit his lip and buried his face there. There was no sound, only his trembling back which signaled he was crying; feeling between saddened that this was the first time he tasted what the other children should have felt, as well as relief that he was finally able to loosen the Dursleys' grip on him.
The next day, Harry went downstairs for breakfast in his new silk blue tunic. He sat down with his breakfast at one table in the hotel cafeteria watching his surroundings. Even if there are very few hotels in the wizarding world and they are also not as luxurious as Muggle-owned hotels, harry personally prefers hotels in the wizarding world, because, well... magic. This dining room is a classic theme with seating that can justify its own location or a self-folding dining napkin and not to forget also food that can suddenly appear if you call out its name in the menu book. While stuffing a large-scale meat into his mouth, his eyes read a sentence on the news in the Daily Prophet about him entering the school year at Hogwarts. It's a good thing that no one knows his face, so there is no photo in the news except for a description of what they think he is. Well, for the most part there's some truth to his Potter's signature eye or hair color. But tall and charming, he didn't think it was right. If described, Harry can be said to be like a dwarf compared to his peers of his year.
It was then that the sparks like electricity, which he now knew were called magic energy, made him look up and his eyes crossed with a young man who stood up and walked with a step that made each person step aside. What amazed Harry was the young man's height of more than 6'1, making him almost fill the threshold as he walked in. His muscles moved in the folds of his expensive shirt wrapped in a black robe that was only half the length of the body. Leaving a gap where everyone can that his thighs and legs are strong and long. Even the fabric material of his pants couldn't cover up as the muscles moved. The moment the young man turned to look at him, Harry froze at the familiar black petal sharp gaze. The magic passed as the young man turned his gaze. Harry knew that nameless face! After he appeared several times in his dreams. If it is not in the background, then he is always by Harry's side. Although his vision did not show his voice or body clearly. But that look in his eyes couldn't be wrong!
Harry put down his spoon and stood up as the young man moved out of the room. They will meet at Hogwarts, he assured. If it is destined.
Because it is destined.
During his stay at Witchcraft Boussra, Harry has spent his time studying the wizarding world. He bought and read a lot of books. Especially about himself, so that he knows how the wizarding world thinks of the Boy-Who-Lived. Apparently, he was the last Potter, who was an old noble line, even if there were no kings and queens here. The concept belonged to Muggles and disappeared after wizards broke away from their world. So that the 'Sacred 28', 28 of the oldest nobles became the most major force in politics, where Potter was also included in it. Potter's descendants have the blood of the oldest vanished wizarding family, the Peverell family, after his last descendant, Lolanthe Peverell, married the Potter family's Heir, Hardwin Potter. No wonder his family's money in the Bank is so much, not counting the precious relics.
He also learned more about Pureblood society and the prejudices about muggles stemming from witch hunts. He doesn't want to be consumed in prejudice here without understanding it. Although he feels that the opinions of most purebloods are not willing today, but he can sympathize because he knows that it is true that muggles can be as dangerous as Muggles are. He spent his time devouring many books; a luxury he could never get from the Dursleys, and carried his intellectual soul that had always been neglected. Fortunately, his suitcase has unlimited capacity, where he can even enter it through the stairs to arrange his books on the shelves there. "I love magic," he whispered as he rubbed his potion book. He likes potions, it reminds him of cooking. A little bit of expertise he got from the Dursleys. He hopes to experiment with the original potion ingredients soon.
As a result of his interest, he returned to the Apothecary to buy higher quality materials. The potion shop was attractive enough to reward the stench of eggs and garbage. It's not that the store is dirty, it's just because they sell a wide variety of weird potion ingredients like; bottles of herbs, dried roots, and luminous bottles lined the wall with wriggling contents, bundles of feathers, pieces of fangs, and crows controlled to the ceiling. Until rare items like the Unicorn horns he noticed when he first came here with Hagrid—the horns that Unicorns gave away for free (20 Galleons) and bee eyes (5 knuts 1 shovel).
He couldn't forget it when he first met the Potion Master. At that time, he accidentally hit the back of his body because he was too engrossed in paying attention to the Unicorn horns. The man turned around very quickly and his dark eyes narrowed sharply. Harry's head kept looking up to be able to meet his dark eyes observing him. His aunt's uncle is among those of average height, but apparently even in the wizarding world he is surrounded by giant blood people.
The man's lips sneered in dislike, something that should have made anyone run away in fear. But not Harry. No, after he saw a flash of the future, where he sat hugging the mysterious man while life left his eyes. Not when he could even feel the warmth of blood seeping between his fingers as he endured the wound on the neck. Shocked by the sadness that suddenly struck him, beads of tears shed down his cheeks. Gasping, the man moved quickly to grab his shoulder. "Potter!" he exclaimed.
But he was still sputtered in tears. The man looked around in a panic, especially as a few heads turned curiously at them.
"Potter!" he ducked so that their heads were aligned, the grip on his shoulders was very strong, "Get a hold of yourself! Stop crying!" Harry was sputtered as he tried to stop and his nose from running. "Why are you crying!?" he said it in a hiss that it is impossible for a normal person to give an eleven-year-old child. But Harry wasn't afraid or angry, because none of that could overcome his sadness at seeing the man die in his arms. This guy is important, Harry can feel that.
When Harry had calmed down and he blinked his eyes to remove the tears, he came to face with the man's dark eyes, which were still burning and it made him smile. "Potter! Are you crazy?!" His hiss was frustrated at Harry's unreasonable expression.
Harry just nodded, "What's your name, sir?" Harry grabbed the hem of the sleeve of his robe. The man looked horrified.
He squinted, "I'm a potions professor from Hogwarts. You'll call me Professor Severus Snape or sir!"
"Professor Snape," Harry whispered, testing his tongue. Then smiled.
"Have you calmed down?" Harry nodded. "Are you missing your introduction?" Harry shook his head. He squinted. "You're here yourself? Why are you here alone?"
"I want to buy better materials than the standard ones for students I have already bought, sir..." He looked surprised as Harry whispered adding, "I like Potions... "
"Hm..." His eyes squinted, as if knowing Harry was deliberately answering one of his questions to distract him from the other. But the man didn't urge, just immediately stood up and turned around, walking away. After a few steps, he said without turning his head, "Come on, I'll show it to you!" and without waiting anymore Harry stepped lightly following the man. His hand grabbed the sleeve of his robe, making the man turn his head down frowning, but did not wagging off his grasp. The two strange pairs walked down the potions shop followed by curious eyes, especially for those who knew exactly who Severus Snape was. Moreover, not a few of them are former students who have felt his sharp speech and temperament.
The Potion master drove him home to the Leaky Cauldron. Thought he was going home to his Muggle home. But after the man left, Harry again slipped towards Witchcraft Boussra.
On September 1 before 11 a.m. Harry stood uneasy in front of the Leaky Cauldron fireplace. Tom the bartender smiled as he gave a 'do' gesture. "Remember, clearly say 'Kings Cross Station, platform 9 3/4'."
Harry threw away the floo powder until the hot flame turned green and stepped in. Sighed and coughed with ashes. Then he exclaimed, "Kings Cross Station platform 9 3/4!" in a hoarse but clear and powerful voice.
Not having time for him to evenblink, Harry ejected out, spit out by the fireplace. Instantly he protected his head from the impact of the hard rock floor. It wouldn't be funny if tomorrow's Daily Prophet Headlines reported Harry Potter's brain splattered on the first day of school. Yes, his body did land on something hard, but not the floor. The moment he looked up, his eyes kept moving up and up, and up, to see the familiar face that made his mouth gape. Eyes were blacker than any petal he had ever seen looking back at him. He couldn't help but froze when he realized who the young man was. Rough hands full of clenched fists balanced his legs. He believes he is standing before a predator.
"It's okay?" A low baritone voice sounded as he asked as he pulled Harry's hair to get his attention. Harry shook his head, moving away. But a big hand held him. "No one is taking you?"
Harry shook his head, "I'm an orphan, sir."
He raised an eyebrow. "Salazar... You're so short. I'm sure you'll be immersed in the crowd," he commented to which Harry only replied with a serious nod, as if to know it was a big deal. The young man blinked, observing Harry full of judgment before finally grabbing Harry's waist and lifting him in a bridal carry. "No one wants to see you missing, huh. I'll take you on the train."
Harry's hand that accidentally ended up on the muscular shoulder rubbed it blatantly with a curious expression. Made the young man raise his dark eyebrows. Of course it was an unusual sight, especially with their height difference. And if you know who the person holding Harry is, he's not famous for his tenderness or kindness.
"Flint?" A group of senior students looked at them in surprise. Flint, his name is Flint. "What are you doing with that boy?"
"Hm..." he still didn't put Harry down. Harry also didn't stop rubbing those shoulders full of admiration. What did Flint eat so that he could be this big? He knows Flint is a senior student, but not even all adults can compete with his height.
"Come on. The train is about to leave," his friends exclaimed again.
Ignoring them, Flint instead asked, "First year?"
Harry nodded.
"Where's your suitcase?" Harry reached for the pendant around his neck that was in the shape of a miniature suitcase. "Smart." Then without putting him down, he took Harry into the carriage, where his friends followed with a look full of speculation. Strange, they seemed too reluctant to comment.
"What's your name?"
"Harry..." then to Flint's ear he added, "Potter."
The young man raised one eyebrow, "Marcus Flint. Captain of the Slytherin quidditch team."
Marcus opened one of the doors of the room in the carriage, making the three people inside, who looked obviously at the first-year child, turned their heads in surprise. They looked at Harry, then Flint, taking turns.
Slowly the young man put him down, he ducked his head and whispered, "I hope we meet again in Slytherin," then pushed him in and closed his door with a bang.
He turned to three first-year kids, "Hi?" he said, waving.
"Hi." One of them shifted to give him space. "My name is Sue Li."
"Harry."
"Terry Boot"
"Mandy Brocklehurst."
"Em... that was your brother just now?"
Harry shook his head.
"Acquaintance?"
Harry shook his head over, then shrugged his shoulders. His three new friends looked at each other. But Harry ignored them and instead took one of the books from his bag.
Harry looked at the window after staring at his book for so long without any information he could digest. A red car hovering beside the window and disappearing towards the sky made him chuckle lightly. He sighed, had he walked into Gryffindor's House, that would have happened. He will face ridiculous adventures with his two best friends. He didn't want to think about his other darker and more dangerous adventures, because no matter where he entered, that type of adventure still followed him.
His vision gave him a lot of consideration, especially regarding the 'Golden Trio'. He will indeed get a real friendship, but the risks he faces are much greater than if he entered another dormitory. Moreover, he hated the expectations people gave him if he entered the lion House. He would rather have his presence considered a wind than be given the servitude of a hero. He bit his lip. Being a background is an important issue for survival. It's not that he doesn't know that being in the limelight is inevitable, but as much as possible Harry wants to reduce it. And that wouldn't have happened if he had entered Gryffindor.
Suddenly the door opened, and Hermione stood at the door with Neville Longbottom. In another possible fate, Neville Longbottom could swap roles with him as the 'Boy-Who-Lived. Seeing him look small and timid made Harry observe him curiously, which made Neville hide behind Hermione, "Does anyone know the frog named Trevor?"
They all shook their heads.
Hermione stared at her book, "Oh! You're reading the potions book! I've read all the books on the list. My favorite is Hogwarts History! My name is Hermione Granger, and This is Neville Longbottom."
"My favorite Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name is Harry, and this is Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst and Sue Li." The three looked shocked when they knew Harry had memorized their names. "Why don't you ask Prefect for help? They can help you Accio him."
"Accio?"
Harry bent his shoulders, "You know, Accio's spell to summon objects."
"Oh!" the five of them looked surprised. Hermione nodded, "I will follow your advice. Come on Longbottom," before leaving he turned around briefly saying, "We'll be there in a while, you'd better change uniforms."
He was grateful that Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley didn't find him.
Their carriage stopped at the same time as the sound of the whistle. The first-year child followed Hagrid to get to the deck where several boats were moored. Before he went there, suddenly someone pulled his arm, and once again he was confronted by Marcus Flint.
"Tight grip, no one wants the Savior of the wizarding world to drown, pulled by a giant octopus in the lake." The first-year kids around him were wide-eyed in fear and one of Gryffindor's Prefects named Percy Weasley yelled at Marcus Flint not to disturb the ducklings. Marcus just grinned, pulled his hair gently and left as fast as his arrival. "He's so tall," Terry Boot whispered.
"And great!" exclaimed another.
"I heard that he has Troll blood."
"Hush! Don't you know? He's Marcus Flint of Slytherin. Not even any fellow Slytherins dare to go against him"
While one ear listened to the rumors around him, his eyes scanned how Marcus walked like a predator who made everything step aside, and some of them even jumped up. Harry knew that self-confidence was definitely not obtained easily or cheaply. Especially with the body owned by Marcus, one of a professional rugby player.
The boats began to sail through the lake. In the distance the Hogwarts Castle stands towering arrogantly as if knowing that no one rivaled her beauty. Harry smiled at the place he always—would—consider his first home.
"Ah, thank you Hagrid," said the middle-aged woman with her high-mowed silver hair wearing the typical witch outfit like a medieval educated woman. He looked firm and disciplined, especially with his serious expression and gaze that made Neville frown. "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall. You will wait here in an orderly manner until it is your turn to be selected."
"I heard that we have to fight the trolls," Ron Weasley whispered which finally triggered an uproar between Malfoy and Weasley's camp. Harry moved three steps to the side to avoid those two who were greeted by the raised eyebrows of his three friends. He knew that the three of them were going to enter Ravenclaw, but even before that, their reactions were similar!
They entered the hall in rows. As the Sorting hat started singing, Harry followed suit. Those around him looked at him strangely, especially Hermione—oh, Hermione with her mind too straight. But Harry didn't pay attention to her, he was busy swinging while singing softly at the song that had been buzzing in his head since weeks ago, and clapping his hands loudly as soon as the hat was over.
Before the sorting begins, Dumbledore warns about the forbidden forest and its dangers of Whomping Willow. Not forgetting the warning not to enter the 3rd floor cooridor. Harry had no intention of interfering with Voldemort's plan. After all, without Harry's intervention, Voldemort would not be able to take it away. Once again he removed one leg from the manipulation.
Then the sorting began.
"Hannah Abbott!"
"HUFFLEPUFF"
"Hermione Granger!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Neville Longbottom!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Harry Potter!"
Whispers and amusing sounded throughout the hall. Harry, who was still humming the hat's song, stopped swinging and looked up. His eyes crossed with the Potion master once again. "
Harry? Harry Potter?" his friends whispered as they turned their heads probably looking for typical Potter-haired kid.
As Harry stepped forward, still smiling with his eyes foggy, the whispers grew louder and louder in a tone of astonishment and curiosity. "That's Harry Potter?"
The moment the hat touched its head, it exclaimed in a clear voice that sounded loudly in the deserted hall, "Hello, Sorting Hat."
"Oh, Hello, Mr. Potter. It's really interesting what's in your head."
"Hm.. hm.. please, Sorting Hat. But I guess, I know where you're going to sort me."
"Yes. Yes. What a unique head." And as in his previous vision when the hat selected him to Gryffindor, it still took a long time. He knew the hat was considering two main houses for him—if what he saw or what he was mumbling about was true. But Harry was confident the hat would put him in a house that really fit his mission.
"Hmmm... you've got a much older mind than your age. Especially to understand the situation around you. It's a typical one that suits you in Slytherin. Yes I think you are indeed more suitable in SLYTHERIN!" Ah...
Harry took off the Sorting Hat and put it into Professor McGonagall's hand that was still frozen just like the whole hall. Harry winked with a smile still on his lips and gradually thunderous applause rang out from Slytherin. He knew the decision of the Sorting Hat surprised everyone, who knew the cub of the lion was a cunning snake. But to be cunning is more important for survival rather than to be brave, especially if it is adjacent to a snake hiding in the body of a lion. The first step is to get out of the manipulation.
"Hello," Harry greeted Malfoy who finally told his two fat friends to make room for Harry. Several people around him introduced themselves. Harry looked back at them with a smile and eyes foggy. Perhaps it was from this reaction that made him hear many whispers questioning about his sanity. In fact, he vaguely heard insulting whispers–"maybe he's going a bit crazy because of Killing Curse." But Harry didn't mind that. Harry chose this house, knowing clearly what he was facing.
His eyes swept around him and stopped on Marcus Flint who was devouring his food as if everything around him was unimportant. Perceiving his gaze, Flint looked up, making their eyes meet. His lips formed a grin without realizing those beside him drifting away. Ah... It's really interesting. Harry could understand why Marcus Flint always appeared in his vision. It seemed that being nearby didn't make Harry bored.
As with Marcus Flint, everything in Slytherin is interesting, even the common room. The place was indeed damp and dark because it was in the basement. But the sofas with tea tables surrounding the fireplace, antique tables with luxurious chess sets, and chandeliers with golden colors give off a classy impression. It's a lot different from the Gryffindor common room, which is all red with lots of toys, blankets, snacks and teen magazines.
As Prefect gave an announcement and Professor Snape as the Head of the House explained the rules, Harry stood among a group of first-year children with their eyes sprawling and swaying bodies humming the mermaids inwardly. He believes the song will be heard by him during his fourth year. "Potter!" Harry stopped swinging. "Are you listening?!"
"Yes professor Snape..." he said softly and politely. The man squinted but did not comment.
"Remember! I don't accept any jokes or swearing in this house! Slytherin's matter remains within the Slytherin walls! Understand?!"
"Yes, sir!" they all exclaimed
Unlike the Gryffindor room in the high tower that made it filled with sunlight, in the basement the atmosphere was much darker—well, of course. But what gives an interesting impression is the touch of luxury that describes the lives of most of its house members. His room was also much more spacious than his room in Gryffindor house (a change that did not disappoint), so instead of having to sleep in a room with five to six people, he was just a three-person room with Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. With his new pajamas that were like nightgowns and made of quality materials as smooth as silk, Harry slept on the softest bed he had ever felt. But instead of being sleepy, his body became more and more vigilant in this foreign land. He tried to sleep, really, because he knew tomorrow was his first day. But he kept twitching restlessly in his blanket.
With a sigh, Harry decided to go downstairs to the common room. He knew that the fireplace could help him sleep. When he arrived there, apparently there were still many upper-year students who gathered either playing games or reading.
"What are you doing out of your bed so late, Potter?" a familiar cold voice caught his attention.
"Are you homesick?" said another, greeted by the laughter of his friends.
"Oh, stop talking, you were also Homesick during your first year. I remember driving you to Professor Snape crying, and you cried harder when dealing with him." The comment was met with laughter from the others.
Harry smiled at the jokes shared with each other. He stood there in new pajamas that drowned his tiny body. His eyes swept around, looking for the origin of the familiar voice among others. He found him sitting with a folded quidditch magazine in his hand. His eyes shifted from the magazine to Harry. Then snapped his fingers as if to say, come here.
His feet stepped ahead of his brain, and he was already in front of Marcus Flint subconsciously. Everyone stopped talking and observing. As if unaware of that, Marcus led her into his lap. His position made Harry's head slightly higher and his back felt the arm muscles leaning against the handle of the sofa. Everyone froze with wide-eyed eyes. Even one of them kept pouring tea into the cup until the contents spilled out without knowing it, making Harry feel amused but also confused. But it wasn't long until his attention was seized by the curiosity by feeling the hard chest that was under his hand.
Innocently he asked, "How can you be so big?" he heard a choking voice in the distance. He saw Marcus's lopsided smile that made him look dangerous. But also, that smile made him even more attractive.
"You don't want to go back to your room?"
"Hm..." Sleep is no longer a mouth-watering alternative when feeling what's under his head. If it is big, Harry also wants to have such muscles. He felt his hair pulled gently, but Harry ignored him. He yawned wide.
"Potter?" one of the girls there asked, "Are you okay?"
The arms wrapped around her waist tightened. Harry looked back at the girl in confusion. Of course he's fine. He didn't get sick. Then, looked at Marcus Flint curiously. But there was no answer there, except for the cold look that made the fur on the nape of his neck stand up. The gaze was not directed at her, but more at the girl. Harry didn't want that gaze to fall on him, because it was scary. It seems that not only Harry is so-minded, in case the sound of the gasp is proof of that. Complete silence greeted them.
Then, a deep and sharp voice broke the silence, "Why don't you try to close your eyes and sleep. Come here." He pulled Harry leaning back against his shoulder. Oh! It's really comfortable and warm. He hopes that the pillow can feel the same.
Harry yawned. Shifted his body slightly to find a comfortable position. Marcus conjured the blanket and covered Harry with him, leaving only the top of his head. Harry fell asleep surrounded by masculine scents.
After a while and everyone was sure harry was already asleep, one of the students said in a serious tone, "Flint. He is a first-year kid..."
Marcus raised his eyebrows, he chuckled softly, his voice sharp as he said, "You said as if I was a criminal." They all looked at each other nervously. Instantly the magic wand slid into his hand.
With only whispers, "Silencio, Crucio!" and the mere flicking motion of the wand, Marcus made him fall with a silent scream. Had there been no soundproof wards and spells in this room, the magic would have been impossible at Hogwarts. Even Snape knew and closed his eyes as long as he didn't see it himself. The Slytherins knew very well to keep the secret within the Slytherin walls. This ordinary scene finally came to an end after a while. A smug face appeared on the most feared person second only to professor Snape in the Slythrin house. Not Prefect, nor Malfoy, but Marcus Flint. Indeed once upon a time they needed to be reminded who flint was. And what kind of consequences does its name bring.
"Don't forget who the person you're judging is, Max," Marcus whispered as he scanned his wand. Keeping his voice from Harry who was already asleep. Then, he stood up carrying the hero of the wizarding world without turning his head twice. Leaving the common room in silence and fear.
When Harry woke up the next day. He felt that the bed was too hard to be called a bed. But not in a bad sense because it is warm. Warm? It made him blink awake and realize apparently half of his body was overtaking Marcus.
His emerald green eyes enlarged as he observed the curves and muscles and scars on his body. However, instead of making it ugly, the scar complements it as a vivid example of a masculine image sculpted like a god. The bushy, dark hair adorned the disappearing six-pac belly behind his trousers.
Harry observed the relaxed expression that dispelled the wrinkles that were usually on his forehead. One arm was bent under his head, showing hard muscles. As a fellow man, Harry hopes that later he will have all of that too. After all, there are still many places for him to continue to develop.
Trying to turn his attention to something more worth seeing, Harry observed his black hair, which was usually styled, now awful in a way that made him more humane. Marcus Flint's face does not have a standard of good looks in general. But, it is undeniable that he has a masculine appeal that makes women's legs weak. If what Aunt Petunia said about the athletically stature actors in telly is true. Harry gasped as the ship's big hand rubbed his back, taking him staring at one open black eye. "Have you finished observing?"
Harry's cheeks flushed.
Marcus yawned and moved shifting their bodies, his head on his big arm, while they were facing each other. His big palm cupped Harry's waist, keeping him from falling out of the bed. His eyes were still watching Harry as he said, "The first lesson starts in an hour, it's best to prepare immediately if you want to have time for breakfast."
"You didn't come down?"
"I didn't eat breakfast."
"why?"
Marcus carried a pillow covering his face. "Sleep."
Silence between them.
"Flint?"
"Hush. Don't bother me," his voice sounded still sleepy.
"Flint!" Harry patted his arm.
"Hm?" He murmured exasperatedly.
"I don't know where my room is..."
Marcus sighed. Then with a flick of his finger, Harry's uniform and bag appeared. Still with his face under the pillow, he pointed, "The bathroom over there."
"You also have a private bathroom?!"
"Just because I am the captain of the quidditch team."
Oh! One of the other privileges that Slytherin had and did not have other dormitories.
"You can soak there," he muttered after a while.
Still with his face under the pillow, Marcus noticed the sound of the shower being turned on. Then, he turned to go back to sleep. Before long, he felt moist fingers touching his cheek. But he kept a blind eye. "Flint. Are you sure you didn't come down?"
"Another hour. I didn't come to breakfast."
"At the very least don't forget to take a shower."
Marcus scrambled his hair without opening his eyes and gave a gesture of repelling. Before long he listened to the door closed.
His roommate was excited to ask where he disappeared. When Harry told him that he was sleeping in Marcus Flint's room, his friends were stretched. And as if incredulous, turning to the upper-level child only to see them nodding with a serious expression. On Harry's innocent and puzzled face, Malfoy explained what kind of person Flint was. Apparently his name is feared by most purebloods. He was supposed to be in his senior year at Hogwarts, but because he failed to face the N.E.W.T exam, he had to repeat another year. It's not that he is stupid, anyone knows that his magic is very powerful and he is extraordinary in practice. But he only cares about quidditch, and this sacrifices his learning time. They said he was worse than Gryffindor's captain, Oliver Wood.
The depiction of his character, from the words dangerous, temperamental, cruel etc. sounds like a person to be shunned. But Harry didn't see any of that from Marcus. After all, if he is temperamental, it is only to the person who really irritates him. It made Malfoy exclaim, "That's the point! He was always upset."
Harry didn't agree, so he just bent his shoulders and continued to eat.
Harry felt the first difference in potions class compared to if he had been selected to Gryffindor house. Snape didn't call him a celebrity, but still gave the quizzes he had prepared before the questions were thrown out. There was even one question he answered before the man finished speaking just because he was too excited. The only thing that was the same was only Hermione raising her hand like she wanted to touch the ceiling and the point that was constantly reduced from Gryffindor. Actually, Hermione could have returned the diminished point, had she been appointed to answer. Unfortunately Snape preferred Slytherin (Harry and Malfoy) to answer. Something commonplace in Slytherin-Gryffindor potions classes.
He met Marcus again at lunch. It no longer looked like an undead. Marcus was never late in the first hour, but he never had breakfast just so he could sleep a few minutes longer. It was common among Slytherin members. He is also not an academic person, but does not restrain him in obtaining the highest scores in the practice of magic. Proved that he was a powerful wizard, but lazy to read the theory.
However, the people around him acted as if he was more terrifying than ordinary students. His hiss makes the spoon fall or people choke. Of course Harry realized it too, but he ignored it because it was never aimed at him. Even his annoyed expression turned into a big grin as he looked at Harry. Feeling that there was nothing unusual, Harry sat down in the empty place beside Flint. The empty place seemed as if no one dared to occupy it.
Harry didn't notice the heads turned with a look of horror mixed with admiration. Especially when he took the piece of meat from Marcus's plate because his hands were too short to reach out. Marcus only raised an eyebrow before grabbing the plate containing the turkey meat and bringing it closer to Harry. "Anything else?"
"Pumpkin juice, please..." Answer. "Trims..."
Marcus observed her eating and occasionally pulled the children the hair that covered her eyes. "You need tongs." Harry just shook his head. "The wound is to be covered..." which was only reciprocated by raised eyebrows.
That night, he knocked on the door of Marcus Flint's room while hugging a pillow. The young man opened it shirtless. Water was still dripping from the ends of her hair and the towel was draped over the shoulders. It seems that the Slytherin quidditch team has just finished training.
The dark eyes scanned Harry from head to toe, before without speaking pushing his door wider to give him space to enter. Harry, who was already half asleep, was unconscious until he had moved on the sling, and then to the bed in seconds. As Marcus climbed, he moved Harry over his body and wrapped his muscular arms around his waist to keep him from falling. Harry didn't question that protective attitude, nor did he find it strange because his vision always showed the same thing. After all, he knew that he would always be safe when he was with Marcus.
It happened every night, making his own bed useless. After all, if he sleeps here, he can borrow Marcus's bathtub and avoid public showers. He didn't have to wait in line using the bathroom. Of course, it wasn't long until the gossip that he always spent the night in Marcus Flint's bed, spread within Slytherin house. No one dared to comment in front of Marcus, but it was different with Harry who was a first-year kid without political support or magic abilities like senior children.
These few fools, thinking Marcus Flint was already mushy, tried to annoy Harry. Made him break into the great hall without shoes, obliterate his uniform, and ruin his textbooks. Harry, who was ready to face this treatment because he had already seen it, just hummed cheerfully with his bare feet. Professor Snape asked why he didn't wear a uniform in the great hall, was it because he forgot or was crazy that the principal's warning was greeted. All were shocked when Harry replied innocently, "But professor, my uniform is hiding. I couldn't find it even though I had tried to count to 100."
"Uniforms don't play hide-and-seek, Potter!"
It was then that the entire hall trembled with an aura of anger and danger. Everyone turned to one corner of the Slytherin table, where Marcus Flint was sitting with a broken glass in his hand. Professor Dumbledore looked at all that with twinkling eyes and a hidden smile, while everyone held their breath feeling the anger. Shocking, really surprising, as Marcus walked up to Harry like a bull, (mcGonagal's exclamation sound was heard) and grabbed Harry in a sling.
"Marcus Flint! Put me down!" his face was scarlet carried in the middle of the hall full of onlooking eyes.
"No. Let's go find your thing."
"I can walk by myself!" harry's voice sounded as Marcus led him out of the hall.
"Not barefoot. Remind me to teach you the Accio spell." The door of the hall closed in a dubuman, leaving the room in a state of silence. Among all of them who did not flinch, one or two of them took a big sip of water; knows exactly what awaits them.
If that night there was a screaming sound inside one of the secret rooms underground, Harry was too deep to notice. After all, the pillow he hugged had a scent like Marcus. Since then no one has questioned Marcus Flint's protective attitude.
But it is undeniable that many people are curious about the reason why Marcus Flint fell into a protective attitude towards Harry so quickly. Even that is still a mystery to Marcus himself. As for Harry, he considered it a matter of course, because that's what he always saw, even before they knew each other.
Even if there is clearly no sign that Marcus Flint wants to hurt Harry. Several senior children still warn Harry of the dangers of those who bear the name Flint. More than five people had already spoken to him, including Draco. "You should know Harry. What kind of pureblood the Flint family is. Even among us, his name was feared. Some even say Gideon Flint only raised his son as a destroyer. You think the body that Flint has is normal for wizards? It's like a monster, even you don't know how many casualties it was during a quidditch match!"
Harry was a little offended by the term monster used. But instead of being frightened, he became more curious about Marcus when playing quidditch. Isn't he also the captain of the team?
That's what made him sneak in out of the clock to watch the Slytherin team train. Yes, sneaking, because only those with special permits can leave the castle at more than 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Harry saw the team members sliding high above his head. They threw Quaffles at each other, trying to make as many goals as possible. While others practiced hitting Bludger. He heard the sound of Marcus clamoring to direct players. The tall board in the middle of the field near the entrance of the stadium told him that they were training. Some members who were still warming up were observing around in case there were spies. They nodded when they saw Harry, but let him see the practice. Suddenly a winged golden ball passed in front of Harry and twisted his head, making him spin following the ball. His hand stretched out long and caught it in a snob. A loud ping sounded from the scoreboard, indicating that Snitch had been arrested. Everyone stopped in the air. Marcus hit Bludger hard away before stopping and looking at Harry.
The captain quickly slid towards him and stopped smoothly before jumping up. "Potter!"
"Hi, Flint," he said, waving.
The strong wind played with their scarves and hair. "Do you want to get sick of standing in the cold air?" he said in a harsh tone, but flicking his wand, instantly made Harry warm.
"Trims..."
"Hm... have you ever been on a broomstick?"
Harry nodded, "I only got the class of riding a flying broomstick yesterday." And because he prevented Draco from disturbing Neville, he also had no chance of saving his Rememball which automatically kept him from joining the team.
"Know the rules of the quidditch game?"
Harry nodded again.
"Want to try it?" he said, thrusting a 2000 nimbus.
"Oh!"
"Take it," Flint said.
Grinning, Harry let go of the Snitch and climbed onto his broomstick, making him glide up quickly following the winged golden ball. He heard a burst of laughter in the distance. This is the feeling he missed after he dreamed of breaking through the clouds and splitting the wind vigorously. He missed his firebolt. But the Nimbus 2000 isn't too bad either. Harry reached out and as fast as his broomstick he moved to grab the Snitch. A burst of laughter rang out of his mouth, making himself startled. As he descended and set his foot on the ground, his face was still dotted with a wide grin.
"Harry Potter!"
"Potter!"
"We found the Seeker!"
"Potter," Marcus's voice made him turn his head. "Come with me." Without saying much he turned around, leaving Harry to stand glued, before finally following him. His heart jumped as Marcus's steps led them all the way to the basement, more precisely in the hallway where the head of slytherin house lived. Marcus knocked on his door hard three times, before opening it he said, "Wait here."
Harry twitched restlessly while waiting. After a few minutes without any sound of anger or ornaments slamming, the office door as well as professor Snape's private room opened. Marcus pulled in Harry's way in and pushed him in front of professor Snape who was sitting in front of the pile of parchment that filled the table. The quill in his hand.
"2 points for Slytherin for violating curfew." He said after a while, making Harry bite his lip. "I heard that you are shrewd at catching the Snitch, even when you are not riding a flying broomstick, mr. Potter."
"That, or just because Snicth likes me, sir," he replied ignorantly. The smile slowly faded when he saw professor Snape's expression. "Sorry, sir."
"Sure," still with a stiff face. "Mr. Flint as the captain of the team asked me to give you permission to enter the team as a Seeker, mr. Potter."
"Really?" he exclaimed, looking at Marcus with a big smile.
"But it hasn't been decided yet. First-year children are not allowed to have flying broomsticks anyway."
"Yes, sir..." she whispered sadly. After all, he was not sure if Snape was willing to break the rules like McGonagal.
"Even so, there is no ban on playing quidditch." Harry gasped. "For the flying broomstick it seems that mr. Flint has a solution."
Marcus nodded, "No one said that a first-year kid can't borrow."
Harry was wide-eyed, he didn't see this going to happen, really. He thought that by blocking the confrontation between Draco and Neville, he had eliminated his opportunity to play in the team in the first year. But it's really funny isn't it, fate.
Harry threw himself to the shocked captain. Had it not been with Marcus's reflexes, perhaps Harry had already hurt them both. Not only that. Had Harry known how tough Severus Snape's face was looking forward to mr. Flint's reaction, and what surprise after he saw it, Harry would have been out of the dark. But he was busy putting his arms around the captain's neck, exclaiming, "Thank you, really. Thank you, Flint." Instead of throwing Harry or saying evil to him, the young man just stood still, holding him so as not to fall. After he felt that Harry had calmed down, the captain put him down.
Realizing what he had done in the presence of the professor was not polite, Harry said, "Uh... sorry professor Snape."
Too surprised to be speechless. The potion Master simply massaged his nose and waved a hand to tell them to leave. A few minutes was more than enough to deal with Potter. Sighing, he watched the two children leave; Marcus Flint still remained cold-faced, but it was his hands on Harry Potter's back that stepped cheerfully. It seems that the rumors are true. Severus Snape sighed dramatically.
Of course the news of Harry Potter entering the team spread like a flame in Slytherin house. Draco surprised him with sincere congratulations. He thought Draco would be angry, but the blonde boy instead looked at him strangely and said, "I'm not that blessed to be able to enter in the first year, anyway I want the position of Chasers." The world has already turned upside down. But Harry extinguished his astonishment when he heard Draco say, "But not being in the team didn't stop me from asking my dad to buy a member of the Slytherin team a new model flying broomstick. Perhaps it can also guarantee me entry into the team when the trials open in the second year." Ah, That's just Draco Malfoy.
Thankfully, unlike Gryffindor, the members of Slytherin house are smarter at keeping their mouths. Even then it didn't hold back them throwing triumphant smiles as if they had won the house trophy. made everyone look at them suspiciously.
All of a sudden, Harry Potter became a popular kid in Slytherin house. Everyone suddenly liked it,even the sons of the Death Eaters. It seems that they forgot potter's name for the sake of quidditch trophies. Well, it's no wonder anymore why Slytherin is called his house of astute people.
Getting into the team made him spend a lot of time with Marcus Flint. They never really spoke heart-to-heart because it wasn't Flint's type. But he had patience that no one else knew, especially to hear Harry's words. And also his ability to always be there when Harry walks alone makes him like a ninja! Like at this time, when he walked between the parameter lines of the forbidden forest with the safe land of Hogwarts. Suddenly, Marcus was already standing behind him and pulling on the shirt of his uniform.
"Flint!"
"What are you doing walking alone in the Forbidden Forest, Potter."
"Not alone!" he said, pulling The Lighthouse's arm towards the woods.
"Do you want to be punished!" Marcus shrugged it to his shoulder, as if he was a sack of potatoes.
"Flint!"
"Don't scream in my ear."
Harry squirmed making his body parallel to the captain's head.
"Do you believe me, Flint?"
He squinted.
Harry pointed to the woods, "Take me there."
"Do you want to kill yourself?"
"Kumohoooon," Harry cupped the captain's cheek. "please?"
Marcus sighed. But brought them in. "I won't take you all the way inside."
"He-eh," Harry nodded. Put his arms around the captain's neck and leaned his head against his shoulders. After a while Harry told him to stop and put him down. Marcus complied without speaking, he just looked around him vigilantly as if he realized there was something there. Without waiting long, a Unicorn emerged from behind a tree. The soft light of his body shone into the deep darkness of the forbidden forest. Harry looked at each other with his dark eyes, before they slowly met in the middle. Marcus gasped as Harry touched the muzzle gently and rubbed it. The unicorn rubbed his head around Harry's body.
He looked back and stretched out his hand to Marcus
"No."
"Flint~"
"No."
"Please?"
"Potter," he hissed, "Are you aware I can't get close to them!"
Harry frowned, but still stretched out his hand. "The black wizard does not mean to be stained. If it is really true, they shouldn't want to approach you, but take a look?" He put his head on the Unicorn who was sniffing the grass near them. "Unicorns know if it's all a matter of intention. If you have a right heart, even if you are a black wizard, you are not stained," he explained in a stubborn tone.
"You don't understand. If you do black magic, it's a matter of intent. You wouldn't be able to do it without intention. Killing intent, destructive intent, crushing intent!"
Harry rolled his eyeballs, " As if you've done all that."
"You're stubborn, Harry." Then slowly, holding his breath, Marcus walked over. "If he kicks me, I will kill you, Potter."
Ignoring the warning, Harry retracted his hand and placed it on the unicorn's muzzle. "Who said you were stained..." he teased.
"Everyone except you," he grumbled dryly.
Harry snorted. "Unicorns don't believe that." In his gentle tone and bewitching emerald eyes, he added, "Black magic, white magic, even those in between, are not evil ones, Marcus. Don't blame the magic, but the person."
Marcus gasped. He leaned his head against the Unicorn. "I'm not a good person, Harry."
"I know. But I also know, not all parts are evil. Just like everyone. There are good and bad in everyone. If you don't believe it just ask the Unicorn."
When Marcus turned to Harry there was a rare smile adorning his face. Not a smirk or a wry smile, but a genuine little smile, Harry dismissed it as a victory.
They sat there for a long time surrounded by the Unicorn family. Flint listened to Harry talk to them. It seemed to believe that his words were understood. It has become commonplace for Marcus Flint to think of it as 101 Harry Potter oddities. But what made him wary was the warning in his sentence. "Please. You guys should leave here. If necessary go to the deepest place in the forest or ask for the protection of Centaurus. The nights to come will be dangerous for you guys. There's something evil coming after and it doesn't even stop in front of the chastity you have. Warn the others. warn!" he whispered which was reciprocated by the Unicorns' screeching. Then the magic horses, as if understanding the insistence, galloped as quickly as possible into the deepest forest. Harry Potter sat there with a shrill look and a sad smile as if he had seen the weight of the world. At such times Marcus suspected whether he was half a fortune teller.
"It's getting dark. We'd better get back soon, Potter."
"Harry."
"Hm?"
"Harry, Please."
"If you call me Marcus."
Harry's smile has never been wider than this.