Disclaimer: Harry Potter and such belong to the lovely Rowling.
Warning: Implied remarks, less than morally-acceptable thoughts, etc, etc.
Summary: Harry Potter was never a good little child. Harry Potter learned the hard way early on, that the good only won in stories and fairy tales, and so to adapt, Harry Potter chose not to be such a good little girl anymore. This is her story. Year One, at Hogwarts. !Gray Harry !Manipulative Harry !FHarry !Dark Harry
Harry Potter was never really a good little girl. When she was five years old, she made this astonishing revelation with herself and accepted it with ease. Once upon a time there might have been a chance that she would have struggled to gain the acceptance and love of her guardians and peers, but that once upon a time never came in reality.
For she had come to realize that good girls never won.
When she was but a toddler she was well-behaved (for the most part—at least better behaved than that pig of a cousin of hers), but instead of at least a smidgeon of recognition, all attention was pointed on the not nice cousin who was a majorly petulant child.
Her cousin was not a good little boy—he was a bad little boy, but he always seemed to win.
With this startling revelation, she concluded that the good guys only won in the stories and fantasies. But this was reality; something of which she had come to realize a long time ago. There was no room for dreams and wishes here. There were goals and there were means.
Dudley might not have been the brightest crayon in the box, but he was bright enough to realize what he had and how to milk it for all its worth.
So, because the bad little boy always seemed to win, Harry Potter gave up trying to be the good little girl she knew she never could be. Instead, she was adamant about being the bad little girl.
But of course not in a way to get her in too much trouble. She had to be careful. She had to be patient. She had to be cunning. If she was caught in something too horrendous, she might lose her living space—however terrible and small it was, it was all she had. For the moment she was stranded there and had to work within her boundaries.
So she did the only thing any bad little girl could do without getting caught.
If she was going to be a bad little girl, she was going to do it right.
She read every classic literature that held a capable antagonist—be they male or female—and studied their actions, mistakes, and ideas. She read every history report pertaining to underground bosses i.e., Al Capone was a favorite.
She studied from books and experienced how to persuade and subtly manipulate those around her. She learned how to cool her features and bring a warm and polite smile to her face that would have the neighbors doting on her. She knew how to be patient.
And as a patient little girl, she knew an opportunity would arise for her.
And when it did, it came in the form of a letter, gliding through the slot on the door for mail.
While the Dursleys were having a merry breakfast, Harry retrieved the mail, carefully going through it as Petunia instructed and ridding the family of any junk mail.
That was when she noticed the letter addressed to her.
She stared at it a moment, entering the kitchen with a single raised eyebrow.
"Madam Petunia," Harry said slowly, drawing attention to herself from the other members in the house. She never felt comfortable referring to her guardians as Aunt and Uncle, so they were Messrs or Madam, even Dudley, but only out of habit. It was the same way Harry would address strangers; no matter how much she disliked them, she knew better than to show her dislike. They could make life much more complicated for her if that were the case.
"What is it, girl?" Vernon snapped.
"I seemed to have received a practical joke," Harry sniffed, throwing the letter that said Hogwarts on it. "Just who do they think they are? Hogwarts? Really? Who would name aschool that?"
Petunia and Vernon momentarily paled at the name, but as Vernon grabbed the letter and scanned it, he gave a slimy grin. "Indeed. Who?"
Harry's eyes narrowed a fraction in mild annoyance. She did not like the fact that what she said pleased Vernon. She was hoping to bait a reaction out of him, have him worked up before he left for work. Whenever he was worked up and left for work he always had a bad day. And Harry was still feeling spiteful at the fact the bastard dared to withhold dinner from her because Dudley was a growing boy.
Insufferable, the lot of them.
Very well, Harry thought. If dismissing Hogwarts pleases him, I will have to embrace it. However stupid it sounds.
As Vernon gave another chortle of glee, Harry grabbed for herself an apple and bottle of milk before dismissing herself to the garden outside.
A smile graced her lips as she turned her back to those wretched wastes of spaces. Instead, she enjoyed her breakfast alone and outside and lost herself in the musings of extracting revenge on every one of the Dursley family members.
What a pleasant morning it turned out to be.
Harry was never able to retrieve another letter as Vernon kept a close eye on the mail since then. And even after the whole raining mail fiasco, she wasn't able to sneak away a letter before Dudley caught her and squealed her out.
No matter, she washed all of his underwear in hot sauce the next day before drying them and folding them. Dudley still sported a horrendous rash that no matter how much Petunia fretted over him, his unappealing habit of scratching the thingsimply could not be controlled.
It was only when Hagrid—some half giant—broke down the door to the hideaway they were staying out at and whisked her off into the night, did she come to the terms that thiswas her opportunity.
A world of magic.
Now, perhaps it wasn't an opportunity, only time would tell. But Harry had a very pleasant feeling that it would, in fact, be a wonderful chance for her.
The first thing to discover would be the underground system. The illegal networks and such. Harry very much doubted Hagrid would know—or share—such knowledge with her so she had a long while of musing to herself before the answer to her question presented itself.
Neutral and greedy goblins.
Oh yes. Harry could work with this.
After some moments of examining her personal vault and Hagrid collecting his item, she turned to Hagrid. In the politest and sweetest voice she could manage she asked, "Messrs Hagrid, may I perhaps stay a while longer for my questions?"
Hagrid gave a sheepish smile. "We don' 'ave a lot of time. Bu' I suppose I could 'rab yer books while yeh ask yer questions."
"Thank you MessrsHagrid," She responded.
"Oh please," Hagrid said, not managing to keep the pleased smile off his face. "Jus' call me 'Agrid."
She only smiled in response and waved goodbye as he left.
"Messrs Grobox?" She inquired, keeping a polite tone with the goblin that had escorted them. "I have a few questions."
He only bared his teeth in a snarl in response. Taking that as a cue to carry on, Harry did.
"If I wished to contact the underground society, how would I go about doing so?" Harry asked outright. She was fairly confident in that even if she was displayed as something less than a good little girl, the goblins wouldn't care too much to share.
His eyes narrowed. "Underground…? You mean like You-Know-Who?"
"Who?" Harry blinked.
His eyes narrowed into slits.
She shrugged. "I am assuming this is the same man that died while I was an infant?"
"Then yes, people like him."
"There are no people like him."
"There was only You-Know-Who and no one has dared take the title of Dark Lord since."
Harry stared at him blankly. And then very slowly she said, "You mean to tell me that no one has been greedy enough to take control of the major power vacuum?"
He only stared at her.
Her eyebrows rose. "Messrs, might you point me to where I could find material on better learning the recent structure of this society?"
He gave her a snarl-like grin. "I am not a librarian. If you have nothing further to ask of your vaults—"
"Vaults?" Harry interrupted, smiling pleasantly. Vaults, as in plural? "Messrs, may I ask if perhaps there is a vault that does not store money—but items? The one we visited had only gold, and surely my parents would have stored valuables here and I doubt they only had money."
He bristled. "Fine! To the Potter Vault."
"Potter Vault? What, as in some sort of ancient family vault…? Dear me, is the wizarding society some sort of pureblooded monarchists?"
"A wand is next," Harry said, reading off the list. Though what she said was only absently spoken. Her mind was still reeling from what she uncovered in the vault. Truly, magnificent. She would, of course, need to go through everything and see what she can do… but for now it would be best to ignore the vaults.
The plans that she had formulating in her mind would do just fine with the seventy five thousand galleons she had been left.
A power vacuum. Truly… a power vacuum. And a bumbling boisterous government to boot! And the laws… oh their laws were so vague and left so many wonderful loopholes. Thinking of everything Harry could do was making her head spin in anticipation. There were so many things to do! So many places to go, so many connections to make…!
But, firstly, Harry needed to finish her shopping. Next, she needed a better feel of this world. She needed to properly understand how everything worked. Then she needed to establish how to contact the people she needed, what to tell them to do and her first business…
As Hagrid went off to do… something… Harry went off to grab her wand. After much debating, she finally received a wand that was twin to the one owned by 'You-Know-Who' person who killed her parents.
The irony was not lost on her.
And Hagrid returned with… a beautiful black owl. She remembered passing it along the way here and mentioning to Hagrid about it.
As he handed it to her—saying something about a birthday present—Harry flushed happily and beamed.
She always wanted a pet.
And it would seem Hagrid had made a special spot in her heart from his kind gift.
Ronald Weasley, she discovered, was annoying.
In fact, the only reason she had not promptly ditched him was because—he was an information fountain! While he did not know of illegal activities, he had brothers everywhere. And he had even more siblings that would go everywhere. Without even meaning to, he had slipped her valuable information.
Such as, there were bars in the wizarding world, but there were no bars. Bars could be entered with children and toddlers and everything would still be kept rated PG and occasionally PG-13. Why in the duce hasn't any wizard tried to exploit alcohol upon ignorant young witches and wizards was beyond Harry. It was easy money. Furthermore there was something called Knockturn Alley which dealt in 'all sorts of nasty businesses'.
An alley that would require further investigation. And then there was Quidditch—the only thing wizards gambled on. Something that would have to change as well.
And then Draco Malfoy walked in, a complete stranger, and grinned at Harry.
She raised an eyebrow, studying his prestigious robes and slicked back hair. A pureblood then. Rich. Yet held a cocky attitude and had two meat walls flanking him. Rich daddy.
Hello, potential ally.
"So it's true, then, Potter's on the train," the boy said, grinning cockily at Harry.
She only quirked an eyebrow. "And you are?"
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
"Would you care to join Mr. Weasley and myself, he was explaining the rules of Quidditch to me?"
At the mention of sharing the same compartment of Ron, Draco's mouth twisted, but at the implication of her ignorance of Quidditch…
"You don't know what Quidditch is?" Draco demanded. He immediately marched into the compartment and sat next to her. "How can you not know?"
"I was raised by insufferable Muggles, why would I know?" She pointed out wearily.
"But Quidditch is the greatest thing!" Ron blurted out.
"Weasley's right," Draco agreed. "This just won't do. Oh alright, I suppose I'll have to tell you about it—can't trust a Weasley to get everything right."
While Ron bristled and the meatballs slid into a compartment next to theirs, she smiled. Always better to make potential allies and discard them later, than discard them too soon and need them later.
While Draco and Ron were in a heated discussion about their favorite teams, a girl entered the room sporting a look of mild exasperation.
"Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one," She said.
"Tell him to ask one of the older students to try a summoning charm for it," Harry said dryly.
Her eyebrows shot up and she frowned. "Why didn't I…?"
She smiled. "Harry Potter, a pleasure Madam…?"
"Hermione Granger," Hermione clarified.
Draco's face twisted up. "Muggleborn?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong with that, Messrs Draco?"
"When it seems quite clear that purebloods are going about it all wrong," she went on. "Do they honestly believe that they were pure from the start? They had to be ordinary at some point or do all the families believe they are so incestuous they are all children of Merlin?"
"Madam Granger is a muggleborn now," she said, still carrying on. "But her grandchildren and so on—will they be muggleborn?"
Draco stared at her, frowning. Ron and Hermione—both with mixed expressions of shock and curiosity.
"No," Draco said slowly.
"So why are you discriminating against her now, and thus sabotaging the Malfoy family of an ally later on?" she asked.
Draco stared at her. "What?"
"By making an enemy of her now," she clarified. "You are rivaling two houses that would be pureblood and ruining the chances of a very promising alliance in the future."
"But the Malfoy family is superior—"
"—now," she interrupted. "Yes, yes. But can you guarantee that in the future, Messrs Draco? Are you really so arrogant and ignorant you can safely say that you will never need the help of any other pureblood family for your grandchildren?"
Draco stared at Harry, mouth hanging open.
"I am merely saying," Harry said slowly. "That you should never turn down an alliance that might benefit you—especially when it would not hurt you to keep it."
Draco blinked, closing his mouth and eying Hermione carefully.
"If you are worth my time," Draco told her. "I will… accept your alliance."
"What?" Hermione blinked. "I never—"
"Madam Hermione, won't you please join us? I am sure you have never heard of Quidditch either and these two are most anxious to explain to all those who listen about it," Harry said, smiling.
Hermione stared at her curiously, before eyeing the two other boys. "… I… suppose…"
Ron grinned at her and Draco remained indifferent.
But secretly, both were very happy to explain more about Quidditch.
Hmm? What have we here… Oh Slytherin. Yes, definitely Slytherin.
She shivered at the voice in her head from the Sorting Hat before realizing what it was saying.
No! Harry thought fiercely. She would not be found out so easily by being placed in the most obviously antagonist House. Besides, that's far too cliché. Put me in Gryffindor.
She needed to keep up her façade of being the hero anyway.
Well. It's true that Gryffindor would be your next House due to your... obsession (and that's actually an understatement) with—
Then put me in Gryffindor.
While you do show qualities of being Gryffindor, I believe—
I do not want Slytherin. I will not accept that house.
But you would truly—
I. Do. Not. Want. Slytherin.
Dear God, was that so hard?
…. Still think you would have done better in Slytherin.
Harry had two days before classes began and she used those two days to find out who to talk to in order to get a certain task done. When she finally derived the information from a chatty Slytherin, she quickly flew to the Owlery and made a very unique note and sent it off with her owl.
It would be a shame she could not be there in person, but for now her owl would do just fine.
The next day she had class—Transfiguration and DADA.
Upon meeting the DADA teacher, she concluded he was some sort of sick (and not in a physical way) man and vowed if he did anything suspicious to her, she would kill him. Personally. For starters, there was the fact that her scar always seemed to hurt when around him. Her scar didn't normally hurt and she was tempted to go along the lines of 'her spidey-senses were tingling!'
But she wasn't a superhero, so she just made a safe assumption that her life wasn't in the best of care when around him.
Then there was his stutter.
Now, a stutter wouldn't be so much of a problem—if it weren't so undeniably fake.
Harry had never heard of a stutter where the person was able to clearly pronounce every letter in the stutter in a rhythmic pattern that the stutter appeared like a clockwork, every ten seconds into the conversation, followed by thirty, then a minute then two then—
Followed by his distinctive tendency to not look her in the eye, almost as if he was guilty of something.
Then the garlic, if he was really a DADA teacher, shouldn't he have known that only if the garlic was ingested by the vampire was it deadly? She was a first year and she knew that. How would that garlic work if he had no means of forcing the vampire to digest it? Furthermore, why would he go through the trouble of forcing the vampire to digest it—thus killing it—when he could just kill it with a nicely aimed spell? A lot simpler, too.
No, no. The garlic was there for a different reason.
And Harry had her own assumptions.
A stutter to make him weak. Her 'spidey-senses tingling'. Couldn't look her in the eye—guilty conscious, doubtlessly. And a strange fetish for garlic.
He was a sex offender. Obviously.
And he was clearly having disturbed visions of Harry.
Something of which Harry would not tolerate, but because she had no solid proof, she would merely keep her distance. But the moment he tried something…
Transfiguration was an interesting class and Harry had a sort of respect for the strict teacher. Nothing else could be said about it, though. Harry couldn't quite decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
When her owl returned, along with a note from a certain well connected man, she smiled.
I will agree to meet with you and bring along my associate.
Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron in London, eight p.m. this Saturday.
Carefully burning the letter, Harry smiled gleefully.
Of course she had to go under the impression of someone else. She was walking a thin line and it would be easier to hide back into the role of good girl Harry Potter if something happened to bad boy Moratorium, hence why she kept the good girl charade. That, and it wouldn't hurt to make as many alliances as she could in every identity she held.
Now, of course, she had the minor problem of reaching the Leaky Cauldron. But it was only minor as she figured out long ago how to reach it. It would be risky, but this was risky business.
Oh yes, Harry felt her smile widening considerably. Risky business indeed.
History proved to be useful only as a free studying time. Time she used to pondered her plans and mused about ways of going about them. She quite enjoyed that class.
Herbology was actually a favorite. She always enjoyed her garden at home, so it was no surprise she took to that class as well. Especially knowing how many dangerous andinteresting plants were out there just waiting to be—
Well, she knew not everyone could like her good girl charade.
After Professor Snape finished his little monologue that had immediately perked Draco and Harry's interest—the two were sitting together, of course. He turned around and said, "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
She blinked. Oh. She knew this. It was one of her favorites—the name caught her attention. "Draught of the Living Dead."
"Sir, Miss Potter."
She frowned, for once her normally active brain not quite getting it. "Sir? But you don't need to call me sir—" the class chuckled behind her, but she ignored them. "—and wouldn't I be a ma'am then? I mean I know I haven't reached puberty, but you have to give me some credit, Professor."
Professor Snape glared disdainfully at her, his lip curling up in distaste. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for cheek, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"
"A store?" she guessed. "That's usually where you find antidotes—unless you want it fresh, then you get it from a goat's stomach, sir. Oh! That's what you meant by… oh. Okay."
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Potter, I suggest you learn to control your mouth."
She paused for a moment, debating before she decided to risk it. She raised her hand politely.
He didn't like her already, Harry had nothing to lose—except points but she could earn those back in other classes.
"What, Miss Potter?" Professor Snape asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Well," she began carefully. "I was curious as to why you are showing such blatant dislike for me before I even opened my mouth. I can understand now, sir, as I have proven to be rather, as you say cheeky. But it goes two ways now as well. I have lost all respect for you by your repeated use of inquiring advanced materials in an attempt to make me look like an incompetent moronic makes you appear as some sort of petty bully, you see. But back to my original curious question… why me?"
He did not answer. With the most flushed and hateful glare he gave, his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Detention with me, Potter, tonight!"
She shrugged. At least she didn't lose anymore points.
Detention was uneventful as he just made her scrub cauldrons with her bare hands and no magic. Really, she had worse punishments at the Dursleys. When that was done, she only had Astrology and Charms and then she could focus on her… business.
With the weekend now there, Harry rummaged through her bag before procuring one of the few items she had taken from the vaults. It was a small bag with a very unique charm inside it. In actuality—it was a portal floo.
Naturally, the bag perked her interest when she noticed how it was so carefully hung and singled out. She inquired its uses to the goblin who explained the floo network and such to her. She was very pleased to have made the discovery.
The bag was small enough to be held in one of her hands and after informing Hermione she would be taking a long walk around the school before doing her homework, she snuck off to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, then greeted the ghost with a smile.
"Hello, dear," Harry said with a smile. Myrtle was melodramatic and at times a bit annoying, but it was she who knew nearly everything about the castle. And she was quite pleased to have held the attention of Harry so very closely. Harry knew Myrtle would cover for her due to that attention.
"Hello, Harry," Myrtle called back, giving her a sly smile. "Where are you off to?"
Harry pulled out the other item she had taken from the bag—a bag with an undetectable expendable charm.
"I'm going to make some business offers. Would you mind making sure no one comes in while I change?"
"Oooh! If someone comes, can I scare them?"
"Whatever pleases you, dear."
Myrtle gave a gleeful laugh and dived away while Harry rummaged through the pack. Finally finding the ring she needed, she slipped it on her finger.
Harry felt a strange sensation wash over her before it passed. She blinked before looking into the mirror and quirking an eyebrow. Her normally long black hair was now significantly shorter and cut. Her feminine face was rougher, sharper. And her first hints of breasts were squashed flat and her height was increased, her frame more agile…
The ring had successfully changed her genders by appearance. She then pulled out the second ring, momentarily aging her by five years. Sadly, she couldn't age herself any more—only decrease or increase her age by five, but it would do.
Finally, she changed her clothes. No more in Hogwarts uniform,instead she wore a snazzy suit with a very nice suit hat to match. Nothing too much, but enough to give the impression that she had money—which she did of course, but not as much as she wanted them to think at the moment.
She tucked away her Hogwarts uniform in her bag before pulling out a long black scarf. After safely wrapping the scarf around the lower halfof her face and putting the bag away she called out, "Leaving now!"
"If you die, you can share my toilet!"
Harry gave a humorless chuckle before flooing to the Leaky Cauldron.
"I require the assistance of killing a man."
Merwyn Movilani wasn't quite sure what to think of the young man sitting across from him. Jared Brusche had contacted him, telling him there was a bloke who needed a job done. Merwyn specialized in these types of jobs, yes, but most of his employers were…
Well. Not so young.
Merwyn continued to eye the young man skeptically, Jared long since dismissed himself since the man appeared.
"And how would you have it done?" Merwyn asked, his accent coming out heavier than usual.
The young man cocked his head. "You do not question who to kill first. How wonderful. It must be an accident. A tragic death."
"As usual," Merwyn muttered under his breath.
"I would assume," he said pleasantly. "It is a Muggle. A Messrs by the name of Larry Brew." The young man paused, dipping into his coat with his black gloved hand and pulling out an envelope. "This will provide all the information you need."
"Payment," Merwyn said.
"Seven hundred galleons; two hundred up front and five hundred when finished."
Merwyn, to his credit, did not raise an eyebrow. All this for a Muggle? Far too easy… did this man realize he was being scammed?
But as Merwyn tried to analyze the young man, Merwyn realized it wasn't true. The young man knew very well how much of an overblown it was. He seemed to realize this and was accepting it. In fact, he was hoping for Merwyn to realize this as well. As if—
Merwyn almost smiled. Clever boy.
Because by promising plenty of money now, the boy definitely increased the chances of Merwyn coming back to him for more work and thus more money, increased the chance of more loyalty out of Merwyn as well. By offering this much money for such a small job, the boy was setting himself up.
Setting himself up for what, Merwyn didn't know. But from a first glance, Merwyn had a sneaky feeling it would be something big.
Merwyn smiled. "I take it there will be more jobs after this?"
The boy seemed to smile, very pleased with Merwyn's question. "If I find the results satisfactory."
"Do not shame me, Señor. I aim to please."
Harry was indeed very pleased with the results of the Italian assassin. Very pleased indeed. Larry Brew was a rival of Vernon. With him out of the way, Vernon's business would undoubtedly increase—not that Harry was hoping to please Vernon. It's just that if Vernon's business improved… he would be more busy… more busy meant less time at home… less time at home meant more chances for her to sneak away during the summer and work blissfully on her project.
That and it was a safe way to test the man. And the test was most certainly passed.
Immediately, Harry wrote to Merwyn using the owl—Envoy—specially bought for these trips. It was the same owl Hagrid bought, true, but it was the only means of safe transportation she had.
Well, not true, but until the connections were made, an owl would do.
And Merwyn replied, almost immediately.
Acting as your messenger, I am, am I? Very well, Señor Moratorium.
I have bought the flat you have requested and I am currently following the instructions you have placed.
I will be sure to follow them to the letter, in exchange for the five hundred galleons you promised me.
Harry almost yipped with joy. Of course she actually didn't as she wasn't alone when reading the letter and that would surely draw attention to herself, but nonetheless… It was pleasant news.
The first step in establishing herself would be to decide where she would go.
Obviously she would be taking an underground hold eventually. If this Dark Lord was long gone and there was an open space… who was she to deny herself the opportunity of taking that spot? But first the wizarding world would need an underground network. Honestly, it was too… sloppy yet neat. Oh, the nasties were there alright, they were just disorganized.
They didn't even have a magical brothel in all of Britain.
That was just sad.
But they certainly had prostitutes. They were just homeless and in sore need of a bath.
They didn't even have a real bar—an actual rated R or unrated (depending on the night) bar that forbade kiddies to go in. Naturally Harry herself wouldn't be attending, but there was big money in those things. And Harry had every intentions of taking advantage of the lack of strict laws regarding such things in the wizarding world. Oh they had plenty about Dark Magic and such—but nothing about inappropriate drinking or… lusting.
And then there was the blackmailing side.
Owls. They sent valued mail through owls.
Could no one see the possibility of these being intercepted?
Something that would have to be looked into. Perhaps if she could find the right people with the right sort of skills…
Then there was gambling and dueling and thievery and of course she just had to have her own assassin's guild. Who didn't want an assassin's guild? And mercenaries (because assassins and mercenaries were different. Mercenaries did just about anything. Assassin's did elegant kills). Oh yes, and races and…
So. Many. Possibilities.
But better to start small. The bar. The bar would be made and money would come. The bar was but the first step.
The bar, then the brothel, and then the owls. From then, she would decide more carefully. The bar as the first baby step—just a toe in the water. It was just a more mature version of what she had already seen. The brothel would be more up front, but it would definitely bring in some money.
The owls would be riskier. But by the time she had been ready to try that she would have found the right people through the brothel and bar.
It was a step; a baby step.
But it would do for now.
The bar was a smashing success. Harry grinned happily as she sent the next instructions for the brothel to a very eager Marwyn. Her grin managed to last her throughout the entire Halloween feast—which she had to skip to mail Marwyn—but had slipped when she found the troll.
A portrait had been kind enough to warn her of the thing so she was on the way to the tower when she stumbled across the stupid thing.
She glared at it. She was going to be the next Dark Lord—whatever that title even meant! No one ever talked about 'You-Know-Who'—and she was certainly not going to let some slow mountain troll in her way. Besides, it wasn't even a water troll. It was just incredibly strong and incredibly stupid.
The troll noticed her and gave a disgusting grin.
She held up her wand. How embarrassing would it be if Moratorium were taken down by a mere troll? Immensely!
"Diffindo!" Said Harry, pointing her wand at the exposed tender flesh of the Troll's inner elbow as it raised its arm. It was her first time using the spell on an actual target and she hoped it would be enough to work.
The troll cried out in agony as it clutched it's now bleeding heavily arm.
Harry pointed her wand to his back knee as he twisted his leg, exposing the tender flesh. "Diffindo."
It cried out again then fell to the ground with a loud thump and it glowered with a mixture of fear and hatred at Harry.
She rolled her eyes before pointing her wand at its face. "Stupefy."
The troll slipped off into oblivion and she then turned on her heel and went off to the Gryffindor tower.
No point in sticking around and drawing attention.
It was at winter break when she was reminded of Quidditch practice.
Ah yes, the (what she was now beginning to consider) foolish choice. Long ago at the beginning of the school year when she first had her flying lessons, Draco decided to dare Harry to catch the fragile ball he had stolen from Neville. Naturally she had to play the good little Gryffindor and had to accept the challenge.
Somehow in the end, she ended up as Gryffindor's youngest Seeker in a century.
She was still trying to figure out the how herself, but no matter. She saw it as an ample opportunity to further plant the seeds of how nice and Gryffindor-ishshe was and not Moratorium. Now, naturally she had flown solo practices with the Keeper, Oliver Wood, but today he wanted to try out teams for the upcoming match.
And Harry really didn't want to go. She would be getting her mail from Marwyn about her brothel any moment now and…
Oh, there it was.
And it was already a smashing success! Who knew gathering up all the prostitutes, providing them with a warm place to eat and sleep, bathing and clothing them in exchange for doing what they do and only giving twenty percent of what they make to the house… Forty percent of which went straight to yours truly, twenty percent to the Martyr, thirty percent for the actual upkeep and ten percent for emergencies…
Goodness, Harry was making quite a bit of money. Kudos for her. And it would seem Marwyn had proven to be quite reliable.
Perhaps, Harry mused, it would be time to switch to a more immediate means of communication.
That would be later, though, as Oliver was quite adamant about Quidditch. He was practically frothing at the mouth with the prospect of beating their first opponent—the Slytherins—next week.
After a very tiring lesson Harry replied to Marwyn, informing him of a new way to communicate—mirrors. Of course, nevertheless Harry couldn't allow him to see her true form so her side of the mirror was enchanted that no one could see her—only hear her or see whatever message she wanted to project into and through the mirror.
It was quite wonderful, actually. Harry's next task for Marwyn was to see if he could find any… people that could fill the job descriptions of what she needed for the Owls.
She doubted she would be in the Owl business for long. Just enough to grab enough blackmail on certain people to grab attention and turn some heads. While business was booming for both the bar and brothel they were only two places.
Harry needed to be better known. Moratorium needed to be better known.
But for now, she had to rely on Marwyn. It was out of her hands.
Meanwhile, she would be getting quite a healthy deposit of galleons in her (well, Moratorium's vault, she had to set up an extra one) vault weekly…
"I don't know if I should cheer for you or not," Draco muttered, eyeing Harry once she finished dressing out in her House Team uniform.
"Of course you'll cheer for her. Honestly, this whole House-rivalry thing seems so silly," Hermione said with a delicate sniff.
After Hermione had made herself perfectly well-known as one of the brightest witches this generation had ever seen, Draco deemed her worthy of holding an 'alliance' with him. Because Heaven forbid Slytherins had friends and not alliances.
"Who cares if he does or not," Ron put in. "She'll win either way."
"Maybe," Harry muttered. "So long as Quirrel doesn't give me the creeper eye, I won't freeze up with fear or anything."
"Honestly, he's too quiet to be a serious threat, stop worrying about him," Draco said.
"It's always the quiet ones," Ron muttered.
"Too true," Harry agreed. "Well, I should go head off with my team. I would say wish me luck, but clearly I won't need it."
All three snorted at that.
After dangling for her life from her broom, hacking up the snitch and winning them the game—Harry was pretty darn tired. So she thought it was only fair that she would get a chance to sleep and such but no.
"And he was making eye contact the entire time—he wasn't blinking," Hermione exclaimed. "You were right about Quirrel, something is definitely up about him."
"Well of course I was right. I'm always right," Harry said.
"I told you, you shouldn't have told her that," Draco groaned, exasperated. "She's already such a narcissist, she didn't need any more help!"
"Kudos for the big word, Draco," Harry said sweetly.
He shot her a withering glare.
Harry only smiled in return. "So, the sex offender—"
"Wouldn't it be pedophile if he was fantasizing about you?" Ron asked, frowning.
"Oh, yes that's right. So the pedophile now has a fetish for murder," Harry summed up.
"But why you?" Draco asked, a small frown on his face. "Aren't you supposed to be the hero? The-Girl-Who-Lived and all? Why would he want to kill you?"
"Maybe it's because she's friends with a Slytherin," Ron said with a cheeky grin.
Draco gave him a loathing glare. "Or perhaps because she's stooped so low to blood traitors."
"Wouldn't that be a bit hypocritical coming from your side now, Draco?" Harry inquired slyly.
Draco glanced at Hermione and shrugged.
"Keep focused," Said Hermione, shooting both boys annoyed looks. "This is serious."
"No, he's in Azkaban," Draco muttered.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Oh, I read about him," Hermione said. "Wasn't he the mass murderer or something? Oh, I just read about him recently too! Just over three weeks ago, let me think here…"
"Later 'Mione," Harry said. "You can tell me all about him when you remember. But for now, I would like to sleep."
Okay, Harry thought to herself when her frie—alliances—left. I have a nasty suspicion that there's more to this than at first glance. Mr. Pedophile clearly has an ulterior motive, but what could it be? What could killing me possibly accomplish?
Or was he perhaps trying to kill Moratorium?
No, no. Moratorium was still just a toe in the water. No blackmail and truly illegal activities so it would be highly unlikely he had any enemies.
Then why did someone try to kill Harry Potter? She thought for sure that she had held up her façade very well. She kept up to a very nice and good girl Gryffindor with true school spirit and a knack of getting the last word in (she couldn't quite suppress that side of her—but she tried… a little).
She doubted very much she would have offended the damn man, so what could it possibly be? Was she some sort of key? Did her parents have enemies that—
You-Know-Who had been her enemy, still was actually. Hagrid and Draco didn't quite believe he's dead—still waiting out there. And she had a sneaky suspicion that was correct. So assuming the previous Dark Lord was still alive it would only make sense he would want her dead, especially if he knew about Moratorium.
Mr. Pedophile must then be some sort of Dark Lord Fanatic or something of the like if he was trying to rid himself of her.
The question then begged, how to proceed?
Obviously with caution and cunning. She didn't want to bring Moratorium into this unless she wanted to draw attention to herself. How suspicious would it be that the Girl-Who-Lived hired a hit man to kill off her professor?
Or how suspicious would it be that said hit man already knew the danger the Girl-Who-Lived was in without supposedly ever entering the school?
Therefore she would have to have him be eliminated via Harry Potter. She would have to confront him in a duel of sorts and make sure it appeared that she was in the right and he in the wrong. But how to do such a thing…?
And suddenly she remembered the strange thing Hagrid pocketed from the vault. How valuable it seemed—how hushed up. How it had to go straight to Dumbledore, but why?
Then she remembered how the third corridor was off limits—and the twins had informed her that was not normally the case. Ergo the corridor would only be off limits now because of something new. Something new and valuable was there. And Harry would bet all of her money that it was that strange object.
Harry smiled as a plan formed into her head. If she could get the object and plant it on Quirrel she could confront him about it. When questioned too deeply about why she confronted him, she could certainly bluff her way through and claim she overheard him talking to himself about stealing it. She and many other students had already overheard him talking to himself when he thought he was alone. Though no one could figure out what exactly he was saying.
She could confront him, push him a little to give an attempt to kill her then she could accidentally fire off an attack that tragically killed him.
Yes. That would work.
A Hellhound. Honestly, such a hassle. She would have to discuss with Hagrid and see if he would give her information about them. She didn't want to use her Moratorium sources unless absolutely needed to.
As Harry entered Hagrid's cabin, her nose crinkled at the smell of burnt hair. Obviously Hagrid hadn't rid himself of the smell of Norbert. Oh well, at least no one was caught and the dragon safely made it off with Charlie.
"Hagrid?" Harry inquired.
The half giant turned around from the stove and gave her a sunny grin. "Well 'ello there, 'Arry. Come for some tea?"
"Tea would be lovely, thank you. Actually I came here to inquire about magical companions," Harry said, sliding into the hut and taking a seat on the massive chair that she normally sat in.
Hagrid glanced at her over his shoulder while he busied himself with tea. "Oh? Wha' can I tell yah?"
"There are all sorts of beasts out there and I was beginning to consider one for myself," Harry said. "I'm not quite sure where to begin."
"Oh let's see here… wha' would you li' one for?"
"I'm not sure. Companionship, obviously. It would be useful if it could guard something. Or perhaps just simply something that could—and would—defend me," Harry said carefully. Better not ask the questions too directly.
"Hmm," Hagrid mused. "Well. Hippogriffs are 'ovely things—very proud of course, you see, but very 'ovely. They're very loyal too and they would guard as 'ell as defend their masters. But it takes quite a bi' for them to consider anyone a master. Let's see… Griffins are goo' as 'ell, same as Hippogriffs."
"Really?" Harry inquired. "What if I wanted something bigger?"
"Bigger?" Hagrid repeated, almost absently. "Bigger ons' are certainly a lot more fun, I think. There's Hellhounds and… Basilisks…"
"Hellhounds and Basilisks?" Harry repeated though she immediately frowned. She hadn't meant to repeat Basilisks, but her curiosity took hold of her tongue.
"Oh yes," Hagrid said, smiling and turning around and presenting her with very sweet tea. She smiled at him as she sipped the tea. "Never had a Basilisk myself 'course. But I 'ave had a Hellhound."
"Really? Can you tell me about them—both of them?" Harry asked.
"Well Hellhounds are mighty fine creatures, they are. Very 'oyal and guard very well. They're a bit of a handful to raise but well worth it, I think."
"But they sound dangerous," Harry said. "What if they attacked you? Or got too restless?"
"You relax 'em 'course," Hagrid said. "Take Fluffy—the Hellhound I raised—you just play him a bit of music and he'll fall right 'sleep."
"Fluffy?" Harry repeated. "He sounds… actually quite adorable. Will I get a chance to meet him?"
Hagrid frowned. "Doubt it. He's busy 'elping Dumbledore."
"Pity. What can you tell me about Basilisks then?"
As always Hagrid proved himself to be immeasurably useful. Why on earth didn't everyone befriend the gentle man? He was very easy to get along with and much more he was sovery useful. Then again it might prove to be a hinder should he catch wind of any of Harry's secrets—he seemed to somehow unknowingly give vital things away.
Oh well. He was still useful as far as Harry was concerned.
Now it was only a matter of—
"There you are Harry," Draco said, moving up to walk alongside her. "I was looking for you. I need someone to practice Quidditch with."
"Now?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Now," Draco said.
"Oh alright," Harry sighed. "But not for long, I do have plans."
"No you don't."
"How would you know? What are you some sort of mind reader?"
Draco gave her a cocky grin. "Maybe I am."
"Don't be ridiculous," Harry snorted. "Wizards can't read minds."
"Yes they can. It's called Legilimens."
Harry froze. "What?"
Not only did she have to steal whatever was in the third corridor—she now had to learn Occlumency! Well, it was a good thing that Draco informed her of this now—could you imagine what would happen if someone performed Legilimency on Harry Potter—or, worse, Moratorium?
She shuddered to think of such a hassle.
But learning Occlumency would be a bit troublesome as she discovered there were few books in the library about it—and none that explained how to learn it. She supposed she could risk using Moratorium to… acquire a few books. Not too suspicious on either part, actually… yes… yes indeed…
But for tonight she would be retrieving the stone. It was well past midnight and she moved through the school in the generous gift she had received for Christmas.
Whoever gave her the cloak was either the nicest fool or the boldest rival. She couldn't quite decide—or really bother to—between the two.
She slipped into the room with Fluffy in it, waving her wand and casting an eerie sound from it. Gentle, creepy, lullaby music drifted around the room and the dog was asleep in little to no time. She scanned the room for another doorway or such, finding a trapdoor.
Moving the paw of the great creature she dropped down into the plants.
And this was another reason she liked Herbology. She was quite fascinated with these plants. Casting a fire spell, she burned them away before continuing on. The keys were rather simple and the chess was also simple. Whoever charmed the chess weren't a very good player themselves.
Moving on she read Snape's riddle and Stupefied the troll (not that it really needed to, it seemed to remember her quite clearly and was well cowed). Finally, she found the mirror and read the name carved onto it.
Ah yes, Hermione informed her about this mirror.
She eyed the mirror before imagining her desire in wanting to find the object. She didn't really care so much for using it or whatever. She just needed to find it. Frankly, she wasn't even sure if she would be retrieving the object on her first try.
She felt a lump in her pocket before producing a red stone. She frowned at it. It didn't look particularly grand—certainly not a ruby or such, but who was she to dismiss it so easily? Perhaps it was some sort of stabilizer for a certain potion or it was a seal that held a vicious creature…
Harry shook her head, pocketing the stone. Well, it would do her no good now to think upon it. But… if it proved valuable…
She cocked her head. Perhaps she could make a mimic of it? She knew there was a spell that could provide a carbon copy of small items that worked in the same way leprechaun's gold worked. If the stone was in fact a stabilizer, the copy would work as a stabilizer. But after time passed it would disappear.
And if this thing was so valuable, perhaps it would be better to… not risk it, yes? But first she would have to research what exactly it was…
The Sorcerer's Stone was indeed deemed valuable and was shipped off to the Potter Vault the next day after making a carbon copy that will last for three days.
The only thing left now was to plant it upon the pedophile. And she already had a plan for such a feat.
"A prank?" Draco and Hermione repeated Harry incredulously.
Harry gave her two favorite friends a mischievous smile. "Indeed. I was hoping to pull a small prank on the pedophile while he was unaware, however I cannot do such a thing in the state he is in now. Hermione, dear, because you have more of a conscience than Draco and I, I will kindly ask you leave us be until the actual prank may be pulled."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "You aren't going to kill him, are you?"
"Then I suppose… but if you better not break any more than two school rules. If you do, I will report you to our Head."
"Very well. Come Draco! Let us wreak havoc and mayhem upon the pedophile."
Draco gave a cocky grin, a glint in his eyes. "Easy enough."
Draco and Harry knelt behind a potted plant, watching as the pedophile maneuvered his way towards them. He was going to head down the stairs and that was when they would make their move. At the top of the stairs was a simple pebble. A simple pebble that would be The Key.
As he neared, Harry and Draco pulled out their wands and pointed towards the pebble.
Just as he was about to step over the pebble—
Harry swished her wand, transfiguring it into a stick and Draco muttered, "Wingardium Leviosa."
The pedophile did a spectacular tumble, hitting his forehead against the floor and slumping unconscious.
The two high-fived and sped away to alert a teacher.
"You attacked a teacher!" Hermione shrieked.
"No. He tripped and fell down the stairs," Draco said.
"We just provided the opportunity," Harry said with a grin.
"I can't believe it—how could you?"
"He's not dead, just sleeping in the hospital bed. Now are you going to come with us to help or are you going let us off on our own where we might do more damage?" Draco taunted.
Hermione glared at both of them. "Honestly! I can't leave the two of you alone, can I?"
"No," they chorused.
"By the way, is Ron still in detention?" Harry asked. "I was hoping we could kidnap him for help…"
The three students turned their heads to find Ron entering the Great Hall and sliding into a seat beside Harry. He frowned at them. "What?"
"We're going to prank the pedophile," Harry said.
"Cool. Can I come?"
Draco's nose crinkled. "Who would want a filthy blood traitor like you to come?"
Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes as Ron bristled. Boys.
"Look at the pot calling the kettle black!" Ron snapped.
"So," Harry said loudly. "Prank. Now. Let's go."
The four students crept into the dimly lit hospital wing, well past their curfews. After stepping on multiple toes and Harry demeaning it safe, they pulled off the invisibility cloak.
"Oh this is such a bad idea," Hermione whispered, a look of horror on her face. "Why did I come? Why didn't I just talk to a teacher…?"
"Because we're your friends," Ron said.
"And we would do more damage if you didn't come," Harry pointed out.
"Not to mention you know you wanted to," Draco added.
Hermione shot Draco a glare, but it didn't last long.
"Remember the plan?" Harry whispered.
The three other students nodded.
A simple plan, really. Ron and Draco would stage a fight right outside the curtains that were enclosed around the pedophile. Hermione would shriek and claim to tell a teacher and while those three were distracted Harry would enact her 'prank'. She informed the others that she would merely be planting jelly legs on him among a few other things while he was distracted by Ron and Draco.
In actuality, she would slip the carbon copy of the stone near him. On the bed when he sat up or something of the like and then she would yell and claim he had stolen the same stone she had seen Hagrid had extracted from the vault.
No doubt one of her friends would rush off to inform a teacher—Draco or Hermione, she wasn't sure—and in that time she would taunt the pedophile into attacking her. It wouldn't be too hard as a.) he already wanted her dead and; b.) the teachers would be arriving soon and if he didn't leave soon he would be in quite the trouble.
It was risky, of course. But that's what made it so tempting to go through. There were countless other safer plans to dispose of him, but Harry enjoyed this one.
Perhaps it was because she was doing it with her frien—alliances. Honestly it would do her no good if she had emotional attachments to them. Ehem. Or perhaps she was just an adrenaline junkie and adored the thrill of risks. Either way, this plan would work out well in the end.
Harry slipped away from her friends, hugging the cloak tightly as she neared the pedophile. Draco and Ron began their argument and Hermione waited a moment before presenting herself.
The pedophile moved in his bed before Harry could hear him sitting up. Pushing back the curtain, she froze, mouth agape.
He wasn't wearing his turban.
There was a face on the back of his head.
A heartbeat passed and Harry knew she had to abandon her current plan. She released her magic over the stone and threw off her cloak. The face immediately saw her as she wretched the curtains away. The pedophile whirled his face to her, presenting the other face to Hermione and the others.
Ron and Draco paled.
"You brats!" hissed the pedophile.
"Shut up pedophile!" Harry snarled. "Your damn fantasies have come to an end!"
The pedophile blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"The girl…. The girl has touched the stone!"
An involuntary shudder ran through Harry at the voice. She stared at the face, incomprehension in her eyes until…
She gaped. "I know who you are… you're… you're…"
The face cackled. "Yes child… it is I."
She knew the name. She knew it! But it was spoken so long ago and so rarely used, she couldn't recall it perfectly. She knew it though! But she had a good guess…
"You're Lord Voldewhore!"
"Correct, it is I, Lord—WHAT?!"
"It's You-Know-Who," Ron whispered fearfully, eyes wide.
"You'll pay for that, you brat! Servant—kill them! Kill them all!"
Draco gave a terrified scream along with Hermione and Ron looked queasy. Only Harry remained her ground. This was her chance. If she could get rid of this fool then no one would question Moratorium's power—ever again! She could rid herself of this potential rival and—
"Avada Kedavra!" the pedophile shrieked, pointing his wand towards Hermione.
But Draco was faster. Whether he intended to, or he thought it was aimed towards him and was going for self-preservation (Harry would have guessed the second one), he jumped to the direct side, accidentally (or purposely, she really couldn't decide) knocking Hermione over with him.
The green bolt of light slammed against the door.
The DADA professor's face contorted with rage, but Harry also felt something akin.
She was furious.
Hermione was her friend. Hermione and Draco and Ron were her friends. They were under her protection and as such they were under Moratorium's protection.
And Moratorium did not take well to the fact this fool dared attack someone under his protection. He was a vengeful thing and would not tolerate it. The fool would pay—with his life. Moratorium snarled at the idiot.
Harry's eyes narrowed into cold fury and she launched herself forward, her hand clenched into a fist. She slammed her fist against the contorted face, feeling a sort of sick satisfaction at the shriek of pain that came from it. White light poured from where she hit the once Dark Lord and the pedophile screamed in agony.
Moratorium and Harry realized together that their touch hurt their enemy. So they did the only sensible thing.
They threw themselves at the fool and began pounding away at them. "Don't—EVER—touch—MY—allies—YOU—piece of—"
However, the rest of Harry's sentence was lost to the world, as she instead chose to let out a string of curses that would had even Draco blushing, just as the doors to the hospital wing flew open and all the professors—along with Dumbledore—barreled in.
Harry was panting with rage at how her victim gave away too easily. A sort of black vapor rose up from the body, the face still on it.
"You will pay for what you have done today, Harry Potter!"
"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE VOLDEWHORE!"Harry shrieked, grabbing the nearest thing—a pillow—and throwing it at the vapor.
Dumbledore's eyes widened and his face contorted with rage. "BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE, TOM RIDDLE!"
And the vapor was gone with a shriek of pain and the promise of revenge.
Harry was still breathing heavily before she shakily stood up.
She glowered at the spot the pedophile once was before she looked up at the bewildered—and some horrified—faces of the professors.
"I request a cup of hot chocolate," she said, her voice clipped.
Hermione huddled next to Harry, the girl was a little shaken from the ordeal, but she was otherwise okay. The two girls sat on a single bed, both sipping hot chocolate. Draco sat next to Hermione and Ron next to Harry. All of them were under a single blanket as they patiently waited for their parents—well, not Harry's parents or guardians, of course—to arrive. Only when they did were they going to tell exactly what happened.
Not to mention Amelia Bones along with a few Aurors were coming—but they were already there so the students were only waiting for the parents.
When the parents arrived, Draco rushed from the bed and into the arms of a very beautiful young woman. Her eyes were wide with clear relief as she checked over her boy. A man, who Harry assumed to be Draco's father, even allowed a tight smile of relief as he watched his son.
Hermione's parents closely held their daughter on the bed—Harry and Ron moved. Ron was embraced by a frantic mother and a very relieved father.
Harry opted to sit next to the gentle elderly man by the name of Dumbledore.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" she whispered, trying her best not to draw the attention of others. Dumbledore's eye twinkled and he gave her a very warm smile, moving from his own spot on a separate bed. Harry sat down, frowning when she felt a brush of her mental shields. But it was but a brush and no one tried to delve any further.
Narcissa—Draco's mother—straightened her back and eyed each of the teachers before her eyes landed on Snape. Snape gave a small incline of his head and she nodded back.
"Would someone explain to me what happened?" she asked, holding Draco closely.
The four students exchanged looks before Draco opted to speak.
"We were going to pull a prank on the ped—Professor Quirrel."
"A prank?" Lucius—Draco's father—repeated, clearly in disdain.
Draco flushed and promptly averted his father's gaze. "Yes. He… we thought he tried to kill Harry… at the Quidditch game."
"And you didn't tell any of us?" McGonagall asked, clearly perplexed.
"How?" Ron asked, the frantic panic and fear he felt before leaving him snippy and snide. "What were we supposed to say? Hey, Professor! Even though we're only a bunch of kids we're pretty sure one of your own colleagues—you know the weak and seemingly harmless one—tried to kill us! Mind if you get rid of him?"
McGonagall frowned at that, but did not question further.
"So we were hoping to just… you know," Ron trailed off.
"We came up here," Hermione picked up when no one else continued. "And… and we had a plan. Ron and Draco were going to fight and… and I was going to get a teacher… Harry was supposed to…"
"Jelly his legs, and stuff," Ron muttered.
"While he was distracted by Ron and me," Draco continued. "But then…"
"Then I saw he didn't have a turban on," Harry said. "And I saw there was a face on the back of his head. And I just… sort of… recognized him."
"You recognized the Dark Lord?" Amelia asked sharply, frowning slightly as she eyed the child before her.
Harry shrugged helplessly. "His voice. I knew it. I've dreamed about it. I don't really know how else to explain—my subconscious perhaps? But I recognized it. And then he ordered the ped—professor—to kill us."
"He tried to fire a curse at me—Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered. Her mother frowned and placed a gentle kiss on top of her head.
"Draco practically tackled her out of the way," Harry said.
Draco flushed. "I did not. I thought it was aiming at me, so I dived."
Ron snorted at this. "Same results in the end. Then Harry…"
"I got mad," Harry said. "So I punched Lord Voldewhore."
"Lord what?" Lucius hissed.
Harry frowned, blinking and looked up at the mixture of faces—shock, horror, amusement and confusion (on Hermione's parents). "What? That's his name, isn't it?"
"It is Voldemort," Dumbledore clarified.
"I think I'll just stick to Voldewhore."
"Why?" Draco asked incredulously.
"Well, he is kind of a power slut, isn't he?" Harry asked.
The three students paused to consider this while the adults looked positively horrified, though a few looked amused. Amelia and her Aurors—Shacklebolt and Moody—along with Dumbledore looked very amused.
"You know… now that you think about it…" Ron mused.
"The Dark Slut," Harry said.
"The Slut-That-Must-Not-Be-Named," Draco said with a cocky grin.
"Draco," Lucius said sharply, considerably pale.
Draco's grin slipped, but anyone could clearly see his opinion didn't change.
"As you were saying, Potter," Dumbledore said softly, smiling.
"Oh… yes… well, so after I punched him, he started burning. Light was coming out and he was in some serious pain. So I just… well, he just became my punching bag."
"You used… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… as a punching bag," Amelia said slowly.
"The Dark Slut, you mean," Harry clarified. "Fear of the name only increases the fear of itself, and yes. I was quite angry."
The adults exchanged looks around the room.
But Harry didn't mind. She won and none of the adults seemed upset by this. Not to mention she didn't feel anyone try her Occlumency Shield again.
All in all, she was content again.
Only when the entire drama of the professor finally died down did Harry deem it safe enough to continue her communication with Marwyn. He had, it seemed, found her the correct sort of people for the work required for the Owls and as such, Harry would be relaying him instructions on exactly how to put them into use…
Hermione cleared her throat, pulling Harry away from her gleeful musings. The four students were currently sitting under a very nice shady spot in the very nice weather.
The three other students looked over to the bushy haired girl.
"Whether it was or wasn't intentional, I believe I owe you, Draco, a thank you."
Draco blinked in surprise before flushing. "You owe me no such thing! It was self-preservation, I tell you."
Ron and Harry exchanged looks.
"Why are you so adamant about not admitting that you saved a friend's life?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Because she's a Mudblood!"
As soon as the words left his lips, Draco realized his mistake. Ron tensed and scowled furiously and Hermione blinked her watery eyes furiously. Only Harry remained unaffected.
"So?" Harry asked lazily. "Ron, relax. And 'Mione, you shouldn't get upset over a silly word like that."
Ron shot Harry a disbelieving look, along with Draco and Hermione frown.
"You should be proud," Harry said. "So what if you're not a pureblood at the moment? You're you and you shouldn't let some old word hurt you. I wouldn't. I'm proud to say I'm half Mudblood. Sounds a lot cooler than pureblood anyway—that just sounds incestuous."
Draco flushed at the insinuation and Hermione gave a small smile.
"You're right. I am a Mudblood but… but I don't care," Hermione said firmly. "I'm still a…"
"A bright young wizard with a knack for spells," Harry said.
"A girl who's really nice with animals," Ron piped.
The three students glanced at Draco who was still flushing. He cleared his throat. "Oh alright… and who's… okay with… potions."
Hermione smiled while Ron and Harry chortled.
Draco gave a definite 'harrumph!' before turning away and continuing on his homework.
Harry giggled with glee as she read the first batch of blackmail she had received from her Owling idea. One more batch and she would have to end it—least she draw too much attention too soon—but so far she had dirt on nearly all the purebloods in Britain—and a few in Germany and Russia.
Harry felt a beaming smile on her face. Marwyn was proving to be most useful and now that Moratorium had a firmer toe in the water, she felt it safe to begin the expansion. She would need to bring a few closer workers. The Matron at the brothel would be one.
The Matron would be useful, picking up all sorts of juicy information from the clients her girls (and a few boys) serve. Another would have to be the bartender for Moratorium's bar, for the same reasons of wonderful information that idiotic drunks might slip up.
Yes, yes… she would set up a meeting with each of them over the summer and secure their loyalty. Perhaps offer them a higher percentage? Yes… that would do it. By then she could cut the Owling business and have Marwyn… cut the loose ends.
It would do no good to have potential workers that could blab about how she obtained this information. No, no good at all.
Loose ends just simply had to be cut.
Harry dove down sharply, her broom obeying her so well as she hurtled herself toward the fast moving golden ball. It was the last game for the year and if she caught the snitch now—her house would win. But of course she would catch it, she was the good golden girl. Couldn't have her reputation ruined. No, no...
The Ravenclaw's Seeker struggled to keep up with her on their school broom, but Harry's broom was faster. Harry twirled through the air, her arm outstretched and she leaned forward. Her fingers brushed against the snitch—
She grabbed it, a triumphant grin on her face as she held it up high for all to see.
"And Harry's caught the snitch—GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP!"
Her teammates howled with cheer around her as she landed, as did the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff bystanders that watched the display. McGonagall seemed positively beaming (and a bit smug) from her spot.
Oliver Wood was crying with tears of happiness as he picked Harry up and twirled her around. The fanatic Captain was babbling with joy and even Harry couldn't muster up the annoyance that usually came with him. Her face was already starting to hurt from grinning so wide.
This turned out to be a very nice year.
She thought of her exploits and Moratorium.
And next year would prove to be even better.
IT'S NOT COMPLETE. SORTA.
Even though it says complete... it kind of isn't. As you can see, this is only the first year. I might leave it as a one-shot, or I might add the years. If I do, I will add one full year at a time like this chapter, but in the mean time, this story stays as a one-shot.
I do hope you enjoyed this story, and there is a very specific reason why the hat humored Harry in placing her in Gryffindor. Can you guess her 'obsession'? I did put hints of it in here, so I'm curious to see if you can.
Reviews are love!
Edit: Many years ago, I read a FanFiction that had a similar idea. Because it wasn't on my computer or on my phone and I didn't even have an account, I wasn't able to find it ever again. It was a once in a lifetime thing. I am told that my idea is similar to someone 'esama'. I don't recognize the name, but it could be the same FF I read all that time ago.
Let me make this clear: If I have a similar reference, I'm sorry. However, my story will be diverting VERY differently by fourth year (as well as third year, now that I think about it), so please treat it as a different story. I know for certain my story isn't the first one to do something like this, and it isn't going to be the last. It's okay to have similar ideas, so long as they branch out and you make them your own. Otherwise OC's would be pretty much banned from existence and Self-Inserts would be nonexistent. :P