A big thank you to all those who have fav'd/followed this story, especially with my longer than usual posting schedule. I was falling ill as I wrote the first two chapters and had to deal with that and technical issues. Now I'm feeling better and am able to use the backup laptop for my writing. As such I've gone through chapters 1 and 2 to tidy up the writing, remove the obvious errors (a really bad date one that I totally missed) and rewrote some sections. If you spot any differences between this chapter and chapter two, that's the reason.

For those who know the Nightside series; Harry meets John and Suzie at the end of Nightingale's Lament (shown in this chapter) and the end of the main Lilith arc ends before he joins Hogwarts.

As a result of synching the two stories, I've changed when the original modern mobile phones were released. Rather than around '95, they will be released in early '90. These are the old "bricks" that could barely handle texts so now super smart phones for Harry in this story.

Chi Vayne - It won't be their deaths but Snape will definitely face a memory if he tries entering Harry's mind.

With that all said, enjoy some backstory on what happened to Harry and more Luna!

A Door that Wasn't a Door

31st July, 1990

The Nightside. A hidden place within the centre of London where concepts like Good and Evil can be bartered or sold, or simply sit together in an Uptown club as Apathy serves drinks and Innocence dances for rent money. Where souls are freely given away for the taste of the forbidden fruit and nice, normal sanity is only a sometime thing. It is a place that's much bigger than the square mile it appears to be on official maps. As though space itself has warped and expanded around it to fit all the darkness, evil and generally weird stuff that makes its home there. It is a place of deepest magic and brightest desires and almost no one finds their way into the Nightside by accident. Those that do rarely find their way out again. It's that kind of place.

It's always night there with a moon dozens of times larger than anything seen in the rational and boring world. It's always three o'clock in the morning, the hour of the wolf. The time when a man's defences are at their weakest, when he wonders what his life has become and when he is at his most ready to make a deal with the Devil.

People are always coming and going in the Nightside. They walk alongside those who only look like people and some things that couldn't be described as human if both sides were in a drunken stupor and had their eyes ripped out. You can find anything in the Nightside, if it doesn't find you first. And one of the things that has always been there is Strangefellows.

The oldest bar and nightclub in the world can only be approached by an alley that isn't always there and through a door that doesn't always open. The owner can be moody like that.

Alex Morrisey was born pissed off at the world and his mood only got worse as he grew up. He was a thin, pale man with hair that stuck out at all angles. It was partially hidden beneath a tilted beret that sat at the back of his head to hide the growing bald patch. He always wore black, mainly because he couldn't find a darker colour, and perpetually wore sunglasses no matter the lighting. That night Alex's dark eyes stared out from behind the sunglasses at the man he considered his closest friend. Most of the time.

John Taylor, mostly handsome in a white trench coat, had a reputation big enough to shake the world and luck bad enough to damn it. A private detective with a powerful gift of finding things, whether they wanted to be found or not, who was coming off a recent case that had left another emotional mark. Alex knew the signs. A barely there gruff of a hello and a bottle of Angel's Tears to drown his sorrows. John only had three moods when he came to Strangefellows; neutral, Wormwood Brandy so he could mourn the death of a friend, or enemy, and Angel's Tears when he got his heart broken.

Alex knew enough of the details of the case to understand how it all played out. A dead father concerned over his beautiful daughter, Taylor riding in as a battered and bruised White Knight to save the day only for the daughter to focus on her singing career once her life had been saved. Poor schmuck. Alex thought.

It was why he had called in the reinforcements. A brooding Taylor was bad for business. Although, from the way customers were making a quick exit, Alex sadly guessed that the reinforcements had arrived and business would be slow for a while.

It was still early evening Nightside time so there weren't too many bodies running up the steel steps towards the exit. That small fact didn't take away from the impressive sight of a straw-blonde Valkyrie, dressed in tight leathers, stepped casually down into the bar while everyone flowed around her in the opposite direction. A depressed John Taylor was bad enough, but throw in Suzie Shooter, also known as Shotgun Suzie or Oh God, it's her, run!, and people suddenly had a better place they needed to be. Some couldn't think of a better place and simply aimed for not there.

The chains and studs of Suzie's leathers gleamed in the low light. Her hair was tied back with a leather thong, rumoured to be the skin of the first man she ever killed, and her dark blue eyes promised only death and destruction. The butt of her infamous pump action shotgun peered over one shoulder, a small sawn-off was strapped to one thigh and two bandoliers of ammunition criss-crossed her impressive chest. A few grenades dangling from her wide belt completed the image of a destructive force of nature.

This was a woman who had seen Girl on a Motorcycle and Easy Rider one too many times and loved every minute of both. The only woman to get kicked out of the SAS for unacceptable brutality. Shotgun Suzie.

Alex gave a slight nod to the booth Taylor had taken and walked to the other end of the bar to keep out of the way. His good deed for the decade had been done and now it was time to mope about the lack of profits.

Suzie ignored the rush of people and stalked towards the indicated booth with barely a nod in return. She saw the glow from the bottle of Angel's Tears before she saw Taylor and cursed. She hated being the emotional support in their relationship.

"Want to tell me about it?" She asked him in a tight voice, clearly as uncomfortable with asking the question as she would have been receiving it. Taylor looked up at her, eyes scanning her striking face only to slip away to glare at the distant Alex.

"No." He answered truthfully and was thankfully when she shrugged and dropped into the seat opposite.

"Suits me." Suzie said truthfully, pushing the glowing bottle as far away as could be while still being on the same table. "Always said Show Businesses was an ugly thing."

Taylor's eyebrows raised only for him to then scoff at his own surprise at her knowing what happened. "I suppose you would have slapped me around the head?"

"Damn straight, Taylor." Suzie declared with a fire that emphasised how good looking she was. John pushed that thought away as quickly as it appeared. "Whatever had you thinking working with Dead Boy was a good idea?"

"You were on another case." He tried explaining, leaning back in the chair. There was no way he would be able to brood over the end of a non-existent relationship now that Suzie was there. "Besides, Suzie, he saved the girl. Billy Lathem, the bloody Jonah, had her frozen between being alive and dead."

Suzie scoffed and was about to say something rude when there was a pop of magical transportation and a small creature appeared in the middle of the bar.

It was barely four foot with long bat-like ears and large eyes and dressed in an immaculate butler's uniform. It was holding something roughly its own size but it was impossible to tell what it was beneath all the blood. John hadn't seen a house-elf in almost twenty years but knew they were a mostly peaceful race and wondered what could have brought one to Strangefellows.

The elf looked frantically around around, part awe and part searching, and its eyes grew larger as it took in the sight that was the bar. Suzie's hand had risen to the butt of her shotgun but thankfully she hadn't yet drawn it. John wasn't sure he would enjoy the sight of an angry house-elf.

"Master Taylor!" The elf squeaked as it locked in on his face and its magic gave his identity. "Master Taylor must help Styxies, Styxies not be knowing how to heal young master!"

John was up and moving the moment he realised exactly what it was that the elf was holding. Suzie followed and even Alex raced out from behind the bar with what looked like a Victorian doctor's bag.

"You think I didn't hear about your run-in with the Cavendishes?" Alex snapped when John gave the bag a quizzical look. "And don't think I don't know how you went to Blind Pew for healing rather than come here."

The entire rant overlaid Alex carefully pulling items from the bag. Betty and Lucy Coltrane, Alex's body building female bouncers, had appeared alongside them to ease the battered and broken body out of the crying elf's arms. They carefully laid the small boy onto the floor and everyone present cursed at extent of his wounds.

The boy's back had been destroyed. John had seen victims of flaying in the past and recognised the end result of someone with more enthusiasm than skill. Blood pooled around them as they worked with towels to clean away the blood in order for Alex's medical kit to do its work.

John sent a sideways glance to Suzie and didn't like the harsh line her mouth had taken. His friend hadn't had the best of childhoods and he was the only one who knew the reason why she killed her brother when she was fifteen. If there was anything that would set her on a downward spiral of destruction, it was an abused child.

"Can you bes saving little Master Harry?" The elf whimpered, its wide eyes pleading. There wasn't much John could do for the boy, not when Alex's surprisingly experienced touch was leading the healing. So he turned to the small creature for answers.

"We're trying." He promised the elf. "What family are you from, little guy? Why would you bring him to me?"

"Oh! Oh! Styx bes bad elf!" If possible the eyes bulged even more as the elf's bloody hands patted down its uniform in order to find something important. The immaculate uniform simply absorbed the bloody hand prints rather than become stained. "Styxies bes having letter for Master Taylor. Letter bes telling Master Taylor everything about little Mster Harry Potter."

"Potter?" John frowned and turned to stare at the mop of black hair that he could now see. Yep. He thought. That's the Potter hair. "This is James Potter's kid?"

"You knew Master James?" Styx the elf asked with awe, a crumpled letter half out of his little pocket.

"He broke my nose." John said with amusement at the memory. The sound of sizzling caught his attention and a glance told him one of Alex's potions was boiling away any infection from the lashed back. Suzie and the Coltranes held the boy in order to keep him still. He was thankfully unconscious and only moaned at what would have been an agonising feeling had he been awake. "Thought I was trying to get it on with his girl, Lily."

"When was all this?" Alex wrinkling his nose, partly at the smell of burning muscle, partly in confusion. Alex had known Taylor all his life yet didn't remember anything like that happening to his friend. "I don't recognise the names."

"It was before my father died." John explained and no one would look him in the eyes. John's father had found out his wife wasn't human and attempted to drink himself to death, leaving a young John struggling against anyone wanting to take their shot at the boy. Throughout his adolescence, John had disappeared into the sane, mostly normal world, only to return to what he knew when he couldn't ignore the call.

"Mistress Lily was wonderful." Styx sighed, bringing John's attention back to elf. He frowned at what he was learning.

"You're telling me this is Lily and James' kid?" His voice turning cold with fury. "There's no way in hell that Lily would let something like this happen to her child." Styx's sad and anguished look broke John's heart. There was only one thing that could bring that look to a person's face and John felt the heavy weight of outliving yet another friend.

Lily Evans had spiritually patched him up when he needed it the most after his enemies had set fire to an entire street in order to kill him. John had run from the Nightside as fast as possible, wanting desperately to not feel fear every time he opened his eyes. Lily Evans had given him back that ability and helped him regain his desire to spit in the eyes of his enemies.

Before either man or elf could say anything more on Lily, the world tilted and Alex vanished from reality as a new form appeared in Strangefellows. The moment Styx got a look at who had taken Alex's place, the elf meeped in fear and hid behind John. John was very much in a similar mindset and wondered where he could safety hide.

The figure sat on a great iron throne. It was a heavy chair made of black metal, carved and scored with crawling, unquiet runes. His naked, corpse-pale body was decorated throat to toes with curving Celtic and Druidic tattoos, many of which were unpleasant and even disturbing to look at. Both the tattoos and runes seemed to move when you weren't looking directly at them.

Any patch of skin not marked by symbols of Power was decaying, showing evidence of the fact he was, completely and utterly, dead. The man had long grey hair that hung past his shoulders in convoluted knots and stiffened in places with clay and woad. There was an ancient wound in his chest where skin, muscles and bone had been torn outward to reveal the empty cavity where his heart should have been. John's eyes moved up from the gapping wound to the heavy-boned and ugly face but that wasn't any easier to look at. The brow carried a crown of mistletoe while below it, two flames leapt and danced in empty eye sockets.

They say his has his father's eyes.

Merlin Satanspawn, dead but not forgotten, and still a Power and Domination of Nightside. His body was buried somewhere beneath Strangefellows and he was only able to manifest through his descendants. In this case Alex. John was at a loss at what could have brought the man who declined the role of the Antichrist out of his slumber. The air crackled with energy and magic as Merlin rose and stepped off his throne. There was a calculating gaze in the harsh face that didn't sit right with any of those there.

"My descendant has done an adequate job." The deep voice noted when he looked down at Harry's body. It was a dark sound that grated on the ears like fingernails dragging along a soul. "The scars will give the boy character."

"Excuse me, sir Merlin." John said, standing up to face the powerful force head on. There was no way he was going to stay kneeling in front of a threat, any threat. He would never live it down. Suzie followed instinctively and her hand drifted closer to her sawn-off. "But what has brought you out of your slumber?"

"The Boy-Who-Lived." Merlin replied, cackling harshly at John's confusion. "The only living wizard to survive the Killing Curse."

"The Avada Kedavra?" John looked down at Harry and felt a swell of sympathy for the boy. He could too easily imagine what type of reputation Harry Potter would have after surviving the unsurvivable.

"Allow me to tell you a tale." Merlin said in a tone that demanded attention. He made his way to the bar and reached over it to pull out a bottle of forty year-old Scotch, pulling the cork free and gulping down a good third before leaning against the bar with a satisfied sigh. Much to John's relief no drink leaked out of the horrific chest wound. "Your friends, James and Lily Potter, give birth to a boy cursed beneath a prophecy. He is destined to face the darkest wand wielder in centuries."

"I don't believe in destinies." John snarled immediately, fists clenching as he thought of the terrible destiny hanging over his own head. Merlin's laugh only made him angrier.

"You should, John Taylor. Now be quiet before I turn you into a pregnant toad." Merlin demanded, taking another swig from the bottle. "The Potters went into hiding but, as these things go, ended up trusting the wrong people. I'm sure the elf hiding behind you has enough details to fill in the gaps. The Potters died, Riddle used an unbeatable curse on a baby that was beaten, and voilà, we have the Boy-Who-Lived."

Suzie stirred restlessly alongside John as the Coltranes continued treating Harry battered body with items from the bag. John was trying to piece together what wasn't being said when the dead wizard changed focus.

"Elf, bring me your Masters."

Styx gave an immediate click of his fingers and a large portrait appeared, floating effortless in the air. Its three occupants blinked in surprise at the sudden change in locations and snarled and grumbled with complaints.

The painting was of three men, obviously brothers, sitting side-by-side in ornate chairs and were dressed in expensive, if old fashioned, robes. The oldest had a thick beard and hair as long as Merlin's. His eyes were dark, hard, and and John knew the man would have been a massive Power in his lifetime. The brother on the right had a goatee with short, wild and and his brown eyes blazed with mischief and adventure. The third, thinner, brother was clean shaven with the same crazy hair and looked around the bar in a calculating manner that had John's instincts screaming. Suddenly he broke into a grin and laughed.

"I don't believe it." He exclaimed with glee. "It's actually Strangefellows. The place hasn't changed a bit."

"Of course it hasn't." The long-haired brother declared with a scoff. "It wouldn't be Strangefellows if it did."

"I see you're as bullish as ever, Antioch." Merlin said with a wicked chuckle as he moved into a position that allowed the three men to see him.

"Merlin." Antioch Peverell sneered back, clearly unbowed by the Magician's reputation. John would have been impressed at the attitude if he didn't consider it an easy one to take as a painting. "I see you're as dead as ever."

"And still as ugly." The clean-shaven Ignotus added with a smirk.

"Boys." Cadmus sighed, rolling his eyes with long practice. "Is there a reason we're here and our descendant is still a bloody mess on the floor?"

Merlin tilted his head to look down at the small form of Harry and then waved his left hand towards the unconscious boy. The air shimmered over Harry's body, distorting reality around him with a harsh light. When the glare faded away, the blood had vanished and there was a healed, if badly scarred, back staring up at them.

"Better?" The dead wizard asked in a mocking tone as he turned his attention back to the portrait. The three brothers bowed their heads in thanks while everyone else tried to stay as quiet as possible. "Good. Now I'd like to propose a deal."

"Yes?" Antioch's eyes narrowed in suspicious while Ignotus leaned back in his chair to study Merlin. Cadmus' nose twitched in anticipation in a way that mirrored businessmen smelling a good deal.

"Harry Potter will need training before he re-enters the world of wand wielders."

"We know." Ignotus interrupted, clearly unimpressed by being told something he was already aware of. "We'd planned to do it ourselves."

"I can help." Merlin offered with a grin that promised pain and anguish. "My aid, here and there in things we decide, to the boy. Spells and knowledge. For a favour to be determined at a later date."

Please not to find his heart. John thought. No one wanted to see what would happen if the dead wizard regained his lost organ and the power it possessed.

"A favour to be negotiated for at a later date." Antioch corrected immediately with narrowed eyes. "To be completed by young Harry and John Taylor together."

"Excuse me?" John exclaimed without thinking. Three sets of powerful eyes and a fourth of flame stared at him as though ready to swat him out of existence. John was pretty sure at least one had the power to do so. "Sir wizards, why are you including me?"

"You haven't read the letter yet?" Cadmus sighed with disappointment and a shake of his head while his brothers glared angrily at John. "It's Lily's request should something happen to her and James. Or would you rather he go back to the same people who did that to his back?"

Suzie growled angrily at the idea. John could only sigh and close his eyes. He already had a stray; a sixteen year-old girl he had saved from a house that was eating her and who had then immediately adopted him. Now it seemed he had someone else added to the menagerie.

"Fine!" He gave in with a wave of the hand. "Go on, make your deals, sir wizards, and let us living folk deal with the fallout."

Four dead men grinned in wicked happiness at the ease of victory while Suzie glared in disappointment at there not being a fight.

The portrait was elf-snapped back to its place of origins to prepare for Harry's arrival. The boy in question would stay above Strangefellows while he emotionally recovered in order to provide him with mostly human company. Styx had refused to leave the young Master and, with nothing more to do, Merlin tilted the world sideways in order to return to his death.

The moment Alex was back among the existed, he forced as much of the remaining Scotch as possible down his throat. Being forced into Nothingness was a horrible experience and the corrupted Latin and Druid phrases that were left bouncing in his mind after the possession never helped his mood. With grim determination he demanded to know what had happened and Suzie listened intensely at all the explanations, seeming to take special focus on any mention of this James and Lily.

John mentally shrugged once the dust settled. It was just another day in the Nightside.

.

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oOoOo

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2nd September, 1992

Harry woke in his Ravenclaw dorm and glared at the ceiling as if it was at fault for him being awake. It's hard to be a morning person when you spend most of your time in a place that's always nighttime. He knew it would take a while for his body clock to adjust.

Harry pulled himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side in a slow manner that belied with his young age. The scars from his last day at the Dursleys had scarred over into wide, jagged scores that deformed the older scars beneath. His chest had been in better condition from his relatives' gentle touch but the life and death struggle that had given him the scars on his face also gave his small chest new ones.

A full length mirror faced the bed and the revealed the legacy of his life to his morning gaze. His messy hair hung loose around his lowered head to hide everything but the slight shine of his amber eye. It was a ritual Harry had fallen into; a staring contest between himself and the scars while he fought to mask the inner turmoil. Hanging around his neck was a chain of pure silver weighed down by a thick golden ring. The ring was dominated by a black stone that was inscribed with an infamous sigil and it nested just below his sternum. It was warm against his skin no matter the ambient temperature around him.

Harry stared at his body until the screams of the past were drowned out by the awakening rage he used to face the day. When it was bubbly away beneath his surface thoughts, Harry gave a determined snarl and pushed himself to feet. The left leg shuddered beneath the strain of his weight and Harry quickly grabbed the long staff that was hovering in the air beside the bed. He used an ancient Word of Power and the staff began to softly glow. It split in two with the top part shrinking until it became his wand while the bottom seeped into the damaged leg. A realistic tattoo of a branches growing out of Harry's ankle, winding up his leg until they finished at the hip appeared and with it came the magical support he needed for the weak limb.

His hip had been crushed not too long ago and was still healing. With no one close to Harry having the know-how to vanish the bones and use Skele-Gro - not that Harry would accept the offer if it was made – there was no telling how strong or weak the leg would be when it was done recovering. At the time of the injury, Harry had been working on a way of merging himself with his staff to see if it would increase his magical output. Merlin had suggested editing the plan so that the foci would cover for his physical weakness and they were all surprised at how well it worked.

Harry dropped the wand onto the bed and ran a hand over the thick branches wrapping around his thigh. The magic within them crackled beneath his touch and had him smiling at how strong the merging always made him feel.

A quick shower later and he was throwing on a tight long-sleeved t-shirt beneath his school shirt and knee length leather boots. Across the room, standing on her perch, a white owl with shimmering red wing-tips watched him prepare for the day ahead.

"Best behaviour, Hedwig." He told his companion with evident disgust at the idea. "And that means both of us."

Hedwig barked, the sound much deeper and darker than a normal owl's voice, and it clearly explained her displeasure at the plan. She closed her brilliant eyes and concentrated until a ripple flowed through her feathers that hid the red markings. Harry nodded his appreciation, even though he was already missing her unique colouring, and took up the shimmering cloak that hung off the back of a chair. As it settled around him, it repeated the trick of the previous night to appear like a normal Ravenclaw robe.

"Time to face the crowds." Harry sighed, only to roll his eyes at the smirk-like look Hedwig gave him before slipping her head beneath a wing. "Thanks for the support, girl."

His wand went into its wrist holster, a stiletto knife was slipped into the hidden boot sheaths while two thicker blades nestled against his lower back beneath his robe. They were silver with one being blessed and the other cursed, the clashing magics able to deal with most physical threats. Harry gave himself a final once over in the mirror to make sure he looked the part of a semi-normal schoolboy. A nod of satisfaction and he was then out of the room, only to stop short as he almost bumped into the two waiting girls.

The blonde was smiling happily, her wide eyes taking in the wards he had placed over his room's door. The fuzzy-haired brunette was much more nervous and even confused over exactly why she was standing in the hallway waiting for a boy she didn't know with a girl who had kidnapped her before breakfast.

"Good morning, Harry Potter." Luna beamed, her sharp gaze dropped once to where the ring hung beneath his clothing and then back to his face. "Your room is amazing."

"Thank you, Luna." Harry smiled openly at the smaller girl and nodded to Hermione. "And a good morning to you both."

"Err...hi?...good morning?" Hermione mumbled as she tugged at her arm and it was only then that Harry noticed Luna's tight grip keeping Hermione in place. By the constant tugging going on, he was sure there would be bruises. "I hope you don't mind us waiting but Luna seemed to think you'd be okay with it and well..."

"It's fine, Hermione." Harry told her, playfully swaying in spot to keep the bobbing and weaving Luna from being able to see into his room. She eventually got tired of the game and somehow pounced past him. Harry took it in his stride with a grin while Hermione looked even more confused. "I'm guessing she found you as you were leaving your room?"

"You are SO beautiful!" Luna squealed from inside the room and Harry sighed, knowing exactly who Luna was talking to. "I love your colours!"

"Er...actually she barged into my room." Hermione explained, frowning at the strange noises coming from the room. "I usually go down early. It's quiet and I get to do some reading before everyone shows up. I really wanted to finish my DADA reading too since we have a new Professor. Professor Lockhart is supposed to be really good at his job but..."

"Oooo, I'd love to watch you stick this in someone..." Luna cooed and Harry fought back the laughter at Hermione's face. Somehow the little pixie had found one of his emergency knives.

"But you're not sure about the man?" He offered innocently, knowing that Hermione wouldn't barge into his room to find out exactly what Luna was declaring her everlasting worship over. "Something about the books doesn't sit right to you even though it all seems plausible?"

"Exactly!" Hermione smiled brightly in relief. The confusion had been driving her crazy and she'd been unsure if it was her or if there really was something amiss. "But I can't place what it is."

"It's the dates." He explained, putting the poor girl out of her misery. He lifted his hand and tapped a knuckle against the door-frame in a specific pattern. The wood flared with magic and he stepped out of the way of a floating Luna as his protections gently brought the giggling girl back into the hallway. The door shut and locked immediately as soon as she was clear. "If everything in them were true, he'd be in three different places at once."

"That's it!" Hermione beamed, doing her absolute best to ignore Luna as the blonde pouted and gave Harry doe-eyes in the hope of being able to enjoy the ride again. "There's no way he could do everything he said he has."

"He didn't." Harry said with annoyance. He had a severe dislike of people taking credit for other people's achievements. For a moment his amber eye seemed to glow with intensity only for it to return to its normal colour when Hermione blinked.

Harry turned towards the stairs and held out his elbows for the girls to take. Luna immediately did so while Hermione took some gentle prodding and eventual whining from the younger girl in order to follow suit. The three talked about their thoughts on Hogwarts, while Luna playfully slipped in references over what had excited her so in Harry's room without describing anything. Harry, for his part, was enjoying the mounting curiosity in the brunette's eyes.

Their good mood was dampened when they reached the Ravenclaw common room and a waiting Professor Flitwick. Hermione was about to leave the two males alone but neither seemed bothered that either girl heard what was being discussed.

"Good morning, Mister Potter, Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood." Flitwick smiled at them, the slightly crumbled sheets of paper he held was the only sign of his agitation. "I'm afraid I have some good and bad news, Mister Potter."

"My schedule?" Harry easily guessed and he received a nod in return.

"There was a late night teacher's meeting." The small Professor explained as he handed the papers over. Harry took them and read through the list, the two girls doing the same. "The classes you have been moved up with will require you to do both first and second year work."

"History of Magic, Herbology, Astronomy. Makes sense, those are subjects you need a foundation for." Harry mused aloud as he listed the classes he would be with Luna for. He frowned when he came to the list of those he would share with Hermione. "Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall?"

"Your House is your family." Luna explained, remembering the disinterested look he had given the speech the previous night.

"Her, right. Makes sense she'd do whatever the Old Man wanted." Harry growled. Hermione frowned at the disrespect and was given a subtle shake of the head from Flitwick to keep her from saying anything. "What's this? Professor, you've accepted me without any first year extra reading?"

"Please, Mister Potter." Flitwick chuckled wickedly. "Do you really think I don't believe you'll be more than capable after knowing where you've been living?"

"Tricksy, goblin, tricksy." Harry laughed only to blink when he found the last class on the list. "Why does Potions have an asterisk next to it?"

"Professor Snape was argued quite venomously against your promotion but for some reason the Headmaster refused to listen." Flitwick's expression showed clearly what he thought of that situation.

"Severus Snape? Potions Master? Schoolboy enemy of my father who felt James Potter was given everything on a silver platter without any effort involved?" Harry asked, stunned at the sheer stupidity of the move. He barely registered a soothing touch on his arm from Luna in an attempt to calm him. "The Headmaster made that Professor Snape take me into his second year class when he didn't want to?"

Hermione was shocked to hear the history between Harry's father and the most feared Professor in Hogwarts. She could easily imagine the class of personalities if the Slytherin Head of House wasn't able to put his issues with James in the past. Hermione's reverence for teachers didn't blind her to the difficulties that Harry might face if Professor Snape couldn't be the bigger man.

Professor Flitwick took the rant in the way it was meant to be taken and could only nod sadly when Harry was finished. He had been shocked at how hard Dumbledore had pushed for his Claw to be moved up in the Potions class and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that it was to see the explosive reaction between the two potential enemies.

Luna, for her part, ignored Harry's rant as she was too focused on the beautiful waves of magic coming off his body. The magic from some of the items he wore seemed to react and intertwine with his own in reaction to his mood and the movements were hypnotic to the unique girl.

"I'm afraid so, Mister Potter." Flitwick grumbled, mentally cursing in Goblin at the idiotic situation. "Not even Professor McGonagall was able to dissuade our esteemed Headmaster from this. I can only suggest keeping your head down and retaliating only."

"Sir!" Hermione shrieked at what her Head of House had offered. "You're giving Harry permission to go after another teacher?"

"No, Miss Granger, I am giving my student permission to defend himself from another teacher." Flitwick corrected with steel in his voice. "I was there during the time in question and witnessed the clashes between Severus and James Potter. Never will you find two students who grew to hate each other with such purity as those two."

"Except Snape and uncle Sirius." Harry absently corrected as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't realised who the dark haired teacher had been the previous night but now he knew, he could feel the confrontation building on the horizon.

"Yes..." Flitwick agreed with open surprise at how much Harry knew of his family's past. The Duelling Master wondered if the boy was aware of Black's betrayal considering his use of the term 'uncle'. "You have to understand, Miss Granger, and I tell you this against my better judgement only so you do understand. The two boys embodied the Gryffindor-Slytherin divide to the point where it was feared they would happily kill each other the way it's believed Slytherin attempted to kill Gryffindor."

Harry looked around the common room and realised how empty it was and how it had been empty the entire conversation. Breakfast had to be in full flow by now.

"You can say it as it is, Professor." Harry offered, looking the small man in the eyes like a boy resigned to the truth. "Professor Snape almost did lose his life."

Hermione gasped and was ready to ask for details when a white form flew into one of the open windows. Hedwig had felt Harry's swell of emotions and had come to help sooth her friend. He smiled at the beautiful owl as she settled onto his shoulder and nuzzled into his long hair. Immediately the emotions soothed and Harry repaid her with a knuckle-rub against her belly. The whole thing distracted everyone from seeing Flitwick's flabbergasted look at what Harry admitted he knew.

"Thank you for the support, sir." Harry told him, the harsh look he had worn throughout the conversation bleeding into a smile as Luna kidnapped a happy Hedwig and used her as a headpiece. "I'll do my best not to retaliate more than reasonably."

"That's the best I can ask, Mister Potter." The Charms Master confessed. "Now the three..four of you, had best get down for breakfast before it's finished."

The correction had come from an angry Hedwig bark at not being included and all four smiled at her indignation.

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Father,

The rumours were true, Harry Potter has indeed come to Hogwarts. There is something strange about him, Father, something that has me wonder which side he would be on. He wears his hair long like that of a House Lord and has nasty scars on his face. I don't mean the one from legend. They look like claw marks and the eye that they overlap is a different colour. Amber, if you wanted to know. Is there an animal I'm unaware of that could do this to a wizard?

I watched Potter as you commanded. He seemed incredibly angry towards Dumbledore for some reason and would often glare at the doddering old fool when he thought the man looked elsewhere. Potter appeared to perform some type of wandless magic on the Sorting Hat to make it unable to sort him. I thought this wasn't possible? Dumbledore looked very annoyed over Potter's prank and more so when the Hat put him into Ravenclaw.

Yes, Father, Harry Potter is in Ravenclaw. The idiot lions didn't know how to react when the stupid hat announced it. Could delving into the Dark Arts have marked Potter's eye, Father? It must be this that had the Hat put him with the ravens rather than any love of books.

Do you wish me to continue watching or shall I make an approach?

I have not seen any sign of anything else happening here but will continue to keep an eye out as you requested. Please say hello to Mother for me.

Your son,

Draco Malfoy

The crown prince of Slytherin had only just finished the letter to his father, Lucius, when its target walked through the main doors. Draco wrinkled his nose at the sight of a Mud-blood alongside Potter. His sharp eyes caught the very slight tensing of step as Potter caught sight of Dumbledore and Draco nodded to himself. There was something to be found there.

"Looking to expand your contacts already?" The rough voice of Theodore Nott asked, interrupting Draco's thoughts. Draco looked at the other boy and gave the question an elegant eyebrow raise it deserved. "There's no telling which side of the line he is on."

"Question and Suspect, never dismiss." Draco quoted his father and the other boy nodded in agreement. There was still too many unknowns about the new boy for anyone to guess which way the wind was blowing. "After all, there has always been a healthy link between Slytherins and Ravenclaws."

Nott and the other Slytherins listening in nodding in agreement. They would watch and learn, they would be the snakes their House was famous for, and if it turned out that Potter was an enemy instead of a friend. Well, snakes were known to be dangerously poisonous.

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