MAGIC IS MIGHT: PUREBLOOD PRIDE AND MUGGLEBORN PREJUDICE

Short Summary: When war breaks, it's drawn over Hadrian's Wall. Orphaned and raised by bigoted muggle relations, Harry embraced the Magical World and soon loathes anything and everything muggle. Clinging to his pureblood heritage, Harry is sorted into Slytherin and endeavours to remain unknown, but finds himself at the centre of a Civil War. AU, Civil War, Pureblood Culture, Slytherin HP, Non-BWL, Dark, Weasley Bashing, Begins 4th year.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. ROWLING. Enjoy!

Co-Written & Adopted from Septima Holen: Originally titled 'Contracting' (Check Profile for more detail)

Warnings: This work is rated M for future violence (nothing explicit) and references to sibling abuse (nothing explicit). There will be no explicit/graphic sexual or violent scenes, but they will be mentioned and referenced to throughout this work. Transgender-ism, gender fluidity, homosexuality, etc. will be present within this work, if you don't like this, don't read.

Extended Summary: The Dark Lord marked his equal in Neville Longbottom, leaving the Potters to be burned alive by one fanatical Bellatrix Lestrange & crew. Orphaned, Harry is abandoned with his only living relatives, the muggle Durselys. Harry Potter never graced the halls of Hogwarts, Harry Peverell, however, did. Upon discovering his true heritage, Harry embraces pureblood culture and magical customs, hoping to escape his abusive past with muggles. He claims House Peverell as his own and endeavours to hide his true origins, instead striving for the reemergence of House Peverell. Sorted into Slytherin, Harry finds many purebloods of the darker variety that share his low views on muggles. Harry soon finds himself entrenched in pureblood politics and society, the half-breed Daphne Greengrass attempting to contract him with a betrothal all the while. When war breaks, lines are drawn, specifically over Hadrian's Wall; a Civil War begins between purebloods and blood-traitors; between Scotland and England. Harry declares his alliance to the Dark, fighting against the Light and the Boy-Who-Lived, Neville Longbottom.

A/N: First of all, I owe an apology to my readers not only for the long awaited update, but also for the rewrite. All the chapters have been edited to varying extents (the first three previously published). I have my reasons for the rewrite, most prominently among them being the plot and flow of the work. I apologize if some of my readers dislike the new version of events and understand if you wish to un-follow or un-favourite this fanfiction. Please, however, refrain from asking me to repost the original work, as I wasn't happy with it, hence the long awaited update. My writings are purely for my own and others' enjoyment, if you don't enjoy the rewrite, don't' continue to read it. I have written an extended summary above that will be posted with the first five chapters for those wanting a more general overview of events. My original work had been geared more towards romance, which I wasn't that committed to. There still will be romance, but it will not be the main aspect of the plot – the rewrite on the other hand will focus on pureblood/magical culture, politics, war, etc.. Please read Author's note at the end of the chapter and I hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER I – BEGINNINGS

Daphne wasn't a particularly beautiful girl, or adolescent, which ever you prefer – she was the type of girl with a forgettable face and she was just that on most occasions, forgettable. It was a relatively warm midday in late august and the sun was three-quarters through the sky, a quarter away from darkness. She sat in her average sized room staring blankly at the white walls with nothing better to do or really no available freedom to do them. It was a quintessential moment to describe her life.

A knock on her bedroom door brought her out of her stupor, well, a knock would be far too polite a term – it was actually her elder half-brother walking into her room without knocking, it brought her out of her stupor either way. She tensed immediately; Xavier was one of her least favorite half-brothers. Fortunately, he apparently wasn't in her room for what she had initially expected was his intent if the bored and slightly annoyed look in his eyes was anything to go by.

"Father has requested you to come to his study for a meeting, immediately." Xavier spoke tersely and turned around to leave, but hesitated a moment. He turned back to look at her with a contemplative gaze and then spoke again in an uncaring tone. "Oh, and once your done with him could you come to my room?" He didn't wait for a response. "Perfect". Then he walked away to continue on with his day like he had never even spoken to her.

She closed her eyes and sighed heavily, pushing her silken black locks out of her face – looking up at her ceiling in trepidation; a meeting with her Lord was never a good omen. With an exceptionally somber grace she stood to her feet and glanced at her bedroom mirror to ensure her headband was firmly in place and that she was acceptable looking before meeting her Lord.

The walk through the Greengrass Manor wasn't a particularly long one since House Greengrass was not a overly large or ancient House, but that didn't mean that they were poor by any means. By the time she reached her Lord's study it had been five minutes since the request for her presence was delivered to her. With one final sigh she knocked once on her Lord's study door – a bastard, half-breed daughter may not deserve privacy but a Lord surely did.

"Enter." Was the terse response that met her knock and so she gently opened the door, entered, and closed it silently behind her. She stood before her Lord's desk and bowed subtly in respect.

"You requested my presence, my Lord." She was never to address him as father.

"Indeed, have a seat, Daphne." She obediently satisfied his demand and immediately sat herself in one of the two fluffy armchairs facing his desk; he stared at her in silence for a moment and then spoke. He looked up to her after another moment, ice-blue eyes meeting an identical set.

"As you well know your bastard status hinders your ability to meet the expectations of a child born to House Greengrass, but this should never prevent you from doing so." Their meetings always started out in this manner. "What I would like to address today will be detrimental in your future, Daphne. Tell me, do you seek the hand of any particular man or woman?" She was caught completely off guard by the question, but knew she should have expected it since she was around the age when the nobles began discussing possible betrothal contracts. Gathering herself together and speaking in a neutral tone she responded:

"No, my Lord." She stated curtly, not particularly enthused by the topic. Her father nodded in understanding and then picked up a stack of parchment from atop his desk and handed it over to her.

"I'm assuming you would prefer someone of your own age and of the opposite gender, correct?" She nodded. "This is a vague idea of what I know of your year's male students, the majority of the older years are either not suitable or taken and the younger years are unacceptable since I want you married off as soon as possible." It wasn't a surprise that he wanted her gone but she still winced internally. "From what I have gathered your only available and suitable potential partners are Heir Zacharias Smith, Heir Ernest Macmillan, Heir Anthony Goldstein, Heir Harry Peverell, Stephan Cornfoot, Lucas Moon, Blaise Zabini, and Michel Corner. What are your thoughts on these potential partners?" Daphne paused and looked over the list and contemplated how to answer.

"Well… Michel Corner is not an option due to his homosexual status…" Her father interrupted her with a raised eyebrow.

"I was not aware of this, cross him off the list then." She nodded and followed his command.

"As for Blaise Zabini… I believe he is actually in a current relationship with Corner, but I do not believe he is only interested in those of the same sex."

"I do not want to risk the ire of the Zabini family or the loss of the Corner alliance." She crossed those two out and continued.

"It is not concrete, yet, but Stephan Cornfoot and Tracey Davis are currently negotiating a betrothal contract." Her father sighed and motioned her to cross him off the list as well. "As for Zacharias Smith, Ernest Macmillan, Lucas Moon, Harry Peverell, and Anthony Goldstein, they are currently all officially available, as far as I know." Her father nodded and rested his back to his desk chair and thought for a moment.

"Heir Zacharias Smith is the last descendent of the Hufflepuff line since his immediate family was killed off in the war, as such there is no one with authority over him to arrange a betrothal for him. As you know this means that the only thing that would complicate a shared partnership is your ability to coincide together and reproduce – would you be able to win his hand?" Daphne knew very little about Smith besides him being a Hufflepuff, but they had been forced to do a runes project together last year and it had been very difficult to work together because of Smith's perceived entitlement.

"No, I don't think I would be able to." Her father nodded in acceptance – he may not love her or anything of the sort but he could sympathize with a poor betrothal arrangement; her existence was proof of that.

"Heir Ernest Macmillan is from an influential house with strong connections throughout the magical world, an alliance with the House of Macmillan would be a great boon to our own house." She paused and tried to think back to what little she knew of Macmillan and what she found was unimpressive – he was a Hufflepuff version of Draco Malfoy.

"He could be a potential partner, but I truthfully don't believe we would be happy together – our relationship would be tolerable at best."

"Moving on then, now we have Heir Harry Peverell. The boy is also a complete unknown, having come out to claim the dormant House Peverell and has had little to no societal interaction outside of school. His parents have yet to make a public appearance nor has his father made claim to being Lord of House Peverell, for this reason it has been rumoured that Heir Peverell is either orphaned or of creature blood, like yourself. However, this is yet to be seen.

"As a student the boy has done relatively good work, being tenth in ranking within your year group, and has been nothing but an exemplary student. From what little information I have on his personality he has been described as polite, respectful, and shy – this is only coming from what little interaction the boy has had with other pureblood families. That is the extent of my knowledge." Daphne nodded for him to continue on. "Well, the other two left are Heir Anthony Goldstein and Lucas Moon."

"Anthony Goldstein has… made it quite clear that he has little to no respect for relationships, at least for the foreseeable future, while Lucas Moon has made little initiative to interact with anyone at all besides his sister and cousins." Her father sighed at that, but nodded to her in understanding.

"That limits your options significantly to only Heir Peverell, do you believe yourself capable of winning him over?"

"I know very little about him, but I'll will attempt to do so."

"This coming year there will be a Tri-wizard tournament held at Hogwarts, which should be kept secret, and during the tournament there will be a grand Yule Ball held at Hogwarts, which will provide you with plenty of opportunity. I would like to have a contract done by the end of your fifth school year at the latest, do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"If you do not succeed in winning over Heir Peverell we will revaluate Heir Goldstein and Moon. You have until Yule to notify me of success, is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"You are dismissed then." She nodded and left with the parchment of potential suitors while her father turned back to his work. She walked mutely to her room, placed the parchment down on her desk, and opened it to Peverell's page.

Heir Harry of the House of Peverell

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, Medical Records:

Species: Homo magicus (1)

Biological Gender: Male

Medical Disabilities: None

Medical Conditions: None

Medical Accommodations: Prescription Glasses

Allergies: Boomslang Skin

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Academic Records:

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

First Year:

Class Ranking: 11th

Second Year:

Class Ranking: 10th

Third Year:

Class Ranking: 9th

British Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Identification, Magical British Citizen Background:

Heir Peverell made claim to House Peverell at Gringotts Bank, London, England, at 07:23:44 on 20 June 1991. Heir Peverell's wand (11' Oak, Cetus Scale; Gregorovitch Creation) was registered at 12:46:13 on 20 June 1991 with the British Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Identification. Heir Peverell attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a member of Slytherin House and is expected to graduate on 7 May 1998. Heir Peverell has a grim familiar, registered at 13:31:51 on 29 June 1994 with the British Ministry of Magic, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. (2)

Well, that told her some, but not much, except that apparently the rumours of the boy having creature blood weren't true. A good thing, really, for the mixing of multiple creatures could have incredibly undesirable results. She glanced up at the clock and sighed, knowing that if she didn't get to her brother's room soon he would get suspicious and come looking for her. Therefore, with no enthusiasm what so ever, she put down the parchment and made her way to her third eldest half-brother's room. The mahogany door was closed when she got there and had to knock for permission to enter, not that an illegitimate half-blood child like her was privy to the same treatment, she thought bitterly. After a couple moments of silence she heard a 'Come in' from the other side of the door, entered, and locked the door behind her as was expected of her. When she turned around she took in her least favourite room of the house, which was painted in dull beige and decorated in a garish Victorian style – she hated it.

Xavier was currently still working at his desk so she stiffly walked over to the edge of the bed and sat herself there and waited patiently while he finished what ever work he was doing, probably something to do with his stupid alchemic work. In her opinion his dream of making the next philosopher stone was already a dead one; only three philosopher stones had ever been created in the entire history of alchemy and there was no way in Morgana's realm that Xavier would make the fourth.

She much preferred the company of her eldest half-brother, Xenophon, who was nowadays working in Greece on behalf of their father. It worked well for everyone but her, really, since the Greengrass trading business found a lot of profitable wares in the ancient lands – Xeno still wrote her often though and always sent an interesting little artifact for her. She couldn't wait till Xeno took up the Greengrass' Lordship, but she knew that was many years away.

Her second eldest half-brother, Xerxes, was okay, but not great – he tended to ignore her all together, not that he treated anyone else differently. He was just plain creepy to put it bluntly, but genuinely a good person – just a good person with social inadequacies. She hadn't seen him since she was six or something and no one ever knew what was happening with him – though the last thing they heard was that he was in Mongolia researching something about decoding. She really didn't care as long as he didn't hate or hurt her.

Unlike Xeno, who was actually a brother to her and wasn't ashamed to say so, or Xanthus, who could care less about who lived or died in the family, Xavier had always been very demeaning towards her not only because of her illegitimate and female status. She knew a lot of muggle cultures were sexist, but the magical world had always taken a bit of pride in the fact that they weren't – it traced far back to the druidic tribes were women and men were held as equal because the sun and moon were equal in their eyes.

She was brought out of her thought, however, by Xavier finally finishing his work and turning his chair around to face her – he eyed her crudely. "What did father speak to you about?" His tone was demanding, expecting an answer.

"Potential partners, I'm of contracting age." She spoke crisply and enjoyed the displeasure that flashed across Xavier's face.

"Like anyone of worth would want your worthless blood mixing with their own – not to mention your unfortunate conception sullying their name." He stood from his seat and walked over to her and laid down on the bed next to her – she wanted to glare him down, but knew it futile. "Whom does father want you to wed?"

"My Lord wants me to get to know Heir Peverell and decide whether or not to peruse a union at a later date."

"Humph, whatever he wishes – not that he has good taste in partners, you're proof of that." She bristled slightly, but refused to respond. "I don't understand why our societies marry off woman at your age to men of similar age, even the muggles know its best for a young woman to marry an older man who is more capable to support her."

She remained silent though. Reticence permeated the room for a time as neither spoke, after a minute Xavier moved to speak again but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Xavier!" Her stepmother called from the other side of the door. "We're going to be late for the meeting with the Yaxleys if we don't head out soon – be at the front entrance in ten minutes." They remained silent as the sharp steps of her stepmother echoed away into nothingness.

Xavier sighed exasperatedly and got up, turned towards her, and with a disappointed look said, "We'll finish this later." He left the room immediately without a single glance backward. Daphne wasted no time in leaving the room after him and making a beeline to her own room before she locked the door and laid down upon her own bed and finally allowed herself to think about Harry, but came up short.

Despite being in the same Hogwarts House and within the same year, she had rarely to never interacted with the recluse of a boy. In fact, she could barely recall his appearance, barely even recalling that the boy had brown hair... or was it black? This was incredibly strange indeed, how could she know so little about one of her housemates?

She tried a different approach and tried to remember who usually interacted with him since a friend of a person could tell you just as much as the person themselves… and she came up short again. Did Peverell even have friends? She had never seen him with the other lions on a regular basis so she assumed they weren't close… maybe he hanged out with the ravens of their year? She sighed in exasperation knowing that she really wouldn't find out much until school started and she could actually meet him – maybe she could go to a Quidditch game with him or som… Quidditch! That was something; Peverell was the Slytherin chaser since last year and was decent at it if the snakes' winning the cup was any indication.

Ok, so Quidditch was a start… would Malfoy know much about him – the guy was the Slytherin seeker after all? It couldn't really hurt to ask… So with that thought Daphne jumped to her feat and made her way to the sitting room where the floo network was set up and kneeled in front of the fireplace with a bag of green powder. A dash of powder and flame later she was calling the Malfoys – it only took a minute or so for someone to answer.

"Hello, who may this be?" A light feminine voice asked.

"Hello, Lady Malfoy, this is Daphne Greengrass, one of Draco's year mates. Is Draco available?"

"Yes, he is, but he's outside flying so you can come through and meet him in the yard." Daphne nodded and flooed to Malfoy Manor where Lady Malfoy greeted her neutrally and led her to one of the court yards where Malfoy Jr. was flying his Nimbus 2001. Lady Malfoy left her to wait for Malfoy to notice her and finally come down so she could question him, which took much longer than it should have, but after half an hour he finally came down to earth and looked startled to see her waiting there.

"Greengrass, what are you doing here?" He sneered half heartedly, not really annoyed by her presence.

"Your mother let me in so I could ask you a couple questions." With Malfoy's raised eyebrow she continued. "Do you know anything about the Peverell Heir in our year – the Slytherin chaser?" He looked surprised at the mention of the name.

"Harry?" She nodded, noting idly that Malfoy was on a first name basis with Peverell. "Why are you asking?"

"In all truth?" He nodded. "Contracting, my Lord wants me to get to know him and sadly I barely know anything about him besides his basic history and grades." Malfoy nodded in understanding and sat down next to her. Malfoy was a prat most of the time, but did have those rare moments of kindness – usually only around fellow Slytherins.

"Well, first of all, I don't know where he stands on half-breeds like yourself... or anything really. Harry is always pretty quiet, private, but not necessarily shy – he just hates attention and is more awkward than anything. He likes Quidditch enough, but likes the flying itself better. He's much more about tactics and maneuvering on a broom than speed…"

"Anything besides Quidditch, Malfoy?"

"I'm getting to it, Greengrass. Ok… he likes treacle tart… like a lot, um, he likes the colour green, too." This wasn't helping in Daphne's opinion. "Oh! He's like best friends with my house elf… though its much more one sided…"

"…What?" Did she hear that right?

"Here you can ask all about him with the elf, while I go back to flying. Dobby!" Before Daphne could get another word in a large eared house elf dressed in a white pillowcase and mismatched socks popped into existence.

"You's be calling me's, Master Dracie." The little elf said sullenly – Malfoy rolled his eyes at the elf's mood.

"My classmate, Daphne, wants to know about Harry, tell her everything you know while I finish my flying practice." Malfoy left without another word leaving her with a now exuberant house elf hoping in place with excitement.

"Master Dracie's classmate is also the great Harry's classmate too! What does the great Harry's classmate want to know about the great Harry?!" This day couldn't get any weirder for Daphne.

"Um, well anything and everything is fine, Dobby." The elf nodded happily and plopped himself next to her on the garden bench.

"The great Harry is very kind and polite and he likes Dobby's cooking! Harry takes baths in the evening and doesn't like to do so in the mornings – he uses pumpkins and cinnamons scented soaps and likes pies, especiallies pumpkins pie, but he likes treacles tarts betters! Harry drinks de pumpkins juices a lot and butter beers too! And Harry like to flying a lot a lot!"

"Dobby," She stopped him from speaking with a raised hand and gave him a strained smile. "Could you tell me who Peverell's friends are?"

"Yes, yes, Harry say that Dobby is his friend – Harry is a great wizard, very great!" The elf said ever so passionately.

"Does he have any human friends, too?"

"Yes, yep! Harry likey to play quiiiditch with the Dracie, too!" This was going nowhere.

"How does Peverell like Hogwarts, Dobby?" Glad that, at the very least, they were finally getting somewhere beyond Dobby's apparent human worshiping of Peverell.

"Harry LOVES Hogywarts! He be very good, too – Hogywats elves be saying teacher be liking him, except no being likes by the Professor Snappie, he being unfair to the great Harry." Dobby wilted at the thought of anyone not liking his favorite wizard ever.

"Does Peverell have any other friends in our year, Dobby?" Trying to find more useful information.

Dobby was lost in thought for a couple moments, obviously contemplating the question. "… The great Harry be with the Grangy once, but Dobby doesn't think they be close… Dobby be thinking that Harry be friends with the Notty and the Su dressed in blue, but he not be too certain…"

"Dobby, I think that's enough for now, grab us something to drink." Dobby nodded, slightly disappointed, and popped away and back again with two butter beers. When the elf finally left to continue on with his work Malfoy made his offer.

"So, Greengrass, I was thinking of a little eye for an eye type agreement." He began sipping his butter beer idly.

"Oh?" She arched her eyebrow in question.

"Well, I could get you together this summer to meet, you and Harry I mean, but in return I want the same favour."

"Who does this favour involve, Malfoy?" She questioned hesitantly.

"Tracey Davis." He said simply.

"Not possible, the Cornfoots are already negotiating with the Greengrasses, and even though its not set in stone both Daphne and Cornfoot are all for it." Draco's face fell in disappointment, which Daphne didn't really get since Tracey had a personality that could rival a dementor when Malfoy was around. "Her younger sister, Lauren Davis, is still available though – she's a Ravenclaw, second year."

"Too young." He said annoyed and she glared at him in return.

"Two years isn't a big difference, Malfoy, you only have to wait until next year until you can ask her out to Hogsmead." Malfoy sighed but nodded his consent.

"Fine, but next year you have to set us up." She nodded in agreement. "Ok, now for Harry, he likes Quidditch a good amount and I just so happen to be going to the Quidditch World Cup in a week." Daphne's eyes brightened not only at the possibility to meet Peverell, but also get out of the house for a whole day.

"Its simple, really, I ask my father if I can invite some people along as an early Mabon present" Daphne rolled her eyes at that – (3) Mabon wasn't even a gift giving holiday, Draco was truly spoiled. "I'll invite Harry, Zabini, Nott, Davis, and you. You have three whole days to get to know him without it seeming like a set up." Malfoy tilted his head haughtily in pride of such a plan, which was actually very simple.

"Why those specific people?" She raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Crabbe, Bulstrode, and Moon are out of the country on vacation while Parkinson and Goyle are going with their own families so none of them can come. Nott is Harry's potions partner, Zabini is his runes partner, Davis is hot, and you have to be there because of the deal."

"Your inviting Tracey because she is just hot?" Daphne asked incredulously.

"Hey, until her contract is signed, I can try." Draco said, putting his hands behind his head casually.

"Whatever, it's a deal, when exactly is the Cup?"

"Next Tuesday morning till Wednesday night, we'll be watching the semi-finals and then the finals; Bulgaria vs. Canada and Ireland vs. Japan. Oh, and will be in a top box, with the Minister himself!" Malfoy was now out of his kindness mode and into his default arrogance.

"Sounds good, but how will we pick up Peverell?"

"I'll have to owl him first and then he'll simply floo here… I could probably even persuade him to stay the rest of the summer with me… seeing as Gregory and Vincent are gone… but then…" Malfoy trailed off in thought, while Daphne inwardly cheered and deflated. On one hand Peverell would be much more accessible and on the other she would have to spend more time with Malfoy than she would have originally liked. Hopefully it would be worth it.

"Alright, well, you do that… Oh! Could you make sure to have your father go through my Lord and not through me, my Lord prefers it that way." Draco nodded idly still deep in thought, she knew he got the message though. "Well, owl me later, Malfoy, and thank you for your deal."

"No, problem… Oh, hey, could you owl me a copy of your runes notes?"

"… Why… never mind, sure, I'll do it when I get home." He nodded and then walked her to the floo and with little fanfare she was back at Greengrass Manor without her father knowing she had ever left. She made her way towards her room and where she set a copy-quill to make a second copy of her runes notes for Malfoy before flopping herself on her bed. Unfortunately, she forgot to lock her door before doing so…

Harry's gait was steadfast, confident, and utterly reticent as he strode over the cobblestone streets of Godric's Hollow, wrapped securely in his sole Heirloom, Ignotus' Cloak. Seen by no one, heard by no one, and unknown by all that passed him by. Ignotus' cloak assured this, but the cloak of night aided him in his endeavour also. Each step took him deeper into the vile village; a village firmly oriented to the Light and inhabited by both muggles and blood-traitors alike. The ebony haired boy (4) snorted at the very thought – the Light constantly idolized this filthy village as some sort of magical-muggle utopia, free of prejudice and bound by love. Pathetic.

What of the Statute of Secrecy? Did the Light honestly delude themselves in believing that muggles and magicals could live together in harmony? Should the Statute ever falter, only two scenarios would follow; witch burnings or muggle burnings. Harry, despite being a staunch believer that 'Magic is Might', knew the incredible dangers that nearly 6 billion muggles (5) and a handful of nuclear warheads could cause. Individually, magicals were mightier than muggles, but they were also vastly outnumbered. Indeed, for the 6 billion muggles that plagued the earth only 1 billion magicals stood in opposition, odds that even the might of magic may not be able to overcome. Even worse, the muggles bred like Weasleys while the average magical struggled to produce a single heir (i.e. low fertility rate)...

Hence the necessity of the Statute.

Shaking himself of the foreboding thoughts, Harry ignored the muggles and blood-traitors that passed him by, choosing instead to focus on his destination; St. Jerome's Church. Harry couldn't help but sneer upon arrival; how could his father's corpse tolerate being buried in not only a muggle cemetery, but also a Christian cemetery. He couldn't even decide which was worse. Curse Dumbledore and his Light ideology, burying a wizard amongst muggle Christians of the past that would have happily burned him alive had his father not already been dead.

Shaking his head once more to banish the thoughts, Harry began traversing the graveyard, searching out his father's current resting place. The search took longer than he intended, as there were multiple Peverell and Potter relatives' graves he had to deal with along the way, but he got to his father's eventually:

IN LOVING MEMORY

OF

JAMES POTTER * LILY POTTER

BORN

27TH MARCH 1960 * 30TH JANUARY 1960

DIED

31ST OCTOBER 1981 * 31ST OCTOBER 1981

THE LAST ENEMY TO BE DESTROYED IS DEATH

Harry sneered at the gravestone, not for its plebeian, muggle simplicity, but for the inscription beneath. A biblical passage, really? Why not just quote the part of the bible that condemned witchcraft and wizardry while you were at it, Dumbledore, Harry grumbled internally. Taking a deep breath, Harry began chanting the long Latin charm and wand movements he had memorized for this occasion, preforming it for the umpteenth time since entering the damned cemetery. Slowly but surely tiny particles of ash began to rise, falling seamlessly into one of the many urns he had brought with him – the one specifically meant for his father.

It was a simple urn as he had very little money at this time, but it would do until he could give his father and ancestors a proper magical burial. When the ash finally stopped rising from the grave, Harry gave the urn a swift flick of his wand and wiped a single drop of blood across its sealed surface. He took a moment to thank the gods that his father had, at the very least, been cremated as per wizarding tradition... had he not, well, this little outing would have been much messier. Minuscule runes glowed red simultaneously, indicating that the blood magic had taken affect. Nodding to himself in a satisfied fashion, Harry looked back down on the tombstone and thought for a moment before waving his wand in silent feat of transfiguration.

IN MEMORY

OF

LILY EVANS

BORN

30TH JANUARY 1960

DIED

31ST OCTOBER 1981

Harry didn't bother replacing the foul biblical passage, instead he simply transfigured an engraved image of a lily-flower; not even Evans' grave deserved to be defiled by Christianity. Nodding once more to himself, Harry turned sharply on his heel, ensuring that there were no more relatives to be rescued from this unholy ground. He was pleased to find no more gravestones of interest to him, his father's having been the last, being tucked away far into the back corner of the overcrowded cemetery where corpses were probably stacked on top of each other with how little space there was between the gravestones.

As silently as he had come, Harry left the cemetery – no one the wiser. He traversed Godric's Hollow with quiet ease despite the fact that he had not been to the village since his infancy. He headed towards the outskirts of the village, ignoring the empty, overgrown plot of land where a charred cottage stood 13 years ago as he went. Once he arrived at the fields and asphalt road that met the edge of the town he carefully removed his cloak before donning a discreet black one in its stead, pulling up the hood to cover his face. With little fanfare Harry held out his wand and the Knight Bus snapped into existence with a deafening crack, its purple three-levelled magnitude looming over him.

"All aboard!" Exclaimed the drunken Bus Conductor whom Harry had never bothered to learn the name of, "Welcome all and one to the one, the only, the…" Harry cut him off by shoving fifteen sickles in the intoxicated man's face.

"You may keep the four extra sickles for yourself. Little Whinging, Surrey, please", not waiting for a response, Harry made his way to the back of the empty bus – his stride not even wavering when the bus snapped into motion, causing the beds within to clamour and smash against one another. It only took about 15 minutes for them to reach Surrey County and another 5 minutes for them to reach the unfortunate muggle town that he dwelled in. He was at the bus doors before they even squeaked open and was just as quick to jump off.

He was quick to return to Privet Drive, once again unseen, unheard. He weaved his way through the identical muggle hovels, their only distinguishing traits being the numbers that marked them. 1, 2, 3, and, the most unfortunate, number 4. Here lay the prison of his upbringing, the container of his dastardly relatives. He went in through the back window that connected to the laundry room, knowing that it was the sole entrance to the house without locks. Mr. Dursley knew of the lack of a lock on this particular window, but thought nothing of it as the window was far too thin… for him to squeeze through, but not Harry's slight frame.

Once within the home, Harry silently made his way to the cooler wherein he grabbed a few pieces of fruit and a couple slices of whole wheat bread that Mrs. Dursley continued to buy for Dursley Junior's 'diet'. Unbeknownst to her, Junior never touched the healthy morsels of food, allowing Harry to eat them with little problem. If Junior knew of his nightly meals, he didn't mention it to his parents, probably so he himself wouldn't have to eat the vile broccoli his mother would purchase without fail. It was a win-win situation for the both of them. Well, that is until 'Duddikins' succumbed to some obesity related ailment, then it would be a win-win for Harry and a win-lose for 'Dudders'.

Once full of a nutritious snack, Harry crept up the stairs, passing his old cupboard with festering resentment. Always in the back of his mind this resentment festered, his desire for vengeance buried deep within the metaphorical cupboard of his mind, ever darkening. Dwelling on it now, however, did very little for him. He was powerless to the muggles until he came of age, so for now he would simply fester. He skipped the third, seventh, and eleventh creaky steps of the staircase with practiced ease, easily stepping over them with his long, gangly legs. Junior's second bedroom was at the end of the hall across from the guest bedroom that rarely held any guests since Harry had preformed his favourite feat of accidental magic yet, which involved Mr. Dursley's deplorable sister finding herself more canine than human. The plastic surgery that followed only helped the woman slightly, Harry would always be happy to know that her cheeks resembled a bulldog more than anything; the puppy-drowner deserved it.

The slight creak of the door upon opening couldn't be helped, but it wasn't loud enough to break the din of Mr. Dursley's thunderous snores or Junior's heavy breathing. It was, however, enough to awaken Romulus.

Romulus was his grim familiar whom he had rescued in the forbidden forest towards the end of his third year. Usually, grims were very antisocial and unlikely to accept a wizard as their owner, but Romulus had been a special case. Harry had, unintentionally, saved the beast's life when he stumbled upon the wolf-like creature chocking on the remains of a rat. The grim had apparently been grateful to him, as it had yet to leave his side since the incident. Harry didn't mind much, especially when he discovered the rat to be Weasley's familiar.

Bright patronus-silver eyes snapped to attention at Harry's entrance, immediately coming to Harry's side with a delighted wag to its tale. At least the grim had the sense of mind to be silent, if it hadn't Mr. Dursley would have surely killed it as he had Harry's first familiar, an owl named Hedwig. "Romulus, calm down, I wasn't even gone long", he whispered in exasperation but knelt down regardless to accept the saliva drenched tongue-kisses. He had grown fond of the beast, he noted as he carted his hand through the grim's thick onyx-black fur. Romulus' fur was as soft as satin now, no longer peppered with knots, matted with dirt, nor infested with fleas. It seemed that the potion regime Harry had forced upon the mutt seemed to be doing wonders for the canine's health…

A sudden bombardment of impatient taps brought the teenager out of his thoughts; looking towards the sound Harry found three owls woefully glaring at him through the window. He gestured his hands in a calming manor, hoping the tapping wouldn't awaken Mr. Dursley. Opening the window delicately, Harry had to carefully maneuver his hands through the ever-present bars in order to accept the letters, a fact that did not please the owls in the slightest. Harry opened the familiar emerald script of McGonagall's letter first:

Merry Meet (6) Mr. Peverell,

After consulting Headmaster Dumbledore as well as the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Board of Governors has approved your request in having your grim familiar accompany you to Hogwarts this coming year, 1994-1995. It should be noted that this privilege will be reviewed each coming year until your graduation. Be warned that should any harm befall your fellow students or your fellow students' familiars, said approval will be withdrawn immediately.

So Mote It Be,

Minerva of House McGonagall

A rare smile broke across his face, happy to know that he would not have to abandon the clingy Romulus for the school year. Seeming interested in what had made his surly human familiar smile, Romulus pawed at Harry arm until Harry lowered the letter for him to look at. After a moment of staring at the parchment, Romulus let out a happy bark, which Harry had to nervously hush as not to awaken the muggles. Romulus, being the exceptionally sentient and intelligent magical creature he was, quieted but the wag to his tail was full force. Harry had to wonder at this though, could Romuls understand human tongue and writings, were grims truly this intelligent? It baffled the mind; Harry would have to write a text about the misunderstood and underestimated creatures one day.

While Romulus basked in his own blissful world, Harry moved to open the second letter, which also had the Hogwarts coat of arms, but was addressed to him in Snape's thick, black, spidery scrawl:

Merry Meet Mr. Peverell,

Attached to this letter are your cumulative results for the academic year of 1993-1994.

Merry Part,

Severus Snape of House Prince

Harry shuffled through the parchment to find his results:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

STUDENT REPORT FOR SCHOOL YEAR 1993-1994

Student: Peverell, Harry

Class: 1991-1998

Student #: 07213

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Head of House: Snape, Severus

Year 1993-1994 Class Rank:9th

Cumulative Class Rank: 10th

Cumulative Core Grade Report:

Astronomy (Prof. A.R. Sinistra): E-

Charms (Prof. F.F. Flitwick): O-

Defense Against the Dark Arts (Prof. R.J. Lupin): O+

Herbology (Prof. P.L. Sprout): E+

History of Magic (Prof. C.T. Binns): E-

Potions (Prof. S.T. Snape): E+

Transfiguration (Prof. M.J. McGonagall): O-

Cumulative Elective Grade Report:

Arithmancy (Prof. S.K. Vector): E

Study of Ancient Runes (Prof. B.N. Babbling): E

Cumulative Extra-Curricular Report:

Ancient Studies (Prof. C.T. Binns): Pass

Magical Theory (Prof. F.F. Flitwick): Pass

GRADING:

Pass grades: Outstanding (O), Exceeds Expectations (E), and Acceptable (A)

Fail grades: Poor (P), Dreadful (D), and Troll (T)

Incoming 4th Year Book List for year 1994-1995:

Charms: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 by Miranda H. Goshawk

Transfiguration: Mutations and Transformations by Proteus N.U. Morph

Potions: Beyond the Cauldron by Marie P. Curie

Muggle Studies: Magical to Mundane by Paul V. Sequester

Arithmancy: Periodical Numerology by Octavian X.V. Trigg

Herbology: Friends of Fungi & Flora by Polyanthus J. Longbottom

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Dangers and Defense by Wilhelm N.K. Rosenstein

Study of Ancient Runes: Runes: Volume IV by Thora R.N. Runor

History of Magic: A Magical Antiquity by Antigonus L. Clius

Astronomy: Zodiactic Constellations and More by Urania A.P. Nyxie

Care of Magical Creatures: Creepy Creatures by Minos C.H. Leanderson

Divination: Destiny and Divination by Apolline C.D. Troy

Harry hummed thoughtfully as he examined his results, knowing he'd have to be more careful in the future. He had, unintentionally gotten three Os this last year, one of which was an O+. Granted, how was he supposed to plan for Lupin's obstacle course, which had caught him completely by surprise? Transfiguration and Charms must have been borderline grades that McGonagall and Flitwick probably pushed up since he had been sure he would have scored E+ in both their classes but had received the next score up of O- instead.

He supposed his goal of straight Es was a bit ambitious and much harder to achieve as the years progressed, especially when he had to deal with a new Defense professor each passing year and guestimate the class distribution between Su Li, the top of the class, and Gregory Goyle, the bottom. It was a pretty big bell curve that he had to deal with, so he shouldn't be too hard on himself. However, if he didn't rank at least 14th this coming year he would remain within the top 10, which led to much unwanted attention. Letting out an explosive sigh, Harry lowered the results to Romulus' curious paw, which had been nudging him impatiently for the last five minutes.

Maybe he could help along another student, such as Malfoy or Bones who hovered just outside of the top ten… as long as all ten spots were filled, it would be impossible for him to make the cut. Li, Patil, Granger, Goldstein, Nott, Macmillan, Cornfoot, Greengrass, Brocklehurst, and himself, for now, were the individuals who made up the top 10 of his year. If he could push up Malfoy or Bones, he'd automatically fall to 11th without having to lower his own standards and modify his study schedule, essays, and so forth…

Sequestering the thoughts for a later date, Harry moved on to the final letter which he was surprised to find was sealed with the Malfoy crest, an obnoxiously opulent abraxan… well, he supposed he couldn't really talk, seeing as the threstral, the Peverell crest, was sort of like a dead abraxan… at least his wasn't adorned with a crown though. Breaking the seal, Harry began to curiously scan the letter that Malfoy had sent his way:

Merry Meet Heir Peverell,

It is with great pleasure and delight that I, Heir Draco of House Malfoy, extend my invitation to you in hopes that you would be willing to join our classmates and I at the Quidditch World Cup this summer for the semi-finals and finals. (It's the day after tomorrow – I forgot to send this invite sooner, my apologies. Please send your confirmation as soon as possible (like before six this evening – sorry again).

Merry Part,

Heir Draco of House Malfoy

In all honesty the letter shocked him, but outwardly all he did was arch his eyebrow with iron control. The Malfoys would no doubt buy the best seats in the top boxes and for them to pay for any of Malfoy's year mates was a bit stunning – Harry had known Malfoy was rich and spoiled but this was a bit ridiculous. Harry supposed he shouldn't be too surprised though, considering Malfoy bought his way on the team second year - usurping Harry's rightful place as seeker. Chaser wasn't too bad though and it gave him a small connection to his father, whom had also been a chaser. He shook his head and tried to think of why he was even invited – it made little sense to pay so much money for him when Malfoy and he had a polite relationship rather than a friendly one. Had Malfoy's father put him up to the invitation so he could get at Harry? No, not only did Lord Malfoy have no reason to search him out but it also wasn't sensible considering that they were going to be in a very public, photographed, and patrolled area… that didn't leave many options as to why.

Did Malfoy want something from him and this was Malfoy's way of buttering him up? That could be probable, but Harry had little to offer Malfoy that his parents wouldn't give him. Maybe he just had an extra ticket – a cancelation at the last moment from one of his friends leaving Malfoy with a free ticket and nothing to do with it… that would explain the late invite. He smiled at that, it was so like Malfoy to do something like this and then a year from now request a favor for it – he chuckled at the thought, but decided to accept anyway; he hated being with the muggles and if the World Cup got him out of the house for a couple days then so be it.

Moving over to his desk from the window he had just been reading at after he had taken the letter from Malfoy's owl, which was currently perched on the window ledge impatiently waiting for his reply. When he got to his desk he pulled out some simple black ink and his favored fountain pen before carefully penning his reply in his thin, circular cursive style:

Merry Meet Heir Draco of House Malfoy,

It is with great gratitude that I accept my invitation to the Quidditch World Cup that you have so generously offered me. I will arrive to your manor by floo the day after tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you soon.

Merry Part,

Heir Harry of House Peverell

Once done, he examined the letter with a critical eye, looking for even the slightest mistake. Finding none and deeming his penmanship flawless, he carefully folded the parchment into a thick envelope of pure white before he took a stamp from his desk drawer that was magically filled with neutral gray wax. A firm hand drove the stamp to the parchment, leaving the Peverell crest of a simple threstral standing proud, its skeletal wings spread wide, and each vertebrae of its spine visible. While not as notable as the Malfoy's royal blue and crowned abraxan, Harry liked to think that the Peverell crest had its own unique beauty. Spurred on by another impatient tap from Malfoy's owl, he went to the window and handed the bird its parcel through the bars, which it took after an angry nip to one of Harry's fingers.

"Looks like we'll be getting out of here sooner than expected, Romulus", Harry sighed as the grim in question raised its eyes in interest. Harry didn't blame the poor thing, at least Harry could sneak out in the dark of night, and under his cloak – Romulus, on the other hand, was forced to hide under Harry's mattress for the majority of the day. Harry made his way over to the opposite side of the room, over to his serpent-hide trunk, marked as his by a silver plaque with the Peverell crest engraved upon it. It was one of his very few possessions in this world; bought with what little money his father had left him.

Harry couldn't help but feel bitter at the thought. His relationship with his deceased father was strained to say the least; on one hand, Harry adored the idea of him, the idea of this handsome, elegant, strong, father figure whom had been one of the best transfiguration masters Hogwarts had ever produced. Yet, on the other hand, Harry was disenchanted with the reality of his father's legacy.

Not only had his father married down the social latter, tainting the purity of the Potter name, but he had also made innumerable enemies within the pureblood circles due to his part in the war effort. So could Harry really be blamed for hiding his heritage? Not only had his father made him a half-blood by marrying Evans, but he had also left his sole heir an orphan to be raised by abusive muggle relations. Indeed, Harry wanted to idolize his father, but the reality of the matter was that his father was an incredibly flawed man who fell head over heels to Light propaganda.

While the Potter name was tainted, burdened with war memories, and loathed by many, the Peverell name was a saving grace. Iolanthe Peverell (7), granddaughter of Ignotus, had married Hardwin of House Potter. With Antioch murdered, Cadmus having committed suicide, and Iolanthe being Ignotus' sole heir, Harry was indeed a Peverell, the very last. His claim to House Peverell was perfectly legitimate, he knew as he twisted the Peverell heir ring around his left thumb. Hundreds of years had passed since House Peverell was absorbed into House Potter, allowing the memory of said absorption to fade into the murky backwaters of history.

Harry had the extraordinary opportunity to shape House Peverell in his image, create his ideal family. No enemies, no blood feuds, no debts, and no biases could taint him with the Peverell name acting as his shield, or, more appropriately, as a protective cloak. Neither the Light nor the Dark factions had any interactions with or conceptions of House Peverell, let alone bad blood. It was the best of both worlds, really – everyone assumed him to be pureblood because of his name and the fact that he looked and acted the part, but no one could claim him to be bigoted or prejudice as he was always unfailingly polite, even in the face of Granger's shrillness. The downside to the acting, however, was the expense.

Having donated nearly the entirety of the Potter fortune to the Order of the Phoenix, James Potter had only left a handful of galleons for his sole heir's wellbeing once the cost of Hogwarts' tuition was deducted from Harry's trust vault. This put Harry in the awkward position of feigning a proper pureblood lineage with little to no funds to do so. His solution was simple yet clever, it's what put him in Slytherin to begin with.

His trunk was used, but he had carefully repaired, enchanted, and charmed it himself, right down to the refurbished serpent-hide, which resembled dragon-hide greatly when regularly polished. Within the trunk lay his few, but well cared for possessions. Using the small nip that Malfoy's owl gave him, he wiped his blood across the lock, which glowed red before snapping open. Opening his simple black satchel, Harry carefully locked the many urns into the trunks lowest and most secure compartment, which had more bloodlocks among other protective enchantments. Once done, Harry gazed down at the sixty-three urns he had collected that night, each one containing the ashes of his ancestors, most important of them all being Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus.

He wondered idly how long it would take for someone to notice the sixty-three graves missing or altered… he guessed a long time. Godric's Hollow had become increasingly saturated with muggles over the years and most wizarding families from the area, Dumbledore and his own included, had left at some point or other. He was glad that at least a few blood-traitors remained though; otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get away with utilizing magic in the area. Besides, who went to visit Timotheus Peverell III or Yolanda Potter on any regular basis? He was their only living descendant, the only one that cared for their memory outside of the bowels of history.

Nodding to himself in assurance, he locked up the compartment for a later date wherein he could build a proper Peverell Manor with its own crypt for his ancestors' and his own final resting place. Before locking the rest of the trunk up, he took out a pair of silken robes and cloak for the World Cup. Unlike with his trunk and other possessions, Harry couldn't tailor his own garbs, no matter how much he tried. Instead, he made due by buying high quality clothing in limited amounts and taking good care of them. This worked well for the most part, with exception to his growth spurts which required him to have his robes and cloaks lengthened regularly – it was a hassle, but cheaper than buying an entirely new wardrobe each time he gained an inch.

He laid out a neutral grey robe with a brown trim cut in a modern style, which resembled the muggle jodhpuri to an extent. The robe bore the Peverell crest on the left-breast, right over his heart, and was designed using the Peverell colors: grey and brown. For the cloak, he would wear water-resistant coffee-brown leather. While admittedly not the most flamboyant colors, the threstral wasn't known for resembling a peacock after all, Harry took solace in the fact that he was the only House with said color scheme. Indeed, Harry couldn't even count how many Houses had some shade or combination of blue, red, and green as their colors – in this regards, Harry was content to have grey and brown, for the sole fact that it made him unique.

Foot-ware was, and always would be, the worse. It felt as if he had to buy a new pair of boots every fortnight with the way his feet grew and unlike his clothing they couldn't be lengthened or charmed to grow with him. His current pair was already tight and would need to be replaced before school began, much to his own displeasure. He knew his father had been tall according to St. Mungo's records, but really, did one have to have big feet to be tall?! It almost made him want to stop taking his nutrition and growth potions, but in the end his vain side won out. He wanted to be tall like any other boy and he needed the potions to counteract the Dursely's treatment of him to do so. In the end, foot-ware expenses and vile potions seemed to be his fate for the foreseeable future.

With his clothing laid out for the coming trip, Harry went around the room packing up whatever he had taken out over the weeks he had been in Surrey, not planning on coming back once he left. Multiple summer essays, completed with predicted scores of E, were stored away along with the Slytherin green comforter he had taken from the dorms after first year (the house-elves hadn't seemed to mind). All the while, Romulus (8) trotted along at his heel, occasionally coaxing him to play, only to be brushed off by Harry in favour of packing.

The final possession of his to pack was his beloved broom, a Yajirushi 777; it wasn't the newest model, or the fastest, but it was reliable and durable. He had researched the best brooms for chasers thoroughly and had ordered his pride and joy all the way from Japan, waiting patiently for three months for it to arrive. Most of all, it was Harry's through and through as he had bought the broom with money he earned from selling various potions around Hogwarts, which included everything from Acne Cures to Menstrual Regulators – he had a pretty wide selection. He also sold a few other contrabands under the table, if you knew how to ask; hey, he had to save up money some how, didn't he? And, in his defence, his products weren't harmful or even experimental, unlike twin gingers in Gryffindor.

Picking up the broom, he examined its freshly polished, cherry wood surface along with the golden kanji that graced its hilt, declaring it a genuine Yajirushi creation. The twigs were all very smooth and curved softly to allow just as smooth maneuverability when flying, a necessity as a chaser. The twigs did a damned good job too, if Slytherin's winning was anything to go by. Just as Diggory was the best seeker, Davies the best keeper, the Weasley twins the best beaters, Harry was, undeniably, the best chaser at Hogwarts – a blessing for the Slytherin team as Flint and Yaxley, his fellow chasers, weren't that reliable. In fact, if it wasn't for Harry's talent and Malfoy's generous donation (Harry had only joined the team last year so he hadn't gotten the Nimbus 2001 second year) Slytherin wouldn't have a chance. He placed his beloved gently in its case before finally locking up his trunk, the bloodlocks activating immediately upon closing.

Glancing around the room one more time, Harry turned to Romulus who was vainly attempting to shake of his brown collar that also bore the Peverell crest, marking the grim as Heir Peverell's familiar. He felt for the beast, he wouldn't want to wear a collar either, but Amos Diggory, the Director of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, had insisted upon it. In addition, the collar had flea and worm repelling charms. "Romulus", he called the canine to attention, "what would you say if we left a day early and headed to the Leakey Cauldron before the World Cup begins?" The grim gave another happy bark, which Harry instantly hushed, but Harry didn't begrudge the noise – he always wanted to whoop with joy when leaving the filthy muggles.

AN: Hello, Readers, I hope you enjoyed. I've rewritten, updated, and reposted this story before (with collaboration of the writer Septima Holen – check my profile for more detail). I'm a bit apprehensive, but I want to do this right and hope I have your support in doing so.

In regards to some of the changes, the reemergence of House Peverell is a major one. This will come to play in Harry's place in the Dark faction and I hope I explained this enough throughout this chapter (mostly through Harry's POV). I will try to continue to explain this in more detail as the plot progresses.

In the original post, Sirius had died with Harry's parents, but I've decided to allow him to feign being Harry's familiar for now – he will become a major part of the plot later on – Harry named him Romulus, which will come in later when Remus renters the plot. It should be noted that Remus never knew Harry had adopted a grim familiar as Sirius had been found by Harry later in the year and had been hidden in the Slytherin dormitory until Harry could A) Heal the grim & B) Get the grim registered and approved as according to the Hogwart's acceptance letters only owls, cats, and toads are usually allowed.

The next change would be Daphne's status as a half-breed, which had actually been planned for the original work but would have only been discovered later on. In the rewrite I decided to introduce the concept immediately. The specific breed of her mother will be revealed later on. Daphne's heritage will later play a major role in the plot.

(1) Homo magicus is simply the species of magical humans – muggles and wizards/witches are of the same species, but magicals will claim they aren't – this term is of my own creation and is simply a play on Homo sapiens. Its usage is purely for magicals to distance themselves from muggles by claiming to be of a divergent, superior species.

(2) Harry 's wand (11' Oak, Cetus Scale; Gregorovitch Creation), has very detailed importance. First of all, Neville's wand (11' Holly, Phoenix feather; Ollivander creation) is the complete opposite to Harry's, the second child of prophecy. Gregorovitch (Dark wandmaker) vs. Ollivander (Light wandmaker), Cetus Scale (water) vs. Phoenix Feather (fire), Oak vs. Holly (opposite Kings of the year according to Celtic calendars)

(3) Mabon, Samhain, Yule, Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha, and Lughnasadh, are all holidays of the Celtic Year, usually falling on Solstices and Equinoxes. These holidays will be celebrated within pureblood circles and will be combined with the magical world's major religion, Hellenism (think Druidism and Greek Mythology)

(4) Harry's appearance will be detailed later on, specifically in chapter II – I had a lot to cover in the first chapter and felt that a detailed description of Harry's appearance wouldn't quite fit in this chapter.

(5) According to the World Bank and the United Nations, the global population as of 1994 was 5.625 billion (as of 2016, it is 7.442 billion) - I rounded up to 6 for convenience within the story. Furthermore, the 1 billion magical are an edition of my own creation as I doubt that magicals were included in any muggle censuses after all.

(6) "Merry Meet, Merry Part, So Mote It Be, Blessings to Thee, Blessed Be, Brightest Blessings, etc." are pagan greetings that will be utilized throughout this work in order to define pureblood/magical culture from that of the muggle. Within my story paganism is prominent within the magical world in contrast to Christianity in the muggle world. I think it reasonable to assume that the witch burnings would have disenchanted most magicals with the church. The phrase "Going to circle" will be used similarly to "going to church". These phrases are apparently used within pagan/wiccan social circles today. I've seen the phrases "Merry Meet" and "Merry Part" utilized by the author 'BaconandEggs' in their series "Harry Potter in the Claw of the Raven" on Archive of Our Own (Highly recommended fanfiction for those who enjoy pureblood culture & politics). I have also seen the phrase "So Mote It Be" in numerous other fanfictions.

(7) The information regarding Iolanthe Peverell was gathered from Harry Potter Wikia, she was apparently a very real individual within the Harry Potter universe. Many of Harry's other ancestors will be created and utilized for my own purposes, such as Timotheus Peverell III and Yolanda Potter.

(8) Harry named his 'familiar' Romulus - reference to the myth of the wolf raised brothers, Romulus & Remus. In the original plot Sirius was killed off before Harry was born, but within the rewrite he is obviously very much alive, was in Azkaban, escaped, etc.. more will be explained later on when Sirius reveals himself to Harry.

Reviews, corrections, and suggestions are welcomed! Hope you enjoyed (and please, constructive criticism)!