Chapter 2
He had been right that the Ministry wouldn't keep it private, but he was also rather relieved that they had gone for the public spectacle with him appearing in the middle of the atrium; he had no desire to deal with Dumbledore until he absolutely had to. The camera flashes and shouted questions assaulted him instantly and he struggled to understand a single one in the cacophony of voices as he blinked the white from his eyes. After a few seconds the noise died down slightly and he was just about able to begin to pick out what people were saying, though they became silent when he raised a hand slightly.
"I'll take three questions, and then I've got a meeting to get to," he said, a friendly smile plastered across his face.
He had thought long and hard about how he was going to act today, weighing his options and how they would affect him both now and later. He was going to act friendly and open when he could, with reporters especially, but in the Wizengamot chambers he was going to become more mature and calculating. First impressions mattered, and if the newspapers spoke badly of him from the start then he was going to have a lot of trouble later. At the same time though he had to show he wasn't going to bow to the wishes of anyone else, otherwise they would treat him as a child and dismiss everything he said. It was going to be a delicate balancing act.
"Mr Potter, Mr Potter, where have you been all these years?"
"That is a topic I don't want to talk about, a very long story. Maybe one day I'll tell it, but not now."
"Mr Potter, why have you decided to unseal your parents' will?" another reporter shouted.
"Because from what I've read I could find no real reason it was ever sealed in the first place, and certainly no reason for it to remain sealed for over a decade."
"But Albus Dumbledore was the one who sealed the will, your magical guardian. Why would he seal it if not for your benefit?" One reporter asked, her concerned tone contrasting sharply against the wicked gleam in her eyes behind jewelled glasses.
"I don't know, that's what I want to find out. But tell me, miss, if Albus Dumbledore was my magical guardian why had I heard of neither him nor the magical world before my Hogwarts letters came?"
With that he walked away towards the elevators with his friendly expression still on his face, the crowd parting to let him through automatically. Inwardly he was smirking with malicious glee; Dumbledore was in trouble now, regardless of what the will said. He was alone in the elevator as he descended down to the Wizengamot chambers and he allowed his shoulders to drop slightly as he prepared himself for seeing Dumbledore for the first time, tightening his hold over his anger and his nervousness so that he would outwardly appear completely calm.
When the doors slid open his shoulders were straight and his mask was firmly in place as he strode through the wide wooden doors. The chambers were exactly as his ancestors had described in the book; a single chair in the centre of the room with chains coiled around the arms like serpents, tiers of seating up every inch of wall that was split into levels. The bottom level was for visitors and reporters, the second was for the elected representatives, the third reserved for the Noble houses that had served the country well and had been rewarded for it. The fourth level was used solely for the Chief Warlock, Minister for Magic, his undersecretary, the court clerk and the head of the DMLE. The fifth level seated the Ancient houses, and the top level seated the houses of Ancient and Noble status.
The lower tiers were made up of uncomfortable wooden benches, and the comfort of their accommodations increased the further up you went. The top tier had comfortable leather armchairs with the house crest emblazoned on the backrest, elegant wooden desks with parchment and silver tipped quills on top and enough leg room that he could lay flat and have room to spare. Harry was sure that Dumbledore had tried to have someone sit in the Potter seat at some point, but to do so they would either have had to have the head of house ring on their finger or be appointed proxy by someone who did.
As he ascended the stops towards the Harry had to resist the urge to glare hatefully at Dumbledore, either that or punch him – he didn't know many curses yet, certainly none that were bad enough that he thought them deserving of Dumbledore. He was just thankful he didn't have to wear those hideous plum coloured robes; only those on the fourth level had to do that.
As expected he received many assessing looks and thinly veiled glares as he walked in but he ignored them all, opting to sit silently in his chair until the session started. Unfortunately his parents will was the last thing on the docket, so he would have to sit through the rest of it first. He was in a state of awe at the sheer unimportance of what they were debating; honestly, who cares if cauldron bottoms are half an inch thick or five eighths of an inch thick? He was planning on passing this duty off as soon as he found someone suitable to be appointed his proxy, he did not like politics.
There were a few more important issues that were brought up, werewolves and muggleborn rights among them. On those he followed the lead of the Grey faction for his voting, even if he wasn't particularly well versed in what he was actually voting about. The Wizengamot was split into the Light, the Grey and the Dark factions, and he wanted to make it clear from the off that he didn't agree with the Light. He had read about each faction and how they generally voted on certain issues when he was preparing, and some of what the light voted for he thought was pure stupidity. What good could possibly come from being more lenient with the Statute of Secrecy and allowing muggleborns to practise magic in urban areas? He knew enough to know that the muggles would either see them as a threat and start a war or they would experiment on them in an attempt to replicate magic. In his experience muggles had been vicious and uncaring, he was sure that one of those two outcomes would come true should muggles find out about the magical world. But then the dark faction would generally prefer to rule over the muggles so they were just as idiotic.
Finally, after nearly three hours his parents will was all that was left to do.
"Reading of the will of James and Lily Potter, Lord and Lady of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter."
"Now, Harry-" Dumbledore said before he was cut off.
"Lord Potter." Harry cut in sharply, his voice and his face carefully controlled to stop any hate bleeding through.
"Ah, yes, Lord Potter, do you think it wise to unseal your parents will? There may be information in there which could be very harmful if it got out. I had it sealed for your own protection." He said, his grandfatherly act and twinkling eyes out in full force.
"Harmful to you or harmful to me, Chief Warlock? I am curious as to how it could be harmful to be now, especially as my parents would surely have thought of whether it would endanger me when they wrote it. I don't suppose you know what it says?"
Members of all factions watched on in undisguised interest as the Boy-Who-Lived backed Dumbledore into a corner. If he attempted to stop the reading again he would be showing everyone that there was something in there he wanted to hide, even more so than he already had. Dumbledore sighed slightly as he motioned for the will to be read, knowing that he would more than likely be able to talk his way out of any significant damage to his reputation. He would still take a hit though.
The clerk cleared his throat slightly and the murmuring around the room died down instantly before he began reading the will, the attention of everyone present purely on him.
"I, James Charlus Potter and I, Lily Evans Potter, being of sound mind and magic do hereby declare this to be our final will and testament, all previous wills now voided.
We do herby leave the entirety of our estate, including all properties, books and artefacts, to our son Harry James Potter.
If this will is being read then Peter Pettigrew, our secret keeper, has betrayed us and told our location to Voldemort.
In the event of our deaths Harry's guardianship is to go to, in order:
Sirius Black, Harry's sworn godfather, and wife if he has married.
Frank and Alice Longbottom, Harry's sworn godmother.
Andromeda and Ted Tonks.
Amelia Bones and husband, if she has married.
Under NO circumstances is Harry to be placed with Petunia Dursley née Evans." The clerk finished.
The room burst into chaos, all sides shouting denials and accusations towards the other. Several times someone called for silence but there was no response, not until a boom echoed through the room. All heads turned to the Boy-Who-Lived, who was stood looking utterly emotionless except for the white grip on his wand that glowed slightly.
"I am going to say this once. I want to know why the express wishes of my parents were ignored, I want to know where exactly the harmful information Dumbledore spoke of is, and I want to know how my godfather was sent to prison for a crime he didn't commit. I want Sirius Black in this room within twenty minutes for a trial, because clearly you didn't bother last time otherwise he wouldn't have been put in Azkaban." He said, his voice eerily calm for the very clear anger he was feeling.
Harry was livid. Never in his life had he been this angry, not even close. Dumbledore knew. He exactly what was in that will and he had dumped him with the Dursleys anyway, and then sent his godfather to prison to make sure he stayed there. Harry didn't know why he had done it, but he didn't care right then either.
A platinum haired man stood up a few levels below Harry, a cane clasped in his manicured hand.
"Now, now, let us not be too hasty. Clearly this Will must simply be out of date at the time of their deaths, and the Potters must have recast the Fidelius charm with Black as the secret keeper. Our own esteemed Chief Warlock testified against Black, I can't believe he would have any reason to lie." The man spoke, his voice smooth and oily. Several men were nodding at his words, though they appeared like dogs nodding at their master's command.
Harry recognised him, of course. Lucius Malfoy, a death eater who bought his way out of prosecution and who was married to one of the Black sisters. His son was the only other possible heir for the head of House Black, and clearly Lucius wanted it. Harry quickly grappled with his anger until he could control it, even if only barely.
"Tell me, Lord Malfoy, are you not biased in this matter? If Sirius Black were to be found innocent your son would likely lose his claim to the Headship of House Black. I do hope you are not attempting to keep an innocent man in prison so that your son can claim a position, such a thing would be below the Noble House of Malfoy." Harry replied smoothly, deliberately emphasising the Malfoy family's lower status. He was in control enough that he didn't accuse him outright now – very close to it, but not quite.
Many more heads nodded at Harry's words and an auror was quickly dispatched to fetch Black from Azkaban, all the while Dumbledore looked like he had swallowed a lemon and Malfoy looked apoplectic. Harry rewarded him with a slightly mocking smile when they locked eyes, the man nearly frothing at the mouth. A man a few seats down from his own, Greengrass Harry thought his name was, leant forwards slightly and gave him a small nod, an action that Harry returned.
It didn't take long for Sirius to be dragged in and thrown into the chair, the chains instantly slithering around his arms. His skin was dirty and stretched grotesquely over bone without a hint of muscle or fat, his long hair knotted and tangled. The man looked half dead until he finally realised where he was, and then he looked like Christmas had come early.
"Finally giving me my trial, are you? Only took you ten years," he croaked with a small laugh, his voice holding a hint of madness but not the insanity that would be expected from being exposed to dementors for a decade. Harry had read about them when he looked into Sirius a bit more, and they sounded like hellish manifestations of misery. He had spent a decade with animals; Sirius had spent that time with demons.
"Sirius Orion Black, do you consent to the use of Veritaserum?" Madam Bones asked far more softly than she usually would. He was obviously innocent, the trial was just a formality at this point.
"Go ahead," Sirius replied cheerfully, and Harry wondered just what effect Azkaban had had on his mind, or whether he had always been like this.
He winked at her as she approached and readily opened his mouth allowing her to place three drops of the potion on his tongue, his eyes clouding over almost instantly.
"What is your name?"
"Sirius Orion Black." He replied in a monotone.
"When were you born?"
"3rd November 1959."
Satisfied that the serum was working properly, Madam Bones started on the questioning.
"Who was the Potter's secret keeper?"
"Peter Pettigrew."
"Did you kill Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles?"
"No, I gave Harry to Hagrid and went after him. Peter blew up the gas line, cut off his finger, transformed into his animagus form and escaped into the sewers."
"Hah, Pettigrew wasn't an animagus. He's lying!" A man with a toothbrush moustache shouted triumphantly from the stands, and Harry had to resist the urge to groan loudly. Obviously he just hadn't registered his form; Harry certainly wasn't planning on doing so when he learnt to become an animagus. Were all wizards this stupid?
Madam Bones ignored the man, causing his face to redden in anger.
"What was Peter Pettigrew's animagus form?"
"A rat."
With that she went to pry Sirius's jaw open to give him the antidote, but Harry interrupted.
"Can I ask him a question?"
He knew it wasn't regular or normally allowed, but he hoped she would allow it this time. Maybe his status could come in useful at least once. After a few seconds of thought she nodded, though she kept the phial of antidote raised. Her message was clear: he got one question and one question only.
"Who cast the Fidelius charm?"
"I don't know."
As Sirius was given the antidote, his eyes clearing quickly though the slight waver of madness remained, Harry cursed inwardly to himself. He was sure it was Dumbledore who had cast it, and if he had that would have been the proof he needed to prove that the old man put Sirius in Azkaban when he knew he was innocent. The charm was complicated and what he had read didn't make much sense to him yet, but from what he could tell it required a lot of power to cast, and that made Dumbledore the likely suspect. Unfortunately Dumbledore was too well respected and too influential for him to accuse and any damage to his reputation done today would likely slide right off. It was infuriating.
"Sirius Orion Black, you are hereby cleared off all charges. The Ministry will issue reparations of 100,000 galleons for each year you were falsely imprisoned. This session is now closed." Dumbledore said, barely able to keep the annoyance out of his voice. All his carefully laid plans were falling to pieces.
As the murmuring started anew and people started to leave Harry walked slowly down the steps towards Sirius whose eyes lit up at the sight of him. The man started to babble slightly and moved to cling to him, but he quickly headed him off. He wasn't comfortable with people touching him. Sirius looked momentarily hurt before he seemed to realise Harry didn't actually remember him.
"Come on, Sirius. You're going to come back with me; it probably isn't smart to go to St Mungos before the announcement that you're innocent has been out a few days." He said, his welcoming mask back in place. From his reaction it was clear that Sirius would have taken him in if he could have, so Harry figured that maybe he would let him in on a few things about his life. He would need an adult at some point in dealing with Dumbledore, and having the Black family reputation behind him could certainly be useful.
As soon as the two of them appeared back in Canada Harry told Tipsy to get Sirius some proper food before he retreated to his room and locked the door behind him. The constant strain of controlling his raging emotions had been trying, and he didn't know how he was supposed to act around Sirius. He didn't know how to act around any adult, never mind the man who would have raised him had he not been sent to prison without a trial.
Sirius watched him walk away dejectedly, wondering just what had happened to him to make him like he was. He had seen the way the mask fell off his face as soon as the portkey dropped them on the grass to show confusion and more potent anger than Sirius had ever seen, yet he would have believed the friendly expression on his face before was real had he not seen what was underneath. Not even the children of the most severe pureblood families had masks that flawless at age eleven.
The sad smile on Tipsy's face as she floated plates of food onto the table told him she had little idea either.
As expected the Daily Prophet the next morning was filled with every detail to do with Harry, including quotes of his verbal sparring with both Malfoy and Dumbledore. It said that Harry had known nothing of Dumbledore or the magical world before his letters, and then said how he had attempted to persuade him not to unseal the will that proved Sirius Black's innocence. Clearly Harry had made a good impression on the reporters, and he smirked slightly when he read it; Dumbledore would be in even more trouble than he would have expected. There were few things people loved more than their heroes, but one of them was tearing those heroes down.
For the next few days Harry acted politely when he was around Sirius but offered little opportunity for him to actually talk to him, something that aggravated the man no end. How was he supposed to involve himself in his godson's life if Harry showed no indication of wanting him there? He just spent all his time reading or practising magic, performing spells Sirius remembered struggling with in second year as if he had cast them a thousand times before.
The only time he spoke to him beyond pleasantries was to tell him they were going to the magical hospital in Ottawa; Harry needed to have his vaccinations for magical illnesses and Sirius needed to be assessed after so long in Azkaban. There was no point going all the way back to Britain to go to St Mungos, and now that the news of Sirius's innocence had broken they would not be in danger of being cursed.
When Tipsy popped them into the hospital they got their fair share of looks as they walked past but no one moved to their wands, in fact they received several respectful nods as they made their way towards the desk. It was far from the reaction they would have received in Britain, thankfully.
Sirius was the first to be seen as any problems he could have from his incarceration in Azkaban could be serious, much more pressing than a few vaccinations. Physically he was in a bad place with weak bones, malnourishment and several infections that his magic had been working hard to keep at bay, but a lot of it could be fixed with potions. He would have to see a mind healer but his psyche was nowhere near as badly affected as would have been expected. He likely wouldn't need to see them for long, and it would be more dealing with his guilt over the Potters' deaths than his stay in Azkaban.
It was when it came to Harry that things became more difficult.
"Right," the healer said, "We'll just run a few scans to make sure you don't already have any infections or injuries that need to be dealt with and then we'll vaccinate you."
"I don't need a scan. Just do the vaccinations." Harry said, and Sirius was surprised with the forcefulness in his tone and the slight flash of something across his eyes before he hid it.
The healer frowned momentarily before comprehension dawned on him and he quickly herded Sirius out of the room. When he made to protest and push his way back in the healer held him in place with a firm hand and insistent look.
"Legally he is an adult, regardless of his age. You can't be in there unless he gives permission, and I doubt he will want you in there for this. Now stay here and wait." He said before he closed the door and locked it behind him. Sirius couldn't get in even if he wanted to; his wand had been snapped and he hadn't got a new one yet.
The door remained closed for over an hour until Harry emerged and stalked straight past Sirius, disappearing by portkey before he had a chance to even say a word. When Sirius looked back towards the healer the man had a mixture of sadness and anger marring his features, a piece of parchment clutched in his hand.
"Look, I really shouldn't be doing this," he said as he handed over the parchment, "but it looks like you're going to be one of the few or maybe the only adult in that kid's life. You are going to need to know even if he doesn't want you to."
Sirius's eyes widened when he saw what the parchment said, his fists clenching hard enough to rip through. Weak and broken bones that hadn't been set properly, a multitude of scars, herniated spinal discs and poorly healed muscles and tendons, and that was just the physical effects. It certainly explained his behaviour. Harry had been abused. Sirius had to fight the impulse to get a portkey back to Britain to kill the Dursleys; at least he would deserve Azkaban this time. But his temper and need for revenge had been what put Harry in that situation in the first place, a thought that brought a tidal wave of self-hatred crashing over him.
Sirius's mother had slapped him every so often, his father had used moderate pain curses but never had they done it as often or as viciously as what Harry's injuries showed. What about all the times when it hadn't left a permanent injury and the bruise had faded away to leave no indication? Sirius had been eleven when it started and he had ran away five years later, most of which he had spent at Hogwarts. Harry had suffered from his first memories and had done so every day for a decade.
"Luckily none of the bones were set poorly enough that they needed to vanished and regrown, otherwise he would have had to stay in overnight. I did have to break them and then join them properly so now his bones are good as new, though they are still weak. The potions will take care of that fairly quickly though. I also fixed his spinal disks, a much easier thing to do with magic than without. The only reason he agreed to let me even scan him was that I said it could cause severe problems later on if it went unchecked, he was adamant that he was fine before that. The scars can be removed, but with great difficulty. There's so many and some are so deep that we would have to cut half the flesh from his back and then regrow it. It's hardly worth the effort and the pain that it would cause.
"I'll get you the potions he'll need and write down when he needs to take them and for how long. Give all that to the house elf, they'll make sure he takes them. A word of advice though; don't push him. All that will happen is that he will close off even more."
A few minutes Sirius left with a rack full of potions in hand, trying to work out how he was going to act from then on. There wasn't even an option for act as he had before, that was clearly getting him nowhere. He doubted the fun uncle position would work either, Harry had probably never joked or pranked in his life. In the end he figured he would have to be a strange combination of caring and detached. Harry wouldn't know how to deal with affection at all, it would just confuse him, and being overbearing was going to push him away. After so many years he was probably so used to looking out for himself that he didn't want anyone else doing it for him.
When Tipsy apparated Sirius back into the cabin Harry was already locked in his room, as expected. Merlin knew what was going through his head, especially as he likely knew that the healer would have told Sirius. For the rest of the day there was no sign of Harry and Tipsy had to take his food to him in his room because he refused to leave. It wasn't until dinner the next day that he came down, refusing to even look in Sirius's direction.
"Did you take your potions?" Sirius asked.
Harry nodded stiffly and braced himself for the inevitable 'are you okay?' and push to talk about his childhood. Why did they need to talk about it? They both already knew, what was the point in reliving it? But the questions never came. Sirius just went back to his food, and Harry's estimation of him rose slightly. Maybe he wasn't the man child he had thought him to be.
When dinner ended and Tipsy appeared and began clearing everything away Sirius pushed himself from the table and wandered towards the sofas. Harry didn't actually know what the man really did with himself during the day, but slowly he followed and sat on a chair away from Sirius and cautiously asked about his parents. He wanted to know about them but he barely knew Sirius so asking felt strange, but he would need to let Sirius in at some point.
For the next few hours Harry sat quietly while Sirius recounted stories of the pranks and the chaos that the marauders had caused in their youth. As he spoke the slight haunted look that had been ever present in his eyes seemed to vanish to be replaced by fond reminiscence, but it would return every time he stopped and the pain and guilt that was etched into the lines of his face seemed to grow each time. Living in the happiness of the past truly was one of life's kindest curses, and Harry felt momentarily thankful that he remembered little of his life before Voldemort attacked. Doing so would only have made the years he spent at the Dursleys that much more torturous.
For the next few days the routine in the cabin stayed basically the same; Harry would practise magic and read, then in the evening he would listen to stories about his parents. There wasn't much about his mother, Sirius had only really got to know her beyond the love of James's life during sixth and seventh year, but there was a lot about his father. Harry managed to read between the lines to work out his father was arrogant and especially harsh towards a particular Slytherin called Snape, but from the way Sirius described Snape's retaliations he was the better one between the two. Apparently Snape had put his father in the hospital wing for a week with a vicious cutting curse because his father had embarrassed him at dinner. Snape was the head of Slytherin house at Hogwarts, so that was one house Harry was going to avoid.
Harry had also shown Sirius the letter he had gotten from Remus Lupin which set the man off in a foul mouthed rant against both Lupin and Dumbledore with several words that even Harry had never heard before, despite Vernon's offensive and often racist remarks. Apparently Lupin was a werewolf and tended to blame every misfortune on his condition, and he also hero worshipped Dumbledore even more than James had for allowing him to attend Hogwarts. Harry thought the man sounded pathetic.
Sirius had also taken up the headship of House Black and was often hard at work sorting the investments and contracts out; many of the Black's investments were in less than savoury businesses so Sirius was withdrawing from all those and investing in other businesses, seeming to take an inordinate amount of joy from making his parents turn in their graves. He had also gotten a new wand from the same man Harry had got his, a 13 inch long Fir wand with a heartstring from a Hungarian Horntail at its core. He had come back from the shop extremely curious about Harry's wand, apparently the wandmaker had made several strange and vague references to him, but Harry had remained silent about it. He didn't plan on telling anyone he had such a powerful wand.
Before long it was time for Harry to head Hogwarts and Sirius had bought a house in Britain so he could be closer, something that made Harry feel that funny warm feeling in his chest again. He could have moved into his childhood home but Sirius was adamant he would never set foot in that house again for any reason, so on September 1st they took a portkey to the house in Yorkshire and then Sirius apparated him straight to the apparition point at Kings Cross. Harry had been learning to apparate himself and probably could have apparated there himself, but Sirius didn't know he could and he didn't want to put up with the scalding for doing it without someone supervising. He found it easy anyway, and he remembered doing it by accident when he was younger.
As it was everyone present stopped to stare at the two of them as soon as they arrived and Harry was rather thankful for the slightly fearful looks Sirius was getting; clearly the British witches and wizards were stupid enough that they hadn't worked out he hadn't killed anyone despite the fact that the entire trial had been quoted in the Daily Prophet. It meant far less people would try and talk to him at least. He certainly looked nothing like the pale, skeletal man that had been dragged into the Wizengamot chambers. The potions he had been given and the consistent food had done wonders and he now looked much like how a Lord of a powerful family should, though his face had yet to lose its gaunt look.
Harry was of course getting his fair share of stares which he ignored as he made his way onto the train and found an empty compartment, his trunk and empty owl cage shrunken inside his pockets. Sirius had bought a beautiful pure black owl for him so they could write, though he had made it clear that it didn't have to be everyday or even all that often; he was being careful not to push and to move at whatever pace Harry set, and now he was starting to see him as someone he actively wanted in his life rather than someone who could come in useful and nothing more. He had named her Kara, and Sirius was going to let her fly to Hogwarts instead of being caged in a train for seven hours. Harry didn't know why he had to spend seven hours on a train when apparition was almost instant, but apparently it was tradition and he had to. Personally Harry thought it was stupid.
He slid the door closed and locked it with a few careful flicks of his wand before he pulled a book of offensive and defensive spells and got himself comfortable as more families arrived at the station. He and Sirius had come earlier in an attempt to avoid the media and as much of the staring as they could, but now he would have to wait for longer. He contented himself with the fact that few people would be bothering him during the ride though; he had learnt several locking charms in preparation, none of which could be countered with a simple unlocking charm. A fifth or six year would probably be able to break it, but he doubted they would be the ones bothering him.
Harry barely noticed when the train started moving, too engrossed in his book and unconsciously mimicking the wand movements with his free hand to realise. He stayed that way for nearly an hour until there was an irritating knocking noise, and when he looked up he saw a red headed boy with his nose pressed up against the glass as he tapped sharply. It reminded Harry of Dudley when they visited the zoo before he had set the snake loose.
When the boy realised Harry had noticed him he started banging even more insistently, clearly unable to work out that the locking charm was there because he didn't want to be disturbed. Harry just raised an eyebrow slightly before he returned to his book, ignoring the boy despite his increasingly loud knocks. After a few minutes he gave up and walked off in a huff and Harry sighed slightly in relief; the boy had been getting steadily more annoying with every second he stayed. He really should have learnt the silencing charm, but it just hadn't been as appealing as the other spells.
For the next few hours Harry was left in blissful peace during which time he nearly finished his book. He thought he could probably cast several of the spells now, though not easily and not perfectly. He was certainly better than first year but most of the spells in the book were fourth or fifth year at least so he wasn't too disheartened that he knew he would be unable to cast most of them. He would be able to try them once he found a place to practise again.
But then suddenly the quiet was shattered by another knock, this one a single brutish bang. He looked up and saw a thin, pale skinned boy with his blonde hair slicked back and a sneer filled with indignant anger on his face, flanked on either side by two hulking boys with dim faces and slouched backs. He absently wondered if they had any troll in their blood, it would explain a lot. He recognised the leader instantly, or at least who his father was - Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco he remembered vaguely, and he removed the locking charm with a flick of his wand. This would be entertaining, and it would be preferable to get this confrontation out of the way before they got to Hogwarts.
As soon as he did so Malfoy strode in self-importantly and scowled at Harry while his two bodyguards came in behind him, cracking their fists in a poor attempt to look menacing. Harry found it more amusing than anything else.
"You, Potter!"
"Yes, Mr Malfoy?" he said, deliberately sounding bored as his eyes dipped back to his book.
"You may have gotten that blood traitor released from Azkaban, but you are still nothing compared to me. I am a Malfoy, my father is the Minister's most trusted advisor and I am the Heir to House Black, and you are just the son of a filthy mudblood!"
He actually looked proud of himself at first, but then his smirk dropped when Harry gave no other reaction than a polite smile.
"Yes, my mother was a muggleborn. How very perceptive of you, Mr Malfoy. I am going to ignore your error and rudeness in adressing me this time, but I will not do so in the future. But allow me to correct your facts before you leave; your father is not his most trusted advisor he is simply the one who pays the most, and after the trial where he appeared to attempt to keep an innocent man in prison for a family position he may not be anymore. I am the Head of an Ancient and Noble House, the Malfoy family is only Noble and is widely believed to have bought even that status." He said dryly.
"And if you think that you are the Heir to the Black family, well, you clearly do not know your family history. You have Black blood yes, but your mother is only the third daughter of a minor arm. I am the grandson of the first daughter of the major arm, and therefore I have more claim to the headship than you do. And that is disregarding the fact that I am the godson of the current Lord Black. I suggest you make sure what you say is true before you claim such things; it could easily be misunderstood as attempted line theft, a crime which carries a rather… harsh punishment."
Malfoy had reddened in anger over the course of Harry's rebuttal, his fists clenched tightly at his sides and his jaw set.
"My father will hear about this!" he spat through gritted teeth, but Harry continued to smile.
"You're going to tell your father you specifically sought me out so you could try and show how much better you were, only to get slapped back? I doubt your father will be pleased if he finds out his son was acting like a Gryffindorish child."
He glared hatefully at Harry for a few seconds before he stalked out, his pet trolls following shortly after. Harry would have preferred to have had no contact with Malfoy Jr at all, but he wasn't going to take anything lying down. There was no denying that his father had power and could cause him problems, but he was fairly sure Malfoy wouldn't run to his father this time. He would have to tell Sirius to prepare for any attempts by Lucius for next time, as there would surely be one. Draco's ego wouldn't allow him to leave Harry be.
He was undisturbed for the rest of the train ride, thankfully, and the sky soon turned black with only the moon illuminating the hills as they steamed past, soft light glinting off small streams. The announcement that they would be arriving in Hogsmeade in five minutes pulled him from the light daze he had been in and he enlarged his trunk to get out his robes. Acromantula silk, very soft and very comfortable but extremely expensive. Anything of poorer quality would not be suitable for someone of his status and it wasn't like he was lacking for money, especially with the investments the goblins were making for him in both the muggle and magical worlds.
Once he had changed he shrunk his trunk again and put it back in his pocket, deciding it was safer there than left on the train. And it would stop Dumbledore looking through it, not that there was much in there he would be bothered about; just the invisibility cloak the goblins had taken back off him. Once the train came to a stop he waited a few minutes for the corridors to become less crowded before he left his compartment and got off the train, immediately hearing the booming voice of Hagrid. He didn't mind Hagrid all that much really, but the look the man shot him when he saw him showed that Dumbledore had likely reprimanded him for not keeping track of him in Diagon Alley.
Soon Harry and the other first years were following Hagrid down a steep slippery path that was lit only by the swinging light of Hagrid's torch, people bumping and tripping over each other. They rounded a small corner and everyone present let out a small gasp at their first sight of Hogwarts. Sirius had refused to even describe it to him before, something that Harry had thought stupid, but now he was quite thankful for not ruining the surprise. The castle was massive, perched on a mountain with bright lights shining out of countless windows and towering turrets that seemed to scrape against the stars, the moon peeking out from behind the tallest spire and all of it reflected in the lakes shining surface. Harry thought it was magnificent.
"No more'n four to a boat!"
With that everyone hurriedly made their way to a boat, wanting to reach Hogwarts as soon as possible. Harry saw the red haired boy trying to push his way through the crowd in an attempt to be in the same boat as him but was cut off by another boy clambering in before he could make it. Harry was relieved for that, and had the feeling that the boy was going to be a persistent annoyance.
"FORWARD!"
The boats began slowly gliding across the lake with a jolt, slicing through the moon and rippling the clouds as the first years barely looked away from the castle. A yelled warning had them all hastily ducking their heads as they entered a dark tunnel in the cliff face that they followed until they came to a stop at a wide underground pier. A meek looking boy was joyously reunited with his toad once they had climbed out of the boats, and then they followed Hagrid up a flight of stone steps that led to a great wooden door. With a glance around Hagrid raised a meaty fist and banged on the door three times.