5. Seeking Answers

It was November 3rd, and Harry was in his dark green and silver Quidditch robes, riding on his Nimbus 2000. Slytherin was playing Gryffindor today, and Harry had been told by his jolly captain that if he didn't catch the snitch, an 'accident' would happen, and he would find himself unable to walk. Harry wasn't overly concerned; the Gryffindor Seeker was rather pathetic anyway. Plus, Snape had told the older Slytherins not to harm him, so Harry was safe in broad daylight, when others were watching. If they tried anything when no one was looking, Harry would make sure to let them meet Vasuki.

Harry scanned the field, a grim look on his face. He knew that any problems the team would have would probably be a result of the three Gryffindor chasers, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, outplaying the Slytherin chasers. The Weasley twins could be problematic; they knew how to beat a bludger, and they hated Harry. Their job would be made easier by the fact that Bole and Derrick wouldn't be very enthusiastic about protecting Harry.

Harry hovered high as the match started, knowing that he could take very quick dips if needed. Angelina managed to score almost immediately, grabbing the Quaffle and dodging Montague's lumbering figure. Luckily Madam Hooch didn't see that Montague was aiming for her head with his fist.

Bole and Derrick were fair beaters, possessing a strength that the twins lacked. Unfortunately, they weren't able to improvise and come up with strategies as the twins did, and Gryffindor took a 50-20 lead as they kept the Slytherin beaters and one chaser busy with bludgers. Harry groaned; the Gryffindor chasers were agile and able to dodge the brutal tactics of the Slytherins. The strategy of being rough only worked if the enemy was intimidated… or incapacitated.

Harry decided to descend and lend a hand. He immediately shot into a dive, and the Weasley twins stopped aiming at Flint and smacked the bludgers at Harry viciously. This allowed Flint, who had the Quaffle, to zoom up the field.

Harry leveled off and then shot towards Oliver Wood, who was an annoyingly good keeper. Harry knew that he had two bludgers on his tail, so he shot right past the right hoop, causing Wood to dodge towards the left hoop. While Harry wasn't able to get the bludger to plow into Wood, it did force Wood into the left area, allowing Flint to score through the right hoop, making the score 70-30, in favor of Gryffindor.

Harry then arched up and shot towards the sky. The Weasleys lopped the bludgers after him, but Harry avoided them, and let the Bludgers shoot past him, putting the annoying blobs out of anyone's reach for a bit of time. Katie was nearing the Slytherin goalpost, but she was cut off by Montague, who brutally forced the Quaffle out of her hands. Harry once again shot towards Wood, but this time, the Weasleys knew better than to aim for him. Harry veered off course, and Montague was unable to score.

Harry arched around sharply, seeing a flitter of gold. He zoomed towards it like a madman, but then the snitch disappeared. Harry noticed that the Gryffindor Chaser was on his tail, so he did a Wronski Feint, zooming towards the grass, pretending that the snitch had simply dipped down instead of faded out. He brought himself up at the last moment, brushing against the ground, but then realised that the other seeker had chickened out many yards above him and simply stopped. Harry groaned and twisted and turned to avoid the bludgers he could see coming. He would have to work on the move.

Finally, when the score was 100-40, Harry saw the snitch hovering by the Gryffindor goalpost. Instead of going directly to the Snitch, which would force him to go through a maelstrom of bludgers and brooms, he made a long graceful curve, which had the advantage of not looking like the flight of a seeker who had seen the Snitch. Harry past the goalposts, but then cut back sharply, his hand outstretched, closing in on the snitch. He saw a bludger closing in on his shoulder blade, but he couldn't dodge it, because he was about to snag the snitch. He just angled himself so it would hit his other upper arm, which would hopefully not cause an injury.

Cheers, followed with disappointed boos from the Gryffindor end, echoed from the bleachers as Harry grabbed the snitch, and nearly lost his hold on his broom when his arm flared up in pain. The impact nearly caused him to change his course, but finally he steadied himself and made a clean landing. His arm hurt like hell, but he didn't think anything was broken. Luckily it had been a glancing blow, not a direct collision.

He looked at the rest of his team, who were staring at him with wide eyes, but frowns.

"Well, we won, that's what matters," Flint began. "Practice tomorrow…"

"You lot have a lot to work on," Harry said dryly after they moved to their dugout. "Do you think for this next stretch of practices, you can actually work as a team instead of trying to rough me up?"

Harry could practically hear the cogs in their brains working, no doubt making a difficult decision of whether to admit that Harry saved them, or to continue trying to force him to quit the team, as they has been doing. "I'll leave you to think about it… or try to think about it. We both want Slytherin to win, and that won't happen if I decide to quit."

&(&(&(&#

"Nic olas Flamel…" Harry muttered under his breath. That was the clue that he received from Hagrid. It was a bit less than he had hoped for, but it was something. Hagrid had been a lot more guarded about the Stone and the dog, who Harry now knew was named Fluffy. So… some fellow named Nicolas Flamel was a key player in Dumbledore's operation. Harry planned to research the name in the library, and if that failed, owl home and ask.

While walking to the library, Harry mentally connected him familiar. Vasuki, have you seen anyone?

No. No one has come up here in the past week.

Okay, I don't think you have to constantly watch the door. You should come back to my side. At the very least, I don't think anyone will be making another go at it until Christmas.

I can stay here, Harry. It is actually a fairly comfortable spot, and I only have to leave to hunt. Normally I would prefer to guard you, but we know that there will be another attempt sometime.

Okay… as long as you are content. Harry replied.

He continued to the library, where he found Draco lazily flicking through a large book and Daphne carefully browsing the aisles for books on recent magical items.

"Have you two found anything?"

"Well, there are quite a few magical stones throughout history. Look, I've made a list of all the magical stones that seem very valuable."

"Hmm… Scrying Sapphire… Radagast's Ruby… Pyros Pearl…" Harry continued to read down the list. "These all sound like rare and powerful items… Do you know if any of these stones on the list have something in common with Nicolas Flamel?"

Daphne looked pensive. "No. Who is Nicolas Flamel?"

"Someone who is at the very least an acquaintance of Dumbledore. Hagrid said that 'what the dog is guarding in between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel.'"

"Hmm… Nicolas Flamel… Flamel… it sounds familiar, but I can't place it. I think it would be best to look at some history books. Well, actually, now that I think about it, if we research these stones in detail, we can see if the name Flamel comes up for any of them," Daphne replied.

"Okay, Draco and I will look for books on Flamel, can you see if Flamel's name comes up under any of the stones?" Harry asked.

"Fine," she replied.

An hour or two later, Harry and Draco were bored out of their minds from looking for Flamel's name and finding nothing.

"Harry! Come look - Flamel!" Daphne exclaimed.

"Shh!" Harry said, looking around. "Okay, you found him?"

"Yeah, look. The Philosopher's Stone was created by Nicolas Flamel. Nicolas Flamel is some sort of Alchemist, and it says that he is over six hundred years old! The Philosopher's Stone gives the wielder Elixir of Life and can transmute metal into pure gold. I bet that is what is being hidden!" Daphne said excitedly.

"Immortality…" Harry said. "No wonder it is being kept so secret. Although Dumbledore must be a little off in the head to allow Hagrid to have such a role in guarding it…"

"So who is trying to steal it then? Who broke into Gringotts?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. "That's next on our list of things to find out. Quirrell obviously knows about it and wants it, but he doesn't strike me as capable of pulling off a Gringotts break-in. Snape… doesn't want Quirrell to get it, although we don't know if he wants it for himself, or to wants to protect the stone so that he stays in Dumbledore's good books."

"…and it could be that someone independent of Snape or Quirrell wants the Philosopher's Stone," Daphne pointed out. "All of the Hogwarts professors know about it."

"And it could be that none of this really concerns us," said Blaise, who has approached them quietly.

Harry turned around. "We will only know that once we get enough information. Do you have anything to add that will help?"

"Yes, I trailed the Gryffindors, as you said. Ron and Hermione aren't speaking to each other anymore, and Ron seems to have forgotten about the third floor, because he is busy hanging out with Dean and Seamus."

"So they are off our tail, but they don't know anything either…" Harry trailed off.

"Right. So now what?" Blaise asked fairly unenthusiastically.

"Well you heard what we think is hidden. We have to decide whether or not to let it be, as you said, try to stop it from being stolen, or allow it to be stolen in a way that benefits us," Harry said.

"Or steal it ourselves," Draco said.

"Do you think you can incapacitate a thousand pound dog? And that's just Hagrid's part, imagine what the actual professors are doing. Plus, we would have Dumbledore, Snape, and Quirrell pissed off if we stole it, and for what? Gold? Immortality?"

"Better than someone else stealing it," Draco said. "Look, you're right that we can't steal it, but no one would suspect us if it went missing."

"I'll think about it," Harry said. "It is a last resort…"

"That's all I'm saying, Harry. You always tell us to have a backup plan…"

November ended as the quartet decided to tone down the intensity of the Philosopher's Stone investigation. McGonagall hadn't approached him again about the offer, and Harry was glad about that, because as time passed, he became more and more fond of studying in the Shrieking Shack, and spent less and less time on his actual schoolwork. Luckily, he didn't need to spend much time to scrape by, a fact that irritated many people. Flitwick as well had started to get on his back about putting more effort into his class. It was as if they were offended by what he appeared to stand for. Harry shrugged; he never had pangs about offending anyone. Also, this way they wouldn't think that he was actually studying a lot more than anyone his age… That was how he wanted it. He wouldn't appear weak, but he had also learned not to stick out his neck and receive attention.

That allowed him to proceed smoothly with his Shrieking Shack operation. He couldn't say that he didn't learn anything in school, because he was learning lots of stuff, just not in class. It was all so refreshing, working on his secret spells. He was constantly improving the range of spells he could cast and the power of each spell, and for some reason, that really satisfied him, even if his progress was slow. Dark Magic… he didn't understand how any of the things he had learned so far were evil. The magic was just a tool or a weapon, and it felt great to add new tools to his belt.

It was silly really. Anyone who had taken the time to think about it would realise that Dark Magic was just plain magic, consisting of Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense. The skills were the same; it wasn't as if was powering his spells with hate or anything; he was simply putting his skills in various subjects into spells that would amplify his power. For example, he was good with physical spells, like Bludgeoning Hexes and Cutting Curses. He had some skill in him that simply caused his physical spells to hit hard. One route of magic would teach him how to use his skill in physical spells, and one would suppress his skills, and make him hit softer. There really was no question, Harry thought as he waved his wand, causing an invisible fist to slam into the wall next to him, right where his enemy's solar plexus would be. How hard the spell hit was determined by his level of concentration, not anger… He wasn't fueling the spell with darkness, he was only fueling the spell with… himself.

The idea that he was doing something productive was a welcome one. He even grew tired of antagonizing the Gryffindors; they provided entertainment, but it seemed like if school was truly about petty altercations, then he was wasting his time. He could get twice as much studying done if he was at home, studying at his own pace. Was there something out there that Hogwarts had to offer that he just couldn't see? Was Britain all in love with Hogwarts because Britain consisted of fools who looked up to Dumbledore? Or was there some legitimate reason for the many claims he had heard of Hogwarts being the best magical school out there? Harry truly didn't know.

He had been extra careful to keep a low profile in classes now, reinforcing his image of the type of child who was blessed with a brain, but cursed with a laziness that would make that brain useless. He knew that he was being watched; he couldn't explain how exactly he knew this, but he just had a feeling that at the very least, some of the professors were keeping an eye on him. There had been a slight change in all of their behaviors, starting about a month ago. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but he was sharp enough to realise that there was some level of communication in between the professors concerning him. That's why they all were trying kindly correct his sharp remarks and through in remarks about the equality of wizards. Sometimes it was very subtle, but at other times, Harry could clearly see the way that they were trying to refine him or something. It was a bit annoying, to say the least.

He didn't want to change his ways; he knew that he could be harsh, but he liked it that way. He knew who his friends were, and the rest could go to hell. He didn't want anyone to mess with his beliefs, whether they were illusions or true insights.

He just felt different, that was the core of the matter. How could he not? He had sat in Privet Drive when the damned Wizarding World partied. He grown up thinking that he was worthless, and then in one glorious day, he had learned that he was the opposite of worthless. One man had snapped his fingers and made a decision, and he had suffered needlessly for five years. Harry lost his mother, while Ron happily suckled on his mother's breast. Dumbledore was praised as a visionary, while Dumbledore had done nothing but use once-fine men like his parents. Harry lost almost everything that night, but… perhaps he truly lost his parents when Dumbledore filled their mind with his agenda.

For years, the Wizarding World had been inching in the wrong direction, under the guidance of Dumbledore. Ron… Hermione… they were all products of Dumbledore's tampering and schemes. He, Harry, was almost the product of the machine that Dumbledore engineered for his generation. It made him sick. Luckily the Malfoys had managed to escape Dumbledore's new world and Harry was saved from becoming the spitting image of his parents. Luckily Dumbledore hadn't been able to make him into his perfect Gryffindor.

Perhaps that was why Harry instantly took a disliking to the Weasleys. They were once a family of power, never on the same field as the Malfoys, but solid in their own right. Then Dumbledore had reduced them, just as he reduced his parents, to drones, to followers. Ron represented all that he had heard of his father, whereas he, Harry, strived to represent all that his father could have been had he not walked into Dumbledore's machine. Perhaps that is why Harry resented the Muggleborns and Muggle-loving blood traitors; they represented what he was a finger away from becoming. They represented what he could have been had he not escaped Dumbledore's machine.

()#&)(&(#)&()#)(&()$(&# $)(#&$()&#$)(3

Harry was in the middle of a discussion with Daphne about Charms Theory, when Vasuki mentally spoke to him, speaking in an urgent tone. Harry, I have observed Quirrell and Snape fighting again near the entrance. Quirrell was moving closer to the dog, but then Snape walked in. They argued like last time, but then the turban man locked the greasy one in the room with the dog. He is wounded on the leg.

What? Snape and Quirrell fought? Harry asked quickly. Are you okay?

Yes. Quirrell was obviously going for the Stone, and Snape has been spying on Quirrell. Vasuki stated.

Should we come?

No, Harry. You cannot be seen there.

Okay, just… be careful, but try to make sure Quirrell doesn't get past the dog. Don't risk yourself though. Harry did truly care about his snake; his most steadfast companion.

I'm touched, Harry. Don't worry, I am very good at hiding. There is something not right about the turbaned one… I cannot place it…Vasuki hissed mentally, and Harry could feel his familiar's unease.

Can you sense the stone?

No, I cannot.

Damn. Do you have any ideas about what I can do? Harry asked.

Keep your head down and learn Occlumency. Vasuki hissed.

Harry groaned. I'm bloody trying… it's not my fault if Occlumency is the world's pettiest branch of magic.

But Harry, whatever happened to 'I'm going to do it if it's the last thing I do' Vasuki hissed, in a ridiculous impression of Harry.

I am going to learn it… I've still been practicing… none of us can get it. What's strange is that Draco is making the same amount of progress as I am, but… I could be wrong, but it seems he is putting in less effort than I. I mean, he isn't progressing significantly faster, but… well, I did expect to be ahead of him in this aspect.

Perhaps your friend has a high level of mental control for his age. Vasuki suggested. I am afraid that I was born with the natural ability to protect my mind, so I cannot help you.

I figured out that you didn't have the brains to help me a while ago, Vasuki, Harry muttered cheekily.

Only God can help you, child, Vasuki muttered.

Enough… Harry muttered. I have to go to class. Or sit in class and read whatever I please…

Harry continued to read his secret textbooks throughout History of Magic, Transfiguration, DADA, and Charms, piping up only to make a nasty comment here or there. He couldn't help it; he just figured that if he had to listen to someone rant about material he had learn a year ago, he might as well entertain himself in the process. Plus, he was paying tuition to attend Hogwarts, why should he not learn something? This way, it did not appear as if he was learning things far beyond the pitiful scope of a first-year class, but he actually was.

Of course, there had been attempts to try and figure out exactly how much he knew. One of these attempts occurred during his Charms class, when he had been sitting in the back, discreetly passing notes with Draco, concerning Quirrell's latest attempt.

"Accio Note," Flitwick said sharply.

Harry cursed himself for being so stupid. He took out his wand and muttered an incantation, causing the note to disappear in a small snap of fire, and fall to the ground as ashes. "Terribly sorry, Professor, I think my wand must have just malfunctioned there, not sure how the fire appeared. Accidental magic, I think."

"Mr. Potter," the short professor squeaked. "What was in that note that you so desperately needed to hide?"

"Professor, forgive me, but it was nothing. I just got a bit shocked and my accidental magic lashed out."

"I want an answer, Potter, or I am afraid I will have to deduct points."

"I was, ahem, telling Draco that we were going to trounce the claws in the next Quidditch match, sir. I believe the exact note was a copy of your seeker, Chang, crashing into a--"

"Enough! Ten points from Slytherin. Mr. Potter, I expect you to always contribute your full efforts to class in the future."

"I understand."

"And how did you perform an Incineration Curse that worked so fast? Perhaps you could try again… on this sheet of paper?"

"Well, Professor, in all honesty, it was actually a normal Blue-bell, that I botched up. See here…" Harry cast the Blue Bell Flames hex on the piece of paper and let it slowly consume the piece of paper. The flames were a fairly easy spell that most first years could get with a little bit of practice and it looked similar to the Incineration Curse he had used.

"Well, I am afraid that even if you used that hex, I will have to deduct fifteen more points for casting a spell without permission, in the vicinity of other students. And another twenty points for writing such an egregious note that you think it necessary to keep away from my eye at all costs."

"I'm sorry, Professor, both for the note and for my improper spell casting."

"See that it doesn't happen again."

Harry nodded. Damn it, he had really messed up. He noted not to pass notes in class anymore. He thought he had been discreet enough about it, but apparently Flitwick had a sharper eye than one would imagine. He had a nasty feeling that on top of that, Flitwick wasn't buying his story about the curse he used.

Ten minutes later, Flitwick called upon Harry. "So, Miss Greengrass just demonstrated how to charm an object to blow to the side. We have learned in the past month how to levitate and manipulate simply objects, but there is actually one spell that we can cast that allows us to control the motion of an object with more precision, and move it in any direction, instead of only up, down and to the sides. Does anyone know this charm?"

Harry looked up sharply. That was, at the very least, a third year spell.

"Mr. Potter, did I see you raising your hand?" the short professor squeaked.

"Nope, I have no idea."

"Oh, but you do look as though you know something, perhaps you can take a stab at it…"

"Oh…" Harry exhaled. He knew perfectly well what spell Flitwick was referring to, and it was bloody obvious that the pipsqueak was digging for information. "Well, I would guess that you cast both spells at the same time."

Flitwick looked disappointed. "Well, anyway, your homework is to read pages…"

So Flitwick was obviously in on the revealing Harry plan, which was most likely headed by Dumbledore. It was funny, because he had never met the man… and he had no desire to. It would be an awkward first meeting.

Flitwick and McGonagall were the two who contributed the most effort into this plan. In Herbology, he didn't really stick his neck out, since he hadn't studied the subject before Hogwarts. In Astronomy and Herbology, he did have to pay some attention because he would be given exams on the subjects at the end of the year. While he was pretty sure he could have just crammed all of the material in at the end of the year, he knew that if he was called upon in class, he wouldn't be able to gab his way out of trouble, and would end up losing points for Slytherin. A pleasant side effect of keeping his neck down was that the teachers didn't try to pry.

Snape was treating Harry like a normal Slytherin, but no more than that. They built their relationship on the basis of Harry making perfect potions, and giving Snape opportunities to deduct points from Gryffindor. Harry was hoping to get more clues about why seemed to dislike him strongly at first, but he had no complaints this way. Of course, he was very suspicious of Snape, due to the issues revolving around a certain stone and a certain man in a turban, but for what it was worth, Lucius approved of Snape, and Snape didn't seem to be trying to push Harry in the same direction that McGonagall and Flitwick were.

Harry sighed, thinking that at least Christmas was coming up. The Malfoys had invited Blaise, Daphne, and their respective families to Malfoy Manor. It would surely be a grand affair, and it would be interesting to meet the families, provided that they chose to attend. He would have a short break that he could fill with relaxation, Quidditch, and hanging out with his friends. Of course, studying from his dark book had become a daily practice, and he would not be postponing his studies.

The last stretch of school grew fairly dull. Harry enjoyed it this way — Vasuki was reporting no activity on the third floor, his professors were watching him closely but not interfering, and Harry spent his free time playing Quidditch, practicing Occlumency, and sneaking to the Shrieking Shack. He did have to spend a little time on his homework, and he tried to help Blaise and Daphne with theirs so that the two wouldn't feel left out. They had become friends, but not great friends, seeing as to how Harry, intentionally or unintentionally, was progressively pouring more time into studying ahead. Sometimes he felt bad, and would take an afternoon off to play chess with the two, but he knew that the quartet wouldn't be built on the same foundation of friendship that groups of gossiping girls or boys like Ron and his friends were. He was hoping to get to know Daphne and Blaise a lot better when they came to stay at Malfoy Manor over Christmas.

On the first week of December, Harry was walking outside in the snow. He was actually headed to Hagrid's House, with a plan to talk to Hagrid about what he saw during that Halloween. Of course, he didn't plan to open the conversation in that manner, but Harry was determined to find out exactly what happened that night. Voldemort had murdered his parents and tried to kill him, but who had come with Voldemort? Who had been there to carry Harry out of the crumbling house? Lucius didn't know… and Harry was pretty sure Dumbledore wouldn't tell him. Hell, that was another part of the problem. Dumbledore orchestrated the events that came after Voldemort's attack. Dumbledore obviously ordered Hagrid to take him to the Dursleys, but there was a possibility that Dumbledore had a greater role in the tragedy. Was this man who carried Harry out of the crumbling ruins one of Dumbledore's men? What if there had been another key player in the attack? There was clearly more to the murders than Harry had been told, and Hagrid was one of the only people who could clue him in.

He shuddered; he had to know exactly what happened that night. It burned at him… simply the idea that Dumbledore was hiding something from him. It was clear that Dumbledore didn't want him to question the story about his parents' death, so naturally, Harry had to question the story he had been told. There was definitely more to the story than James and Lily hiding, and Voldemort finding them. Plus, whatever his parents were, he couldn't suppress his urge to know more about them.

Harry trudged through the snow and knocked on the door, putting on a friendly face. Dealing with Hagrid had become easy once Harry had learned how to wear the right mask.

"Come in, Harry! Glad ter see that ye dropped in," Hagrid said welcomingly. Harry reciprocated the smile, but groaned when he noticed that Hagrid's hut had gotten even messier than it was when Harry visited last.

"Hello Hagrid. Fang's looking well as usual," Harry said.

"Heh, he's a lazy dog really. How're ye doing?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm doing alright, not great."

"I hope yer not getting bogged down by schoolwork?" Hagrid asked.

"No it's not that… it just seems to me that everywhere I go to find out more about my parents, I meet a dead end. Okay, so I look like them, that's nice to know, but I… don't know who they were," Harry said sadly, his emotions in his eyes.

"And ye were hoping that Hogwarts would be providing ye with answers?" Hagrid prompted.

"Well, they spent one third of their lives in here…" Harry said, emphasizing the 'one third'.

Hagrid winced. "I suppose so. Well, I've told ye how they were Head Girl and Boy… let's see, your mother graduated with top marks… she was recruited by St. Mungo's, but she turned them down, saying that she wanted ter become an Auror. She was good at Charms and Potions, but she felt she had to help out. The only person who could've changed her mind was James, but he had been wantin' to be an Auror ever since his fifth year, I think. It was his dream, ye know, to fight… You-Know-Who."

Harry sighed inwardly. Of course, his parents had been steered away from respectable jobs because some old heroic twat made them feel obligated to fight for him. Perhaps they genuinely wanted to fight Voldemort, but if that was the case, then they were fools to have followed Dumbledore's commands. It wasn't that… Harry was ashamed of them. He just wished that they would have been more neutral… more pragmatic. Harry hated Voldemort because he killed his parents, but why did his parents hate Voldemort? Harry suppressed a sigh; it was because Dumbledore had taught them to hate Voldemort, "What about their friends? I heard that my parents were popular…"

"Well, they were good friends with Frank and Alice Longbottom… Aurors, ye know. Lily was a year behind Narcissa, and they were on good terms, I think."

Harry filed that piece on information in the back of his mind, deciding to bring it up later. "Any other friends? What about my dad?"

"Well, he was… well, he did get on decently with Arthur Weasley, who was a few years ahead of him… let's see…"

Harry eyed Hagrid closely. Looking into the man's bearded face, Harry could see that same look of hesitance that Hagrid wore when he was trying to keep something hidden. "I suppose you're not allowed to tell me who my father's friends are. It's just hard… not knowing anything about them, and having everyone telling me different things about them. I would just like to feel closer to them, you know?"

Harry's disheartened expression tore at Hagrid's heartstrings. "Well, Harry… I wish there was something more I could do. Ye know, I've spent a few years of my life looking for my mother. Never found 'er. We all wish we could feel closer to our loved ones…" Hagrid sighed. "Well, the fact of the matter is that your father's friends… well, they're not here right now, and don't ask me where they are, cause I cannot be telling ye, cause I don't know."

"Well, I heard that my father was a prankster… don't you know who he used to hang out with?" Harry asked. He was genuinely interested in the answer to this question. Of course, he was hoping this conversation would evolve in such a way that Hagrid would end up giving Harry a bit of information about the Halloween night, but he was also interested in learning more about his parents. Many people painted his parents as the epitome of heroism, but others, like Lucius and Narcissa, said they were good people, but with faults.

Lucius had said that James and Lily were brave, smart, and powerful, but their deaths were a tragedy, nothing more. They were made into heroes because that was what the world needed; heroes. They didn't want to be martyrs, but that was what they were turned into.

'Harry, if they knew that the war would separate you from them, they never would have gotten so involved. By the time you were born, they were in too deep; they were Dumbledore's lead enforcers, and sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore was responsible for turning them into the great martyrs, just as you were turned into a hero. Nobody wanted it to turn out this way; that I promise. Actually, I am afraid that is not the truth… I'm afraid there were people who were thrilled that they had someone to suffer for them, so they would be spared of suffering…' Harry shook his head, clearing away Lucius's words.

"Why yes he was," Hagrid chuckled. "Him and Black…gave us hell… those two were inseparable."

"Mmhmm." Black?

"Uhhuh, right, James had a few friends… many of them worked together on pranks. Of course, they were always good students too, ye know, just like I hear you are. Brilliant, but not inclined to spend too much time studying. Yeah, James hung around Frank Longbottom and Bert Macmillian as well," Hagrid jabbered quickly, not meeting Harry in the eye.

"But his best friend was someone named Black? You don't mean as in Narcissa Black, do you?"

"I shouldn' have told ye that..." Hagrid scolded himself. "Look, Harry, some… unpleasant things happened after Hogwarts, and I'm not thinkin' that ye should be worryin' too much over this, alright?"

"Of course, Hagrid. I was just curious. I suppose it just makes me feel closer to them when I learn more about them…" Harry pulled on the lonely face. "Well, thank you Hagrid. The biscuits were great by the way…"

"Next time I can make you some cake, I don't think you have tried that. Well, ye had best be getting back to your dorm now, Harry. Come round whenever ye want, okay?"

"Sure Hagrid. Thanks." Harry left, the wheels spinning wildly in his head. He made a detour to the library and wrote a quick letter to Narcissa, asking about James's best friends, who had the last name of Black.

Harry returned to his dormitory, practiced Occlumency with his friends, and then went out to the Shrieking Shack. He wasn't really putting his full mind into his work today.

Hmm… so something unpleasant happened with James and his friends. Hagrid has been forbidden to talk about it… just like he is forbidden to talk about the Halloween night, and the Philosopher's Stone. Even if there was no connection between his parents' friends and the attack, there was definitely some sort of mystery revolving around his father's friends and this Black, and if Dumbledore didn't want Harry to know about it, then naturally Harry meant to find out everything that he could, as soon as possible.

"Harry, hello, we were working on the Cone of Cold Charm…" Draco said irritably.

"Right… okay, thrust wand forward… Orbis Gelu. " Harry said. A few snowflakes exited his wand in a small cone. "Okay, so essentially this spell shoots out frosty wind and small bits of ice in a cone. Again, the size and intensity of the cone depends on the power put into the spell…"

"Orbis Gelu! " Draco shouted, pointing his wand at Harry. A cold breeze went over Harry, but passed momentarily.

Harry spat out a snowflake. "Well, that would be useful in a duel. Let me try again… Orbis Gelu!" Harry held his wand a few feet away from Draco, and an icy mist shot out slowly. Harry channeled more energy into the spell, concentrating on continuing the stream of snowflakes, and shooting them faster.

Draco cursed and cast a Warming Charm upon himself. "Damn it, Harry, that was freezing! Still, if I wasn't right next to you, I wouldn't have been in the cone… I don't really see the purpose of this spell."

"If done properly and with enough power, the cone can be cold enough to freeze muscles and make your opponents numb. It can also reduce their visibility. The real reason we're learning it is so that we get practice with ice-based spells, so that we are eventually able to learn harder ones," Harry replied, basically putting the book into his own words. He had read The Darker Side of Magic more than once or twice…

"Hmm. It doesn't really seem like dark magic… I mean, it can be used to cool someone down on a hot day," Draco said.

"It can also kill someone… and anything that can potentially kill someone is 'Dark Magic'" Harry said with a sneer. "Anyway, we have to learn it so that we can move on… let's do it at the same time at that wall."

They repetitively cast the spell onto the wall, until it was coated in a layer of frost. Harry sighed; knowing that one spell should have been able to coat the wall in frost, not five minutes worth of casting it. He knew this book was meant for those who had already finished their Hogwarts education, but he couldn't help but feel discouraged by the fact that he was making slower progress through this book than he had made through his other school books. Logically thinking, he shouldn't be frustrated, but he couldn't help but wish he was better… more powerful…

Soon they went back to their dorms, casting a charm behind them that would make sure they didn't leave footprints in the snow.

Harry was inside on the cold Saturday, warming up from a long Quidditch practice. Just as he was heading to the dungeons, he got a bright idea. Hagrid, along with a few others, had commented on the fact that his father was always causing trouble. When Hagrid let his guard down momentarily, he had mentioned that his father and Black used to 'give the teachers hell'. Harry knew from experience that Filch documented and archived every punishment and misdeed that he knew about and kept them in his office. His father would without doubt be recorded in there, along with his friends, allowing Harry to see who would get in trouble with his father. That was the way to find out who was the closest to his father; Harry got on well with most of the Slytherins, but his best friend was the one he schemed with and got into trouble with.

He didn't like how everyone ranted on about how wonderful his parents were. It was clearest in Hagrid; the massive man obviously picked and chose which people he would tell Harry about, most likely a result of Dumbledore wanting Harry to think that his father only hung around with Gryffindor saints. Harry wanted to know the truth; he wanted to know anything that Dumbledore didn't want him to know. He wanted to know their failings and faults. It seemed like there were some secrets revolving around his parents, that might or might not have a link to their deaths, and Harry meant to do some serious digging.

Okay, Vasuki, can you help me with a little side project? Harry asked.

I suppose… what do you need? Vasuki hissed.

I need you to pretend to be a small, pathetic garden snake-

That will not be happening, his familiar said.

Listen! At night, the cat will smell you and charge after you. You can lead it away. Filch will follow the cat, thinking you are a student. Just keep the cat and man busy chasing you around the castle for a few minutes. I need to raid his office.

The things I do for you…. Vasuki trailed off. I suppose I can.

If the cat gets too close, paralyze her and slither into a crack in the wall. Don't risk your life of anything…

You think the great Vasuki would be caught by that pathetic cat? You wound me…

Thanks, I owe you one. I will only need a few minutes, I want to search for any records of my father. Harry ended his mental conversation with his familiar, thinking about how differently things would have turned out if he hadn't bumped into a certain European Asp Viper all those years ago.

I can see it right now, Vasuki said with a mental snicker. The great Gryffindor Harry Potter… best friend of Ron Weasley and grandson of the wrinkled one.

At least I wouldn't have to put up with your bloody annoying comments, Harry muttered.

Harry told Draco where he was going, but he didn't explain the part about hoping to find out his parents' secrets. He probably would tell Draco at some point, but right now, for some reason, he just wanted to keep it to himself.

He cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself and watched. Vasuki, appearing as a two-foot, green garden snake, slither about ten feet away from Filch's cat. The cat sniffed, took one look at the snake, and gave chase. A garden snake would not have been able to outrun a cat, but Vasuki changed his muscles under his green scales, allowing him to rapidly slither down the hall.

Filch heard the noise and was out of his room quickly. With a yell, he followed his cat wildly. Harry quickly stepped into the man's office and went straight to a filing cabinet next to the wall. Filch was very organised, so it didn't take Harry long to locate the years of his parents. James Potter. Harry grabbed all of the papers inside of that folder and filled the folder with blank paper. He didn't think anyone would check his father's file anytime soon…

He was carrying a rather large load of papers in his hand. Apparently his father had been a menace. Harry began to leaf through the papers, but Vasuki hissed a warning.

I have lost them, but they are on their way back. Leave now!

Okay. Harry ran out of the room and cast the same 'notice-me-not' charms on himself. He walked past the ruffled, angry Filch, and continued to the dungeons, a ream of paper clutched to his chest.

After he was back in the Slytherin dungeons, he laid the stack of papers down and, with a burning curiosity, he began to read through James Potter's years of pranks and misdeeds.

A/N: That was chapter five, please review.

No Hermione or Ron in this chapter, but they aren't out of the picture yet. Harry is the main focus, and there is no reason to switch to their perspectives in each chapter, but that doesn't mean they aren't there in the background.

Any questions, comments, concerns… I'll be happy to address them.