Summary: In Which a man doesn't hear a prophesy, another man does and makes slightly different plans, a family take hate one step to far, a boy doesn't talk, and another man gives an ironic name. These beget events that change how some events might have gone and how one boy in particular is going to become. SLASH (way later), AU, Bidding his time Voldie, OCC.

Authors note: someone mentioned to me in a message that the previous chapter came off a bit preachy and that I may have been offensive in mentioning religion in it. I was making reference to a section from one of Nietzsche's works, mainly because I was also studying for a class at the time that had him, so it kind of bled through.

No offense was meant to be made, and if I have, I apologize.

Again, no offense intended.

A/n: this chap will be more along the lines of snapshots of moments with large time jumps between winter term of his first year and the fall term of his second year. It may be like this for a few chappies as I age Harry to where I want him for more lingering plot.

Chapter 6: Simon Says Take a Picture

It was a chilly Christmas morning when the Weasley twins trooped down into the Gryffindor common room, wearing the navy sweaters with the first letters of their names stitched in gold on the front. They could see their little brother, Ron, in his maroon sweater feeding Scabbers some of his Every Flavour Beans, and Percy was reading a new book entitled "Rise and Fall of the Ministers of Magic, What to Avoid." The Twins grimaced at the tittle, rolling their eyes simultaneously and retreated to their usual corner, taking advantage of the nearly empty common room to plot pranks for the coming term.

Sneakily, George pulled out a worn looking bit of parchment and with a whispered breath, intoned "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The twin's perused the inked lines that appeared, revealing a rather secret and very extraordinary map.

The twins were currently perusing the map, planning a spot of set up and retreat pranking, when Fred happened to notice something odd.

"I say, Gred ol' bean, what do you make of that?"

George's attention was drawn to a dot with a name that the twins vaguely remembered from the opening feast, some Slytherin firstie that had caused some minor kerfuffle in the beginning of term.

George examined the dot with the name of 'Simon Says' intently for a moment, then got up from his seat beside his twin, and walked towards a large window on the left hand side of the fire place.

He unlatched the window and stuck his head out.

There perched on a ledge about a few feet from said window was a boy in Slytherin robes, writing into a muggle notebook, who appeared to be observing a nest of winter crows, a magical cousin of the mundane version, though these were created and bred by some old student centuries ago, a hardy variety that thrived in the harshest of climates and was pure white instead of black. They were also rather mean tempered and had been known to rip the eyes out of unsuspecting individuals that got to close to their nests, the twins older brother Charlie had been unfortunate enough to have them for a project for Care of Magical Creatures, regaling the fascinated twins with his horror stories.

George observed that the boy, much like Charlie had been, was positioned rather hazardly as well. The bird, who was reclining in its nest, was hissing at the boy in warning, feathers fluffed in clear agitation.

"Oi, you know that's not cotton on? Messing outside a bloke's common room that's not your own?" George said conversationally.

The boy paused in his writing, turning a brief flash of green eyes through wild black hair for a moment onto the interloper, before grunting and returning back to his observations. The bird, its attention diverted by George, whose head happened to be, even more unfortunately, closer to the nest, and who was talking, the noise agitating the bird more as opposed to Simon, who was quieter, decided to vent its aggressiveness on the hapless Gryffindor who dived out of the way in fright, disappearing back inside with a raucously cawing bird following him.

After the boys in the common room dealt with the bird, which involved ducking out of its way, as Snow Crows were well known to be spell resistant, and having their summoned head of house, still in her dressing gown deal with the bird by casting a magical sphere around the bird and gently guiding it back outside and closing the window, the boy that had instigated everything had already disappeared, and the crow found itself two of its four eggs short.

Ooo ooo ooo

By the time the year was drawing to a close, Professor Severus Snape had to, no less than 3 times, find and drag his wayward Slytherin, Mr. Says, from the most random and oddest of places such as out of a bush behind the Hufflepuff Quiddich changing rooms, the roof of Hagrid's hut, and the rafters of the Hospital Wing, unbeknownst to a rather startled Poppy. Said boy had been frog marched sullenly to his end exams and then, just to be sure, Severus had marched him there for his last one in Astronomy.

By the time that exams were done and over with, Severus was relieved that he would have a summer off to relax and work on his potions, maybe take a holiday to Cuba and collect rare tropical ingredients while sipping pina colada's and apple martini's outside a little vacation hut...

Yes, that sounded good.

Severus cared very much about his Slytherins, despite his attitude towards dunderheads in general, and being an epitome Slytherin himself, he felt that he understood his snakes quite well. This is perhaps why the rather eccentric seeming Mr. Says perplexed him so.

He had lost count of the number of times the boy had been late to his classes or not shown up at all, or the times that he did, appeared to be uninterested in his assignments and would often be reading other material, writing in those ever present notebooks of his, or distracted by something in the class room, or outside a window, as he had been told of about one memorable history class involving a creeping Snorkle-fin that was oozing its way up the window towards the Owlery, originating from the Black lake, and obviously looking for an easy meal.

The fact that the boy had caught it and proceeded to dissect the venomous slug had further aggravated the issue. It was a miracle that Says had killed it so quickly with Ms. Parkinson's favorite silver hair clip, as it had saved the surrounding children holes burned through their flesh. Only Filch hearing the screams from the boy's classmates kept the boy from getting to far and unknowingly puncturing one of the venom sacks, which tended to explode.

McGonagall in particular was not fond of the boy, despite her usual tolerance for children, in her own fashion.

This might have something to do with Says capturing Minerva in a net one weekend around Easter as she strolled around the grounds in her animagus form.

3 days of searching finally found the woman, still in cat form, being held in some sort of pen in the dungeons, unable to transform due to some old lingering enchantments on the room that nullified magical transformations.

McGonagall, recovering in the hospital wing, had informed Albus and Severus that Says had not been malicious, but merely curious seeming, and had tried to tempt her with various odd foods and what looked like crude animal intelligence gauging games, writing in his notebooks.

That had led to a stern discussion and subsequent month long detention for his actions, though the fact that the boy didn't appear to be aware that he had grabbed an animagus and not an ordinary feline, was what saved him from a harsher sentence. At least, that's what the Headmaster surmised of the incident, Severus had his reservations.

Though he did his detentions, and had refrained from kidnapping anymore unsuspecting animals (that he knew of) the glint that had been in the boys eye when he broached the topic, was somewhat worrisome, and had it had not relieved Severus when McGonagall claimed during teacher's meetings that the boy had begun following her whenever she left her rooms every Saturday. She could never prove it though, only saying that she sometimes caught the briefest of sightings, and it was eventually dismissed as nerves when it all seemed to stop a few weeks later.

Severus heavily suspected otherwise.

Yes, he was glad that the boy was going to be the muggles problem for a few months.

Ooo ooo ooo

Simon, as some might believe, was not at all upset at returning to the hum drum non-magical muggle world.

In fact, he was rather enjoying days that he could freely wander and learn without his head of house pulling him away from his valuable knowledge gathering.

Granted being able to experiment with his magic was put on the back burner for the summers, but that didn't stop him from practicing potions, reading books he had acquired while at Hogwarts, usually from a inattentive Ravenclaw's personal stash, and catching up on his non-magical studies, something he felt would be imprudent to abandon given the backwards nature of the Wizarding World compared to the technological advantages and somewhat more forward thinking minds that were not as quite as encumbered by things like blood status, gender, or species.

Simon also made a habit of visiting the Wizarding World through the Leaky Cauldron, studying, observing (or spying really) and acquiring (paying and not paying) this and that to his heart's content.

Yes, his Summer was full and full of things to learn and leading him one step closer to fulfilling his goal.

Ooo ooo ooo

Professor Snape, looking surprisingly tanned and smelling strongly of pinapple (quipped by the annoyance that was a sherry soused Treleway in one of her rare wanderings out of her tower), glumly went to fulfil his duty by his most difficult snake, and taking him out shopping for his new things for school.

He grimaced thoughtfully down at the messy haired trouble maker that he had acquired from the stoop of the same orphanage he had visited last year. The boy, as usual, didn't appear to be overly attentive to him, irksome as it was, but he had thought long and hard about how to deal with the child after he got back from his vacation.

Unlike last year, where the man mainly snapped and sneered, Simon was somewhat startled into paying attention from his usual wandering gaze when the man, contrary to his character profile that Simon had already written and stowed away somewhere, cleared his throat and asked randomly:

"Have you ever heard of William Shakespeare?"

He had asked the question while the two had been seated at a booth at the Leaky Cauldron, getting an early lunch.

Simon nodded his head, his attention fixed on his professor curiously. From all his observations, Severus Snape did not strike him as a chit chat sort.

"Do you have a favorite?"

Simon cocked his head. He had to admit, this was the first time any of his professors, once they became aware of his lack of speaking and his general air of disinterest in communicating in any form outside of his assignments, usually never asked him questions outside of a yes or no context.

For a moment, he debated, but then shrugged and turned his half-filled notebook to a fresh page and wrote down.

I rather enjoy a fair few of them, but I am partial to Caesar, Macbeth, and Much Ado About Nothing.

"Sound choices," the potion master nodded agreeably, "what is the first line from his writings that occurs to you when you think of Shakespeare?"

Simon cocked his head again, this time in thought before his pen began to fly.

"Blood and destruction shall be so in use
And dreadful objects so familiar
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial."- quote, Anthony, Ceaser.

Severus' eyebrows rose at the choice, but otherwise remained unmoved and asked:

"Do you understand what it means when Anthony says cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war?"

The boy barley seemed to need to ponder for a moment before his pen flew again and he passed his notebook back to Severus.

The military order "Havoc!" was a signal given to the English military forces in the Middle Ages to direct the soldiery (in Shakespeare's parlance 'the dogs of war') to pillage and chaos. (1)

"Correct," Severus nodded before turning to his tomato soup that had appeared, discussion dropped.

Simon frowned thoughtfully as he reached for the blue cheese shaker and tucked into his own soup and considered the odd event. He could think of no reason that Professor Snape would want to engage in a brief discussion of Shakespeare out of the blue. He was sure he hadn't been reading any at Hogwarts or when he first met the professor, and the man, as stated earlier, didn't seem the type to engage in frivolous conversations.

Eventually though, when they were in the Apothecary and Simon had all but forgotten the odd occurrence, his Professor gestured him forward and pointed down at a small open barrel where a selection of Pickled sheep's stomachs were awaiting purchase (3 sickles a stomach).

"Tell me Mr. Says," he asked idly, "what is the primary use of sheep stomach in the muggle world?"

Simon stared up at the man, frowning. Was this some sort of potion related quiz?

But he eventually reached for a pen in his hair and wrote:

It's used for Haggis which is a savoury pudding containing sheep's pluck (heart, liver and lungs); minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally encased in the animal's stomach and simmered for approximately three hours (2).

He knew this from a cook book he had found in the orphanage once when he was 7.

"Very good," the professor said off handed, turning away from the sheep's stomach and went to haggle with the propitier behind the counter while Simon finished gathering his second year potions kit, and a few extra things he bought for his own personal reasons which the professor didn't make comment on.

During the walk back to the orphanage after being dropped off a block away by the Knight bus, Snape handed him a package wrapped in plain brown paper.

"Open it when you have returned and I am gone," the man said brusquely.

Simon, curious by the slightly bulky block shaped package, shrugged and nodded.

When he was safely in his room, his fellow orphans, already downstairs waiting for supper, Simon sat on his bed and opened the package and blinked in surprised astonishment when he beheld a bright silver box proclaiming:

Winkle's Fine Magical Camera for all Situations!

Sure enough, inside was a magical camera. It looked similar to a regular muggle camera, except that the lens was less protrubent and it was a metallic, nearly scaly looking, purple color.

According to the directions all he had to do was point it at the subject at whatever distance and it would focus depending on the photographers own desires. Simon, after further examination, determined that to mean that the user had to have a firm idea of how they wanted the picture to be in their own mind. This perhaps explained why three drops of blood appeared to be necessarily applied at least twice a month, it formed some sort of primitive magical connection to the thoughts of a user.

That little bit made him raise his eye brows. From what he had read, blood magic was for the most part illegal. It was only allowed from outside sources like the goblins, which used it for bank business, and blood wards.

After some hunting, Simon found the manufacturers address, confirming that the camera was not only high end, but also bought from outside the country. That explained it then. Magical Taiwan must be one of those places that allowed the practice of Blood magic. Simon made a mental note to look further into foreign policies on certain magical practices.

In the meanwhile, the rest of the camera's functions were relatively simple. There was a small red button that when pressed switched it back and forth from muggle style photography to Wizarding photography, which Simon thought was useful since he thought that moving pictures can be distracting from time to time.

Further, when it came to development, all he had to do was set a switch to one of the various methods of storing the picture data, for example a roll of film for the muggle pictures and an odd, puck shaped black stone about the size of a gallion both of which were prearranged by being fed into the camera by the owner through an odd appearing and disappearing mouth in the right side of the camera that actually belched after Simon had fed it a few of the storage devices. After that, the development was in Simon's hands.

Simon set the camera aside (preloaded with muggle repelling charms, so he didn't have to worry about the other children taking it) and considered the next concern after the device had been thoroughly examined.

Simon can honestly say that he had never received a gift before.

He had not engendered himself to anyone enough; and he never really cared to. The only one who had engaged him outside of necessary communications was Professor Snape, and while the man had acted a little odd during the supply trip, he would certainly not be the type to give one of his students an expensive magical camera. In fact, he highly doubted that Snape engaged in much gift giving with adults either. So why give him this camera? There had to be a greater motivation then a sentiment that he was sure the man did not have in the first place.

Eventually, he pushed the mystery of the source of the camera aside and set about familiarizing himself with it. There were, after all, many things that this would be useful for.

Ooo ooo ooo

That year, Simon decided to take the knight bus to the train station again.

This time, he had his camera ready, and took pictures whenever the bus did something that seemed to defy the space time continuum. It would be worth the uncomfortable ride if he could figure out the mechanics behind its travels.

He also took the time to draw a sample of his blood and adrenaline induced sweat, slipping them into special vials he'd obtained from an apothecary for those purposes to examine under a microscope at a later convenience to see if he could deduce any sort of changes from earlier or later samples he always had on hand for these purposes.

He had also requested, by a bit of notebook paper to the conductor, a fellow by the name of Shunpike, and the driver, by the name of Earl (much like Cher) and nothing more for a sample of their own blood.

After all, there might be greater evidence of side effects to the magical travel in those who worked day in and day out in the continual magical displacement travel environments.

They had refused him, Stan pointing out further that it was a rather ghoulish and rude thing to ask, and in revenge, Stan snapped "no hot chocolate for you!" sending him to the very back of the bus (3).

Ah well, he would just have to content himself with his own samples and the old foggy eyed witch that had miraculously fallen asleep throughout the journey, making her a viable and unwary, sample source.

Ooo ooo ooo

The train ride was uneventful, though this time he was content in his own area as he had used his magic to will the doors to stay closed, something he had been working on when he had been spying on a Defence against the Dark Arts class of fourth years who were studying Shielding spells. He remained unbothered by his classmates, and contented himself with reviewing the notes he had taken that day, adding side notes and underlines on this and that, before setting it aside and pulling out a book he had acquired from a shady looking second hand store in the nether regions of Knockturn Alley that made references to various illegal potions combined with rituals that did some sort of permanent human transfiguration, a rather intriguing concept, and pulling out his trusty mechanical pencil and yellow highlighter.

Thus another year begins.

Ooo ooo ooo

A/n: (1) Explanation taken from Wikipdia, (2) Explanation taken from Wikipedia, and (3) nod to the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld.