Harry's eyes shot open as a searing pain shot through his scar, and he cried out, eyes shit and hand clasped to his forehead right over that scar.
"Quiet, you loathsome brat!" Quirrell snarled, Harry hissed when pure, unadulterated pain coursed through his head, making him tear up. Quirrell stared in disdain.
"You are truly worthless, Quirinus. This boy managed to sneak up on you and you didn't even know. It is due to me that you were not cursed," a menacing whisper echoed around the chamber, and Harry looked up to see Quirrell glaring down at him.
"My apologies, master. I had no idea there was someone. It speaks of your magnificence that you managed to see what I am certain no one else could," Quirrell replied in a fanatical tone, and Harry tried with all his might to stave off the pain in his scar. He looked around for those crimson eyes that had been glaring at him with utter loathing a few moments ago and stared at the turban Quirrell was wearing.
It was inside that turban. He was sure it was.
"Cease with your simpering, you fool, and get me that stone," the same voice echoed around the chamber once again.
"At once, master, at once," Quirrell whispered and stood up. Harry saw him walk over to the mirror and winced as he stared at the turban wrapped around the back of his head.
"I see myself holding the stone, master. I see myself bowing to my knees and presenting the stone to you. But I… I cannot seem to hold the stone in reality," Quirrell said forlornly staring at the mirror.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Harry asked in the end, glaring at the man who abruptly turned around to glare at him.
"I thought I asked you to shut your trap, brat! Do you want to get cursed so much?"
Harry ignored him. "Who are you talking to? It's that red-eyed freak, isn't it? Where is it?"
"Silence!" Quirrell thundered. "How dare you call my master a f-f- a freak!? I'll kill you where you stand!"
"Shut up, you fool," the whisper echoed around, and Harry keenly stared at the turban around Quirrell's head. "It seems our dear guest here wants to meet me. It would be terribly rude of me to deny his wishes. Go ahead, Quirinus."
"But m-master…"
"Do it!" The voice seethed, and Quirrell grimaced before slowly unwrapping the turban from around his head. Harry watched in fascination as Quirrell fully unwrapped the turban before dropping it to the floor, and his eyes widened when the man turned around.
"Harry Potter," the voice rasped. "We meet again."
Harry stared at the deformed face at the back of Quirrell's head with the same crimson eyes glaring at him.
"Who are you?"
He saw the creature chuckle in mirth, before glaring at him again.
"How impolite of you, dear Harry, to not recognize me. Me! The one who you reduced to this state all those years ago."
Harry's eyes shot open.
"Voldemort," he whispered.
"Attaboy, Harry!" The creature crowed. "See what you've reduced me to? A parasite… having to cling on to someone else to sustain myself… having to resort to feasting on Unicorn Blood. Alas, it helps not as much as I would like."
Harry's eyes narrowed into slits. This was the creature that had taken his parents from him, destroyed his life, and taken all the happiness away from him. This creature was responsible for the shitty life he had to endure until he came to Hogwarts. And it was somehow alive.
"Oh, I sense your rage, boy," the creature mocked. "And I would hate for you to ruin this much anticipated reunion with some foolishness."
Suddenly, Harry found his feet stuck to the floor, and try as he might, he couldn't move. He glared at the deformed face that seemed to be smirking.
"Now we can talk. And believe me, there is much we need to talk about."
"You killed my parents," Harry seethed. The creature sighed in mock sorrow.
"And a waste of valuable magical blood it was. Truly a needless and annoying affair. Alas, I had no choice."
"There is always a choice," Harry snarled.
"Oh? I suppose I agree with you," it rasped. "Take your parents for example. I gave them the choice of standing aside and letting me kill you, but they chose to stand in my way instead. You also made a choice when you dealt with those kids. Truly ingenious, I must admit," the creature smirked at Harry's widened eyes. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harry. I can see everything. Your Occlumency, although commendable, is nothing to me. I can dig up your deepest, darkest secrets if I wish to. However, I have neither the time nor the inclination to do it right now. Something else needs my attention. Quirinus, move."
Harry stared at the face as Quirrell obediently took a step to the side.
"Come Harry, stand here, and tell me what you see in the mirror," the creature instructed, and Harry found he could move his legs again. He stared at Voldemort with a fierce glare.
"Suck my dick, Voldemort," Harry snarled.
"You dare!"
Suddenly, Quirrell whirled around and Harry felt pain beyond anything he had ever experienced course through him. He dropped to the floor, writhing as his body curled up. Each nerve felt as if it was on fire. His bones felt alight, and he was sure his head was splitting along with his accursed scar. All he wanted was for it to end… or to black out… perhaps even die. Anything was better than enduring this unimaginable agony.
"That is enough, Quirinus," Voldemort instructed, and Quirrell ceased the Cruciatus, watching in disdain as the brat twitched on the floor. "Drag him over here and make him look in the mirror."
Quirrell flicked his wand and Harry was roughly dragged over the floor until he was lying prone, face down in front of the mirror. Another flick pushed his face up, his spine arched back as he looked into the mirror with bloodshot eyes.
The face reflected in the mirror was undoubtedly his. However, the man exuded power and confidence severely lacking in his current self. It was easy to recognize that it was the older him.
There were three indiscernible shadows that looked like women standing by his older self – two on his either side and one against his front, and he saw their arms over his chest as they leaned against him. The expression on his older self's face was that of determination and absolute resolve, as though nothing could cause him any harm. He looked happy and powerful.
"Beyond pathetic," the creature hissed mockingly. "Appealing looks and women. As expected of a hormonal teenager. Forget him and look for a way to extract the stone from the mirror, Quirinus."
Quirrell sneered at him and flicked his wand, dropping him back to the floor before turning toward the mirror and waving his wand around it.
"Take care not to destroy the mirror, fool," Harry heard Voldemort hiss as he lay there, shaking as the aftereffects of the Cruciatus coursed through him. He had brought numerous healing potions with him; however, he had never thought he would be subjected to an Unforgivable Curse.
The truth dawned on him, and he accepted it resignedly. He had massively overestimated himself, letting his quick progress in academics get to his head. In reality, he was nothing. His Occlumency which he had devoted so much time and effort to had been for nothing as Voldemort bypassed his barrier as if it was entirely nonexistent.
Simply because of his overconfidence in himself, not to mention his greed to obtain whatever treasure there was, he would die now. This creature would finish the task it had started all those years ago. His parents were already dead, and soon, he would meet the same fate.
"Aaarrrggghhhh!" Quirrell's shout made him shakingly look up, and he saw the man clutching his face in aggravation. "Nothing's working, master! I've tried everything, but nothing's working!"
Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed. A full-bellied honest-to-good laugh that seemed to come from his very soul.
Voldemort and Quirrell turned as one, looking sideways, and all four eyes glared at him menacingly as Harry continued to laugh.
"You find this funny, Potter?" Quirrell snarled. Harry continued to laugh as he looked at the man. He couldn't care less. He knew he was going to die soon. What did he have to lose?
"I…," he coughed harshly as he raised his head as high as he could and smirked up at them. "I do. I truly do. You want this stone, huh? I bet it's important to you, Voldemort! But you will never get it. You hear me? Never!"
Suddenly, a sharp pain coursed through his cheek as Quirrell backhanded him in rage. Harry felt his lip split open and his mouth pool with blood. However, he was beyond caring. He didn't want to feel that pain anymore. If aggravating them could make it quick, he would do everything to aggravate them as much as he could.
"Is that all you got, you slave?" Harry shouted with a laugh. "You hit like a baby, Quirrell. At least try!"
There was no reply as Harry stared at the floor with blood dripping out of his mouth, and he slowly turned his head upwards. His eyes widened as he took in the sight.
Quirrell was staring at his hand, or at least what was left of it. The hand which he had struck him with had rotten away, withering into dust, and he saw the rot slowly creeping up his arm.
"What?" Harry muttered to himself as Quirrell looked at him in horror. Suddenly, Voldemort's maniacal shout echoed around the chamber.
"Kill him!"
Quirrell ceased his useless efforts to keep the withering at bay as he glared at the boy and raised his wand, the tip glowing an angry green. There was nothing Harry could do. He was utterly spent, powerless to do anything against this monster. Harry's eyes closed in silent acceptance of his fate.
A little dark-haired boy was writhing on the floor, sobbing quietly as a woman towered over him with a snarl.
"You dare threaten and hurt other kids, boy! You dare use that unnaturalness on decent people! I will beat it out of you!"
The boy cried out every time the cane hit him on the back. He had no idea why she was so mad at him. It was he who should be angry with her. She had filled those people's ears with lies. He was not a terrible child! He was a good boy who never did anything to anyone! They always bullied him, and then acted as if he had hurt them! They were evil. Those boys and this woman, not him.
He cried out again and again, and his rage mounted with every second that passed.
Another cry tore its way out of his throat as the cane hit him on the back, and he faintly heard the rough clanking of wood as one half of the cane broke off and fell to the floor.
"You are a worthless monster," the woman snarled. "And this is how you should remain. Always submissively taking the beating until you die like this, with your head bowed low and your body aching in pain."
The boy heard it all, his rage intensifying until he felt something break inside him. With eyes full of hatred, he glared at the woman who was holding the broken pieces of that cane in either hand. Suddenly, her eyes glazed over and he saw her walk over to the edge of the stairs before jumping off, face down. A sick crunch was heard as the boy looked down tearfully, the realization of what he had done dawning on him.
Despite how sickening that realization was, even more powerful was his resolve to never let himself feel like that ever again. He would never bow down, never accept anyone's torment, and when he died, he would die with his head held high, greeting death like an old friend.
Quirrell brandished his wand and pointed it at the prone boy with his non-dominant hand, the first syllable of the killing curse on his lips. However, his eyes widened when the boy's eyes shot open and he suddenly flicked his wand. Quirrell's legs gave away as Harry cast a cutting curse right at his kneecaps, cleaving through flesh and bones.
"Aaaaaahhhhhhh!" Quirrell's cries of agony echoed around the chamber, and Harry felt oddly cathartic as he slowly stood up on shaking legs and stared at the man in defiance.
"Never again," he snarled and cast a point-black blasting curse at the man. However, Voldemort took over the man's body once again and quickly erected a golden shield. Harry's eyes widened and he flung himself to the side with all the effort he could muster as the curse collided with the ceiling and fizzed away.
Quickly, Harry looked over at Quirrell and his eyes widened when he saw the crimson eyes staring at him. He watched in shock as Quirrell – no, Voldemort – flicked his wand and the legs reattached themselves to Quirrell's body almost as if they had never been cut off. The curse, or whatever it was that had taken care of his right hand was still slowly creeping upward, and Harry saw the sleeve of his robe hanging loosely.
Panting, he got up and leveled his wand at the monster who seemed to stare at him calculatingly.
"Perhaps I did underestimate you," Voldemort's rasping voice came out of Quirrell's mouth. "You have potential, Harry Potter. Join me, and I will grant you power, riches, and yes, women. As much and as many as you could possibly want."
Harry glared at the monster with utter loathing. "I'd rather die a prideful death than become a servant to the maniac who took everything to me."
Voldemort sighed in disappointment. "Another needless waste of potent magical blood. Avada Kedavra!"
Harry's eyes widened as he saw the killing curse careening toward him, and he quickly threw himself to the side. He saw the monster's knees were shaking, and he realized Voldemort was not at his most powerful, and perhaps he could not keep this up for much longer. There was a reason why he was using Quirrell's body like this. He could not keep full control and simultaneously cast potent magic for prolonged intervals. That rotting curse must also be affecting him, Harry reasoned to himself.
Harry cast a succession of spells, from stunners to cutters and banishers, and Voldemort batted all of them aside before retaliating with a multitude of dark curses ranging from bone-breakers to blood-boiling and blasting curses. Harry either dodged or shielded against them all, and the spells that hit the walls fizzed away. He knew he was at his limit. The Cruciatus' aftereffect was slowly kicking in, and his nerves were hurting like hell. Still, he continued, hoping that Voldemort would not be able to keep this up much longer.
His hope was rewarded when Quirrell's body dropped to its knees, shivering uncontrollably before the crimson eyes reverted to black.
"Get him, Quirinus!" Voldemort's raspy voice sounded out, and Quirrell quickly gained control of his body and raised his wand. However, now, Harry was ready and he immediately disarmed the man, who stared in abject shock as his wand clattered to the floor. A weak blasting hex took care of it.
"And now it ends," Harry whispered, and Quirrell turned to look at the young wizard staring at him with a fierce glare on his bloodied face.
"P-Potter… wait… perhaps we can t-talk…"
Harry ignored the man as he stepped forward and grabbed him by the neck. The man's cries of sheer agony echoed around as the curse took hold once again, and his body withered away until nothing but dust remained. Harry looked at the remains in disdain before turning to look at the mirror which had somehow managed to remain intact. He stepped in front of it, staring at the approving face of his older self who now had his arms wrapped around the two silhouetted women's waists while the third draped herself over his front. Nothing about them was discernible, apart from their heights and their beautiful curves. Harry shook his head.
"I hate treasures now."
A low growl from behind him made him turn around abruptly, and his eyes widened when he saw a dark wraith with the face of Voldemort rise from Quirrell's remains. The face turned to look at him with a malicious glare before it shot toward him at a rapid pace. Harry could barely raise a shield in time as the wraith collided with it, ricocheting off before it phased through the wall on the opposite side.
Breathing heavily, Harry stared at the spot on the wall where the wraith had phased through before staring at Quirrell's remains and sighed harshly. He fished out his bottomless bag from his pocket and chugged down as many pain-relief potions as he could. The pain from the Cruciatus ebbed away, but only slightly.
"I need sleep, and I need rest. Lots of it," he muttered to himself as he flicked his wand and cleared off Quirrell's remains before wearing his cloak and walking out of the chamber, leaving it pristine, almost as if no one had ever been there.
-Break-
His body was still in considerable pain when Harry woke up the next morning in his bed in Ravenclaw Tower, and it was a blessing that it was a Sunday and classes were off. He didn't know how he would've managed to attend otherwise. As such, he downed another few vials of pain-relief potions and allowed himself to go back to sleep.
It was late evening when he woke up again, still aching, but at least it was bearable. Harry cursed the Cruciatus once again, and he knew he never wanted to feel that kind of pain.
"Oh, you're awake," the voice of Terry Boot sounded from near the bathroom door, and Harry nodded at the boy who gave him a small smile.
"I think this is the first time I've ever seen you relaxing like this. Must be tough, studying so further ahead, right?"
Harry nodded. "Felt like sleeping today."
"Hey, I perfectly understand. Everyone deserves an off day," the boy chuckled. Harry slowly got up and winced as a little jolt of pain coursed through him. It seemed he still was not back to a hundred percent.
"Something wrong?"
Harry shook his head and smiled at Boot. "Must've twisted something in my sleep. It'll go away soon."
The boy nodded and walked out of the dormitory. Harry sighed and quickly grabbed another few vials of pain-relief potions and chugged them down, feeling relieved when the pain receded further. He hoped he would recover completely before classes started the next day.
Sighing, he walked to the bathroom and relieved himself before he cast a mouth-cleaning charm. Stripping, he walked under the shower and touched the rune, breathing softly when the cold water touched his sore skin.
Eyes closed, Harry couldn't help but relive the entire event, and he failed to stop the shudder that coursed through him. He had been made to feel like an utter loser, and the thought of it made him seethe. No matter how advanced he might have been compared to the regular Hogwarts student, it did not matter to him. His challenge was to go toe to toe with someone who had decades of magical knowledge and experience over him, and Harry had gotten a rough reminder that the madman was still alive and biding his time. He did not have a body yet, but Harry was under no delusion that it was only a matter of time before he acquired one.
His mind recalled the words Voldemort had spoken to him. The maniac had said that he had given his parents the choice to stand aside so that he could kill him, but his parents had stood steadfast to protect him. It meant his parents were never the target. Ollivander had been wrong then. Voldemort had not come for his family because his parents were fighting against him. He came specifically to kill him, a one-year-old child.
Why though? What could a little child do to him? Harry had no answer to that question.
He also remembered how easily Voldemort had thwarted him at every possible step, and even though he had been incapable of fighting and maintaining control simultaneously, he had kept the upper hand throughout their fight. His Occlumency had been worthless in front of him as well.
Sighing, Harry admitted that he had a very long way to go before he could even imagine taking a stand against that monster whenever he returned. He was progressing, but he would need to strive even harder than before if he wanted to truly succeed in accomplishing his desire.
His desire… It had taken a backseat after the ordeal he had been through. A beatdown so exhaustive had given him a different perspective. He wanted to be the greatest there ever was. However, instead of setting goals that were borderline impossible to accomplish, he needed to focus on what was necessary for the short term and overcome those obstacles. He could not lose sight of what was necessary for his pursuit of greatness. There would be no goal to accomplish if he was not alive, after all.
Voldemort was alive, and he knew he would be coming for him once he got his body back. Time was against him, and he would need to do everything in his power to get ready so that he could put an end to this maniac and the reign of terror that was sure to follow his return. The monster had long been thought dead, but he had somehow survived. Harry did not know how, but he intended to find out.
He remembered how he had felt after being hit with that Cruciatus. The memory of his childhood was still fresh in his mind. He might have overcome that feeling of helplessness, fear, and vulnerability, but he could not deny that he had admitted defeat. He had accepted death, and he had wished for the madman to make it quick.
"Never again," he whispered to himself firmly as he wiped the water off his face. This maniac killed his parents and destroyed the happy life he could have had. There would be no mercy when he confronted him next time.
"Never again," he repeated fiercely. He would become strong enough to defeat Voldemort, and he would ensure that when it was him standing tall over his fallen nemesis, it would be Voldemort who would be begging for a quick death.
"Never again," he snarled, glaring at the wall. There were dark times ahead, but he would emerge the victor. There was no other acceptable outcome.
"Never again."
-Break-
Having opted to have dinner in the confines of his room, Harry had spent the entire day away from the Hogwarts populace, and that included his Hufflepuff friends as well. Thus, he was not surprised when they quickly accosted him the moment their eyes fell on him the next day at breakfast.
"Harry! Where were you? We didn't see you yesterday," Hannah asked inquisitively, and he saw Neville and Susan also looking expectantly. He smiled.
"Nothing. Just decided to sleep the day off."
Hannah's eyes bugged out. "You slept the whole day off!?"
Susan laughed at his nod. "Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?"
Harry chuckled as they sat down at the table and started eating. "I'm not some machine, you know? Even I need some time off."
"And that is how it should be, Potter. Hard work is good, but rest is equally important."
The quartet turned to look at the boy who had spoken, and Susan smiled.
"Hey Cedric! Harry, this is Cedric Diggory. He's a fourth-year in our house. Cedric, Harry Potter."
Harry shook the older boy's hand with a small smile.
"I've heard that you're well ahead of your peers," the older boy commented. Harry shrugged.
"Way to understate things," Hannah scoffed. "This one here can perform any spell better than you."
"Oh? Is that so, Miss Abbott? Then I'd love to find out."
Hannah nodded with a smug smile as she looked at Harry, who quickly shook his head.
"Oh no, I'm not being your entertainment for the day. No thanks."
"But…"
Cedric cut Hannah off. "Look, the headmaster wants to make an announcement."
They turned to look toward the podium and saw Dumbledore walk over and stare at them with his grandfatherly smile plastered on his face.
"Good Morning to all of you. I know this is sudden and unexpected, but there is an important announcement I would like to make. Professor Quirrell has decided to take a sabbatical starting today. As such, he has been relieved from his duties, and although he is not present here, please join me in thanking him for his service to Hogwarts."
Barely anyone clapped as students looked at each other in surprise. Dumbledore continued, "The Defense Against the Dark Arts classes will be taken over by Professor Snape until the term ends. That is all."
While a small contingent of students at the Slytherin table cheered at the announcement, more than half of the hall could not help but groan at the prospect of having another class with Snape. However, Harry could not help but feel slightly excited at the prospect.
"Merlin, another class with Snape?" Hannah whispered morosely.
"I think he would do good," Cedric interjected swiftly, smiling when they turned to look at him. "Almost every older student here knows that Snape has wanted to become the DADA professor for years. It is clearly something he is interested in, so I think he would be better than he is at teaching potions."
Neville and Susan nodded while Hannah sighed.
"Not to mention, anything would be an upgrade on Quirrell," Harry added. That did make the quartet chuckle.
-Break-
Albus Dumbledore sat contemplatively in his office, looking down at the stone on his table. The famed Philosopher's Stone, or at least, as close to a replica as it could be.
His plan to bring Tom's survival to light had been somehow thwarted. He had been sure that Tom would try to obtain the stone for himself, and he had asked Severus to keep an eye on Quirinus who had been a host to Tom for the past year.
However, what he had never expected was for Quirinus to suddenly run away from the castle.
He had been away for the ICW conference in Geneva, and Minerva informed him on his return that Quirinus had been missing for two days. Immediately, he had a bad feeling, and he ventured down the trapdoor. The sight had made his eyes widen.
The Devil's Snare had been burnt off; the Chess arena demolished. The troll had been decapitated, its carcass rotting which he promptly took care of. He had nothing to fear. The stone was not real. However, what he did feel sorry for was the fact that the work of an entire year had been for nothing.
The mirror had been intact, and Dumbledore quickly extracted the stone from inside it. There was nothing out of the ordinary he could see. The enchanted walls were as pristine as always, and the barriers were working as they were supposed to. Still, something felt off.
There had been an undercurrent of negative energy all around the chamber, and he assumed Tom had vented his frustrations at his inability to get past the Mirror of Erised before he had given up and left.
Yet, he had expected Tom to try again. Instead, Quirinus had run away from the castle. There was no other explanation apart from one, and he sighed as he thought about it. Tom could have killed Quirinus and escaped as well. However, there was no corpse to be found.
Dumbledore sighed, before waving his wand and getting rid of the replica. This was the first time Tom had tried to make his return, and he was sure it would not be the last. His thoughts inadvertently went to the boy who would one day play a key role in overcoming Tom.
Harry Potter was the best of the first years, and the boy had accomplished every test Filius and Minerva had set out for him. Even Severus, as per his instruction, had prepared separate tests for the boy in both Potions and Defense, both of which the boy had completed with expertise. He could not be prouder of how the boy had turned out. Already, Minerva had told him about her promise to guide him on his path to becoming an animagus – a challenging endeavor but something he was sure the boy would accomplish.
Alas, if his suspicions were right, his future was nonexistent unless certain conditions were met. He had seen the boy's scar react over the past year when in the vicinity of Quirinus, and his suspicions had solidified further. The boy did indeed house a part of Tom's soul, and he would have to die for Tom to truly perish. There was no other option.
He truly hoped that he could somehow do something so that the future he thought awaited the boy would never come to pass. Harry Potter was a once-in-a-lifetime wizard, and it would be a shame if his abilities were wasted. The boy deserved a happy and fulfilling life.
Sighing, he stared outside the window forlornly at the darkening sky before standing up. Dark times were ahead. However, there was something else he needed to concern himself with now. It was time for the end-of-the-year feast.
-Break-
Harry was sitting by the window as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of Hogsmeade. His friends were sitting with him, playing Exploding Snap while he leaned against the backrest and closed his eyes.
His first year at Hogwarts was done, and it had already changed him massively, making him more mature than he had been a year ago. His perspective had changed, his priority had transformed, and so had his approach to things.
He had aced all the end-of-year exams and the tests the professors had designed particularly for him, which consisted of material from the first to the fourth year. The results spoke for his efforts – an 'O' in each subject and the tests as well, even from Snape, who was not his biggest fan and always seemed to be on the lookout for opportunities to deride him.
Harry had to admit that the dour-faced man was a very knowledgeable teacher of DADA, and a few seniors had even admitted that he was a better teacher than the past few ones they had had in the subject. However, Dumbledore never let the man remain the professor of Defense and always had to replace the professors annually. Harry failed to understand the reason. Surely there were more capable potion teachers who could replace him while he took over teaching Defense.
He had also succeeded in passing McGonagall's tests in Transfiguration, and as per their agreement, McGonagall had agreed to help him become an animagus starting next year. Harry could not wait.
"You'll come visit us this summer, right, Harry?" Neville asked with a smile, and Harry opened his eyes to look at him.
"Mine too. Remember? Auntie wanted to talk to you more," Susan chimed in.
"I would like to introduce you to my parents well," Hannah grinned, before flushing when she realized what she had blurted out. "Not like that!"
Susan and Neville grinned while Harry chuckled.
"I will try, I promise."
"Nu-uh, trying won't do. You have to come over," Susan shook her head.
"Alright, I will. I promise. Happy now?"
"Very," the redhead grinned before she went back to playing with Hannah as Neville looked at him.
"You know, you don't have to stay at the Leaky for the entire summer. I'm sure Gran would be happy to have you over."
Harry smiled at the blonde and shook his head.
"Don't worry, Neville. I'm not staying at the Leaky, and I will surely come visit you and your gran at your place."
Neville furrowed his brows inquisitively. "Where will you be staying at then?"
Harry smirked. "Not staying. Living. I'll be living in my new home now."
Neville's eyes widened before he grinned.
"You got a place to yourself?"
Harry grinned. "It won't do to have a House of Potter without a house, would it?"
Hannah and Susan heard the conversation and grinned.
"Really? We can come over, right?" The blonde asked eagerly, and Harry could not help but chuckle.
"You three are always welcome."
Harry smiled as Hannah and Susan grinned at him before they went back to playing, and he nodded at Neville before leaning against the window and closing his eyes once again.
There were big challenges to overcome, and he would be damned if he didn't dedicate himself to his fullest. His offensive spell practice would surely take a backseat during the summer holidays since it was impossible to replicate the Come and Go Room However, that gave him time to focus on developing his control over magic even further as well as strengthening his power over the mind arts. Proper management of his practice was necessary so that he utilized all the time and resources he had at his disposal sustainably.
Not for the first time, his thoughts went back to the tome he had bought when he had visited Borgin and Burkes – the one filled with battle spells and dark curses. If he wanted to defeat Voldemort, he couldn't play fair. The time had come to take his gloves off. He was ready, and he would use every weapon in his arsenal. If he found himself lacking, he would acquire more.
He would fight fire with fire, consequences be damned.
-Break-
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