Revised: January 6, 2022
For some time now, I've been wanting to extend the first year but not to the point of adding a completely new chapter. Problem was I didn't know how to go about it. Until now. So enjoy.
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Harry stepped into the Great Hall. Practically every student there turned to look at him warily. He stared back, none of his own wariness showing, and then began heading for the Slytherin table.
"What's going on?" he muttered to Draco, sitting down.
"Word got out you were a Parselmouth," Draco replied.
Harry glanced over at Gryffindor. Ron was giving him a suspicious stare. For a few seconds, neither moved. Then Ron turned away to eat his breakfast.
"If Weasley used his brain, he'd remember what I said on the train," said Harry.
"Bet he can't even afford one," scoffed Pansy.
Harry sent her a look. Say what you wanted about Ron Weasley, but sneering at him for being poor was not something Harry was comfortable with. After all, he had gone most of his life with very little of his own.
"Here," said Gemma, handing him his timetable. "Looks like you have Herbology first."
"Thank you." Harry nodded at her and began eating.
"Dumbledore's staring at you," said Draco.
Harry glanced up toward the High Table and found himself locked the headmaster's piercing blue eyes. A strange intensity seemed to press against his head and he abruptly turned away, the hairs on the back of his neck raising.
Dumbledore groaned inwardly as Harry broke eye contact before he could glimpse his memories. The only thing he had seen was the conversation that had taken place just mere moments ago.
He didn't understand what had happened. He had waited, very patiently if one were to ask, for Harry Potter to come to his school. The boy had lived with his magic-hating relatives for ten years and would have been beaten into submission. As a result, he would be very easy to mold, eager to please the professors, especially Dumbledore. But something went wrong.
When the first years had come in, Dumbledore had searched for the familiar messy black hair and striking green eyes he knew the boy would have. He found him and sat back, eager for the hat to Sort him into Gryffindor. After all, both James and Lily were Gryffindors, and the Potters were known to be Gryffindors for as long as anyone could remember. He conveniently forgot that not everyone went into the same house as their family.
But then the hat called for Slytherin. What? No, no, no, that wouldn't do. He wasn't supposed to be in such a lowly house. Harry Potter was a Gryffindor! He saw that the Slytherins were especially shocked and hoped they would isolate Harry, pushing him away from the dark and back into the light.
But they didn't. The first couple days proved they were against Harry, but that suddenly changed by Thursday.
"Severus," Dumbledore said that morning, "how is Harry doing?"
"He seems to have made friends with Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson," the potions professor replied neutrally.
Dumbledore didn't like the sound of that. The Malfoys had been one of Voldemort's biggest supporters, and although the Parkinsons hadn't been as far up in rank, they were still known Death Eaters.
The headmaster decided to wait and see how things played out before he stepped in. Ron and Hermione, who he had chosen to be Harry's friends, would surely bring him to his senses and go to the third floor corridor so Dumbledore could test Harry.
It didn't matter that he was using children; this was for the greater good, after all.
When the teachers met up in the staff room for the monthly meetings, McGonagall and Flitwick were the first to praise him for his quick learning.
"How is he settling in with the Slytherins, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. He could always count on him to be bluntly honest.
For once, Snape did not speak immediately, and when he did, it was almost with hesitance. "He is doing... well."
"Only well?" Sprout echoed, giving him a dirty look. "He's such a charming boy. Quiet, but polite."
Unease trickled down Dumbledore's spine. Tom Riddle had also been a charming boy before he delved into the Dark Arts. His unease only grew as time went on. Harry was displaying all the signs of becoming the next Voldemort, from his charming persona to his strong magic. He was also a Parselmouth, a trait known for being Salazar Slytherin's.
During the Halloween feast, Professor Quirrell came running in, screaming about a troll in the dungeons. Dumbledore sent a compulsion toward Harry, hoping he would go and fight it. Instead, Harry had gone to a prefect, informing him that a fellow student didn't know about the troll and was in danger of being attacked.
The professors found Hermione and Ron in the girl's bathroom. Ron had attempted to fight off the troll and managed to knock it out with its own club. Neither he nor Hermione were hurt, but it was a close call.
Where had it all gone wrong? Dumbledore's plan for Ron and Hermione to befriend Harry was not going well. Harry was polite toward them but stuck with the Slytherins.
"Hello, Harry," said Hermione, taking a seat next to him.
Tracey grunted in displeasure and shifted over. "Yes, please sit down. We'd love to have you."
Hermione ignored her sarcastic remark and gestured for Ron to sit down. He did so, but's least he didn't shove everything aside to make room for himself.
"What do you want?" Harry asked.
"I was hoping we could study together," Hermione replied.
She put a large book on the table and opened it to a bookmarked page.
"I'm already studying," Harry pointed out, "with my friend."
"But I thought maybe you could use an extra hand," Hermione persisted, pushing aside one of Tracey's books.
"Hermione, wait!" exclaimed Ron, lunging forward. But he wasn't quick enough. The ink jar that had been sitting in front of Tracey tipped over, spilling black ink all over her recently finished essay.
"Professor McGonagall is not going to be happy with me," she said, gingerly moving it.
"Sorry," said Ron, righting the ink jar up. "She just got excited."
"I can tell." Tracey sent them a glare and began to gather her belongings.
Harry stood as well. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall will understand."
"There's probably a spell that'll clear that away," Hermione suggested meekly.
"I suppose." Tracey stood, carefully lifting the still-soaked parchment and her things and followed Harry out.
Very few people stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays, including Harry. So on Christmas morning, when he woke up, he was surprised to see the small pile of presents at the foot of his bed.
Azure was hovering above one of the parcels. 'Something's wrong,' she murmured, tongue flicking. 'But I can't figure out what.'
Cautiously, Harry picked it up. It hardly weighed a thing. As he opened it, Azure reeled back, hissing. 'Careful, hatchling!'
Inside was a sheet of silvery gray material. But, as Harry looked at it, he could sense the magic on it. He cast a diagnostic spell on it, expression darkening when he saw it had compulsions and a tracking charm on it. 'Dumbledore,' he snarled lightly. He quickly removed everything on it, then hesitated. Was there any other unwanted magic on it? Any that he missed? He was only in his first year after all; he may have read ahead on some things, but that didn't mean he knew everything.
Azure, picking up his uncertainty, said, 'You can send it to Gringotts. They can check it over and confirm for you.'
'Good idea.' Harry put the cloak away and headed out.
A couple older Slytherins were already eating, but Harry didn't know them so he took a seat some distance away. Afterward, Harry decided to take a walk around the courtyard.
It was nice out, he thought, without all the extra pitter patter that came from other students passing through the corridors or their voices echoing off the walls.
"Come on, Percy! Join us!"
Harry paused and peeked around a column. The Weasleys were in the courtyard having a snowball fight. The voice had belonged to Ron, who was standing in front of Percy with a hopeful expression.
"I don't know..."
SPLAT!
One of the twins had come up behind him and threw snow at the back of Percy's head.
Harry chuckled as Percy whirled around, spluttering, and gave chase.
"Do you not wish to join them?" asked a voice behind Harry.
It was Dumbledore.
Harry only just withheld a flinch. "Not really." Snowball fights never ended well for him. Dudley and his friends always ganged up on the weaker ones, whether they wanted to play or not.
"Understandable," said Dumbledore, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The Weasleys can get rowdy."
Seeing George and Ron chasing each other, hollering at the top of their lungs, Harry had to agree on that point. But even still, a pang of longing shot through him. They looked like they were having fun...
He abruptly pushed the thought away. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I would like to return to my dorm."
"Of course." Dumbledore smiled. "Did you get anything of interest?"
You know very well what I got, thought Harry. Aloud, he simply said, "I did. Did you?"
"I am afraid not. Not a single pair of socks." He sighed, then brightened again. "But there's always next year."
"Yes, there is."
To his relief, Dumbledore didn't say anything else, just walked off with one last nod to Harry, who continued on to the dungeon.
As he reached it, Professor Snape appeared. He paused, watching him warily. "You are not going to enjoy the day outside?"
Harry shrugged. "I went for a walk. It was enough for me." He didn't mention Dumbledore's presence had ended it sooner than he had anticipated.
Snape seemed to take the hint and didn't push for more information. "I see. Well, carry on, Mr. Potter. I will see you later."
"Bye." Harry brushed past.
The second term started up. And with it came an annoyance in the form of two particular students.
Azure came up to Harry in the library one day, tail lashing with displeasure.
'What's wrong?' asked Harry, sliding a bookmark into place.
'It's those Gryffindors. They keep talking about Nicholas Flamel and a three-headed dog.'
'A three-headed dog? That's what Dumbledore's been warning us about?' Harry guessed. It made sense that that was what was on the third floor, given the way he emphasized the dangers of going there.
Azure led him to where the pair was sitting at a table. Hermione had a large book opened up.
"Nicolas Flamel, is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!" she was saying in a breathless voice.
"The what?" Ron said, sounding as clueless as Harry felt.
"Oh, honestly, don't you read?" Hermione said. "Look — read that, there."
Ron read it quietly to himself. As he did, his eyes gradually widened.
"See?" said Hermione when Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"
"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Ron. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."
Harry narrowed his eyes. They believed Professor Snape was after this Philosopher's Stone? Well, that was something.
He quietly slipped away and moved out of earshot. 'I should tell him about this.'
Azure hissed softly in agreement, and Harry went off to find Snape.
He was in his office when Harry knocked. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, sir. May I come in?"
Snape stepped back and Harry went in.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
"Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger think you're going to steal the Philosopher's Stone," said Harry.
Whatever Snape had been expecting was evidently not this. His black eyes widened. "How do you know about that?"
"Because Weasley and Granger do. But I don't know how they know."
"I see." Snape had a thoughtful look on his face. "Well, thank you for the warning. I shall keep an eye on them."
Harry nodded curtly and left. He had done his part; now he could just sit back and let the rest play out.
And play out it did. Harry sat on the train, still reeling from Dumbledore's words during the feast.
Voldemort had been there at Hogwarts. His soulmate!
No, not his soulmate. Harry thrust the thought away. Tom Riddle was his soulmate. Voldemort was who he had become. But that just made it all the more difficult. How was Harry going to find his soulmate with Voldemort out there?
It was possible. It had to be.
When Draco came home for the summer, he was quick to tell his parents what the headmaster had told them. Lucius found it difficult to sleep that night, knowing his Lord had been close by all this time. But he was gone again, leaving behind only the corpse of Professor Quirrell. No one knew how he had come by the Dark Lord.
Not long into the summer, the Muggle Protection Act was proposed. Lucius inwardly rolled his eyes at it, but it wasn't until he learned his home may be searched for dark magic that he knew he had to act.
In a room deep within the manor, Lucius looked around at all the things he knew he had to keep away from the meddling Ministry. What to do... Well, Borgin could take much of this off his plate.
As Lucius walked forward, something stopped him. He turned, his pale eyes landing on an innocent-looking black book. As he watched, it flashed briefly, beckoning him.
Lucius' left arm twinged. The Dark Lord had presented the book to him, telling him to keep it safe. Now he was gone, but Lucius hadn't discarded it. Why, he didn't know, but he had done as he was told.
He picked up the book — diary, his mind helpfully corrected — and opened it. As expected, the pages were blank. But as Lucius gazed at it, an idea formed.
Deep within the pages, hidden from sight but not from existence, Tom Riddle felt the first flicker of hope in fifty years.
This was probably my biggest revision yet.