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Prodigy: Born Again | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy, General, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 51 Summary: Some people think that Prodigies are born. Some people think Prodigies are made. What would happen if both sides of the coin were right? Follow such a Prodigy, one called Harry James Potter, as he finds within himself the ability of Magic and he makes his own way into the Magical World. NOTE: For those that wonder, this is a re-write of the original Prodigy. I have taken this route in order to eliminate the plot-holes that were in the original. Thanks for your support. The author has stated this story will not be continued. SIYE Note from SIYE: The original author of the story “Prodigy,” jmcqk6, has told SIYE he has abandoned his story and has given permission to other authors “that anyone could do whatever they want with it.” There is no issue of plagiarism involving this story. ~Sir Ollivander ~SIYE Administration Hitcount: Story Total: 39523; Chapter Total: 3939 |
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Impossible, a., impossible: not able to occur, exist, or be done; very difficult to deal with. There is one joke amongst Muggles that states that, according to certain mathematical equations and physical models, bumblebees should not be able to fly, and yet they do, because they do not know mathematics. This is, of course, a fallacy: Muggle scientists have mathematically demonstrated that bumblebees are perfectly able to fly, and that the only problem would come if the bumblebee could not move its wings. Another kind of bumblebee, a man called Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, had heard of the joke, and laughed at the whole thing, given that it was quite illogical. He was sitting on a chair in his office, accompanied by two other people: Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, and Sirius Black, who had just accepted the position of Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. The three of them were making small talk as they waited for a certain thing to happen. With a small flash, a boy with coal black hair and brilliant, green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses, who was carrying a backpack, appeared in the centre of the room. Sirius jumped from his chair, as if he had just seen a ghost. And, in a way, he felt like he had just done exactly that. Because Harry was so much like James Potter at age eleven that you could have put them together and you would hardly notice the difference. The only thing that clearly set Harry apart from eleven-year-old James was his eyes, which were identical to Lily's. “Harry?” Albus asked, apparently unfazed by the appearance of the child: only someone that knew him well would have seen that he was particularly impressed by Harry's arrival. “Harry Potter?” “Yes?” the boy said, a bit unsure of himself. Albus could see something in his eyes, as if he was recognising him from somewhere. He wondered if Harry had seen him when he brought Pettigrew to Godric's Hollow nearly four years before. “Hello, Harry. I am Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster.” “Hello. Nice to meet you,” Harry replied. He turned a bit, and he was surprised to see someone else in there. It had been nearly four years since he last saw him, but he had not changed at all in the last years. “You... you were there in front of my house.” Sirius was about to gasp in surprise, but he remained quiet. He had suspected that Harry had probably seen him when he tried to reach Godric's Hollow after being freed, but he had not known... until now. He gingerly stepped forward, keeping himself from rushing and hugging the stuffing out of his godson. He knew that, after all the time he had spent on his own, Harry would not be as used to human contact as he normally would. It would take some time for him to get used to it, but Sirius would be damned if he did not do his best to make sure that the son of James Potter did not become the kid he would have been if his parents were alive. “Hi, Harry,” Sirius said, crouching before his godson, so that their eyes were at the same level. “I am not sure if you actually know me, but I was a friend of your father. My name is Sirius Black.” “Padfoot,” Harry whispered, suddenly remembering the photograph in his parents' bedroom. “You are Padfoot?” “Yeah, that is what your father called me,” Sirius replied with a soft smile. “It has been nearly ten years since I last saw you, Harry.” “Where were you all this time?” Harry asked, with a voice that clearly showed how hurt he was. While he lived with the Dursleys he had prayed almost every night that someone — a friend of his parents, a relative he did not know, someone — found his way to Privet Drive and took him to live somewhere else. Reaching his parents' house had helped him put those thoughts away, but it was not something that could ever be forgotten. Sirius did not need for Harry to make it clearer. He knew what his godson was speaking about. His own, damn foolish mistakes had cost him six years in Azkaban and Harry his childhood. He wondered how Harry had coped with the loneliness for so much time, as well as the mistreatment he had suffered from Vernon and Petunia. “I made too many mistakes, Harry. I trusted a friend of mine too much, and then I was so angry that I did not realise that staying with you should have had priority over finding the traitor. I know that it is going to take you much time to actually forgive me, but I am hoping that you will, at least, be willing to accept me.” “I do not know,” Harry said. He had imagined this situation a few times, when he was not engaged in reading or researching, but right now, with Sirius in front of him, it was far too difficult to recall what he had thought to say during those moments. The feelings of abandonment from his younger years, which he had not faced during the last three years, were coming in full force again. Sirius sighed. It seemed that the situation was worse than what he had hoped for. However, it was not too late, or at least he hoped so. His own childhood had been really bad, but between James, Remus and, yes, Peter, he had managed to overcome his problems. It seemed that now he would be able to return the help James had given him by helping Harry. He slowly moved his arms around Harry, and gave him a hug. To Harry, this was a very alien experience. As far as he remembered, no one had ever hugged him. While at the Dursleys, he always saw Dudley being hugged by Petunia and Vernon, and he had wondered what it felt like to receive one. Now he knew. And he could feel many things. Like the regret and love pouring out of Sirius. And a feeling that had been in the deepest recesses of his mind and had been forgotten until now: being held in someone's arms, being small and held in an adult's embrace, revelling in the heat and the nice smell of the person holding him. He returned the hug, putting his arms around Sirius' neck and closing his eyes, so that the only thing he sensed was Sirius' arms around his body. They remained there for a few minutes, with Dumbledore and McGonagall allowing them their time to start mending their lost relationship. When both of them felt better, Sirius slowly loosened his grip and looked Harry directly into his eyes. “Harry, I want you to know one thing. I may have not been able to do my duty these last ten years, but I swear to you that you will be able to count on me and my help when you need it. I will be here for you whenever you need me. OK?” Harry nodded. Sirius' smile grew slightly, and he directed Harry towards the only chair that was not being used right now, before sitting down on the chair he had been before. An awkward silence settled in the room, which was soon broken by Dumbledore. “I have to say, Harry, that I am glad to finally meet you.” “Same to you, Professor Dumbledore. And you too, Professor McGonagall,” Harry replied, his voice still a bit subdued. “Hello, Mr Potter. I am glad that you decided to come to Hogwarts.” “Harry, there are a few things that I feel we should speak about. For example, what you are going to be doing this month. I am not sure if you would prefer to return back to your parents' house or to stay here at Hogwarts. Should you prefer to leave, I would feel better if you let Sirius enter the house, and maybe live with you.” “I would rather stay here,” Harry said. He was not sure if he felt ready to let other people enter the place that he had been living in by himself for four years, but he knew that staying at Hogwarts would be a better idea. He had longed to be with people for a long time, and whenever he went to the library he made a point to speak with a few of the children there, but it always felt a bit forced to him, because he knew it was impossible to form friendly attachments to them as he had to lie about his life. However, now that he was here at Hogwarts, he hoped that he would be able to be himself and find some friends. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodig y***~~~***Prodigy***~~~ After a couple of hours working in his laboratory in the dungeons, and a long talk with Pomona Sprout regarding the care of the plants in the greenhouses, as well as the use of potions as fertilizers for them (a good part of the botanical supplies Hogwarts used were home-grown to reduce costs, and he wanted to make sure that they were grown correctly) Severus entered the school's main hall, intent on returning to the dungeon and keep working on a couple of things for the incoming school year. However, he did not know that his plans for the day were about to suffer a complete change. When he was on the way downstairs towards his beloved potions laboratory, he heard a couple of people talking as they came downstairs using the main stairs. One of them, he identified easily just by the sound of his voice: Sirius Black, one of his childhood nemesis, which had in the last few years become, not a friend, nor a liked associate, but at least someone he was able to speak with in a civil manner for enough time. Even if he still hated Black, at least he could recognise that he had grown up and was now a different person when compared to how he was during their school years. He could not recognise the other person's voice, however. Snape could discern that whoever Black was talking to was a young boy, around ten or eleven years old. The voice was vaguely familiar, though not one that he could remember right now. He turned around, and realised why the voice was so familiar to him, and yet so different that he was not able to recognise it at first. The child that was talking with Black was, unquestionably, the living image of James Potter, his school nemesis, who had managed to get what he had wanted most for his whole childhood, the heart of Lily Evans. And here was the son of James and Lily, animatedly talking with Black about something he was too far away to discern. Black then saw him, and said something to Harry, who turned around, and smiled at Severus. It was Lily's smile. It was Lily's eyes. He was instantly reminded of the last time he had seen that smile directed at him. He and Lily had been given permission from Slughorn, their old Potions Professor, to use a laboratory to practise for the O.W.L. Potions test. He had been making a potion, and a short distraction he had when he looked at Lily had prevented him from realising he had dropped a little too much dragon blood in the potion. The resulting explosion, while it had not been too big, had left his face completely covered by soot. Lily had tried to keep it in, but she had not been able to do it and started to laugh out loud. He had laughed with her, without paying attention to his state of being, unknowing of the fact that it would be but a few days later that he would accidentally call Lily a 'Mudblood' and thus drive her away forever. His memories were suddenly interrupted when he saw that Harry Potter and Black approached him. “Snape,” Black said in a civil tone, “I hope that you are well today. I am sure that you do not know Harry.” “Hello,” Harry said, still smiling. “You are Severus Snape, right? My mum's friend?” That really threw him. Given that he had been talking with Black, he expected Harry to make a comment about his father, but never about his mother. He guessed that he could as well answer him. “Yes.” “I was wondering... if I could speak with you about something. It is related with potion-making, so I guess that you might be interested “ Severus raised an eyebrow. It was thrice already that Harry Potter surprised him, in just a few minutes, and he was not sure of how much he would be able to take. He expected that he might have some doubts or questions about the art of potion-making; however, the way Potter spoke, it looked like he actually wanted to show him something. Whatever Potter wanted to speak about, it was appealing to his curiosity and expertise as a Potions Master, and as such he knew what his choice would be. However, he still had to make sure that Black was OK with that. “Do you mind if I take your godson to my laboratory, Black?” he asked the other man. “Well, Harry had already said he wanted to speak with you, Snape, and there were several ideas that were quite interesting. Besides, I wanted to go and find Remus to bring him here so that he could meet Harry, so I guess he could spend the time here and enjoy speaking with you instead of just Side-Along-Apparating with me to WRF Castle and wait there.” “That's good, then. Potter, follow me then, the Potions laboratory is in the dungeons.” “Thank you, Professor,” Harry replied. Sirius gave him a brief hug — which Harry returned, albeit with some delay in his reaction — and then stood up. “I will see you later, Harry,” Sirius replied. “See you, Sirius.” Black left towards the main doors, which were wide open right now — after all, it was summer still and the weather was quite nice — and Severus and Harry were left alone. The Potions Master, followed by the preteen, took the path downstairs towards the place where he had his sanctum sanctorum, the place where he worked the most whenever he was not teaching a class, eating or meeting someone else: his private Potions laboratory. There were a few cauldrons in there, most of them with partial recipes to potential cures for lycanthropy, which had so far yielded no positive result. Only one table in the centre of the room was clear, and Severus waved his wand so that two seats were moved next to that table. Harry sat down in one of them and pulled something out of the backpack he carried with himself. “What is that?” Severus asked, truly curious about the artefact Harry had put over the table. “This is something I built while I was at my parents' house. It is a bit like a Muggle computer, but it works on magic instead of electricity. It can make calculations far faster than one can do by hand, can keep the information held in hundreds of books in a very small space and do many other things that you will surely be interested in.” Severus' eyebrow rose. He did know about Muggle computers — his father, Tobias Snape, had mentioned them once or twice in his calm moments, which were unfortunately very far in between — but did not know that it was actually possible to replicate how it worked with magic, despite his vast knowledge of magic — which was not confined to Potions or the Dark Arts. While Harry pulled out several things out of his backpack — a backpack with an Extension Charm, obviously — Severus inspected the computer, which Harry had turned on. It seemed to be made out of wood, metal, glass and, apparently, gems. These were the most curious part, because, if he was not mistaken, he could see that most of the gems, if not all, had acquired a strange yellowish tone that was quite strange. Some of the other objects Harry was taking out were similar in the making to the computer. “All of this looks quite interesting, Potter, but, pray tell, what does this have to do with Potions?” Severus asked. “It is related to it. In fact, if it weren't for my MagiMac, I would have not been able to do everything.” “MagiMac?” “Short for Magical Machine.” Potter then took out what Severus thought was his wand — although it was clearly not from Ollivander's; in fact, it seemed to be just a tree branch — and used it to touch the yellow gems that each object had, a small beam of yellow light visible for just a few seconds. It seemed that that was the way everything was connected. “Professor, have you ever thought about the reason why many potions ingredients seem to have similar properties?” That question was pretty much unexpected, again. It was something that every Potions Master wondered about at least once in their careers: it was an unofficial rite of passage that any aspiring Potions Master had to pass if he or she was to be accepted by the community. Many theories had been put forward, with some of them being more or less accepted, but so far none of them had been proven to a level that could satisfy enough Masters to be considered mainstream. And here came a child, who had not even started his formal education at Hogwarts, and had realised such a thing so soon in his life? “Yes, I have.” “Well, I think I have found how the ingredients for potions work, and the reason why ingredients have to be manipulated in certain ways so that they can act in the intended way. It turns out that all ingredients are made of smaller ingredients, each of which has just one property. And this,” Potter said, pointing at something that looked like a vase made of wood, with several rings of metal surrounding it and a few gems of different colours set in the vase and the rings, “is something I made that can separate the ingredients into each of the smaller ingredients, identify the different properties and then send that information into the MagiMac.” Severus was astonished. This idea was not completely new. Ten years ago, a Muggleborn had presented the Potions Masters with an idea based on Muggle chemistry, using something he called the 'Table of Periodic Elements', trying to tie each element or combination of elements to certain magical properties, but the Potions Master community, mostly formed by Purebloods and Half-bloods, had rejected his theory, and unable to prove everything, the Muggleborn had just continued with his work, without touching that theory any more. However, Potter's approach to it was novel, as was his idea of using the strange vase to separate the ingredients. He wondered how exactly it worked, but that was something for a later time. Right now, he would be glad to learn more about Potter's theory, because if it actually worked, then it could mean that potion making would be revolutionised, and it would be possible to create hundreds of new potions. “Would you mind explaining to me how this works?” Potter smiled, and touched something on the glass. All of a sudden, the nearest wall was shining white, and then it was covered with small squares, symbols and letters. “I call this the Table of Magical Elements,” he said. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy** *~~~***Prodigy***~~~ Hermione felt nervous. Soon, she would meet someone from the so-called Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. Someone that would be able to explain all those strange things that happened around her whenever she was angry or in a state of distress. She had wondered how Jennifer Paisley had tripped over her own shoelaces — which she was sure had been tied just a few seconds before — when she took a book she was reading and threw it away, laughing at her, or how she had managed to get a jar of biscuits to float down from the tallest shelf in the kitchen. She was also reminded of the time she had been with her parents in Germany, and of the boy she found in that room that had disappeared so suddenly. The doorbell rang, and Hermione jumped out of her chair, so nervous she was. Her father stood up from his armchair, where he was reading the newspaper, and opened the door, Hermione a couple of steps behind him. Behind the door was a woman with black hair tied down in a tight bun and a stern, slightly wrinkled face, wearing a tartan dress, black shoes and a simple black hat. “Mr Granger?” the woman said in a slightly defined Scottish brogue. “'Doctor', please,” her father replied. “Doctor Daniel Granger. This is my daughter Hermione. My wife Mary is, unfortunately, unable to meet with us: there was an appointment that we could not delay, and she volunteered to do it.” “Very well, Doctor Granger. Miss Granger, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, from Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft.” “Nice to meet you, Professor,” Hermione replied. “Would you please come in? I think it would be better if we had this conversation in the comfort of our living room.” “Of course,” the Professor said. He stepped aside, and the Professor entered the hall. While he closed the door, Professor McGonagall sat on one of the armchairs, while Hermione sat on the sofa. “Do you want something to drink, Professor?” “No, there is no need, but still, thank you for your offer.” Her father joined sat down, too, next to Hermione. “There is no easy way to say this, so I will be direct,” Professor McGonagall said. “Magic exists. There is a magical world, hidden from the non-magical population, where all wizards and witches live and work. Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft is the premier magical institution of teaching in all of the British Isles. Your daughter is what we call a Muggleborn witch, as she is the first witch in her family. If Miss Granger wishes to do so, she will be able to attend the school.” A moment of silence later, her father spoke up. “I am sorry if I ask you this, Professor, but I fear we might need some more proof that magic actually exists. You will understand, until two days ago we did not even know about magic, and, well, my wife and I would like to have more reasons to allow our only daughter to attend a school we have never heard about...” “Do not worry, Doctor Granger. All Muggle families want to be sure that all of this is not a lie, or some kind of con.” “Muggle?” Hermione asked as the Professor took a wooden stick out of her pocket. “It is a term wizards in Britain use to refer to non-magical people. It does not sound very polite to non-magical people, but it has been around for so much time that it is too deeply ingrained in our culture to change easily. Now, pay attention, Miss Granger. This will be one of the first spells you will learn when you arrive at Hogwarts. It is taught in the class of Charms. Wingardium Leviosa,” Professor McGonagall said, pointing the stick to a vase on the table in the centre of the room. Slowly, the vase rose until it was floating one meter over the table. Hermione knew that it was true. That magic actually existed. What Professor McGonagall had just done was exactly what she had done with the biscuit jar. Her father, on the other hand, was gobsmacked. “Interesting,” he finally managed to squeak out. “This is not the only kind of thing one can do with magic,” Professor McGonagall said, who waved her wand and said 'Transfigurare'. The vase changed forms, and to Hermione's and her father's astonishment, a swallow took flight from the table and flew around the room, beating its wings. As soon as the bird landed again on the table, the Professor said 'Reverto', changing back to a vase. “This is Transfiguration, the subject I teach, and, as you can imagine, deals with the change of forms and materials objects are made of, as well as changing inanimate objects into living beings, and vice versa. There is also the Animagus transformation, which allows a wizard or witch to change into an animal representative of their personality.” She demonstrated by turning into a cat and back. Hermione was shocked to see it. “How... how is that possible?” her father apluttered. “That should be impossible, it is impossible that a person can become something so small in comparison.” “I assure you, Doctor Granger, that it is indeed possible. The magic in the person makes sure that the person remains protected from any possible consequences of the Animagus transformation, as long as the person transforming has control over his magic. A badly done Animagus transformation can have bad consequences. I have been doing this since I was thirty years old, and I will soon be seventy.” “Is not that a bit past the retirement date?” Hermione asked. “Hermione!” her father admonished her. Professor McGonagall's lips twitched. “In the magical world, there is no forced retirement age, save for the Auror Corps — the equivalent to Muggle policemen. Most careers allow people to continue, even if it is in reduced capacities or as teachers to the younger generation.” She looked at the clock in the wall, stood up, and took a rope from her pocket. “I know you must have many questions still, Miss Granger, but we should leave now if you want to see everything. This is a Portkey, an object that has a charm on it to transport people from one point to other. Right now, this Portkey is charmed to go to Diagon Alley, the main commercial district of Magical Britain. If you want to go to Hogwarts, we should go there to buy supplies.” “How much money should we take?” “The magical world uses its own coins, instead of pounds. We use Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. Twenty nine bronze Knuts makes one Sickle, and seventeen silver Sickles makes one gold Galleon. I believe that a Galleon is roughly five Pounds Sterling. Generally, the average expenditure is around fifty-five Galleons, but I believe that taking seventy Galleons will be more than enough to cover anything Miss Granger needs, plus a few more things she may be interested in.” “Three hundred and fifty pounds? Well, I think we can easily afford that. Let me check the emergency fund and make a call to my wife, then we can get going.” Her father stood up and walked upstairs, towards his bedroom. Hermione made the most of the time to ask a few more questions to the Professor, like where Hogwarts was (“Far up north in Scotland”), what other things were taught there along with a battery of questions about the magical world. It was all her curiosity, her need to know anything and everything, that drove the barrage of questions. And the Professor did not seem angry at that. Hermione thought she caught one or two smiles on the stern witch's face. “OK, we can leave when you want,” her father said as he came down the stairs, tucking his wallet in his back pocket. Professor McGonagall offered the end of the rope and Hermione and her father hesitatingly touched it. “Viator,” the Professor said. Hermione felt as though a hook just behind her navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. Her feet left the ground; she could feel her father and Professor McGonagall on either side of her, their shoulders banging into hers; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling colour; her hand was stuck to the rope as though it was pulling her magnetically onward and then... Her feet slammed into the ground; she staggered into her equally unprepared father and the two of them fell over. “Are you OK, honey?” her father asked. Shakily, Hermione nodded and stood up, brushing herself a bit while he stood up. Professor McGonagall waved her wand and all the dust disappeared, and then they started walking. Hermione looked everywhere, her eyes drinking in everything she could see. There was a bookshop, a cauldron shop — for Potions, she thought — and a robes shop, and a apothecary, and a pet shop... so many things to see, so little time to do it... “Here, this is Gringotts, the bank wizards use,” Professor McGonagall's voice brought her out of her reverie. Hermione looked at it, and she thought it was very beautiful, with its white marble faade shining under the light of the day. “Gringotts is property of goblins. They are mistrustful of wizards, so please be polite to them.” “Goblins?” she asked. Then she looked at the little man that was standing next to the door and noticed that he was clearly not human. His wrinkly skin, his long nose and long-fingered hands... anybody would notice it. When they entered the bank, the goblin greeted them, and Hermione replied with a “Good morning, sir.” She did not know it, but the greeting goblin's opinion of wizardkind slightly improved that day. They exchanged the money into Galleons, Sickles and Knuts — they were lucky, today galleons were worth slightly less than five pounds — and came out of the bank. On the door, they met a dark-haired man and a boy Hermione thought was her age. There was also something else about him that called her attention, but she could not remember what it was about the boy that was trying to spark her memories. “Sirius, Harry,” Professor McGonagall said. “What are you doing here?” “I needed to talk with the goblins about something, and Harry decided to come with me, said he was interested in talking with them, too,” the man — Hermione guessed he was the boy's father — replied. Then, he looked at her and her father. “Hello, you must be the... Grangers, right?” “Yes. I am Daniel Granger, this is my daughter Hermione.” Her father said, offering a hand to the wizard, who shook hands with him. “I am Sirius Black, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. This is my godson, Harry Potter. He is starting at Hogwarts this year, too.” “Nice to meet you,” Harry said, offering his hand to Hermione. She shook his hand, and she managed to get a good look at his eyes. They were emerald green, very pretty. She thought she saw a spark of recognition in his eyes: that was more in favour of the fact that she was sure that she had seen Harry somewhere else before now. But wherever and whenever that was, she could not remember, and that was what she hated the most. “We have to start with the shopping. We will not keep you from your business any more, I know how itchy goblins can get if you do not arrive to a meeting with them on time,” Professor McGonagall said. “Indeed. Well, I hope that you have a nice day, and Miss Granger, I hope to see you next month at Hogwarts.” “Thank you, Mr Black,” her father said, and the two groups separated. It was only a few minutes later, when she was at Madam Malkin's to get some robes done, that she realised why Harry was so familiar to her. He was the boy she had seen in the castle four years ago. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy*** ~~~***Prodigy***~~~ “Ronald! If you really want to meet Neville at Diagon Alley, you had better be down here right now!” “Coming, coming,” Ron said, landing on the first floor after rushing his way down from his room. “Thank you. Now, your father is already at Diagon Alley, he managed to arrange this day to come with us, so please behave. Especially you two,” his mother said, rounding on Fred and George. “You wound us, mother,” one of the twins said, melodramatically. “Why would you think we would not behave?” the other continued. “Perhaps because I gave birth to you two and have known you for twelve years and a half?” “She is right, twin of mine.” “Yes. It is really a bad moment when not even our mother does not trust us.” “Enough, you two,” Molly said. “Percy, you go first.” “Thank you, Mum.” Percy took a pinch of powder, threw it into the fire — which turned green — and then stepped into the fireplace, shouting “Diagon Alley!” A few minutes later, the entire Weasley family — Ron's parents, Arthur and Molly, his brothers Percy, Fred and George, his sister Ginny and himself — were in the Leaky Cauldron, where they met the Longbottoms, and then entered Diagon Alley. On the way in they saw a man and a girl, who probably were father and daughter, accompanied by a stern looking woman. Ron caught the girl's eyes for only two seconds, but in those two seconds, those brown eyes he saw, and her frizzled hair, and her smile, would be forever etched in his memory. It was just two seconds, but they were enough. It took him a couple of more seconds to notice that his mother was calling him, but he woke up from his reverie, thinking about the girl with the brown hair and eyes. “Where do you want to go, Ron?” his father asked. “Can we go to the Quidditch store? I want to see the brooms. And then can we go to Ollivanders"? “Of course, Ron,” his father replied with a smile. While his mother took the twins to Madam Malkin's and Percy stayed at the bookshop, his father and Mrs Longbottom took Neville, Ginny — who had insisted in coming, although the reason escaped him — and him to the Quidditch store, where the three of them were able to admire the last models of broomsticks, before going to Ollivander's to get fit with a wand. He got one made of willow and unicorn hair, fourteen inches, which worked very well for him. But, at the end of the day, he still thought about the brown haired girl, who she was and whether he might meet her. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy*** ~~~***Prodigy***~~~ They Apparated to the town of Hogsmeade, opposite to the road that led to Hogwarts. They had met when the younger wizard had been visiting Albania, apparently to get some experience in preparation of becoming the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. He was also a weak man, which made him perfect for his plans. So he spoke to him of the non-existence of good and evil, of the fact that, if you did not seek power, you were too weak to have it, and he swayed him to his side. And to think that he had been the Muggle Studies Professor before, during the last few years! It had felt good to show him that he had been mistaken about those foul creatures, which deserved to die or serve the obviously superior wizards. The first thing he did was to have him conceal his presence with the use of a series of charms of his invention. If the rumours were true, within Hogwarts hid an object that would help him tremendously in his quest to gain the ultimate power he deserved. He was already immortal, thanks to the Horcruxes he made before he tried to kill the prophecy child, but having such a powerful artefact in hand would be even better for him. After all, it had two highly publicized properties, who could not say that it might actually have more magical properties? With that objective in mind, Voldemort ordered Quirrell, who he had been possessing for the last week, to enter Hogwarts and talk with the Headmaster. It was time to see if he could finally get the job of his dreams. ~~~***Prodigy***~~~***Prodigy ***~~~***Prodigy***~~~ A/N: There, chapter 7. Next chapter will deal with the train ride from Kings' Cross to Hogwarts. As you can see, in the end I chose to have Harry first go to Hogwarts when he got his letter, and then take the train as normally. He has managed in that month to speak with most of the Professors (not Quirrell), and all of them regard him as quite the prodigy (heh), but one who still can learn several things. I did not deal with the fact that Harry's "wand" is just a stick because I thought that maybe Harry would not have used his wand a lot during that month, and maybe whenever he used it it would just have been for a few seconds, not enough for any of the Professors to have a good look at the "wand". Perhaps it would be funnier if someone (Hermione, Ron or Neville?) saw that wand and said it was really strange, or maybe Harry would see the wands his friends have and wonder whether there is an actual difference between his and theirs, beyond the look. It is going to take Harry a lot of time to be able to implicitly trust Sirius, given that he was not there for him while at the Dursleys, but when it happens then the two of them will be like a family. The Snape-Sirius interaction was based out on what happened in previous chapters. They will never actually be good friends, but there is a small current of trust between them, as well as respect. Of course, their schoolyard fights will be there, but both of them are showing that they are willing to put that behind them. Of course, if Sirius ever learns that Snape was the one who told Voldemort about the Prophecy... it is not going to be pretty. Ron's friendship with Neville, as I previously said, has given them both some self-confidence, and helped them grow. Ron still has his younger-brother issues, and Neville still has his problems with his shyness and the fact that he has lived with his grandmother, but they are much better in those regards. It has not turned Neville into the hero he was in Deathly Hallows, nor Ron into the man that managed to fight the influence of Slytherin's Locket and destroy it, but they are better. And those that think Ron is an idiot that should not deserve to be here... well, think again. In here, Ron is going to be a good friend of Harry, with his small issues with the fact that Harry is famous, but as he meets Harry, he will realise that the famous thing is something that Harry could perfectly do without, and in fact might have been happier to not be famous. I also gave Ron his crush! :D In the original Prodigy, it seemed to come out of nowhere in the Halloween chapter, when Ron told his father the name of the girl he pushed aside so that she was not trampled by the troll. Here... well, here it is going to be much, much funnier. Hermione and Ron will also be friends, there might be fights, of course, but Ron will be more willing to follow her steps in the studying front. The scene at Hermione's house might seem confusing (at least, the one I wrote before my beta-reader corrected it), given that there are two potential "she"s in that scene, and the "her father's" might seem to refer to McGonagall's father. However, I think that the way I structured it now will not cause confusion. For those that say that I could have written Daniel Granger's name whenever it could be used. However, that scene is written from a third person centered on Hermione (much like the books were written on a third person centered on Harry, so it would always be Professor McGonagall, Snape, Mr and Mrs Weasley...), so writing "Daniel Granger" or any variation would be awfully weird. And, the final scene... well, it is pretty clear what has happened. In the books, I remember that Quirrell was the Muggle Studies Professor, but then he took a sabbatical year to travel through Europe and get some experience (which was when he met Voldemort) and later came back. Since Harry got his letter several days (around a week, perhaps a bit more than that) before his birthday, I'd say that it would be more than enough time for Harry to travel to Hogwarts, meet all the Professors but Quirrell, and the day before his birthday travel to Gringotts, where he and Sirius meet Hermione and her father. That same day could have perfectly been the day Quirrell arrived at Hogwarts and got the job, but since Sirius has taken the job before Quirrell did, then it is quite probable he will have to see if he can recover his old job as Muggle Studies Professor. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, and don't forget to review! |
| Reviews 51 |
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