A Tale of Two Brothers

Chapter 18

Harry sat on his bed in the dorm room, taking in the place for the first time. He was saying the truth when he'd told Regulus that he'd been too sad to actually experience the things around him. And he regretted that. He shouldn't have wasted so much time moping around just because he was sorted into Slytherin. The hat did say that he'd achieve greatness in this house, and it wasn't a bad thing, right?

A group of students entered the room, all first years. They were talking amongst themselves in hushed whispers and occupied a bed and some armchairs in the corner of the room. Not once did they glance in his directions.

And Harry's remaining first-year went on in the same manner.

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"So, did you make any new friends?"

"They're weird. And quiet. They don't talk much." Harry said and rushed out of the room with some books in his hands.

Regulus sighed.

He knew that Slytherin would be difficult for Harry, but this still saddened him. He himself never had any friends at Hogwarts, but at least he had people to talk to. Seeing just how quiet and reserved Harry had become ever since returning from Hogwarts after finishing his first-year, Regulus wondered whether the boy had even talked to anyone from his house throughout the year.

But he already knew the answer.

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Harry listened to Bill and Charlie talk about their summers. Their siblings, their two-weeks stay in Edinburg, a mechanical music box which Mr. Weasley had brought, and about their siblings' shenanigans. It was all nice, and even better, to pretend as if his heart didn't turn heavier every passing second, they were moving towards Hogwarts.

God, Harry hated that place.

His first year was terrible, the worst year of his life. He had not talked to anyone except Bill and Charlie the whole damn time he had been in that school.

And for being a school, they had some quite terrible staff.

Snape.

That hooked-nose, greasy hair man was a downright asshole. Though he did not ever outright show it, Harry just knew that the man hated him with everything he was. Something to do years ago with his parents and uncles. The man had even tried to fail him for the potion he had made for the final exams, which was very acceptable, if not perfect. Luckily, his mom had sent a rather colorfully worded letter to him, and the man had to accept his work. He had still gotten a B for it.

Then there was McGonagall.

She was a good teacher, honestly. But the way she looked at him made him want to throw something at someone. That pity-filled, disappointed and disapproving face always made him angry. No, he did not want pity for being sorted into Slytherin. Just because his parents were in her house once upon a time, it did not give her or anyone the right to assume that he'd be a Gryffindor.

The DADA professors were terrible. Flying lessons were hazardous. Bullying was overlooked. The headmaster was always inaccessible.

Hogwarts was bigoted. A place full of prejudices and competition.

McGonagall was partial to her lions. Snape hated anyone who did not wear a green tie. Flitwick gave extra notes to his ravens before exams. The Hufflepuffs always had the best food on their table.

Everybody knew about it, and they accepted it. So, Harry had to do so too and move on with his life.

Harry closed his curtains and laid on his bed.

This year would be the same too. All lonely and terrible.

Sometimes, he thought that it might've been better if the Slytherins had bullied him instead of completely ignoring his existence. He'd tried to talk with them, but all he got was short, clipped words and then silence.

Merlin, Harry just wished for company at this point.

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"...Dark Lord..."

Harry whipped his head in the direction of the girl who said that. It was Lysandra Mulciber, Lord Mulciber's eldest daughter. He was a well-known Death Eater.

The girl looked up and saw him looking at her, so she quickly turned towards her friends. The whole group glared at him and got up.

Harry returned back to his transfiguration book feeling uneasy.

He had heard correctly, right? Lysandra had taken Voldemort's name. But for what? Were they talking about him in general, or was it something else? And should he talk about it with his parents?

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

Harry hurried up to go to the transfiguration class. They had a pop quiz today.

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"My father..."

"...mark."

"....it's darker than ever."

"...alive..."

"Soon."

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The whispers followed Harry. Or rather he followed them.

Something was going on; he was sure of that. But what exactly?

The purebloods, especially the children of the Death Eaters, they all had started acting strangely. Nobody noticed that. Nobody except the Slytherins. Those students, they acted normal in front of the school but completely different in the common room. And they seemed to avoid Harry too.

For the past one-and-a-half year, they had just ignored his existence, but never avoided him.

This was different.

And Harry was going to find out what it was.

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Harry followed Lysandra and her group after dinner. He had picked up his dad's invisibility cloak during the holidays just for this reason.

The group of seven stepped inside an abandoned room in the dungeons and closed the door behind them.

Harry felt as if someone was watching him, so he looked around just to make sure that he was alone. When he was absolutely sure that there was nobody around him, he went near the locked door and placed his ear on it.

"...his dark mark."

"It had turned almost black... saw it with my own eyes."

"Father says he'll..."

"Will you join..."

"...take the mark. It is an honour... magnificent. Powerful."

"Are you sure that the da–"

"He'll..."

"The Dark Lord is returning."