Dark Kingdom.

"I don't put much faith in second hand information," he said, looking up her with a rather wicked expression. "Neither should you. Your records are woefully incomplete and misleading."

"Really, Severus?" asked the Dark Lord, looking intrigued and amused at once. "Why don't you fill us in?"

Snape's report was definitely more interesting. He had samples of Harry's art work from WYRA, no masterpieces by any stretch of the imagination, but the talent was clearly there. He had his own first hand accounts of the boy's relatives, his living conditions, the extent of his first outburst of accidental magic, his magical aptitude test, the presentation of his wand, glimpses and impressions from their brief connection through occlumency, and a myriad of other pieces of information with the promise of more to come.

"He may not be anti-Slytherin, but he holds no love for you, my Lord. He still retains his memories of his parents and his former life, and though he doesn't object to being removed from the Dursely's, he does seem to resent your policy of removing muggleborns from their families. He has a rather naive belief that muggles should be given a chance to care for their wizarding children."

"Do you think removing these memories would help endear him to me?"

Snape thought for a moment, and was surprised at how quickly the answer came to him.

"No. He's a Gryffindor. If he believes you or anyone has acted against him in such a manner, he'll mark you as an enemy for the rest of his life. It's better to work around his stigma, unsettle the foundations of his grudge. Show him a kindness and he will loath himself for having thought you incapable of it."

"More flies with honey, is it? And how precisely would I show this... kindness?"

"As an opportunity presents itself. Doing it now would only make him wary."

"So sit and wait. You know I am not a patient man, Severus."

"He is not going anywhere, my Lord."

Voldemort chuckled darkly. His grin was definitely predatory when he looked back at his servants. Lestrange had come up short. No surprise really. Her position allowed her access to many records, but limited her exposure to the students themselves. Severus, on the other hand, had exceeded his expectations. His duties as both a Hogwarts teacher and a WYRA official had placed him in a very convenient position to gather intelligence on his target. That the man was on good terms with some of Potter's closest associates was just icing on the cake.

Plans were starting to take shape in his mind, possibilities unraveling. The quill beside him went about like maddened humming bird, flicking spots of green ink as it went. He could imagine his enemies rolling in their graves as Harry fell into his grasp, molded into something dark and beautiful and owned.

"You have done well, both of you," he said, mostly to ease the headmistress' obvious resentment at having been so clearly outdone. "But as Severus is in the best position to watch Potter, I will charge him with keeping me informed of his activities. I'll expect a report at least once every two weeks. You may both go." Severus hesitated a moment, and Voldemort gestured for him to speak his mind.

"Potter doesn't know about his parents yet, but it's only a matter of time before someone lets the truth slip despite the Taboo on their names. How do you wish to handle the matter when it arises?"

Voldemort thought for a moment.

"I will trust your judgement and cunning in this matter, Severus. Handle it in a matter that curve in rebellious actions on his part," he said, then paused as another thought came to him. "Restrict access to his family vault. The financial hold Hogwarts has over him may prove useful in the future. You have my permission to use whatever means you deem necessary."

Severus bowed in acknowledgment. The two servants exited the room together..

On the stairs, Bellatrix whirled around to snarl at the other man.

"Who do you think you are, showing me up like that? Know your place."

Severus merely smirked.

"My place, dear Bella, has always been by our master's side, serving him in every capacity I can... Even those that you can not."

She hissed at him like a savage cat, whirling around to stalk down the stairs. He watched her go, pondering his own foolishness for provoking her. She was still the headmistress after all and in a position to make his life... difficult. He gave a mental shrug. Oh well. Even potion masters needed to find a little fun where they could. The week past as a flurry of exciting new experiences and unrealized fears.

His first experiences with spell casting had been discouraging, but he soon got over it when it became apparent that he was still doing better than a lot of his classmates, even the Pure Blooded ones. Professor Flitwick had even commented that he seemed to have a rather high magic level (this after he tried to charm a tea cup to keep tea warm and melted the cup).

Homework was an unpleasant necessity, but it usually went quickly with Hermione's guidance. They spent their afternoons just after class in the library with Draco and his three little goons (who remained blessedly quiet- even if Ron gave everyone dirty looks), Natalie, and Clyde. If they got done early enough they'd find an empty classroom and work in secret on spell casting- mostly charms and transfigurations. There the boys let their competitive sides come out, and levitation practice quickly turned into a game of keep away of Crabbe's quill.

Harry wasn't sure still if he liked Hermione's brother. He always seemed to be testing Harry to see if he was good enough to hang out with. Draco's friends, with the exception of Natalie, were a bit dim in his opinion as well. The blond only seemed to tolerate them for his own benefit. But occasionally, Draco would do or say something clever or playful or daring, and he could see what Hermione admired in him.

It wasn't as if he had a lot of alternatives in friends either. While Gryffindor's hostility had definitely mellowed through the week, his association with Slytherin seemed to ruffle a few feathers. Hermione had an excuse, since Draco was her brother, but Clyde and he were seen as conspiring with the enemy it seemed. No one was blatantly rude about it (yet) but no one seemed inclined to invite either boys in some house activities. That some of these people were friends with Clyde during summer lessons, seemed to really hurt the boy but he said nothing about it.

Fred and George Weasley had tried and failed to get Harry to accompany them on some pranking excursions. They seemed to think he'd derive some satisfaction from turning people's hair green for their less than fair treatment of him. Harry didn't give a damn. As far as he was concerned he had at least two good friends who stood by him and enough to do to occupy his time.

Although, the offer to help hex Snape was tempting.

Aside from the absurd deduction of points from Snape (he had to do two extra credit assignments and stay after in Charms to help clean up the piles of charmed feathers floating about to earn back said points), Snape had returned to ignoring him in class and had asked no more questions. But every so often he'd get this strange feeling the man was watching him. Things had started to settle into a routine, until the following Thursday when Clyde woke him up ridiculously early by stampeding around the room.

"Clyde, what are you doing?" he grumbled, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Oh, sorry, Harry," the other boy said, but continued to run around in circles. "I've lost my other sock."

"Then wear a different pair," he suggested, and tried to lay back down for another hour's worth of sleep. "No, I've lost my lucky pair of socks. I'm going to need then today."

"Hm? Why?" he asked, without opening his eyes.

"Harry, don't you remember? It's Thursday. Flying lessons!"

Now that woke him up. How could he have forgotten? It had been the only thing the first years had been able to talk about since they were announced on Monday.

Not that he wasn't excited either, of course.

The only one who didn't seem to be looking forward to it all was Hermione. From the manner Draco smirked and Hermione blushed when the topic was brought up, he rather thought Hermione must have finally found a subject she couldn't learn from a book.

Reluctantly, Harry got out of bed and prepared for the day. He found Clyde's sock under his bed, where Bilgerat (as he was dubbed by Clyde) had dragged it to insulate his rat nest. The rodent had popped up shortly after the first day of classes, and seemed quite intent one keeping close to his rescuer. Harry wasn't certain if he was flattered or irritated. "Hey, what's that?"

Harry turned to see what had Clyde's attention. Sitting on Harry's trunk was a small leather bound book. He couldn't recall ever seeing it before, and it certainly hadn't been there the night before.

"I don't know. Someone must have forgotten it or put it there thinking it was mine."

Vaguely curious, he picked up the book. There was no title on the cover, and when he opened it to the cover page, it read "Diary of-". Where a name should have been was a water damaged smear of red ink. He could just make out an 'o' and an 'R', but the rest was illegible.

"Ooohhh! Let's take a peek," Clyde said, reaching for the book. Harry immediately moved it out of his friend's reach.