Beautiful, the Dark Heir (bdh01)

Just as beautiful as you are

It’s so pitiful what you are

You should have seen this coming all along

(Unknown Source)

Chapter One

Chapter Written by Bittersweet Alias

Propaganda is a soft weapon; hold it in your hands too long, and it will move about like a snake, and strike the other way.

Jean Anouilh

Silence descended upon the meeting room as every member of the Dark Sect filed in one at a time. A large roaring fire was placed in two corners, emitting a glow on the room itself.

It was a surprise when he walked through the room between his parents to see the Dark Lord looking much different than when he returned last June.

The man’s eyes were still as fiery red as ever, narrow like a cats but his skin was smooth and no longer scaled from the potion.  His hair had grown back in full, coal black in a classic layer long enough to tie back. He was standing in silk robes of blood red with traces of ebony. He stood, almost seven feet in height, and his form was slender. The power rolled through the room causing every follower to shiver and get down on their knees.

There was a reason people looked up to this Dark Lord. It wasn’t simply for rebellion. Micah Montague breathed gently through his mask, slid down onto his knees, and bowed his head in respect. He was the third tallest in the room not counting the Dark Lord.

“Good evening, my friends,” Lord Voldemort hissed coolly.  “I have quite an announcement for everyone. This year will be much different. We are not going to raid every Muggle building in the city. No, I have a much more productive goal for each one of you. We are going to bring back our old ways, our old lives, and the old magic. Too long have I allowed my mind to wonder in the shadows of insanity. It is my fault for allowing this to occur. I created my own mistake this time and I now seek to rectify it.”

The entire room bristled at his words; Micah frowned behind his mask as he wondered what the Dark Lord was thinking. What was he saying exactly?

“You’ll discover what it is in due time. For now I need all of Hogwarts students present to step forward, now.”

Micah grimaced and moved fluidly with the rest of them; fifth to seventh years stood in a row.

“Excellent, a nice round twenty. I’m pleased; four of you bear my mark. The rest of you are still too young,” he said pacing in front of them.

A few of them were shaking but Micah stood tall, his golden eyes watching through his bone white mask. He knew the Dark Lord was dangerous and his magic was captivating but he would not fear him, he wouldn’t yield to the magic in that way. He’d be useless if he did.

“I would like to make something clear to each and every one of you. I have a Dark Heir, a son, a child – my child that resides at Hogwarts. He knows who he is and I know who he is. The catch is you don’t, my Dark Heir is standing here right now watching this very scene. I will make it clear if you find him you are to offer him your servitude. He will not tell you unless he sees fit to do so. If you find out before he reveals who he is then you are to remain silent about it. If I hear that it has spread through Hogwarts particularly to a Muggle-loving bastard, I will find the one responsible and you will not like the consequences. My Dark Heir will reveal himself when the time is right and whether to the whole school or to a select few. It is your job to make the decision blind. For all you know he could be a Ravenclaw or even a Hufflepuff. It doesn’t matter what his house is all that matters is that he is mine.”

That was one tall and risky order, Micah thought in shock. He dare not do what the others were doing and search the crowds, bristling back and forth. He remained still and stoic next to who he knew was Blaise Zabini. Micah’s keen sense of smell could tell who was who under a mask if he had been in their presence before.

“Do I make myself clear?” he demanded silkily.

“Yes,” Micah and the rest replied instantly.

“Very well. Plans for Azkaban will begin soon enough. You are dismissed.”

Micah waited approximately fifteen seconds before lowering his head in respect and heading out of the room in casual strides. He’d do anything to stay away from his ridiculous family and being in the Dark Lord’s manor was the perfect way to remain apart from them. As soon as he stepped out of the doors, he pulled his mask off along with Blaise, Draco, Adrian, and Theodore.

No one dared to speak so close to the meeting room and toward the others. If the Dark Heir was in the room they’d hear everything and Micah knew that it wasn’t this particular group.

No way.

Micah had ten times the power they had combined along with the intelligence and strategy to be more than useful. Draco was a pompous little prick; the Dark Lord would kill him before making the little shit an Heir. If it were any of them, Blaise would be the most likely but he knew that the tall dark skinned Slytherin was not. Theo while cunning and meticulous was also not powerful enough. Whoever it was had no parents and that definitely ruled out Adrian, as well.

Micah was the first to walk away with others following behind. Draco sneered, Micah knew he hated it when someone walked in front of him or pretended to be better, however, Micah wasn’t pretending and he quirked a brown eyebrow at the aristocrat as if to challenge him. Draco may be an idiot at times but even he knew better.

“So, a Dark Heir,” Adrian was the first to speak as they walked the halls of the castle and toward their designated rooms. They were away from their parents and away from the most loyal followers to Voldemort but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be overheard.

“It would seem so,” Blaise said from Micah’s right. “Montague?”

“Hm?” The bronze double doors opened to their floor admitting the group.

“What do you think?”

“I think you should all shut up and keep your opinions to yourself,” Micah snapped sharply. “You’re forgetting that there are a dozen others following us a few shadows behind.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Like it’s any of them, I couldn’t see Goyle or Crabbe.”

“Of course not. But they weren’t the only ones there,” Theo said logically. “Whoever it is didn’t have to be standing in line with us. They could have been in the crowd.”

They entered their suites and Micah went straight for the wine bar as he stripped off the black robe and threw it aside. He rushed a hand through his shaggy brown hair which had so many fly away multi-lengths one wondered how he could stand it. It crept down to his shoulders and was held by a simple black band. He kept it long to annoy the hell out of his parents. A pureblood he may be but that didn’t mean he had to follow their rules. The typical pureblood teenager was exactly what Draco possessed; short and clean cut hair, obedience to the Head of the Family, and so rich that he showed it off with everything he wore. But Micah didn’t follow his father around like a puppy on the idiot’s heels. In fact, Micah couldn’t wait for the old man to keel over personally, and his mother could go too.

His skin was a light tan shade thanks to his South American mother. His father was French. In a way, Micah resembled a wolf: his eyes being golden and his facial structure ending in a rugged defined sort of way. He was tall, toned all the way through. His shoulders were broad and slightly squared, but he was a little slimmer in the waist.

He poured himself a glass of whisky and observed the room and everyone’s actions.

There was a main common room for them all to congregate in and a flurry of doors that led to their respectable rooms. Micah downed a shot of Firewhisky while listening to the speculations buzzing from Draco to Theo.

“Look, whoever it is no one’s going to know until we get back to school on Friday,” Blaise said simply, “there’s no need to speculate. Chances are we’ve never even seen this boy. He’s hidden like a chameleon.  Would you expect any less?”

Draco scowled but didn’t deny that.

Adrian chewed his bottom lip. “I feel like a Gryffindor with this curiosity!”

Ew,” Draco and Theo declared at the same time.

Micah rolled his eyes. “Even if you find out who it is, what are you going to do? Demand his presence be known? You heard our Lord, he comes to us.”

“Wonder if he’s even worth it?” Draco hissed and it was obvious to Micah that jealousy streamed through the blond’s cold voice. His eyes also flashed in that essence.

He was such a child, Micah thought. There was no damn way the Dark Lord would put up with him.

“I wouldn’t say that out loud if I were you Draco, unless you have a death wish,” Blaise warned his friend.

Micah was pressed up against the bar; he finished his second drink and placed it aside. “Well, whoever it is will show himself in due time. Least you know it’s a male, that weeds through a lot of bitches.”

“True, wonder if he’s cute?” Adrian pondered.

Micah shook his head at the dark blond boy and never answered him. It was a ridiculous question. When he entered his suite, he gazed around. It was made up of dark blues and black with a large waterbed in the middle. He needed a shower and then he needed to think.

Micah did want to know who the Dark Heir was, but there was no way he’d voice his thoughts aloud. He flipped the taps on and waited for it to run hot. He adjusted the silver beaded chain around his neck before stepping in. If the Dark Heir was hiding in plain sight then there was no way he’d be a Slytherin.

Ravenclaw seemed the most probable. Perhaps Micah would put his Head Boy privileges to use this year and uncover the secret. Not like it would do much good anyway, if the Heir didn’t want to be revealed then so be it. But Micah wouldn’t mind knowing beforehand so that he could prepare.  

He hated surprises, like most Slytherins. They wanted their information and they wanted it now. So to withhold said information from a Slytherin was asking for trouble.

Well, whoever it was, Micah was prepared. He had to be, to make a foolish mistake was not an option. Micah didn’t make mistakes.

Emerald green eyes watched with avid amusement as the Dark Lord swept through the room and began to discard the heaviness of his robes.

“What is so funny?” Voldemort asked raising an eyebrow at the beautiful creature sitting cross-legged like a pretzel on his black leather sofa.

His hair was as black as the Dark Lord’s and it was silky and long, falling in perfect straight strands down his back. His face was slightly heart-shaped modeling his adoptive father, Sirius Black. The glasses that had once obstructed such lovely eyes were no longer in use and his skin was perfect porcelain. His form was a little too slender from his upbringing. He wasn’t very tall but he’d never be even with the new magical blood inside of him.

Dumbledore had already done the damage.

He also resembled Voldemort in some shape or form due to the soul embedded inside the fifteen-year-old boy.

Harry snickered and pushed the bowl of strawberries to the side. “I heard Malfoy’s parting words when he didn’t think anyone was listening.”

“Pray tell what did the idiot say?” Voldemort asked passing by and stealing a strawberry in the process.

“Is he even worth it?”


“This will be fun,” Harry hummed bringing a knee up and wrapping his arm around it. He pressed his forehead to it in thought. “I can do all kinds of things and make them so angry and then, when they find out, watch them all faint.”

The summer had been action packed to an all time extreme. Harry never would have guessed that his life would change in the blink of an eye. He never believed that Dumbledore would play with him so frivolously like he was some toy. Harry never would have guessed the old man had it in him to do the things he did.

What was worse was his friends had been in on it the entire time, siphoning over fifty thousand Galleons out of his vaults. Of course it was all for the war effort and he knew Dumbledore’s words if he voiced all the betrayals that had occurred.

‘I did what I believed was best.’

Sirius and Remus were the ones who found out about it, Severus was the one who took them all to Voldemort, and that was when they found out more than they ever bargained for.

But there was more to the equation – so much more and now here Harry Potter was, sitting in Voldemort’s chambers as though he had known the man all his life – and in a way he had.

Harry knew that Voldemort’s care was for the soul fragment imbedded inside him but at least he expected that. He didn’t expect Dumbledore’s treatment and machinations. The Dark Lord always had a reason for treating someone well. He didn’t do it for the one involved. He did it for himself.

But that was okay because it was the Dark Lord. It wasn’t a man who pretended to care, pretended to take you away from such evil filth and prepare you for the long road ahead to kill, commit both homicide and suicide.


His magic flared and the dark waves rolled out causing Voldemort rocked back on his heels in surprise. “Reel it in, child!” he hissed reaching over and yanking the boy’s head up to see his green-eyes glowing strangely. “Breathe!”

Harry snapped them closed and did as he was told, breathing in and out. He could feel the caress of his magic attempting to protect and hold onto him it as deeply demanding and it stemmed from the equal sort of power that he possessed inside of him whether by Voldemort’s soul or by his own admission.

“That’s it. Stop thinking about that old man, he’ll get his due.”

“I know,” Harry whispered flicking his eyes open and staring up at the red-eyed man. “I just hate having to pretend to be their friend.”

“Trust me, child, the pretending will be worth it in the end. I did not take you and train you for no reason, and anyway, you don’t have to be friends with them. You can expose them all you want and embarrass the hell out of them if you choose. That doesn’t make you dark and it shouldn’t make Dumbledore think you’ve turned this way.”

“I know, Tom,” Harry said with a bit of relief.

Voldemort glared at Harry for several moments, drilling right into his head and finding the thoughts of Dumbledore and his own self. “That’s not true!” he snapped roughly.

“What?” Harry asked confused.

“The soul inside of you is only a part of it. My soul might be shredded but my mind is not. You are a reincarnation of myself, Hadrian,” he said smoothly. He ran a finger across the boy’s pale cheek taking in the way his face had turned in shape from the potions and blood mixture.

“Dumbledore took a hold of you and he ripped you apart little by little, feeding you lies and candy and then he turns around and thrusts you in front of me, using you as a pawn. You are my Dark Heir, you are not a common Death Eater and you never will be. This time around, I’ll do it right and no Light Lord will dictate to us. The Dark Sect will succeed.”

Harry smiled. “I’ll make damn sure of it to, Tom,” he said earnestly, “I’ll not let another child be swept into his game of lies.”

“We won’t,” the Dark Lord corrected.

The bustling crowds on platform nine and three quarters were drowned out by the loud tooting of the scarlet steam engine. There were kids rushing off and on for last minute things. Remus and Harry were not recognized as they moved towards the red steam engine and, for this, Harry was pleased. It was nice not to look like the epitome of the boy-who-lived.

Harry pressed firmly against the werewolf’s side. “Are we ready cub?” Remus asked leading them through the thick of the crowds professionally keeping anyone from touching either of them.

“I’m fine, Moony, really,” he said softly pushing his hair behind his shoulder. “Nothing I haven’t been prepared for. I wish Siri could have been here, though.” What he really didn’t want to do was see Ron and Hermione. He didn’t think he could handle it but he would sure try.

Remus smiled and placed a kiss to his forehead. “You look so beautiful now though, so much like Sirius… and you know.” He didn’t want to say the Dark Lord’s name aloud but Harry understood.

Harry stuck out his tongue playfully. “So because I look like Siri and him, I’m beautiful?” He teased.

“No, because you are who you are, Hadrian, cub. We made the right decision.”

Harry smirked. “I know we did,” he said nodding, “love you, Remus.” He reached up and kissed the wolf on his cheek, amber eyes lit with a paternal fire. “Don’t forget me now.”


Cheekily, Harry winked and then lifted his brand new lightweight trunk off his cart.  It was dark green with silver stars and moons, and it had a whole lot more room than his old one ever had.

He found Luna and Neville at the very end and grinned. “Hey, guys!” He’d met Luna earlier that summer; the wild and wacky blonde with large green eyes beamed at him from over her upside-down copy of the Quibbler. She folded it and then bounced up in his arms.

“Hadrian!” she cooed with a squeeze. “How’s the Thestral?”

“He’s just fine,” Harry said, laughing and patting her on the back.

Neville blushed and followed suit. The tan blond boy had really changed, gaining some height and losing some weight. It was the typical things that happened when puberty began to take over a boy’s body. He hugged Harry as well. “You look great, really look like Sirius,” he whispered.

Harry’s grin got wider. “Thanks, Neville, it’s nice to be told that.” And it was. It was nice to look like the man that was his father in blood now. A father who was alive, a father who loved him.

“Have Ron and Hermione seen this yet?” Neville queried with a sly smile.

“Hell no,” Harry replied impishly. He slipped some pieces of his hair behind his ears, revealing a silver dangling star in one ear and the other held a diamond and then three silver rings at the very top.

He was wearing a black pair of trousers that were snug against his frame and loose in the calf down. He had a black and silver studded belt and a button up three-quarter-sleeve shirt that was slightly snug and tucked in. He wore black boots that gave him a bit of height that he desperately wished he owned naturally, giving him the five seven look from his usual five foot five.

He was a perfect build for a Seeker.

“Well, prepare yourself. I hear them now.”

Harry did as Neville said and shifted until he was sitting next to his only true Gryffindor friend. He pressed his back to the window. The train had begun moving and the doors to the compartment shoved open with a rather irritating bang revealing two people that Harry really didn’t wish to see.

Ron goggled at him. “Who are you?!” he demanded.

Neville burst out laughing and Harry simply arched an eyebrow.

Hermione frowned. “Uh-” She stared from Harry to Luna and narrowed her eyes on the eccentric blonde who was smiling innocently. “Wh-who? Neville?” It was obvious she hated not knowing something and obviously this was one thing she really didn’t know. It was sad; she didn’t even recognize someone she’d stolen from.

Harry snorted. “Uhm, the last I checked my name was Harry Potter and we were friends.” He had to really strain his words to say the last part. He brushed his bangs aside to show them the infamous scar.

“Harry!” Hermione shrieked, brown eyes widening. “What did you do? It wasn’t illegal was it?”

“What the hell mate? You look – weird! Different, you’re not the same!” he griped.

Harry really wished at that moment that he could slap the two of them. It was how they usually were, jumping to conclusions and always putting their nose into something they shouldn’t. Sure, they probably meant well sometime ago, but Harry knew now that it was all a façade to control and keep him at arms lengths.

Harry rolled his eyes and he had a feeling he’d be doing that particular move a lot. First, he shot Hermione a cold look. “I did nothing illegal, my godfather blood adopted me,” he said evenly, “as for why I changed? Well, you know what happens when a person performs a blood adoption, right?” His words were directed at a flush-faced Hermione and it was apparent she didn’t appreciate getting an intelligent lecture like she did everyone else. “A person’s genetics rearranges so I have the dominant features of a Black mixed with my mother and father.” He decided that it was a good idea to leave out the fact that James Potter hardly existed in his face when Lord Voldemort also blood adopted him. Technically, he was a Riddle and Black.  Or a Gaunt and a Black, he thought fondly of Tom who hated any mention of his Muggle father.

Hermione huffed. “You could have told us.”

“Could I?” Harry asked doubtfully.

It was easy to see that Ron was green with envy. He was trying to swallow it down. Hermione was staring shrewdly at Harry and then snapped her eyes to Neville and Luna, a panicked look struck her face but Harry waved his hand. “They know.”

“How?!” Ron shouted plopping down and continued to gawk at Harry as though he were a new beast from a Muggle circus.

“You don’t have to scream,” Harry snapped with a wince.  “Luna’s father and Remus are really good friends and Remus was tutoring Neville in Potions this summer.”

Neville bobbed his head. “Found out a lot about Harry and I even helped grow the herbs for the adoption!”

Luna beamed. “The black grim is very good for our dark angel,” she said dreamily, “all will be right in the end as it should be in the nest of a Nargle.”

Harry laughed as Hermione blinked. “What?”

“Luna has an eccentric logic,” He chirped happily. He would have to thank her for taking his mind off these two bastards. “She’s the best.”

“Logic?” Hermione mumbled dubiously.

Harry sighed.  Leave it to Hermione to insult. Already, he was sick of their presence and it hadn’t even been more than five minutes. He was attempting to hold his tongue but every time he stared their way, his lip would curl. “I have to go to the Prefect’s Compartment,” he said suddenly remembering.

Hermione gaped. “You’re a Prefect?” she yelped. “And you never told me?!”

Ron’s ears pinked at this.  Harry shrugged. “Yeah, so? I forgot. I had more important things to do.” He left the compartment taking his bent up badge with him.

Hermione raced out behind him, and gripped his forearm. “How can you forget? What the hell is more important than this?”

Harry glared at her and yanked his arm away from her grip. “Plenty of things, Hermione,” he said gritting his teeth. How dare she touch him! “Also, would you please stop screaming in my bloody ear?” He wriggled it as he pulled the door open to the Prefect’s Compartment and blinked when he stepped inside a very comfortable room with leather couches that matched the houses.

Six students from each house, including the Head Boy and Girl. Harry recognized the Head Boy immediately as Micah Montague – a silent cold Slytherin who was part of Voldemort’s inner circle. The girl was a Hufflepuff named Claire Estes.

No one recognized Harry at first as he strolled over and took a seat on the burgundy loveseat. Hermione followed, her eyes watching his every move but she wasn’t the only one watching him and Harry knew it.

Draco was practically drooling and a few of the males squirmed while a couple females giggled his way.

“Who is that?” Cho Chang whispered to her friend Marietta Edgecombe.

Harry almost choked, no one recognized him? How strange. He thought as he crossed his legs and nonchalantly brushed his bangs down over his scar to hide it from view.

Hermione was red in the face; apparently all the attention he received was bothering her and she was also trying to figure out what was going on in his mind. He wasn’t so simple to read anymore, he supposed and he felt vindictive pleasure at this.

“Now that we are all here,” Micah Montague hissed slamming the door with a snap. “Let’s skip the theatrics. You know why you’re here and I know why I’m here. I’m Micah Montague and this-” he sneered at the Hufflepuff girl who blushed, “is – er – what the hell is your name again?” he asked lazily.

“Claire,” she squeaked, “Claire Estes.”

“Right, you heard her. One at a time stand up and say your names, year, and House so that I can give you your patrol schedule and the prefect’s bathroom password. I want this quick so I can get rid of the lot of you. I have better things to do than spout off useless information.” Micah wanted to get this meeting over with so that he could check every compartment. He had a little Dark Heir to find. He wondered if the Heir was a first year, then he’d need protection. A first year would fit if the Dark Lord was just now speaking of him or a second year. All the females were ruled out immediately, they held no interest and the stupid Hufflepuff Head Girl was astonishingly obtuse.

How did she ever become Head Girl? Then again, Micah was only Head Boy because of his grades; he certainly wasn’t a role model. He was more likely to shove a role model off the Astronomy Tower than become one.

Hermione frowned admonishingly at him, while Harry arched an eyebrow. Well, what did he expect? He was a Slytherin and they always liked to get to the point. He almost felt sorry for the Head Girl.


“But, Montague…” Claire tried to protest but he ignored her and snapped to the Hufflepuff fifth year. 

“You, start.” He jabbed his fingers toward a chubby little Hufflepuff. Not a chance in hell was he anything of use.

“Ernie Macmillan, fifth year, Hufflepuff.”

Micah shoved a yellow folder into his hand. “Next?” he ordered coldly to the redhead.

“Susan Bones, fifth year, Hufflep-uh,” she gasped when Micah put it in her hands and pushed her back down to her seat. He continued down, silently ticking off all the Hufflepuffs. He got to the Ravenclaws and assessed each one of them as he gave them a dark blue folder.

They didn’t seem to fit at all either. None of them fit. The heir would have to be younger or not a Prefect.

He sneered in disgust as he stepped in front of the first Gryffindor. “K-Katie Bell, sixth year, Gryffindor…” He had to dig through the Gryffindors and narrowed his eyes when he saw Harry Potter’s. The little bastard wasn’t in here, though; he pulled the girl’s red folder.

“Cormac McLaggan, sixth year, Gryffindor,” he said with a cold shrewdness that caused Micah to pause for a split second and study the good looking wiry haired Gryffindor before immediately dismissing him. He’d take a longer look later.  Could the Heir really be a Gryffindor?

He narrowed his eyes when he stood before the Mudblood with too many curls. Ugly rubbish, Micah thought disgustedly.

“Hermione Granger, fifth year, Gryffindor,” she said with pride.

He practically threw her back into her seat with the shove and then snapped his eyes on the slender teen next to her. How come he had never seen this Gryffindor before? Micah thought inspecting him from head to toe. He had the longest sleek black hair and he dared to wear Muggle attire. Though it didn’t look bad, on the contrary it looked quite good on him. There was silver glinting from within the thick layers of hair, which told Micah that he had earrings. This was a bedroom toy if he ever saw one.

“Name?” Micah demanded evenly.

Did he honestly not recognize him? Harry queried to himself as he looked up at the tall tan Slytherin. “Hadrian Potter-Black, fifth year, Gryffindor.”

Everyone gasped.

Micah drew back, and barely managed to keep his eyes from widening. No way! This was the little freak with luck?

“Potter!?” Draco growled causing Harry to tilt his head and wait silently.

Well, Micah thought. The little boy-who-lived did show up. What an interesting plaything, he couldn’t help but notice. Potter was no Dark Heir but he certainly looked nice enough to be tied to a bed.

“Here.” Micah held out the folder in a different way than he had the others. He waited for Harry to take it instead of giving it.

Harry arched an eyebrow aware of everyone’s goggling gaze along with Micah’s challenging nature. A nature that peaked his interest entirely.

Harry took the folder only to have Micah put pressure on it. “What happened to you, Potter?”

What a blunt question from a Slytherin to a Gryffindor and to think it was almost cordial. “It’s Potter-Black, and it’s called Blood Adoption.”

“Black?” Draco gasped aloud. “How is this possible?”

“None of your damn business,” Harry said casually and yanked his folder from Micah’s grip before sitting back down. “Thanks.”

Micah remained standing where he was staring at Harry who pretended to be doing his own thing. Bloody Hell, if Potter didn’t have balls, Micah thought, finally moving on to the Slytherins.

Harry discreetly peered up when he knew Micah’s shadow moved away from him. Silly Slytherin, he thought good-naturedly before flipping through the folder.

“Claire, tell them about the rooms, I’m sick of talking and being here.  Make it fast!” Micah commanded to the Hufflepuff.

Harry drowned her out as he found out for himself that there were living corridors and private bedrooms for each Prefect and Head of the school. It began that year, it was a new installment apparently, and Harry would guess it was Dumbledore’s way of trying to unite all four houses together. It was nice to be away from Ron that much was certain but Hermione would be near him which wasn’t the best thing in the world but he’d live with it.

Each bedroom would have two entrances; one to the universal common room and another that would lead out near their House.

When they were dismissed, Harry closed his folder and stood.

Hermione seemed to try to find words to talk to him, but failed drastically. Of course, his change would unnerved her. He smirked at her before leaving the compartment completely.

Micah glared at Potter’s retreating back, he allowed his eyes to rape the slender figure.

“Potter’s change is incredulous,” Blaise gasped sitting next to him.

“His mutt godfather obviously,” Draco sneered.

“Who?” Micah queried.

“Sirius Black.”

That would explain the change.

“Would make a nice play toy,” one of the older Slytherins commented.

Micah’s thoughts exactly.

If there was one thing that could get Ron Weasley hopping with even more jealousy then what he already was, it would be the private rooms that the Prefects were given. Harry ignored Ron and Hermione the entire way to the Great Hall. He remained between Neville and Luna. Hermione was casting him furtive looks.

“Hey, Harry! How you doing gorgeous?” Fred Weasley’s arm came up and around his neck.

The small raven-haired boy burst out into snickers and reached up to kiss Fred on the cheek. “I’m doing lovely, Freddy, what about you? Where’s Georgy?”

“Ulgh, you guys are freaks!” Ron sneered.

Harry frowned at him. George came up behind Ron and whacked him on the back. “Watch your language. Don’t use that word in Harry’s presence,” the younger twin growled.

“Why not?”

“You are so thick.”

“Hey, Georgy!” Harry flung his arms around the other twin who smirked and stuck his tongue out at Fred.

“I got him now.”

Harry laughed some more and let go of him.

“We see that ickle Hadrian got Prefect!” Fred taunted wildly.

“Mhmm, he did and he also has his own room.” Harry poked the redhead in the rib and then wiggled out from under him. “Now boys, be good!”

Ahhhh!” Fred and George sulked. Harry smirked and turned to go into the hall when he caught the sight of Micah Montague watching him with his back against a pillar.

Their eyes locked for a split second before Harry entered the rest of the way into the Great Hall and forgot all about the Slytherin when he saw Bill Weasley in the Defense place.

The gorgeous ponytailed redhead winked at him and Harry gave him a nod before taking his seat at Gryffindor. Neville scrambled on one side and Luna plonked down like she belonged on his other side. Fred and George sat in front leaving Ron and Hermione to goggle at the placement.

“Luna, why are you sitting here?” Ron asked baldly.

“Because the dark angel wanted me too,” she said loftily.

Harry smiled and wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead. “Course he does!”

Hermione frowned and sat with Fred. The twin grinned mischievously at her. “How you doing, Hermione?”

“Fine,” she answered dully.

Harry grinned behind his hand as he surveyed her, he wondered if she was putting two and two together. Even though he was no longer fond of her she was by no means stupid. He could see that she was apprehensive in talking and saying too much. Ron however was such a dimwit and was glaring at Luna and Neville for taking his spot.

Ginny, who was four seats down, gawked at him and then blushed when he let his eyes fall on her small irritating form. How could Dumbledore honestly believe this? He thought to himself, and allowed another glance to go up to the High Table at the old man on his mind.

Blue met green. Blue began to twinkle and Harry, being the idiot Gryffindor he was supposed to be, gave him a big cheesy grin.

Merlin, he couldn’t wait for this ruse to be over. He tugged at his silver star earring; everyone and everything was so fake.

Harry didn’t want to be a fake.

Published by excentrykemuse

Fanfiction artist and self critic.

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