Harry Potter opened his eyes only to be greeted by darkness, believing he woke up in the middle of the night, his hands felt for his wand. Once he found it, he cast a quick tempus. Luminescent numbers appeared on thin air, reading 5:57, and then the young boy remembered the darkness that dominated his new room. He decided to get out of the warm bed and the gelid air finished the job of waking him, along with the torches that flamed to life illuminating the room and casting eerie shadows. He really needed decent lights. Taking what was necessary for a shower, he walked towards the bathroom, once he entered he remembered with a healthy degree of horror that showers did not exist in the magical world and, while he enjoyed baths every once in a while, they were too time-consuming for his taste. Resigned, he consoled himself with the fact he had time to spare.

Many Slytherins gawked at the boy sitting in front of a fireplace reading a book early in the morning with a strange sack beside him. Said boy, rather than reading, was glaring with pure hatred the fireplace that provided poor light and was already yearning for a good reading place. Little by little, people filled the room until all his year mates were present, along with the two prefects that were meant to guide them.

"I hope you slept last night, otherwise, it will be hell today. We will lead you to the great hall for three days," the girl sneered.

"Other prefects will either guide or direct you to your classes for the week. You are expected to know your way around after the first week. I recommend you to stick in groups, for your own safety. Let’s go!" the teen finished with that ominous note and walked towards the door.

People looked at his backpack with obvious curiosity but no one questioned him so he ignored them. It was easy to get lost in the dungeons for it was built to resemble a maze, the dim hallways and the dark stone did not help. However, you only needed to be observant. In all the tweaks and turns they took, there was an almost imperceptible snake engraved at the top of the rock, signalling their way, detail that Harry noted. They arrived at the great hall and noticed a few students and two professors were there.

"Breakfast is available from seven to nine-thirty, lunch from twelve to two, and dinner from six to eight. Curfew is at nine-thirty but you should be in the common room by nine at most," the prefect explained.

"The library is open from eight to eight, you can also loan books, but anything that happens to them is your responsibility. Be quick with your breakfast so prefects Rosier and Travers can give you your schedules and a short tour," the girl almost barked and took a seat, they followed suit and food appeared in front of them.

Once again, Harry sighed, the food in front of him was too heavy and, if he ate any of it, the boy was sure he was going to throw up later. He picked an apple and started eating it along with a glass of milk, taking out a book from his bag to pass time. He didn't notice the way people eyed his clothes and his unknown contraption because he ignored everyone around him, including the hateful glances and the conversations. A while later, a parchment containing his schedule was placed in front of him, he took it in order to examine it and noted with equal amounts of annoyance and relief he had a lot of free time. He placed his books and a few apples in his backpack when the prefects began to leave. They were shown the library, infirmary, and owlery, along with the Transfiguration and Charms classroom, on which they were left for it was their first class.

Harry took a seat in the middle and waited. Professor Flitwick knew his subject and had the talent to pass the information, it was a shame he already knew the theory. When they were told to try the first spell, he thought it was going to be just as simple. However, he was offended when it did not work. He had followed all the steps: the wand wave and correct enunciation, unless...

Then it hit him, whenever he had used his power, he had felt magic rushing through him to accomplish what he desired. In order for it to work, you needed to want it to work and magic would comply. With this in mind, he tried once again, noting with satisfaction the spell worked. He was awarded five points for being the first to achieve it, fact that his Ravenclaw classmates seemed to resent.

Transfiguration had been similar, professor McGonagall was strict and lacked the talent professor Flitwick owned to teach, but she was decent. Once again, he heard the theory he knew by heart thus, ignored the lecture dutifully, until a match appeared in front of him and the teacher gave the order to turn it into a needle. Using what he had learnt during charms, a needle replaced the match on his first try.

"Well done Mister Potter!" the professor announced, standing beside his desk. "Now try to turn it back again," seeing no reason to object he did as he was told and once again it turned to a match. "Excellent! I never had a student that completed the transformation so fast, fifteen points to Slytherin. Now try to add complexity to the design, Mister Potter," she told him and walked away after giving him an encouraging smile.

For some reason, her strict demeanour seemed to soften. What a strange woman.

He thought of different designs while looking around the classroom and he noticed the bushy-haired savage that had invaded his compartment was seething at him, unable to resist the temptation, he smiled at her. Satisfied with her face darkening, he concentrated on his job. Visualising different kinds of needles, he was pleased in extreme with his last result. An exquisite metal needle in shape of a dragon whose tail was the point and open mouth formed the eye. Beautiful indeed, but not useful at all. Well, at least it was aesthetically pleasing. With a shrug, he presented it at the end of the class. The teacher stared open-mouthed at his work.

"I have never had a student present me something similar in their first year, let alone in their first class. Twenty points to Slytherin for raw talent and magnificent wand work," the professor announced, keeping his needle.

He thanked her and left the classroom towards the great hall, noticing the envious looks that were directed at him. He was no stranger to them, fortunately. Throughout his life, he had always been the best, fact that evoked envy from his peers. Being honest, he confessed feeling satisfied, it meant that he was not normal, it meant he was above them. He was pleased with the idea of not belonging to such a ludicrous group of people. He remembered with shame the times he had yearned to belong and almost shuddered at the repulsive thought.

First, he had tried to belong to his Aunt’s family, which was useless. Whatever success he was able to achieve only earned him scorn. He also remembered the first months at the orphanage with disconcerting clarity, he had tried to belong but he was seen as a threat for his attractive features and charm. Older children began hurting him and the adults knew, but they didn't care. Thus, he finished learning the lesson he began to understand at the Dursley's household: power is everything. He began using his magic to defend himself and no one dared to cross him. He began considering other human beings as less than insects and accepted loneliness as part of life... That was until Elizabeth arrived. He could feel her magic and knew she was not an insect. She had learnt from him and eased his solitude, yet he yearned to meet someone who possessed the same nature he did because his sweet little sister was too gentle to understand the lengths he had gone to ensure their safety.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he was surprised to arrive at the great hall, he took a seat and began doing his charms essay. Once he was done, food appeared in front of him, so used to the disappointment he was that he filled his plate with boiled vegetables, some potatoes, and took out his water bottle, eating without complaining about the lack of flavour or caring he was the only one in the hall aside from a young female professor who was looking at him with curiosity.

"Potter! Where were you?!" the female prefect that seemed to hate everyone asked, interrupting his almost finished lunch.

"Here," he deadpanned.

"You were supposed to go with the other Slytherins to the common room to leave your books," she hissed, taking deep breaths to compose herself.

"I was not informed, I apologize."

"Aciel, calm down," the other prefect whispered to the girl. "May I know what were you doing, Potter?"

"Of course, after transfiguration, I decided to come to the great hall to do my homework. I mean no offence, but the common room doesn't have enough light."

"Do you know your way already?" he questioned, looking genuinely curious.

"Snakes are hard to miss."

"Very good Potter, very good," the prefect congratulated him with a smirk, taking the surprised girl with him.

History of Magic after lunch was not what he expected. His mother made the class sound fascinating when it was everything but, yet he decided to give it one more chance. He opted to make good use of his free time after classes and decided it was time to visit the library.

"Good evening, Madam Pince," he told the woman behind the entrance desk, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

The library his mother owned was a gold mine, that is without counting her own notes and ideas for charms and potions. She had an unrivalled thirst for knowledge and no patience for non-sense, therefore, all of her books were excellent. Adding the books from the Potter library, he was not impressed with the collections that the school owned. However, he was going to be a frequent visitor unless he found a better place to read. He was shaken out of his book-induced trance by a gentle librarian who told him it was dinnertime.

"Thank you, ma'am, I got lost in the book."

"Don't worry, Mister Potter. Your mother had the same tendency."

"Once again, thank you. See you tomorrow, Madam Pince," Harry said as a farewell. He was rewarded with a rare smile from the usually bitter woman.

He arrived at the great hall and noticed that, much to his displeasure, it was almost full. He took a seat on his table and scowled at the food again. Like the previous day, he had mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. Seeing not water available, he took his own bottle and placed it in front of him. He ignored the curious looks he got for this action, or the surprised expressions from the muggleborns at seeing his backpack, or the glares from the Ravenclaws and a bushy-haired girl.

He finished his dinner and grabbed a book to continue reading it until it was time to leave. Once in the common room, he went to his room and found it utterly unrecognizable, beginning on the fact it was thrice as big. The floor was made of white wood and the walls were a deep viridian green on which golden carvings embellished it, the furniture was made of pale maple with an elegant simplicity that highlighted their design. An ample desk containing different drawers with a matching plush executive chair that was designed after the muggle version, and which cushions were covered in the same green leather the walls were painted. Beside rested a wide bookcase and a comfortable sitting place in front of a marble fireplace. However, what amazed him the most was that the window that once showed the Black Lake now provided the view of the fields of the Potter castle.

"Welcome young master, I hope you like your new room," greeted Ella, popping in.

"I’m impressed, how did you change the windows?"

"I asked Mistress Eleadora, she connected this window to the castle and we merely changed them. Do you like the lights, sir?"

"I do, though I believed my mother only charmed enough for the castle."

"She charmed dozens of lights sir, she said that candles were not good light to read and I asked Mistress Eleadora to activate them," she announced with obvious pride.

"You are very intelligent Ella, thank all the elves for their hard work for me please," he told the little worker and she blushed green. "I have a question though, what are those doors doing here?" he asked, signalling them.

"That is Master's bathroom and that is his clothing room, head elf Rome cried when he saw the ones you were forced to use. So we made new ones; it even has a small waterfall that is used to bath. No Potter should live in such a terrible condition, Mistress Dorea would have cried if she saw it," she announced solemnly while the boy was busy digesting the fact that elves had better taste than he did.

"Thank Rome for me then, I know you are tired but could you please deliver this letter to my sister and give this one to Hedwig?" he asked the small female, amused at her description of a shower.

"Of course, sir," she said, opening the window. A white owl came through and she tied the letter to its paw. He felt stupid at not realizing he could do that. With a groan, he began of thinking ways of bringing Hedwig to his room.

"One more thing Ella, can someone bring tomorrow a few perches for the birds?"

"I will do it, sir!"

"Thank you once again dear Ella, rest well."

"Good night, young master!" the little one said with tears welling in her eyes.

He eyed his room once again with approval, satisfied with how things were going so far.

The week went by in the same bizarre yet uninteresting fashion. Tuesday morning he was free while in the evenings he had Defence against the Dark Arts, class on which the professor's stutter made painful to be on, but he ignored with the best of his abilities. Charms was interesting, Flitwick was a genius to teach. Noticing how bored he had been during the theoretical part and how easy the practical side came to him, the short man began challenging him to study deeper theory and find out creative uses of charms for duels. Flitwick also gave him advanced spells to try and if he was able to accomplish that, Harry was promised a project. The highlight of the class had been the jealousy most of his peers seemed to expel in waves and how fast the rumours of his progress in lessons expanded. Professor McGonagall had taken him to her office after dinner that day, wearing an even more serious expression than usual.

"A student complained today about how you bullied her on the train, would you explain yourself, Mister Potter?"

"I was not aware," he answered, truly surprised by the question. It seemed that the bushy-haired savage was unable to handle jealousy. "As far as I remember, only Miss Granger and her friend came to my compartment. She was quite... Excited in her search for a frog, kicking the door open in the most literal way, then she... ehm, requested me to lend her my book and after that, she introduced herself not allowing her companion the same privilege, hence the reason I don't even know his name. I thought I was polite when I told her she could find the book in the library, but then she said I was rude. I was confused so I explained the way I was raised at the orphanage and what I considered manners, but before she could answer, her friend took her away. I really was not aware I offended her, I will of course apologize and I accept any punishment you give me, professor," he finished, congratulating his well-groomed acting skills.

"There will be no need, Mister Potter, I’m sure this is a misunderstanding on her part and I will ensure it does not happen again. I apologize for reacting the way I did," the woman answered in a calm voice, though her stormy eyes betrayed her anger, which he was sure was not directed at him.

"There is no need to apologize, ma'am, you were doing your job. If I could be excused, I’m about to fall asleep any moment," he explained, ready to leave.

"I will escort you, I don't want to have another lost first year," she commented, looking quite chagrined at the notion.

"I know my way to the common room, don't worry. Goodnight Professor McGonagall."

"Goodnight Mister Potter, make sure not to be lost."

Wednesday resulted to be his busiest day. Beginning with the rumour mill that was on a high during breakfast, on which he learnt that McGonagall had been furious with the savage, giving her two weeks of detention and taking twenty points. To add insult to the injury, he had approached her when the hall was full and apologized, the look on her face had been worth the extra hour he stayed at the hall and all the looks he earned.

That same morning he had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, a subject that was interesting to a certain degree but he would never be able to find fascinating. Flying lessons would have been excellent if not for the teary boy that fell from his broom, and a blond Slytherin arguing with a redhead about a ball. Though, on a positive note, he had discovered he enjoyed flying but doubted he would ever join a quidditch team for his lack of interest in the game. After the lessons, he was happy to leave for the great hall to do homework and have lunch before going to the library to investigate.

It was a pity he had to spend part of his evening with the Gryffindors for Defence against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration... A pity for the savage, who looked on the verge of tears or yelling at him at any moment, that is. Astronomy had potential to be interesting if they ever moved from learning the basics, but considering the lack of brain activity his year mates seemed to share, he had serious doubts. His mother had written how useless the magical telescopes were compared to the muggle ones, and the two times she had brought one to the school, they had suffered mysterious accidents. Hence, she had created one using muggle materials, it was not the best (it was actually a testament that his mother lacked ability in the craft department), but compared to what the school had to offer, it was thousands of times better.

Thursday he woke up later than usual and decided to stay the morning of his free day in his room with his house-elf bringing him breakfast and lunch, afterwards, he went to the library. It would have been an unremarkable day if not for the elf that popped in front of him on his way.

"Why Master Potter don't eat in hall? Does him not likey our food?" the little one asked pulling his ears in distress. While the elf himself did not surprise him, the dirty pillowcase he wore and bare feet certainly did.

"I apologize for worrying you, can you tell me your name?" Harry asked in a gentle tone, crouching down to look at him.

"Master Potter is so good! I have heard of his greatness! And he wants to know Dudi's name!" the elf began wailing, surprising the other male in the hallway. It took a while to calm the elf for the little thing cried harder when he was reassured. Harry was disturbed at how lacking the elf's vocabulary was and wondered if it was an exception or the norm.

"I will assume Dudi is your name," he stated and received a fanatical nod. "I’m not used to eating heavy food. Besides, I don't really like sweets or meat."

"Dudi can cook for Master! Yous tell me what yous like!"

"I like many strange things so let's make a deal, I will send my friend to teach you and I promise to eat everything you make, deal?"

"Yes! I will pop Master's friend in!"

"No need, but you promise to keep the secret?"

"Dudi does, elves serve Hogywarty and she serves students, not even long beardy man can ask us to give her secrets!"

"That is excellent Dudi. Demeter?" he asked she popped in, he had to smile at the surprised expression of the other elf. "Hello, I have a favour to ask, would you please teach Dudi how to cook what I like and how much I eat during every meal?"

"Of course young master, I’m happy to cook!" the family cook explained.

"Excellent, I will wait for dinner. Goodbye Dudi, Demeter," he said resuming his way.

He had been pleasantly surprised when dinner came, a warm tizza soup with a slice of bread appeared on his plate along with a goblet of water. Once again, people stared at him and once again, they were ignored.

Friday had been enlightening for many reasons, the first being that History of Magic taught by a ghost was not as exciting as it appeared to be, so it was labelled as homework hour. At least he could make good use of his time.

He had spent what was left of his morning immersed in a book about house charms with his parchment and fountain pen ready. Harry searched for spells that could be used in duels, just to add the humiliation factor. Such as the scrubbing spell that could be painful if used on skin or the waxing charm used without the pain-numbing one. So concentrated he was that he did not notice when someone took a sit in front until he was interrupted.

"Hello, my name is Theodore Nott," a boy introduced himself. How curious.

"Harry Potter."

"May I sit here?" he asked in what most would assume to be an uninterested tone, but he knew better.

He recognized the loneliness in those eyes for he had once experienced it. He could feel the boy's almost physical desire to belong somewhere... Where had he seen the boy, he wondered, he looked oddly familiar.

"I don't mind."

With that phrase, the seeds of friendship between the child of a family of loyal death eaters and the child that was hailed as the saviour of the wizardry world were planted. It is curious how much loneliness can affect your decisions, to the eerie point of engaging with someone who you would have ignored otherwise and begun a friendship to receive a semblance of acceptance. Amusing how it only takes a few words to either save or destroy a person.

Their potions class in the evening was long; he guessed it was to brew complex potions in the future. At the end of it, Harry had been sorely disappointed. The man was an excellent potions master but he was no teacher material. His mother wrote about him, their problems and his defects, but she had always praised his talent in potions. It was obvious that possessing knowledge did not mean having the capacity to impart it. Nevertheless, he could deal with incompetents, it is what he had done throughout his life, what he could not tolerate was the infantile way in which the man gripped to his childhood grudges taking them onto the next generation. He had sneered at him, asked him all the questions, and tried to single him out. For the Slytherin head to be so blatant was a shame to the House.

Friday 6th of September, 1991, Meeting Room, Hogwarts

Albus Dumbledore was waiting for the teachers to arrive at the first meeting of the school year. He was curious to know how Harry Potter was doing but he was going to be subtle in his inquiries... His ears still ringed and his pride ached after the verbal lashing Minerva had given him when she discovered the child had lived in an orphanage and, no matter how powerful he was, she had no qualms about ripping his beard when provoked.

When everyone was present, the electives professors began reporting, leaving once the older students were discussed. Then, the second years were talked about with a few promising students. At last, the first years turn arrived.

"Any remarkable youngster?" he asked, controlling his curiosity, after all, it was a question he asked every year. He really wanted to know where the young Potter's talent lay. Maybe he took after his father in transfiguration or perhaps he inherited his mother's talent in charms and potions. There was also the possibility of his talents lying in a totally different field.

"Look at this! It was made in the first class," Minerva exclaimed with pride, passing him a needle that he ogled with disbelief.

"Who?" he asked, gapping at the work of art.

"Harry Potter. He turned the match and back again on his first try. The rest of the class he played with the design, he has even more raw talent than James!"

The exquisite needle was passed from hand to hand, leaving people with the same dumbfounded expression on its path.

"I would have suggested Miss Granger, but her immature attitude disappoints me," she said after the needle was returned to her.

"I heard about her punishment, what did she do?" Pomona asked.

"She accused Mister Potter of bullying," this statement earned a reaction from the dour Potions master.

"So instead of punishing the pampered prince, you punished the victim?" Severus asked, wearing a more pronounced sneer than usual.

"Of course not, the version he gave me was totally different from the girl's, so I spoke with Mister Longbottom, who was present during their interaction. He confirmed the boy's description of the events. Besides, I was sceptical before, it is curious the girl waited so long to accuse him, a fact that coincided on the day Filius gave Mister Potter extra work... Did you know the boy was raised at an orphanage, Severus?" she asked in a saccharine tone. He remained silent.

"It seems my class is not the only one on which he excels. I must agree with Minerva, the boy is brilliant. He always gets the charm on his first try; he understands the complex theory and is constantly challenging himself. It is ridiculous to keep him back, that is why I gave him extra work. I gave the chance to all the first years but the few that took it quitted before the week was over."

"Mister Potter is a good student but Mister Longbottom has a green thumb," Pomona explained.

"I think I will follow Filius' example and give Mister Potter additional material. He knows all the material I was supposed to teach this year," Aurora sighed.

"He is an excellent flyer but he seems uninterested in quidditch. What a waste, he could be an excellent chaser or seeker," Rolanda lamented.

For the next half an hour, the teachers talked about the brilliant new student and all the material they would have to assign him for the boy not to get bored in class. Their decision was something Albus disapproved of, but Minerva was still angry with him so he took the wise decision of remaining silent.

"I see. If that is all, I think we can retire for tonight. Severus, wait a moment please," the old man asked.

"What do you want to know? All of Potter's potions are perfect," the man spat, looking quite sour at the notion.

"That is good to know but is not what I wanted to ask. What do you think about young Harry?"

"What else can I tell you? He is good at everything he does, answers every question correctly, he is the ideal student," the man said, looking as if the admission caused him physical pain.

"I meant on a more personal way, what friends has he made?"

"He is arrogant and has no friends," after a moment of consideration, he added with an almost inaudible tone and posture that betrayed his exhaustion. "There is something wrong with that boy..." Severus muttered and walked away.

Albus observed the man leave with cold seeping in his spine, his worries about the boy increasing... All of his plans were crumbling before him; he had wanted the boy to be different. Now, there was nothing to do aside from trying to guide him through the correct path. He tried to ignore the similarities between him and an equally talented boy fifty years ago.