I look and stare so deep in your eyes
I touch on you more and more every time
When you leave I'm begging you not to go
Call your name two, three times in a row
When the post came, he realized he should've known something was wrong from the smug, gleeful look on precious Saeviour Potter's face. As the owls swooped down, dropping like stones to their masters in order to relieve themselves of the packages containing forgotten items or the mandatory 'missing you' letters, cold mocking eyes watched the rest of the hall spitefully as they received their wholly undeserved mail. Harry's eyes did not see the scarlet red envelope until it was right before him.
Spindly pale fingers delicately detached the letter from the stubby leg of a Potter owl, which hurriedly flew off soon after. Interest sparking his movements, he tore through the wax seal and waited patiently for the shouting to begin.
"SLYTHERIN!" his father's voice roared, echoing through the suddenly silent hall. "NO POTTER HAS EVER BEEN IN THAT HOUSE OF DARK LORD CONCUBINES! ALTHOUGH I'D SUPPOSED YOU'D KNOW ALL ABOUT BEING ONE, WOULDN'T YOU, YOU DISGUSTING FILTH! TAINTING OUR REPUTATION IN COURT WASN'T ENOUGH FOR YOU, WAS IT?! YOU HAD TO JOIN THE SNAKES! I SHOULDN'T BE SURPRISED." The shouting dropped to a sneer, "After all, the Dark's whores attract other whores. Congratulations boy, I hope you enjoy what little time you have left."
The school stated in shock. The Gryffindors were a mix of smug, nervous, stunned, amused; the Hufflepuffs wholly shaken; Ravenclaws disgusted at the choice of language and the Slytherins were furious. This hadn't just been a howler designed to insult Harry, it had insulted all of them. The teachers were shocked, but a few were tense and looking at the mini psychopath, waiting for his reaction.
Harry laughed. It wasn't short or sarcastic. It wasn't bitter or hurt. It was a cackle; an eruption of bordering hysterical giggles. The dark haired doll was bent, doubled over as true insanity revealed itself to the school.
And the school looked on stunned.
It took a while, but Harry reined in his mirth; a Cheshire grin on his face, not that anyone worth knowing to him would be able to place such a label on it. His eyes found his twin's, whose own suddenly weren't so smug anymore. Not tearing away from the gaze, Saeviour sat frozen as Harry climbed over the tables with a confident, maddening walk and a gleam in his eyes that made him want to cower.
He crouched down atop the Gryffindor table and leaned forward, his mouth beside the glasses' hooked ear.
"Tell dearest Daddy he should be more worried about the amount of time he has left."
The whisper wasn't quiet. It was a stage whisper. One that carried out throughout the hall; the threat, the silent promise.
Smiling Harry stood up, his gaze travelling slowly over the other occupants of the Great Hall. He knew he had quite possibly jeopardised himself but it had all been made very clear to him that they expected nothing less than a mass murderer trapped in the body of a malnourished child. He never took kindly to being threatened, particularly by the very man he wanted nothing more than to see screaming, begging at his feet… He could make an exception to the guard he placed between his true insanity and the faux insanity. Just. This. Once.
Behind him, the Slytherins stood up as one, so very cold and collected. Watching carefully, Harry observed as they walked calmly but with so much purpose out of the Great Hall. The corner of his mouth twitched; snakes really were loyal to their own.
He turned and his eyes locked onto the Headmaster. He tipped a fake hat, before strolling out after them, a delicious bubble of excitement flowing inside of him for the first time since he had left Azkaban. Oh yes.
The.
Game.
Was.
On.
The classes were boring and the teachers were droll so he was restless and impatient most of the week. Everything they tried to teach he could do wandlessly, eyes closed and in the process of having his soul sucked out by the ever caring guards of Azkaban. Messing with the students around him was fun, it amused him for a time, but the teachers, always so fearful, abducted points. He did not care for house points, but he did care for his own skin and did not wish to anger his housemates so that they would see beyond reason. No matter how much he lusted for a little blood-letting to ease his stabbing indignation.
Professor Quirrel was interesting, in some small form however. Not only did he appear to cause Saeviour pain every time he turned round, but something Dark was pulling him nearer. It lingered, traces of it all around Quirrel and beckoned for him to come closer; cold and enticing. Alluring. The stutter was fake, Harry knew, so the question, the only question, was Who was Professor Quirrel…or rather, who did he have along for the ride?
....
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