Internally smirking at the look of surprise on the goblin's face, he left the office somewhat perturbed. He had hoped he would gain full emancipation but now… If the rumours were true, the Dark Lord was now responsible for him. His eyes ran over green; well, he'd better not disappoint his guardian now. At least it was one step closer to find him; to getting them out.
The short trip back to Hogwarts was short and silent, though he answered the unasked question with a short nod. If Professor Snape was surprised by his change in appearance, he didn't comment- whether it be in actions or voice. He doubted he would be shown the courtesy and indifference from everyone else. They were all children. Pathetic, whiny, nosy, uneducated, spoilt, bratty children. And he would be fooling himself to expect anything less.
He sneered bitterly as the potions master split off from him and he continued to make his own way. At least his ties were gone. Gone and buried, never to be revived. He had been expecting it. He had been expecting it ever since he'd first heard it was an option. That a family could renounce all knowledge of one member. It didn't stop the anger, the bitterness, the jealousy, the hurt… He had come to tomes with never being loved a long time ago, but existence… He didn't exist as a Potter. He didn't exist as family in their eyes. He wouldn't. Never would. And that fractured him.
"What do you want Potter?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing in on Gryffindor's Golden Boy and his two pet bitches.
"That hurt," Saeviour sniggered. "It really did. What's it like to be disowned?"
"Well you would know, wouldn't you?" he said innocently amongst the ice in his tone. "Intelligence disowned you a long time ago." He glanced at the Mudblood. "Tell me Granger, does he make you write his essays for him because he's too thick to string together a simple sentence?" The blush made him smirk.
"You're just jealous," Weasley sneered. "You'll never be as good as Saeviour. Never."
He suppressed a flinch. "You're right. I'll never be as good as. I'll always be better."
"Mum and Dad never loved you," Saeviour said. He did it with the air of someone who had already won a battle. And perhaps he had in some ways. But he would always underestimate just how far his brother was willing to go. "You never deserved it. Never earned it. You were always a freak. It was just a matter of technicalities that stopped them from disowning you before. Being a freak isn't a legitimate excuse apparently."
"And you?" That was it. That step to far. Hitting too close to home. "What reason do they keep you around other than to leach off your fame? I fear for the future of Potter, I truly do. Losing me was possibly the worst move you could make. When they die and you're left behind, it'll fall to ruin. Simply because you're too stupid and weak to keep and gain the power it could have."
"Shut up!" Saeviour shouted furiously.
"Why?"
Saeviour roared, throwing himself at the starved other. Harry reacted quickly, in the blink of an eye, purely instinctually and suddenly The-Boy-Who-Lived was falling through the stone floor. It satisfied the urge for blood somewhat, seeing the saviour of the Wizarding world crumple against stone like a sack of potatoes, though potatoes were marginally more intelligent. He sneered at Granger and Weasley's horrified faces.
"Call a teacher would you? I'd so hate for him to die."
He didn't stay to see their reactions. His magic was spinning angrily, restlessly, just begging to lash out. It coincided too much with the state of his mind. Freak. He hated that word.
"You'll get what you deserve freak," the auror had sneered. "The Dementors do so love pretty things."
He had deserved nothing. Not then. He had been innocent. Yet they had condemned him without a trial. His family hadn't fought for him. Nobody had fought for him. Because he was just a freak. Just Saeviour's older twin. Just that kid that sat in the corner forgotten at birthday parties.
Freak.
They had never loved him. They were so sure that Saeviour was the child of the prophecy. That damn prophecy that wouldn't even have been valid if they had all just ignored it. The bigger child. The more powerful child. That accidental magic had been his. He made the toys float. He made their hair change colour. He transfigured the high chair. Not Saeviour. It had never been Saeviour. And then that night came. And then it was as though he didn't exist. He was left behind. Forgotten.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Professor Quirrel barely managed to escape the curse. The teacher trembled on the ground, staring at the cold, icy child standing above him; wand drawn.
"Professor, let's just keep those last few moments between us. An oath if you would."
"I, Quirinius Quirrel, swear to keep the happenings of the last five minutes to myself. So mote it be."
Harry inclined his head and stalked away, his robes flaring out behind him. It was only when he reached the end of the corridor did he realize.
Quirrel hadn't stuttered.
....
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