Mo Chridhe

Chapter 2


Harry grasped a hold of the piece of wood that had been shoved in his hand and yanked it. Taking a step back, green eyes wide with worry. Holding the wand protectively against his chest, that worry becoming outright fear at the formidable look on the wizards' face.

Deeply afraid, he took another step back. The wizard – who he still didn't know the name off – was tall, big and broad shouldered. He made him look like a dwarf in comparison.

"POTTER!" Flint was enraged, "Didn't your tutor not tell you it was wrong, illegal and amoral to steal someone's wand!" baring his teeth at the youngster, normally he'd have more composure and compassion. Unfortunately, he wasn't thinking right, he was compromised.

"T-t-tutor?" Harry stuttered out, green eyes glazing with fear, as he dropped the wand and took another hasty step back. "I…I didn't have a tutor!" he protested before his jaw snapped shut, realizing he was talking back.

It was a big no-no at the Dursley's and probably here too. Especially in face of such anger, his teeth were crooked he realized he should probably leave, like right now.

"You're such a liar, Potter!" Marcus scoffed, leaning down to get his wand. Even just a few short moments without it were too much. He was still shocked at the sheer audacity of the brat. Hissing through clenched teeth at the pain. Damn it, for a moment he'd forgotten the pain he was in. Pain relief draughts only go so far, especially the ones in the Hospital wing ones.

Hell, even the Mudbloods seem to realize that touching someone else's wand without permission was a step too far.

He couldn't believe the Potter heir had actually done that. It was acceptable to disarm them if they felt threatened, but that was the extent of it. He didn't know anyone that would willingly hand their wand over to anyone. Not even their own partners.

"I'm sorry," Harry said stepping back, heart pounding a mile a minute. Truly terrified that he was going to be hurt here at Hogwarts. Just after getting so excited that nothing would hurt him here. At getting away from the Dursley's.

"Consider yourself lucky I'm not going to the damn authorities or your head of house." He spat; he knew it would be an exercise in futility. "Tell anyone what you saw and I'll…"

Harry pale and shaken, scrambled for the door. Heartbeat shooting through the roof. He didn't even wait on it closing, he just ran, ran and ran and ran. The only objective was to get to bed as soon as possible.

To pretend this hadn't happened and prayed the other boy would too.


"Spoiled bloody brat," Marcus grumbled under his breath. Flicking his wand, he cast the spell and the rest of the salve was applied. His nostrils flared and his teeth bore angrily at the mermaid portrait.

His body slowly relaxed as the pain abated. Sighing softly, clenching his teeth and fists in anger. How he hated the old bastard, he wasn't sure how often he just wanted to kill him with then nearest object possible.

Shuffling over he sat on the bench, he could feel his back knitting together. He self consciously licked his teeth, aware of how they looked. Unfortunately, nothing could be done about them for now, he didn't have permission.

He was tempted to tell his Head of House about this incident. Considering nobody could really lie to Severus and get away with it…perhaps not a good idea. Their Head of House was fiercely protective of them. More than one student had gone to him for help and that's exactly what they got.

Regretfully, there was nothing Severus would be able to do to help him. If anything, it would get his professor in a whole load of trouble and fired. He wouldn't be able to help anyone else. There was nothing more important to Marcus that those who were hurt at home having an escape.

Standing up, shivering a little, the taps had stopped running earlier. He undressed and stepped into the massive tub and allowed himself to relax. Flexing his body, he turned around and let himself float. The warmth relaxing his tense muscles, he swam a few laps, as the rest of the salve sluiced off his body.

Lazily flicking his wand to get the time, before casting another spell. This one would alert him when it was close to curfew so he could make it back in time to ensure all the new first years were safely ensconced in their beds.

Like Potter hopefully was. Regardless of his anger, he wouldn't see a child hurt. He knew most people took a look at him and thought he would. He knew what they called him behind his back. He felt a pang of guilt at how he'd handled the situation.

Marcus mulled over what happened, replaying the scene a dozen times in his mind. He had scared the boy, quite frightfully, he'd been really pale. Perhaps he'd realized the seriousness of what he'd done? Not that the Ministry would do anything, he was just a kid. It would have been on his official record though, and if something else had happened, the punishment for that specific transgression would have been worse.

It annoyed him though, the lies. Although, given the look of shock on his face, perhaps it wasn't lies. He snorted at himself, there was no way the brat hadn't had tutors by the handful, just like the rest of them. It had to be shock at the fact people correctly deduced he'd had tutors surely.

Despite his deliberations on the interaction, he couldn't help but feel a niggling at the back of his mind. As he exited the tub, dried off and got dressed. Not bothering to dress properly, he was going to switch to nightwear when he gets down to the dungeons anyway.

After checking on the first years.

It was his duty, the Head Boy did the rounds, Prefects were supposed to as well, but they had their own ways of doing things in Slytherin. Head Boy did the rounds, Prefect watched the students. Especially the first years.

Tie around his neck, Marcus Flint swaggered through the school. As if he owned it. He'd never let anyone see him vulnerable, he frowned, wishing he'd felt more confident enough to Obliviate the brat.

He couldn't risk doing it wrong, how the hell would he explain the Wizardkind he'd accidentally wiped Potter's mind entirely and broken him while trying to remove a single memory from him? Oh, no, no thank you, he'd rather not end up the youngest recipient of imprisonment in Azkaban Prison.

He grimaced at the thought, perhaps he shouldn't have scared Potter so much. He might run to Dumbledore – his magical guardian – with a tale of woe that everyone would believe.

Once he uttered the password to the Slytherin common room, he strode confidently up the stairs. Opening the door – after knocking – and the first one happened to be Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy and Nott. "Get to sleep, tomorrows going to be a long day. If you need help getting to your classes let me or Prefect Figg."

"We will," Vincent, Gregory and Theodore chimed quietly but respectfully.

Draco just huffed from where he was already in bed. The Flint family weren't as well of as his family, so socially he was superior. Or so he liked to believe.

The fact of the matter was, the Malfoy name had taken a major hit when Lucius Malfoy was revealed as a Death Eater. Alliances had been broken, but the Malfoy and Flint families? Long since been allies. Although nothing had been written out since Abraxas and Lord Flint had signed one.

Marcus entered the next dorm and spoke to Blaise for a few moments. Once he was sure everyone was happy and adjusting and promising to go to bed, he left them to it.

Marcus entered his own room, a reason to be grateful for the Prefect badge. You get a small measure of privacy in Slytherin dorms. Head Boy's get even more privacy and actually get their own quarters (password and everything) so nobody could disturb them.

Glancing longingly at his bed, he sighed resignedly, before sitting at his desk. Dipping his quill expertly in his new inkpot he began to write.

Dear Mother and Father,

I hope the conferences weren't too much and that you made it home in time. I missed you both, and I want to thank you for your gifts, the jams were particularly delightful. My favourite has to be Duelling and Defence against the curses, it's very fascinating. If you haven't read it, you should, it's amazing.

My summer was quite uneventful, and I'm thinking of travelling with you next summer…Oh, I should inform you, I was chosen as Prefect. I may write a little less with the additional duties.

Best Wishes,

Marcus

Marcus finished writing and spelled the parchment dry. could only hope that his parents would take him next year. He knew it was unlikely to happen, and he couldn't ask or beg, that would tip them of for sure. Folding it into a good size for an owl, he cast a few spells on it, anyone stupid enough to try and take it off his owl, deserved what they get.

Standing up, exhaustion consuming him, he set it on his nightstand. He would send it off first thing in the morning. He couldn't wait to see them, but both his mother and father worked, and worked hard. He'd only seen them for a week during the summer before they'd had to leave for those blasting conferences which were lined up all through the summer.

He posted it first thing in the morning, then returned to the dorms to escort the first years to the Great Hall.

It became clear that the boy hadn't said anything. He didn't get any stares, didn't get called to Professor Snape's classroom or Dumbledore's office.

Marcus wished he could say he forgot it entirely. He hadn't, however, an overheard conversation in Slytherin common room was going to change all that.


A Couple of Days later…

Draco strode into the Slytherin common room as if he owed it. A haughty look thrown around the room, a judgemental gleam in his eye. It was cold, damp and just absolutely dreary down here.

Still, he was somewhere Salazar Slytherin had once stood no doubt. It filled him with a sense of elation, speaking of Salazar Slytherin…which got him thinking of Potions…he snorted. "Can you believe Potter didn't even know any of the answers?"

"He was Muggle raised," Blaise drawled, not as cowed as Vincent and Gregory were, who had followed him to the Common room, Greg holding his bag, Vincent holding his books. Which he was quick to put aside.

Draco snorted, "Certainly gives that appearance. How embarrassing for Potter that a Muggle-born knew the answers to Professor Snape's questions." Haughty and derisive. "Father was right, he's just like his father, and Mudblood mother, pathetic."

Marcus slid forward in the green leather seat, listening intently from the corner of the room. It was blessedly shadowed in darkness, the warmth from the fireplace hit him, but not the light.

"Gives the appearance?" Blaise asked, narrowing his gaze. Catching the phrasing, wondering if it had been done on purpose so Draco could continue his bragging or if it was just a slip of the tongue. With Draco it could go either way.

The portrait opening again, had the rest of the first years entering through the portrait. Chatting loudly, the girls going up to their dorms and some of the boys sat on the seat as close to the fireplace as possible.

"Father has collected all news pertaining to Potter," Draco said, voice steeped in jealousy. "Still, his education must have been inferior." Sniffing indignantly, still annoyed that his father paid that much attention to Potter.

"What news?" Blaise was perplexed, nobody had actually seen Potter until he came to the magical world. Nobody knew anything about him, except his family, not even what happened the next of the attack was known.

"The updates Dumbledore gives, little titbits of Potter's life when he visited him." Draco said rolling his eyes, gesturing as if to say keep up.

Marcus nodded absently, yes, he remembered reading them. His tutor had him read the Daily Prophet when he could read properly. A lot of the words had stymied him he'll admit, but his tutor was always there to help him learn. He'd been lucky, a few of his friends weren't so lucky and their tutors were utter dicks.

"What you doing hiding away in here?" Lucian Bole asked, plonking himself down beside Flint, who for some reason was hiding away.

Flint rose his finger to his mouth, shushing him with the universal gesture of shut up. Unfortunately, Draco was finished talking about Professor Snape's Potions Class.

"Derrick wants to know when the first try out will be," Lucian told him, giving him an odd look. Was he listening in on the first years? "Something wrong?" he had to be really worried if he was doing that. He took his duties too seriously; he'd protect them even if he didn't like what they'd done. It was the Slytherin way.

"Not for another fortnight, at least," Marcus revealed, in no rush. Without Charlie Weasley there, they had the upper hand. They would without a doubt win.

"You're not going to book up the field all week? They're down a seeker! If we book up all the slots, they won't get a chance to find one before the first match of the season!" Lucian enthused.

"Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams have already done that," Marcus told Lucian, smirking in amusement. "They're down Chasers and Beaters. They booked it for a full fortnight in advance."

"Hence why it's two weeks until we can play." Lucian said smirking in triumph. "Gryffindors don't stand a chance this year again." Crowing in happiness.

The guys that play on the Slytherin Quidditch Team were…enthusiastic about the sport. So much so that they may…use it to their advantage at any possible point. Yes, they played dirty, but so did everyone else, although the 'cleanest' games were always between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

"We'll make sure of it," Marcus declared, passionate to the extreme when it came to winning Quidditch. It wasn't what he wanted to do, play Quidditch professionally. He had his eye on something else instead. Which was why keeping his grades up as well as he could. Not just to play Quidditch like everyone believed.

"Too bad, I was looking forward to flying, my parents grounded me for the rest of the summer." Lucian grumbled, huffing out.

"What did you do?" he asked curiously.

"I called my tutor an inbred spineless moron that shouldn't have survived it's birth." Lucian sighed, crossing his arms.

Marcus choked trying to stop the laugh but unable to do so. Damn, no wonder he'd been grounded, man that was vicious. His tutor lacked…any particular magical talent. Hence, they had someone else in to tutor him in Defence. "Rough," he managed to get out.

"It was only going to be for a month with an apology, which I was willing to do, but he refused to accept it." grumbling in complaint. So, it was his tutor's fault really. His parents had refused to get rid of him after that as well. "Just wait, when I become Head of the family, I'm going to make sure my parents end up in St. Mungo's when they're old and not a country estate! With a dozen House-elves to cater to their every demand." Naturally not really meaning it, but pissed all the same at his parents. It's not the first time he'd complained about his tutor, and each time they've refused to remove him.

Marcus rolled his eyes; it was normal to give the Heir the Lordship when one gets on in age. So, they could live their lives, travel, and appreciate life before old age reached them. His father though, was still heir, he'd only become heir when his grandfather died and his father took on the mantle.

It was part of the reason why his parents' work. They were entirely independently wealthy (through hard work) and apart from the Flint estate. His grandfather held the belief that one must work for their money, to appreciate what they've got. They were given a stipend from his grandfather, which added to their vaults. Marcus received a trust fund as well from his grandfather. Which too, was mostly untouched, he used it to get quidditch magazines, books, things he wanted now and again. His parents paid for anything else he wanted, and also added money to his 'trust fund' he was determined to work for his money too, it was the sort of work ethic his parents had instilled in him.

"Do you know whether they still keep the old newspaper articles in the library at Hogwarts?" Marcus asked abruptly.

Lucian blinked in surprise, before understanding of the question dawned. "Sure, I don't know how long they go back though. I reckon as far back as Pince has been the librarian." Giving a rueful laugh, "Why? What are you looking for exactly?"

"Good," Marcus declared, not even giving Lucian an answer. Standing up, he added, "Why don't you go fly around the Hufflepuff tower? Don't wear your uniform, don't make it too obvious it's a Slytherin…" there were hardly any professors on that side he'd noticed. So, for a spot of flying when you weren't meant to…was best done there. It was away from the green houses, the Forbidden Forest.

Lucian perked up immediately, any curiosity over Marcus' actions dispelled immediately. "Derrick! Derrick! Get our brooms!" he called out as he ran towards the fifth-year dorms.

Marcus strode off towards the library, perplexed. Who did Potter think he was kidding? Everyone knew he'd had tutors. The questions Professor Snape asks were easy, even Muggle-borns will understand the questions because they were in the damn book they were told to buy.

Madam Pince inclined her head, happy to see one of the more studious Slytherins enter the library. He was always on time to return his books, and took care of the more delicate ones.

Flint inclined his head back, the Pince family were all Ravenclaws. Even Irma Pince, she was the sixth child, and the only one unmarried and without a child. It had been quite a scandal back in the day. Although, she hadn't been the heiress so it hadn't been too much of a scandal for the family.

Shaking of his thoughts, thoughts he'd had ingrained into him since he was a child. He could tell you her entire family, what her coat of arms were, what her family motto was, how much they were likely worth, probably name a few investments they had and the like. Not just for one family, no, he knew hundreds of families, it wouldn't do well to antagonise one of the more important families after all…would it.

Marcus slid into the side room of the library; it held every copy of the newspapers. Not just the Daily Prophet, but every newspaper established. Two had gone out of business since he was young, not enough investors, the Daily Prophet had the Ministry as backers, so they had nothing to worry about. Also helped lie to the public, and the purebloods didn't trust it entirely.

They had protective spells imbedded in them. Unfortunately, that didn't stop them going a little yellowish. They were placed in their files by the dates.

For the next two hours Marcus copied every single newspaper article that contained 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' or 'Harry Potter' or 'Heir Potter' going as far back as the actual attack on the Potter family.

He stared at the picture or a moment, trying to decide whether to take it or not. It was a dick move, to show something like that to him. However, he's probably seen it, right? He knew what happened to them at the very least. He'd take it and warn the boy. If he didn't want to see it then he could avoid it.

Putting it at the end, he nodded firmly to himself.

There was something going on, either the boy was downplaying his abilities (which honestly baffled Marcus entirely, after all why do it?) Or…there was something far more nefarious at play.

Which he honestly didn't doubt for a second. After all it was Headmaster Dumbledore they were talking about. Marcus trusted him just as about as far as he could throw him manually. Which is to say not at all.

It was easier getting the papers together than it was to catch Potter on his own. Which after two hours of unobtrusively following them…did he manage to catch the boy on his own.

When he reached out to grab Harry, he cried out and tried to cover his head. Marcus' stomach twisted seeing that…all too familiar with the instinctive reaction. It couldn't be…could it?

"Follow me, Potter," Marcus demanded, one way or another he'd get his answers to this mystery. Although, he would confess himself disappointed if Potter was just downplaying his abilities.

Only because the alternative was awe, it would be such a Slytherin move after all.

And Potter's weren't Slytherins.

And so it was, due to Marcus' own innate curiosity, he was going to dismantle a decade worth of planning that Albus Dumbledore had put into Harry Potter.


A/N – Okay, so you might be in a for a bit of a bumpy ride. I'm going to try and make it as smooth as possible but there will be a lot of jumping (time) to move the story along but it will likely deviate completely after his first year…can you see a twelve-year-old being granted emancipation? Or will Sirius become his guardian? And a good one for a change 😊 I don't think I've done that yet so it would be another new thing to try 😉 lol

This is for writers…how did you go about with your time jumping to make it as smooth as possible for the readers?

This is for the readers (Of The Contract) were you able to keep up with the jumps in the contract? since it's likely going to be a bit like that I think, the jumps in time I mean. Were you always aware of what age Harry is etc…? If that answer is yes, I'll bow down and worship even I forgot a few times what age Harry is 😉 hahaha 😊 R&R please!