Harry Potter: outlier

AN: Heads up I got 14 chapters and will upload one daily. Might be a bit boring to the one person who gave me some feedback, but I made some small changes and corrections. As always if you find any mistakes or plotholes, or have any suggestions, let me know. It has been a while for me as well so I might have forgotten some things I myself wrote and that can't happen. 

----

The next morning dawned cold and grey over the ancient towers of Hogwarts, the clouds hanging low over the castle like a shroud. In the air, a tension lingered, the very stones of the castle walls had borne witness to something unspeakable in the night. The storm had passed, but its memory remained, etched into the skies above and in the hearts of those who had heard the distant thunder or seen the unnatural flicker of lightning that had split the sky.

Lucas strode through the great halls, his steps silent, yet the weight of his presence was felt by all who passed him. His once guarded face, a mask of neutrality, was now hardened, the struggle within him resolved. He had abandoned the burden of restraint, the futile pretense of holding back. The world had forced his hand, and now he moved with the certainty of one who had chosen his path, no longer fettered by doubt.

Students clustered in small groups, their eyes wide as he passed. Whispers followed him, like the wind murmuring through the dark boughs of an ancient forest. They spoke of the destruction of the headmaster's office, the shattered stone, the broken windows, and the fierce storm that had howled through the night. Yet none knew the full tale. Dumbledore had said little, and the rumor mill spun its threads as wild as they were untrue.

As Lucas approached the Great Hall, a voice cut through the whispers, sharp and bold, ringing out like an ill-fated challenge.

"Lucas!"

It was a Gryffindor girl, proud and tall, her eyes flashing with anger. She stood her ground before him, defiant, though her voice trembled with the edge of fear. "I know you destroyed the headmaster's office last night!" Her voice was loud enough for all to hear, and a sudden stillness fell over the corridor. Those who had been watching from afar now turned their full attention to the unfolding scene.

The girl stepped forward, fire in her eyes, her words reckless in their certainty. "You think you can do whatever you want because of your power? That you're above the rest of us, that you can act as you please without consequence?"

Lucas turned to face her, his eyes dark and distant. He did not speak, but in his silence was a cold resolve, something that needed no words. The girl, emboldened by her own voice, pressed on. "You think you're something special, don't you? You..."

Before she could finish, Lucas's hand moved almost imperceptibly, and his wand was raised with a grace as swift as a falcon in flight. There was no fury in his motion, only a cold finality, as one would strike down a foe who had overstepped their bounds.

"Descendo," he said, his voice low, but it reached everyones' ears.

The girl had no time to react. In an instant, her own very feet betrayed her. She was thrown downwards, her body crashing against the cold stone with a sickening thud. Her face struck the floor, the sound of bone against rock. A gasp rippled through the gathered crowd, but no one dared to move.

She lay there, motionless for a moment, before a groan escaped her lips. Blood trickled from her nose, staining the pale stone beneath her, and she struggled weakly to push herself up, her hands trembling, world spinning.

Lucas stood over her, unmoved, his eyes devoid of pity. He regarded her as one might regard a fallen leaf, a thing of no consequence. "Speak less boldly about things you have no idea in the future," he said, his voice as cold as the winter wind over barren hills.

There was no malice in his words, no anger. He spoke as if stating a fact that was beyond dispute.

Albert, wand in hand, stared mouth agape at the young boy, yet all he could see was a mirror image of the dark lord in the war. The inescapable fear and dread he had felt that day. The absolute powerlessnes in front of that monster, and now here. It came all crashing down on him. Yet just as quick as his vision had overlapped a new one appeared. One so warm and dear to his heart that he couldn't help but abandon his wand and find solace in it. The horror from before already felt like an eternity ago, long forgotten, however, now the nostalgia of his grandmother's home called for him. The warmth of her hearth, the feeling of his belly fully stuffed and the unimaginable kindness radiating from the person in front of him. It brought him to his knees and he couldn't reject the sweet whisper in his ears to just let go and let it in.

Frank on the other hand had just stared lifelessly into the distance, unfocused.

'Two out of two.'

The students around them stood in stunned silence, eyes wide with fear and awe. They had heard tales of magic such as this, but never had they seen it so plainly, so ruthlessly used. The girl whimpered as she staggered to her feet, her pride shattered along with her nose.

Lucas did not glance back as he turned away, even leaving his auror supervision behind, his footsteps echoing through the now-deadly quiet hall. His path was set, and no whispers, no accusations, would turn him from it now. The power he had once suppressed now flowed through him like a great river, and he would wield it without hesitation.

----

Professor McGonagall didn't knock. She pushed open the doors to Dumbledore's office with a sharp swing, her expression tight with anger.

"You need to explain yourself," she said before he could speak. "That boy just attacked a student in plain sight. Do you understand how serious this is?"

Dumbledore looked up from behind his desk, setting down his quill, already in the know. "I do."

"Then what changed?" She demanded.

Dumbledore sighed, folding his hands.

"Or why haven't you acted?" she demanded. "Why is he still walking the halls like nothing has happened?"

"Because it's not that simple," Dumbledore replied calmly. "There are reasons..."

"A Gryffindor girl is in the hospital wing with a broken nose and a concussion. It better be a good reason."

Dumbledore sighed, folding his hands, yet remained silent.

"I won't remain impassive, Albus. Not now since he attacked someone." McGonagall stared at him. "You're not telling me everything," she said after a pause. "This is my house we are talking about, I think I have a right to know."

Dumbledore's eyes met hers. "You are right. Something has changed and to be honest, I am unsure how to best proceed from here. I need time."

McGonagall didn't move. Her mouth tightened, waiting.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Lucas is involved in more than we could have ever predicted. Something that will have consequences well beyond our walls."

McGonagall folded her arms.

The headmaster took out a single flask with a memory stored inside from a drawer in his desk. "This, Minerva. This is what has caused me great headache over the past few days."

McGonagall stepped forward, the tension leaving her body. The polished glass shimmered faintly with a pale light, one she immediately recognised.

"A memory?" she asked, voice lower now, taut with dawning concern. "About him?"

Dumbledore gave a grave nod. "Yes, a recent one. To be more precise it is about a prophecy. Made by our colleague here in Hogwarts."

"A prophecy," she repeated, the word heavy in her mouth. "And you are certain it speaks of Lucas?"

Dumbledore inclined his head, slowly, solemnly. "Yes. Trelawney collapsed upon its end, utterly drained. Take it and have a look for yourself." He handed her the vial.

McGonagall took it and walked over to the Pensieve.

McGonagall leaned over it, and as the swirling memory drew her in, the flickering candlelight of Dumbledore's office vanished. She was pulled into a haze of silver mist, the familiar disorientation of memory travel giving way to the dim-lit confines of the Divination classroom. It was silent at first, save for the soft rustle of curtains in the still air. Trelawney sat alone at her table, her eyes glazed and distant, her teacup forgotten, fingers trembling at her sides.

Then, without warning, her spine arched, her mouth slackened, and her voice poured out.

McGonagall stood rooted in the center of the memory, the words rippling through her like a chill wind. Trelawney's body quivered under the weight of the vision, her eyes wide and unseeing.

The silver tones of the prophecy seemed to darken the very light around her, as if the words themselves were unwelcome guests to the world of the living. McGonagall could almost feel the heat of fire behind those lines, see a rising tide of shadow stretch beyond the room.

The air turned heavy. It pressed against her skin, oppressive and solemn, like the very weight of fate had shifted upon her shoulders. Trelawney's voice cracked as if some greater force tore it from within her.

With a final gasp, Trelawney slumped forward onto the table, her body spent, the memory fading into stillness once more.

The Pensieve released her with a shiver, and McGonagall staggered slightly as she straightened, her hand bracing against the Pensieve's edge. Her face, so often stern and composed, was now pale and worn, her lips slightly parted.

She turned to Dumbledore, who sat unmoving.

"You are right," she whispered, though there was no question in it. "It's him."

Dumbledore gave a slight nod. The door to his office opened in the same moment and Snape walked in.

"You should see it as well."

----

Ron stormed through the castle, fists clenched, face red. He couldn't shake it. The image of the girl crumpling to the floor, Lucas standing over her like it was nothing. And now people were just pretending it didn't happen? Even McGonagall?

He wasn't having it.

He spotted Fred and George near the corridor outside Charms and marched straight up to them. "You've got to help me."

George raised an eyebrow. "Uh oh."

Fred folded his arms. "Who do we need to hex?"

"Lucas," Ron spat. "That freak's gone mental and no one is doing anything. Not even McGonagall! She's just letting him walk around after what he did!"

Fred and George exchanged a glance hesitantly.

"He attacked someone," Ron went on, voice rising. "Right there in the open. Slammed her face into the stone like she was nothing! He's not normal!"

"Alright, alright, keep your voice down..." George tried, but Ron cut him off.

"I'm not keeping anything down! Everyone's scared of him and nobody's asking why! You two always say you can get into any room in the castle, right? Fine. Then prove it. Help me find out what he's hiding."

Fred blinked. "Ron, we're not exactly..."

"I don't care!" Ron snapped. "If Dumbledore's not gonna say anything, and the professors are all acting like it's no big deal, then someone has to do something. And I'm not gonna sit on my hands while that psycho struts around like he owns the place."

George frowned. "You don't even know what you're looking for."

"I don't care!" Ron said again, louder this time. "I'll take whatever I can get, letters, notes, notes from the aurors, I don't know! If he's got secrets, I'm gonna need them. And if you two don't help me... fine. I'll do it myself."

Fred grabbed his shoulder. "Oi, easy. We didn't say no."

They definitely didn't want Ron of all people to start snooping around Lucas.

George sighed. "Yeah, we'll help. But don't lose your head, Ron. You start making noise, you'll get us all thrown out before we even learn anything."

Ron exhaled sharply, trying to calm down but clearly still fuming. "Fine. Just hurry. I want to know what he's hiding."

Fred looked at George. "Feels like old times."

George nodded. "Except now we're spying on someone who might actually kill us."

Ron didn't laugh.