Harry Potter's Chocolate Frog Card - Kgfinkel - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: Prelude to the Stone

Chapter Text

Harry Potter’s Chocolate Frog Card

Chapter 1: Prelude to the Stone

Thursday 25 July, 1991; Dursley Residence, Little Whinging, Surrey

Petunia Dursley stepped out of the way just in time to allow her son to barrel past her bellowing like an stampeding marauder as he headed out to the backyard in his swim trunks and a dirty t-shirt. “Dudley! Slow down, you hear me?!” She shook her head in exasperation and continued her journey into the kitchen where she found her nephew Harry similarly dressed and filling up some water balloons. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting ready.”

She quirked an eyebrow up. “Why not fill those at the hosepipe?”

“Because Dudley would just attack me there. He knows not to do anything stupid inside,” Harry blithely replied.

Nodding as way of a response, Petunia filled her cup with some tea and settled onto the lounge chair on the back patio to await the inevitable shenanigans. “Are you ready for your eleventh birthday, Harry?” she called out.

“Yeah! I can’t wait.”

“You remember what that means, right?”

Harry’s voice was a touch subdued, “My Hogwarts letter.” He appeared next to her with an armful of jiggling water balloons.

“Have you been keeping up with your research of the dossiers?”

Harry bobbed his head, “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

Petunia gave him a half-smile and a pat on the arm, “Good boy. Go on and let Dudley know that you’re not to be trifled with.”

It would surprise anyone who knew Petunia Dursley nee Evans that she was not only aware of the concept of real magic, but also that she’d tolerate that sort of nonsense. ‘Magic is for children!’ or ‘There’s no such thing as magic!’ were just some of the comments she’d heard over the years, but she knew the truth. How could she not? Her sister, Lily had been an actual witch! The two sisters had some disagreements over the years (who wouldn’t?) regarding learning magic and becoming immersed in that world, but by and large; the Evans sisters were family.

It was that relationship that landed Petunia and Vernon Dursley with their infant nephew on a chillingly cold November first morning wearing nothing more than a grungy pair of pajamas and wrapped up in a thin blanket with a note pinned to his basket. The note was written with a loopy handwriting that Petunia would recognize anywhere. She’d grimaced, growled, and cried at how impersonal the letter was written and that Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of the magical school up in Scotland and allegedly the Leader of the Light Army had informed her that dear, sweet Lily and her husband James had been murdered in her home and that he was handing their son Harry off to her to raise until it was time for the lad to begin his magical education. She was promised that no one from the magical world would interfere and that if need be; she was free to instill a rigid discipline in the boy.

Vernon had been of the mindset that perhaps the boy would be better suited to live with a magical family, but the only one Petunia knew of was a nasty boy from her old neighborhood. “That boy isn’t fit to raise daisies in my opinion!” She vaguely remembered someone named ‘Serious’ who was supposedly the boy’s godfather, but she had no way to contact him.

So it fell to them to raise Harry Potter as best they could. Whenever the boy had a tantrum, things tended to break or explode from the accidental release of magic yet no one ever showed up to put things back to rights. Money had become tight for a while, yet no one from the other side ever contacted them to offer financial support. All in all, it left the Dursley adults bitter and vengeful…

It was to that last point that Petunia had hit upon the idea that perhaps they could raise Harry to become their weapon against the idiocy of the magical world. Harry would be taught how to study and interact with the people of the magical world long before he ordinarily would. While he wouldn’t be able to use a wand before eleven, Harry was taught how to use his brain and think of simple yet clever workaround solutions. Petunia took Harry on trips into London whenever she could and it was during one sojourn when Harry was six that she discovered that the magical bookshop had a non-magical entrance…

Flashback Gringott’s…

Having discovered the bank, Petunia along with Vernon and the boys, ventured inside where they were confronted with the realization that maybe they were in over their heads. The Goblins of Gringotts were gruff and somewhat abrasive, but once they were shown to the Potter Account Manager; they found a kindred spirit. Daggerclaw happened to have been in the lobby when they arrived and quickly ushered the quartet into his office where he expressed how relieved he was that Harry was alive and well. “I had feared the worst when young Mr. Potter had seemingly vanished from the face of the planet. Now, I’m sure that you’re here in response to our letters?”

Vernon huffed, “What letters? We’ve received nothing in the way of communication from anyone. It was only sheer luck that my wife even discovered the secret entrance to the alley here when she and Harry went on their weekly trip into London.”

Daggerclaw frowned mightily, “That’s not… Hmm. Would you allow me to cast a diagnostic charm on Mr. Potter? If there is a mail redirect charm tied to him, I might be able to discern who set it up.”

Petunia waved him on but added, “It’s in all likelihood that it was put on Harry by Dumbledore. That man has an inordinate and rather creepy involvement with his life.”

The charm was cast and sure enough, Harry briefly glowed a pinkish-purple color which indicated that there was indeed a mail redirect charm attached to him. Both Harry and Dudley were amazed by the reaction (Dudley started poking Harry before his mum stopped him.) Daggerclaw removed the redirect charm and rerouted it to his office. “There, now I shall be receiving whatever mail is sent to Mr. Potter. Anything malicious will be dealt with, as will requests or bequeathments. Simple letters of thanks will be passed onto you.”

Vernon bobbed his head once, “Thank you. How will they be delivered?”

Daggerclaw retrieved a box from a cabinet, “This is a Gringotts Mailbox. It’s a secure method of delivering and sending mail. It cannot be intercepted nor broken into by anyone not that of the box holder.”

Petunia queried, “How much does a service like that cost? We weren’t provided with any stipulations for Harry’s care.”

Again, Daggerclaw frowned mightily, “I’ll waive the fees for this service since it was up to the Executor of the Potter Will to deal with this sort of thing.”

Petunia perked up, “Speaking of the Will, would it be possible to have it read? I have no idea what’s in it.”

The Will was retrieved and presented to them. Vernon immediately pointed out that Harry’s godfather was named Sirius Black. “You were right about that, Pet. Why hasn’t he gotten in contact?”

Daggerclaw cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Sirius Black was arrested and thrown in Azkaban for allegedly being the one to betray the Potters to the Dark Lord.” He ran them through the available information about the arrest and sentencing for the man along with the oddity that nowhere in the magic of Gringotts were they able to determine if the man had received an actual trial and conviction. “If that’d happened, we would’ve known about it.”

Petunia narrowed her eyes and pointed to a section on the parchment, “But it says here that the Potter’s Secret Keeper is someone named Peter Pettigrew.”

Vernon made a growling noise and pointed down at the bottom, “Look here, now we know who was responsible for all of this hassle. I would bet the house that he saw something in here and got greedy.”

Down under the line for the Witness was the name Albus Dumbledore.

Present…

The morning after the Water War, Harry had been sent to retrieve the mail and came back with an envelope written in green ink on odd-feeling thick paper. It took his bleary mind to register what was written on the face and the wax seal on the back. “It came!” he whooped with glee as he dashed into the kitchen brandishing the letter. “My Hogwarts letter came!”

Vernon took the remainder of the mail, including the letter and put on a supercilious air, “I don’t know if we should send you to this school, Harry. I was thinking that maybe we ought to enroll you in a military academy. You know, for a real education…” Harry merely rolled his eyes and grumbled about how unfunny some people were. He grabbed a pastry off the plate and plopped down in his chair glaring half-heartedly at his still-grinning uncle.

Petunia playfully whapped her husband on the arm. “Scamp. Give Harry back his letter. Harry, you and I will go into London this weekend to get your school supplies. In the meantime, I want you to review the dossiers I have on the shopkeepers of Diagon Alley, alright?”

Harry swallowed his mouthful of pastry, “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

Vernon was still eyeing the letter from Hogwarts, “You know… I’m curious as to how this letter was delivered to the mail slot when I thought that all magical mail was supposed to come through that Goblin box.” Once the box had been installed, Harry began receiving letters from magical children up and down the English countryside. He’d been coached on how to reply with his thanks for their kind wishes and apologize for not responding sooner given the amount of mail he’d received over the years.

Saturday…

Strangely, and rather annoyingly, for the rest of the week; the Dursley mail slot was the recipient of multiple letters from Hogwarts. By the time that they were ready to head to Diagon Alley, over a hundred such letters had been forced through their mail slot, much to the consternation of Vernon. “I can’t imagine that all this parchment was cheap to buy. Maybe you could stop by their Ministry to find out who you can alert about this.”

Petunia, Dudley, and Harry entered the bank lobby and approached the first available teller. “We’re here to speak with Daggerclaw, please.”

The teller wordlessly scratched out a request and dropped it into a slot on his desk, “A runner will by shortly to take you to him.”

Within ten minutes, a younger Goblin appeared to escort them to the offices. Harry was the first to notice that their destination was different than before. “Did Daggerclaw get a change in offices?” Inside was a different Goblin, one named Toothpick. “What happened to Daggerclaw?”

Toothpick sneered at him, “I am the Potter Account Manager and have been for some time.”

Petunia made a subtle finger gesture to Dudley who silently slinked out of the doorway and disappeared. When he reappeared, he was accompanied by a darkly glowering Daggerclaw. “SuH, chay' tlheD nuq?!” (What the Hell do you think you are doing?!)

Toothpick’s eyes widened fearfully, “qach mach vIleghDI', SIbI' qa'pu' mach vItlhoj.” (I was appointed by the boy's magical guardian to oversee his account.)

Daggerclaw partially turned to the trio, “Mr. Dursley, please take your mother and Mr. Potter back to my office while I deal with this…gobrek stain.” Petunia and Harry bowed their heads respectfully and followed Dudley out.

Daggerclaw’s office, a few moments later…

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Mrs. Dursley and Mr. Potter. Dumbledore apparently had set up a new account manager without checking to see if he already had one. I consider the matter concluded. Now! I suppose you’re here because you received your letter and need to do some shopping, yes?”

Harry beamed, “I can’t wait! I’ve been looking forward to this trip for the longest time, especially getting my first wand. Ooh! Maybe I could get a wizard’s staff? That would be so awesome!”

Petunia and Daggerclaw chuckled at his enthusiasm. Petunia ruffled his perpetually messy hair, “We’ll see.” She turned back to Daggerclaw, “He’s going to need to don the heir’s ring and make a visit to his vault so he can see that it’s not just a bedtime story I’ve been filling his head with.”

It took mere moments for Daggerclaw to bring forth the ring and instruct Harry on how to wear it and what the various reactions it had to invasive mind magics, potions, and spells. “Basically, if it starts to vibrate like your hand is stuck in an earthquake, get out of there and contact the authorities.”

Harry and Dudley clearly enjoyed the cart ride down to Vault 687, so much so that they begged the cart driver to take them on it again but ‘could you go any faster?’ The cart driver grinned and promised to see what he could do when the time came. The two boys stood there in open-mouthed wonder as Daggerclaw opened up the vault door and ushered them inside. “You didn’t think your parents would leave you with nothing now, did you?” He gestured to Petunia, “You have no idea how relieved I was to get in contact with you all those years ago. I shudder to think of how much Dumbledore would’ve pilfered from the account if given the opportunity.”

As it was, between November 1981 and April 1986, Albus had managed to abscond with nearly twenty thousand Galleons from the Heir’s vault plus some books from the small library within. After Daggerclaw resumed control, those items were recovered and the fees for that recovery were charged to Albus’ personal account. The Dumbledore Account Manager had put up a fuss, but Daggerclaw merely hinted that they could always take up the issue with their King (who utterly loathed Albus and would most likely punish anyone who dared to paint the bloviator in a good light.)

Diagon Alley, a short while later

Money in hand and his hair still windswept from the ‘totally awesome’ cart ride, Harry followed Dudley and Petunia into the various shops as listed on his supply list. The first place they went to was Madam Malkins to get fitted for his school robes. They were greeted by the proprietor and a star-struck seamstress. “I think in addition to his school robes, Harry’ll need a complete set of everyday wear too.” Petunia teased him by holding up a swatch of a glittery pink fabric, “What do you think, Harry? Too much for every day?”

Harry sneered back, “I’ll wear that if Dudley does.” Dudley squawked about not being a girly-boy causing his mother and the seamstress to laugh at the boys’ discomfort.

As he was being fitted for his school robes, Harry’s heir ring began to vibrate. “Aunt Petunia? The ring is vibrating!” He glared at the seamstress to explain.

“What your ring is probably reacting to is the heating and cooling, resizing, and cleaning charms that are part of every outfit we make. They’re harmless and just something you’ll eventually get used to,” she replied calmly.

After getting fitted, Harry jumped down from the stool and followed Madam Malkin and Aunt Petunia into the racks to pick out the fabrics and materials for his everyday clothes to make sure they didn’t actually go through with Petunia’s teasing. “I want something subtle! I don’t want to go outside looking like a clown!”

Madam Malkin held up a bolt in iridescent silver, “This would look good as a lining, regardless of which House you end up in.” Harry waggled his hand and shot Dudley a dismissive sneer as the former teased him about looking like a disco ball.

Once everything was listed and paid for, they were informed that the clothes would be ready for pickup in two hours unless they had an elf to swing by and pick them up. “No, we’ll still be in the Alley shopping. See you in two hours.”

As they stepped outside, Petunia leant down and whispered in Harry’s ear, “What did you learn about that experience?”

“I need to look good without being flashy to project the air that I can afford nice clothes so I can blend in. If I wore my normal grubby clothes, it would send the wrong message to everyone that I’m not doing well and that the Family has fallen on hard times.”

“What would that encourage them to do?”

Harry thought for a brief moment before responding, “It would encourage them to try and scam me into believing that they have the answer to my problem.”

“Exactly. Okay, I think we should get your trunk next.”

Tom’s Trunks and Things

A bell tinkled as they entered the shop. Harry’s nose twitched at the scent of various varnishes and wood dust in the air. There were a couple of other kids in there, no doubt future classmates of his. He spotted one strawberry-blonde girl hovering near an older woman with graying red hair and a monocle over one eye. The girl did a classic double-take when she caught a glimpse of Harry in the corner of her eye, “Auntie! That’s Harry Potter!”

Everyone swung around to see who she was pointing at, including Harry. He gave her a curious look, “I’m flattered that you think I’m Harry Potter, Miss but I’m not. My name is Harry, but my last name is Dursley.”

The girl blushed madly for her supposition and stammered an apology. Harry broke down laughing while Dudley made a rude noise, “Moron. Don’t listen to this monkey. He is Harry Potter who thinks he’s being funny. The only funny part about him is that dumb face of his.”

The older woman shared a commiserating glance with Petunia who sighed, “Harry, Dudley; be nice. Young lady, I’m sorry you had to experience these two. I knew I should’ve left them at the zoo but they looked cute as babies.” She patronizingly pinched Dudley’s cheeks and smirked at him when he swatted her hand away.

The monocle-wearing woman stepped forward and extended her hand, “Welcome back to the magical world, Mr. Potter. My name is Amelia Bones and this is my niece Susan.”

Harry’s demeanor immediately changed as he calmly shook her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Director and yes, I know who you are. I would’ve had to live in a cupboard under the stairs to not recognize the Director of Magical Law Enforcement.” He turned to a still pink-cheeked Susan, “I sincerely apologize for my joking around, Miss Bones.”

“Susan.” The now-identified girl whispered. “You can call me, Susan.” Harry bowed his head respectfully.

“You may call me Harry then. Are you excited to be finally attending Hogwarts?”

Susan rapidly bobbed her head, “I am. I hope to get sorted into Hufflepuff like my auntie and my parents were.”

Harry dipped his chin appreciatively, “Hufflepuff. A good House for those who excel at just about everything.”

She tilted her head curiously, “What do you mean?”

Harry gestured lazily, “It’s just that the other three Houses, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor tend to specialize in their abilities. If you’re politically-minded, you’ll likely be sorted into Slytherin. Academically-minded; Ravenclaw. Brave and justice-minded; that’s Gryffindor. Now, personally I’m likely to get sorted into Gryffindor since I do have a legacy to live up to, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Hufflepuff. It’s the House of the Generalists; those who have skills that match the other three but who are unlikely to be as…flashy, I suppose you could say.”

Susan looked up to her aunt who had a proud and approving expression. Amelia replied, “I wholeheartedly agree, Mr. Potter.”

Harry beamed proudly as he and the others walked out of the trunk shop. He was toting his brand-new four-compartment trunk to hold his clothes, books, and stuff with the last compartment to be for future use. It was enchanted to only open with his heir ring and would zap anyone who tried to break in. “So where to next, milady? Care to join us as we go to get a wand?”

Susan giggled at his overacting and looped her hand around his co*cked elbow. “Lead on, kind sir.”

Behind them, Harry could hear Amelia stage-whispering to Petunia, “Keep an eye on him. He’s acting just like his father used to. There’s something dangerous about a Potter male when they act all gentlemanly.”

Ollivander’s Wand Shop

“Ah, Mr. Potter! I knew I’d be seeing you in here. It seems like only yesterday when your mother and father were buying their first wands,” Garrick Ollivander greeted Harry as he shuffled out from his workspace. His wizened face turned to Amelia, “Good morning, Madam Bones. Ten and a half inches, Larch with a Unicorn tail hair if I’m not mistaken.” His gaze swung over to Petunia, “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

Petunia shook her head, “Not officially, my name is Petunia Dursley. You may remember my sister, Lily Evans-Potter.” Garrick’s, Susan’s, and Amelia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, and I’m afraid I don’t have the requisite magical ability to wield a wand. We’re here to get my nephew Harry fitted for his first wand.”

“Do you have any magical staffs instead?” Harry’s eyes were alight with eager curiosity, “How cool would that be?”

Garrick chuckled quietly, “I’m afraid I don’t have any staves in stock anymore, Mr. Potter. They fell out of favor back during the twelfth century when the modern wands became more accessible. What of you, young man? I sense that you are not quite there to have a wand.”

Dudley’s mouth dropped open, “I’m magical?” He immediately shoved Harry’s arm, “Don’t say it.” Harry just grinned and giggled at his cousin’s warning.

Garrick waggled his hand, “You’re close, I would wager. If you were to take a Magical Index Test, I’d suspect that you’d be within a dozen points or so. Unfortunately, with such a low scoring; I wouldn’t be able to fit you for a wand, but you’d still be able to utilize a rune tab if you learnt how to make them.”

“Rune tab?” Both Amelia and Petunia inquired in stereo, causing the kids to giggle.

Garrick smiled, “A rune tab is a thumb-sized plate of stone inscribed with a single function rune such as providing light, or starting a fire; that sort of thing. They were used even before staffs and wands were developed and could be wielded by anyone with the slightest trace of magic.”

“Are there books on this?” Harry asked, intrigued by the concept. Garrick suggested that he look within Flourish and Blott’s, the Alley’s primary bookshop.

In the meantime, Harry graciously urged Susan forward to get her wand first. It took Ollivander only a couple of tries before she bonded with a seven and a half inch firm oak wand with a unicorn tail core. While she and Dudley were examining it, Harry stepped up. Wand after wand were tried yet despite this, Garrick actually seemed enthused by the whole spectacle. “Never fear, there’s always a wand for everyone! I’ve never missed a single customer before.”

He handed Harry a Holly and Phoenix feather wand which practically exploded in a dazzling red and gold lightshow. “Whoa!”

“Curious.” All eyes swung to the wizened wand maker. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. The phoenix who gave a feather for this wand’s core also gave another. It’s curious that this wand seems destined for you when its brother gave you that scar.”

Petunia drew protectively closer to Harry. “The problem with that reasoning is that I don’t have a scar, Mr. Ollivander.” Harry lifted his bangs to show an unblemished forehead. Garrick frowned and leant in to see closer.

“Now that’s even more curious. All the reports about you over the years suggest that you have a lightning bolt-shaped scar on your forehead.”

“Could I get fitted for a different wand?” Harry inquired.

Garrick shrugged, “I suppose we could continue if you have the time.”

Petunia rounded up the conversation, “We still have that bookshop to get to, Harry. Why don’t you pay for your wand so we can get going? We still have a long drive home.” As they were leaving, she silently touched Amelia on the arm, “We should meet up again. I have some things you need to know about.”

As they were heading away from the wand shop, everyone ducked at the sound of a loud screeching. Harry felt a pair of claws gripping his shoulder mere moments after a flurry of snow white feathers surrounded his face. A beautiful Snowy Owl hooted gently but urgently as she began clicking her beak and nuzzling his hair and ears. Harry reached up to lightly pet her feathers, “She’s beautiful… Where did she come from?”

Dudley tapped his shoulder, “Over there, I think.” The shopkeeper of the owl emporium strode up apologizing profusely.

“I’m sorry everyone. Normally this one’s rather standoffish, but the moment she saw you she started struggling to get out of her cage. She managed to break free and flew the coop, as it were. Just let me get her back.”

Harry pulled back, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She keeps gripping my shoulder every time you get closer. Aunt Petunia, I’ll need a way to write you so can I keep her? Please?”

Petunia dropped her head and let out a long sigh of defeat. “Fine, but you’re the one to make sure she’s taken care of.”

Harry whispered in the owl’s ear, “Do you need a piece of paper to know where to go or can I just tell you?” The owl nibbled on his lip in response. “Okay then, I live at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. There’s a tree in the backyard you can use to wait for me.” The owl bobbed its head and took off with barely a noise. Harry then followed the man back to his shop to pay for her.

Sugarplum’s Sweetshop

On a whim, the group stopped in at the sweetshop to pick up some fun stuff to have on the train (Amelia mentioned that the Honeydukes Express trolley marked their prices up.) The three kids scattered into the rows of edible delights. Dudley joked that they ought to get something for his dad while pointing to a jar of co*ckroach Clusters. Petunia frowned, “They’re not really co*ckroaches, are they?”

Amelia shook her head, “No, it’s just chocolate surrounding a prune center.”

Susan located the display of Chocolate Frogs and handed one to Harry, “I’m not sure if you’ve ever come across this before, but every frog comes with a trading card of a famous witch or wizard. I figure that we need to get you started on your own collection.”

Harry eyed the box suspiciously, “It’s not a real frog, is it?”

Susan shook her head and replied that it was just spelled to hop about a couple of times. “Just be quick about capturing it though, they can move pretty fast.”

“How many different cards are there?” Dudley inquired curiously as he too picked up a box to read the back.

The shopkeeper had overheard and answered, “There’s about five hundred in the total collection so far. There’s a book behind the counter that showcases the ones in production currently.” She eyed Harry curiously. When he turned to give Susan a lopsided smirk, she gasped, “Harry Potter!” He sent her a polite bow. She reached behind the counter and pulled out a slightly beat-up box. “Here, I want you to have these.”

Petunia intercepted them, “What’s so special about these?”

“They’re all of the rare cards from the set. The manufacturers gave these to me to randomly slip into well-behaved children’s bags as a reward for not behaving like a babbling band of baboons.” Petunia relented and allowed Harry to slip the box into his bag.

Sweets paid for, the Dursleys plus Harry headed back to Madam Malkins to pick up Harry’s clothes.

Flourish and Blott’s Bookshop

Their last stop of the day was to pick up Harry’s textbooks. He and Susan found the Hogwarts texts already bundled for ease of transport and put them in a shopping trolley before heading deeper into the stacks. Petunia sighed as she gently traced her fingers over the spines of the books. “I really ought to get an updated set of the books too so I can help Harry with his homework over the summer.”

Amelia wandered over and agreed with the idea, “I’m surprised that you never took the opportunity to learn magic at home since you wouldn’t have gotten a letter.”

Petunia smirked conspiratorially, “Who says I didn’t?” At Amelia’s surprised expression, she laughed, “It took me about a week after Lily left for her first year that I returned to pick up my own set. I reasoned that even if I couldn’t learn about magic in a Scottish castle, I could just as easily learn it while lounging at home in my pajamas while Lily was forced to wear a uniform and deal with idiot boys.”

“Were you certified?”

Petunia shook her head, “No, it was all strictly informal as I didn’t know then what I know now about how to get into the Ministry. Harry’s Account Manager recently explained how to do that.”

In the aisle on Arithmancy…

Harry’s hand closed around a text on beginner Arithmancy at the same time someone else’s did. He turned to see and was momentarily stunned by the mass of bushy hair surrounding a pair of cinnamon-brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. “Uhh…hi.”

The girl smiled shyly, “Hi, I guess we both want the same book.”

Harry immediately let go, “Ladies first. I can get another copy later.” The girl extracted the book as a second book materialized behind it. “See? It’s just like magic!”

The girl giggled lightly, “You’re funny. My name’s Hermione Granger. What’s yours?”

Harry sketched a courtly bow, “Harry Potter at your service, Miss Granger.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “The Harry Potter?”

Harry snorted lightly, “Unless you know of another devilishly handsome boy wandering around with my face, then yes; I is he.”

“Wow, I’ve read all about you! You’re in so many books like The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.”

Scoffing, Harry waved his hand dismissively, “I wouldn’t put much value in books like those. I seriously doubt that they were written by anyone who actually was there. I know that I’ve never been interviewed and I’m positive that neither did my parents seeing as how they died on that night.”

Hermione’s face took on an uncertain look. Harry gently laid his hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, Miss Granger. I’m assuming you’re going to go to Hogwarts (she nodded) then we’ll have seven years for me to answer any question I can.”

Hermione frowned, “Why do you keep calling me Miss Granger?”

Harry blinked, “Sorry, but I was taught that unless told otherwise, to always refer to the other person formally.”

She brightened at hearing that, “Oh, in that case please just call me Hermione.”

Harry gave her a lopsided smirk and a sly waggle of his eyebrows, “You can just call me anytime, Hermione.”

Hermione let out a loud snort of laughter, “Oh, you’re going to be a handful, aren’t you? My mum warned me about boys like you.”

Petunia arrived just then, “Harry, did you see the books where you’re supposedly an adventurer scouring the world to bring happiness and joy while battling monsters and such?” She laughed at the disgusted face he was making then turned to Hermione, “Oh hello, are you going to Hogwarts as well, Miss?”

Hermione nodded, “Hermione Granger, ma’am. Yes, I was just introducing myself to Harry and learning that he’s acting like the boys my mum warned me about.” She crinkled her nose cutely at Harry’s haughty sniff of disdain.

Petunia whispered in Harry’s ear, “I like her, Harry. Get her number; you might be able to make a friend before the rest get a hold of you.”

As they were leaving, Petunia handed Amelia a slip of paper with her address and phone number written on it. “I have information regarding certain people abusing their power over other certain people.” Curious, Amelia promised to call soon.

When the tired trio returned home, Petunia ordered Harry to take his trunk and stuff into the living room so they wouldn’t have to manhandle it down the stairs on September first. Once that was squared away, Harry dug out the gifted box of chocolate frog cards and sat down at the kitchen table with Dudley. He’d just gotten the first box open when the frog made its bid for freedom. Dudley ended up smashing it to the table top causing Harry to grimace in disgust. “Yuck, you get to clean that up.” He retrieved the card and stared in open-mouthed surprise. “It’s…it’s me! I have a chocolate frog card?”

Petunia moved over when she heard his exclamation. “Let me see that. Hmmph, nearly everything they have written here is wrong. You don’t have the scar, your hair isn’t auburn, and you don’t wear glasses.” She let out a surprised gasp, “Your image just moved!” The boys clamored to see what just happened. As she tipped the card over, the image Harry seemed to fall out of the frame.

“Hey, where’d he go?” the real Harry wondered. He tried tipping it the other way but the frame remained empty. He flipped the card over to look at the back and when he returned it face-up, he spotted image Harry walking back into the frame. “Hey, he’s back. That’s weird. I’ll have to ask Susan when I see her next to explain why it does that.”

Dudley had been digging through the box and figured out that if he just barely cracked the lid open, he could extract the card without activating the frog. “Harry, it looks like you’re going to have multiple cards like that one.” Both Harry and Petunia turned around to see what Dudley had already discovered. On the table lay four identical Harry Potter cards. Each one eventually walked out of the frame and surprisingly ended up in the frame of the card that Harry was holding.

“Huh, that’s…odd. Hang on, I’ve got an idea…” He walked over to the side table where the telephone was sitting and retrieved a pen. He scribbled on the face of one card (which caused the image to scowl at him) then watched as it stormed off. He hurried back to the table where the same marked up image Harry entered its home frame.

Petunia glanced at her nephew curiously, “What was that about?”

Harry sat down and thought for a moment, “Come September first, I’ll be entering the castle lorded over by Dumbledore. It’s entirely likely that he’ll have the communication monitored; I know I would. Wouldn’t it be useful in an emergency to have a pair of cards where I could write or draw something that would end up on this end with no one being the wiser?”

Petunia bobbed her head in understanding, “That’s a novel concept, Harry. Maybe you could figure out a way to fix it so that it transmitted sound first then if possible, an image of its surroundings.”

Dudley’s head kept turning back and forth between his mum and Harry. He laughed when Harry described the secret communication. “It’s like you’d have your own spy cards!” He whistled the theme song to the Avengers TV series Vernon liked to watch on reruns.

Monday 29 July, 1991

Harry called up Hermione the following Monday to suggest that they get together and hang out. “Would you like to come here or should I meet you at your home?”

Hermione hurriedly said that she’d rather meet at his place. “I…uh, my mum won’t be home since she’s got to work during the week.” Harry could hear her flipping the pages to something. “Here, why don’t we meet at the Valley Park Retail Center this Saturday? I can take the Underground and meet you there.”

Harry glanced over at Petunia who thought for a moment before motioning for the phone, “Hermione? This is Harry’s aunt. I’d much rather you not get on the train by yourself so why don’t we meet you somewhere near where you live? Perhaps a local park?”

Hermione’s hesitancy was palpable, “I guess so… I live in Hackney, we could meet at London Fields near the transit station?”

“That’s fine, dear. We can meet you there on Friday roughly about eleven am if your mum is alright with it.” She handed the handset back to Harry and headed into the kitchen.

When he appeared fifteen minutes later, she gave him a strange look. “What?”

“She lives in Hackney, Harry. It’s not the best of neighborhoods. When you visit, I recommend wearing something nice but not too nice otherwise you’d stand out like a sore thumb. You also don’t want to look like a slob since I got the impression that she’s embarrassed about where she lives.”

Harry slowly nodded, “So, something like my Iron Man shirt and cargo trousers?”

Petunia narrowed her eyes as she tried to picture what he’d suggested, “Let’s go take a look at what you have.”

The next day, Petunia answered the phone when it rang. “Hello? Oh, Director Bones! Perfect timing. Yes, I can meet you there. What time? Not a problem. Okay, I’ll see you then.” She hung up and called up the stairs, “Harry! Dudley!” Both boys thundered to the top landing. “I need to head out to speak with Director Bones about the information that I’ve accumulated, especially the part about your godfather and the contents of the Will. I’m trusting you both will be on your best behavior and not burn down the house. If you need help with anything, call Mrs. Prentiss next door and she’ll swing by. If it’s a dire emergency, call for the police.”

Petunia drove out to the agreed upon restaurant and arrived within ten minutes of her meeting. As she was seated, Amelia showed up and joined her. “So what’s so important that we have to meet like secret agents?”

Petunia laughed lightly before pulling out and sliding over the folder that contained the Will and a box that held all of the letters they’d received from Hogwarts. “I’m assuming that however the nonmagical families are contacted; the method used is automated somehow, correct?” At Amelia’s nod, she gestured to the box, “In that box is over a hundred identical letters that were sent to us despite Harry writing back indicating that he would be attending the school. I honestly don’t care if the system is automated; someone should be monitoring it just in case of slip-ups like this. I can’t imagine that all this parchment is cheap and readily available. All this shows is that whoever is in charge at the school is unconcerned with violating the Statute of Secrecy and wasting money.”

Amelia agreed and shook her head in disgust, “I would hazard that Albus is behind it going out multiple times thinking it was funny somehow since he likes to claim that he’s Mr. Potter’s magical guardian.”

Petunia grimaced, “And that leads me to my next item. Inside the folder is a copy of the Potter Will. Take note as to who should’ve been raising Harry. Lily made note that my husband and I were to be the absolute last resort since neither one of us is equipped or knowledgeable on how to care for a magical child.”

Amelia’s mouth dropped open as she read the list of chosen guardians, “Me?? How could they think I’d be able to raise two children? Oh, I see; they mention that if I needed help I could call upon the Potter elves. Were none available when you called them?”

Petunia shrugged, “I didn’t even know about them until we had the Will read at Gringotts and by then it was too late.”

“How long ago did you have the Will read?”

“Harry’d just turned six, I believe,” Petunia answered thoughtfully.

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner with this?”

Petunia gave her a light sneer, “How could I? I had no idea where your Ministry was located. Daggerclaw suggested that I could use Royal Mail but every time I tried, it came back as undeliverable.”

Amelia was still shaking her head in disbelief when she read the description of each potential guardian, “Sirius Black is Harry’s oath-sworn godfather?!”

“I assume that means something different to you than it does to me?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Amelia explained that the oath was magical in nature which basically stated that if the child was allowed to come to harm either directly or indirectly in a malicious nature, the godparent would drop dead from an immediate heart attack or irrevocably lose their magic. “I need to pull his file to see what the bloody Hell is going on.”

Saturday 3 August 1991, London Fields Transit Center, Hackney

Hermione called back the next morning to let Harry (and Petunia) know that her mum was alright with her meeting Harry, but asked if they could make it for Saturday so she could meet the boy who was interested in her daughter.

That morning, Petunia loaded Harry into the car and drove out to London and picked up the Underground to London Fields. Aunt Petunia had said this would be better since she didn’t want to worry about parking (or potentially having the car stolen.)

As they disembarked the train, Harry immediately heard his name being called. “Harry!” He rose up on his tippy-toes and excitedly pointed to where Hermione was waving her hand. He rushed over and greeted her with a wide grin, “Your Majesty, it is an honor to be in your presence once again.”

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Prat.” She motioned towards the woman next to her, “Mum, this is Harry Potter and his aunt, Petunia Dursley. Harry, this is my mum.”

Mrs. Granger smirked, “Hi, Harry. Normally, my name is Emma though in your case, let’s stick with Mrs. Granger. Mrs. Dursley, I presume?”

Petunia politely greeted her, “Yes, hello. Why don’t we go somewhere to sit and chat? I’m sure Harry and Hermione don’t want their guardians crowding over them.” Harry ineffectually swiped at her teasing fingers.

Hermione latched onto his hand and tugged him away, “Come on before they start comparing our embarrassing moments.”

Emma’s eyes lit up, “Oh, now there’s a fun topic! There was this one time…”

Hermione just gave a low growl and stomped off with Harry trailing in her wake.

The pair of preteens wandered along the street not too far ahead of the adults. Harry floundered at finding a comfortable topic of conversation, “So…what’s it like living here?”

Hermione’s eyes flicked towards him as a slow smile crept across her face, “You don’t need to be so concerned about me, Harry. Just relax and be normal.”

“I don’t know if you can handle normal me. I might just break out into song and dance, you know.” She giggled at that.

“Oh really? I might have to put you on the corner to bring in some extra income while I do my thing.”

He co*cked his head, “Your thing?”

She pulled him to the side to let a group of people pass by and glanced around nervously, “I started noticing that whenever I’m in a crowd that other people’s wallets or purses sort of…appear in my hands.” She flicked her hand and a wallet appeared in it. She deftly opened it and slipped out a couple of the higher denomination notes before closing it and tossing it to the ground, “Hey, mister! I think you dropped your wallet!” The group of just passed people turned and subconsciously went for their pockets. One man looked surprised and picked up the fallen wallet, “Thanks kid.” He stuffed it into his jacket and continued on.

One eyebrow of Harry’s shot upwards, “You steal things?” His voice squeaked annoyingly at that moment causing both to stare at each other then snort in laughter. He managed to get his voice under control, “You steal these things?”

Waving her hand at the slightly gritty neighborhood, Hermione replied, “Look around you, Harry. I don’t exactly live in a well-to-do neighborhood. Mum works all the time, dad does too but they don’t live together so I’m home alone a lot. Things…happen sometimes.”

Bobbing his head understandingly, “I understand. Though when you say things happen, no one hurts you do they?”

Hermione reached into her pocket and partially extracted a switchblade, “I can handle myself.”

London Fields Parkland

With the kids chasing after each other and just enjoying the feeling of being free, Petunia and Emma settled onto one of the nearby benches to have a chat. Petunia learned that Emma was a machine operator for the London Toy Company. “I met Hermione’s dad there too. Dan’s a lorry driver for them and we met at a company Christmas party. Things were going pretty well until Hermione was about four years old. I don’t know what happened but all of a sudden things got cold between us and we ended up getting a divorce. I suspect it was right about the time when she started having these…episodes. We still see each other for Hermione’s sake and he does pay child support, but it’s tough, especially on a girl her age.”

Petunia’s heart went out for the single mum. “We weren’t the first choice for Harry after his parents were murdered back in eighty-one. He was dumped on our doorstep by a condescending old bastard who thinks he’s god’s gift to magic.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose, “You mean Harry’s…magical?”

Petunia smirked, “Magical in every sense of the word, yes. It’s not surprising. Lily, his mother and my sister; she was one of the finest and most powerful witches in recent memory. Between her and her husband, they were a powerhouse to be reckoned with yet even they were still brought down because they were betrayed by someone they thought was a friend.”

“That’s terrible.”

Shrugging, Petunia replied, “It is, but now I wouldn’t have Harry any other way. He’s a polite boy whose sole mission according to him, is to live up to his parents legacy and become the ‘most awesome wizard in history.’”

Emma chuckled, “Sounds like a normal boy then. I was worried that Hermione would fall into the wrong crowd. There’s a gang of hooligans that live not too far away from us and I’m pretty sure that she’s noticed them. I was relieved to learn that this school of theirs is a boarding school. Makes me rest easy that she’ll have a safe and secure place to live and learn how to control this incredible ability of hers.”

They both turned at the sound of Hermione’s indignant screech. Emma facepalmed at the sight of Harry’s bright blue hair, “Oh, Lord…”

Over with Harry and Hermione…

Harry stared at his hair in a mirror Hermione had held up with undisguised awe, “Nice job, Hermione! I love the color and shading.”

Hermione goggled at his seeming acceptance of her accidental magic, “You’re not angry?”

He waved her worry off, “Nah, it’s all good and besides, it’s temporary. My magic will eventually correct itself and I’ll go back to my usual black hair.”

She tugged a handful of her hair in front of her, “I wish I could do something with this mess but every time I get it cut, it returns to this bird’s nest the next morning.”

Harry couldn’t help it but started laughing at the indignant look on her face. “You too? My aunt used me as a hairdressing doll once she found out that my hair did the exact same thing. There was a time when I’d have a different hairstyle or color every day of the month! The other neighborhood kids kept wondering how we were able to do it.”

Hermione watched him curiously as he lounged on the grass. “So have you thought about which House you hope to get sorted into? That McGonagall person said she was the Head of Gryffindor. From what I read, it’s the House where the brave at heart dwell. I’m not sure if I represent bravery.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, “I’ll probably end up there since everyone’s sort of expecting me to get sorted there because of who my parents were. Honestly, I think I’d prefer Slytherin because they’re supposedly the cunning and crafty types, but I doubt I’d get in since I heard that it’s full of the children of the people who my parents fought with in the recent magical war.” He looked into her worried eyes and solemnly vowed, “Regardless of where we do end up, remember that I’ll always be your friend. I like you too much to just let you get away from me, Hermione Granger.

Hermione shyly smiled as she lay down next to him and pointed out a cloud with an interesting shape.

Wednesday 14 August, 1991; Dursley Residence

Seeing as how well the kids got along, Emma Granger allowed Hermione to visit Harry at his home as long as she promised to stay out of trouble and to call her when she arrived at the house. Hermione rang the doorbell at the appointed time and laughed as Harry opened it intoning in his best Lurch voice, “You rang?”

“Silly boy. Thanks for inviting me,” she said as he ushered her inside and pointed out the coat rack. Petunia poked her head out of the living room and greeted their guest, “If you do go up to your room, Harry; make sure you leave the door open.”

Harry bounced on his toes, “Okay, come on Hermione.” He motioned her to follow him upstairs. As they entered, he spread his arms wide, “Well, here’s the place. It’s not much but it’s home.”

Hermione gazed about the room, simultaneously curious about what a boy’s room would look like and a bit envious at the amount of stuff he could obviously afford. Her own room seemed dingy and empty in comparison. Her attention was diverted by the sight of an absolutely gorgeous Snowy Owl peering down at her from the top of his wardrobe, “You have an owl?”

Harry reached up and held still as the owl climbed on then lowered her down to their level. “Yeah, she actually found me that day I met you in Diagon Alley. I named her Hedwig. She’s an incredibly smart owl and beautiful to boot. Would you like to hold her?”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “Uh, if she’ll let me…” Harry moved closer and showed her how to hold her arm out. Hedwig transferred over without hesitation and climbed up the girl’s arm to look her in the eyes. She must’ve seen something worthwhile because Hedwig immediately began grooming Hermione’s bushy hair and nibbling her ear. “That tickles!”

Harry calmly reached out and pet Hedwig’s back, “She likes you.”

After moving Hedwig back to her perch, Harry pulled out his chocolate frog cards. “I got these for free from the sweetshop owner for some reason I’m still not sure on. It seems that I’m famous enough to get my own card; I’ve got five of myself.”

She gave him a drawling leer, “Oh no, how will the world cope with five Harry Potters?” He just laughed and nudged her playfully.

“I’m not that bad. I had this idea to link all of these cards and the others that get printed into a sort of spy network to listen in on the people of the magical world.”

Her nose crinkled a bit as she tried to think of a reason, “Why would you do that?”

He looked her straight in the eyes, “Because I don’t trust the headmaster of the school we’re going to. My aunt and I think he’s trying to do something sneaky and mean to me or through me against the population. With these cards, I could eavesdrop without anyone being the wiser.” He stood up and walked over to his bookshelf where he pulled out a stack of folders. He took these and sat down in front of her again, “Inside these folders is information about everyone that lives and works within Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, the Ministry for Magic, and Hogwarts. It’s my job to ferret out who might be a worthy ally or who might be working to hurt me. I’ve also been tasked to figure out how best to derail whatever idiotic plans Albus Dumbledore has in store for me.”

Hermione picked at the corner of one of the folders, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I like you too, Hermione and you should know what becoming my friend might be like. I’ll probably do or say things that will most likely annoy or anger you. I just want to let you know that it’s an act. This (gesturing at himself) is the real me. I’m just a goofy boy looking to make some friends, stay out of the way, and learn how to become the best wizard in the world. I may sound like a grown-up sometimes, but I’m a kid at heart.”

Hermione got up and paced around the room for a couple of moments before she returned his determined expression, “I understand and accept your terms, Harry. I also want to let you know that I’m damaged goods. I lie, steal things, and I’m getting pretty good at forging my mum’s signature as well as some…other things. I’m not looking for you to try and ‘fix me’ because you can’t, at least not now. I really want to be your friend and I hope you’ll look past some of my rough edges.”

Harry took her hand in his, “Do you have a middle name?” She answered that it was ‘Jean.’ Harry solemnly vowed, “On my magic, I Harry James Potter, do hereby swear that I shall first and foremost be Hermione Jean Granger’s friend until she says otherwise. So let it be done.” Their hands flashed gold briefly causing both kids to stare in wonder at what just happened.

“Um, what was that?” she asked him slightly worried.

“I think I just made a magical vow. Huh, I thought I would need to use my wand to do something like that. Do you feel any differently?”

She shook her head, “What about you?”

“Nothing.” He shook his hand and put it up to his ear, “What was that? You think I ought to tickle her? Well, alright…”

Her eyes bugged out as she squealed, “Harry, no!” She immediately dashed out of the room with him close on her heels, laughing all the way.

Downstairs, Petunia looked up just in time to see Hermione bolting down the hallway as she tried to escape Harry’s antics and sighed to herself. “At least they’re having fun. Just one of these days, I’d love to have a house that didn’t include wild animals.”

Saturday 31 August, 1991; Dursley residence, evening

Dinner that evening was its usual chaotic self in the Dursley household. Vernon had decided to keep things simple and just ordered for a pizza delivery. Harry sat there chewing on his slice of pepperoni while watching Dudley get into an ‘argument’ with Hedwig who’d flown in to investigate. “That’s mine, you feather-brain! Go bother Harry, isn’t he your chick?”

“Prek.” She hopped over to Harry and stared imperiously at him. “Hoot.”

Harry pulled off a couple of the pepperonis and handed them out to her, “Of course, milady. I would’ve given you a slice for yourself, but I don’t think owls are supposed to eat cheese.” Hedwig gobbled up the processed meat and fluffed up her feathers in appreciation before flying back out the window.

Vernon shook his head in bemusem*nt, “Is this my life now? Owls and magic wands?”

Petunia patted his hand consolingly, “At least it won’t be that bad once we get Harry to the train station tomorrow. Plus, Dudley here will get to come home every day so you’ll still have your darling bouncing baby boy.”

Harry grinned around his mouthful and mumbled, “Dudley Dursley, the incredible rubber ball boy!” Dudley gave him a shove and glared at his mum who sent him a kissy face.

“I just wish that school you’re going to wasn’t so far away or had day-school options,” Petunia complained. “Promise me that you’ll stay out of trouble. I don’t care what anyone says or hints, especially that headmaster. If he tries anything, get out of there and contact Director Bones immediately.”

Harry sat up and looked as serious as he could, “I promise.”

Chapter 2: The Philosopher's Stone Part 1 (September to December)

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: The Philosopher’s Stone, Part One (September to December)

Sunday 1 September 1991; King’s Cross Station between Platform 9 and 10, around 945a

Hermione’s eyes roved back and forth, always on the look-out for potential danger (and possibilities.) One hand was in her pocket idly fingering her switchblade just in case she had to defend her mum since she wasn’t really paying attention. Her mum was rather distracted at the moment chattering away; reminding her to do well with her studies, make a few friends, and to stay out of trouble. She turned at the sound of her name, “Yes, mum?”

Emma tearfully hugged her daughter, “I’m going to miss you, Little Winter.”

Despite being eager to get going, Hermione embraced her mum just as tightly. “I’m going to miss you too. I promise I’ll be home for Christmas and I’ll write as often as I can. I’ll make you proud; no one will mess with the Granger Danger Girls!”

Emma sniffed and let Hermione separate, watching as she disappeared through the barrier. “Good luck.”

On Platform 9 ¾ …

Taking a moment to be impressed by the sight of the steam locomotive and vintage-style British Rail Mark 1 carriages, Hermione’s hearing picked up the sound of Harry’s voice then spotted the boy waving from the last car. She waved back and pushed her trolley to where Harry was waiting. “Good morning, Harry.”

Harry grinned and bowed officiously, “Good morning to you, Your Royal Highness.”

A curious eyebrow rose. “What happened to calling me, ‘Your Majesty’?”

Harry tipped an imaginary hat, “We already have a Queen, and while I would love to address you as such, I think it’d be rather…pre…preten…um, odd if I did. You all ready to get started?”

She grinned at him, “You betcha. So who’s our first mark?”

Harry just barked out a laugh, “Nothing as grand as that. I was talking about getting started with our ride up to the school.”

Hermione sniffed cutely, “Yeah, I figured. Come on, you can help me get this trunk into the carriage.”

Five minutes of struggling with a heavy trunk later…

Once they were settled in on opposite benches, Hermione kicked her feet up and luxuriated in the deep cushioning, “So have you been waiting all that long?”

Harry shrugged, “About twenty minutes or so. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had to run a few errands in London so they dropped me off early.”

“Where’s Hedwig?” She peered around the upper luggage rack for the Snowy Owl.

“I sent her ahead this morning so she could learn the route. There wasn’t any sense in keeping her cooped up inside a noisy, cramped carriage car for however long it takes to get up there.”

“Roughly eleven hours if you were looking at the normal rail service between London and Inverness,” Hermione idly replied. Her attention was diverted momentarily to motion outside the window where she saw a couple more families arriving and sighed wistfully, “I wish my mum and dad could’ve been able to come through the barrier.”

“Yeah, me too.” Harry agreed solemnly.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before Hermione suddenly swapped sides and leant up against Harry’s side and laid her head on his shoulder.

Later, as the train headed north

Harry wandered up and down the aisle, poking his head into the compartments, and greeting everyone he met. “Hi, I’m Harry and new to this whole magical thingy.” He began to notice a trend developing with who was wearing which color determining the greeting he received. If they were wearing red and gold, the results were usually favorable like, ‘Hey, Harry. Don’t worry about being nervous. We were all there at one point.” If they were wearing blue and bronze, the reception was cordial if a bit stilted since many of the older Ravenclaws had their noses buried in a book. The older Hufflepuffs greeted him cheerfully, one seventh year rebel, if evidenced by her bubblegum pink spiky hairdo, called out ‘Wotcher, Harry! Welcome to Hogwarts!’

It was those wearing the Slytherin colors of green and silver where he ran into his first instance of animosity. An auburn-haired fifth year girl sneered at him, “I recognize you. You’re Harry Potter aren’t you? You’re not welcome here.”

Harry tipped his head towards her, “May I know your name, please?”

“Why?” She challenged.

Harry stared back passively, “So that way I may be polite, Miss.”

The girl shifted uncomfortably before murmuring, “Adelaide Murton.”

“Miss Murton, I deeply regret whatever misinformation you might’ve heard about me. I know what the rumors of that night say, but in all likelihood, whatever happened was because of my parents not some mysterious power someone cooked up for me to have,” Harry replied calmly before bowing slightly, “I shall leave you be. Good day.” He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

He politely refused signing autographs whenever he was asked to sign this or that. “Now wouldn’t be a good time to do so. If I start signing autographs, people might start stampeding and that’s kind of dangerous on a moving train. However, if you swing by whichever House I end up in, I’d be happy to sign your autograph book or picture.” Those who asked were momentarily disheartened by the refusal but accepted understandingly once he explained his reasoning.

He’d just returned to his compartment when the door slid open to reveal a redhead boy with a splattering of freckles across his face, “Do you mind if I sit in here? Everywhere else is full.”

Harry immediately saw through the weak attempt of a lie. “I sincerely doubt that the entire magical train is actually full, but I don’t mind having some company.” He waved the boy in before reaching for his backpack and pulling out a book on third year level Ancient Runes.

“So…” the redhead trailed off uncertainly. “You’re Harry Potter, right?”

Harry smiled pleasantly as he flipped to his marked spot, “I am and you are?”

“I’m Ron.”

Harry gestured with his hand, “Ron…what?”

The tips of Ron’s ears pinked, “Sorry, Ron Weasley. I heard from my mum that you were going to be on the train. Is it true that you’ve got the scar? Can I see it?”

Harry coughed lightly, “Sorry, but I haven’t had the scar in a long time, Ron.” He lifted his bangs to show an unblemished forehead.

Ron’s mouth dropped open, “But…why would all the stories say you did?”

“Probably because whoever supplied them with the information wanted to get paid. I don’t know, honestly. I try not to think about it,” Harry replied evenly before attempting to return to his reading. He sighed in frustration and looked up as the door slid open again, this time revealing a beaming Susan. “Hey, Susan! Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hi, Harry. I was wondering if you’d like to come meet my friends,” She gestured towards another carriage.

Harry spared a glance towards Ron as he stuffed his book away again, “Would you mind if Ron comes along? We’ve just met and I’d hate to leave him all by his lonesome after such a short amount of time.”

Susan shrugged, “Sure, I guess. Why do you keep talking like an adult?”

“Ugg…me walk you…grunt, snort…” Harry hunched over and poked her at the same time, “Me wanna banana…uh, huh…”

Ron laughed at Susan’s bewildered look, “Well, you asked for it.”

In the second carriage from the front of the train…

Hermione had just closed the loo door when she spotted a toad trying to dart past her. She deftly picked it up and gave it a close look. “I’m guessing you belong to someone, right?”

“Ribbit.”

Chuckling, she placed the toad into her pocket and slipped around a couple of older Gryffindors. She flicked her wrist subtly and examined the nice-looking wristwatch and a handful of those funny-looking coins from the bank she’d lifted from their pockets. ‘Shame I can’t keep the watch, it’s too distinctive. I could probably sell it for twenty quid.’ She pocketed the coins before turning around to catch up to the older girls while pretending to be slightly out of breath, “Excuse me, but I think you dropped your watch.”

The older girl blinked in surprise at her bare wrist momentarily before reclaiming her missing watch from Hermione, “Oh! Wow, thank you. I don’t know how that happened; the strap is brand-new. Anyways, thanks and welcome to Hogwarts.”

Hermione gave a tiny smile, “You’re welcome and thanks.” She turned and continued on her way. The next compartment she peeked into, she saw a boy bent over peering under the benches, obviously looking for something. She knocked on the door, “Did you lose something?”

The boy straightened up and gasped at the sight of her, his eyes were slightly puffy from worry. “It’s Trevor! He’s disappeared on me.”

“Who’s Trevor?”

“He’s my toad. I keep losing him! Gran’s gonna kill me,” he whined.

Hermione reached into her pocket and extracted the toad, “Is this him?”

The boy reached out joyously, “Trevor! Thank you so much for finding him.”

Shaking her head at his reaction, she took a seat opposite of him. “Why don’t you have a travel case for him?”

The boy shrugged a shoulder while gently petting the toad, “I dunno. That’s a good question though. Oh, where are my manners? My name’s Neville Longbottom.”

“Mine’s Hermione Granger. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Neville. So are you looking forward to starting at Hogwarts?”

Neville nodded, “Yeah, it was honestly a surprise. Everyone thought I was a Squib at first because I rarely showed any sign of accidental magic.”

Hermione scoffed, “If anything, that shows that you had no reason to do that. I read that accidental magic episodes only happen during times of stress. If you rarely did that, it meant your life was pretty good.”

Neville co*cked his head thoughtfully, “I never thought of it like that before. Thanks, Hermione; you’re pretty smart.”

Crinkling her nose, Hermione replied, “I do what I can. So, which House are you hoping to get into?”

Again, Neville shrugged, “Probably get Hufflepuff the way my magic and luck seems to be holding.”

“From what I heard, it’s not a bad House.”

Neville hummed, “Gran wants me to go into Gryffindor to be more like my dad.”

Unsure about what to say, Hermione switched topics. “So, have you met Harry Potter yet? I heard he’s on the train.” She figured she could play along with the rest and pretend that she’d never met the boy.

Neville shook his head, “No, I haven’t! Any idea where he might be?”

Waving her hand in the general direction of their compartment, Hermione replied, “Well, I’ve already visited the areas closest to the locomotive and he wasn’t there. That would suggest that we need to keep moving back. Come on, I’ll lead the way.” She stood up and motioned for him to follow her.

In Susan’s compartment…

Hannah Abbott couldn’t believe it when her best friend Susan had said that she’d met and shopped for their school supplies with Harry Potter! After Susan had returned, she sent her friend a teasing smirk, “Couldn’t find him?”

Susan grinned slightly and pulled a redhead into view, “Here he is! Harry Potter for all to see!” The redhead gave a wan smile and a shy wave before everyone heard snorts of laughter coming from outside. A raven-haired boy stepped into the doorway, “Thanks for acting the decoy, Ron.”

Ron rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, “Yeah, sure. (He gestured towards the other boy) That’s Harry Potter. I’m Ron Weasley and apparently, the decoy.”

Hannah’s eyes grew wide at the side of an easy-smiling Harry Potter and squeaked, “Hi.”

Harry smiled back and waved, “Hello. What’s your name?”

“Ha…Hahh…”

Susan snickered and flicked her hair over her shoulders, “Ignore her; her name’s Hannah Abbott and she’s just awed by the beauty that is me.” That snapped Hannah out of her awed state and stuck her tongue out at her friend then gave a leading look back towards Harry.

Harry couldn’t help it and barked out a hearty laugh, “Relax, Hannah. We’ve got the next seven years to get to know one another and I’ll be honest; I’m nothing like the hype. I’m just an ordinary boy with devilishly handsome looks.” He struck a heroic pose before tripping forward a step.

He was about to say something when he heard Hermione’s voice behind him. “Oops, sorry Harry. I didn’t see you there. Some boy with a swelled head was blocking my view.”

Harry snorted derisively, “Your Highness, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Susan, Hannah, Ron, and Neville stared at the pair. Susan squeaked, “Your Highness?”

Hermione struck an ‘I’m exasperated by this boy’ pose, “It’s just something he likes to call me since I’m just so much better than he could ever hope to be. Hi, I’m Hermione Granger and this is Neville Longbottom. I met him earlier when his toad tried to escape.”

Ron coughed into his hand, “A toad. No one uses toads anymore.”

Harry turned to him, “Why not?”

Ron shrugged a shoulder, “They went out of fashion years ago. Mind you, I’ve got Scabbers so I’ve got no room to talk.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a mangy-looking rat. Susan and Hannah squealed in disgust while Hermione reached out to let the rat sniff her finger.

“He’s a cutie. How long have you had him?” she asked the still-embarrassed Ron.

“I just got him. He used to be my older brother Percy’s rat and he’s had him since forever. Percy got an owl as a reward for becoming a prefect so he gave me the rat.” He peered at the rat for a moment before stuffing it back into his pocket.

Harry clapped him on the back, “It could’ve been worse. Your brother could’ve given you his pet slug or something equally gross. At least with a rat, you can cuddle it and they’re trainable from what I’ve heard.” Ron brightened at hearing this.

“So which House do you hope to get into Harry?” he asked.

Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Well, I’m not entirely sure. I know I have a family legacy to live up to which means I’d probably go into Gryffindor. I do love to read and learn which would suggest Ravenclaw. At the same time, I enjoy making friends as evidence by you lot so I might get into Hufflepuff. Finally, I might get Slytherin because I’ve got some ideas on what I want to do with my life which is pretty ambitious or so what my aunt says. What about you?”

Ron’s face dropped, “I’ll be going into Gryffindor like the rest of my family. Weasleys always go into the Lion’s Den.”

“You sound as if you don’t want to go there,” Hermione observed. Ron just shrugged resignedly.

Neville answered next, “I’ll probably end up in Hufflepuff. I’m not brave or daring like my grandmother keeps after me about. I just want to learn magic and spend my time in our greenhouses.”

“Gryffindor for me,” Hermione stated plainly. “It takes guts to go off to a brand-new school without my mum around.”

Both Hannah and Susan thought they’d be shoo-ins for Hufflepuff. “Hufflepuff? Who’d actually want that loser House?” A snide, nasally voice butted in. Everyone turned to see a blond-haired boy standing in the doorway with a couple of larger boys flanking him. “Bones, Abbott…Weasley…and the Squib.”

Harry rose to his feet, “And here you’ve just proven the old adage, ‘Live by the snotty attitude, get punched in the nose for it.’ Identify yourself then apologize to the ladies.”

The boy sneered at him, “I am Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Noble House of Malfoy. Who are you to challenge me?”

Harry’s head came up imperiously, “I am Harry James Potter. Heir of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter; I outrank you in just about every way imaginable and those you can’t. Now, apologize to the ladies for your snotty attitude before you learn how to fly without wings.”

Chastized, Draco bowed his head and murmured an apology, “I’m sorry for my behavior. It was uncalled for Misses Abbott, Bones, and I’m not sure who you are.”

Hermione watched him coolly for a moment before replying, “Hermione Granger.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed a bit, “Are you any relation to the Noble House of Dagworth-Granger?”

Hermione shook her head, “As of right now, it’s undecided. The Goblins still need to review their records seeing as how the family has some rather odd rules about who inherits and when.”

Draco mentally filed that away for future use, “In the meantime, I apologize. If you will all excuse me?” Harry dismissively waved his hand, essentially forcing Draco to turn and depart.

Harry blew out a puff of breath. “Well, that was fun!” Hermione giggled at the sudden change of behavior from her friend.

Ron goggled at him, “What do you mean, ‘That was fun’? Did you plan that?”

Harry waggled his hand, “Sort of. Hermione (pointing at the still snickering girl) and I knew that there’d be some children of important families who would try to act all snooty and holier than thou on-board the train today so we came up with a couple of possible ideas to throw them off their game while we were waiting to get going.”

Neville whistled, “Keep that up, Harry and you’ll definitely make it into Slytherin.”

Harry winked back at Neville before glancing around at the others, “So, what’s everyone’s story?”

Hogwarts – Sorting Ceremony

Harry leant over and stage-whispered in Ron’s ear, “You ought to think about going into Slytherin, Ron.” Ron looked aghast at the mere thought. “Think about it; you said that your twin brothers are pranksters, right? Imagine their reaction if you became their ‘inside man’ to the House of Serpents? Heck, if you got in, you could annoy Draco all the time.”

Before Ron could say anything, both boys heard Draco scoffing, “Like the Weasel could ever hope to go there. His family’s too poor to amount to anything as noble as belonging to that House.”

Ron glared daggers at Draco, “You shut up about my family, Malfoy.”

While the pair was bickering, Harry stepped back to Hermione and slyly smirked at her. She rolled her eyes and bumped his arm with her knuckles, “You did that on purpose. Neville’s right, you do belong in Slytherin.”

“All part of my Master plan, Your Highness. Remember the dossiers that my aunt collected?” At her wary nod, “Well, in them tells the tale of their two families and the animosity generated because of a shady business deal that fell through. Now, it’s been long-established that the Weasleys are ardent supporters of Dumbledore. If I can wind up both sides and point them in each other’s direction; there’s a strong likelihood that it would require Dumbledore to interfere before it reached world-shattering levels or as a friend once called it, an ELE or an ‘Extinction Level Event.’ If he has to do that, he’ll be unable to spend enough time keeping an eye on me.”

Hermione looked at him with starry-eyed admiration, “And here I thought I was skilled at working a mark…”

One by one, the first years were called up alphabetically to sit on the stool and let the Sorting Hat look into their minds and determine which House to put them in. Both Hannah and Susan were sorted into Hufflepuff (both Harry and Hermione politely applauded.) When Hermione’s name was called, she strode forward and allowed Professor McGonagall to drop the Hat on her head. A minute, two, finally after three minutes the Hat yelled out, “Good luck in Gryffindor!”

Harry whistled loudly and clapped his hands, causing the bushy-haired girl to blush in epic proportions as she hurried to the Lions’ table. Next up was Neville; Harry leant over and whispered in his ear something which caused the sandy-haired boy to harden his determination and practically stomp up to the front. He put the Hat on as everyone waited with baited breath. “Hufflepuff!”

Again, Harry cheered for his friend as Neville trotted over to join Susan and Hannah.

Finally, Professor McGonagall called out, “Harry Potter?”

Whispers were heard, ‘I thought he’d be taller.’ ‘He looks just like his dad.’ ‘Wait, I thought he had a scar.’ Harry sat down and allowed Minerva to place the Hat on his head.

Inside Harry’s mind…

“Difficult, hmm very difficult…”

“Hello, and Welcome to the Mind of Harry James Potter! My name is Harry and I’ll be your Guide for the evening. If you follow along with me, I shall do my best to show you to the various departments within my own head.” Harry could ‘hear’ the Hat laughing uproariously at his impromptu skit.

“That was most amusing, Mr. Potter. I daresay that took bravery.”

“Yes, and I think for the sake of everyone here, you should sort me into Gryffindor.”

“Oh?”

“First off, since you’re able to look into my mind, you no doubt know what I’m like and the games that Dumbledore is trying to play.”

“Yes, I can see that and before you ask; I shall not reveal what I’ve learnt here tonight.”

“Thank you. Now, logically my ambitions should be an immediate sort into Slytherin.”

“Or Ravenclaw since you just mentioned logic. Go on.” The Hat interjected.

“Exactly. However I think that you should sort me into Gryffindor so I don’t have to deal with the endless questions that would come up every time someone meets me. ‘Why didn’t you get sorted into the House that your parents were a part of?’ Personally, I think it’s rather cunning and sneaky of me to want to get sorted into Gryffindor despite my Slytherin tendencies.”

Back with everyone else…

Albus watched and waited; he was growing worried that the Hat hadn’t sorted the boy immediately into Gryffindor like he’d instructed it to. He had so many plans in place that if the Potter boy didn’t get into the Lions’ Den where he could be incorporated with the Weasleys, especially the youngest son Ronald, and kept under constant surveillance; (he shivered briefly) well, he didn’t want to contemplate the outcome of that possibility.

“GRYFFINDOR!” The Hall erupted into cheers and yells of relief of so many. The Weasley Twins jumped up and started dancing around while chanting, “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

Sighing in relief, Albus lifted his goblet in salute towards a beaming Harry. ‘Let the testing begin.’

Surprising to many, his older brothers especially, Ronald was the first Weasley in recent memory to be sorted into the House of the Serpents. After the Hat was removed from his head, he strutted over to his new table near where Draco was scowling darkly at the redhead. He caught Harry’s eye and winked conspiratorially. Harry shared a surprised look with Hermione, “That…worked better than I thought it would.”

Monday – Friday; 2 Sept to 6 Sept, 1991; the obligatory first classes montage

Harry arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast just in time for Minerva to approach him with his class schedule for the year. “It makes me so proud to know that you’re following in your parents’ footsteps, Mr. Potter.”

Harry smiled pleasantly, “Thank you, professor. I read about what you’re like in my mother’s school journals. I look forward to taking your class.” He accepted the slip from her and took a seat at the table. Hermione joined him a moment later, yawning. “Rough night?”

She waggled her hand, “Meh. I’m not used to sleeping on such a soft mattress. The one I have at home is as hard as a rock. Pass me the tea, please. Is that our schedule?”

“Mmm-hmm…” he idly replied as he read through the list. “According to Hogwarts, A History; there’s supposed to be a planetarium that was installed during the mid-1700s. I heard that it has a magically-driven mechanical orrery too.” He winced slightly when he heard her jaw cracking from the giant yawn she gave.

“Uh-huh, what do we have for breakfast around here?” she asked, thoroughly unimpressed.

Herbology (with Hufflepuff)

“Lord Potter, I Neville Franklin Longbottom, do hereby swear my allegiance and undying appreciation to you for your marvelous insight into which House I should be sorted into!” Neville pompously kowtowed to Harry as he and the other Gryffindors stepped into Greenhouse 1.

Harry snorted with laughter and pretended to knight Neville, “Rise, my minion and together we shall rule the galaxy as the Lords of All Creation!” Hermione just scoffed and playfully slugged Harry on the shoulder as she dropped her stuff and wandered around the various plants on display. “I take it you approve of my suggestion?”

“The House associated with the gardens? Who wouldn’t be?” Neville rejoined, “Seriously, it’s gorgeous here. Even our Common room looks like a conservatory! One of these days, I’ll have to see about getting permission to bring you inside. I’m not sure if we’re allowed to do that.”

“I can’t imagine why not,” Harry temporized.

Three rows over, one plant caught Hermione’s attention; it looked almost like the leaves were made out of pure gold! “Hey, Neville? What plant is this?”

Neville walked over to investigate, “Oh! That’s the Fool’s Foxglove! It’s not really a foxglove but more closely related to the marshland dwelling cattail. It filters impurities out of the water and soil and stores them in its leaves. The reason why it looks like it’s made from gold is because they’re normally found where there’s a lot of pyrite deposits in the ground.”

“So, it’s phony gold?”

Neville bobbed his head happily, “Exactly. If you see these in the wild, don’t bother mining or you’ll just wind up with nothing to show for your hard-fought efforts.” Hermione looked thoughtful as if she was planning something nefarious.

“Excellent summation, Mr. Longbottom; five points for Hufflepuff.” They all turned to see their teacher, Professor Pomona Sprout standing behind them proudly beaming at her new students. “Now, come along; we have much to go over and not that much time to do so.”

DADA

Harry could feel his sinuses immediately clog up the moment he stepped through the doorway into their Defense class. The whole air positively reeked of heavy garlic usage! “Ugh, I think I can actually feel the garlic oils on my skin.”

Their professor for this class was a stuttering mess of a man who seemed utterly out of his league. Any time someone made a sudden noise or movement, Professor Quirrell nearly jumped out of his own skin. Harry shared a troubled look with Hermione as he slid a scrap of paper over to her, ‘This clown is our Defense professor?’

Scoffing under her breath, Hermione fingered her switchblade, “I bet I could take him on with barely any trouble.”

Transfiguration

Harry noticed the cat sitting nimbly on top of the desk and chuckled, “Good morning, professor.” The cat flicked its ear in his direction while silently monitoring everything and everyone.

Lavender Brown asked him why he was talking to the cat. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Professor McGonagall is a feline Animagus. Notice the markings around the cat’s face. Don’t those look a lot like the glasses she normally wears?” Harry answered as he took his seat.

Lavender co*cked her head in thought, “Yeah, now that you mention it. But how did you know and what’s an Animagus?”

Harry smiled sheepishly, “I read a book on them when I was doing my school shopping. An Animagus is a witch or wizard who has the ability to turn into an animal. Apparently there’s some whole big thing they have to go through. If they do manage to complete the process, they have to get registered with the Ministry for public safety. You can imagine the chaos that might happen if someone was able to turn into something small or dangerous and terrorize the people.” Hermione’s eyes lit up with the possibility at hearing that as a tiny twitch of her lips hinted at a smirk. Harry minutely shook his head in amusem*nt at her sudden interest.

Lavender nodded sagely, “So you looked up her name at the Ministry?”

Harry shook his head, “Nah, I asked Director Bones while she was there with Susan.” Lavender goggled at him for knowing the Director of the DMLE.

Everyone got settled and was tasked to copy down the instructions on the board into their notes. Ron dashed in five minutes afterwards and slunk into the nearest available seat. “Whew, made it! I wish I knew of where the shortcuts were. Fred and George say they know where they’re at, but…”

“Mr. Weasley, please refrain from discussing your twin brothers until after class.” Ron’s head snapped to the front where Professor McGonagall had suddenly appeared. His ears reddened slightly as he muttered an apology. “For your information, if you’re near the dungeons and tap the statue of Ptolemy the Third on his left shoulder, he will reveal a hidden passageway. Following that passageway will lead you to the portrait of a vase of flowers guarded by a snake just outside this classroom door.”

Ron hurriedly scribbled down the information, “Thanks, professor.”

Their first project was to turn a matchstick into a needle. Harry got it on the second try while it took Hermione three to get a reasonable facsimile. Thinking hard about what she wanted the needle to look like, she smiled proudly when the matchstick shimmered slightly before reshaping itself to its desired state and taking on a silvery color. She picked it up and tested it, “Good enough for me.”

After class, Harry quietly asked what she’d tried to do the first three times with her matchstick. “I was trying to see if I could reshape it into something valuable like a coin but it just didn’t want to do that. I’m guessing that the final form has to be relatively close to what the original item was, in this case the matchstick represented one dimension or a line; and I was trying to form something in three dimensions.

Lunch

The Great Hall was raucous with the students and staff talking, laughing, or in the case of the Weasley Twins, causing minor explosions. Albus sat on his throne quietly observing everything and everyone and feeling quite right with how his plans were turning out. True, Ronald getting sorted into Slytherin was a surprise, but at least the Potter boy didn’t end up in there which would’ve indicated that the Horcrux within the boy’s scar was interfering in some way.

His attention was diverted to where Severus sat glowering at everyone as he ate his meal. No doubt the man was plotting on what to do when he was forced to teach this year’s crop of Gryffindor firsties, not to mention having Harry in his class.

The rest of the classes proceeded apace as was their wont. In Charms, Harry asked if the tiny professor knew of any books that would help explain how the magic of the portraits worked to allow their occupants to move from one frame to another. Professor Flitwick beamed at the challenge, “I honestly don’t think I know if there are any books for readers at your level, Mr. Potter. May I ask why you’re so curious?”

Harry’s face took on a pensive expression, “There’s more to magic than just waving a stick and saying some funny words. Magic that’s seldom investigated simply because it’s not ‘flashy.’ I’ve heard that Potters are legendary tinkerers; I want to be part of that legacy.”

“Aptly put, Mr. Potter. As I’ve said, I’m not aware of any books the school might have. You might want to contact Flourish and Blott’s to see if they have a book in stock or know where you might be able to look for it.”

Potions (with Slytherin)

Friday rolled around and with it came the ‘dreaded’ Potions class with Professor Snape. Harry, Hermione, and the other first year Gryffindors all made sure to read their textbooks cover to cover and take notes on everything they could think that might relate somehow to brewing. Harry even went so far as to inspect his cauldron for cracks or leaks that might hurt his chances of getting through the class unscathed.

The afternoon class time arrived; Harry spotted Ron standing amongst the other Slytherin firsties and greeted him, “Hey, Ron. How’re you liking your House?”

Ron grinned, “I love it, surprisingly. The best part is I get to annoy the snot out of Draco constantly. Fred and George are treating me like an actual brother and not something they scraped off their shoes. Percy was impressed that I dared to go against our mother’s wishes and do something different. Actually, the best part is that there are a couple of other chess players in my House and I’ve smoked each and every one of them!”

Harry bobbed his head appreciatively, “And you thought I was crazy to suggest it, didn’t you?” Ron sheepishly toed the floor with his shoe. Harry clapped him on the shoulder, “Fortune favors the bold, Ron. Remember that and your life will always be rich. Frankly, I’m surprised that Dumbledore hasn’t tried to get you resorted.”

Ron chuckled, “Actually…”

Flashback…

According to Ron’s retelling, Albus had indeed tried to get the Hat to sort the redhead into the House of the Lions where the rest of his family was and had been for generations. The Hat was unmoved by Albus’ pleas, “He stays where I sent him, Headmaster. Never have I ever sat upon a more tactically-inclined mind such as his in a very long time. Slytherin will be good for the lad; it will teach him what he needs regardless of what you wish to have happen.”

Ron’s mother, Molly, also had something to say about her baby boy being ‘dumped’ into the Snake Pit. She said it and loudly courtesy of an in-person Howler (aka she came up to the school to berate him.) Poor Ron just had to sit there and take it until Severus stepped in and silenced her. “He may be your son outside of the school, but he is my charge inside. Kindly refrain from acting like a fool-headed fishwife in my presence again. Mr. Weasley, we are done here.” He threw open Albus’ door and waited imperiously for Ron to follow him. Fred and George found him later to share in their younger brother’s commiseration. “Don’t listen to her, Ronnie. You’ve surpassed our wildest expectations we’ve ever had for you.”

Present…

“So listen, I’ve heard that Professor Snape is tough on everyone not wearing green. When we do get around to brewing, would you mind if I partnered up with you?” Harry politely asked.

Ron beamed, “Yeah! That’d be great! So what’s it like up there in Gryffindor?”

Harry let out a depreciating sigh, “It’d be a lot nicer if the room didn’t look like the inside of a furnace. There’s so much red and gold in the decorations that it makes it almost impossible to concentrate on my studies. I’m fortunate that our dorm room isn’t decorated as bad; just our bed curtains and those are hideous! It’s also loud in the tower as Gryffindors seem utterly unable to stay quiet for very long. Percy does his best, but sometimes I wish I’d gotten sorted somewhere a little more sedate, you know?”

Ron clicked his fingers, “Yeah, you mentioned on the train that you wouldn’t have minded being sorted into my House.”

“Potter in Slytherin? Weasley, he’d have been killed by the end of the first night,” a feminine sneer was heard behind them. Harry turned to see Pansy Parkinson giving him a suspicious look. “What do you want?”

A slow smile crept along his lips, “A loaded question so early in the year? Miss Parkinson, we’ve not even been properly introduced yet.”

Pansy’s eyes widened as she gasped, “You…you…Gryffindor!”

Sweeping low, Harry returned with a grand bow, “At your service, milady.” He could hear Ron choking on his laughter at the stunned expression on Parkinson’s face.

The door creaked open as Professor Snape stepped out, “Inside.”

Teacher’s Lounge, that afternoon

Severus Snape stormed into the lounge and dropped heavily into an empty chair near the far wall that faced into the center. He growled for an elf to bring him a strong cup of tea and two oatmeal-raisin cookies. ‘How dare the Potter spawn pretend to be something he’s not! True, the Boil Paste potion is probably the easiest recipe out there, so simple even the most dunderheaded student could follow along; but for the brat to actually improvise and end up creating a cream that didn’t even generate the usual stench associated with the normal product!’

Minerva and Filius entered a few minutes later chatting about their respective Houses earning some inane wager they’d been haggling over since even before he became a student. “I’m telling you, Filius. I’m certain that my House will win the Quidditch Cup for the first time in seven years now that we have a Potter once again.”

Filius waggled his finger, “Don’t be so sure about that Minerva. Mr. Potter is good, but he’s only one person. I’ll give you that he’s precocious; why just the other day he asked if there was a way to charm an area around his bed to activate a set of twinkling lights whenever he crossed the boundary.”

“Must you prattle on about that spoiled brat?” Severus ground out. “It’s bad enough that I have to be in the same castle with him; I don’t need to be hearing about his pitiful accomplishments every time I turn around.”

Minerva clicked her tongue at him, “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that you were projecting the sins of the father upon his son. Someone who until now has had absolutely no idea what his father was even like!”

Filius (and Severus) looked at her oddly, “What do you mean?”

Minerva’s face was pinched, “I spend a lot of my free time in my Animagus form and observe my charges while they’re in the Tower. I’ve heard Mr. Potter discussing his past with many of the others, including the revelation that until he received his Hogwarts Letter, he had assumed that his parents were drunk layabouts who got killed in a car crash which left him in the care of his aunt and uncle.”

Severus frowned, “A car crash? A car crash killing Lily? Hardly. Lily grew up around muggle vehicles, there’s no way that she’d ever let herself go that far to risk her life with one of those contraptions.”

Minerva held up her hands, “That’s just what Mr. Potter said. I heard him telling the others that was the story that was told to him by his magical guardian whom we all know is Albus.”

Severus sat back and thought darkly about that. ‘Dumbledore promised that he would keep them safe, yet he utterly failed. Lily still died…’

Time Skip: September 19^th, Hermione’s Birthday

Harry waited for Hermione at the base of the girls’ stairs with a big smile on his face as she cautiously descended, “What’s that look for?”

“No reason, other than to celebrate your birthday.” He gave her a gentle hug and co*cked his elbow graciously, “Your Highness, breakfast awaits!”

Slapping his arm lightly, she rolled her eyes at him, “You are such a boy, Harry.”

Harry laughed, “That’s a good thing, I take it?”

“Definitely, otherwise people might start asking questions about me.”

He glanced at her in the corner of his eye, “Has anyone said anything I should know about?”

Hermione waggled her hand, “Nothing specifically, just mostly wondering if I really am royalty or if you’re just being weird.”

“What’d you say to that?”

She stuck her nose in the air snootily, “A lady never tells all her secrets.”

“You haven’t pulled any heists have you?”

Hermione shrugged, “No one in my dorm has anything I want, to be honest and their proximity is too close to be safe.”

Harry bobbed his head and fell silent for a bit before venturing, “How far away can you be and still do that wrist thing? Can you do it through walls too?”

Here, Hermione grinned widely, “I can manage about ten feet from my target and yes, I can snag things from behind walls. That part comes in handy sometimes if the shop clerk is too observant.”

Harry huffed out a quiet laugh, “What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever acquired?”

“The bicycle I got when I was nine. Snagged it right through the shop’s back wall too; the clerk didn’t even notice.”

As soon as the morning mail rush started, Harry kept scanning the rafters for something. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m waiting for Hedwig to show up. There!” He pointed at the spot where Hedwig’s brilliant white feathers stood out amongst the dull grey ceiling tiles. The pair watched as the raptor gracefully made her way down and landed with barely a hop in front of Hermione and held out her leg. A pair of small boxes was attached with a length of string. Harry handed over a rasher of bacon to his owl, “All Hail, Her Owlness Hedwig!”

Hermione took the boxes and examined them curiously, “Who would be sending me stuff?” She carefully opened the included letter and gasped in surprise at the contents. She spun towards a grinning Harry who was still idly stroking Hedwig’s feathers. “You… Aww, Harry!” She grapple-hugged him tightly, “Thank you.”

He returned the hug and whispered in her ear, “Happy birthday, Hermione.”

Another owl landed in front of Harry with a note attached to its leg. Curious, he opened it to read that Hagrid had sent him the note inviting him to swing by his place for ‘a cuppa’ and chat about how he was fitting in and to share stories about his parents. Harry showed the messy scrawl to Hermione, “You want to come with me?”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

Harry knocked on Hagrid’s door after classes let out for the day and drew back sharply when he heard frantic barking on the other side. He calmed down when he then heard Hagrid’s booming voice, “Get down, you dozy dog!” The door swung open to reveal Hagrid’s smiling face, “Harry! And you’ve brought a friend! Come on in.”

“This is Hermione Granger. She’s my best friend,” Harry introduced her then fell flat on his back after being tackled by an overeager boarhound. “Ack! Get it off!”

Hagrid reached down and lifted the dog off of Harry then dropped it onto his bed, “Fang, sit! Stay there!” Fang whined and lay his head down morosely.

Hermione giggled at the byplay, “How old is he?”

“Eh, he must be about three or so.” Hagrid distractedly answered as he served them some tea and biscuits. “So, Harry; how do you like the school so far? I would’ve loved to have taken you your letter but I was told that it’d already been accepted.”

Harry winced as he tried to take a bite out of the rock-hard biscuits, “I love it so far. Who’d have thought that magic could be learned like any other subject in school? I just wish it was closer to home. I can’t imagine that the winters around here are all that pleasant.”

Hagrid chuckled at that, “No, they’re not. What about you, Hermione? Are you settling in as well?”

“I’m doing alright, I guess. Hagrid, you deal with all of the creatures around here, right?”

“Aye, that’s part of my job as gamekeeper. Why?”

Hermione hesitated for a moment, “There’s some sort of large dog on the third floor that has me a bit worried.”

Hagrid waved his hand dismissively, “Nah, you’ve got nothing to worry about with Fluffy.” He froze as soon as he said it. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Harry snorted, “Fluffy? What is it, some kind of dog like Fang?”

Hagrid pursed his lips, “Something like that. Listen, just stay away from there. What that dog’s guarding is strictly between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped as he shared a commiserating look with Hermione. “Hagrid, you did it again.” The pair giggled at the enormous face-palm Hagrid gave himself. “Don’t worry, you’d have to be an idiot to go wandering around somewhere dangerous with barely an education to defend yourself.”

Hermione agreed whole-heartedly, “Frankly the only reason we even know about the dog is because the stairs stopped swinging at that level and wouldn’t let us past. Then we got caught by Mr. Filch and that absolute sweetie of a cat of his.”

Harry scowled, “Speak for yourself, Hermione. I think Mrs. Norris hates me.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Harry. She’s just got refined tastes in human company. Everyone knows that I’m a wonderful person to spend the day with.” She haughtily flipped her hair over her shoulder to the amusem*nt of Hagrid whilst Harry merely rolled his eyes.

The next day, Harry discovered he was able to understand the hissing noises of snakes. He and the other Gryffindors plus the Slytherins were waiting for Snape to open the laboratory. One of the nearby paintings was of a large constrictor that kept hissing insults at everyone that it saw. Harry started chuckling then outright laughing before he caught sight of everyone staring uncomprehendingly at him. Theo Nott chucked him on the shoulder, “Potter, what’s with you? You know what they say about people who just start laughing for no reason.”

Harry wiped the tears from his eyes, “Sorry, that snake portrait’s been insulting everyone since we got here.” He slowed and started when he caught sight of their reactions, “What?”

“You’re a Parselmouth?!” Ron yelped.

“A what?” ‘This is new. I never knew I could speak with animals.’

Theo pointed out that Parselmouths are generally looked upon with fear. “The last known Parselmouth was the Dark Lord.”

At hearing that, Harry scoffed. “So what, I figure nearly everyone here can speak to snakes.” He turned to Blaise Zabini, “Isn’t that right?” He gave a leading grin at a clearly confused Blaise before Dean started groaning, “Harry! That was terrible!” It then fell to Dean to explain what Harry was alluding to. From there, everyone either booed or hissed their displeasure at being conned.

Harry was unrepentant, “What? Prove me wrong.” He pointed at Dean, “At least I’m not a dark wizard like you.” It took them another heartbeat to comprehend his joke which led to more groans and laughter.

October

The season was changing around the castle and with it, brought cooler weather and a spate of mysterious disappearances. Little things that ordinarily wouldn’t have been more than a mere annoyance individually like Draco’s wand disappearing from his pocket during Potions (and being discovered stuck up the rear of the evening’s roast pig), random cutlery disappearing or being moved to an unusual location (how all of the school’s spoons ended up in the Divination classroom was anyone’s guess.) Most annoying to the teachers was the day when all of their quills vanished or were swapped with the students’ with their misshapen quill tips which forced the teachers to waste valuable time figuring out who owned what.

Throughout it all, Harry just sat back and watched the chaos unfold with a mysterious smirk.

“Hey Potter, I’ve got a question for you.” Harry turned to see seventh year Slytherin Michael Tolby approaching. “I thought you had a scar on your forehead.”

Harry groaned and let his head drop back, “If I had a Sickle every time someone asked me that question. I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone else. I haven’t had that scar since as far back as I can remember. I don’t know where the rumor got started, but I really wish people would quit asking. I’m not upset at you; it’s just rather repetitive by now.”

Michael understood and left. Harry returned to his studying for nearly an hour before he heard another distinctive voice interrupting him, “Ah, Harry my boy.” Dragging his eyes away from his book, Harry drawled, “Yes, Headmaster?”

“I was just wondering what has you so pre-occupied on such a beautiful autumn day.” Albus inquired as he conjured a chair to sit on, tilting his head trying to discern the title of the book. Harry tilted the cover which revealed it to be about simple warding charms. “Rather advanced reading material, my boy. Are you sure you should be pushing yourself so fast? I think it would be better if you were to just enjoy your childhood and go outside and play.”

Harry’s eyes slid over to the window which showed the weather outside to be freezing sleet, “Have you seen the weather today, Headmaster? Freezing sleet isn’t exactly the best weather to go ‘playing’ in.”

Albus’ eyes began to twinkle, “Perhaps you’re right, my boy. What else is going on with you? Are you enjoying your classes? It’s a shame your best friend Ronald wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor with you.”

Harry was ambivalent, “Ron’s cool but I wouldn’t say that he’s my best friend. I like my classes except for two of them.”

“Oh?” That twinkling was growing more pronounced.

Harry nodded and winced as a tiny ping of a headache appeared, “Yeah, History and Defense. In History, the teacher is dead boring with an emphasis on dead and Professor Quirrell is afraid of his own shadow plus his room could use a good airing out. It stinks like garlic in there, not to mention the man can’t teach worth beans because of that stutter of his.” He rubbed his temples in hope that it was a momentary ache.

“I would’ve figured you’d have a problem with Professor Snape’s style of teaching,” Albus implied but Harry merely shrugged a shoulder. "I never got the opportunity to tell you how pleased I was to see you sorted into my old House, my boy. I’m sure you’re going to have some wonderful memories by the time you graduate.”

“Probably.” The pressure in his head started to abate.

Albus grew silent for a moment, “I know it’s still early, but have you considered staying at the castle for Christmas, Harry? I’m sure that your friends like Ronald will miss you greatly if you didn’t.”

“We’ll see what happens when the date get closer, sir. Was there anything else? I really would like to finish this and work on some of the projects before I grow a beard as long as yours.”

Albus chuckled lightly and stroked his beard, “It is impressive, isn’t it? Very well, my boy; I shall leave you to your noble work.” He rose to his feet and strolled away.

Harry rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, “That was weird.”

Albus’ office, not too long after…

Albus was frowning when he sat down in his chair, “The boy has some unusually strong mental protections. I couldn’t see a thing during our conversation. Could it have something to do with his mother’s sacrifice?” He pondered that for another couple of minutes before rising and striding over to a cabinet hidden behind the painting of a former headmaster. Inside was what appeared to be an ancient birdbath bowl. He took his wand and extracted a gossamer strand of glowing light from his mind and dropped it into the bowl then dipped his face into it.

When he emerged, he stared sightlessly ahead, “Mr. Tolby was correct, the scar is missing from Harry’s forehead. How could that be? There is no method to remove a Horcrux without killing or destroying the vessel! If there was, I would’ve known about it.”

Perplexed, he began pacing his office in an effort to clear his mind.

Halloween

Harry awoke to the heavenly smells of pumpkin pie, roasted meat, and so many other foods being cooked down in the kitchens. He sat up and just sat there waiting for his mind to spin up to speed. “Morning, Harry.” He rolled his head towards where Dean was also sitting up going through his own ‘power up’ routine.

“Morning, Dean. Ready for another fun-filled day here at Camp I Love Magic?” Harry drawled to Dean’s smirk. He threw off his covers and grabbed a towel and his bathroom kit before heading off to take a shower. When he emerged, he felt a lot more awake than before. “That felt good. So, what to wear, what to wear…” He held up his school shirt, “I was thinking something in a school uniform. Do you think perhaps a white shirt or should I go with the white shirt?”

Seamus laughed, “Be daring, Harry and go with the white shirt.”

Harry lifted up the other shirt a bit higher, “Yeah, why not? You only live once.”

After Charms class

“She’s a nightmare! I don’t know how Potter can stand to be her friend,” Ravenclaw firstie Michael Corner groused as they exited from the classroom where they’d just gotten a feather to float magically. His group halted abruptly when Hermione got up in his face.

“You’ve got a problem with me learning magic?” she growled darkly.

Michael winced and glanced down to see the point of a knife digging into his stomach. His face paled and shook his head rapidly. “No, I’m sorry.”

“You will be if you keep up this attitude. I’m not some Hufflepuff pushover, keep up with those smartarse comments and we’ll see just how pure your blood really is.” Her eyes flashed with an unholy light before the knife vanished and she stormed away with Harry following behind shaking his head at the terrified boy.

Later…

Harry was in awe at how well Hermione seemed to be holding it together after the confrontation with Michael. She scoffed, “Please, I’ve had way worse before. You’ve seen what my neighborhood is like. I won my first fight when I was eight against a ten year old boy.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “I kicked him in the nuts first then smashed his head into the pavement. It was over before it even really began. His mates were utterly terrified of me and gave me the opening I needed to get out of there.”

He whistled appreciatively, “I feel so sheltered now. The biggest fight I ever got into was with my cousin and that just involved water balloons and squirt guns.”

Hermione snickered, “Don’t forget the arguments you lose with Hedwig.”

Harry groaned, “I don’t lose arguments with my owl!”

She patted him on the hand consolingly and winked, “Just keep telling yourself that, Harry.”

The pair walked through a lonely hallway on the way down from a dusty room Hermione had appropriated as her ‘secret hideaway’ when they were overcome with an overpowering stench reminiscent of an open sewer. “Gah, what is that?” Both froze when they heard heavy footsteps and a low growling grunt. As one, they slowly turned to see a towering brute armed with a club that looked like it started off as a tree trunk. Harry snagged her hand and whispered, “Don’t. Scream. That’s a Mountain Troll and they get violent if you scream.” Hermione mutely nodded her agreement as they both watched as the troll lumbered by it gave them a cursory look as it shuffled off down the hallway and turned a corner.

Once it passed, Hermione whispered urgently in Harry’s ear, “We need to tell someone about that thing!” They dashed off back to their tower where they found all of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw making a hurried push.

“Potter! Granger! Where have you been?” Percy yelled at them.

Hermione pointed in the direction they came from, “We just escaped from a troll down there!”

Percy paled at hearing how close the beast was before yelling, “Keep heading up to the tower! Move!” He pulled his wand and a piece of garbage from his pocket then cast some sort of spell on it.

When they all tumbled through the entrance hole; Hermione finally managed to sidle up to Percy, “What was that you created back there, Percy?” she asked breathlessly.

“Huh? Oh, I spelled the wrapper to become something noisy to distract the beast if it ever showed up.”

Her eyes widened with interest, “You mean like a magical grenade?”

Percy snorted, “Nothing as dangerous as that, Miss Granger. It would’ve just made a noise like one of my twin brother’s favorite fireworks. It’s a simple charm, really.”

“Could you teach it to me?” she eagerly bounced on her toes.

Percy looked into her eager eyes and sighed, “Sure, I suppose. Just try not to emulate Fred and George any more than you absolutely have to.”

November

Saturday 9 November, 1991

All anyone could talk about for the week following Halloween was how a troll could’ve gotten into the school. Harry did his best to refrain from speculating. He was more interested in coming up with a solution to a bigger problem. He thought he’d written a letter home outlining what had happened during the Troll Incident but for the life of him, he couldn’t actually remember if he’d mailed it. He sought out Hedwig to ask if she’d taken anything from him, but she’d just given him a pitying look that suggested he must’ve been imagining it.

The pair was holed up in Hermione’s ‘Stash Room’ the second Saturday of the month. She was rummaging around through a couple of boxes full of illicitly-gained goods and sundries for something while Harry just idly watched. “I don’t understand how my mind swears I wrote that letter, but I have no recollection of actually climbing the steps of the owlery.”

“Maybe you only dreamt you did,” Hermione’s voice was slightly muffled from behind a stack of crates labeled ‘Purple stuff.’

“I don’t think so,” he disagreed before face-palming himself, “Oh, how could I’ve been so stupid?!”

“Easy, you’re a boy.”

“Hardy-har-har, you’re a riot Granger,” he drawled as he dug around in his backpack. He cheered when he found one of his Chocolate Frog cards, “I knew I packed them!” A thump distracted him as Hermione emerged from her search, “You find what you’re looking for?”

Puffing a strand of hair out of her face, Hermione held up something that resembled a ceramic cat, “Yep!”

Tilting his head curiously, Harry jutted his chin at it, “What is it and what do you plan on doing with it?”

“It’s a ceramic cat figurine I lifted from Professor McGonagall’s office and I’m thinking I might see if I can charm it with that spell Percy taught me.” She replied as she turned it over in her hands.

Harry left her to it while he used his wand to encode a simple message on the card. He’d discovered (with Professor Flitwick’s unwitting help and a couple of advanced charms books Hermione lifted) that he didn’t need to mar the portrait’s face, just tap the letters in the information box and make them glow slightly to send his text. The letters would slowly flicker on and off in the order of the words he was trying to create and conversely whatever Aunt Petunia sent back. Alerting the receiver to incoming messages took a bit longer to figure out. One of the books recommended a linked charm that would cause the object used to glow a bright color or warm up in your pocket. ‘Clay: I sent letter. U receive?’ Message completed, portrait Harry walked out of the frame.

It took a few minutes before portrait Harry returned and the letters started flickering, ‘Flower: No letter here. U sure sent?’

He frowned, ‘Clay: I sure. No memory. Warn Skeleton?’

‘I will make contact. Stay safe. Flower out.’

Hermione plopped down on the couch next to him and stared in awe at what he’d done, “When did you figure this out, Harry?”

He flashed her a proud grin, “Last week. I can’t tell you the number of Dumbledore cards I burned through just to get this far.”

“Oh, such a waste! The shame…” she giggled at his overacted indignant expression. “Still, that’s quite an accomplishment so soon. I thought it was going to take you until third year at the earliest.”

“Me too. I’m grateful that you have that little trick of yours otherwise I’d never get my hands on those books without raising suspicion.” He bumped her shoulder with his playfully.

Hermione hadn’t been idle since Halloween; she merely had set her sights on a more worthy target. After their conversation with Hagrid about staying away from the third floor and the subsequent slipup where he mentioned Nicholas Flamel; she’d disappeared into the library to look up who that person might be. She was amazed to learn that not only was the noted philosopher was still alive at over six hundred years, but was also the only one to have successfully created a Philosopher’s Stone!

Harry frowned in thought when she recounted her study, “I don’t get it. What’s the stone supposed to do?”

Flipping through her notes, Hermione answered, “It’s supposed to be able to make you immortal if you drink an elixir made with it and it’s supposed to be able to turn base metals into pure gold! Can you imagine if you had something like that? I’d be able to get me and mum out of that dingy council flat and into a proper home.”

Harry rubbed his chin, “I think something like that would be dangerous to have. You’d be able to tank the world’s economy if you suddenly flooded the market with a lot of gold.”

She grinned momentarily before it slid off her face, “Yeah, if that happened it wouldn’t matter if we could move somewhere nicer, it wouldn’t be safe since everyone would be going nuts.” She let out a heavy sigh, “Still, it would be nice to have it even for the immortality part.”

Harry gave her a searching look, “Would it though?”

She waggled her hand, “Think of all the places you could go and fully explore if you no longer had to worry about time?”

Harry allowed for that, “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. If you could travel and time didn’t matter; where would you go?”

Here Hermione snickered, “I’d try to sneak into the restricted bases and warehouses around the world and rearrange things just to watch them panic.”

“And lift some of the shinier ones?” he drawled.

Hermione gave him a superior sniff of disdain, “Of course! I’d have to have a couple of trophies for my mansion, you know.”

They both dissolved into a round of giggles as they tried to top each other’s increasingly outlandish ideas.

Monday 11 November, 1991; Great Hall, morning

Albus glanced up and felt a frisson of fear when he saw Director Bones entering the Hall. “Amelia! How delightful of you to join us. Is there a problem?”

Amelia shook her head and smiled pleasantly, “I just need to steal my niece away for a moment.” She crooked a finger in Susan’s direction (to the giggles and awed whispers from the girl’s friends) and turned back towards the doors. As she turned, she caught Harry’s eye and subtly gave him the same directive.

Harry waited a couple of minutes before slipping out as well. “Director?”

Amelia held up a finger to her lips, “Follow us.” She led the two kids into an empty classroom, one devoid of portraits. “One moment; I need to check for something.” She waved her wand over him and growled at the sight of a couple of glowing spots on Harry’s body and clothing, “Bastard.” Another wave caused them to disappear. “Those were listening and tracking charms, Mr. Potter.”

Harry grimaced in disgust, “Three guesses as to who put them on.”

Susan glanced between her aunt and Harry in confusion, “What’s going on?”

Amelia smiled apologetically at her niece, “I’m sorry Susan, I only pulled you out as cover. I need to speak with Mr. Potter privately. Just wait over there for a few moments, this shouldn’t take long.” Susan understood and stepped over to a window. Amelia turned back to Harry, “So what’s this I heard from your aunt about a missing letter?”

“Not just that but also a missing memory of sending said letter,” he growled. “I know I wrote it, I found the impression of the letter on the next page of my notebook.”

“But you don’t know what happened to it.”

He grumped, “Exactly.”

“Well, there’s a way I can check. Hold still.” She placed the tip of her wand against his temple and instructed him to think of the last moment he knew he had it in hand. When he’d indicated he was ready, she withdrew a glowing memory strand and dropped it into a vial.

Harry looked at it with awe, “What was that?”

“That is your memory of what happened. It’s a rather complicated spell and not one normally taught to children until they reach at least fifteen years of age.”

“Neat. I’ll definitely want to learn that and I know Hermione would want to as well.”

After stoppering the vial and storing it away in her robe’s pocket, she asked him for a brief overview of what the letter contained. “It was about the troll incident on Halloween.”

Her eyes widened, “Troll?”

He nodded, “Yeah, Susan didn’t tell you?” They both glanced at the girl who was still staring out the window.

Amelia frowned, “No, she didn’t. Susan, come here.”

Susan bounced over, “Yes, Auntie?”

“When were you going to tell me about the troll?” Amelia asked her.

Susan’s eyes grew slightly glassy as her voice evened out, “There was no need to inform you of that. The Headmaster had it under control.”

Alarm bells began ringing in Amelia’s mind, “When were you going to tell me of the thefts that took place in the school?” Harry started at hearing that. He’d have to warn Hermione that her actions were being noticed.

Again, Susan’s eyes turned glassy as she replied in a deadened voice, “There was no need to inform you of that. The Headmaster had it under control.” She shook herself and trembled at the stormy look on Amelia’s face, “Auntie?”

Amelia gently laid her hand on Susan’s shoulder, “It’s nothing, sweetie. I’m just upset that no one decided to contact me about what happened. I’m glad you’re safe. I think we’re done here. You go on back inside and we’ll see each other at Christmas.”

Susan beamed happily, “Okay, thanks Auntie!” She scampered back to the Great Hall.

Harry gave Amelia a knowing look, “Headmaster?”

She sharply nodded in annoyance, “Headmaster. Oh, by the way; I’ve been looking into your godfather’s situation. It seems as if his case slipped through the judicial cracks since I’ve not found a trace of any trial transcripts for him. I’ve had him moved to a secure location where I hope he’ll recover enough for me to properly question him.”

Harry brightened, “Any chance he might be able to visit me for Christmas?”

She shook her head sadly, “Not right now. Azkaban is a terrible place; most prisoners go mad after only a couple of weeks. I’m hoping that after my questioning, he’ll be handed over to the Healers at Saint Mungo’s to clear out his head but that’s months away at the very least.”

Harry shrugged a shoulder unconcernedly, “At least he’s getting help. Thank you, Director.”

Wednesday 13 November 1991; Outside Potions

Harry was once again snickering to himself. Ron watched and ruefully shook his head, “What’s the snake saying now?”

Harry snorted out a laugh, “Nothing right now. No, I had a weird song pop into my head and I can’t help but laugh.”

A red eyebrow rose, “Care to share?”

“Okay, it’s that kind of song that gets stuck in your head so fair warning if you start hearing it repeat in your mind later.” Ron waved him on impatiently. Harry began snapping his fingers in a rhythmic cadence.

“Snape, Snape, Severus Snape. Snape, Snape, Severus Snape. Dumbledore!
Snape, Snape, Severus Snape. Dumbledore!
Ron, Ron, Ron WEASLEY!
Hermione, Hermione!
Harry Potter, Harry Potter, uh! Harry Potter, Harry Potter, yeah!
Snape!
Harry!
Snape!
Harry!
Snape!
Harry!
DUMBLEDOOOOOORE!
Heeeeermione
Harry Potter, I’m Harry Potter. I'm Harry Potter, Harry, Harry Potter.
Singing our song, all day long at Hooooooooooooogwaaaaaaaarts!”

Harry dropped or raised his voice depending on who he was emulating. By the time he’d finished, Ron was howling with laughter. “Thanks, Harry. I’m definitely going to remember that. Ooh, I wonder if Fred and George could use that! Probably… definitely.” He kept chuckling under his breath, occasionally repeating segments of the song.

Thursday 21 November, 1991; Hermione’s Stash

Harry glanced up as Hermione entered the room in a rush of excitement, “I did it!”

“Did what? You figure out what happened to the City of Atlantis?”

She whapped him on the arm as she plopped down next to him, “Prat, no. I figured out what the enchantments are on the Headmaster’s office. I just need to wait for him to leave before I can break in.”

Harry sat up in amazement, “That’s really impressive, Hermione! It’s supposed to be nearly impossible to break into his office. I know Fred and George have failed on a number of times.”

Hermione buffed her nails proudly, “I know. I took what they’d discovered and used a bit of logic to decipher his security setup. Those two tried to brute force their way in; no subtlety at all. I used the magical equivalent of a mirror placed between the beams like you’d see in those caper movies. As far as his enchantments know, they’re still reporting everything is clear and secure.”

“So when do you think you’ll be able to get in?”

She thought about it, “If I remember what Professor McGonagall mentioned to Flitwick, the Headmaster has a council meeting this coming Tuesday at ten am in the Ministry. I’ll give him five minutes before I make my entry. Was there anything in particular you were hoping I’d find?”

“The Stone, maybe? See if it’s actually there or if it’s just a rumor.” She grabbed a notepad and scribbled out his idea. “I know that he’s taken stuff from my vault before, my aunt’s mentioned it a few times. See if he’s got anything that feels like my magic. You remember how to run the diagnostic?” Hermione had found that handy little spell while researching detection charms in the library a while ago.

“Sure, no problem.”

The following Tuesday, Albus left the castle as scheduled. His office settled into a gentle silence marred only by the ticking of a clock and a quiet whistle from odds and ends on a side table. Some of the portraits of former headmasters/headmistresses chatted with each other, Albus’ phoenix was out hunting, but otherwise the room was unoccupied.

That was when Hermione crept into the room from a hidden entrance behind the staircase to the upper level. She stayed along the perimeter, checking every so often to see if there was any tripwires (or their magical equivalent) before standing up and sighing in relief and a bit of triumph! “Ladies and gentlemen, I have arrived. Let’s see what’s behind door number one, shall we?”

Later…

Harry stared in hushed awe at the sheer amount of treasures Hermione had lifted from wherever she’d found them in Albus’ office and apartment. “He’s got so much… junk in his office, especially those noisy trinkets sitting on a side-table. I don’t know how he’s able to think with all that going on.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, I checked those too and discovered that he’s somehow using them to track you wherever you go. I don’t know how they do what they do, but just so you’re warned.”

“Thanks, Hermione. You’re incredible…” Harry breathless replied to her growing blush. He held up a silvery cloak, “You said this had traces of my family’s magic?”

She nodded, “It’s a strange thing too. It’s just a cloak, why would he try to keep it locked away in a cabinet?”

Harry didn’t know but went ahead and tried it on. He heard Hermione’s gasp of surprise. “What’s wrong?”

She reached out gingerly, “You just vanished, Harry! What is this thing?”

He took it off and handed it out to her, “You try it. I want to see.” She too, vanished from sight after putting on the cloak. “Wicked! An invisibility cloak?” He smiled when she reappeared, a distinct twinkle evident in her eyes. “I know that look and yes, you may borrow this when you need it but first, I think we ought to check it over to make sure Dumbledore didn’t mess it up somehow.”

“Would he do that?” she deadpanned.

Harry laughed as he ran his hand over the incredibly liquid-like fabric. He stopped when his ring started vibrating. The vibration increased as he slowly ran his fingers over the collar, “My ring is picking up something that shouldn’t belong. What is this? Can you transfigure a pair of tweezers?”

A quick swish of her wand created the requested tool. Harry took it and picked out a silver cotton thread and held it up. “This isn’t the same as the rest. Ten quid says that the Headmaster did something ‘clever’ to keep track of whoever wanted to use it.”

“Yeah right, that’s a mug’s bet, Harry.” Hermione remarked. “What do you want to do with it?”

Harry’s eyes began to twinkle, “Stick it on Draco’s robes and watch the Headmaster chase after him?”

Hermione giggled and held out her hand, “Let’s see if my wrist thing can send objects just as well as it does stealing them.”

“So I found the Stone, Harry but it wasn’t worth stealing,” Hermione commented a moment later as she practiced banishing a test piece of thread across the room.

Harry tilted his head curiously, “Why not?”

“It’s a fake. I used that detection charm on it and it came back with a phony signature rather than what it’s supposed to have.”

“How do you know what signature it’s supposed to have?”

She gave him a ‘look’, “I read up on what Flamel’s magical signature is reported to be and tried to match it to that. Here, I’ll show you.” She pulled her wand and cast a spell on him. A string of numbers, letters, and symbols floated like a hologram in front of him. “This is your specific magical signature. It’s unique to just you. If I tried to use it anywhere, I’d get flagged as being an imposter. The strength of your signature, or magic as it’s commonly described, is this set of numbers here at the end.” She pointed to the number 750. “From my research, anything under two-fifty indicates that you’re a Squib. Muggles have a rating of zero which makes sense. Numbers between two-fifty and four ninety-nine are considered to be in the ‘average’ range. Five hundred to seven hundred and you’re into the ‘extraordinary range;’ anything above that up to a thousand and you’re considered to be ‘Merlin-level.’

Harry stared agog, “I’m Merlin-level?!”

Hermione bobbled her head, “It makes sense. You’re able to do things that amaze our teachers. You pick up the class topics with ease, History and Potions notwithstanding.”

He turned to her, “What’s your number?”

Here she huffed a bit and cast the spell on herself. A ghostly 702 floated in front of her. Harry gave her a comforting hug, “I don’t know what you’re complaining about; 702 is nothing to sniff at. You’re still in the Merlin-level too.”

She sneered lightly, “Must be the competitive side in me. Mum complains about it all the time when we played board or card games.”

“So, the Stone?” He asked to get back to the original topic.

“Right, Flamel’s number is as expected; he’s at 900. The Stone registers at a weak 300.”

Harry couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “Flamel pranked the Headmaster! He must’ve! Why else would someone as old as Flamel hand over something as powerful and valuable like the Stone to someone who’s the age-equivalent of a child? Way to go, Mr. Flamel!” He continued to snicker at the thought of pulling one over on Dumbledore.

“Right, so I left it where I found it. The Headmaster can keep his shiny little rock and you can have this book I also found with your family’s name on it.” She handed over a rather thick tome with his ring’s emblem on the front.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, “Why… I don’t get it. Why would he lock this up?” He touched the surface of the book as his fingers traced a design carved into the cover. His eyes traveled over to his ring, “Could it really be that simple?” He pressed the ring into the carving and jumped slightly when he heard it click and the cover pop up a bit. Opening the cover, his eyes crossed a bit as the inscription blurred then reformed itself into modern English. “Greetings, young heir of the Potter Family Line! The book you hold contains all of the wisdom and knowledge accumulated over the past couple of centuries. You and only you are allowed and able to read what lies within. All others will only see gibberish or suffer terrible punishments should they try to steal the information we fought and worked so hard to develop. Keep the Potter Grimoire safe young heir, for if it falls into the hands of our enemies, it would spell disaster for the family lineage.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide, “Wow, that’s incredible, Harry! How did Dumbledore get a hold of it?”

Harry growled darkly, “He probably stole it when my parents weren’t looking or right after their deaths. That utter bastard! First all of the money he’s stolen from me and now this? I want him to burn for his thievery!”

Now that the pair had determined that Flamel had pulled a con on Albus and there wasn’t anything that they needed to worry about (Harry had had a dream in which Voldemort had come back to life somehow and was actively searching for the Stone to give himself a body); they dropped their research into Flamel and the Stone. Instead, Harry refocused his attention to building up his social network and attempting to figure out how to alter the Chocolate Frog Cards so they could transmit audio to a Master card.

So far, he concluded that such an endeavor was sadly out of his skills set right now. ‘I still have six and a half years to go before I need to start worrying. I’m only eleven and not Merlin himself.’ He rightly concluded after yet another frustrating and fruitless search in the library.

When he confided in Hermione, she was a little more ambivalent, “You’re incredibly intelligent, Harry. I know you’ll figure it out. Heck, it’s a shame that you can’t just copy the enchantments on the current portraits.”

Nodding his head ruefully, he sadly agreed, “I know. It’s just annoying that I have to wait when third year seems so far away.”

She rubbed his arm consolingly, “Look on the bright side, at least Dumbledore seems distracted and has left you alone finally.”

Same time; Ministry of Magic; Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge’s office

That much was true, Harry would later concede. Albus had most definitely been distracted enough that he no longer had as much time to devote to testing the Horcrux he was sure was still embedded in Harry’s scar (even if wasn’t visible anymore. Albus chalked that up to being covered over by the ingenuous usage of muggle make-up to allow Harry to go about his day without being constantly stared at.) As for the reason of Albus’ distraction, Amelia had finally completed her investigation into why Sirius Black had been sentenced to Azkaban without even receiving a trial. She was incensed that the Heir of one of the oldest families in Magical Britain had been tossed in that prison without so much as a basic interrogation.

“I want him strung up by his short and curlies, Cornelius!” Amelia thundered as she stormed into Minister Fudge’s office. “I want him drawn and quartered! Heck, I want to do to him what Dolores keeps hinting she’d like to do to the muggleborns!”

Cornelius glanced over at a bemused Lucius Malfoy and drawled, “Good morning to you too, Amelia. Is there something troubling you?”

Amelia hung her head and let out a sharp breath, “Sorry. I just found out that one of the heirs to an important family was summarily dumped into Azkaban without even a trial.”

Cornelius’ eyes bugged open, “Who? Which one of the families?”

“Sirius Black.”

Lucius was heard scoffing derisively. “Black was disowned. He’s no longer the Heir. That distinction goes to my son, Draco.”

Amelia shook her head, “I just came from the Records Department. Sirius may have been banished from the Black ancestral home but he wasn’t disowned magically. Arcturus has him listed in his Will as the Primary Heir. Your son was only mentioned as a beneficiary of some minor bequeathments like some money, a couple of books, and a portrait.”

Lucius scowled and inwardly vowed to get that changed, even if he had to make a few people disappear.

Cornelius waved his hand dismissively, “Children aside, what’s being done with Black and who was it that sent him to prison.”

Amelia sank into a chair, “It was a three-way split order. Between Bagnold, Barty Crouch, and Albus Dumbledore, all three sent an innocent man to that hellhole.”

Cornelius’ eyebrows rose, “Are you sure about the innocent part?”

She nodded, “I checked him with Veritaserum. He was never the Potter’s Secret Keeper and is the oath-sworn godfather to Harry Potter. The fact that he’s still alive ought to be proof enough.”

The Minister began to sweat, “If the public found out about this… Where is Black now?”

“He’s in one of our safehouses under guard and being treated for Dementor exposure. The healers think he won’t be ready for the public for at least a year.”

Lucius sighed quietly. ‘I still have time then to plan for him to have a bit of an accident. Such a shame; I know Cissa was always fond of her cousin.’

“So what do you want to do about Albus? Bagnold’s dead, and Barty’s in Italy as part of some sort of trade negotiations.” Cornelius wanted to know. “Drag him in for a Veritaserum-induced chat?”

Amelia shook her head, “As much as I’d love to; he’s much too slippery to fall for that. No, what I’d like to do is find something, somewhere that desperately needs his specific talents and ship him out of the country for a couple of months while we build an airtight case against him.”

Both men were surprised by her vehemence, “That’s a novel idea, Amelia. I never thought you had it in you.”

Amelia huffed, “Always the tone of surprise. Now, come on. Let’s figure out what we can use and where he needs to go.”

“You want to send me where??!” Albus yelped uncharacteristically as Amelia started to lay out her request.

“Southeast Asia, Albus. Specifically the temple of Angkor Wat. I’ve received word from the local government that they’re in dire need of someone with incredible transfiguration talents like yourself to help rebuild the underlying superstructure that holds up their largest temple.”

Albus shook his head and frowned, “Why didn’t this come to me through the ICW?”

Amelia held out the paperwork, “It did. I’m merely a messenger owl.” Albus took the paperwork and read through it carefully before tossing it onto his desk with a heavy thump. “Don’t worry, from what they told me you won’t be gone all that long and you should count yourself fortunate that they’re asking you to come during the winter months. Merlin knows what that area’s like during the summer.”

Albus grimaced as he glanced about his office, “What about the school? I need to be here keeping things running smoothly. I have too much going on here to just prance off to the other side of the world.”

Minerva had been sitting quietly and bristled at the implied insult to her leadership, “Do ye really think I canna run this castle by meself?”

Albus hurriedly backpedaled, “No, no Minerva. I didn’t mean it like that; it’s just that I have a few projects that still need my attention to make sure they come to fruition.”

Amelia sighed as she rose to her feet, “I’m sorry, Albus but they need you. I hope you’re not asking me to deny their urgent request and risk losing an ancient temple?” She started to head over to the floo. “You want to tell them instead?”

Albus hung his head and caved, “Fine, but only until the start of the new term. I cannot be kept longer than that.”

Wednesday 27 November 1991; Great Hall, breakfast

“If I may have your attention everyone?” Albus began after stepping up to the podium, “Starting tomorrow and until you all return from your winter holiday, I shall be unavoidably incommunicado due to some international attention I’m required to attend to. The day-to-day operations will fall to Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape as her back-up. Please continue with your studies and please, try to stay out of trouble. Thank you.” He shuffled off the raised platform and sat down to some muted applause. There were some snickers from the Slytherin table, specifically where the lone Weasley sat surrounded by Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Nott. Interestingly, young Draco seemed rather lost without his usual companions and kept shooting daggers with his eyes at the change in House dynamics.

“Severus?” He motioned to the new group, “When did Mr. Weasley become the new Malfoy?”

Severus snorted quietly, “I’m not sure, but I think it was about a month ago. Did you want to put a stop to it?”

Albus waved his hand, “No, no. I was just curious, that’s all. I think it would do Mr. Malfoy a world of good if he could learn that his father’s money and influence will not last forever. They aren’t being malicious towards others, are they?”

Severus shook his head, “Not to the extent that Draco normally ascribes to. I did hear a rumor that Weasley started something called a ‘gross-out competition’ but I’ve not ascertained to its validity.”

Filius overheard and laughed, “I’ve heard the same thing, and did ask. Mr. Weasley and his friends are most definitely holding these competitions to see who can come up with the most embarrassing means of expressing themselves.”

Pomona snickered, “In other words, they’re acting like actual children instead of miniature adults.”

Minerva leant over, “Dare I ask what they think is appropriate for these competitions?”

Filius waved his hand in a desultorily manner, “Oh, the usual; farting, belching, weird food combinations, and the like.” Severus was heard gagging which set off everyone else laughing or snickering.

Quirrell dryly remarked that Slytherin had drastically changed since his days in the school. Albus’ ears perked up at hearing that, “It wasn’t all that long ago for you, was it Qurnius?

“Just a couple of decades, Headmaster. Still, no one acted so crass like they do now.”

Albus smiled serenely, “Oh, I don’t know about that. Every generation has something that they’d swear they ‘never did’ when the next group came along.”

Pomona nudged him, “Don’t just hint at a lurid tale like that and leave us hanging! Spill it, Albus. What did you do in your youth that fits your definition of ‘we never did that’?”

Albus’ eyes started twinkling, “Well, there was this one time…”

December

Monday 9 December, 1991; Gryffindor Common Room

Minerva had just finished announcing the sign-up sheet for everyone who wished to remain in the castle over the Yule break when she spotted Harry ensconced on the couch closest to the fireplace and made her way over, “Mr. Potter? Will you not be signing your name?”

Harry shook his head, “No, I’ll be going home. I miss my aunt, uncle, and cousin; I can’t wait to see what Dudley did with that book of runes he got this past summer.”

Minerva pursed her lips, “I was under the impression that you and your family didn’t get along.”

Harry scoffed lightly, “Let me guess, the Headmaster told you that?” At her nod, he shook his head, “I don’t know where he gets his information from but I’ve had nothing but a wonderful life with the Dursleys. My uncle takes us on vacations and even showed me and Dudley where he works! My cousin and I like to roughhouse, and my aunt has taught me so much.”

Harry huffed and brushed back his hair out of his face. Minerva finally noticed something different about the lad. “Mr. Potter, what happened to your scar?”

Harry groaned, “Seriously? Why is everyone so obsessed with the bloody scar? Okay, I’ll tell you then you’ve got to promise you’ll let everyone else know so I can put it behind me. I can honestly say that I haven’t had that scar for as long as I can remember.”

“I see…” she blinked a couple of times, “Well, as long as you’re sure then.” She turned and headed out of the tower towards her office. ‘I don’t understand why Albus seemed so insistent that Mr. Potter has been raised by the worst sort of muggles all these years.’

Dean dropped onto the seat after Minerva left, “I couldn’t help but overhear what you said to McGonagall about your scar. When was it removed?”

A sly smirk teased the edges of Harry’s lips, “I was about three years old according to my aunt. Here’s the secret to what I’ve been saying. Most children don’t start remembering memories until they’re about three years old. My aunt and uncle got me the surgery to have it removed when I was about that age.”

Dean laughed, “So what you said was true, from a certain point of view.”

Harry clicked his tongue and finger-gunned him, “Exactly. Let them infer the rest.”

Saturday 14 December, 1991

With the Cloak fixed, Harry and Hermione took every opportunity to ghost the halls and places students weren’t ordinarily allowed to be. They stayed away from the third floor landing as best they could, despite the stairs’ (and most likely the headmaster’s) best efforts to get them into trouble. The trophy room was of particular interest to Harry after he discovered dozens of awards with the Potter surname engraved on their surfaces. “Look at this, Hermione! Edmund Potter - 1405 for Potions, Josephine Potter – 1518 in Charms, my dad James for Special Services to the School; I had no idea there used to be so many Potters here.”

Hermione was saddened to hear that, “And now it’s just you.” She reached out for one shield that looked like it had a strangely familiar name.

Harry sniffed, “Yeah, just me.” He looked over to where she was when he heard her gasp. “What did you find?”

She held up the shield, “My grandfather’s name! Look, Robert Archibald Granger – 1941 in Defense. I never knew my grandfather was a wizard!”

Harry chuckled, “I guess that solves the mystery of where you got your magic from. That must mean your mum is a Squib.”

Hermione was slightly misty-eyed, “I wonder if she knew. What am I saying, she had to have known. I guess that’s why she was so hesitant about letting me come here.”

Harry gave her shoulders a little squeeze, “I’m glad you did too.”

Up on the Seventh floor, they were investigating the strange tapestry of some idiot trying to teach trolls to dance ballet when after the third pass along an empty stretch of wall, a door appeared. “Harry?” Hermione thumbed in its direction curiously. She carefully opened the door and peeked in. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers as she exclaimed, “I’ve seen incredible, wondrous things…”

He gently pushed past her, “What? What did you…see… oh, wow!”

Towers of all sorts of things rose to the ceiling with pathways cut through like a winding maze. There were books stacked up in piles three feet wide by ten feet high, old furniture, racks of clothes, and so much more that defied description. Hermione stared glassy-eyed as she dipped her hand into a bucket of thumb-sized gemstones, letting them dribble out through her fingers. “Harry, I could live like a Queen with just a handful of these gems.”

Harry wasn’t so sure, “How do we know if there’s anything dangerous hidden away in here?” A piece of paper flashed into existence and drifted to the floor. Harry scooped it up and read it before giving a huff of amusem*nt, “Apparently whatever the magic that runs this place is still active. I asked, and I received. This is a map of where all the dangerous stuff is. Okay Hogwarts, if you’d be so kind to move all the clearly dangerous goods to an area where we can’t get into while we’re still in here.”

The mountains of materials seemed to shift a bit as the room divided itself. Massive bars materialized creating a cage surrounding several crates, a twitching skeleton of some unrecognized species, and a tiara sitting on a bust of an unknown warlock.

Harry beamed, “Thank you, Hogwarts. Now, that should give us free reign to look through the rest of this stuff without worrying about getting hurt.”

Monday 23 December 1991; Hogwarts Express, heading south

The compartment Harry sat in was quiet with only the occasional turning of a book’s page breaking the silence. Harry glanced over the edge of the Potter Grimoire to see Hermione working on a mechanical puzzle she’d liberated from the Room, or as she described it ‘Aladdin’s Cave of Wonders.’ He smiled at how cute she looked with her hair tied back with a strap and her tongue poking out between her lips as she struggled to fit a tiny pin into a hole. “And…got it.” She sat up triumphantly and beamed.

“What does that do?”

She shook her head, “No idea. Okay, next piece.”

He smiled and returned to his reading which was infinitely more fascinating since it dealt with more than just a collection of spells and recipes. His entire family history was embedded within these pages, stretching as far back to when the Romans first sent their scouts across the English Channel to what was now Dover. The family name ‘Potter’ didn’t actually come around until the twelfth-century and that was only because of Linfred of Stinchcombe, an eccentric man known for pottering in his garden, making potions which his muggle neighbours believed to be simple herbal remedies. Linfred earned himself the nickname 'the Potterer', which ultimately became the surname 'Potter'. ‘I wonder if it was him that we all inherited our forever messy hair from.’ Harry wondered idly as he turned the page.

Same time; Krong Siem Reap, Cambodia – Angkor Wat Temple Complex

Albus was steaming almost as much as the blasted weather in this Merlin-forsaken pesthole. When he arrived, the local magical government was mystified by his presence. “The temple and its foundation are as strong as it’s ever been, Supreme Mugwump. There’s no need for you to come, unless you wish to visit the facilities as a tourist.”

Now holed up in his hotel room waiting for the next Portkey back to Britain (for some reason unknown to mere humans, the mystical region around the temple precluded regular magical travel); travelers to and from the temple had to wait for specific dates. The functionary was most apologetic but the earliest he was able to set up would be late January, or right about when he was supposed to be done with the alleged repair job.

Albus sat in his room ruminating on what the past term at Hogwarts had been like and why that blasted boy seemed hellbent on ruining his plans. The boy seemed to make friends easily, far more easily than he would’ve assumed given the explicit instructions he’d left for Petunia all those years ago. Harry Potter was supposed to arrive at the school in awe of magic, impressionable, cowed by strong authority, and easily led. What he got instead was a strong-willed child who resisted Albus’ best efforts to dig deeper into the mystery surrounding the rumor of the Philosopher’s Stone being somewhere in the castle.

“I didn’t even get to ‘gift’ young Harry with the modified Peverell Cloak before I left on this miserable trip!” he groused.

Chapter 3: The Philosopher’s Stone part two (January to June)

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: The Philosopher’s Stone part two (January to June)

Monday 23 December 1991; Hogwarts Express, heading south

As the train continued to head south, Hermione distractedly fingered a pouch she’d ‘appropriated’ from the Headmaster’s office.

Flashback in Hermione’s Stash room…

Hermione was sitting down at a table that had been melted by some substance in the long forgotten past while fiddling with a pouch that she’d ‘found’ in the headmaster's sock drawer. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out how to open the pouch.

“Problem?” She looked up at the sound of Harry’s curious voice.

She shook her head, “No, just having an issue finding the opening on this thing.” Eventually she found the very well hidden drawstring and with a tug it opened. "H-Harry..." Hermione stuttered as her mouth hung open.

"What is it Your Highness?" Harry asked as he looked away from the antique yet pristine Moon Trimmer he’d found in their latest raid of the Room of Hidden Things. When she didn’t respond, he got up and moved over to her side and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, "Hermione? What's wrong?"

Snapping out of her stupor, Hermione's lips curl into a gleeful smile. "Nothing is wrong, Harry. Everything for mum and I is going to change! Didn't you say one of your neighbors was moving soon?"

Slotting down next to her he replied warily, "Yeah?"

Tears began to slip from her eyes as she showed him the massive pile of gold in the pouch, "I need to get to Gringotts during winter break."

As Harry came to realize what he was seeing, his own face brightened for his best friend, "A chance to start fresh?"

Hermione could only nod in reply as her voice was temporarily lost to her as Harry snaked his arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

Present…

What she’d found inside that pouch was more gold coins than she could possibly count. No matter how much she shook out of it, the stream of clinking coins continued until the table had been practically overflowing with gold.

As the train pulled up to the station, she hurriedly grabbed her bag filled with her essentials (some clothes, a couple of trinkets, and her winter homework, plus some toiletries), checked to make sure that the gold-filled pouch was secured in her jacket’s inside pocket, and followed the crowd outside.

She ran up to her mum and gave her a tight hug. “I told you I’d be back! I missed you so much!”

Emma laughed lightly as she gently brushed her daughter’s hair out of her face, “I missed you too, Little Winter. Have you already said your good-byes to your friends?” Hermione nodded as she took her mum’s hand and followed her out of the station towards the Tube entrance.

“Mum, would it be alright if we made a stop in the Alley first? I want to get some presents there and visit the bank.”

Emma’s eyebrows quirked up knowingly, “You mean those kinds of presents?” At Hermione’s confirmation, she shrugged, “Fine by me.

Ten minutes later

Hermione led the way into the Leaky Cauldron and through to the back patio where she tapped on the bricks to open up the hidden portal to the Alley. From there, she made a beeline to the white marble edifice of Gringotts. She bowed her head politely to the Goblin guards and walked up to an open teller.

“Hello, my name is Hermione Granger and I’d like to open an account with Account Manager Daggerclaw if possible, please.”

The teller raised his head and peered at her curiously, “Account Manager Daggerclaw only handles those from the Noble Houses at a minimum.”

Undeterred, she requested that the teller at the very least ask if that rule included friends of heirs from Most Ancient and Most Noble families. The slight edge to her voice caused the teller to grow intrigued. He scribbled out a note and dropped it into a slot on his desk. “A message has been sent. Is there anything else?” At her shaking head, he motioned towards the waiting area.

Five minutes passed before Daggerclaw approached the two females a curious expression on his face, “Miss Granger? How is it that you’ve heard of me?”

“My best friend is Harry Potter, sir.”

Daggerclaw’s confusion cleared, “Ah, and no doubt he recommended me? Very well, follow me back to my office.”

Once they were settled, he motioned for her to begin explaining what sort of services she was interested in. “I need to open up a secure vault for my education. I’ve recently come into a large amount of money and need to make sure it’s safe, not to mention growing it into something profitable.”

Emma watched on silently mystified as her little girl negotiated for financial services like a pro. Her confusion grew into consternation as Hermione pulled out a pouch and handed it over to the Goblin. At his gruff confirmation of the 1.5 million Galleons the pouch contained, she couldn’t remain quiet any longer. “Hermione! Where did you get that much money from?”

“I found the pouch in the school’s Lost and Found room. It was all dusty and looked like no one was going to come back for it any time soon. I didn’t know there was anything inside until I finally managed to get it open.” She spun the lie easily.

Daggerclaw shrewdly guessed to himself that the girl must’ve stolen it from Albus since the stitching and design of the pouch itself was reminiscent of his preferred styling (read ‘ostentatious.’) “Such a shame for the original owner of this gold; maybe it’ll teach whoever it was a lesson in safeguarding one’s gold.”

Hermione waved a hand in his direction, “Right? I don’t have to give it back, do I? I mean if it’s in that room and I find it; it’s finders-keepers, right?”

Daggerclaw’s eyes twinkled merrily, “Exactly correct, Miss Granger. Now, let’s get that account set-up shall we?”

Emma was conflicted by the amount of money that Hermione had discovered. “I’m worried how this might affect the spousal maintenance between your father and me. Is there a way to make sure that he never finds out about it?”

Hermione chewed on her lower lip nervously, “I don’t know. I was hoping we could use some of this gold to get out of that council house and into something and somewhere nicer.”

Daggerclaw cleared his throat, “If I may, it’s a simple solution of sending your lawyers a written notice that Miss Granger here has won a scholarship for her educational needs which include housing costs, food, and clothing.”

Emma was skeptical, “A scholarship of one point five million?”

Daggerclaw dismissively waved his hand, “There are creative solutions for everything, Ms. Granger.”

Emma shook her head, “If it’s anything illegal, I’m going to put my foot down and deny you.”

Hermione whined, “But mu-um!”

“No, Hermione. I will not be party to my daughter getting involved with anything shady,” Emma stated resolutely.

A heavy silence fell upon them before Daggerclaw made an ‘aha’ noise, “Why don’t we just announce that you are the recently-verified heiress of the Dagworth-Granger family? It’s a simple procedure and will not only easily explain where the money came from, but will also boost your standing within our society. You won’t be the Head of the Family until you reach your majority age, but you will gain access to many rights, money, and artifacts.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up at that, “I had implied to one of my classmates that you were looking into that very thing when he’d asked if I was a member of that family and that it wasn’t confirmed because of some wonky rules the family had in place.” At her mother’s narrowing of her eyes, she told her the story.

Emma sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “I was hoping to keep Dad’s family out of this whole thing.” At Daggerclaw’s unspoken curious look, she explained how when she hadn’t received a Hogwarts letter at eleven years old, the Dagworth side of the family wanted to have her forcibly expelled and obliviated of all knowledge pertaining to the magical world.

“Ah, I see.” He began, “Well, if it’s any consolation; the Dagworths will be completely extinct soon and are in no position to complain what happens anymore. If I recall correctly, there might be one wizard left but he’s on his deathbed and oblivious to the world.”

Emma’s face took on a vindictive approving expression, “Serves them right. Alright, if this is the best way to go about it and there aren’t any other obstacles; Hermione has my permission to become the heiress.”

Hermione squealed with happiness and grapple-hugged her mum, “What do I need to do?”

Dursley Residence, same time

Harry entered the house and immediately dropped his bag off in his room before landing with a thump on his bed and let out a long sigh of relief. ‘What a day it had been!’ Between a long trainride full of hyperactive kids, Hermione alternating between manic and introspective moods, plus the amusing sight of Neville chasing after Trevor yet again; Harry was ready to just hibernate until spring.

“Harry! Come down and bring your laundry with you!” Petunia’s strident voice echoed up the hallway.

With a groan, he levered himself up before he dumped his bag’s contents out and grabbing his dirty clothes, “Coming, Aunt Petunia!”

After dropping off his clothes, Harry wandered into the kitchen where he found Dudley studiously poring over the rune book he’d gotten the previous summer. “Good reading, Dudley?”

Dudley looked up and grinned, “The best. I finally figured out how to tie in this rune for perma…perman… well, this rune to that rune to make it last forever.”

Harry peered over his cousin’s shoulder at the scribbled mass of lines, “Okay, so what does it do?”

“If I write it on a teacup, whatever’s inside will stay whatever temperature it started at,” Dudley proudly explained.

“Nice!” Harry beamed and patted Dudley on the shoulder, “That’s impressive, Big D.”

“Big D?”

“Little D?” Harry answered cheekily. “How about Dinky Diddydums?” Dudley just rolled his eyes and scoffed before returning to his efforts.

That evening, Harry pulled his aunt aside and showed her the Cloak and Grimoire that Hermione had ‘found’ in her wanderings around the school. Petunia immediately grew suspicious, “She just happened to find it? Why am I having a difficult time believing that, Harry?”

Knowing what attempting to lie to his aunt would gain him (read nothing); Harry finally admitted that Hermione had the incredible ability to… “Well…”

Petunia finished sardonically, “She steals things, doesn’t she?”

Harry hung his head, “Yeah, she does. But she doesn’t steal from me! Only people who don’t deserve the things they have, like the Headmaster.”

“What other things has she ‘found’?”

Harry rolled his hand, “Well, she’s found out that the Headmaster has these trinkets on his desk that supposedly track my movements, a Philosopher’s Stone that belongs to an ancient and still living wizard, a pouch that has a lot of gold in it, and that book.”

Petunia let out an aggrieved sigh and made a mental note to let Amelia know about the tracking devices Albus had on her nephew, “Okay, I’m not going to forbid you from seeing her since it would be impossible to do since you’re both in the same House at that school, but I want you to be careful with your stuff regardless. Does her mother know about Hermione’s criminal activities?” Harry rapidly shook his head and pleaded with her not to say anything. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t?”

“Because I don’t want to lose my friend,” he replied softly. “If she gets into trouble with her mum, she might pull Hermione from the school and send her away.”

Petunia pulled Harry into her arms as she relented, “Fine, I won’t say anything now. In the meantime, we should get this book and cloak into protective storage.”

Diagon Alley, a little over an hour later

Daggerclaw greeted Harry and his aunt pleasantly when they arrived, “You certainly have an interesting friend in Miss Granger, Mr. Potter.”

“How so?”

“Just her, let’s say, creative acquisition of a bottomless pouch that once belonged to a certain bearded manipulator.”

Harry’s ear tips pinked at hearing that as he peeked over at his aunt who slowly shook her head with pained forbearance. “Yeah, she’s good like that.”

“So what brings you both by my office?” Daggerclaw asked as they settled into their respective chairs.

Harry pulled out the Grimoire and Cloak, “I need to put this book back into the main vault. I also need to get the Cloak examined to confirm that the Headmaster hasn’t done something clever to it. Hermione and I already found an extra grey thread attached to the collar that makes my ring vibrate, but I want to be sure.”

Petunia added in, “As much as it pains me to admit, Harry’ll need to hang onto the Cloak when he goes back to school.”

Daggerclaw ran his claw over the cover of the book, “Why not put both back into the vault?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, “Just in case, you know. If Dumbledore tries to pull anything, I’ll need to be ready to escape. I may be a Gryffindor, but I’m not stupid.”

Daggerclaw chuckled, “No, you are most certainly not, Mr. Potter. Alright, the examination should take no more than a couple of days and can be delivered to your home if you’d like. The book I shall deposit into your main vault forthwith.”

Sunday 5 January, 1992; Hogwarts Express, heading north

Hermione greeted Harry and Neville as both boys entered the compartment she’d commandeered before the start of the trip back to the school. “So how were your holidays?”

Neville smiled fondly, “It was wonderful. Gran got me a new seedling from Cornwall she says a friend of hers sent with the hopes I might be able to identify it. I have no idea what it’ll become but from what little I’ve been able to discern is that it prefers to live in damp, seaside caves where the ocean flows in and out of on a regular basis. It has feathery fronds attached to its arms as well as a pair of eyestalks that make it look like a cross between a crab and a feather duster.”

Harry laughed at his friend’s description, “I’d love to see a picture of it sometime.”

“I can go one better, I brought it with me to see if Professor Sprout can identify it,” Neville replied, gesturing towards his trunk. He turned back to Hermione who seemed to bursting at the seams with giddy eagerness. “Is there something you’d like to share with us, Hermione?”

“I’m the new heiress to the Dagworth-Granger family!” She burst out all in a rush, holding out her hand to show off her new ring.

Harry’s eyes lit up, “The Goblins finally got around to confirming it?”

Hermione bobbed her head rapidly, “Uh-huh, and that’s not all! I found out that I inherited over a million and a half in gold plus a bunch of books and other things!” She caught Harry’s eye and gave a subtle wink.

Neville was amazed and whistled through his teeth, “Whoa, that’s big news! You do know what this means, right? You’re no longer a muggleborn, but are now a half-blood. You’re also probably going to start receiving betrothal requests from nearly everyone who has the slightest interest in you or your family’s reputation.”

Hermione blanched at hearing that, “But I’m only twelve!”

Neville shrugged resignedly, “That’s our society for you. It hasn’t changed much socially since the Victorian era in many areas, or earlier for the rest. If you’re that worried about it, you can write to your account manager about getting a service that will filter any requests of that nature and send the clean mail to your mum.”

“What about the bad stuff?” Harry was curious to know.

“Depending on the severity, it might mean that they’ll have their accounts frozen by the Goblins or at the worst, a visit will be paid to them by the Aurors,” Neville replied as he reached for his bag and pulled out a handful of coins. “I’m going to go hunt down the trolley lady. You want anything?”

Once the door shut behind Neville, Hermione spun on Harry, “It worked better than I thought it would. Daggerclaw was ever so helpful in spinning the story to Mum about how I could claim the money without it running afoul of the divorce settlement between her and Daddy. I won’t have full access to the money or the contents of the family vault until I turn seventeen, but I now have a decent allowance to buy whatever I want. On top of that, it turns out that our little scam isn’t really so much of a scam after all. The last remaining Dagworth is on his deathbed so the house that the family used to live in is up for grabs. Mum should be heading there now to investigate its value and any renovations it’ll probably need.”

Harry cheered for his friend, “I’m happy to hear that, Hermione. Really, wow… I’m surprised you brought your mum with you to handle all of this. I would’ve thought you’d try to do it all on your own.”

Hermione bobbed her head in amusem*nt, “I asked Daggerclaw about that when Mum went to go check on the parking meter. He said that idea wouldn’t have worked since I’m underage and would’ve needed to get her approval anyways. This way, there’s no need to ease her into accepting that we’re rich or where the money ‘suddenly appeared’ from. Granted, I may have implied that the million and a half Galleons were from the Lost and Found Room, but it all worked out.”

“So are you going to swear off stealing now that you’ve got money?” Harry winked and laughed at her scrunched up look of disgust, “I didn’t think so, though you do remember that Director Bones is aware of something happening up at the school?”

“Something?”

“Yeah, your efforts have been reported so she’s keeping an eye on what goes missing.”

Hermione waved her hand dismissively though her eyes twinkled merrily, “It’s a thousand year old magical castle, weird things happen all the time. If I need to do anything, I’ll just make sure it appears that the castle is up to its old tricks again like swapping everyone’s underwear with another House’s.”

Monday 6 January, 1992; Charms

Classes resumed and the pair returned to learning how to control their magic. In Charms, Professor Flitwick had their class learning how to cast ‘Reparo’ (Mending charm.) “Keep in mind that as with any spellcasting, it is your intent which governs the strength and durability of your charm. If you mispronounce the incantation, weird things might happen or you might not have what you want fixed to stay fixed.”

Hermione’s hand shot up, “So what if we only wanted to have it stay fixed for a pre-determined amount of time?”

One of Filius’ bushy eyebrows rose, “You mean like a timed-delay reaction?” He tapped his wand on her desk approvingly, “Good question, Miss Granger, and yes that would be possible. You would need to fix it in your mind’s eye what you want to have happen. Magic will take care of the rest like always. Two points for your insight.”

Potions

When the Gryffindors arrived for their Potions class on Friday, Harry was mildly amused when Ron stomped up to him and waggled his finger in his face, “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Potter!” Judging by the twinkle in the redhead’s eyes and the quirk of his lips, it wasn’t anything serious.

“Oh? What is it that I’ve done that makes you so…this?” he drawled wiggling his fingers snootily.

Ron mimed gripping his hair in anguish, “It’s that damned song you sang last term! I can’t get it out of my head!”

Harry couldn’t help it and burst out laughing, “I told you that would happen yet you demanded I sing it any way. Did you share it with your brothers?”

Ron stopped the antics and grinned, “I did and I think they want to dedicate a statue to you or something.”

Hermione was heard snickering, “Knowing those two, that statue would probably make a gross noise at the top of the hour.” Both boys joined her in laughing at the thought of a heroically-poised Harry statue breaking wind all day long.

While their potions were simmering…

“So, I’ve heard that you’re the new Malfoy, Ron.” Harry stated as he carefully scrubbed his potions knife clean of any possible residue from their ginger root preparation.

Ron shrugged a shoulder indifferently as he continued tried to match the color of his potion to that of his book. “I guess so. Harry, what color does this look like to you?”

Harry peeked inside and grimaced, “Sort of a yellowish green, I think. It’s not supposed to look that.”

Ron grimaced, “Damn, I’m going to lose points on this.” He moved to take his cauldron off the fire.

Harry held out his hand, “Now, wait a minute. We might be able to salvage this. At what point did you notice the recipe going off the rails?”

Ron scanned his notes, “Uh…here, with the dash of blueberry juice. Just what does a ‘dash’ mean anyhow?”

Harry took a squeeze tube of water and splashed some into an empty cup, “That’s a dash. It’s nothing more than a quick squeeze really. You know the difference between acids and alkalines?” Ron waggled his hand uncertainly. “Okay, think of acids like lemonade. If you want to counter the acidity of the lemonade, you add…”

Ron’s face cleared up in understanding, “Okay, you add something to counter the tartness like sugar. So for this, I should look up what counters the blueberry juice.”

Harry patted him on the shoulder and dropped his voice down to match Severus’, “Very good, Mr. Weasley.” Both boys broke down snigg*ring before sobering once Ron noticed Snape heading in their direction.

Saturday 18 January, 1992; near the Black Lake within the Forbidden Forest

Hermione had just finished finalizing the sale for some of the artifacts she’d liberated from the Room of Requirement when she was startled by the arrival of a Centaur who glowered at her. The fence took one look at the scene and apparated out. She briefly stared at the spot the man had been standing in before returning her attention to the Centaur.

“You should not be here.”

She hitched her hands on her hips, “Why not?”

“These woods are not safe for a foal as young as yourself.” The Centaur replied. “You should be getting back to the school.” He started guiding her back before leaning down to whisper, “There are better spots to fence your goods, you know.”

Startled, she glanced back at him, “Where would those be?”

“The best one is down by the south end of the lake. It’s a decent walk to a lone stone hut that was once used as a sentry point for the nearby muggle settlement.”

Hermione slowly nodded her understanding, “Is it used regularly by your herd?”

The Centaur shook his head, “No, not regularly though we do use it if there’s something we need that can only be sourced from the muggles. It’s a lot safer than here, you’re liable to run into the Acromantula territory and they’re not as sympathetic as we are.” He pointed to where the underbrush was shifting as a gigantic tarantula lumbered into view. Hermione’s eyes bugged out as she squeaked in fright.

She turned back to the Centaur as he left her at the forest’s edge, “I’ll remember your kind wisdom, noble hunter. Thank you.” The Centaur merely dipped his chin and faded back into the shadows.

Harry caught up to her later, his face rather grim. “You’ve got a problem.”

She tilted her head curiously for a moment before paling, “Someone’s figured out who’s been taking their stuff?” His solemn nod caused her heart to race, “Do they suspect it was me? What…what should I do?”

He pulled her into an empty room, “All I know is that the teachers are close to solving the mystery of who took the stuff. They’ve narrowed it down to a couple of potential suspects, one of whom is you though I don’t know why. You’re much too ‘innocent’ to be part of such illegal activities. (She snorted at hearing that) Now, I thought about a solution. What if you were to start a ‘smuggling’ ring as a front for your smuggling ring?”

Hermione paused in confusion, “Run that by me again?”

“Let word slip that you’re in the market to buy and sell ‘illicit goods’ then allow yourself to be caught. The teachers will realize that they’ve been conned by the students when the goods you’ve been dealing in are merely sweets, quills, and such. Normal things, and when they ask you why; you reply that it was something fun to do when the weather’s miserable since we as first years can’t go down to Hogsmeade.”

Giggling, she asked him about the other half of his idea. “You said it would be a front for the real smuggling?”

Nodding, he finished with, “Exactly. If any of the teachers catch you going to your stash room, they’ll think you’re just playing your game with the other first years and eventually let you be. No one will be the wiser.”

“I like it, but that means we’ll have to come up with a plausible explanation for the currently missing things.”

Shrugging, Harry suggested that she should hint that it was all part of the ‘smuggling game’ and that the rules would be ironed out as soon as possible. “If anything, do you know where all of it went?”

She nodded, “Yeah, if it’s what I think went missing. I’ve got it all crated, ready to be shipped out. You’re thinking I ought to leave it out to be found?”

“I do. Make it look like the magic of the castle is responsible or something.”

Hermione set her face resolutely, “I can do that. Damn, some of the older students have some really nice stuff too. Oh well, I’ve still got the treasures in the Room I can sell off.”

Tuesday 28 January, 1992; Great Hall, Teacher’s table

Minerva’s experienced eyes scanned the Hall keeping tabs on who was doing what. She quietly took note of the usual chaos that surrounded the Weasley Twins and resolved to intervene shortly. Her sharp senses picked up on the gathering of younger students around the Hufflepuff table and wondered what was going on. Rising to her feet, she poked Pomona and motioned for her to follow. “There’s something happening in your House.”

Down at the Hufflepuff table…

“Students are allowed to bring an owl, a CAT, or a toad to Hogwarts as a pet. Hogwarts students wear BLACK robes. This creates a problem for us students when we want to look our best. Let's face it, black colored fabric will show almost ANYTHING it picks up, and as we’ve all discovered, NOTHING clings worse than cat fur!"

Nods and murmurs of agreement were heard from the assembled kids.

Hermione reached into her book bag while Harry pulled something from a pocket on his robes. Both were holding what looked like a tube with a multi-colored handle, covered in small pieces of parchment.

"So what's that?" one of the firsties, Mandy Brocklehurst asked.

Motioning for Mandy to come closer, Hermione ran a few swipes across the girl’s robes. Mandy and the others stared in utter amazement. The cat fur was GONE!

"What spell or charm did you do with that? I HAVE to learn it!"

Chuckling, Harry glanced around at the other gathered awed firsties and finally answered the question, since Hermione was busy putting the item back in her book bag.

"This is something that we use to keep our robes looking neat and clean with all of the cats around the castle. They're called 'Lint Rollers;' Hermione and I might be able to find some for you as well, but we'd have to order them."

“Are they expensive?”

Hermione waggled her hand, “Between ordering them, shipping costs, and conversion rates; you’d be looking at something along the lines of costing, rounding up…a little over a Galleon each.”

Harry leant in conspiratorially, “I should also point out that the handles are interchangeable and there are ones with all sorts of fun prints like cartoon characters, crazy patterns, and different grips. Those cost extra, you understand.” He showed off his which had a neon green and chrome finish in a spiral pattern.

They all whirled around at the sound of Minerva clearing her throat and looking rather stern. Hermione stage-whispered to some worried giggles, “Busted…”

As it turned out, Minerva wasn’t busting them for introducing the lint rollers to the school. She did bust them for not offering to include the teachers as well. “Did you really think I was angry, Miss Granger?” Minerva asked, the corner of her lips twitching upwards.

Hermione waggled her hand, “Sort of? Would you like to get a roller as well? I know they come in a Tartan print, though I’m not sure if there’s one in a McGonagall pattern.”

Minerva held her stare for a moment until Hermione was squirming uncomfortably before relenting, “Aye, I would like one of these rollers to try out. If they work as well as you advertise; I hope we can work together to figure out something less sneaky as you were no doubt trying to be.”

Hermione’s cheeks pinked as she stammered, “Yes, ma’am; thank you, ma’am.”

Minerva shooed her out, “Go on with ye.” As soon as the door closed, she snorted in amusem*nt, “Kids. Always thinking they can pull the wool over our eyes.”

Headmaster’s office, a little while later

"Damn it! Where are they?!" Albus raged. He’d returned from his wasted sojourn to the mosquito-riddled swamps of Cambodia and realized something felt different the moment he’d stepped into his office. After a careful search of all of his known hiding places, he’d concluded that some miscreant had dared to steal from him!

The Cloak of Invisibility, the Potter Grimoire, and his carefully hidden mokeskin pouch with the 1.5 million Galleons of ‘strategically acquired’ gold from several dead families had turned up missing along with several other things. He wasn’t sure which of the three missing items were the most jarring to lose. The Cloak would’ve garnered favor with the sacrifice- er boy, the Potter family went back centuries and had accumulated vast and varied knowledge and spells so the Grimoire was equally valuable to the headmaster, and the money would fund his order when Tom makes his eventual return.

“Did anyone see who entered this office after I left a month ago?” He demanded of the portraits that hung in his office.

“A couple of house-elves came in to do their usual cleaning service,” Dilys Derwent commented idly. Across from her, Phineas Black looked like he was about to say something when his mouth was rudely covered by another former headmistress who motioned for him to follow.

In a spare room, Phineas turned to glare at his colleague, “What’s this about, Niamh?”

Former Headmistress Niamh Fitzgerald whispered, “We tell him nothing Phineas, the man doesn’t even deserve the title he holds."

Phineas glared at her with a sneer, "I really wish I didn't have to agree with you, but it’s fair that he is stolen from. I see several manuscripts over on the bookshelf that belonged to my family, and several more belonging to families that... died. Let him feel what it is like to be taken from."

Professor Niamh Fitzgerald, who had always been at odds with Professor Phineas Black, was stunned momentarily by his mini rant, "Well I guess we are in agreement, we were the only ones of us who were awake when the girl entered here; no one else needs know."

With a curt nod, Phineas agreed then headed back to Dumbledore’s office.

Friday 14 February, 1992; Valentine’s Day

January segued into February with barely a notice from the school inhabitants. In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had her first years learning how to change stone cubes into glass spheres, Professor Quirrell stuttered his way through a lecture on how to evade armed muggles. Professors Sprout and Snape teamed up in a once in a lifetime moment to demonstrate how ingredients went from farm to laboratory. Professor Flitwick demonstrated a nifty little charm to simulate how the planets moved around the solar system. Harry asked if there was a way to fix their actual position with the charm they’d just learned. “There is, but that falls under the category of Enchantment which is far too advanced for you at this current time.”

In Astronomy, Professor Sinastra had them in the indoor planetarium learning about the heavens while an early-season storm raged outside. “This is so much better than freezing our bums off,” Hermione commented as she picked out the Andromeda galaxy.

In History class, Harry had ‘imported’ a large box of ear plugs for him and Hermione (and their friends) to use while Binns droned on about some pointless Goblin rebellion. In reality, it was a cover Hermione used to ship out a fist-sized ornate goblet from the sixteenth century to her fence in Inverness.

Harry awoke bright and early, showered and dressed before grabbing his gift to Hermione from his trunk and hurried downstairs just in time to collide with her as she stepped off the girls’ side. “Ooof! Watch where…oh, hi Hermione. Sorry about that.” He blushed at her rubbing her chin where she’d smacked it on his chest.

“S’not a problem, Harry. I always enjoy going head to head with you,” she deadpanned. Her eyes fell upon the card and she let out a quick giggle, “Is that for me?”

Awkwardly holding up the card, he nodded, “Uh, yeah. Happy Valentine’s day.”

Hermione shyly held out hers to him and swapped his for hers. Upon opening, the pair looked up and burst out laughing. “This has to be the world’s funniest jinx!”

They’d gotten the exact same card for the other…

Harry brushed his hair out of his face, “That’s funny; I guess we really are quite the pair, huh?”

Hermione bobbled her head, “Lavender’s even mentioned a couple of times where you and I are practically married the way we’re always together, know what the other is thinking, and sharing meals together.”

Harry gallantly held out his arm, “Would you like to have breakfast then, Mrs. Potter?”

She looped her hand into his elbow and jokingly replied, “I’d be delighted, Mr. Potter.”

After classes let out that evening

Looking back, Harry wondered if his route had been manipulated by the bearded bloviator when he’d left the library and wandered through the halls. He waved a greeting to Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor House Ghost and deftly avoided Peeves who was skulking about, no doubt looking to see what sort of chaos he could create.

Harry came across Mrs. Norris and knelt down to try and make peace with the cantankerous feline. “I don’t know why you don’t like me. Hermione likes me and you like her.” The cat finally allowed him to scratch the back of her ears. He smiled in triumph, “Was that it? You needed to know if I was worthy of your approval?” Mrs. Norris started purring under his ministrations.

Argus Filch grouched his way over, “Potter, what do you think you’re doing with my cat?”

Giving the cranky caretaker a lopsided grin, Harry replied, “I’m torturing her by giving Mrs. Norris a long, slow scratch behind her ears. Is there something you’d care to admit to, Mr. Filch?”

Argus peered at him warily, “Like what?”

“Why you and Mrs. Norris have different last names? Is there a Mr. Norris I ought to be concerned about?”

Argus snorted, “Nay, she’s named after a neighbor of mine from my childhood.”

Harry grinned, “You hound.”

Waving off Harry’s teasing, Argus demanded to know why the boy was skulking around. “I wasn’t. I just left the library and wanted to take a different route than normal. I passed by Sir Nick and Peeves not too long ago.”

Argus sighed heavily, “What was that blasted poltergeist up to now?”

“Nothing as far as I could see. I got out of there before he could spot me,” Harry shrugged indifferently then moved onto Mrs. Norris’ other ear. The cat promptly flopped over and pulled his hand down to where he could scratch under her chin.

After giving Mrs. Norris the scratching of a lifetime, Harry finally extricated himself and continued his trek through the school. He passed by one empty classroom where his feet subconsciously slowed to a halt. He couldn’t explain the odd feeling, but it felt like there was something inside that demanded his attention. Peeking in, he spotted an ornate mirror resting up against the far wall.

There was an odd inscription around the perimeter of the frame: ‘Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.’ It took him a few moments before it dawned on him that a mirror would naturally show the reflection of whatever or whoever was looking into it therefore it stood to reason, writing would be the same way. “I show not your face, but your heart’s desire.” He gazed into the mirror and gasped at the sight of his parents standing behind him. He quickly whirled about only to realize that it was just an illusion. “Ah, I get it now. Clever… Hmm, what else could it show me?”

Headmaster’s office…

Albus’ head rose from the book he’d been reading when one of his sensors started buzzing. He stared at it curiously for a moment before it dawned on him which alarm that was set for. He tossed the book aside and hurried for the door, ‘I just hope it’s Mr. Potter who’s discovered the Mirror!’

Taking several shortcuts, Albus took a moment to steady his breathing before casting a disillusionment charm on himself and entering the room. He spotted a cackling Harry staring into the mirror, turning this way and the other before concentrating on something and opening his eyes.

“I see that you like so many before you have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised. I trust by now you realize what it does. (Harry gasped and whirled around in surprise at being caught out) Let me give you a clue. The happiest man on earth would look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is.” Albus calmly explained as he removed the disillusionment charm.

Harry chuckled, “I know, this thing is awesome! I’ve already tried out a few experiments. Just think of how much fun the others could have picturing themselves as something else. Ooh, we could charge admission for it, too! How much do you figure we could get away with? I was thinking no more than maybe a couple of Sickles per person for a fifteen minute turn.”

Albus was concerned; this wasn’t supposed to be how the boy was to act in response to seeing whatever he wished for the most. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest most desperate desires of our hearts. Now you, Harry, who have never known your family, you see them standing beside you. But remember this, Harry. This mirror gives us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away in front of it; some have even gone mad. That is why tomorrow it will be moved to a new home and I must ask you not to go looking for it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live.”

With that, he ushered Harry out of the room and off towards the Tower. Harry rounded the corner and hesitated. He peeked around the corner and took a careful look at the decorations on the wall. He also noted the look of triumph on the headmaster’s face.

Really, really late that same night

The whisper of fabric ghosting over the stone floor was the only sound other than a breeze whistling in through a crack in one of the windows. A slight variance of the air materialized slightly as a pair of hands suddenly appeared, one of those hands held a wand which traced a complicated path in the air. Hermione poked her face out to examine the results and let out a sigh of relief, “Okay, we’re clear.”

Harry opened up the Cloak and let it drop over his shoulders, “What’ve you found?”

“Basic alert on the door, nothing on the frame or the floor underneath. It’s designed to act like a perimeter alarm to whoever set it up. I can have it disabled in a matter of minutes, if you want.” Harry silently gave his go-ahead. She transfigured a slip of paper into the exact measurements of the doorframe and charmed it to reflect the alarm ward back onto itself. She stood up and dusted off her hands then cast another charm to silence the hinges and turned the knob. The door opened up silently to her triumphant grin.

“You’re getting good at this, you know.” Harry congratulated her.

“Thanks.”

“I think I figured out a nickname for you too. I can’t call you Little Winter because that’s your mum’s thing. Instead, I was thinking of calling you Indiana Granger after Indiana Jones.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up in approval, “I like that idea, except that whatever I take doesn’t belong in a museum.”

He clapped her on the shoulder and led her inside. “Well, here it is. The Mirror of Erised. It shows you whatever your heart desires the most.”

Hermione stared at the mirror critically before casting another set of diagnostic charms, “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere near that thing.”

“Why not?”

She waved her wand again which caused the results to hover ghost-like in the air and pointed to a specific set, “That, right there. That’s a compulsion charm, and a powerful one at that.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, “So why leave it here where anyone could find it? Shouldn’t this be put under lock and key?”

She gave him a leading look, “Who do we know that would just love to test certain students to judge their reaction to various stimuli?”

Both held the stare before breaking down in snorts of laughter.

Saturday

The next day was a blissful day for many within the castle. It was a rare late-winter wonderland given how much it had snowed all week. The sky was clear and crisp, the winds were negligible and the snow crunched under foot.

All in all, it was the perfect opportunity to declare war against the other Houses.

Fred and George Weasley organized everyone who volunteered to help build and arm their snow fort then lined them up to defend their territory. The other three Houses naturally couldn’t let this travesty stand so they too, joined in on the action. The Ravens transfigured the snow into ice and constructed a tall look-out tower to call in aerial support in the form of their Quidditch team. Not to be outdone, Hufflepuff tunneled underneath the snow and built traps that would cause their opponents to get pelted with snowballs. Ron’s eyes glittered madly as he led the charge for Slytherin to build several forts that appeared to be ripe targets for attack, but were in fact, heavily warded labyrinths that forced their victims to spend more time than should’ve been normal to figure out how to get out.

Harry shot Hermione a knowing glance, “Cloak?”

Her returned grin was pure shark-like, “Cloak.”

Ron stood lookout on top of one of Slytherin’s hideaways observing how the snow war was taking place. He sent a signal using a modified Lumos charm to alert Vincent that he needed to be careful as a trio of Ravenclaws was closing in on his position. A slight shift of movement caught his eye as he grinned, “Clever, using the tree branches as a disguise.” He sent a coded flash over to Blaise and Theo who were the two closest players. ‘Target is at your one o’clock. It’s Potter.’

He smiled grimly as Theo snuck up to the last known spot where Harry had been seen and launched a volley of snowballs. Small puffs of snowflakes could be seen as they impacted the ground. Blaise crept forward, shared a look with Theo, and returned another coded flash back to Ron. ‘Target is not here. Continuing search.’

“Damn, where are you?” Ron groused as he continued his visual search.

“Ron…” a tiny voice whispered. It practically floated on the air, teasing the edges of his hearing. “I see you…do you see me?”

Ron whirled around just in time to see a wand pointed at him. His shoulders sagged in realization and defeat, “Yeah, I can.” A flash of red light and Ron Weasley knew no more.

The battle continued on throughout the day as the Hogwarts Winter Battle Mages fought the good fight. Professor McGonagall decided wholeheartedly to join in after the elder Scotswoman got smacked in the face with a snowball by an unrepentant Filius Flitwick. “Bring it on, Minnie.”

She glared at her colleague, “Ye'r oan mah turf noo, ye wannabe Smurf!” She drew her wand and levitated a large ball of snow before launching it at a laughing and valiantly attempting to escape Head of Ravenclaw.

When the battle was called, Ron was discovered to have been merely stunned and ‘transfigured’ to look like a boy-sized human chicken. Minerva co*cked her head curiously, “I don’t get it. This isn’t a normal transfiguration.”

Severus snorted derisively, “That’s because it’s not. Mr. Weasley’s clothes were transfigured into a chicken suit. Clearly muggle in origin which suggests that it was one of yours, Minerva.” He cast a rennervation spell on the redhead.

“Wha… ha’pnd?” Ron asked groggily.

“You were stunned, Mr. Weasley. The battle is over, everyone won so head in and take a warm bath before dinner,” the school Healer Poppy Pomfrey answered his question. She turned to Minerva, “I’ll give you three guesses as to who did this.”

Minerva gave a rare smirk, “Aye, I know who exactly.”

Minerva’s office, a short while later

A knock preceded Minerva’s call to come in. Harry stuck his head in, “You wanted to speak with me, professor?”

“I did, have a seat Mr. Potter.” Harry entered her office and took a seat in the chair in front of her desk. “I wish to know why you put Mr. Weasley the youngest in that suit. What were you trying to do?”

Harry chuckled, “You’re not upset that I stunned him?”

She shook her head, “Nay, that’s just part of the game.”

Harry shrugged lazily, “Honestly, it was the first thing I thought of. Hermione wanted to put him into a baby onesie with a message that read, ‘Gryffindors rule, Slytherins drool’ but I managed to talk her out of it.”

One of Minerva’s eyebrows rose slightly, “Aye, that wouldn't have gone over really well with Professor Snape. Speaking of whom, how has he been treating you lately? He and your father had some past history together and I was worried that he might’ve passed that animosity onto you.”

Harry sniffed, “He had some problems with me in the beginning, but I think he’s gotten over it ever since I’ve been helping out in class when needed.” Intrigued, Minerva pressed for more. “Well, case in point was Ron’s mistake with the potion we were supposed to make that included blueberries. He’d added too much blueberry juice which turned the potion to a nasty looking yellowish green. I walked him through the steps on how to counteract the effects of the berries for next time. I’ve also helped out Daphne Greengrass and Greg Goyle with their studying in Defense and History.”

“I’m impressed, Mr. Potter; it’s not every day that a Gryffindor would willingly help out someone the House generally considers to be the enemy.”

Harry scoffed, “I’ve never understood that whole thing. Whatever it was happened so long ago so what’s the point in continuing to spread the stupidity?”

Minerva nodded her agreement, “Aye, I agree with ye. Alright, you’re free to go.”

Once Harry’d left, Minerva poured herself a dram of whiskey and raised a toast to her former student and Harry’s mother, Lily Evans. “Wherever you are, Lily; your boy’s doing good work.”

March

The first of March brought Ron’s twelfth birthday. Harry greeted the redhead with a gift-wrapped cardboard tube. “Save the tube, they’re lots of fun yelling into.” Once the paper was ripped off and the end cap removed, a rolled up poster slid out. Ron’s yelp of surprise brought over his twin brothers and Percy to see what all the fuss was.

Ron stared at Harry with undisguised awe, “You…you got…whoa…”

Draco leant over and saw that it was an autographed magical poster of the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team. “I bet you spent a pretty Knut to get that, didn’t you Potter. That’s all the team’s worth anyhow.”

Harry glanced over the arrogant blond’s shoulder, “I don’t know about that, but I think they might have something to say about it.” All heads swung around to see the actual Chudley Cannons team members entering the Hall. A loud thunk and scattered laughter from the twins revealed that Ron had fainted at the sight of his favorite team. Percy cast a rennerving spell at his youngest brother and helped him back to his feet to greet his guests.

Hermione cornered Harry afterwards, “How did you manage to get the whole team out here?”

Harry buffed his nails on his shirt, “It helps being me sometimes. I wrote their team manager and explained what I hoped would happen and well, you saw the results.”

She shook her head amusedly, “You’re a Snake in Lion’s clothing; you know that right?”

Harry returned with a smug grin, “Yeah, I do. Come on, I feel like rooting through the Room again.”

Thursday 19 March, 1992; Hagrid’s hut

Harry knocked on Hagrid’s door and flinched when he heard Fang’s booming bark. As a precaution, he stepped to the side just as Hagrid opened the door, narrowly missing getting tackled by the overeager boarhound. “Hi, Hagrid. You think he’ll ever grow out of the urge to tackle guests?”

Hagrid chuckled, “Hopefully. What brings you by, Harry?”

“I was wondering what the Centaur’s sense of humor was like,” Harry grinned mischievously.

“Hmmph, they don’t have much of one if you ask me. Why?”

“I found something that I thought they could use as a prank on one of their herd. Is there one of them around I could speak with?”

Hagrid hemmed and hawed, “I suppose we could go have a chat. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Hagrid led the way through the sun-dappled forest, clumps of old snow still visible on the ground. “Firenze! Are you here?” He bellowed.

“I am, Friend Hagrid. What news have you brought?”

Hagrid gestured towards Harry, “Harry Potter has a gift to offer.”

Harry stepped forward, “Well, I wouldn’t call it a ‘gift’ really; it’s more like an opportunity to get back at the one hunter every group seems to have that loves to boast about how good they are in the field.”

The corners of Firenze’s mouth twitched as his tail swished in bemusem*nt. “Let me see what you have.”

Harry held out the quiver of arrows, “I found this in our Lost and Found. I’ve already tried them out and it seems as if they’re enchanted to always miss their targets randomly.”

Surprisingly, this caused Firenze to cough out his laughter, “Long has it been since our Hunt Leader Bane been brought down a couple of notches.” He accepted the quiver and slung it over his shoulder. “Thank you, young wizard.”

Harry bowed then grinned, “Happy hunting.”

Two days later, Hermione had noticed a lot of smoke coming out of Hagrid’s chimney. “Do you suppose he’s cooking something again?” Hagrid’s lack of cooking skill was legendary.

Harry chuckled, “I don’t know nor do I want to find out. Come on, let’s go see what Neville’s up to.”

A week passed before either one of them noticed that Hagrid seemed to spend most of his time inside his hut. The amount of smoke that continued to billow out of his chimney sparked some concerns. Hermione wondered if they should inform a teacher about it. Neville was with the group and shrugged, “Sure, I think Professor Sprout’s in her office.”

The trio ran to the greenhouse office; Neville knocked on the door which opened to a curious professor. “Mr. Longbottom? Is there a problem?”

Neville gestured in the direction of Hagrid’s hut, “There’s a lot of thick, black smoke coming from his chimney, professor.”

“It’s been like that for the past week,” Hermione supplied. “We’re worried that Hagrid might be in over his head again trying to make something edible.”

Pomona couldn’t help but laugh, “Alright, let’s see what the problem is.”

Later…

Harry watched as Hagrid was run through the disciplinary mill after Professor Sprout had discovered his secret. He shook his head wondering how the big guy was supposed to be able to raise a dragon of all creatures so close to the school, and do his normal job as grounds and gamekeeper. He nudged Hermione, who was sitting next to him going through her lists of ‘acquisitions.’ “You don’t think he’ll be fired, do you?”

Distractedly, she shook her head, “I don’t think so. The Headmaster seems to want to keep him around for some reason. At least that’s the gossip I’ve heard from the portraits.” She popped her head up, “Oh, speaking of portraits, how’s your project coming along? I haven’t heard about it in a while.”

Harry let out a heavy sigh, “I’ve had to put it on hold for now. The books I need are in the Restricted Section and clearly out of your range. I tried to beg Professor Flitwick to let me at least get a glimpse of how complex the spells are, but he wouldn’t sign the permission slip.”

Hermione glanced around covertly, “What if you were to use that cloak of yours? The wards don’t seem to pick up on it, remember?”

He gave her a surprised look, “You want me to break the rules? Who are you and whatever happened to our sweet little royal princess?”

She snorted and slugged him playfully on the arm, “Prat.”

As it turned out, the books Harry retrieved did contain something he could’ve used, if he only had the proper crystals to power the enchantment with. A search through the Room however, brought that idea to a crashing halt. “Damn, alright. Back to the drawing board.”

April

Harry watched on at the chaos that revolved around the Weasley Twins as they celebrated their fourteenth birthday. Everywhere he looked, there was an explosion here, an explosion there, as well as creatures large and small that defied explanation were being conjured; it was seemingly endless. He carefully approached the pair carrying a large-ish box, “Happy birthday, you two. This is from both Hermione and me. Use it well.”

Curious, Fred thanked him for the lovely box and set about ripping the paper off. Inside was an odd assortment of…stuff. George shared in the confusion as he lifted an ordinary looking cup out of the box, “A goblet, Harry? We’ve got these here.” He gestured to the ones on the table.

A slow smirk grew on Harry’s face, “It’s not an ordinary goblet. That’s an ‘Always-Empty Goblet’ Hermione discovered in her travels through the lost and found room. No matter how much you fill it, it always remains empty.”

The twins’ eyes began to twinkle as ideas started percolating in their minds. George reached in to take out the next item. “I’m guessing this isn’t ordinary rope, either.”

“Nope, it’s ten feet of an enchanted rope that upon a command allows you to make the rope unbendingly stiff in whatever shape you make it. The tag there has the command words.”

Fred was shaking his head in amazement, “Hermione found all this?”

Harry waggled his hand, “Mostly her, but I helped occasionally. This next item is from me. It’s a Lockout Key. It’ll miraculously fit into and lock any mechanical lock but it cannot unlock anything though.”

Fred started snickering, “I think this one’s going to be used the next time we find a need to visit Slytherin.”

“And last but not least is the Reverse Dust Mop I found. Instead of picking up the dust, it applies it.” Harry bounced on the balls of his feet. “Enjoy your presents.” He gave the pair a jolly salute and trotted off.

Fred and George shared a knowing glance between themselves. Up at the teacher’s table, the entire staff shivered uncontrollably for some unknown reason.

DADA class

Professor Quirrell had assigned them a short quiz on the dangers of casting magic in public where anyone could see them when the door opened to reveal Professor Snape. The dour man crooked a finger at their defense professor and disappeared back outside. Harry being the closest to the door, slipped on the Cloak and followed them.

“You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell,” Severus spoke lowly.

“I don't know w-what you m-mean,” Quirrell stuttered back.

Severus glared at the timid man, “You know perfectly well what I mean. I know you’ve been skulking around the entrance to the third floor, trying to discern some clue about how to get past that blasted dog of Hagrid’s.”

Quirrell seemed to straighten up a bit, “I a-a-already f-f-f-figured that out.”

“Stay away from that area. You remember what Albus ordered at the beginning of the year. That area is only for Potter to be tested in. I’d hate to think of what might happen if Albus finds out that you’ve been interfering.”

“B-b-but Severus…” Quirrell tried.

“We'll have another chat soon. When you've had time to decide where your loyalties lie.” Severus intoned before storming off.

Quirrell (and Harry) watched in silence as the moody potions professor left. Harry was startled when Quirrell muttered a curse at the departing man. “I think you’ll find it’s you who needs time to decide where your loyalties lie, Severus.”

Hermione’s Stash Room, later

“That’s strange. I’ve never heard of anyone being able to drop their stutter on command like that,” Hermione commented after Harry finished recounting what he’d overheard.

Harry scrubbed his fingers over his face, “I know, right? It’s worrisome. Why would someone put on a fake stutter? What’s the point?”

Pulling out her Astronomy textbook, Hermione could only shrug in defeat, “No idea. Come on, you can help me study for our upcoming test on Saturn’s moons.”

Harry sank onto the couch next to her as his mind continued to puzzle out the riddle that was Quirrell. It took him all of five minutes before he groaned. “Sometimes my paranoia is too good, you know?”

Hermione giggled, “It’s not paranoia if everyone really is out to get you. What did you figure out?”

Harry ticked off his fingers, “First, you’ve got Dumbledore who seems annoyingly involved with planning out my life, then you’ve got that Stone he thinks is the real deal; next you’ve got Snape and Quirrell acting all shifty and holding conversations where you just know they knew I’d be within hearing range. Snape was right, Dumbledore is trying to test me but for what? What is it about me that’s so special?”

Hermione booped him on the nose, “Besides the fact that you’re cute? How about that scar you no longer have? According to the storybooks, you got that after your triumphant victory over Lord Voldemort back on that Halloween night.”

Harry scoffed briefly then stared out into the distance, “That does make some horrifying sense, actually. Unless Dumbledore has actually tried to scan my forehead, he wouldn’t know what happened to the thing.” He jumped to his feet and began to pace, grumbling the entire time. “Wonderful, this is just what I needed. Some idiotic headmaster that’s hellbent on trying to ‘guide’ me to some destiny only he has knowledge of regardless of what might happen to me.”

“Is this something you should let your aunt know about?”

Harry waggled his hand, “Yes, but it’s too much of a message to use the cards for. Last time I tried to send something longer than a forty characters, the picture of me froze until I wiped the message out.”

Hermione pulled him back onto the couch next to her and snuggled into his side, “You’ll figure it out. I have every confidence in you, Harry.”

Harry just rolled his eyes at her playfulness and tickled her in the sides until she released him and dissolved into peals of squealing. “You prat! I’m gonna get you for that!”

May

Sunday 24 May, 1992; Room of Hidden Things

Harry stared in awe at the pair of crystal wine goblets that sat seemingly benignly on a shelf in the Room of Requirement. His eyes roved over their intricately carved surfaces before he blinked when they were snatched from view, “Hermione!I was looking at them.”

She frowned cutely, “But they need to get packed and ready to be shipped out. I’m sure there’s others you can stare at.”

He waved his hand, “No, you don’t understand. I found these earlier and wanted to see what they looked like so I filled them up with water. I thought I’d heard myself echoing from one of them so I placed them on opposite sides of the room and spoke into one. I could hear my voice coming out of the other one as if I was in an echo chamber!”

Hermione’s frown deepened as she thought about it, “Wouldn’t you have just heard your echo from the Room itself?”

He made a grabby motion with his hands, “There’s one way to prove it. Take one and go over there.” He took the goblets and filled them both up with water and handed one off to her. Hermione took the goblet and walked over to the far end of the room. She nearly dropped the goblet when she could clearly hear his voice emanating from the cup. “Can you hear me now?”

Extensive testing was performed on the cups which revealed themselves to be a pair of communication devices. “I don’t understand why these were made,” she groused while Harry copied down the enchantments into his notebook.

“I think they were used as some sort of espionage tool. See how expensive they look? I wouldn’t put it past some aristocratic gossip to use these to talk about their guests without anyone else knowing.” Harry answered as he transcribed the transference rune. “That should do it.” He reached into his bag and extracted a pair of Dumbledore cards. “Let’s see what we can do with this.”

The next day, Monday in study hall…

Review time was upon the students of Hogwarts and with that came the teachers’ efforts to bury them in homework. Harry groaned at being forced to learn how to charm a teacup so that it could tap dance when there was so many other things that needed his attention. First and foremost was figuring out what the Headmaster was trying to groom him towards.

“It’s no use, I can’t concentrate when I’ve got that bearded shadow looming over me.”

Neville chuckled, “Bearded shadow? Is there a goat loose I don’t know about?”

Harry snorted derisively, “Dumbledore might as well be a goat for all the bleating about following him as the Leader of the Light he’s done over the years. I wonder if all that hair’s grown into his ears and blocked out the sound of anyone other than himself.”

That got Vince and Greg to start snickering, “You should hear what our dads have to say about him. They swear that if it wasn’t for the Dark Lord trying to instill some order in our society, the Headmaster would’ve been the most likely candidate to try and take over the world.”

Harry waggled his hand, “Yeah, but the Dark Idiot went about it the wrong way.”

“How so, Mr. Potter?” Everyone’s head snapped up to see Professor Quirrell standing over them, a strange look on his face.”

Harry gulped, “Well, instead of ruling by fear and making people disappear; I would’ve gone with a public relations campaign to win over the hearts and minds of the people. Prove to them that following Dumbledore would be the most monumentally stupid idea ever.” Quirrell waved him on so Harry rose to his feet to pace a bit as he formulated his words.

“In the beginning, the Dark Lord acted all mysterious which naturally turned some heads. I’ll admit, he spoke an inspiring message of being true to your place in society at the beginning. However, the closer you get to that fateful Halloween, he started acting like we Gryffindors are reputed to be (this caused a few snickers from the Slytherin contingent.) He became increasingly belligerent, gave out grand and long-winded monologues about his skill and fought with increasing flashiness. That, to me, is the mark of a Gryffindor."

"Now if it were me, I'd go a truly Slytherin approach that no one would recognize until it was too late." He pulled a single gold Galleon out of his pocket and placed it on the table, "A single Galleon. It weighs about 2 troy ounces of pure gold. According to Professor Flitwick, the only enchantments on each of these coins are the maker's mark. There's nothing stopping anyone from melting these down to get an ingot."

Quirrell crossed his arms over his chest, “Go on.”

"So, in the muggle world, gold can be sold, bought and traded for a price on their stock market. The value fluctuates over time so each coin might be worth more or less depending on when it's put up on the market. Now, according to the Goblins in Gringott's, the currency conversion between a Galleon to the British Pound is 5 to 1, that is to say 5 pounds to 1 Galleon. Next, like I said each Galleon weighs about 2 troy ounces and this past July, gold was selling for £207.54 per troy ounce. That makes the gold in this Galleon worth £415.08."

The others murmured at his knowledge. A couple even pulled a handful of coins out of their pockets in curiosity.

“The conversion rate of 5 to 1 means I can take that 415.08 and bring it back to Gringott's and exchange it for roughly 83 Galleons. Each of those Galleons is still worth the original 415.08. The amount of Galleons you get back with each trip to the muggle world and Gringott's will increase exponentially."

"But Harry, won't all that trading and selling destabilize the currency and gold prices?" Blaise wondered aloud.

Harry nodded approvingly, "Yes, what I'm describing here is merely an ideal situation. In reality, I would advise against making as many trips as possible. Rather, I'd recommend making a trip only once or twice a month and even then with different gold dealers and Gringott's tellers so no one gets wise to the scheme."

The assembled group was stunned to say the least. At a quick glance, Harry could see that there would be a few of the less fortunate students that would be attempting this as soon as they went home for the holidays.

"Now to continue with my plan on world domination," Harry began, "You've gotten your financial side in place and you now need something to manipulate on a more personal level to get what you want. There are two main types of drinks in this world, coffee and tea. Yes, there are others but none more readily available to all levels of civilization. Imagine that you go to a stockbroker if in the muggle world or Gringott's in the magical, and you tell them that you wish to buy out controlling interest in the entire production line from farm to cup of either coffee or tea. It really doesn't matter which for this demonstration."

Several people were now writing all this down and even Quirrell was pulling out a quill and parchment.

"Once you have the entire line, you can then adjust the prices to whatever the market will bear. You market it as the only product that is worth having. You make it the brand that everyone loves and will prefer over others. Then somewhere along the line, you inevitably get some rival upstart trying to muscle in on your territory! To compete, you have to raise prices but if that happens you risk angering your client base. If it were me, I'd point to my rival and exclaim that 'I'm just trying to provide you with the product that you know and love but the change in prices is the result of him/her. They make an inferior product and try to pass it off as a better item. You know that it's not the case!'"

Quirrell made a comment that normally the upstart would find himself or herself in a world of hurt.

"That may be one way but that just leads to anger and violence. Then the DMLE has to be brought in to investigate and I'm sure no one wants that to happen. To continue, you let the rumor out that the product provided by your rival has been known to contain impure ingredients, ingredients known to cause illness. You then let it be quietly known that if said rival were to be driven out of business, prices would come down to where they were before this whole thing started."

Neville picked up on the end result faster, "So by floating the rumors of impure ingredients, you start the idea that buying that drink will make you sick. Since no one wants to be sick, they'll avoid it as much as possible. By suggesting that prices will go back to what they were before, it's an even bigger incentive to avoid the rival's drinks which then lead to him or her going out of business."

Harry grinned and nodded, "Exactly! All of this is done subtly and non-violently. No one suspects they are being played to achieving your goals for you. The Dark Lord's methods of killing off families just lead to more violence and investigations. That's not very Slytherin of him if you think about it."

“And of course since we’re talking about the Dark Lord’s motivations, instead of coffee or tea; we substitute the message that his opponents want to subject the people to the dirty muggle beliefs rather than the one that holds magical society as the pinnacle of a perfect world,” Quirrell summarized as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I’m impressed, Mr. Potter. You certainly have put a lot of thought into this. One would almost think you’re thinking like a Slytherin.”

Harry grinned widely and rubbed his hands together Machiavellianly, “Exactly…” He broke down laughing when Neville whacked him with a pillow and sat back down.

Elsewhere…

Albus leant back in his throne after listening to the boy espouse his ideas as to what could’ve been done differently as well as the others analyzing his speech. He popped a lemon drop into his mouth and ruminated on this new development. “The boy is becoming far more aware of his place than I would’ve normally suspected someone having been raised amongst the muggles. I think it’s time to push my plans forward and set about testing the boy once and for all…”

Harry groaned as he fought to open his eyes. The room he was in swam back into focus as he levered himself up onto his elbows. “What happened? Where am I?” His gaze swung about the rough-textured room before spotting the Mirror of Erised. Flopping back his head, Harry let out another groan of annoyance, “Now what fresh Hell is this?”

He got up and paced about the room trying to find a way out of this mess all the while plotting to murder whoever it was that thought it’d be a good idea to put him into this situation in the first place. He turned at the sound of a door rumbling open and watched dispassionately as Professor Quirrell entered. Quirrell seemed just as surprised to see Harry as he was of the professor. “Potter? What are you doing here?”

Harry snorted, “That’s a loaded question, professor. Given that this is Hogwarts, anything is possible for the most ludicrous reasons.”

Quirrell paused at that before shaking his head in disbelief, “I must be more tired than I thought; you’re making a lot of sense. You know, my Master could use someone like you. With his raw power and your cleverness? You’d be able to bring the muggle world to its knees.”

Harry leant up against a wall unconcernedly as he watched the professor examine the Mirror. “Your Master?”

“The Dark Lord,” was Quirrell’s reply. He turned briefly at Harry’s scoff. “You doubt his power?”

“Meh,” Harry waggled his hand. “You remember that world domination plan I spoke about recently? If he was all that powerful, he would’ve realized that before going down the path he took. I’ll be honest professor, I would’ve thought that Snape would’ve been the most likely candidate to try and figure out the Mirror.”

Quirrell smirked, “Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he? Next to him, who would suspect p-p-p-poor, st-stuttering Professor Quirrell? I knew you were a danger to me right from the off. Especially after Halloween.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “The Troll? That was your doing?”

Quirrell partially turned towards him. “Very good, Potter; yes. Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled. While everyone else was running about the dungeon, he went to the third floor to head me off. He, of course, never trusted me again.He rarely left me alone. But he doesn't understand. I'm never alone. Never.” He turned to face the Mirror again.“Now, what does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the Stone. But how do I get it?

“Use the boy.”

Harry glanced about, curious as to where the voice came from.

Quirrell snarled, “Come here, Potter! Now!” Harry pushed himself off the wall and walked over next to the Mirror. “Tell me, what do you see?”

Harry shrugged indifferently, “It depends on my mood, to be honest. I already know what this thing does and frankly, it was fun for a while but I grew bored with it.”

“He lies.”

“Tell the truth! What do you see?” Quirrell angrily demanded.

“Let me speak to him.”

Quirrell suddenly looked worried, “Master, you are not strong enough.”

“I have strength enough for this.”

Harry watched warily as Quirrell began unraveling the turban he always wore. His eyes practically bugged out of his head when the man turned around to reveal a hideous face poking out of the back of his head!

“Harry Potter, we meet again,” the face wheezed.

“Voldemort…” Harry breathed in shock.

“Yes.” Voldemort said slowly as if speaking was a foreign concept. “You see what I've become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another. A mere parasite. Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own. But there is something that can.”

Harry’s memory clicked on hearing about the unicorns from a worried and hushed conversation between Hagrid and Dumbledore. “You’re after the Stone.”

“Very good. The Stone lies within the Mirror. I want you to retrieve it for me. With it, you and I can rule the world.”

Harry couldn’t help it. He broke down in gales of laughter, “You really think that the Stone, Nicholas Flamel’s legendary Philosopher’s Stone is inside the Mirror?? Wow, you’re a special kind of stupid, aren’t you?” He kept chuckling as he headed past the snarling visage of Voldemort’s face. He whirled back, “Seriously, Flamel’s over six hundred years old and you think that Dumbledore who is the age equivalent of a child could successfully convince the man to let him hold onto the Stone for safekeeping? Albus Dumbledore, the man who talks a good game but has done nothing worthwhile over since the end of the Second World War?”

“Give me the Stone, boy!” Voldemort snarled.

Harry continued to shake his head ruefully, “You just don’t get it, do you? You’ve been played. You and Dumbledore together. Do you really believe that a man that old wouldn’t have the world’s best defenses? Wouldn’t have the experience with every Tom, Dick, and Albus who came along promising the stars if he’d only relinquish his most prized possession?” He gave Voldemort a scathing sneer and strode up to the Mirror and concentrated for a moment before pulling the glittering Stone from his pocket and desultorily tossed it to the two-faced monstrosity. “Here, for all the good it’s going to do for you.”

Voldemort held up the Stone in triumph, “Now to create the Elixir and restore myself to my former glory! When I regain my body, I shall make you pay, Potter.”

Harry sniffed disdainfully, “Good luck with that. Just so you know, I’ve already examined the Stone months ago. It’s a fake, there’s a message scribed into the bottom that says, ‘Nice try, Albus.’ So you go ahead and try to come back. The only thing that’s good for is as a paperweight.”

Furious, Voldemort spewed a bunch of vitriol against Albus in general, Harry specifically, and vowed to one day return. “I’ll be back, Potter! I have achieved immortality.” Quirrell’s face pinched as cracks appeared and bits and pieces started falling before his entire body fell apart into a pile of ash. Harry got a glimpse of a wraith-like form rising up and flying away leaving him behind.

“Wanker.” Harry turned and began re-examining the walls to see about finding an exit. His fingers triggered a hidden panel that revealed a set of stairs leading upwards. He lit his wand and began climbing. The stairs let out on the dungeon level not too far from the Slytherin House entrance.

An hour later

Albus strode arrogantly into the Mirror room, confident that his plans of pitting the sacrifice against Tom had succeeded and that there would either be two dead bodies on the floor or at least one in no condition to fight back, preferably Tom’s. He stuttered to a halt when he found the room utterly empty! ‘This cannot be! What happened here?!’ His eyes roved across the room and fell upon a pile of ashes atop Professor Quirrell’s robes. There was no sign of the Stone nor of Potter. “What the bloody Hell happened in here?!” He murmured in horror at the thought that Voldemort had succeeded and taken the Stone.

“How am I supposed to explain this to Nicholas?” He groaned aloud, shuddering at the thought of revealing his failure to his former mentor.

End of the Year, Leaving Feast

Harry snickered at the worried look on Albus’ face as the elder man announced the winners of this year’s House and Quidditch Cup. He nudged Hermione and whispered, “I’ll give you three guesses what’s got his robes bunched up.”

Hermione flicked him on the nose, “Mug’s bet, Harry. What did you end up doing with the fake Stone?"

“I left it in the Room. Remember that stuffed Troll? I posed it to look like a scene from Hamlet holding the Stone as if it was Yorick’s skull.” She giggled at the mental image that conjured. “You got any plans for the summer?” He asked as the food was being served.

“Mum and I are going to go through the Dagworth-Granger house to do some redecorating. It’s supposed to be huge according to her letters.”

“If you need any help, let me know.” He offered, “Plus, given that it’s a magical house, you’ll probably be able to use magic whenever you want.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up at the prospect, “Ooh, that ought to be fun! I’ll get to show Mum what I’ve learned over the past year. What about you? What’ve you got planned?”

“I was going to invite some of my friends from the other Houses over to my house to show them what they’ve been missing living a sheltered life in the magical world.”

“Sneaky Slytherin,” she teased him.

Harry just grinned around a mouthful of mashed potatoes and winked knowingly.

Chapter 4: Plots and Plans for the New Year (July - August 1992)

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Plots and Plans for the New Year (July – August 1992)

Thursday 9 July, 1992; Little Whinging Public Library, morning

Harry entered the cool, quiet confines of the building and headed over to the librarian’s desk. “Excuse me, where do you keep the books on crystal radios?”

The librarian got up and led him over to the stacks, “You would be looking for the 100 series in general. Now, if I recall correctly, the radio section would start at about the 130s. Ah, here we go. Was there a particular book you were looking for?”

“I’m looking for the theory and construction of how they work and hopefully have some circuit diagrams in them.”

The librarian nodded as she traced her fingers along the spines. “School project?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She selected two books and handed them over to him. “These two will probably be the best to get you started. If you have any other questions, you know where to find me.”

Harry bowed his head slightly in thanks as he opened up the first cover. He let his feet automatically carry him over to one of the nearby chairs and settled in to read.

Dursley Residence, two hours later…

Petunia heard Harry return home and called out, “Harry? Go wash your hands and get ready for lunch. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Harry entered the kitchen and dropped his borrowed books onto the counter and headed to wash at the sink, “Yeah, I did. It ought to be good enough to get me over that audio issue I’ve been having.” The phone rang while he was washing his face.

“Phone for you, Hermione’s on the line.”

“Hey, Hermione. Miss me already?”

“Of course. I need a sacrificial lamb to go through doors first in case there’re any evil wizards hiding out.”

“Ouch, I’m starting to think you don’t like me,” he drawled to her giggles. “Are you in your new house yet?”

“Mum and I moved in the day after we got off the train. Right now, I’m at a pay phone by the local Tesco picking up some stuff for dinner tonight. Mum’s been working with the contractor to coordinate the renovations. That’s actually why I called. How would you and your relatives like to come over on the nineteenth of this month to see the place?”

“Will it be done on time? That’s only about what, maybe a week and a half?”

“That’s the beauty of magic, so I’ve been told. The renovation team is a mixture of Squibs and muggleborns. From what they explained, they ought to have the last retrofits done by next Friday. You should see Mum’s face while they’ve been working. It’s hilarious.”

“I can imagine.” He glanced over at his aunt who tapped the calendar and gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay, Aunt Petunia has given me her approval of us visiting on the nineteenth. Were you thinking of demonstrating all we’ve learned this past year?”

“Yeah, it should be fun. I can’t wait to levitate my Mum, or to show off my transfiguration abilities.”

The two chatted for another fifteen minutes before saying their goodbyes and hanging up. Petunia ruffled his hair, “You’re such a good influence on her, you know.”

Harry gave her a strange look as he took his spot at the table, “How do you figure that?”

She set down a plate of roasted chicken sandwiches and chips, “A young girl needs friends and from what I’ve heard, you’ve been there for her all year.” At his surprised look, she explained that she and Emma Granger regularly talked on the phone during the previous year. “Mrs. Granger mentioned that Hermione had been struggling to properly interact with other kids her own age, especially in that neighborhood of theirs.”

“Do you know where their new place is?”

“I believe she said it was located just outside of Chelmsford, Essex. So, let’s see these books you borrowed.” She slid them over while he continued to eat. “Crystal radios?”

Harry bobbed his head, “I’m hoping that I’ll be able to adapt the low-power circuit of the radio into runes or enchantments once I get to that stage.”

“What about sending a signal? Don’t you need a tower for that?”

Shaking his head, Harry replied, “No, the way I figure it from what I’ve read so far; there’s something called Ley lines that are embedded within the earth just like power lines for the telly, the phone, or regular radios. I’m hoping that I would be able to tap into those lines to transmit whatever audio I’m able to record through the cards.”

Bemused, Petunia handed the books back, “This is setting up to be one heck of an endeavor. I wonder if you could use it, or something similar, for your NEWT project.”

Harry’s eyes grew distant as a silly smile crept over his face, “Yeah, wouldn’t that be awesome? I might even be able to get published for something I actually did and not just for something everyone thinks I did.”

When Vernon returned home, he curiously watched his nephew sitting at the kitchen table in the midst of what appeared to be a science experiment. He dropped his stuff off and went to go change before returning with a bottle of beer. He sat down opposite of Harry and just observed. After a moment, Harry looked up and smiled, “I think I did it; at least as far as a prototype.”

He gestured with the bottle, “What’ve you done?”

Harry spread his hands, “What you’re looking at is a prototype miniature crystal radio. I’m hoping that eventually, I’ll be able to fit it onto something that can be slipped into the center of a Chocolate Frog card.”

Vernon slowly nodded as he sipped from his beer, “Does it work?”

Harry waggled his hand side to side, “Sort of. It’s scratchy and weak but I can still hear the local AM radio station. I haven’t tried using magic to boost the power and reception yet since I need to figure out how to design and build a magical amplifier.”

“What are you using for an antenna and the detector?”

“I’m using some scrap bits I found out in the garage. For the diode, I’m using a broken pencil lead, some copper wire, and a slightly rusty razor blade. I also used the copper wire for the antenna.”

“And the capacitor?”

“Aunt Petunia helped me make that out of wax paper and aluminum foil. I got everything assembled and tested before I used magic to shrink it down to something roughly the size and thickness of a playing card.” Harry sat back proudly and brushed his hair out of his face.

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the table, “You said you made the antenna but I don’t see it.”

Harry pointed out a copper disc roughly the size of a penny, “That’s it.”

Vernon felt his jaw drop, “That’s the antenna?! I thought they had to be something like three hundred meters or so.”

Harry laughed, “That’s the beauty of magic, Uncle Vernon! I learned how to alter the shape and size of stuff in class.” He held up what appeared to be a toy motorcycle. It was all beat-up and scratched. “I found this in the field behind the house.”

With shaking hands, Vernon reached out and took the miniature. He slowly put down the bottle of beer, unable to believe his eyes, “You’re telling me that this was once a full-sized motorcycle?”

“Uh-huh. I shrank it down and cast a featherweight charm on it so it wouldn’t keep the original weight.”

“How long will it last?”

Harry shrugged, “A couple of days before it becomes big again.”

Vernon gulped and handed it back, “Make sure that it’s either out in the garage or in the backyard before that happens. Incredible work, Harry; you know, if you think about it; I could definitely use talents like this at Grunnings. Do you think there’d be other wizards who’d be interested to work for a non-magical company?”

Harry thought about it for a moment, “Yeah, nearly any muggleborn witch or wizard would probably jump at the chance of working for a company willing to hire them, as long as the company isn’t too picky about education records.”

“Meaning?”

“Many witches and wizards who get their education from Hogwarts don’t have the ‘usual’ graduation requirements that regular schools provide. Sure they can read and do math, but it’s basic,” Harry explained.

“Would there be someone within the magical ministry who’d I’d be able to discuss this with?”

Harry shrugged, “Dunno. Maybe talk with Director Bones? She seems to know nearly everything about the place.”

Vernon picked up his beer again and settled into his chair to do some deep thinking. ‘Using magic to improve engineering…incredible.’

“Do you know that the components you’re attempting to recreate are available in pretty much an electronics parts shop?” Vernon asked the preteen after a couple of minutes of silence. Harry’d been scribbling down his notes.

“Really? That would make things so much easier in the long run.”

Vernon nodded as he finished his beer, “The next time you’re in London with your aunt, you can get them then. If I’m not mistaken, you could probably get a complete set of parts for around ten pounds.”

Harry grinned, “Wicked. Thanks, Uncle Vernon.”

Friday 10 July, 1992; Diagon Alley, The Leaky Cauldron

Harry dusted himself off as he stepped into the pub (it had been drizzling a bit) and peered around the slightly darkened room. He easily spotted Neville waving at him from a corner booth and made his way over. “Hey, Neville. Where’s everyone else?”

“Right here, Potter.” Harry turned to see Blaise, Ron, Vince, Greg, and Theo step out of the floo and join them. “So what’s this grand adventure we’re going to be taking part in?”

Harry draped his arm over the Italian-born wizard’s shoulders and gestured grandly, “Gentlemen, prepare yourself to experience the wonders of the muggle world. Once we’re done, you’re going to come back here and realize just how sheltered your lives have been.”

Ron snorted, “Maybe I ought to bring my dad. He gets barmy for muggle stuff.”

“I wouldn’t mind having another adult who could help with any accidental magic episodes,” Petunia remarked as she joined the group. She gestured towards the floo, “Go call him and see if he’s free for the afternoon.” Ron trotted back to the fireplace to make the call.

He returned a few minutes later with his dad, Arthur in tow. “Mrs. Dursley, this is my dad.”

Arthur shook her hand pleasantly, “Arthur Weasley. Thank you for including me. I work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office within the DMLE which nominally handles the chore of explaining the various bits and bobs that our Aurors or patrol finds in their daily activities. I don’t always get a chance to see what I study in its natural environment all that often so this should be a real treat.”

Petunia smiled as she greeted him then turned to her nephew, “Well, if we’re all set? Harry, lead the way.”

From the pub, they picked up the Tube from Charing Cross Road to Russell Square then walked for a bit until they arrived at the Funland Games Arcade. The magically-raised had their heads on a swivel as they took in the seeming chaos of everything around them. They watched as Harry and Petunia demonstrated how to purchase an Oyster transit card, how to read the train schedules and the system map. Their eyes widened comically as they watched the trains roaring to and fro with nearly effortless grace. Blaise muttered to Theo, “We haven’t even really started and my mind is already melted.”

Theo silently agreed, miming his head exploding.

As they walked into the arcade, Harry kept his eyes on his friends’ faces. He nudged Theo, “Now you’re starting to get a sense of how we muggleborn and raised feel the first time we set foot into the Alley or see the castle for the first time.”

Theo plugged his ears, “Is it always so loud in here?”

“Yeah, but you get used to it eventually.”

The boys followed Harry around while Petunia and Arthur took a place nearby to oversee it all. Harry had to teach them how to play the games, but once done; they scattered to find an interesting game to play.

After spending about an hour and half in the arcade, the group headed out to see various free entertainment attractions such as the Natural History Museum, Big Ben, and finishing off with the Tower of London. They didn’t get too far with the last one as the magically-raised started getting twitchy and nervous. Petunia asked them what the problem was. “Is it too bloody for them?”

Arthur dabbed at his sweating forehead with a handkerchief, “No, it’s not that. There are incredible wards in place that unless you have been granted permission to enter from the ruling monarch, it’s like having the meanest bully hovering over you and whispering in your ear the entire time that you don’t belong.”

She held up her hands, “In that case, let’s not tempt fate. We could always go wander around Hamleys near Mayfair.”

“What is Hamleys?” Blaise asked her.

Petunia shot him a smug grin, “It’s only the most famous and biggest toy shop in all of London.”

When they got there, if Harry thought their expressions bordered on ‘stunned’ when they visited the arcade; it was nothing to their reactions by the sight of all the toys on display. “This is going to be one heck of a memory to share when we get back to Hogwarts.” (He’d written to Professor McGonagall and asked if she had access to something that could project memories for everyone to see. She’d replied rather smugly that was what the original function of the Enchanted Ceiling in the Great Hall was for.)

The group stopped at McDonalds for lunch. It took the others a few minutes to figure out what sounded good (Petunia teasingly suggested they get the Happy Meals that came with a cute toy to play with.) Theo, Blaise, and Neville each got a Big Mac combo meal; Vince and Greg decided to go with a box of twenty piece chicken nuggets and a medium sleeve of chips; Ron surprisingly went for the McChicken sandwich with chips. Arthur copied what Petunia got, (a Quarter Pounder with cheese combo) leaving Harry to get a ten-piece chicken nugget combo.

Harry snickered at their expressions experiencing fizzy drinks for the first time, “That’s similar to how I looked when I had my first glass of pumpkin juice at school.”

Vince chewed thoughtfully on his nuggets before turning to Harry, “I had no idea any of this was out here, you know. We’ve all grown up thinking that the muggle world was actually in worse shape than our own.” The others agreed with him.

Harry smirked, “Can you imagine if Draco had come along?”

Ron groaned, “Don’t even go there. He’d be whining like a little brat the entire time.”

“So how do you think your dad’s handling the trip?” Neville asked the redhead.

Ron glanced over to where the adults had parked themselves, “I think he’s doing pretty well. He hasn’t barged in with his usual excitement and pestered anyone about his collection of plugs.”

“Plugs?”

Ron shrugged, “He likes to collect the weirdest things. The plugs he has all came from those eckletricity devices we’ve seen today.”

Harry frowned briefly, “Eckle…you mean ‘electricity’?”

Ron clicked his fingers, “That was it. I don’t know what’s so fascinating about them. If I was going to collect something, I think I’d go with something useful.”

While the boys were eating and chattering what they’d experienced and learned, Arthur and Petunia shared a table a little bit away from the group. Arthur had laid down a small figurine on the table that caused the noise of the restaurant to die down a bit. “It’s charmed to muffle the noise a bit. It allows our operatives to converse without being overheard. Handy when on the job in seedy pubs and whatnot.”

“So what does your department do, Arthur?” Petunia asked him in between bites of her sandwich.

“Well, simply put the bulk of our Auror force can’t recognize the difference between a tea set and a coffee machine. It’s my job to put together training seminars to show the advancements muggles have made as well as making sure that those same Aurors don’t accidentally electrocute themselves thinking that just because a light bulb is dark, the machine it’s connected to doesn’t still have power in it.”

Petunia nodded understandingly, “It would be similar if I found myself in the magical community and tried to figure out what a potion was just by sniffing it. Some potions would probably have some fumes that make that idea dangerous.”

Arthur smiled and nodded happily that she understood, “Exactly, yes. I’ll admit that I’ve come across some arrogant pureblood Aurors that scoff at the notion that muggles and their devices need to be understood in order to do their jobs properly. As an example, one of our Master Aurors; a man by the name of Alastor Moody asked me to put together a sample of some of the dangers they could be faced with. I obtained a small vehicle from the auto wrecking yard and fixed it up so it would run. I drove it to the employee entrance where Moody awaited me and into the storage area. I nearly hit three people driving in but that just proved to everyone that a motor vehicle is nothing to be ignored and could actively hurt someone if they’re careless.”

Petunia nodded approvingly, “Practical learning is best with some people. I’ll be honest, Arthur. When I first met you, I thought that you’d be one of those wizarding types that would’ve been mystified by the concept of a rubber duck.”

Arthur chuckled, “I do give off that befuddled air sometimes, don’t I? A rubber duck, eh? That’s something to use while cooking right?” He sent her a teasing wink when she rolled her eyes at his attempt at humor.

Sunday 19 July, 1992; Chelmsford, Essex; Dagworth-Granger House

Hermione and her mum, Emma waited outside the gates to their new home for their guests to arrive. Hermione uncharacteristically picked at the hem of her shirt and fidgeted nervously. Emma smiled comfortingly at her daughter, “Relax, it’s just Harry and his family. It’s not like we’re receiving the Queen.”

“I know, but I’m still nervous.”

They both turned at the sound of a car pulling up on the driveway. The Dursleys plus Harry piled out, with Harry running up to Hermione and giving her a courtly bow, “Your Highness, thank you for inviting us mere commoners to your majestic home.”

Hermione couldn’t help it, she broke out into giggles and whapped him on the arm, “You silly prat. Thanks for coming, Harry.”

Dudley whistled lowly as he took in the sight, “This place is huge!”

Emma agreed with his sentiment, “Isn’t it? Five floors of living space. I could hardly believe my family used to have something this grand. Well, come along; we have so much to show you.”

Ground floor

“As we walk in, you can see normal portraits that replace the magical versions that used to be here. Those we’ve moved to the upper levels where they can be hidden away easier if we ever have guests who haven’t been told about the magical world.” Emma explained as they walked through the main door into the Entrance Hall. “To your right is the dining room. I don’t know if we’ll ever have a need to use such a large table, but I’ve been so informed (she gestured dryly towards a blushing daughter) that hosting parties is going to be expected of us once she gets older.”

Petunia noticed a dumbwaiter lift, “I imagine that this wasn’t part of the original design?”

Emma shook her head, “No, originally the family used elves which can magically transport stuff to wherever they need to go. I had that installed to maintain the illusion that getting food from the kitchen below is done the ‘old-fashioned’ way.” She led them into the next room, “Hermione was adamant about having a large library in our home and frankly, I agree. This used to be the Master bedroom which didn’t make sense to me. That was moved up to the first floor where I can have a lot more privacy.”

First Floor

“The parlor was changed to become my bedroom with the former anteroom converted into my private bathroom. The door location for the anteroom was closed off here and moved to inside the bedroom. The drawing room is now the arts and crafts room with enlarged windows to let in a lot of natural light. It has all brand-new hardwood flooring with a bunch of rugs to muffle the sounds of Hermione’s inevitable thundering around like a herd of wild elephants.” She teasingly smirked at her exasperated daughter who was giving her mum the stink-eye.

Harry peered out the windows, “You’re going to have a lot of fun in here, Hermione. You know how to play an instrument?”

Hermione shook her head, “No, not really. I had a brief moment in school whenever the teacher brought out the instruments for ‘noisy time,’ but they were kept under lock and key.”

Second Floor

“Up here is primarily Hermione’s space. She’s got her own bedroom and bathroom; the smaller bedroom is now what she calls her ‘mad scientist laboratory.’ I don’t know what all she’s got in there but she says she’s happy.”

Harry nudged Hermione and gave her a wink as he muttered quietly, “I can imagine what you’ve got in there.” She pinched his arm and gave him a leading look to silence him.

Vernon pointed upwards, “I’m guessing that’s the attic?”

Emma nodded, “Yes, plus it has some more bedrooms and a bath just in case we have visitors that stay the night. Come on, I can’t wait to show off the basem*nt. The kitchen is incredible!”

Basem*nt

Dudley glanced around and nudged Harry, “Why do I get the sense of being watched? Is this normal in a wizarding home?”

Hermione overheard and giggled, “You are being watched but they’re friendly. A house this large could never be maintained by just Mum and me by ourselves. I thought I’d have to hire a staff to take up the chores of running this place. “Beanie! You can come out; Harry and his relatives know about magic.”

A short humanoid being with large bat-like ears, tennis ball-sized blue eyes, wearing a butler’s uniform popped in, “Thank you, Mistress. Hello, young sir. My name is Beanie and I’m the Dagworth-Granger Head Elf in charge of the manor.”

Dudley held out his hand in greeting. This took Beanie back a bit but he recovered quickly and shook Dudley’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Beanie. So what do you think of the place compared to the way it used to be?”

Beanie’s face scrunched up into one of appreciation, “It’s a welcome change, if I’m being honest. The former Master wasn’t one for progressive tastes and ordered all elves to keep speaking as if we were simpletons. Mistress Hermione on the other hand, had other ideas.”

“Beanie appeared a little while after the repairs were completed,” Hermione explained. “I don’t know where they were before that, but I now apparently have a staff of about twenty elves or something. Four take care of the upper levels and I’ve got three kitchen elves. One is the main cook with two assistants. There’s something like six elves that take care of the public-safe grounds like the driveway and any vegetation that can be seen from the house. There’s another two that take care of the ballroom and sunroom. It’s kind of overwhelming to be honest. I’m just glad that Beanie is able to handle it all.”

“Where do you and the others live?” Dudley asked the elf.

Beanie gestured down the hallway, “At the end are a couple of rooms that are for the servants.”

“So where are the others?”

Beanie looked off into the distance for a moment. The two doors on either side of the hallway opened as several similarly shaped heads poked out curiously. “They were waiting for word about the magical status of our guests. With your permission, Mistress?” Hermione bowed her head in agreement. The other elves streamed out of their rooms and filtered back to their jobs.

Sunroom, off past the library on the Ground Floor

The kids were clustered around one table which left the adults to gather around another where they could keep an eye on them. Emma smiled at the sight of her daughter animatedly demonstrating something with her wand. “This must still feel like a dream to you.” Petunia mentioned, breaking her out of her reverie.

“You have no idea. I keep feeling like I’m going to wake up in the morning back in that council flat listening to the neighbors complaining about this or that, the occasional gunfire heard in the distance, or the sounds of my hopes and dreams for a better life for Hermione crashing down around me.” She turned pensive for a moment. “I know about Hermione’s thievery.”

Vernon nearly sprayed his tea across the room as Petunia pursed her lips in disapproval. “When did you find out?”

“Last week. I’d overheard her speaking with someone I didn’t recognize about some sort of artwork or artifact she’d ‘found’ up at that school of hers. He clearly paid her for whatever it was then disappeared. I confronted her about it where she revealed that this had been going on for some time. I don’t know…what am I saying, I know why she started stealing. I’m just glad she didn’t go further than that. There are a couple of kids from her old school that have already gone beyond basic theft and gotten involved with violence.”

“Will she be stopping?” Vernon inquired gently.

“I can only hope,” Emma replied quietly. “We’re set for life, there’s no need to scramble for bits and pieces to sell on the black market anymore.”

Petunia thought about that and patted Emma’s hand, “I’m glad you found out about it, to be honest. Harry’s mentioned a few times of things she’s ‘found’ that belonged to him that the headmaster appropriated somehow, quite possibly illegally. He’s been worried that if you found out, you’d take Hermione away and never let him see her again.”

Emma shook her head, “Not a chance. That boy has done wonders for Hermione’s self-esteem and confidence around kids her own age. Before they met, she never would’ve initiated conversation with anyone under the age of twenty and if she had to, it would’ve been extremely stilted.”

As evening fell, and the Dursleys were getting ready to leave, Harry pulled Hermione off to the side and handed her a card. She turned it over and saw that it was one of his Chocolate Frog cards. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re holding the first ‘plugs out’ test of the ‘Super Secret Spying Chocolate Frog Card.’ I went with one of the cards with my picture on it so we can determine if the portrait version of myself can work as predicted. I’ve got the Master card at home and will activate yours when I get there. Hopefully, we’ll be able to talk to each other as if we’re on the telephone.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open in surprise as she examined the face and backing. She noticed that it felt only slightly thicker. “You’re going to have to show me how you did this, Harry. This is incredible work.”

He smiled appreciatively, “Thanks, and I will. (A car horn tooted) I’ve got to get going. Thank you so much for showing us your new home.” He gave her a quick hug and dashed off to the car where he waved until they were out of sight.

Emma came up next to her daughter and draped her arm around Hermione’s shoulders, “You have a wonderful friend in him. I hope you understand that.”

Hermione sniffled, “He’s the best.”

The next day, Hermione was in her room lying on her bed when she heard Harry’s voice in the slight breeze. “Hermione? Can you hear me? Come in, Hermione!”

She rolled over and picked up the card that had been sitting on her side table, “Harry? How do I operate this?”

“It works just by speaking into it as you can tell. You’re coming through loud and clear, by the way. How do I sound?”

She grinned even though he couldn’t see her, “It’s like you’re sitting right in front of me! Wow, so what’s next?”

“Next, I need to test whether or not multiple cards can work on the same circuit or if there’s a way to switch to a specific card.”

The two of spent the next couple of hours with both wandering around their respective properties and neighborhoods testing signal strength and viability. All in all, the new cards were working spectacularly. The only time there was a signal drop out was when one of Hermione’s elves got spooked and tried to vanish the card. She was able to stop the elf in time but afterwards, the card wouldn’t transmit sound anymore. She had to have the elf deliver it to Harry to diagnose. (It turned out to be shorted out from the sudden build up of magical energy from the elf preparing to vanish it. Harry drained out the excess energy and ‘restarted’ the card.)

“Don’t punish the elf for their mistake. This was a good test in what could happen down the line. Better to test it now than after they go into production and distribution.”

Friday 31 July 1992; Dursley Residence, Harry’s twelfth birthday

Harry was all smiles as he entered the kitchen. There was a banner which read ‘Happy Birthday, Harry!’ hanging on the wall. A stack of presents were sitting on the table, and his aunt busy in the kitchen making breakfast. “Morning, Harry. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Aunt Petunia.”

“By the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but your mail keeps disappearing. I know there used to be a stack of birthday cards on the table but they’ve vanished,” she commented as she turned the bacon.

Harry sucked on the inside of his cheek, “That’s weird. Did you happen to get a peek at who sent them?” She replied that she hadn’t had the opportunity. “Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

Vernon hurried into the room seemingly in a panic, “Pet, have you seen my good tie?”

Petunia gave him an exasperated look, “The one you’re wearing you mean?”

Vernon glanced down and sighed heavily, “Great, I’m losing my mind. This dinner party with the Masons is an important one for my career and I’ve got to make sure everything is perfect.”

Petunia kissed her husband on the cheek, “You’ll do just fine, Vernon. Go sit down and have a cuppa while I finish making breakfast. Harry, go roust your cousin. Tell him that breakfast will be ready in five minutes.”

That evening…

Harry and Dudley didn’t spend much time amongst the party happening downstairs. Neither boy felt that their presence would help Vernon’s blood pressure all that much. Dudley was in his room playing a video game while Harry was in his trying to solve a power issue for the card spyware. After twelve hours of continuous use, it tended to overheat and threaten to burn the card to ashes. Hedwig fluttered in not too much later with a dead mouse dangling from her beak. “Good hunting, Hed?”

Hedwig dropped the carcass on top of the wardrobe where her nest was and clicked her beak at him before returning to her meal. Harry smiled back up at her, “I wish I could fly through the air like you can. I’d be able to fly up to my enemy’s window and listen in without them knowing about it.”

About a half hour went by, Hedwig flew back out to enjoy the night while Harry went downstairs to sneak a slice of pudding from the fridge. When he returned, he found an elf bouncing on his bed. “Hello, who are you?”

The elf gasped at being caught, “Harry Potter, sir. I am Dobby, Dobby the House-elf.”

Harry left his plate on the desk and knelt down to Dobby’s level, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dobby. Are you looking for work or something?”

Dobby’s eyes went wide as he shook his head, “Oh no, sir! Dobby already has work. Dobby came by to warn Harry Potter to not go back to Hogwarts this year!”

Harry frowned, “Two things. One, I know that elves don’t normally speak like simpletons so feel free to speak normally. Second, what are you talking about? What’s happening up at Hogwarts that you think I shouldn’t go back?”

Dobby shuddered a bit. His method of speaking smoothed out a bit, “Thank you, sir. I was forbidden from speaking about my Master’s plans for this year so I cannot be giving you the information. My Master has forbidden me and the rest of his elves to speak about the plot with anyone else.”

Harry took in Dobby’s appearance, the ratty-looking pillowcase toga stained with who-knew-what; it was so much different than what Beanie and the other elves under Hermione’s care wore. “Judging by your appearance, your Master holds to the old ways of how his elves are supposed to look and act, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Dobby nodded, his ears flapping.

“Which means that your Master must figure someone that’s magical like me to be a ‘person.’ (Again, Dobby nodded) What are his views on muggles?” Dobby co*cked his head in confusion prompting Harry to elaborate. “Does your Master view them as people?”

Dobby’s confusion cleared, “Oh, no sir. He views them as dirty animals.”

Here, a slowly creeping grin grew on Harry’s face as an idea formed, “Perfect. Come on, let’s go see if we can steal my aunt away for a moment.” He got up and led the elf out of the room and downstairs. He stopped briefly to catch Petunia’s eye and subtly gestured towards the kitchen. When they met up, she was surprised by Dobby’s presence. Harry introduced Dobby to her, “I had an idea to allow Dobby to spill his Master’s plot to the authorities.”

Petunia caught on quickly, “Go.” Harry dashed out to the hallway to make a call. Meanwhile, Petunia served out a cup of tea and handed it off to a bewildered elf. At his curious look, she replied it was for him. “You look like you could use a cup of tea.”

Dobby sniffled, “Harry Potter’s aunt is truly an amazing person. Dobby… I am sorry that I had to resort to stealing your mail. I had hopes that if Harry Potter felt that his friends had abandoned him, he wouldn’t have wanted to go back to Hogwarts.” He pulled a stack of envelopes from his pillowcase and set them down on the counter.

Harry came back in time to overhear that, “Dobby, what you need to understand is that not all of my friends are clueless about muggle technology and those of my friends who are magically-raised know that if they can’t contact me through owl mail to contact my muggleborn friends to find out what’s going on.”

The look of pained realization flashed over Dobby’s face as he finally understood how his plans had been doomed from the start. A slight popping noise was heard in the backyard followed by Director Bones appearing at the sliding door. Harry let her in and kept his voice down (Vernon had finished telling Mr. Mason about something humorous.) “Thank you for coming, Director. This is Dobby and he has a warning about something that’s supposed to happen up at the school this year.”

Amelia nodded carefully, “But elves under the employ of their Masters are forbidden from telling anyone about their secrets.”

Harry gestured over to his aunt, “Yet, Dobby here confirmed that his Master doesn’t consider people like my aunt to be a ‘person’ since she’s a muggle.”

Here, Amelia’s slight frown turned into a grin, “Perfect. I need to remember this trick. Go ahead.”

So Dobby began telling Petunia everything he’d overheard about his Master’s plan to introduce a Dark object into the school in hopes that it would cause the victim to unleash a mythical beast upon the students all so he could claim that the proposal currently under review of the Wizengamot could be scrapped.

Petunia and Harry looked towards Amelia for clarification. Amelia rolled her eyes and let out a grumble. “The proposal Dobby’s mentioned is the Muggle Protection Act spearheaded by Arthur Weasley. It’s designed to protect muggles from potentially dangerous magical artifacts. The problem is that Arthur’s bill is so full of loopholes and sloppy wording that it has absolutely no hope of working in its current form. I tried to explain this to him when I first read it and suggested that he rewrite it so it closes those holes but apparently he never got around to it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose before addressing Dobby. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Dobby. You wouldn’t be able to tell Petunia who your Master is, could you?”

Dobby turned back to Petunia and clearly stated, “My Master is Lucius Malfoy.”

August

Wednesday 12 August, 1992; Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Amelia was on a mission. She’d already cornered Lucius Malfoy and warned him in no uncertain terms that if he dared to use anything of a dark nature to influence the ‘Mot to vote negatively for Arthur Weasley’s MPA proposal, she would come down on him like a ton of bricks. “We both know that his proposal won’t survive on its own. It needs to be seriously reworked, but should you interfere; I will throw my political weight behind it just to make sure it causes you no end of pain.”

Lucius drew himself up arrogantly, “I don’t know what or where you heard rumors of my alleged involvement, Amelia but I would never knowingly assist Weasley with whatever nonsense he’s involved in.”

She leveled a finger in his face, “See that you don’t. If I get word that you’ve done something ‘clever;’ I’ll burn you so bad you’ll wish you’d died as a child.” She pushed past him and stormed off.

Inwardly, Lucius seethed at being threatened like that. In another time, it would’ve been her that quaked in fear. ‘No matter, my Master’s plan is still in play and cannot fail. The school will be purged of its taint.’

Amelia entered her office to find Albus already waiting on her, “Headmaster, what are you doing here?”

Albus smiled thinly, “Two reasons, mostly I’m hiding from Minerva. She seems to be operating under the belief that I hired our newest Defense professor just to annoy her and stack up more work for her.” At her curious tilt, he elaborated. “I hired Gilderoy Lockhart to teach Defense this year.” She groaned at hearing the name. “Yes, well; he was the best candidate for the job after all.”

“More likely he was the only candidate for the job. I don’t know why you’re so resistant to allowing the Department of Mysteries from going through the castle to locate the supposed curse that’s on the position. Hell, we’ve got our own cursebreakers if you don’t want Algernon’s team nosing around!”

Albus steepled his fingers together, “I prefer to remain in-house for such things. It’s good practice for our Advanced Enchanting classes.”

“Yet in the meantime, the curse is preventing anyone who is actually qualified to teach the position from lasting more than a year,” she gave him a hard look. “What was the other reason you stopped by?”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, but I cannot locate my ward anywhere. I was hoping you and your Aurors might be able to keep an eye out for young Harry.”

Amelia was surprised that Albus admitted his failing to keep track of the boy yet made no effort to enlighten him that Harry was still at his aunt’s house. After Albus left her office to continue hiding from Minerva, she placed a call to the Dursleys. Dudley picked up the call, “Dursley residence.”

“May I speak with Petunia, please? This is Amelia Bones calling.”

Petunia picked up the line a moment later, “Director Bones?” Amelia recounted what Albus had revealed about losing track of Harry’s whereabouts. “That’s strange; even for him… hang on a moment. Harry!” Harry appeared at the top of the stairs. “What’s this about the Headmaster being able to track you?”

Harry laughed, “It’s something that Hermione found out last year. The Headmaster has these trinkets on a side table that is supposed to be able to locate me wherever I am. She snuck in, stole them so we could examine how they worked, and swapped out my blood for that of Draco Malfoy’s.”

Amelia broke down laughing when she heard that. “That’s brilliant, Mr. Potter! Thank you for making my day. It serves the old goat right for being so 'clever' when he would’ve been better off just stopping by once in a while.” She said her goodbyes and hung up still chuckling.

Monday 17 August, 1992; Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, The Burrow

Ron had sent Harry a letter inviting him to spend a couple of days with him and his family. ‘It’ll be great, Harry. Mum’s interested in meeting you, and I know that my little sister will fall over and faint the moment she sees you seeing as how you’re all so ‘important and famous’ (yeah, right. I know better. You’re a bigger plonker than all of Gryffindor!) It sounds strange to write that you know, given my mum’s views on which House I should’ve been sorted into.

Anyway, I’d really like to have you come to visit. The twins are doing something no one sane would dare investigating and Percy is holed up in his room.

Ron

Harry’d shown the letter to his aunt who thought carefully about it. “I’ll allow it under the proviso that you get something to alert the authorities in case Dumbledore ordered them to do something illegal like kidnap you.”

So, he wrote to Daggerclaw outlining the situation and requested something that could extract him in an emergency. ‘If there is a way, just go ahead and charge it to my account.’

Two days later, Hedwig arrived carrying a box that contained a curious device known as a Portkey to be worn on a necklace under his shirt and a slip of paper with the instructions and activation phrase.

The morning of the trip, Harry waited outside with an overnight bag and his owl on his shoulder. He heard a tooting horn preceding the appearance of a light blue Ford Anglia and a pair of redheads sitting in the front seat. Petunia came out to greet them while Ron opened the door to let Harry drop his bag inside. “Have a good time, Harry. I want to hear all about it when you get home.” Hedwig nuzzled Harry’s ear then took off into the sky, ostensibly heading towards the Weasley’s house.

As they drove off, Ron turned around to grin at his friend, “I really wish we could use the invisibility booster but dad says it’s not working properly.”

“That’s not all, Ronald. I know you wanted to demonstrate that the car can fly too, but that feature works even worse than the invisibility booster. You’d be more likely to crash into a tree than land safely,” Arthur commented as he pulled out onto the highway.

The trio arrived in fine style to a towering structure that looked like it had been designed by someone who had no idea on how a house was supposed to be built. Magic was Harry’s guess as to how the upper levels were being supported and the whole structure looked like it would collapse at any moment. Ron clapped him on the shoulder, “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

They’d barely gotten inside before Harry was yanked into a tight embrace, “Oh, Harry! It’s wonderful to finally meet you!” Harry could barely breathe and flailed around for an escape.

“Molly, let the poor boy breathe already,” Arthur sighed as he pulled his wife off of the beleaguered boy. “Sorry about her, Harry. She’s just excited to meet you.”

Harry brushed his clothes back down and shot Ron a rueful look, “Fang is the same way every time someone goes to visit Hagrid.” Ron started coughing from laughing so hard. Harry turned back to the Weasley adults, “Thank you for letting me visit with Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.”

Molly waved her hand dismissively, “Oh, it’s no bother Harry. We’re pleased that someone got sorted where they were supposed to go.” She shot her son with a gimlet eye which he completely ignored. “Maybe you could help Ronnie figure out where he went wrong.”

Ron snickered, “Are you kidding? It was his idea for me to get sorted into Slytherin!” Harry nodded smugly to a surprised Molly. “I’ve never been happier for it either. I get to annoy Draco all the time, there are a couple of chess players who are just as good as I am, plus Fred and George are treating me like I’m related to them, finally.” He motioned towards the stairs, “Come on, we can drop your stuff in my room.”

When Harry entered Ron’s room, his eyes immediately slammed shut from the sheer amount of bright orange in the room. “What the bloody Hell?”

Ron looked proudly around, “You like? It’s the colors of the Cannons.”

“And here I thought the colors of Gryffindor made me feel like I was in the middle of a furnace. You’ve taken that feeling to a whole new level,” Harry good-naturedly griped before dropping his bag on the spare bed that had been set up for him. “Can we at least open a window to let out the imaginary heat?”

Ron laughed at his humor, “Funny. I suppose I did go a bit overboard but I like it.” He shrugged indifferently. He followed Harry’s gaze as it landed on the autographed poster and group photo of Ron with the Cannons taken last year on his birthday. “You have no idea what that meant to me, Harry. Thank you.”

Harry smiled at his friend, “You’re welcome. So, what’s on tap for fun around here?”

Later…

Looking back on his trip, Harry was eminently confident that his aunt’s dossiers about the Weasleys were correct. The entire family was utterly obsessed with Quidditch, the magical sport played on brooms. Mrs. Weasley was an accomplished cook and potion brewer (though she had to abort her apprenticeship for her Mastery when she became pregnant with her first son, William.) Arthur liked to chat with Harry about the advancements made in the muggle world, regardless of topic. The twins created chaos wherever they went even if they were just sitting still at the table. They were somehow able to get Ron’s hair to turn a brilliant turquoise from across the room without even touching him or casting a spell. Percy came down only once to get a snack. He greeted Harry perfunctorily before disappearing into his room. “Was it something I said?” Harry drawled to the amusem*nt of the others though Molly did get up to admonish the twins about their latest escapade.

Arthur shook his head, “Percy’s reached that age where being seen with his family is ‘uncool,’ I believe is the correct term. He’ll come around eventually.”

With the other two, Ron could go on for hours about the statistics of his favorite teams if Harry’d let him. “Have you ever heard of chess being played on a cube or a sphere, Ron?”

Ron’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, “No, I can’t say I have. How would you even play something like that?”

Harry shrugged, “I only heard about it in passing. I know there are magazines dedicated to the game so the next time you’re in town; you could probably find one of them. I’d write to the magazine’s editors about the new boards.” Ron appeared interested and glanced in the direction of the nearest town.

The youngest Weasley and only girl, Ginny put in an appearance once everyone started congregating for afternoon tea. She took one look at Harry and squeaked in surprise before bolting back upstairs. The twins smirked and disappeared for a moment before returning, dragging their protesting little sister between them. “Now Gin-Gin, is that any way to greet our guest? Come sit and look pretty for the superhero of the hour.”

Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed at the twins’ teasing. “Ignore them, Ginny was it?” At her shy nod, he continued, “Ginny, I’m not a superhero. I was fifteen months old and the best thing I was capable of doing was stringing two or three words together. If you want to worship someone, it should be directed at my parents. Between them, they crafted something that not only saved me, but killed off Moldyshorts.” (Snorts of laughter were heard from Arthur and the twins.)

Ginny frowned, “But the books…”

“The books are written by people who wanted to make money speculating off facts not in evidence,” Harry interrupted. “Nothing more, nothing less. My only claim to fame is being the one who convinced your brother to get sorted into Slytherin.” He pointed at a widely grinning Ron who smugly buffed his nails on his shirt. Ginny pouted but refrained from saying anything.

The next day was spent goofing off by playing a couple of rounds of two on two Quidditch. Ginny watched forlornly by the sidelines prompting Harry to fly down to find out what was wrong. “They won’t let me play because I’m ‘too young.’ Never mind the fact that I’ve been flying since I was six and snuck their brooms out when they weren’t looking.”

He snickered, “If that doesn’t qualify you for Slytherin House, I don’t know what will.” He dismounted his broom and handed it over, “Give them what for from me. Go show me what you can do.”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed determinedly as she took the broom and mounted it. She let out a puff of breath and rocketed into the sky, pulling a dozen or so aerial stunts that left her brothers speechless. She grabbed the Quaffle out of Fred’s hands and shot towards the goalposts. Ron noticed and made to block her but she pulled off a twisting sort of spin that left him guarding the wrong goal, allowing her to score.

When she landed, she was grinning victoriously, “Yes! Ginny rules, my brothers drool! Ha!” She started dancing around, cheering herself on. The other three descended with a mixture of reactions. Ron was awed, the twins calculating. “What do you think about me now?” She strutted and posed arrogantly.

Ron drew his sister into a brotherly hug, “If you get sorted into Slytherin with me, we would rule the pitch! Me at Keeper, you as a Chaser; we’d be the talk of the school.”

Harry couldn’t help it, “I dunno. I don’t think Gryffindor or Slytherin would be a good fit for her.” Ron snigg*red and asked him what genius idea he had this time. “Well, Ginny is obviously very loyal to her family, she’s got strength of character; she’s sneaky if her story about stealing your brooms at six when you weren’t looking is true. You’re obviously pretty smart… I’m thinking that maybe you ought to be sorted into Hufflepuff.”

Fred and George shook their heads with bemusem*nt, “You wind us up just to drop her into Hufflepuff?”

“Hufflepuff isn’t the House of the duffers, you know. It’s what I like to describe as the House of the Generalists. They have the same qualities as the other three; they just don’t make a big scene out of it. Besides, as country kids I’m sure you’ve come across badgers before, right?” At their confused nods, he smiled toothily, “Then you know what happens when you annoy a badger…”

Here, Ginny’s smile turned predatory as she glanced at her brothers. “I like that idea.”

Wednesday 19 August, 1992; Diagon Alley

Completely unused to magical travel other than brooms, Harry exited the wrong grate from the Burrow. He looked around at the dark and frankly, depressing shop wondering where he was. He browsed up one aisle before he was confronted by the shop owner who growled at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Stupid floo dropped me out at the wrong grate,” Harry returned the growl. “I was trying to get to the Leaky.”

The shopkeeper grunted, “Head outside and turn left. Follow the street until you get to Diagon.”

Harry dipped his head respectfully, “Thank you.”

As he headed outside, Harry spotted the Malfoy males approaching. Not wishing to be caught, he ducked behind a stack of barrels and waited for them to pass. He heard Lucius warn his son not to touch anything. “You don’t know what may or may not have been cursed, Draco.”

“Yes, Father,” Draco replied sullenly as he followed behind his dad.

Harry crept back to listen in then facepalmed himself for being an idiot as he pulled out and draped his Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders and snuck in. Lucius was in the middle of a transaction to consign a stock of illegal potions and things while Draco drifted off to investigate a shriveled hand. Knowing he’d never have a better opportunity to mess with the pompous blond, he whispered ever so quietly, “Draco Malfoy…so hungry…fresh blood…kill….kill…kill!”

Draco’s eyes bugged out as he backed away from the hand and bumped up against an Iron Maiden. Harry let out another wheezing plea for fresh meat and how the body hungered so for blond boys. Harry watched in silent amusem*nt as the arrogant preteen slumped to the floor in a dead faint before hurrying out the door. One last peek in showed his father disgustedly casting a levitation spell on his son.

At the junction between Knockturn and Diagon Alleys…

“Harry! What’re you doing here?” Harry beamed in relief at the sight of Hagrid lumbering over.

“Hi, Hagrid. Stupid floo dumped me out of the wrong grate.” He explained, thumbing his path back towards the darkened street.

Hagrid bobbed his shaggy head understandingly, “Aye, that does tend to happen whenever it gets busy like today. Come on, I’ll lead you back to the Leaky.”

“So what were you doing there?” Harry asked the big man curiously.

“I was looking to buy some flesh-eating slug repellant. Those nasty buggers are doing a number on the school’s plants.”

“Flesh-eating? What are they, carnivorous or something?”

Hagrid chuckled, “Only to plants. People don’t have anything to worry about from them.”

Harry bobbed his head, “If you don’t find anything, you should speak with Neville Longbottom. I don’t think there’s anyone more knowledgeable about plants than he is, and I’m including Professor Sprout in that group too.”

The Weasleys were relieved that Harry was safe and sound. Arthur thanked Hagrid before leading the group towards the bookshop. Harry heard his name being called again and waved over to where Hermione stood. “Hey, just like old times right?”

Hermione giggled, “I know, right. So how are you, Mr. Potter?”

Harry smiled at her causing her to blush, “I’m doing quite alright, Mrs. Potter.”

“Mrs. Potter?!” Ginny squeaked in shock. Molly wasn’t too far away from that reaction either. “When did that happen?”

Hermione let out a snicker of laughter, “Last year, my roommate noticed how close we were acting, doing all the sorts of ‘domestically-cute’ things together and so labeled us as being ‘married.’” Both Ginny and Molly appeared relieved at hearing that. “That being said, who wouldn’t want to be married to such a sweetie-pie like Harry?” She playfully pinched the green-eyed boy’s cheeks causing him to lean away while she sent him kissy faces.

Molly was unsure about their interaction, but Ginny relaxed at seeing them tease and play. “You two are a riot.”

Harry brushed his hair out of his face, “It’s a gift. So what are we waiting for?”

“Gilderoy Lockhart is doing a book signing here today!” Ginny gushed. “Mum fancies him.”

Molly embarrassedly swatted at her daughter, “I do not.” The others snickered at her reaction.

Gilderoy Lockhart was, in Hermione’s opinion, an absolute fop. He pranced and preened at the attention he was receiving from the other patrons and frankly, made her a bit sick to her stomach at the whole show. She snuck a glance at Harry who was also grimacing in disgust, “He looks like a younger version of Dumbledore.”

Harry groaned, “Yeah, I can see that. Wonderful, he’ll probably act just as pompous too.” That groan reappeared when they learned that the man was going to be their newest defense professor for the coming school year. Lockhart managed to grab hold of Harry and drag him up to the front to share in the spotlight. “Smile now, Harry. Together, we rate the front page.”

Afterwards…

Hermione caught up to Harry after the latter managed to extricate himself from Lockhart’s presence. “Here, a small compensation for putting up with that peaco*ck.” She held out a small money pouch. Inside was thirty-five Sickles. At his unspoken question, she dryly replied, “I lifted his money pouch while he was manhandling you.”

Harry laughed shortly, “You’re the greatest, Hermione.”

Both turned at the sounds of angry men shouting insults at each other. Arthur and Lucius were arguing about something when their words turned into flailing fists. Hagrid stepped in before it could turn into a full out brawl. “Here now, you two. Set an example for the youngins.”

Hermione idly noticed that Lucius seemed to bend down and pick up a ratty-looking book and thrust it at Ginny before departing in a huff.

At the end of the trip, Harry was all set to return home. Molly however, was adamant about him staying with them until it was time to go back to school. “There’s no need for you to return to your relative’s house, Harry. Albus…” She broke off thinking she’d said too much.

Harry immediately caught her arm, “Stop. Albus what? He’s my headmaster, not my father. He has no say in what happens to me outside of school.”

Molly fretted, “Well, he let us know that your home life wasn’t the best and it would do you a world of good to spend time amongst friends in the magical world.”

Harry dragged his hand down his face and groaned loudly, “Mr. Weasley? Please explain to her where she went wrong in listening to the headmaster’s lies? Mrs. Weasley, thank you for the offer, but the moment you mentioned Dumbledore, I was immediately suspicious of your behavior over the past couple of days. I already know that your family has close ties to the headmaster. If you continue to act like his word is gospel, I will be forced to end my friendship with the rest of your family as I won’t be able to trust that whatever I say or do won’t end up being used against me in some way. Now, if you’ll excuse me? Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George? I’ll see you all on the train.”

He turned and headed out the door. Right before it closed, he could just make out Arthur yelling at his wife.

Chapter 5: The Chamber of Secrets, Part 1 (September – December)

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: The Chamber of Secrets, Part 1 (September – December)

1 September 1992; Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office, morning

Albus sat at his desk once again wondering how his plans had gone completely off the rails. Last year had started so well too. ‘The Stone lured in Voldemort as I knew it would. The Potter boy was supposed to follow the clues as I laid them out and face off against him while protecting the Stone and hopefully slow Voldemort down long enough for me to arrive and end my greatest mistake.’

But that’s not what happened.

When Albus had entered the Mirror room, all he found was Quirrell’s robes, a pile of ash, the Mirror, and no sign of Potter, the Philosopher’s Stone, or Voldemort. Worse still, was the summons he’d received from Nicholas.

Flashback…

“Well Albus? Where is my Stone? I have things I need to do and I’m not getting any older,” Nicholas sent a sly wink knowingly at his wife, Perenelle who scoffed quietly and settled into her chair to watch.

Albus tried to prevaricate but Nicholas was adamant and imperiously held out his hand. “Where. Is. IT?!”

“I…I don’t have it anymore. It went missing near the end of the term,” Albus’ voice trailed off in a squeak of fear.

Nicholas got up into his once-upon-a-time apprentice's face and growled darkly, “You mean to tell me that you lost my Stone? The one thing in this world with the powers of turning base metals into gold and produce the Elixir of Life which would render the drinker immortal? That Stone, Albus?!”

Albus flinched as if he’d just been slapped, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

Nicholas began raging at the idiotic relatively old man in front of him, giving Albus the dressing down that he’d so richly deserved for losing a priceless artifact. His command of swear words and descriptions of Albus’ final resting place, parentage, and a whole host of other things ranged from modern English to Old English, and even into the ancient Gallic language of his homeland. Titanic waves of magic flared around the immortal man coalescing into great flaming dragons, gorgons, and other mythological beasts of lore.

Perenelle finally rose to her feet and laid a gentle hand on her husband’s shoulder, cutting off his tirade. “I think you’ve made your point, Nicholas. I think it would be safe to say that you Albus Wulfric Dumbledore are no longer welcome in our home. Should we find out later that you’ve merely hidden our Stone to keep it for your own nefarious plans…let’s just say that you will be wishing for the ‘quiet’ days of combat in the Ardennes. I suggest that you return to that pile of rocks you call a school and do what you can to repay us for our troubles.”

Albus began to sweat profusely. Money was tight enough without having to sell off some of the priceless antiques he knew lay within the Room of Requirement (he had plans for those pieces.) “How might I do that?” he croaked.

Perenelle rose up to her full height and glared at him square in the eyes, “You can go back and make sure that your students get the very best education you can provide. Yes, we know full well of your staffing problems. If you can prove to us in seven years that the quality of education has once again reached the levels it was prior to your becoming Headmaster; then we might forgive you. Now, begone!” She waved her hand dismissively and simultaneously transporting their former friend outside of their home’s wards.

A moment of silence fell upon the room before Nicholas let out a snicker of laughter, “Of all the things you could’ve demanded, you went with better staffing?” He continued to chuckle at the look on Albus’ face during the whole thing. “What amazes me is that he never twigged onto the fact that the Stone he had was a fabrication I use whenever idiots like him come sniffing around thinking they could protect it better than I can. Six hundred and who knows how many years and they all think I’m a doddering old fogey who can’t remember which way my underwear is supposed to face.”

Ignoring the jibe about his underwear, Perenelle sank back into her chair with a quiet sigh. “You and I both know that he’s singularly unable to remain focused on the job he was hired to do. Remember how he was during his apprenticeship? I’m pretty sure we’ve still got a couple of crates filled with his half-finished attempts. No, with all likelihood; he’ll get distracted by something else and fail miserably at accomplishing anything at all.”

Nicholas grunted amusedly as he nudged her shoulder, “Speaking of distracted, what’d you think of my little display? Pretty impressive, eh?”

Perenelle allowed herself to be nudged a few times before giving her husband a beady-eyed glare, “I’d much rather you take me to bed and show me how impressive you can be there.”

The dopey grin on Nicholas’ face shown with delight as he scooped her up with a strength that belied his advanced age and carried her off to their bedroom. He dropped his voice down to a deep tenor which gave Perenelle shivers of anticipation. “As you wish, My Lady. Tonight, I was thinking we might turn to page 394…”

Present…

“How the Hell can I accomplish my goal of bringing Tom back to the Light, if I’m being thwarted at every turn?” He groused to the empty and silent room. His gaze fell upon the table that held the once spinning and whistling trinkets that were supposed to indicate the health, location, and disposition of one Harry James Potter. He grumbled to himself in befuddled annoyance when he’d learnt that someone somehow managed to replace the Potter boy’s blood with that of Draco Malfoy’s. The realization of that discovery had caused him no end of embarrassment, especially when he’d been forced to seek out Amelia and inform her of the situation.

“I hope that the boy makes it onto the train today. I just know that Tom will not be denied the opportunity to try again to regain a body. It’s imperative that I continue my efforts to guide the boy into fulfilling the Prophecy allowing me to achieve my plans for the Greater Good.”

A chirping noise from one of the picture frames alerted him to the approach of his deputy. He tapped the frame which allowed him to see what Minerva’s expression was like. At the sight of her scowl, he leapt out of his chair in an effort to hide once more. He’d just made it to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder when his door burst open.

“Albus Dumbledore! Where do ye think yer going?!”

Albus’ head drooped down as he let out a deep sigh and muttered, “Almost made it.” He plastered a fake smile on his face, “Minerva? Is there something troubling you? I was just…”

“I dinnae care where you thought you needed to go. You have paperwork that needs to be signed and by the gods you will do your job!” Minerva practically hissed at him. “If you don’t act like the headmaster you’re supposed to be, I will make it my mission to render you down for potion ingredients!”

Given that Potions was the one area that Minerva had absolutely no talent in, her implied threat gripped Albus’ heart in fear. He put on an air of bonhomie and turned back to his desk. “Of…of course, Minerva my dear. I suppose my meeting can wait a bit longer. How much paperwork could there be?” His face paled as she slammed the enormously tall stack of forms on his desk. “Oh, my…”

Hogwarts Express; five minutes before departure time

Harry practically leapt into the compartment and let out a sigh of relief. Above him, he heard Hermione’s giggling amusem*nt. “Sorry, I would’ve been here earlier but someone wanted to fuss over me like I was going off to war or something!”

“Admit it, Harry; you like being fussed over, even if it’s by your aunt,” she tittered at his look of indignation.

He pulled himself upright and loaded his trunk into the rack before dropping down on the bench opposite of Hermione and glared half-heartedly at her valiant attempt to reign in her snorts of amusem*nt. “I’d rather be fussed over by an octopus!”

That did it; Hermione’s laughter rang out as she rolled around on her seat. She swapped places and gave him a strong hug, “I would pay money to see you wrestling with an octopus.”

Harry just shook his head and sneered haughtily at her, “Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up, Granger.”

Sitting herself back up now, Hermione dug around in her bag and pulled out a ledger. “I noticed something funny when I arrived earlier.”

Harry turned to her curiously, “What’d you notice?”

A small proud smirk crossed her face, “A little object that nearly everyone is carrying.”

“An object?” His curiosity grew.

She couldn’t keep herself from grinning widely as she told him the punchline. “Remember the lint roller demonstration last year? Everyone I saw had at least one hanging from their belt.”

Harry wheezed his laughter at the memory of that little scam they’d cooked up to cover for some of her more illicit activities. “That’s brilliant. Is that what the ledger is for?” She nodded and opened it to show the recording of names, numbers of rollers purchased, and the income from said items. A couple of the more noteworthy names such as Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy stood out. There was even a couple marked down for Argus Filch, which honestly made sense. “Again, brilliant. I would’ve paid good money to see the likes of Malfoy venturing out into the muggle world to purchase lint rollers.”

“Doubtful. He probably would’ve coerced someone else to get them for him,” she replied, a twitch at the corners of her lips indicated she was engrossed with the numbers on the page. She paused about halfway through. “Mum found out about my stealing.”

Harry turned to look at her, his face clearly worried, “And?”

“She asked me to at least not deal with stolen goods while we’re at home. I think she knows that there’s just too much temptation at the school given the amount of antiquities up there.”

“She won’t take you away from me then?”

Hermione shook her head and touched his cheek, “She promised she wouldn’t. Mum said you’re the best thing in my life and I have to agree with her. I shudder to think of where I might be right now if we hadn’t met in that bookshop.”

A little while later, their door opened to reveal a grinning Ron. “Hey, you made it! I heard from the others that you had to do the ‘Weasley Dash’ to get onto the train.”

Harry grunted, “Yeah, my aunt was feeling more emotional than normal for some reason. So? How was the rest of your summer?” He waved the redhead into the compartment towards the empty bench. Hermione moved her feet over onto Harry’s lap without even looking up from her calculations.

Ron shook his head ruefully as he sat down and crossed his legs, “It was interesting to say the least. You sure know how to leave a scene in absolute chaos. Dad was yelling at Mum for over an hour because of her behavior about listening to the headmaster’s blatant lies about your family. I mean, I only met your aunt during out trip to muggle London, but even I could tell that she loves you.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, “I won’t apologize.”

Ron held up his hands, “And I’m not asking you to. Frankly, I think it’s about time that Dad’s put his foot down about following Dumbledore’s every utterance as if it was from Merlin himself.”

The door opened once more to reveal a shyly grinning Ginny, “Hi, Harry.”

“Hello, Jenny.”

Ginny frowned briefly, “It’s Ginny.”

Harry snapped his fingers, “That’s right. Sorry about that, Penny.”

She gave him a scrunched-nose sneer and stomped her foot, “Ginny!”

Turning slightly towards Ron, “Wait, didn’t you say her name was Minnie?”

Catching on, Ron shook his head, “No, I said her name was Whinny, or was it Whiney? I forget sometimes.”

Ginny growled loudly in exasperation and leveled a finger at them both, “You both know full well what my name is and you better start using it or I’m going to unleash my inner badger and let you know why it’s a bad idea to tease me!”

Hermione snickered at the angry girl, “You tell them, Ginny! Boys are so stupid that they like to delude themselves into thinking that they’re funny.” She got up and looped her arm around the younger girl’s shoulders, “Come, my dear. Let us go have some stimulating and grown-up conversation with the clearly superior half of the species.” She sniffed snootily and led Ginny away.

Ron and Harry turned to grin at each other. Ron remarked, “She’s a shoo-in for Hufflepuff at this rate.”

Unsorted Girls Compartment, two carriages down from Harry

“Hi, everyone!” Ginny greeted the others who looked up to see the door opening. “This is Hermione Granger. She’s a second year Gryffindor.”

Hermione bowed her head regally, “Ladies, it’s a pleasure to meet you all away from the grunting, stinky mess that are the boys.” A couple of squeals of agreement were heard. “So what’re everyone’s hopes to where they get sorted?” She asked as she sat down next to a blonde with luminous silvery eyes.

Ginny started off by declaring she would get into Hufflepuff even if she had to wrestle a troll. A couple of the others mentioned they were hoping to get into either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. One little girl confidently declared she was going into Slytherin just to prove to her father she had what it took to succeed.

“I shall be going into Ravenclaw,” the blonde girl next to Hermione dreamily stated as if it was a foregone conclusion.

Hermione co*cked her head curiously, “Don’t you mean you hope to go there?”

The blonde shook her head, causing her straggly blonde hair to shimmer in the light. “No, the Hat will not disappoint me.”

Hermione glanced at Ginny who spun her finger in a circle around her temple. “Ok, if you think that’s where you’ll end up. What’s your name?”

“My name is Luna Lovegood.”

“Well, Luna; as someone who’s already been through the sorting, I have to say that you never know what might end up happening. Look at Ginny’s brother Ronald. He was supposed to get sorted into Gryffindor along with the rest of his family yet he ended up in Slytherin.”

Luna smiled enigmatically, “That was only because of a situation Harry Potter created in order to deviate from the Headmaster’s plans. I suspect he was swayed by the utterances of a Blibbering Humdinger.”

One of Hermione’s eyebrows started creeping up towards her hairline, “A what?”

“They’re small shy creatures that whisper ideas into your head when you’re faced with an undecided moment or event,” Luna informed her with a small indecipherable look on her face.

There was something in the way that Luna was sitting, her mannerisms, and tone of voice that drew Hermione to the younger girl. It took her a moment to realize that poor Luna had suffered something tragic in her short life and used what could only be imaginary creatures as a sort of shield. How she knew about what happened last year was a complete mystery but nevertheless, Hermione draped her arm comfortingly around the blonde’s shoulders. “It’s certainly a possibility that happened, Luna. Harry’s been known to have seemingly random ideas pop up out of nowhere at the strangest times.” She could feel the tension in Luna’s posture slacken slightly as she relaxed into Hermione’s side.

The girls looked up like meerkats when the door opened again revealing a certain green-eyed preteen boy hero. Harry bowed officiously to the group, “Ladies, it has come to my attention that you have been without the honor of my company for far too long.” He fended off a thrown hairband with a laugh. “Sorry, Greg dared me to say that.” He leant nonchalantly up against the doorframe, “So what’s up?”

Hermione introduced him to everyone and which House they wanted to get into. When she mentioned Luna’s destination, Harry shook his head. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

Luna tilted her head curiously, “Why not?” Ginny was heard giggling and saying something along the lines of ‘Here we go.’

Harry gave the impression of thinking hard, “What are your study habits like? Do you prefer to curl up with a book or do you prefer to roam the hills looking for the strange and unusual?”

“The second. I found a school of Gulping Plimpies in the stream behind our house,” Luna replied cheerfully.

He nodded slightly, “Mm-hmm, now are you sneaky and cunning to get what you want or would you prefer to work in a group for a common goal?” She waggled her hand either way. “In that case, I would suggest that if you want to really shine; you should go into Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is the House of the future Librarians. If it’s not neatly bound in a book, they’re extremely resistant to new ideas. You’ve mentioned wanting to go out and seek out what hasn’t been found before which is what Gryffindors like to do. You don’t have to be as loud as the rest of the House is, but we’re more amenable to explorers and adventurers like yourself.”

One of the others girls stared at him, “How do you do that?”

Harry shrugged, “Dunno, but my insights have served me and my friends well.”

Sorting Ceremony

The Sorting of Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood happened just as Harry had predicted. Professor McGonagall called out their names alphabetically and when Luna’s name was called, the blonde sprite skipped up to the front and sat down on the stool. Minerva dropped the Hat on the girl’s head and waited. It took about four minutes before the Hat let out an aggrieved sigh, “He’s going to take my job away from me at this rate! Better be…Gryffindor!”

Harry and Hermione leapt up and began dancing around, chanting, “We got Lovegood! We got Lovegood!” Fred and George laughed loudly at the parody the younger duo gave of their joyous welcome when Harry’d been sorted last year.

Not to be outdone, when Ginny’s name was called and announced for Hufflepuff, Susan and Hannah copied Harry and Hermione’s antics by chanting, “We got Weasley! We got Weasley!” Ginny ran over, blushing a bright red as she sat down amongst the other Badger firsties.

Thursday 3 September, 1992; DADA, Second Year

Harry watched with suspicious eyes as Gilderoy Lockhart stepped out of his office with a flourish, “Let me introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: me, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award.(He gave a wide smile that seemed more insincere than anything) But I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at him.” He laughed at his own joke, but no one else did. The girls minus Hermione, all seem star-struck by Lockhart while the boys just seemed to be confused. Harry shared a look with Ron who twirled his finger in a circle at his temple.

It turned out that Lockhart’s idea of teaching was to release a cage full of Cornish Pixies into the classroom. He brandished his wand and tried to cast a spell that sounded even more ridiculous than the man wielding it. Draco had been corralled by a team of those rampaging beasts and hoisted up by his ears only to be dropped onto one of the chandeliers. His pleas and demands to be retrieved went unnoticed by everyone who had their own problems to deal with.

Surprising everyone, Ron pulled out his wand and lit up the tip with a fire spell. He yelled out, “Story time!” This had the immediate effect of causing every single Pixie to stop rampaging about the room and pile onto the desk in front of the small fire where Ron began animatedly reading from one of Lockhart’s books.

After class, Ron was swarmed by the other students as he fielded their questions about how and where he’d learnt to deal with marauding Pixies. Harry watched the redhead with mild amusem*nt as he leant up against a wall. Hermione quietly asked him, “Who knew that Ron had that in him?”

Harry dipped his chin in acknowledgement, “I know, right? Imagine if he’d been sorted into Gryffindor along with the rest of his family. He would’ve never been like this, I think.”

She nodded in agreement, “It was probably the smartest move he’s ever made.” She checked her watch, “Come on, I’m getting hungry.”

As they headed down the hallway, Harry wondered aloud if he could use his fame to compel St. Mungo’s to give Dumbledore a complete psychological evaluation. Greg and Vince had joined them by this point and agreed. “It’s clearly obvious to even the most-dimwitted student that the Headmaster is suffering from senility for even contemplating hiring that moron.”

Greg motioned to where Draco had emerged from the boy’s bathroom, “You should’ve heard Mr. My-Father-Will-Hear-About-This earlier. Going on and on about what he’d do to the pompous arse if he had the opportunity.”

Vince laughed, “I was tempted to ask him which pompous arse he was referring to. Himself or Lockhart.”

Hermione thumbed back in the direction of their Defense class, “So do you know where Ron learned how to calm the Pixies?”

Greg nodded, “Yeah, we found out what Lockhart had planned on using a couple of days ago thanks to Holland’s older brother, Sollis. He said that Pixies are basically a primitive tribe culture that responds best to story time, which according to him was the time when the tribe gathered to learn new things and share old tales.”

“Who is Holland?”

“Richard Holland is a fifth year Slytherin. His family’s a Minor House best known for their small creature handling skills. He said that Sollis had been contracted by Lockhart to round up about a dozen Cornish Pixies for his classes. He then showed us what to do if they got a bit excited.”

“Neat. It must be handy to have such knowledgeable people around.”

Greg shrugged, “It has its moments. So, how was your summer, Hermione?”

Hermione practically bounced about as she eagerly filled in Greg and Vincent about what she’d learned in Gringotts about her family history and what it meant for her.

Vince’s mouth dropped open when she revealed that she was confirmed to be the Heiress of the Dagworth-Granger family. “That means you’re a half-blood!” He shared a grin with Greg. “This is really going to put a stick in Malfoy’s wheel when he finds out that the girl he’s constantly putting down as an ‘uppity mudblood’ isn’t actually and an heiress to boot!”

Hermione’s fingers tightened around the switchblade in her pocket. What Vince said sounded like an insult. “A mudblood?”

Vince correctly interpreted the dark look on her face and backpedaled, “I didn’t mean anything by it, Hermione. A mudblood is someone with impure blood. Dirty blood, you see; it’s something that the purebloods like my parents’ generation and those like Draco use to look down on those they consider beneath them.”

She continued to glare at him, “So you don’t buy into that thinking?”

Vince’s shoulders sagged, “After the day in muggle London I had with Harry and his aunt; Ron, Ron’s dad, Neville, Blaise, and Greg; I can honestly state that just because you’re descended from a muggle, or live like one; doesn’t mean that you’re a lesser person. It just means you know how to do things differently. Some of the things I saw that day, I still swear that the muggles had figured out how to harness magic without using a wand.” Greg wholeheartedly agreed with his best friend.

Hermione held her glare for another long moment before backing down. “Okay, I just had to be sure.” She smiled thinly as Harry gave her a comforting hug. “I’ve had enough of prejudice held against me when people found out where I used to live.”

Saturday 5 September

Harry had gotten into trouble and given a detention in potions class for allegedly talking during brewing time. The look of annoyance swept over his face when he’d later learned that Lockhart had requested Harry to use his detention to help him answer the copious amount of fan mail.

It was around ten pm as Gilderoy continued to spark up a conversation. “Harry, Harry, Harry. Can you possibly imagine a better way to serve detention than by helping me to answer my fan mail?”

“Off the top of my head, at least a dozen.” Harry grumbled too low for Lockhart to hear as the professor continued to express his beliefs on what constituted good public relations. At the distant corner of his hearing, he picked up the faint sound of hissing but it was gone before he could glean anything out of it.

As Harry left the classroom, he passed by a section of wall devoid of any paintings when he distinctly heard a harsh voice whispering, “Blood. I smell blood. Let me rip you... Let me kill you. Kill... kill... kill!”

“Wait! Who are you? Where are you?” he called out in Parseltongue but to no avail. The voice he’d heard had moved off.

Monday 7 September, Herbology

“I’m telling you, Nev; it must’ve been a snake in the walls. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Harry groused to his friend as they repotted some marigolds in Herbology on Monday.

“I’ll agree with you on that, but what you described doesn’t. How could a snake sound that big?” Neville replied as he hefted a large tray of seedlings. “Bring that watering can, will you?” He led Harry over to a shady table to continue working.

Harry shook his head, “It doesn’t, unless there’s a space behind the wall that could’ve magnified the sound somehow.”

“I have every trust that you’ll figure it out, Lord Potter,” Neville smirked and fended off a clump of dirt Harry had chucked his way in retaliation in response to the teasing.

Susan and Hannah slid over to where the two boys were working, “You might if we share the shade? It’s getting too hot to work at the main tables.”

“Our table is your table, Susannah,” Harry quipped.

“Susannah?” Hannah asked curiously.

Harry pointed at the two of them, “You’re always together. So much so that whenever someone calls your names ‘Susan and Hannah,’ it sounds like you’ve blended into one person. Hence the name ‘Susannah.’”

Neville chuckled at their bewildered expressions and chimed in, “Hey, it could be worse. Imagine if I were paired up with Parkinson.” At their confused expressions, he elaborated. “Neville with Pansy; what do you get? You get Nancy.” All three of the others groaned at his attempt at humor.

Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder, “I wouldn’t quit my day job if I were you, Nev. Stick with plants; they’re less likely to attack you for making terrible jokes.” He tried to tackle the sandy-haired boy into a headlock but Neville effortlessly unwound his arms and dumped him back on his bum. “Wow, you are strong! Maybe you ought to think about starting a plant wrestling club!”

Neville snickered, “Who says I haven’t thought about it? Back home, I even have a cape and mask all ready to go proclaiming me to be The Great Longbottom-ini!” He struck a heroic pose as the two girls swooned prettily and fell over themselves laughing.

Harry waggled his finger at his sheepishly grinning friend, “I think I’m going to have a talk with Dean Thomas and see if he could create a promotional poster. Think of the money you could get for that. The Great Longbottom-ini parading around in what amounts to his colorful pants and his bed sheets!” He couldn’t hold back the laughter at the pouty face Neville sent his way.

Susan and Hannah both took his arms and cooed in his ears, “Ignore him, Neville. We know that you’re destined for stardom. You are our Great Gardener Nevie-poo!” Neville let out an ‘aggrieved sigh’ and shook his head with a faux indignity at their antics before joining in on the laughter until Professor Sprout came over to admonish them for wasting time.

A week later…

“Hermione? Can you hear me?” Harry spoke into his Chocolate Frog Card. The two of them were testing the cards to see if they would continue to work within a heavily magically-saturated environment like Hogwarts.

“Loud and clear, Harry. Which floor are you on?”

He peered over the railing, “I’m on the fourth floor landing of the Grand Staircase. Where are you?”

“I’m at the base of the North Tower over where the Divination class is supposedly located. Oh, never mind I found it.”

“Well, I guess this proves that the cards still work. I’m going to head over to visit Hagrid if you want to join me,” he answered as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think so. I want to go spend some time with that Luna Lovegood girl. She’s quirky but she also reminds me of how I was right after my parents got divorced.”

“Okay, have fun doing mysterious girly stuff,” He quipped before pocketing the card. There really wasn’t an on/off switch for the cards which was yet another thing he’d have to look into creating.

Hermione’s birthday fell on a Saturday this year so Harry went all out organizing a proper celebration. He spoke with the elves to get in contact with Beanie who in turn spoke with Emma Granger and offered to take whatever presents she might have for her daughter up to the castle instead of relying on an owl. She sent Hermione a charmed calendar that would highlight and announce the important events written in by the user when tapped with a wand.

At breakfast, she descended from the girls’ dorms and greeted Harry with a hug, “Good morning, Harry.”

He bowed grandly before her, “If milady is ready to break her fast?”

She rolled her eyes at his antics yet still took his arm, “I’d be delighted. With whom shall we dine with this morning?”

Harry’s eyes twinkled mischievously, “I was thinking the House of the Serpents. It’d be hilarious to see them act all snobbish until they realize that you’re no longer the muggleborn firstie of last year but are now the half-blood Heiress to a Noble family.”

Great Hall, Slytherin Table

“What are you doing here, Scarhead?”

Harry shook his head ruefully, “You just can’t seem to remember that I outrank you, Draco. Is it the hair gel? It must be that. I think you’re using too much and it leaked into your ears preventing you from hearing properly.”

The others nearby snickered at the arrogant blond’s look of incredulity at being lambasted so easily. He thumbed over to Hermione and demanded she leave. “It’s bad enough having a mangy half-blood like you here; the last thing we need is another mudblood polluting the air we breathe.”

Harry spared a glance at Hermione, who was giving the Malfoy heir a disdainful sniff of disapproval. She held out her hand, “What do you see?”

Draco sneered, “I see your hand. What about it?”

She wiggled her ring finger, “Look closer, Draco.”

That was when he caught sight of the ring as his eyes widened comically. “Who… There’s no way!”

“The magic of the rings doesn’t lie, Draco dear. It would be utterly impossible for me to trick the ring into accepting my heiress status.” She leant a little closer to growl-whisper, “Be grateful I’m not sitting on the same side as you otherwise, I’d gut you like a fish for your disgusting words. It’s your kind of people who give wizards a bad reputation. Now sit there and finish your breakfast all nice and quiet-like then be gone from my presence.”

Harry added in his two knuts as well, “If I was you, I’d pray that the one I insulted doesn’t write home to my parents informing them that their son and heir grievously insulted the Head of one of the most powerful Families on the island.” He sat up and resumed serving himself a couple of waffles with syrup and butter as if nothing had transpired.

Wednesday 30 September, 1992; Hufflepuff dorms

Lying on Ginny’s bed was an old ratty-looking diary with the nameplate of T.M. Riddle stamped on the back. The diary held a secret, one that if it were to fall into the wrong hands, could spell doom for the entity which resided within its pages. The entity known to any who wrote within its pages as ‘Tom’ sensed that the girl with whom he’d been given to hadn’t written anything he could use to overwhelm her magic and subvert her body and soul to release the monster within the legendary Chamber of Secrets.

‘What has been going on out there?’ he wondered not for the first time. ‘The compulsion I interlaid within these pages should’ve been strong enough to compel the girl into writing away her life and soul.’ He vaguely remembered the date as being September of 1992, nearly fifty years from when he was first embedded within the pages of the diary. He also vaguely remembered of the swirl of activities that took place within the first month of starting at Hogwarts.

‘I suppose I can wait a bit longer. I have all the time in the world for me to purge the school of the unworthy.’

October

Sunday October 4; Hufflepuff dorms

“Dear Diary… today wasn’t so bad. Mum said that my flow was probably going to start happening while I was at school since hers did as well.”

‘What are you writing?!’

“Oh, hi Tom. I was just recording my monthlies now that they’ve started. I want to make sure I get an accurate chart so I’m not caught unawares,” Ginny blithely replied.

‘No! This is not something we should be discussing!’ Tom screeched in writing.

“Why not? Are you a diary or not?” She pressed.

‘Because I’m a boy diary! Boy diaries don’t discuss such disgusting activities!’ Tom would’ve gagged if he’d possessed the ability to do so.

Amused, Ginny continued to tease Tom by including some of her other ‘changes’ she’d noticed. From body hair sprouting in places they hadn’t before, the tenderness and soreness of regions below her waist, even the sensations she’d discovered during ‘personal playtime.’ Each time she started up, Tom would shut down and lock her out for an hour or two until she promised to behave herself. Ginny finally relented and shared her experiences within Hufflepuff for the past month and about the friends she’d made. “I’m so glad that I listened to my heart and Harry’s suggestion instead of my mother. Hufflepuff is the best House in the entire school.”

It was late evening when Tom realized that the girl was no longer a viable candidate to his plans and subtly influenced her to hand his diary self off to someone else. Ginny stumbled and shuffled along the hallway, not really seeing what was in front of her while under Tom’s influence and guidance. She paused at a junction and slowly bobbled her head around as if she was sleepwalking before blearily spotted someone examining a portrait of a long-dead person and headed over. Without speaking or making a sound, she deftly dropped the diary into the person’s bag and wandered off. She woke up out of her trance about a hundred feet away and stood there in confusion as to why she would end up in the hallway wearing nothing but her dressing gown and slippered feet.

Meanwhile, Tom carefully reached out and touched on the mind of the person Ginny had transferred him to. He grinned wickedly as that mind opened up to him with barely any resistance. He then sent the order to return to his dorm. When the hidden door to the Slytherin common room opened, Pansy greeted him, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Draco gave his girlfriend a goodnight leer. His eyes momentarily flashed with an unholy light, “I did indeed. I got what I wanted and more.”

Saturday October 17; Just outside the Library

Harry was heading back to the Tower after visiting the library in search of a book that would explain the technique Professor McGonagall had described in class on how to transfigure bamboo into steel when he heard the same hissing noise from before. He scouted around and located a drain hole tucked away in a corner of the hallway and knelt down. “Wait! Who are you? Where are you?”

“Speaker? Why do you sound different?” The snake sounded confused.

“There’s another like me here?” He queried equally in confusion.

“Apparently. The one who set me free sounds a bit more nasally than you do.”

Harry sat back on his heels trying to figure out who that could possibly be. Shrugging it off as unimportant right that moment, he called out again, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Sandrine, Speaker.”

Despite the oddness of the situation, Harry grinned at the thought of the creature with a normal sounding name. “It’s nice to meet you, Sandrine. Who are you hunting?”

“Prey.”

“In the castle?” Harry’s confusion was evident. There couldn’t be enough prey in the castle for a snake as large as Harry suspected it was.

“Do you have any other suggestions?” The voice seemed to be rather amused in a way, given the snarky attitude.

Harry thought for a moment before brightening, “Well, depending on how big you are, there’s always the Forbidden Forest. I’ve heard that there are Acromantulas hidden within.” (He was sure of it thanks to Hermione’s description.)

A scathing hiss was heard, “A worthy adversary. Thank you, Speaker. I best be heading out now.”

Harry thumped down on his bum as he tried to process what had just happened. Scrambling to his feet, he hurried off to the Tower to share what he’d learned.

Ten minutes later…

He and Hermione were camped out on one of the couches in the common room discussing what Harry’d found out but neither had a clue as to what the creature was beyond the basics that it was a reptile of some kind. Luna appeared and jumped into Harry’s lap with a squeal of happiness as she settled in. “Luna,” Harry wheezed. “How are you doing?”

She smiled cryptically at him, “The creature you seek is not at all meek. It causes all who see it to squeak ‘eek!’”

Harry poked her in the tummy, “Very funny, Miss Lovegood but if you’re not going to help, I’m afraid you must suffer the consequences of disturbing our conversation.” He proceeded to tickle her mercilessly as Luna flailed about and squealed for help.

“I give up! Uncle! Uncle!” She pouted cutely and pushed her hair out of her face, “I was just trying to help you figure out that the creature you’ve been hearing is probably a basilisk. It’s the only creature that can actively hunt and survive an attack on Acromantulas.”

Hermione pulled the blonde onto her lap and wrapped her arms around the girl, “Why did you have to be so cryptic about it?”

Luna smirked playfully at Harry, “Because it was fun. It’s funny to watch Harry’s face crumple up like that whenever he’s presented with a puzzle.”

Hermione bobbed her head in agreement, “You’ve got a good point. Harry does look cute most of the time.”

Scoffing, Harry gave her a snooty look, “I’ll have you know, Miss Granger; I’m always cute even when I’m not.”

Luna tapped his chin with her sock-covered toe, “Now, you’re just being a monkey.”

Grinning, Harry pretended to reach for her again, “If I recall correctly, you’re the one who was acting like a monkey while I was tickling you!”

Luna squealed as she rolled off Hermione’s lap and disappeared up the girls’ stairs, peering over the ledge and sticking her tongue out at him blowing him a raspberry before disappearing again. Hermione sat back and let out a sigh of exasperation. “Why do you do that?”

Harry shrugged indifferently, “If it makes her happy and feel included, who am I to argue with the results?” He let out a deep breath of contention, “So what do we do now? Who should we inform about the basilisk, assuming her information is correct?”

“Director Bones?”

Harry allowed that was a distinct possibility. “It just doesn’t make sense though. There’ve been no sightings of a basilisk within the castle until now? Why though? What are we missing?”

Hermione laid her hand on his, “Not our problem. We should hand this off to the adults for them to do their job and investigate. The only thing we should be worried about is getting through another nightmare ‘lesson’ orchestrated by that idiot Lockhart.”

Tuesday 20 October; Great Hall

All heads swung about sharply as Ron ambled into the Hall seemingly unaware or uncaring of the titters of laughter (or outright braying from Draco) and murmurs emanating all around him. He sat down in between Harry and a couple of the others from Gryffindor. Harry leaned over to get a better look, “Um, Ron? Why are you wearing a tutu?”

Ron casually glanced down while chewing on a slice of toast, “Hmm? Oh, I accidentally set off one of the twins’ pranks on my way up here.”

Harry gestured with his fork, “So why are you so calm about this?”

A slow smile spread across the redhead’s face, “Because I know that they know that if they ever want to have access to the Slytherin common room again; they’ll provide me with the antidote or whatever remedy they have to counteract this transformation.”

Minerva and Severus approached, Minerva’s face was pinched, “Mr. Weasley, I’m sorry you have to put up with this. If you’ll allow me, I might be able to set your clothes back to normal.”

Ron stood up gracefully and spread his arms, “Fire away, professor.” Once the spell had been reversed and his tutu went back to looking like his normal school uniform, he retook his seat. “Thank you.”

Minerva dipped her chin, “You’re welcome, Mr. Weasley. Now, to deal with your brothers…” She stormed off to where the fourth years sat.

Meanwhile, Severus stood there with an inscrutable look on his face, “You continuously surprise me, Weasley. You’re not at all what I was expecting from a member of your family. Carry on.” He spun on his heel and strode back up to the teacher’s table.

Harry nudged Ron on the shoulder, “High praise, indeed.”

After classes, Harry pulled out his Chocolate Frog Card and keyed in the code that would link it with the one that his aunt held onto. “Clay to Flower.”

A minute passed. “Flower here.”

“I wanted to let you know of a potential situation brewing around here. Be advised the Pigsty might have a legless iguana roaming inside the walls.”

“A legless what??!”

“Sorry, I was trying to come up with a code word for a basilisk.”

“Fine, whatever. I’ll alert Skeleton. In the meantime, stay away from anything that even remotely looks like trouble.”

“In that case, I ought to just come home. Our DADA professor is an accident waiting to happen,” Harry snarked.

“Clay, you know what I meant.” Petunia’s voice sounded serious.

“Understood, Flower. Clay out.” Harry keyed in the code to the card he was holding which effectively turned it off. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would suffice for now.

Saturday 31 October

Halloween was once again upon Harry, and once again he had zero intention of attending the feast. Yet despite his intentions, Hermione managed to convince him to at least put in an appearance for as long as it took to fill up a plate of food. “If you don’t want to head all the way back up to the Tower, we could sit outside here in the hallway.” An eyebrow rose in silent question. She huffed and stamped her foot determinedly, “Of course, we! You think I’d let my best friend be miserable all by himself? Don’t you remember the adage? Misery loves company.” She winked and nudged his arm which had the desired effect of getting him to smile a bit.

So, sit outside in the Main Hallway they did while the rest of the school feasted in the Great Hall. The sounds of their raucous laughter and conversations filtered outside causing the pair to look up every now and then. “I wish I could just put what happened behind me and join in, but then I feel shame that I’m not properly honoring my parents.” Harry quietly commented as he picked at his shepherd’s pie.

“Is this floor taken?” The pair looked up to see Neville standing near them, holding a plate of food. Harry waved him down. “Thanks. You looked like you could use some more friends to remember those we lost on this date.”

Harry looked askance at him, “I didn’t know your parents died, Nev.” There was nothing in Aunt Petunia’s dossiers about that happening. He knew they were in Saint Mungo’s long-term treatment ward.

Neville shook his head, “They’re not, but at the same time; they’re not really living. About a week after your parents died on Halloween, mine were attacked by Bellatrix LeStrange, her husband, and brother-in-law. Mum and Dad were tortured with the Cruciatus curse until their minds snapped. They’ve been in Saint Mungo’s since then.” He gave a wan smile when Hermione gently rubbed his arm.

Harry was about to respond when they all heard a terrified scream fill the air. Neville frowned, “That’s not Peeves.”

Hermione agreed, “No, that sounded like a girl’s scream.” She clambered to her feet to peer down the hallway, “I think it came from this direction.” She took off, forcing the boys to scramble after her.

Infirmary, later that evening

Harry sat on the edge of a bed in the infirmary waiting for someone to instruct him on what to do next. Across from him on their own beds were Neville and Hermione. On the far side of the infirmary and behind a set of room dividers was the petrified form of Daphne Greengrass and her sleep-induced friend Tracey Davis. It had been Tracey who’d screamed and alerted the trio to the ‘problem.’

Flashback…

Harry skidded to a halt on the water-slick floor and nearly toppled into Hermione who was holding a frantically crying Tracey and trying to calm the girl down. “I don’t know what to do for her!”

“Hoppy!” Neville bellowed. One of the castle elves popped into view. “Get the matron and professors down here immediately. Two students have been attacked.” The elf nodded sharply and vanished from sight.

It took the professors a couple of minutes to reach them. Madam Pomfrey began her scans of Daphne and declared her to be petrified. “How, I don’t know. Let me check the other girl.” She hurried over to run a scan on Tracey who clung to Hermione.

Meanwhile Albus closely examined Daphne’s petrified form, “Not dead, but merely frozen.”

Minerva turned to Severus, “Do you have any Mandrake formula?”

He sadly shook his head, “I do not. I was not expecting to ever have need of it.”

Lockhart came swaggering up at that moment. “Sorry, dozed off in my office. What’s going on?”

“Unless your eyesight is as lacking as your teaching skills, you can see that one of my students has been petrified,” Severus growled darkly at him.

Albus gave him a patronizing look, “Severus, please. How soon can you have the Mandrake potion brewed?”

Lockhart butted in, “I can do that, sir. I must’ve brewed it a dozen times.”

Severus’ severe expression could’ve frozen the fires in Hell. “I believe I am the school’s Potion Master, Lockhart. Remind me again when you achieved your Mastery in Potions? Oh, that’s right. You didn’t. Just like all of your other ‘heroic deeds.’ Falsehoods, just like you.”

Albus stepped in before it could go further, “Severus, that’s enough. Gilderoy, if you’d be so kind to keep an eye on the students? Make sure that they don’t try to leave the Great Hall until given permission to do so.” Gilderoy gave them a jaunty wave and toothy grin before hurrying away.

“Headmaster, at this point I would rather have you hire a werewolf to teach Defense than that idiot,” Severus complained bitterly.

Albus muttered under his breath, “With the way the curse is going, there’s always that possibility.”

Present…

The doors to the infirmary swung open to admit Director Bones leading a pair of Aurors, a Healer, and Lords Davis and Greengrass into the room. Tracey was roused from her sleep by the noise and spotted her father, crying out to him, “Daddy!”

Lord Davis hurried over and embraced his daughter, whispering quietly in her ear. “It’s alright, honey. I’m here and so is the Healer with the Mandrake potion. Daphne will soon be back on her feet in no time.” The Healer and Lord Greengrass disappeared behind the divider.

Amelia walked over to Harry’s bed and sat down in an open chair, “How is it whenever something extraordinary happens, it involves you in some way Mr. Potter?”

Harry brushed his hair out of his face and gave her an award winning smirk, “It’s a gift. So, what brings you by?” Amelia merely raised her eyebrows at him prompting him to give her a report of what had transpired. He quickly filled her in with his observations, “One thing I should mention was the message written on the wall.”

“Message? I don’t recall seeing anything when I stopped by there on my way here.” Amelia frowned in thought.

“Why am I not surprised?” Harry groused.

Amelia shook her head, “Never mind that now. What was the message?”

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware! It looked like it was written in blood.” Harry replied. He also gave her a copy of his memory which prompted Hermione to ooh at the sight of the ‘shiny new magic’ being displayed.

“I’m surprised that anyone called you,” Hermione remarked after the memory extraction spell was performed on her as well.

Amelia’s eyes flicked over to where Harry sat, “I received a coded message from someone telling me in no uncertain terms to come up.”

Hermione’s expression indicated that she knew exactly what had happened. “Did a little froggy tell you?” She smirked at the surprise on Amelia’s face. “I helped develop it.”

Slightly flustered, Amelia cleared her throat. “Alright, seeing as how neither of you were injured nor the cause of this incident, I feel unobligated to keep you any longer. So with Madam Pomfrey’s permission, you’re free to go.” The sound of Daphne’s gasp of surprise and Lord Greengrass’ exclamation caught their attention. Tracey and her father disappeared around the divider a moment later.

When the two men emerged, they both headed over to Harry’s bed, “Mr. Potter, we both would like to thank you for your efforts to save our respective daughters.”

Harry held up his hand, “It wasn’t me who did anything special. I merely stood there looking important. The true hero is Hermione here. She’s the one who heard Tracey scream and ran to find her then provided comfort until help arrived. As for alerting the staff, that credit falls to Neville who called for an elf to send the message.”

Both men blinked in surprise then turned around to where Hermione sat on her bed. “Miss?

Hermione straightened up a bit, “Hermione Dagworth-Granger, sirs.”

Lord Greengrass blinked, “Dagworth-Granger? Of the Hector Dagworth-Granger family lineage?”

Hermione nodded, “Yes, sir. It was recently confirmed by the Goblins this past summer.”

Bobbing his head in understanding and appreciation, Lord Greengrass remarked that they would have to speak again when things weren’t so tense. “Your family was renowned for their potion-making abilities. Mine is known for potion ingredients. At any rate, I wish to thank you for your help in rescuing my daughter from whatever attacked her.”

Hermione smiled calmly, “You’re welcome, sir. Daphne’s been kind to me despite the fact that I’m a Gryffindor and she’s a Slytherin.”

Headmaster’s office, after all had settled down

Amelia stormed into Albus’ office and bellowed, “Why did you remove the message that had been written on the wall? You destroyed evidence of a crime, Albus! I should arrest you right here and now for that stunt you pulled.”

Albus gave her a serene look, “It was simply a misunderstanding by the elves, Amelia. The message was of no importance at any rate. It mentioned a myth of the school, nothing more.”

She slammed her hands down on his desk and glared over at him, “No importance? You just had two students attacked by whatever or whoever wrote that message and you’re saying it was of no importance?!”

He waved his hand dismissively, “The Healer was able to revive Miss Greengrass without any trouble or loss of time. She’ll be back on her feet and with her friends soon enough.”

Amelia stood up imperiously, “You’d best watch yourself, Albus. It would be a shame if everyone from an influential family found out that someone or something could’ve potentially injured or killed their heirs yet you felt that hiding the evidence and knowledge was the better option.” She turned and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Albus slumped in his chair and muttered to himself, “The Greengrasses are Dark, Amelia; no matter how much they denied it in the Wizengamot. They indirectly served Voldemort during the last war by not joining my side. If it costs them their daughter for their misbegotten beliefs then it’s for the Greater Good that they must suffer the consequences.”

November

Sunday 1 November; Slytherin common room

Ron leant back in his chair waiting for his newest opponent in his never-ending chess game to make his move and quietly observed Draco furiously writing in a journal of some kind. It seemed rather odd to see Draco ‘I’m richer than you’ Malfoy to be carrying around such a ratty-looking diary. ‘I ought to twig him for even writing in a diary. That’s usually something only girls do.’ He returned to the game when he heard his housemate, sixth year Tolbert Halcyon exclaim triumphantly that Ron’s winning streak was now at an end. Ron took a look at the board and sighed heavily before moving his bishop over two squares and declared a checkmate. He ignored the older teen’s grumbling as he rose to his feet and nonchalantly wandered over to where Draco was sitting.

“Good book there, Draco? I wouldn’t have figured you for the housewife activities, though you have been acting like a witch lately.”

Draco scowled at the redhead while protectively clutching the book, “Get lost, Weasel. What I’m doing is none of your business.”

Ron scratched his chin indifferently as a shark-like grin slowly spread across his face, “That’s not how I see it. What you’ve given me is prime pranking and teasing materials. You can be rest assured that I plan on making the most of this opportunity.” Lightning fast, he snatched the diary out of Draco’s hands and held it up out of the blond boy’s reach. “Let’s read a couple of passages, shall we? Dear diary…” He frowned when there wasn’t anything to be read before shrugging it off and dumped it onto the floor, “See you around Miss Malfoy.” He left snickering in laughter missing the sight of his once nemesis glaring darkly at him.

Monday 2 November; Headmaster’s office

Albus couldn’t have been more surprised than if Merlin himself came back to life and started dancing the hula on top of his desk when he received notice from the gargoyle at the base of the rotating stairs that led to his office. Harry Potter had come to speak with him!

The oak door of his office swung open to admit Harry, Hermione, along with a representative from the other three Houses. “Headmaster, we have two requests for you,” Harry announced.

Albus smiled magnanimously, “Of course, my dear boy. What can I assist you with?”

Harry hesitated for the slightest moment, “We would like to borrow the Sorting Hat to settle a bet between us. No one in this castle knows more about the history than he does.”

Albus was momentarily stunned. Of all the things to be asked, he turned to where the Hat sat on its shelf when not in use. “Hat? It’s up to you.”

The Sorting Hat shifted as if sitting upright, “Hmmm, it has been a fair while since anyone’s taken my council for things beyond a sorting. Very well, I accept your request.” Albus plucked it off the shelf and handed it over to Harry who fielded it over to Neville as the Hufflepuff representative.

“What was your second request, Harry my boy,” Albus’ attempts at ingratiating himself were setting Harry’s teeth on edge.

“We also want to borrow your phoenix,” Hermione stated plainly.

Albus’ eyes flicked towards the girl then over to where Fawkes was perched, and tilted his head most curiously. “Why…would you need Fawkes?”

Hermione had a twinkle in her eye, “We’d like to run an experiment and need a control subject. We already have the permission of Harry’s owl Hedwig and wanted to know if the experiment we have planned will work on an immortal creature like a phoenix.”

Albus observed the others, noting that they seemed relaxed and not like they were planning on harming Fawkes (not that they could, Fawkes could take care of himself if need be), “I suppose…it’s up to him of course. What is the nature of the experiment?”

Here, Hermione’s face split into a smirk, “We want to experiment to see what the limits a familiar has when it comes to primping and pampering. How much spoiling will it take before they completely pass out from pleasure?”

Fawkes gave his answer immediately as he trilled joyously and swooped over to land on Hermione’s shoulder, giving her a nudge on the cheek as if to say, “Let’s go already!”

Albus chuckled, “Well, there you go. Have fun everyone. Mr. Potter? Would you mind staying back a bit?”

Harry shook his head, “Can’t. I’m moderating the question and answer session between our group and the Sorting Hat. I’ll be happy to do so later once I coordinate with Professor McGonagall as is required by the school charter.”

Albus immediately backpedaled, “Oh, that won’t be necessary! I just wanted to know how you’ve been settling in. We never got to chat last year with everything that happened.”

The others were starting to filter out with Harry bringing up the rear, “Last year was an eye-opening experience, Headmaster and I’m sure that this year will be just as enlightening.” He gave the old man a jaunty wave and followed the others out.

Albus slumped down into his chair and let out a sigh of frustration. “Damn.”

The quartet plus their two guests traveled back to the Great Hall where a large gathering of students and the senior staff were huddled together at the Ravenclaw table or seated at the Teacher’s table. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the one! The Only! Sorting Hat of Hogwarts!” Neville pompously announced to the Hall while striding in like he was escorting a visiting king. A few of the students clapped and cheered while the rest merely laughed at the boy’s antics.

Even the Hat was chuckling, “I may need to keep you around, Mr. Longbottom. Thank you for that warm welcome. So what bee has been buzzing around in everyone’s bonnet?” Neville placed him on a pedestal at the head of the table.

Mandy Brocklehurst of Ravenclaw stood up, “We have a list of questions that have been on our minds for some time. Starting off, why do you sort us at eleven years old and not at a later time?”

The Hat chortled, “Ah, starting off light are we? Well, to be honest; the sorting didn’t always happen in a student’s first year. There was a time when you as first through fourth years would be housed in group setting within the tower known as the Founders’ Tower located on the third floor on the right hand side of the Grand Staircase and would sit for your sorting after you’d successfully pass what would become your OWL tests. It was felt at the time that you’d developed enough of a personality which would shape your final years at the school given the amount you’d grown and learnt.”

“Why was it changed then?” Someone asked.

The Hat shrugged its brim, “Why else? Politics. Those in charge didn’t want to put off the knowledge of where their children would spend their education if they ended up in a different House than where their parents wished. I’m sure that some of you have parents who would’ve screamed bloody murder if you’d been sorted into the ‘House of the Enemy’?” All eyes swung over to where Ron Weasley sat. “Exactly my point. So, the Wizard’s Council of the time got together with Headmistress Edessa Skanderberg in the sixteenth century to add the amendment to the school’s charter altering the date in which the sorting took place.”

The sounds of pens, pencils, and quills were heard scratching down their notes as the Hat finished speaking. The List was passed off to the next person, “What is the Chamber of Secrets?”

The Hat seemed to fold inward on itself, “The Chamber… The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

“Mudbloods,” Draco drawled imperiously. He yelped a second later after Vince cuffed him on the back of his head and growled something.

The Hat dipped his head in Vincent’s direction, “Thank you, young man. No, Slytherin wasn’t anti-muggleborn. His House was chock full of them in those days. Think about it! It was a time of strife, hardships, and only those from wealthy families had any chance or hope at all of becoming educated enough to lift themselves out of their present situation. The muggleborns had to struggle for every scrap of knowledge, money, and power. It only made sense for them to end up with Salazar! No, Salazar had issues with the muggles from which those children came from. Witches and wizards were feared because they were misunderstood, and given the influence of the Church in those days, anything that went against their Scripture was to be feared and if possible, destroyed.”

“So the Chamber was what? A hiding place for the mud- muggleborns?” Draco scoffed as he flinched when Vince threateningly raised his hand again.

“Well, I suppose it could hold a couple dozen if need be.” The Hat theorized. “No, it was Salazar’s private office to do his research into fields of magic best kept away from the others as well as the nest of one of the school’s guardians should the muggles ever attacked. That is who Salazar viewed as unworthy, not his students regardless of their blood status.”

“So what’s this about a rumored horror then?”

“Sandrine? She’s actually rather nice when she’s not being woken up too abruptly,” The Hat answered.

Everyone broke out into clusters of chatter, “Sandrine? What kind of horror is Sandrine?”

The Hat’s answer silenced them all. “She’s a basilisk. The Queen of All Snakes.”

After the question session with the Sorting Hat; Harry, Hermione, and several others congregated to take part in the experiment to test the limits in which a familiar such as a phoenix could withstand spoiling before they either passed out from pleasure or reacted in some spectacular way. Fawkes was given a soak in scented bath water while getting his whole body, neck, and wings massaged with warming oils. From there, he was fed his favorite treats; in this case dried Habanero chili peppers.

Second year Slytherin Millicent Bulstrode was rubbing his toes, getting him to wiggle them in deep pleasure when all of a sudden smoke and flames started erupting from his feathered body. She let out a yelp of surprise alerting them that something was happening. They all pulled back just in time for Fawkes to burst into a whirling firestorm with the ashes falling into a pile on the floor. The kids stared in horror at each other before a faint chirping sound was heard coming from the ashes. Harry knelt down and to his amazement, discovered a featherless chick peering back up at him, “Fawkes?!”

The chick cheeped at him again and nodded its tiny head. He picked it up and held up the baby for everyone to see. “I guess now we know just how far we can take his spoiling…”

Saturday 7 November

All week, the only thing anyone was able to talk about was the revelation about Sandrine the Basilisk hidden away somewhere in the castle. Letters supposedly went out to their parents but for some reason, none of them replied. This led to the rampant speculation that the Heir had blocked all their mail. A black market of sorts sprung up as students looked to buy protective amulets, talismans, or ‘super secret’ family spells ‘guaranteed’ to ward off dangerous creatures. Harry was surprised that Hermione wasn’t in the thick of all of it and made a comment about such that evening.

“I’m not interested in selling phony cures when there’s real money to be made with those antiques up in the Room, Harry.” She gave him an exasperated roll of her eyes. “Besides, the Hat said it himself. The only time that Sandrine is a threat to the students is if they’re dumb enough to align themselves with the marauding muggles or if whoever has control of her issues their death warrants.”

Luna appeared between them by flopping over the back of the couch, “Hello, everyone.”

Harry reached up and pulled her over the back of the couch into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, “I’ve got you now! Mine!” She let out a squeal of giggles as he tickled her. He relented after a mere moment and just held her close. “You’re more than enough of a protective amulet, Luna. Who would dare to attack me if they have to get past this utterly adorable face?”

Hermione snickered at Luna’s haughty expression, “All hail Princess Luna of Lovegood! She shall protect her minions from harm.”

Luna returned the pronouncement with a regal wave of her hand, “I shall protect all from my enemies! Ready my Snorkacks! We ride at dawn!” She broke down into a gale of giggles to the amusem*nt of the two second years.

Harry wiped the tears from his eyes, “Luna, one of these days you need to provide pictures or sketches of these creatures you keep mentioning.”

Luna squirmed out of his embrace and hurriedly headed for the stairs, “I’ll be right back!” Harry turned to give Hermione a befuddled look. She in turn shook her head in sympathy.

When she returned, Luna handed off a rather thick book to Harry. “Those are all the creatures that my family has searched for over the years plus whatever information we’ve been able to find.” She opened up the book and turned to the page that displayed the information of the Crumple-horned Snorkack. “That’s what I want to find the most.”

Hermione stuffed a fist in her mouth to quell the laughter that threatened to erupt. “Luna,” she valiantly suppressed her mirth, “That’s an Ibex. It’s a type of mountain goat.”

Luna frowned cutely, “Are you sure?”

Hermione nodded and called out, “Beanie!” Beanie popped in with an expectant expression on his face. “Beanie, would you be so kind to find some recent images or an information packet of what the muggle Ibex mountain goats look like, please?”

Beanie bowed his head, “Right away, Mistress.” He disappeared with barely a sound. He returned fifteen minutes later armed with several small booklets and pictures. Hermione accepted the bundle from him and thanked him. He disappeared once again with only a slight pop.

Hermione handed over the bundle to Luna. “Here you go. This looks like Beanie took a copy from the London Zoo.”

Luna’s already luminous eyes grew even larger as she absorbed the information within the glossy pages and pictures. “Whoa… thank you, Hermione.” She wandered off to an empty chair and curled up to read.

Harry turned to Hermione, “Can I call them or what? She’s definitely a Gryffindor but with Ravenclaw tendencies.”

Hermione huffed amusedly, “Would that make her a Ravenclaw in Red then?” Harry bobbed his head appreciatively.

The next morning, Harry was demonstrating to a group of students a defensive technique he’d learned from his repertoire of knowledge gained independently of their ‘normal’ professors when they were interrupted from the one person that everyone was rapidly starting to hate.

“Ah, Harry! Teaching the others your skills, so grand and noble of you!” Lockhart smarmed as he sauntered into the opening where Harry stood. “I too, have had the pleasure of teaching informally to those who most desperately needed it. Why, in fact, it was what led me to consider teaching here at Hogwarts!”

Harry groaned, “Professor, don’t you have something better to do than to hang around me all day? I really don’t need you horning in on my game you know.”

Lockhart must’ve had a really thick skin to let that insult pass by as he dismissively waved his hand, “Nonsense, Harry! Who better than me to teach these eager young minds on how to defend themselves?”

Harry’s eyebrows set in a line as he backed away from the arrogant fool. “Fine, then let’s have a duel to demonstrate our skill. Just you and me, right here and now.” The others swarmed back forming a corridor between the two people. A barrier erupted between the crowds and the combatants as Professor Flitwick made himself known.

“Fighters to their marks. Cast to disarm only! On the count of three. One…two…three!”

Harry was the first to cast, “Locomotor Wibbly!” His spell just narrowly missed Lockhart who managed to dance out of the way at the last moment.

“Very nice, Mr. Potter. Try this on for size. Everte Statum!”

Harry didn’t even move since Lockhart’s spell flew wide and impacted on the protective wall Flitwick had put up. Returning fire, he cast “Ventus!” A strong wind picked up, forcing Lockhart to cast wildly.

“Brackium Emendo!” That spell caught Harry on his left arm rendering it boneless as it flopped around uselessly.

Harry grunted and cast his rebuttal, “Digitus Sordida!” Lockhart started dancing around groping at his bum and dropping his wand in the process. Flitwick called a halt to the demonstration as he dropped the barrier and allowed Madam Pomfrey to attend to the injured.

Infirmary, later…

Professor Flitwick sat next to Harry’s bed and marveled at the boy’s ingenuity when it came to spells. “Digitus Sordida, Mr. Potter?”

Harry dropped his face in embarrassment, “Yes, sir. The ‘Dirty Finger’ spell. I found it in one of my mum’s journals that she developed to use on my dad and his friends if they ever pushed her too far with their pranks.”

“So what are the effects besides causing the target to start dancing around?”

Harry’s smirk was so reminiscent of his aunt (and mum according to the diminutive teacher it gave him the shivers), “It has the effect of feeling like someone is jamming a large stick up the victim’s bum.” Flitwick winced to his amusem*nt. “Effective, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Very, Mr. Potter. Ouch…”

They both turned to witness the Headmaster escorting a floating stretcher into the hospital bay with Minerva in tow. The body of first year Gryffindor Colin Creevey lay unmoving on it. “I fear that there’s been another attack. It seems that Mr. Creevey is the Heir’s next victim.”

Filius hurried over, “Is he dead?”

Albus shook his head, “No, merely petrified like Miss Greengrass. It appears as if he was trying to take a picture of something when the Heir came upon him.”

Minerva tried to open up the camera only for the insides to explode in a puff of magical smoke. “What do we do now, Albus?”

Albus slowly shook his head, “I am unsure.”

Friday 13 November; outside Potions class

Harry and Hermione were chatting with the Slytherins about the petrifaction of Colin Creevey, the rumored basilisk, and Albus’ senility for not evacuating the school. Hermione made the off-hand comment that, “In another universe, we (gesturing between Ron, herself, and Harry) probably would’ve all ended up in the same House and hit upon the brilliant idea to brew up some sort of disguising potion so we could infiltrate Slytherin to sniff out clues as to who the Heir might be.”

Ron laughed, “You mean like Polyjuice? Yeah, mum’s mentioned a few times about how she brewed it while in school to spy on a few people she didn’t approve of.”

Blaise deadpanned, “Would your mother really do that?” They all cracked up at his delivery.

Ron wiped the tears from his eyes, “Yeah, she would too. The problem with Polyjuice according to her is that one wrong move and you’d end up in the appearance of something you didn’t expect. Imagine if the hair you added wasn’t from your intended target but was instead their cat!”

Harry grinned and tickled Hermione’s chin. “That would make you Hermi-kitty. Aww, you would be so cute. I can see you sitting curled up in front of the fire purring away while I brush your fur.” She slugged him none-too-gently on the arm and huffed. “Ow! I’m kidding!”

Ron twirled his bright orange handled lint roller teasingly, “At least then you’d have a reason to be using this, right?”

“Potter,” Pansy approached the group, “You’re a Parselmouth. Why don’t you call out to the basilisk to find out where it is and why it attacked Daphne?”

Harry sucked on the inside of his cheek as he pondered that, “Good question. The short answer is, I don’t know. The one time I was able to speak to it before, it hadn’t attacked anyone yet.”

Their mouths dropped open, “You spoke to it? What did it have to say?”

Harry blew out a breath, “Well, it was hunting for prey after being asleep for so long. I had suggested that it investigate the nest of Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest so for it to start attacking humans is beyond me right now.”

Ron squeaked, “I hate spiders and you’re telling me that there’s an infestation of man-eating magical tarantulas out there?! Who in their right mind would allow that to happen?”

Harry shot him a sardonic look and drawled, “Hmm, I’ll give you three guesses.” He pantomimed stroking a long beard.

Ron shook his head in exasperation, “The one time I’ll ever agree with Draco, but when my father hears about this. He’s going to explode.”

The door to the class swung open ominously as Severus glared at the group, “Inside.”

After class, Hermione cornered Harry. “We need to talk.”

He held up his hands in submission, “If this is about earlier, I’m sorry for suggesting you’d be cute as a human cat.”

She waved that off, “No, I’m past that. How ready is your card? Do you think it’s time to put it to a real test?”

“What did you have in mind?”

She paced back and forth for a moment, “I was thinking that I could sneak back into the Headmaster’s office and leave it where no one would find it yet hear everything.”

Harry co*cked his head slightly, “I suppose you could do that, but why? What makes you think Dumbledore even has a clue as to what’s going on?”

She gave him a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that it gave Harry the shivers. “Everything that happens in this school all reports back to him, Harry. It wouldn’t surprise me if the portraits or whatever else he’s got is telling him that you and I are having this conversation right now.”

Harry’s hand drifted to his backpack. “If you think this is a good idea, I’m all for it. Might as well test it in a semi-hostile environment before moving onto the next step.”

That evening, in Harry’s dorm

“Clay to Kitten, can you hear me?”

“Kitten? Seriously?” Hermione’s whispered voice sounded rather annoyed.

“Well, if you can come up with a better code name then we’ll use that. In the meantime, you ready?”

“Yes, and put down on your list of improvements that you need to figure out volume controls. Your voice is coming in rather loud. I had to muffle it with my robes.”

“Understood. What’s your situation?”

“The ward scheme was changed recently. He’s installed another layer in an effort to thwart who he thinks managed to get in. Huh, I wouldn’t have thought of using that. Never mind, I’m in.” Hermione whispered as she skulked around the office looking for the best place to leave the card. She spied his desk and ducked underneath. Grinning to herself, she slipped the card in between one of the crossbars and the underside of the table. She extricated herself and spoke as loud as she dared, “How do you hear me?”

“You’re a bit muffled. What did you do?”

“I’m speaking as clearly as I can given my situation, Clay.”

“In that case, you’re coming in quite strong. Head on out as soon as you can.”

Reversing her path, Hermione paused at a side table that held an assortment of shiny gold amulets. She gave them the once-over and even scanned them with her wand before deciding to just leave them where they were for the time being. Just as she ducked into the hidden crawlspace, her hearing picked up the sound of Dumbledore’s apartment door swinging open and him stepping out to suspiciously peer around the room.

Hermione entered the boys’ dorm room twenty minutes later slightly out of breath. She flopped onto his bed as he drew the curtains closed. “I would’ve been here sooner but I had to evade Peeves.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s not done or said anything important. Oh wait… here we go.”

“Someone’s been in this office again besides myself or the elves. Tell me who it was.”

Harry scribbled on a spare sheet of paper, ‘Must be speaking to the headmaster portraits.’ Hermione silently nodded her agreement.

“You noticed no one at all? You’re capable of seeing through disillusionment charms!”

Harry smirked and wrote down, ‘But not invisibility cloaks apparently.’

“Fine, maybe it was just my imagination. I could’ve sworn I heard a girl’s voice in this office, and a young girl at that. Nothing seems to have been taken this time, perhaps they were scared off by my security enchantments.”

Hermione pointed to her eyes and around the room then waggled her finger negatively. ‘No security detected.’

Albus was heard settling down in his throne and some papers being shuffled about. “Whoever has been controlling the basilisk this time seems to have a preference towards people who’ve angered them recently. First was the Greengrass girl, then that annoyingly hyperactive Gryffindor first year boy. (Indistinct voices were heard) Yes, it would suggest that the culprit is a second year as well. Anyone above third year would just ignore those children. (More indistinct voices were heard) No, I will not call in the Aurors. I don’t need them sniffing around and potentially discovering some of my other projects. I’ve made myself clear on that matter. No one gets into my castle without my permission; the Aurors and Unspeakables will never step foot in here as long as I’m Headmaster. It’s bad enough for that bitch Amelia to waltz around the castle as if she’s anything important. If I knew what she’d end up being like, I would’ve passed a law forbidding women to be in certain positions of power.”

Harry and Hermione could hear him groaning as he rose to his feet, mention he was going back to bed, and shuffle back off to his apartment. Harry clicked on a sequence of symbols, “Clay to Skeleton, did you get all that?”

“Skeleton here, and yes, I did. Condescending old coot; I’ll show him who doesn’t belong in a position of power. Skeleton out.”

December

The last three weeks of November faded out without any more petrifying incidents. Lockhart strutted around proclaiming that the Heir must’ve heard he was in the castle and didn’t want to risk losing in a one-on-one duel.

Ever since the ‘Deboning Incident’ as it was being referred to as, Lockhart took every initiative he could think of in hopes of ingratiating himself back into Harry’s good graces. From holding a press conference with his favorite reporters in the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and even the Quibbler; to insisting Harry help him reenact some of the more ‘memorable’ moments from his books.

Harry idly commented as they were heading towards Potions after DADA, “I wish the Heir would stand up to that peaco*ck. If he gets petrified, I would probably get the Heir a fruit basket.”

Monday 7 December

Professor McGonagall once again put out a sign-up sheet for all those planning on returning home for the winter break. Harry made sure to fill in his name; she cornered him not long afterwards. “Mr. Potter, a moment of your time?

Harry gave her a self-assured smile, “For you, professor; you can have all the minutes you want.” Minerva’s thin-lipped unamused stare finally got through to him. “Sorry. I was reading my parents’ journals again.”

“Indeed,” she drawled. “Speaking of family, I see that you’ve elected to return to your aunt’s home again.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that if Aunt Petunia had had her way back in September; I never would’ve come to school.”

Minerva’s mouth ticked up at the corners, “I see. She’s becoming more amenable to your presence?”

He gave her a look of incredulity, “Are you still of the mindset that my aunt and uncle mistreat me in some way? Professor, when was the last time you actually met and spoke with them?”

Flustered, she revealed that she hadn’t been there since the day after that fateful Halloween. “I was observing their house in my Animagus form while I was waiting for you to be brought there. Albus said it wasn’t a good idea if I revealed my presence.”

Harry hung his head and groaned loudly. He speared her with a disappointed sneer, “Please, for all that is holy; take the time to properly introduce yourself to my relatives. I’m sure that you and they would get along just fine. My aunt has the same sort of personality that my mum supposedly had, and my uncle would love to talk shop with you about transfiguration in how it relates to muggle engineering.”

That perked up Minerva’s interest, “Muggle engineering, you say? I have been rather curious about the subject for a while now. Perhaps it would be a good idea to set up a date to visit…” She trailed off, started and dismissed Harry before heading back to her office.

On Wednesday, Harry received an invitation from Ron to come visit him. “Visit where though?”

“In our common room, of course. Where else did you think I was talking about?” Ron teased him. “Think about the honor you could achieve by being the first Gryffindor in who knows how long to visit the Snake Pit!”

Harry shook his head bemusedly, “Your twin brothers are in there all the time, Ron.”

Ron’s face pinked, “Okay, then how about the first time in who knows how long since a Gryffindor has been welcomed and/or allowed to come in?”

Putting on airs, Harry pompously accepted Ron’s invitation, “I suppose it would do you savages a world of good to bask in the presence of yours truly. Heck, we might even get Snape to smile for once!” The pair stared at each other before breaking down into raucous laughter.

Slytherin Common room, ten minutes later…

‘The décor was nice, if the colors of green and silver were your thing,’ Harry would later comment. Even the lighting had a bit of a greenish tint to it, though that might’ve been the unintended side effect of having a floor to ceiling window that looked into the Black Lake. Harry could’ve sworn he spotted a mermaid swimming around in the murky water as he peered through the window. “Pretty awesome, right?” Ron remarked as he watched Harry’s reaction.

“Wicked. Has anyone ever thought of working at an aquarium after Hogwarts?”

Ron scrunched his face up in thought, “I don’t know. Doubtful, unless there’s a pureblood running the place. Most everyone here wouldn’t dream of venturing out into the muggle world unless they lost a bet or were under wand point. Oh! I wanted to show you this but I keep forgetting. You remember that new chess board you mentioned last summer?” At Harry’s nod, the redhead led him over to one of the coffee tables where a cubical chessboard hovered in mid-air; a game was currently in play though seemingly on hold for the moment.

Harry leant in to get a better look, “That’s incredible, Ron. Who figured out how to get it to hover?”

“That would be me, Potter.” Harry turned to see an aristocratic seventh towering over him. “I applied a simple enchantment that would hold it a foot over the base and prevent it from wobbling too much. The players can still move the cube around in three axes to see their game pieces. To tell the truth, I was surprised when I learnt from Weasley here, that it was your idea to seek out the cube from the muggles of all people. Who knew that they even heard of the game?”

Harry gave him a half-hearted snort, “Seeing as how they invented the game, it’s not that surprising.”

The seventh year’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “No kidding? Huh, I guess you would know.” He turned to Ron, “Weasley, you and I shall continue our game later.” He turned and walked away.

Ron was beaming, “Alastor Woodbridge is the only chess player in the school who’s ever beaten me in a game. It’s an honor to be able to go head to head with him.”

“Have you ever played against Professor McGongall?” Ron nodded and replied that he’d beaten her three times so far.

“She’s good, but not as good as Woodbridge. Come on, I want to show you my room.”

Inside, Ron’s private room; Harry noticed a distinct lack of blazing orange anywhere. “Snape give you an ultimatum about having any color other than green and silver in here?”

Ron snickered, “Yeah, he did. How’d you know?”

“Wild guess.” His gaze landed on a stack of Chocolate Frog cards, “How many of those do you have?”

Ron shrugged as he picked up the stack, “A couple hundred, I suppose. I got a bunch of duplicates if you want to trade for some.”

Harry reached into his bag and withdrew his own Frog cards, “What’ve you got?”

“What do you need?”

Harry sorted through his cards, “I can always use more Dumbledore cards. Mine keep disappearing.”

Ron laughed, “I wonder why that is. Yeah, I’ll trade you five Dumbledores for something.”

Harry held up one of his special cards, the one with his picture. “How about a Harry Potter card?”

Ron whistled, “For that, I’d give up my entire collection! You know how rare those are?”

Harry glanced down at it, “Really? I’ve got a whole box of them back home.”

“Well, sure you do. I bet the printer sent them out to you specially.” Ron flipped through his duplicates, “I can trade you that for five Dumbledores, one Adalbert Waffling, or two Archibald Aldertons.”

Harry thought for a moment, “How about the five Dumbledores and that Hector Dagworth-Granger card?”

Ron countered, “Autograph the Harry Potter card and you got yourself a deal.”

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes, “Deal.” He pulled out a pen and signed the card before handing it over.

“You going to give that card to Hermione?”

Harry bobbed his head as he restacked his cards, “Yeah, I thought it’d be a nice Christmas present.”

Harry’s dorm room, later that night…

“You know, it’s a shame that you can’t get any visuals with this card, Harry.” Hermione observed as she settled in next to him as they waited for something to happen. So far, all they heard was Ron singing an old folk song in the key of ‘off.’ His singing quickly stopped when the door was heard opening.

“Weasley, you’re wanted outside.”

“By who?” Ron wanted to know.

“Everyone. I think they’re a bit miffed that you invited Potter of all people within our private sanctum.”

“Snape said we could invite our friends. Harry’s my friend.” Ron defended his action.

“Listen, I’m not going to argue with you and frankly, I don’t care one way or another. Just get your bum out there.”

Ron grumbled as he gathered up his cards and followed the other voice. “What do you all want?”

Draco’s nasally tones were heard, “You dared to bring Potter here, Weasley? Potter, the reason why so many of our fathers are unable to do Salazar Slytherin’s noble work.”

“Yeah, right. Noble, next you’ll tell me that You-Know-Who was the first person to fly to the moon on a broom.” Harry flashed Hermione a thumbs-up. She in turn scribbled down, ‘We should do something nice for him as an honorary Gryffindor. He’s got guts to take them on.’

“You’d best watch your tone, Weasley. When the Dark Lord returns as he promised he would, you might find yourself at the wrong end of his wand for your failure to believe and your slanderous mouth.”

Ron scoffed, “Oh, and I suppose a big time wannabe wizard like yourself will be able to sway his wand? You, Draco? The boy who still writes in diaries like a little girl? Dear Diary, today a big meanie called me a hurtful name! Oh, boo-hoo!”

“That diary is none of your business, Weasel!” Draco screamed in fury. He must’ve pulled his wand as several other voices were heard calling for the prefects to put an end to the showdown.

Surprisingly, Ron was quicker off the draw, “Obscurus!”

Draco was heard screaming for someone to get the blindfold off him. “Serpensortia!”

Harry caught himself before he groaned out loud. On the other end, a Black Mamba reared up and began cursing everyone it saw for daring to summon it from its comfortable home.

Hermione gripped his arm and whispered in his ear, “Aren’t you going to do anything?”

He shook his head and replied in her ear, “I can’t. Not without revealing that I heard the whole thing.”

Fortunately for both, someone else had the correct idea to banish the snake back to wherever it came from, effectively ending the conflict. Draco’s blindfold had been removed and both boys ordered to return to their dorms and not come out until morning. Once they were sure that there wasn’t anything else that they could hear, Harry clicked the card off. “Wow.”

Later, in Draco’s dorm room…

“I don’t care what it takes, Tom. I will get my revenge against the Weasel.” Draco whined to his diary. Within the pages, Tom winced and muttered to himself that next time he would try to find someone utterly calm and boring to subvert. The Malfoy brat had been a spur-of-the-moment opportunity he’d thought would’ve been a deliciously ironic move but it turned out that all Draco did was whine and complain about his so-called ‘rough life’ being forced to take his classes amongst the mudbloods and not being waited on hand and foot by those he deemed barely tolerable.

“Funny you should mention wanting to get revenge, Draco. I know of a couple of spells designed to achieve such endeavors.”

Draco perked up as he cackled eagerly (Tom though he sounded more like a deranged cat), “Tell me more!”

“Well, Draco; have you ever heard of the Cruciatus curse?”

Chapter 6: The Chamber of Secrets, Part 2 (January - June)

Chapter Text

January

Sunday 3 January, 1993; Hogwarts Express heading north

Neville stopped by the compartment Harry had commandeered and poked his head in, “You mind if I join you? Everywhere else is full of hyperactive kids.”

Harry gave him a curious look, “And we’re not kids?”

Neville shook his head, “No, we’re not hyperactive.” Harry waved him to a seat and resumed his perusal of a library book. “I didn’t know we were allowed to take library books home.”

“It’s not a Hogwarts library book. This one comes from the Surrey County library.”

Interest piqued, Neville swapped seats to sit next to his friend. He glanced at the title, “Basic Television; Principles and Servicing. What’s a television?”

Harry pondered that for a moment, “Um, the best way to describe that a television set isa machine with a screen or set of lenses. Televisions receive broadcasting signals and change them into pictures and sound.” Judging from the lost expression on Neville’s face, his friend just couldn’t quite grasp the subject. “I think you’d have to experience one to really get the idea and unfortunately, I don’t have one with me and as far as I know, electronic devices don’t work up at Hogwarts without some sort of shielding.” He sat there for a moment before finishing, “You know how portraits are able to move to a different frame? Television is sort of like that. Sending a picture and sound from one location to another.”

Neville slowly bobbed his head, “Okay, next question; why are you so interested in it?”

Harry marked his page and put the book down. “I had the idea while listening to a broadcast of a Quidditch match last term. What if there was a way to adapt muggle television to record and broadcast a match for people around the country to watch it live?”

Neville’s eyes widened as Harry nodded, “Right? So, I need to understand the principles of how it works before I can experiment.”

“Sweet, so how far along are you?”

Harry laughed, “I just started, Nev. I don’t expect to be able to do anything substantial until I graduate from school.” ‘My Frog Spy Cards notwithstanding…’

Hogwarts, several hours later…

The first thing Susan noticed was the increased amount of security on the platform. Normally, it was just a teacher or two; now though, there were at least six Aurors in full battle armor patrolling. She approached the nearest Senior Auror. “Excuse me, but what’s going on?”

Senior Auror Matthew Davis looked down and smiled at her, “Hey, Susie. There’s a situation up at the castle so we’ve been tasked to meet the students here and make sure everyone gets up there safely.”

Susan frowned, “What sort of situation?”

Senior Auror Davis glanced around and leant in to whisper, “Two students were petrified by unknown means. Your aunt found out only because one of them was a pureblood whose father reported his son missing.”

Susan gasped and covered her mouth, “Which students?”

Davis glanced at his notebook, “A Colin Creevey from Gryffindor and Ronald Weasley from Slytherin. (He gave her a curious look) A Weasley in Slytherin?”

Bobbing her head, Susan agreed that Ron’s sorting was an unusual one. “Despite that, he’s actually pretty laid back for a Snake. It’s his mother you’ve got to watch out for; she kept sending him Howlers for a couple of months last year until they finally stopped for some reason. I think everyone already knows about Colin. He was petrified sometime back in November of last year. So what’s being done?”

S.A. Davis shrugged, “No idea, but I’d suspect that they’ll be given a Mandrake potion and questioned.” He shooed her off to the carriages before making a call to the Director. “Ma’am, we’ve got a bigger situation than before. According to your niece, that Creevey kid’s been petrified since November. (He winced at her yelling) Yes, Ma’am. Davis out.”

Susan found the others and immediately told them what the Auror had informed her. Hermione shook her head thoughtfully, “The Heir’s got to be one of the students because the teachers would’ve had plenty of time throughout the year and before to wreak havoc.”

“So now the question is; who is the Heir and where are they?”

Great Hall, a short while later

Harry glanced up and down the table, noting the distinct lack of Weasley red hair anywhere. He nudged Hermione, “No Weasleys.”

“Yeah, I noticed that right away. I wonder where they are.”

He shrugged, “Hopefully they’re alright.”

All attention was diverted up to the podium as Director Bones stepped up. “Alright, listen up! Sometime over the holidays, another student was petrified by some sort of creature. (The whole Hall gasped in shock) That student, Ronald Weasley of Slytherin; was found just after Christmas on the Second Floor. In addition to Mr. Weasley the youngest, I have since been informed that Mr. Colin Creevey of Gryffindor was also petrified. Both petrified students have since been revived and are recovering under Madam Pomfrey’s care. Neither student have been able to identify their attacker, only that the attack was preceded by a slithering noise like something heavy was being dragged across the floor. I’m asking everyone to remain vigilant and to follow the orders given to you by your teachers. I shall be assigning a team of Aurors to patrol the hallways after curfews. Prefects are to perform a headcount each night; anyone missing is to be noted immediately and reported to the nearest Auror. Anyone caught out of bounds after curfew will be spending some quality time in the Ministry’s holding cells, regardless of your blood status or who your parents are.”

Eyes wide in surprise at hearing Ron was the victim, Hermione whispered to Harry, “Doesn’t she know that we already know about Sandrine?”

He shook his head, “No idea. I don’t think so otherwise she would’ve mentioned it.”

The two noticed when Vincent rose to his feet and raised his hand. When Amelia pointed to him, he replied, “Director Bones, I feel I should mention that we already know about Sandrine; there’s no need to be mysterious about her.”

Amelia co*cked her head, “Sandrine?”

Vince helpfully supplied what the Hat had revealed during last term’s Question and Answer session. Amelia angrily whirled on the teachers and could be seen mouthing something even though no one could hear a sound. One of the older students near Harry muttered that she must’ve used a silencing charm. Whatever it was that she said, all of the teachers seemed rather abashed at the rebukes. Dumbledore appeared to be the only one unmoved by Amelia’s remonstrations. Straightening up and visibly reigning in her anger, she addressed Vince. “Thank you, Mr. Crabbe for your information. I was not fully informed of the situation. Steps will be taken to correct this issue forthwith. In the meantime, I shall allow the elves to serve you dinner.” The tables suddenly groaned under the appearance of the food. Amelia meanwhile, pointed at Dumbledore then in the direction of the door imperiously. Albus gave out a much put-upon sigh as if he was being burdened unfairly and was merely humoring the Director as he rose to his feet and led the way out.

Albus’ office, a few minutes later…

Serenely breezing into his office, Albus took a seat while Amelia stormed in behind him and slammed the door shut, “Why is it whenever something happens at this school, I’m always the last to know?! The moment that the Creevey child was petrified I should’ve been notified!”

He remained silent. Amelia sent him a leading look, “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Albus pursed his lips indifferently, “I didn’t feel it was necessary. Professor Sprout informed me that she has a batch of Mandrakes that would’ve been ready for harvesting in June and we would’ve been able to ascertain the situation then.”

Amelia stared at him like he’d just landed from another world. “Did I just hear you correctly? Did you, Albus Dumbledore, just state that a child under your care was not worth investing the tiniest shred of money and effort to obtain a vial of Mandrake potion from Saint Mungo’s?”

Albus laced his fingers over his chest nonchalantly, “I did. There was no need to rush. The child was in no physical danger, and besides, what could the parents have done? They’re muggles, Amelia.”

Her jaw swung open at the sheer ludicrousness of his explanation. Slowly shaking her head in disbelief, Amelia replied carefully, “You are supposed to be the Leader of the Light; the proponent for the muggleborn, half-bloods, and everyone who doesn’t bow down to the altar of the Dark.”

“I know that, Amelia. The boy was fine and in no danger.”

She glared at him, “That’s callous, especially coming from you. I’d expect this sort of behavior from Lucius Malfoy not you, Albus.” She pulled out her badge and tapped a sequence into it. The fireplace roared to life as the flames turned green and discharged a pair of burly-looking Aurors. “Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, I am placing you under arrest to be taken to Saint Mungo’s for a full psychological workup. I fear that whatever mental disease you are suffering from is affecting your fitness to lead Hogwarts.”

Albus nodded, seemingly accepting his fate, “I thought you might try something like this. I fear that you are operating under the mistaken belief that I would…what’s the phrase, come quietly.” With that, he snapped off an area-effect spell which caused the whole room to white-out.

Amelia shook herself awake, “Wha…what happened?” She looked up to see Albus standing over her, a calm expression on his face. “Albus?” She was dimly aware that the two Aurors she’d called in weren’t there any longer.

“I’m afraid I don’t rightly know, Amelia. You and I came up here to discuss the recent applicants for the newest Auror trainee session when you fell asleep.”

Amelia cradled her head and let out a low moan, “I feel like I went ten rounds with a hippogriff.” Albus chuckled understandingly as he assisted her over to the floo. “I’ll let you know what my decision is later.”

Albus smiled mysteriously, “I’m sure you will.” After she’d departed, his face twisted darkly, “As in I’m sure you will never remember what transpired. For the Greater Good, you cannot.”

The next morning, Harry entered the common room to see the Weasley Twins huddled over a mysterious piece of parchment, whispering to each other. Percy stood in front of a mirror fixing yet another invisible crease in his uniform. “Welcome back, Percy; is everything alright?”

The officious redhead dipped his chin, “Yes, and thank you for asking. Our mother has determined that Ron will be staying home for her to fuss over for a little while longer. I suspect he’ll be returning by Friday at the latest, so you’ll just have to be patient to ask him any questions. I needn’t tell you that we’re all a bit worried. Ron still doesn’t have a clue about who attacked him, but we’re all relieved that he’s recovered.”

Harry gestured over to the twins, “I’m hesitant about going over there without an escort, but what are they working on?”

Percy shrugged, “I’m never quite sure; but it’s no doubt something to do with their incessant need to prank people.”

Charms class

Harry walked into class whistling a tuneless song and cheerfully greeted his professor. “Professor Flitwick, I’ve got a history question for you.”

Filius quirked up an eyebrow, “History? You do realize I teach Charms.”

“Yes, sir; but a few of us were wondering about the truthfulness of some of those so-called ‘Goblin Rebellions.’” The rest of the class had already filtered in and quickly took their seats, eager to hear the answer to the question Harry raised.

Flitwick leant up against his podium and gestured to Harry, “I’ll answer what I can. What’s the problem?”

“Well, it’s the names of some of these rebellions. ‘The Bonestrike Rebellion of 1510, Goldbeater Rebellion of 1305; some of the Ravenclaws did some digging and there’s no record of those events even happening in those years.”

Filius couldn’t help it and let out a snort-burp of laughter, “You and they would be correct, Mr. Potter. Those rebellions you mentioned never took place in the manner in which you were no doubt thinking of. In reality, they were the resistive efforts of the Goblin toddlers who didn’t want to take a nap and the years mentioned was actually the time of day in which it took place.”

Jaws dropped in open-mouthed shock. Padma Patil shakily raised her hand, “Sir, you mean that those false conflicts were shared with the publishers of the history books all because someone thought they were funny?”

Flitwick beamed and nodded, “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Miss Patil. Someone somewhere along the line thought it’d be a great joke to play on the wizards of the era to tell the tale of the epic battle between the two opposing forces for the dominance of the lands. It’s not the Goblins’ fault that they were taken at their word and the information wasn’t verified before it was published.”

Several students face-palmed themselves and let out pained groans. A couple of them were overheard saying that they’d used that information in the books on their last test.

Harry shared an amused glance with Hermione. Her eyes were twinkling madly as she leant over, “I’m getting some new ideas on how to mess with everyone’s heads now.”

His return grin was equally vicious, “I look forward to seeing what new scam you’ve got roiling around in that beautiful mind of yours.”

Potions class

Ron returned to the school that Friday and was immediately besieged by his friends all wanting to know what he remembered. “That’s the thing, I don’t. I don’t know who it was or why. I just remember hearing a slithering noise like a cloak being dragged over the ground.”

Harry was puzzled, “Is there anyone in your family history that might’ve been at odds with Slytherin, which would’ve prompted the Heir to come after you? And why just you and not your brothers and sister?”

Ron clapped him on the shoulder, “A mystery for the ages, mate. If you can figure it out, be sure to let me know.”

The door swung open as Snape stepped out and drawled darkly, “Get moving.”

After class, Harry pulled Ron, Vince, Greg, and Theo aside. Blaise was busy trying to chat up Daphne, though by the impassive expression on her face, he was failing miserably. “Gents, given the fact that it seems that the Heir is willing to attack members of his or her own House, it would stands to reason that no one is safe. I have something that I cooked up to give to you in case of an emergency. This is a muggle crystal radio transceiver that I shrunk down to fit onto a playing card. You really don’t need to know how it works other than it’s capable of operating even within the magically-saturated confines of the castle.” He began passing out the cards. Hermione wandered over and gave him a surprised raise of her eyebrows but remained silent.

Theo turned his over in his hand, “How do you operate it?”

Harry held up a spare and pointed out the features. “To turn it on, you use your thumbnail to shift this image upright. This allows it to absorb the ambient magic in the air and power the device. When the upper right hand corner glows green, that indicates that it has a strong signal and is ready to transmit. To connect with me, or any one of the other cards, just press the name of the person you’re trying to contact then speak normally as if I or they were standing right in front of you. There’s no need to yell unless the situation requires it.” He pointed out where there were a few names printed on the face: Harry Potter, Amelia Bones, Hermione Granger, and Petunia Dursley. “Now, Director Bones ought to be obvious, but if you can’t reach her, contact my aunt who has her own means of contacting the Ministry.”

Ron bobbed his head understandingly, “That fellytone thing?”

“It’s ‘telephone’ and you’re correct, Ron. She can call the DMLE who would be alerted that their Director isn’t answering then all Hell can break loose.”

Theo motioned towards Hermione, “Her name is listed because she can get a hold of you, right?” Hermione bobbed her head affirmatively.

“Any other questions?”

Greg held up his hand slightly to the amusem*nt of the others, “What’s the range of this thing?”

Harry replied, “It will reach all the way down to Surrey, but it won’t last very long. You’d have about maybe five minutes before it burnt out. Like I said; emergencies only.”

Hermione pulled Harry aside as they headed to their next class, “I thought the Frog cards were supposed to be secret.”

Harry smiled understandingly, “They still are. Those cards I gave to the others are just the crystal radio inserts I devised to embed within the Frog cards. There’s nothing revolutionary in those, it’s literally just the radios shrunk down to fit.”

Bobbling her head, she allowed that it might be alright. “I’m just worried that someone will put two and two together and figure it out.”

Harry laid his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, “It’s doubtful. The magical community doesn’t seem to put much stock into thinking beyond the obvious, and even then it’s a toss-up on whether or not that magically-raised was exposed to muggle devices before. I seriously doubt that if you were to hand over one of those radio cards to a random magically-raised person, they’d be able to identify what it is at a single glance.”

She let out a slow sigh, “But didn’t you say that the electronics look rather similar to runes?”

He waggled his hand, “But the only way for them to see the circuits is for them to figure out how to open up the cards. The radios are embedded into a piece of cardstock and covered over by a thin sheet of paper. There’s no external indication of what they are or how they work. Trust me, Hermione; it’ll be fine and it’s not like I’m handing them out to everyone, just our friends.”

Wednesday 13 January, 1993

Harry had received a letter in the morning mail rush from Director Bones stating that his godfather had received a closed-door trial and was exonerated of any wrongdoing regarding that Halloween night back in 1981. ‘Now that he’s cleared, he’ll receive treatment for his exposure to the Dementors and his time in Azkaban. It might take him a while, so don’t get discouraged if you and he are unable to visit anytime soon. In the meantime, you might be receiving a visit from another friend of your parents. His name is Remus Lupin. I don’t know where he’s been all this time, and he’s rather reluctant to reveal anything so make sure that your aunt and uncle are close by. I don’t think he’s dangerous, but his vague answers are leading me to think he must’ve worked as a spy at some point.’

Smiling inwardly, Harry put the letter into his pocket and started making plans to write a letter to Sirius congratulating him on his freedom. He turned back to his group of friends as they speculated on who the Heir could possibly be. “Hey, maybe I could be the Heir!” All eyes swung over to him. “Based on all records, Salazar Slytherin was bald in his later years. Given the mop on my head, I could claim to be the Hair of Slytherin!” He immediately had to fend off about a dozen wadded up serviettes or breakfast rolls being thrown at him.

Susan shook her head in bemusem*nt, “You’re such a Gryffindork, Potter.”

Hallway leading towards the Greenhouses…

Harry paused to wait for a gaggle of Hufflepuff firsties to finishing stampeding past him, Ginny was at the forefront of the herd, clearly babbling away about something that only she and her friends could understand. He spotted Luna shortly afterwards peering into the bushes. He snuck up on her and stuck his head in as well, “You find anything?”

Luna jumped and jabbed her head on a branch, “Harry! You startled me, that wasn’t nice. I was looking for a Hydrangea Howler. They’re supposedly used to alert the homeowner of an approaching visitor by sounding like a baying dog.”

“Wouldn’t wards be easier?”

She tilted her head to look up at him strangely, “Where’s the fun in that?”

February

Saturday 6 February, 1993; Room of Requirement

“Clay to Harvester, what’s your location?”

Hermione grumbled at being interrupted by the sudden intrusion of Harry’s voice as she pulled out her card, “I’m up in the Room. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I was just wondering where you were and if you needed any help.”

“I’m still liquidating some of the contents here. I’ve got Pixie here to help with determining what can go or stay.” She flashed the elf a warm smile. Pixie beamed at being recognized.

“Alright, I’m going to head over to the Professor Flitwick’s office to see if there’s a laboratory or workshop I can use to fine tune a couple of enhancements. Clay out.”

Pixie had moved over and pointed to the card, “That is an interesting device you have there, Miss.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you? The last thing I need is for any of the teachers or the headmaster to learn about their existence.”

Pixie patted her on the shoulder, “Not to fear, Miss. Even we elves are fed-up with the headmaster’s behavior of late. The less he knows the better. (She gestured over to a stack of boxes) Now, I think I found something that you can sell.”

Tuesday 9 February, 1993; Hermione’s Stash Room

Harry found Hermione pawing through a book bag after Transfiguration a couple of days later. “Whatcha got there, Hermione?”

She gave him a disgusted look, “Malfoy made another crack about me being a pretender to the Heiress-ship to my family so I lifted his bag while he wasn’t looking.” She pulled out the only thing of note, a ratty-looking diary. “That’s weird, Mr. I’m-so-rich is walking around with this piece of junk.” She opened the cover to find that the inside pages were devoid of writing. “I guess he never got around to writing in it.”

“Did you scan it? Maybe it has a security feature that prevents unauthorized viewing,” Harry observed as he turned it over and pointed to the book plate, “Who is T.M. Riddle?”

She shook her head, “No idea.” She scanned the book but it came back as benign, “Nothing. It looks like an ordinary diary.” She dropped it onto the table and continued rummaging around. She accidentally dropped a bottle of ink which shattered on the table sending ink everywhere. Harry leapt back before pulling his wand to help clean up the mess when he noticed that the diary remained pristine.

“That’s weird.”

Hermione looked up from her mopping up the ink that landed on the floor, “What’s weird?”

He pointed to the book, “That. It’s still clean even though I saw it get doused with the ink.”

Hermione ran another, deeper scan of the book and hummed. “There seems to be an auto-cleaning charm on it and…huh, that is weird! There seems to be an interactive feature…but why? Why go through all the trouble of installing the enchantment on a beat-up book instead of getting one made for it?”

Harry sucked on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Maybe it was a prototype? You’ve seen me use the Dumbledore cards as testbeds since I don’t care if they get damaged.”

She let out a sigh of contemplation, “That’s plausible, I suppose. Here, hand me a quill.” He handed one over and watched as she cast a spell on it then dipped it into the ink first before tapping it with her wand and hovering the tip over the first page.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a spell I found in the library that turns an ordinary quill into a Dicta-quill. It allows the user to write using their voice without needing to touch the books or parchment in question. I think it was developed by someone who needed to write down their notes while their hands were busy with something else.”

Harry bobbed his head appreciatively, “Sort of like a potion brewer or something. Neat find, Hermione.”

She smiled briefly, “Thanks. So let’s see…” She tapped the hovering quill with her wand, “Testing. Testing. This is the first test of a whole new way to write.” The pair watched in awed fascination as the quill dropped down and began scratching out her words exactly onto the page.

That fascination turned to curiosity as the words sank into the paper and vanished before being replaced with new words. ‘I don’t recognize you. What’s your name and how did you come by my diary?’

Harry laid his hand on her arm before she could answer, “Don’t give a real name. I don’t trust this thing for some reason.”

Hermione replied, “My name is Agatha Thunderbutt and I picked it up in the second-hand bin for a shilling.”

‘Hello, Agatha Thunderbutt. My name is Tom Riddle. Would you happen to know the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy? I used to belong to him.’

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name. When was the last time he wrote in you?”

‘It was over the 1992/93 Christmas holidays at Hogwarts.’

“Oh, dear; that explains it. You see, Hogwarts was destroyed in a blazing inferno some twenty years ago. One of the teachers accidentally let a student by the name of Alexandra Sabrexiv access to the kitchens. According to the stories, you could see the flames for miles. Even the muggles picked up on it with their spy satellites. It was right about the time that the Statute of Secrecy fell apart. If I recall correctly, it was because of someone with the silly French-pun name of Lord Voldemort. ”

“Lord Voldemort?”

“Yes, it was all terribly comedic how he brought about the downfall of the British magical community. I read somewhere that he was supposedly a Slytherin yet acted more like a Gryffindor with his bombastic monologues and grand speeches. According to the stories, he was almost as annoying as the late, unlamented Albus Dumbledore.”

“What did Dumbledore do?! It sounds unlikely that he of all people, would have a hand in tearing down the Statute.”

“Oh, let’s see. He tried, and failed, several times to sweet-talk the Queen into appointing him as her Royal Wizard; he attempted to force the Bank of England into accepting magical money as the primary form of currency. Then there was the time where he swore up one side and down the other that he was the reason why Voldemort fell the first time back in 1981 and how it was by his grace and generosity that all of the dark-siders ended up in Azkaban to take the time to think about their evilness and repent. Of course, it was all a pack of lies once the Department of Mysteries revealed the truth of his grandstanding, not to mention all of his other misdeeds against even his own followers.”

While Hermione was spinning her tale, Harry was busy stuffing his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing so hard. He quietly whispered in her ear, “I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy! All Hail the Queen of Mischievousness, Hermione Dagworth-Granger!”

Once she’d finished, she gave him a haughty expression of triumph, “So that was fun. What should we do with it?”

Harry wiped the tears from his eyes, “Give it back, I guess. Let Draco try to explain what happened.”

She held up a finger, “I’m curious about something. I wonder if this Tom was around when the Chamber of Secrets thing happened before.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “You’re right, he might know details that were never released.”

She turned back to the diary and restarted the Dicta-quill, “Listen, Tom; I was wondering if you could clear up an old mystery that still remains to this day.”

“I’ll try if I’m able. What’s the mystery?”

“What do you know about the rumored Chamber of Secrets? It wasn’t discovered in the rubble of the castle during the recovery efforts.”

Tom seemed to laugh if the slight shaking of his reply was any indication. “Let me take you back seventy years ago.” The pages flipped over furiously before landing on one with the date, ’13 June, 1943.’ A flicker of light began emanating from the page as it began to glow like an old-fashioned television set. Both Harry and Hermione watched as a handsome teenaged Tom Riddle tracked the progression of a quartet of stretcher bearers carrying down the sheet-draped form of a young girl.

“Riddle.” Tom turned to see a younger version of the headmaster above him. “Come.”

Tom bowed his head respectfully, “Professor Dumbledore.”

“It is not wise to be wandering around at this late hour, Tom.”

Tom’s eyes pinched slightly at being addressed so familiarly,“Yes Professor, I suppose... I had to see for myself if the rumors were true.”

Albus’ voice was somber, “I'm afraid they are, Tom. They are true.”

“About the school as well? I don't have a home to go to. They wouldn't really close Hogwarts, would they, Professor?”

“I understand, Tom, but I'm afraid Headmaster Dippet may have no choice,” Dumbledore replied with sorrow in voice.

“Sir, if it all stopped... if the person responsible was caught...”

Albus eyed him carefully, “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

Even Harry and Hermione could see Tom visibly hesitating, “No, sir. Nothing.”

“Very well then. Off you go.”

Tom bowed his head again, “Goodnight, sir.”

Harry shook his head, “It’s hard to picture Dumbledore being anything other than the conniving old goat. He still dresses like an escaped clown convict though.”

Hermione scoffed, “Probably just hair dye. I wouldn’t put it past him to be that vain. Oh, he’s moving again.” They could see Tom traversing the halls and down a couple flights of stairs before brandishing his wand before a closed door. Both kids gasped at the sight of a much-younger and beardless Hagrid hunched over an open box and speaking to something inside.

“Let’s get you out of there,” Hagrid rumbled.

Tom sauntered in as if he was the Lord of the castle, “Evening, Hagrid.(Hagrid slammed the box shut as Riddle entered.)I'm going to have to turn you in, Hagrid. I don't think you meant it to kill anyone, but...”

Hagrid argued, “You can't! You don't understand!”

Tom continued as if Hagrid hadn’t spoken, “The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered.”

Hagrid continued to plead his case, “It wasn't him!Aragognever killed no one, never!”

“Monsters don't make good pets, Hagrid. Now, stand aside.”

Hagrid drew himself fully upright and got into a defensive posture, “No!”

Tom was clearly losing his patience,“Stand aside, Hagrid!”

Hagrid remained belligerent,“No!”

Tom let fly with a spell, “Cistem Aperio!”The spell hit Hagrid's box and made it burst open. A giant spider crawled out and scurried out of the room.“Arania Exumai!”The spell missed Aragog, who escaped.

Hagrid wailed, “Aragog! Aragog!”He started to go after Aragog, but Riddle leveled his wand at him.

Victorious, Tom calmly replied, “I can't let you go. They'll have your wand for this, Hagrid. You'll be expelled.”

The replay faded away leaving both Harry and Hermione breathless. Harry flopped back in his chair, “That bastard!”

Hermione gave him a side-eye, “Hagrid?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “No, Tom. Framing Hagrid for something he didn’t do!”

“How do you know that Aragog didn’t attack the girl?”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t, but this is Hagrid we’re talking about! When was the last time you’ve ever seen him get so angry at someone that he’d be willing to kill or set something onto another person?”

Hermione thought for a moment before rummaging around for a couple of vials and extracting her memory; Harry caught on a moment later and likewise did the same. “We’ll send these memories to Director Bones and let her figure it out.”

“Good idea.” He pulled out his Frog Card and tapped on Amelia’s marker, “Clay to Skeleton.”

A full two minutes passed, “Skeleton here, what’s the emergency?”

“We have some memories for you to look through regarding the mystery up here.”

“Understood, I’ll send a courier. Skeleton out.” There was a slight pop as a DMLE-liveried elf appeared.

Hermione handed over the two vials, “These are for the Director only.”

The elf silently bowed his head and vanished. Hermione pushed a lock of hair out of her face, “Well, now what?”

Harry glanced at his watch, “Let’s head out, it’s almost time for dinner.”

Early the next morning during breakfast, the gossip mill revealed that Hagrid was absent from the school grounds, which led to another spate of rampant speculation since the large man never seemed to leave the school. Ron commented on it, “It’s strange, you just get used to seeing him around and when he’s not; it’s like there’s a huge hole in your day.”

Pansy sniffed as she pushed the remnants of her breakfast around on her plate, “Maybe he’s getting arrested.”

Ron laughed, “For what?”

She shrugged a shoulder and slipped her hair behind her ear, “I don’t know. I’ve heard stories about when he’d get drunk and set fire to his bed, or he’d bring some sort of dangerous creature in from the forest in an attempt to care for it only for the beast to go on a rampage.”

Ron shook his head, “I doubt any of that’s true. My older brother Charlie was friends with him and while he does admit that Hagrid does like a stiff drink once in a while, he knows not to get drunk on school grounds and only on certain holidays.”

She gestured towards the direction of his hut, “Then where do you think he went?”

Ron gestured helplessly, “No clue. I do know that the elves have come up with a new dessert if you want to go see what they’ve created.”

Pansy sniffed haughtily though based on the glint in her eyes, she was definitely down for a sneak peek.

Valentine’s Day

Harry greeted Hermione and gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek and his usual card as well as a tiny color-changing rose he’d talked Neville into clipping one for him. The rose flashed through the range of the rainbow as he pinned it onto her robes. She blushed and smiled fondly at him before handing him his present of a book she’d discovered up in the Room.

Harry glanced at the book, “Ceramic Arts for the Crafty-minded Magical?”

She pointed to the author, “It was written by an ancestor of yours, Harry. Christopher Alexander Potter, 1416.”

He grinned, “Neat. Thanks, Hermione.”

They’d just stepped into the Great Hall when they were confronted with the lurid efforts of Professor Lockhart who stood at the podium beaming at everyone as they entered. "Happy Valentine’s Day! And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here! My friendly, card-carryingcupids! (A gaggle of surly-looking dwarves dressed up in costumes entered from a side chamber.) They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!"

Both professors either hung their heads in embarrassment or were contemplating how to get away with murder.

Without even turning to look at Harry, Hermione drawled, “Kitchens?”

“Definitely.”

The pair headed down and found the portrait that guarded the entrance to the kitchens and tickled the pear. Inside, the elves were scampering about as was their normal duties but an elf hurried over, “Is there a problem?”

Hermione thumbed upwards, “Lockhart…”

The elf grimaced and held up her hand, “Say no more. We get it. What has the idiot done now?”

Harry shared the look of distaste, “He’s decorated the entire Hall upstairs to look like something that only the colorblind or the Headmaster would enjoy. Confetti, heart-shaped decorations, and pink everywhere! It’s almost enough to put me off eating. Speaking of which, would you mind if we had breakfast here until someone upstairs comes to their senses and takes down that eyesore?”

The elf shook her head ruefully, “Not at all. Take a seat and we’ll send you a plate of food.”

“Thanks.” He led Hermione over to the nearest table and settled in. Their food arrived mere moments later. “You think we could do something in revenge against that idiot?”

She shook her head, “Other than going over the top in decorations, Lockhart’s not done anything to warrant a response.”

March

Friday 5 March, 1993; Hallway outside the Astronomy classroom

Justin Finch-Fletchley was wandering along the hallway with no particular destination in mind. He was still steaming to be honest, after his latest run-in with Draco Malfoy who kept boasting (and glaring straight at Justin) that the Heir would soon rid the school of the gutter trash. “You don’t belong here. Why don’t you just crawl back into your hovel and leave this world to the ones who are meant to rule?”

“Stupid Malfoy,” he groused as he stopped to stare out the window. “My family has been ennobled for centuries! I’ve probably got purer blood that he could ever hope to have.”

“Hello, is there a problem?” he turned around to see Sir Nicholas floating nearby.

“Sorry, I just had a run-in with Draco Malfoy who keeps boasting that the muggleborns like me will be purged from the school. I’m this close to bashing him in the face.” He held up two fingers very close to each other.

Sir Nicholas chuckled, “I’m afraid that’s not the best course of action and would only prove his point.” He was about to say something else when they both heard footsteps and a scraping sound.

Word spread like wildfire throughout the school that there’d been another double petrifaction this time involving a ghost. Both Justin and Sir Nick were revived in due time, so he was able to return to his classes without delay but like with Ron and Colin, neither were able to identify their attacker. Hermione found Harry on the couch in front of the fireplace and sat down next to him, draping her legs across his. “You hear about Justin and Sir Nick?”

Harry bobbed his head, “Yeah. I’m still surprised that Sandrine would attack someone anymore. I thought I’d made it clear that there weren’t any invaders within the school and anyone she came across was entirely magical.”

Flashback…

“Sandrine? Are you there?” He felt a bit silly speaking into a drain hole but he knew of no other way to get in contact with the Basilisk.

“I am, Speaker. What’s the problem?” Her voice sounded a bit distant.

“I heard that you attacked a ghost and a student. What’s going on? Are you alright?”

He heard a hiss of discontentment, “No, Speaker; I’m not alright. I don’t appreciate being forced from my nest just to seek out and remove a single individual. I’m old and can’t always move around that well, especially during the winter months.”

“Can’t you just refuse?”

He heard her hiss in annoyance, “Unfortunately not, it’s part of the magic I share with the Heir. I’m bound to whoever proves themselves to be related to Salazar Slytherin.”

“I just wish I knew who it was that was controlling you so I could try to stop them. There aren’t any invaders up here. There’s no need to attack anyone.” Harry complained.

Present…

As was rapidly becoming the norm, Albus sent Harry a request to join him ‘for a little chat.’ After the second time of the boy showing up in his office with Professor McGonagall in tow, the headmaster had taken to intercepting the boy in the hallways or just after class.

“Ah, Harry my boy!” Harry flinched at the sound of the old man’s voice. “I was wondering if you’d help me with a bit of a project.”

Harry slowly turned around to see the man standing there in hallway, the other students whispering to each other about what they were witnessing. “Sir, I still have a class to get to. It wouldn’t do me any good if I angered Professor Snape.”

Albus waved his hand dismissively, “Not to fear, Harry. I shall walk you to Professor Snape’s class after we’re finished. Come along, please.” He gave Harry no choice than to follow.

Surreptitiously, Harry clicked on his Frog card and keyed it to Director Bones’ marker. “Where are we going? Why are we headed up to the third floor, Headmaster?”

“I know of a shortcut that will take us to a special room I’ve set up for this project. It won’t take us long,” Albus replied.

Harry continued his conversation, noting key points as they walked, “Oh, is that the portrait of Gregory the Pious?” “Hey, I didn’t know that Hogwarts had a statue of a half-human, half-Gorgon.” “I thought you said the room is on the third floor. This looks more like the fourth floor.”

The pair arrived at a non-descript door. Albus unlocked and opened it, “Inside, if you will.”

“Is this in the North Tower?”

Albus gave him a queer look, “I don’t know why you keep on insisting to ask questions, Harry but this will be something we’ll work on. For the Greater Good, I need to know what you know.”

Harry’s face morphed into one of befuddlement, “If you wanted to know that, why did we have to do it here and not your office?”

Albus’ smile didn’t reach his eyes, “Because I didn’t want any witnesses. Now stand still. This won’t hurt a bit.” He pulled his wand and cast a spell at Harry who dived out of the way. “Harry, my boy; you’re only delaying the inevitable. You will tell me your secrets!” He kept casting spells at the boy who expertly dodged them. He managed to tag Harry with a body-bind spell when the door blasted off its hinges. Before the smoke and dust cleared, a grunt was heard and a heavy thump, like a body hit the floor.

Amelia backed by Minerva stepped into Harry’s line of sight, “Don’t worry, Mr. Potter. I’ll clear out the trash for good this time.” She waved her wand again and vanished Harry’s restraints.

Albus was hauled out by a pair of Aurors and sent off to Saint Mungo’s to be given a full evaluation. Harry was sent to spend the night under Madam Pomfrey’s care. He was released to head back to the Tower in the morning having suffered no issues other than a bit of impromptu exercise.

Albus was released a week later by the staff at Saint Mungo’s. They unfortunately, couldn’t find a reason for his unfathomable behavior towards Harry Potter. Fortunately for Harry, he stayed away and refrained from trying to lure the boy away for another chat.

Thursday 11 March, 1993; Great Hall, afternoon

The doors to the hall swung open to reveal the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge accompanied by an entourage of staffers. “Where is Rubeus Hagrid?” He bellowed self-importantly to the students.

Minerva rose to her feet, stormed down from the teacher’s table, and glared at the buffoon. “Minister, I don’t care to know how you do things in your office, but here at Hogwarts, we do not barge into a room and make demands at random.”

Cornelius blinked stupidly for a moment as if trying in vain to process the rapid change of information. “Oh, well… I was to bring him into custody. Had to come, you know. Three attacks on muggleborns, not to mention the two purebloods. Things have gone far enough. The Ministry's got to act.”

Minerva’s lips thinned dangerously.

Sensing danger, Cornelius started sweating, “Um, well…the Ministry needs to be seen doing something, you know. Hagrid's record is against him. I've got to take him.”

If Minerva had been in her Animagus form, she most likely would’ve started hissing. “For your information, Hagrid is in the company of Director Bones regarding some irregularities that arose during some questions regarding his past.”

Albus appeared a moment later, “Cornelius, what’s this I hear about you wishing to arrest one of my staff?”

Fudge drew himself upright self-importantly, “Bad business, Albus. Very bad business; I was just informing your subordinate here that I’ve come to take Hagrid into custody for his involvement with attacks on the students.”

Minerva rolled her eyes, “And I was trying to tell him that Hagrid’s not even in the castle but this fool can’t seem to get that through his thick skull.”

Albus turned back to Cornelius and gave him a disappointed look, “I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence.”

A noise behind them caused the trio to turn. Lucius Malfoy entered the Hall with a supercilious sneer on his aristocratic features. “Already here, Fudge? Good.” He held out a scroll of parchment to Albus. "The other governors and I have decided it's time for you to step aside. This is an order of suspension. You'll find all twelve signatures on it. I'm afraid we feel you've rather lost your touch, and what with all these attacks, there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts.” His voice took a very insincere tone, bordering on sarcasm, “I can only imagine what an awful loss that would be to the school.”

Over at the Gryffindor table, Harry watched and listened to the proceedings with the barest glimmer of hope. If the governors could get rid of Albus, his life might just take a turn for the better for once. ‘I might actually be able to go to and from my classes without worrying if he’ll show up wanting to ‘chat’ about something that has nothing to do with school.’ He whispered to Hermione, “Can you believe this?”

She shook her head, “No, should we contact the Director? She’ll probably want to know in advance.”

Harry’s attention was diverted by Vince who’d been sitting next to them, “Too late. She’s here.”

Amelia walked into a tense scene and gazed between the stand-off between Lucius and Albus, “What’s going on?”

Minerva quickly filled her in. “Fudge was originally up here to arrest Hagrid for his past involvement with attacking students. Malfoy is up here to suspend Albus because of his inability to put a stop to it all.”

Scoffing, Amelia pushed to the front of the posturing men, “Alright, stop it both of you! You’re acting like a couple of bratty children squabbling over the last cauldron cake.” She turned to face off against Lucius, “You can't take Professor Dumbledore away just yet. Take him away and the Muggle-borns won't stand a chance.”

Lucius replied a touch too smugly, “You think so?”

Albus serenely interrupted, “Calm yourself, Amelia. If the governors desire my removal, I will of course, step aside.” He walked up to Lucius’ side and intoned cryptically,“However, you will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”

Lucius gave him a haughty sniff, “Admirable sentiments. Shall we?” He spun on his heel and led the way out with Cornelius and his entourage trailing meekly behind.

Minerva and Amelia shared a look. Minerva growled, “Bloody buggering fools, the lot of them.” She turned at the sounds of the children gasping, laughing, and clapping their approval. She gave them one of her patented disappointed glares, “Don’t you all have studying you could be doing?”

Harry intercepted Amelia on her way out, “Will Hagrid be alright?”

She smiled comfortingly at him, “Yes, he’s fine. I left him back at his home before coming up here.”

“So what’re you going to do about that spider of his? It was huge, even back then.” He questioned her.

“I’ve called in a specialist team to go through the forest to clear out as many of the things as they can. The ones they keep will be sent to a farm where they’ll be allowed to hunt in safety.”

Harry sighed in relief, “That’s good to hear. I had the horrifying thought that I’d have to go out there at night for some reason.”

Amelia chuckled at his evident relief. “That’s what you’ve got me for. Go on, I suspect you still have some classes to attend.” She shooed him off before heading back to her office.

He’d taken two steps before wheeling back around, “Oh, if you send someone up to deal with the spiders, what about sending someone up to get rid of the dangerous things here in the castle?”

“Like what?”

He pointed to the upper levels, “There’s a storeroom up on the seventh floor that has a bunch of dangerous stuff.”

Amelia pulled her badge and tapped on a couple of symbols. They waited for a few minutes before a pair of Unspeakables arrived. The trio then headed up the stairs behind Harry’s lead.

Room of Requirement

If anyone could see under their hoods, the Unspeakables’ faces would’ve no doubt matched the look of awe on Amelia’s. “This place is known as the Room of Requirement and according to the Sorting Hat, was created by Rowena Ravenclaw, herself.” Harry explained as he paced back and forth in front of the tapestry. “To access it, you need to pace this tapestry three times while thinking of where you want to go. When the door appears (which it just did), the room is ready for your usage.”

Inside, there wasn’t nearly as much stuff as there used to be thanks to the efforts of Hermione and her team of elves, but there was still a lot to go through. “This is where the elves send everything that gets separated from its owner or that the school doesn’t need at the moment.”

“Where is the dangerous stuff?” one of the Unspeakables inquired. A shaft of light illuminated a walled off area to their left. The hooded duo made their way over to investigate leaving Amelia behind with Harry. He led her off to where a table and chairs sat, “Director?” She smiled pleasantly and took a seat.

True to their nature, when the Unspeakables returned, they displayed no signs of emotion at whatever it was they’d discovered in the section for dangerous goods. Amelia raised an eyebrow in silent question. The lead agent subtly nodded and motioned to their belt. “We’re ready to go now. Thank you, Mr. Potter for showing us this place and alerting us to the potentially cursed objects. If they’re able to be cleared of their enchantments and whatnot, we will return them to you.”

Without saying another word, or waiting to be escorted, the pair vanished from sight. Harry stared at the spot they’d disappeared from, “Did they just vanish?”

Amelia shrugged unconcernedly, “Who can tell with them? That whole department is a confusing mess.” She escorted him back down and left him in the company of his friends.

April

Friday 2 April, 1993; Hermione’s Stash Room

Hermione looked up from her ledger when she heard the door open and spotted a widely smiling Harry enter. “What’s got you so happy?”

He held up one of his Frog cards, “I reached the next step in creating the perfect spy network!”

An eyebrow rose, “Oh?”

He handed it over, “It’s now able to take photographs and transfer them to whomever you want.”

Hermione sat up and put the ledger off to the side, “No kidding? That’s incredible; how’d you do that?”

Dropping down onto the couch seat next to her, Harry replied, “I took a look at how cameras work initially then I transitioned into fax machines. First, what you do is hold the card facing whatever you want to take a picture of like a regular camera. There’s a new button to press to take the actual photo. The image is captured and displayed where portrait me would be (he demonstrated by taking a photo of her face) then you press the marker for who you’re trying to contact, then the enchantments used by the manufacturer to make the little version of me move off-screen; it sends your photo to the destination.” He finished by sending her photo to another card he was holding. It took merely a second or two before it appeared on the second card. “I’ve already tested it by sending a picture of myself holding a date stamped homework assignment to my aunt. She then contacted me via voice congratulating me on the successful transmission. I still need to send her an updated card to test it from her end.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped open, “That’s astounding, Harry!”

He gave her a lop-sided satisfied grin, “Thanks. (He gestured to what she was working on) Whatcha got going here?”

She picked up the ledger, “I’ve just been entering some stuff in. I finally got that Baroque-era sculpture fenced. It’s no wonder why it was stuffed away into storage; the damned thing is so ugly and cumbersome.”

Harry laughed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if that creature thing whatever it was staring out into the room was causing people to have nightmares.”

“Probably was. So where else have you tested the camera feature on?”

Glancing up at the ceiling, he began to recite, “My bedroom, our common room, you just now…um, oh I took a picture of one of the elves, a photo of Draco slipping in the mud; he’s still carrying around that ratty-looking diary by the way, and I think that’s it…yeah.”

After a moment of silence, Hermione let out a tiny giggle, “I’m wondering what sort of chaos you’d create if you could hide these cards and start playing music or something just loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to pinpoint.”

Harry held up one of his spare Dumbledore cards. A slow toothy grin spread across his face, “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Potions laboratory…

“ Hey-ah, once I was a boogie singer
Playing in a rock and roll band
I never had no problems, yeah;
Burning down the one-night stands!
Then everything around me, yeah
It got to start to feeling so low
And I decided quickly, yes, I did, heh
To disco down and check out the show Yeah, they were dancing and singing
And moving to the grooving
And just when it hit me
Somebody turned around and shouted , "Play that funky music, white boy!
Play that funky music right,
Play that funky music, white boy !
Lay down the boogie and play that funky music 'til you die", heh heh
'Til you die, yeah (What?)
Hear, hear, heh”

No matter where Severus looked, he just couldn’t locate the source of that Merlin-damned noise. He’d already cast about a dozen detection scans but everything just came back clear. It finally got to the point where he’d stormed out of his lab and retreated to his office for a bit of peace and quiet.

That lasted for all of ten minutes before his hearing started picking up a new (and very annoying) sound. Somewhere in the room, a cricket had gotten in and started chirping…

Minerva’s office…

Looking back, Harry wondered just how often the Deputy Headmistress got out into the muggle world.

“ Well I don't know where they come from
But they sure do come
I hope they're comin' for me
And I don't know how they do it
But they sure do it good
I hope they're doin' it for free

They give me Cat Scratch Fever
Cat Scratch Fever

Well the first time that I got it
I was just 10 years old
I got it from some kitty next door
Well I went and seen the doctor
And he gave me the cure
I think I got it some more ,

They give me Cat Scratch Fever
Cat Scratch Fever
I got it bad scratch fever
Cat Scratch Fever !”

With her enhanced hearing, Minerva knew where the sound was coming from; a spot located just above the door lintel. She plucked the card out of its hiding spot and examined it, marveling at its complexity whilst wondering which seventh year had not only figured out how to transmit a song from a mere card, but also how they were able to infiltrate her office without being detected. She danced lightly on her feet as she moved back to her desk, propped it up against one of her picture frames, and continued grading her students’ papers.

Lockhart’s office…

“ How sweet to be an idiot
As harmless as a cloud
Too small to hide the sun
Almost poking fun
At the warm, but insecure, untidy crowd

How sweet to be an idiot
And dip my brain in joy
Children laughing at my back
With no fear of attack
As much retaliation as a toy

How sweet to be an idiot
How sweet.

I tip-toe down the street
Smile at everyone I meet

But suddenly a scream
Smashes through my dream
Fee-Fi-Fo-Fom
I smell the blood of an asylum
Fee-Fi-Fo-Fom
I smell the blood of an asylum
Hey you
You're such a pedant
You got as much brain as a dead ant
As much imagination as a caravan site .”

Gilderoy had no idea where the song was coming from, and while the melody was soothing, the lyrics set his teeth on edge. ‘I am not an idiot! People love me!’

By the end of the month, no teacher was spared of the new additions to their offices or classrooms. Everyone got the ‘opportunity’ to partake in the mischief. Nearly everyone blamed the Fred and George for perpetrating this madness, but they resolutely denied it. “Honestly, we’ve never been able to break into Professor McGonagall or Snape’s offices before!”

Minerva caught sight of Harry snickering in the corner and cleared her throat, “Mr. Potter, a moment if you please.” Harry gulped and shuffled over. “Follow me.”

She took him to one of the older, unused offices that at one point had been the domain of the previous Head of House for Gryffindor. Minerva eyed him reprovingly, “Is there something you’d care to admit to?”

Harry put a guileless expression on his face, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, professor.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Someone broke into my office, and the offices or classrooms of the other teachers. They left a card that played music just loud enough to be heard but not enough to be located. Given who your father was, I have reason to suspect you might’ve taken part in this caper.”

Harry stared right back and held up a hand, “I solemnly swear I had no part in placing whatever it is you think I did, professor.”

Hermione pulled Harry into an alcove afterwards to ask him what the professor had wanted. She started laughing and wheezing when she heard the vow he’d given her. “Of course you weren’t there! You had Pixie pop in and put the cards into place instead! Ow, my sides…”

Harry shrugged unconcernedly and buffed his nails nonchalantly, “It’s not my fault that she didn’t pick up on what I said. I was quite clear about my involvement. Now if she’d asked who made the cards…”

She snickered, “Brilliant, Harry. Simply brilliant.”

May

Saturday 8 May, 1993; Second floor hallway

Hermione had just returned from a meeting to move some ‘acquired’ goods when she felt the need to answer nature’s call. She’d just stepped out of the stall to go wash her hands when she heard the door behind her open. Glancing up, she caught sight of a big pair of yellow eyes when she experienced a sharp pain in her head and felt her body freeze up.

Blackness followed soon after.

Harry waited impatiently for Hermione to arrive; they were supposed to head over to the greenhouses to meet up with Neville, Susan, and Hannah to do some Herbology studying. He glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time and grumbled, “Where is she?” He pulled out his card and keyed it to Hermione’s marker, “Clay to Harvester. Harvester, come in.”

No response. He narrowed his eyes in thought, “It’s unlikely she’d be in a situation where she couldn’t answer. Hermione’s taken my calls before even when she’s meeting her fence. He started when Professor McGonagall’s amplified voice rang out in the halls, “All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers are to lock down their Houses. Immediately, please."

Shrugging a shoulder and figuring that he’d find Hermione eventually, he headed back to the Tower. He’d gotten about halfway up the first set of stairs when he heard his name being called. “Mr. Potter, wait a minute.” He spotted Minerva approaching him at a fast clip, “There's something you have to see.” She turned and led him to the hospital wing, “I warn you, this could be a wee bit of a shock.”

Harry felt his heart leap up into his throat; Hermione lay stiff as a statue on one of the beds. He felt like someone had kicked him in the stones and stomped on his head. All light and happiness was gone from the world. His leaden feet propelled her forward, “Hermione…”

Minerva sympathized, “She was found in the second floor girls’ loo. It looked like she was in the middle of washing her hands.”

Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from his friend’s frozen fearful expression, “What about the potion?”

Minerva sniffled, “Professor Snape will have to brew up a new batch. Someone destroyed his last stock.”

He finally turned to her, “How long?”

It pained her to answer, “A month.”

Harry’s eyes hardened as his magic flared to full throttle, “No way in Hell will I allow Hermione to stay that way for a whole month!” He pulled out his card and keyed it to Amelia, “Clay to Skeleton, Emergency Alert!”

Amelia immediately answered, “Skeleton here, Clay. Where are you?”

“Harvester got petrified and Snape’s potion stock of the restorative was destroyed. We’re in the hospital wing.”

“Understood, I’ll bring up a new batch right away. Skeleton out.”

He lifted his chin defiantly at Minerva’s curious expression. She held up a hand solemnly, “I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Her eyes began to twinkle, “But after this is all over, you’ll need to tell me how you managed to create that wondrous new device.”

A sly smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth, “Deal.”

Amelia arrived via the hospital’s floo accompanied by a departmental Healer and a pair of Aurors. Madam Pomfrey hurried over to greet them, “I sure hope you have the Mandrake potion.”

The Healer held up the vial, “Right here. Where’s the patient?” Poppy escorted the Healer to Hermione’s bed.

In the meantime, Amelia moved over to where Harry stood with Minerva; she subtly motioned to the elder Scotswoman, “She knows?”

Minerva actually cracked a smile, “She does indeed, Amelia and she’s rightly impressed with his talent.”

Amelia nodded, “It’s amazing what he’s been able to do in such a short amount of time.”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t know why it’s such a surprise. The technology has been there for decades, a century in some cases. All I did was figured out how to miniaturize and repurpose the components.”

Minerva scoffed, “That’s where you impressed me, Mr. Potter. I never would’ve thought of doing what you’ve accomplished. Two-way communication without using magic? I can scarcely believe it even though I witnessed it.”

Harry waggled his hand, “Well, there’s actually a combination of muggle technology and magic being used here. I use a crystal radio circuit that I shrunk down to fit onto a playing card, but the transmission and reception is handled by the Ley lines that cover the island.”

His explanation was disrupted when he heard Hermione’s voice softly call out, “Harry?” He rushed to her side and took her hand. “I had the strangest dream.”

“Do you remember who did this to you?”

She thought hard then shook her head, “All I remember is Sandrine peeking into the bathroom.”

Amelia grunted something under her breath, “It’ll be okay, Miss Dagworth-Granger.” Minerva glanced curiously between the two but refrained from speaking. “Did you hear anyone speaking?”

Hermione shook her head, “Not in English. I heard someone hissing, kind of like Harry does whenever he’s speaking Parseltongue.”

Harry glanced around the floor and spotted a drain hole near the center. He rushed over and knelt down, “Sandrine! Are you awake?”

It took her a moment to answer. “I am now. What do you want, Speaker?” Her grumpiness was clearly evident in the tone of her voice.

“You petrified another student. I thought we talked about this?”

Sandrine’s voice grew apologetic, “I’m sorry about that, Speaker. I told the other one I didn’t want to attack anyone anymore but he forced me to obey.”

Harry waved that off, “Never mind that right now. Could you describe the other Speaker?”

“He’s not all that tall, probably no taller than the girl I petrified in that bathroom. I would say that he’s a slender boy with a pale, pointed face, sleek blond hair, and ice grey eyes. He also wears the colors of Salazar Slytherin.”

Harry translated Sandrine’s description of the person controlling her. Minerva narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, “It sounds as if she’s describing Draco Malfoy, but I’ve seen the boy in class; there’s nothing to indicate that he even knows how to speak in Parseltongue. The boy doesn’t have an ounce of cunning in him and tends to just say whatever he’s thinking at that moment or parrots what his father says.”

Harry’s mind raced as he tried to figure out the clues. He frowned, “I’ve got nothing. Sandrine, do you know where you’re able to emerge from?”

“The second-floor girls’ bathroom. It wasn’t always used for that though, only in recent times since plumbing was introduced to the castle.”

“Isn’t that the one the ghost girl who cries all the time haunts?” Amelia pondered out loud after Harry translated.

Poppy confirmed Amelia’s query and followed up with a question of her own. “So, she comes up through a hidden tunnel into the bathroom?”

“It would seem so,” Amelia temporized.

Minerva gasped in surprise. “So why has no one been killed by Sandrine yet?”

“Because no one’s looked directly in her eyes,” Hermione answered from her bed. “The power of her gaze is diminished through the reflections.”

Amelia looked over to Minerva, “With Albus out of the castle, you’re in charge Min. What do you want to do?”

Before she could even answer, Ron came dashing into the hospital, “Professor!”

Shaking her head in disbelief, Minerva yelled at him, “What are you doing outside your House, Mr. Weasley?!”

Flashback…

When the call went out for the students to return to their Houses, Ron noticed that Draco was still standing by the door that went into the haunted girls’ loo and was writing something on the wall. He managed to duck under the fifth year Slytherin prefect’s arm and went to go grab the other boy’s arm. Whatever differences they had, there was just something inside him that compelled Ron to take action. “Oi, Malfoy! What’s gotten into you? Didn’t you hear the announcement?”

When Draco turned to face him, Ron shivered with dread. There was something different about the blond boy. His face was slackened as if he wasn’t awake, his eyes glowing a deep, blood red, and his movements were wooden; almost like someone else was controlling his body. Before anything else could be said or done, Draco shuffled off into the dank bathroom.

Ron’s eyes traveled up to where he’d seen the other boy writing. ‘His skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’ “Blimey…”

Present…

Ron finished his tale and sort of just trailed off into silence. Harry was still hovering near the drain hole when he spoke into it again, “Sandrine, is there any special phrase that needs to be spoken to open up the secret passage in the girls’ lavatory?”

“No, all he uses is the word ‘open’ and again for the outer door that protects the Chamber.” She paused for a moment, “I think he’s here again. Hurry!”

“Stay strong, Sandrine. I’m coming down.” He leapt up to his feet and began striding out of the hospital.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mr. Potter?” Amelia called out after him.

Harry partially looked back, “I’m going to end this once and for all. You can come along if you want but this ends today.” He took maybe two steps before ropes lashed him up and tripped him. He fell to the floor with a thump.

Amelia stood over him with a bemused expression, “Nice try, Harry and while I appreciate the fact that she’s your friend, you need to think about what you’re doing and not just barge into that Chamber like a proverbial Gryffindor; and yes, I know that you are a Gryffindor.”

“Then what should I do?” He snarled half-heartedly at the older woman, knowing deep down she was probably right.

“We call in reinforcements,” she calmly replied as she pulled out her Frog card and keyed it to another marker he’d never seen before. “Skeleton to Enchanter. Priority One.”

“Enchanter here.”

“A child was taken into the Chamber of Secrets. Clay wants to move out immediately so I’m calling in for reinforcements.”

“Understood, we’ll be there in five. Enchanter out.”

Amelia clicked off the card and smirked at the dumbfounded look on Harry’s face, “You’re good, Harry; but did you really think that there wouldn’t be others who wouldn’t have had a similar idea to yours?”

Five minutes later…

Harry had been untied and ordered to sit with his best friend. Exactly five minutes passed when a whole team of Unspeakables arrived in the hospital. Their leader, Director Algernon Croaker greeted them, “Mr. Potter, Miss Dagworth-Granger; it’s a pleasure to meet you both. Mr. Potter, I’m sure you have a ton of questions burning a hole in your mind regarding the cards, eh? They’ll have to wait until later, I’m afraid. In the meantime, we’re ready to head down to the Chamber when you are.”

Harry rose to his feet after giving Hermione’s hand a gentle squeeze, “I’ve been ready.”

Harry led them to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, “This is where Sandrine says is one of the entrances.”

“How does a snake her size get through this narrow door?” one of the Unspeakables inquired.

Harry answered that by pushing on one side of the frame which caused it to slide open like a pocket door becoming an opening twice as large as normal. There was a momentary flutter of exclamations while he walked over to the row of sinks.

“Who are you and why are you in my bathroom?” a quiet sniffle was heard as the spectral form of a crying girl emerged from one of the stalls.

Harry gave her a courtly bow, “Greetings Lady Myrtle. I, Harry James Potter, have arrived to put an end to the madness of the psychopath who dared to end your life so tragically. With your permission, milady?”

Myrtle giggled through her tears, “Be careful, milord and good luck.” She hovered not too far away to watch the procession of people enter then disappear into the suddenly revealed pipe.

At the base of the pipe, the group looked around in disgust. Skeletons from an uncountable multitude of creatures littered the floor. They carefully headed down the rough-hewn rock tunnel, making sure to keep the noise down to an absolute minimum. There was a large shape not too far ahead of them. An Unspeakable cast a floating orb of light and directed to fly ahead of them. They could see that the shape was snake-like. It was left unsaid to try not to look the creature in the eyes.

"Sandrine? Is that you?"Harry quietly called out but there was no response. They continued to inch forward until with enormous relief saw that what they thought was a snake was in fact a shed skin. Algernon commented in amazement that Sandrine ought to be absolutelyhugeif this shed skin was any indication. He motioned silently to his team to shore up the tunnel before they moved on. A couple of carefully placed enchantments strengthened the weakened walls and ceiling within a matter of moments. Croaker whispered to Harry, “They looked like they were ready to collapse if some fool had tried to cast magic.”

They continued on; the tunnel branched out several times, ostensibly to other entrances scattered throughout the school. Finally, they could go no further. A large stylized snake head stared back at them, the eyes glittered and a low hissing sound was heard,"Who dares to approach?"

Harry stepped forward,"I am Harry James Potter, Heir of Lord Salazar Slytherin." He gave the others an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.

"Password?"

"Open in the name of our Lord."

The snake's mouth ground open, revealing a pathway inside. Croaker and Harry glanced at each other and rolled their eyes at the theatrics. "Come on, let's finish this."

Sounds of dripping water permeated the air; the damp and sweat-inducing humid cavern in which they stood took their breath away in its sheer scale. A stone image of Salazar Slytherin's face was carved into the rock wall; it's mouth open in a silent scream. “Yeah, that’s not ominous at all.”

Algernon chuckled, “Old Sal was apparently quite the show-off.”

"Under the lake, you think?" Harry asked the group at large as he cast his eyes above and around him.

"If not, pretty darn close. Keep an eye out; Sandrine ought to be around here somewhere."

“So what’s your plan when they show up?” Harry wanted to know.

“We’ll take up station wherever we can get decent cover. If there’s some sort of ritual to take place, we’ll be in position to thwart it and rescue the child. Speaking of whom, do you know which child it is?”

Harry sneered, “Draco Malfoy.”

Algernon’s eyes (and a few others though Harry couldn’t see them) grew wide, “Really? Damn, as much as I don’t want to impart harm upon a child, maybe we could just leave the boy in whatever condition he’s in to torture his father.”

Harry bobbed his head approvingly as he stepped forward, “Sandrine?”

While the Unspeakables were getting set up, there was the sound of grinding stone coming from a side passage off the main chamber. Harry peeked out and saw Sandrine slithering her way back into the open mouth of the Founder's stone sculpture. They saw that they weren't alone either, Draco Malfoy stood there with an animalistic expression on his face staring at where the basilisk had retreated to. His eyes shown with an unholy red light as he turned to spot where Harry was still poking his out from behind a serpent statue.

"Ah, Harry Potter. Come to save the boy? Noble of you; your friend though, I don't recognize."

"I won't let you destroy the name of Salazar Slytherin for your own warped reality." Harry growled at the possessed boy who smirked back.

"Destroy his name? No, boy; I plan onrestoringhis name and sharing his message of blood purity! I, Lord Voldemort, the Heir of Slytherin, shall purge the school of the unworthy and reshape the magical world as my ancestor wanted."

Harry started chuckling, he couldn't help it. "TheHeir?You really think that you're the heir?"

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously, "I am the one true heir. I have traced my family lineage back through to the man himself."

"I seriously doubt the line of Salazar Slytherin included red eyes."

The red color faded into Draco’s ordinary silvery-grey eyes, "These are the eyes of my ancestor's."

Harry snorted in derision, "Just as I thought. Nope, not the heir I'm afraid. Not withthoseeyes."

"What do you mean, Potter?"

"The lineage of theoriginalSalazar Slytherin sported green eyes. A mesmerizing, killing-curse shade of green with a distinctive shape to them. My eyes, my mother's eyes… You? You are nothing more than a pretender to the throne."

Draco-mort stepped back and snarled, "Then I challenge your right to lead this family! Let's match the power of Lord Voldemort, the Heir of Salazar Slytherin to that of his so-called descendant!"Speak to me Salazar Slytherin; Greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"

The mouth of the Slytherin sculpture ground open and the scraping sound of a large body was heard along with Sandrine’s annoyed hiss,"Now what does that little sh*t want? I'm tired and just want to sleep."

Harry stood there waiting for her to emerge. When she’d finished sliding her tremendous bulk out of the mouth, he let out a low whistle, “Sandrine? You’re looking fantastic! Did you just shed recently?”

Sandrine paused and tilted her head, “Other Speaker? You’re the nicer one, right?”

“I am. My name is Harry. Wow, you are looking shiny!” He confirmed his identity and praised her.

If a snake could blush, Sandrine would’ve been practically glowing. As it was she curled up and bobbed up and down in a fair approximation of happiness. “Thank you, Speaker. I did indeed shed recently. Why are you here?”

He thumbed over to Draco-mort who was standing there in open-mouthed shock, “I came to kick his bum to Hell and back.”

“Like you could ever match the power that I wield, Potter!” Draco-mort snarled. He pulled out his wand and cast an overpowered banishing charm sending Harry flying head over heels into a stone wall. "It matters not, boy. Soon Draco's soul will have been replaced by mine and I shall be reborn. Then we'll see who the more powerful wizard is." He backed away and cast a charm that drew a pentagram ritual circle on the stone floor and stood at its center.

“Le cumhachd nan seanairean, bidh mi a 'tilgeil a-mach anam an neach tùsail. Leig leam fuireach san t-soitheach seo!" (By the power of the ancients, I cast out the soul of the original. Let mine inhabit this vessel!)

The Unspeakables unleashed a torrent of counter-magic at the ritual circle only to dive for cover once more when the spells they cast were reflected back at them. An otherworldly black-tinged bubble crackled with lightning blossomed over the circle, entrapping Draco and his rider inside while at the same time absorbing whatever the spooks threw at it before amplifying it a hundredfold and sending it back. The Unspeakables forward line was just barely able to hold their positions and their own defensive shields.

“Damn, he’s using a variant of the Golden Dome defense!” Croaker growled in disgust as he wiped a trace of blood from his mouth. “Twenty-two! Get in there with the Soul Cage!”

Agent 22 rushed up to the sparking dome where Draco-mort was still in the midst of powering up the inner circle and set out a trio of stones around the perimeter of the dome and positioned them before activating them with a burst of magic. The Soul Cage expanded to fill the space with a triangular cage of glowing silver energy until it covered the dome where the top bars became evident. Agent 22 raced back and panted, “Locked and loaded, ready to take down the bastard.”

One of the Unspeakables must’ve cast a silent summoning charm before the Soul Cage was activated as a book followed by a self-inking quill, and a couple of candy wrappers flew out of the boy's pockets and landed at his feet. Just as he grabbed the book, an unearthly howl erupted from the ritual circle. Draco’s twelve-year old soul was ripped away and cast out. It floated there briefly before fading out…

Harry could only stare in horror at the murder that had just been committed in front of them. The body twitched before the eyes opened once more and a rattling breath was taken.

Lord Voldemort slowly stood and grinned wickedly at the shocked group, "I have been reborn! You shall either kneel before me or suffer the consequences."

"Like Hell we will!" Harry shouted back as he started backing away.

Voldemort whipped out his wand and immediately cast, "Avada Kedavra!" Harry dove out of the way but Unspeakable Agent 11 wasn't so lucky. The Killing Curse hit him full on and his body dropped to the ground. Voldemort traced his fingers over the Soul Cage then used Draco’s wand to cast the counterspell which brought down the entrapment with an actinic flash of light and a deafening boom.

Harry could only spare a quick second to silently thank the person for their help before focusing on the task at hand. He pulled out several glass vials from his pocket that Hermione had lifted while they were having a private moment waiting for Croaker and his team to arrive and hurled them at the reborn Dark Lord. They exploded at his feet, releasing a noxious cloud of a purple haze. It caused Voldemort to start hacking and coughing, his eyes tearing up before he managed to cast a venting charm to clear away the fumes.

"Not bad, Potter. I wouldn't have thought that Dumbledore's Golden Boy would be so vicious."

"I'mnothis Golden Boy!" Harry snarled back as he launched another vial, this one designed to epoxy the target's shoes to the ground. Voldemort just managed to skip out of the way before that happened.

"My pet, attack him! Destroy the boy!"

Sandrine shook her head defiantly,“No way. That one is nice to me, unlike you; you bastard. I refuse to do your dirty work.” Voldemort poured more magic into their bond, forcing her to submit. The light in her eyes changed as she was compelled to obey.

Sandrine moved in for the attack but Harry managed to dodge and disappear behind a broken snakehead statue. Safe for the moment, Harry called out to Hogwarts once more begging for help,'I need help! Hogwarts, hear my plea!'

Just then there was apopnear him. Of all the elves who Harry would’ve thought might arrive to help, Dobby stood before him carrying the Sorting Hat and the Portrait of Salazar Slytherin, "Master Harry Potter calls, Dobby delivers." Harry briefly noticed the odd inflection in Dobby's tone and words but shook it off as unimportant.

"Harry, put the Hat on and request my sword. In the meantime, I think it's time that I had a conversation with Sandrine." Harry did as instructed then winced when the Hat dropped Salazar's sword on top of his head.

Harry grunted as he quickly examined the sword while rubbing his head, "I would've thought that I'd get the Sword of Gryffindor instead."

Salazar shrugged, "If you'd been his Heir, you would've."

Harry blinked then growled lightly, "Beyond the obvious, I know nothing of sword combat."

"Then just do the obvious; trying to be clever will just get you killed. Dobby, bring me to Sandrine."

While Portrait Salazar was informing Sandrine as to the Truth behind his namesake's message, Harry fought the reborn Dark Lord as best he could. Dodging, thrusting, casting magic and potion grenades as much as possible. He did manage to nick and slice Voldemort a few times, drawing blood but tried as best he could to not damage Draco's body too much. Voldemort gave as good as he got too. He continuously cast spells that Harry just didn't want to think about. Vicious looking curses in all colors of the rainbow rained down on him. One sickly-yellow spell managed to hit him on his leg, shattering it.

Harry threw his last remaining potion grenade as he went down. It exploded in mid-flight as Voldemort climbed to his feet, cementing him in place.

"It ends now, Harry Potter. I will finish the job I started all those years ago.Avada Kedavra!"Being as close as they were, there was nothing Harry could do.

Just as he was about ready to start saying his prayers, a chunk of stone intercepted the Killing Curse. Both Harry and Voldemort turned in the direction it came from. Standing there with an expression of pure anger was Dobby who leveled a finger at the Dark Lord, "You shall not hurt Harry Potter!"

With a snap of his fingers, Dobby expelled the Dark Lord away and threw him bodily into the cavern wall. Dobby stepped up in front of Harry and stood tall, squaring his shoulders, "Don’t you think you should be dealing with that nasty book?" He glanced up at Harry and grinned evilly before glaring back at the snarling tangle of limbs that was Voldemort trying to extricate himself from his robes, "Dobby's got this."

Harry grabbed the book out of the dead Unspeakable’s hands and tried to figure out how to destroy the damn thing. In the meantime, Voldemort went sailing past and crumpled in a heap at the base of the Founder's Statue. "Treat Dobby like vermin, will you? Dobby thinksnot!" Dobby yelled as he stalked after his prey, picking up a length of stone that must’ve fallen from the ceiling as he passed.

Algernon hurried over to him and cast a leg-binding charm temporarily, “We need to cast Voldemort out of Draco’s body in reverse of what he used. How’s your Scottish Gaelic?”

Harry snorted derisively as he painfully hobbled over to the circle, "Dobby! If you're done playing I need you to get him into the ritual circle and prevent him from leaving."

Dobby ambled over with the stone club resting on his shoulder, dragging a bleeding and groaning Lord Voldemort by his collar behind him. "Where do you want the bastard?" Harry pointed to it. Dobby flung him into the circle, the nascent Dark Lord bounced a few times before the elf locked him in place.

Algernon coached him on the proper pronunciation, "Le cumhachd nan seanairean, bidh mi a 'tilgeil a-mach anam an tagraiche. Bidh mi a 'gairm air ais am fear tùsail gus a bhith beò a-rithist." (By the power of the ancients, I cast out the soul of the pretender. I call back the original to live again.) Voldemort's soul was wrenched out of Draco's body and hung there unresponsively.

The glowing spirit of Draco’s original soul reappeared alongside another…being. This one Croaker and the other Unspeakables swore it resembled a Dementor. “Potter…thank you. If everything works out, I’ll find a way to make things right between us.” His spectral form faded into his body. There was a pregnant pause before Draco gasped and wheezed his first breath.

Meanwhile, the Dementor-like being ‘spoke’ even though there were no words per se. It pointed to Voldemort’s hovering soul. ‘This one’s birth name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, a half-blood born of an unmarried impoverished Squib mother and a muggle father. He changed his name to Lord Voldemort while in school here so that way others would one day fear the name that descended from Salazar Slytherin. His existence angers me for he cheated me of my due by creating Horcruxes. You have already recovered three, which pleases me. Find the others and put an end to this abomination once and for all.’

With that said; Death took the unresponsive ghostly form of Diary-mort and vanished.

Infirmary

When the triumphant heroes returned, they discovered that the occupancy had increased while they were gone. Lucius Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa waited anxiously for any word on their son and heir. Algernon had thought it would be fitting if Draco was floated in on a stretcher with a sheet over his face as if he were dead. The sight of their unresponsive and battered bloody child caused Narcissa to wail and scream viciously at her husband who just stood there dumbfounded.

“What happened down there?” Minerva finally broke in. “Is the snake dead?”

Harry sighed with relief as he was lowered onto the bed and Poppy stepped over to tend to his injuries, “No, she’s still alive. The Unspeakables restored the enchantments to her nest to allow her to go back to sleep. It’s a shame Hagrid wasn’t there, he probably would’ve swooned at the sight of that beautiful creature.” He chuckled to himself as the pain-relief potion Poppy had made him swallow took effect. His eyes were just starting to drift closed when he heard Narcissa gasp at the sight of Dobby.

“Dobby? What are you doing here?” Lucius glowered at the elf.

Dobby gave him a look of deep loathing, “I go where I want, human. I am done with you and your wreck of a family. If that costs me my life, so be it! You and your plots to discredit someone inconsequential on your council nearly cost my friends their lives and for what?! A poorly written bill to protect those who cannot protect themselves simply because they don’t have magic!”

Nearly everyone stared at the diminutive elf speaking like a normal person as he unloaded his deep-seated emotions on his soon-to-be former master. Lucius’ face grew stormy as his voice dropped to a harsh whisper, “I’ll deal with you later.” He turned to leave but was held up when Harry called his name.

“I’ve got something of yours, Mr. Malfoy.” He tossed the ruined diary into Lucius’ hands.

Lucius nearly fumbled the catch, “Mine? I don't know what you're talking about.” He tossed the book away, but Dobby caught it and stared disbelievingly at the contents.

Harry’s eyes glinted, “I think you do, sir. I think you slipped the diary into Ginny Weasley's cauldron that day at Diagon Alley. Only problem for you is that she got sorted into Hufflepuff where she quickly gained friends and soon had no need to write in a diary, so Tom would’ve compelled her to pass the diary off to someone else. It was your bad luck that your son happened to be nearby.” His eyes flicked over to Narcissa who was watching silently and warily. “Did you know, Mrs. Malfoy? That the diary originally belonged to your husband’s old master? The book is stamped with the name T.M. Riddle which is short for Tom Marvolo Riddle. He used his name as an anagram to create the phrase ‘I am Lord Voldemort’ and used that to sow fear and death up and down the island.”

Narcissa’s jaw swung open as her eyes grew impossibly large. “But Riddle isn’t a magical name…”

Harry nodded once, “Exactly. Down in the Chamber, Death presented itself to us after Riddle was defeated and informed everyone that Tom is a half-blood born to an unmarried impoverished Squib mother and a muggle father. He’s been lying to you of his origins from the get-go.”

Narcissa rounded on her rapidly-paling husband and screeched, “All this time and we’ve been kowtowing to a half-blood bastard!”

Lucius tried to regain control, “We’ll discuss this later. Dobby, return home so I can mete out your punishment for defying me.”

“Hell no, I won’t go!” Dobby remained where he was, in his held up hand dangled a man’s black sock. “Your book, your sock, my freedom.” Behind them, and unseen by all except Harry, was Hermione who grinned victoriously and flashed him a thumbs-up.

Lucius stared uncomprehendingly at the defiant elf and raised his trouser legs. Sure enough, he was missing his left sock! “How did… Fine, I don’t care. You’ll just wither away like the rest of your disgusting species.” He turned and stormed out of the infirmary before slowing to a stop when he noticed his wife hadn’t followed, “Narcissa?”

She pointed imperiously at her son and growled viciously, “I will not leave him. Go husband, go slither back to your cave and dwell on your failed plots.” She pulled her wand and leveled it threateningly at his head. Lucius understood her threat quite clearly and vacated in a hurry.

Dobby sighed in relief once his former master had left, “Rotten bastard. I hope he swings for what he’s done.” He turned to congratulate Harry on his success but smiled fondly when he saw that the boy had fallen asleep. Dobby gently pulled the covers up a bit more and patted Harry’s hand, “We’ll talk later.”

Outside in the Main Hallway…

“Lucius Malfoy,” he cringed slightly when he heard Director Bones’ drawling voice call out his name. “You’ve been a bad, bad Death Eater.”

He drew himself up indignantly, “I was…”

“Imperioused, yes I’ve heard your excuse many times.” She finished his customary line. “However, this time I have you dead to rights and you won’t be getting away that easily from justice. Between the testimony from your son, your former elf, and the Unspeakables; you’ll be lucky to only get life in Azkaban.” She flicked her wand and attached magic-canceling cuffs to his wrists. “I hope you struggle a bit, nothing would give me more satisfaction than if I had to cut you down while trying to escape.”

Lucius had a momentary idea to apparate away but the cuffs prevented him from channeling his magic. He slumped his shoulders but held his head up resolutely, “You won’t win, Bones. I shall get my freedom.” Amelia triggered the attached portkey and watched him get whisked away.

“I sincerely doubt that, Malfoy. Not where you’re going.”

Harry awoke later feeling better even though his leg was still bandaged. Dobby sat in a chair reading a Quidditch magazine. Across the aisle, Hermione was sitting up and patiently working through her homework. “Dobby?”

Dobby put the magazine away, “How are you feeling, Master Harry?”

Harry grunted as he shifted slightly, “Banged up. Why are you calling me your master? I thought you wanted to be free.”

Dobby smiled sheepishly, “It’s just a title, Harry like Headmaster or Professor. I can stop calling you that if you’d like.”

Harry wiped the sleep out of his eyes, “I don’t really care one way or the other. So what’re you going to do now?”

Dobby threw up his hands in a ‘what can I do’ manner, “No idea. I’ll look for work with another family, I suppose. It’s either that, or find a job here at the castle or in your Ministry. Neither option is all that appealing since new hires get assigned the worst jobs.”

Harry scrunched up his face in disgust, “Like scrubbing toilets and such? Gross.” An idea passed through his mind, “Listen, I’m pretty sure that my aunt wouldn’t be able to hire you since their house doesn’t really need all that much maintenance, and I’m not aware if my family has a manor anywhere. Why don’t you see if Hermione could use your help?”

Hermione must’ve overheard because she called out, “Beanie!”

Beanie popped in, “Mistress?”

She pointed over to Dobby and quickly filled in her Head elf of the situation, “Do we have any openings for additional help?”

Beanie looked Dobby up and down before smiling pleasantly, “I’m sure that the gardening team could use the extra hand, if you’re not opposed to it, Dobby.”

Dobby beamed, “I like working outdoors. It got me away from the stench the Malfoys would generate with their snobbery.” Harry laughed at hearing that.

Beanie bobbed his head, “Very well, report to Bentley as soon as you can and let him know that I sent you with Mistress Hermione’s permission.” Dobby gave Harry a gentle hug, bowed low to Hermione, then popped away. “Was there anything else, Mistress?” Hermione shook her head and gave her permission to leave. He popped away silently leaving the pair of humans to grin brightly at each other.

Hermione slid out of bed and crossed the room, “Budge over so I can sit down, Harry.” She crawled into bed next to him and cuddled up. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She answered quietly, “For everything.”

Harry and Hermione were released from the infirmary and rejoined their friends in class within no time. Speculation ran rampant about what happened in the Chamber after Draco had been taken down, but no one involved was talking. Draco refused because it was embarrassing; Harry and Hermione couldn’t because Amelia asked them not to until Lucius’ trial was over.

Hermione noticed that the headmaster still hadn’t returned. “I wonder if he’s been permanently sacked.”

“He has not, Miss Dagworth-Granger.” Minerva answered from behind them causing them to spin around. “He’s been spending the past few weeks trying to get the governors to ‘see reason’ but they’re dragging their feet, especially in light of some evidence that has surfaced recently.” She gave the bushy-haired girl a searching look, “How are you both feeling? I wanted to speak with you Miss Dagworth-Granger and ask why you didn’t feel the need to let me know that your name changed. All this time and your teachers have been misidentifying you.”

Hermione blushed, “Sorry, it was only confirmed over the summer that I was the Heiress of the Dagworth-Granger family and I honestly just didn’t think you wouldn’t have gotten told by the Goblins. I figured they must’ve sent out notices and didn’t think to confirm that.”

Minerva accepted her apology, “Apology accepted, and your other teachers have been since updated though we will not have to worry about Professor Lockhart’s input. He’s no longer a teacher here.”

Harry’s ears perked up, “What happened to him?”

Minerva glanced around uncomfortably, “I suppose I can tell you. Our ‘dear, departed Gilderoy Lockhart’ was arrested last week for a litany of crimes including stolen valor using obliviations to pass off what they did as his own accomplishments. He’s also guilty of impregnating two of our seventh year girls. I won’t tell you their names, of course for their privacy.”

Hermione stared incredulously at hearing that, “I hope he swings.”

Minerva nodded viciously, “Indeed. Now, Mr. Potter; I’ve been extraordinarily patient. Will now be a good time to discuss those miraculous cards of yours?”

Harry let a proud smile bloom on his face, “Now would be perfect, professor.”

June

The second years were tasked with a difficult endeavor as the month approached. Next year, they’d be able to add at least two electives to their schedules. At breakfast, Harry was idly perusing a brochure advertising the benefits of becoming a cursebreaker for Gringotts. “Hermione, you ought to look at this one. It’s almost tailor-made for someone with your talents.” He slid it over to her and picked up the next one for the position of Troll Wrangler before tossing that one back onto the table in bemusem*nt.

She opened up the brochure and read the contents before humming, “I’ll admit, it looks tempting. All that treasure and things that people have forgotten or don’t deserve… I’ll add it to my pile. What else did you find?”

“I’ve got one here for Harry,” Ron announced as he slid into an open space with a smug grin on his face. The brochure was for the position of Potion Teacher.

Harry laughed, “Yeah, right.” He spotted Severus in the corner of his eye and raised his voice, “Can you just picture me, Harry Potter, as Hogwarts newest Potions Master and teacher?”

Severus stalked over and snatched the flyer out of his hand and crumpled it up, “Never in a million years, Potter! I’d rather dance around in a ballerina’s outfit than permit you to infect the minds of future students.”

Harry laid his hand oh-so-dramatically over his chest, “Moi, professor? You think that I would do such a terrible job with the incoming students? I don’t think you’re seeing the bigger picture here. If I didn't take over for the younger students who haven’t yet learned how to hold a knife or prepare ingredients properly; that would mean you’d have do it and I think we all know how much you hate teaching us dunderheads.”

Severus’ sneer grew deeper, “I stand by what I said. I refuse to share this castle with the likes of you. Pick something else.” He stomped away growling.

Harry and the others barely restrained their laughter. Ron snickered, “That was awesome! (He gestured to the stack of flyers) So what other options are you looking at? I’m planning on taking Muggle Studies and Divination because they’re easy O’s.”

Harry scowled slightly at the thought of those two subjects. “I’m going to take Ancient Runes and Arithmancy with a lead towards Enchanting (he lowered his voice), so I can improve upon those cards. (He returned to normal volume) Let’s face it, Divination is a crock; unless you got the Sight, it’s a waste of time. Care of Magical Creatures is only good for the outdoorsy type, and Muggle Studies is so far out of date, it ought to be relabeled as Muggle History.”

Saturday 19 June, 1993

Their end of year tests completed, their electives chosen; all that was left to do was for the student population was to collect up their belongings and head for the train platform. Hermione already called for Beanie to collect her stuff and take it home so she wouldn’t be burdened with a heavy trunk. She loaned the assistance of Dobby to Harry for the same reason. Dobby and Harry teased her by kowtowing at her feet proclaiming her to be the Queen of the Universe for her most recent prank against Severus Snape.

The dour man had woken up the morning that they were scheduled to leave for the summer wearing an eye-wateringly bright red and gold pair of feetie pajamas with the inscription ‘Who’s your Daddy?’ embroidered on the front and a frilly bonnet on his head. The evidence left behind implicated the Weasley twins, though they vehemently denied involvement.

Harry sat in his compartment with Hermione seated next to him chatting with Luna about some creature that she and her father were set to go find over the holidays. The blonde girl was cheerful and bubbly in her excitement, occasionally sending him silent expressions of thanks for convincing her to follow them into Gryffindor. She’d mentioned a couple of times over the term that she’d meditated and discovered what her life would’ve been like if she’d opted to go into Ravenclaw like she’d originally planned. She shivered with dread, “I dodged a nasty curse thanks to you, Harry Potter.”

Across from him, Neville was demonstrating some special feature of a desert-dwelling plant Professor Sprout had allowed him to take home. Ron was alternating between reading a Quidditch magazine and looking at what Neville was yammering on about. The redhead caught Harry’s eye and smirked at him before using his other hand to twirl his finger around his temple.

Life was good.

Chapter 7: Living My Teenaged Dreams (Summer before 3rd year)

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Living My Teenaged Dreams (Summer before 3^rd year)

Tuesday 11 May, 1993; Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Prisoner Holding Cells

Lucius groaned as he tried to open his eyes only to slam them shut from the stabbing pain as the light hit his optical nerves with the same force as a red-hot poker. ‘I think I’d rather have the poker.’ “Wha… Where am I?” He croaked and rolled over. The bed he was lying on was most definitely not his; he managed to peek through his slit-open eyes and slowly absorbed the fact that he was in a plain room utterly devoid of decoration or the opulence he was accustomed to.

“Good morning, Prisoner Malfoy,” a woman’s voice cheerfully broke through his musings. “Isn’t that just the most wonderful description anyone’s given you? Prisoner Malfoy, it has a nice ring to it.”

Lucius grumbled as he turned towards the sound of the voice, “Bones? When I get out of here…”

Amelia’s voice hardened, “I doubt anything you can think of will help you in your present situation, Malfoy. I’ve got you dead to rights and you won’t be able to wiggle or bribe your way out of this.”

Lucius snorted derisively, “When Fudge finds out…”

Cornelius’ voice was heard next and chilled Lucius’ heart stone-cold, “I’ll cheer them on, Lucius. You disappointed me to the point of utter revulsion. A Basilisk at Hogwarts, Lucius? Where nearly all of the nation’s children go? What if it had gotten loose and rampaged throughout the castle or while the students were in the Great Hall? More than half of some rather influential families would’ve been snuffed out simply because you didn’t like a bill that was put forth by Arthur Weasley!” The Minister clicked his tongue in disgust and turned to the third member of their group, a hooded Unspeakable stood there silently. “He’s yours to do with as you please. Try not to leave too much of a mess?”

The Unspeakable nodded their head silently. Lucius’ eyes grew wide, “What about a trial?!”

Amelia grinned toothily, “You had a trial, Lucius. I showed everyone on the Mot memories collected by not only myself, but also your son, and nearly a dozen other people. While you were unconscious, the DoM pulled your memories as well to be displayed as evidence and to prevent you from using that silver tongue of yours. As the muggles would say, your goose is cooked.”

Lucius’ heart started racing as the Unspeakable stepped forward, the descending shadow filled his vision. “NOOO!!!”

Lucius snapped awake and sat up suddenly, his heart was pounding and sweat poured off his flushed face. His feverish eyes swept the room he was in as he fought to slow his breathing. A knock on the door broke the sound of his ragged breath, “Who…who is it?”

“Malfoy, it’s Sam.” Lucius sighed in relief, it was only Samuel Goyle. He’d contacted the man to find him a safehouse to hole up in while he planned his escape from the Ministry’s reach after fleeing from their custody after his ‘trial.’ ‘It’s a good thing I pushed as hard as I did to defund the DMLE to the point where they had to use trainees to make a prisoner transfer; otherwise, my freedom wouldn’t have been so easy.’ Sam poked his head into the room curiously, “You alright? I heard you yelling.”

Lucius scrubbed his face with his hand, “I’m alright, bad dreams. What time is it?”

Sam checked his wristwatch, a ‘present’ he’d stolen off of some muggle they’d killed during the previous war, “Um, it’s a little past seven am.”

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Lucius rose and threw on a robe before heading to the loo. “Has Crabbe shown up yet?”

“Yeah, he’s in the living room waiting for you.”

Lucius nodded perfunctorily, “Fine. I’ll be out there in a moment.” Sam grunted and disappeared. Meanwhile, Lucius went through his normal morning routine, making sure that he looked presentable even if it was just for his two loyal minions. He stared into the bathroom mirror and growled darkly at the farce he’d been forced to endure. He couldn’t even use the infamous ‘Imperious Defense’ like he did after the fall of the Dark Lord. The Wizengamot listened to the testimonies of not only his son, but also his wife, Minerva McGonagall, Potter, and that mudblood. Worse still was that Arthur Weasley’s blasted Muggle Protection Act had passed!

All that work shot down the drain. “When I find out who dared to tell my secrets, I’ll make sure they suffer.”

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire; same time

Lucius wasn’t the only Malfoy trying to figure things out. Draco lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, fervently trying to puzzle out Harry Potter’s angle for saving him from Riddle’s severing of his soul from his body and later reintegrating it. His memory was a bit fuzzy while on the other side, but what he did remember was being shown all the ways he’d hurt or bullied people that were beneath him socially. The presence across from him had issued a warning, ‘Change your ways or you’ll end up like your father and his Master.’

“So what does Potter want from me?” He muttered softly. “You just know that he’ll claim the Life Debt and make me serve him in some demeaning way.”

If kowtowing to Potter wasn’t enough to put him into a funk, news that his father had escaped from Auror custody on his way to Azkaban certainly didn’t do anything to improve his mood. “Malfoys aren’t supposed to run. Sure we may retreat to regroup, but we’re not supposed to run away like cowards.” His mother had given explicit instructions to him that he was absolutely forbidden from seeking out his father, and either offer aid and shelter or spending more than the required amount of time it would take to activate his emergency Portkey he constantly wore around his neck.

Despite her instructions, Draco really wanted to get his advice on how to proceed. He was in uncharted territory and could use his help.

Ministry for Magic, same time

Amelia stared at the Big Board, a wall-sized interactive map that displayed all known locations of magical residences from the great ancestral manors all the way down to rude sheds where wizards were known to frequent. Even Knockturn Alley had its own map, such as it was seeing as how businesses tended to pop up or disappear with frightening regularity. The Board would light up whenever magic was detected; even now there were tiny pinpricks of light flashing across. Most of it was benign; Ministry workers doing maintenance across the country, wizarding adults going about their daily lives, children either playing or experimenting, or in some rare cases, Aurors out getting real world training. Those lights were shown in white indicating no threats detected. If the light changed to red, that meant Unforgiveables were detected and needed intervention. If the light was blue, that meant a new muggleborn had been detected and a representative needed to be sent out.

Even magical transportation was displayed in the form of crisscrossing lines much like the muggle Underground schemas. As of right now, everything was as calm as it could be and it was frustrating Amelia to no end.

“Still no sighting?” Cornelius spoke up as he entered the room.

She shook her head disappointedly, “Nothing. Even the tracking charm that all prisoners have applied to them isn’t working. Well, it is working, but it’s showing him to be in the middle of the Atlantic which suggests that wherever he is, it’s warded or unplottable.”

The Minister hummed, “What about sending out that elf team of yours? Wouldn’t they be able to find him?”

Amelia spared him an evaluative look, “I did already and they said that his trail went cold somewhere near Hull. Locky said they even expanded their search grid thinking that he must’ve found the tracker and did a couple of micro-apparitions, but they came up empty-handed.”

Cornelius frowned then brightened as he began to understand, “Oh, so they have his magical signature?”

Pleased he caught on so easily, she nodded her approval, “Exactly. I’m not too worried; he’s still going to need to come out if he ever wants to travel off the island.”

“Wouldn’t he be able to take a Portkey inside a building?”

She pointed to the coastline of the map, “The country’s territorial wards have been activated. Anyone traveling in or out gets funneled through specific points. The Unspeakables tell me that if the outbound wards detect his signature, he’ll be rerouted to a holding cell and stunned upon arrival.”

The pair stood there quietly for a moment before Cornelius spoke again, “Dolores came by to suggest an alternative means of protecting the populace in general and Hogwarts in particular.”

Amelia groaned, “And what did the Toad suggest?”

He gave her an odd look, “The Toad?” She gave him a leading look for a moment before he got the insult, “Oh, right. Anyways, she suggested that we mobilize the Dementors to key points on the island and in Hogwarts’ valley.”

“And what was your response?” Her growl dropped the temperature in the room several degrees.

He shook his head ruefully, “I wish you’d give me the benefit of the doubt, Amelia before you assume the worst. I told her in no uncertain terms that I would never think to use those demons; especially after Lucius endangered everyone with that blasted Basilisk!”

“That’s a relief. For a moment there, I thought she would’ve tried to influence you somehow.”

His chuckle was humorless, “She tried, but I saw through her ploy almost immediately. You know that gods-awful cat figurine she gifted me a couple of months back?” She nodded warily. “I had it checked by your cursebreakers and found that she’d layered on a couple of compulsion charms to make me or whoever she gave it to, more compliant with her ‘suggestions.’”

Amelia goggled at him, “I should have her arrested for trying to subvert the Minister!”

He waved that off, “Nah, it’s more fun this way. I get the thrill of seeing her fidget wondering why I’m resisting instead of bowing to her more depraved ideas. Besides, I’ve got a few surprises in her office courtesy of a couple of trinkets I brought back from that ministerial trip to Sweden a few years back.”

“Who are you and what have you done with that noodle-spined Minister we all loved to hate?” She joked.

He grinned teasingly, “He’s still here. I’m still not sure what I’m doing, but darned if I don’t look good doing it. Well, I’m off to inform the muggle Prime Minister of the latest developments.” He tipped his bowler hat to her and waddled out of the room.

Sunday 20 June, 1993; Dursley Residence

Harry ambled his way bleary-eyed into the kitchen and yawned his greeting to his aunt. “Sleep well, Harry?”

He shrugged, “Well enough, I guess. The beds at school are softer than the one I have here so it took a while before I was able to fall asleep.” He turned briefly as Dudley joined them and slumped down on his chair at the table. “You look like you had a rougher night than I did.”

“I got involved with a rune project that kept bugging me until I finally figured out where I went wrong.”

Harry snickered, “Did you?”

Dudley nodded, “Yeah, I inverted the amplifier so instead of boosting the effect I wanted, it shut it down.”

“Ouch, been there.” Harry sympathized. “What are you using to trace your pathways?”

“Dad loaned me some kit from his work that he uses to quality control the new circuit boards or some such thing.”

Harry made a thoughtful noise, “I wonder if…nah, I can just run a check with my magic.”

Dudley waved his hand, “Exactly, I can’t do that so I’m forced to rely on…what did he call it? ‘Non-standard’ equipment and just hope for the best. Speaking of magic, is there anything you could cook up that would allow me to do the same thing you do but without a wand?”

Harry scrubbed his chin, “Probably. How big of a workspace do you need? Isn’t this something you could do since you’ve gotten involved with runes?”

“My biggest project fits into the space of a sheet of A4 paper and no, I’m worried I might screw something up even worse.”

Waving his hand dismissively, Harry replied, “Oh, that’s easy then. I can even integrate it into your desk, if you want. It shouldn’t be that difficult if you want to help as all I plan on doing is copying the circuitry of the kit Uncle Vernon loaned you onto the surface of your desk and adding a field above it to run the check without the need of wires or anything.” Dudley bobbed his head in agreement before rising to grab a plate of waffles his mum had just finished dishing out.

Vernon entered the kitchen a few minutes later, a knowing smirk ghosting his face, “I’m glad you’re all here. I’ve got a surprise for everyone.”

Petunia shook her head as she handed him a cup of coffee and kissed his cheek in greeting, “I think it’s a bit too early to play guessing games, Vernon. The boys just got up.”

His smile grew wider, “I think what I’ve got will perk them up quick enough. You both remember that business dinner I had with the Masons? (Both boys nodded vaguely) Well, the deal went through and I got a raise and a promotion out of it! As a bonus, Mr. Grunnings awarded me with four tickets to visit Euro Disney!”

Both Dudley and Harry’s eyes bulged in surprise and their mouths dropped open. Dudley squeaked, “Eu…Euro Disney?!”

Harry nudged his cousin, “And we’re going to be there on your birthday too!” Dudley nearly fainted at the idea of celebrating his birthday at the park.

Vernon nodded proudly, “Yup, so I figured that we make the most of it and take the ferry to Paris. The itinerary I’ve worked up will have us staying there for a week. I’ve already booked us two hotel rooms as well as a car to take us to and from the park and around the city.”

Petunia was flabbergasted, she was going to PARIS! “What about passports and all that? We don’t speak French, how are we going to understand anything?”

Vernon waggled a finger approvingly, “I’ve got to deal with all that tomorrow. I’ll pick up a couple of translation books. Harry, I was hoping that you’d be able to help me pack our suitcases and shrink them down to make traveling easier.”

Harry bobbed his head dazedly, “Sure, no problem. I’m assuming you don’t want it to last very long?”

“I figure that if you can get the effects to last about six hours, we should be fine; especially if there’s a hold-up enroute. Plan on leaving here on Wednesday early morning so we can beat the traffic.” He grabbed a plate of waffles and headed towards the living room leaving behind a trio of dazed and deliriously happy family members.

Three days later…

Bags packed, kids and wife loaded into the car, Vernon backed out of the driveway and drove to King’s Cross Station. Dudley teased Harry, “Remember, you’re not going to your fancy-pants platform today.” Harry rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out in response.

Petunia glared at them, “Don’t start you two. Traveling is difficult as it is, I don’t want either of you to ruin this trip by squabbling.”

They found their platform after asking an attendant and boarded the train headed towards Folkstone. From there, they would transfer to a ferry going across the English Channel then a shuttle service to the hotel. Harry quickly found his seat next to the window and got comfortable. He whispered to Dudley, “You know, I’ve heard that there’s supposed to be a magical way to go long distances.”

Dudley’s eyebrows rose, “Besides brooms?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, I forget what they’re called though.”

They both turned at the sound of a quiet cough and saw an older man sitting across from them. “The methods you’re thinking of are called ‘Portkeys and Floo.’”

Both boys’ jaws dropped, Harry stuttered, “Are…you?”

The man smiled knowingly, “Magical? Yes. I prefer to travel the ‘normal’ way because of my recent inner ear problem. Portkeys and the floo tend to spin you around rather violently. I like my lunch to stay in my stomach, if you get my drift.”

Dudley oohed, “It sounds like a fairground ride. Thank you, sir.”

The man waved his hand dismissively, “Not a problem. Whereabouts are you headed, Mr. Potter?” Harry blinked in surprise causing the man to laugh, “Yes, you look remarkably like your father of whom I’ve met before.”

Harry shook his head to dispel the oddity of being recognized, “We’re headed to Paris, sir.”

The man nodded understandingly, “Ah Paris, good city. Oh, where are my manners? My name is Nicholas.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, something about this man was triggering vague recognition in the back of his memories. He carefully searched the slightly worn face of the stranger sitting across from him. Nicholas caught the searching look and smiled, “Figured it out yet?” At Harry’s wide-eyed look of realization, Nicholas tipped an imaginary hat, “Good lad. Let’s just keep this between us, shall we?”

“Hermione’s never going to believe me…”

Thirty minutes later into their trip, Dudley nudged Harry and jutted his chin in the direction of the now snoozing mysterious stranger. “Who do you think that is? How do you know him?” he whispered.

“My first year, Dumbledore tried to be clever and arrange a trap for that evil wizard who killed my parents and to force a showdown between me and him for reasons I haven’t the foggiest.” Harry whispered back. “He used an artifact created by the legendary alchemist Nicholas Flamel. It’s known as the Philosopher’s Stone, which according to legend; is supposed to make the user immortal if you add it to a drink of something. It’s also rumored to being able to turn base metals into pure gold. Hermione and I figured out early on that the stone must’ve been a fake since Nicholas Flamel is over six hundred years old and had to have the world’s greatest defenses to safeguard his treasures. We were proven correct when we found the inscription, ‘Nice try, Albus’ written on the underside.”

Dudley thumbed back to where the man they’d met slept, “And you think that guy is the same person?”

Harry smiled thinly, “I know he is. He’s got a portrait at my school and it’s a near spot-on match.”

Dudley’s eyes widen at the same time his mouth dropped open in stunned understanding, “Wicked.”

Three hours later…

The quartet of weary travelers arrived at the Disneyland Hotel and got checked into their rooms. Harry dropped his bag onto the bed and tapped it with his wand restoring it to its normal size then did the same for his cousin. Petunia opened the adjoining door and requested he do the same for them as well. “I want you both unpacked and showered in thirty minutes. Heaven knows what you might’ve picked up on the ride over.”

She returned to the adults’ room, settled into a chair, and propped her feet up before picking up a travel brochure, “I can’t wait to get some shopping done. Melanie Kirktree is going to be so jealous!”

Their first day in Paris, the family of four took in as many of the local tourist sites as they could before hitting Disneyland. Harry stood stiffly next to his cousin as Aunt Petunia corralled them into taking a photo in front of the Eiffel Tower. At the last second, the pair of them put silly faces on. Vernon thought it was funny while Petunia just glared at them before demanding another photo. “If you mess this up, I’ll have you thrown in prison.”

Petunia got to buy a few outfits in some of the well-known shops. Vernon whistled appreciatively as she sashayed around the sales floor of Louis Vuitton. She sighed as she took a peek at the price tag, “It’s a nice dream but this is way out of my price range.”

Harry thought for a moment before heading over to the sales desk and discretely placed a gold Galleon on the counter. The sales woman tilted her head curiously and inquired quietly, “Magicen?” He nodded his head. She smiled and motioned for him to bring the others.

“Uncle Vernon?” Harry called out and gestured for them to follow him and the saleslady to another room.

“Welcome to the magical side of Louis Vuitton, lady and gentlemen,” she said in accented English. “I think you’ll find the selection here to be more of your tastes.”

Petunia sent Harry a curious look, “What did you do?”

Harry sent back a confident grin, “The Galleon is cheaper than regular money. You can easily get that outfit you were dreaming of at a fraction of the price on this side.”

Vernon placed his hand proudly on his nephew’s shoulder while Petunia started tearing up and allowed herself to be escorted into the changing room. “Good lad. Your dad would’ve been proud.”

Euro Disney Main Entrance

After rising at seven in the morning and getting a decent breakfast in their stomachs; everyone got ready to head into the park for a day of fun and excitement. Harry and Dudley were busy examining the park map in great detail, making plans as to what they wanted to see first.

"I want to go to Discoveryland first," Dudley declared, "The Monorail looks awesome!"

"I want to go to the shooting gallery!" Harry argued.

Round and round they went, declaring one attraction better than the other until Petunia came over and stated in no uncertain terms that they'd be starting at one end and working their way around. “Harry, keep your eyes open to see if they have a magical section that isn’t on the map.”

“Couldn’t we ask someone?” He pointed to a kiosk to the left of the main ticket booth.

Vernon looked in the direction he was indicating, “I don’t see anything there, it’s just a potted plant.” Harry laid a hand on his arm which allowed him to see past the enchantments. “Whoa, that’s…good catch, Harry.” He led them over to speak with the attendant, “Good morning, we were hoping that the park had a magical section.”

The attendant smiled understandingly, “Good morning and yes, we do have a magical section. If you head over to Le Chateau De La Belle Au Bois Dormant, you should find a statue of Nicholas Flamel who will point you in the direction of the hidden passageway.” Dudley snickered at hearing the man’s name, given they’d met the real deal on the train.

Vernon nodded, “Do you have a map of the hidden section? What sorts of rides and attractions are available there?”

The attendant handed over the map and a couple of brochures, “You’ll find much the same over there although the prizes that can be won in the arcades are magical in nature.”

“So like trick sweets and animated toys?” She confirmed his question with a nod. “Thank you for the help.”He smiled pleasantly before turning to the others, “Come on everyone, Disney magic awaits!”

Tickets paid for and additional maps acquired, the group moved into the park proper. Excitement was already at record levels just from watching the monorail as it glided overhead. Dudley gurgled happily at the thought of riding such a magnificent machine.

Their first stop was the locker room where they struggled to find a couple that were large enough to hold their extra supplies and gear like their jackets and changes of clothes.

The first ride they went on was Dudley’s choice of the Monorail. The kids and the adults were in awe at the set decorations of just the station as they waited in line to board one of the ultra-sleek cars. A brief safety explanation of keeping your arms, head, bodies, feathers, and whatnot within the windows and they were off. Their automated guide pointed out many different features of the sights and attractions throughout the park; both boys’ eyes were wide with eager anticipation of what lay in store for them.

The travelers oohed and ahhed throughout the ride as they saw the Orbitron – Machines Volantes (Flying Machines), the nearly completed Les Mystères du Nautilis (Mysteries of the Nautilis/Submarine ride), they could see Phantom Manor as well as the French version of Sleeping Beauty Castle!

After that was the Swiss Family Treehouse; Petunia let the males of the group take the lead on that one while she sat down on a bench and waited for them to return.When they returned, Dudley was all smiles, “I want a treehouse like that in our backyard. That would be so cool!”

Vernon let out a low groan as he dropped down onto the bench and rubbed his feet, “I’m thinking a hammock would be just the ticket right about now and we’ve barely gotten started.”

As they reached Phantom Manor, Harry began noticing some oddities hanging around the graveyard. A couple of the tombstones and decorations appeared to be moving or interacting with the public yet no one was reacting to them. “I think there’re some actual ghosts here.” Dudley perked up and asked where they were. Harry pointed to a tombstone that had a small child sitting on top of it, “She’s one, I think.” The apparition was amazingly solid-looking without any of the transparency he was used to from the ghosts in Hogwarts.

Dudley grabbed Harry’s arm, his eyes widened as he was now able to see the specter in question. “Woah! A real ghost.”

The two moved over to the railing. “Hello, what’s your name?” Harry quietly spoke to the ghostly child.

The girl sniffled as she looked up at him, “My name is Claire. Why can you see me and no one else can?”

Harry smiled thinly, “Probably because I’m a wizard, Claire. My name is Harry and this is Dudley. How long have you been here?” Claire shrugged sadly. “Is this your tombstone?”

Claire shook her head, “No, I died inside. It was a hot day and the ride had broken down. I wasn’t feeling well and laid down to take a nap. I remember feeling very light and floaty after a while then when the buggy began moving again, I stayed where I was. I tried to tell Mummy and Daddy, but they couldn’t hear me.” She floated down from the stone, “I like coming here to watch the living. It’s too noisy inside most times.” The line began to move again. “I think your family is leaving you behind. Thank you for speaking with me, Harry and Dudley.”

When the boys rejoined the line, Dudley glanced over his shoulder to where the girl drifted off into the bushes, “That was so sad. I wish there was something we could do to help her.”

Harry agreed, “Me too. No one should spend eternity alone.”

The group went on the other rides and had an absolute blast. Petunia surprised Vernon and the boys by outlasting them on the Mad Hatter’s Spinning Teacups, no matter how fast Dudley or Harry tried to make it go. Vernon was a rather vivid green by the time he wobbled off to a bench to sit down.

Petunia demanded that they go on the It’s A Small World boat ride even though Vernon was a little off-put at how overly cheerful it sounded. She nevertheless dragged all three of them into the queue line and let out a squeal of delight as they boarded the boat. Dudley groaned, “Mum stop, you’re embarrassing us!”

“Why do you think I’m doing it?” she teased back and ruffled his hair playfully, ignoring his ineffectual growls and swatting hands.

Vernon took the boys onto the faster rides such as Big Thunder Mountain, Space Mountain, and Autopia. Petunia joined them for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and the more sedate attractions since she didn’t want to mess her hair up too much.

Friday 2 July, 1993; A little over a week later…

Harry wasn’t the only one to groan in delight and relief as he trudged into the house after their return from France. “I’m home!” He flopped down on his bed and muttered that next time; they would take a Portkey or something. He snickered at the sound of Dudley also groaning in relief from his room.

Petunia knocked on the door and sagged up against it wearily, “Guess what?”

He rolled over and mumbled tiredly, “If it’s the Queen, tell her she’s too late. I’m not getting up until September.”

Petunia snickered briefly, “Understandable. Speaking of someone who thinks they’re high and mighty; Vernon got a call from his sister. Her Majesty’s demanding to visit and you know what that means.”

Harry let out a groan, Marge Dursley was not a pleasant person even in the best of times and in his experience; there was never the best of times if it involved her. She was the epitome of self-entitlement and arrogance, thinking the world needed a firm hand, and to hear her loudly voiced opinions on everything and everyone. “When is she showing up?”

“She’ll be here on your birthday, unfortunately. Don’t give me that look, she picked the date. I was thinking that rather than subject you to her, you might want to call a couple of your friends to see if you can visit.”

Pulling himself up, Harry thought about whom he could call, “Alright, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Maybe I could crash at Hermione’s for a couple of days.”

Dagworth-Granger Manor; Chelmsford, Essex, same day

Emma Granger watched on in amusem*nt as Hermione flitted about the house trying to organize her first all-girl party. Beanie popped in and took in the scene before shaking his head in exasperation, “Was she always like this?”

Emma snickered at the sight of her daughter growling to herself as she tossed rejected CD cases onto the bed, “No, Hermione’s never really had what you could call ‘friends’ growing up. It wasn’t until she met Harry Potter the summer before Hogwarts that she developed any sense of open friendship without some nefarious expectations in kind.”

Beanie nodded sagely, “The thievery. Yes, I’d imagine that line of interest wouldn’t foster any sort of…pleasantries.”

Emma gave him a glance askance, “You know about that?”

“I’ve seen my share of the younger generation thinking they could hide their activities from the elders. It’s not that much of a surprise anymore, but as I’ve noticed, her ‘transactions’ have tapered off quite a bit in the past couple of weeks that you both have been here.”

She sighed heavily, “I made her promise to keep that sort of stuff up at that school of hers and not around here. I don’t want anyone to get the idea that we might have something worthwhile of stealing squirreled away.” The floo wards pinged alerting them of an incoming call. Emma tapped on the special brick which activated the green flames.

Daphne Greengrass’ smiling face flickered in the fire, “Good morning, Regent Dagworth-Granger. Is Hermione available?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder at the sight of Hermione having a mini-panic attack and drawled, “Yeah, she’s here. Would you like to come over and help calm her down?” She stood back up and pressed the brick again to unlock the security ward and moved out of the way as Daphne spun out of the fireplace. Emma gestured over to her frazzled daughter, “She’s been like this since she got off the train. I’m guessing your school doesn’t teach how to throw parties.”

Daphne shook her head, “Not as such. Mostly it’s just a minor celebration amongst the Housemates after a Quidditch game. Usually just some finger food and drinks, nothing to the extent that a formal gathering would require.” She watched as Hermione thundered up the stairs. “Yes, she could definitely use some help. Why haven’t your elves stepped in?”

Emma shrugged, “It’s her first party and she’s used to doing things herself. Have fun with her.” She wandered into the library to wait out the storm.

Hermione’s bedroom…

“Hermione?”

The girl in question looked up in surprise, “Daphne? (Her eyes widened in fright) Oh, my god! Is the party starting already without me?!”

Daphne waved her down, “Relax, the party isn’t scheduled to start for another hour. After accepting your invitation, I heard from Tracey that you were in charge of organizing everything and despite your cool exterior at school, I was pretty certain that you’d never done something like this before.”

Hermione slumped onto Daphne’s shoulder and whined, “There’s so much to do! I don’t know how anyone can keep things straight.”

Daphne giggled, “Most of the time we just let the elves handle things. It’s their job to worry about the details and minutia, you know. We just give them the concept and let them work.”

Hermione sighed in resignation and called out, “Beanie!” Her Head Elf popped in with a knowing smirk on his face. “You heard?”

“It wasn’t difficult, Mistress. May I have your permission to take over?”

She let out a pitiful whine before nodding, “Yes, organize the party please. Nothing too elaborate; there’s only supposed to be ten girls showing up, well nine since Daphne’s already here.”

Beanie bowed his head, “As you wish, Mistress. I think we’ll set it up in the Sunroom.” He popped out leaving an exasperated Head of House and her snigg*ring friend behind.

“So who else is supposed to show up?” Daphne inquired.

“I’ve gotten positive responses from Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Tracey, Pansy Parkinson, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, the Patil Twins, and Lavender Brown.”

“Quite the assortment. It ought to be interesting to see if Weasley can control herself around the Slytherins.”

Hermione tilted her head curiously, “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Her family has a strained relationship with anyone wearing green and silver.”

“Ron’s in Slytherin, so it can’t be that bad.”

Daphne waggled her hand, “From what I heard, he’s not been having the best time during the breaks. His mum constantly harps on him for tricking the Hat into putting him into the ‘House of the Enemy’ or some such thing.”

“I thought she got over that. It’s been two years since his Sorting!”

Daphne gave her a patronizing smirk, “Molly Weasley is like the proverbial dog with a bone. Once she’s gotten an idea into her head, it’s damn near impossible to wrest it from her attention.”

“Clay to Harvester, come in please.”

Daphne looked around at the sound of Harry Potter’s muffled voice coming from somewhere near Hermione’s bed stand. “What the…”

Hermione scrambled over her bed and plucked the card out of the drawer, “Harvester here.”

“I was wondering what you’re up to on the thirty-first. I’ve got unpleasant company arriving then and need a place to hide.”

“Define ‘Unpleasant Company.’ Are you being pursued by the authorities?” She winked at Daphne’s mystified expression of the card she was holding.

“My uncle’s sister is coming to visit and she’s an absolute beast of a woman. You know how Snape likes to treat anyone not of his House? She’s worse.” Both girls flinched at the thought.

“Well, I’m due to host a party here within an hour, Clay. I don’t think you’d fit in all that well as the guests are all girls,” Hermione replied apologetically then thought quickly. “You said that she’ll be arriving on your birthday?”

“Yes.”

“I think we could work something out. How about a trip to the beach? I haven’t been there since I was little and I think some summer sun would do us both a world of good before we head back up to Scotland.”

They could hear Harry think that over, “Alright, that sounds like a good idea. In the meantime, I’ll go see if Groot is available to harbor me. Clay out.” The card she was holding went silent.

Daphne pointed at it, “What is that?”

Hermione smirked, “It’s a miniaturized muggle radio that has been magically improved to work without ‘normal’ power. It can transmit and receive voice calls anywhere on the island.”

“I’m guessing ‘Clay’ is Harry because he’s a Potter?” Hermione confirmed that with a nod of her head. “What about your nickname of ‘Harvester’?”

“Because my last name of Granger. It translates into grain-dealer or granary. It was used as an occupational name for farmers or those working in agriculture.”

Daphne bobbed her head in understanding. “Why does it look like a Harry Potter Chocolate Frog Card and who is Groot?”

She gave her friend a mildly exasperated sniff, “Because Harry’s a boy, and they all think they’re greater than Merlin, that’s why.” They both dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Groot is the name of a muggle comic book character and is the nickname given to Neville Longbottom. Groot looks like a human-like walking tree and Neville’s got that plant thing of his. (She slid off the bed and held out her hand) Come on, let’s go have a party.”

An hour later…

The floo flared up again as the guests started arriving. Hermione and her mother stood waiting to receive each of them and direct them to the Sunroom. Ginny stepped out of the fire followed closely by her mother. She gave the hosts an apologetic look and whispered, “Sorry, I’d swear she still thinks I’m five and needs to be monitored like a baby.”

Hermione shook her head and gestured to a waiting elf, “No apologies necessary. If you’ll follow Magnolia here, she’ll lead you to the Sunroom. I think the only one left to show is Luna.”

Ginny giggled conspiratorially, “Then prepare yourself for a unique entrance.”

Molly shushed her daughter, “Ginny, that was uncalled for! Now come along, we need to find a good seat for you.”

As the Weasleys followed their elf escort away, Emma surreptitiously twirled her finger over her temple, “Strange woman. You go ahead; I’ll stay here to meet Luna.”

Looking back, Hermione thought that the party was going pretty well. The elves had set the music playing (which naturally drew the attention of the magically-raised since none of them had ever heard of Weezer, Green Day, Oasis, or even Michael Jackson.) The kitchen staff delivered a delicious feast of sandwiches and sweets, plus fizzy drinks as well as tea and pumpkin juice. Conversations switched and fluttered on about boys, school, boys, fashion, boys, society gossip, and of course…boys.

Every now and then Ginny would raise her voice and say something ‘scandalous’ just to get a rise out of her mother who’d glare reprovingly at her daughter before the former and her friends would dissolve into fits of laughter.

While the girls were chattering on and enjoying themselves, Emma hosted their parents. In addition to Molly Weasley (who was ‘politely’ instructed to leave the elf staff alone); there was Abigail Abbott, Lonnie Davis, and Evangeline Brown. The only male in attendance was Xenophilius Lovegood, Luna’s dad who seemed to delight in confusing the others with his odd attempts at drawing their attention to invisible or impossible creatures.

At the end of it all, Emma was pretty confident that Hermione’s first party was a rousing success if the levels of excitement and compliments from the other girls were any indication. Once the last person disappeared into the floo, she wrapped her eminently relieved daughter up in her arms, “You did a great job, Winter. I’m proud of you.”

Hogwarts, same day; Headmistress’ office

Filius Flitwick entered Minerva’s office and greeted his colleague cheerfully, “What’s up?”

Minerva gave him an exasperated grimace, “There are days when I wish murdering an old Headmaster was legal. Albus left this place in a Hell of a mess and now it’s my job to make sense of it all.”

Filius nodded sagely as he glanced about the room, “I’m glad you got rid of those tacky trinkets he used to have. With them gone, it’s certainly quieter.”

She growled lightly, “You don’t know the half of it. Albus used those blasted things to track and monitor a number of people, most notably Harry Potter for whatever reason.”

Filius frowned, “Didn’t he always say that he was the boy’s magical guardian?”

“Yes, but that’s no excuse for not taking some time to actually visit the lad. I don’t know what he had in mind but it’s was no doubt something convoluted and idiotic. Anyhow, enough about him. I need your help, Filius. Would you be so kind as to contact Gringotts to see if they’d be available to hunt down and permanently remove the so-called DADA Curse once and for all?”

Flitwick’s eyebrows rose curiously, “Sure, I can but why if I might ask? They’ll accept a call from anyone you know.”

Minerva’s cheeks pinked slightly, “I was hoping if it came from you, they might offer a price reduction. I’ve been going through the ledger and Albus has been playing sticky fingers with the funds.”

Filius snorted and shook his head, “Why am I not surprised? Yeah, I can send out an inquiry. I hope you’re planning on hiring someone to fix whatever lunacy he’s done to our finances.”

“Definitely. Now, I just need to figure out who I can trust,” she replied dryly. Her eyes drifted off to the wall that held her most prized photographs and landed on one that showed a group of four teen boys laughing and jostling about. A slow smile crept across her face, “I think I got the candidate in mind.”

Thursday 8 July, 1993; Hogwarts, Headmistress’ office

Minerva smiled fondly at the person who sat across from her. “I haven’t seen you in quite some time. You never call, you never write; I was starting to think you didn’t like your old Head of House, Mr. Lupin.”

Remus Lupin, former Gryffindor prefect, Class of 1978 blushed as he accepted the mild rebuke for the teasing it was. “My apologies, Professor. My life was quite hectic following my graduation. It still is at times though I am pleased to say that my current position is stable for now.”

She tsked at him, “You still can’t tell me what your job entails?”

He shook his head ruefully, “I wish I could, but I’m bound by laws and oaths to the Crown, Ma’am.” He gestured around him, “So what’s this new position you had in mind for me?”

Minerva leant forward and slid the school’s financial ledger over to him, “I recall that you were always good with numbers and was hoping you’d take on the job of overseeing the efforts to fix Albus’ idiocy when it came to finances. He seemed to operate under the belief that whatever he wanted, he was entitled to take regardless of how it might affect the school. The brooms are indicative of that; he used the funding to replace them on his infernal lemon drops.”

Remus bobbed his head understandingly, “I heard he’d been suspended by the Governors. I’m surprised that he didn’t use some favors to get reinstated.”

Minerva’s face took on a slightly sinister smirk, “I may or may not have had a bit of a hand in that. I hinted to the governors and to the rest of the Wizengamot that Albus was the one directly responsible for the falling standards and that their heirs and heiresses were going to be forced to hire tutors on their own time because the Headmaster was playing with their futures for some nebulous Greater Good malarkey.”

Remus chuckled, “And because those in charge are notoriously tight-fisted when it comes to spending their own money, they became resistant to allowing Albus back into his old position. Clever… So have you heard anything of what he’s been up to?”

She shook her head, “I’ve heard from some old friends that he’s been making the rounds on the Administrative levels of the Ministry trying repeatedly to get them to ‘listen to reason’ but as I’ve said, they’re no longer willing to bend to his wishes.” She let her smirk drop and changed the subject, “How’s Sirius doing?”

Remus sobered, “He’s got his good days and bad days. Lately, they’ve been mostly good though. I know he wrote a letter to Harry to see about getting a chance to visit before he goes back to school.”

“Why did you never visit after the war?”

He sniffed, “I was busy in my job. I only got promoted out of the field recently. It’s rather difficult to take time to visit friends and family when you’ve been sent overseas to integrate and spy on the wolfpacks.”

Minerva agreed with that, “Fair enough, I suppose. He’s doing quite well, you know. Second in his class for the past two years, occasionally he’ll top out above another student with whom he seems to be in a friendly competition to be the best.”

Remus sighed fondly, “Sounds like he’s channeling Lily. James was never that competitive unless it was for Lily’s attention or on the Quidditich pitch.”

“Do you think that Sirius would be ready to take on some responsibilities and yes, I know what I just suggested,” she asked him.

He smirked at her comment, “In what way?”

Minerva pointed to her teacher roster, “I’m in need of a Defense professor. One that I’m hopeful will stick around for longer than a year now that the so-called Curse has been dispelled.”

Remus was incredulous on two counts, “You want Sirius Black to teach impressionable children?! When was the Curse dispelled?”

She held up one finger, “Yes, I want to give him the opportunity to make something of himself and not just sit around wherever he’s living all day stewing in his own thoughts. Plus, he’d get to see Harry on a regular basis.” A second finger was raised, “And the curse was dealt with two days ago by the Goblin cursebreakers. It took them all of a couple of hours to locate the trigger which in this case was the teacher’s contract, the power source which was the school’s Master Wardstone, and finally the anchor which in hindsight was so glaringly obvious that it’s a wonder how no one noticed it before, the door lintel of the classroom.”

“To think, all those years of Albus mentioning that there was nothing he could do about it, utter hogwash apparently. How much did that cost the school?” Remus breathed in amazement.

Here, Minerva grimaced, “Eighty thousand Galleons. We were fortunate that the Goblins were willing to take gemstones as payment.”

Remus glanced down at the ledger in his hands, “Where did you get gemstones?”

“One of the elves brought them in from wherever they store such valuables,” she replied. “I’m glad that they knew about such things otherwise I shudder to think of how much the tuition would’ve had to have been raised to cover the expense.”

Remus bobbed his head silently for a moment, “Alright, I’m leaning towards taking the job but only if you can work with me in that this position would only be temporary until I can get it all straightened out and pass it off to the Deputy. By the way, who’d you manage to convince to take it up?”

Minerva snickered, “I managed to con Pomona into taking it up.”

“How’d you do that? I thought nothing would be able to drag her away from her greenhouses or the Headship of Hufflepuff.”

“It wasn’t easy; I had to promise that she wouldn’t have to spread herself too thin like I did for all those years. She agreed as long as I still handled the muggleborn introductions since she knows nothing of how their world works.”

Remus hummed, “Seems reasonable. Anyone else coming in or going out?”

She nodded proudly, “I’ve reassigned Cuthbert Binns to the new position of ‘Detention Overseer.’ As far as he’s concerned, he’ll still ‘teach’ History of Magic, but the students who get sent to him will be serving their detentions instead. They’ll be required to stay awake and pass a quiz on the material at the end of their time. If they pass, they get to go free otherwise, it’s another day tacked on.”

He flinched, “That might be construed as cruel and unusual punishment, you know.”

Minerva was unrepentant, “If they can’t do the time, they shouldn’t have done the crime. I hired a new living teacher to take over the actual history classes. I’ve also hired Andromeda Tonks to teach the first through fourth years in Potions leaving Severus to handle the fifth through seventh years. We both know that he’s thoroughly unsuited to instructing the children who’ve never been in a laboratory before.”

Remus snorted, “I think he’s thoroughly unsuited to being around people in general.”

She waggled her finger reprovingly, “Enough of that. Finally, I hired a new transfiguration teacher to take over from me since I’ll be too busy with Headmistress duties.”

When Remus stood to take his leave, she embraced him strongly, “It’s good to have you back, Mr. Lupin.”

Thursday 15 July, 1993; Chocolate Frog Trading Card and Printing

‘Sometimes it’s good to be me.’ Harry thought as he and Hermione followed behind the company representative as the man explained how things worked. Harry’d called the owner and said that they were curious about how the cards were manufactured and enchanted as part of a summer education program. The owner cheerfully extended an invitation to come see where the magic happened. Harry mentally compared the operation to a muggle baseball card printer and other than the machine that applied the animations; it wasn’t too different in scope.

“So how do you load the new cards when they’re finished with them in the offices?” He had to speak up over the noise of the printing machines.

“We store the master cards in a secure vault on-site which are only handled by our Senior Printers. We load the masters into this slot here. The head on this device scans the card which does a number of things. First and foremost, it makes sure that it’s the proper one by comparing it to an internal register queue. You wouldn’t want to start printing out a run of the person's background information only to realize later that they were for the wrong figure.” He gestured to the next phase. “From there, it gets the four-color layer applied. Those colors are cyan, magenta, yellow, and black; which are used to generate everything except the figure itself. That’s done over here…”

Hermione spoke up next, “What’s your security like? I’ve got to believe that you must have some top-notch wards to keep out the people from making unwanted alterations.”

The representative nodded approvingly, “That we do. Our system is designed to only allow those personnel with matching magical signatures. Since everyone’s signature is unique and cannot be copied, if you’re not supposed to be there; you’ll be stunned and the Aurors called for.”

She shared a look with Harry who distracted the representative with the hopeful request that he might be able to get a couple of Harry Potter cards (the man laughed and promised that it would be no problem at all), allowing her the opportunity to disappear. When she returned twenty minutes later, she sent him a knowing wink of triumph.

“So what’re the card’s distribution like? Do you have a set thing where only certain cards are allowed to be sold?”

Later that evening…

The machines were quiet; the workers had gone home for the night which left the offices devoid of a human presence. An employee entrance silently opened under its own accord and closed again without anyone being seen. Under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, Hermione crept into the Human Resources office and altered the employee roster to include her name and signature at the required rank to access the vault. Once that was done, she moved off to the outer vault door and keyed in the code that would allow her access to the Master Card storage. The security ward made a buzzing noise as her signature was accepted and the lock clunked loudly. She paused as the door swung open, wary for anyone or anything that might still be in the building but no one showed up to investigate.

She hunted around for the current master for the unaltered Harry Potter card and smiled victoriously as she plucked it out of its housing, slipped it into her pocket, and replaced it with the new spy card before retracing her steps. “Here’s to our success, Harry.” She whispered to herself.

Her next stop was the main printing office where she keyed in the new information governing how available the cards were to be, allowing the spy cards to be printed in larger quantities and distributed across the island. They were still in the Exclusive range, but now the odds that a pack would contain a Harry Potter card were higher than before.

Outside, Harry waited impatiently under the cover of darkness within the boundary of a grove of trees holding onto a couple of brooms Hermione had brought with her from home. A whisper of noise was all he heard before she reappeared after uncloaking herself and handing it back to him. “Success, the card’s in and no one’s the wiser,” she whispered.

Harry smiled in relief, “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you are the best, Hermione Dagworth-Granger. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Saturday 17 July, 1993; Dursley residence then Brighton Beach

Hermione was greeted by an energetic Harry when she arrived for their ‘private’ outing to Brighton Beach. “Someone’s eager,” she quipped playfully.

He just grinned at her, “I’m still high on the possibility that the cards won’t be discovered and will start bringing information.”

Seeing as how they were still too young to go anywhere without a chaperone (at least in both Petunia’s and Emma’s opinions); Emma offered to drive the two down to the beach where they were given semi-free reign to explore and enjoy themselves. She tooted the car’s horn to chivvy them into motion. “Let’s go before the traffic gets too bad!”

The traffic wasn’t all that bad, in Harry’s opinion. He spent the trip quietly conversing with Hermione about what he hoped would happen when the cards reached the shelves. “How long do you figure it’ll take?” Hermione wondered.

He shrugged a shoulder, “According to the representative, it takes about a week to get enough printed to make the shipments cost-effective. I’m hoping that we’ll start to see results by the end of the month. I wonder if I ought to make a map to log where they’re bought or where they end up.”

“I would go with the latter. The shops are known quantities and not all that important. It’s the destination you should be concerned about. What if someone’s home wards fry the radio circuits or detect that there’s something different about them?”

He chewed on his lower lip, “I built them to lay passive until the cards were removed from the packaging. While they’re distracted by the jumping frog, the card will go through its power-up routine which only takes a few seconds to connect with the local Ley line.”

On the beach…

After getting their towels laid down and an umbrella set up, Harry’s worldview of girls took a most decidedly upturn in interest as Hermione pulled off her over-sized T-shirt and shorts. While he knew in the back of his mind that she was beautiful, he didn’t know just how beautiful she would eventually become until he saw her in a bathing suit. It wasn’t anything super racy, just a simple two-piece classic-style bikini in bright orange bordered with black lines. She’d just bent over to grab something out of the hamper when his higher brain functions shut down at the sight of her cute bottom aimed in his direction, “Urk…”

Hermione was still rummaging around when she heard him mutter something, “Did you say something, Harry?” When he didn’t respond, she glanced back and saw what he was staring dumbfounded at. She smirked inwardly, pleased to know that she had something worth staring at and had received a positive reaction from him. She wiggled her hips a bit and giggled at the sight of Harry tracking her movements with a dopey grin on his face. “Harry…silly boy.”

At an undisclosed location…

While Harry and Hermione were developing a tan and a potential relationship on the sunny beaches at Brighton, Lucius was busily planning his revenge on those who dared to defy him and to locate the future corpse of the person who revealed his plans to Bones.

His investigations into how to leave the country were dashed when Sam and Vincent Senior reported back that the country’s perimeter wards had been activated which meant that if he tried to leave, he’d be tagged and stunned long before he’d be able to pass over the coastline.

He briefly wondered if he ought to let the Aurors get a glimpse of him or hear a rumor that he was heading to Hogwarts to do…something then while they’re distracted, Imperious a muggle into taking him across the Channel by boat. Another thing that he needed to consider was to seek out his Master at the rumored location of his exile in Albania.

“I think that might be my best option. He’ll be upset that I waited this long to seek him out, but if he’s in the condition I think he’s been in; I don’t see how he’d be in a position to complain.”

Saturday 31 July, 1993; Dursley residence then the Leaky

Harry had his bags packed the morning of his birthday and was waiting impatiently to leave before Marge the Barge showed up. Just as he was reaching for the doorknob to load his stuff into the car, the front doorbell rang. He cautiously started to open it only to get slammed out of the way as Marge Dursley pushed through like a charging freight train, “Out of my way, boy! Get my luggage and don’t you dare scuff the sides.”

Vernon followed behind more sedately and patted his nephew on the shoulder in commiseration, “As soon as I get her settled, I’ll take you to the Leaky.”

Longbottom Manor, a short while later…

Neville greeted Harry after the latter shot out of the floo like a cannonball. “Nice entrance though you might want to work on your landing,” he teased.

“Hardy har har, Longbottom. How do you manage to stay on your feet with this blasted method?”

“It takes a bit of practice. Mostly you’ve got to think of getting out it like you were stepping off one of those moving sidewalks you showed us. Don’t stop suddenly when you emerge, continue the spin until you slow down and can stabilize yourself.”

Harry bobbed his head as he filed that information away, “I’ll have to try that out, thanks.” He followed his friend into the house proper. “Wow, nice place.”

Neville smiled happily, “Thanks, it’s been in the family in one form or another for the past couple centuries, I think. At least it was since the Vikings who landed here were ‘civilized.’” He led Harry to the guest bedroom and let him just drop his stuff off before leading him to the greenhouses. As they stepped in, Harry’s head became a little woozy from the sudden influx of higher oxygen levels.

“I can see why you like being in here. It’s…magical.” Harry commented as he gaze around the building. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar box, “Here, I figured I’d give you your birthday present now since I’m here.”

Neville’s eyebrows rose curiously, “A Chocolate Frog Card?”

Harry’s lips twitched, “Not just any Chocolate Frog card. It’s a one-of-a-kind card, ultra rare and exclusive.”

Now intrigued, Neville cracked open the box and snatched up the frog before it could hop away and bit the head off. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he spotted his face on the card. Quickly swallowing, he shakily reached in and extracted the card, “How…where…I have my own Chocolate Frog card?!”

Harry buffed his nails on his shirt smugly, “It helps to be me sometimes. I took a tour of the Chocolate Frog Trading Card and Printing Company two weeks ago and asked them if they wouldn’t mind printing out a special card for a special friend. I gave them the information about you that I’ve picked up over the past two years as well as a memory of what you look like and they did the rest.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I take it you approve?”

Neville could only dumbly nod speechlessly for a moment before he could manage coherent words, “Woah… Thanks, Harry.”

Hogwarts, same time

Minerva was experiencing a perverse thrill of denying Albus access to her office when the man had called once again to plead his case that it was imperative for him to return so he could continue his work. “Until I get written and compulsion-free verification from the Governors that you’ve been approved to return, you’ll just have to wait, Albus. I’ve put in too much effort and time to straighten out this mess you left for me to deal with.”

“What mess could I have created, Minerva?”

She narrowed her eyes dangerously, “Siphoning money from repairs and replacements just to make sure you get your infernal lemon drops, all of those secret projects you swore were vital to the security of the nation, and keeping ineffectual teachers like Severus or Cuthbert on when you knew that they were wholly unsuited to teaching children.”

Albus’ face blanched even through the flames, “You didn’t fire them did you? Severus and Sybil need to stay within the castle for their protection.”

Minerva clicked her fingers, “I forgot about Sybil. She’s no longer here; I’ve determined that unless a student actually has the Sight, there’s no reason to have her in the castle stinking up the place with her rampant alcoholism. If she wants to teach, she’s welcome to do so from her own home or anywhere other than the school.”

Albus was clearly starting to panic, “Minerva, you must bring Sybil back! The information she has, if it got out to the wrong person… it would be catastrophic!”

Her inner cat was purring at his rising hysteria, “You should’ve thought of that before you allowed things to progress as they did last year. Goodbye, Albus. I have work to do.” She shut down the connection, effectively booting him out of the floo and sauntered back to her chair, her proverbial tail swishing happily.

August

Marge’s visit was blessedly short, in Harry’s opinion. The unpleasant woman only stayed a week before returning to her beloved bulldogs. While staying with Neville, Harry’d learnt a lot about plants and how to care for them. He gently teased his friend by referring to him as ‘Professor Longbottom’ which caused Neville to blush yet oddly enough, made his grandmother Augusta Longbottom rather proud every time she overheard them talking.

Flashback…

“I still don’t understand why she’s so reluctant about letting you putter away in the greenhouses. It’s obvious you love what you do,” Harry commented a couple of days into his stay.

Neville shrugged unconcernedly, “She keeps comparing me to my dad since he was an Auror and thinks that I ought to ‘follow the family tradition of service to the community.’ Never mind that I don’t have the temperament for the work and prefer to remain in the background in a support role.”

“Do the Aurors even have a position where you could still be classified as an Auror but work solely with plants? Maybe like a customs inspector?”

Neville co*cked his head curiously, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever considered that. Huh, I’ll have to check with Susan or her aunt when we see each other on the platform.”

Present…

It was the second to last week before the start of the new school year when Harry finally got together with Sirius and Remus. Sirius had written him a letter apologizing for being a hot-headed idiot and chasing after the rat when he should’ve done what was right and raised Harry. They met at a neutral location at the local park; Petunia acted as chaperone though she admitted that she wasn’t all that qualified to intervene should the two wizards tried to do something stupid.

In a flash of inspiration, Harry contacted Hermione and requested Dobby be loaned to him as an invisible guard while he met his godfather and pseudo-uncle. She thought that was fine and so a quick pop later, Dobby appeared in the house all smiles. “Hello, Harry. Ready to go meet the family?”

Harry bowed officiously, “With your permission, Lord Dobby.”

Sirius couldn’t believe how much Harry’d grown since the last time he’d seen the boy, “Wow, you got big Harry.”

Harry flashed him a teasing grin in return, “and you got old, Unca Pa’foo. Yes, Aunt Petunia mentioned that was what I was able to say at the time.”

Sirius sniffed fondly, “Ah, good times.” He turned his attention to her, “Thank you, so much for raising him, Petunia.” She nodded politely and said it wasn’t a problem. Sirius clapped his hands, “So! What would you like to know about me?”

Harry’s mischievous grin tugged at Sirius’ and Remus’ hearts; it was so reminiscent of James Potter, “Well, I heard you were a bit of a rake in school. How many of my schoolmates are related to you?”

Remus chuckled, “Hopefully not too many, especially if he’s going to be teaching there.”

Harry’s jaw dropped open, “Really? Which class?”

Sirius straightened up proudly, “You’re looking at the newest Defense Professor.”

Harry pursed his lips uncertainly, “Are you sure you want to do that? We’ve had a string of single year professors for the longest time. Each one was progressively worse than the previous teacher, of course my first professor had Voldemort growing out the back of his head, so that could be definitely considered to be the worst of all.”

Remus yelped, “Voldemort was here?! He’s still alive?”

Harry shrugged, “He was more like a wraith, but yeah he’s still floating around somewhere.”

“I need to know about this, Harry. What happened during your past two years?”

Petunia leant forward, “Why is it so important, Remus?”

He glanced around, reached into his pocket and withdrew a playing card and dropped it onto the table then tapped it with his wand. A shimmering dome appeared over them before fading away, “Privacy field. It’ll allow us to discuss sensitive topics without being overheard.”

Harry was curious but refrained from saying anything, “I guess you want to hear what happened?”

“Please, don’t leave anything out.” Remus urged him. Harry began by telling them the ‘public-friendly’ information about his first two years culminating with his showdown with Voldemort twice, once in the Mirror Room and then in the Chamber of Secrets. He left out the work he’d done to develop the spy cards since he didn’t want to risk them disapproving and potentially forbidding him to use them.

Sirius shook his head in awe, “We never got up to half of the things you did, Harry. I’m frankly shocked that you figured out Albus’ game early on. It took me several years before I realized that he had some nefarious motive for not getting me a trial after that night.”

Harry shrugged, “I had help thanks to Hermione.”

Sirius perked up at hearing that. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“I’ve got a bunch of girl friends, Uncle Sirius,” Harry fielded the joke effortlessly, “but if you’re asking if I’ve found ‘the one’ then not yet.”

Both Sirius and Remus laughed at his deflection. “Good lad, keep your options open. Your dad on the other hand, fell head over heels almost immediately for your mum even though she showed no interest in him until their sixth year and even then with a derisive sniff of disapproval.”

Petunia snickered, “Oh, she was interested alright. She was just more dignified in how she showed it. I remember when she came home from her third year and put a picture of James on her bedroom wall. She decorated it with cute little pink hearts and pretended to be married to him. It drove our dad up the wall with her antics. Mum thought it was sweet and helped tease him by pretending to plan an early wedding.”

Remus burst out laughing, “No wonder why they got on so well when they finally admitted their attraction for each other! James did the same thing with her picture and declared in no uncertain terms that if she consented, he’d be willing to take her name all in the name of love.”

Harry turned to Remus, “So what do you do for work, Uncle Remus?”

Remus smiled mysteriously, “Officially, I work as the Financial Advisor to Hogwarts and will continue in that role until the ledgers have been straightened out after the nightmare Dumbledore created. Unofficially, I work for the Crown acting as a liaison between certain fringe groups and the Queen.”

“Unofficially? What does that mean?” Petunia inquired.

Remus glanced around before leaning in, “It means I don’t get paid like a normal government worker. Strictly off-the-books, if you catch my drift.”

Harry’s eyes widened and spoke in an awed hush, “You mean you’re a spy? How cool is that?!”

Remus waggled his hand, “I was recently promoted out of the field, but essentially yes; that was one of my duties.”

Harry beamed, “I have the coolest relatives ever!”

DMLE offices, a month later…

Amelia was heading back to her office when she caught wind of a commotion in the bullpen. “What’s going on?”

Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt turned slightly, “Auror Trainee Cartwright managed to locate Lucius Malfoy in a muggle shopping center in Leeds and followed him before he was spotted.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, “Cartwright! Did you happen to hear anything?”

Trainee Cartwright nodded, his features a bit flushed from the apparition jump he’d done to get there so fast, “Yes, Director. I overheard him growling about some wretched little mutant, his words mind you, and that he or she is going to be up at Hogwarts in September.”

Amelia shared a look with Shacklebolt, “I need to find the Minister.”

Chapter 8: The Prisoner of Azkaban, part 1 (Sept - Dec)

Chapter Text

Wednesday 1 September, 1993; Hogwarts Express heading north

Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ron plus Vincent and Greg were holed up in a compartment sharing stories about how their summers were. Hermione described what her first all-girl party was like and the headache that Molly Weasley caused every time she tried to tell the elves on how to do their jobs. Ron sympathized with her, “Try living in the same house with her. Is it any wonder why my two eldest brothers got out when they did?” Harry’d just finished describing what Euro Disney was like to the astonished teens. Outside their windows, a late-summer season rainstorm pelted the train as it sped north.

Hermione was particularly wistful, “I know that Daddy’s got distant relatives who live in France. I wonder what my life would’ve been like if…” she shook herself out of her maudlin thoughts and smiled briefly. Harry took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Neville dug into his pocket and pulled out a metal card case. He opened it to reveal the Chocolate Frog card Harry had commissioned for him. “Lord Potter was gracious enough to gift me with my very own card. When I’m not traveling, it sits in a place of honor on a shelf in my room where I can see it from my desk.” Harry rolled his eyes at Neville’s running gag of calling him ‘Lord Potter.’

Not to be outdone, Vince pulled out his stack of Frog cards and showed off his newest acquisition. “You have no idea how lucky I was to finally get one of these! I’ve been searching high and low for anyone willing, or stupid enough, to part with their Harry Potter card.” He flashed a teasing smirk at Harry and batted his eyelashes, “Would you autograph it for me, Lord Potter?”

Hermione giggled at the look of feigned indignation on Harry’s face, “You’d think you’d be used to the adoration by now.”

Harry pouted cutely and mock-whined to the laughter from the others, “Not when it’s coming from my friends!” He held his hand out, “Give it here and I’ll sign your card. Should I make it out to Pookie or Dinky-Vinny-num nums?”

Vince roared with laughter, “Don’t you dare! Dad’s already mad at me for getting all excited over your card. He’s of the opinion that everything that has to do with you ought to be gathered up into a big pile and set alight.”

Hermione’s eyes danced with mirth, “Oh! That gives me an idea. What if someone were to print out some T-shirts with the message ‘Harry Potter’s Bestest Buddy’ on the front? You could then wear it whenever your dad’s friends gather together just to drive them nuts!”

Ron snickered, “Don’t say that too loudly, Hermione. Chances are that there’s someone listening who thinks it would make for a great prank.” She turned her attention onto him causing the redhead to blush. “Not me; I don’t have the ability to make that happen.”

Harry groused, “Yeah, but your twin brothers do! Please don’t tell them, for the love of everything magical.”

Ron tapped his chin thoughtfully, “I’ll have to think it over and get back to you later.” He dissolved into raucous laughter when Harry pretended to dog-pile onto him to get him to submit.

Flopping back onto the bench after Ron effortlessly peeled him off; Harry remarked that he must be some kind of lightweight if both Ron and Neville were able to take him down so easily. Ron shook his head, “We’re both farm boys, Harry. My family has our barnyard and orchard while Neville’s got his greenhouses. It’s not that you’re weak, you’re just not used to wrestling with someone who has to put up with what we do on a normal basis, plus I’ve got my older brothers with whom I’ve wrestled with before.”

They settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes; Harry took Vince’s card and surreptitiously checked it to see if it was one of the altered spy cards (it was) and made a great show about signing it with all the flourish and grace of their former and thoroughly disgraced Defense professor before handing it back.

Greg wondered out loud what Lockhart was up to these days. “Do you think he’s figured out how to change nappies yet or will he be hiring someone to stand in for him while he claims all the credit?”

Hermione shook her head ruefully, “I sort of feel sorry for those girls who fell for his honeyed words. It’s not the first time I’ve seen this happen, you know. They’ve not even finished their schooling and now have to juggle getting their NEWTs with the demands that pregnancy and later an infant will generate? I hope that whatever money Lockhart has will go to their support.”

They all turned at the sound of the compartment’s door opening and saw a widely-grinning Luna standing there. She bounced on her toes and squealed with happiness before reaching out to grab Harry’s hand, “I want to introduce you to my friends!”

Harry resisted enough to pull Luna into his arms, “Didn’t I already meet your friends?” He booped her on the tip of her nose, causing the girl to crinkle it cutely.

“Those were last year’s friends. I made new ones since then.” She looked up at him and pouted, “Please? I want everyone to know that you’re my big brother who will protect me from all of the Galloping Glowflies.”

Both Harry and Hermione shared a knowing look between them. Luna only brought out the creatures whenever she was upset or nervous about something. Boldly introducing Harry to her friends was probably causing the latter effect to the diminutive girl. Harry relinquished his hold on her and let out a much put-upon sigh, “If I must… Lady, gentlemen; I shall return when I’m able.” He stumbled slightly as Luna impatiently tugged on his hand and dragged him out.

Harry was on his way back to his compartment after thoroughly wowing Luna’s newest friends and confirming that he was her ‘big brother’ who would stop at nothing to make sure that she always had fresh hugs to enjoy every morning. “Don’t let her worry you about the creatures she’s able to see. It takes a special mind to see through all of the background noise that permeates our daily lives and truly experience just how really magical our world is. Like with anything in the natural world, there are the scary monsters and those that look like monsters but really aren’t once you learned more about them.”

“Which creature is your favorite?” one little girl breathily asked, wide-eyed with eagerness at being in the presence of the Great Harry Potter.

Harry screwed his face up as if to think about it. “I would have to say the Midnight-Madness Monkeys. They sort of look like the monkeys you’d be able to see in the zoos the world over. However, unlike their non-magical cousins; they’ve got wide leathery wings that sprout from their backs and are the ones who are responsible for that sudden burst of energy you get when your parents are trying to get you to go to sleep at night.” Luna’s eyes danced with merriment at his utterly made up creature description and gave him an extra squeeze of appreciation.

“Cor, that must be why my mum keeps calling me her ‘little monkey’!” Another girl replied in amazement.

Harry left them behind in a tizzy of girlish chatter and headed back up to the front. He’d just reached the compartment set aside for the occasional teacher or adult who had a need to ride the train up to the school and knocked on the door. Professor Flitwick peered out and smiled when he saw his favorite student, “Mr. Potter! What a pleasant surprise. Was there something you needed?”

Harry thumbed back to Luna’s compartment, “I just thought you should know about your future inductees to Ravenclaw House. Luna’s got three at least in there with her who would be absolute shoo-ins. They’re inquisitive and had a bunch of questions about everything.”

Filius chuckled, “Leave it to you, Mr. Potter to take away the Hat’s job before he’s even been able to sit upon their heads.” Outside, lightning flashed and the train seemed to buck and tremble before starting to slow down. Filius frowned, “We can’t be there already…” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, “Mr. Potter, please head back to Miss Lovegood’s compartment and make sure they all stay inside.” He headed for the door between the carriages to check on something.

Later, Hogsmeade Station…

As the train resumed its race up to the school, everyone on-board was in full gossip mode about what had just happened to them when a Dementor tried to board the train. Harry wasn’t there to see it, but the older students swore on their magic that kindly little Professor Flitwick stood on the roof of the carriage, the wind and rain pounding down on him, his cloak swirling about like something out of the tales of old screaming something at the demon who dared to cross his path and sent out a blinding white light in the shape of a massive dragon.

The Dementor had then apparently turned tail and fled into the stormy darkness.

As the train pulled into their destination, Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of all the Aurors and a couple of Healers converging on the platform to deal with the throng of scared and worried students. A couple of those students had been injured by falling trunks and bags when the train had slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt. The Healers swooped down on them, getting triage sorted before allowing the less injured head up to the school. Only one was severely hurt enough to warrant being taken to Saint Mungo’s for treatment.

Harry had taken charge over the girls in Luna’s compartment. He made sure they were holding each other’s hands to make sure they didn’t get separated and lost before escorting them down to the boats with Hagrid. Unbeknownst to him, Minerva saw the whole thing and smiled to herself. ‘He’s already proving that he’s prefect material. James and Lily, your son is doing quality work.’

Great Hall

“I would like to apologize to everyone for being forced to experience the dangers of a Dementor’s presence. The Ministry has assured me that they will be looking into who might’ve sent that demon to the train or if it was just a rogue. If you wish to inform your parents, I encourage you to do so but not until morning when you’ve all had time to rest and recover.” Minerva announced once the Sorting was completed. “The owlry will be closed by the time that dinner is over and I do not want anyone to get any bright ideas about sneaking out. This is a brand-new Hogwarts, ladies and gentlemen. The era of the previous former headmaster looking the other way because of ‘children being children’ is over. In each of your common rooms, a set of new rules have been posted to the bulletin boards. I expect each of you to read and understand them. Copies of the school’s rules and the charter will be available to anyone who requests them.”

Harry sat between Luna and Hermione as the newly-christened ‘Harry Bear.’ Both girls had their arms wrapped around him in a sort-of strange battle of huggable dominance to see who would get the best spot to squeeze the life out of him. Across at the Hufflepuff table, Neville was receiving similar treatment from Susan and Hannah while Ron was surprisingly getting the same thing from Pansy Parkinson who glared at any other girl who dared to even contemplate the idea of getting in a hug or two.

“When did that happen?” He wondered out loud.

“When did what happen?” Hermione asked him. He pointed out Ron and Pansy which caused her to grunt amusedly, “I don’t know but you can just bet that the twins are going to have a field day teasing him about it.” They turned to see that Fred and George were indeed looking over at their youngest brother with glee in their eyes.

Minerva brought their attention back to the front as she introduced the new teachers who would be joining the staff. “I am proud to announce that due to the incredible work courtesy of the Goblin cursebreakers, the so-called ‘Defense Curse’ is at an end. To that, I would like all of you to welcome Sirius Black as your new defense professor.”

Harry put his fingers to his mouth and let fly with a piercing whistle and shouted, “Go Padfoot!” Behind him, Fred and George snapped their attention onto Harry before their gazes flicked up to the Teachers’ table in stunned awe. The twins shot up out of their seats and shouted, “Padfoot?!”

Sirius turned his attention to the identical twins who were staring at him open-mouthed in wonder; a flicker of curiosity on his aristocratic face. “Yes?”

The whole school laughed when both redheads fainted to the floor, both of them with delirious grins on their faces.

Afterwards, while the students were getting settled…

Amelia stopped by Filius’ office to get his statement and a memory of the Dementor attack. “So where were you when the attack happened, and what was your response?”

He recounted his interaction with Harry Potter about a trio of potential new Ravens to the nest, something the teen was inordinately good at when the train seemed to buck and rattle then screeched to a halt. “I had a hunch about it when I started getting the feeling of tightness behind my eyes and the whispers of past mistakes in my mind. I haven’t felt that since the previous war.”

“Did you notice anything unusual about the attack?” She asked as she took notes.

Filius thought for a moment before snapping his fingers, “Yes, the Dementor was wearing a medallion around its neck which was rather odd since those things aren’t known for wearing anything other than those tattered cloaks.”

Amelia frowned, “Those medallions are control devices used to relay instructions to them on where they need to go. You wouldn’t have happened to notice if there was a number on the front?”

Filius shook his head negatively, “Sorry, no. I didn’t have time as I wanted to get the train underway as fast as possible.”

“Would you permit me to take a copy of your memory to review for the case?” He permitted her to take it from his mind then bid her farewell and good luck.

Back at her office in the DMLE, Amelia reviewed the memory and spotted a partial image of the control medallion’s number. “6-2-4-4… damn, I can’t make out the last number.” She hit the button for her receptionist, “Trish, do me a favor and contact the department head for Beast Control, specifically for the Dementors. Have them bring up the records of every medallion they have that start with the numbers 6244, please.”

She clicked off and went back to her notes, trying to make sense of who could’ve ordered a Dementor of all things. She’d originally thought it might’ve been Dolores since it was the odious woman’s initial idea, but at the time of the attack she was in the middle of a meeting with Cornelius and several dignitaries from ICW member countries.

A strange idea bubbled up in her mind, “Would Albus do something so callous and dangerous to force the Board of Governors and the Mot to reconsider his suspension? Would he create a situation just so those in charge would turn to him and beg him to return to his former post because ‘only he had the power to stop the demons from rampaging on the grounds’?” The likely answer to that horrifying question was a resounding ‘yes.’

She got up and paced for a moment before calling out to the empty air, “Algernon, if you’ve got a moment? I’d like to discuss an idea I had.”

Director Algernon Croaker appeared in her doorway a mere couple of moments later, “Whatcha got, Amelia?”

“Look through this memory and tell me if my idea is crazy that perhaps it was Albus who managed to redirect a Dementor to attack the train in some last-ditch effort to scare the Governors and Mot into reinstating him to his former positions?”

One of his eyebrows tracked upwards, “That’s ballsy, even for him. I would’ve thought that more in line with Dolores’ usual heavy-handed thinking.”

Amelia nodded, “That’s why I’m hoping a separate pair of eyes might spot something I didn’t and I can just chalk up my wariness to being awake for too long.” Algernon dunked his head into the pensieve and didn’t emerge for fifteen minutes. The runes on the outside of the basin indicated that he was playing back the memory at a slower speed, zooming in, and a couple of other features she’d never known about.

When he emerged, his face was pensive, “This was definitely not Dolores’ doing. The control numbers don’t match up with anything we’ve got in the registry. She’s not creative enough to forge new numbers.”

Amelia leant back in her chair and growled, “Albus?”

Croaker shook his head, “No, this isn’t his style either. It’s not flashy enough and had the potential of going sideways. Albus prefers convoluted over efficiency. No, I suspect this was the work of Lucius Malfoy. It would seem that he’s been reaching out to his old war buddies.”

Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose and growled, “Who would you suspect?”

Croaker thought for a moment, “Ordinarily, I would suspect Rookwood but he’s serving life in Azkaban and the last reports I’ve received indicate that he’s not long for the world.”

“What about McNair?”

“Possible. He is the department head for Beast Control’s Execution Squad. What about Yaxley?”

Amelia scrunched her face up and shook her head, “The man is a paper pusher; I don’t even think he knows where the medallion controller even is.”

“It’s always the ones you least suspect, Amelia. Well, if you need my assistance in questioning him or the others, give me a call. In the meantime, I’ve got to get back to my department. Agent 69 is going on maternity leave soon and we’re throwing a party.” He gave her a jaunty salute and vanished from sight.

Amelia just sighed and scrubbed her face with her hands, “I was having such a nice day…”

The next day, breakfast…

Draco entered the Great Hall and immediately sought out Harry. “Potter, I need to know what I can do to get out from the Life Debt I owe you after you risked your life to save me from the Chamber Incident.”

Harry looked up at him, his cheeks puffed out with bacon and beans as he frowned and tried to remember where he’d heard the term ‘Life Debt’ from. Swallowing quickly, he scrunched his face up, “What are you talking about?”

Now it was Draco’s turn to be confused, “What, you mean you didn’t know?”

“About what?”

“Life Debts.”

Harry shook his head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He motioned for Draco to take a seat and explain himself. The blond Slytherin hesitated about sitting before finally relenting. “Now, what are you yammering about?”

Draco sighed, “Simply put, Life Debts are created between two people when one person goes out of their way at extreme risk of life or magic to rescue the other person from danger. The rescuer cannot be the one who instigated the danger and the rescued cannot be released from the effects until the conditions laid out by the rescuer are met.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose sharply up to his hairline, “Huh, I learned something new today and classes haven’t even started yet. Well, I should point out that I didn’t charge down there to rescue you. I went there to put a stop to Tom Riddle after he’d petrified Hermione and was using Sandrine for his evil purposes. I didn’t even know that you were a part of it until Ron stormed into the infirmary to warn the Headmistress that you had been taken. So what are the conditions for the conditions, if I may ask?”

Draco was surprised, “Uh, they can be anything really up to and including servitude to the rescuer. I’d really rather avoid that if you don’t mind though. I do still have a public image to maintain as the Heir of the Malfoy Family.”

Harry’s eyes drifted over to where Hermione had just entered and sat down next to Luna. He sucked on his lips for a moment before returning to Draco, “Alright, here are my conditions. First and foremost, you are never allowed to use the term ‘mudblood’ or ‘blood traitor’ whenever I’m in earshot. If you want to continue using them in private, that’s up to you. Second, I’m requiring you to maintain an EE average on all of your tests, and I want you to become more sociable to the so-called ‘lesser classes.’ You don’t need to become ‘best buddies’ with them, but I don’t want to hear of you being your usual snotty self. Finally, I require you live a full and healthy life with a rewarding career. If that means you take up the position of underwater basket weaver, as long as it makes you happy, do it.”

Draco stared at him before snorting and drawling, “You are so weird sometimes, you know that Potter?”

Harry laughed, “I know, Hermione keeps reminding me of that all the time. Just between you and me, I blame the Blibbering Humdingers.”

“The what?”

“Blibbering Humdingers are small, shy creatures that whisper ideas into your head when you’re faced with an undecided moment or event. That’s according to our resident cryptomagizoology expert.”

Draco’s head was starting to spin with the way this weird conversation was going, “Uh, sure…thank you for clarifying what your conditions are to clear me of my Life Debt. If you’ll permit me, I shall take my leave.” He stood and hurried away before Harry could so much get a brief ‘Bye’ out.

Luna plopped herself down next to him while munching on an apple, “You’re a good boy, Harry Potter.” She smiled happily as he lightly bumped her shoulder with his.

Arithmancy class

“Greetings everyone to your first class in the field of Arithmancy,” Professor Vector announced once everyone got settled in their seats. “Arithmancy, or as it was later known as ‘numerology’ is the use of numbers to interpret a person’s character or to divine the future. The theory behind numerology is based on thePythagorean idea that all things can be expressed in numerical terms because they are ultimately reducible to numbers. Using a methodanalogousto that of the Greek and Hebrew alphabets in which each letter also represented a number; modern numerology attaches a series of digits to an inquirer’s name and date of birth and from these purports to divine the person’s true nature and prospects.”

‘I thought this class was about mathematics and how it could be applied to magic; this sounds more like divination.’ Harry mused as he sent a worried look over to where Hermione also shared a confused expression.

Professor Vector had obviously been down this point before when she spotted most of her students were giving her a glassy-eyed vacant look, “I know that many of you want to take this course because divination seems so wooly and imprecise, correct? If you are muggleborn, you should’ve taken at least a mathematics course in school. This class will be touching on more advanced orders of mathematics such as geometry, algebra, fractions, statistics, and even elementary number theory. To start off, I am handing out a practice test to evaluate how well you’ve remembered your previous education. It will not be graded, it’s just so I can get a better idea as to where you all are.”

Nearly everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Harry mimed wiping his brow of imaginary sweat and shared a relieved grin with Hermione and a couple of the others. He smiled briefly at the professor as she handed out the practice test. On it were fifty questions ranging from basic arithmetic all the way up to beginning geometry, algebra, and even a couple of fractions. It took the muggleborns little more than thirty minutes to complete the test while the magically-raised took a few minutes longer.

Once they were all handed up, Professor Vector smiled out at them, “Let’s get started shall we?”

Ancient Runes class

If Harry thought he was getting in over his head with Arithmancy, Ancient Runes was clearly going to be a relative walk in the park in comparison. He leant over to whisper in Hermione’s ear, “Some of those symbols could be replaced by electronic component schematics.”

“Mr. Potter? Is there something you wish to share with the class?” Professor Babbling interrupted him.

Harry blushed, “I’m sorry, professor. In my research into the field of muggle radios, I just noticed how similar the symbols used in runes could be used in describing electronic components.”

In spite of his interruption of her class, Professor Babbling let a hint of a smirk tease the corners of her lips, “Very good analysis, Mr. Potter. Indeed class, many of the symbols we use today had their roots in the ancient language systems of previous cultures. In fact, even numbers can be defined using certain animals as the concept of modern numerical representation of 1, 2, 3, and so on hadn’t been yet developed. For example, the number three could be represented by the engraved image of a runespoor with its three heads. It sounds obvious and silly, but this is all the ancients had at the time and it translated across all other known cultures as it was easy to teach and remember.”

For the rest of the class, Professor Babbling had them taking notes on the topics she intended to discuss then she set them loose on a couple of simple worksheets in which they had to decipher what each symbol or bindrune aka a cluster of runes meant and match them to the short description listed on the page.

After classes let out for the day…

Harry stopped by to see how his godfather was handling the responsibility of being an adult and professor. Based on the stories he’d heard during their visits over the summer, Sirius Orion Black aka Padfoot of the Marauders, was not one normally described as ‘adult and responsible.’

Sirius smirked and shook his head ruefully at his appearance, “Hey pup. You come to make sure I’m still amongst the living?”

Harry shrugged, “That and to find out if the rumors are true that the Weasley twins pledged their life and magic to serving their deity.”

Barking out a burst of laughter, Sirius rolled his eyes, “Those two. It’s one thing to have a pretty girl gazing up at me with stars in her eyes; it’s rather kind of creepy to see that same expression on identical blokes.”

“Just wait until they meet Moony.”

Sirius rubbed his chin and pondered that, “I think I might be able to foist them off onto him. He was always able to handle the scrutiny better.”

Gesturing to the desk in front of him, Harry inquired how he was settling into the new role. Sirius sighed, “I owe my former teachers a world of apologies for causing so much trouble when I was a student. Who knew this job was so demanding? I always thought it was just a simple matter of telling a few tales and passing on whatever I deemed important enough. No, I’ve got to make sure the students are all paying attention, are able to process what it is they’re learning, and grading homework though I haven’t had that ‘pleasure’ yet.”

A knock on the door interrupted whatever quip Harry was about to say. The door swung open to reveal Moony standing there with an odd expression on his face. Sirius chuckled, “You’ve met them.” It wasn’t a question.

Remus shook himself and took an empty chair, “Harry, I don’t know how you’re able to handle them. It’s not that they’re bad kids, it’s just annoying when they start doing that stereo twinspeak thing that makes it difficult to remember who is talking.”

Harry laughed, “It gets worse, you know. They like to switch identities often. Sometimes Fred will be George, and vice versa even within the same breath of air.”

“You got any suggestions on how to corral them?” Remus rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Harry tilted his head and snigg*red, “Throw them something shiny and run like Hell the other way? It usually works for me.”

The three settled into a bit of silence before Harry hit upon the bright idea to include the original pranksters into his and Hermione’s secret. “I’ve got something for the both of you that I’ve been working on in one form or another for the past two years.” He pulled out one of his Frog card boxes and handed it over to Remus.

“I hate to break it to you kid, but the Frog cards are a known quantity,” Sirius dryly commented (Harry just gave him a stink-eye.)

Remus opened the box and quickly claimed the escaping chocolate by biting its head off. While he was chewing, he examined the card. “Nice job on the printing. Your work or did you hire someone?”

Harry pursed his lips, “Before I answer that, I need to know what your relationship with Albus Dumbledore is. Are you still in communication with him?”

Sirius and Remus shared a look. Sirius answered that neither of them had any great love for the man, especially in light of what he’d promised yet failed to deliver on when it came to protecting his followers during the previous war. More to the point, they refused to forgive him for failing to keep James and Lily safe and refusing to listen that they had suspected that their organization had had a spy amongst them.

Harry stared hard at both of them before coming to an internal agreement then pointed out that the card itself was printed alongside the rest of them at the Chocolate Frog Trading Card and Printing Company. “So, to answer your question; what’s different is the secret within the layers of the card. Notice how it seems just a tiny bit thicker than your standard card?” Moony nodded slowly and flicked his thumbnail at the edges. “Contained within is a miniaturized crystal radio that’s been altered further to connect with the Ley lines that cover the island. With this card, once it’s activated; I can listen in on whatever conversations that take place at that location.” Sirius reached out to examine it too so Harry handed him another card.

“This is incredible work, Harry,” Remus exclaimed, “But why did you develop it in the first place?”

“Aunt Petunia taught me that Dumbledore is never to be trusted so when I got my Hogwarts Letter, I vowed to never be out of communication with her in case of an emergency. At the time, I had no idea that the portrait of a Frog card could move about so when I saw that, I began to wonder if they could carry a message between frames. The short answer is, yes they can, but it’s extremely limited. From there it progressed to tapping the letters on the information side to form words and sending them along before I finally twigged onto crystal radio transceivers. I had one prototype that would’ve allowed me to take a photo of my surroundings, replace the normal background with the new image, and send it but I found that it was temperamental and not always prone to working so I went back to simple voice communications.”

Sirius shook his head in amazement, “This certainly beats out the mirrors we used, doesn’t it Moony?” At Harry’s puzzled look, he explained how magical communication mirrors worked, “The problem is that they’re as fragile as normal mirrors and have the limited ability of being instantly recognized. It’s not like you or I could whip out a compact mirror and pretend to fix our make-up while giving a report.”

“Still, to be able to hold a visual conversation with someone…”

Remus took the card again, “So how do you change who you want to listen to?”

Harry pointed to the information side, “You tap your wand against the letters, the name of the person you want to spy on, then press connect, and the Ley lines take care of the rest. It’s like making a telephone call. (He frowned) Do either of you know what a telephone is?” Remus did while Sirius correctly guessed they worked like a floo call.

“So you and your Aunt figured out all of this and managed to sneak past the people at the printing company?” Remus inquired.

Harry gave him a smirk so reminiscent of James that it made their hearts hurt; he took the card back and activated it, “Clay to Harvester.”

It took a moment, “Harvester here.”

“Do you have some free time to swing by the Defense classroom to speak with some interested parties?”

“I’ll be there in five. Harvester out.”

Hermione entered the room and shyly greeted the two adults before sending Harry a curious expression. “This is Remus Lupin. He and Professor Black are my pseudo-uncle and godfather, respectively. I’ve just been showing them the card and wanted to know if you’d like to share in the limelight.”

Her eyes widened a bit in fear, “Um… are you sure they… you know...”

Sirius held his hand up, “Miss Dagworth-Granger, I promise you that whatever secrets you share tonight will remain between us until you give permission to say otherwise.” Remus nodded his agreement.

Hermione sent a searching look towards Harry before relenting. “Okay, I have an ability that goes beyond the ‘usual’ sort of magic…” She demonstrated her talent of stealing things without anyone noticing until she wanted them to. Sirius gasped when she held up his wallet, his hands immediately went for his pocket. Remus too, was astounded when she held up his wristwatch a moment later.

Sirius turned wide-eyed and slack-jawed to his best friend, “Can you imagine what we could’ve done if she’d been around during our formative years, Moony?”

Remus agreed, “Heck, I’m already thinking of how best to recruit her for my department.”

Harry laughed at their stupefied expressions then explained to Hermione that Moony was a spy for Her Majesty’s government. Hermione’s eyes lit up with interested excitement, “Really? I had thought about becoming a cursebreaker when I graduated, but to be able to bump up the possibilities for my craft onto the world stage?”

Remus waved her down, “You still have plenty of time, my dear. This isn’t something that should be discussed here anyways. Finish your education, live a while then we’ll chat.” He picked up the card again, “In the meantime, let’s continue our discussion about this incredible device.”

Saturday 4 September, 1993; Room of Requirement

It was their first weekend and Hermione was busily digging through a box she’d discovered stashed away in a distant corner of the Room. Inside, she’d discovered something shiny and upon closer inspection, it resembled an hourglass suspended in an outer loop made of some unknown kind of metal and slung from a golden chain. Curiously, she slung the chain over her neck, turning the device over in her hands and noticed what appeared to be a knob of some kind. A gentle twist caused the hourglass to flip over and the alarming sensation of being flung backwards. To her perspective, she caught sight of herself walking backwards out of the room before it all was plunged into total blackness!

When the effect faded, she wobbled a bit and called out into the darkness, “Pixie?” There was a quiet pop as she heard the elf’s squeak, “Miss Hermione? Why are you hiding in the dark?” The Room’s light’s flared to life as the elf hurried over, her face one of consternation at the sight of Hermione’s pale expression.

“Something happened and I really don’t know what it was.” She trembled as she held out the device and explained what she’d done.

Pixie squeaked in surprise, “You found a Time Turner! My previous Mistress researched these when she was alive and working for the Ministry’s secret laboratories. They send you back in time based on the number of turns of the hourglass. Those are really dangerous, Miss and not something you should be playing around with.”

Hermione looked down in awe, “I went back in time? How far back does one twist of the knob send me?”

“One twist for one hour.”

Hermione stared off into the distance, “Where was I an hour ago? Oh, I was finishing up a deal with the local fence. Does that mean I’m out there too? How do I merge with my past self?!”

Pixie shook her head, “I don’t know, Miss but you should be telling this to the Headmistress. I know that this could be a help with your thievery but do you really want the hassles that go along with it?”

No, that was definitely a big turn-off for her so Hermione bundled up the Time Turner and carefully carried it to the Headmistress’ office. She greeted the gargoyle that guarded the entrance, “Hello, I’d like to speak with Professor McGonagall of a time-sensitive nature.” She laughed inwardly at her little joke. The gargoyle slid aside revealing the slowly rotating spiral staircase and rode it to the top. The door to the office was already open so she was greeted by a curious Headmistress, “Miss Dagworth-Granger?”

Hermione gingerly sat the device on the desk, “I found this during one of my excavations of the rooms up on the seventh floor. I accidentally triggered it and it sent me back in time by an hour. Right now, I’m…elsewhere.” She was intentionally being vague about her whereabouts.

Minerva immediately got up and activated the floo, “Department of Mysteries!” An indistinct voice was heard greeting her. “One of my students found a Time Turner in an abandoned classroom and it sent her back an hour. I need you to send someone to collect it and help her adjust to whatever she needs to do with her current self.” She stepped back as a hooded person exited the fireplace. “Miss Dagworth-Granger, this is an Unspeakable with the Department of Mysteries. As the name suggests, they delve into the deepest parts of arcane research as well as handle all of the extreme threats to the realm.”

Hermione shyly waved her hand, “Um, hi.”

The Unspeakable’s voice was neither male nor female-sounding which in itself was rather odd and unsettling. “Thank you for bringing the device and turning it into your Headmistress, rather than keeping it for yourself and potentially causing a paradox.”

Hermione scoffed, “Only an idiot goes about messing with time.” She cracked a grin a second later, “I’ll admit that I did think about keeping it but I had time to turn it over in my mind and decided against it.”

The Unspeakable didn’t react though Minerva did, if the crinkling of her nose and low groan was any indication. “Miss Dagworth-Granger, you’ve been hanging around Mr. Potter for far too long.”

Hermione shrugged unconcernedly, “I can’t help it. He’s cute and useful at times.”

The Unspeakable extracted an intricately carved orb out of their pocket and tapped on it in a bewildering pattern before handing it off to Hermione. “Hold onto this until the orb turns a vivid green. When that happens, both versions of yourself will have merged and the time stream will automatically sort itself out.”

The orb in her hand flashed a couple of times, a dazzling set of symbols scrawled across a translucent panel for a moment or two before she was surrounded by a mesmerizing cloud of shiny particles. Her eyes fluttered as the two time streams converged. As soon as the cloud faded, the orb changed to the vivid green according to the Unspeakable who re-took the orb from Hermione. “Woah, I feel like I got spun around on the roundabout at the fairgrounds. (She glanced down at the orb) So that’s it? I’m back to being me and only me?”

The Unspeakable bowed once to both of them, “You’re you again. Headmistress.” The agent disappeared into the green fire.

“Do you feel the need to visit the infirmary for a calming draught?” Minerva ventured.

Hermione took stock of herself before shaking her head, “No, thank you. I appreciate the help and I promise that I won’t go touching something without checking first.” ‘More likely, I’ll just stick with the artifacts I recognize and have Hogwarts isolate the more unusual-looking items.’

Friday 10 September, 1993; Great Hall

The volume of noise dropped significantly in the Great Hall as people spotted a formally dressed Ronald Weasley enter the room. Pansy was sitting with Hermione and a couple of the other girls at Ravenclaw’s table and nudged the others. “Hey, is it me or does Ronald look almost presentable?”

Padma scoffed, “He’s a Weasley; it’s probably a set-up for something.”

Ginny was with them and nodded her agreement, “Ron hates getting dressed up for anything. You should’ve heard him whine the last time we had to go to a formal party hosted by the Ministry.”

Ron walked right up to Hermione and gave her a formal bow then silently presented her with a cream-colored envelope. All sounds vanished as everyone stared at the scene unfolding before them. However nature abhors a vacuum as the silence was shattered the moment everyone began speaking at once. Hermione held the envelope in her hand and blankly stared at it, “Pansy, a little help here?”

Pansy squeaked, “That’s a Letter of Intent! It’s Ronald’s first step to announce his desire to pen a Betrothal Agreement with your Head of Family. You have two options, read the letter and accept his terms, or hand it back to him. Keep in mind that if you hand it back, he’s forbidden from approaching you even if later down the line you both develop feelings for each other.”

Hermione sent an evaluative look at Ron’s seemingly impassive face. Her eyebrows quirked up a bit when she spotted the barest twinkle of… something in Ron’s eyes. She opened the envelope and read the contents. The entire Hall held its collective breath as they awaited her response. That breath was released into one of confusion when all of a sudden she began laughing and wheezing.

Pansy reached out and slipped the letter from her hand and read it out loud, “I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, do hereby ask Hermione Jean Dagworth-Granger to consider my proposal to be my friend. I do not seek any sort of conditions other than to accept me as is, warts and all.” She shot the redhead an exasperated huff, “This was all just a prank?!”

Fred and George broke out in raucous applause when Pansy revealed Ron’s punchline. Ron’s ear tips pinked as he unrepentantly grinned, “Yup. I thought it was funny the way everyone reacted.”

Hermione wheezed her appreciation as she stood to face him, “Thank you, Ronald. I, Hermione Jean Dagworth-Granger, do hereby accept your Friendship Proposal as you are, warts and all. You’re such a goofball.” She playfully punched him on the shoulder and snigg*red at the epic blush that bloomed on his face.

All heads turned as one when Harry leapt up and challenged Ron by declaring that he, Harry James Potter had first ‘dibs’ because “I’m the Boy-Who-Lived and I’m much more handsome than you are!” He struck a Lockhart-worthy pose. Ron responded by loudly declaring that he accepted the challenge, “It’s pillows and pies at ten paces! First one to bust a pillow shall…shall, what should we do?” His over-acted confusion set everyone else off as the Hall rumbled with laughter at the impromptu comedy.

Hermione buried her face in her hands, crying from the laughter; her friends were giggling like mad at the utter insanity the two boys brought to breakfast that morning. Just to add to the hilarity, Neville and several other boys decided to join in challenging each other with increasingly ludicrous displays.

Minerva finally had to step in and end things before it all got completely out of hand. “The bell will be ringing shortly for your first classes. I’d hate for those who have Professor Snape as teacher to be late to his class simply because you were enjoying the entertainment.” There was a mad scramble of students grabbing what they could from the table and hurrying out of the room.

Ron was greeted with a rousing cheer as he joined the others for their Potions class with Professor Tonks. Harry grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, congratulating the redhead on a successful prank. “I loved it, Ron. I don’t even think your brothers realized that not all pranks have to be flashy or explosive.”

Ron’s face tinged pink again, “Thanks. I’d read about Hermione’s elevation in the society pages of the Daily Prophet a while ago and wanted to do something then, but then I realized that she might not even know about the rules regarding the Letter so I had to time it when Pansy or Daphne were sitting with her so they could explain it.”

Pansy overheard and stepped over to congratulate him as well. “It seems that our very dear Miss Dagworth-Granger was already somewhat familiar with how to answer said letter from the research she says she’s been doing since she accepted her education offer from Headmistress McGonagall.” She gave Ron a small thin-lipped smile, “But I’m warning you now, Ronald Weasley, if you attempt to pull that stunt on me, I’ll remove your ability of having children.”

Ron gulped and pulled Theo in front of him, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.” Theo just shook his head at being used as a human shield.

The days turned into weeks. Classes were held, homework was issued, and occasionally detention was served. The third years thrived in their new potions class under Professor Tonks who taught in a manner almost polar opposite than what they were used to from Snape. Instead of just putting up the instructions on a board and telling them to get started, she spent the first hour explaining and describing how and why the steps needed to be done in a certain manner. She demonstrated what to look for, what they should do if for some reason the potion ingredients failed to react, and how to correct any mistakes made during the brewing process. For the second hour, it was their turn to attempt brewing whatever it was that she’d assigned. At the end of each lecture for homework, she required them to write a half-page essay on what they’d learnt, and any ideas they might’ve had to improve for next time.

“I wish she’d been our teacher from the get-go,” Draco commented to the others as they filtered back into the Slytherin common room. “Snape’s good at brewing, but even I’ll admit his teaching style is…”

“Is what?” Severus’ dark voice interrupted whatever Draco had been about to say. The third years whirled around and paled at the sight of their former teacher and Head of House glaring at them.

“Sophoric, sir.” Draco stammered out.

Severus’ face remained impassive, yet there was a tiny gleam of amusem*nt in his eye, “I believe the word you mean to use was ‘soporific.’ Do you believe that I put you to sleep, Mr. Malfoy? That would explain your dismal record in my class.”

Draco blushed and stammered again; his eyes comically wide, “Those times you read to me when I was younger, I um…”

Severus tried to remain impassive, but this reaction and admission from Draco was priceless. His snort of amusem*nt escaped his lips for the briefest moments before he managed to regain his stance. “Begone with you.” He spun about and left the room; pausing long enough once he exited to let out the laughter that had been building up. “Ah, I needed that.”

In Arithmancy class, Harry was certain he’d made the wrong choice as his eyes kept glazing over from all of the squiggly lines on the board and Professor Vector’s explanation of how Euclid’s formula produced Pythagorean triples.

“Important mathematical formulas and identities that are commonly used in number theory: Euclid's formula: a formula for generating Pythagorean triples (a, b, c) such thata^2 + b^2 = c^2. It states that: a = m^2 – n^2, b = 2mn, c = m^2 + n^2, where m and n are positive integers and m > n.”

Harry gripped his head in his hands and quietly moaned to himself, “What does any of this have to do with magic?” It annoyed him when he glanced over at Hermione where he saw that she was busily scribbling down her notes and clearly understanding what the teacher was talking about.

Conversely, in Ancient Runes; Harry was the one who clearly excelled in the subject. It didn’t matter what sequence Babbling threw at him, it took mere moments before he was able to dissect the array into its separate components and rearrange them so they’d accomplish whatever it was they’d been intended to do.

Professor Babbling called on him to explain his answer to a problem involving an intricate network of symbols to generate a steady light. “In order to simply things, each bindrune must be first analyzed as a discrete object much like how the components within a muggle television or radio are constructed. Now while there are no direction translations from Elder Futhark to Modern English, we can determine their function by how they interact with magic. For example, to keep the energy flowing in one direction and protect the power source from being damaged, we can connect the runes in a particular sequence to form a barrier around it. The ‘Mirror’ protective shield bindrune, is designed to reflect any negativity and sent back to its starting point. It creates the effect of a ‘mirror’ armor, which does not allow energy to pass through it.” He pointed to another encapsulated sequence, “Here we can see the rune for light, or ‘sowilo’…”

Hermione’s birthday was celebrated in fine style. Harry’d coordinated with the kitchen staff to provide a cake while her room mates decorated an unused classroom with streamers and balloons. Dean Thomas drew up an incredible banner declaring her to be ‘Queen of the Universe for a Day’ and artfully hung it from the blackboard.

Minerva and Pomona stopped by to wish the girl a happy birthday and to make sure that they weren’t getting too rowdy. Minerva spotted Sirius sitting off to the side ostensibly acting as chaperone, but then she noticed the bottle of what suspiciously looked like firewhiskey. “That better not be what I think it is.”

Sirius scoffed, “I’m crazy, not stupid and a bit hurt that you would think that I’d intentionally go out of my way to get my godson and his friends’ drunk while in school. That’s a summertime ritual, I’ll have you know.”

She held her hand out for the bottle. He handed it over where she discovered that it was a product of Ogden’s Distillery, but it wasn’t firewhiskey. “What is this?”

His eyes twinkled with mirth, “Butterbeer. I just used an old washed out bottle of the regular stuff as a prop. Let them think they’re getting the real deal while keeping things safe.”

Scoffing, Minerva nudged him on the shoulder, “Marauders, can’t trust any of you.”

October

Monday 4 October, 1993; Gryffindor Common Room, after classes

Seated a bit off from the main flow of traffic, Fred and George commandeered a table and a couple of chairs to peruse one of their greatest treasures; the Marauder’s Map. The stack of folded parchment was the brainchild of their heroes, one of whom was their defense professor! Fred traced his finger over the spot where Sirius Black aka Padfoot, was meeting up with someone named Remus Lupin. “I wonder who this other person is, Georgie.”

His brother leant over to take a peek and shrugged, “Who knows? (His eyes started twinkling) You think we should offer our assistance to protect such a noble warrior against the mundane?”

Fred joined in with his own twinkling eyes, “Capital idea, dear brother.”

George checked the map once more before stuffing it in his pocket as the pair traversed the hallways in search of their target. “There, around the corner behind that statue of old Wily E. Coy Oté.”

“Greetings, gentlemen.” They whirled around to see a pleasantly smiling Remus standing behind them. “Was there something you needed?”

Fred stammered as he flicked his finger back and forth, “How… but you were…huh?”

Sirius stepped out of the shadows to join them, “We earned our reputations for a reason, you know. So why were you following us?”

Pointing at Remus, Fred quipped, “We wanted to make sure he was on the up and up. We spotted the two of you using the ma…something we have, and got worried that Padfoot of the Marauders might’ve needed our help.”

A slow smile spread across Sirius’ face, “You’ve got the map? Let’s see it.” He held out his hand.

The twins shared a glance between them before sighing, “If there was anyone who deserved to see it, it would be you of course. (He thumbed over to Remus) But can he be trusted?”

Sirius barked out a laugh, “How about that Moony, ol’ chap? These two rapscallions don’t trust you! It’s usually me that gets that sort of reaction.”

Both Fred and George’s eyes sprang open as they turned as one towards a smugly smirking Remus. “Moo…Moony?”

Remus sketched a courtly bow, “Alive and well, at your service.”

That did it; both twins fainted onto the ground with deliriously happy grins on their faces.

Once the twins were revived, they followed their heroes to a nearby empty classroom with stars in their eyes. “I can’t believe it. Moony and Padfoot here in the same room as us.” They watched as Remus took the map and activated before laying it out on the teacher’s desk.

“Have the enchantments been giving you any issues?” Moony asked them. “In the early days, the map would start to display traces of where people were even though they weren’t in the castle. Sort of like an odd echo of past movements.”

Snapping out of their reverie, George brought out his ever-present notepad and flipped it open. “This is a list of all the weird things we’ve noticed. Sometimes, and it’s only been happening in the past two years and a bit, someone has been riding on the tag for our youngest brother.”

Sirius frowned as he poked the parchment’s surface with his wand causing the internal magic to rise up like a ghost, “Like the tags are stacked up on each other? That’s odd; each tag is a discrete object within the wards. Was there any others you noticed doing that?”

Fred nodded, “Yeah, it was two years ago when Professor Quirrell had someone named Tom Riddle riding around with him. We couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to hang around with the man. He was about as interesting as Percy when he gets going about cauldron bottom thicknesses.”

“Whose tag has been hanging around your brother’s?”

George consulted his notes, “Uh, someone named Peter Pettigrew.” His head snapped up at the sound of their shouts of furious surprise. He watched in amazement when Remus speared the map with his wand and uttered a string of commands that caused the map to shift over to the Slytherin dorms where Ron’s tag showed him to be in their common room. Sitting right on top of his, clearly written out was the name ‘Peter Pettigrew.’

Down in the Slytherin common room…

Ron was valiantly trying to get his rat to don the outfit he’d created for him. “Come on, Scabbers! Put this on; I want to take a photo of you playing the part as ‘Mousy Merlin.’ Blaise sat nearby adjusting the camera mount and laughing at his friend’s efforts.

“I don’t think your rat wants to be known as a mouse, Ron.”

Ron grunted, “I wanted to go for the…what’s the word…the sameness that each word shares with the others?”

“Alliterative?” Blaise smirked. “Big word for you, I know.”

Ron’s ears turned slightly red as he scowled, “Shut up, Blaise or I’ll tell Daphne about your little secret.”

Blaise’s eyes grew a bit wider, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Keep teasing me and find out.” Ron finally managed to get Scabbers into his costume and sat back. “Okay, we’re ready.”

“Ready for what?” Both boys (and the rat) looked up to see Daphne Greengrass leaning over the couch.

“Um, taking a picture of Scabbers in the costume I made for him,” Ron answered hesitatingly.

“Uh-huh, and what’s this secret of Blaise’s that I shouldn’t know about?” Her voice took on a dangerous tint.

Blaise shot Ron a dark look before plastering on an insincere smile, “It’s nothing to be worried about, my love.”

One of Daphne’s sculptured eyebrows rose curiously, “I sincerely doubt that, and stop calling me your love. I want nothing to do with you, Zabini.” She turned to Ron, “Spill. What’s this idiot done that you would invoke my wrath if I ever found out?”

Ron gulped, “Um, he stole one of your dresses and likes to pretend you’re dancing with him late at night.”

Blaise felt his blood pressure spike as fear set in the moment Daphne slowly turned back to face him. The look of retribution shone darkly in her countenance, “You did what?!” She didn’t yell, but her words still made him flinch. “Give it back. NOW!” He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could towards his dorm room.

“Idiot boy,” she grumped as she flopped onto the couch. “One of these days, he’s going to push me too far.”

The door to the room suddenly opened with a bang as Professor Black, an unknown man, the Headmistress, and their Head of House rushed in wands blazing. Ron’s rat screamed in fear and tried to scurry off but was knocked out by a strong stunning spell. Ron had gotten clipped by the wide-angle spell and slumped to the floor as well. Daphne dived out of the way and peeked out over the armrest with her wand pointed at the adults. Others around the room were doing similar things.

“What the bloody Hell was all that?!” All eyes swung over to Blaise where he stood in the hallway clutching a lacy dress in his hands, his eyes and body posture showing shock. Sirius couldn’t help but snort in laughter at the sight while Severus stormed over and grabbed the teen by the collar and dragged him out of the combat zone.

Minerva took a moment to give the teen a disappointed look, “We’ll discuss what you’re doing with that dress later, Mr. Zabini. In the meantime, Severus would you please look after Mr. Weasley?” Severus did as he was instructed while Remus bent down and picked up Scabbers by the tail. “Is it really him, Remus?”

Remus’ eyes flashed gold for a moment as he growled, “It’s him. Padfoot, call for the Aurors.”

Sirius shook his head like his alter ego, “I want to kill him right here and now. To Hell with due process! That bastard cost me everything!”

“Professor Black?” The adults turned to see Daphne still looking scared but holding her position, “Who is the rat supposed to be?”

Remus replied instead, “When Professor Black and I were in school together, there were two other boys who shared our love of pranks and mischief. One of them was James Potter, father of Harry Potter. The other was a boy named Peter Pettigrew. He wasn’t the smartest or best with magic, but he was always able to get into places that would’ve been difficult or outright dangerous for anyone else. It was about our third year when the other three figured out my secret. I have a debilitating condition that appears every month…”

Draco yelped as he caught on immediately, “You’re a werewolf!”

Remus dipped his head, “Correct, Mr. Malfoy. I am a werewolf, but please don’t let that cloud your judgement of me. I’ve been handling my situation for a long time thanks to the medical efforts of Her Majesty’s government. As I was saying, in our third year James, Sirius, and Peter cottoned on that a werewolf wouldn’t attack animals like they would humans so they undertook the incredible process of becoming Animagi to keep me company during my monthly transformations.”

Sirius had calmed down enough to add in that they hadn’t managed to achieve their first change until their fifth year. Remus bobbed his head and continued. “Exactly. James was able to transform into a stag, Padfoot here, turned into a large dog, while Peter…Peter became a rat. This rat, named ‘Scabbers.’” He gave the still-unconscious rat a look of deep loathing. “A longer story short, it was Peter who betrayed the Potters’ whereabouts to You-Know-Who on that fateful Halloween night back in 1981, not Sirius as the papers would’ve led you to believe.”

Minerva looked at Sirius oddly, “Who taught you how to become Animagi?”

Sirius bowed his head sheepishly and toed the floor, “We followed some books found in the library and those hypothetical questions we kept pestering you about.” Gasps of amusem*nt and intrigue reminded them that they weren’t alone.

Minerva waggled her finger at the pair, “I’m going to want to hear the full story later. In the meantime, I need to get Director Bones up here to take custody of Pettigrew.”

“No need, I’m here already.” Amelia’s voice cut in as they turned to see her standing in the doorway with a brace of back-up Aurors behind her.

Thursday 14 October, 1993; Hermione’s Stash Room

Flashback...

For the past couple of weeks, news of Peter Pettigrew’s discovery, capture, and trial was all anyone wanted to discuss. In the Daily Prophet, Albus Dumbledore went on record to say how disappointed he was that the Wizengamot had sentenced Peter to be executed by the Veil of Death instead of being given time in Azkaban to mull over his decisions and repent. ‘Everyone deserves another chance to see the error of their ways and come back to the Light.’ Harry growled in disgust when he read that. “He wouldn’t have needed to, if Dumbledore had done his job and ended the war before it had begun.”

“What do you mean, Harry?” Ron asked from his spot across the table at breakfast.

Harry pointed to the article, “Dumbledore was the leader of some band of vigilantes that resisted against Voldemort’s reign of terror during the seventies and early eighties. I know for a fact that Voldemort aka Tom Marvolo Riddle, was a student here during the thirties and forties which means that Dumbledore had to have taught him at the time. In the seven years that Riddle went to school here, not once was it ever noticed how evil he was? I think Dumbledore knew and just didn’t do anything because he had his ‘Plans.’”

Present...

At the end of it all Harry’s parents’ betrayer had been brought to justice it seemed; now all Harry wanted nothing more was to put it all behind him and never reference it again. He was fortunate that the bulk of the students understood and let him be, only the first years were the most curious (not that he blamed them.) He patiently explained what had he’d been told then asked them to not pester him about the details.

“Two years and all this time, Pettigrew’s been hiding under all of our noses,” he groused to the room at large while Hermione was busy organizing a stack of crates to be shipped out.

“Right? It’s a wonder he didn’t try to do anything before now.” She paused and straightened up, “I wonder if Dumbledore knew about the rat’s location.”

Harry huffed, “Of course he must’ve. He probably just didn’t do anything because it went against his ‘Grand Plans to screw over the world’!”

“Do you think that Director Bones suspects the same?”

“Dunno, why would it matter now?”

She pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, “I’ve heard chatter that he’s trying to get reinstated to his old positions again. If she suspects, she might be able to charge him with something that would prevent him from succeeding in returning. Where did I put that crate of enchanted spoons?”

Halloween

“Playing with Frog cards? How old are you again, Sam?”

“Shut it, Vinny. There’s nothing to do here while we’re waiting for Lucius to return from dealing with that business with the vampires. Those bloody freaks give me the creeps.”

Harry listened intently to the voices coming in through the connection he’d established during a quiet evening in his dorm. He tapped the ‘conference line’ that connected him to Amelia. Her name lit up in green indicating that she too, was listening.

“What’ve we got around this dump to eat?”

“Dunno, I wish we could’ve brought an elf but Lucius was adamant about not leaving any traces of this dinky shack in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, where is here anyways? All I can see are the trees.”

“Again, I dunno but I think we’re somewhere near the Forest of Dean. I think I can smell the timber mill nearby.”

“Joy, at least it’s not a tannery.”

The voices faded out which suggested that Sam Goyle had tossed the deck down and wandered off. Amelia’s marker flashed, prompting Harry to click Goyle's card off and focus on her, “Thank you, Harry. This’ll help enormously. Enchanter says his team has enough signal to triangulate their location.”

“Good luck, Director,” Harry replied, “Be careful with those vampires. Hey, I wonder if they sparkle in the sunlight before erupting into flames.” Her laughter echoed a bit before she signed off.

Harry ambled down the stairs, joining the crowd as they headed down towards the Great Hall for the evening meal and Halloween festivities. He spotted Luna standing toe-to-toe arguing with an older boy and hurried over, “What’s going on here?”

Luna pointed imperiously and growled at the boy once more before answering, “Jack Sloper seems to think that the Great Pumpkin is a muggle myth and has no business being part of our festivities. I keep trying to tell him that if he keeps this up, the Great Pumpkin won’t bring him any presents!”

Harry could barely restrain the laughter that threatened to spill out as he gently took Luna by the shoulders and led her away, “Luna, sweetie? What have I told you about mixing up your muggle references?”

Luna frowned and co*cked her head curiously, “You mean that there’s no such thing as a Great Pumpkin?” She stomped her foot poutingly when he shook his head. “Aww, that’s not fair! I was so sure.”

He wrapped his arms around her before scooping her up and around until she was straddling his back, “Come on, I know how to make it up to you. Let’s go see if we can rile up Hermione. You think you could come up with some truly bizarre creature references?”

Luna giggled, “Sure I can. I could tell her of the time that Daddy and I went on the hunt for Crinkle-Toed House Sloth in Slovenia when I was six, or I could tell her about the breeding habits of the Purple-toothed Oryctolagus cuniculus of Northern Belarus!”

November

Saturday 6 November, 1993; Hogsmeade

The raid on the safehouse where Vincent Snr and Sam Goyle had been hiding out was a success that resulted in no losses for the Aurors who raided it. In fact the only injuries that were acquired, was one rookie who got smacked in the face by a tree branch he’d pushed back in his approach to the house.

Sam and Vincent were handed over to the Unspeakables to be drained of any and all information about the location and plans of Lucius Malfoy. Unfortunately, the pair weren’t kept in the loop of the details of many of those plans so they were handed back to the Aurors where they were put on trial and sentenced to ten years in Azkaban in the medium-security wing.

Both Greg and Vincent Jr were naturally upset at hearing that their respective fathers had done what they’d did, and grateful for the outpouring of sympathy from their friends. Harry decided that the pair of them needed a proper distraction. “Come on, we’re going to hit Hogsmeade like a veritable tidal wave of teenagehood and I won’t take no for an answer.” He began shepherding both boys out of the castle towards the carriages. “Onward to teenage stupidity!”

Looking back, neither Harry nor the others would disagree that maybe they’d gone a bit overboard in their excitement to not only visit the only all-magical village in Britain but also their efforts to cheer up Greg and Vince. Harry groaned and held his stomach after barfing up several rounds of chili, pickled egg, and haggis all slathered with hot mustard and finished off with a Butterbeer and Pepper-up ‘boilermaker.’ He lolled his head towards where the other two were in similar states while being escorted back up to the castle by Sirius and Remus; the former chuckling the entire time while relating some sordid tale about how Harry’s father was the same way back in the day and how it seemed to be a Potter rite of passage to do the most stupidest thing imaginable to help out their friends.

Hermione skipped alongside offering all sorts of ‘suggestions’ to make their idiocy more memorable, “What if we were to tie them to a wonky broom and let it bounce them all over the sky? Ooh! How about a hippogriff-riding rodeo? I’m sure Sandrine would love the help in mucking out her nest. Who knows what might’ve crawled into the Chamber and died; it could be all bloated and rotting by now.”

Harry turned to face her, his face turning a distinctive shade of green, “Hermione, do me a favor and shut up.” The mere act of speaking upset his stomach’s tipping point forcing him to bolt to the bushes.

Sirius laughter followed him, “Ah, Moony; just like James…”

Monday 8 November, 1993; Ministry for Magic, Administrative Level

“Cornelius, I implore you to see reason,” Albus pleaded once again to try and regain control over his former positions. The past few months had been stressful for him, no one was willing to give him another chance despite his many attempts to get them to ‘see the Light.’ “Haven’t I been punished long enough for something that was entirely out of my control? It’s imperative that I be reinstated to Headmaster to continue leading the nation’s children to be productive members of society.”

Cornelius was unmoved, “The way I see it, Albus; is that you want to head back up to the castle to continue playing puppetmaster with everyone’s lives for your own perverse games. As it is, there’s nothing I can do as Minister to convince the Board of Governors to reinstate you so your trip here was an utter waste of my time.”

Albus pursed his lips to hold back the insult he wanted to give. “I thought perhaps you might want to help out an old friend and colleague, especially after that unfortunate incident with the Dementor in September. If I had still been Headmaster, that incident would’ve never occurred.” His fingers twiddled with his wand in a display of apparent unease. A faint green-yellowish glow appeared over the Minister’s head. “Surely you can see the wisdom in letting me resuming my old post again.”

Cornelius laughed, “I’d soon as rather let Dolores be Headmistress! Do us all a favor Albus, and get a haircut. It’s clear to me that all of that mass of hair has grown into your ears preventing you from hearing what I’ve been saying.” He dismissed the older man with a wave of his hand. Once Albus had left, Cornelius pressed a button on his desk, connecting him to Amelia. “Did you get all that?” Her growled question about his defenses was muffled a bit. “Yes, the protections I put against Dolores’ interference worked on him as well. You should be receiving a report any moment now. Have fun torturing him.”

Albus resignedly headed out of the Minister’s office only to come face to face with Amelia. “Amelia, what brings you by?”

The predatory look on her face didn’t bode well for anyone, especially him. “I’m here to arrest you for attempting to coerce the Minister for Magic into re-instating you to the position you lost as Headmaster. Hand over your wand now or face the consequences. Personally, I hope you resist; it would make my day to bring you down hard.”

Albus sighed once more; this day just kept getting worse and worse.

Same time; Hogwarts Defense class, third years

“So who can tell me what you should do if you encounter a werewolf?” Sirius asked the class at large. Several hands went up, including Harry’s and Hermione’s. He swished his finger around, “How about you? Miss Brown?”

Lavender stood up and twisted her skirt’s hemline uncertainly, “Um, don’t run. It might provoke their attack instincts. Maintain eye contact but don’t push in on it otherwise it might think that you’re attempting to display dominance.”

Sirius bobbed his head, “Very good, Miss Brown. Anyone else?” Lavender sank back into her chair with relief. Harry shot to his feet with a cheeky grin, “I would distract them by asking, ‘Who’s a good boy?’ Then I’d keep them in suspense by repeating the question until I managed to find an escape route then pop the surprise by cheering, ‘You are!’ then bolt out the door. In a pinch, I might toss the werewolf some biscuits to tackle its bad breath.”

Sirius dropped his head and groaned while the rest of the class laughed, “Harry, I’d swear you’re channeling your dad right about now. Those were his responses to the same questions our teacher gave back in fourth year. Stay behind after class, yeah?”

Hermione whapped Harry on the arm while valiantly trying to suppress her giggles, “You’re incorrigible.”

After class, Sirius proceeded to get payback by assigning his godson an hour’s worth of detention by making him clean the classroom without magic. “I certainly hope that you’ll understand that just because Remus is a cuddly puppy dog thanks to the Wolfsbane potion, he wasn’t always like this. Before its creation and distribution, Moony would turn into the bloodthirsty beast as described in the texts and stories.”

Harry sighed as he swept up a wad of crumbled paper, “I know; I just couldn’t help myself. I honestly don’t know what’s come over me this year. I feel like all of my seriousness that I displayed the previous two years up and vanished.”

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, “I have a suspicion that it stems from the fact that Albus isn’t here in the castle causing you to be on your guard all the time. For the first time in your education, you’re able to just be yourself and you’re unsure as to how to deal with it.”

Harry paused in his effort to scrape chewing gum off the floor, “Is that what it was like for you when you started Hogwarts? You’re no longer under your parents’ constant watch?”

Sirius waggled his hand, “Sort of, but not quite. Unlike you, my parents could still, and did, come up to the castle to voice their displeasure at something I may or may not have done. Petunia’s not able to do that for you, as much as I think she’d love to see the castle.” He glanced off to his office, “I wonder if I could send her a set of magical mirrors so she could at least see what your common room is like. I’ll have to discuss it with Minerva. Anyway, for future reference; please don’t act like the fool just because you can. Save it for when you’re with your friends, alright?” He glanced about the now-clean room and dismissed Harry. “Get out of here before I find something else for you to do.”

Tuesday 16 November, 1993; DMLE holding cells

Time seemed to drag for every minute Albus was forced to remain within his cell as he awaited whatever foolhardy attempt Amelia was planning on coming up with to punish him for merely trying to save his job and future plans to test the boy. He glanced up when the door to his cell swung open allowing his jailor to step inside, her face grim.

“Well, Albus? Are you feeling like repenting and owning up to all of your mistakes? Or is that only something you feel other people should do?”

Albus didn’t even bother to dignify that with a response. He remained silent to see who would break first. As it happened, she did. “I’ve got a solution to our problem. You see, I cannot in good conscience keep you locked away in this jail cell anymore unless I want to start charging you rent. As far as I’m concerned, you should just have your magic bound down to Squib levels, obliviated of your memories of magic, and dumped in some faraway country where they don’t speak English.” His eyes widened at the threat. “However I was overruled by people apparently with cooler heads than I’ve got. So here’s your options. One, you leave Britain and never return. I don’t care where you go, but it cannot be here. Two, you submit to a device that amounts to an Unspeakable-grade dog shock collar which will zap you every time you try to interfere with other people’s lives.”

“Is there a third option that would allow me to continue my work to bringing about the Greater Good?”

Amelia gave him a haughty sniff, “Not in this world, Albus. Maybe if you can find your way to an alternate reality where that sort of thing is tolerated, then by all means take it. Your third option is for my first request and doing the binding, obliviating, and transportation thing I spoke of.”

Albus began to sweat, none of those options were optimal. The only one that had any hint of allowing him to continue would be exile. His shoulders sagged in defeat, “I’ll take the first option and leave Britain.”

Amelia rose to her feet, “That’s fine by me, Albus. Take my advice and just don’t come back. You’re no longer welcome here.”

December

Thursday 2 December, 1993; Ministry for Magic, Cornelius Fudge’s office

Algernon sat in his chair listening to the others drone on about whatever it was their department was responsible for. He hated these endless meetings where nothing was ever accomplished. He shared a commiserating look with Amelia who no doubt felt the same way. “Director Croaker? Is there anything you wish to share that pertains to your department?”

“I’ve put in the monthly requisitions for supplies, but they’ve not shown up yet. Beyond that, there’s nothing I can report unless you wish to enact the proper privacy protocols.”

Dolores scoffed, “I don’t see why we cannot be told of what you’re researching down there. If it pertains to the safety of our great civilization, I think we have the right to know.”

Algernon sighed, “Madam Undersecretary, unless you have extensive knowledge of esoteric terminology and arithmancy, I’m afraid that not even a fraction of what happens there would be understandable to you.”

“Like figuring out what my daughter and her friends chatter about in that strange language they’ve developed?” someone muttered to the titters of amusem*nt of his colleagues. Croaker winked and waggled his finger mock-reprovingly at the man.

Cornelius clearly wanted to keep things moving, “Anyways, Amelia? How goes the search for Lucius Malfoy?

Amelia grimaced, “We’ve been hitting dead ends for the past couple of weeks now. Every time we think we’re getting close, he up and vanishes like free whiskey at a wedding. We’ve managed to keep some of the more dangerous of his attempts to disrupt normal life out of the press, but eventually he’s going to do something that cannot be swept under the rug.”

“What sorts of things has he done?”

She referenced a file, “He’s spoken with the island’s resident vampire coven about providing fresh victims. However, that one fell through almost immediately as I’m friends with the Head of the Clan. He’s told me in no uncertain terms that they like their current living arrangements and have zero desire to upset the proverbial applecart. Alwyn’s stated that he enjoys the meetings he’s had with Lucius simply to string the man along, something that entertainment of the genteel variety is so rare to find these days.”

Cornelius huffed, “What else? Is there anything I can take to the muggle Prime Minister? As you know, there’ve been several bombings in urban areas that have his magical signature attached to them.”

“Not as yet, Minister.”

Cornelius sighed, “Very well, keep me apprised. Thank you everyone. I think we’ve chatted long enough.” He rose and swept from the room with Dolores waddling after him.

Amelia leant back in her chair and scrubbed her fingers through her hair, “I wish there was some way I could use to definitively track and subdue him.” She glanced over at Algernon still sitting next to her, “Doesn’t your department have something?

Algernon hummed, “We might. I do want to let you know that he’s still proceeding north towards Hogwarts. Whatever’s driving him is still up there.”

“Yeah, I wish I knew what it was.”

Chapter 9: The Prisoner of Azkaban, part 2 (Jan - June)

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: The Prisoner of Azkaban, part 2 (Jan – June)

January

Sunday 2 January, 1994; Hogwarts Express heading north

Harry was curled up on the bench in his compartment idly flipping through both his Frog card notes and the project assignment handed out at the end of the previous term for Ancient Runes. Their task set by Professor Babbling required them to either recreate an existing solution to a problem then write an essay on what they’d learnt, or to create a brand-new solution. The only caveats were that whatever they chose couldn’t be anything explosive, corrosive, and didn’t break the Statute of Secrecy.

Harry’s current problem was: A) trying to pick which existing solution looked the most interesting, and B) which alternate route he would’ve gone. He’d already decided not to come up with anything new. He was so involved with his task that he didn’t even notice the door sliding open and someone taking a seat next to him. His nose picked up the scent of shampoo that Hermione frequently used as he felt her lean into him and saw her finger poke at the page he was reading, “You’re still working on that?”

“Uh-huh,” he replied tonelessly. He flipped the page over to a warding scheme to corral cattle into a pen.

“Why not just use your radio inserts?”

He paused and looked up to stare off into the distance. “That…” he swung his attention over to her as a slow smile grew on his face, “You…” She giggled at his goggled expression and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Duh…”

Hermione snickered at his responses, “Nice to know that I’m capable of reducing the ‘Great Harry Potter’ down to grunting single word answers. Imagine how good I’ll be when I start developing my shape.”

Harry blinked twice owlishly then cracked a sly grin, “You’ve already got that shape, Hermione. Remember, I’ve seen you in a bikini.”

Hermione shook her head, “Compared to my mum, I’ve got a ways to go. Anyways, enough stressing about this assignment! You’ve got at least five whole months to figure out what you want to do.”

He sighed and slumped his shoulders, “I know, but if I went with something complicated; I’ll need the time to figure out how to explain what I’ve learnt or come up with my own solution.”

She sat up and fluffed up her hair, “I still think you ought to use your radio inserts. They’re practically a known quantity even if no one knows what you’re using them for. You could always say that you’re working to make the Wizarding Wireless sets to be less obtrusive.”

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, I could go with that. Imagine a radio designed to look like any other object; oh wait, there’s already that option! It’s called a new housing.” He stuck his tongue out at her teasingly. “If anything, I’d love to be able to solve the issue I had with the photography prototype I once had. I keep thinking that would be beneficial to Uncle Remus and his job with the Crown.”

Hermione frowned for a moment before brightening, “Because not all of his agents might be magical and therefore wouldn’t be able to either use a pensieve or even know what one is?”

He bobbed his head, “Exactly. If I could figure out the glitch I kept encountering, I might be able to produce a card that would allow for someone to take a picture and send it off to the Master. No more bulky cameras that need to be lugged around, lost, damaged, or potentially stolen during transit.”

“So what’s your biggest issue with it right now?” She pulled out her wand and idly transfigured one of her ever-present clay figurines into something else then back again before hitting it with a color changing charm and watching it cycle through the colors of the rainbow.

“It’ll take a picture but only send half the image or it’ll send it out of sequence; like the bottom will become the top, left and right will get transposed, etc.”

She patted him on the hand and sent him a cute smile, “I have every confidence in you, Lord Potter.”

Harry groaned and hung his head, “Not you too! I get enough of that from Neville and Vince.”

Hermione scrunched her nose up cutely, “Well, I’ve got to come up with a cutesy nickname for you. Clay doesn’t work because of its current usage. Lord Potter is already being used to drive you nuts by the others.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully before brightening, “Ooh, what if I started calling you ‘Hunky Monkey’?”

Harry snorted derisively as he gave her a mild sneer, “Only if I can start calling you ‘Honey Bunny.’” Judging by the happy expression on her face, Hermione really wouldn’t mind if he started calling her that. He leant over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Then it’s settled; I’ll be your Hunky Monkey while you’re my Honey Bunny. But only when we’re alone; promise?”

Hermione leant up against his arm and snuggled in, “Deal.”

“So what’s your project going to be for Ancient Runes?” He asked her a moment later.

“I’ve got a couple of ideas I want to experiment with. I was thinking of coming up with a layered ward scheme to identify a possible intruder using their magical signature, alert the homeowner even if they’re not home, and if they don’t respond within a preset time; petrify the intruder and alert the Aurors.”

Harry bobbed his head in appreciation, “Clever. What if it’s raining or some other kind of weather? Won’t the intruder become water-logged, frozen, or something?”

She shrugged indifferently, “Meh, they shouldn’t have tried to break in then, right? Here’s the thing, any of your real friends or family would’ve just tried to contact you through normal means like the floo, owl mail, or even elf. Anyone who falls into this trap is obviously no friend of yours and deserves what they get.”

Getting her point, Harry draped his arm across her shoulders and drew her in for a cuddle.

Later, after the Returning Feast…

It wasn’t until Harry was trudging up the stairs towards the Tower when he received his flash of inspiration. He’d just passed a sixth year examining herself in a compact mirror when the ‘flash’ (which was more like a supernova) exploded in his mind. ‘Forget the radio, the communication mirrors! What are their ranges? How many can link onto one carrier signal? How expensive are they? Can they be made into any size? Can there be one transmitter with a bunch of receivers?’ His abrupt stop caused a bit of a pileup on the stairs as he feverishly looked about. His eyes fell upon Sirius pointing something out to a couple of firsties. “Sirius!”

Sirius looked around at the sound of his name then up the stairwell until he spotted his godson waving frantically at him. He calmly returned the wave for a moment before it dawned on him that Harry seemed rather urgent about getting his attention. He took the nearest set of stairs and pushed his way up to meet him. “What’s up, pup?”

Harry grabbed the front of his robes and practically spewed a bunch of eager questions out all at once. “Those communication mirrors; how do they work? What’s their capabilities beyond sending sight and sound? Can you transmit with one and have the signal picked up by multiple others?”

Sirius didn’t know what brought on this manic burst of energy so he led Harry to an empty classroom and eased him into a chair, “Easy there, Harry. What brought all this on?”

Harry let out a frantic sigh of exasperation and dragged his hands through his messy hair. “I had a flash of inspiration for my Ancient Runes project. Professor Babbling told us that we had to either come up with an original solution to an existing problem or copy something already done and explain what we learnt from it. On the train up here, Hermione suggested that I just go with my crystal radio inserts but then when I was passing a sixth year fixing her make-up, I remembered you talking about the communication mirrors! Is it possible to have one mirror watching something like a Quidditch match and send that signal to a bunch of different receiver mirrors across the island?”

Sirius waited until his godson had run-down before answering, “The short answer is yes. You can send a signal from one mirror to multiple other mirrors. The problem is signal degradation; I’m not sure of the specific number, but I think the reception starts to break down if you try to share the image over a distance of a hundred miles with more than a couple receivers. We used them fairly often during the previous war.”

“Are they easily available or are they custom builds?” Harry asked him.

Sirius pondered that for a moment, “If I remember correctly, there used to be a shop in Diagon Alley that sold them plus an assortment of other types of enchanted mirrors. Don’t remember if they’re still in operation or not though.”

Harry got up to pace about the room. “If they’re not in operation, where would I be able to learn more about the enchantments that go into making the mirrors?”

Sirius shrugged, “No idea, sorry. Oh, you could write a letter to Remus. I think he might know; remembering all that trivia about the oddest thing was his and Lily’s forte.”

Harry’s face split into an interested smile, “Yeah? What else was she good at?”

Sirius chuckled, “So many things. Your friend, Miss Dagworth-Granger is a lot like her in the intelligence department. If there was something that caught her attention, Lily took it upon herself to learn everything about it. It used to drive Madam Pince up the wall every time she caught Lily trying to get into the Restricted Section or the Deep Archives without permission because of this ‘one thing I’m intensely curious about’ wasn’t in the regular circulation.”

Harry smiled sadly, “I wish there was a way I could see and hear… (He paused hopefully) Sirius? Do you have any memories you could share of what my parents were like? Something that could be viewed in a pensieve?”

Sirius frowned thoughtfully, “I reckon I’ve got a few years of memories rumbling around upstairs. Truth be told, I’m not sure what remains after my little vacation on the Island of Nightmarish Dreams.”

Harry’d stood up and hugged his godfather. “What about Moony? Would he have anything?”

Sirius returned the hug, “Him? Oh, he’d have plenty. Tell you what, I’ll get in contact with him and see what he’s got to share and if he’s available, see if he can come up next weekend.”

Harry bounced excitedly, “Thanks, Padfoot.”

Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair, “Not a problem. Now, let’s get you up to the Lion’s Den.”

Tuesday 4 January, 1994; Hogwarts Headmistress’ office

The floo fired up prompting Minerva to glance up from her never-ending paperwork to see a friend’s face hovering in the flames, “Sorcha? What brings you by?”

Sorcha Campbell’s eyes twinkled, “I’ve got news that I thought you’d ought to be the first to know about before the blowhards here decide to get off their fat arses and hog all the glory.”

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose and grumbled, “Now what have they come up with?”

“I heard discussions, unofficial discussions mind you, that Ludo, Barty, and Fudge have been in negotiations with the Heads of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to resurrect the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

Minerva stared at her friend, “Dear Merlin, why? Wasn’t that shut down because of the rising death tolls that took place every time it was held?”

Sorcha’s head bobbed in the flames, “Yup. Well, the ‘Powers that Be’ have decided the time was ripe for another go at it. Ludo’s practically chomping at the bit to get this thing going because in his words, ‘it ought to make the World Cup look like a school activity.’”

Minerva sat there slowly shaking her head, “How far have they gotten with the negotiations, because if Hogwarts is going to be dragged into this reinstated farce; I will be demanding to be a part of it to inject a bit of sense into the madness.”

Sorcha glanced behind her briefly, “Right now, it’s still early days. Oh, there’s someone at the door. I promise to keep you apprised, Min.” With a puff of sparks, she was gone as the fire died back down.

Minerva leant back in her chair and growled darkly, “If those fools want a show, it had better be worth the added hassle!”

Wednesday 5 January, 1994

Now that he had his project in mind, Harry dove into his studies to figure out how to solve the issue of improving the signal strength between multiple mirrors. He dug out his notes from his crystal radio research then explored the school’s library for anything it might have on the topic of broadcasting technology. Sadly enough, the legendary Hogwarts Library failed to turn up anything useful. As a result, he set out to write to the muggle Edinburgh Central Library and explain his school assignment. He asked if there were any books that explained the technical side of how television broadcasts were accomplished, and how the signal was protected against degradation over long distances. ‘In short, I’m trying to see if it was possible to send a television signal from deep in the Scottish Highlands to multiple destinations in say, London and Surrey without the picture and sound dropping out. My school’s library is sadly lacking any sort of usable information. If there are any books, technical journals, etc; I can have them picked up by the end of the month.’ He signed his name and gave the name of the person who’d he’d designated as the ‘delivery boy;’ in this case it was Dobby (on loan from Hermione.)

Dobby read the letter over Harry’s shoulder and frowned, “You do know that I can pop in and retrieve anything you’d need without you having to wait for it, right?”

Harry sat back and stared at the elf, “You mean you know where the books are?”

Dobby shook his head, “Not specifically, but I can always go to the library when they open and have the librarian look them up. If they’re at that branch, it’d take mere moments. If they don’t have them in stock, I can just as easily go where they are and retrieve them. Distances aren’t an issue for elves.”

“But what about your appearance? Wouldn’t an elf showing up cause a ruckus?”

Dobby smirked and shook his head ruefully, “Harry, I can change my appearance with just a snap of my fingers. I can, and have, look like whomever I want to.”

Harry let out a relieved sigh, “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m not worthy of you, Lord Dobby. You’re a lifesaver. Please go and retrieve the books as you’ve mentioned how.”

Dobby chuckled at his favorite human’s evident relief and popped away.

Great Hall, dinner time…

Ron plopped down opposite of Harry and just stared at the messy-haired teen with a strange look of contemplation. Harry returned with a confused grin, “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I’m just trying to figure you out, Harry. Anyone with a lick of sense of what’s been happening since we’ve shown up knows that Draco owes you a Life Debt for saving his rotten arse last year. I heard that not only have you set the conditions to fulfill said debt to its absolute minimum, you’ve gone and required him to behave in an unusual manner.” Harry glanced over his shoulder to where the boy in question was eavesdropping on a group of muggleborns while taking notes about what they were talking about.

Turning back, Harry snorted in amusem*nt. “What’s so difficult to understand? I’d never heard of the concept before and just gave him an easy out. Unlike the magical community, the so-called ‘normal’ world has moved past the archaic notions of enslaving yourself to someone for their heroic actions.”

Ron waved his hand in a ‘that’s what I’m talking about’ manner, “And therein lays my problem and why it’s bugging me trying to figure out your motives. You’re a Gryffindor who acts like a Slytherin. If you’d been wearing green, I’d say that you had a long-term plan in mind. The fact that you aren’t, it just means that I’m confused.”

Harry snickered at his friend’s confusion, “So has Draco been acting out at all or has he been pretty much subdued?”

Ron shook his head as he slid over a platter of breaded chicken thighs. “Nah, he’s been pretty quiet. I have noticed him just observing the muggleborn, but I’m not sure what’s going on with that.”

Harry grinned again, “That’s one of my requirements. I told him that I wanted him to act less snooty and more sociable towards those he normally viewed as ‘lesser class.’ I suspect he’s trying to observe the muggleborns ‘in their natural state’ or something so he can figure out how best to approach them. That’s what I would do if I were in his shoes.”

Ron grunted around his mouthful of chicken before swallowing, “Like I said, you’re more Slytherin than most of us Slytherins.”

Their topic of conversation switched to their classes, Ron had taken Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies. As the redhead told it, Professor Kettleburn was something of an accident waiting to happen. “Now I understand where Hagrid developed his love for all sorts of monstrous creatures, the deadlier the better. Kettleburn seems positively unable to go an entire class without earning some kind of bite, sting, or slashing wound from whatever beast we’re dealing with. The segment before we left for the holidays, he had us trying to figure out how to handle Doxies. Well, anyone from a magical household knows that the little blighters have a venomous bite and infest in abandoned magical homes that haven’t been maintained for a long time.”

“So it was a learning experience for the muggleborns, is what you’re saying,” Harry temporized to Ron’s nod. “Neat. So is creature handling something you want to get into career-wise?”

Ron waggled his hand, “I’m not sure right now. My older brother Charlie is a dragon handler for the Romanian Dragon Preserve, but I’m not set on going that route. Mum wants me to get a nice, safe and boring job within the Ministry but let’s face it; can you really picture me sitting behind a desk rubberstamping order forms all day?”

Harry huffed a laugh at the image that conjured up and gestured with his fork, “Not in this lifetime. You also mentioned that your eldest brother is a cursebreaker? (Ron grunted his acknowledgement as he reached for a mince pie) Do you see yourself doing that?”

Ron scoffed, “No way. As much as I’m enjoying getting outside and learning about the different creatures that fill our world, I’m not the adventurous type. A Ministry job does sound appealing, though. It’s stable, the work can be stimulating, but at the same time; I just don’t know if I can handle dressing up all fancy-like to go sit in an office fielding reports or going to endless meetings where nothing ever gets done.”

Harry co*cked his head in thought (Ron snigg*red at the sight and rumbled that Harry must have another genius idea popping off in his mind) and gave the redhead a crinkle-nosed sneer, “I just thought that maybe you could work for the Ministry as a customs agent. You would be able to appease your mum by working for the Ministry, you’d get to experience something different each day which would stave off the boredom, and depending on how fast you rise through the ranks; the likelihood of you attending meetings would be minimized.”

Ron paused in his immolation of another chicken leg, “Customs agent, eh? I don’t think… which department would that even fall under?”

“That would be under the DMLE, Ron.” They turned to see Percy scooting over to speak with them. “You would still go through Auror training, but at or near graduation, the trainers would take you aside to figure out what specialized training you’d want to pursue. Some go on to become Hit-Wizards, others become Auror Investigators.”

Harry spread his hands, “Well there you go! Auror Customs Agent Ronald Weasley. It has a nice ring of authority to it.” He laughed lightly as Ron’s eyes glazed over the longer he thought about it. “Thanks, Percy. What have you thought about doing when you graduate?”

Percy puffed up importantly, “I’ll be joining the law side of the DMLE, first as a Legal Assistant to one of the barristers then hopefully move my way up to actually sitting a court case on my own.”

“I’m happy to hear that, Percy. I had this strange thought that you’d want to become just a random paper pushing flunky to some stuffed shirt department head who’d always get your last name wrong.”

Percy let out a short snort, “Well, if you must know; I’d originally started going down that route, but then our father (pointing between himself and Ron) sat me down and explained that the best way for me to advance to any sort of worthwhile position was not to brown-nose the department heads but to play to our strengths. My strength is my memory and organizational skills, apparently. I can cite chapter and verse of the school Charter, the student’s handbook, and pretty much anything else once I’ve read it.”

“Your mum must be happy for you,” Harry commented.

Percy waggled his hand, “Somewhat, though I suspect it’s more along the lines that she doesn’t really understand what my job will entail. I’ve tried to explain but she keeps mistaking my role for those who actually attend the court proceedings.”

“Whereas your job would be more research and visiting libraries, right?”

“Exactly.”

Ron gestured with his half-eaten chicken leg towards Harry, “What do you want to do when you graduate?”

Harry got a cheeky grin going, “I want to rule the world as the ‘Great and Powerful Harry Potter!” At their rolling of eyes and shaking of heads, he laughed, “Nah, I had thought about opening up a company where I could broadcast live performances or sports and games to the people of Magical Britain. Think about it, when you want to see a professional Quidditch game, you’ve got to go to the stadium, right? Well, going to a match is always a hassle since you’d have to coordinate with your work, school, or family schedules. Then you’d have to obtain tickets, find a tent or something to sleep in, food, water, and other supplies. The costs add up to the point where it becomes too prohibitive to be valuable anymore. What if there was a way to see it live on a screen without going further than your local pub?”

Ron’s eyes bugged out while Percy grew contemplative, “That would be interesting, Harry. But wouldn’t you interfere with stadium seating numbers?”

Harry shook his head, “Not the way I see it. It’d be no different than if you went to the pub and listened to it on the radio. The only difference would that you’d be able to see what the players looked like as they darted about the pitch.”

Ron groaned into his hands, “I said it before, Harry. This plan of yours would prove you’re more Slytherin than most of us Slytherins!”

Friday 7 January, 1994; Morning mail rush

Hedwig fluttered down from her mail run in front of Harry and barked out her greeting. Harry gave her a seated bow, “Your Majesty! Thank you for attending to your honorable duties. What missives does my aunt send to me?” He first slid the plate of bacon strips over to her then proceeded to untie the shrunken package from her leg. She hopped over to examine what he’d provided while he tapped the box with his wand and restored it to its normal size. He smiled at Dudley’s handwritten note on the box’s lid hoping that his rune work did its job to protect the package for its trip up to the school. He popped the top of the box off and gave a small cheer at the sight of a set of distinctive yellow books within.

“What do you have there, Harry?” He looked up to see the Ravenclaw Patil twin, Padma looking on curiously.

“I told my aunt about the problems I’ve been having in Arithmancy class so she sent me a set of books that are geared towards helping the ‘not so intelligent’ person in understanding mathematical concepts like geometry, algebra, and more.”

Padma frowned as she joined him at the table and reached for a book, “Trigonometry for Dummies… that sounds rather insulting, you know.”

Harry harrumphed, “Yet that’s how I’ve been feeling during every class. I’m hoping that the information within will help me wrap my head around the fact that magical math is more than what does the star sign mean for a particular number or how the number seven has certain properties that would allow me to cast a spell for xyz.”

She giggled at his over-the-top act, “I’ll admit that there’ve been times where the book doesn’t explain the subject clearly enough and presupposes that numbers and equations can magically affect objects, and that ritual usages can influence our environment, body, mind, and soul.”

“See? That right there is where my brain goes fuzzy. Math I can understand. I’ve used math since primary school, but this stuff? It might as well be written in Mermish.”

Luna appeared like a ghost as she plopped down on the bench next to him. “The Mermish language is much more angular in writing style than the words on that paper, Harry.”

Padma quietly made a scathing comment about Luna’s imaginary animals must’ve told her that. Harry flicked his wand surreptitiously, upsetting her plate of breakfast into her lap. While Padma was angrily sorting herself out, Harry turned his full attention back to Luna. “So what else can you tell me about the Merfolk?”

Luna gave him a small smile, “Well, they’re aquatic humanoids with the lower body of a fish. They live in small tribes beneath the waves. There’s a tribe of them living near the bottom of the Black Lake and can be seen sometimes swimming by the window within Slytherin’s common room. They hunt using weighted nets, spears, blowguns, and harpoons. They cannot speak above the waters otherwise it comes out sounding like screeching though they are capable of breathing air for short periods of time. Oh, and they like to hoard shiny things that fall from the surface or that they find in the muck.”

Harry dutifully wrote all of this down, “So, Professor Lovegood; would you say that the Merfolk are friendly?” She blushed at being called a professor and waggled her hand.

“They can be, as with all sentient beings; they will attack if insulted, invaded, or attacked. Their most notable enemy is the Veela Enclave due to an insult given during the Atlantis Convention of 986AD.”

Harry sighed and gave her a soppy smile, “Learning is so much more fun when you’re doing the teaching, Professor.”

Luna giggled and smacked his hand playfully as she primly began making her breakfast, “You silly boy.”

Professor Vector was rather impressed with Harry’s book haul and complimented him on gathering whatever available resources were to be had rather than just muddling along or dropping the class entirely. “I’m aware that my class isn’t for everyone, but to drop out without even trying to get assistance is just setting yourself up for failure throughout life. Five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.”

She got the class settled and began to describe the topic for the day, geometric sequencing formula. “Each term of a geometric sequence is formed by multiplying the previous term by a constant number r, starting from the first term a1. Therefore, the rule for the terms of a geometric sequence isan=a1(r)^(n-1).”

Harry immediately felt his brain liquefying.

Monday 17 January, 1994; outside Trinity Bar in Hawik, Scotland

Amelia appeared in the back alley with a quiet pop of apparition and looked around for her contact. “Peebles? Where are you?”

“Here, Director.” A reedy-looking Auror stumbled over a pile of rotting who-knew-what and grimaced at the mess, “Damned muggles. Alright, here’s the situation. My rookie swears she saw Lucius Malfoy go into the Trinity bar not five minutes ago. I’ve got her covering the front entrance while I scoped out the back. So far, there’s been no movement either way. It’s highly unlikely that it’s him since this is a strictly muggle venue.”

Amelia nodded her acceptance and tapped her wand to her badge signaling for backup. She eased her way over to the door and cast a transparency charm on the door, allowing her to peer into the building. She could easily see what appeared to be Lucius’ blond locks from her location. When the back-up arrived, she ordered them to split up. “Two of you with me, the others join the rookie at the front. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to take him down without this blowing up in our faces.” She unlocked the door and carefully snuck in.

The blond man sipped his beer nonchalantly, occasionally slipping a peek at his pocket watch. ‘With any luck, Bones and the Aurors ought to be bursting in through those doors soon. My contact’s going to owe me big time for this.’ He looked up at the sound of a woman clearing her throat and smiled perfunctorily and gestured towards an empty chair, “It’s a pleasure to see you, Director. Please have a seat so we can discuss your terms for admitting that you’re in way over your head.”

Ignoring the offer to sit down, Amelia stared hard at the smug man. “You’re not Lucius Malfoy.”

The man’s smile grew toothy, “Clever girl. Indeed, I am not. Lucius needed someone skilled at deception so a colleague of his gave me a call and sent a couple of his hairs for the polyjuice I’m using which incidentally ought to be wearing off in about twenty minutes.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, “So which Death Eater are you then?”

The man chortled, “Oh, I’m not one of those branded cattle the Dark Lord favored. No, I work outside the ‘normal’ chain of command as it were.”

Her contempt was evident, “You’re a freelance spy and saboteur, then.” The man doffed an imaginary hat. “So where is Lucius?”

The man shrugged indifferently, “No idea. When Lucius, his colleague, and I met up to discuss the plan, we were in a dilapidated muggle manor in Little Hangleton, Cornwall. Incidentally, I did get the sense that Lucius wasn’t too thrilled to be working with the man.” He checked his watch once more. “Ten minutes before my reversion. At any rate, they hired me to take you all on a merry chase throughout the island, popping up every now and then to allow you to get a glimpse of who you’d think was Lucius, but in reality allowing them both the opportunity to escape.”

“Do you have a clue as to where he might be headed?”

The man again shrugged, “Sorry, no. However I do know that Lucius was adamant about heading north to Scotland, but his ultimate destination? No, he never disclosed that and I didn’t bother to ask.”

Amelia sighed internally before venturing with another question, “Why did Lucius order the Dementor to strike the Hogwarts Express?”

The man grinned and shook his head, “That wasn’t Lucius, my dear. He doesn’t have the connections to order something like that. No, that was the work of someone far older and much more ingrained in the public’s mind of being the grandfatherly statesman guiding his ‘children’ towards something greater than themselves.” He pantomimed stroking a long beard.

Amelia’s mouth dropped open, “Dumbledore ordered the strike?! I never would’ve suspected him since it’s too straightforward for his usual modus operandi.”

The man nodded ruefully, “I normally would agree, but you must remember that this is the man who plotted and planned with Gellert Grindlewald while they were both mere teenagers on how best to take over the world. It was they who orchestrated the outbreak and course of the Second World War. Gellert wanted to burn the world then rule over the cowed survivors. Albus preferred the slower and subtle idea that they should embed themselves as educators; teaching the future generations to trust their word as gospel truth, before dipping their proverbial toes into the political arena by obtaining the positions of Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump which of course Albus succeeded in before his downfall. Everything that has happened on this island over the past fifty years or so has been according to Albus’ plan for world domination. All of the deaths of the Families during the Second World War and Voldemort’s little conflict? That was done to rid the political arena of Albus’ detractors, those who ‘lack the vision to see what our great society needs.’ The Potters were just the latest casualties to Albus’ ideology.” His pocket watch chimed causing him to stiffen slightly, “Now, it’s time to either take another dose of that ghastly swill or reveal myself here in public.”

Dazed by the information dump, Amelia waved her hand dismissively. “Go ahead and take another dose; I’ll still take you to the interview rooms at the DMLE.”

“Ah, there’s a problem… (He flinched once more as his features rippled slightly) …with that. If I take another dose, I will not be coming quietly, as the muggles say. Right now, you’re standing in a trap of my own devising. Should I activate it, you and everyone in this building will suffer a rather nasty explosion and in the melee I’ll vanish without you figuring out who I am.” He tapped his watch with a finger, “Tick tock, Director.”

Amelia wasn’t for backing down however, “Then why did you reveal all that information about Albus and his corruption? I could just stun you and deal with the paperwork for the Obliviators later.”

Again with that confident smirk, “My dear, you have no idea if I’m telling you the truth. Regardless, it’ll delay you long enough for me to disappear, Albus to further his plans, and Malfoy to find what it is he’s searching for. If I get stunned, the blast will still occur and if you try to tag me with a portkey, it’ll activate a chemical device implanted within me that would render me into nothing more than a puddle of unsightly goo. Something I discovered during an operation in Germany. Say what you will about the Alliance Remnants, but Grindlewald knew how to keep information secure.” His face started to look waxy and his left ear began to droop.

“If I allow you to reveal yourself here in public, I’ll still be dragging you in for an interview.”

“No, you’ll have to contend with the muggles who will have witnessed the whole affair. Your own laws prohibit you from allowing this to happen so even if you managed to ‘get me,’ I still have my ways of slipping away.”

Amelia huffed, “So you just expect me to let you walk away?”

The man grunted at the transformation starting to happen in full force, “Now you’re getting it.”

While the spy was conversing with Amelia, Auror Peebles’ rookie hit upon the bright idea to tag each of the muggles with a low-powered compulsion to convince them to silently drop what they were doing and quietly make their way into the back alley. Once the room was cleared, the Aurors moved into a stand-off position that would allow them to cover the room with spellfire but at the same time, prevent any losses to themselves.

The man noticed what had taken place and complimented them on being clever again before rising to his feet. Their target confidently started walking towards the exit as his features rearranged themselves. Rookie Auror Nymphadora Tonks was standing closest to the door and caught sight of the man’s true identity, committing it to memory with her special talent.

Once the spy had left, Tonks approached a seething Amelia, “Director, you know who that was?”

Amelia spared the rookie a sneer, “No, I don’t Rookie. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Tonks used her metamorphic ability to take on his image, “That was Cadmus Avery, the Head of the Elder House of Avery and rumored to have been second in command of the British Dark Forces since You-Know-Who was still a student at Hogwarts!”

Amelia’s mouth dropped open. She gestured to Tonks’ different appearance, “A metamorph? Rookie, get yourself back to headquarters and contact Director Croaker of the DoM. Share your memories and Avery’s appearance with him. Tell him he and his team is to get started figuring out where he might be heading and once that’s done, tell him that the gloves are off.” She turned to the others, “In the meantime, check everywhere someone might be able to get off the island. Include Dumbledore’s picture in your searches. Don’t discount the idea of using an Imperioused muggle to ferry Malfoy or Dumbledore on a boat or on one of their airplanes.”

February

Tuesday 1 February, 1994; Standing outside what used to be 12 Grimmauld Place

The stench of charred wood and Merlin-knew-what-else tickled and stung Sirius’ nose as he took in the sight of the burnt-out husk that used to be his childhood home. Past memories, some good though mostly bad floated through his mind. He idly kicked what looked like the remnants of a portrait of some ancestor of his. The canvas was pitted and burned to the point where recognition was impossible. “It was quite the sight, I’ve been told.” Remus’ voice broke his introspection. “No word on what started the blaze, though the investigators aren’t done with their search. If I had to guess based on the damage to the other tenants, the fire must’ve started in one of those and just spread to encompass the block.”

Sirius numbly nodded and let out a sigh, “This place never held good memories for me, Moony so don’t expect me to cry any tears over its loss.”

Remus gently clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I wouldn’t expect you to.” His attention snapped over to a spot near where the stairs led down to the kitchen, “What’s that? Something just moved.” He led the way over to where he’d seen the debris shift and levitated a broken beam away. Underneath was a badly burned Kreacher sobbing and clutching a locket in his blackened hands.

Sirius growled, “Figures you’d still be alive, Kreacher. What do you have there?”

Kreacher groaned at the slight movement as he sightlessly tracked Sirius’ voice. His exposed skin was cracked, bleeding, and peeling away in large swaths. “Misbegotten Master? Oh, how Mistress would be so disappointed. Kreacher needs to protect Master Regulus’ locket. Kreacher must follow his last orders.”

Remus knelt down and spoke softly, “Kreacher? What orders were they? How can I help?”

Kreacher shook his head despite the pain, “Nasty werewolf must stay away. Master Regulus’ locket holds part of the Dark Lord’s soul. Kreacher was ordered by Master Regulus to destroy it and he cannot with another Dark creature nearby.”

Both men were rocked back by what they heard. Remus spoke to Sirius urgently, “We need to get that thing to the Unspeakables so they can destroy it.”

Sirius gave him a sidelong glance, “Is this part of that job you’re so reluctant to mention?”

Remus nodded, “It’s a big part, actually. I promise I’ll ask if you can be read into the mission later but right now, you need to convince Kreacher that you’re here to carry out Regulus’ last order.”

Sirius scrubbed his face with his hand and let out an aggrieved sigh of frustration. “Fine.” He moved over to where Kreacher was struggling to sit up. “Kreacher. Damn, this is harder than I thought… Kreacher, as the Lord of the Black Family, I am ordering you to hand over the locket. The locket will be destroyed forthwith and you will be honored for protecting the family.” He glanced up at Remus and shrugged helplessly.

Kreacher turned his tortured, sightless eyes towards him. His voice cracked with pained hope, “Master Regulus said the locket must be destroyed to stop the Dark Lord from returning. Kreacher tried everything to get rid of the nasty evil but I could not.” His tone was pleading, almost like a whimpering whine.

Sirius softened his tone, “Kreacher, I promise with everything that makes me a Black that I shall fulfill your mission. I want to make Regulus proud of what I’ve become. I became a teacher at Hogwarts. I help those who cannot defend themselves.”

“You mean it? Kreac… (His voice hitched and took on a distinctly un-elf like speech pattern) I don’t want to die knowing that I failed Master Regulus. I loved him as if he were my own…” He painfully wheezed to a stop, tears creating trails through the soot covering his wrinkled face.

Sirius stared at the elderly elf for a moment, internally warring with himself on what he ought to do. “Benny.” A slight pop was heard as one of the Hogwarts elves appeared. “Benny, take Kreacher to wherever elves go to get healed. Tell your Healers to spare no expense; House Black will cover whatever it costs to bring Kreacher back to health.” He held out his hand for the locket. Kreacher agonizingly and slowly reached out and relinquished the locket, the chain slipping through his fingers.

“Thank you…Sirius,” Kreacher whispered before Benny popped the two of them away.

Department of Mysteries, twenty minutes later…

Algernon stared contemptuously at the locket as it sat upon his desk. “Ugly looking thing. It’s difficult for me to believe that Slytherin would’ve actually used this at some point. I had an aunt that used to love clunky jewelry.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, both Remus and Sirius snorted in amusem*nt. Sirius gestured to the locket, “Right? Given the man’s reputation, I would’ve thought his locket, or whatever, would’ve been more elegant and regal. So, what’s the plan going forward?”

Algernon sighed, “Well, we’ll examine it and interrogate the soul shard within to determine its ranking within the known collection. If there are any other pieces missing, hopefully we’ll be able to ascertain where they might be.”

“What is it, specifically?” Sirius pressed.

Algernon shared a look with Remus who nodded, “It’s a Horcrux.”

Sirius predictably sucked in a breath and scooted back a bit. “That bastard!”

“You know of them?”

Sirius chuckled mirthlessly, “Given my family’s history? If the place hadn’t burnt down, I would’ve suggested you look through Grimmauld Place’s library for the books on the subject. Yeah, I know what Horcruxes are and how they’re made. Speaking of which, how many are there?”

Algernon laced his fingers over his chest, “At last count, there are four accounted for, with another three still missing not counting the primary.”

Remus mused, “The primary being Voldemort himself, correct?” Algernon confirmed that. “How are you able to collect these without running afoul of the Prophecy?”

Sirius turned to look at his best friend, “Prophecy?”

Moony nodded, “A prophecy was spoken sometime before Harry was born which in a nutshell stated that a child born as the seventh month died, to parents who had defied the Dark Lord three times, would have the power to vanquish said Dark Lord.”

“That’s only part of the message, to be honest.” Croaker stated. “The full thing states ‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies....’”

Sirius frowned in confusion, “I thought only the people who could hear the prophecy was the one it was spoken to and were the subjects of, otherwise they’d go mad if they touched a sphere.”

Algernon snorted in laughter, “That’s just something we tell people so we don’t have to deal with grabby-hands politicians who delight in doing nothing but causing trouble for everyone around them. Can you picture how pompous Fudge would be if he had a couple of these sitting in his office? Hell, it’d be worse with Dolores. That toad-faced bitch would practically revel in hoarding a few in her webbed grasp. No, the truth is anyone can touch the orbs. They’re just fragile and the message is impossible to replace once it’s activated.”

“So that bit where either must die at the hand of the other? Does that mean my godson has to fight the bastard to the death or something?”

Again, Algernon shook with laughter. “Nope, I contacted Harry after one of my agents brought back the first piece, in this case the tiara, during the start of Harry’s first year at school. I brought along a contract that would allow me and my staff to act as his ‘hand.’ It would provide us the incentive to go out and do our jobs to retrieve, study, and destroy everything that made up whatever it was that’s been keeping Voldemort on this plane of existence. Believe me when I say that we were shocked to learn that the bastard dared to make multiple Horcruxes. It’s believed that splitting your soul once is enough for even the most deranged madman. The fact that he’d done it more than that is evidence of his insanity.”

Sirius stared sightlessly into the distance as a low growl built up in his chest and his features darkened, “I wonder how much of all this Albus knew. Remember how he’d always claim that the Dark Lord would return someday? I’d bet you that he planned for this eventuality and refused to say anything lest someone interfere with his ‘Plans.’”

Monday 14 February, 1994; Hogwarts, Valentine’s Day

Harry watched on in amusem*nt at the sight of Ginny Weasley grandly throwing her arms around a boy in her year and House, carrying on in a louder than normal voice over how much she loved the card and that they’d someday get married. His gaze swung over to where Percy and the twins sat idly watching the proceedings. Harry slid over to them and nudged Percy on the arm, “Aren’t you going to go do your intimidating big brother routine?”

Percy smiled bemusedly and shook his head, “Nah, we all know why she’s acting like this. Ginny’s just trying to get a rise out of us, but as you can see, it’s not working. Now, if our mum was here… Yeah, that display we just saw would’ve definitely caused a scene.”

“Harry?” He turned to see Luna standing before him, slightly fidgeting uncertainly. “I got a card and I don’t know who it’s from.” She held out the card. “I’m worried that it might be from a cluster of Incubi Maggots.”

Harry pulled her into his embrace and cuddled her, “I sincerely doubt that such a creature would dare to force itself on you, especially when you’ve got friends like me and Hermione to protect you. Let me see that card; do you recognize the handwriting at all?” She shook her head. “Well, I can already tell that it’s a boy’s handiwork. You can see that by the overly-flowery speech here about what he likes about you. You can also tell that this admirer is either in your year or perhaps a year below you. My bet would be that it’s someone in your year since how many eleven year olds do you know of that have even the slightest inclination to do something so ‘icky’ on this specific day?” He let his attention rove over the occupants of the table before noticing Colin Creevey looking especially nervous as the usually-excitable boy kept glancing over at Luna.

Harry rose to his feet and walked over to where Colin was sitting. He knelt down and whispered in the boy’s ear. Colin’s eyes grew wide and fearful as he whispered something back. Harry returned to where Luna had remained and calmly explained that her secret admirer wasn’t a threat and would be willing to do whatever it took to prove himself at a time and place of her choosing. Luna relaxed a bit as she twisted the hem of her shirt shyly. “I don’t know why I was worried. It’s just Colin, right?”

“You don’t have a problem with him?”

Luna smiled slightly, “No, he’s definitely cute, but I thought he wasn’t interested in girls like that.”

Harry returned the smile, “Given his age, I doubt he knows exactly what he wants at this point. New feelings and emotions are difficult for anyone experiencing them for the first time. My advice is to meet with him and tell him point blank how far you’re willing to go, be it hand-holding in public, sitting together during study time, sharing a meal, whatever. Let him know in no uncertain terms that you are not some cheap thrill to be tossed away once his interest is gone.”

Luna snuck a peek over towards the boy in question who was clearly watching her with hope in his eyes. She glanced back at Harry and gave him a tiny kiss on his cheek, “Thank you, big brother.” She skipped over to Colin and spoke quietly to him before sitting down next to him.

Harry started when he felt Hermione’s arms drape themselves around his shoulders. “You did a good job there, Hunky Monkey,” she whispered in his ear causing him to shiver. He pulled her onto the seat next to him and took her hand, “Now, it’s your turn, Miss Dagworth-Granger. Would you do me the honor of becoming my official girlfriend and not just my girl friend?” He gave her a waggle of his eyebrows, “Or do I need to deliver to you a cream-colored Letter of Intent?”

Hermione chuckled and playfully swiped at his chest, “Don’t you dare! (She sat up primly and sniffed haughtily) I accept your terms, good sir. I look forward to being your girlfriend; just don’t expect me to be all gushy like the others.” She thumbed over in the direction of a few other couples making spectacles of themselves.

Hermione noticed that not everyone was getting into the spirit of the holiday. She nudged Harry and pointed out that Pansy and Ron were sitting on opposite sides of the Slytherin table. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No idea. Shall we endeavor to find out what went wrong?” He rose to his feet and held out his hand to her.

“Indeed. I’d hate for them to be mad at each other simply because Ron doesn’t know how a girl is supposed to react.”

They hurried over to their respective gender and joined them at the table. Harry gave Ron a hard look, “What did you do wrong?”

Ron looked at him in confusion, his mouth still full of sausage, “Mrmph?”

Harry thumbed over to where Pansy was being interrogated by Hermione, “What happened between you two?”

Ron quickly swallowed, “Nothing as far as I know. Why? Has she said something?”

“You’re sitting over here and not professing your love for her on this day of days?” Harry gave him a leading look of disdain.

Ron’s expression of confusion cleared up immediately, “Oh, I’m waiting to surprise her when we get back to the common room. Harry, I’m a Slytherin; we don’t do public displays of affection. (He leant in to whisper) You want me to sneak you in so you can witness what I have planned for her?”

A grin slowly spread over Harry’s face, “Is it spectacular?”

The answering grin on Ron’s face was pure teeth, “It’s not just spectacular, it’s Weasley Spectacular!”

Harry’s eyes widened as a slow smirk spread across his face, “Then yes, I feel I ought to be there to witness this.”

Slytherin common room, twenty minutes later…

Sixth year Colm Sweeney looked up at the sound of the door opening and frowned when he spotted Harry Potter of all people enter the room. “Potter? What the Hell are you doing here?”

Harry gestured back towards the entrance, “Ron invited me to witness what he’s got planned for Pansy’s Valentine’s day present.”

Colm snorted, “Oh, that? Yeah, I guess I could overlook you being here for that.”

Harry dropped down into an empty chair, “I still don’t understand why everyone here is against me. It’s not like whatever happened on that night was my doing. I was bloody fifteen months old then! The best thing I knew how to do were string three words together and mangling the names of my uncles, godfather, and parents.”

Colm sighed, “Yeah, I guess you do have a point. It’s just something those of us from darker families were raised to believe. You brought down the Dark Lord using some sort of unheard of before mystical power. It didn’t help that Dumbledore kept spreading the tales about your presumed powers as the Boy-Who-Lived.” He chuckled at Harry’s disgusted look. “Yeah, most of us had that expression as well when we heard the tales. They both turned to see Ron hurrying through the room towards the dorms. “This ought to be interesting. Pansy’s very discerning about who she associates with and with him being a Weasley, whatever it is, won’t be subtle.”

Harry waved his hand dismissively, “Meh, subtlety is overrated when it comes to professing your love for someone.”

The door opened once more to let a couple others enter before Harry caught sight of Hermione’s bushy-hair and heard her voice, “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Pansy. He’s a boy and they’re utterly oblivious until it smacks them in the face.”

As Pansy stepped into the foyer, the lights suddenly dropped down and a spotlight lit her up. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! I, RONALD WEASLEY, AM HONORED TO PRESENT TO YOU THE ONE. THE ONLY. PANSY PARKINSON! LONG LIVE THE QUEEN OF SLYTHERIN!” Unseen trumpets blared out their triumphant song to the rafters announcing her arrival as Ron stepped out looking like a reigning knight of old; his chest plate, arm gauntlets, and helmet shone brightly under the spotlights. He removed the helmet as he knelt down gracefully at her feet and looked up at her wide-eyed expression. “I don’t know what it is about you, Miss Parkinson that sets my heart aglow or inflames my senses, but I’d be a fool to let your beauty and wit slip through my fingers. Would you allow me to be your Valentine on this auspicious day?”

Pansy stared unblinkingly at Ron, her face clearly overwhelmed by the completely un-Slytherin display of affection. Hermione nudged her sharply which kick-started her brain as she stammered, “Uh…I, yes! Yes, I accept your request Sir Weasley. I would be happy for you to be my Valentine upon this day.” Ron rose to his feet, took her hands in his, and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. The moment their lips touched, an explosion of confetti, butterflies, and twinkling fairies erupted all around them to the cheers and applause from their audience.

Dreamy-eyed, Pansy allowed herself to be escorted over to the couch where she sat down next to Ron, her face still dazed by all that had transpired. Hermione and Harry were beaming at the blushing couple; Hermione wondered out loud how Ron was going to top that next year and all the years after that. Ron ducked his head shyly, “Well, I’m hoping I don’t muck it up so badly that come our seventh year, Pansy will accept my official Letter of Intent.” (Pansy’s eyes grew wide at the implication.)

Harry smiled proudly as Hermione clasped his hand in hers, “I know how you feel, mate.”

Tuesday 15 February, 1994; Headmistress’ office

Severus was perusing the folder of preliminary agreements regarding the upcoming tournament that had been delivered to the school the week before and frankly, he was dreading the impending visit if only because he had to deal with the moronic tendencies of the department head for Sports and Games, Ludo Bagman.'How that idiot became a department head is beyond me.'"Let's hope that this thing is concluded quickly, I've got potions waiting for me."

Filius gave him a side-long glance, "Really?"

With a smirk on his face, Severus waggled his hand, "Technically, Kahlua could be classified as a potion. A blend of coffee, vanilla bean, sugar and rum; heated and stirred? The resulting liqueur can then be added to other drinks or even food." Filius snickered at the haughty look on his colleague’s face.

"Nice, I'm going to have to remember that."

From where she was sitting, Minerva just shook her head in amusem*nt, "What the Hell is keeping those idiots?"

The door opened to admit Argus Filch escorting the tournament organizing committee.

Severus nudged Minerva, "Ask and you shall receive." She half-heartedly slapped his hand away and gave him a sardonic look.

Minerva stared impassively at the contingent from the Ministry. The department head for Sports and Games, Ludo Bagman squirmed under the scrutiny, "Pro, professor? Did I do something wrong?"

She held the silence for a heartbeat longer, "That remains to be seen, Mr. Bagman." She turned her gaze onto the other members and was inwardly pleased to see each one going through their own self-recriminating squirms of worry. "You are all here to properly explain the details of this…travesty of a tournament. We of the Hogwarts staff are not impressed with you and your lack of planning."

No one spoke for a moment before Bagman started, "Well, uh… You see, we had thought…"

Minerva growled, "Speak up, Mr. Bagman! What the bloody Hell were you thinking to spread this farce out over the course of the entire school year, import dangerous class five X creatures, and use hostages for the second task?"

"Well, it's got to be exciting, doesn't it?" He quailed under her glare.

Severus also glared at the twit, "There's ‘exciting’ then there's just plain stupid. Importing nesting mother dragons that normally require teams of twenty qualified handlers each just so three people can try to steal a fake egg from them?"

"Then there's the second task involving entering the Black Lake in the middle of February. If you are inviting Beauxbatons, you are aware that some of their students are Veela? The Merfolk have a tentative peace treaty with them. Sending a Veela underwater to retrieve another is tantamount to declaring war!" Filius interjected. "Not to mention that it puts the Veela at a distinct disadvantage because of their heritage which is clearly stated as against the rules you've written up."

"Finally, your idea to create a hedge maze for the champions to navigate through clearly wasn't thought out enough. The basic idea is fine but the height of the walls? No one would be able to see over them to observe the action," Pomona shook her head in disgust.

Bagman continued to squirm uncomfortably, "Well, what would you recommend?"

Minerva all but threw the folder back at the idiot, “Fix this. Use the brains that nature gave you and come up with something modern with less emphasis on death and destruction.”

Severus surprised many with his off-hand comment that perhaps the Ministry ought to investigate modeling the tournament after the modern-era muggle Olympics. “There’s plenty of skill and excitement to be had in each of those categories plus you have the added benefit of keeping costs down because you don’t need to worry about the muggles catching sight of anything they shouldn’t.”

Minerva called for an elf and requested a recently published book, if it were available, on what the last held Olympics was like. The elf nodded her understanding and disappeared. “In the meantime, forget any idiotic notions you had about…that.” She pointed to the stack of paper on the desk. “If you try to push that into fruition, I’ll have each of you dragged out into the streets and shot. The only parts of that I approve of is the Yule Ball, the Selection Ceremony, and the Wand Weighing Ceremony. The rest should be burned and the ashes scattered.”

Properly chastised, every single member of the Ministry delegation mumbled their agreements and hurried from the room.

Saturday 19 February, 1994; Hermione’s Stash Room

Sitting at one of her workbenches, Hermione carefully examined the pile of parchment she’d lifted from the Weasley Twins. Given that fact, she was extremely careful about handling it. Who knew what sort of trap might lie within its pages or even merely touching the paper itself? More than once during her excavation of the Room of Requirement, she’d come across something utterly benign looking only for it to have a residue of a viciously toxic substance near the rim or inside. Whether or not it was intentional (most likely not); it paid to be cautious.

“So how do I trigger whatever this is?” She poked at the top side with her wand and was surprised when it reacted by displaying a question, ‘Who’s asking?’

“Okay, maybe this is like the book. In that case, my name is Agatha Thunderbutt.”

The parchment turned red. ‘Auuggah! Warning, lie detected! You are not Agatha Thunderbutt. No such person exists within the halls of Hogwarts.”

“Who says I’m even in Hogwarts?” She countered.

‘Fair point; even though we can detect that this parchment currently lies within the wards of Hogwarts.’

“I don’t think that is the case. Hogwarts burned to the ground fifty years ago.” Why not try to trick it like she did with the diary?

‘Auuggah! Warning, lie detected!’ (Honestly, we can keep this up all day. We know that the school is still in working order.) Hermione was surprised. It looked like as if there were several distinct personalities she was interacting with.

“Fine. How do I activate whatever this pile of parchment is?”

‘Do you solemnly swear that you are up to no good?’

“Duh, I wouldn’t be talking to you if I wasn’t.”

‘She’s quick. I like this one. Please answer the question though.’

Hermione rolled her eyes and vowed, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Her eyes widened as the pages unfurled revealing the message ‘Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs; Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present: THE MARAUDER'S MAP" She could feel her jaw practically scraping the ground as the castle revealed itself to her like it had never done during her scouting expeditions. She spotted her name tag floating above her spot in her stash room; Harry was currently moving about the Runes laboratory on the fourth floor, Neville was doing something with Susan and Hannah out in the greenhouses. She saw where everyone was… “Woah!”

She quickly dug into her bag and grabbed her card and clicked it on and hit the tab to connect with Harry. “Harvester to Clay!”

A moment passed. “Clay here. What’s up?”

She saw his tag hovering near the cabinets. “I need you to move over to the windows.”

His tag moved over. “What am I looking for?”

“Not you. Me. I found something incredible. It’s a map of the school that shows where everyone is in real time!” She just about squealed her excitement. “I’m up in my stash room.”

“On my way. Clay out.”

Ten minutes later…

Harry entered the stash room to see Hermione hovering over a spread out parchment on her workbench. At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a written conversation with four distinct personalities. “Hermione?”

She turned to him, her eyes alight with eagerness, “Oh, Harry! This thing is incredible. It’s a map of the entire school and shows where all of the secret passages are, the passwords to get into the different Houses, well pretty much anywhere that uses such a system. The map is guarded by four personalities; Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Weren’t those the nicknames of your dad and his friends?”

Harry grimaced at the name of Wormtail. “Yeah, Wormtail the traitor.” He traced his finger over Prongs’ tag. “Dad.” He sniffled sadly before pulling out his card and clicked it to a new name, “Clay to Padfoot.”

Two minutes passed. “Padfoot here.”

“What’s your location?”

“I’m in the loo. Is this critically important?”

Both teens chuckled, “Harvester found your map. I was just wondering what you wanted to do with it.”

“Hang onto it. Where are you?”

Harry was about to use the name ‘Hermione’s Stash Room’ but at the last moment changed it, “Uh, classroom 327.”

“Got it. Be there as soon as I can. You might also want to call Moony. Padfoot out.”

Doing just as was suggested, Harry put in a call to Moony and relayed the same information he’d given his godfather. Moony replied, “I can’t get away right now, unfortunately. I’m already aware that the twins managed to obtain the map so if they want it back, that’s not an issue with me. If you really want a copy, talk with Padfoot. He was the one who finalized the drawing and setting of the controls. He’ll be able to create a new one. Moony out.”

A knock on the door startled both, and a check of the map revealed the person to be Sirius so Hermione dashed over to let him in. Sirius peered about and nodded thoughtfully, “Nice place. So, what’s up?”

Harry waved Hermione on to take the lead, so she explained how she’d lifted the map from the twins after they’d made a crack about her hair. “I had a funny little chat with your written personalities before I was prompted to give that ridiculous vow. After doing a bit of my own exploration with its operation, I contacted Harry who got in contact with you and so forth.”

Harry added in, “Moony couldn’t come up but he did suggest that if I wanted a copy to speak with you.”

Sirius bobbed his head in agreement, “That’s not a problem. I’d imagine that this map could do with an upgrade anyways.”

Harry tapped Wormtail’s tag, “In the new version, is there a way to leave him out of it?”

Sirius scratched his jaw, “I think so. I’d have to open up the enchantments and take a look. How soon do you want this?”

Hermione shared a silent conversation with Harry, “It’s not super critical like we need it to save the world sort of time frame. If you get it done sometime during the summer, that’s fine too.”

“How aware are the map personalities, Sirius?” Harry asked the man.

Sirius waggled his hand, “They get updated with whatever happened within the castle walls every time the password’s given. Beyond that, I doubt they know very much.” He pulled his wand and tapped it on the surface, “This is Padfoot. What’re you aware of regarding Prongs?”

Prongs responded, ‘I know that I’m not around anymore courtesy of Wormtail.’

Wormtail interjected, ‘Please keep in mind that real world me deserves what he got! At the time of my creation, I still have hope for the world and would never do what he did to my friends.’

Sirius waved his hand, “There you go. You won’t have to worry about the real Wormtail trying anything sneaky since he was put through the Veil last year.”

Harry co*cked his head, “I suppose it would be alright to let him stay then. He’s right too; he’s nothing like the Peter that betrayed my family.”

Monday 21 February, 1994

The following Monday in Transfiguration class, Harry approached their new teacher who’d taken over for Minerva when she assumed the role of Headmistress. “Professor Berger, I was wondering if it was possible to transfigure something to resemble a person and animate it to just smile.”

Transfiguration Professor Wendy Berger narrowed her eyes warily, “I was warned about you, Mr. Potter. Something about a legacy of pranks courtesy of your father and godfather?”

Harry covered his heart with his hand, “I promise, it’s nothing nefarious; I’m experimenting with a new signal booster for my Ancient Runes project and I need a ‘crash test dummy’ if you will.”

Professor Berger coughed her laughter, “Okay, I suppose that would be alright then. Well, to answer your question, yes you can transfigure pretty much anything as long as you keep in your mind’s eye what it is that you’re trying to accomplish. The final form won’t be able to breathe or do anything, but there is an animation charm that will cause it to shift on its feet slightly and blink its eyes. The charm in question is used for those window dressing mannequins you see at places like Madam Malkins.”

“Are either of them difficult to learn?”

Wendy tilted her head slightly, “From what I’ve heard about you, probably not. I certainly wouldn’t give that spell to let’s say, Mr. Finnegan with his propensity to cause things to explode.” Harry chuckled and bobbed his head at the memory of his most recent attempt to cast magic. From what he heard, the elves were still scraping chicken guts out of the ceiling. “So, let’s start from the beginning. The wand pattern starts above your head and it’s a right-handed spiral while incanting ‘Effingo corpus ligno.’ Now the trick is to finish that spiral with a tap onto the block of whatever it is that you’re using as the destination, in this case it’s a block of wood.” She demonstrated the spell and transfigured the twelve inch block of wood into an exact miniature copy of herself.

“Does it matter what the size of the destination material is?” Harry inquired as he took notes.

Wendy shook her head, “Nope. I’ve seen this used on a twenty-meter cube of marble all the way down to a grain of rice. Go ahead and give it a shot.” She handed him a new block of wood and pointed to the table. Harry thought for a moment, centering himself before casting the spell. The block of wood shimmied briefly before shifting into a messy-haired wooden version of himself.

“It still looks like wood though,” he frowned.

“Yes, that’s not going to change. All you did was change its form to match yours. If you wanted to make it look like your skin and hair tone, that’s a separate spell,” Wendy explained. She smiled when she spotted the proverbial light bulb shine over his head. “Okay, go ahead and return the block to its original form and try again.”

He ended up trying the spell six more times before finally calling it quits for the afternoon. “I appreciate the help, professor.”

Wendy dipped her head, “It was my pleasure, Mr. Potter.”

Harry trotted down to the Charms class where he knew that Professor Flitwick was hosting the choir while their usual practice room was getting the walls re-done. He tapped on the door and peeked inside to see the fun professor waving his wand to clean up a bit of a mess. Filius looked up at the sound of the tapping, “Mr. Potter! What brings you by?”

Harry put the recently transfigured miniature on the table, “I was hoping you’d be willing to teach me how to cast the mannequin animation charm. I wanted to use this as a crash test dummy of sorts for my Ancient Runes project.”

Filius rubbed his hands together eagerly, “I haven’t used that spell in a long time. Always a joy to break out the old favorites, you know. Alright, let’s see; what sort of animation were you hoping for?”

“Nothing elaborate; maybe just have it smile, wave its hand, squat down or bend over, raise a leg.”

Filius nodded understandingly, “I get it; you want something just to demonstrate movement. Now, what’s this Runes project all about?” Harry explained his broadcasting power boosting idea to the man, causing the latter to bounce excitedly on his feet. “Televised sports matches? That would be incredible!”

Harry bobbed his head, “I was thinking more than just sports matches. Imagine televising everything important. Sports, politics, local news, international news, entertainment, and weather. The biggest problem to date with the mirrors is that they’re limited in range and the number of mirrors that can connect together. Sirius…um, Professor Black mentioned that he seems to recall the system breaking down if more than three mirrors attempted to connect to each other at the same time.”

Filius had crossed his arms and supported his chin with one hand as he pondered that. “Ambitious. Intriguing notion, but still ambitious.” He clapped his hands eagerly, “Well, alright; let’s get the animation charm taught first before you go out and revolutionize the world.”

Thursday 24 February, 1994; Professor Black’s office

Harry examined the inner workings of a spare communication mirror carefully. His fingers lightly traced the delicate pathways between each bind rune. “It’s all on one layer? What if you want to add other features?”

Sirius had his feet up on the desk and shrugged, “You’d have to start over is my guess. I don’t know; we never got into this line of enchantment when we were working on the map.”

Harry turned his attention back to the mirror surface itself, “It feels like there’s nearly invisible lines etched onto the surface. I’d bet…hang on, do we have any dark powder somewhere?” He rooted around in his bag and pulled out a nearly empty bottle of ink. He pried it open and stuck his wand inside then cast a desiccation spell to dry out the ink quickly followed with a light pulverizing charm which turned the dried ink into the required powder which was then tipped onto the mirror’s surface. He carefully spread the powder around then wiped away the excess. “I thought so; this is engraved with a sigil for light absorption. I’m guessing that the pattern of lines…yes, it defines the boundaries as well as providing information to the enchantments before whatever light and shadow is captured by the mirror is sent onto its target.”

Moony was visiting and shared an incredulous look with Padfoot. “You understood all of that just by spreading powder on the mirror?”

Harry gave him a smile reminiscent of his father, “Yeah, I figured it had to be something similar to the work I did with the radio inserts in my Frog cards. The lines act like microscopic microphones but for light instead of sound. The light is then channeled to the transmitter here (he pointed out the cluster) then sent through the Ley lines to its intended destination where the process is reversed. As for the sound…ah, here; these inscriptions act in a manner similar to the light absorption lines but are tuned to audio frequencies. I wish I could’ve met the person who first thought of these things and picked their brain of the possibilities.”

“Can you imagine if you figured out how to miniaturize everything there so you could incorporate it into your Frog cards?” Padfoot teased him. Harry gave him a look of longing prompting him to let out a bark of laughter.

Moony shook his head sympathetically, “Give him time, Pads. Look how far he’s come with just the current setup. I’d wager that by the time he’s graduated, he’ll have a working prototype.”

Harry leant up against a desk and sighed wistfully, “Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“So how’s that amplifier thing coming along?” Sirius inquired.

Harry dug around in his bag again and pulled out a nondescript box with a couple of wires attached to it. “I asked my cousin Dudley and Uncle Vernon if either of them could get their hands on an off-the-shelf Analog-to-Digital converter box used for muggle televisions. I figured I might as well use something that already does the job rather than start from scratch.” He gave them both an evaluative look, “Would you like me to get into the technical side of things or just accept that I know what I’m doing?”

Sirius got a bemused expression on his face, “Do you have a copy of your notes? If I can understand those, I’ll just accept you know what you’re doing.”

“And if you can’t?” Harry teased playfully.

Padfoot stuck his tongue out ‘maturely,’ “Then I’ll still assume you know what you’re doing but assign you some fiendishly difficult homework.” Harry laughed but slid over his notes all the same. Both men valiantly attempted to go through it but the level of mathematics and technical assumptions went over their heads. Sirius sniffed haughtily, “I see that you’re having no difficulties here. Carry on.”

Harry took back the folder with a chuckle, “You want to know the ironic thing? I’m absolutely pants in Arithmancy class. Professor Vector can spend all day on a mathematical concept and I’d swear that I could feel my brain disintegrating but with this stuff? I can read it all day long and never get tired of it.”

Moony shook his head sympathetically, “I can’t answer that, Harry. At least you understand the materials here.”

“Harvester to Clay, Emergency call.”

Harry scrambled to pick up his Frog card. “Clay here, what’s the situation?”

“Explosion in Greenhouse Four! Something just blew through a window and escaped towards the Forbidden Forest. Kitty needs all hands on deck to organize a search. Students are being sent back to their Houses until further notice.” Harry shared a momentary look of horror with the other two before all three dashed for the exit.

March

Tuesday 1 March, 1994; Hogwarts

All visits to Hogsmeade were cancelled, students had to be escorted between classes, and anything that Care of Magical Creatures had scheduled had to be delayed until the thing was caught. Neville could be seen wistfully staring off towards the forest; it was no doubt on anyone’s mind that the rugged teen was intensely curious about this new plant-like thing that resembled a cross between a Venomous Tentacular and a Fire Crab. Fortunately for him, both Susan and Hannah knew how to keep their Ent-in-human-form pleasantly distracted. To see the sandy-haired teen walking around the castle with multi-colored lip prints all over his face was the source of many bets being placed and jokes bandied about.

Speculation about the creature had many wondering who would be capable of breeding such a monstrosity. Naturally, everyone turned to glare at an equally confused Hagrid. Minerva pulled the half-giant into her office to have a ‘chat’ to determine if he’d been experimenting again. As it turned out, he hadn’t and didn’t have a clue that would go about bringing something like that into the school’s greenhouses. “Is there anyone you can think of that might have the ability to cross the two species?”

Hagrid thought hard but shook his shaggy head, “Nah, no one in the area at least. I did hear about one fella in Eastern Russia who was experimenting with something that could go down into the uranium mines to look for resources and not be affected by the ore, but something like this? I can’t reckon I do.”

After nearly a week of no sighting, Minerva finally relented and allowed classes to resume their normal schedules.

Wednesday 9 March, 1994; DMLE, Director Bones’ office

Amelia sank into her chair and let out a long frustrated groan. The information her investigators had gathered regarding Cadmus Avery was currently the source of her aggravation. The man was a ghost.

“Maybe you ought to talk to Spirit Control.” Amelia barely reacted to Algernon’s suddenly voiced comment. The man pouted at her lack of movement, “You used to jump whenever I entered the room unannounced.”

She rubbed her temples, “Too tired. I’m thinking of taking a nice long vacation to an uninhabited tropical island once this situation is resolved.”

Algernon huffed in amusem*nt, “I hear the Bahamas are nice this time of year.”

She held out her hand, “What’s the latest regarding the information Tonks supplied to you?”

“Nothing we didn’t already know. Cadmus must’ve been laying low since the end of the Second World War watching and maintaining his contacts to keep apprised of everything. His insight into Albus’ motives was surprisingly spot-on. The old goat was certainly slippery and it frankly annoys me how he managed to maintain such a low profile that we never suspected his true motives. I shudder to think about what laws had been passed or denied because of him.”

“What about him and Lucius working together? It seems implausible given how much animosity there was between the two of them.”

Algernon sank onto the couch and crossed his legs, “It does seem that way, but look at how he managed to sucker everyone into thinking he was a Light Lord. Besides, Lucius was always opportunistic in nature. He’d sell his own mother if it meant that he would get the tiniest shred of an advantage over his enemies.” He co*cked his head, “Did any of your Aurors trace where Albus had gone once he was booted from the country?”

She shook her head, “Not that I can recall. The last I heard, he was headed somewhere in the direction of France.”

“You think he might’ve holed up in Beauxbatons?”

Amelia shook her head before turning around to retrieve a bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet behind her, “No, I thought he might’ve sought out the Flamels but I’ve heard they had a massive falling out after the Philosopher’s Stone Incident.” She held up a glass to which he gladly accepted. They shared a small toast and sipped their alcohol in quiet contemplation. “What if he went to Durmstrang?”

Algernon set the glass down and thought about it, “Grindlewald’s old stomping grounds? It’s possible, but why? What would going there gain him?”

“Freedom to exercise his will without restraint? They do tend to run things a bit heavy-handed there.” She theorized. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, “You know about the Ministry trying to resurrect the Tri-Wizard Tournament?”

He slowly nodded, confused by the non sequitur, “Yes?”

“If Albus became Headmaster of Durmstrang, he’d have diplomatic immunity if they came to Hogwarts.”

The proverbial light bulb lit up, “He’d be able to wreck havoc and disappear behind a curtain of political safety without fear of reprisal. The most we’d be able to do is declare him persona non grata and ship him back while in the meantime, we’d still be cleaning up the mess he left behind.”

“Makes me almost wish it was just Voldemort I was fighting. At least with that madman, his motives were clear even to the most dim-witted Auror.” Amelia groused.

Algernon chuckled, “I wouldn’t worry too much about him. The way things are going, he’ll be just a bad dream to scare the kiddies at night.”

Friday 25 March, 1994; Runes laboratory

“Clay to Flower.”

“Flower here.”

“Is everything set up?”

“Just as you specified.”

“Clay to Driller.”

Vernon’s voice came up next, “Driller here. Everything’s set up and ready to go.”

“Understood. Commencing power up in three…two…one…” Harry tapped the activation cluster on the primary mirror and stepped back. The image on the surface was murky for a moment before it resolved itself to show his aunt and uncle. Petunia was currently in a private room of the Leaky Cauldron while Vernon was in his living room. Both images were holding steady so far. Now came for the next part… “Clay to Skeleton.”

A moment passed. “Skeleton here. We’re ready.”

Harry tapped the next cluster which connected the new module to the Master mirror. Amelia’s mirror fuzzed up a bit before she could see Harry clearly. She could see him glance off-screen to something before speaking, “Test one, two, three… School’s out for summer, no more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks…” The three adults smiled indulgently at his little attempt at humor.

Harry watched the clock and took note of the time when it passed the five minute mark, “I’m calling this a successful test. How does the picture and sound quality look like to everyone?” Petunia reported that there was a slight pixilation at the edges of her mirror but it was holding steady. Vernon and Amelia reported no issues.

Vernon spoke up, “How’s the signal strength doing there, Harry?”

Harry checked his equipment, “I shouldn’t be impressed that it works but I am. Okay, I’m proceeding to the next step.” He picked up a fourth mirror and placed it in front of the Master then tapped both to connect them. “How’s that working now?”

“No change, Mr. Potter.” Amelia answered. Off to her left, Algernon was shaking his head incredulously at history being made.

Now came for the real test. Harry clicked his card over to Hermione, “Clay to Harvester, activate your mirror and point it at something interesting.” The fourth mirror’s image flickered a couple of times before it began displaying the inside of the Great Hall. Harry could hear Aunt Petunia gasp in amazement at the sheer size of the room.

“It’s beautiful, Harry. Does it always look like that?”

He grinned, “You ought to see it during the Welcoming Feast. Hermione, pan to your right a bit.” The image slid over to show Luna trying to balance a cucumber slice on her nose while Ginny and a couple of other second years watched on, shouting encouragement. In the background, Amelia spotted her niece giving Neville a tonsil inspection with her tongue and made a mental note to speak with the girl. Beyond them, Pansy was seen sitting on Ron’s lap, twirling his hair through her fingers while giving him moon-eyes.

“Miss Dagworth-Granger? What are you doing with the mirror?” Minerva’s voice was heard to her left. Hermione swung the mirror around showing a bewildered Headmistress. “I don’t understand. Why are you showing me the mirror?”

They all heard Hermione’s explanation, “Harry’s running a test of his runes project. The mirror is projecting you to a Master mirror which is then sending out the image and sound to three other mirrors down in London and Surrey, I think.”

Minerva was seen blinking like her namesake at the seemingly empty mirror, “So can I see and hear him as well?” They could see her frown as Hermione must’ve shook her head. “Still, this is impressive work, Mr. Potter. Carry on.” She made her way up to the teacher’s table to eat her lunch.

Harry spoke into his card again, “Alright, I think we’re going to cut it off now so I can run some diagnostics on the circuits. Thank you, Harvester. Clay out.” The image on the mirror fuzzed briefly before going dark. He turned towards the Master, “So? What do you think?” The voices from the adults on his card’s conference setting congratulated him on a spectacular success before signing off.

Hermione, along with Professor Babbling and the Headmistress arrived some time later in the Runes laboratory. They found Harry up to his elbows in rune plates and other laboratory equipment. “Harry?”

He looked up and smiled in relief, “It worked.”

Professor Babbling gestured to the mess, “What’s all this then?”

Harry leant back in his chair, “Spare parts just in case I needed to make an emergency repair. I’ll clean it up shortly.”

“Any issues you noticed?” Hermione asked him as she took a seat in an empty chair.

He grunted, “The power requirements were through the roof. I don’t know where it’s getting drawn from but I think if it’d gone on any longer, the Master would’ve melted.” He got up and started collecting the spare parts to drop in the return bin.

“Which locations were you sending it to?” Professor Babbling inquired.

“One was to my home in Little Whinging, Surrey; another went to the Leaky Cauldron, and the third went to Director Bones’ office in the Ministry,” Harry answered as he fitted a stack of protective rune plates in their respective tray.

Minerva made an executive decision, “Mr. Potter, Miss Dagworth-Granger; I’m about to reveal something to both of you that needs to be kept quiet for the time being. The Ministry is trying its hardest to bring back the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This competition will be held between three schools; Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. The other two will be arriving here sometime in late October and I think it would be a massive public relations coup if you could get this to work and broadcast the entire event to everyone.”

Harry stood there stunned into silence. He finally got his voice back as he croaked, “You want me to broadcast a real event? I’m not even remotely ready for such a thing! I’ve got…I’ve got…” His mind was spinning like a top as he tried to form coherent words. Hermione was immediately at his side and coaxed him into a chair, whispering calming words into his ear.

Professor Babbling cleared her throat, “I would be happy to assist you in figuring out the power drain issue, Mr. Potter. From what I saw, I’d say that you are so close to solving the multiple connectivity issue that has plagued the communication mirror problem for years.”

Hermione answered for Harry since his eyes were still swirling around on separate circuits. “He’d be grateful for your help, professor.”

The following day, Harry wandered around the castle pretty much in a daze. He merely went through the motions in each of his classes. Hermione helped him where she could; she eventually dragged him out to a quiet spot and restarted his brain by the sheer dint of kissing him on the lips. Harry grinned into the kiss, “I ought to fall into a fog more often if this is the sort of treatment I get, Doctor Dagworth-Granger.”

Hermione giggled in reply and kissed him again. When they broke for air, she licked her lips. “Yummy.”

Thursday 31 March, 1994; Department of Mysteries, Director Croaker’s office

Director Algernon Croaker, aka ‘Enchanter’ on Amelia’s Harry Potter Chocolate Frog Card, sat broodingly at his desk. Reports were coming in from all corners of the country thanks to the alterations the Potter teen had made to his Frog card. It amused him to wonder how the lad had managed to sneak into the Chocolate Frog Card Trading and Printing Company’s offices to swap out the original and replace it with his spy card. Regardless of how it was done, the fact that no one ever grew curious as to how the DMLE or even his department were able to take down various criminal enterprises made him wonder about the mental capacities of the average witch or wizard. ‘I wouldn’t put it past Albus to tweak the education system to effectively dumb down the curriculum so that no one stops to think about cause and effect.’

His gaze fell upon the large map of the United Kingdom, several pins were stuck to it indicating various hotspots of criminal activity, illegal animal and human fights, underground alcohol distilleries, and smuggling dens. Despite all of that, there were four pins he longed to be able to stick in the map: The final three Horcruxes and Voldemort himself.

“Where are you, you bastard?”

April

Friday 15 April, 1994; Hogwarts Library

The weather was absolutely gorgeous. Blue skies, not a cloud to be seen, and the temperature practically begged everyone to come outside to enjoy it. Naturally, that was when the teachers decided the time was perfect that an in-depth test of their subject was needed to see what everyone retained. Harry and the other third years were holed up in the library studying their collective bums off while the birds outside teased them mercilessly.

Professor Babbling had excused him from the test she was giving the rest of the class so he could focus on solving his power issues (he was pretty sure he knew where the problem lay and had sent a copy of the schematics to Uncle Vernon with the plea to check them over at work.) Professor Tonks had given them all a fiendishly complex potion to research leading many to wonder just how mentally stable she was and if she was merely channeling Professor Snape. The only class of Harry’s where the teacher hadn’t assigned an absurd amount of homework was DADA. He’d heard from Moony that Padfoot just didn’t have the heart to load everyone down so ruthlessly.

“Psst! Harry!” He looked up to see Ginny beckoning him into the stacks. Sighing, he followed the redhead deeper into the library.

“Ginny, I’ve got studying to do and I don’t have time for games.”

She spun around and planted her fists on her hips, “You’ve been ignoring me.”

“Have not.”

“Have too.”

“Have not!”

She stamped her foot and pouted, “I’m not going to fall for that trick, Potter. I thought we were friends and you’ve been ignoring me all year.”

“Have not.” He wisely shut up when she leveled her wand at his head. “Okay, maybe a little. I’ve got a lot on my plate, Ginny. Between classes, this Runes project of mine, having a girlfriend; I just don’t have enough hours in the day to cover all my bases. I’m sorry. I thought you were happy with your own friends in Hufflepuff.”

Ginny waved that aside, “I am happy, but I was really happy when you and I practiced Quidditch together back home.”

Harry dropped his chin and gazed at her patronizingly through his fringe, “I get it. You need someone awesome to practice against otherwise how will you know just how terrible you are? It’s natural and understandable.”

Ginny bared her teeth and moved to growl at him, “I’m not… you and me, the pitch at noon. Be there or face my wrath!” She stomped off without a single glance back at him.

Bemused, Harry wandered back to his seat. Hermione gave him a sidelong glance, “What was that about?”

“No clue. Girls are weird sometimes.” Hermione quietly laughed and patted his hand before returning to solving her arithmancy equations.

Quidditch pitch, noon…

Harry stood on the edge of the pitch, broom in hand. He sighed as soon as he spotted Ginny already pulling aerial stunts using a second-hand Nimbus 2001 that would make any normal person turn a bit green. Neville and Ron appeared on either side of him. “You accepted her challenge?” Ron asked while keeping his eyes on Ginny practicing a Wronski Feint.

“I have to.”

“You could always go back inside and insult Snape into giving you a detention,” Neville suggested.

“He’d probably force me to attend because he knows how much I don’t want to be here.”

Neville shook his head, “I don’t understand why though. You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

Harry sighed, “No, I’m afraid of what everyone’s going to say when they find out just how good I really am on a broom. Well, nothing for it. Let’s get this over with.” He reached up to the head of the broom and peeled off the cover and swung his leg over.

Ron took a closer look at the broom and blanched, “You got a Firebolt?! When did this happen?”

Harry gave him a leading look, “Who is my godfather?”

Ron threw up his hands, “Why couldn’t I get a stinking rich relative to lavish me with super-expensive brooms?”

Harry lazily gestured to the redhead, “And this is why I don’t like people knowing about the broom or my skills. I’ll see you both later.” He pushed off the ground and rocketed into the sky. He blazed past a stunned Ginny and flipped his tail from underneath and slid upside-down for a few meters before shooting past her again. He rolled and dove to the ground, pulling up only at the last second before climbing up and leveling off. Down below, Luna stood there with a bucket of golf balls.

Ginny grinned brazenly at him, “The one who catches the most number of golf balls is the winner. Loser has to carry the winner’s books for a week.” Harry just motioned for her to get started. Ginny yelled down to Luna to begin throwing the balls in random directions. The balls began flying everywhere seemingly at once as both Ginny and Harry raced each other to collect the most. Up, down, roll left, roll right; their maneuvers grew more elaborate as the airspace was cleared of the little white round balls.

It was finally down to the last ball which was headed towards the center hoop. Harry was on the opposite end of the pitch while Ginny was only a couple of dozen meters above and behind him. Both shot straight-line at their target getting closer and closer while down below the spectators were screaming themselves hoarse. The ball suddenly pitched down towards the ground forcing both flyers to roll and drop. Harry was in the lead by only a few scant centimeters, he lay flat against the shaft of the broom and willed it to go faster. The wind was whistling past his ears as he stretched his hand out to grab the last ball.

Behind him he could hear Ginny scream in frustration as she realized she wasn’t going to make it and pulled out of the dive. At the last moment, his fingers wrapped around the pitted surface prompting him to haul back on the handle as hard as he could. Harry could feel the grass scrape against his trouser legs as he flew parallel to the ground by mere inches. By sheer determination and physics, he managed to climb up until he was high enough to put on the brakes and slow to a stop.

Breathing hard, he checked his pockets and glanced up at Ginny who swooped down. “How many did you get?”

She pouted, “I got twenty-five. What about you?”

Harry took another count. As he looked up, he caught Hermione’s eye and winked. “Twenty-four. Congratulations, Ginny; you won.”

Later…

“How many did you really have?” Harry looked up at the sound of Hermione’s voice as he exited the boys’ bathroom back in their tower.

Harry sheepishly smirked, “Twenty-seven. I told Ron and Neville this, but I don’t want to be mobbed by everyone urging me to play on the Quidditch team. I don’t like the spotlight or the attention. Let her have the excitement of beating the ‘Great Harry Potter’ and just let it go.”

Hermione kissed him deeply, “You’re a good boy, Harry James.”

He kissed her back, “Thanks. Now, how would you like to have some fun?”

One of her eyebrows rose, “Aren’t we a little young to be considering that?”

Harry laughed, “Get your mind out of the gutter, girl! I wasn’t thinking of that. I was going to suggest that we find something valuable in the Room and pawn it off for a bucketful of money.”

The air filled with her tinkling laughter as she glanced down between them, “Riiight… That’s what you were thinking of despite the ‘evidence’ down there pointing out the lie in your idea.”

Harry let out a deprecating sigh, “My body says yes, ‘let’s do it like bunnies’ but at the same time, my brain is screaming at me ‘Are you bloody daft?!’ It’s tough sometimes to know which one to listen to.”

Nodding understandingly, she tapped him on the tip of his nose, “Listening to my head is usually what works for me. Remember, I used to live in a neighborhood where teenage pregnancies were fairly common and it never turned out well.” She turned and bounced off leaving him dripping on the dormitory floor.

DADA office, the next day

“So why did you keep that incredible flying talent a secret, Harry?” Remus asked him when he came up for a visit. Sirius was lamenting that the pup was being cruel for wasting his latent Quidditch talents.

Harry sipped his tea, “If I showed everyone my ability to fly early, Dumbledore would’ve tried harder to equate me with dad. While that’s normally a good thing, I was raised by my mum’s sister to emulate my mum who, according to Aunt Petunia, was crafty and cunning in her own right. The magical community is very patriarchal and dismissive of muggleborns in general; I’d rather do something unexpected than follow the tradition of ‘what the father does, so too the son.’”

Moony leant back in his chair and contemplated what Harry’d just explained, “I guess I could understand that. That’s very deep thinking, I’m impressed. Most thirteen year olds I’ve met aren’t capable of seeing beneath the obvious.”

Sirius decided to change the subject, “So how is your Frog card scheme coming along?”

Harry’s smile deepened until he was showing teeth, “According to recent data, nearly everyone has a Harry Potter card, or knows someone who does. While the card is still considered to be in the Rare category, thanks to the brilliance that is Hermione; that rarity isn’t as often as it used to be. I heard from Director Bones that thanks to the card’s ability to spy on the populace, she and her staff have uncovered a host of illegal activities.” Both men toasted him for his cunning and skill. Harry raised his own cup, “It’s not over yet. Just think of what I might be able to do if there was a mirror in every home across the island!”

Moony shot him a warning glare, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Harry. There’s a fine line between spying for the security of the nation and spying on the populace for dictatorial reasons. It reminds me of some of the missions Dumbledore sent me out to do during the last war.”

Properly chastised, Harry gulped nervously. “Well, it’s just between us, you know. I wasn’t planning on going dark because of that one idea.”

Nodding warily, Remus gestured with his teacup, “See that you don’t. I don’t want to be forced to arrest you for espionage.”

May

Thursday 5 May, 1994; Ancient Runes

When Harry entered his Runes class, he found the girls in the class huddled together whispering and giggling at something between them. He shared a raised eyebrow with the other boys and shook his head in exasperation. When Professor Babbling arrived, she chivvied them to their seats, “Miss Dagworth-Granger? Why don’t you start us off with a progress update with your class project?”

Hermione rose to her feet, her face a bright pink. “I had originally come up with the idea of a deterrent to unwanted ‘guests’ but I soon found out that such wards already exist and have nondisclosure agreements built into the contracts about the structure of the wards so I didn’t want to find a flaw in the system and have someone get the wrong idea. Instead, I decided to go a different and more practical route for a girl like me. My mum is pretty top-heavy if you catch my meaning. I’m likely to end up just as big too. If there’s one thing that we girls tend to do is store stuff in our bras but that just leads to overcrowding what should be in there.” She coughed nervously to the whispered laughter of some of the boys. She silenced them with a hard glare and a subtle gesture to where she kept her switchblade. “Anyway, I decided ‘what if there was a way to increase the storage capacity of each cup without sacrificing the overall look and feel?’ This led to my prototype Bra of Holding.” She pulled it out of her bag and held it up for inspection. “It looks and feels like any other 32B bra on the market yet it has a space-expansion and featherweight charm adapted to runes that are stitched into the seams. So far, it doesn’t hold anything larger than the cup diameter and only twice the depth. It also only holds up to roughly twelve and a half kilos of stuff. That’s the equivalent of the weight of a gold ingot but only feels as heavy as a Ron Weasley Ham Sandwich.” Scattered laughter was heard at the mention of the redhead’s legendary sandwiches.

Professor Babbling thanked her for sharing, allowing Hermione to quickly dash back to her seat, stuffing the bra back into her bag. She shared an embarrassed grin with Harry who sent back a kissy face.

“Alright, who else wants to share?”

Two weeks later…

Luna traipsed through the undergrowth of the canopy within the ‘safe areas’ of the Forbidden Forest. This was an area marked off by the Centaurs in agreement with the teachers to allow the students to walk amongst the towering trees, see various benign creatures, and just enjoy arboreal nature at its finest without having to worry about what lurked beyond.

Her mind drifted like the motes of pollen in the gentle breeze when her hearing picked up the faint sounds of something breathing and rustling nearby. She cautiously followed the sound to its source and was shocked to find the creature that had burst out of the greenhouse stuck in a mud puddle. It’s chitinous exoskeleton glistened in the dappled sunlight. She noticed a dazzling array of gemstones scattered about its body. Slowly waving tendrils swung about as if scenting her location. Luna’s nose picked up the cloying scent of rotting flesh and peered around the base of the crab-like body where she discovered that she wasn’t alone.

“Eww, what happened?” She squealed in disgust. The creature had obviously captured someone or something that had wandered too close and gotten snapped up by the venomous vines. All she was able to pick out from the desiccated corpse was a couple strands of blond hair. Deciding that the staff ought to know that the creature had captured what used to be a person, Luna dashed off back to the castle.

Amelia covered her nose and mouth as she leant in closer to get a better look at the corpse. “How long do you figure he’s been here? Any idea whom it might be?”

Algernon shook his head, “Judging by the decomposition, I’d say he’s been out here since at least early April. We won’t have any definitive idea until we can get it back to our department.” His sudden intake of breath caught her attention. “Well, that makes things a lot easier. I think this used to be Lucius Malfoy! See that ring?” The stained and corroded metal still bore vestiges of the Malfoy Family crest.

Amelia’s eyes bugged out, “No way! You mean the hunt for him is over?”

“I wouldn’t close the file just yet. We still need to confirm it officially. There are a few tests we can still run.”

Grunting her acknowledgement, Amelia headed back to the perimeter where Minerva and the rest of the senior staff waited for news. Minerva raised her eyebrows in silent question. “Preliminary results suggest that this is the corpse of Lucius Malfoy. The Head of House ring is still visible on its finger and we all know that those things are impossible to fake.”

Severus frowned deeply, “Draco’s not going to take this well. I should head back to be the one to tell him lest he find out from the gossip mill.” He started making his way back.

Pomona was wringing a towel in her hands, “How long has he been there?”

Amelia shrugged, “Best estimate puts him getting captured around early April. I’m sorry, there’s really nothing more I can share. Just keep the students away from the area until school ends. The Unspeakables will collect everything up but it’s still better to stay away in case this thing spawned without our knowledge.”

The others agreed and turned to head back to their respective Houses. Amelia waylaid Minerva, “Just so you know, we found evidence that Albus orchestrated this whole year as a distraction for something bigger that’s still in the works. Keep your eyes open, please.”

Minerva nodded resolutely, her eyes glinting dangerously. “I will.”

June

The population of Hogwarts finished out the year like normal; or as normal as Hogwarts would ever get. Harry figured out the power drain situation (it turned out to be an engraved line that wasn’t deep enough.) By the time that finals ended, he was able to connect up to ten different receive-only mirrors to the Master without any sort of signal degradation.

It only took a mere week after the discovery of Lucius Malfoy’s fate before the Daily Prophet got wind of the story and plastered his image on the front page declaring he would be ‘leafing everyone alone from now on.’ It went on to describe in great detail all of the crimes he’d been convicted of or rumored to been a part of. (Draco set fire to every copy of the newspaper before he was forcibly escorted out of the Great Hall by Severus.)

Hermione’s ‘Bra of Holding’ held up long enough to pass the class. As soon as her report was handed in, she promptly destroyed it stating that it was more trouble than it was worth and not viable for public use. Privately, she told Harry that it was a complete lie. The bra she’d destroyed was just an ordinary one. “I’m keeping the real one a secret for future activities.”

Soon, their grades were shared (Harry scored the second spot again behind Hermione, not that he cared) and their trunks packed for the train ride south. Hermione again offered the services of an excitable Dobby to take Harry’s trunk back to the Dursley’s while Beanie took hers. Harry noticed how well-tanned Dobby looked and complimented the elf on his new attitude.

“That’s not all, Harry. I found an elf I really like. She’s apparently smitten with me so with Mistress Hermione’s permission, we’ve begun dating.” Dobby admitted shyly.

Harry congratulated him and clapped him on the shoulder, “Way to go, Dobby! You hound, just remember to treat her well or I’m going to do the whole ‘big brother’ routine on you too.”

Dobby grinned nervously, “Yeah, I’m not worried.”