Polished Stone – Arc 1

Polished Stone

by Original Tempus

Prologue

Harry Potter’s day was different from every other day. It wasn’t supposed to be. It was supposed to be just as oppressive and miserable as all the rest he could remember. It actually was, really. It certainly started out the same. His aunt woke him early, he started breakfast, and when his uncle and cousin sat down to eat, Harry fetched the mail and morning paper. This morning was a little different. Only a little, but it had a huge impact on the ten year old. This morning, for the first time in his life, Harry Potter got a letter. It was enough to make him stop hoping that someone would leave something on their plate. For a full minute, at any rate.

He nearly stood at the front door too long, in his shock. Hastily, he turned on his heel to go back to the kitchen. It wouldn’t do to keep uncle waiting. He had a Routine. Uncle Vernon hated everything that disturbed his Routine. Uncle Vernon especially hated it when Harry disturbed his Routine. Harry got some of his worse beatings that way.

Passing his cupboard door, Harry slipped the envelope bearing his name into the dark line of space between the ajar door and his ‘home’ of the last ten years. Hurriedly sorting the mail the way uncle liked it while he continued into the kitchen, Harry finally lay the pile to the left of uncle’s plate. The placement was careful and deliberate. It had to be in exactly the right spot, or uncle would be quick to correct him with a swift, large hand.

Turning back to the stove to fetch uncle’s second cup of morning coffee, Harry made certain his exhale of relief was unheard when no such blow followed him. He had been quick enough, and correct. Hopefully, his pause at the door went completely unnoticed. The rest of breakfast went on like every other in his memory, including the fact that the family of three left nothing of the huge meal Harry had prepared. Not even a crust of toast for the mop-haired child to slowly savor while doing the dishes. Aunt Petunia was just as vigilant as every other morning to make sure her nephew didn’t try any “funny business.”

Harry never could understand why having something to eat would count as “funny business”, but apparently it did. According to uncle, at any rate. Harry wasn’t brave enough to try and test that piece of logic, or any other pearls of wisdom that uncle liked to pass along. He would wait, and hope that there would be something left from lunch, or that aunt would make a little too much as she sometimes did. Aunt made lunch. Harry made breakfast and dinner. If uncle was having Important Company, then Harry would start dinner, and aunt would finish it while he was as quiet as he could possibly be in his cupboard.

After the kitchen met aunt’s exacting standards, Harry was allowed exactly three minutes to change into something appropriate for his chores outdoors. It was overcast today, and could possibly rain, but the summer shower would feel good. Harry decided to change into a very over-sized t-shirt and light trousers. He tied the rope belt especially tight to quiet his growly stomach. The hand movement that shifted the envelope from the floor of his cupboard to under his thin crib mattress was so swift, he barely noticed it himself. Another few precious seconds were spent making sure his little ‘room’ was neat and tidy, before he closed the door of the cupboard. He had learned the hard way that everything had a place, and there was a place for everything.

Uncle went to work. Cousin Dudley went out the front door to meet up with his friends for whatever fun they had during the summer. Aunt went upstairs to do whatever she did. Harry went out the back door and to the shed at the back of the garden. He had a long list of chores to complete, and no amount of anticipation or excitement about that envelope would help him get it done. It was best to completely forget about it while he worked. Uncle wouldn’t be best pleased if the list wasn’t done when he got home.

By the time aunt called him in for a cup of water after cousin had finished his lunch, Harry had made good progress. The lawn had been mowed, both front and back. The front flower beds had been weeded and mulched. The shrubs had been pruned. Harry felt like he had been rewarded when aunt allowed him to finish the half of ham and cheese sandwich that cousin hadn’t eaten. It was delicious. The boy sat on the top of the back steps, slowly chewing the sandwich and sipping cool tap water from ‘his’ cup. He saved the very last sip until aunt opened the door to take the cup back from him until dinner. She passed him an apple that had a bite out of it.

“For when the back garden is finished” she said with her usual, clipped tone. The screen door slammed shut again. “I’ll be watching, boy.”

Smiling, Harry shoved the apple into his pocket and got up to continue his chores. It really was a beautiful, summer’s day.

By the time uncle got home, the chores had been finished and Harry was in the kitchen with a nearly completed dinner surrounding him on the counters. The apple was long gone, and the smells coming from the roast chicken in the oven were making his stomach all growly again. He was used to it, though, and could wait. He knew for sure and certain he would have something to eat. They always let him have something from dinner. Uncle didn’t appear to like it much, but he allowed Harry to eat. Unless he was having Important Company, of course. In that case, Harry had to wait until the Important Company had gone before he was allowed out of his cupboard for a small plate of food. Harry never minded that it was cold.

Aunt set the table while Harry finished putting the meal on serving platters and in bowls. He was never allowed to serve. Aunt did that. Harry went to the stairs, and sat there while the others ate. He would get his share once they were finished, of course. Harry spent the time wondering what chores uncle would set for him tomorrow. He knew the shed could use a coat of paint, so that would likely be one thing. Perhaps he would have to clean out the car port. That needed doing since last autumn when cousin and his friends decided they needed to build soap box racers and messed up all the tools. Harry was only ever allowed in the car port when he was cleaning it up. It never really mattered what the chores were. There was a long list every day he wasn’t in school. Harry only made a game out of it in his head, to see how often he was right or wrong about which chores he would get.

Finally it was Harry’s turn to eat while uncle and cousin spent the evening in front of the tele. Aunt stayed in the kitchen with him, watching him while he ate quickly and neatly at the counter. She put all the left overs away in the fridge while Harry ate, then left the dishes for her nephew. Aunt only ever did the lunch dishes, which were few, or made of show of starting the dinner dishes for Important Company.

Only after aunt inspected the kitchen and pronounced it clean enough to suit her, was Harry allowed upstairs for his whole half hour alone in the toilet. He was allowed a bath of tepid water and to brush his teeth. He dressed into his far too large pajamas, and went back downstairs to his cupboard. He would be allowed another half hour with his door open for light to do whatever he wished, provided he was quiet and did nothing to disturb uncle or cousin. He decided to read one of his old text books from school. It was still light outside when his cupboard door was closed and locked for the night, and Harry settled on his thin mattress to listen to the broadcast on the tele until the others all went to bed.

He hadn’t been struck once, all day. It really, truly was a perfect summer’s day, even if he did get rained on in the afternoon.

Harry waited and waited, until the entire house was still and quiet. He then waited even longer, until he couldn’t hear a single car out on the street, nor a dog barking in the neighborhood. He even waited until the crickets had mostly stopped singing, and uncle’s snoring was a constant buzz from somewhere upstairs. Only then did he dare pull out the envelope from under his mattress. Holding the paper tight over his heart, Harry scrunched his eyes closed really tight and wished with all he had, every scrap of happiness the perfect summer’s day had given him, for a little light. It worked, sometimes. If he wished hard enough. He could feel a little tickle inside, from under his hands, and squinted an eye open. Smiling, he sat up. There, hovering just in front of his nose, was a tiny ball of blue light. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to see by.

Eagerly, Harry inspected the envelope.

Mr. Harry Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Little Whinging, Surrey

There was no stamp or postage mark. There was no code or other markings like on other envelopes that came in the mail. He looked at the back, and found what appeared to be wax pressed with a stamp. Running a curious finger over it, he decided that it must be wax holding the envelope closed. It felt a lot like a crayon that cousin had left outside in the sun to melt on the drive. Five year old Harry had been blamed, of course, and had to clean it up. Above the red blob was a coloured version of the stamp that looked like a coat of arms, and bore the word Hogwarts. Tilting the envelope a little closer to the tiny ball of light, he could make out some animals on the design. A lion, a bird, a snake and a badger.

This was a very special envelope. Harry couldn’t bear the thought of breaking the wax to open it, so he searched his tiny shelf of treasures until he found the slim piece of metal that had broken off one of cousin’s toys. It’s shape had reminded Harry of a little sword that his tiny, one armed army man could use. Harry used it now to carefully slit open the top of the envelope after working it into one side of the sealed flap. Harry replaced the sword on his shelf and paused to listen very, very carefully. Everything still seemed very quiet and still. Deeming it safe enough, he slowly opened the letter.

The enveloped turned out to not be an envelope at all, but a cleverly folded piece of parchment. Two of them. Harry’s heart pounded. There again was the crest, in full colour, and larger than the previous image. Under it read something honestly amazing.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chief Warlock, Supreme

Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

There was a second page, and Harry scanned it quickly while his tiny orb of light dimmed, then finally went out. In the dark, his heart racing, Harry carefully folded his very precious letter and hid it behind the loose board under the third stair riser.

Laying down, his thoughts raced. He had a place. He had a place that wanted him. A school. He could go to a school that wanted him. Could he? Wait, would uncle allow him to go to a new school? Where was it? Was it expensive? Uncle wouldn’t pay for a school for him. Certainly not a fancy school of .. why was there a school of witchcraft and wizardry? Were witches real? Did it have anything to do with “funny business”?

Uncle wouldn’t allow him to do any “funny business”. He certainly wouldn’t pay for anything that would teach Harry more “funny business”. Harry had to be grateful for every penny used for the things he ate, or the clothes he wore, or the room he had. Everything strange that happened around Harry was “funny business”, and uncle couldn’t abide “funny business” of any kind. Harry was always, always beaten the very worst for the slightest bit of “funny business.” The last time “funny business” had happened was last Christmas.

Cousin had decided that the last present he wanted was a bit of Harry Hunting upstairs in his room. On the pretext of inviting Harry up to pick out something from cousin’s second bedroom to keep for his own, Harry soon found himself running for the stairs, cousin in close pursuit. At the top of the stairs, cousin had given Harry an almighty shove. Suddenly terrified, knowing he would fall, Harry’s arms windmilled and his chest tingled sharply and he found himself flying backward hard enough to knock cousin into the wall of the upstairs hallway. Uncle had seen the entire thing.

Harry spent the remainder of Christmas locked in his cupboard without Christmas dinner, and nursing a broken arm and severely bruised ribs. His head ached horribly too, from hitting cousin so hard, and his vision was more blurry than normal after uncle was finished striking him. Harry had been shaken then beaten for his bit of “funny business” that had given cousin a bit of a bloody nose and goose egg on the back of his head from striking the wall. It was nearly a week before Harry’s vision cleared. Two before his ribs stopped aching enough to allow him to do his chores easily, and three before his arm finally seemed to be healed enough to use.

Cousin, of course, was fine before going to bed Christmas night, fussed over and pampered the entire day.

Harry wasn’t sure he could take any more “funny business”, himself. Uncle would never allow it, anyway. It was probably best to forget about the letter, and the school that had a place for him. A place just for him, Harry Potter. The freak, the boy, the burden on a perfectly normal family. Harry slept fitfully.

It was a bleary eyed, tousled headed boy that stumbled from the cupboard the next morning after aunt’s insistent knocking while she unlocked his door. Breakfast was a horror. He burned himself twice. Once while flipping the rasher of bacon in the pan, then again after uncle smacked the back of his head for being slow with his first coffee. To top things off, the morning mail contained yet another letter addressed to him from Hogwarts. This time, however, Harry was too slow to notice it before cousin did. The envelope was snatched out of the pile and brandished under uncle’s nose before Harry could utter a word about it.

After looking over the envelope, aunt and uncle looked meaningfully at each other. With a cruel smirk sent Harry’s way, uncle tore the envelope into tiny little pieces, then tossed them in the rubbish bin. Harry’s heart sank. It was just as he thought. Uncle would never allow him to leave. Without a word, enduring cousin’s endless comments and snide remarks about idiot’s who wrote letters to bigger idiots, Harry finished preparing breakfast.

The rest of the week was more of the same. More and more letters, dozens at a time, and more each day. Longer lists of chores, many repeated day after day, to teach Harry the folly of hope, and the foolishness of “funny business” uncle said. More letters, louder uncle denouncing Harry ever leaving, ever being able to attend this school of “funny business”. Finally it was Sunday, a day without post, and Harry allowed himself a breath of ease for the short respite while he prepared tea. It was short lived. A flood of letters emerged from the fireplace in the middle of tea, shooting all over the room and sending uncle into a rage. Harry tried to make himself as small as possible in the fluttering storm of paper, but it didn’t really do much good. It didn’t matter that he never tried to grab one of the letters. Uncle was determined to punish the cause of all this disturbance of his Routine. The letters were for Harry, so Harry was the cause.

He had no idea how long the punishment took. There was only yelling, and pain and more pain, and then the back of the car then blackness. When Harry next woke, he was cold and hurt everywhere. He found himself laying on a dust covered, stone floor in front of a cold fireplace. The sounds of a storm blew all around him, echoed by the sound of waves crashing nearby and rain pounding on a surface high overhead. He was near a large body of water, it was dark, and thunder rolled almost nonstop. Flashes of lightening showed him the sparsely furnished ground floor and the stairs leading up. Presumably, uncle and the others were up there. Harry sat up carefully and took stock.

His glasses were broken, again. His nose had some dried blood under it, but felt straight and right enough under exploring fingers. His lower lip was sore and swollen, but he couldn’t feel a split. Harry’s left pinky finger was broken, and sucking in a deep breath, the boy pulled on it sharply to set it. The pain was instant and bright, but quickly faded once the bones aligned. He never uttered a sound. Nothing else appeared to be broken, but the bruises were many and dark, covering his torso, arms and upper legs. The clothes he had been wearing sported drops of blood and a few tears, but he might be able to mend them if aunt allowed him to use a needle and thread.

Suddenly, the door burst open on a massive gust of wind, making Harry jump to his feet with a uncustomary squawk of surprise. The next flash of lightening showed the outline of an enormous man in the doorway. Fear propelled him behind the stone of the fireplace, and Harry wedged his slim body into the scant space provided even as he heard uncle’s booming footsteps from overhead.

“What are you up to now, you little freak?” uncle bellowed from the stairs. In the light of the candle aunt held, Harry could see the couple as they tromped down the rickety steps. “I won’t have any more of your funny business.”

Harry held his breath. Uncle had a gun. Where had he gotten a gun? The boy pressed himself even more firmly into the narrow shadow beside the fireplace, his heart racing and green eyes widely fixed on the long barrel of the rifle. He could barely feel the way the rough stone pressed into his bruises.

“Dry up, Dursley” a new voice interrupted uncle before he could really get going. “Blimey, I haven’t been little in a long time. Sorry about the door.”

Harry could hear scraping noises then a thump, the sounds of the storm once again muffled. The floorboards creaked with unfamiliar footsteps, and Harry did his best to both keep one eye on uncle and another on what seemed to be approaching the fireplace. A muffled whump, and the room was flooded with the warm light of a fire. Harry could now see that cousin had followed his parents to the base of the stairs, and cowered behind his mother’s nightdress.

“Who are you?” uncle demanded, brandishing the shotgun. “Get out. We won’t have you here.”

“You ought to be careful with that” the new voice interrupted uncle again. A large hand appeared in Harry’s line of sight, and neatly turned the end of the gun back on itself as though it were modeling clay. “There now. We wouldn’t want any accidents, now, would we?”

A soft groan and the protest of a squeaky spring in the couch indicated this stranger had sat down. Uncle was still gaping at the end of his now useless gun.

“I’m Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry” the stranger continued, and Harry dared to take a swift peek at the man.

He was enormous, and seemed covered head to toe in fur. From his hiding spot, Harry blinked and tried to sort out what the brief glance had told him. The man’s black hair was longer and wild looking from the storm outside, and his beard was thick and bushy, blending nearly completely with the furry coat the man, Hagrid, wore. The boy had never seen a person so huge in his entire life. Even uncle seemed tiny by comparison.

“Well come on then Harry, let’s have a look at you, now. Don’t be shy” Hagrid sounded jolly enough, but Harry’s heart still gave a lurch and pounded madly in his thin chest. “Look at you, all growed. Much more along round the middle then when you was a baby.”

“I.. I.. I’m not Harry” cousin’s voice sounded squeaky and unsure. Harry hazarded another peek, careful to stay in the shadows.

“He’ll not be going” uncle found his courage enough to start bellowing again. “We won’t have any of that funny business and freakishness around our family.”

“Not Harry? Not be going?” the stranger, Hagrid, looked confused. “Codswallop. Harry’s had his name down since he was born. His parents wanted him to go, so Dumbledore said, and who’s to stop him? A great muggle like you, I suppose?”

Hagrid had known Harry’s parents? Perhaps it had been Dumbledore. How long had Dumbledore been Headmaster? It must have been ages. What was a muggle?

“I won’t pay for it” uncle had truly found his courage. “Not a penny. He won’t be learning those freakish ways. He won’t be going.”

Harry had already known that uncle wouldn’t allow him to go, but to hear it so baldly stated was still a blow to the ten year old. The bitter taste of disappointment was all too familiar.

“Nonsense” Hagrid was saying. “It’s already paid for. Harry’s parents saw to that. Where is the lad? Call him down, would you?”

“No” this time it was aunt, and Harry hastily started to do what he could to clean himself up by licking his fingers and scrubbing at the crust of blood beneath his nose. “It’s bad enough, all we’ve had to put up with since he was left at our door. We won’t have him learning to do more of his unnatural things.”

“Took him in, we did” uncle continued. “Like good Christians. Fed and clothed him, and all the ungrateful wretch did in return was give us grief. Things flying about the house, my Dudley thrown into a wall. I won’t have it, you hear? I won’t.”

Uncle’s gun now looked more like a club, the way it was being held. Swallowing his fear the best he could, Harry decided he had better try and do something to defuse all this. If there was even the tiniest chance that he could get away from the Dursleys, shouldn’t he do all he could to take it? Harry eased himself out of the shadows. Just a little. It seemed to be enough to catch the giant man’s attention. Hagrid had been frowning, and looked about ready to really have a go at uncle. The bearded face cleared right up once he saw Harry, however, and even smiled.

“There you are” Hagrid beamed. “The very image of James, you are.”

That startled Harry. James? Was that his father? Harry’s widened eyes could only stare up at the giant of a man in confusion and a tiny bit of awe. Hagrid had known his father. Enough to know what he looked like, even.

“Before I forget, I got something here for you, Harry.” Hagrid was searching  his pockets, an umbrella being passed hand to hand, until the groundskeeper produced a box tied with a string, and passed it to the stunned boy. “Baked it myself, words and all. Could be a mite squished. Might have sat on it at one point.”

Harry looked from the box in his hands up to Hagrid, and flicked quick glances at his glowering aunt and uncle. Cousin only looked ravenously at the box.

“Go on then, open it” urged the enormous man in gentle tones of anticipation.

Hesitantly, Harry reached for the string while trying to gauge the reactions of uncle from the corner of his eye. Uncle seemed content enough to glare from across the room, perhaps too afraid to get closer to Hagrid. When the string fell away, Harry lifted the slightly crumpled lid of the cardboard box. Inside was a cake that bore the inscription Happee Birthday Harry.

It was his birthday? Harry hadn’t been keeping track of the date at all. Without school to keep the days straight, one simply ran into the other in an endless parade of chores, especially after this long and hellish week. He was eleven now.

Harry offered Hagrid a tentative smile. “Thank you.”

It was his very first birthday cake. It was also his very first birthday present.

Harry admired the cake again, his stomach starting to get all growly and his mouth watering a little at imagining what it must taste like. He hadn’t a clue. It would be sweet, he knew that much. Cousin always had huge helpings of his own cakes, so it must be especially good.

“Fine” uncle blustered “you gave it to him, not off you get. You’re not welcome here.”

“Hold onto yer knickers, Dursley. We’re almost done” Hagrid growled back, coaxing Harry closer to the couch by the lure of a pristine, white envelope the boy recognized immediately. “This is for you, Harry.”

Harry exchanged the box, reluctantly, for the envelope and this time, he broke the wax seal. He could feel a tingle from the parchment the instant he did, and he paused with a soft gasp.

“Felt that, did ye?” Hagrid beamed. “It’s the magic of the seal. It tells the Headmaster when a boy or girl has got their letter, see?”

Harry nodded, his fingertips still tingling. That explained the flood of letters since the first one. “Magic?”

“Of course” Hagrid enthused. “Blimey Harry, didn’t you never wonder where you got it from, or where your parents learned it all? You’re a wizard, Harry.”

The boy could only blink, dumbfounded, up at the bushy beard in front of him, topped by dancing dark eyes. “A wizard? Me? But.. but I’m just.. Harry” Harry whispered.

He had been about to say ‘freak’, but didn’t think the giant man would like to hear that too much.

“Is magic real?” Harry couldn’t help himself. He simply had to know. “My parents were wizards?”

“Of course magic is real” Hagrid beamed again. “Hadn’t you ever made something happen, when you were angry or upset? You’re a wizard, just like your folks, and a thumping good one, I’d wager.”

Harry was nodding, just a little, because things had happened when he was especially frightened or upset. All sorts of freakish things happened around Harry.

“Couldn’t magic have saved my parents from the car crash?” Harry nearly wasn’t brave enough to ask that one. It was the single most important question of his young life. He had always wondered. The crash had given him the scar on his forehead, aunt had said. If freakish things happened around him, couldn’t he have prevented the car crash? He certainly didn’t want to believe aunt when she said he had caused it. That didn’t bear thinking about.

“Car crash?” Hagrid looked very confused and turned toward uncle and aunt. “Car crash? Lily and James Potter killed in a car crash? What have you muggles been telling the boy?”

Harry’s “Muggles?” slipped out even as uncle drew himself up importantly.

“Now see here, you..” that was as far as uncle got, as he found himself staring at an umbrella tip just before his nose.

“Non magic folk” Hagrid deemed it more important to answer Harry before dealing with uncle. “you look, Dursley. Harry here will be going to the greatest school of magic in the world, and he will be learning under the finest Headmaster Howarts has ever seen, Albus Dumbledore. There won’t be any more of this nonsense about car crashes or funny business, see?”

Aunt and uncle cowered together, leaning as far way from the giant man as the staircase allowed. Cousin seemed more intent on trying to reach the cake box that had been abandoned on the couch seat, until Hagrid’s large hand slapped down on it. In a fit if pique, the umbrella was turned on cousin, and a spark of light struck the fleeing boy in the backside. A curly, piggish tail seemed to sprout from cousin’s pajama bottoms, and cousin was squealing into aunt’s protective arms.

“Shouldn’t have done that” Hagrid whispered under his breath, then looked at Harry. “Best not to mention that. Strictly speaking, I’m not allowed to do magic.”

Harry could only nod. That was magic. Real magic. Hagrid was a wizard too. Hope blossomed in the boy’s heart and he leaned closer to the bushy man to whisper his wish so very quietly while aunt was fussing and uncle was bellowing. “Can you take me with you?”

Like a co conspirator, Hagrid leaned in as well, also whispering. “Don’t forget yer cake, lad.”

The two beamed at each other, and Harry gathered up the box and followed the over sized man out into the calming storm. He had no idea where he was going, but anywhere would be a vast improvement over life with the Dursleys. Even the life of a wizard.

Diagon Alley

Hagrid had a motorcycle. A flying motorcycle. Harry wasn’t sure of the wisdom of flying during a storm, but the experience of sitting in the side car was exhilarating. He didn’t even get wet, even though it was raining sheets and buckets. On the motorbike it was warm and dry and even quiet enough to talk with the giant man without shouting too much. Of course Harry had gotten wet before he climbed into the side car. He had been just a little shocked to discover that uncle had taken them to an island, of all places. A desolate, lonely island that sported only a lighthouse, which they had just exited. Even though it was a little cold, Harry didn’t mind getting wet too much.

The roar of the engine when Hagrid started it up was exciting, but a couple of button presses later and the bike was quieter, as was the storm, and Harry began to warm up. His slim, shivering frame luxuriated in the warmth. Magic was wonderful. Perhaps Harry wasn’t quite done with ‘funny business’ after all. Harry had no idea how Hagrid intended to drive off an island, but the bike flung itself into the air after only a few feet, making Harry’s stomach swoop and dive in the most exciting way, that had the boy tempted to whoop with delight even as he gripped the sides of the little side car with a death grip, the cake box in his lap. He didn’t, of course, but his grin was large, making Hagrid laugh outright. The ride over the storm tossed ocean was just about everything Harry dreamed that flying could be like, and the boy vowed to himself that he would find out just how much more flying he could get up to. He loved it!

Once the initial excitement was waning and the dark line of the coast was approaching, Harry’s mind began to function again. He knew it probably wasn’t the smartest choice, leaving with a stranger without knowing what Hagrid was really like, but he used the opportunity to escape uncle. For the first time in his young life, he was out from under the oppressive weight of the little family. It was a heady feeling, but Harry knew it was time to be practical. He didn’t want to go back, and he had to discover ways of making sure he would never have to.

“Hagrid” Harry ventured while watching the distant lights of some sea side village pass underneath, “how did you find us on that little island?”

“That was the easy part” Hagrid boasted, sitting up straighter. “I just followed the tracking charm, see?”

Now Harry was a little confused. There was a great deal he had to learn about magic, it seemed, and as quickly as possible. “Tracking charm?”

“Of course,” Hagrid nodded while watching their flight path. “Dumbledore placed it on ye when you were just a wee babe. When he left you with your aunt and uncle. I was right sorry to leave you there, but the Headmaster said it was for the best that you grow up with your family.”

That gave Harry a little to think about. His letter had been addressed to him rather specifically. To the cupboard under the stairs. That implied that the Headmaster knew which room he stayed in. Hagrid was able to find him with a spell that told the Headmaster where Harry was at all times.

“So, the Headmaster left me with aunt and uncle?” Harry asked, while he organized his whirling thoughts.

“Saw to it himself, he did.” Hagrid beamed at the boy. “I was there that night, brought you to him on this very bike, the night after yer folks were killed, all the way to Surrey. You fell asleep somewhere over Bristol, but I could tell you liked the flying. You was laughing and smiling.”

Harry smiled at Hagrid’s remembrance, even while he was given even more to think about. Why would the Headmaster of a school take it upon himself to see to the placement of an orphan? If it wasn’t a car crash, what had happened to his parents?

“Course, Professor McGonagall didn’t want to be leavin you there, but the Headmaster said you’d be safest with family.” Hagrid continued, “Struck up a right fuss, she did, but Dumbledore soon set her to rights and convinced her that you’d be well looked after. Least wise, she never said more about it after getting back to the castle.”

Since Hagrid seemed so informative while distracted by piloting the motorcycle, Harry decided to learn all that he could, and sort it out later when he had time to think.

“Why did the Headmaster think I needed to be so safe, Hagrid?” Harry did his best to make the question sound innocent and naive.

“Because of the Death Eaters, of course.” Hagrid looked down at the boy, seeing the confusion in Harry’s expression. “The followers of You Know Who. Them was dark times, Harry, dark times. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know where we’d be today.”

This appeared to unsettle the large man, so Harry changed topics even while his list of questions grew. This You Know Who must have had something to do with his parents, Harry could feel it. Somehow, Harry also figured largely in the events surrounding his parent’s deaths. He would have to find out more, but he needed to be careful about it, Harry could sense.

“Did the Headmaster ever come to see me?” Harry couldn’t remember anyone ever coming to uncle’s to see Harry, specifically. It was always uncle’s Important Company.

“Oh, I’m sure he must a kept an eye on you growing up,” Hagrid asserted while turning the bike toward the glow of what had to be the lights of a rather large city. “Or he sent someone along to see about you over the years, I’m sure. I would have done it, and gladly, but it gets busy at the castle and Dumbledore never asked me to.”

Harry mentally chewed on all this information even while he tried to determine where they were. He finally concluded that the approaching city had to be London. It was just so large, sprawling on either side of a river he could now make out in the darkness. The dark haired boy remained quietly thinking even as he watched the glow of lights resolve themselves into city streets and dark blocks of buildings. He idly wondered how it is that no one could see them, but determined that there must have been more magic involved. It simply wouldn’t do for there to be reports of a flying motorcycle in the morning paper, he decided.

Hagrid piloted the bike to a specific section of the city, and they soon touched down on a quiet street lit only by the street lamps. After another block, Hagrid pulled over and stopped, shutting off the bike. The storm had resolved itself into a light drizzle by this time, so Harry didn’t get too wet when the sound of the engine died. He climbed out, cradling his cake box, and looked around. They seemed to be on a somewhat run down street. A few shop fronts appeared to be boarded up, but there was light coming from the windows of a pub, the Leaky Cauldron, only a few doors away.

“Here we are, then” Hagrid smiled at him as he joined Harry on the sidewalk. “We’ll be staying at the Cauldron tonight, then go shopping for your school things in the morning.”

“What time is it, Hagrid?” Harry asked while allowing himself to be guided to the pub’s entrance. It had been dark when he woke, and the flight must have taken a good hour or so.

“Long past time that young lads should be in bed,” Hagrid stated, opening the door. “We’ll need to be up early in the morning.”

Harry couldn’t help himself. Following Hagrid into the pub, he stopped dead in his tracks when what he was seeing finally registered. A chair had just flipped itself onto a tabletop. Even as Harry watched, more chairs hopped into the air, flipped themselves over and settled seat first on top of tables, all over the pub. Harry grinned in delight while forcing his feet to continue in Hagrid’s wake.

“Oi Tom, I’ll be needin a room for the night, if you please.” That boisterous voice was easy to follow, even as Harry walked backwards to watch the chairs. “Be needing two beds as well. I got me a guest, here.”

Harry turned himself around to face the barkeep and smiled shyly at the man who must have been Tom. Tom smiled back, then seemed to freeze, his eyes locked on Harry’s forehead.

“Blessed be” the man whispered, apparently shocked. “Harry Potter.”

“Right enough,” Hagrid agreed, smiling down at a puzzled Harry, a giant hand gently warming the top of Harry’s damp head. “Best be keeping that quiet, though, Tom. You know how folks can get.”

Tom only nodded, still in shock, apparently, and handed a key over to Hagrid. Before he knew it, Harry found himself herded up a lopsided set of stairs and into a narrow corridor. The room he was lead into was large enough, and sported two beds on either side of a window. Another door lead to the toilet. Harry placed the cake box on the nightstand under the window and covered a sudden yawn.

“I haven’t any pajamas, Hagrid” Harry suddenly realized, aloud.

“It’s no problem, Harry. Just say pajamas to the wardrobe, and open the door” Hagrid answered while taking off his huge furry coat to hang on a peg on the back of the room’s door.

Turning again, Harry found the wardrobe on the wall opposite the door to the toilet. He must be tired if he missed seeing that six foot tall monstrosity covered in carvings of dancing fauns and satyrs. Following instructions, Harry soon had a set of pinstriped pajamas in hand. They even looked to be just his size. Magic was amazing.

“Take your time, Harry, but get yerself into bed soon. You’ll be wanting your sleep.” Hagrid had the room’s door open again. “I’ll just be downstairs with Tom for a wee bit before he locks up for the night.”

“Alright, Hagrid” Harry nodded with a smile, and after Hagrid had closed the door behind himself, he ventured into the toilet.

There was a huge tub. A marvelously large, claw footed tub. Harry grinned to himself, and immediately turned the taps. There were more than two, and some experimentation soon  had the tub filling with steamy hot, fragrant, bubble filled water. Harry’s heart pounded in excited anticipation. He was about to have his first ever hot bubble bath. Harry undressed and relieved himself, then had a drink of water from the sink tap using the glass provided. It was icy cold and perfect. He then inspected himself closely in the large mirror on the back of the toilet’s door.

Harry first looked for whatever it was that had so arrested Tom’s attention. He quickly realized that it could only have been his scar. That jagged, lightening shaped mark on his forehead. It was well known enough to instantly identify him? How had that happened? Why would a barkeep know his name? These questions were added to the already large list in Harry’s mind. For as long as he didn’t know anything about wizards, magic or this new world, Harry was at a distinct disadvantage. He would have to find ways to cope until he could get caught up. He then turned his attention to examining the damage from uncle’s latest lesson. The bruises were many, huge and vibrant in a rainbow of colours from deep purple to fading yellow. The ones on his upper arms were clearly in the shape of uncle’s fingers, and Harry touched those gingerly with a questing finger.

He made himself a new promise while staring into his reflection’s green eyes. A vow that he would do his utmost to keep. “Uncle will never touch me again. I swear it.”

Harry’s chest, deep inside, tingled, and there seemed to be a faint glow surrounding the image in the mirror, that quickly faded. He didn’t know what it meant, but it seemed to cement Harry’s determination to never be victimized by uncle again. For now, he was content with that.

Yawning again, Harry turned to the tub and climbed into blissful heaven after shutting off the taps. He probably spent far too long luxuriating in the bath, but the water never seemed to cool and playing with the bubbles was far too tempting. He found himself nodding, however, and reluctantly climbed out to pull the plug and dry himself off. Dressed in his new pajamas, Harry placed his glasses next to the cake box, climbed into bed and pulled the covers over himself. A real bed. All to himself. It felt like a cloud.

That was his last thought before sleep took him.

Breakfast was marvelous. Harry didn’t have to cook it, for starters, and he could eat as much as he wanted.

Hagrid was true to his word. He woke Harry nearly as early as aunt woke him most mornings. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the now eleven year old was surprised to find his clothes clean, mended and neatly folded on the foot of his bed. Even the over sized and ratty trainers seemed to have gotten a cleaning and some repair. Harry dressed quickly in the toilet, making sure his fringe covered his scar, and hurried after Hagrid downstairs to the pub for breakfast.

Tom seemed to fall all over himself in his efforts to please the boy, but Harry knew from experience that he wouldn’t be able to eat that much, no matter how much he wanted to. He kept it simple with a soft boiled egg, some toast and some bacon, along with a tea. Hagrid ate enough for three men, anyway. Harry couldn’t help but oggle the amount of food the large man put away. It was funny. He ate even more than uncle and cousin put together.

Harry remained rather quiet during the meal, allowing Hagrid to carry the bulk of any conversation while he thought about things he had learned the night before. The biggest thing Harry had learned was that there was a lot to learn, and he best be getting about it quick. Hopefully this shopping trip would provide the means. In spite of his school performance, which had to be kept low due to cousin’s deficiencies, Harry was actually very smart and knew it. He absorbed information like a sponge, even though his practical work never revealed that. He remembered everything he read. He’d had to, or earn himself a lesson over showing up cousin in marks. Uncle wouldn’t tolerate his son being second best to a freak. That was no longer a concern, however. This new school would allow him to stretch himself, Harry hoped.

It was still early when Hagrid finally finished eating, freeing Harry from his patient stalling with the last few sips of tea, and led the intently curious boy toward the back of the filling pub. Harry avoided the eyes of the other patrons, and on the sly made sure his scar was still covered. He didn’t see any sense in giving strangers the advantage of knowing who he was the way Tom had so quickly identified him. Besides, he didn’t need the deferential treatment that was sure to follow, if Tom’s actions were anything to go by. He still needed to learn why all the fuss.

At a wall outside the back door of the pub, Hagrid stopped, and Harry watched as the umbrella was used to tap a specific sequence of bricks on the wall. Harry noted those, carefully committing them to memory, even as his eyes widened at what happened next. Starting with the ones that had been tapped, the entire wall seemed to fold in on itself until an archway was revealed. Beyond the arch, was a whole new street, filled with shops, people, birds and animals, sounds and colours. Harry marveled.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley, Harry.” Hagrid said quietly.

Harry turned a grin up at the man, then followed the furry coat tails into a whole new world. Keeping close to the large man, for whom the early shoppers seemed to open a path, Harry did his very level best to take in everything at once. Each shop front was examined as they passed. He tried to see into open doors or front windows, catching glimpses of marvelous products for sale. Everything seemed to be in motion. There was so much to see.

“Where are we going first, Hagrid?” Harry asked, skipping a few quick steps to keep up with his elder’s longer stride.

“Gringotts, of course. You’ll be needing some money to do your shopping with.”

Of course, how could he have been so foolish? Harry frowned at himself for the blatant stupidity of not thinking that through. Of course he would need money to get his school supplies, but he hadn’t any.

“I can’t let you pay for me, Hagrid. That isn’t right. Where can I get some money?” Harry could feel a bit of panic setting in. If he couldn’t get supplies, then he couldn’t go to school. If he couldn’t go to school, then he couldn’t escape uncle. He had to find a solution.

As though sensing the way Harry was working himself up into a full panic, a large hand again found the top of Harry’s head. It was a curiously comforting gesture. “Don’t you worry yourself none, lad. It’s all took care of. You’ll see.”

Harry was sure that Hagrid’s smile was meant to be reassuring, but he wasn’t convinced. He only nodded and silently followed toward the large, white building with impressive columns. They walked up a few steps toward the ornate doors which were flanked by two gaurds holding pikes. These were unlike any guards Harry had ever seen before, however. Short, squat, fierce looking and dressed in what appeared to be leathery armour, the pair were certainly not human. Harry stopped, tugging a little at Hagrid’s coat with a firm grip.

“Hagrid, what are they?” he whispered as quietly as he could when the big man had bent toward him. Harry tried hard not to stare, as that wouldn’t be polite, and he didn’t want to have them hear his question.

“They’re goblins, Harry” Hagrid took a knee, seeming to know that this might take a while and Harry wanted to keep their conversation as private as possible. “The goblins run Gringotts, the wizarding bank. Ain’t no safer place for your gold.”

Harry nodded, licking his lip nervously. “So, they guard the money?”

“More than that. They invest it too, and see to magical contracts. Ain’t nothing a goblin likes more than a good profit.” Hagrid seemed to consider for a moment. “Unless it’s a good, bloody fight. They like those too. But it’s the gold you only need worry about. The goblins have kept it safe for centuries.”

Watching Hagrid closely, knowing this was important, Harry nodded again.

“You never want to insult a goblin” the groundskeeper continued. “If the insult is bad enough, it can get you killed if you’re inside the bank, and there ain’t nothing anyone could do about it. Remember that, Harry.”

Harry nodded again.

“Just be polite. The goblins like kids, really. Treat them right fair. You won’t have anything to worry about.” Hagrid smiled, getting up while patting Harry’s shoulder in reassurance. “Ready to go in?”

Harry looked to the guards again, allowing himself a moment to examine them a little more closely. When one of them locked eyes with him, he offered a shy smile and nodded just a bit. The goblin appeared slightly startled, but gave a slight nod back. This reassured Harry just a little more than Hagrid’s assertions, and he relaxed, looking up at the man.

“I’m not afraid. Let’s go in.”

“Good lad” Hagrid beamed, and lead the way inside.

The foyer was huge and built entirely from polished stone. The columns supporting the roof high overhead were massive and liberally veined blocks of carved marble. Down both sides, on the left and right, were desks, each with a goblin busy at work. Directly ahead were the tellers. Two large doorways flanked the teller’s stalls. Harry’s eyes took in everything, committing all he saw to memory as he followed Hagrid to one of the tellers.

“Harry Potter would like to make a withdrawl” Hagrid stated when the teller looked up at him.

The goblin looked down at Harry, who again offered a shy, close lipped smile and slight nod. The teller gave a slight nod back, then addressed Hagrid. “Does Harry Potter have his key?”

Wait. His key? He had a key? To what? Harry watched Hagrid pat down various pockets before finally producing a tiny gold key, which he passed to the teller.

Hagrid leaned closer to the teller, passing a sealed note while speaking more quietly. “I’ll also be needing to make a stop for Headmaster Dumbledore to fetch you know what, from vault you know which.”

Harry’s eyebrows went up. Well, that was vague, but the goblin seemed to know what Hagrid was talking about as he had nodded once, quickly scanned the note, and then turned to another goblin who had approached. “To vaults 713 and 687.”

“Follow me, please” the goblin stated after accepting the key that Harry kept a very close watch on, then turned and lead the way through the large doorway to the right of the tellers.

They went down a short hallway, then down some steps, then some more steps, before Harry found himself in a large room with a rail and cars. They all climbed into the first car, and the goblin got it moving. The wild ride they had next was easily the funnest thing Harry had ever done, apart from riding Hagrid’s motorcycle the night before. It simply had to be what a rollarcoaster was like. The little car dipped and dove, climbed and turned on the rails, all the while passing levels of vaults within a massive cavern. Harry’s whoops of delight echoed in the massive space.

They finally stopped at a particular level, the goblin announcing vault 713 as he got out of the cart. Hagrid climbed out as well, followed by Harry. The boy couldn’t see exactly what the goblin did to the heavily fortified door, but after a series of clicks, clangs, thuds and scrape of metal on metal, the massive door opened. Harry blinked at the deceptively tiny space that massive door revealed. It looked like a cubby hole. At the goblin’s invitation, Hagrid reached in and snatched the small, dirty pouch from it’s small pedestal, secreting it in an unknown pocket. Once the door was secure again, they all piled back into the rail car and they were on their way once more.

Harry managed to contain himself this time, largely because the ride was much shorter with fewer stomach lifting dives. Finding himself standing in front of another fortified doorway, Harry swallowed a little nervously. Was this his? He watched as the goblin requested the key from Hagrid, then opened the door. The golden glow revealed nearly took Harry’s breath away. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It looked like a dragon’s horde. Piles and piles of coins. Collecting himself, Harry turned to the goblin.

“Is that all mine?”

Seemingly startled at being addressed, the goblin nodded. “Yes. It’s the Potter trust vault. Number 687. Established by James Potter in 1980 for his son, Harry James Potter.”

Harry had just learned two things. His middle name, and that the goblins knew quite a bit more than how to count their gold. He made an instant decision to learn a lot more about these goblins. “What is your name, please?”

Clearly startled this time, it took a moment for the goblin to answer while closely examining Harry. “My name is Griphook.”

“Thank you for answering my question, Griphook” some instinct prompted Harry’s next words, based on what he had learned so far. “I hope your own profits seem as overwhelming.”

Clearly pleased, Griphook gave Harry a half bow. “May your enemies tremble before you.”

Harry briefly smiled back at a clearly proudly beaming Hagrid before he stepped toward the door of the vault. He could feel something around the doorway, some field of energy that made him pause. Tentatively, he reached out a hand.

“You can feel the family magic?” Griphook asked from beside him.

“Is that what it is?” Harry’s fingers seemed to brush against something feathery and nearly insubstantial. He couldn’t see anything, but felt as though he aught to be able to.

“It’s actually a ward set to the Potter blood line. Only one of Potter blood can enter the vault.” Griphook replied.

“Do goblins know a lot about wards?” Harry asked curiously, seemingly fascinated with the play of magic through his fingers.

“Of course. Goblins are the finest warders in the world.”

Harry nodded. That was good to know. After another moment, Harry accepted a felt pouch from Griphook and finally entered the vault. The magic seemed to wash over him as he crossed the threshold, like a waterfall, making his whole body tingle pleasantly. It made him smile. He asked Griphook, who remained outside the doorway, to explain the wizarding monetary system while he filled the pouch with coins. Or, attempted to. No matter how much he put in, the bag never seemed to fill or get heavy. Griphook also explained that phenomenon when Harry looked deeply puzzled by the bag. The goblin was clearly amused.

Finshed inside, Harry left the vault. He was disappointed not to find anything of his parents inside. He watched Griphook seal the vault once more, then accepted the key which warmed to his touch, then went cool again. With a smile, Harry pocketed it with the pouch.

They rode back up to the main level of the bank, a thoughtful Harry much quieter, and emerged into the lobby lit by mid morning sun. Harry thanked Griphook for his help before following Hagrid from the bank.

“Well then, best to get started on your list, Harry. We have a full morning.” Hagrid grinned.

Full it was. They visited several shops in quick succession, collecting everything Harry needed for school. Potage’s Cauldron Shop, Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, Scribbulus Writing Instruments, Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment all supplied something Harry needed. Their next stop was Madam Malkin’s, for Harry’s school robes. Hagrid left him there, saying he’d be back after tending to a bit of business of his own, and dropping the packages they had so far at the Leaky. Harry was agreeable, and entered the shop on his own. By this time he had seen enough people wearing wizarding robes to know, somewhat, what to expect.

There was a blond haired boy getting measured and fitted, so Harry took a seat and waited, watching curiously. There didn’t appear to be anyone else in the little shop besides the lady helping the boy. Soon enough, the blond noticed Harry’s reflection in one of the many mirrors surrounding him.

“Hello.”

Harry tilted his head a little to get a better look at the boy’s face in the mirror. “Hello.”

“I’m Draco. Will you be starting at Hogwarts this year too?”

Harry nodded ‘yes’ with a tentative smile. He really wasn’t all that used to interacting with other children. Cousin was very vigilant about that, both at school and in the neighborhood of Privet Drive. As a consequence, Harry felt a little out of his depth since he had learned to prefer his own company, but decided to brazen it out. It was a whole new world, after all, wasn’t it? Harry then locked eyes with the blonde’s reflection, and something very unusual happened. Deep inside, Harry felt like something connected. As though there had been a piece of himself missing, and suddenly it was just there, settling in perfect as you please.

“Do you know what house you want to be sorted into?” Draco continued, watching himself in the mirror now, and making Harry question that curious sensation that had lasted less than a heartbeat. “I’m sure to be Slytherin. All of the Malfoys have always been in Slytherin, so my father says.”

When the boy seemed to look toward Harry’s reflection, he could only shrug and shake his head, only half listening as he was still unsettled by that unfamiliar sensation. He absently rubbed his breastbone with a slight frown, then gave himself a shake, determined to pay attention.

“I doubt it’ll be Slytherin. My father says only the very best families get sorted there.” Draco went on after giving Harry’s reflection a closer inspection that didn’t seem to pass muster. “My father says that he hopes I won’t have to interact with too many mudbloods my first year. He says I need to cultivate the right kinds of friends. Because of my father’s position, I’m sure to meet the children of the best pureblood families.”

Harry found that he needn’t say a word, and simply let Draco talk himself out. This boy was starting to remind Harry of cousin just a little too much.

“Are you any good on a broom?” the blonde was asking. “My father insists that he won’t buy me the latest model this year, since first year’s can’t have a broom at school. I intend to make him change his mind, though. I want to play Quidditch. Which is your favorite Quidditch team? Mine is the Falmouth Falcons.”

When Draco paused, obviously expecting an answer, Harry could only offer the name of the only sports related team he could think of. “Puddlemere United.”

“Really?” Draco wrinkled his pointed nose a little, then appeared to think about it. “They’re not bad, I suppose. My father insists that the Falcons are the best, however.”

Before Draco could launch into another soliloquy, Harry decided to interject. “Draco, I’ve been learning quite a bit about your father, but wouldn’t you rather talk about yourself?”

This seemed to throw the blonde boy for a bit of a mental loop, as he lowered his arms and half turned on the stool he was standing on to blink at Harry. “I have been talking about myself. What do you mean?”

Madam Malkin managed to get Draco turned around again and Harry was forced to talk with the other boy’s reflection. “Well, I’ve heard loads about what your father says, or what he thinks, but I haven’t really heard much about what you think.”

There was a sound suspiciously like a tiny snort of amusement from Madam as she hemmed Draco’s robes, but Harry couldn’t swear to it.

“What do you think our teachers will be like?” Harry asked, as an example.

“Well, my father says..”

“Draco, I’m sure your father says all sorts of things,” Harry interrupted “but I’d really like to hear what you think. Which will be your hardest subject?”

While Draco appeared to think about how to answer, Madam Malkin motioned Harry over to the other stool, and began to drape fabrics over him. He hadn’t a clue what she was doing, but she seemed to know her trade and simply stood exactly as she wanted him to, when she wanted him to.

“I think my hardest subject will probably be Transfiguration.” Draco finally decided.

“What about your best?” Harry asked before Draco could turn the question around. He had no idea which subjects Hogwarts offered, so wouldn’t be able to answer. He hadn’t gotten his books yet.

“Potions” the blond answered with an immediate smile. “My godfather is a Potions Master, and the Professor.”

“Wow, that’s lucky” Harry opined, impressed. “Has he been teaching you already?”

“Of course.” Draco seemed in his element now, and smiled proudly while squaring his shoulders. “He says I have great potential to be a Master one day, myself.”

“Is that something you’d like to do?”

Draco appeared to think about it for a bit, then finally nodded. “Potion Masters earn a lot of respect. It would be a good career, I think. If I don’t go into the Ministry like Father, of course.”

“Well, that’s good, I suppose.” Harry stated slowly “but wouldn’t you rather do something that you love, rather than something you would be respected for?”

Draco turned to him with a slight frown. “Why?”

“Well,” Harry was thinking it out even as he spoke. “You’d be doing something you enjoy, so it wouldn’t feel so much like work. Did your godfather become a Potions Master for the respect, or because he loves potions?”

This made Draco think, and the blonde was quiet while Madam bustled him down from the stool and wrapped up the new robes she had prepared. Draco sat down with the package, watching Harry’s reflection when Madam returned to the tousle haired boy.

“I think,” Draco began, seeming to consider his words more carefully “that my godfather really loves making potions. He’s in his private potions lab all the time he isn’t at school, and he’s talked about articles he’s written for some potions periodicals.”

Harry nodded. “That sounds like something he loves to do, alright. What would you love to do?”

Draco frowned, looking down at his obviously expensive shoes, honestly giving the question some careful consideration. While he thought, Madam seemed to finish up, because she soon had Harry down from the stool and wrapped up his robes.

“I’ve prepared the usual three robes for you dear,” she said to Harry. “If you need more, just send me an owl with the numbers from the tag on the inside of the collar, and I’ll send them out to you straight away.”

“That’s great, Madam, thank you.” Harry offered the lady his best smile. “How much, please?”

“That’ll be three galleons each, love. Any replacements will only be two galleons, since you’ll soon outgrow them anyway.”

Harry paid her, adding owls to the already large research list in his head. He then turned to Draco who was now watching him curiously.

“I don’t know.” The blonde appeared lost.

“Excuse me?” Harry said, since he had lost the thread of the conversation a little.

“I don’t know what I’d love to do.”

Harry only smiled and shrugged. “There’s nothing that says you have to decide now. You’re only eleven. Have you got your books yet?”

Draco didn’t seem to know what to make of this new situation. It appeared as though he simply had to map out the entirety of his life now, and didn’t know what to do about this indecision. Maybe it was because his father had his life planned out for him already, and deciding for himself was completely new. Evidently, the blonde decided not to think about it, and took a deep breath before standing up.

“No, I haven’t got mine yet.” he said, “We could go to Flourish and Blotts together, if you want.”

“Sure,” Harry smiled with another shrug, turning back to a clearly amused Madam Malkin. “Do you know a Hagrid, from Hogwarts, Ma’am?”

“Of course.” she smiled back to Harry.

“Could you please tell him, if he comes looking for me here, that I’ve gone to the bookstore?”

“I’ll be sure to send him right along, love. Don’t you worry.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Harry lead the way out, only glancing back briefly at the door to see Madam with a hand over her mouth, clearly hiding laughter. He wasn’t sure what she found so funny, but he was glad he could cheer her up. She didn’t look very happy when he first entered the store.

Crossing the street to Flourish and Blotts, Draco appeared to want to ask Harry something, but never did. Once in the book store, they both pulled out their lists, and began looking for the books they would need. It didn’t take very long, since all the first year books had already been grouped together in the front part of the store. Harry, however, had a much more urgent list in his head. He paid for his books, getting them bagged, and noted that Draco only stated his name before the sales lady nodded and made a notation on a ledger.

“I need to look for more books, Draco. Did you want to join me?”

“I can’t” the blonde appeared disappointed, and a little embarrassed. “I made Father promise to get me ice cream at Fortescue’s.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Harry thought ice cream would beat books any time, even though he’d never tried any himself. The other boy was a little annoying, but Harry was reluctant to see him go already. “We’ll see each other at school, right?”

“Of course,” Draco asserted, even starting to smile. “Let’s meet up on the train. We’ll ride to Hogwarts together.”

And so Harry learned something else that he needed to learn about. His list was getting incredibly long. “Let’s do that then. Bye, Draco.”

“Bye.” Draco called as he ran from the shop with his bag of books and package of robes.

Harry watched him go, a little torn. He was tempted to follow the other boy, but he honestly had more important things to get done. Asking politely if the sales lady would store his own packages behind the counter until he was done, Harry made his way deeper into the store to start his search. He had no concept of the passage of time, and asked twice for help from an employee to get books on topics he was most interested in. With an agony of indecision, he finally decided on his choices. It wasn’t until he was paying for the books that he noticed Hagrid, which was a level of inattention the boy simply couldn’t excuse himself for. Who could miss Hagrid, for crying out loud?

The large man only smiled at Harry’s sheepish apology for taking so long, easily managing the bags of books while Harry took charge of the package of robes. “Not to fret, lad. I could see you were having a grand time, and I didn’t have the heart to interrupt.”

“Thanks, Hagrid.” Harry smiled back, and followed the groundskeeper from the store. “Where to next?”

“All that’s left is Olivander’s, and a surprise.” Hagrid said, already waking down the street toward their next destination.

Struck speechless at mention of a surprise, Harry could only follow as quickly as he could. He’d never gotten a surprise before. Well, in actual fact, he’d never gotten a good surprise before.

Olivander’s turned out to be a wand shop. Now this was something Harry had been looking forward to. All morning he had seen adults use their wands for little bits of magic, and he was more than eager to have a go himself. With an eager thump to his heartbeat, he followed Hagrid inside and approached the counter.

Hagrid turned his charge toward him, looking him right in the eye. “Now Harry, I’m just going to nip down the street a bit, so you stay here at Olivander’s till I get back. Alright?”

Perfectly agreeable, Harry nodded. “Alright, Hagrid. I’ll stay right here.” He set the package of robes on the counter to demonstrate his eagerness to obey.

Hagrid nodded, patted Harry on the head, and ambled out. Before Harry could turn back, there was a slidding thump, then a voice.

“Well, I was wondering when I would be seeing you, Mr. Potter.”

Harry turned to see a rather old man up on a ladder attatched to one of the myriad of shelves, all stacked with narrow boxes. The two studied each other, warily on Harry’s part, until the man began to climb down.

“It seems only yesterday that I had your mother and father in here, looking for their first wands.” Olivander said, then approached the far side of the counter.

“Did you know them as other than customers, Mr. Olivander?” Harry asked, both out of honest curiosity, and in part in an attempt to find out how the man had so easily recognized him. He knew his scar was hidden, and he had been turned away from the man.

Olivander’s bushy grey eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Indeed I did, Mr. Potter. Quite well, in fact.”

Harry considered the man, and his answer. He hadn’t expected to find a firsthand source of information about his parents. He hungered to learn anything he could about them, but didn’t know how to ask. There was Hagrid, of course, but Harry had a feeling that this man could tell him things that Harry would find not only entertaining, but completely useful as well. He could literally feel something emanating from the man that encouraged him to be all that he could be, to try his hardest to exceed his own expectations. It was something like the ward on his vault, only different.

All the while he considered how to proceed, Olivander had been studying Harry in turn, and reached a decision. “You must come and visit me as often as you can, Mr. Potter. I suspect we have much to talk about.”

Relieved, Harry could only nod his agreement. He’d like that very much. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Oh, no sirs here, young man.” Olivander chuckled “Call me Garrick.”

Harry instantly blushed. He could feel the heat flood his cheeks, something he had very rarely experienced. No adult had ever invited him to use their first name before, and the pleasant warmth that filled him with was nearly overwhelming. “O… okay” he whispered with a tentative smile “Garrick”

Olivander only gave him a nod and smile, then clapped his hands together. “Now then, let’s just see about your wand, shall we?”

Eagerly, Harry nodded, reminded of his earlier anticipation. Garrick searched his many shelves, giving wand after wand to Harry to try. The eleven year old could feel something from each of them, but for the most part it was mainly a feeling of not quite right or even outright wrongness. The latter he gave back immediately, but the few that felt a little right, he’d swish to usually disastrous results that Garrick would fix with a flick of his own wand.

Expressing his frustration, Olivander paused, considering Harry closely. “I wonder..” he finally muttered to himself, and turned back to the shelves.

He returned with yet another box, passing the revealed wand to Harry almost reverently. Oh! This.. this felt like a warm and comforting version of the tingle in his chest. Harry stared at the length of holly, unaware of the brief glow that had surrounded him.

“Curious.” Garrick said, watching Harry closely.

Harry looked up from the wand.

“It’s interesting that the phoenix that gave a feather for that wand, only gave one other, Harry.” Olivander looked almost sad. “That other feather is in the wand that gave you your scar.”

Harry’s green eyes widened slightly, and he shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

It nearly tore his heart out to do it, the loss was that keen, but Harry placed the wand on the counter and pulled his hand back. Olivander audibly gasped.

“Harry, the wand choses the wizard.”

Harry’s gaze met Garrick’s unflinchingly. “No one will tell me, Mr. Olivander, but I know deep inside that that other wand had something to do with my parent’s death. I don’t want anything to do with something that reminds me of that.”

Garrick’s eyes clearly telegraphed the older man’s understanding and sympathy. “Harry, if you knew a set of twins, and one committed murder, are both twins guilty?”

Harry could see immediately what Olivander was trying to say, and felt chastised. He studied the countertop sullenly, trying hard not to look at the wand that had chosen him. “No, sir.”

“If it helps,” Garrick offered kindly, “you could think of it this way. That other wand is an agent for darkness, while your wand is it’s exact opposite.”

Harry looked up hopefully. “An agent for … light?”

“Exactly.” Garrick nodded with a small, proud smile.

Harry considered that for a few moments, contemplating the wand and their discussion. Reaching a decision, Harry picked up the wand again. This time, having consciously chosen the wand that had chosen him, their introduction was quite a bit different. It was like flood gates had opened deep inside him, and for the first time in his life Harry could feel his magic rushing to connect with his wand. Gasping deeply, Harry closed his eyes and just experienced.

He could feel the full body warmth that flooded him, the swirl, ebb and flow of his magic throughout his whole body, the way it connected to his wand, and his wand to him. He could hear the most beautiful birdsong he’d ever heard, and this made his heart weep with the kind of joy he had only ever dared dream about. It was like how he imagined a loving hug from his mother would feel, and so much more.

He couldn’t see what Olivander could see. The nearly fully developed aura of magic surrounding this small boy impressed the wand maker to a remarkable degree. He had rarely seen it’s equal, especially in one so young. That Harry would be a powerful influence in the wizarding world was something that couldn’t be denied. There was a tangible wind, a strong glowing light that even a mundane would be able to see surrounding the lad. It seemed to last hours, and yet faded after only a few moments until his shop was calm again.

Harry opened his eyes and smiled at Olivander. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome, Mr. Potter.” Garrick replied,  his voice a little husky with emotion. He knew he could expect great things from Mr. Potter. Great things indeed.

The moment was broken by a tapping on the window. Both turned to see what it was, seeing Hagrid outside the shop, looking in and grinning. He was holding a large bird cage aloft. In the cage, was a beautiful snowy owl.

“Happy Birthday Harry.” the over large man exclaimed happily.

It was only then that Harry realized that he had forgotten to ask at the bank what the date was. At this rate, he would end up missing the first day of school entirely. Smiling somewhat ruefully at himself, and in fond exasperation at Hagrid, Harry paid for his new wand and gathered his robes before he joined the groundskeeper for their walk back to the Leaky Cauldron and a late lunch.

August

By the time Harry and Hagrid made it back to the Leaky Cauldron, it was mid-afternoon, nearly tea time. The large man immediately herded Harry toward a booth and sat the owl cage on the table, before sitting across from the boy. The bags of books, Harry could hear, were set gingerly on the floor under the table and Hagrid sighed a bit in apparent contentment as he settled into his seat.

“Time I got you fed, young man.” Hagrid was trying to look sternly at the confusion in Harry’s eyes, but he failed when he smiled. “Can’t believe I let you miss lunch.”

“We did have a busy morning, Hagrid” Harry smiled in understanding, setting the package of robes on the bench seat beside him. His stomach was a little growly.

Tom seemed to have teleported to their table, since he was suddenly right there. Hagrid wasted no time in ordering a pot of tea and some sandwiches. Harry allowed himself the time to review everything he had experienced so far that day. To say that it was far outside of his typical day was an immense understatement. Peeking under the table, he looked at the bags of books. He was very much looking forward to learning everything they had to offer. By the time he settled upright again, he found himself blinking at the table. It was that suddenly covered with a myriad of dishes, cups, a platter of sandwiches, another of scones and pots of jams and butter, and a steaming, large pot of tea. Hagrid was already happily reaching for the pot to pour for them both.

“Wow,” he couldn’t help exclaiming while he watched Hagrid place a sandwich on his plate. “How did Tom get everything here so fast?”

“House elves,” Hagrid explained while preparing his own plate with selections from everything on offer. Harry picked up his sandwich and started to eat while listening. “They have marvelous magic, they do, and always so eager to please.”

Chewing the delicious sandwich and his green eyes admiring the owl in it’s cage, Harry had wished he had known about house elves before the book store, so he could get yet another book for research purposes. “Why didn’t they bring breakfast? Tom brought it to us this morning.”

“It was really early, this morn,” Hagrid explained, sipping tea, “and it’s much busier now.”

Harry looked around the pub, noting that it was indeed quite a bit busier than the last time he had been in the large common room. The pub was nearly filled with patrons, with more arriving. The boy watched, fascinated and sandwich near forgotten in his hand as the green flames of the large fireplace spat out three people in quick succession.

“Wow” he whispered to Hagrid’s amusement.

The two sat, companionably talking and eating. Hagrid seemed to know loads about all sorts of cretures, and Harry took advantage to find out about how wizard’s used owls for mail and even as familiars. He said it was important that Harry come up with an appropriate name for the beautiful bird, and advised the eleven year old as to what to feed her when she didn’t hunt for herself and what treats were appropriate once the supply he had purchased with the bird ran out. He also learned more about house elves, and that there were even some at Hogwarts. He even learned that the pajamas that had magically appeared the night before had been provided by house elves, and that they were responsible for cleaning and mending his clothes.

Harry stuffed himself with two sandwiches, a scone coated in strawberry jam, which was utterly delicious, and two cups of tea before he sat back with a small groan of satisfaction. He had never in his life been so full, much to Hagrid’s amusement. Hagrid didn’t linger long, however, and soon had Harry helping him gather up their purchases and bustled up the stairs to their room.

Harry found himself shocked at exactly how much he had purchased that day. He had never had even a single, brand new item to call his own. Now, his bed was buried under the bags of everything he needed for school. With more than a little dismay, he wondered how he would get it all to Hogwarts. That’s when Harry learned about trunks.

“Can’t believe I forgot about that” Hagrid was saying with a perplexed frown. “You’ll be needing one, that’s for certain.”

“Couldn’t we just go back to Diagon Alley and get one?” Harry ventured, entirely unused to asking for things. “I still have plenty of money in my pouch.”

Hagrid sighed, shaking his head. “It’ll have to wait for the morning now, Harry.” Patting his pocket, Hagrid started ambling toward the door. “I’m late getting this to Professor Dumbledore as it is.”

Harry had completely forgotten about the mysterious little pouch the giant man had retrieved from the vault. He nodded in understanding, well used to being told no, so didn’t think more about it. Instead, he started to open bags and remove items into organized piles on his bed. He looked up when he hadn’t heard the door, a little puzzled to find Hagrid still there, and looking torn with indecision.

“What’s the matter, Hagrid?” he finally hazarded to ask.

“I don’t feel right leaving you,” the man explained, rubbing a hand over his beard. “I shouldn’t be long, only till dinner time maybe, but it don’t feel right. I shouldn’t be leaving you here alone.”

It was Harry’s turn to be reassuring, and he shrugged a little, holding one of his brand new books up. “I’ll be fine, Hagrid. I can start reading or something. I won’t even know you’re gone.”

“If you’re sure” Hagrid looked a bit hopeful, seeming to have forgotten all about the two times he had left Harry alone in the Alley.

“Sure I’m sure” Harry assured with a smile. “Best get going or the Headmaster will wonder if the goblins got you. Besides, the sooner you go, the sooner you’ll get back.”

“Right. That’s true,” Hagrid smiled with relief, agreeing with Harry’s logic. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. “Don’t open the door for anyone, mind. If you need something, just call it out to the wardrobe. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay, Hagrid.” Harry watched the door close, shrugged a little, and turned back to his buried bed.

It wasn’t like he had never been left alone before. Uncle would often leave him locked in his cupboard while the rest of them went out to dinner or to see a film or something. Harry was never included, nor treated as part of the family. He was more like an unpaid servant, unless you counted the scraps he received as food or clothes to be payment. For vacations, Harry was always left in the care of Mrs Figgs and her many millions of cats, from down the street. The pre-teen was left to his own devices all too often, with a list of chores of course, for him to give the matter another thought.

Once everything was out of their bags and laid out on the bed, Harry could readily see the immediate need for a trunk. He sighed to himself. He did remember seeing a shop that sold them. Surely he could go himself, and save Hagrid the trouble of escorting him in the morning. That would leave time for him to go shopping tomorrow for some clothes, something else he sorely needed. He would also need to convert some of the galleons he carried into pounds. So, he had two immediate needs; a visit to the bank again, and a trunk. And more books. Eyeing the owl in her cage, Harry shook a finger as he often saw aunt do.

“Don’t be telling Hagrid I went out, okay?”

The owl gave a warbling kind of chirp and bobbed her head. A bit surprised, Harry grinned, determined to spend plenty of time with the owl that evening so they could get used to each other.

His decision made, Harry determinedly headed for the door. He made his way downstairs, and gingerly began to cross the fairly full common room toward the doorway leading out to the Alley. There appeared to be a steady stream of people coming and going, so he skirted patrons until he was able to join the tail end of a large family of red heads through the archway. Being so small had it’s definite advantages. A boy of about his own age was loudly asking, over and over, if they could go to Quality Quiddach Supplies first. His mother appeared to be too busy to answer as she was apparently scolding a set of twins about something they had done to their sister. The girl in question was clinging to her mother’s skirt and smirking at the chastised pair. Harry started to feel bad for the twins. Making the girl’s hair curly didn’t sound so bad to him. Besides, it was straight now, so the problem had obviously been fixed easily enough.

As soon as they were all through the archway, the begging boy’s voice grating on Harry’s nerves, Harry parted from the family to head straight for Wiseacres. He remembered seeing trunks there. Upon entering the shop, he paused a moment to get his bearings. There were a few other people there, and he did his best to appear as though he knew exactly what he was doing and why he was there. The stack of trunks spotted, he made his way over to them and began to look them over. He had opened and examined three before a sales person came up beside him.

“Are you finding what you need, lad?” the older gentleman smiled down at  him. He looked friendly enough, and appeared to want to be  helpful. He towered over Harry like a slender stick man, all arms, legs and long torso topped with a neatly combed shock of wavy, white hair. Harry wondered if it was Mr Wiseacre himself.

“I’m not really sure what I’m looking for,” the brunette admitted after a moment. “I need a trunk for school, but I’d like something that will hold more than what’s on the list. I have a lot of books.”

“Ah, your first year at Hogwarts, is it?” the man asked with a twinkle in his eyes. Harry nodded an answering smile. “Well, these are all standard school trunks, but I can see that you’re a young man of discerning tastes.”

Harry didn’t feel as though he was anything of the sort, but he definitely had some specific needs. He gamely followed the man over to another set of trunks. These were a little more ornate looking, though they appeared to be about the same size as the others. Experimentally, Harry opened one, and gasped. The space inside looked to be six feet long by four feet wide. The bottom of the trunk appeared to be four feet down, and was lined with dozens of little drawer fronts on three sides. The forth side, one of the narrower ones, had a ladder so one could climb down inside and access all the drawers.

“This model is popular with the potions crowd. It’ll hold hundreds of potions ingredients.” Mr Wiseacre was saying.

“Wicked” Harry whispered, his green eyes widely taking in every detail. He looked up at the salesman. “Do you have one with a wardrobe and drawers for clothes and shelves for books?”

“Of course,” the man smiled, and turned to another trunk. Before he opened the lid, he turned back to Harry, bending closer and speaking quietly. “I’ve always wondered about something. You see, since I started selling dimensional trunks, I always wondered how brilliant it would be to go back in time to my school days, with one of these.”

Taking out his wand, the man taped the top of the trunk twice, and opened the lid. Harry stepped closer to look inside, and marveled. He was looking down at a comfortably furnished living room, complete with fireplace. Harry could barely breathe, he was so enraptured. The lid closed, and the man tapped the lid again with his wand before lifting the lid once more. This time, there was a library with a work table and desk, the shelves all standing bare and waiting to be filled.

“This is a four compartment trunk,” the man explained, closing the lid and tapping it three times before lifting it again to reveal a fully furnished bedroom, complete with dresser and wardrobe. “There’s the family room, the library, the bedroom and a storage area that can be converted to any room you might need, including a toilet or kitchen. Tapping the lid five times will shrink the trunk so you can easily carry it about. The same, while it’s shrunk, will restore it to proper size.”

Harry was speechless. He had never seen, or even imagined, anything so perfectly wonderful. The lid closed again.

“It has all the standard wards and charms against theft, fire and breakage. This spot on the lid can be keyed to a blood ward, allowing only the owner to be able to open the trunk, or to set a password for guests. You can even change it’s appearance, only once however, so it’s decorations can uniquely suit you.”

Harry was in complete awe. “It’s brilliant. It’s perfect. I’ll take it.”

The man laughed. Harry’s exuberance was apparently infectious. “Only if you promise to come back at the end of the school year, and tell me how you enjoyed the trunk.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed with a grin. He could envision so many wonderful uses for the trunk. It was literally a home of his own that he could carry with him wherever he went. It was the stuff of dreams.

With the requisite number of wand taps, the trunk was neatly shrunk to the size of a brick, and the salesman picked it up, then passed it to Harry. “Is there anything else you need, lad?”

Nearly overwhelmed by the possibilities still running through his head, Harry took a moment to gather this wits and start thinking again. He looked around a little, until he was able to remind himself of what else he needed. “A book bag.”

He turned back to the salesman. “I’ll need a bag that can hold plenty, but won’t weigh so much. I’m kind of small.”

The last was said a bit sheepishly, but he wasn’t above playing off of another’s sympathies if it could get him what he needed. He had in mind something that was like the Gringott’s money pouch. He hoped there was a school bag of similar design. If wizards could make trunks like this, surely magic was capable of anything he might need. He had had one, one of cousin’s old ones, for school the year before. He never learned what had ultimately happened to it, as cousin and his friends had taken it from him one of the few times they managed to catch him in the schoolyard.

With a smile and nod of understanding, the man turned and walked down the isle. “I have just the thing.”

Harry followed at an eager trot, cradling the small trunk in his hands. He was shown a collection of book bags, and ultimately chose one made of black leather. It indeed appeared bottomless, and Harry was assured that it had all the latest featherlight charms in addition to the same protections the trunk had. Minus the blood ward. He also decided to get a wand holster that he could wear on his forearm instead of simply sticking his wand up his sleeve, as he had done until then. At the counter, Harry was given written instructions for the dimensional trunk, which the salesman patiently went over with him to be sure that Harry understood everything he could do with his new purchase. The boy decided to take a slightly larger trunk that provided additional rooms, one of which became his own little potions lab, his conversation with Draco playing a large part in that decision. He also added a kitchen and restroom. The adjustments were made to the trunk, then shrunk again to be placed in his new school bag. After paying eighty two galleons for everything, Harry stepped back out onto Diagon Alley, the trunk and parchments in his new book bag which was slung crosswise over his shoulder, and his wand snug against the skin of his right arm. He couldn’t stop grinning in delight.

He headed next for Gringotts. By a stroke of luck, he got the same teller that Hagrid had spoken to that morning, even though the bank was quite a bit busier. Unable to comfortably see over the top of the tall desk, the goblin allowed Harry to come around to his side, and together the pair counted how much Harry had left in his pouch. There was four hundred and eight galleons, twelve sickles and twenty knuts. Harry converted enough to have two hundred pounds, which still left him with nearly three hundred galleons, since the exchange rate was in wizarding favour. He had no idea that morning of how much he had scooped into the pouch, but he knew for certain that he had barely depleted a single stack of coins. Just how much money did he have, anyway? He determined to find out another day, now feeling much more comfortable with the taciturn goblins. He did, however, make a point of asking after the date. It was August 5th. That meant that he had received his first Hogwarts letter, the one he’d hidden in his cupboard, on his birthday.

Back out in the Alley, Harry thought that perhaps he should head back to the Leaky Cauldron. The sun was well angled to the west, so it must be approaching dinner time. He would need to save the rest of his shopping for the next day. Near the top of the list was a watch. Passing the Magical Menagerie on his way to the archway, Harry found his steps slowing. In the window, Harry could see the animated cover of a book proclaiming itself to be “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them”. Struck with an idea, Harry went inside. The shear variety of creatures inside was fascinating, especially the snakes in their terrariums. Their hissing little voices were a great lure, but Harry knew he shouldn’t linger. He’d come back to talk with them, as he had often chatted with the snakes he sometimes found in aunt’s garden. Finding more copies of the book near the counter, Harry chose one and quickly paid, then hurried to the pub after stowing the book in his new, leather bag which bumped delightfully against his hip as he walked.

Making sure his fringe still covered his scar, Harry slipped through the now crowded pub to the bar. There he hopped to see over the edge until Tom spotted him with a grin of amusement.

“Here now lad, what can I help you with?”

Harry did his best to look abashed. “I kind of locked myself out of our room, Tom, and Hagrid would be cross if he caught me out.”

“Ah, now there’s a pickle,” the barman agreed with a conspiratorial grin. “Need a key?”

“Yes, please” Harry nodded with a hopeful look. “I only wanted to see all the people. I forgot about the door.”

“Ah, no harm done.” Tom turned away for a moment, then back to Harry, passing a key over the counter to him with a wink. “You hold onto that, and it’ll be our secret.”

Harry grinned, clutching the key in his fist. “Thanks, Tom.”

Like an eel, Harry darted through the crowd to the stairs, then up to the room he shared with Hagrid. Using the key, he let himself in, then sighed in relief. No Hagrid, and the back of the door showed no coat, so hopefully the big man hadn’t made it back yet. Collapsing wearily on the corner of the end of his bed, the only room available on it, Harry puffed out a breath. It had been a very busy day, and he was tired. Looking about him, he knew his work wasn’t done, however.

Pulling the strap of the book bag over his head, Harry lifted the flap and reached inside. He pulled out the book first, which he sat gingerly on Hagrid’s bed, then the trunk. Placing the small rectangle on the floor at the foot of his bed, Harry drew his wand and stood back a little before he tapped it five times. The trunk grew, making him grin anew, and he tapped it again to open on the library. With a determined air, the boy set about transferring all of his purchases into the trunk, one room at a time.

By the time Hagrid returned, he found Harry lounging on his bed, propped up with all the pillows from both beds in a comfortable nest, with the snowy owl on his knee. The boy was talking with the bird, stroking her feathers, and getting affectionate nips on his fingers in return. The owl’s cage sat on the nightstand under the opened window. The room was spotlessly neat. A new trunk sat at the foot of Harry’s bed. It was a soothing, earthy brown leather, stamped with griffons and phoenixes, with brass accents. The handles were fashioned in the shape of snakes coiled back on themselves, and the trunk’s hasp resembled a starburst with a blood red stone set into it, but no lock. Harry grinned up at Hagrid when he entered the room and watched while the furry coat was hung on a peg on the back of the door.

“Hello, Hagrid” Harry greeted the groundskeeper cheerfully. “How was the Headmaster?”

“He’s fine,” Hagrid replied, a little distractedly. “Where’s all your things? Did Tom have a trunk you could use.”

A little embarrassed to be caught out so quickly, Harry blushed, his attention on the owl who demanded more stroking with quiet barks. Harry hoped he wouldn’t be in too much trouble, but Hagrid had never forbidden him from going back to the Alley, only to not open the door for strangers. His stomach churned a little in apprehension.

“No, it’s new” the boy admitted, unable to meet the giant man’s eyes. “After you left, I realized that I couldn’t keep everything all piled up on the floor, so I went back to Diagon Alley, to Wiseacres, and got a trunk.”

“You went by yourself?” Hagrid frowned at him. “I don’t think you ought to have done that, Harry. I’m supposed to be looking out for you. Professor Dumbledore said so.”

“I know, Hagrid,” Harry sighed, keeping a wary eye on the man’s extremely large hands, just in case. He wondered why the Headmaster’s instructions had been so specific about him. “but I was really quick, I promise. I just got a trunk and a book bag, then I changed some galleons for pounds, and got you a present and came right back. I swear.”

Hagrid didn’t appear to know what to do with Harry’s earnest confession, and sat down on his bed with a perplexed air. “You got me a present?”

Harry nodded, feeling a little hopeful that the bearded man could be so easily distracted from being angry with him. “Of course. I wanted to thank you for all the help you’ve given me so far. It’s there, on your bed.”

Harry pointed to the head of the man’s bed, where the pillows would normally be, at the book. Hagrid looked startled, and a little misty eyed, as he picked up the book. He looked over the cover, one hand lightly stroking the animated pictures cycling through images of dragons, cats, winged horses and other creatures.

“This is for me?”

Harry nodded, watching Hagrid closely. “It has loads of nice, big pictures in it. I checked. And it looks like it could teach you lots about different animals. I was going to ask you if I could borrow it sometime.”

“Of course you can, Harry” Hagrid assured, already engrossed in slowly turning the pages to admire the pictures. “Any time you want. You just come down to my hut and you can read it any time you like.”

Harry began to relax with a small smile, happy that Hagrid appeared to enjoy the book so much. It was a spur of the moment idea, but he was glad it worked out so well. He had also learned that Hagrid didn’t live in the castle itself, but somewhere on the grounds. He was glad he had decided to read “Hogwarts: A History” first, which currently sat on the bed beside him. He intended to start reading it tonight before sleeping.

Confident that Hagrid was well occupied with the book, Harry’s attention turned back to getting to know his owl. He had already discovered a few places she preferred to be stroked or scratched, and how hard or soft to touch her. He was still trying to decide on a name, even as he learned of all the sounds she made, and tried to determine what they meant. The fact that she was highly intelligent he had discovered right away. Her talons were rather sharp, he had also learned, and had a towel draped over his knee for added padding. The bird seemed to be extremely careful of how hard she gripped, however, after she had initially scratched his arm right through his jumper by accident. The sounds she had made while he examined his arm seemed completely mournful and apologetic, and she had softly clicked her beak over his arm. Harry had found it endearing.

“Hedwig” he finally decided with a soft whisper and fond smile into the owl’s brilliant, yellow eyes. “I think I’ll call you Hedwig.”

The owl bobbed her head, ruffling her wings then puffed up her chest proudly.

“What’s that, Harry?”

The boy looked up to find Hagrid blinking a bit owlishly at him, himself. With the thick, black bushy beard, the look made the boy laugh.

“I just decided on her name. Hedwig.”

“That’s a good name, lad.” Hagrid glanced out the open window, noting the sunset. “Blimey, is that the time? Come on then, let’s get some dinner.”

Nodding, Harry held his forearm for Hedwig to climb on, then scooted to the edge of the bed, setting the towel on the nightstand. He stood up, and lifted the bird to the top of her cage. She didn’t appear to want to move, however, and Harry truthfully didn’t want to leave her just yet.

“No, no, Harry.” Hagrid stopped him, having set his book aside and noticed what Harry was doing. “You keep her with you.”

“I didn’t think she’d be allowed downstairs” the youngster said, immediately drawing his arm back toward his chest so he could stroke Hedwig’s head again.

“You’ve started the bonding, and you’ll be wanting to keep her close for a couple days,” Hagrid explained. “Magical owls are right smart birds, and can become familiars if the bond is strong enough. She’s young enough to grow right attached to you, quick enough. I made sure of that.”

Harry was glad to be able to keep Hedwig close for longer. Now that Hagrid mentioned it, he could feel a connection to the bird, somewhat similar, though much dimmer, than what had happened with his wand. It was much closer to the feeling he’d had when he had connected eyes with the blond boy, Draco. The boy happily followed Hagrid downstairs, stroking the owl absently as he took in the fact that the pub didn’t appear to be nearly as crowded as it had been earlier. It was still fairly busy, though. Hedwig fluttered up to his shoulder after he sat down, and Harry found that he could easily reach up to feed her various tidbits from his plate of roast beef when he started eating.

Halfway through his meal, Hagrid got up to fetch another pint from the bar. While he was gone, a sudden, sharp stab of pain flared in Harry’s forehead. With a surprised gasp, Harry covered the area of his scar with a swift hand. His eyes watering, the boy scanned the pub to make sure no one had noticed his involuntary cry. He noticed Hagrid standing at the bar, talking with a man wearing a purple turban. With Hedwig making concerned chirring noises in his ear, softly nipping at his hair, Harry watched the two converse. His scar throbbed with a dull, burning pain. The turban wearer then proceeded past Hagrid, toward the back of the pub and the archway to Diagon Alley. Harry’s eyes followed his progress across the pub while the pain faded, then was gone completely when he lost sight of the man. By the time Hagrid sat down, Harry felt completely normal again, though considerably less hungry. What had happened? Why did he feel that pain in his head?

“Who was that man you were talking with, Hagrid?” It had taken a couple of minutes for Harry to be certain his voice would come out sounding normally inquisitive. The entire incident had unnerved him.

“That man?” Hagrid looked up from his meal curiously, before his expression cleared. “Oh, that was Professor Quirrel, Harry. He’ll be your teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Harry nodded, appearing interested while his fork toyed with the remainder of the meal on his plate.

“He’s been on sabbatical, he has. Just got back this week, so he says.” Hagrid continued, oblivious to Harry’s upset as he tucked back into his rather large helping. “Been all over Europe. Got himself in a spot of trouble a few months back, so Professor Dumbledore told me. Looks alright now.”

“Yeah, guess so.” Harry said without much enthusiasm. “Neat turban, though.”

“Aye, that bits new.” Hagrid was nodding, and stopped to chew before continuing. “Never had one before. Said he wears it to honor some bloke he’d met in Egypt, now.”

Harry feed some more beef to Hedwig, then sat back to pet the bird’s chest feathers while watching the other patrons. He didn’t much feel like he could eat anymore, his appetite gone. That was the first time he could remember ever feeling pain or discomfort in his scar, and he didn’t like the sensation one bit. Why did it happen? Why did the pain seem to fade as the Professor got farther away? Was there something actually strange or magical about his scar, if he’d gotten it from a wand like he suspected? If there was, why would it react to the Professor? Maybe it hadn’t. That could have been a coincidence. There were loads of people in the pub. Warily, the boy eyed Hagrid for several minutes, wondering if he should broach the subject of exactly how he had gotten his scar. He finally decided that it was too soon. Perhaps another day or two, for the man to grow used to him, before he tried to talk about his parents and the night they died. As eager as he was to know, he had to be careful. Living with uncle had taught him that.

“Hagrid,” Harry waited until the man had looked up. “I’m going to go back up to the room, if that’s okay. I’d like to read one of my books before bed, and I’m kind of tired.”

“Sure, Harry, sure.” Hagrid was nodding, then noticed his half finished plate. “Sure you had enough?”

Harry nodded, quite sure.

“Alright then, off you go. It’s been a long day for you. I’ll probably be an hour or so. Need to talk with a few folks here for Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry smiled, happy enough to get away for some more alone time. “Thanks, Hagrid. Good night.”

“Good night, Harry.”

With Hedwig perfectly balanced on his shoulder, Harry made his way upstairs back to their room. The owl stayed very close to him while he gathered his pajamas and bathed, returned Hagrid’s pillows, then climbed into bed. Once he was settled comfortably with his book, she nestled at his side, and tucked her head under a wing. Harry found himself absently patting her while he quietly read by the light of a couple of candles on the nightstand.

Harry woke the next morning with Hedwig softly chirring into his ear and nibbling his hair. He smiled even before opening his eyes, fingers automatically finding themselves in her warm feathers while he felt out the fledgling connection between them. He could feel the magic in him, deep inside that spot that often tingled for him, and spent these quiet moments just examining it internally, and feeling the connection to his wand and owl. He wanted to learn all he could about his magic. It was important, he knew, if he wanted to succeed in not only surviving in this new world, but staying out of his old one. It was like a deep, deceptive, rainbow coloured pool, he finally decided. It gently ebbed and flowed at the surface, suffusing his limbs with gentle warmth, but he could sense that it was very deep.

Last night, after his bath, he had noticed that most of his bruises had already faded considerably. Was it his magic that had done that? He remembered the ward at the bank vault. Could that have helped, at all? He had no answers, only more questions. He would have to start writing them down.Well used to the morning routine of self examination on days he woke before aunt pounded on his cupboard door, Harry sank a bit farther into himself. Thanks to uncle’s attentions, this had become a necessity to gauge how fit he was to do his chores on any given day. What he was currently doing was a little different, but not so much as to deter him. There certainly wasn’t anyone to tell him that he shouldn’t be able to examine his magical core in a meditative state at such a young age.

‘Looking’ a little more closely at the pool, he noticed a few areas that seem dull, or at least less vibrant than the rest. What did that mean? Was it something that he should try to fix, or did he need some sort of specialist? And what was this? There was a white band, that looked much like a sort of dam, that covered part of the pool. What was it? It didn’t seem to be hurting him, but he could get very little sense of what lay behind it. Retreating from that area a bit, adding to his list of questions, he continued his exploration. He found the thread that connected him to his wand. It was flame coloured, strong and thick, and vibrated with that beautiful birdsong he remembered when he touched it. It made him smile. Then there was the much slimmer, paler connection to Hedwig. It was made of his own rainbow colours and the yellow of Hedwig’s eyes, twined together. He could feel her a little, warm and vibrant, when he touched this thread. Experimenting a little, he willed a bit more of his magic into the thread, to strengthen it. He watched the strand swell a little, his sense of the owl growing with it. He wanted a nice, strong bond with the bird. He already loved her. The very first living creature of his own to love.

Thinking he was finished for now, he looked about and nearly retreated when he noticed one more thread. This one was much darker than the other two. Drawing closer, he could feel a definite feel of wrongness coming from this thread, much like the wands that had rejected him at Olivander’s, only much stronger. He couldn’t bring himself to get any closer to it, and noticed that it had attatched itself to the pool like the root system of a leech type plant. He didn’t like it. Not even a little, but didn’t know what to do. He quickly retreated and opened his eyes to Hedwig’s concerned crooning. Stroking the bird to calm her, he sat up, then yawned and stretched. Either Hagrid hadn’t made it back to the room the night before, or he got up awful early.

Harry got up himself, somewhat reluctant to leave the warmth of the soft bed, even on this summer’s day, but he had things to do. Hedwig refused to be more than two feet away from him, so he carried her into the toilet while he conducted his morning absolutions, vowing to get himself at least a toothbrush as soon as he could. Damp fingers made short work of his fringe, though there was little he could do with the rest of his tousled mop even with a comb. Dressed in his again cleaned clothes, and his book on the nightstand before trying to straighten his bed, Harry finally shouldered his book bag and made his way downstairs.

There were only a few people about, looking bleary over their morning cups, and Hagrid sitting at a table near the bar to more easily talk with Tom. Harry joined him with a smile, Hedwig transferring from his shoulder to the back of an empty chair at the table where Harry rested his book bag.

“Good morning, Harry,” Hagrid enthused. “Ready for some breakfast?”

“Good morning, Hagrid,” Harry nodded, his stomach steadily growled demandingly. “Yes I am. Can I have french toast and bacon, this morning?”

He felt like he could eat a mountain of toast, he was so hungry. Hagrid beamed, ordering up breakfast for them both. After the bulk of his hunger had been addressed with no less than three full pieces of french toast drenched in syrup, Harry ventured to offer some plans for the day.

“Hagrid, would it be alright for me to get some clothes, today?”

“Clothes?” Hagrid looked confused, then deeply apologetic after giving Harry a close look. “Blimey, we never brought any with us, did we? I just went and snatched you up without so much as a by your leave. What you must be thinking of me.”

Harry laughed a little, shaking his head. “It’s alright, Hagrid. I didn’t really have much to start with. Getting all new will be fun.”

Not to mention different, he added to himself.

“Well, that’s settled then,” Hagrid decided with a firm nod. “New clothes and things for the lad, it is. I didn’t think them Dursleys had bothered to bring much along with them to that little island. Do you think you have enough for that, though? Clothes can get right pricey, Harry.”

Harry shrugged a little, chewing and swallowing before he answered. “I still have quite a lot with me, and regular.. I mean muggle.. clothes shouldn’t be that expensive.”

Not at the rate aunt bought them for cousin, at any rate. Cousin had a complete new wardrobe every spring. Harry got a few pieces of the most worn and tattered of the old wardrobe that he had to mend himself, while the rest went to one charity or another.

Hagrid appeared to consider, finally flicking a glance toward Hedwig to whom Harry was feeding a bit of bacon, before making a decision.

“We’ll start in the Alley today, I think,” he said. “Hedwig will still want to stay close, and I don’t think it’ll do for muggles to see a boy with an owl. Sides, I doubt they’d much like to have her in their shops, but she’ll be right enough in the Alley.”

Harry hadn’t considered that, and nodded his agreement. “Okay. Whatever you think, Hagrid.”

They finished breakfast, and soon enough Harry was once again walking through the archway to Diagon Alley. It was much earlier, this time, so there were fewer people on the cobbled street. Hagrid lead the way to Madam Malkins, and stopped outside.

“If you can’t find what you need here, Harry,” he said “there’s a second hand shop just up from Olivander’s. I recon it has some nice things too.”

Harry nodded, taking a step toward the door when he noticed Hagrid wasn’t following. “Aren’t you coming in too?”

“Nah, I don’t much like small spaces, and I tend to knock things about when I’m in there. You go on, never worry. I’ll just wait out here.”

Harry studied him a moment, reluctant to leave the man sitting out here like some kind of over sized and unwanted waif. “Are you sure?”

“Course I am. Madam’ll understand. Off you go now.” Hagrid smiled.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Harry wasn’t convinced, but opened the door anyway and stepped inside. He softly closed the door behind him to Hagrid’s reassuring smile.

Not wanting to make the man wait very long, Harry did his best to be decisive and discerning in his choices. Madam was all too happy to help him, and before long the boy had bought four pairs of trousers, that actually fit him without a rope belt, in subdued colours, along with eight shirts, short and long sleeved. New shoes, underwear, socks, pajamas and even a few handkerchiefs rounded out his purchase. Of course, Hedwig had helped in his choices, vocally barking her refusal at a bright red shirt at one point. Apparently she had no intention of perching on anything that colour. Before leaving the shop, Harry got directions of where he could purchase things like a comb and toothbrush, and where he could get his glasses updated. Madam told him that it was an eye healer he wanted, rather than an optician, and explained that in the wizarding world, doctors were called healers. Armed with this information, Harry went back outside. That wasn’t nearly as expensive as he thought it might be.

After a brief discussion, they decided to go to the eye healer next, and Hagrid would get Harry the toiletries he needed while the boy had his eyes examined and new glasses prepared. To his credit, Hagrid never asked why aunt hadn’t gotten Harry’s glasses fixed, though it was clear he wanted to. The eleven year old passed over some coin to Hagrid outside the eye healer’s, and went inside to meet his doom. He hated getting his eyes checked. Aunt always made such a rotten fuss about having to take him.

Twenty minutes later, Harry stood outside the shop door, blinking in the morning light, without glasses. He couldn’t believe it. A few simple spells, and he could see better than he ever had in his entire life. It was amazing! The healer had said that he would need to return next summer, and perhaps the next, while his optic nerve continued to grow, for fresh healing spells, but for the most part his vision should be just fine. It turned out that a few too many knocks to the head and malnutrition were contributing factors to his poor eyesight. The healer was nice about it, though, especially after discovering Harry’s scar. He even made a solemn oath, a wizarding oath, to keep Harry’s secret about what the examination had revealed. He strongly advised that Harry should see a general healer at St. Mungo’s, however, to address his other physical problems, before he got much older and they couldn’t so easily be corrected.

How was he to convince Hagrid without alarming him, though? Harry wanted the help, but he didn’t want to reveal too much about just how bad it was with uncle. He had a feeling that he might end up someplace worse. This would require a lot of thought. In the meantime, he happily told Hagrid about the eye healer casting spells to correct his vision, and no longer needing glasses. Hedwig bobbed on his shoulder, lending credence to his story. The new toiletries went into his bag with his new clothes, and Harry followed Hagrid down the Alley. He nearly bumped into the big man, lost in thought, when the furry coat suddenly stopped.

The next half hour marked another milestone for Harry. He not only got to taste ice cream for the very first time, but Hagrid informed him that it was the very best ice cream in the world. He was in such an agony of indecision over what flavour to try, that he insisted that Hagrid chose for him, blushing when he had to finally admit that he had never tried the confection before. Hagrid chose chocolate and raspberry with chopped walnuts, and the two sat outside, enjoying their treat in the morning sun. Harry had never tasted anything so fine in his life, and regretted not following Draco the day before. He might have been able to try it sooner.

Harry spent the rest of his day up in their room, communing with Hedwig and reading Hogwart’s: A history. Other than putting his purchases away in his new trunk, besides the toiletries, and a quick lunch in the pub, he found himself fascinated by the book. He was able to get through most of the book, even if it was somewhat dry reading, by dinner time. By this time, Harry believed he might have thought a way to get to the wizarding hospital without arousing Hagrid’s suspicions. Their dinner conversation centered largely around the things and people they had seen in the alley that morning, which lead right into what Harry wanted to ask.

“Are there other wizard areas in London, Hagrid?”

“Of course there are,” Hagrid smiled over his enormous shephard’s pie. “There’s the Ministry, of course, and St. Mungo’s hospital. Then there’s the pure blood district, where some families have town homes. There’s lots of wizards and witches what live in the city in little neighborhoods. The big houses are outside of the city, of course.”

Green eyes lighting up, Harry leaned forward over his more modest portion of shephard’s pie. “Can we visit any, Hagrid? I want to learn everything there is about being a wizard.”

He did his best to project eager earnestness, even as a part of him wondered if his parents had ever had a home in London, even one of the fancy town homes. That was a question for another day, however, while he focused on his more immediate goal.

“Sure, I suppose.” Hagrid allowed after a thoughtful moment. “We can go tomorrow, I reckon.”

Harry beamed a gusty sigh of relief. “Thanks, Hagrid, you’re the best.”

Harry was so happy, he was able to not only finish his meal, but dessert of apple cobbler as well. He spent the rest of the evening up in the room, finishing Hogwart’s: A History, while Hagrid remained in the pub until long after Harry had gone to bed. After dressing in new pajamas, Harry placed his old clothes and the borrowed pajamas in the wardrobe, saying he didn’t want them anymore. He hoped that was all it took to never see them again.

The next morning, Hedwig again woke him early enough to do his self examination. Their bond had grown considerably, the boy was able to notice, and appeared to be strong. He had a much clearer sense of the owl when he touched their thread. The dark one, however, he refused to go anywhere near. He really needed to learn more before even attempting to approach it. It was wrong, and foreign and he wanted it gone, but that was currently beyond his ability to accomplish.

After a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, which he shared with Hedwig, Hagrid got them settled in the motorbike and started off down the street. Hedwig didn’t appear comfortable riding on Harry’s shoulder, and took to the air right after they started out. She paced their progress from roof to roof. Harry took careful note of their route, street names and major thoroughfares, wanting to be able to easily find his way around. He had a mental map of London, thanks to school, and he tracked their progress somewhat easily with major landmarks and more well known street names. After a while, Hagrid pulled over in front of an abandoned, red brick department store with large display windows lined with mannikins. On the door was a large sign that read “Closed for Refurbishment”. The pair met on the sidewalk, Harry intently curious about what they would find here, while he watched Hedwig land on the roof across the street and settle herself to wait.

Hagrid approached the first dummy in the window, which was dressed in old fashioned clothes. “Two visitors.”

“Please proceed” the dummy replied, much to Harry’s surprise.

Taking Harry’s hand, Hagrid winked, and led the boy straight through the glass. Harry was too shocked to do anything but follow. He had read about the barrier for the Express platform at King’s Cross Station, but reading about it and experiencing it were two different things. When he opened his eyes after an over long blink, Harry found himself in a waiting and reception area. A half dozen or so people sat in rickety chairs, apparently waiting to be seen by healers.

“This is St. Mungo’s Hopsital, Harry.” Hagrid was saying while leading him to a board. “Each floor does something different. There’s your spell damage ward, and where you’d get fixed up from magical artifacts and the like.”

Harry read the headers and purpose for each floor designation, looking for the one that would most likely help him. He finally decided that he would need to see someone on the ground floor, unless they sent him to another after he explained what he needed. Perhaps that was what the receptionist was for.

Harry was next led to a pair of large fireplaces on one wall. Harry had seen it enough times by now to know that people could travel through these, and wondered where Hagrid was taking him next.

“Since we don’t really need to visit anyone, Harry, we won’t be staying. We’ll just use the floo real quick.” Taking a bowl of powder from the mantel, Hagrid instructed Harry to take a sparse handful.

Taking one for himself, Hagrid entered the fireplace. “Now watch close.” Hagrid tossed the powder at his feet, calling out at the same time “Ministry of Magic”

The green flames leaped up to surround the man, and whisked him away. Taking a moment to swallow down nerves, Harry gingerly stepped into the floo, and took a deep breath. He tossed the powder at his feet before he could change his mind, and called out “Minstry of Magic”. A green flash, and a dizzying swirl of what looked like other fireplaces later, Harry stumbled out into a vast atrium. Large hands caught him up, and Hagrid set him on his feet, dusting him off.

“This is the Ministry for Magic, Harry. It’s the wizard government.” the large man said while leading Harry toward a large fountain in the middle of the space.

“Everything is underground here, the floors going down instead of up. Over there is the elevators to take you down. You have to be checked in first, of course, with that fellow there.” Hagrid pointed out everything he mentioned, while leading Harry on a small tour of the atrium.

While not something of immediate concern to the boy, Harry still found the information interesting, and lead to more topics for him to research. This is what he needed, to learn how to negotiate this world.

“The Wizengamot meets here. They’re the folks who make the laws. Professor Dumbledore is the Chief Warlock.” Hagrid continued proudly. “The Minister also has his office here. His name is Cornelius Fudge. There’s also the Aurors. They’re like muggle police. There’s all manner of different departments that folks work at. Arthur Weasley even works with Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. He tells the funniest stories about the things muggles use.”

Harry was soaking it all up, even as he laughed with his companion. After a complete circuit of the atrium, Hagrid led Harry back to the fireplaces, and the pair floo’d back to St. Mungo’s. After they were outside again, Harry looked up at his much taller guide of the day.

“Thanks, Hagrid, I really enjoyed that, and I learned loads.”

A large hand settled on top of his head, while Hagrid smiled fondly down at him. “Good. I want you to feel right coming to Hogwart’s, Harry. Come on, in you get.”

Harry agreeably climbed back into the side car, and Hagrid again started up the bike. They headed off in a new direction, more of a leisurely drive really, in the general direction of the Leaky Cauldron. At a park, Hagrid again pulled over and stopped the bike. Once amoung the trees, Hedwig landed lightly on Harry’s shoulder, being very careful with her talons, and greeted the boy with affectionate nips to his hair and ear. The pair found a bench and sat down at Hagrid’s insistance. Harry sensed there was something weighing on the large man’s mind, so remained quietly stroking the owl.

“There’s something you don’t know, Harry,” Hagrid finally began, and turned to the boy. “I think you should. Professor Dumbledore said not to say anything, but I want you to be ready when you meet the other kids and they learn who you are.”

Harry watched him curiously, not saying anything in encouragement for Hagrid to continue.

“See, it’s like this. You’re famous, Harry. Everybody in the wizarding world knows your name, and what you did back when you was a baby.”

Harry frowned. “What I did?”

Hagrid ran a hand over his face, and left it over his beard. “It was dark times, Harry, when you was born. Your mum and dad, they went into hiding, see, on Professor Dumbledore’s advice. There was a wizard. Dark as you can go, he was. He was after them.”

“Why?” Harry asked, sitting absolutely still and listening intently. This is what he ultimately wanted to know. What he needed to know. Why he was an orphan sentenced to life with aunt and uncle without love or a shred of caring.

“What?” The question appeared to surprise Hagrid.

“Why was he after my mum and dad?”

“I don’t rightly know, Harry. Professor Dumbledore never told me, but I once heard him talking, some years back, about a prophecy. Never heard what it was about.” Hagrid looked across the park. “Anyways, your mum and dad went into hiding, only You-Know-Who found out where they were. He wasn’t supposed to, but someone betrayed them.”

“Who?”

“Who betrayed them?” the man asked, looking back to Harry, who was frowning while shaking his head, then nodding.

“I meant, who is You-Know-Who?”

“Oh, that’s the dark wizard. We call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who.” Hagrid looked away again. “As to who betrayed your parents, well, some say it was your godfather, Sirius Black.”

“Wait, wait a minute Hagrid.” Harry rubbed his face, took a deep breath, then tried again. “Let’s take this one at a time. What was the wizard’s name? He had a name, didn’t he?”

Hagrid actually squirmed in his seat with a grimace. “We don’t say it, Harry.”

“Please try, Hagrid,” Harry plead quietly. “I have to know everything, now that you’ve started.”

With a deep sigh, Hagrid’s shoulders slumped. “Alright. It was.. it was Vol… Vol… Voldemort.”

Harry sighed. It was a silly name to be afraid of, but he wasn’t about to interrupt this story any more than he had to. “And my godfather?”

“He was your dad’s best friend. Since first year, really. They did everything together.” Hagrid sighed again. “I don’t believe it was him who gave them up, but Professor Dumbledore says the evidence speaks for itself. He must have been the secret keeper, for where the Potters were hiding, because he didn’t believe your dad trusted anybody else to pick. He was the only one who could betray them.”

“What if they did pick someone else to keep the secret?” Harry asked. He had no idea what exactly a secret keeper did. “I mean, if they were hiding, wouldn’t my dad’s best friend be the obvious choice? That would mean my godfather would have been a target, right? What if they picked someone else, to be really sneaky about it?”

Hagrid was looking at the boy intently by the time Harry finished, thinking hard. “Come to think on it, it might have been like you said. See, the night your folks was killed, Sirius was arrested for killing their other friend and a bunch of muggles a few miles away. Peter Pettigrew. All they found of him was a finger, mind. There was a big blast. Killed a bunch of folks.”

Hagrid paused, still thinking and looking far off, as though back in time. “But he was at the house in Goderic’s Hollow just before that. I saw him there. right upset, he was, too. He was there when I got there, right after the alarms went off and Professor Dumbledore sent me. Sirius handed you to me, told me to keep you safe till he got back, then said he was going to hunt him down and kill him. Then he was gone. I thought it meant that he was after all of them, the Marauders, but what if Peter was the secret keeper all along?”

“Professor Dumbledore should know,” the big man finally sighed, shaking his head. “He’s the one that cast the fidelius charm. He should have known who the secret keeper was. I can’t believe he’d lie about that.”

The two were quiet for several minutes, Harry stroking Hedwig for comfort, before he prompted Hagrid to continue the story. “What happened to me that night, Hagrid?”

“Well, You-Know-Who found out where they were, like I said. He went in, and he killed your dad first. Then he killed  your mum. We think it happened that way, but we’re not sure because there wasn’t anybody else there, see? So then he tried to kill you, only there was something about you that stumped him that night. He cast the killing curse on you, but it killed him instead. The Headmaster says that it bounced off you, and hit He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He says the curse left that scar on your forehead. It’s why everybody calls you The-Boy-Who-Lived. Nobody lives after getting hit with the killing curse. Nobody ever had, except you.”

Harry sat quietly frowning, watching Hedwig nip at his fingers while he processed everything Hagrid had just told him. So, he was famous because he lived where his parents had died. He was famous because the dark wizard had died instead of him. They had even given him a silly name for it, before kicking him out of the wizarding world. Something Hagrid had said niggled at him though, and he chased the feeling until a thought occurred to him.

“Hagrid, you said my godfather was there, and handed me to you. Then you said that nobody else was there when my mum and dad died. It can’t be both ways. I bet my godfather knows what really happened. Didn’t anyone ever ask him?”

Hagrid was about to answer, when he slumped back against the bench. “I don’t know.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “Well, what about Voldemort? Where did he get buried?”

“Oh, they never buried him, Harry,” Hagrid was quick to reply. “There weren’t no body. Only his wand was found in the house, right by your crib and your mum.”

Harry frowned up at his friend. “Then how do you know that he’s really dead?”

“Well, Professor Dumbledore says he is.” Hagrid offered, as though it were the only evidence he needed, and yet didn’t quite believe that anymore.

“So, you believe Voldemort is dead,” Harry said, ignoring Hagrid’s wince at mention of the name, and started to get a little angry, “but there’s no body, and you believe that Peter Pettigrew is dead, even though there was only a finger. People can live without a finger. And you believe my godfather betrayed my parents even though nobody asked him about it. Where is he, anyway? Didn’t he say anything at his trial, if he was arrested?”

“Er.. well you see Harry, what you need to know about that is.. well, there really wasn’t a trial. He’s been in Askaban prison since that night.”

Now Harry was really angry. “Are you kidding me?”

Hagrid winced at the boy’s raised voice.

“He’s been in prison for ten years and he never had a trial? Can they do that? Is that part of the laws here? You said Dumbledore is the Chief Warlock. If he’s the boss, and knew for a fact that Sirius was the secret keeper, does he really have the right to throw a man in jail just like that?”

“Well no, not really. I don’t think anyways.” Hagrid tried to placate the boy, who sat back with a huff and stared sullenly at his owl.

For her part, Hedwig made cooing noises, nipping his fingers before walking up his arm a little to try and reach his chin to gently nip. Harry was furiously thinking. He had a lot to learn, and he now had a plan. He was determined to make things right, or at least find out what had happened all those years ago for once and for all. He’d get to the bottom of it, because his past had a huge impact on his present, and would affect his future. He had to take control of things.

“I need to go to Flourish and Blott’s, Hagrid.” Harry finally said. “I need books about the Wizengamot and everything else you talked about. I have to know how this world works.”

“Alright, Harry.” Hagrid agreed, getting up. “We’ll get you what  you need.”

The big man paused, looking guilty as sin and unable to meet Harry’s eyes when the boy also stood.

“Look,” the groundskeeper finally said, “I’m sorry I upset you, Harry. I know it wasn’t easy hearing about all that, but I figured you had a right to know.”

Harry sighed softly, his free hand finding Hagrid’s arm, which he lightly squeezed. “It’s okay Hagrid. I’m not angry at you. Honest. It just… I wondered for so long what happened to my parents, and now I’m confused and hurt. I need to know more. It’s not your fault. I think you did right to tell me.”

“Well, I thought I had to.” Dark eyes met green. “See, I’m not stupid. I saw the state of you when I finally got you into enough light. I heard things too, that Dursley said, and things you said. Something’s not right with your lot, lad. I never said anything, and I won’t never ask, but I just wanted to help, if I could. I figured the best way was to give you something you needed to know.”

Harry smiled, patting Hagrid’s arm. “You did good, Hagrid. Thank you.”

The big man smiled, gave a nod, and led the way back to the bike.

More August

Charing Cross Road, where the Leaky Cauldron was located on the west end of London, proved ready access to notebooks and pens for Harry. It wasn’t nearly as run down as he first thought when Hagrid brought him there, that first night. It was full of little shops and cultural artsy stores. Until he could teach himself to use quills and parchment, which Hogwarts:A History indicated was the most common writing implements at the school, he would use more muggle means for his note taking while he researched. A particular little shop provided pens, nibs and a book on calligraphy to help him get started with using quills.

His main focus of research was the Wizengamot, Magical Law, and goblins. Harry’s own history took the form of a few mentions in recent history books of magical Britian, peer family geneology books, and children’s story books. The latter was so much white wash and outright lies. He didn’t understand all of what he read, and tried to do more research on terms he didn’t understand. It was frustrating. So far as he could tell, the wizarding government was in a lot of trouble. There were so many contradictions, useless laws and greedy maneuvers that he wondered how anything got done. If Headmaster Dumbledore was the boss of all that, he didn’t inspire much confidence in Harry.

He did discover that the Potter family had a seat at the Wizengamot, though it hadn’t been used since his grandfather’s time. He could only assume that it was either inactive, or someone was using it as proxy. He couldn’t find out that information, however. It seemed that the more recent the history, the more secretive the government became. It wasn’t right.

As the month progressed, Harry saw less and less of Hagrid, as the large man had to attend to his duties at the school. This necessitated leaving Harry alone for longer and longer periods.The groundskeeper was increasingly nervous about that. On the sixteenth, Harry convinced Hagrid  and Tom to allow him to move to a single room for both more privacy and slightly better security. Although he never said it aloud, Harry had no intentions of returning to Privet Drive, either before school or after. The new room with bath was on the top floor, with only one other room on the same level, and Harry took to using his trunk library more and more often. He often ate in his room, thanks to the two house elves, so rarely saw anyone else unless he needed to go to the Alley or muggle London.

He expanded his studies to include the subjects he would be taking at school, and even went so far as to get the standard second year books, so he could have an idea of what the first year courses were aiming toward. He intended to be well prepared. Harry was so often tempted to try out spells he read, but knew from his first night reading A History that underage magic was not allowed. That too, was frustrating, and when it got to be a little too much, Harry would find himself at Olivanders, watching the wand maker create new wands, or listening to stories about wand cores and the creatures they came from, or of his parents.

Potions, on the other hand, were something that he could do outside of school. With a few supplemental books on ingredients, their preparations and their interactions, Harry soon found himself working his way through the first year potions book. He enjoyed it. Already an experienced cook, the making of potions was something he found somewhat easy once he had a grasp of the theories and why certain ingredients were used.

For all of his studying, however, Harry felt that he had far too much to learn in the scant amount of time left to him before school started. He couldn’t even find time to make his way to St. Mungo’s and find a healer that could help him. He considered asking someone for advice on the subject, but who? Harry didn’t trust anyone. Not really. With only a week left before the first of September, he took his courage in both hands and asked Hagrid during one of the man’s visits. If he came close to trusting anyone, it was Hagrid, although he was concerned about how close the large man seemed to be to the Headmaster. Dumbledore never struck him as a man who cared much for Harry’s overall welfare.

“I need to ask you something Hagrid,” Harry started while the groundskeeper was showing him how to trim Hedwig’s talons. “and I need for you to promise that you won’t tell anyone.”

Harry met the man’s eyes, his green ones earnest and very serious. “I mean it, Hagrid. You can’t tell anyone.”

Hagrid was frowning, considering Harry’s request just as seriously as the boy could hope. “It’s that serious, is it?”

Harry solemnly nodded.

Hagrid sat back from the table where Hedwig patiently stood, and drew the umbrella he carried everywhere. “I do solemnly swear upon my magic, to never reveal Harry Potter’s secrets, until I have his say so.”

Harry’s eyes went a little wide as the subtle glow of the vow settled around the bearded man. He hadn’t expected the man to make a wizard’s vow on it. He would have been content with a promise. Now that it was assured that his secret would be safe, Harry was even more nervous about telling it. He chewed on his lip, then finally took a deep breath and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t be able to see Hagrid’s reaction.

“You kind of know that uncle and aunt weren’t very good to me,” he waited for Hagrid’s grunt of acknowledgement before he continued. “Well, when I was at the eye healer’s, he told me that I need to see another healer. I have some things that need fixed if I want to grow up normal.”

When he only heard another non-accusing grunt from the man, Harry dared enough to open his eyes, though he only looked at Hedwig who was again getting her talons clipped by huge, gentle hands.

“So, I need to go to St. Mungo’s, and they might need to keep me there a few days. But I want to find a healer who won’t go blabbing all over that he treated Harry Potter and why. I need help, Hagrid.”

It took everything in him to say those three little words. ‘I need help.’ He had only ever asked for help once before, and the teacher had been fired and moved away the very next week. With not a little trepidation, Harry glanced up at Hagrid. The big man had tears unabashedly running into his beard, though his hands never stopped their task with the owl. Harry felt extremely uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to comfort Hagrid, yet wanted to be comforted himself. He could feel his own eyes filling with tears, and started blinking hard to will them away. He was frozen with indecision until the tools were set down and Hagrid simply reached across the table and lifted Harry from his seat and into his lap.

Harry had never been hugged before, and never like this. He was completely surrounded by Hagrid’s chest and arms and held tight until the big man could catch his breath.

“I want to thank you, Harry. Thank you for asking me to help with this,” Hagrid paused on a deep breath, giving Harry a squeeze and patting his back. “We’ll get you seen to, right enough, and we’ll find you the best healer St. Mungo’s has.”

Harry could only nod, fist handfuls of Hagrid’s shirt, and for the first time in his life let someone else’s arms carry his burden while he cried his years of torment. For just a little while, Harry allowed himself to just be a deeply hurt and miserable eleven year old kid. While he sat in Hagrid’s lap, he cried for his lost childhood and innocence, and he mourned the love he had lost with his parents. Harry cried until there was nothing left but hiccups and hitching breaths. It didn’t fix anything. It didn’t change the past, and it didn’t clarify the future. It didn’t remove the pain or heal the broken bones, but it did make it all just a little bit easier to bear. Especially since all the while, Hagrid simply held him, rubbed his back, and didn’t say a word.

After a little while, Harry climbed down and retreated to the toilet where he could blow his nose and wash his face. He hadn’t expected that to happen. While the ache was still there, it was lessened. Harry felt a little more able to get on with what needed to be done.

He went back out and found Hagrid still mopping his face with a square of linen he used for a handkerchief. Hedwig flew to him, and while perched on his arm, examined her charge with noisy beak clicks and churring vocals. Harry could feel her concern, and sent back calm and reassurance. He really did feel much better. Embarrassed, but better. When the owl had calmed, Harry took her to her perch. With the window left open, Harry knew that his owl would go out to hunt when she needed to while he was gone, and their bond would let her know that he was okay.

By mutual agreement, without having to say a word, Hagrid and he both knew Harry would go to the wizarding hospital that afternoon. They tidied the table and Harry put everything he had out, back in his trunk while Hagrid used the toilet. Not even Hagrid knew about the trunk. When the big man came out, Harry had his new jacket on, and was ready to go. The pair went down to the common room of the pub, and used the floo to St. Mungo’s.

It looked much the same as the last time Harry had been there, though there were different people waiting. He and Hagrid approached the Welcome Witch and the groundskeeper requested to see the senior healer on duty. They were forced to wait, sitting on rickety old chairs, for twenty minutes. The healer who approached him looked quite a lot like an actor Harry had seen on movie posters, the American one with the exploding skyscraper. Die something. He was trying so hard to remember the name of the movie, that he wasn’t paying attention to the quiet conversation Hagrid was having with the healer until his name was mentioned.

“So young Harry here needs to see someone in private before we can say why he’s here.” Hagrid was saying.

The healer regarded the eleven year old for a moment, then gave a nod. “Very well, come with me please.”

He turned and led the duo across the reception area and down a hallway. There were doors on either side of the hall, some covered with a white cloth, others were open to show the examination rooms. The healer led them into one of the empty rooms, and once the three were inside, he closed the curtain.

“We’ll be needing privacy charms, if you don’t mind Healer.” Hagrid insisted while Harry settled himself on one of the two chairs in the room.

They were set at a small desk which held various papers and unusual instruments. The bed he ignored for the time being. Hagrid moved to Harry’s side, one great hand resting on the boy’s shoulder.

The healer only lifted a brow, but gamely turned and cast three spells before looking back to see if Hagrid was satisfied. Harry could feel each layer of magic that had gone up over the doorway, and he relaxed a bit more with each one.

At Hagrid’s nod, the healer turned and regarded the pair. “So then, how can I help you today?”

“Well, we’ll be needing you to make a wizard’s oath, too.” Hagrid said, looking a little embarrassed this time. “To not talk to anyone about seeing young Harry, and why he’s here.”

“Surely my Healer’s Oath..” the healer begain, only to sputter out as Hagrid and Harry both were shaking their heads. The man frowned, then finally gave a tight lipped nod and held his wand against this heart. “Very well. I do solemnly swear upon my magic that I will never talk to anyone about treating Harry…. ”

At the healer’s expectant look, Harry immediately provided his name. “Harry Potter.”

The healer was dumbstruck. He stared at Harry, swallowed hard, and continued quite a bit more reverently, “about treating Harry Potter or the reason for his visit. So mote it be.”

Harry relaxed completely once the glow of the vow settled on the healer. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, son,” the now intensely curious healer replied while settling in the other chair. “What brings you to St. Mungo’s?”

Harry took a deep breath, shoved his shoulder a little deeper into Hagrid’s hand, and started talking. “The people who raised me starved and abused me, sir, and I would like to have some of the damage fixed before I start at Hogwarts next week.”

There, he couldn’t have said it any plainer than that. The fact that he said it aloud had his heart jack-hammering in his chest. He very much appreciated Hagrid’s gentle squeeze on his shoulder. The healer was already casting diagnostic spells, looking grimmer and grimmer with each one. Belatedly, he flicked his wand toward a clipboard with parchment and a quill, which rose from the desk and started scribbling away, before he continued with his examination. After several spells, the healer sat back almost wearily and rubbed his free hand over his face.

“Horrible,” he muttered to himself. He heaved a sigh, then looked Harry quite frankly in the eye. “I won’t lie to you, son, your condition is borerline chronic. It’s good that you came now, while you’re still so young. We’ll hopefully be able to reverse much of the damage. I’d like to see to your case personally, if you’ll allow it. I don’t practice privately anymore, but I’ll make an exception for you until you’re healthy again.”

“Okay, ” Harry nodded hestitantly. “What will that mean, exactly.”

“It’ll mean that I’ll be your personal healer, Mr. Potter. If something happens to you at school, where you need to spend time in the infirmary, I’ll be called before the Headmaster. If something happens to you at home, you call me. I’ll be taking care of all of your medical needs until we’re both agreed that you don’t need my help anymore. As my patient, I won’t discuss you with anyone else, except in general terms should I need to consult with a specialist or Potions Master. I won’t answer questions, I won’t even confirm that you’re a patient of mine. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

The wash of relief Harry felt brought fresh tears to his eyes and made his lower lip tremble, even while he nodded vigorously and managed to squeak out a “yes, sir.”

Hagrid squeezed his shoulder again, and sniffled loud enough to make Harry giggle a little while he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“Let’s not start that again, Hagrid. We just got stopped.” Harry hiccuped, offering a tremulous smile up at the big man.

“Stop looking at me like that, then,” Hagrid complained good naturedly. He pulled out his huge handkerchief then cleared his throat. “Blimey, I’m a mess. Thank you, Healer Davidson. You took a right load off my mind, just now.”

“Well, let’s get started then, shall we?” Davidson stood up, prompting Harry to as well. “We’ll use this room. I’m going to keep you overnight, at least, Mr. Potter. The first thing I should really do is vanish a few bones and regrow them.”

Harry gaped a moment, then snapped his mouth shut. “You can do that?”

“That and more, son,” the healer confirmed. “Why don’t go you ahead and get changed into the pajamas you’ll find in the second drawer of the desk. You can put your clothes in there. I’ll go get what we’ll need to start.”

After a round of nods, the healer slipped out, leaving his privacy charms in place. Harry changed and got settled in the surprisingly comfortable bed, drawing the covers up to his waist, since the bed was currently set to allow him to sit up with support.

“You going to be alright there, Harry?” Hagrid asked, looking uncertain about everything all of a sudden.

“I’m nervous, Hagrid,” Harry admitted, watching his fingers twine in his lap. “I’m a little scared too, but I think the healer will be okay, and … I.. I have to do this.”

He looked up at his only friend. “I have to try and erase what they did, Hagrid. I’m allowed, right?”

“Course you are, Harry,” Hagrid’s hand again found the top of Harry’s head, rubbing gently. “Don’t you think on it. I just wish I could have taken you away sooner.”

Harry smiled a bit. “It’s soon enough, I guess. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault at all, so stop thinking that.”

Before Hagrid could answer, the healer returned pushing a cart that held several vials and bottles. Davidson set it up on the far side of the bed, then turned to Harry.

“Now, I don’t want you to worry. I’m going to explain everything I do, before I do it, Mr. Potter.”

“Harry,” the boy interrupted. “You can call me Harry.”

The healer smiled. “Harry, then.” He sat down on the bed beside Harry’s legs. “I’m going to give you two nutrient potions first. These will help fortify your system and better help your body recover from malnutrition. They provide balanced amounts of the things your body needs to get back on track. I picked the best flavours I could, but they still don’t taste that great.”

Still smiling from his little joke, he passed Harry two of the larger vials, which the boy drank obediently. They really didn’t taste that great at all, but they weren’t the worst thing he had ever tried.

“Next,” the healer continued, “I’ll give you a sleeping draught, then cast a sleeping charm on you to make sure you are nicely asleep. While you sleep, I’ll vanish a few bones, and give you ske-gro so you can grow them back. It’s a bit painful, so it’s best for you to be asleep during the bone growth.”

“Which bones, sir?” Harry was honestly curious to know.

The healer considered for a moment, before he answered. “Both of your collarbones, all the bones in your left hand. The ulna of both arms, your left shin, three ribs on your left side, two on your right, and I’ll be doing some very delicate work with the fractures you had received to your skull.”

“How long will it take?”

“The rest of today and all night.” the healer looked a little apologetic. “I’m afraid you’ll miss dinner, but the nutrient potions will help with that, and I’ll make sure you get a big breakfast.”

Harry blew out a deep breath, gave Hagrid a smile, then nodded. “Okay, let’s get started.”

Hagrid was allowed to remain with Harry until the skel-e-gro was spelled into Harry’s stomach, then he had to leave the healer alone to concentrate on the more delicate work he had planned for the fracture scars. Davidson explained that there were bone fragments loose under the boy’s skin, and even inside his skull, that he wanted to get rid of. He would be able to return the next day during normal visiting hours.

In total, Harry spent two days in the tiny room, being seen by no one other than Hagrid and Healer Davidson. His meals appeared on the bed’s tray table, and the empty plates vanished when he was done. He took a nutrient potion with every meal, and the healer wanted him to do so for the foreseeable future. A supply would be owled to him at school. In addition to his bones, Harry was either spelled or given potions to aid his kidneys, heart, lungs, liver, pancreas, thyroid, bone marrow and muscles. It was only the start of a regimen of treatment, however. Healer Davidson would need to visit Harry at the Leaky Cauldron the day before he caught the Express, then at the school once a month for a physical and to administer more potions and spells.

On the last day, Harry asked the healer if he could do anything about his scar. Davidson examined it closely, but would only say that he needed to do some research before he could say if he could do anything or not. Harry had to accept that.

When Hagrid arrived to pick him up, Harry was dressed and waiting, feeling better than he had in a very long time, and knowing that he would only continue to feel better still. He thanked Healer Davidson profusely, and returned to the Leaky Caludron, ready to tackle his next venture.

Hogwarts.

Hogwarts Express

Harry checked his watch for the fourth time in ten minutes. He knew he was going to be very early, but he couldn’t help himself. He was actually excited to go to school. The tube slowed to a stop at another station, and Harry checked the map. Again. Just one more. The next stop would be King’s Cross Station.

Harry had quite a time of it, convincing Hagrid to allow him to ride the tube to the station. He knew the big man couldn’t see him off, as he had to be at Hogwarts. Harry could have taken a cab, if he really wanted to, but he wanted to learn more about getting around the city. Mental maps only took him so far. He needed to be practical. So did Hagrid. The groundskeeper had grown to become something of a mother hen, not that Harry minded too much, but he needed to realize that Harry had been more or less self-reliant for a very long time. The eleven year old needed to maintain his independence.

His meeting with Healer Davidson the day before was encouraging. His undersized body seemed to be responding well to the nutrient treatment, and his organs had the healer nodding and smiling, so that was encouraging. He still had a long way to go, but Davidson was optimistic. There wasn’t any news about his scar yet, but Davidson said that he had an appointment to meet with a goblin healer that he hoped would provide some information.

The tube car rocked a little, then slowed. Harry looked up, his heart tripping with excitement as he watched the station slide into position and the doors open. He was there! He got up, and joined the crowd working their way quickly out of the car and onto the station platform. The boy simply followed along, attempting to look as though he was with a woman who looked straight ahead and walked like a person with a mission. Harry took in everything around him with wide eyes, climbing the stairs nearly at a trot until he reached the main level of the station. He then looked for the signs he needed to follow toward the train platforms. Finding them quickly, he headed that way, and soon latched himself behind a young couple heading in the same direction.

Harry carried everything he owned, and everything he could possibly need, in his leather book bag, including his trunk and Hedwig’s cage which he had convinced Tom to shrink for him in such a way that Harry could restore it with a wand tap. He even had one of his school robes in there, separated and ready to don while on the train. He did know the spells to shrink and restore things himself, he had Tom teach him, but he couldn’t use them yet. At least not until the train, at the earliest. He actually hadn’t cast a single spell yet, and his entire being ached to start using his magic.

Counting off the platforms in spite of the signs over head, Harry finally reached nine and ten, and slowed his steps until he reached a wall halfway between platforms nine and ten. He leaned against the corner of the wall, watching the people hurry past in both directions, until there was a small gap in the flow. Turning, he slipped through the barrier. The wash of magic was just like at St. Mungo’s, and Harry found himself standing on another platform, with a magnificent steam engine in front of him. The Hogwart’s Express.

Tearing his eyes from the red engine, Harry checked the time again. Ten minutes before ten. He still had a whole hour before the train left the station. The boy looked around him, not seeing anyone, then shrugged a little before he approached the only door on the train that was open. He had no idea where he wanted to sit. He figured the forward cars would fill quickly, so he wanted to be toward the back, but he still wanted to be able to watch the people arriving on the platform. Boarding, Harry walked down the cars until he found a compartment far enough back to suit him, yet still afforded a good view of the platform. He opened the window, then chose to sit so he had a clear view. Settling in, he put his feet up, pulled out his Transfiguration text book and opened it to the marked page.

Ten minutes later, Hedwig glided through the open window, and landed on Harry’s knee. With a grin, the boy greeted the owl’s churring with strokes and light scratches in all of her favorite places. “Do you want your cage, girl, or do you think you can ride the luggage rack the whole way?”

The owl looked up, then fluttered up to the luggage rack. She seemed to be testing it out, walking up and down the metal rail and testing her grip, before she barked twice and fluttered back down to Harry. He could feel her satisfaction, so decided to leave the cage in his bag for now. If she wanted it, she’d let him know. When Hedwig tucked her head under a wing, Harry went back to his book, absently petting the owl as he read. It was their usual positions. They had grown incredibly close since that first night in the room over the Leaky Cauldron, their bond thick and strong. The pre-teen had no idea what having a familiar would feel like, but he was pretty sure Hedwig was it. He couldn’t imagine being without her, or his sense of her deep inside.

Some time later, voices from outside drew Harry’s attention. He looked out to watch the first of the arrivals on the platform. He couldn’t believe he was really the first one there, even if he had arrived an hour early.  Green eyes bright, Harry watched as parents brought their children through the barrier and tried to organize trunks and baggage even as they called out greetings to each other. Some adults would end up grouped together, talking earnestly, while their kids looked either bored or excited, depending on their ages. Older kids were quick to abandon their parents in favour of searching out friends in other, small groups. It was interesting to watch. Harry knew that many of these groupings of kids would reflect Houses, as well as friendships, and he began a guessing game of which House based on their actions.

He was unsure if he should call one particular group Ravenclaw or Griffindor, when a familiar shock of white blonde caught the corner of his eye. Shifting his attention, he found Draco and his parents. The other boy’s father absolutely had the look of an aristocrat, and he couldn’t blame Draco’s attitude on anything but that man’s influence. Harry himself would be hard pressed to have an original thought while under the thumb of someone like that. Even Draco’s mother appeared to be cool and distant, even as she was straightening Draco’s robe to make him look more presentable. The couple had chosen a position well away from the major groupings of people, as though they feared some sort of contamination. Harry found that sad and pitiable.

Checking his watch, Harry found there were fifteen minutes left until the train left for Hogwarts. Many kids had already boarded, and he could hear the white noise of their voices from farther up the train. Looking out again, Harry noticed a couple come through the barrier, each holding the hand of a busy haired girl and towing a trunk laden cart behind them. They must be muggles, Harry thought to himself. It was really nice of them to see their daughter off. His eye caught again by Draco, he watched the other boy approach the train. When Draco looked up to scan the windows, Harry waited until he was looking in his direction before he lifted his hand to wave. The blonde waved back, and tried to run for the closest door of the train while dragging his trunk.

Harry scanned the platform for Draco’s parents, and caught them just as they went back through the barrier. They hadn’t wanted to see the train off? This made Harry frown. He was about to sit back and give some serious consideration to helping Draco with his trunk when he noticed the family of red heads come running through the barrier. First the twins, then the mother with the little girl, then finally the boy. He recognized them easily from that day at the Alley entrance. This prompted him to gently lift Hedwig from his knee and place her in the corner where he had been sitting, then hurry out of the compartment. He really didn’t want that other boy to feel welcome in his compartment, and wanted to help Draco get to it more quickly.

He caught the blonde dragging his trunk down the aisle, so got behind him and picked up the tail end after a quick grin of greeting. Pushing a little from his side, he hurried Draco along until the door of the compartment was closed again. Harry was really tempted to try a locking charm his first go at magic, but decided to wait just a little longer. At least until the train got moving. Sharing fresh grins, the boys managed to get Draco’s trunk up on the overhead rack and the two made themselves comfortable. With Hedwig now awake and preening in his lap, and Draco sitting across from him, Harry hazard another look out the window before he closed it. The Reds were just boarding the train.

“Hi.” Harry started with another grin at the blonde.

“Hi,” Draco answered with a grin of his own. “What happened to your glasses?”

“I don’t need them anymore.” Harry smiled, petting Hedwig. “I saw an eye healer.”

With a long whistle blast, the entire train shuddered, then the car jerked forward once, twice, then again before the platform started to slide past the window. Harry’s heart leapt. They were finally on their way. Harry checked his watch. It was exactly eleven a.m. Draco looked as excited as he felt.

“What’s your owl’s name?” Draco asked.

“Hedwig,” Harry urged the snowy on his arm, and held her out for Draco to gingerly pet. “She’s my familiar. I got her for my birthday.”

“Really? Owls don’t often become familiars. You’re really lucky.” Draco pet the owl a little more then sat back. “I would have brought Zeus, but Father said he had to stay home. He’s just a mail owl, though.”

“So, you don’t have a familiar?” Harry sat back as well, stroking soft feathers much to Hedwig’s appreciation.

Draco shook his head then shrugged, looking out the window. Harry could tell he wanted to say something, but had changed his mind. Probably it was something about his father. Harry was sort of glad that the other boy was trying to censure himself, but he didn’t want to completely stifle himself either. He would just have to see how Draco handled it.

“I should really be cross with you, you know.” Draco finally said, frowning at Harry.

“Why?” Harry could thing of several reasons, really.

“For not telling me your name.” Draco said, crossing his arms. “I tried to tell Father about his neat boy I met in Madam Malkins, but I wasn’t able to tell him your name. It was embarrassing.”

“I didn’t?” Harry’s eyebrows went up and he tried really hard not to laugh. “I guess I didn’t. Maybe we could start over? We’ll introduce ourselves properly.”

Draco considered the idea while letting his silvery eyes roam over Harry briefly. “Okay.” He sat up straight, uncrossing his arms to hold out his right hand. “Hello. I’m Draco Malfoy.”

Grinning, Harry sat up too, taking Draco’s hand in a handshake. He could feel an electric-like spark when skin met skin. “Hello. Nice to meet you, Draco. I’m Harry Potter.”

Draco’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

Still shaking the blonde’s hand, actually able to feel the play of magic beneath the warm skin, Harry shook his head. “Nope.”

“Wow.”

Harry frowned. “If you call me The-Boy-Who-Lived even once, I’ll deck you.”

The door of the compartment opened, and both boys let go of the other’s hand to turn to the one now standing in the doorway. The redhead cleared his throat, looking back and forth between them.

“Um.. do you mind if I sit in here?” he started, hesitantly. “Every place else is full.”

Harry and Draco looked at each other. Draco wrinkled his nose a bit, and Harry lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, raising his eyebrows curiously. Draco rolled his eyes, huffed a little, and gave a short nod. They turned back to the red headed boy in the doorway, the very one Harry had been hoping to avoid.

“Sure, might as well,” Harry said “I’m Harry, and this is Draco.”

The other boy had been trying to drag his trunk into the compartment, which he finally managed with a strained huff. He closed the door and collapsed on the bench seat next to Draco, much to the blonde’s discomfort.

“I’m Ron,” he finally puffed. “Ron Weasley.”

“Are you sure everyplace else was full,” Harry said, a little amused. “Or did you not want to drag your trunk any farther?”

Red had the grace to blush with a small smile. “I didn’t really want to, no. It’s  Charlie’s old one and weighs more than my brothers put together. I’ve got five of them.”

“Oh good,” Draco drawled, “You packed a Quiddach team. You do know your house provides those, right?”

Harry burst out laughing even as Ron looked chagrined.

“At least get it out of the way of the door,” Harry said, still highly amused at Draco’s comment, “in case anyone else can’t find a seat.”

Draco moved over to sit beside Harry while Ron shifted and grunted over the trunk. He gave Harry a disgusted look, to which Harry replied with a shrug and look of apology. The brunette was interested in making more friends, or at least getting to know some of the other kids. He could try to overlook first impressions. The two started a quiet conversation about Quiddach while Ron settled himself and then pulled a rat out of a pocket. Hedwig immediately looked interested in the rodent. Harry could feel her intent curiosity and faint stirrings of hunger, so he reached into his own pocket. He pulled out a treat to feed her, but even as she accepted it he could feel her emotions shifting into alarm. The Owl turned completely on his arm to better face Ron and his rat.

“This is Scabbers,” Ron was saying, “He used to be Percy’s rat, but I got him when he got his owl for making Prefect.”

Hedwig hissed, mantling a little, and Ron looked up at the owl in alarm, trying to hold onto the now fiercely squirming rat. Harry could feel Hedwig’s anger and her projections of ‘wrong, wrong, wrong’.

“Ow!” Ron exclaimed suddenly, “He bit me.”

Pandemonium broke out. The rat scampered down the seat toward the window and Hedwig launched herself from Harry’s arm like a white missile, screeching. She had the rat neatly caged to the seat cushion with her talons in under a second, then suddenly barked in alarm when her prey expanded within her grip. Even before Harry could snap his wand into his hand, a man sat huddled in the corner against the window and Ron and Draco were screaming. Hedwig flew up to the luggage rack above Harry’s head while the boy frantically searched his memory for spells. Just as he decided on one, the owl dove for the man, raking his arm with her sharp talons before veering away sharply to return to the rack. The man yelled out, cowering farther, a wand clattered to the floor of the compartment and Harry stood to cast the spell he had decided on.

“Stupefy!”

“Petrificus Totalus!” came from Harry’s left.

Both spells hit the man at the same time. He froze in place and went limp. Harry and Draco shared a swift glance, both standing and breathing hard, their wands trained on the man. Except for the panicked breathing of the boys and Hedwig’s drawn out vocals of agitation, it was quiet in the compartment.

“Ron,” Harry swallowed hard to work some moisture into his mouth, “you said your brother is a Prefect?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, seemingly unable to take his eyes off the unconscious man. The boy was shaking, his back pressed up against the door of the compartment. “Bloody hell. Bloody hell.”

“Go get him, would you? And any other Prefects you find.”

Nodding, Ron’s fingers scrabbled for the latch, then he was gone, the door sliding closed behind him. Harry flicked a glance to Draco on his left. The blond stood with his wand out and trained on the unknown man, the lost wand clutched in his other hand. His eyes were wide and a bit wild, but his wand tip never wavered. Both boys swayed with the motions of the train, trying to keep their balance.

“Who do you think he is?” Draco finally whispered.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, keeping a close eye on the stranger who had a decided rat like look about him.

If Percy had the rat before Ron, just how long had this man been a rat?

“One thing I do know, though,” the brunette said, finally catching his breath.

“What?” Draco inquired, seeming to be coming down from his adrenalin rush as well.

“Hedwig is brilliant.”

Both boys grinned, then jumped when the compartment door snapped open. Hedwig barked twice, puffed up her chest feathers, then went back to preening as though nothing had happened. A gasp from the doorway had both boys look to the taller red head standing there, gaping.

“Who’s this?” Percy said, “How did he get on the train?”

“I told you Perce,” Ron said from behind the older boy, “It’s Scabbers.”

There was a bit of a crowd starting to gather in the aisle outside the door. Harry stepped a bit closer to the man, his attention caught by something. Draco made a grab for him, but both hands were filled with a wand, so he only managed to hook a finger in the sleeve of Harry’s shirt. Harry tilted his head a little, then gasped.

“I know who this is!” he exclaimed. “It’s Peter Pettigrew. Look, he’s missing a finger.”

“I’ll have the conductor call for the Aurors,” a girl’s voice out in the hallway said.

“I’ll sit in here with the boys,” a male voice volunteered, and a much older boy squeezed his way past a dumbfounded Percy. The boy cast Incarcerous on the still stupefied man, causing ropes to sturdily wrap around him securely, then another Stupefy. “That should hold him, for now.”

Almost reluctantly, Harry relaxed his stance, then slid his wand back into his arm holster.

“Well lads, you have three choices,” the older boy said, regarding Harry, Draco and Ron who was now in the doorway, squeezed in beside Percy. “Budge up in another compartment with some other kids, stay here, or out in the aisle.”

Harry looked at Draco, who nodded.

“We’ll stay here,” he said to the other boy. “I’m Harry, this is Draco, and that’s Ron.”

“I’m David,” the other boy said, “the Head Boy this year. Marrietta, the Head Girl, went to have the Aurors called to hopefully meet the train in Hogsmeade.”

Harry nodded while retaking his seat. Draco sat heavily beside him. David sat himself next to the unconscious Pettigrew, while both Ron and Percy turned in the doorway to disperse the crowd of children who had gathered to see what was happening. The door was finally closed, and Ron sat on Draco’s other side, as far from Pettigrew as he could get. That left Percy with a seat next to David, nearly straddling Ron’s trunk. Meanwhile, Hedwig had again joined Harry, and was busy clicking her beak over her ‘chick’, making sure he was uninjured. While unsettled, Harry did his best to calm and reassure the owl.

“I suppose you should have this,” Draco said, holding out the unknown wand to the Head Boy. “He dropped it when Hedwig went for his arm. I think he might have tried to hex us.”

“Thanks,” David said, accepting the wand and tucking it inside his school robes. “That was nice work, by the way. Who stupified him?”

“I did,” Harry said, “but Draco put the body bind on him.”

“It was Hedwig who sussed him out,” Draco said proudly, as though the owl were his. “she started acting weird as soon as Ron pulled the rat out.”

Harry was nodding, patting the owl. “She seemed to know right away. I kept getting feelings of alarm and wrongness from her.”

“Then Scabbers bit me,” Ron picked up the story, examining his bloodied finger.

Draco leaned toward him for a look, then tsked. “You might lose that. Shame.”

Ron looked at the blonde in alarm, and Harry snickered. He really liked Draco’s dry humour.

“Shut it,” Ron mumbled without much heat, realizing Draco had been joking, and went back to examining his finger.

“I can’t believe it,” Percy said, staring at the bound man in the corner. “All this time….”

“How long did you have him?” Harry asked, curious.

“Over nine years,” Percy replied absently. “I found him in the garden when I was a boy. He seemed really smart for a rat, so I kept him. I only gave him to Ron over the summer, when I got my owl.”

“Ten years,” David reflected. “That’s a long time for a rat to live.”

“I thought he was a magical rat,” Percy said lamely as he flushed and looked toward the door of the compartment.

The door opened and a young woman with wavy, blonde hair looked in. “David, the Aurors will meet us at the station. We’re to stay on the train until they have him,” she nodded toward Pettigrew, ‘in custody. Will you be alright here on your own for a bit? I need to go settle some nervous first years.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine Marrieta,” David replied, “thanks.”

“No problem. I’ll be back after lunch, most likely,” she said, then retreated and closed the door.

All the boys fell silent then, each lost in their own thoughts and watching the attempts of various students trying to look into the compartment through the window in the door. A conductor stood outside, ushering the kids along when they tried to stop and gawk. Eventually, Harry put his Transfiguration book away, and got out his robe to put on. He moved Hedwig up to the rack so he could help Draco get his robe out of his trunk, and Ron followed their example. After they were dressed, there was a knock on the compartment door, which Percy answered.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” an older witch asked the group, as though there wasn’t an unconscious man trussed up in the corner under the window.

David got up to make a purchase, and Ron pulled out a package of rather battered sandwiches, shaking his head with a grimace. Harry shook his head as well.

“Draco and I are fine,” he said while pulling a small, covered basket from his book bag.

Draco got up, however, and took his turn at the trolley, returning with some packages of chocolate frogs. Harry unshrunk the basket the Leaky Cauldron elves had prepared for him with a tap of his wand, and began to lay out a lunch for he and Draco on the seat between them. He had hoped to share with the other boy, so requested enough for two. There was a large thermos of tea, fried chicken, potato salad and a selection of carrot, celery, broccoli, little tomatoes, cauliflower and cheese. There were even two plates, forks and cups. Harry pulled the large vial of nutrient potion out last, and drank it first, before filling his plate.

“What was that?” Draco asked as Hedwig dropped onto Harry’s shoulder.

“A nutrient potion,” Harry answered, accepting three chocolate frog packages from the blonde with a grin of thanks. “I have to drink one with each meal.”

“How come?” Draco frowned while filling his own plate.

Harry shrugged his free shoulder, feeding a piece of chicken meat to Hedwig. “I didn’t eat so well, growing up.”

As though sensing that Harry didn’t really want to talk about it, Draco changed the topic to resume their earlier conversation about Quiddach while they ate. Ron attempted to add his own comments, but was hampered by either a mouthful of sandwich, or Draco’s back since the boy was half turned in his seat to better face Harry and the meal between them. David was able to give the boys some insights to the school teams, since he played chaser for Ravenclaw the year before.

There was exactly enough food for the two boys, Harry was happy to note. He was able to eat more, now, and even with sharing with Hedwig, he had managed his two pieces of chicken. Harry repacked the basket with the plates, cups, cutlery and empty thermos, then tapped it three times with his wand. The basket vanished, sent back to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Thanks, Harry,” Draco smiled, opening one of his chocolate frogs, “that was good.”

“Anytime,” Harry smiled back, copying the blonde, “Kimmie makes the best potato salad.”

“It was really good,” Drago agreed. “Is she your elf?”

“Nope, the Leaky Caludron.” Harry said, catching his frog as it leapt from the package, making Hedwig bark and flap her wings for balance. “Sorry, Hedwig.”

“Really?” Draco said with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll have to get Father to take me there more often in the summers.”

“My mum makes the best potato salad,” Ron said from Draco’s other side. “She puts eggs in hers.”

“So does Kimmie,” Harry said, examining his card. Nicholas Flammel.

“I thought everyone did,” Draco observed, handing his card to Harry. “I’ve got that one. Who did you get?”

“Nicholas Flammel.”

“Oh, I’ve got two of him.”

“I don’t have much of a collection yet. These are both firsts, for me.”

The door slid open.

“Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville has.. OH” The bushy haired girl in the doorway was frozen, staring with wide eyes at Pettigrew tied up in the corner beside David. She gulped. “Perhaps I’ll come back later?”

“That might be a good idea,” David said with a smile.

“I’ll help her look,” Percy said and got up to usher the girl out into the aisle, closing the door behind them.

Harry checked the time. “We still have nearly five hours before we get to Hogsmeade.”

“How do you know?” Ron asked with a frown, rubbing his finger.

“Because it’s just coming up on one, and our arrival time is six.” Harry answered, eying the red head’s hands. “Maybe you should go wash that?”

“Yeah, I think I should,” Ron agreed reluctantly, and got up to exit the compartment.

Draco waited until the door was closed before commenting with a frown, “I wonder if he got man spit or rat spit all over his hands?”

“What kills me,” David said, who settled deeper in his seat and twirled his wand in his fingers, “is that he didn’t wash before he ate.”

Harry and Draco looked at each other, then burst into laughter. David grinned.

Draco was telling Harry about Malfoy Manor when Ron returned, and the red head sat sullen and quiet in his corner of the bench seat, listening.He appeared angry, looking at his bit finger which he had wrapped in a bit of cloth, and got really red around the ears.

Marrieta joined them not long after, settling easily beside David with her wand out, and introducing herself to the three first years. She got the story of how a rat became a man, and complimented Harry and Draco on their quick thinking, and Hedwig for her vigilance. Ron got redder.

It was when he was on his way back from the loo that Harry discovered what Ron’s problem was. The red haired boy was waiting for him in the aisle outside the toilet, and started as soon as the door opened.

“What are you playing at?” he demanded.

Harry blinked, leaning back a moment, before he frowned and stepped out of the toilet, making sure the door closed behind him. “What are you on about, Ron?”

“You and that Malfoy,” Ron appeared to try to be placating, even patting his hands on air, “I admit I didn’t know at first who he was, but now that I do, it seems awful funny to me that you’d be so friendly with him.”

“What are you talking about, Ron?” Harry was starting to get angry, and he frowned at the other boy. “Why should it matter to you who I’m friends with? I don’t even know you.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Ron said, looking triumphant. “You should be friends with me. Everybody knows the Malfoys practice Dark Arts. He’s a dark wizard, and Harry Potter shouldn’t be associating with his sort.”

That surprised the brunette enough to quickly gather his wits and contain his anger. Harry stared hard into Ron’s eyes, slowly folding his arms over his chest and speaking quietly. “I don’t remember telling you my last name, Ron.”

“You didn’t have to. I’ve got eyes, haven’t I?” Ron said, as though Harry was now being reasonable and listening to him. “Harry Potter is to start at Hogwarts this year, and I’ve seen pictures of your dad, so when I saw you and you said your name is Harry, I just knew who you were.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed a little, but the other boy wasn’t finished yet.

“Course it would have been easier if we could have got on the platform at the same time. Mum waited at the barrier forever for you to show up, so we could help you across. She said you didn’t know how to get on the platform.”

“Really? I wonder how she got that idea?” Harry said, tilting his head and doing his best to keep his tone neutral.

“I expect Professor Dumbledore told her. They talked for ages last Sunday after dinner,” Ron seemed relaxed now that he was getting Harry’s undivided attention.

“Yeah, adults will do that. They probably never even knew you were listening,” Harry observed, utterly still and focused even as he tried to coax more information from the red head.

Ron laughed, shaking his head. “They never pay attention to us kids if we’re being quiet. I heard Dumbledore say that you would need to have some special friends, and he’d be glad if you and I hit it off. He’d be right chuffed if you got sorted into Griffindor. I don’t think he should worry though. You’re sure to make Griffindor with me.”

“Sure, Ron,” Harry nodded, “it’s practically a done deal. Come on, let’s head back before the others come looking for us.”

“I’ll be right there, mate,” Ron said with a grin, sidling past Harry, “just going to use the loo.”

Harry nodded, and returned to his compartment as quickly as he could. He found Draco trying to calm Hedwig, who immediately flew to her wizard and started preening his hair, beak clicking constantly. Harry gave the watching David a half smile and sat down, pulling Draco closer so they could whisper.

“Whatever you do, get yourself sorted to Ravenclaw,” he said urgently.

Draco frowned. “Why? What was wrong with Hedwig?”

“I’ll explain later, I promise, just try for me Draco, okay?”

Slowly, Draco nodded. “Okay, I’ll try. I promise.”

Harry grinned, giving Draco’s hand a squeeze before sitting more properly in his seat to try and calm Hedwig.

“She’s your familiar, isn’t she?” David asked from across the compartment.

Harry looked up at the older boy and nodded.

“I hope whatever upset you works itself out,” was all David said just as the door opened to admit Ron. Marrieta looked a little bewildered between the boys, but didn’t say anything and went back to her magazine.

Ron settled in his seat, looking much happier with himself.

Pettigrew needed another stunner before they finally reached Hogsmeade, the sun quickly setting in the Scottish hillside. Harry could see other kids filing past their door as the train emptied, and outside they milled on the platform of Hogsmeade station before making their way toward a row of horseless carriages. In truth, these were literally carriages without any horses or anything else pulling them. Harry couldn’t see where the other first years were, but he did know that they arrived at the castle by different means.

His attention was drawn back to the door by the arrival of a conductor and three wizards dressed in muggle looking trench-coats and a woman wearing a monocle. She was the one who seemed in charge.

“Good evening, children. I’m Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” she said after stepping into the compartment. She examined each of them in turn. “Who would like to tell me what happened today?”

“Why don’t you tell it, Harry,” David said, “since you were here for the whole thing.”

Harry nodded with a sigh. Of course he’d have to tell the story. Again.

“It happened not long after the train left King’s Cross Station, ma’am,” he started. “Draco, Ron and I just got settled and started talking, when Ron took out his pet rat. My familiar, Hedwig, immediately knew there was something wrong with the rat, and she got upset. When the rat bit Ron and tried to run, she tried to catch it, but it turned into that man. We were all so surprised that I stunned him, and Draco cast a body bind on him. Then Ron went and got his brother, who’s a Prefect, and then David and Marrieta came to guard the man. They’re Head Boy and Head Girl.”

With a nod to Harry, Auror Bones turned to Ron. “You had no idea your rat was an animagus, child? How long have you had him?”

“No ma’am, I didn’t. I’ve only had Scabbers since the summer,” Ron said nervously, “my brother Percy had him for nine years before that, though.”

“I see,” Bones said, turning to Pettigrew to give him a full visual once over with a slight mue of distaste.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, ma’am,” Harry said. “I’m pretty sure it’s Peter Pettigrew. You see, I know about how Sirius Black was put in Askaban without a trial for killing him, and how there was only a finger found, and this man is missing a finger.”

Bones looked at Harry sharply as soon as “Pettigrew” left the boy’s lips. “I see. What was your name again, child?”

“Harry, ma’am,” Harry met her eyes unflinchingly. “Harry Potter.”

The woman blinked. Marrieta gasped and David gave a single nod, as though his suspicion had been confirmed. After a full half minute had passed, Bones sharply strode forward and yanked back the sleeve of the unconscious man’s left arm. There, plain as day, was a dark tattoo. A skull and snake. With a sound of disgust, she stepped back then faced Harry.

“Mr. Potter, you have my personal vow that the events of that night ten years ago, and Mr. Black’s current situation, will be thoroughly investigated.” she gave Harry a half bow. “I will personally see to it that justice is done.”

Harry gave the woman a deep nod in return. “You have my thanks, Auror Bones, and that of the Potter family.”

“You children run along now. We’ll take it from here.” Bones said, making sure the doorway was clear by simply looking at her men.

“Don’t worry about your trunks, guys,” David was saying as he shepherded the trio out. “The house elves will fetch them for you.”

Harry followed Ron and Draco off the train and onto the platform with a sigh of relief. He was glad that was over. He stroked Hedwig, who was riding his arm, and made sure his book bag was closed and secure over his shoulder as he looked around himself.

“First years, first years this way,” called a familiar voice.

Harry grinned, and immediately turned toward it, Draco sticking to his side and Ron trailing a little. He soon saw Hagrid standing with a line of boats at the edge of a lake. All but one carried children, and all had a lantern to provide light in the now deep gloom of late evening.

“Come along now, we’re behind schedule. Everybody find a boat,” Hagrid said. “Hello there Harry. Alright?”

“Yeah Hagrid, I’m fine now.” Harry smiled up at the big man, and led Draco to a boat holding only a heavy set boy. Ron had barely clambered in when the entire line of boats left shore with a little jerk, and headed off across the lake.

As the boats glided across the water around a little bend, Harry could finally see Hogwarts castle, standing on the opposite shore, her windows all lit and shining in the darkness like a personal welcome home. He smiled.

Next part