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Chapter Text

It was a perfectly fitting Halloween night - dark, and while it wasn't raining there were definite thunderclaps in the distance.

For Lily Potter, currently of Godric's Hollow, these thunderclaps meant more than just atmosphere. It meant that, on the one hand, her house could be entered without her ever knowing - but on the other hand, it meant that the spells and potions she'd designed would definitely work even if she had to do the final steps alone.

Months ago, when Severus Snape unexpectedly contacted the Potters, a slight panic had ensued. For one, it was immediately told that Peter Pettigrew, their secret-keeper, had squeaked "like the rat he played at being". The Fidelius Charm had fallen that night, and hasty protections erected to stave off the inevitable.

Mercifully, Snape then told them that Voldemort's plans were to attack on Halloween - when it would be easiest to subvert prophecy. This was good. This gave them time to prepare, to maybe survive. Escape plans were made and discarded - Voldemort would be watching the cottage now, and with his spies in the Ministry he'd even know if the Floo was used. There was no safe way out, and the Potters knew it.

Eventually, a viable plan was made. Lily, with help of Albus Dumbledore, had set her talents in Charms and Potions to work, creating a combination - a ritual, though the Wizarding World didn't use that word often - that might work. Albus Dumbledore, with his political connections, also made good on a promise to let Severus Snape live in exile - preparations were made for the man to change names and move out onto the continent, far away from any reminders of his homeland.

Felix Felicis, or a version thereof, played a large role - while ordinarily the potion was decidedly unsafe for children, its effects were ideal for the circumstance. Magic, a slightly alive force, would not take kindly to the attempt to subvert prophecy - and Felix Felicis was a potion that let Magic "take the wheel".

The potion, combined with saturating the ambient forces of magic and several spells layered on Harry Potter himself, were all meant to strengthen the prophecy - specifically, "but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not". A spell was created to strengthen Harry's accidental magic, and then a variation of Felix Felicis would let it guide Harry instead of the other way around.

It would only last for a few moments, and given the unpredictability of accidental magic, it was a scary prospect. But, it was the best they had.

Lily took a few moments to comfort Harry. James was still out to fetch Albus - it would be easier and less risky for all three of them to work the spells, and to contain any unforeseen effects. In a few short moments, Lily would have to do all of that alone, and the spells would cause Harry some degree of distress as they affected the baby's senses.

All too soon, the clock struck - and predictably, the sound of thunderclaps became a loud banging on the magically-sealed door. There was no more time.

Muttering incantations, Lily kept her son in as tight a hug as she could, fueling the magic with her love. Just as a loud bang rocked the house, Lily finished the last spell, and quickly produced a baby-bottle laced with the altered Felix Felicis - Harry drank without noticing anything odd, at least for now. Just as Lily placed Harry back in his crib, the door to the nursery opened.

The last thing Lily saw was a flash of red - Severus had apparently made good on his attempt to get Voldemort to spare her, a last apology by her former friend, accepted by the Dark Lord under the guise of him wanting Lily for himself - before unconsciousness took her.

Harry sensed, rather than saw, the stillness in his mummy - and the decidedly malevolent energy from the figure at the door. In his childish mind, a lot of things suddenly felt wrong - his Mummy was too still on the floor, he didn't know whomever this was, and the energy he was emanating was so foul it was hurting Harry just to be near it.

A sharp shock prickled the toddler, who responded instinctively by standing up. Just as he heard a strange word, "Avada -", something shifted. Harry knew that he was doing something, but didn't know how to control it - even as it blew the strange man across the room repeatedly, the pale green light from his magic vanishing as the stick - no, wand - was pulled violently from his hand.

Harry vaguely realized he wasn't actually in his crib anymore. He was floating above it, still held in the throes of whatever this energy was. The man had long since gone even more still than mum - he wasn't even breathing anymore, whereas mummy still was.

At that moment, James Potter and Albus Dumbledore returned. Shocked, they both watched as Harry Potter floated above his ruined crib, everything else in the room whirling dangerously - Harry himself seeming to be as distressed as they felt, as occasionally a flash of light caused him to jerk around.

At that moment, Harry felt an intense double heartbeat. His father and the kindly old man who sometimes visited, seemed to have regained their senses just in time to witness this last surprise - Harry saw a vision of a small bird he didn't quite recognize, but that looked kind of like a small version of the birds that sometimes brought his mum and dad things. At that moment, he wanted nothing more to be not hurting his mummy and daddy, to not be Harry Potter who was currently making a mess of the nursery. His mind latched onto becoming that bird he just saw. Not Harry, the baby who was causing his nursery to break - but Harry, the little bird in his nest.

As the whirlwind of energy and objects subsided, Albus and James were in for one last surprise, as little Harry Potter, all of one-and-a-half year old, did what they would never have predicted. Just as Lily woke up, she too watched as her little baby boy completed the Animagus transformation, a little gray-white owl chick laying exhausted and asleep in the ruins of what once was his nursery room.

The defeat of Voldemort had a profound effect on the Wizarding World.

While it wasn't quite the end of what was essentially a civil war, it was a turning point - the loss of their spearhead and leader made the Death Eaters less of an organized group, making the remainder easier to subdue.

While a few Death Eaters gave up immediately afterwards, some fought all the harder in the weeks after - as Frank and Alice Longbottom could attest to, having been rescued from a vicious onslaught of Torture Curses at the hands of thoroughly-enraged Death Eaters, among whom were Barty Crouch Junior and Bellatrix Lestrange.

One surprise was Regulus Black - when the news of Voldemort's defeat reached his ears, he came out of hiding to give himself up. His brother, Sirius, was delighted to hear that he'd been informing the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, giving them names to hunt for and plans to intercept in return for a lighter sentence.

It was a great relief to those in the know that one of the plans Voldemort had not been able to complete was research into the works of Herpo the Foul - while it was unknown what exactly he'd been looking for, most of Herpo the Foul's works required murder as the least horrific step in the process. Whatever Voldemort had been after, it was universally agreed that it would not have been pleasant.

It was quickly decided, among those who knew the true story of Voldemort's defeat, to disseminate a believable falsehood - Voldemort had gone in to kill the Potters, and while he was duelling Lily Potter, their child had a strong bout of accidental magic that proved just enough of a distraction for Lily to get a lucky curse in.

This story briefly gave Lily the moniker of The Lady-Who-Got-Lucky - to the amusement of her husband and his friends. Luckily for her, the use of the moniker subsided in the months to follow. It was, after all, a ridiculous title.

When the dust settled, a few things happened. James Potter and his friend Sirius Black registered as Animagi, using the excuse that they learned the skill as a way to hide from Death Eaters. They weren't the only ones to claim to learn a new skill for that purpose, nor for that skill to be one requiring registration. They were, however, two of very few people who had actually learned the skill well before they claimed to.

Several Ministry officials resigned - Bartemius Crouch Senior, upon finding out that his son had participated in the torture of the Longbottoms, resigned as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, assigning Amelia Bones as his successor. Millicent Bagnold, sitting Minister for Magic, performed admirably in assigning replacements - but the stress was visibly getting to her, appearing tired in public appearances even as she advocated "our inalienable right to party" when asked what the more visible celebrations meant for the Statute of Secrecy.

While young Harry did not have any more destructive surges of magic, his own transformation seemed to be a permanent skill - every once in a while, when the Potters received a letter, they'd find their son in his still-flightless owlet form.

Harry was registered as an Animagus shortly after his father and honorary uncle - surprisingly, he was not the only historical case where accidental magic imitated a potion rather than a spell, nor the only case in which it had a lasting effect.

All in all, a period of war had given way to the Wizarding World licking its wounds, celebrating the end of a long dark period, and returning to a semblance of normalcy. It took a long time, but by the time Harry Potter was five years old, the dust was fully settled and Wizarding Britain was back on its feet.

Chapter Text

Ottery St. Catchpole was a mixed village - one of a few in Britain that magical folk tended to flock towards for one reason or another. In this case, it was because of its preschool - advertised as a "special-needs school for gifted children", it was actually a school set up with cooperation of the Ministry for Magic, a compromise between centralized education and hiding the signs of accidental magic.

As the Wizarding World was generally spread thinly across Britain, even a school that specifically catered to magical children would mostly be attended by Muggles - such, too, was the case for the class Harry Potter was in, as he was the only child in his year with magical parents, who had moved to Ottery St. Catchpole predominantly because their cottage at Godric's Hollow was rendered un-livable a few years ago.

Harry got along quite well with his yearmates, though he wouldn't often play with them outside of school. The prospect of having to keep secrets from friends was entirely different to keeping secrets from classmates, so while Harry wouldn't spend his recesses in complete isolation (unlike another girl in his class), he refused to get close enough to consider any of them friends.

This, however, suited most of his yearmates just fine. It was for a reason that the school was advertised as "special-needs" - Harry's refusal to attach to other children could easily be connected to those special needs. It was a little disappointing to James and Lily, but Harry's reasoning was sound enough for a child his age, and a solution was eventually found by introducing him to the Weasley family.

He played more often with Ronald Weasley, a child his age who was being home-schooled - the Weasley family was a large magical family, and an incident they refused to elaborate on had led Arthur and Molly Weasley to pull their children out of the school. With Ronald Weasley, Harry would play tag, hide-and-seek, or "Aurors and Darkwizards" - substituting wands for branches they'd found in the garden.

On one occasion in the summer they'd snuck out for a flight - Harry's flight-feathers had just set in, and he and Ron had taken Bill Weasley's broom out of the shed and flown side-by-side before Molly Weasley caught them.

They'd both been grounded for a week, but Harry had no regrets. Flying was fun - feeling the wind in your feathers, the sensation of speed when you dived, and just the fact that for a brief moment he didn't have to worry about keeping his ability secret. It was something he could only really share with another Wizarding family, given the Statute of Secrecy.

Little Ginny Weasley also sometimes joined in with their games - the youngest Weasley had much the same temperament as Ron and Harry, and while Ron sometimes grumbled about his little sister butting in on his friendships, Harry successfully argued that tag or hide-and-seek with three people was more fun than just the two of them chasing each other.

In the winter, Harry truly came into his element. Fitting with his Animagus form being a snowy owl, Harry was a source of boundless energy when the first snowflakes fell - and a right terror in a snowball fight, as the Weasley children learned all too quickly. Harry's predatory instincts caused him to track his opponents with eerie accuracy, and that was without his knack for setting up ambushes or hiding in plain sight in the snow.

It got to the point where certain games had their rules changed because Harry was "cheating" - in hide-and-seek, Harry was always the seeker, and had to give the Weasley children an extra ten seconds because otherwise he'd just find them within seconds. In a snowball fight, despite there being no real rules, it would always be Harry versus Everyone Else.

That, however, suited Harry just fine. Unlike most children his age, Harry didn't always have to win - in fact, during a few games of hide-and-seek Harry's parents would catch him looking directly at someone, then pretend to not have noticed them and keep searching just to draw the game out.

It was at his ninth birthday that Harry finally made more friends - and a surprising one at that. The local dentist's daughter, Hermione, was always an aloof girl in class - never really connecting with her classmates, always focused on her schoolwork even during recess.

As such, it was a bit of a surprise when Harry asked to play with her. As it turned out, the reason was not a schoolboy crush - instead, Harry had caught her floating a pencil into her hand "like a Summoning Charm". She'd been alarmed when Harry caught her at it, saying that "she was supposed to keep it secret" and that "everyone would pick on her for being weird". Harry had confided his own secret, reassuring Hermione that she wasn't the only one, and that her secret was safe with Harry and his friends.

That, in turn, got Hermione to open up a bit more, and join in on the games. As it turned out, with their homeschooling schedule the Weasleys were actually slightly ahead of the school curriculum - which led to Hermione wanting to know *everything* about them, and even joining in on a few games.

While the incessant questions annoyed Ron a little bit, which he was not particularly sensitive about letting Hermione know, they were actually good for each other - Hermione was a font of curiosity about magical life, and just like Harry, the fact that Hermione didn't have to worry about being found "weird" or keeping a secret meant that she could relax around the Weasleys.

From that point, Harry would occasionally invite Hermione, Ginny and Ron to his house - where they'd play just the same as at the Weasleys, and where Ron and Harry occasionally played a joke on James, or the visiting Sirius Black, who always enthusiastically played along.

On one occasion, Harry and Ron had taken a rock and wrote on it with a marker. Sirius, playing along, read what was on the rock - "Turn me over", Harry had written. Again, Sirius played along, and turned over the stone - which, in Ron's voice, chided that "You just took orders from a rock".

It was a harmless little joke, and it got a chuckle out of Sirius - and out of James, who'd done the charm that recorded Ron's voice.

This was Harry's childhood, and it was overall a very happy Harry Potter who finally, shortly before his eleventh birthday and after his final day of pre-school, received a certain letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Chapter Text

The Saturday after his official enrollment at Hogwarts arrived, Harry was the first in the Potter Household to be awake - even before his mum, who usually was the one to wake him up - either by telling him it was time for school, or with the scents and sounds of a working kitchen.

Harry had been re-reading his invitation and the list of books all night, looking forward to finally learning how to do all the magic he'd seen his mum, dad, and Honorary Uncle Sirius doing - mum made doing the dishes look fun, which was saying something, and while dad and Uncle Sirius had toned it down from their apparently quite story-filled Hogwarts years, they still regularly played jokes on each other, magical or non-magical - and the magical ones were always spectacular.

He couldn't contain his excitement, bouncing through breakfast and counting the minutes until his trip to Diagon Alley. While he'd been there before - specifically, to go to the adjacent Medic Alley to have a pair of charmed glasses made - he was looking forward to seeing the alley again, especially since this time, his friends would also be there to do their own school shopping.

The Potters met up with the Weasleys at the Leaky Cauldron, an otherwise-unassuming pub in London - specifically, any Muggle visitors would only see the front of the building, not the expansion or the side-alley, where the actual entrance to Diagon Alley was. There, in the Muggle-friendly area, they waited for the Grangers to arrive, while having a few drinks.

Harry and Ron were animatedly chatting about what they were most looking forward to. Ron had heard from his brothers about the feasts and the Quidditch field - apparently, Hogwarts had the best field of any of the European magical schools.

Harry, meanwhile, had to confess he was actually looking forward to learning magic - his mum and dad had told him about the teachers, and Harry was especially looking forward to Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"I just can't believe the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher used to change every year, until… Until You-Know-What happened." Harry said.

While, with the confirmed death of Lord Voldemort, the fear of the name had subsided, talking about the event was still a bit awkward around the Potters - Lily, especially, did not like the attention it sometimes brought.

"Yeah, it's kind of wild - they say You-Know-Who himself cursed the position because he'd wanted it way back when. Well, luckily the current teacher's been there ever since then, I don't think i'd be learning much with a different teacher every year…" Ron replied, seeming a bit bored with the subject.

At that moment, the Grangers arrived, with Hermione in tow. James waved them over, making introductions where necessary - it was a bit awkward, but apparently parents of Muggleborn magicals were a gray area where the Statute was concerned, and until the child got their Hogwarts letter, the parents weren't considered "magical enough" to be kept fully in the loop even if their child was.

"Hi Harry, Hi Ron. Wow, it's finally becoming real for me… We're actually about to learn magic, aren't we?"

Hermione looked kind of nervously excited at the prospect. Even though she'd been friends with Harry and Ron for a while, and magic wasn't new to her anymore, it was still strange to her - and to her parents, who'd been surprised to see an owl of all things delivering the invitation and school supply list - that she'd actually be going to a school for it.

"Well, it's not as weird for me - all of my brothers have been going for two years - but yes, I'm really excited. Did you know Hogwarts apparently has the best Quidditch pitch of any of the European magical schools? I'm so excited to finally be allowed to fly a broom, even if it's only during flying lessons..." Ron said.

Hermione didn't look as excited at that prospect - of the three friends, she was the only one who preferred to keep her feet firmly on the ground, and she made it fairly obvious.

"Well, I'm just looking forward to finally meeting more people like… Like us. For the first few years, I thought I was weird for being able to do what I did, until I met you guys, and now I'm going to a whole school where we'll be taught how to do things, and there's books about magic…"

At that point, Arthur Weasley interjected. "Well, no sense keeping the excitement waiting, right? If we don't hurry, everything might be sold out. Plus, I promised Molly I wouldn't take too long, and you know how she gets when she's worried..."

That was a good point, and after paying Tom, the bartender, for the drinks, the three families made their way to the side-alley. James placed his wand against the back wall and moved it across the stone - three up, two across - and the wall slid out of the way, the top turning into an archway, as Diagon Alley was revealed.

Diagon Alley was every bit as impressive as Harry remembered from that first, brief visit - and it was even more impressive to his friends, who'd never been. Hermione's parents, up until now, weren't allowed - and as for Ron, it was no secret that his family wasn't exactly well off, nor that they tended to prefer growing their own food and potions ingredients, though it was a bit of a sore point for him.

The three children, as well as the Grangers, looked around in unbridled curiosity for a while, until they were snapped out of their reverie by the magical parents in the group.

"The first stop is Gringotts - magical bank. The Grangers will have to exchange their Muggle money, and Arthur and I will have to get some money out of our vaults. Most magical stores don't take Muggle money, it's too easy for a wizard to just conjure more…"

As James continued explaining wizarding money to the Grangers, the group proceeded to a large, marble building with ornate bronze doors - proclaiming itself to be Gringotts.

A bearded, grouchy-looking goblin bid them entry, and Harry couldn't help but gulp at the ominous poem visible on the back wall, that promised unpleasantness for anyone who sought "a treasure that was never yours" beneath the bank.

Here, the group separated - exchanging Muggle money was done at the counter, and the Potter and Weasley vaults were in different areas - and Harry had a rollercoaster-like ride to the Potter vault.

"Was that a three-headed dog?" Harry asked at some point, being held back from leaning out of the cart by his dad.

"Might have been, I couldn't see that quickly - and the goblins won't say, because of security." James answered, satisfying Harry.

Harry knew his parents were relatively well-off - between the large bounty on Voldemort, the investments of Fleamont and James, and royalties from Lily's notes on Charms and Potions - and as such wasn't too surprised by the piles of gold coins. It was still an impressive sight, though.

While the vault wasn't stacked full by any means - the goblins were firm believers in having room for one's wealth to grow - there was enough there to last the Potters a good, long time. Possibly even a lifetime, James had said once, though he later confided he didn't really have a head for exact numbers.

James counted out roughly what he'd need - money for textbooks, a wand, robes, and a few "surprises" - and closed the vault again, stepping back into the cart to meet the other families back at the entrance to Gringotts.

The next stop was an odds-and-ends store, the name of which Harry couldn't read due to people standing in front of the sign - here, the children received a standard-issue trunk and a telescope each. After that, the next stop was robes - Hermione was the first to be fitted, and Harry and Ron played half a game of wizarding chess while they waited.

Next up was Harry, who was being fitted at the same time as a blonde-haired, slightly buck-toothed boy who looked nervous. Harry tried to strike up a conversation, but the lady who was fitting him lightly admonished "I need you to keep still so I can measure correctly" before he could ask the boy's name.

He saw Ron talking to another blonde-haired boy, one who looked decidedly more confident and much less friendly - whatever he said, it caused Ron to scowl. After all three were fitted for robes and payment had occurred, Harry asked what had happened.

"That? That was Draco Malfoy. His dad and our dads don't get along well, and now I think I know why - he's a git."

"Language, Ronald." His father admonished, lighter than he otherwise would whenever Ron said a word he shouldn't. Apparently the encounter with the Malfoys had gotten to Arthur as well. Harry's dad, meanwhile, was counting to ten - as he sometimes did whenever something actually angered him, which wasn't often.

After a brief lunch, during which more discussion took place - this time on how not to behave at Hogwarts, using Draco Malfoy as an example - the group moved on to Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore.

While Ron's family could hand down some of the books used by the elder Weasley siblings, Harry and Hermione needed a full complement of new books - apparently the curriculum had changed enough that Harry's parents' school books were no longer used, and Hermione, being Muggleborn, didn't have any to begin with.

Harry and Hermione also bought a few books outside the curriculum, with the advice of James - "your mum swears by this Potions primer, Harry, I think you should have it" - and the slight dismay of Hermione's parents ("We don't have enough for you to buy every book, dear…").

The Apothecary was next, and after each child had their full complement of ingredients, utensils and collapsible cauldrons, the best was apparently saved for last. Wands.

Ollivanders was as much an experience as it was a store - Harry was reminded a bit of Madam Malkin's, as there was a waiting room at the front, visible through the window behind an apparently-ornamental wand on a purple cushion. Ollivander, apparently, had a personal approach to selling wands, as he took quite a bit of time with each customer.

After a bewildered Hermione had taken ten minutes, Ron was next. James had insisted on it, after a brief argument that ended in "if you won't accept it, I'll just pay for it behind your backs". Harry knew his dad had strong feelings on the matter of wands - a wand was "almost as personal as underwear", according to him.

Ron, too, wouldn't explain what had just happened in the room - "if I tell you, it'll ruin the fun", he'd said, with some degree of wonder in his voice.

So it was that Harry, unprepared, was faced with Mr. Ollivander - after briefly wondering if the store owner had gone elsewhere, Harry was surprised by a soft voice saying "good afternoon, Harry Potter" from behind a stack of boxes, as a wide-eyed elderly man appeared from there.

"I remember very well when your mother and father were here, buying their first wands…"

The man took a few boxes from the shelves, placing them one by one on the counter between himself and Harry.

"Tell me, is your mother still happy with hers? Willow, unicorn hair, ten and a quarter inches?"

Harry wasn't sure how to reply. It was slightly unsettling to him, not just because the man remembered that from ten years ago - he had a body-language that was just odd enough to be eerie. He nodded, swallowing his nerves.

"Your father, he favored a mahogany wand - dragon heartstring, eleven inches. Good for transfiguration, that wand. I hope he takes good care of it, as well?"

Again, Harry nodded, not trusting his mouth to speak. A tape-measure had been produced, and was now taking all sorts of measurements of Harry on its own - from his arm-length to the space between his eyes.

"For you, let's see… With those measurements, I think we'll go with eleven inches. Much like your father, you seem - here, try this one. Willow, dragon heartstring. Quite sturdy."

Harry had barely even noticed the box that had been slid towards him - but once he gathered himself, he took the wand. Feeling slightly silly, he gave it a wave - only to be stopped by the fact that, in mid-wave, Mr. Ollivander had taken the wand back.

"No, not by a long shot… I think willow might be too conductive a wood. Let's try this - mahogany, with a phoenix feather core."

The second wand did respond slightly - Harry felt a sort of warmth, but again the wand was taken before he could try it out.

"Closer, but not quite… I think we're on the right track with phoenix feather, but I don't have too many of those in stock…"

Having narrowed it down, Harry was given a few more wands - Ollivander declared him a "tricky customer" in the sort of voice that belayed that that was his favourite kind, before he disappeared to the back of the store and returned with two more boxes, saying "if one of these isn't it, I'll eat my hat". Harry thought better of commenting that the man was not, in fact, wearing any sort of hat.

"This one… Holly, phoenix feather. An unusual combination, and… Well, it would be poetic, wouldn't it? Almost as though the phoenix wanted to redeem itself..."

Harry knew where this was going, and Ollivander confirmed that the phoenix whose feather was used had given one other feather, long ago - a feather that had ended up in a yew wand, in the hands of a man exceptionally gifted at curses. He didn't need to elaborate.

Despite this fact, Harry could feel a warmth and, for lack of a better term, a connection to this wand that he couldn't with the others. Raising it with trepidation, he waved it at a spot of the wall - and was rewarded with sparks of beautiful magic. His magic. He'd found his wand, after what seemed like an eternity.

With that, Harry and Ollivander went back to the front of the store - Harry to rejoin his friends and family, Ollivander to receive payment from James and Mr. Granger.

"Blimey, you took a long time… Hermione and I finished two games of chess while you were in there. Well?"

"That was… That was something." Harry said weakly, holding his wand out to show it.

In the week that followed, Harry would often replay that trip in his mind. While it had been slightly unsettling to know that he was holding the "brother wand" to Voldemort's, he couldn't help but feel elated at the sensation of, for the first time, feeling his magic at work through his wand. Hogwarts couldn't come soon enough, in his mind.

Chapter Text

Between the trip to Diagon Alley and Hogwarts, there was still an entire summer holiday.

Harry spent the first few days of the summer holidays reading his new textbooks, and toying with his school supplies - much to the consternation of James and Lily, who'd had to keep Harry's new wand away from him after he'd set the curtains on fire by accident.

A second trip to Diagon Alley took Harry to Eeylop's Owl Emporium - Harry's Animagus form was molting, and it was an especially itchy affair. Unexpectedly, the itch carried over to his human form, when it hadn't before - this was apparently, as Sirius especially could attest to, something every molting Animagus went through at some point.

James, as well, remembered the time his antlers were shedding, and he ended up in the Hospital Wing with the replacements growing out of his human head - by comparison, the itch from losing feathers seemed rather trivial to Harry, but it was still annoying.

Still, given the existence of Eeylop's and the fact his Animagus form wasn't necessarily a secret, it was a fairly sensible decision to ease Harry's woes by purchasing a feather-preening kit and helping him out. Owls were among wizardkind's most common pets and were common ways to send and receive letters, so even a highly specialized store that only catered to the needs of owls would have loads of care products - mist bottles with a potion to ease the itch, feather-gloss, and specialized combs to remove old feathers painlessly were right up there with perches and cages in how commonly-purchased they were.

Harry gawked a little at the sheer number of owls Eeylop's had in store, and mused that his name was probably known there. It was a little-known fact, due to the rarity of Animagi, that all pet-stores got a list of known Animagi in any form potentially sold by that store, and their identifying marks - Harry was registered as a snowy owl with "dots in a rectangular pattern around the eyes, resembling thin-framed glasses".

It was one of a few benefits to registering, especially if the Animagus form was a common pet - it prevented pet-store owners from accidentally selling a known Animagus, or trying to train them, which was just awkward for everyone involved (as Sirius Black, who'd spent a few days in the "care" of a Muggle animal shelter, could attest to).

For a moment, Harry looked longingly at a gorgeous snowy owl, one of a few in what the shelves showed as a double-locking cage. The store clerk noticed this, and warned Harry away - "she's pretty, I know, but she's hard to win over - been returned at least three times, that one, and escapes the standard cage." It made Harry a little sad, as the owl looked somewhat curiously at him. Harry couldn't imagine her being a troublemaker.

It wasn't exactly common to buy animal supplies for an Animagus - while the clerk had stated "sure, sure" to the story that it was for a friend's owl, he'd shot Harry an appraising look, which Harry ducked away from.

While his father talked for a bit longer with the clerk, Harry tuned out the conversation and browsed the shelves a bit more. He was surprised to learn he liked the smell of owl-treats, and wondered how they tasted - but knew better than to put one in his mouth, as his owl form had far different taste-buds than his human form. He was also somewhat interested to learn that "all of Eeylop's cages and perches are self-cleaning" - it had seemed like a sensible thing to employ magic for, but Harry had thought owl owners were just expected to regularly use cleaning charms themselves.

Harry moved back from the perches and cages to the snowy owl, sitting in its cage. It was still looking at him curiously, and Harry found his curiosity getting the better of him - he stuck his fingers into the cage despite himself, and before he realized what he was doing. That split second, from what the clerk had described, Harry expected to get pecked - what he didn't expect was for the owl to give him what Harry recognized as an affectionate nip.

Soon enough, James had bought a complete feather-care kit, with one free refill of Molt-Ease potion - him and the sales clerk looked at the exchange between Harry and the snowy owl, especially the sales clerk seeming not to have expected it. A few more quiet words were exchanged while Harry wasn't listening, after which James called for Harry that "it's time to go - I might bring you back here another day."

The next thing Harry knew, it was his birthday. He'd spent a few days thinking back on that owl, he really wanted to see it free and happy - it was irrational, he knew. His parents had enough of a handful with himself, especially with this molt requiring a daily regime of combing, misting with the potion, and bathing. It did, however, ease the itching enough that Harry could spend some time in the Weasleys' garden, playing with Ron and Ginny as he usually would - during the worst of it, he'd been cooped up at home, angrily scratching himself silly.

Now, however, Harry was sitting eagerly in the living room of the Potter cottage. Around him, the Weasleys and the Grangers were gathered - a group photo had been taken with Mrs. Granger's Muggle camera, from an angle which obscured most of the overtly-magical items in the house.

"Okay, Harry, blow out the candles!" Lily said. She, along with Molly, had produced a large birthday cake - large enough that even with the Weasley boys' large appetites, there would be more than enough for everyone.

Harry was quite sure the candles were spread out enough that he'd run out of breath long before he'd managed to blow out the eleven candles on the cake, but he tried his best - only for the candles he'd managed to blow out to immediately re-ignite with a different color of flame, as Harry realized even the mothers weren't immune to playing jokes.

"That's… Actually a pretty clever charm. Changing the color of the flames every time they're blown out is a nice touch." Sirius said. Harry had to agree - it was these little things that made him so eager to finally be allowed to learn "proper" magic.

"Why, thank you." It was Molly who replied, to the surprise of everyone at the table. "I came up with that idea - Lily came up with the charm to make the candles re-ignite unless you cast an Extinguishing Charm on them. Speaking of which..."

A swift wand-movement and incantation later, the candles were put out by a beatifically-smiling Lily. Portions of cake were distributed among the party-goers - Harry receiving a slice so large he wasn't sure if he'd be able to fit dinner in with it as well - and a chorus of "Happy Birthday, Harry!" signaled that the party had officially begun.

After the cake was polished off, James gestured towards a small pile of presents, bidding "Harry, why don't you open these next, while I take care of cleaning up?" Harry nodded, eagerly moving towards the presents and tearing the wrapping off.

Fred and George, ever the jokesters, had given Harry a package of Salt Quills - a version of the Sugar Quill that tasted salty instead of sweet, and that made Harry's mouth curl up when he bit into one. It was only the fact that Harry laughed right along with the Twins that stayed Molly's anger.

Sirius had also gone for joke supplies - albeit not ones aimed at Harry. Among his gifts were an enchanted whoopee-cushion that turned invisible once placed and "smells of real dungbomb!", a pack of Dungbombs "for comparison", and a box that proclaimed its contents simply as "GRRRRR", which Sirius had found so amusing he'd bought it without knowing what it was - which turned out to be a jack-in-a-box that would growl loudly as it popped out.

More sensible gifts were given by the rest - the Grangers had all chipped in to buy Harry an expanding bookcase for his trunk, Lily and James had given him a Wizard's Chess set - Harry liked playing Wizard's Chess with Ron, but Ron's pieces wouldn't listen to him anymore after a particularly swift defeat.

The Weasleys had mostly opted for sweets - Ron had given Harry a box of Chocolate Frogs, plus a few of the collectable cards within that he'd had duplicates of, Molly had a box of homemade fudge, and Ginny had given him a pack of Ice Mice.

Percy Weasley, for his part, had opted for a quill-and-ink set ("You can never have enough quills, or ink") which made Harry privately wonder if he could turn his own pinion feathers into quills before concluding that pulling one out would hurt too much to be worth it.

The Grangers had opted for a blank book for Harry to write in, with the intent that he'd use it for his class notes - "that way, unlike what your dad told us he did, you won't have to write all over your Transfiguration textbook".

It was all pretty nice, and Harry had fun testing out the whoopee-cushion and playing chess with his own set.

At last, as evening fell, James declared that he had "one last surprise for the birthday boy" - rolling in a large object that looked suspiciously like one of the hanging cages that Harry had seen at Eeylop's.

Of all the happenings of that day, Harry would be most ecstatic that he'd gotten the snowy owl, which he named Hedwig.

Chapter Text

The day after Harry's birthday, James had told Lily - and Harry, who'd tuned out the conversation the first time, hence how he could be surprised by his new favourite birthday gift - what the sales clerk had warned him about.

The owls that Eeylops sold were of "magically sensitive" varieties - being a subset of owls, much like how wizards and witches were a subset of humans. This magical sensitivity, which also existed in cats and toads, could create a lasting bond between the animal and the wizard - and in a sense, much like wandlore, "the owl chooses the wizard".

Most of the owls sold at Eeylops were sensitive enough for the bond to work, but not sensitive enough to be all too picky about it - being likely to bond with any wizard who would purchase them. For a rare few owls, however, their sensitivity was rather more extreme - to the point where any subtle difference would chafe at the owl and prevent them from bonding.

It would not be a problem once a complete bond existed, but until then the more sensitive owls were hard to sell, even having to be kept in insulating cages with multiple locks to prevent escapes.

This was the case with Hedwig - which, combined with the rarity of snowy owls in Britain, led to a few prominent families buying her for status and returning her days later when her irritation made itself clear. On at least one occasion, she'd flown back to Eeylops the moment her cage was opened, which led to their having to warn families away from buying her for status.

It was, therefore, a bit of a relief to the clerk when Hedwig responded positively to Harry's curiosity - she was a sweet enough bird, if a bit proud, but her magical sensitivity could very well have led to Harry being injured. When Lily heard that bit, she'd given Harry an admonishment for his recklessness, followed by what the Weasley children would describe as a "Mum-grade" hug.

Hedwig, for her part, became a true member of the family. Contrary to the double-locking cage that Harry had first seen her in, the cage James had selected barely ever had its door closed. Because it was summer, the window was often opened as well - meaning Hedwig could come and go as she pleased, and Harry often joined her for a flight or what he described as a 'lesson in being a proper owl'.

Even without the ability to talk, Animagi had an instinctive knowledge of how their animal form communicated - which resulted in Harry curiously bobbing his head as Hedwig demonstrated whatever she saw fit to teach him that day. Sometimes, the two just made vocalizations back-and-forth - which Harry, once he transformed back, explained as practicing their identifying calls.

Hedwig had also given Harry a few lessons on preening. While the specialized comb - normally only used for the few spots an owl couldn't reach itself, or for older owls like the Weasley family's Errol - took care of Harry's molting problem, it was still good for him to know exactly how to align his feathers and remove loose ones himself.

All in all, the relationship between Harry and Hedwig closely resembled the one Harry had with Lily - James, Sirius, and the Weasley Twins often joked that Harry had two mums, to Harry's embarrassment.

Of course, the prospect of going to Hogwarts also took up much of the summer holidays. When he wasn't playing with his friends, or 'owling around' as Sirius sometimes called it when he came over, Harry would often read his textbooks. James surprised himself by recommending that he get a head start on Potions.

"The teacher is Uncle Padfoot's brother, and honestly he should have been the one to have his name. He takes the subject quite Sirius-ly - ow!" Sirius, who was once again visiting that day, interrupted James with a cuff to the back of his head.

"Prongs, I had enough of that one at school." he said, putting his hands back down.

"But… Yes. Knowing my brother - frankly, it's still a miracle to me that he decided to become Potions Professor, or that they'd let him, given his stint in Azkaban… Anyway. Knowing my brother, it'll be a good thing to know at least the first chapter by heart, that's where the safety instructions are."

Lily nodded at that. While she didn't know Regulus Black all that well, he was one of the few friends of Severus Snape's that she could tolerate before her falling-out with the latter - and Potions had been one of her better subjects, so she was hoping her son had inherited her talent.

Thus encouraged, Harry took a week to memorize the first chapter of his Potions textbook - and then, at the prodding of his dad, moved on to Transfiguration.

"While I don't expect Minnie - sorry, Professor Mcgonagall-" he interjected, at Lily's mild 'Really?' look.

"While I don't expect Professor McGonagall to start with a pop-quiz, it's still good to get a head start. Transfiguration is a tricky subject."

In a stage-whisper, Sirius then ruined it by adding "It's also how we did a lot of our best jokes back then", which earned him an even more disapproving Look™ from Lily. A lot of those jokes had targeted her then-friend, and were really rather mean-spirited, so Lily did not want to encourage it.

James, wisely, changed subjects back to the teachers at that.

"Minerva McGonagall might seem stern, but she's a great teacher and always willing to help if you have a good reason for what you're doing. Me, Sirius, and the Ex-Marauder Who Shall Not Be Named couldn't have become Animagi without her help - she'll deny it if you ask, mind..."

Harry nodded at that. He'd heard the story before - James, Sirius, and another person who they refused to refer to as a friend had discovered that Remus Lupin had been a werewolf. After subsequently learning that werewolves tended to see transformed Animagi as one of their own, the trio had decided to attempt the Animagus transformation.

In their sixteenth attempt, Minerva McGonagall had caught them with mandrake leaves in their mouth and - several detentions, one demand for an explanation, and three sincere apologies later - gave them the information needed for attempt seventeen to succeed.

"I think, in the end, she wasn't as angry at our rule-breaking and more disappointed that we hadn't thought to just ask her permission and help in the first place - turns out, she's qualified to help third-year-and-up students through the process, so we wouldn't have had to break the rules to begin with."

This information, Harry absorbed keenly. He knew Hermione would be interested just for the learning, and Ron sometimes expressed jealousy at Harry for his Animagus ability, so he could definitely see his friends signing up for that when the time came.

For that matter, it seemed like the sort of thing Fred and George might be interested in. However, given they were "as bad as the Marauders" - a turn of phrase that made James and Sirius look at each other funny when they'd heard it - it might not be that good an idea to tell them about it.

Ron, who Harry had told the next time he went over to hang out, agreed.

"Yeah, mate. They're bad enough now, imagine how they'd be if they could turn into an animal..." Ron said. It was no big secret that after their first year at Hogwarts, Fred and George had stepped up their practical-joke game in honor of the Marauders.

He'd overheard James and Sirius making a wager - winner gets to dare the other to do something silly - about when Fred and George would realize exactly who their new inspirations were, and had bid Harry to not tell them.

Harry, thinking this was the sort of joke that kept on giving without really being harmful, agreed readily - and put his own opinion down as "two and a half years", the longest time by far, despite his mum forbidding him from actually entering the wager.

Of course, this led to a bit of a conundrum. On the one hand, he didn't want to keep secrets from his friends - on the other hand, if he told Ron, there was no way he'd be able to keep it from the Twins.

Eventually, by the last week of the summer holidays, he decided to bring Ron in on the secret.

"Wicked! So, you're telling me, Fred and George…" Ron left the sentence hanging, prompting Harry to answer.

"Practically worship my dad, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and one other person who my dad keeps calling 'the rat' or just doesn't mention at all."

At that, Ron burst out laughing - before Harry reminded him that it was a secret, and that it was probably best to outright avoid talking about it with Fred and George. Ron agreed readily, and that was that.

It would not come up again that summer. At least, not where Fred and George could hear.

Chapter Text

"Harry, dear, wake up. You'll be late for the train…"

Harry's eyes cracked open. It had been a while since his mum had to wake him, but the day before he'd been so excited about going to Hogwarts that he'd tired himself out - and subsequently slept like a log. With somewhat bleary eyes, he got himself out of bed, rubbed his eyes, and got dressed under the watchful eyes of his mum.

"The Weasleys were selected to watch for lost Muggleborn students. We're Flooing to the station, and Hermione's parents wanted to drive her to London, so you'll see your friends again on the train."

Harry nodded, with mixed feelings. He didn't like the Floo much, but it was the fastest way to get there safely. Apparating onto a busy platform ran the risk of accidents, after all, and unlike the Grangers and the Weasleys, they didn't own a car. The prospect of what came after, however, made up for it - finally, he'd be going to Hogwarts. Eventually, the excitement won out, and he almost missed his dad's instruction.

"Remember, be loud and clear - Platform Nine and Three Quarters. You don't want to end up getting lost, do you?"

Harry shook his head, took a deep breath, and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the small cauldron on the mantelpiece before throwing it into the fire and shouting the platform name, stepping into the fireplace as it whisked him away.

The spinning sensation was dizzying, and he almost missed the exit because of it. Stumbling out of the makeshift fireplace on the other end, Harry took a moment to regain his balance, stepping away from the fireplace just in time for his mum to arrive next, and then his dad.

"Are you alright, Harry? We know you don't like the Floo..."

Reassuring his mum that he was okay, Harry gave his parents a brief hug before looking at the incoming train. The Hogwarts Express was an old-fashioned steam train - Harry remembered riding on a Muggle train once when visiting his Aunt Petunia in Surrey. His dad wouldn't come that time, because him and Petunia's husband didn't get along.

As they waited for Hermione to arrive, Harry watched more families arrive. The blonde-haired boy he'd seen at Madam Malkin's looked just as nervous now, as he came out of the fireplace with what looked to be his mum - who waved to James and Lily as they passed.

"Oh, right, you wouldn't have met her - that's Alice Longbottom. She and I were friends, back at Hogwarts, and we worked together a lot before… Before you were born." Lily said, noticing Harry's interest.

Eventually, Hermione arrived through the barrier. Harry waved her and Mr. and Mrs. Granger over - one of these days, he really should memorize the names of his friend's parents - and chatted amiably about a few things.

"Sorry we're late - you wouldn't believe the traffic, what with all the school runs…" Hermione's parents said.

"Don't worry, the doors haven't opened quite yet. How was the other side of the barrier?" James said.

"Well, the Weasleys put on a little play - Molly asking Ginny the platform number, to keep her involved, and then sending Percy through a few times to demonstrate. They found one child and his mum looking lost…"

At that moment, the Weasleys came through, an unknown dark-skinned lady and her son in tow.

"Ah, there you are. Potters, Grangers, this is Dean Thomas and his mum, Mrs…"

The lady picked up at that, recognizing the cue.

"Melody Thomas, pleased to meet you." She shook the hands of the Potters, who duly introduced themselves, and then the Grangers - which made Harry pay more attention.

"Elizabeth Granger, likewise - and this is my husband, Crispin." Mrs. Granger - no, Elizabeth - shook the hand of Melody and indicated for her husband to do the same.

Harry mentally noted to actually memorize the names this time.

They conversed a bit about the Hogwarts Express - apparently, it was only used twice a year. Normally another train was used and it would just be called "the train to Hogsmeade", but the Hogwarts Express had more facilities for children, as well as being slightly more accidental-magic-proof.

At that point, the train gave a loud hiss as the doors opened. James took Harry aside briefly. "Oh, I almost forgot. Albus - Headmaster Dumbledore - has written a letter to us, apparently he's finally figured out something about that heirloom Invisibility Cloak - don't be surprised if he calls you into his office to talk about it, okay?"

Harry nodded, and joined his friends on the train. Dean Thomas split off from the group to go find another of his friends that Harry didn't catch the name of, leaving Hermione, Ron and Harry to find a carriage for themselves.

When they found a carriage that wasn't already full - and that Lee Jordan, one of Fred and George's friends, hadn't been showing off a tarantula in, to Ron's dismay when he suggested sitting with his brothers - they put their trunks in the overhead luggage, and played a game of Exploding Snap to pass the time.

At some point, a toad hopped from underneath the floor. The Trio, figuring someone might have lost their pet, kept a close eye on it - and it was a good thing too, as the owner arrived moments later.

"Has anyone seen a t-Trevor!" The Longbottom boy exclaimed, in surprise. Ron - who'd been holding the toad so as to not let it escape, handed it over to him.

"Thanks for holding onto my toad, he escaped when I got onto the train to chase after something… He does that sometimes. I'm Neville Longbottom, by the way. "

The trio duly introduced themselves. Neville proved an amiable companion, if a bit nervous to talk sometimes.

"Sorry, my mum and dad wouldn't tell me either - even though my dad's the Defense teacher. You'd figure it'd have to be something really weird though..." Neville said, when the subject matter of the Sorting came up.

"I tried asking my brothers, but they kept changing their answers. The last thing they said was that you had to fight a troll, but that has to be a joke… Right?" Ron said, shuddering.

"I referenced Hogwarts: A History," Hermione added, prompting a not-so-subtle eye roll from Ron, "but the only thing I could find is 'Tradition dictates that the method of Sorting students be kept secret, and as such it will not be printed in this reference material'."

"Well, lots of other students have done it, so it can't be anything difficult or dangerous. I just hope I'm sorted into Gryffindor, like my parents were."

They could all agree to that - all of Ron's older brothers, as well as his own parents, had also been Gryffindors. Neville's parents had been in the same House as well, a year above Harry's. Hermione, meanwhile, had her own reasons for it.

"Gryffindor was the house of the current Headmaster, who's apparently one of the greatest wizards of the age - I'd love to be able to follow in his footsteps…"

They were interrupted in their conversation, briefly, by the arrival of the snack cart - pushed by a kindly-looking, dimpled elderly witch.

"Anything off the cart, dears?"

This set the children off. While Ron hadn't been given any money - instead, he had corned beef sandwiches, which he complained about - Hermione had a few Sickles, and Harry and Neville had been given a Galleon each. Pooled together, there was enough that they had a nice supply of candy to last them through the journey, and Harry traded Ron's corned beef sandwiches for some of the cart's products.

During a conversation about Quidditch - in which Ron proclaimed his support for the Chudley Cannons, Harry mentioned that he didn't really have a favourite team but loved the sport itself ("It involves flying, that's reason enough"), Hermione mentioned a few facts from a book called 'Quidditch Through the Ages', and Neville got a bit lost - a loud whistle sounded from the front of the train.

"Oh, we're nearly there - we should get changed into our school robes. I'll take the bathroom, you boys knock when it's safe to come back in." With that, Hermione disappeared into the side door. The boys turned their backs to each other for a few minutes while they stripped off their clothing and put on their school robes, and as they finished, the train had slid to a standstill.

Hogwarts awaited them.

Chapter Text

As the train’s doors opened, the group consisting of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found themselves confronted with a picturesque village - the sort that, if it were snowing, would likely be found on a Christmas card. Harry, Ron and Neville knew this village to be Hogsmeade.
“My mum and dad moved here when my dad started teaching at Hogwarts. You can’t Apparate into Hogwarts, after all - though it does make it a bit silly that I have to go to London to take the Hogwarts Express, only to come back here anyways.” Neville mentioned, as the group followed the other students towards what looked like a distant castle.

“Hogwarts firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” They heard a booming, accented voice shout over the din of conversation and the general sounds of life around the village. Turning their heads, they saw a large man - much larger than possible if he were entirely human - with a wild mane of hair and a large, bushy beard that obscured nearly all but his eyes.
Harry remembered all the stories of his father, who’d been caught in the Forbidden Forest a few times and struck up a rapport with the large groundskeeper.

The groundskeeper led them across a narrow, twisting path that occasionally sloped downwards sharply. A thick canopy of trees obscured their vision on either side of the path, and Neville gave a shudder as they went through a particularly dark passage.
None of them talked much, focusing more on where they were going and trying not to stumble over the root of a tree, or a rock. Neville kept his hands in his pockets, at the prompting of Harry - who’d seen Trevor make another escape attempt at that moment.

“Forest’ll be opening up soon enough, then ye’ll catch yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts. Just round this bend here!” they heard the groundskeeper shout. Sure enough, as they rounded the bend - Ron nearly tripping over a root that Harry swore wasn’t there when Neville went past, eager to get out of the forest - more light started filtering in, and they were treated to quite the sight.
A few of their fellow first-years - particularly, a pair of foreign-looking twins, and a blonde girl - made an “Ooooohhh” sound as the group looked on. Small boats were docked on the shore of a very large lake, its waters glittering in the moonlight. On the other side of the lake, atop a hill that could have passed for a mountain, lay a castle that seemed to be competing for the lake’s splendor with its many turrets, towers, and warm light coming from behind its windows.

“No more ‘n four to a boat, don’t risk falling in!” they heard calling. A bit of a scramble followed, leaving a dejected Dean Thomas the only one in his boat. At least, he would have been, had Harry not noticed this and turned into his Animagus form to perch on Ron’s shoulder before the boats set off, to let Dean board.
This, in turn, set both Dean and Neville off with questions - questions directed towards a bemused Harry at first, who barked and shot a look at the boys as a reminder that owls couldn’t talk. Luckily, Hermione came to the rescue, explaining that normally becoming an Animagus was quite complex, and noting that thus far no-one they could ask knew how Harry bypassed it. 

Ron added, after getting the go-ahead from Harry in the form of a nod, that students with good grades in Potions and Transfiguration could get permission and help from a teacher to go through it - thereby extending the invitation that, when the time came, Neville and Dean could possibly join in.

“It’s not a formal thing though. She doesn’t advertise it, and there’s no extra credit - but still, the skill’s reward enough for me. I’d finally be the first in the family at something.” Ron finished, whispering the last sentence silently enough that only Harry could really hear - Harry rather suspected he hadn’t intended for Harry to hear it either, so he gave no indication that he’d heard.

As the boats reached the other side and headed towards the cliffside, the groundskeeper shouted a “Heads down!”. Moments later, his boat sailed right into the cliffside - ivy parted around the large man and revealed a cave that the boat sailed into. Harry quickly hopped off of Ron’s shoulder as he, Dean, Neville and Hermione ducked - Harry reached the bottom of the boat just in time to not get snagged by the ivy.

The boat passed through a narrow cave, illuminated mostly by the moonlight from outside and a faint bit of torchlight from the other side, before arriving at a kind of underground harbor. Ron, Neville, Dean and Hermione clambered out of the boat before Harry un-transformed and did the same, hoping silently that the groundskeeper either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind what he’d done.
That hope was simultaneously dashed and relief offered when the large man chuckled a bit, beady eyes looking towards Harry, and mumbled something about James Potter that Harry didn’t quite catch, before doing a head-count and lighting a lamp.

The groundskeeper led them through a few more tunnels, lamp-light being the only thing that illuminated the staircases that were hewn into the stone, before they arrived at the exit of the cavern, and stepped onto smooth, damp grass. The castle seemed even bigger than it had been in the distance as they walked up one last staircase to the entrance - a huge, oaken double-door with cast-iron knockers.

As the groundskeeper knocked three times on the door, it opened slightly with a creak, revealing a tall, black-haired witch in emerald green robes. She had a stern look on her face, and Harry’s first thought was that this wasn’t someone to have against you.
“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.” The groundskeeper said.

The stern-faced witch responded in kind. “Thank you, Hagrid. I’ll take them from here.”
With that, the groundskeeper - Hagrid, apparently - departed, leaving the students in the hands of Professor McGonagall, who pulled the door wide.

The large entrance hall, torch-lit and magnificent, was the students’ first sight of the inside. A large marble staircase faced the students, seemingly stretching into infinity.
The students followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, gawking at the sheer size of it. Harry could hear a lot of voices from a doorway to the right, presumably belonging to the other students, but this proved not to be their destination as the professor led them through an archway into a smaller chamber, to address them.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” Professor McGonagall started.
“The start-of-term banquet will begin soon, but before then you will need to be sorted into one of the four Houses.”

“The Sorting Ceremony is an important part of your time here at Hogwarts. While you’re here, your House will be something like your family - you will have classes with the rest of the students within your House, sleep in a dormitory with them, and share a common-room with the rest of your House.”
She continued her explanation of the four Houses - Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff - and the points system, which led into the House Cup. It seemed a little strange to Harry, and frankly he wasn’t sure why there was a Cup involved, but he was hardly going to ask - he was sure they had a reason for it.

“In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in the Great Hall, to the right. I will call you forward then - I suggest you avail yourselves of this time and smarten up a bit.” Professor McGonagall looked appraisingly at the students - a few had dirt on their faces, presumably from a fall, and one girl had undone a button or two on her robes - before turning and leaving the first-years alone.

This did not last long, however, as voices protruded from the walls. A few students screamed, and all of them looked surprised, as about ghosts started filtering through the walls, debating animatedly about a ‘Peeves’ - one ghost seemed to be in favor of giving him another chance, another said he was nothing but trouble and something should be done, and a third was of the opinion that it didn’t really matter, as this ‘Peeves’ wasn’t truly a ghost and they couldn’t get rid of him either way.

This chat stopped as one ghost, wearing a ruff and tights, noticed the new students.

“I say, is it that time of year already?”
Another ghost, who’d been mentioned in the discussion as being the Fat Friar, picked up on this.

“New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose?”
A few students nodded - some still trying to calm themselves from the scare - and the Friar responded kindly. “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff, then! My old House, you know.”

“Move along now,” Professor McGonagall, who’d returned in the meantime, admonished the ghosts. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. If the students would all form a line and follow me, please…"

Chapter Text

As Professor McGonagall led the students back across the hall, Harry felt his worries increase. Sure, he’d said that it couldn’t be that hard, that every other student had done it - but at this moment, it dawned on him that he could very well be separated from his friends, or end up in a house that would disappoint his parents.

He resolved himself by countering each of the thoughts that popped up. If he was in a different House from his friends, they could still hang out around the Hogwarts grounds - and he could see if he was allowed in other common rooms. His parents had reassured him that any House he’d end up in would be glad to have him - “even Slytherin”. Harry took a breath and kept those thoughts firmly in his mind.

Another part of his mind wondered what the Sorting Ceremony would be - would there be a written personality test, like Hermione said? Would the Deputy Headmistress just assign them randomly, like one ginger-haired girl said? Or would it be something physical - no, he really couldn’t think of any way a physical test would say something about you as a person.

His thoughts were interrupted when Professor McGonagall opened the door to the Great Hall, and Harry was able to take in the sight of one of the most overtly *magical* things he’d ever seen. The Great Hall was illuminated by hundreds of candles, floating in mid-air - from the look of it, they were of the never-melting variety. Four long tables were the main feature of the Hall, each table covered with a long tablecloth that Harry supposed was in the color of a certain House. Each table seated enough students that Harry couldn’t count them all in that moment. 
At the far end of the hall, a fifth table was similarly laid out for the teachers - its tablecloth an off-white color, with golden goblets and plates atop it.

Professor McGonagall led the students to the front, lining them up so they faced the other students. Harry, attempting to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes out of a sudden realization that hundreds of people were looking at them, looked up at the ceiling - it was a velvety black, dotted with what looked to be stars, and the owlish instincts of Harry kind of made him want to fly up to it. Behind him, he heard Hermione saying “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? Bewitched to look like the sky outside - read about it in ‘Hogwarts, a History’.”

A dull “thud” shook Harry out of his reverie. Professor McGonagall had, while Harry was looking up, seemingly conjured a simple, four-legged wooden stool that had landed on the floor, and placed something on top of it.
A hat. Harry idly wondered what a hat could have to do with the Sorting Ceremony - he supposed it might just be one of the many silly things that magic demanded be present, or maybe they had to do an old Muggle standby and conjure something out of it. The hat looked old, frayed in several places, and with creases that almost resembled a face.

For a moment, there was complete silence. Harry could see a few students looking on in even more confusion than he felt himself. Then, the hat gave a shudder, and began to straighten itself out. The face that Harry had seen in the creases proved to be more than mere coincidence, as the largest crease opened up into a mouth and two smaller creases opened to create eyes.
Then, the hat began to sing. It sang a song that re-iterated the values the four House’s founders held dear, and bid students to put it on. Harry supposed that a hat would have had a long time to think of new songs, if it were sentient and only really used for the one purpose - and that, without a test audience, not all of its creations would be good.

“So that’s all? We just have to put on a hat? It’s almost disappointing, with what my brothers were saying - wrestle a troll, my-” Ron whispered, interrupted when Professor McGonagall addressed the students again.

“When I call your name, please sit on the stool and put on the hat to be Sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”
A blonde, pigtailed girl stumbled shyly out of the line, and put on the hat. It fell right over her eyes, and there was a moment of silence before the Hat’s mouth opened again to shout “HUFFLEPUFF!”. Professor McGonagall took the hat and directed Hannah to the table with the yellow cloth, which was apparently Hufflepuff’s.

“Bones, Susan” was next, and was also sorted into Hufflepuff, while “Boot, Terry” became the first Ravenclaw - eliciting applause from the second table to the left, with the blue cloth.
“Brocklehurst, Mandy” followed Terry Boot to Ravenclaw, before “Brown, Lavender”, a girl with curly blonde hair, was sorted to become the first Gryffindor. Over the by-now-customary applause, Harry heard Fred and George Weasley catcalling only to be admonished by Percy.

This went on for a little while, and as a “Finch-Fletchley, Justin” was sorted into Hufflepuff, Harry mentally noted that some students seemed to take quite a long time while others were near-instantly sorted. “Finnigan, Seamus”, a boy who’d been stood beside him, took nearly a full minute to be sorted into Gryffindor.

Harry paid extra attention as “Granger, Hermione” was called forward, the first of his friends to be sorted. Hermione jammed the hat on her head, looking eager - said hat took a full minute-and-a-half to finally decide on “GRYFFINDOR!”.
“Longbottom, Neville” also took a very long time, and when he was finally sorted - also into Gryffindor - he nearly forgot to take the hat off, taking a step before sheepishly handing it back to Professor McGonagall so “MacDougal, Morag” could be sorted.

When his name was called, “Malfoy, Draco”, the boy who’d angered Ron at Madam Malkin’s at the start of summer, swaggered forward. The Hat barely even touched his head before shouting “SLYTHERIN!”, and he sent a smirk Ron’s way. If Harry hadn’t already decided he didn’t like Draco Malfoy, the fact he seemed to make being Sorted look like a way to insult someone else would have done it.

More and more students were sorted - “Moon, Lily” went to Ravenclaw, ”Nott, Theodore” and “Parkinson, Pansy” to Slytherin. A pair of dark-skinned twin girls, “Patil, Padma” and “Patil, Parvati”, was slightly dismayed to be split up - Padma going to Ravenclaw while her sister, Parvati, went to Gryffindor.
“Perks, Sally-Anne” was sorted into Hufflepuff, and finally it was Harry’s turn. Harry walked forward, took the hat from Professor McGonagall, and sat on the stool before putting on the hat. It covered his eyes completely, and Harry felt somewhat ridiculous before he was surprised by a voice in his mind.

“Hmm. Difficult, very difficult. Then again, cases like you usually are… Sorting an Animagus is always a treat...”
Harry was surprised at the news that he wasn’t the first, forgetting for a moment that the hat was apparently reading his mind - and thus, picked up on that surprise as if it was a question.

“It’s rare, but it pops up every so often. Pretty much all the Founders’ first children were Animagi, much like their parents… But, let’s get back to you...”
Harry sat under the Hat for what seemed like an eternity, in complete silence.

“Well, Slytherin is out of the question. While you have the ambition and the cunning, I can see you wouldn’t quite fit in there…”
Despite himself, Harry felt a bit of relief at that. He hadn’t been looking forward to sharing a dorm with Malfoy.

“That still leaves Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Ravenclaw would suit your studiousness, yes, but you don’t strike me as the type who can spend too long alone in a crowd… Hufflepuff or Gryffindor…”

More time ticked by. Harry was fairly sure he’d spent five minutes under the Hat by now. He heard Professor McGonagall muttering the word “hatstall”, before the voice in his mind returned.

“Well, Mr. Potter, I must say you’ve been a pleasure to Sort, but ultimately your adventurous spirit wins out. Give Minerva my regards in GRYFFINDOR!”
The last part was shouted out loud, for the Great Hall to hear. Harry took the hat off his head and handed it back to Professor McGonagall before sitting down next to Hermione.

“I’m surprised. There hasn’t been a Hatstall in a pretty long time… I’d ask you what the Hat said, but it’s rather private.” Hermione said. Harry didn’t really have a problem with telling her, however, and did just that as they waited for the murmurs to subside - apparently being a Hatstall was kind of a big deal.
She looked particularly interested at the fact that apparently Harry wasn’t the first to become an Animagus before ever having touched a wand, but their conversation was interrupted as “Thomas, Dean” was also Sorted into Gryffindor.

After a “Turpin, Lisa” was sorted into Ravenclaw, it was Ron’s turn - the last of Harry’s friends to be sorted, and the second-to-last first year overall. Harry looked sympathetically at him and the last boy, being sorted in alphabetical order left plenty of time for Ron to get nervous.

Unlike Harry, the Hat seemed to decide almost instantly for Ron. Mere seconds after it touched his head, a shout of “GRYFFINDOR!” was heard, and Ron sagged in relief before joining Harry, Hermione and Dean at the table. Percy congratulated him on being Sorted with his brothers, and Ron took a second for his face to settle into a smile as “Zabini, Blaise” was sorted into Slytherin, and Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll of names.

The Sorting Hat was placed on the teachers’ table, and Professor McGonagall Vanished the stool, sitting back down at the table.
Harry looked at the empty plates and dishes. While the excitement had prevented him from feeling hungry, the end of the Sorting made that feeling come back with something of a vengeance - and Harry apparently wasn’t the only one, as he saw Ron doing the same thing from the corner of his eye.

A long-bearded man - Albus Dumbledore, Harry remembered from both his father’s stories and from a Chocolate Frog card he’d gotten for his eleventh birthday from Ron - had stood up from the staff table. He was smiling at the students, arms open wide, as if this was the happiest moment of his life.
“Welcome! Welcome, to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words…”

A long pause. Harry wasn’t sure what was about to follow, but he supposed it would be important - maybe the rules, or something
”But alas, we cannot always get what we want.”
With that, he sat back down. Harry couldn’t help but snort, and he wasn’t the only one. Lavender Brown had started giggling somewhat nervously, as if she wasn’t sure whether it was okay to laugh.

Beside him, he heard Dean ask “Is that… Normal? For him, I mean?”, which Percy confirmed - apparently the man had made a similar joke every year for the start-of-term banquet. It was as much a tradition to him as the banquet itself.
“Fred and George tried to start a betting pool last year on what he’d say this time, but thankfully they couldn’t get anyone to actually place a bet. It’s just too unpredictable.” Percy finished.

As this was said, the large dishes and bowls on the table filled to the brim with food. Ron tucked in eagerly, piling his plate with everything in reach. Harry, while he was also quite hungry, took a bit less of everything - he idly wondered where Ron put it all, even though he was kind of used to his friend’s love for food by now.

One of the ghosts that had greeted the students before the Sorting, the one in the ruff, floated out of the table, startling Ron and Hermione.
“That does look good...” he mused sadly. “I haven’t eaten for nearly five hundred years. It’s impossible for a ghost, but then again we don’t really need food, but one does miss it.”

The ghost’s face changed as it appeared to be remembering something.
“I do believe I have yet to introduce myself. Sir Nicholas De Mimsy-Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower, at your service.” The ghost said, making a small bow.

“I’ve heard about you - my brothers talked about you a few times. They called you Nearly-Headless Nick, though…” The ghost looked pleased that he was known, but less-than-pleased at the nickname.

“I’d prefer if you called me Sir Nicholas.” The ghost said, before the sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan put in his own two-penny worth.
“Nearly headless? How can you be nearly headless?”

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say - though the ghost in question was quick to oblige, pulling his head to the side - revealing that it was only held on by a sliver of skin, looking almost hinged in that moment. It was kind of off-putting.
That demonstration done - and the first years stunned into silence - Sir Nicholas coughed, and thereafter regained his composure.

“So - new Gryffindors! I do hope you’re going to help win the House Championship this year? I daresay that cup has been in Slytherin’s dorm room for far too long - it’s about time that changed, no?”
Harry didn’t really care either way - the competition seemed a bit strange to him, only seeming to spark rivalry - but he heroically refrained from saying so.
“The Bloody Baron - the Slytherin House ghost - has become almost unbearable over it.”

Harry followed the indication of the ghost, who he’d resolved to refer to as Sir Nicholas in his mind. At the Slytherin table, he saw a ghost whose body seemed to be in even worse state than Sir Nicholas - blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes that looked to have been cut into in several places, stained in silvery blood that looked to have come from a gaping wound in its chest.
The students near it, among whom Draco Malfoy, seemed to be trying their hardest to look anywhere but the obvious. Some of them looked like the sight had put them off dinner even more thoroughly than the brief sight of the inside of Sir Nicholas’s neck had done to the Gryffindors.

Someone - Harry couldn’t tell who - asked how the Bloody Baron had gotten that way - which Sir Nicholas delicately responded to with “I wouldn’t recommend asking, it’s a personal matter”.

After everyone had eaten as much as they were able, conversation resumed, with Seamus Finnigan talking about his parents.
“I’m half-and-half. My dad’s a Muggle, mam’s a witch. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to tell him until they got married, so it was a bit of a shock for him…”
Harry nodded, and some of the students snorted. The Statute of Secrecy could lead to a few awkward situations like that - luckily, it was one of those things that would be amusing to all involved in hindsight.
“What about you guys?”

“Well, I grew up with only my mum. Dad disappeared shortly after I was born - Mum didn’t actually marry him - so I don’t actually know if I’m half-blood or Muggleborn. I’m actually kind of jealous of everyone here - Hermione said she grew up mostly knowing even if she couldn’t tell her parents, so I think I’m the only one here who hasn’t grown up around magic. That must be making it easier for most of you…” Dean said.

Ron was quick to ease his worries. “Well, not really? Knowing the words and the wand-movement is only half the work, and we only got our textbooks at the same time as you guys - except for maybe Neville - so we couldn’t really learn until the start of summer, same as you probably.”

“I just hope I’m not horrible at Defense Against the Dark Arts. The teacher’s my dad, and before you ask, he actually said he was keeping the teaching for Hogwarts - so no, even I don’t have an advantage.” Neville added.

Eventually, the desserts disappeared in the same way dinner did. Albus Dumblefore stood up again, interrupting the conversation Hermione was having with Percy Weasley about classes, and addressed the school.

Clearing his throat, he said “Just a few words, with the banquet firmly in our bellies. There are a few start-of-term notices left to give.

“First years should note that the Forbidden Forest, on the grounds, is aptly named - students are only allowed there with the escort of at least one teacher alongside the Groundskeeper. A few of our older students would be wise to remember that as well.”
He said the last with a twinkling, amused look towards Fred and George, who looked entirely too pleased with themselves.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that magic is not to be used while not in a classroom or outdoors.” Another pause.

“Club activities, as well as Quidditch trials, will commence for second-years in the second week of term - a full schedule of tryouts and club activities can be found in the Common Room of your House. Anyone interested in participating in a club activity should speak to that club’s student supervisor, and anyone interested in playing for their House Quidditch team should speak with Madam Hooch.”

“That will be all. Now, before we adjourn to our bedrooms, let us sing the school song. Everyone pick a tune, and off you go!”
Harry noted that the smiles of most teachers had gone rather fixed as Dumbledore flicked his wand, causing a banner to appear. He immediately understood why, as the school bellowed out the lyrics which scrolled across the banner - everyone had picked a different tune, and while a few students began to match their friends, the end result was still a cacophony that left Harry clutching his ears.

The Weasley Twins finished their song last - to the tune of a slow funeral march - and Albus Dumbledore clapped delightedly before bidding everyone bedtime.

This was Percy’s cue, as he bid the Gryffindor First Years to follow him to the Common Room.

Chapter Text

Harry took in the sights as he, along with his fellow first years, followed Percy Weasley to the Gryffindor common room. The group passed a hallway with what had to be hundreds of paintings, all chatting animatedly and trying to get a look at the new first-years.

“Yes, yes, new first years. You have seven years to get to know them, but for now we need to hurry - no telling when that staircase will…” Percy was interrupted by a loud rumbling noise as the staircase in question, which they apparently had to cross, rotated to face the other way.

“Move.” Percy lamely finished. “Well, since it looks like we’ll be stuck here a minute or so, might as well get the formal introduction out of the way. For those who haven’t sat near me during the Feast, my name is Percy Weasley - fifth year, Gryffindor prefect. If at any point you have questions, feel free to ask them.”

A voice piped up - a voice from above the students. “Do you want me to not drop this water-balloon on you? Think fast!”
A purple poltergeist made its presence known. As Percy said “no”, he realized his mistake - and was promptly rewarded with a face full of water, to nervous laughter from the first-years. “Ooh, ickle firsties - what fun!”

“Peeves, do you want me to get the Bloody Baron?” asked Percy, indignantly. Mercifully for him, the poltergeist - apparently, this was the Peeves that the Hogwarts Ghosts had talked about - got bored quickly, after licking his finger and sticking it in the ear of Morag McDougal, who disgustedly tried to wipe it off.

“Sorry about that.” Percy said, before casting a few spells to dry himself up and rid Morag of the uncomfortable feeling in her ear. ”That was Peeves, the poltergeist. Several Headmasters have tried unsuccessfully to get rid of him - he only really listens to the Bloody Baron, other than that his only purpose is to cause mayhem in the hallways.”

At that moment, the staircase moved back to its original position. Percy, therefore, took the lead again and led the students further through the hallways, until they reached a portrait of a rather enormous lady in a white silk dress, who he introduced as the “Fat Lady” before explaining that she guarded the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
“Password, please?” the portrait asked. To Percy’s answer of “Caput Draconis”, she nodded and the portrait swung backwards, revealing a rather comfortable-looking room with a fireplace and a lot of squishy armchairs.

Harry blinked a bit. The Gryffindor Common Room reminded him a lot of home - he had a distinct feeling that his mum and dad had modeled their living room after it.

Percy directed the students to two staircases - the girls were to take one dormitory, the boys another. “Boys, this should go without saying, but don’t try to enter the girls’ dorms. The stairs will just eject you - and that’s if none of the prefects or Professor McGonagall catch you before you even make it there.”

A fifth-year girl, who Harry didn’t recognize but would probably be introduced to later, took over for Percy to lead the girls into the dorm as Percy directed the boys to theirs - a room filled with luxurious-looking four poster beds, simple wardrobes and a bathroom off to the side.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping for the next seven years. Don’t worry about your stuff, the Hogwarts staff will put your clothes away and bring your belongings to the right place.

Class schedules will be handed out tomorrow at breakfast - school starts next Monday, so until then you have time to get used to the castle and your fellow students.
That’ll be all - I bid you goodnight.”

With that, Percy turned around and went further up the tower, where presumably more dorms would be found for the upper-year students.
Too tired to talk much, each of the boys simply pulled on their pajamas and claimed a bed.

Harry felt a moment of disorientation the next day, as he woke up in a bed that didn’t quite feel like his own yet. He’d never been an early riser, but he wasn’t the last of his yearmates to wake up - muffled snores could still be heard from one of the four-posters.
After freshening up and changing out of his pajamas, he made his way down to the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Harry, good to see you’re awake. You should make your way back to the Great Hall - breakfast’s starting. I’m a Prefect, so-” Percy was interrupted by his two brothers, Fred and George.

“Even at Hogwarts, brother?” One of the two said, followed by “You’ve only gone and mentioned it twice a minute, all summer-”
As the Twins left, Percy continued. “As I was saying, as a Prefect it’s my duty to wake students up if necessary, so they don’t miss the first breakfast. That’s when schedules are handed out, after all. Go on, don’t keep your friends waiting.”

Nodding, Harry left. He remembered the way back down fairly well - even with the overtly magical layout of the castle. They were on the fifth floor, but Harry only had to go down two floors to reach the Great Hall on the ground floor. Harry vaguely remembered his dad talking about a room that was only there on Friday afternoon as he joined breakfast.

“-I think it’s because first year’s the biggest adjustment.” Hermione continued the conversation Harry had walked in on. “Especially Muggleborn students - I was eight when I got introduced to the magical world, but if I hadn’t been, I think this would be when it’d sink in. Adding clubs to that would just make my head hurt.”

“Might also have something to do with Quidditch - that’s only open to second-years because you have to be done with flying lessons for it, and Duelling isn’t really possible until you’ve learned a few spells, so they might’ve made the rules easier by just saying ‘all clubs’.” Ron added. “Hey Harry, we were discussing clubs - why first-years weren’t allowed in them, and which ones we’d join.”

Harry nodded, thankful to be filled in - though he’d gotten the gist of the topic already.

“Well, in order - I think I agree with what Hermione said. It’s going to be hard enough learning how to use magic properly and getting used to living in a place where you go up from the fifth floor to reach the basement, never mind adding clubs. And I’m honestly not sure which club I’m signing up to next year - they all look pretty interesting, plus we’ll have all year to make up our minds.” Harry supplied, sitting down and filling his plate with the food that had appeared in the meantime as conversation continued.

A few minutes later, Percy Weasley made his way downstairs, a bedraggled-looking Seamus Finnigan in tow.

“Right, that’s everyone - I have your schedules for the term.” Percy said, producing a stack of parchments with timetables and handing one to each first-year. “For the first two years, you’ll all be sharing a schedule as you won’t have electives.”

Harry looked at the schedule. Charms, the first class, was apparently at ‘Third floor, opposite the statue of a thunderbird’, whereas Herbology later in the week would be “Greenhouse 4”. He almost missed the explanation that “Because the layout of the castle changes, any classes that take place inside just have a floor number and a landmark to look for.”

“I think that’s everything for most of you. Harry, please follow me - the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall wanted to talk to you. The Headmaster mentioned something about a family heirloom, and Professor McGonagall had something about a few extra rules. They’re both at the Headmaster’s office.”

George couldn’t resist that opening. “Wow, Harry. Class hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already going there? Broke our record, we took a week…”

Percy was quick to shut him down, however. “Harry’s not in trouble, unlike you two. Setting off a dungbomb in one of the carriages, really?” At the twins’ unrepentant grins, he elected to ignore them. “Harry, come with me. The Headmaster’s office is this way...”

Harry followed Percy through a few hallways, up to what he was pretty sure was one of the towers, to where a gargoyle was blocking the way. “Well, Harry, this is where the Headmaster’s office is - just up the stairs past that gargoyle. I’ll be heading back to the Great Hall while you’re there.” Harry was just about to ask how he was supposed to get past the gargoyle, when he noticed Percy had already turned his head towards it.

“Mars Bars”, Percy said - causing the gargoyle to nod and move out of the way, as apparently that was the password.
Harry made his way up the stairs as Percy turned back.

“Ah, Mr. Potter. Do come in.” he heard the headmaster say, just before the office properly came into his sight.

Harry looked around. Albus Dumbledore’s office was filled with knick-knacks. A trill was heard from a songbird, perched behind the Headmaster - it made Harry feel calm as it started singing.

“Mr. Potter, please do sit down. I assume you know why we’ve called you here?” said Professor McGonagall.

“Well, Percy did say something about special rules, and something about an old heirloom?” replied Harry.

“Correct. Now, let’s start with the rules. I’ve been made aware you are an Animagus, a snowy owl to be precise?”

Harry, taking this as a cue, changed into his Animagus form. Professor McGonagall blinked as the songbird trilled again - Harry felt rather like his father was talking to him at that moment. In order for the conversation to continue, Harry turned himself back.

“Yes, that’s what these rules will be about.” Professor McGonagall continued.

“Specifically, I have been notified that you enjoy spending time with post-owls. While I will not begrudge you that time, students will want to use the owls to send letters - you are not to get in the way of that, and especially not to attempt any deliveries away from the school grounds. Hand such letters to one of the actual post-owls.”
Harry nodded. It seemed sensible enough, really - he wasn’t permitted to exit school grounds either way, this was just specifying on that rule.

“Further, if I hear of any mischief you’ve caused with your Animagus form, you will face consequences for it. Your father’s reputation precedes you, in this matter.”
Another nod. Harry wasn’t really planning on anything that broke school rules, either way - harmless jokes were allowed. He had no real desire to follow in the Marauders’ footsteps, especially when it came to bullying.

“Lastly, any rules regarding the use of broomsticks apply to your Animagus form - no flying in narrow hallways, no taking off from any of the towers. These rules are there to prevent accidents, and I expect you to respect them.”

She didn’t wait for an answer before finishing. “That will be all from me. If you will excuse me, I do have some preparation left to do - materials left to gather. Headmaster, Mr. Potter.” With nods to each, she stood up and walked out.

“Well, with that unpleasant business out of the way… I do hope you’re settling in nicely, Harry? You don’t mind if I dispense with the formalities, do you?”
Harry was somewhat relieved. If the Headmaster was being informal, that was as sure a sign as any that this was not a visit of the bad variety.

“Well, the layout of the castle is still a bit confusing. Things keep changing.”

“Yes, yes. Magic, especially in great concentrations, tends to have a will of its own. The castle, old and filled with magical students as it is, might very well be considered sentient - it loves introducing students to Peeves on their first night, and one of my predecessors attempted to abolish the House Point system only to find every door leading outside. You may learn more about it over time.”

Albus took a deep breath, and looked as if contemplating something.

“But, I digress. I’d called you here on request of your father, actually - I have something of his, that I’ve put off investigating for far too long. However, I have finally managed to find the secret to its longevity - it is a form of blood-related magic, similar to one of the contingencies I had planned for if…”
He let the sentence hang for a moment, looking far older than he had just moments ago. 

Harry understood, without it needing to be said, what was being said - if Lily and James had not survived the night of Halloween, 1981, Albus Dumbledore would have used blood magic to keep Harry safe at his closest blood-relation’s house - his aunt Petunia, in Surrey. Harry’s parents had told him about that contingency a few years ago, after the last time Lily had visited her sister.

“My apologies. I was considering the could-have-beens, which I do have to say I am thankful didn’t have to happen. To conclude, I have the Cloak-” Harry could hear the capital letter - “in this parcel, which I was hoping I could use your lovely owl to help deliver back to your home?” Dumbledore asked.

“Of course, sir. Actually, I was planning on going to the Owlery this afternoon, I have a letter for my parents as well - promised I’d tell them when I’d settled into the castle.”

Albus smiled. “Do you mind if I Apparate us both there? It’s normally impossible, but being the Headmaster gives me an exemption to the Anti-Disapparition Jinx and I’d like to exercise that privilege at least once in my life. If you’ll take my arm, and think about your owl...”

Harry did just that, and felt the unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through a small tube. Hedwig was eager to take both Harry’s letter and the boxed Cloak, which was a surprisingly light package - but still large enough that another owl had to be called in to help.

That done, they Apparated back, and Harry went off to enjoy the rest of his days before classes.

Chapter Text

The castle was in a bustle for the first day of classes. Breakfast passed by more noisily than normal, and Harry could barely make out the topic of conversation as he ate. 

He’d spent the last few days trying to memorize where his classes would actually be, which Fred and George were surprisingly helpful in - though they refused to say how they knew the shortcuts they did, “or else we’d have to prank you into silence”.

Harry had a sneaking suspicion, but of course he couldn’t tell them about that either - if he revealed that he knew about the Map, he’d have to share how he knew about it - and interfere in the wager between his dad and Sirius, which he didn’t want to do. Fred and George were clever, they’d figure it out on their own eventually.

That didn’t exactly stop him from resolving to write about it, however, in the next letter he’d be sending home. His parents had responded to Harry’s first letter - a short note that he’d been sorted into Gryffindor, like them, and that Gryffindor Tower didn’t quite feel like home but it was close - with an admission that they missed him already, which made him resolve to write often.

First, however, there were classes to attend to. Harry, alongside his friends, arrived at Charms class five minutes early, thanks to one of the shortcuts Fred and George had told Harry about - one that didn’t work on alternating Tuesdays, but was pretty useful otherwise.

Professor Flitwick, a diminutive wizard who had to stand on a stack of books to reach his desk, was a jovial sort of man. He’d launched into an explanation of magic as an entity, and how casting spells required more than just waving one’s wand and saying some funny words.

“The Greek method thought about it in terms of the Elements - fire, air, earth, water. Each invokes a specific frame of mind, a certain style of movement, or a sense that one should pay attention to. Later, the anger that was evoked by fire, and the soothing gentleness of water, were split off into their own elements - those of darkness and light, respectively. While modern magical theory has moved on to more direct descriptions of what was needed, some vestiges of this terminology can still be found - for example, the description of certain spells as ‘dark’, or an intense emotion as ‘fiery’, which made its way into Muggle vocabulary.”

Harry, along with most of the class, took note of this bit of trivia. It might be useful for History of Magic, just as it was for Charms class - the professor was explaining how wand-movements, emotions, sensations and words tied together in the casting of spells. While, at the end, no actual spells had been taught, it was nonetheless quite fascinating, and the students were delighted when Professor Flitwick made a statuette “swim” across the classroom.

History of Magic, by contrast to Professor Flitwick’s interesting description of the way of thinking about magic, was quite a dull class. Professor Binns, the only teacher at Hogwarts who happened to be a ghost, got the students’ names mixed up and proceeded to drone on about historic wizards without even noticing when a student had fallen asleep or stopped paying attention.
Harry found himself idly wondering how a ghost could grade homework - clearly they’d found a way to work around the problem that ghosts couldn’t affect the physical world by much.

Transfiguration was again different. Like Professor Flitwick’s class, Professor McGonagall launched into an explanation that tied into the Greek elements - apparently in the old methods, Transfiguration was almost exclusively under the elements of Fire and Earth, for change and the physical respectively - and then a severe warning.

“It goes without saying, with the mostly permanent nature of Transfiguration and detailed visualization necessary, that it is one of the more complex and dangerous branches of magic to specialize in. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

After an impressive display of turning her desk into a pig and back again, she continued her lecture before handing each student a matchstick and telling them to attempt turning it into a needle. 

By the end of the class, Harry had managed to make a point and a rudimentary eye at the back. Hermione’s match wasn’t as pointy, but had gone a silvery color. 

Ron had managed an eye, while Neville had managed a sharp point. 

Quite a few students hadn’t managed any changes to their needle at all when Professor McGonagall called the end of the lesson, giving a rare smile to those students who’d managed anything.

Herbology took place in Greenhouse 4, where Professor Sprout explained the basics of plant care - how to distinguish an over-watered plant from a dried-out one, signs of disease to look out for, and the roles of fertilizer and mulch. For the first year, their practicals would mostly consist of “mundane” plants - Harry was paired up with Susan Bones to plant asphodel seeds. Neville was praised on his technique for spreading fertilizer, to his embarrassment.

Potions took place in the dungeons. Much like Professor McGonagall, Professor Black adopted a no-nonsense approach to the subject, launching into his class with a stern look on his face.

“In Potions class, you will be handling sharp knives, poisonous ingredients, and fire. Furthermore, any mistakes in preparation, contamination of ingredients by improperly-cleaned tools, or accidents during brewing will at best result in an explosion - at worst, a prompt evacuation of the entire school. 

Therefore, it goes without saying that I will not tolerate any shenanigans in my classroom. You will follow my instructions, exactly as written on the board. You will always wear gloves when handling any ingredients, no matter how benign they may seem. You will clean your tools - all of them - by hand after every practical lesson.”

Harry could respect the gravity of the warnings. He’d read ahead a bit - the sort of accidents that could happen wouldn’t be pleasant.

Professor Black then proceeded to quiz the students. Harry got a question on the differences between monkshood and wolfsbane - which were the same plant, harvested under different moon phases and used in very different potions. 

The use of a bezoar was answered by Blaise Zabini, who explained that it would protect from most poisons and was thus considered an essential precaution.

Hermione then got a question about the necessity of cleaning by hand, which would prevent cleaning magic from contaminating the next potion.

The practical part of the lesson was slightly more relaxing, even though Professor Black had paired each Gryffindor student with a Slytherin - in his own words, this would discourage the traditional House rivalry, as any sabotage would affect both Houses equally.

Harry settled into something of a comfortable rhythm with Tracey Davis - Harry elected to do the prep-work, cutting ingredients into the right portions while Tracey added them to the cauldron and stirred as instructed. It was made slightly more difficult because, in several places, the instructions on the board called for less of an ingredient than the book recommended.

“Sir, here in the book it says to add three ounces of nettles, but the board says two - what would the difference be?” Harry asked for both himself and Tracey, who’d expressed confusion about the same thing.

“An astute question. For this specific potion, the answer is safety - while the instructions in the book make the potion most effective, adding any more of these ingredients by accident will cause the potion to boil over or explode.

In the future, I will be telling the class about these differences before the practical starts. A point each to Gryffindor and Slytherin - I heard you discussing this with Miss Davis, so she had a hand in asking the question.”

That seemed fair enough, so Harry nodded and thanked the Professor as they continued their work. Professor Black made a few corrections - cautioning Neville to take his and Draco Malfoy’s cauldron off the fire before adding the porcupine quills he was reaching for.

Astronomy, later that night, was spent mostly on the functions of their telescopes and the format of star charts. While it was interesting enough, the fact it had to take place late at night meant everyone went to bed dead tired, and they nearly woke up late for their last class of the week, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts is actually a bit of a misnomer, in a sense. While, yes, defense against spells that are classified as Dark - jinxes, hexes and curses - will be part of the curriculum, and duelling is part of the practical work, most of this class will focus on creatures and beasts that consider magical folk as their prey.” Professor Frank Longbottom started his lecture.

“Today, we will be focusing on the very basics. Many of you will, in fact, have cast an effective spell for self-defense when they first held their wand - never underestimate the usefulness of shooting sparks at something and then running away.”

The lecture continued for a while, outlining several creatures - and asking for the commonality between them.

“The answer is that most of these creatures prefer shadowy environments, and will flee from light sources. An effective method of warding them off, then, is the Wand-Lighting Charm - which, as the name implies, makes one’s wand light up. In general, a light source is a useful thing to have on hand - all the more reason to never lose your wand. For today’s practical, we will be practicing the Wand-Lighting Charm and its counterpart, the Wand-Extinguishing Charm.”

Professor Longbottom then demonstrated the wand-lighting charm, which looked quite simple - it was simply a key-like turn of the wand with the word “Lumos”. Its counterpart was no more difficult - the same movement in reverse, accompanied by the word “Nox”.

It only took the class a few tries before everyone got it, and Harry reflected that the first week of lessons had not disappointed as he wrote to his parents about it, before setting off to the Owlery.

Chapter Text

The letter Harry wrote was short, but sweet. While not going into much detail, he wrote at length about the Professors and their classes.
How Professor Black had drilled safety-talk into their heads until their ears burst, how Professor Binns had bored him near to tears, and how Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were every bit as great as his parents had made them sound.
He then went on to ask how things were going in Ottery St. Catchpole. He wanted to know how his parents were doing without him, and how the Weasleys were doing with the house near-empty. He also asked how Ginny was handling not having at least one brother around.

Ron and Neville were deep in a Wizards’ Chess match, and Hermione had wanted to revise for Charms, so Harry wandered the halls alone. The Owlery was in the western tower, and Harry had to ask a Hufflepuff Prefect for directions when one hallway led him to a large painting of a bowl of fruit that Harry knew was on the eastern side of the ground floor - how he’d got there from the seventh floor, without ever going down a staircase, only the Weasley Twins would know for now.

When he finally made it to the Owlery - after another mildly-confusing detour that led him to a room with only a trapdoor, which Harry was sure wasn’t where he was supposed to go - he had a moment of sadness. He felt like he’d been neglecting Hedwig, only really interacting with her once to send a letter. He put his letter in his pocket, and looked into the tower to see if he could spot her.

The Owlery was divided into multiple floors, and reminded Harry a bit of what Gryffindor Tower (or any of the other House dormitories) would look like if it was designed for owls instead of humans. Many perches were available for the owls to sit on, and Harry could just make out nests at the top, each with an owl sleeping in it - all of which were a nocturnal species. 

None of the window-frames had actual glass in them, and yet it wasn’t drafty or uncomfortable. Harry supposed the castle would have insulating magic, and the floor would have the same sort of enchantment his cage did - while there was straw on the floor, it was otherwise surprisingly clean for an area of the castle inhabited entirely by owls.

Harry, after a moment of looking around, spotted Hedwig on a perch relatively high up. He took the letter in his mouth, and turned into his Animagus form to fly up to her.

Hedwig, while surprised by this, quickly recognized Harry. They spent a bit of time just barking back-and-forth, seemingly in conversation, before Hedwig took the letter in a talon. Harry had some practice with being an owl, and had the sense of pre-tying the cord that would hold the letter in place so all he had to do was pull one end of the rope with his beak to tie the cord around Hedwig’s talon.

Hedwig affectionately nipped at the top of Harry’s head, like she usually did, before flying off.
Harry looked around a bit more, at what had to be hundreds of owls. A few were giving him an unmistakable stink-eye, but most of them merely looked curious at him. He took a bit of time to “socialize” with a few of the more friendly owls, which consisted mostly of barking softly, cocking his head from side to side, and visibly relaxing his posture the few times another owl flew up to him to show that he was perfectly okay with them being there.

After about a half-hour of just being an owl, Harry decided it was probably time to go back. He flew down to the straw-covered floor, and un-transformed to make his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy was also wandering the hallway, with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.
“What’s this, Potter? Don’t have your Mudblood and your weasel with you?” Draco started.
Harry elected to ignore them and tried to keep on walking, but Draco followed him and kept up the insults until something in Harry snapped.

“Least I don’t have to worry. Unlike yours, my friends aren’t being paid to tolerate me.” Harry eventually retorted. This, in turn, made Draco take out his wand - just in time for Professor Flitwick to arrive and stop the emerging fight. He’d let them both off with a warning since no actual rules had been broken yet, but it was a close thing.

“Lucky you, Potter. Just wait, there won’t always be a professor around to save you…”
Harry ignored this last remark by Draco Malfoy. He’d already had an earful from his mother, before going to Hogwarts, about how James Potter used to behave - and he had no desire to repeat the cycle of bullying.

Instead, he rounded a few more corners. While he didn’t know the castle up and down, he’d seen a suit of solid golden armor, where Fred and George said there was a passage that would lead to a different area depending on which House you were in - that way, Draco couldn’t be following him.

That shortcut did make his trip back to Gryffindor Tower a little longer, however. By the time he got back, it was nearly time for dinner - and Harry was forced to explain that Draco Malfoy had goaded him into snapping back and he’d taken a detour to get away from them.

Percy accosted him for snapping back, but appreciated that he’d ‘at least listened to Professor Flitwick’s warning and didn’t lose us any House points’.

Over the next weekend, Harry had a bit more fun. He got his homework done first thing on Saturday - first shaping his partially-Transfigured matchstick into a more definite needle-shape, then working on making it turn to metal.

Ron had adopted the same stance on homework, if less for its own sake - “It’s just more fun to play if you don’t get chewed out for leaving your work until the last moment during it, so I get the boring stuff out of the way first.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron calling homework “the boring stuff”, but had to agree with the results - Harry and Ron were only moments behind her in finishing their needle for Transfiguration, and they were the three first students to knock on Professor McGonagall’s office that Saturday.

“Outstanding, each of you. I’m glad to see three of my lions taking their studies so seriously - I think I’ll make it a total of fifteen points to Gryffindor. Now, I must get back to my work - the weekend is still young, so I’m sure you have something to get up to yourselves.” Professor McGonagall treated the students to what had to be a rare sight - an open smile was on her normally-stern face as she dismissed the students.

Outside the door, however, was a less-than-welcome sight. While Draco Malfoy was less keen to follow Harry around now that he wasn’t alone, he still had time to call them ‘teachers’ pets’. It was much easier to ignore, however, being just the one remark - even Draco knew better than to actually break any rules right outside Professor McGonagall’s office.

Having effectively been given the rest of the weekend, Harry spent much time out on the grounds - the weather was just too nice to spend all the time indoors.

On Sunday, another nice day for spending outdoors, the Trio had a run-in with Hagrid on the grounds.

“Nice day, innit? I’m headin’ fer the greenhouses, got a patch of lettuce bein’ eaten by bugs. Professor Sprout said she had some bug-repellent potion left over fer tha’. Mebbe we can have a chat later - if not, feel free to come in fer tea any day after class.”
Harry didn’t know the Groundskeeper quite as well as his parents did, but nonetheless he was keen on making a new friend - so he promised to come by on Wednesday, if he didn’t get swamped with homework the second week.

All too soon, after a lovely day out on the grounds, it was Monday again.

Chapter Text

The start of the second week also heralded the start of a new class - flying lessons. For a while, it was all the Gryffindor students could talk about. For most of the Wizarding World, flying on broomsticks was more than a mere pastime, more than just a way to get from A to B - it was a lifestyle.
This, of course, shone through in the conversations at the breakfast table. Harry, of course, was no stranger to the sensation of flying - but, the caveat, he wasn’t actually that experienced on a broom . Ron, who had a little more experience, chimed in whenever actual broom-knowledge was needed.

"Well, the first thing you should do is check whether the charms still work - whether the broom comes up to your hand when you tell it to. Duff brooms can take a few tries to get working."

Neville nodded, looking a little pale. He might have been the only one at the Gryffindor table not looking forward to flying - leading him to absorb any bit of information that would make the prospect easier.

"If it doesn’t come up after five tries, it’s too far gone to actually fly for long - that’s what my brothers told me, anyway."

Neville paled a little more at that.
"I bet I’m going to get a duff broom and fall off of it."

Harry, at that point, chimed in to reassure his recent friend.
"Tell you what. If you get a dead broom and I get a decent one, we’ll trade - seeing as I can just jump off and be fine. I doubt the instructor will let anything happen either way, but..."

"Thanks, that… That actually helps a lot. I feel a bit better about it now - still not a fan of heights, but at least I can count on being safe."

Harry smiled, happy at giving his friends a chance to enjoy the ultimate sensation of freedom that flying had always brought him - a freedom he had thus far only shared on a regular basis with Hedwig, not counting the few joyrides Ron and Ginny had managed to sneak on Charlie’s broom (which, in Ron’s case, had resulted in the duo getting grounded for a week).

Eventually, it came time for the actual flying lesson to happen. The students - Gryffindor and Slytherin had been "paired up" in the schedule, much to the dismay of everyone familiar with one Draco Malfoy - arrived at a smooth, flat lawn on the grounds opposite the Forbidden Forest.
Twenty broomsticks were arranged in a line, one for each student. Harry nudged Neville, whose nerves were visibly getting the better of him. "Deep breaths, Nev. The teacher’s not going to let anything happen, and neither will we, remember?"

The boy in question nodded, still looking rather more pale than usual. On the side, Harry could see Draco Malfoy pointing towards Neville and saying something to his two bodyguards. By the smugness of his face, it wasn’t anything good - but Neville hadn’t noticed.

Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and Quidditch referee, finally arrived - her piercing yellow eyes glancing at everyone like a sergeant inspecting the new recruits.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked.  "Everyone, pick a broom and stand by it."

Harry looked at the brooms. All of them looked old and worn-down - lacquer had given way to bare wood over time, and years of exposure to the winds had caused twigs to jut out at odd angles. From a look, it was impossible to see which ones would even still work.
Harry made his best guess for Neville, directing him towards a broom that didn’t look too bad compared to the others, and taking the broom next to it for himself as Ron and Hermione took the ones next to theirs.

"Stick your right hand over your broom, and say ‘Up’, as confidently as possible." was the next ‘command’ from Madam Hooch. Harry, along with everyone else, did just that - and, just like most of the students, was rewarded with only slight movement. 
It took a few more tries, and grumbles of "ruddy old brooms, budget in replacements already" from Madam Hooch (which Harry wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear), for everyone to get their broom firmly in hand.

When everyone did have their broom in hand, Madam Hooch made the rounds, showing everyone how to mount them and correcting their grips. Harry had to suppress a chuckle when Draco Malfoy tried to argue he’d "been holding his broom this way for years" - and Madam Hooch retorted with a simple "then you’ve been doing it wrong for years". 
She also spent some extra time with Neville, whose nervousness was causing him to hold his broom in a death-grip - which, Madam Hooch explained, would cause most brooms to act erratically regardless of how new they were.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then lean forward - slightly - to land. On three, two, one..."
The whistle sounded, and everyone lifted off. While Harry calmly did as the instructor said, his broom pulled to the left a bit - but he managed to compensate for it by "steering" his broom right. Ron and Hermione looked to be having no trouble, and neither was any of the other students - except for one.

Blaise Zabini, from Slytherin, suddenly had his broom lurch sharply to the left in mid-air, knocking into Draco Malfoy - who lost control of his own broom, in surprise, and landed faster than he’d expected. Madam Hooch quickly came over, checking both boys for injuries and, when she was satisfied there were none, inspecting the brooms - before declaring "Lesson’s over, I am not risking it with these brooms anymore no matter what the Board says".

When Draco Malfoy then declared "My father will hear about this", Madam Hooch gained a smile that looked almost predatory - "Malfoy, your father is on the School Board, right? Please, do tell him that these old brooms could have gotten you killed, that way we both get what we want".
At the end of the week, at dinner, Albus Dumbledore stood up. "Because the School Board has declared the training brooms unfit for purpose, flying lessons and Quidditch practice are canceled until replacements have been purchased. That is all, thank you."