Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and, in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

Ms. Dursley had a sister that she pretended didn't exist, after all she and her husband were as unDursleyish as they could possibly be. She was aware that they had a small son, about her son's age but she didn't feel the need to know anything about him as she was sure he'd be as freakish as her sister was. It was on the second of November that her entire life changed for the worst. There on her doorstep was a baby boy, with a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead, she could see the shape of a bolt of lighting, bundled in blankets . She let out an ear - piercing scream.

For the first few weeks the young orphaned boy, was poked , prodded , and pinched by a chubby blonde beach wall. He quickly learned that these new people in his life were not like the ones he previously spent his time with. Before his mommy and daddy played with him along with his Paddy and Moony. They were lots of fun! These people did not play will him. They even had the nerve to hurt him! He had never experienced pain before living with these new people but now it was almost all the time. By the time a one Harry Potter started school he was a smart little five year old despite never having read anything . He spent his entire life learning to observe from a distance and in silence. He learned rapidly often only viewing something once before being able to duplicate it. He was often frustrated with how slow his cousin "learned”.

It didn't take the school very long to realize that the raven-haired boy was intelligent.The teachers would put material down in front of him only for the small boy to devour it. He spent all his time leading one book after the other, not interacting with the other children. The Dursleys, of course, tried to punish Harry for getting good grades but, no matter what they did he refused to dumb himself down. He was smart and he refused to pretend otherwise for his whale of a cousin. Then they tried to force Harry to do Dudley’s homework; it got mixed results. Harry endured the beatings he got for not dumbing himself down but adding the beatings he got for not doing Dudley’s work, tested him. He was angry and resentful of his relatives. He vowed to leave as soon as he was able but as a young child that was a long way off.

By the time Harry was seven he had pretty much mastered the material the primary school had to offer. The Dursleys however refused to allow Harry to advance grades so he was stuck with all the other children his age despite this. The teachers allowed him a lot of time, for free study so long as he completed his work. During the next three years he learned about the existence of Magic. He initially discarded his first readings about it but then he thought of the strange things that happened around him. When he finally made the connection he was also aware that those around him did not know about Magic and kept it to himself. He trained with every spare moment he had with his magic.

Since no one was around to tell him that magic didn’t work like you read and saw on TV he didn’t have the limitations that most Wizards and witches inevitably developed.
The first thing he mastered was the ability to heal. With all the beatings he thought it was imperative. He took the time to read all the biology books he could get his hands on to ensure he was healing correctly. It took several weeks before he was able to heal himself rapidly and reliably. Unfortunately, he got a lot of practice because of his relatives.

The second thing he learned to do was a form of teleportation he had caught sight of on one of Dudley’s shows. He wasn’t sure what show it was but the idea that he could make a magical doorway that could open to anywhere he had been to before was very appealing. This was important because he was often locked in his cupboard under the stairs. The Dursleys also refused to feed him while he was being punished so being able to leave whenever was very helpful. He used it often to get to school. Then he worked on making his magic act on his will, he thought it was inefficient to have to memorize thousands of spells instead of just going off his intent.

10 years of living with the Dursleys before life would change for Harry for the better. For the moment in Harry Potter was asleep but wouldn’t be for long.

“UP! Get up now!”

Harry slowly opened his eyes in annoyance. His aunt was rapping on the door of his cupboard. She was such a pain.

“I’m up.” Harry answered, barely keeping his annoyance from his voice. It wouldn’t end well for him if she heard it. He pulled his clothes on while his aunt unlocked his door.

“ Get a move on! I want you to finish the cooking! Everything is to be perfect for Duddy’s birthday or so help me you’ll pay.”

Dudley's birthday, he wished he had been able to forget. After all everyday revolved around Dudley. He pulled a spider off his socks, pulled on his shoes and headed for the cooking food. On his way he looked at the table that was hidden beneath all Dudley's presents. If Harry had to guess it looked like Dudley got that new Computer and racing bike he wanted. Another television, Harry understood since Dudley was very overweight and hated exercise unless it was bulling someone (read Harry). However, between Harry’s speed and teleportation door which he called his “gate” Dudley wasn’t able to catch him often.

Because the Dursleys locked him in a cupboard and refused to feed him properly he was very small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier because he wore Dudley's old clothes that were worn and drowned his frame. Though his thin face and knobby knees he blamed on his age, his dark hair that grew all our the place and bright green eyes he blamed on genetics. He wore round glasses, that he was sure weren’t the correct prescription, that were held together with a lot of tape from all the times they had been broken and didn’t want to waste his time fixing them over and over. Then there was the scar on his forehead he had mixed feelings about. He liked it because the Dursleys couldn't take it and he hated it because it was a reminder of his parents being gone.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the hitcher with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like his father, large pink face, very little neck and thick blonde hair that lay on his incredibly thick fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel - Harry was adamant that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates piled high with bacon and eggs on the table, which was difficult seeing as it was covered in presents. Dudley meanwhile was counting his gifts, it looked difficult. "Thirty- six, that's two less than last year.” He demanded, looking at his mother and father.

"Darling, You haven't counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy.”

Dudley was not satisfied with this if his red-ish face was anything to go by. Harry, being the smart boy he was, began inhaling as much food as he could before Dudley flipped the table. “So, thirty-seven then.” Dudley said.

Aunt Petunia, while not as smart as Harry, obviously sensed danger too because she quickly cut in "And we'll buy you two more presents while we're out today. How's that popkin? Two more presents? Is that alright?"

Thinking, let alone doing Math was not Dudley's strong suit. He looked constipated. “So I'll have thirty... thirty. . . ”

"Thirty-nine, Sweetums.” said Aunt Petunia.

The color started to fade from Dudley's face as he sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest present. Vernon chuckled while Harry rolled as eyes. Reaching over, Vernon ruffled his son's hair proudly. “ Little tyke wants his money's worth, atta boy.”

At that moment the phone rang and Petunia left to answer it. Vernon and Harry were left to watch Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, remote controlled airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. Dudley was just unwrapping a gold wristwatch when Petunia reentered the room looking angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon, Mrs. Figg broke her leg and can't take him.” She said, jerking her head in Harry's direction.

Dudley looked horrified but Harry's heart leapt with excitement. With the Dursley's away no one could stop him from using Magic to complete his chores and then heading to the library for ideas. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day-last year had been a movie day. Every year Harry was left with Mrs. Figg who made him look at pictures of an her cats.

“Now what?” Said Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he was responsible for the leg being broken. Harry only felt the smallest amount of sympathy for the injury. He didn't harm her but knew from experience that broken limbs hurt.

"We could phone my sister,” Vernon began.

"Don't be silly, he hates the boy."

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry as though he wasn't there. He didn't bother to correct the behavior as it often benefitted him.

"What about what's-her-name, Yvonne?” Vernon tried.

“On vacation.” Snapped Petunia.

Harry decided that as their options were running low he could try to offer an option. “You could just leave me here. ”

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I'n not stupid enough to blow up the house!” Harry exclaimed, insulted.

"We could take him to the zoo but leave him in the car." Petunia said slowly.

“Absolutely Not!" Vernon denied.

After Dudley’s friend Piers arrived the Dursleys couldn't think of anything else to do with Harry and he found himself sitting in the back on the way to the zoo. At least the trip would be educational, Harry thought.

It was a nice Sunny day and Harry fell back behind the group to read all he could about each animal. He felt it was cruel to pen the animals in such small enclosures. Though that might be because he was locked up a lot of the time.

It was after lunch that they went into the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there but honestly Harry liked it. Behind the many glass walls all sorts of lizards and snakes were moving about. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place, could have wrapped itself twice along Vernon’s car and crushed it though it didn’t look like it wanted to. It actually happened to be sleeping. Dudley pressed his nose against the glass and whined “Make it move.” Vernon tapped on the glass. “Do it again.” Vernon tried once more but the snake ignored him. “Boring.”

Dudley shuffled away and Harry moved forward period if it wasn’t for the subtle movement caused by breathing harry would have thought it died period the snake opened its eyes and slowly, so very slowly, raised it’s head to be level with Harry’s.

It winked.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he winked back.The snake jerked its head in the direction of Harry’s relatives and then gave Harry a look that said ‘I get that all the time.’

“I know, must be a real pain.” Harry murmured. The snake nodded in agreement. Harry turned his head to quickly read the placard. “So you come from Brazil but have never been there.” Harry summed up. “That’s a shame.” The snake nodded again.

Just behind Harry there was a deafening shout that made him jump. “DUDLEY! COME LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT ITS DOING!”

Dudley waddled over as quickly as he could and shoved Harry out of his way. Harry, angry at being roughed up for no reason, caused the glass to disappear just as Dudley pressed himself against it once more. Both Dudley and Piers their balance and splashed into the enclosure as a snake made his move and slithered out. People screamed and ran for the exits.

As the snake moved past Harry he heard the snake hiss “Brazil, here I come… thanksss amigo.”

“No problem.” Harry answered.

Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry has seen the snake had ignored the two completely but two hours later, when they were finally making their way back to the car, they were claiming it had nearly killed them both. But worst of all for Harry, besides Dudley not being eaten, was Piers saying “Harry was talking to it.”
Vernon, of course waited until Piers was out of earshot and in his mothers car before rounding on Harry. Vernon was already reaching for his belt before he finished turning.

Harry tried his best to ignore the feeling of leather braking into his skin. His clothes were so worn and thin that it offered no protection against the onslaught. After the beating Harry was thrown into his cupboard. He immediately started healing his body. Once he was healed enough that he could move freely, without pain he opened his magic door. He connected it to an ally that was usually empty not too far from the library. He spent the rest of the day inside reading and when it was time for the library to close he left. He waited until it was all locked up and empty before opening his magic door to inside the library and entered once more.

He spent most of the next few weeks, day and night, in the library when he wasn’t in school or doing chores. He at least got a meal while at school even if his relatives refused to give him food. He wasn’t bothered being alone these days. He’d given up trying to make friends, Dudley put an end to that quickly and he considered it a fight not worth having. Later when he was on his own and free from his relatives he’d be able to have all the friends he could want.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

To Harry there wasn't much difference between the school year and summer vacation. He still spent most of his time either in the library or working on his magic. His current project was to change his appearance. This way no one would send him back to his relatives or associate him with Harry Potter and ask questions. He was having some success, his biggest problem was getting it to last without draining him too quickly. He had a very limited time to practice as well since he needed to be able to see his appearance in order to make sure it was working and the Dursleys didn't allow him much time in the bathroom.

Dudley, meanwhile, had apparently added a new member to his gang, Gorden. This brought the number up to five and made it much more difficult to evade them, more difficult to use magic without being seen by someone. This meant he got caught more often to his annoyance. They were all big and stupid but since Dudley was both the biggest and the stupidest he was their leader.

Harry did see a ray of hope though, come September he would be going to a separate secondary school than his cousin which meant no more beatings for getting better grades at the very least. He might even be able to make a friend or two. Plus he had applied to several exclusive schools for scholarships so he could be farther away from his relatives.
One day in July Petunia took Dudley to get his new uniform leaving Harry with Mrs. Figg. Apparently she had broken her leg tripping over one of her cats and so was a tad less fond of them at the moment. He had been free to watch TV and even given a bit of chocolate cake.
When Dudley showed off his new uniform that night Harry was sure that this time his ribs were broken from trying not to laugh. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to wear something so ugly. If what Vernon said was true and important people graduated from that school he didn't know why they didn't use that influence to change the dress code.

The next morning Harry came into the kitchen to find Petunia dying some of Dudley's old clothes. He didn't telI her that she was wasting her time. He had no intention of attending the school that she had picked out for him. He didn't even bother learning the school's name; he was so adamant. He was waiting for a reply from Eden about his scholarship that was due any day now.

When Dudley and Vernon came in, both wrinkled their noses at the smell. Vernon went to read his newspaper as usual while Dudley banged his Smelting stick on the table. Harry was certain Dudley slept with the thing.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. "Boy, get the mail." Vernon ordered, not taking his eyes off his newspaper.
Rolling his eyes Harry left the dining room and headed down the hallway towards the door. There sitting on the doormat were three letters. A bill, a letter for Vernon, and a letter for Harry. Immediately he knew that it wasn’t the letter from Eden he was expecting. This envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment. The back had a wax seal bearing the coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large H. Written on the front of the envelope in emerald-green ink:

Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey

Harry, of course, knew better than to bring the letter back into the dining room. Instead he slipped it under the door of his cupboard and then brought the rest of the mail to his uncle. Breakfast passed without much issue and Harry was left to do his chores in (relative) peace.
All the while he was cleaning the kitchen and weeding the yard his mind was on the strange letter in his cupboard. Who sent it and how did he know where he slept? More importantly, to him at least, if they knew where he slept why didn’t they put a stop to it? Was the one who sent it anything like him? He hoped so. While he didn’t want the company of his relatives he did get lonely being the only one who could do the things he could.

He slipped into his cupboard and closed the door behind him, he used his gate spell and let himself out in some woods by the local park. To be honest, calling them "woods" was very generous. There were just enough trees to make a small clearing just out of sight of the park and not much else. He looked around the clearing to make sure he was alone before turning his attention to the envelope once more for anything he might have missed the first time in his rush not to get caught with it. Not finding anything of use, he turned it over and broke the seal.

Hogwarts School

Of
Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc.,Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

He took a quick glance over the enclosed equipment list as millions of questions exploded inside Harry’s mind but the most pressing question was what they meant by “We await your owl”. He had no owl and had no idea where to get one. Was this something everyone like him, everyone that was a wizard had? Did him not having an owl mean that this letter was a mistake? Luckily, no sooner had the thought crossed his mind that a light brown barn owl landed in front of him looking expectant.

Opening a small gate, just large enough for his hand to pass through, he pulled out a ballpoint pen from the desk in the library he had seen yesterday. He flipped the letter over and wrote a quick response, using a flat rock he spotted as a makeshift clipboard.

Dear Deputy Headmistress,
I would love to attend your school, however I am afraid I have no idea where to get the things on the enclosed list. Furthermore, I have many questions I would love to ask about your school if you would indulge me. I look forward to attending your school.

Sincerely,
Harry Potter

It was more formal than he would normally speak to equals but he was hoping that it would make him sound more polite. Hopefully it would encourage a response that was beneficial to him and yield better results. He quickly tied it to the owl’s leg and it took off without a second glance. He went back to looking at the list.

Hogwarts School
Of
Witchcraft and Wizardry
Uniform
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for a day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (Black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil’s clothes should carry name tags

Course Books
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Draughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment
1 Wand
1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

While Harry had many questions he wanted answered he knew he wouldn't get them for some time.

He spent the rest of the day in the library but his heart wasn’t really in it. Harry was smart but he wasn’t smart for the sake of it. He wanted more. He wanted freedom to do what he pleased when it pleased him. He had thought learning all he could would help him have his freedom but if that letter was real then he had a new way to obtain his freedom. He would be free of his prison even if he had to burn the world to the ground to do it and then he would see the world and everything it had to offer. Nothing would stop him.

Chapter Text

Harry noticed absently that his aunt and uncle seemed to be looking uneasily in his direction every morning as though they were waiting for something. He found this strange because he had never used his strange abilities to harm them though he would admit the thought did sometimes cross his mind. He had decided long ago that learning to heal himself took priority or he wouldn’t survive to have his revenge. It would only be after he could not be forced to return would he get his vengeance until then he would have to nurse his hatred for them quietly. The thought that they might be waiting for him to get his Hogwarts letter never crossed his mind.

By the third day waiting for a response Harry was getting rather impatient. Despite the fact he was willing to wait for revenge he was not, by his very nature, a patient person. He loved instant gratification which is how he was able to shrug off his beatings for getting better grades. He got a rush from seeing his perfect scores, it was one of the few pleasures he had in life so he did it over and over regardless of the consequences.

It was during afternoon tea as Harry was cleaning Dudley’s bedroom that a loud booming knock shook the house. He was curious, of course he was curious, but he didn’t go to investigate just yet. Maybe it was some kind of bomb and it had killed his aunt and cousin. He tried not to get his hopes up. When it happened again he heard his aunt fling the door open and shrilly demand that the person outside go away. This told Harry to investigate. Even if his aunt hated the person on the other side of the door she wouldn’t have greeted them that way just to keep up appearances. She wouldn’t want the neighbors to talk after all.

Harry rushed downstairs to see a giant of a man standing in the doorway. He had an unkempt shaggy mane of hair and an untamable beard. His eyes were a bit like black beetles but they were full of kindness when the man had spotted Harry.

“Las’ time I saw you, you was a baby. Yeh look just like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.” the stranger said, looking at him.

“You knew my parents?” Harry couldn’t help but ask curiously.

“‘Corse I did. Spent alot o’ time chasin’ yer dad from the forest durin’ his time at school. A good man ‘e was, yer dad.” He said with a hint of sadness. “Both yer parents were good people.”

“School?” Harry inquired ignoring his aunt who whimpered in fear as the giant took a step forward.

“Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?” the man asked incrediously.

“Learned all of what? Were they like me? Could they do strange things too?” Harry bounced happily on the stairs at the thought he wasn’t so strange. That his parents had been the same as him. He didn’t even notice that the front door was still open and that at least some of the neighbors were listening to at least the man’s side of the conversation. He didn’t seem capable of being quiet and his voice carried.

Petunia flinched and flicked her eyes to the door and paled at the thought of everyone in the neighborhood hearing her greatest secret. She attempted to move around the large figure to close the door.

The giant was now focused on the source of his new rage. “Dursley!” he growled. Petunia took a step back abandoning her attempts at closing the door for the moment.

“Just take him!” She spit out. “We didn’t want him anyway.”

Harry darted down the stairs and stopped in front of the giant. “Sorry, but I didn’t get your name. My name is Harry, Harry Potter.” he said, holding out a hand and introducing himself. He knew the giant knew him but it seemed like the polite thing to do.

“Righ’ forgo’ to introduce meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. You can call me Hagrid, everyone does. I’ve come to help yeh do yer shoppin’ since you don’t know where to go.” the man said.

“So it’s true? I’m a wizard? The letter was real?” the raven-haired boy asked rapidfire.

The man, Hagrid, glowered at Petunia in rage. “You told ‘im nothing?! Nothing?! Dumbledore left a letter explainin’ everything I saw ‘im leave it! Yeh were supposed to explain it all to ‘im!”

“Explain what?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. While he did want to know what he hadn’t been told there would be time for him to learn it all so he didn’t really care at the moment, what he really enjoyed was seeing Petunia taken down a few pegs.

“Dursley!” Hagrid roared in his booming voice.

Harry took great pleasure at the flinch Petunia responded to Hagrid with. She wasn’t so confident without Vernon to back her and he thought he saw Dudley hiding around the corner. Apparently he cared more about himself than trying to protect his mother. Harry was filled with disgust for his cousin, Petunia gave him everything but he couldn’t care about anyone but himself.

“Harry, yer a wizard.” Hagrid said as though to dig at Petunia simply by doing what she refused to do. “Yer parents went to Hogwarts an’ were some o’ the most talented to go.”

“Then why am I here? If my parents had magic, why do I have to live with this lot?” Harry interrupted, hope blooming in his chest. Would he finally be able to leave? Did he have family other than this filth?

Hagrid looked uncomfortable for the first time Harry had seen him. “I’m no’ really the best person to tell yeh this but yeh can’t go to school without knowin’.”

Harry suddenly had the feeling that he should perhaps close the front door. He didn’t know about witches and wizards and he was one. For his entire life he had never met anyone who was like him and could do what he could. Magic and witches and wizards were considered make-believe by the populace; he didn't want to know what would happen if they heard what was being said inside the house. Could he- could they get in trouble if the wrong person found out about witches and wizards, about magic?

He extended what he now knew to be his magic and willed the door shut and it closed with a soft click. Petunia glanced at him as though torn between thankful for the privacy and hateful because he used his magic. He smirked in response. He was getting his answers that she had always denied him and the privacy might embolden Hagrid into actually harming her. This benefited him far more than her. He could play her game for a little while though, just long enough to get what he wanted. Let her pretend that she could keep her secret, let her believe that she could spin some story to the neighbors; he was on the verge of something far more important, he could feel it.

Hagrid looked suddenly anxious. "Best yeh know whatever I can tell you- mind I don' know a lot of what happened. Most don't know a great bit o’ it. It begins with - with a person called -” Hagrid seemed to stall and struggle with his words.

“Would it be easier to write it all down?” Harry asked politely. It didn’t matter to him whether he read about it or was told but this information was important and he was certain it had been kept from him for far too long.

“I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does an’ I can’ spell it. People are still scared even after all this time. Yeh see there was this wizard who went….bad. As bad as you could go. Worse than worse. His name was…” Hagrid gulped, took a deep breath and steeled himself. “Voldemort.” he shuddered violently. “Please don’ make me say it again.”

“I understand thank you for being brave enough to tell me even once.” Harry said immediately. He thought it was ridiculous to be afraid of a name but you didn’t go around insulting people especially when they were helping you.

Hagrid nodded in acknowledgement as he continued. “This wizard about…” he paused thoughtfully. “Twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ‘em too - some were afraid others wanted a bit o’ his power, cause he was gettin’ himself power all right. Dark days, Harry. No one knew who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches… terrible things were happening. He was takin’ over and those who stood up to ‘im - ‘e killed. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places was Hogwarts. Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ ‘im on, not just then.
“Yer mum an’ dad were good people as I ever knew. Head boy an’ girl in their day! You-Know-Who tried to get ‘em on his side on a couple o’ occasions but they were never interested, no’ for one minute. Maybe ‘e thought he could persuade ‘em… maybe he just wanted ‘em outta the way. All we know is tha’ he turned up in the village where you was all living on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a baby- just a year old- he came to yer house tha’ night an’ he-” Hagrid was overcome with emotion and blew his nose in a handkerchief, making a sound similar to a foghorn.

“He killed them, my parents.” Harry said softly.

“‘E did. An’ heres the strange thing he tried to kill you too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it I guess, or maybe he just liked killin’ too much by then. But he couldn’t do it. That’s how yeh got that mark on yer forehead. That’s no ordinary cut. That’s what happens when yer touched by dark, evil magic. Killed yer mom an’ dad an’ destroyed yer house even but not on you. Tha’s why yer famous, Harry. No one lived when ‘e decided ter kill ‘em, no one except you.”

As Hagrid’s story came to a close a memory surfaced in Harry’s mind. He saw, more clearly than he had ever seen before, a bright, blinding flash of green light and a high, cold, cruel laugh. Hagrid was watching him sadly as he rubbed his forehead. This wasn’t the first time the memory had hit him but it is the clearest it had ever been.

“Enough!” Petunia snapped. “You’ve told him enough.”

Harry jumped slightly, having forgotten she was there. He turned his attention to her. “You knew? You were told and you kept it from me? You lied to me for years!”

“Of course I knew! My sister being what she was, how could I not know! Vernon and I swore when we took you in that we wouldn’t have any of your freakishness in this house! It wasn’t our fault my dratted sister and her worthless husband got themselves blown up!” Petunia seethed.

Harry felt his magic swell up within him. How dare she! He would strike her down now for insulting his parents but before he could Hagrid roared in anger. Hagrid slashed down with his umbrella and there was a flash of light and Petunia erupted in pink feathers. Petunia and Dudley screamed in terror and fled the room. Harry watched them leave with a sort of detached satisfaction. He wondered what Hagrid had intended to happen.

“I shouldn’ o’ done that.” Hagrid fretted stroking his beard.

“I won't tell anyone.” Harry assured. “Can we go get my school supplies now?”

Hagrid hesitated before nodding in agreement and opened the door. They were off.

Chapter Text

They were apparently headed to London. Taking the public bus, they sat in relative silence as Harry went over everything he had learned, not just about his parents but also about the things that had been implied even if they hadn’t been outright stated.

One such fact was that the headmaster for the school he would be attending had placed him with his relatives. Hagrid had implied as much when he said that he had witnessed him leaving a letter explaining everything. The headmaster, Harry quickly decided, was not to be trusted. Hagrid also seemed particularly trusting of the headmaster so Harry would not be trusting him either. 

The second fact was that he was apparently famous. He would have to see just how famous before determining how exactly to proceed. He might have to keep underwraps if he was being closely watched. 

Harry tried to ask questions he thought anyone just learning of magic would ask and limit himself to just that, while being mindful to not to be overheard. To a certain extent he was just learning about magic but his questions went much deeper then the simple ones children often ask. He wanted to know it all. He wanted to do it all. He wanted to see it all. He would have it all. 

The mismatched pair made it off the bus and walked down several streets before stopping in the middle of a fairly busy street. The eleven year old stood outside what honestly looked to him as some kind of dive bar or pub. The Leaky Cauldron. Harry’s senses prickled as he felt the strange sensation coming from the pub. His eyes widened with the realization that he was sensing the magic surrounding the building. He took a look around, noticing curiously that no one but him and Hagrid seemed to be able to see the place. 

The giant of a man was already heading inside the pub and Harry rushed to follow him, unsure if he needed to be with an adult to see and use the place but also wondering just what kind of things this place sold. It did look like some old pub after all, but if there was a place to sell magic items this might come close.  

It was a truly tiny, grubby-looking pub. It was rather dark and shabby even on the inside. There were a few old women sitting in the corner drinking what appeared to be tiny glasses of sherry, one of them took a few puffs of a long pipe between sips. A small man wearing a strange top hat was talking to what appeared to be the bartender. The bartender was bald and resembled a toothless walnut, not that Harry would ever say so aloud. The low buzz of voices all speaking quietly at once stopped almost immediately after they entered. They all seemed to know Hagrid, which told Harry that the giant man spent quite a bit of time there, as they all greeted the bigger man by name and a few even waved. 

The bartender reached for a glass as the two of them approached. “The usual, Hagrid?”

“Not today, Tom. I’m here on Hogwarts business.” Hagrid said in his booming voice and patted Harry on the shoulder. 

Harry held in a wince at Hagrid’s ruff handling and struggled to stay on his feet while everyone in the pub slowly rose to their feet. Harry felt a sinking feeling in his gut when a woman’s voice rang out. “Merlin’s beard, it’s Harry Potter!” Okay, turned out he was a lot famous and flying under the radar as himself would be next to impossible. He would have to redouble his efforts to change his appearance or he’d never get a moment’s peace.

It was as though the words had broken a dam and everyone began to rush forward trying to shake his hand. Some came back more than once. They all kept repeating what an honor it was to meet him and thanking him. Harry had never been the center of attention before. The teachers, while amazed at his intelligence, largely left him to his own devices with only a few guiding words and advice. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do or say so he simply kept shaking their hands and hoped it would satisfy them.  Meanwhile Hagrid was beaming down at him as though he had accomplished something great even though he had no clue what was going on.

Harry felt the hairs on the back on his neck rise suddenly as he spotted a pale young man making his way forward. He appeared very nervous as his hands were shaking and his eyes were twitching. Something about the man set Harry on edge but he couldn’t put his finger on why. As far as Harry could tell the man was no threat and yet his instincts told him to be wary and Harry had only survived as long as he had by listening to his instincts and applying knowledge. He didn’t have knowledge yet so he was on the defensive. 

“Professor Quirrell!” said Hagrid when the pale man had made it to them. “Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

Teacher? That complicated things. The danger would be with him most of the year, if it was a danger. He was starting to get a headache. He would have to do alot of planning and training before he got to school to ensure nothing unexpected put an end to his plans. 

“P-P-Potter,” stammered Quirrell, taking Harry’s offered hand. “C-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”

A speech impediment? Does the magical world not have a way of fixing that? Harry thought to himself. 

“What sort of magic do you teach, professor?” Harry asked to be polite.

“D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” muttered Quirrell, as though he was afraid of the mere idea of it. “N-Not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?” he laughed with a nervous edge to it. “You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.” he continued looking terrified.

A stutter from fear not a disability then? Harry silently continued his assessment. That would be annoying, he wasn’t raised to be patient, or rather he was impatient because his relatives took all his patience and he had none left for anything else. 

Thankfully the others wouldn’t allow the Professor to keep Harry to himself and they were forced to part. As much as he didn’t like being the center of attention, it was frustrating holding a conversation with someone who was so afraid they couldn’t talk properly. Maybe he should look into getting some anti-anxiety medication. The raven-haired wizard mused. 

As thankful as Harry was when the others had ushered the Professor away he was doubly so when Hagrid, having no trouble being heard over the commotion, said “Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, Harry.”

Harry shook the hand of one last person, he thought her name was Doris something, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard. A quick look around revealed nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at him as though he was sharing a great secret. “Told yeh you was famous, didn’t I? Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh - mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.” 

“Is he always so…” Harry trailed off unsure how to phrase ‘So terrified of everything that he might be completely useless at teaching’, politely. There was definitely something about that man Harry didn’t like though he wasn’t sure what it was just yet and so he was perhaps being a bit less charitable than a first meeting might call for.

“Oh yeah, the poor bloke was fine teachin’ outta books but they say he met some vampires while takin some time off to get real experience. There was also somethin’ about a hag - never been the same. Scared of his own shadow, scared of his subject, scared of the students. Now, where’s me umbrella?” 

Harry wanted to ask what the purpose of having a teacher that was both afraid of what he was teaching and the ones he was supposed to be teaching it too, but decided to just shelve the topic. He didn’t want too many questions about himself floating around and considering Hagrid had announced their presence to the entire pub the moment they walked in and the argument Hagrid had nearly had out in broad daylight on Privet Drive, he was certain Hagrid wasn’t someone particularly good at keeping secrets. He would have to do his research the roundabout way. 

Hagrid took this time to - was he counting bricks? Harry was baffled as to why there was any point to it. It was a brick wall as as far as he could tell there was no secret button to unlock some hidden door. 

“Three up… two across…” the giant man muttered. “Right, stand back, Harry.” He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. 

The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled- in the middle, a small hold appeared- it grew wider and wider- a second later the two of them were facing an archway big enough for the both of them. The archway opened up onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Harry made a note to remember exactly what Hagrid had done so he could do the same when he returned by himself, because of course he would come back. 

“Welcome,” said Hagrid, “To Diagon Alley.”

Chapter Text

Harry wished he had a million more eyes. The alley they had walked into seemed so much more vibrant than the street they had just left. Everything appeared to be moving and eye catching and he thought he might get whiplash from how quickly and often he was turning his head to see something that had caught the corner of his eye. Hagrid wasn’t particularly helpful with this as he kept pointing out various shops and telling him what they were for. Still, Harry absorbed everything Hagrid told him for future use, he had a guide now but the next time he came he would be alone and didn’t want to get lost.

A plump redhead woman shook her head as they passed the apothecary. “Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad. . . .”

“Gotta get yer money first.” Hagrid told him pointing at a large towering white building a little ways away. “Gringotts, ‘s our bank.”

“But I don’t have any money.” Harry said, confused. “How am I going to afford everything?” 

“Yeh’ don’t think yer parents left yeh nothin’ to yeh? Nah, whatever was worth keepin’ was sent ter Gringotts.” 

The younger wizard was silent once more as he contemplated just what his parents may have left behind for him. Whatever was worth keeping? Who had determined that? Had there been pictures in the house, had they been saved? 

Hagrid’s size easily parted the way for them and all Harry had to do was stick close to get a clear path forward. Before long Harry stood in front of the snow white building that absolutely towered over the other smaller shops in the alley. The double doors appeared to be made of bronze. There was some sort of stern creature wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold. 

“That’s a goblin,” Hagrid informed in his version of a whisper. As they made  their way up the steps Harry was able to take in the poem written above the doors. 

  Enter, stranger, but take heed 

Of what awaits the sin of greed, 

For those who take, but do not earn, 

Must pay most dearly in their turn. 

So if you seek beneath our floors 

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there. 

Hagrid, noticing his gaze, informed him " Yeh'd be mad ter rob it. "  

Harry simply nodded his head in agreement. The closer they got to the large double doors the more imposing they seemed.  He felt a prickling along his skin as he passed through the silver doors that he, now that he was here among others like him, with strong magic. The feeling both exhilarated him and made him uneasy since he was unused to it. 

They were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred or more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.

“Morning,” said Hagrid to a free goblin. “We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter’s vault.”

 "Does Mr. Potter have his key?” The goblin teller said with a slight sneer.

Harry felt a bit of worry. He hadn’t even known he had a vault and he was supposed to have a key? He wasn’t even sure what the key even looked like. What if the Dursleys had stolen it? Was there a way to get to his vault without it? Fortunately Hagrid spoke before he could get too worried about it.

“Got it here somewhere,” said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin’s book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry,losing interest fairly quickly, watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals. Where did they come from?

“Got it,” said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. 

The goblin looked at it closely. “That seems to be in order.”

Harry made sure to memorize what it looked like. Hopefully, he’d be able to get his hands on it before he was sent back to the Dursleys. It was his after all right?

“An’ I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,” said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”

To Harry it was like waving a neon flag in front of his face. What was the You-Know-What? How could someone just mention a mystery in front of someone else and expect them NOT to want to know? Still he hadn’t survived living where he had by being stupid and so he remained silent.

The goblin read the letter carefully. “Very well,” he said, handing it back to Hagrid, “I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!” 

Griphook was, unsurprisingly, another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all his various items back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

“So what sort of things are normally kept inside the vaults here?” Asked Harry in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone. Really he wanted to ask what item Hagrid was getting from vault 713 but he was smart enough to know that if Hagrid was going to tell people he simply would have said what he was ordered to retrieve.

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had anticipated more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. 

“Lots ‘o things get put in the vaults. Some put in things that are valuable, gold o’ course and things like that. Something powerful that the person doesn’t really need and wants to be kept safe. Family heirlooms. Really so long as the person who owns the vault wants it in there it goes in.” Hagrid answered vaguely.

Well that was unhelpful. Harry thought to himself.

Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in — Hagrid with quite some difficulty — and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages and Harry thought that it might just be what being on a rollercoaster felt like. He tried, in vain, to remember every twist and turn, but even for him it was impossible. The rattling cart also seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn’t steering at least not to Harry’s sight but then it was magic, maybe Griphook could control it some way that Harry couldn’t see.

He thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage for a moment but before he could even think to twist and take a closer look, he was well out of sight of it. He turned to see if Hagrid had seen it as well but when he took in the sight of the giant, who was looking a bit green, he decided he’d better not.

When the cart stopped beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling. It was a bit of a ridiculous sight. 

When Griphook unlocked the door, a lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds and mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. “All yours,” smiled Hagrid a bit woozily.

It was unbelievable. He had spent his entire life listening to his aunt and uncle complaining about how much it cost them to have Harry live with them, not that Harry believed them. How much could it possibly cost them when he never got anything new? It was all second hand from Dudley. Still he’d had at least a decent sized fortune underground London this entire time and something he couldn’t name twisted in his gut.

As Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag he explained “The gold ones are Galleons, “silver Sickles and bronze Knuts. Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it’s easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o’ terms, we’ll keep the rest safe for yeh.”

Harry thought that it did NOT sound simple but he wasn’t exactly in a place to argue, he couldn’t very well tell an entire government that their conversion rates were stupid. 

Hagrid turned to Griphook. “Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?”

“One speed only,” said Griphook.

The raven haired boy found this hard to believe but said nothing. If the goblin said one speed he’d take his word for it. They went even deeper now and gathered speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners and went rattling over a giant underground ravine. Harry took a quick glance down. Just how deep is it?  

Vault seven hundred and thirteen possessed no keyhole. “Stand back,” said Griphook importantly. When they complied, the goblin stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. “If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there,” said Griphook. 

“How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?” Harry asked curiously. 

“About once every ten years,” said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was certain, but he tried to hide his eagerness. He expected to see fabulous jewels or some kind of artifact— but at first he thought the vault was empty. Then he noticed a tiny little package slightly smaller than his fist wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask. 

“Come on, back in this infernal cart,”said Hagrid just the slightest bit grouchily. 

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry had to remind himself that this wouldn’t be his only time coming here. For now he would stick to his list and then he would come back another day, alone, to grab other things that he might want or were beneficial to his needs while there were no prying eyes to monitor his every move.

“Might as well get yer uniform,” said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered the shop alone with no idea just what to expect.

The store was unlike any he had entered before, though considering just how few shops he had been in that wasn’t saying much. There were fabrics everywhere yet very few already made articles of clothing. He could pick out a couple walls of socks and quite a few bins of underwear but no shirts or pants or anything of that nature. 

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. “Hogwarts, dear?” she said, when Harry started to speak. “Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

She led him to the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length. 

The raven haired boy was eager to talk with someone his own age. Getting a new perspective from multiple sources should never be a bad thing, after all that’s how you expanded your horizons and gained knowledge and experience. 

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” said Harry, before he could continue he was cut off.

“My father’s next door buying my books and Mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully Father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Well so much for expanding my horizons. Harry thought to himself grumpily. The blonde reminded him strongly of Dudley and he already possessed all he needed from people like that. Still even if he was no longer keen on making friends with the boy, people like that inadvertently gave up more information than they realized and with how little Harry knew of this new world he belonged to any information was more than he currently possessed.

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on. 

“I thought first years weren’t allowed them,” said Harry.

“We aren’t allowed to bring them to school, that doesn’t mean we can’t own them.” The blonde did a remarkable job of sneering while not looking as though that’s what he was doing. “Who are your parents anyway? They are our sort right?” 

“If you mean magical then yes.” Harry responded a tad coldly. 

The blonde either didn’t mind or didn’t care about Harry’s tone. Perhaps he thought it was appropriate to respond that way when asked such a question. 

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

Harry was about to tell the boy that it was foolish to think people would simply know something they had never been taught, but he didn’t get the chance. Before he could inform the boy just how idiotic and close-minded he sounded, a voice spoke up.

Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear,” and Harry, taking it as a sign that he should keep his thoughts to himself, hopped off his stool.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said the drawling boy.

Harry nodded and gave a polite goodbye but made sure not to insinuate anything that might suggest he was interested in being friends or anything of the sort. Perhaps the blonde would grow up and change but Harry wasn’t interested in who the boy was right now.

He was happy to see Hagrid waiting outside for him with an ice cream cone (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts). He decided not to tell Hagrid about the pale boy in the shop as he ate his ice cream. He found that as much as he enjoyed the giant’s company he couldn’t rely on him to have an unbiased opinion and that’s what Harry wanted. He wanted the truth, not some rose-colored version of it or only what someone else wanted him to hear. So he remained silent about the matter and resolved to do his own research.

They bought Harry’s school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Hagrid had to drag Harry away from Curses and Counter-curses ( Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More ) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

“But they look so useful!” Harry protested. 

“Yeh couldn’ work any of them curses yet, yeh’ll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level.” Hagrid stated firmly.

Huffing Harry made a note to pick it up when he came back in a few days and stopped arguing. If Hagrid was saying he wouldn’t be able to perform those spells that might be a bit of a problem. Not that he wasn’t confident that he absolutely could learn how to cast them but that others his age wouldn’t be able to. If he wanted to fly under the radar he would have to scale back his true abilities quite a bit. He had a feeling Hogwarts was going to become very frustrating very quickly if he had to work at other students' paces.

Hagrid wouldn’t let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either (what was the point of having money if you couldn’t buy what you wanted), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns and absolutely minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes that made Harry’s skin crawl a bit when he looked too long.

Once back outside in the fresh air Hagrid checked Harry’s list again. Though Harry knew that only one thing remained. The thing he had been most looking forward to: his wand.

“Just yer wand left — oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.” 

Harry looked at the giant in confusion. Why would he need to get a birthday present? “You don’t have to —” he started but Hagrid cut him off.

“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at — an’ I don’ like cats, they make me sneeze. I’ll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they’re dead useful, carry yer mail an’ everythin’.”

Harry blinked at the rapid influx of information that he hadn’t anticipated. Toads were out of style? That was the problem? Personally he wasn’t interested in toads as far as he knew they weren’t very friendly and if he was going to have a pet he’d like one that liked him as much as he liked it. He also made a note that Hagrid was allergic to cats just in case it ever came up. An owl sounded perfect and since he intended to get one anyway he couldn’t argue against it.

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He had been surprised when she had swooped down from the rafters and settled on his head, refusing to leave no matter how much the salesman had tried. He loved her already. 

“Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand.” Hagrid said decidedly over Harry’s repeated thanks. 

Harry nodded solemnly. The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

“Do you know whose wand that is?” Harry asked curiously.

“No one really knows though mos’ say it’s Merlin’s. Don’t know if it’s true mind yeh but that’s what they say.” 

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. The back of his neck prickled, the very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with secret magic.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Harry jumped and Hagrid must have, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got off the spindly chair rather quickly. 

An old man stood before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

 “Hello,” said Harry awkwardly. 

“Ah yes,” breathed the man. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy, he felt like they were boring into him. 

“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.” Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. “And that’s where . . .” Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . .” He shook his head and then, to Harry’s immense relief, spotted Hagrid. “Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again. . . . Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?” 

“It was, sir, yes,” said Hagrid. 

“Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?” said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern. “Er — yes, they did, yes,” said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. “I’ve still got the pieces, though,” he added brightly.

Mr. Ollivander narrowed his eyes sternly. “But you don’t use them?”

“Oh, uh no, sir,” said Hagrid quickly. Harry definitely noticed that he gripped his pink umbrella as he spoke as though afraid it would disappear. 

That umbrella definitely has his wand in it. Harry thought.

“Hmmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look as though he didn’t quite believe him but didn’t want to push the matter. The old man turned back to Harry. “Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see.” He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?” 

“I’m ambidextrous,” said Harry. “But I do prefer my right.”

“Then we shall proceed as though you are right handed.” Ollivander decided. “Hold out your right hand.” 

Harry did as asked. The tape started all on its own measuring Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he was measured, Ollivander said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.” 

Harry frowned as he realized that the tape measure was measuring between his nostrils. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. “That will do,” the old man said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

As soon as Harry wrapped his hand around the handle he knew it was wrong even before he waved it. He sensed that if he really wanted to he could perform magic with it but it wouldn’t be easy and it would be costly, much more so than doing it wandlessly. He barely raised it before Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —” But Harry knew this too was not a fit. He frowned and handed it back just as Ollivander made to snatch it back. “Here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.” Harry reached out but before he even touched it he pulled his hand back and shook his head.

“Not that one.” Harry said firmly, unwilling to touch it. There was something about it that didn’t feel right to him. He knew that, like just about any wand in this shop he could use it but it wasn’t his.  

He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for or even what he himself was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. Harry himself was becoming intrigued. Would all these wands feel wrong simply because he was used to using magic without one?

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry placed his hand on it and for a moment thought that it would be the one but sighed and shook his head after he held it in his hand. “This isn’t quite right either.” He told Ollivander.

“Hmmmm. And what is wrong with it?” Ollivander asked curiously. It had been a very long time since he’d had someone in his shop who was as sensitive to wand magics as the boy in front of him. “Don’t think about it too deeply, just say what comes to mind.”

“The wood is wrong.” Harry answered decisively. He could feel his connection to the core but the wood was getting in the way.

Ollivander gestured with his hand toward the back of his shop. “Well, let's search for the correct wood. After you Mr. Potter.”

Harry stepped forward and extended his senses. It was here, he was sure of it. He closed his eyes and let the feeling guide him. He wandered the shop feeling his way around with his eyes closed until he came to a stop. It was there in front of him. He reached out and grabbed it. 

Opening his eyes he was surprised to see two types of wood in his hand yet they both felt equally right. One wood was a pale whiteish, while the other was a rich dark color.

“Sycamore and walnut, an interesting combination.” Ollivander commented thoughtfully. “And to be paired with a phoenix tail-feather. Extraordinary and curious, so curious.” 

“I’m sorry but what’s curious about it?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. It was after all his wand, something he hoped would be kept by his side for his entire life. 

“The phoenix feather that you feel a connection with, the phoenix who gave that feather gave one other feather. It is curious that you should be destined for it, when its pair is the one who gave you that scar. Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have your wand prepared for you.”

Harry went to the front of the store and waited. After about 20 minutes Ollivander came back with the newly made wand. “Sycamore and Walnut, eleven inches, inflexible, phoenix feather core.” 

Harry wrapped his fingers around the handle of the wand and felt the warmth and feeling of belonging travel through him. He brought down the wand in a slashing motion and red and gold sparks flew from the wand. He grinned, it was his, a true part of him.

He paid twenty Galleons for his custom wand and they were finally done with his school shopping. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now thankfully empty. 

Harry didn’t speak much as they walked down the road; he didn’t even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry’s lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder. “Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves,” he said. He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow. “You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet,” said Hagrid.

“Everyone thinks I’m special,” he said at last. “All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander . . .” How was he supposed to lay low and escape the life people were trying to force on him if everyone was convinced he was destined for greatness? He wanted a life of adventure like he read in his books and he was going to get it, one way or another.

Hagrid leaned across the table, wearing a kind smile. “Don’ you worry, Harry. You’ll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll have a great time at Hogwarts — I did — still do, ’smatter of fact.” 

Though not the problem Harry felt upset about he nonetheless appreciated Hagrid’s words. Hagrid helped Harry onto the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

“Yer ticket fer Hogwarts,” he said. “First o’ September — King’s Cross — it’s all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she’ll know where to find me. . . . See yeh soon, Harry.” 

The train pulled out of the station and Harry was finally free to relax for the first time today. He let out a breath and began to organize everything he had learned today. It was going to take a while.

Chapter Text

Vernon was already home by the time he returned to Privet Drive. It had taken him longer than he hoped to find an area outside of the view of cameras and people. It was a recurring problem to Harry’s growing frustration. He was in an awkward time, cameras weren’t everywhere yet but they were slowly gaining ground. They were most prevalent in large stores right now but he was sure in a few years they would be everywhere, hopefully by then he would no longer be living in the non-magical world. Still he managed by entering a bathroom in the station and exited his gate a street down from Privet Drive in an area he knew was always empty. 

He winced seeing Vernon’s car in the drive. His relatives were not going to be happy with him bringing such strange packages and an owl back so openly. Unfortunately he hadn’t been able to drop them off directly into his cupboard because it would have been impossible for him to fit both himself and his new belongings into such a small space. 

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He would try to do this the diplomatic way first. If that didn’t work….well he hoped he wouldn’t have to cross that line but he would if it came to it. 

“BOY!” Vernon roared as soon as the door closed behind the raven haired boy.

Harry forced himself to keep from flinching. He was going to be in control of this conversation one way or another. “Uncle, I have a proposal for you.” He stated with false calm. Harry concealed a wince as his uncle’s face began turning purple and his hands began flexing like he wanted to punch him. So he quickly continued “I’ll pay you to let me stay in the spare room until I leave for school and then I’ll never come back, in exchange you’ll leave me alone to come and go as I please until then.”

****WARNING SKIP TO END IF UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SCENES OF CHILD ABUSE****

Vernon grabbed Harry around the throat and shook him violently. “HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU TRY TO KEEP MONEY THAT IS RIGHTFULLY THIS FAMILY’S! YOU HAND IT OVER THIS INSTANT! YOU UNGRATEFUL FREAK!” 

Harry struggled to regain some semblance of coherency. He needed to concentrate to use his magic to help him.

When Harry, who couldn’t possibly hand anything over that moment, failed to comply with Vernon's demands he grew all the more angry. He threw him down onto the floor and started to kick him repeatedly. When he grew tired of that he threw punches. His demands didn’t stop.

The raven haired boy fought to keep his consciousness reaching for his magic to help him. When he finally managed to connect with it he threw it out. Vernon slammed against the far wall and was stuck there as Harry shakily rose to his feet.

****SCENE END****

Harry trembled as he sent his magic to heal his wounds. He wasn’t shaking from fear though, he was angry. “I tried. I tried so hard to be the bigger person.” He growled angrily as he took a couple steps forward. He took a bit of pleasure in seeing the rage drain from his Uncle’s face. He had spent his entire life afraid of his uncle and now, now the tables had turned. “I offered you something you have no right to in exchange for something you should have given me for free. Now you get nothing. You will give me the spare room and you will leave me be for the rest of the summer because if you don’t….well you aren’t the only one who can hurt people….can hurt kids….Dudley’s my age…..I wonder how easy it would be to throw him against a wall like I did to you.” 

Harry truthfully had no desire or intention of actually harming Dudley. His uncle didn’t need to know it was an empty threat though. If there was one thing his aunt and uncle cared about besides looking ‘normal’ it was Dudley and they would toe the line if they thought their son was in danger if they didn’t.

Vernon, his face the color of porridge, nodded fearfully. 

“Good, I’m glad we finally understand one another. I won’t be back once summer is over. Just stay out of my way.” Harry glared. With a wave of his hand his belongings lifted into the air and followed him up the stairs. 

As his injuries disappeared guilt began to creep its way into his heart. He never considered himself innocent but he felt a bit dirty behaving as his relatives did. He had always considered himself above such things. That if he couldn’t dress as well as everyone else, couldn’t be equal in the way that the world, children, understood then at the very least he would be morally superior. It had limited him in lots of ways, no stealing,  no matter how desperate he became, borrowing without permission was fine so long as it was returned in the same condition it had been taken in. No hurting others with his powers, no matter how hurt he himself became. 

He had lived by a code since he had begun to master his powers, his magic; it was only now that he was realizing just how childish it had been. It had been for nothing. He had starved for nothing, had been beaten for nothing. The only thing people understood was power, they only respected people with power. So he had to become powerful. To become so powerful he could remake the entire world in his image.

He paused at the top of the stairs, debating which room he should take. He was used to a small confined space so he thought about taking the smallest bedroom but he didn’t feel like dealing with all the broken toys and junk his cousin threw in there. The guest room it is. Harry thought to himself.

He threw open the door and directed his things into a corner of the room. His day had been busy, but he wasn’t ready to turn in just yet. There were quite a few things he needed to do before school started and very little time to get it done. With a deep breath he closed the door to his new/temporary room and opened a Gate back to Diagon Alley in a little out of the way spot he had kept an eye on all day. Then he stepped through.

It hadn’t changed much in the couple of hours since he had been there though he noted that most of the shops had closed for the day. He’d keep that in mind for future visits. He swept his eyes over the mostly empty street, it would make it easier on any future trips since the better idea he had of a place in his mind the easier it was to make a gate to the place. 

He didn’t rush, but he did move purposely towards Gringotts. 

The goblins standing guard outside gave him dirty looks for entering so late but he tried to not to pay attention to them. By this time there were only a handful of tellers behind the long counter and there were one or two customers inside. 

He walked up to one of the few goblins left and spoke as clearly and as calmly as he could muster. “I’d like to speak to someone about my account please.”

The goblin looked up in surprise. Humans were rarely ever polite toward goblins. “The name of the account?” The teller asked with a lighter than usual sneer. 

“Um, I believe it’s Potter.” Harry answered, uncertainly.

The goblin nodded. “One moment.” He stepped off his stool and left through one of the doors behind him. After about 2 minutes the goblin came back through the door moving more quickly than when he had left. “Follow me Mr. Potter.”

The soon to be eleven year old followed the goblin easily through the door he had just come through. It was a dark tunnel, not that it wasn’t decently lit but that the stone used to create the tunnel was like an abyss. Harry hesitated for just a moment before stepping onto the pitch black stone. For a split second he was convinced he would fall into a bottomless pit but his foot hit solid stone and he continued forward.

They passed several doors before stopping in front of a door inlaid with gold. Before Harry could take in all the twists and turns of the metal, his escort knocked on the door. “Enter.” Said a voice from inside. The goblin gestured for him to go through.

“Thank you.” 

“My pleasure Mr. Potter.” The teller said with a slight bow. Then he departed leaving Harry facing the door alone. 

He took a deep breath then entered. The room wasn’t large but it wasn’t small either, larger than his current room at any rate. There were four, gem encrusted daggers hanging on the right wall and a suit of armor, silver if he had to guess, standing along the left wall. There was a maple desk in the center of the room with a goblin sitting behind it. Behind him, above his head was a shield with what looked like runes carved into its surface. 

“Good evening Mr.Potter. I am pleased you were prompt in returning my missive to see you about your account.” Started the goblin. “My name is Ralzeank, I’m in charge of handling the Potter account.”

Harry closed the door and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I’m sorry I didn’t receive anything from Gringotts. I came because I was hoping to get information about what the account actually holds.”

“You didn’t receive anything? Your monthly statement has been sent to you for nine years. Are you saying that those statements never arrived?” Ralzeank said seriously. 

“No, I haven’t received any mail from anyone.”

“That is very troubling news. Unfortunately, I cannot disclose any account information until your identity has been verified. Since there is no one from the Potter family to verify your identity the only way to do so is to perform an inheritance test. Is this something you would be open to doing at this time?” 

Harry paused, he had a feeling Ralzeank was trying to tell him something but his ignorance meant he had no idea just what he was trying to say. Still, there was no reason to refuse as far as he could see. “Of course, what do I have to do?”

Ralzeank reached down into a drawer and pulled out a long parchment and a silver dagger. “Just place three drops onto the parchment.” 

Considering the decor of the room Harry assumed that showing any weakness or hesitation would be looked down on so he grabbed the dagger confidently but didn’t immediately cut himself with it. “The results of this test will remain confidential?” He asked. Truthfully he just didn’t want anyone to know he had taken the test but keeping what was on it a secret too would be a bonus.

“Of course, all inherence tests and their results are kept strictly confidential and no one will be informed of the results. We are required to inform the Ministry how many tests were done every year but not who took them, for what reason, or what the results are.”

With that Harry drew the dagger across his thumb and dripped the required three drops of blood onto the parchment. To his amazement as soon as he was finished the blood vanished and the wound healed. He was examining his thumb in wonder when Ralzeank cleared his throat. He blushed realizing he’d forgotten all about the test.

He looked down at the Parchment and began to read.

Name: Harry James Rigel Potter (Pureblood)

Mother: Lily Rose Potter née Evans (Pureblood) 

Father: James Fleamont Potter (Pureblood)

Godfather: Sirius Orion Black (Pureblood)

Godmother: Alice Dawn Longbottom née MacDougal (Pureblood)

Titles Paternal 

Most Archaic House of Peverell (claimed at seventeen)

Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter (claimed at seventeen) 

Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Gryffindor (claimed at seventeen)

Titles Maternal

Most Archaic House of Emrys (claimed at seventeen)

Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Slytherin (claimed at seventeen)

Titles Godfather

Most Ancient and Noble House of Black (heir)

Vaults

Vault 1 

Contents: 16,747,890,007 Galleons

                 332 gems (various quality)

                 10 unnamed artifacts 

Vault 12

Contents: 7,896,990,000 Galleons

                156 gems (various quality)

                7 unnamed artifacts 

Vault 63

Contents: 10,000,000,003 Galleons 

                 1 Charter of Hogwarts 

                 4 unknown magical artifacts 

                 1 portrait 

Vault 64

Contents: 10,000,000,002 Galleons 

                 1 Charter of Hogwarts 

                7 gems (high quality)

                63 books

                1 portrait 

Vault 246

Contents: 6,978,790 Galleons 

                9 wands 

               1 Oak Furniture Set

               2 expanded trunks 

              87 books

              1 Magical artifact

              1 Will of Lily and James Potter (sealed)

Vault 637 (Trust)

Contents: 1,000 Galleons (replenished annually)

Vault 762 (Trust)

Contents: 1,000 Galleons (replenished annually)

Estates

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Wales)

Potter Castle (Ayrshire, Scotland)

Potter Manor (Meath, Ireland)

Potter Cottage (Godric’s Hollow)

Peverell Manor (unplottable) 

Castle Camelot (unplottable)

Griffin’s Nest (Provence, France)

4 Privet Drive, Surrey

Harry stared at the parchment uncomprehendingly. For one thing he had more money than he knew what to do with, for another he apparently had a few estates to his name. The most shocking information he just learned was that the property he had been living in all this time belonged to him. He felt anger at how he had been wronged all this time but he pushed it away, it wasn’t important right now and it was unproductive.

“Alright, so I guess this proves that I am who I say I am.” Harry deadpanned.

Ralzeank took the parchment and looked it over with a frown. “That is true. This gives you information you are entitled to given your current age and ability to inherit. For instance because you are only the heir to House Black only your trust is shown. It does not show any other vaults or property you may or may not inherit when the time comes. At this time you may claim Heir rings for any and all current houses you stand to inherit.” 

“I’m not sure wearing a bunch of rings will help me keep a low profile.” Harry responded thoughtfully.

“If you are concerned with keeping your titles hidden both your Heir rings and Lord rings can remain invisible when you wish it.” Ralzeank paused before pressing forward with whatever it was he wanted to say. “Mr.Potter, is it really so important to you that no one knows about who you are?” 

“Right now it is. I don’t know who I can trust and who wants to use me. It won’t be necessary forever but I don’t want anyone to know before I’m ready. So I want to keep what I’m doing a secret for as long as possible. It will be annoying but it’s a necessary evil. I’m preparing for a war to ensure my freedom and the less time my enemies have to prepare all the better.”

Ralzeank scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I see. Then I recommend wearing as many Heir rings as possible. We can prevent your magical guardian from being informed, for a small fee of course. Every ring provides protections against various threats, what each protects against and to what extent is only known to the House and no two Heir rings are exactly the same.” 

“Magical guardian? I have no idea who that is. What sort of actions would they be informed about?” 

“Your claiming of your heir rings, as I mentioned, as well as a withdrawal of more than 200 galleons from either trust vault. They would also be informed of any legal actions you might try to take.”

“Would they be informed if I purchased property?” 

“Not that you have purchased property; however, to buy a house or land would cost more than 200 galleons and they would therefore be informed.” 

“I see, I’m going to have to think of a solution and see just how viable it is. You said that you could stop my magical guardian from becoming informed?”

“For a fee we could have the notice sent to their vault instead of to the person.”

“How much?” 

“50 galleons.”

“Can you take it from one of my other vaults instead of my trusts? I don’t know how much I’ll need for any future plans. Also, will they be informed if I pull out 200 galleons or more than that? Is that a combined amount?” 

“You may withdraw exactly 200 galleons without informing your guardian from both vaults. This amount is reset annually when the trust is replenished. As for taking the amount from your family vault this would be possible if you were older however at this time you may only allocate your trust funds.”

“Then pull the funds from one of the trusts it doesn’t matter which. How old do I have to be until I can use the money from the family vault?”

“At thirteen you may use money from your family vault if it can be argued that the expense can be considered for the betterment of the family line. You will gain full access to all your vaults when you come of age.” Ralzeank hesitated. “However, the House of Gryffindor has a stipulation regarding obtaining Lordship early. If you were to do so you would gain full access to the vault and the associated estates.”

“How would I do that?” 

“I am forbidden from telling you as informing you would invalidate the stipulations, all I am permitted to tell you is that there is a Last of the Line clause to gain it early provided there is no one of the line left. Had there been any other member of the line who could claim Lordship I would have been unable to inform you of this Clause.”

“If I complete those requirements will you be able to tell me?”

“There are several things that need to be done before you can claim it. As such it may just be faster for you to wait until you come of age. I am aware of the tasks that need to be done and can tell you if you have accomplished them all but not as you complete them.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll take those rings now.”

Ralzeank nodded and tapped a smooth round stone on his desk twice with one of his long fingers. It took a few moments but another goblin eventually entered the room. Ralzeank said something in an incomprehensible language and the other goblin bowed then left the room. “While the rings are gathered, we can discuss the finances of your various accounts. As I said I am in charge of the Potter account however there are others who handle the other accounts.”

“Is there a problem with them just informing you about everything? I’m sure they’re doing a fine job but I don’t want to have to travel to several offices to handle all my accounts.” 

“That can be done. It will take some time to accumulate all the information about your accounts and can be discussed at a later date as for the Potter account we have been following the instructions left by the late Lord Potter and investing accordingly. At this time you are not able to counter these orders however you are entitled to view the results and receive statements regarding the account.” 

“Thank you, I will look them over.”

The other goblin re-entered the room carrying six ring sized boxes each with a different color and with a different crest. They were placed on the desk in front of Harry and then the goblin bowed out. Each box was sized the same but undeniably unique;  scarlet red, another a deep emerald green, a Smokey silver, red and silver, a speckled black, and finally a pure white one. None of the boxes seemed to possess a way to open it; they each seemed, to his eyes, a solid block of wood. 

He started with the one that called out to him the most, red and silver, the crest on top was of a shield with a sword and wand crossing in front of it. The moment he took it into his hands the crest began twisting and vanishing until there was a hole big enough for him to reach through. He pulled out a ring that was identical in color with the same crest that had been on the box. With a deep breath he slid the ring on his right ring finger. At first he felt exactly the same as he always had, then a warmth surged through him. He felt like he was home, a complete feeling of belonging. 

One by one he placed each ring on his finger and though the initial sensation was different for each they all left him feeling like he belonged. After the first ring each consecutive one had merged into the first leaving just a single ring.

Harry flexed his hands reveling in a sensation he couldn’t ever remember feeling. He was pleased with the results. “You were right. It was a good idea to claim the rings. Is there anything else you recommend?”

“At this time no. If you have a better idea about what you hope to achieve then we might be able to reach an agreement. Until then all I have to offer is this paperwork.” Ralzeank answered, lifting a large stack of parchment.

“Thank you for your assistance. I have just two more questions for you. One, now that I have the means, is it possible for me to see a doctor discreetly? Second, is there a way to pay for things without having to withdraw the money from my vault? I plan on making a lot of purchases in the next few days and it’ll be inconvenient if I have to keep returning for funds.” 

“Your Heir rings are attached to the corresponding vault. If you wish to use money from your Potter trust then you simply have to think of using the Potter Heir ring, the same is true for the Black ring. The shopkeepers have order forms, you imprint your crest from the ring onto the parchment and the funds will be taken from the vault when the order forms are submitted to the bank. I’m not certain but I assume that by doctor you mean a healer. Are you injured, Heir Potter?” 

“I’m not injured, at least I’m pretty sure I’m not right now but I’ve been living with muggles and I want to make sure that hasn’t had any ill effects on me before I leave for school.”

“Ordinarily, I would recommend making an appointment and going to St. Mungos however the Potter family has a Healer on retainer. Healer Travers has been serving the family for the past 50 years and his father was the Potter Healer before that. I recommend reaching out to her.” 

“Thank you for your help Mr. Ralzeank. Have a good evening.” Harry said, raising to his feet. 

“May your vault be ever flowing.” Ralzeank responded with a small bow of his head, which Harry instinctively imitated.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Harry exited the office and made his way back out to the lobby. Making a quick stop to one of the last two goblin tellers to exchange some of his galleons into pounds, he left the bank and headed into a shadowed area of the alley. He exited his gate in a shopping district in the middle of London. It was getting late but that just meant there were fewer people around to get in his way. He would grab a quick snack before doing some shopping and then heading back to Privet Drive.

Chapter Text

The first thing he did upon returning to his room was write a letter to the healer Ralzeank had recommended.

Dear Healer Travers,

I was given a suggestion to write to you by my goblin account manager. I’m not sure if you know about me but I was told you have been serving my family for a while and was on retainer. I’m Harry Potter and I was hoping to discreetly have a check up done before heading off to Hogwarts. I’m not sure how safe it would be for me to be seen out and about. If it wouldn’t inconvenience you would you mind meeting with me? I would appreciate you keeping this to yourself regardless. 

Kind regards,

Harry Potter

It took several days before he even considered returning to Diagon Alley. He didn’t bother to touch the books he bought on his previous trip. The knowledge in those books wasn’t going anywhere. Concealing his appearance to avoid being followed or spied on was most important since he had such a short time to accomplish it. 

He grinned at his new appearance. He had changed his unruly and untamable raven-black hair to a medium length golden blonde that he pulled into a short ponytail. He changed his green eyes into an ice blue, he had played around with a couple of other colors like purple and gold but decided they stood out too much. With great struggle he tried to hide his scar but the best he had been able to was move it up into his hairline, still he had achieved his goal of making it unseen so he considered it a success. He had added a couple inches in height as well putting him at the height of the boy he had met in Madam Malkins. All in all he was completely unrecognizable from his real appearance. 

“Today shall be the birthday of Alexander Peverell.” He said to his reflection. He had put a lot of thought into his alias’s name. He wanted his name to carry weight so using one of the house names that he had inherited had seemed ideal for a last name especially one that was so old that no one knew with absolute certainty what had happened to the family. As for his first name it was less important and childishly, he liked the idea of being named after Alexander the Great. 

When he had first started to try hiding his appearance he had tried to simply put an illusion over himself but it had rapidly drained him. It had taken time to figure out how to physically change himself so that it didn’t need to be maintained after it was completed. 

He let his new appearance fade back into his real body and headed back to his room. Now that he had solved the problem of hiding who he was he could focus on reading those books he had and get more.

Harry rapidly went through all his school books finding a few things that didn’t make sense, like he had missed an introductory book or the books assumed he had knowledge that wasn’t in them. After only two days he had finished all the books and got an owl back from Healer Travers. 

Dear Heir Potter,

Words cannot express how overjoyed I was to receive a letter from you. My family has happily been the vassal family to House Potter since the beginning of our line. Not all of us have served as Healers but we have always tried to be of use to your family. You can rest assured that any secret or request you make to me or my family will be kept and carried out. 

If you are agreeable I can meet you in a private room at the Leaky Cauldron on the 27th at 11. If this works for you then simply show up at the established time however, if it doesn’t please send a letter with a date and time that is best for you.

May Mother Magic watch over you,

Healer Dawn Travers 

Harry sighed in disappointment, the 27th was about two weeks away but he didn’t want to push it. He didn’t know about any plans he may be interrupting by asking to see her. The fact that she confirmed that her family worked for his gave him hope though, maybe he would be able to use her to get away from the Dursleys. 

Changing his appearance to that of Alexander, he changed into some clothes that he had bought the last time he had been out. He noted with some displeasure that the clothes he had purchased were a couple inches too short and resolved to buy yet more clothes. He tried to console himself by telling himself that he could use the way he dressed as yet another way to separate Alexander from Harry, still it was annoying that he would have to spend yet more of his limited funds on clothes. He’d buy a few outfits but he didn’t want to waste money on a whole separate wardrobe. Satisfied for the moment, he opened a gate to Diagon Alley.

He stepped out onto the busy alley and debated with himself on where he should go first, Madam Malkins or Flourish and Blotts. 

Well, he thought to himself, I should make an effort to appear presentable at all times. If I’m always dressed nice and Harry is dressed casually then colors won’t matter as much and I won’t have to worry about wardrobes for both of my forms I can just have different types of clothes for them both plus if Harry dresses mostly like a muggle and Alexander dresses more like a wizard they’ll think Alexander grew up in the Wizarding World.

With a sharp nod to himself he headed for Madam Malkins. After having a deeper look around than he had his first time, he decided on some white robes with silver trim, some cobalt blue with turquoise trim, and emerald green with gold trim all in silk. He was measured for his robes and he asked about ordering more at a later time.

“Of course, we can have a file made for your preferences and measurements that are updated at least once a year, you can ask for new measurements to be done at any time. This allows for things like owl orders to be placed for non-time sensitive orders where you don’t need the order right away. Would you like me to make one for you?” The shop assistant answered immediately. He was a rather tall wizard at a little over 6 feet, but that was where his extraordinary appearance ended. Besides his height there was nothing eye-catching about him. He had rather uninteresting brown hair and brown eyes. His face was so average that it would be hard to describe it as anything but “normal”. His robes were an impeccable and wrinkle free black that all the other associates wore leaving Alexander to assume it must be a work uniform. If he would be asked to describe the man in as few words as possible he’d use the words ‘Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, ordinary.’ He didn’t even wear a name tag of any sort.

“Yes, it would help a lot, thank you. Do you know how long it’ll take to make my robes? I kind of want to change into them as soon as possible since my clothes don’t really fit.” Alexander answered looking down at his sleeves that were about an inch too short.

“Well we’re still in a bit of a rush since everyone is getting their school supplies for the next few weeks and we give those priority since it’s time sensitive but considering the circumstances why don’t you pick which one you’d like to wear today and we’ll get that done in a few minutes. You can change in one of the private rooms. The other two robes will take a couple of hours with all the other orders we have right now.” The shop assistant said a bit apologetically.

“That’s great thank you, I’ll be spending the day in the alley anyway and I’ll pick up my robes before you close if that’s alright.” 

“That’s perfect. What name should I use for your file?” The man asked.

“Alexander Peverell.” Alexander answered confidently.

The assistant froze for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Alexander to notice, but like the professional he was, he didn’t say anything, simply writing it down with a gray quill on a piece of parchment. He followed it with what Alexander assumed was his measurements and material preference. 

Twenty minutes later Alexander was heading out in his cobalt blue robes to get some new books. Once he entered the bookshop he was eager to get his hands on every book he could but he restrained himself as much as possible. He only had so much money and he had to be careful to spend it properly and in a way that could help him. He made a mental list of his priorities.

1. The supplemental information that his books seemed to be missing, (this would help him to strengthen his understanding and use of magic to open up doors he might not know exist)
2. Politics and Laws (this would hopefully lead to information on how to either remove him from his relatives or help him get emancipated early)
3. Information on Gringotts (to see if there were any loopholes to help him get access to more of his money or properties without anyone being informed about it)
4. History
5. Traditions and etiquette 
6. Anything and everything 

He spent hours searching through the different aisles trying to find the most informative books that covered the most topics. He wanted as much knowledge as he could get for as few books as possible. In the end he found a section that seemed devoted to introducing children born to muggles to the Wizarding World where he found not only books that, as he flicked through a few he noticed supplemented his school books, but also a small few that looked to give a brief introduction to Wizarding traditions and etiquette. Grumbling to himself about how they should have been put on his school list, he grabbed ten different books that seemed to cover the basics of what he would need both for schooling and etiquette. He only took one book each about politics and laws but they were the thickest of his books. Information on Gringotts was particularly difficult to find and in the end he only found what amounted to little more than a pamphlet about it but at least it was cheap. With thirteen books in hand and a better idea of how the store was organized he paid and decided to wait to buy anything else until he had a better idea of what to look for. 

He deposited his purchases in his room, deciding to eat lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and then to explore the rest of the alley. He loved learning, but there was something about starting a new adventure, no matter how small, that made him feel alive in a way that no book could ever hope to achieve. He really would never be content to sit behind a desk all day and the mere thought of it sent a shiver down his spine, to him knowledge was only as good as how useful it was. So it was with a spring in his step that he set out to discover as many secrets the alley held as he could before everything closed for the night. 

He didn’t hide but he made an effort not to stand out. He walked with purpose, giving off the sense that he knew exactly where he was going and that he was supposed to be there. The last thing he needed was some concerned adult asking where his parents were. He went down an offshoot of the alley called Harvest Alley that, strangely enough, had not one thing related to plants or even animals. The entire alley was devoted to residential housing. There were no yards or gardens but each house would be out of place on Privet Drive as they all boasted loud obnoxious colors and had seemingly impossible decorations hanging in the windows one had miniature unicorns that danced under a miniature full moon that rose and fell with a similarly small sun which the unicorns slept under. Another window looked like a replica of the universe that turned on its own expanding slowly until it filled the entire window only to burst into a rainbow of colors and reforming into a universe that was no bigger than a marble only to repeat the cycle. Some houses had small children playing inside with what may have been their mothers or fathers watching over them and some were empty. 

Making his way back out of the alley he headed down another, this one called Golden Passage. This street was a lot like the main alley in that it had mainly shops but different in that it seemed like all the shops catered solely to the wealthy. While the shops on Diagon were colorful and eye-catching, some might even call them ostentatious; the shops here did not scream magic beyond their names that hung above their doors. They whispered of power rather than flouting it. The buildings were tasteful in their coloring, not bold but each unique. One was silver, the one next to it was a regular brick color but had gold trim that made it stand out. There was a gentle green building and a swirling fog color that shifted imperceptibly that made it seem like it wasn’t really there. Alexander stopped in front of a plain looking shop with plain black lettering naming itself Supreme Supplies and with a shrug entered. 

Inside the shop was just as plain and ordinary as the outside and it wasn’t clear just by looking around what the shop sold. The floor was dark wood and the walls were gray. There were a few chairs along the wall and a counter in front of the back wall but other than that the store was empty. 

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met before young man. Is there something I can help you with?” A woman’s voice said, startling Alexander who was looking around for some sort of product.

He turned to face the owner of the voice. She was an older woman who looked to be in her sixties. Her hair had more silver than black which she wore in a tight bun. Her eyes were gray and had numerous wrinkles around them. She wore an inquisitive look, neither happy to see him or unhappy, merely curious. 

“Hello, I was curious about your shop so I decided to take a look.” He admitted sheepishly.

“I see,” the woman answered, studying him. “Well I’m sorry to say that if you wish to browse my store you will find nothing of interest, if you are looking for something in particular however, you will find no better than here.”

Alexander was silent for a minute before he responded. “I was looking for information.” He said vaguely.

“I see, then I recommend a book shop.” 

“They didn’t have what I was looking for. I need information about Gringotts.”

The woman’s eyes widened slightly before they narrowed. “And why would you need information like that? They handle our money, what else is there to know?” 

“I’m in a bit of a situation where I need to be careful about what I ask people. It would be helpful if I could simply read about it so no one knew I was looking.” Alexander said carefully.

“Information is never free young man. You are asking for knowledge about a nation that has a very tenuous relationship with us as it is. Getting it will not be inexpensive. If you could be more explicit…” she trailed off.

Alexander was silent, debating fiercely with himself. In the end he decided that some random woman in a shop knowing what he wanted couldn’t hurt too badly he answered “I want money that isn’t being monitored by my guardian.” 

“Then open a vault under your own name.” The woman deadpanned, unimpressed.

“I have a vault under my name, it’s monitored by my guardian.” 

“No, you likely have a vault with your name that an adult set up for you which is monitored because you are not of age. However a vault set up by the person in question for the person in question is only monitored by the one who set it up and the account manager.” She said as though it should be obvious. “Now is there something in particular you are looking to buy or are you simply here to waste my time?” 

“Do you happen to sell trunks here?” Alexander said thoughtfully. He’d been hit with a sudden thought so even though it seemed like an out of the blue question the information he had gotten was more than helpful for the plan forming in his mind.

At the question the woman looked happier. “Yes though if you are looking for a basic school trunk I recommend going to the store in Diagon as opposed to the ones I sell here.”

Alexander found it strange that the woman seemed so insistent on trying to send him elsewhere instead of trying to push her wares on him. “Why would their trunks be better? You said that if I was looking for something in particular that you would be the best.” 

“I never said theirs were better, only that I recommend it for that instance. If all you want is something to carry your things in then there’s no point in you spending so much more for features you don’t need. I make more than enough from my wares that I can be generous enough not to wheedle unsuspecting people into buying more than they need.”

“Can I see the trunks?” 

“Are there specific features you want or do you want to see them all?” 

“All of them please.” Alexander decided easily. He didn’t know what features he could get so he wasn’t sure what to ask for. 

With a wave of her hand ten trunks appeared in the empty shop. Each one was almost identical except for the carvings on the front. The shopkeeper made her way to the front of the shop where the trunks had appeared and began describing the various trunks and what they could do. “This first one has a feather-light charm on it as well as a shrinking charm. This rune right here is what activates the shrinking charm so you won’t have to use magic in order for it to work.” She told him, each trunk more elaborate than the last. He thought they all sounded useful but none of them hit all the buttons. 

“Is there any way to combine a couple of these?” He asked, not wanting to buy more than one and having to carry multiple trunks around. He wanted the one that had a compartment that had a permanent stasis charm on it so he could store food and potions in it without worrying about them going bad but the other trunk he wanted had a small apartment, a library compartment, and a potions lab as well as another compartment that had an expansion charm for the things he used regularly like his school supplies.

“No, but I can have a trunk custom made for extra depending on what you want it to contain.”

“I like the one with the apartment and potions lab but I also want a compartment for holding things in stasis and if possible I want a feather-light and shrinking charm on it.” 

After a brief discussion about the features Alexander paid a hundred galleons for his custom trunk half paid before and the other half to be paid after getting his trunk and a written agreement signed by both parties. Doing some mental math, Alexander grimaced, realizing that after all his shopping he had about fifty galleons left to withdraw from his Potter trust vault before his guardian would be informed. Luckily, he had another trust vault to use but he now had plans for that money however vague they may be.

It was close to dinner time so he stopped at one of the restaurants for a quick bite. Then it was back to Gringotts where he opened a new vault and transferred 200 galleons from the Black trust and the rest of the 200 from his Potter trust. 

He still had some muggle money but his new vault had a total of 250 galleons in it. His long term plan at the moment was to transfer the maximum from both trust accounts annually to his new vault that he could spend freely from but what he really needed was a way to make money.

Chapter Text

Harry looked at his reflection with a frown. Truthfully he wasn’t interested in his appearance or rather he couldn’t decide which one to use. He was meant to meet Healer Travers in a few hours, he was both excited and dreading the appointment. Excited because with the knowledge of what health concerns he had he could do his best to fix them before they became permanent, dreading because he was afraid of what he might discover and so that led to him focusing on something he could control, how he looked.

They were supposed to meet in the Leaky Cauldron, his last experience there had been anxiety inducing. Okay that wasn’t true, his last time as Harry Potter there had been anxiety inducing once he had stopped analyzing who he was talking to. Too many people interested in him, watching him, making him feel like an interesting bug. His times going in there as Alexander had been pleasant and he enjoyed their food.

He took a quick look at the time, 10:30, and knew he had to make a decision. With a determined nod he chose to arrive looking like Alexander and then change back into Harry once they were in the private room.

He arrived ten minutes early since he didn’t actually have to travel. He simply opened a gate to an empty alley he had noticed close to the pub and walked a few feet and through the front door. With more confidence than he felt he walked up to Tom, the barman, and informed him that he was here to meet a Healer Travers, privately.

His reason for arriving early was so that he could be the one to arrange the private room. One so that he could change his appearance back to Harry and second so that there was less of a chance of being caught in a trap. The possibility was still there of course but he was sure that no one would be able to anticipate his ability to open his gates. He had spent quite a bit of time just observing the people around him and not once had he seen anyone use anything like his gates. Thus he assumed, perhaps a bit arrogantly, that it was a power specific to him and no one knew about it.

Tom agreed, charging him two galleons for two hours for the private room and for such short notice.

It was a cozy room not overly big but large enough that about four people could sit around the small wooden table in the corner of the room comfortably while another three or four could sit in comfortable chairs around the small fireplace against the opposite wall. There were candles along the walls which served as the room's source of light as there were no windows. There was nothing covering the bare wooden floor besides a small rug that was so ragged that it appeared like a gray shaggy blanket.

“When Travers comes in can you tell her that her 11 o’clock meeting is in this room?” Alexander asked the barman.

“Of course, will you two like some food and drink?”

“Just tea and biscuits for now, it’s a bit close to lunch so perhaps we will eat a bit later.”

With a bow of his head Tom left the room. Just a few short minutes later he brought back a tray filled with biscuits and a kettle with two cups and saucers. Alexander tried his best to remain calm but found himself pacing the room. A minute to eleven he took a deep breath and took a seat in one of the chairs facing the door. Right at eleven exactly there was a knock on the door before it opened.

A pale woman cautiously entered the room. She had shoulder length brown hair and, curiously, equally brown eyes, as in her hair and eyes were the exact same shade of cider. She wore olive green robes that lay flatteringly on her thin frame.

She took in the room quickly and seeing no one else in the room focused on Alexander.

“I was told my appointment was here but I’m afraid there might have been a mixup.” She said apologetically. Her voice seemed to ooze calm and the young pre-teen was sure that there was a magical component to it that encouraged the feeling.

“You are Healer Travers?” Alexander inquired curiously. She seemed like an average person to him except for that feeling he had gotten when she spoke.

“Yes I was supposed to meet a- client at eleven and Tom said he was in here but there must have been a misunderstanding.” She hesitated before saying client as though she wasn’t sure what was safe to say and didn’t want to give away any information and it pleased Alexander.

“You have the right room. If you could close the door I would be happy to explain.”

As soon as the door was closed Alexander’s appearance and size changed until sitting at the table was the raven haired Harry Potter. He gestured to the seat across from him as he explained. “I changed my appearance so no one would know I was here. I got a lot of attention the last time I came here as Harry Potter and this seemed safer and easier.”

As soon as Travers took in Harry’s appearance she gave him a deep bow. “My Lord, it is good to see you after so long. I’m sorry I have been unable to attend to you and your health until now.”

Harry was stunned and unsure how to move forward. “Um it’s alright?” No one had ever called him ‘My Lord’ before and he didn’t know the appropriate way to respond, he also couldn’t ever remember a time that someone wanted to be bothered by him. He decided to solve the problem by changing the subject with about as much subtlety as a flying brick. “Can you check me over here or do we need to go somewhere else?”

Travers straightened and pulled out her wand. “Here is just fine My Lord, though I recommend you sit in one of the armchairs since I’ll be able to do more accurate scans.”

Harry sat in the furthest armchair from the fireplace and waited patiently as Travers waved her wand in various patterns. Almost immediately a scroll appeared out of thin air and started to unravel, slowly at first but the longer it went on the faster it unfurled. It finally stopped after reaching two feet in length and Travers frowned as she looked at it.

She sat down across from Harry and pulled a tiny bag from a pocket in her robes. “I’m going to start by giving you a few potions to take immediately but I’m sorry to say that there’s quite a bit of damage that’s going to take some time to fix.” She informed him.

“But you can fix it right?”

“Absolutely, it just won’t be as simple as taking a few potions for a few days. Your bones aren’t as strong as they should be due to malnutrition. We can fix that by removing the bones and regrowing them but first we have to ensure that your body has the nutrients necessary to regrow them strong. If we don’t do that then when we try to regrow them they could grow back just as, if not more, brittle than before which would worsen the problem. My scans also showed that you have muscle scarring. This can happen when young wixen receive a serious injury that isn’t treated but their magic heals it in order to save them. Essentially, what happened is your magic did everything within its power to save you but didn’t do it completely correctly. There isn’t any muscle scarring from the last three years though my scans do show that injuries did occur and were healed. We can fix that with a potions bath twice a week for the next two months. Muscle scarring takes much longer to heal than surface scarring because it’s harder to get to and the older they are the more time it takes to repair the damage. Do you experience a lot of aches in the winter or when it rains for seemingly no reason?”

Harry tried to think back on how he felt, how his body felt, during those times but honestly he was always in some kind of pain. Sure he could heal himself now but it was a slow process that took time. He could keep himself alive by sending large bursts of magic at the most serious injuries but it left him feeling drained very quickly and wasn’t sustainable. With his magic he healed much faster than the average person, sending it through his body to where the wound was but his healing was an inferior mimic of Wolverine’s in a way. That had been his inspiration for how to accomplish the task when he had decided to try.

Most of his tricks with his magic came from superpowers and abilities he had either read about or seen while his cousin was watching television. He had thought they were cool and, most importantly, useful but there was no official spell or technique he used. He had been fumbling in the dark and making it up as he went along as he learned how to make his magic do what he wanted. The fact that he could do things with his magic that others couldn’t was a byproduct of this, finding his way around the limits of others but it was inefficient and took a lot more magic than simply using an official spell. He had realized this when he experimented with the spells in his books. Casting magic without a wand was as easy as breathing to him but the amount of magic it took to do so varied by spell. He also found he didn’t need a spell to do what he wanted if he was willing to throw about five times as much raw magic at it.

He was at least pleased to hear that he had been healing himself correctly for the past three years even if he was also irritated with himself about his stupid morals. He should have swallowed his pride and taken food instead of ‘claiming the high road’. With a mental shake of his head he refocused on the healer in front of him. “Yes, it’s not very noticeable compared to my actual injuries at the time but I do notice that parts of me that aren’t injured still hurt during those times.” He answered somewhat honestly.

Travers opened her mouth for a second, likely to ask about why and how he kept getting hurt, but closed it without saying anything for a moment. Finally she said “Well you shouldn’t have any issues by this winter provided you follow my instructions. This will be important as some of these potions won’t react well together in your body. You’ll take a nutrient potion three times a day, preferably with a meal, you can take it without one but it will be much harder to fix you up if you don’t have at least two large meals a day every day.”

“Why?” Harry asked curious. It seemed like such a weird thing to say about eating and the potion.

Travers sighed. “The thing is, as long as you’re taking the maximum dose nutrient potion you don’t actually need to eat.”

“Then why do witches and wizards eat? Why doesn’t everyone just take the potion?” Harry interrupted with interest.

“Because it will give you everything you need to stay alive and functioning so long as you take it often enough but nothing more. It doesn’t give you the calories you need as fuel. You’ll eventually become nothing more than skin and bones but still be alive because technically you’re still getting everything your body absolutely needs in order to stay alive. If you take it with food however or at least eat often enough that the potion doesn’t have to carry all the weight then you’ll find that your body tries all it can to make you as healthy as you can possibly be. Take yourself for instance, you are underweight and malnourished by taking the potion while eating it will ensure that what you eat gets put to its best use. This will allow you to put on weight much faster than if you simply ate well for a year and not just put on weight but healthy weight with actual muscle. You won’t be athletic, you’d need actual exercise for that but it won’t be fat you’re putting on. I think with a month of the maximum strength potion your body will be healthy enough that we can start regrowing healthier bones so long as you’re eating as well. By the time you have to head off to school we should be done fixing your bones so that they will continue to grow correctly.”

“Okay, what about the muscle scarring?”

At that Travers grimaced. “And that is why you will need to be careful with what potions you take when. The potion that you will be putting in your bath needs to be paired with a specific ointment for how old the scarring is. The two together make taking a lot of other potions toxic to the drinker. There needs to be a minimum of four hours between you taking the nutrient potion and you using the God’s Tears potion and ointment.”

“Why do I have to use ointment and a potion? Can’t I just do one or the other?”
Travers shook her head. “You lived through whatever or whoever-“ she gazed sharply at him when she said this. “gave you those scars, do you think you would be able to reach them all by yourself. Would you trust anyone enough to do it for you? The potion works in conjunction with the ointment. If you use the potion in your bath and the ointment where you can reach afterwards the remaining potion in your skin helps bridge the gaps where the ointment isn’t placed to cover the entire area. Without the potion the ointment won’t be able to bridge the gap and without the ointment the potion doesn’t sink in deep enough for it to work effectively. Given a few years the potion would eventually do what the ointment and potion combination can do in months. By the end of the school year there will be no trace of your body having ever been injured. Except that scar on your forehead.”

“There isn’t anything you can do to get rid of it?” Harry asked in surprise.

“There is some really black magic stuck inside it.” Travers said, shaking her head. “That needs to be removed before you can start trying to get rid of the scar itself. I suggest going to the goblins for that. I can heal your body but I’m not an expert on dark magic let alone black magic and the goblins have been dealing with that since before there was a Gringotts bank. Mind you they won’t do it for free.”

Harry groaned at that. “Do you have an idea of how much it’ll cost? I really don’t want to spend a lot right now.”

“Honestly, I don’t know I’ve never had to get it done myself or even send someone to them before but if money is tight right now for you then you can wait to get it done.” Travers said with a shrug.

“I can wait?!” Harry said incredulously.

“Yeah, the black magic is being very well contained right now. Unless something major happens like being exposed to more black magic it should remain safely sealed off from you.” Travers said casually. “Your mother really knew what she was doing.”

Harry froze at the casual mention of his mother. “What do you mean she knew what she was doing?” He choked out softly.

“Once she married your father I was just as much her healer as I am yours. I am well aware of how her magic felt. The magic in your scar carries traces of her magic in it. The only way that could have happened was if her magic was used to contain the black magic. As you were just a baby when she died the only logical conclusion is that she must have done something to ensure that the black magic couldn’t harm you. The illogical conclusion would be that a baby just somehow knew how to pull magic from their mother to protect themselves because they somehow knew they weren’t powerful enough to do it themselves. I think we can both agree which outcome seems more plausible.”

Chapter Text

The rest of his appointment with Healer Travers was much less exciting than the conversation about his mother. He asked about fixing his eyesight and found out that the reason most witches and wizards used glasses was because the potion to fix your eyesight only lasted for a week and it wasn’t exactly cheap. He definitely could afford it indefinitely once he had access to his vaults but it was two galleons just for a single dose, he could buy two used books for that price. Still he asked for enough for six months and resolved that if he wasn’t making money by that point he wouldn’t buy more  until he was. He justified the purchase by telling himself that if Alexander didn’t need glasses then no one would ever think to compare him to Harry Potter and it would just be another way to ensure no one would realize it was him.

Ten days before he was due at Kings Cross Travers told him he was well enough to start fixing his bones. He was nervous but mostly just because he didn’t know what to expect. 

There was some discussion on where they would be doing the procedure. Harry couldn’t do it at the Dursleys, he would be unable to defend himself for a couple of days and they might use the opportunity to hurt or even kill him but he also didn’t have anywhere safe and low key to do it. Travers had wanted to take him to either St. Mungo’s or her own home. He vetoed St. Mungo’s for obvious reasons, he didn’t want anyone to know about him being there. He was against going to Travers for the simple fact that he didn’t really know her. There was such a thing called ‘stranger danger’ after all. Still it needed to be done and in the end they decided to simply rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron for three days. 

He was placed in a magical coma so that he wouldn't run the risk of moving and the bones growing back incorrectly. He wasn’t fully recovered by the time they left but he could move on his own without worry and he trusted Travers a bit more than he had before. Then it was time to make definite plans for the school year. 

He decided that once he was at the school Alexander would never use a wand and Harry would only ever use a wand. He would also make sure to perform average in class and on tests. If they had a way of telling just how powerful someone was then they would think that he was just a slacker or of average intelligence even if he was powerful meanwhile anyone who met Alexander would consider him both powerful and talented. As far as anyone would be concerned there would be no reason to connect the two eleven year old boys. 

The rest August flew by in a haze as Harry learned every spell he could wandlessly. He needed to make sure it was effortless for ‘Alexander’ to perform spells. He didn’t use his wand. One of the books he had picked up on Wizarding Law said that there was something called ‘The Trace’ on his wand that could track when an underage witch or wizard was using magic which was against the law outside of school. He didn’t want anyone to know he’d been practicing magic. 

Once he had those spells down he picked up a new project. One day it would become suspicious that Harry and Alexander were never in the same place at the same time. He had no intention of making the existence of Alexander public knowledge right away or even in the next couple of years but at some point people would start to learn about him and word would spread. Once enough people knew about Alexander it would be harder and harder for Harry and him to stay separate and Harry needed to be prepared for that time. He wasn’t going to do anything crazy like come clean of course. No, he had a much better idea. He would simply have to be in two places at once. 

So Harry spent the last six days of Summer trying to find a way to clone himself with magic. He didn’t have much success. Still he’d spent over a year learning how to change his appearance without draining himself. He'd figure out how to do this too. 

His biggest inspiration and idea for getting it to work was something he’d only briefly glimpsed on the television as Dudley watched his shows. Some yellow haired loudmouth on the screen had yelled ‘Shadow Clone!’ and multiple copies of him had appeared around him, he’d even been able to hear the part where the yellow haired kid said that he learned everything the clones did after they were destroyed. 

That would be a serious game changer for Harry. Having mastered everything he was supposed to learn over the course of a year in a little less than two months made him realize just how much he was going to have to limit himself and that he was going to get bored very quickly if he moved at the school's pace. If he could appear to go to class while actually being in the library or doing something else he might just be able to hold onto his sanity. He also had a fantasy of appearing to be in class while really visiting some other country. 

What if other countries taught different things? Would he be able to attend multiple schools at the same time? What if the way one school taught things was less efficient or less effective than another? He would be able to learn for himself the best way to accomplish anything he wanted. He would be able to go on adventures while the other children were stuck learning from books. He definitely needed to make a spell like that ‘shadow clone’ thing. 

Was the clone actually made out of shadow? Harry thought as he began packing his things into his school trunk. He had pulled everything out of both his trunks to make sure that nothing of Alexander’s was in Harry’s school trunk and nothing of Harry’s was in Alexander’s trunk. It didn’t matter as much if Harry’s stuff was in Alexander’s trunk since no one would see it. He intended to keep it shrunk in his pocket at all times so no one would find it and go snooping. However that meant if anything of Harry’s was in there it’d be difficult to pull it out in a hurry since he’d likely be surrounded by people once he noticed he’d need it. Better to separate the two before he left for the train tomorrow. Alexander’s things couldn’t be in Harry’s trunk for obvious reasons. 

There wasn’t much to separate except the books. The custom trunk had essentially become Alexander’s home. He stored Alexander’s clothes in the apartment the trunk possessed as well as the few non-school books he had bought. The library compartment was empty so far since the few books he had fit the small bookshelf in his tiny study in the apartment. As he got more books that he didn’t want Harry seen with he would place the books he either wasn’t reading or didn’t need in the library compartment and keep the ones he was reading or needed to reference in his study. 

The food had been kept in the custom trunk since he had gotten it so he didn’t need to worry about that. He had picked up small amounts of just about every potion ingredient that wasn’t restricted and stored them in the potions lab in one of two cabinets. One was larger than the other with stasis charms on it for ingredients that he could actually take a couple of steps into. The other was much smaller, about the size of a side table also with a stasis charm but clearly made for storing finished potions. There were even spots to label the potion on the shelf if he wanted. 

Right now that cabinet was half filled with average strength Nutrient potions (strawberry and pineapple flavored). He didn’t need maximum strength now that his bones had been fixed and he decided that he could tolerate a weaker version that would take longer but tasted better than the stronger but awful tasting one. Had he stayed on the maximum strength he could have stopped taking it by the end of September with the understanding that when he stopped taking them he would need to eat a real meal two to three times a day or he would need to go back on them. With the lower dose he would need to take it longer and still have two to three meals a day but since he needed to take it before he ate the better tasting potion made it easier to want to eat than puke. According to Travers he’d be able to stop taking them by Christmas so long as he was eating consistently. The extra couple of months weren’t so big a deal that he’d suffer through the foul tasting concoctions. 

The other half of the cabinet was filled with the Gods Tears potion and the ointment was in Alexander’s bedroom along with a few nights worth of the potion. The bathroom in the apartment contained a decent sized bathtub that took up most of the bathroom and was ideal for soaking in his potions bath. He had actually come to enjoy relaxing in the tub after a long day of studying and planning and planned to continue even after he no longer needed the potion bath. 

He had studied all he could about Hogwarts and all in all he was as ready as he could be. Tomorrow would be the first day of his life of adventure. No plan survives first contact with the enemy and he didn’t even truly know who his enemy really was but that’s what made it an adventure. 

In the words of Caesar ‘I came, I saw, I conquered.’ And Harry Potter would conquer.

Chapter Text

Harry woke early, too excited to leave the Dursleys forever to sleep too long. His ticket said the train left at eleven but he had woken at five in the morning, just before dawn. He used the extra time to ensure he would be leaving nothing behind, scouring the room top to bottom, searching every nook and cranny. He hadn’t found anything that would have been tragic to leave or anything that would force him to return through a gate to retrieve but he did find little pieces of his childhood that he had pulled up from his cupboard and cast aside in his wonder for his new world. Broken toys, scraps of paper from books that had been thrown away, and tests he had taken and held onto as a reminder that his relatives couldn’t take his intelligence away from him. Nothing important but perhaps a bit sentimental. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Today would be the last free day he would have for a while and it technically wasn't even free. He wasn’t nearly so arrogant as to say he knew everything but knowing his limited funds he had taken a little bit of time to pick up the most basic information about running a business. Truly the most basic information, he may be smart but he was only one person and there were just too many things that needed his attention before school started. That’s also why he had spent so much time studying the school itself, the idea of how to run a business truly only needed a basic understanding of but knowing what the school lacked for students was what would decide just how his business would run and what it would sell or rather what service it would provide.

His reading had told him that only students third year and above could leave the school on specific weekends to the small village a small distance from the school. Every other time if they needed or wanted something they had to owl order it or ask their parents to send it to them. This meant a delay of several days to a little over a week depending on where the owl was being sent and whether the person the owl was sent to had the item on hand. With his gate he could have the item or items in a matter of minutes to a couple of hours depending on the time of day and his other responsibilities. This gave him a competitive advantage in delivery and acquisition. Thus he had decided to create a business that focused on that.

He would create a business that would do custom orders of things like an owl order only the price would be slightly higher for the convenience of having the item delivered within 24 hours. He could create drop spots all around the school where people would leave their orders and money and he would leave their order. Almost like an underground store, because it would be. He just needed to find people who were well known enough to get the word out to all his potential customers without tipping off the staff.

He left an hour early for the train knowing he’d have to travel a bit to the station. He arrived earlier than he expected, he had anticipated a lot of traffic but though it was busy, it wasn’t so busy as to hamper him. He stood at the pillar that held the signs for platform nine and ten. There was no sign for platform nine ¾. If he was reliant on what Hagrid had told him alone then he would be pretty panicked right now. Fortunately, he had done his own research. 

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before reaching out a hand to the center of the pillar. Instead of feeling resistance his hand met nothing. He opened his eyes to find that his hand had vanished into the wall. He grinned. The doorway to the platform was open. He pushed his trolley through the barrier and headed back into the Wizarding world. 

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform with a few people scattered around. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and 3/4 on it. Smoke from the engine drifted overhead. The platform held only a few people at the moment a couple of cats were playing with one another close to a group of children who were talking animatedly with one another.  The nearby adults he assumed were their parents or guardians, talking calmly while keeping an eye on the children. They paid him no mind. 

Harry continued on his way on through until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He didn’t want to sit near the front as he figured most would sit up there and the trunks he saw on his way to the back seemed to support this. He put Hedwig inside first and then, after taking a good look around to ensure he wasn’t spotted, levitated his trunk up onto the overhead rack.

He pulled out the cheap pocket watch he had purchased when he had gone shopping for clothes a little over a month ago. He hadn’t wanted to buy a wrist watch because he was concerned that he would forget to take it off when he was Alexander and vice versa. It told him he had half an hour before the train was due to leave. He supposed he could do a bit more reading to pass the time but he was afraid he’d get too engrossed and get caught. He didn’t want anyone thinking Harry Potter was a bookworm. He’d have to remember this for next year and not arrive so early. 

He managed to last all of five minutes before he got bored and decided to do a bit of socializing as Alexander. He closed the blinds to his compartment so no one could see what was happening inside before changing both his appearance and his clothes to that of Alexander. Then he stepped outside and back onto the platform. 

At first he simply stood around. He stood straight and held his head high. When others greeted him he gave a shallow bow and said hello, as instructed by his Pureblood etiquette book, but no one approached him. He wasn’t worried or offended since the children were boarding the train and finding a compartment and the adults with them were worried about their children. However his behavior caught the attention of someone he would have preferred not to have a conversation with.

It was the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s robe shop only this time he wasn’t alone. Behind him stood an older man with a pale, pointed face, with pale blond hair that fell to his shoulders and cold pale gray eyes just like the boy. He carried a walking stick with what looked to Alexander like a snake head from what little he could see of it. Alexander assumed that this must be the boy's father. Next to the man stood a woman who was slim, nice looking and also very pale, with blue eyes, and long blonde hair that might have fallen to the middle of her back if it hadn't been pinned up slightly. Her looks weren’t so beautiful that men would fall over themselves for her but she was good looking enough that many women would be jealous of her appearance. Alexander could see where the boy got his pale features. Was the whole family part vampire or something?

Still he remembered his etiquette and gave a slight bow of his head and a polite greeting. This seemed to please both the adults and the boy responded with a bow of his own. 

“Hello, I don’t believe we have seen you before. I am Lord Lucius Malfoy of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy.” The man introduced himself with the smallest of tilts of his head as was custom for someone who was in a higher position than the person they were greeting. He gestured to the woman by his side. “This is my wife Lady Narcissa Malfoy and my son Heir Draco Malfoy.” He gestured to the boy last, again this was custom. 

In the Pureblood etiquette book it said that the highest ranking member of the family present at the time made the introduction starting with themselves and ending with the lowest ranked. This allowed other families to know the hierarchy in the family without having to take the time to explicitly say so. To introduce them in the wrong order was to show bad faith and could alienate potential allies. This didn’t matter so much since there were only three of them and only one of him but it was a hidden message in plain sight. Lucius Malfoy was testing Alexander in a way even a child could understand so long as they had been taught basic Pureblood etiquette without demanding to know if he was a Pureblood.

Thus he gave another, if slightly deeper, bow to show deference. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Malfoy. I am Heir Alexander Peverell of the Most Archaic House of Peverell. Unfortunately I am the last of my House and so for my protection I was raised both in secret and in isolation. I was permitted to do a bit of socializing for the good of my House before school started after I received my letter but not before I'm afraid.” Alexander decided to tell a version of the truth so he wouldn’t get caught in a lie. “I, regrettably, didn’t meet any fellow students on my trip to Diagon Alley so I decided that I could meet a few before the train left. Unfortunately, it seems that most people arrive closer to the train’s departure and don’t have the time to socialize.” 

“Well, Heir Peverell, it has been some time since one of your family has been seen. I can imagine that would draw quite a bit of attention. Would you mind if I asked who your parents were?” Lucius Malfoy inquired, his eyes boring into Alexander as though trying to catch him in a lie, while his tone remained polite and seemingly pleasant.

Alexander had never anticipated someone asking for his parents' names. He had assumed that when he told people he was the last of his line that they would feel too awkward to dig any deeper. He could make people up but he felt that it would be too easy to get caught in a lie and he would lose all credibility. So he told as close to a version of the truth as possible. 

“I am sorry to say I have no idea what their names were. I was told they died in the war and that my father was not using our House name to shield them from the consequences should the side they were fighting for fell.” Alexander said sadly.

He had kept which side his parents fought for undefined since he wasn’t sure which side the Malfoy family had fought on but Lucius heard what Alexander said and assumed he meant that the boy's parents had fought on his own side. This led to the natural but incorrect conclusion that Alexander was raised by someone of the Dark who had escaped imprisonment.

“I am sorry to hear that. Many great Houses were lost in the war. It is fortunate that someone survived to carry on your House. My son Draco carries that responsibility as well as he is our only child.” Lucius said this time he sounded much more sincere. “Hopefully the two of you will be able to be good friends. I am sure the train ride will be a great opportunity to get to know one another. I know I made lifetime friends on my first train ride, most at Hogwarts do.”

“I would love to find out,” Alexander said with a shake of his head. “Unfortunately I won’t be permitted to take the train for a couple years yet. My guardian is quite protective and doesn’t want anything to happen to me before I get to Hogwarts. I told them that my heir ring would protect me from most things but they refused to listen. I’ll be free to do as I please once I get to school but they will be taking me directly to and from the castle for at least this year.” 

All three of the Malfoys raised a brow in surprise though Lucius and Narcissa were both much better at hiding their surprise. As far as they knew no one had gone to Hogwarts without taking the train unless they were a transfer student arriving after the first day of term. 

“How did your guardian accomplish that? It is my understanding that not arriving by train is not permitted.” Narcissa asked despite herself. “Surely the headmaster would not allow such a thing.”

Alexander laughed lightly, trying to look as sheepish as possible. “My guardian has no intention of asking him. He intends to simply do it regardless of the consequences.” 

Draco looked a bit awed by this. “He can do that?”

Alexander silently cursed to himself. He hadn’t intended to give a gender to his supposed guardian but it was too late now. “He often says that the truly powerful can do as they please because they’re the ones who make the rules.” He tried to sound casual while making up nonsense. While it was true that the powerful could do what they wanted it didn’t mean that society didn’t try to hold them accountable. “He also says that you only break rules if you're caught doing it. I think he meant something like ‘no evidence, no crime’ or something like that.” 

“That’s the thinking of a true Slytherin.” Lucius said approvingly. This solidified his theory that Alexander had been raised with a proper pure blood family and not one of the Light. 

“We’ll definitely be in the same house. There’s no way the two of us won’t be in Slytherin.” Draco agreed. “It’s the best one after all.” 

For some reason Alexander found himself almost liking this version of Draco. He wasn’t spouting offensive things like back in the shop but seemed exactly like every other kid who was excited for Hogwarts. 

“Maybe.” Alexander said with an easy smile. “My guardian thinks I might be in Ravenclaw though. I hope not, he says they always have their nose in a book. I like learning but I like it to be useful. I don’t want to live in a library.” 

“Oh, do you have a particular plan you want to accomplish?” Narcissa asked.

“Maybe,” Alexander admitted. “I don’t know what it looks like yet but I know what I want to achieve. I hope Hogwarts will be able to teach me what I need to know but I’m not exactly confident it will. From what my guardian has said, the classes they offer are really limited. He might pull me out if I’m not getting a good education.” 

Alexander had added that last bit on a whim. An explanation as to why he might one day up and disappear. Plus the Malfoys looked obviously wealthy and their manners pointed to them being an old pure blood family which meant they might have some influence to make changes that would benefit him. There was no harm in planting seeds whenever he could. Not every seed he planted would grow after all.

The train gave a sharp whistle, warning that it would soon be departing and Draco quickly boarded. Alexander gave a bow to the older two and politely excused himself from the conversation. He then departed the platform back into the muggle world through the barrier. After slipping into a muggle bathroom he used a gate and entered his compartment once more. He took a look around to make sure he was alone and then changed back into Harry. 

He was getting a little sick of having to change clothes so often but at least he had managed his time well. 

He opened the blinds back up to look out onto the platform one final time. There was a family of redheads who were rushing onto the train, clearly they had arrived very late as what appeared to be the youngest boy managed to jump onto the train just as it gave its final whistle of departure. The little redheaded girl was crying as the train started forward, waving as it picked up speed and then the platform was gone.

Chapter Text

Houses flashed past the window and Harry felt a great leap of excitement. This was it. This was going to be the first day of his new life. The door of the compartment slid open before too much time had passed and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

“Anyone sitting there?” the boy asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.” Harry doubted he had searched the entire train but shook his head, there was no real reason to say no, and the boy sat down.

The boy seemed really lanky and tall for his age but then Harry was really short. Harry noticed a black smudge on the side of the boy's nose, debated whether he should tell the boy or not (did normal boys care about that kind of thing?) and decided to keep silent.

Before he could make conversation or even introduce himself, two older boys, identical in almost every way except a small freckle by one boy's right ear that the other didn’t have, Harry noticed. “Hey, Ron.” one of the twins said.

“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.” Said the other twin, the one with the freckle.

“Right,” mumbled the boy who had taken a seat in the compartment with Harry. Apparently his name was Ron.

The twins turned to Harry as though they had just seen him. “I’m Fred.” The boy with the freckle said.

“And I’m George Weasley .” The other said. Both offered a hand to shake.

Harry took it. “I’m Harry, Harry Potter.”

“Are you really?” Ron blurted out. The twin closest to Ron, Fred, smacked him on the back of the head.

“Don't be thick.” Fred said, not very harshly, conflicting with his actions.

“Have been all my life.” Harry confirmed.

“Well we need to see a man about a tarantula see you later, then.” George said, waving a hand. “Nice meeting you.”

“Bye,” said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

Harry was rather baffled by the twin’s abrupt behavior but shrugged it off. It wasn’t any of his business. Still, maybe he should keep an eye on those two.

“Have you really got — you know . . .” Ron pointed at Harry’s forehead and pulled him out of his thoughts. “The scar?”

Harry scratched the side of his forehead in confusion. Did everyone know about his scar? He was glad he was able to move it while he was Alexander or else everyone would know who he was regardless of his change of height and hair color. He pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar.

Ron stared in awe. “So that’s where You-Know-Who — ?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “but I can’t remember it.” He thought it best to cut off any real discussion of the night his parents died.

“Nothing?” said Ron eagerly. Harry suppressed a frown and reminded himself that Ron was only eleven. Normal boys probably weren’t very sensitive to one another’s feelings and Harry made sure to make note of that.

“Well — I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.” Harry said, trying to conceal just how annoyed Ron’s fascination with him made him.

“Wow,” said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window, like Harry wouldn’t notice that Ron was a bit too eager for information on him.“I heard you went to live with Muggles,” said Ron who was clearly trying, and failing, to sound nonchalant. “What are they like?”

“Horrible — well, I suppose not all of them. I had a few really good teachers. My aunt, uncle and cousin are, though. Terrible people.” Harry said dismissively. Maybe he was being a bit paranoid but he felt a twinge of suspicion that Ron was fishing.

He racked his brain for a new topic to push it off himself. “Are all your family wizards?” He asked, he assumed the answer was yes but it didn’t hurt to play clueless since Ron already knew that he grew up with muggles.

“Er — yes, I think so,” said Ron, sounding confused. “I think my Mum’s got a cousin or something who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.”

“So you must know loads of magic already.” Harry pressed trying to keep the conversation off him, plus it would help to know how much he needed to suppress his abilities.

Ron shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of magic but I only just got my wand didn’t I.”

Harry took that in for a moment. Is Ron saying that he can’t do any magic yet? Was it normal for a child not to be able to do magic before they get their wands? He suppressed a groan. He really hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Is it nice having two older brothers?” Harry asked to keep his mind off the potentially bleak future.

“I have five,” said Ron. For some reason, he looked gloomy when he said it. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep. “His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn’t aff — I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

Harry hadn’t anticipated an info dump. He did make a mental note to look into Fred and George some more. They might be able to help him with his business ventures. He also couldn’t understand why Ron seemed to think it was necessary to compare himself to his brothers. Why did it matter if he wasn’t as good at the same things his brothers were good at? Though he understood the frustration of never having his own things that were just his.

Harry decided to throw Ron a bone and tell him about how he’d never had anything of his own either, never having his own money or celebrating his birthday. This seemed to cheer Ron up and Harry had to try real hard not to think of Ron as being a jerk. Perhaps he was simply happy to know he wasn’t alone in his experiences.

While they were talking, the train carried them out of London and sped past fields full of livestock. They were quiet for a while, watching the fields flick past almost too fast to see. Around half past twelve there was a clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, “Anything off the cart, dears?”

Taking a peek out the door he noticed a cart full of candy, none that he recognized, that must have been the source of the noise. He thought about declining and noticed Ron grimacing.

“Nothing for me, mum packed me a sandwich. Corned beef, she always forgets I hate corned beef.” The redhead explained.

Harry quickly did some mental math to see if he could afford some to share with the boy. It paid to be generous sometimes and this was an easy way to get Ron to feel closer to him. He took a look at the prices and noticed that they weren’t all that expensive. So he bought a little bit of everything, spending a total of 1 galleon for his treats.

“Here, I’ve never had any of this stuff. We can try it all together.” Harry said, dumping all the packages on the seat beside him.

“You sure?” Ron asked dubiously, and Harry’s opinion of Ron increased just a little at the show of minimal manners. Boy the bar was low.

When Harry assured Ron that he didn’t mind sharing at all, the taller boy helped himself to some of the candy, describing what some of them did or his experience with them.

Then Harry opened his first ever chocolate frog and received his first ever chocolate frog card. For the first time he had a face to the name of the man who was responsible for ruining his childhood. By now he had enough experience with magical books and pictures to know that they moved and that people in the image didn’t always stick around all the time so he wasn’t surprised when the old man vanished but he still felt stunned. He hadn’t expected to see the man before reaching Hogwarts and it left him a little off balance. His thoughts turned to the school and how he intended to handle everything.

Truthfully he had no plans. The books he had searched hadn’t told him how they sorted the students plus he didn’t actually want the student body to really know about Alexander. Alexander was a scapegoat for learning what he wanted at the pace he wanted, not for making friends. He knew that certain people would react better to the kind of person Alexander was, the Malfoys being an example of this, and so he had no trouble using him like that if it furthered his goals. But Alexander was not going to be an actual sorted student like everyone else. Draco was bound to ask questions and no doubt his father would do some digging. This was going to be unbelievably difficult.

Harry had to admit he may have made a mistake going onto the platform as Alexander. He had been stupid and careless, things he swore he wouldn’t be, couldn’t afford to be. The fact was Harry was just a kid, no matter how smart he was. He didn’t magically have the experience of years of politics or fighting or just manipulating people to draw on to help him decide what to do. He could only read so much and it was no substitute for real life experience.

Harry shook his head to refocus himself. Yes he may have made a mistake but it probably wasn’t an unfixable one. His plans weren’t ruined and as long as he could still move forward then there was no reason to wallow and throw in the towel. He simply had to try his hardest not to make the same mistake. He just had to learn from this.

Whoever Albus Dumbledore was had years of experience and would no doubt punish his every mistake but right now Dumbledore had no reason to connect Harry Potter with Alexander Peverell as far as he knew. From what little Draco and later his father said, Harry doubted they would alert Dumbledore to anything. So he just needed to manage Draco. That shouldn’t be too hard.

He just needed to stay calm. It would all work out. Probably.

———————————

Harry was finally feeling calm once more when there was another sound at the door. There was a knock and a round-faced boy came in. His eyes were full of tears. “Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

When they shook their heads, he wailed loudly, “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”

Harry felt a stab of sympathy for the poor boy. He must really love his pet but his pet didn’t seem to love him back. So despite his reservations, he sincerely hoped this wouldn’t be another mistake, he said “Have you asked one of the older students for help? I’m sure one of them knows some magic that could find him.”

The round-faced boy’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t think of that, do you really think so?”

“Sure, they’ve got to know loads more magic than us. I bet it’d be real simple for them. Probably want to ask a sixth or seventh year though just to make sure.” Harry said encouragingly.

“Thanks.” The boy said with a sniffle as he visibly gathered himself. “I’ll do that then.” He left.

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” said Ron. “If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quickly as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can’t talk.” The rat in question had crawled out of Ron’s pocket some time ago to nibble on some of the treats laying around and was now snoozing on Ron’s lap. “He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference,” he continued in a disgusted tone. “I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look . . .” He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. “Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. Anyway —” he was clearly looking to show off without being too obvious about it.

Ron had just raised his wand and Harry was trying to manage his expectations since Ron had already said the spell hadn’t worked when the compartment door slid open again. This time it was a girl with lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. Harry noted she was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes and wondered if he should change into his robes soon.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said with a bossy sort of voice. Harry disliked her immediately. His experience with people who spoke like that told him that they were people who had trouble minding their own business.

“The boy with the round face right? We sent him to one of the older years since they might be able to use magic to find him.” Harry stated a second before Ron who said “We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it.”

However the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wand in Ron’s hand. “Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.” She sat down.

Clearly it didn’t occur to the girl that she might not be welcome. Harry’s suspicions were confirmed. Ron looked taken aback.

“Er — all right.” He cleared his throat nervously. His audience of one had turned into two. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”

Nothing happened.

Harry was about to gently say “I don’t know much about magic but that doesn’t sound like a spell. Maybe whoever taught it to you was mistaken.” But he didn’t get the chance.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl quickly, as though she would be stopped if she didn’t get it all out at once.“Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard — I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?” Harry was left feeling a bit of whiplash and amazement at the girl's lung capacity.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered. From the look on his face he hadn’t learned all his school books by heart. Well Harry supposed that was useful information to have.

“Harry Potter,” said Harry.

“Are you really?” said Hermione. “I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

“Am I?” said Harry, distinctly unimpressed. “I wonder what they wrote since none of them ever contacted me for information or permission.” He understood now. This girl was one of those people who believed everything that they read. It wouldn’t occur to her that the books may be lying. He hated people like that.

“Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have found out everything I could if it was me,” said Hermione ignoring his statement that the people who wrote the books might not be truthful or ethical. “Do either of you know what House you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. . . . Anyway, I’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.” And she left, before Harry could decide if he should remind her about what he said or not.

“Whatever House I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” said Ron and Harry wholeheartedly agreed. Spending a lot of time with that girl would get annoying quick.

Ron threw his wand back into his trunk. “Stupid spell — George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud.”

“What House are your brothers in?” asked Harry, moving the conversation away from both the girl and the spell.

“Gryffindor,” said Ron, seemingly gloomy once again. “Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”

Harry sidestepped the mention of Ravenclaw and the fact that Ron definitely wasn’t suited for it. “That’s the House Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?”

“Yeah,” said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

“So what do your oldest brothers do now that they’ve left, anyway?” Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he’d finished school and it seemed like a good way to get Ron’s mind off his House woes.

“Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s in Africa doing something for Gringotts,” said Ron. “Oh- Did you hear about Gringotts? It’s been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don’t suppose you get that with the Muggles — someone tried to rob a high security vault.”

“Really? What happened to them?” Harry knew that the goblins took their security seriously and wouldn’t take the breach lightly. He was interested to know how Gringotts punished those who broke in.

“Nothing, that’s why it’s such big news. They haven’t been caught. My dad says it must’ve been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don’t think they took anything, that’s what’s odd. ’Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who’s behind it.”

Harry turned this news over in his mind. This was just the tiniest bit concerning, maybe he’d write to Ralzeank and ask him about it. Not because he cared about the vault that had been broken into but because if one vault could be broken into so could others and he wanted to make sure they hadn’t been after his own vaults.

“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked, startling Harry out of his thoughts.

“Er — I don’t know any,” Harry confessed. It hadn’t been on his list of things he needed to know and research.

Finally Harry had encountered a topic that neither Ron nor himself wanted to avoid. The redhead went on and on about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he’d been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn’t the round faced boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: It was Draco Malfoy. Harry suppressed a groan. He had to remind himself that Harry had only met the boy at Madam Malkins. Draco was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he’d shown back in Diagon Alley.

“Is it true?” Draco said. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”

He might just kill either Hermione or, what was his name? Neville? Yes Neville. He’d kill them both or maybe it had been the twins but the twins had known since the train left which compartment he was in and it was only after Hermione and Neville had come in that he was hearing that they were talking about him. Someone had told almost everyone on the train where he was. The only person he could say for sure it wasn’t was Ron since he hadn’t left the compartment once the entire trip. Actually, looking back on his short conversation with Neville he hadn’t given the boy his name and he couldn’t remember Ron saying it either. Hermione was going to suffer for the next seven years, Harry would make sure of it.

“Yes,” sighed Harry. He was looking at the other boys though since he had already met Draco twice. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the Draco, they gave the impression of bodyguards. “Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” said Draco carelessly, as he noticed where Harry was looking. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger while Harry suppressed a laugh of his own at the clearly unintentional muggle pop culture reference. Draco Malfoy looked at Ron with a sneer. “Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” He turned back to Harry. “You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry hesitated to take it.

Alexander had tried to make an ally of Draco. He wasn’t keen on being friends with him but he also didn’t want to be an enemy. It would be best if Alexander had Draco as an ally and Harry just didn’t have a lot of contact. The better Draco knew the both of them the easier it would be for the boy to put the pieces together and discover that they were the same person.

Harry sighed and looked Draco in the eye, his head held high. He decided to go with an excuse that would be believable and hope it wouldn’t offend Draco and cause a feud. “Look, I’m not really sure what the etiquette is here since I grew up with muggles. I don’t want this to turn into anything but I’m not really keen to make friends with someone who insults people over things they can’t control. Maybe we can agree to just- stay out of each other’s way?”

As Alexander he would have known to simply shake the boy's hand and distance himself later to avoid a feud. However, Harry wasn’t supposed to know anything about Pureblood etiquette so he opted to be as open and polite as he could be. He held out his hand for a handshake but didn’t take Draco’s. He was offering his own deal so Draco had to decide if he agreed with him or not. The option to shake hands was now on Draco.

Draco scowled unhappily. He was clearly torn on whether to accept a non-aggression pact or be offended that his hand had been rejected. Harry wondered if he was debating on which option his father would choose. From what he saw on the platform, the things Draco was spouting were actually coming from his father. Draco hadn’t reached the age yet where he figured out what his own beliefs were.

Finally Draco took Harry’s hand. “Very well Potter. So long as you hold onto your end of the deal I will stick to mine. If you break it though I won’t hold my end up either.” He released Harry’s hand quickly. “Let's go.” He said to his two goons and he left the compartment.

Ron rounded on Harry the second they were gone. “What did you do that for?” He spat angrily.

“We have to share a castle with him for seven years. We don’t know how many classes we’ll have with him. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to have to deal with him if I don’t have to. Doing that every day would be exhausting.” Harry explained, trying to be as persuasive as possible and throwing himself back down in his seat as though the entire situation had exhausted him. It was a largely wasted effort.

Ron didn’t look satisfied with his answer and was glaring as though he had just been betrayed. “My dad says that Malfoy was one of You-Know-Who’s biggest supporters. The only reason he got off was because he bought his way out of trouble.”

”Even more of a reason not to get involved with him. I bet he’d run to his father the moment anything doesn’t go his way. The last thing I need is one of You-Know-Who’s supporters having an even bigger grudge against me. What happens if Malfoy comes after me when I’m in Diagon Alley? I’m the one everyone says defeated him after all.” Harry said seriously.

Really this was more thoughtful than he wanted to be out loud right now. He barely knew Ron and if he didn’t want to start his time at Hogwarts off on the wrong foot with anyone before they even entered the castle he would just write the other boy off. He didn’t seem like he had much to offer him other than the fact that he had quite a few older brothers. Ron seemed just as close minded as Hermione and Draco just about different things.

Harry contemplated how to move the conversation back to Quidditch since that seemed the only safe topic but before he could say anything he heard footsteps outside and the door was opening once more. It was Hermione again and Harry had to wonder why she didn’t seem able to leave them alone.

“Can we help you?” He asked, hiding his annoyance.

“You two should get your robes on, I suspect we’ll be there soon. I looked in because everyone is behaving very childishly, running up and down the corridors.” Hermione said in a know-it-all tone.

“Probably because they’re kids, Hermione.” Harry responded, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for letting us know that we’ll be there soon. We’ll get changed once you step out.”

Hermione colored and turned her attention to Ron. “You’ve got dirt on your nose. Did you know?” Then she turned on her heel and left the compartment.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. That girl was going to be a nightmare. Harry turned away from Ron as they took off their jackets and pulled on their long robes to peer out the window. The sun was almost gone by this point and it was barely bright enough to see without some kind of lantern or other light source. The mountains and forests were just visible in the dark purple sky. The rate of things passing by began to slow which told Harry that the train was coming to a stop. Harry turned around and noticed Ron’s robes seemed a bit short on him since Harry could clearly see his sneakers underneath.

Harry was about to ask if there was maybe a resizing charm or something that could help Ron fit in them a bit better when a voice echoed through the train, cutting off any helpful thoughts Harry may have had.

”We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.” The voice said.

Harry’s stomach lurched with nerves and Ron was clearly feeling the same way as his face had become rather pale beneath his freckles. They crammed what was left of their sweets into their pockets and joined the crowd meandering their way through the corridor.

The train slowed to a gentle stop. The students pushed their way towards the door and out into a tiny, dark platform. Harry wondered why the school had never expanded the platform or just added lights. How hard could that possibly be? Harry shivered as the cold night air hit him. Finally, a light shone over the heads of the students and a familiar voice rang in Harry’s ears.

”Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?” Hagrid’s face beamed at him over the other student’s heads. “Cmon follow me - any more firs’ years? Mind yer step now! Firs’ years follow me!”

They all slipped and stumbled as they followed Hagrid down what seemed to them a steep and narrow stone path. It was unbelievably dark on either side of them and only the light from Hagrid’s lantern gave them any sense of direction. No one spoke much but Harry heard what sounded like Neville sniffling right behind him. Had he not found his toad?

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”

There was a loud “Oooooh!” As the narrow path opened up suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side of the lake, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little rowboats with no oars sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione. “Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. “Right then — FORWARD!” And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth and reflective as glass.

Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. “Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. Harry noticed that Hagrid barely bent over to avoid the roof of the entrance and he wondered if it was really necessary for them to duck.

They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

“Trevor!” cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands to accept the amphibian.

Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, soft damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of smooth stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. “Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?” Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

Chapter Text

The giant doors opened at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross. Hary’s second thought was that it would certainly be fun to do so if he could get away with it.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

So this was Professor McGonagall. The one he had written to for help and had sent Hagrid. Deputy Headmistress.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” She had a bit of a Scottish accent.

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys’ house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out from the floor, and a truly elegant marble staircase facing the led to the upper floors.

The crowd followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the sound of hundreds of distant voices all speaking at once coming from the large doors to the right. They weren’t as large or extravagant as the entrance doors but they were still large and impressive. Harry assumed that the noise coming from behind them meant that the rest of the school was already inside. The Deputy Headmistress showed the first years to a small, empty chamber off the hall. It was larger than the Dursley’s living room but only by another half. They huddled together, nervous as to what would come next.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall in a voice that easily carried over the group without yelling. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope that each of you is a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Harry noticed that her eyes lingered on Neville’s cloak which was improperly fastened under his left ear and the smudge of dirt that was still on Ron’s nose. His fingers twitched to try and flatten his hair but he knew from experience that it would be a wasted effort.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”

She left the room. Harry turned to Neville to help him fasten his cloak correctly.

“How exactly do they sort us?” Harry asked over his shoulder to Ron as he worked.

“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.” Ron answered, trying to sound unconcerned but there was a waver in his voice.

”Well, you said that your brothers were the ones who gave you that spell so say they were probably messing with you.” Harry responded, patting Neville on the shoulder now that his cloak was corrected.

He turned back to Ron catching Hermione who seemed to be whispering every spell she had learned and wondering which one she’d need. Harry rolled his eyes. No one was supposed to use magic outside of school, he didn’t obey that rule, but unless the school expected them to break the law none of them would have been able to perform some unknown spell. Which meant the likely-hood of them needing to do magic to get sorted was almost zero.

Then, as he was thinking about how ridiculous Hermione was being, several people screamed. He spun around looking for the danger. He gasped with several others. He’d read about it but it was different seeing it in person. Twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall.

They were pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across room, never actually touching the ground, they spoke to one another and barely gave the waiting students a passing glance. As far as Harry could tell they were arguing about something. One Harry thought looked like an overweight monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-“

Harry couldn’t help but disagree with that logic on principle. He didn’t know what they were talking about but there were some things you just couldn’t forgive or forget. Others you may forgive but never forget. It always stayed in the back of your mind to prevent you from being hurt or used ever again. Harry would never forgive or forget what had been done to him and he hated the very idea that anyone would spout that nonsense.

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost- I say what are you all doing here?” A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years mid-conversation.

No one answered of course. Everyone was too busy taking in the sight of so many ghosts at once.

“New students!” Said the Friar, smiling around at them. “About to be Sorted, I suppose.”

A few of the students nodded mutely at the seemingly friendly ghost.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” Said the Friar. “My old House, you know.”

”Move along now,” said a sharp voice “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

Harry turned back to see that Professor McGonagall had re-entered the room. Her expression was just as stern as it had been when she left though it wasn’t unkind. He figured she was probably just trying to make sure everything stayed on schedule and the fact that the ghosts continued on into the other room without comment lent some weight to that thought.

“Now, form a line and follow me.” Professor McGonagall called above their heads.

Harry tried not to feel nervous. There should be nothing for him to feel nervous about really. He had done enough research to know he wouldn’t have received a letter if he couldn’t attend the school so in that way there was nothing to be worried about but the butterflies in his stomach didn’t seem to have gotten the message.

He pulled Neville in front of him and Ron behind both to avoid Malfoy from being behind him which he didn’t trust and so that he could reassure the forgetful boy in front of him who seemed ready to faint at any moment. He followed the others out of the room, back across the hall for some reason, and through the large double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry’s breath was stolen as he took in the magnificent sight. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting, each table had specific color trim. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up there, so that they stopped in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them made Harry feel like he was being studied by hundreds of vampires at once. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver, largely indistinct from one another at such a distance. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

He heard Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”

He fought to keep from rolling his eyes. He had read that too but didn’t feel the need to inform everyone around him, he just wanted to appreciate the sight and he wished Hermione could simply do the same. What did it matter what book she had read it from? Either the other students already knew it and so didn’t need her to tell them or (more likely) they hadn’t and probably didn’t care. She was definitely going to Ravenclaw since she apparently cared so much about obtaining information and sharing it with everyone around her.

Harry looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. The hat in front of them was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn’t have let it in the house and Harry briefly entertained himself with the idea of leaving copies of it in every corner of Number Four he could. Was this how they were going to be sorted? Everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat and he stared at it too wondering what they seemed to be waiting for. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,
But don’t judge on what you see,
I’ll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There’s nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can’t see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you’ve a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on!
Don’t be afraid!
And don’t get in a flap!
You’re in safe hands (though I have none)
For I’m a Thinking Cap!”

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

“So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whispered to Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”

Harry wanted to facepalm. Wrestling a troll? Really? Was Ron really that gullible? He tried to console himself with the knowledge that it wouldn't be hard to keep secrets from the boy at least which meant he’d make a good friend for Harry.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment and Harry refocused. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause —

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!” The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

“Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but “Brown, Lavender” became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron’s twin brothers catcalling. “Bulstrode, Millicent” then became a Slytherin.

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. “Finnigan, Seamus,” a sandy-haired boy near to Harry in the line he hadn’t spoken to yet, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor. “Granger, Hermione!”

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat. Ron groaned and Harry silently agreed. Harry didn’t know what House he’d be going to but it seemed unbelievable that the insufferable girl who felt the need to act so superior and adult wouldn’t end up in Ravenclaw. Just how did the hat decide where the student should go?

When Neville Longbottom was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR,” Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to “MacDougal, Morag.”

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. Harry was both sad and grateful. He needed to avoid Malfoy and he needed to avoid Slytherin in order to keep a low profile. There would be too much attention on him if that was where he was placed and that needed to be avoided at all costs. It would be far simpler to avoid them both and limit himself as little as possible. Still, if he wasn’t famous he might have fit right in there.

There weren’t many people left now. “Moon” . . . , “Nott” . . . , “Parkinson” . . ., then a pair of twin girls, “Patil” and “Patil” . . . , then “Perks, Sally-Anne” . . . , and then, at last — “Potter, Harry!”

Harry stepped forward trying not to show his nerves, as whispers suddenly broke out all over the hall.

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat.

He waited anxiously.

“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting. . . . So where shall I put you?”

Harry gripped the edges of the stool for a second then let out a deep breath to calm himself and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

“Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness.”

No. Harry refuted. They might help an ordinary student but not me. Most of them have parents who fought with the man that killed my parents and there are too many eyes on me. I’ll never achieve anything there. Not with the way things are.

”Fair enough,” the small voice conceded. “Hufflepuff won’t fit you well. You may value loyalty and aren’t afraid of hard work but you currently have no intention of being loyal to anyone and your prickly behavior will alienate you from them just as your identity would from Slytherin. Ravenclaw would suit you if you simply wished for knowledge for its own sake, however your thirst for adventure would drive you insane if you were placed there. Which leaves —

“GRYFFINDOR!’

It was shouted out to the hall. There was a beat of silence before the Gryffindor table erupted into deafening cheers. Harry lifted the hat off his head and gently placed it back on the stool. He tried to appear confident as he made his way to the table. A tall redhead got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he’d seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he’d just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now that his back was no longer facing it. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back as much as he wasn’t sure about Hagrid’s loyalty; he did like the giant man. In the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he’d gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore’s silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. He maintained a happy and unbothered expression even as he wanted to scowl. That man was responsible for his time in hell and he was determined to try as far away from him as possible.

Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. Why on earth was he wearing that? It looked a bit ridiculous on him and made his head look disproportionately small. He definitely wasn’t wearing it just two months ago.

He was so engrossed in taking in the teachers that he missed most of the rest of the sorting. He just barely managed to refocus in time to see Ron get sorted into Gryffindor. He made sure to clap loudly and obviously as his sort of friend came to sit next to him. He clapped him on the shoulder.

”Nothing to worry about, see!” Harry said cheerfully. Ron nodded, his ears slightly red from embarrassment.

“Well done, Ron, excellent,” said the redhead that had shaken Harry’s hand pompously across Harry.

Harry wasn’t sure what Ron had done well. It wasn’t as though Ron could have controlled where he went. Harry himself had only managed to persuade the hat not to put him in Slytherin. The hat had decided pretty quickly that it didn’t want more of Harry’s opinions on the sorting process. He supposed he wouldn't want other people trying to do his job either.

He just managed to catch Professor McGonagall rolling up the scroll and taking the Sorting Hat with the stool away. He looked around as he waited for what came next and caught sight of Malfoy looking around confused as though he was searching for someone. Harry had a feeling he was looking for Alexander. He’d deal with the blonde later, after he’d thought up some kind of story.

Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. Harry wondered how much of that was an act and how much was real.

“Welcome!” Dumbledore said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

With that the old man sat down and Harry was left wondering if the man was a bit senile. He turned to the older red head next to him and asked.

”Is he a bit mad?”

The older student, now buttering a roll, glanced at him. “Dumbledore? He’s the greatest wizard in the world. He’s a genius, but yeah he’s a bit mad.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as he now realized that the empty table wasn’t so empty anymore. Looking around he saw that the long table was now laden with various foods. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

With the knowledge of having to take nutrient potions he made sure to grab a balanced meal. Sure part of it was that he just needed to continue gaining weight but he needed to gain the right kind of weight and all the things his growing body needed. A normal person didn’t need to make sure everything they ate was filled with all the things they needed because it just happened naturally and one unhealthy meal wouldn’t cause any issues but he was making up for lost time and right now every meal mattered. He was pleased with himself for using the last few months to increase the amount he could eat as well.

“That does look good,” said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

“Can’t you —?” Harry started to ask. He was curious if the ghost could possibly taste the food if he flew through it. He was aware that ghosts probably couldn’t actually eat since they weren’t able to physically interact with the world around them. He wasn’t able to finish his question as the ghost he was speaking with answered before he had finished speaking.

“I haven’t eaten for nearly five hundred years,” said the ghost. “I don’t need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.”

“I know who you are!” said Ron suddenly around some mashed potatoes he had been eating. “My brothers told me about you — you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”

Harry tried to hide the disgust of seeing so much food in someone’s mouth. He was aware that he wasn't the most well mannered person in the world and both Ron and him were only eleven years old so great manners weren’t entirely expected of them yet but still. It was a bit gross.

“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —” the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

“Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?”

Apparently everyone wanted to insert themselves in his conversation though truthfully Harry wasn’t upset as it gave him more time to eat and he didn’t feel as though he was being rude and ignoring the ghost by trying to eat.

Sir Nicholas looked extremely irritated, as if the conversation wasn’t going the way he wanted. “Like this,” he said irritably. He grabbed his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had clearly tried to behead him, but hadn’t done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, “So — new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the Cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable — he’s the Slytherin ghost.”

At first Harry had assumed that Nearly Headless Nick hadn’t liked where the conversation had gone but now Harry began to suspect that he had planned the entire thing. Had he been trying to be impressive? Harry wasn’t sure but the fact that he looked pleased after his stunt definitely supported his thoughts. He briefly glanced over at the Slytherin table again.

There was a horrible looking ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who didn’t look too pleased. Considering that the slightest bump into the ghost was very unpleasant Harry could understand why.

“How did he get covered in blood?” asked Seamus.

“I’ve never asked,” said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

”Probably for the best.” Harry agreed.

As everyone began finishing up their meals the food vanished leaving empty gleaming gold plates, clear of food. A moment later the many plates were once again covered in food except this time they held desserts. Harry grabbed some treacle tart but nothing else as he’d largely eaten his fill of dinner and wasn’t feeling particularly hungry anymore. In fact he was rather full and he drowsily wondered if the food had been drugged because he was definitely ready for bed despite how excited he’d been to look around earlier.

He had half an ear for the conversations happening around him.

“I’m half-and-half,” said Seamus. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mum didn’t tell him she was a witch ’til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”

The others laughed but Harry frowned. His own relatives hated him because of his magic. Seamus’s father could have felt exactly the same. The children only found it funny because no one had been harmed by it as far as they knew but Harry didn’t find it at all amusing.

“What about you, Neville?” said Ron.

Harry shook his head internally trying to rid himself of his darker thoughts. He didn’t need to make problems where there weren’t any.

“Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” said Neville, “but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.”

On Harry’s other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons and he tried hard to focus on that and not the casual mention of abuse similar to his own though for different reasons.

“I do hope they start right away, there’s so much to learn, I’m particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it’s supposed to be very difficult —” Hermione said in a matter of fact voice that still managed to come out in one breath.

“You’ll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing —” Percy replied between bites of pie.

Harry sighed, not really interested in following either conversation, and looked up at the High Table again looking for a clue as to when the feast was due to end. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurdly large purple turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened so suddenly he wasn’t able to hide his reaction. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell’s turban and straight into Harry’s eyes — a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Ah!” Harry clapped a hand to his head.
“What is it?” asked Percy, distracted from his conversation with Hermione Granger.

“N-nothing.” The pain had gone as quickly as it had come and he cursed himself for drawing attention. It was even harder to shake off the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher’s look — that he didn’t like Harry at all. He was used to his relatives not liking him for any real reason but he was hoping to escape that at school. “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” he asked Percy.

“Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he’s looking so nervous, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn’t want to — everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.” Percy informed him offhandedly.

Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn’t look at him again and honestly he wasn’t sure what he was expecting to happen if he did. At last, the desserts disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell blissfully silent.

“Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Some of the students laughed but Harry frowned in concern. Was this normal for a magical school for areas to be so dangerous to students in a school that there were areas they weren’t allowed to go? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The reality was he didn’t know a ton about the magical world, he had prioritized what he had needed to know but it didn’t cover everything.

“He’s not serious?” he muttered to Percy in puzzlement.

“Must be,” said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. “It’s odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere — the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. “Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

And the school bellowed all at different paces in different tunes and pitches:

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they’re bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we’ve forgot,
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot.”

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

One, Harry thought. Who thinks that noise was music? Two, we aren’t horses. What do you mean ‘off you trot’?

All the students slowly rose to their feet creating a chaotic mass of bodies. The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry’s legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food.

The people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed some running from one portrait to another to talk to each other and Harry was sure he’d find it more interesting if he wasn’t so tired. Twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. He mustered up as much of his attention he could to memorize every place that would be good for opening a gate. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

Harry felt a flash of irritation and some of his exhaustion slipped away. All he wanted right now was to get some sleep; he had started his morning off early and it had been a rather stressful day after all.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. “Peeves,” Percy whispered to the first years. “A poltergeist.” He raised his voice, “Peeves — show yourself.” A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. “Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?”

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

Oh, so that’s how they were floating. Harry thought with a bit of detachment. He hadn’t read anything on poltergeists so he wasn’t sure what their limitations were. Clearly, they could interact with the physical world and become invisible but now that Harry was a tad bit more awake his brain was starting to propose different experiments he could perform.

“Oooooooh!” he said, with an evil cackle. “Ickle Firsties! What fun!” He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked but Harry reached up in an attempt to grab the ghostly figure. It didn’t work.

“Go away, Peeves, or the Baron’ll hear about this, I mean it!” barked Percy. Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville’s head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

Harry shook his head. Clearly, Percy didn’t get any respect from the poltergeist and he could understand why. Percy didn’t use his own power and abilities to try and control Peeves, he instead acted like a tattle-tale using someone else’s power to get his way. He wouldn’t respect someone like that either.

“You want to watch out for Peeves,” said Percy, as they set off again. “The Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him, he won’t even listen to us prefects. Here we are.” At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very over-weight woman in a pink silk dress.

“Password?” she said in a rather sharp voice.

“Caput Draconis,” said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Harry reached out a hand to give Neville a leg up — and finally found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a longer than believable spiral staircase they finally found their beds: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains.

Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, the other boys pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. Harry made a show of getting changed but didn’t make any real effort into doing so. Now that he had been reawakened by the drama of Peeves he was ready to go exploring. He crawled into bed and pulled the hangings closed.

“Great food, isn’t it?” Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. “Get off, Scabbers! He’s chewing my sheets.” Then the red-head’s snores drifted throughout the room.

Harry waited a bit longer before opening a gate underneath him into the empty corridor to find a place to put Alexander’s trunk.

Chapter Text

The halls were eerily silent now that everyone was asleep or at least in their dorms. Harry had opened the gate in an out-of-sight cove where the portrait wouldn’t see him. He didn’t want anyone knowing he was out of bed when Alexander started showing up.

His years of sneaking around in the Dursley’s household came in handy as he silently maneuvered. He strategically used his gates where he couldn’t walk without being seen by portraits. He almost felt like he was in one of Dudley’s stealth games.

He hopped from one floor to another searching for the perfect place where no one would find Alexander’s things, dodging ghosts, portraits, teachers, and apparently a cat that seemed particularly keen on staring at his location.

It was close to three in the morning when he finally found it. There was a corridor with four ancient statues equally distant from each other that looked untouched for some time. Two of the statues were male standing across from each other closest to the end where Harry was, further away standing across from each other were two women. They wore robes but the stone gave no indication as to the supposed color of anything from what they were wearing to the color of their hair.

Harry took a step forward feeling something calling to him. He turned to the male statue on his right. The man stood tall, confident, with a serious expression, he had short messy hair that almost reminded Harry of his own only the statue's was tamer. He held a sword point-down in front of him with both hands and what appeared to be a piece of wood tucked into the fold of his ear that Harry recognized as a wand. Behind the figure was a griffin with its wings spread and its beak pointed up and open in what Harry assumed was a victory cry. At the base of the statue was a carving. Harry bent down and brushed away the dust making the writing unreadable revealing who the depiction was. Godric Gryffindor.

Harry’s head snapped up taking in the statue once more before spinning around and taking in the other male statue.

This figure had much longer hair, going down to the elbows, messy, but in a deliberate manner. His pose was arrogant, a smirk playing on his lips, daring the one before him to try something. His left hand held a wand loosely at his side as though unconcerned about what was happening round him. A snake wrapped protectively around him, its head open beside the man’s head ready to strike at a coming threat. The man’s right hand almost caressed the snake beside him. At the base Harry rushed to brush the dust away. Salazar Slytherin.

He turned his attention to the other two statues.

The woman on his right had her hair in a bun. She had some sort of tiara or crown on her head. Her expression was thoughtful as her gaze was focused on the open book she held in her left hand. Her right hand held a wand as though mid-cast on something she wasn’t looking at. A bird on her right shoulder had its wings slightly open as though trying to keep its balance on its perch. The dusty carving read: Rowena Ravenclaw.

The final statue woman had hair that came down in waves to her shoulders. She stood among a bunch of plants, the only statue that gave any indication of a location. Her wand stuck out of a pocket on her side while she lovingly held what looked like a grinning honey badger in her arms like it was a baby. Her expression was gentle. The carving: Helga Hufflepuff.

Harry stepped back standing in the center of all four statues. The founder statues. He wondered how long these statues stood here without anyone to see them. His ancestors. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. He stood there dumbly taking it all in.

Eventually his brain rebooted itself and he noticed that there were two stone doors hidden by the statues and blending into the walls. One behind Salazar and Helga and another behind Godric and Rowena. He hesitated for a moment before deciding on the door behind Helga and Salazar first.

He slipped in between the large statues and placed a hand on the strangely textured doorknob. If you didn’t look at it from just the right angle it was almost impossible to see since it blended in with the rest of the door.

A strange feeling spread throughout him starting from the hand on the knob. It felt similar to the feeling he had gotten when he had tried on his heir rings. There was no cold or warm sensation but more of a curious and testing one. As though it wouldn’t hurt him if it didn’t approve of him but was a test whether or not he should be allowed to enter the room. After the feeling had spread to every little nerve in his body it changed, no longer testing but happy. The feeling vanished, withdrawing before Harry could make sense of the emotion. The stone door seemed to transform before his eyes. It wasn’t stone anymore, rather it was an elegant mahogany door. In the center was the Hogwarts crest.

He turned the knob and the door gave way easily as though eager to be opened. There were torches on the walls that began lighting themselves as he stepped inside until the room was slightly brighter than dimly lit. In the center of the room the floor dipped, three steps down. Floating in the center of the divit was a massive emerald green crystal that provided a majority of the light in the room.

Harry stepped forward curiously. He stepped down and reached up as the crystal began fluctuating slowly in brightness as though beckoning him forward. His hand touched the cool surface of the crystal and he was assaulted by multitude of emotions. He didn’t know how long he stood there trying to make sense of everything before pulling his hand away.

Shaking his head he looked around the rest of the room. There was a thick book on a small table along the far wall. He walked over and attempted to open it. It looked even more ancient than the statues outside. There were strange symbols on the cover in place of a title. He tried to open it but it remained shut like it was just for show instead of something functional. Eventually he had to give up. With nothing else in the room and no idea what it was for, he left to explore the other room.

The feeling of testing passed far more quickly than it had the first time. The door became a mahogany wood but it was nowhere near as extravagant. A plaque revealed itself: Heir Gryffindor.

Opening the door revealed a large empty hall. He stepped inside to get a better look. It was a bit decrepit. Stone arches held concerning cracks. The cobblestone beneath his feet were largely shattered. There were vines growing wildly up stone columns. The ceiling seemed to open up to the empty sky. In the center of the hall was a water fountain that had stopped working that depicted two griffins, one adult standing tall with its wings spread and one hatchling underwing looking ready to pounce.

There were three other doors, all rather plain looking at first glance. Harry carefully made his way to the closest door. Opening it revealed an empty looking study. There were two empty bookshelves, a desk that would be at home in a teacher’s office, an empty fireplace along the right wall and another door on the left wall.

He opened the drawers of the desk to find it completely empty. Giving up on the study for now he opened the door on the left.

He stood in the doorway surprised to find a bedroom or at least what was once a bedroom. There was an ornate bed frame positioned in the center of the back wall with matching bedside tables on either side. A bay window that looked out over the grounds, a half-full bookshelf stood beside it as though someone or many someones had used the location to do their reading over a long period of time. Across the room along the wall of the door he had just gone through had an empty fireplace. Across the room from the bed was a small table with two chairs. Harry supposed it was for eating because it was just the right size for a private dining table. There was no mattress or furnishings but it was undeniable what the room was for.

Harry was sure this would be a good place to set up Alexander’s room but he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be stumbled upon.

He went back out to the large hall and opened another door. Another empty, abandoned study. This time there were no other doors inside the study leading to another bedroom. The final door opened to nothing. Literally a black void.

Well it would’ve been nice if it led to somewhere useful like close to the Great Hall but oh well. Harry thought to himself and closed the door.

He may be curious but walking into a void just seemed stupid not adventurous. Still this seemed as secure a spot as any.

Summoning a good chunk of his magic he pushed it out around him willing the hall to be restored. The cobblestones beneath his feet smoothed out and pieced themselves back together. There were still small chunks missing since you couldn’t restore something that no longer existed as anything but dust but it no longer looked like it was falling apart. The archways lost their cracks like it was moving backwards in time. Nothing happened to the vines and Harry didn’t make a decision about what to do with them yet. The fountain stuttered before resuming the task it had been unable to perform for over a hundred years.

Satisfied with the work done to the hall he headed back to the bedroom. He barely stopped in the study to give it a quick clean, vanishing the dust and cobwebs. The bedroom took only a little longer. Compared to the hall there wasn’t a ton of repair work to be done. The stone flooring wasn’t too badly damaged, only having a few cracks. The bed frame was better preserved than the floor but took more magic to fully restore. Upon closer inspection Harry realized there were enchantments engraved in the wood. The bookshelf barely took anything to fix. It only took a flicker of thought to get rid of the dust and cobwebs.

Once all that was done he finally took out Alexander’s trunk. He had been planning to do more that night but finding a secure place to set up had taken far longer than he had anticipated. He checked the time wincing at it when he saw it read 4:15. He decided to get an hour and a half of sleep before slipping back into the dorm room so that no one would know he hadn’t spent the night there.

He practically collapsed in his bed after taking his potions. He made sure to set an alarm to wake him before he was dead to the world. The next step of the plan could wait till after he next got some decent sleep.