Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1746629.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Character: Harry Potter, James Potter, Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Ron
Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ernie Macmillan, Susan
Bones, Ginny Weasley, Amelia Bones, Albus Dumbledore, Neville
Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Rubeus Hagrid, Ollivander, Hermione
Granger, Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Scabbers -
Character, Percy Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Severus
Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Nearly Headless Nick, Parvati Patil,
Lavender Brown, Filius Flitwick, Quirinus Quirrell, Madam Hooch,
Cuthbert Binns, Pomona Sprout, Pansy Parkinson, Firenze (Harry
Potter), Ronan (Harry Potter), Bane (Harry Potter), Lord Voldemort
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Rewrite
Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Harry Potter: Everyone Lives AU
Stats: Published: 2014-06-05 Completed: 2015-01-06 Words: 44,771
Chapters: 17/17

Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone

by AidanChase

Summary

Mr. and Mrs. Potter were not perfectly ordinary people. They did not live on an ordinary
street like you or I. They did not have a small house with a number to differentiate it from
the identical houses on either side of it. They had, in fact, quite the opposite of it all.

----

How different would the world of Harry Potter be if James and Lily had lived?

Ships not listed because I'm unsure if there will be deviations from canon in that respect.
Characters will be added as they appear. The work itself is largely Gen, focused on family
and friendship. However, endgame ships can be found in epilogue tag.

Notes

I intend to rewrite all seven years at Hogwarts. Let's see how this goes.

-----
This all began because I wanted to reread Harry Potter, but I couldn't do it without
imagining the "what if" and how different it might be with James and Lily being present for
it all. I never honestly expected it to get this far, and I can't believe it's still going strong.
I'm so happy so many people have enjoyed what I've written. I hope you enjoy it too.

NEW AUTHOR'S NOTE 18 June 2020:

Harry Potter has changed a lot in the 6 years that I've been working on this fic, and before
you start reading I want to make a few things clear:

1 - trans women are women, and trans men are men; I've included at least 1 trans character
in this work and the fact that I did that shouldn't have to be a statement about anything
because trans and nonbinary folks exist and they shouldn't have to feel like their story is
statement on anything.

2 - Jo's world has been an incredible playspace, although limited in terms of whose stories
she has told. Her world is founded on British imperialism and though she highlights issues
of class and some aspects of racism it is hardly nuanced. (I recommend "the lost
generation" by JennBob if you want to read a much more realistic depiction of the rise of
right-wing fascism in the Harry Potter universe.) While I make some efforts to be more
critical of Jo's short comings, it is by no means a fix. On one hand Jo's work is already
flawed and limited and nothing can be done about that. On the other, I definitely don't do
enough. This work was never intended as a critique, it's just morphed into that the more she
talks and the more I write.

3 - If you still enjoy this fic despite everything Jo has said and done, I'm very glad for that.
Again, I'm not "fixing" anything she did wrong; I can't make up for her mistakes. What I do
will not be enough, and I cannot make her flaws go away. But if I can provide an escape
that lets you enjoy this world again, then I'm happy to do that. I've grown a lot as a writer
because of this project, and I'm glad there are others who have enjoyed the story.

4 - I'm American and that bleeds into my writing and I'm very sorry about that. I've recently
begun working with a British editor (somebodyswatson) to help bridge that gap between me
and Britishisms, so some chapters may feel more British than others. It's an editing process
we are working through together!

4.5 - On that note, I now have a team of 5 betas who have all started working at different
points, and you'll see them thanked periodically, but I want to give an initial shout out to
ageofzero, magic713m, aubsenroute, ccboomer, and somebodyswatson for all the hard
work they've poured into this fic with me.

5 - I do read every comment. They all get sent to my inbox and I check it first thing every
morning and it makes me giddy when I hear that there are new readers who have just
finished a binge, or there was a character moment that resonated with someone. So thank
you for that. I try very hard to reply to all of them, and some still get lost in the cracks, but I
do promise I read everything. So thank you.
 The Boy Who Lived

Mr. and Mrs. Potter were not perfectly ordinary people. They did not live on an ordinary street like
you or I. They did not have a small house with a number to differentiate it from the identical houses
on either side of it. They had, in fact, quite the opposite of it all.

Mr. Potter was a tall, gangly man with spectacles and an easy smile. Mrs. Potter was a tall graceful
woman, with long red hair and brilliant green eyes. Her smile was as carefree and frequent as her
husband’s, and her laughter was louder. The Potters had a small son called Harry and in their
opinion, there was no finer boy.

The Potters had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret. Their son was in fact,
prophesied to be the most dangerous threat to a very dangerous man. They were on the run, in
hiding from everyone they had once loved and trusted, except for one man. A man named Peter
Pettigrew.

On the gloomy Saturday our story begins, there was nothing strange or ominous about what that
day would bring. Mr. and Mrs. Potter went about their day in their secret hiding place as if nothing
was amiss. They believed they could trust Peter with their secret, and they were not afraid.

That night, however, turned into the most terrifying night of their lives. Their trusted friend
betrayed them to the very man they had feared, and that man had come to kill their son.

But in the end, Peter Pettigrew stood between them and that dangerous man and took the killing
blow for the Potters and their son. That sacrifice protected their family, and on a gray Sunday,
James and Lily Potter woke up in a home turned to rubble, and a baby safe in their arms, with a
lighting bolt-shaped wound embedded in his forehead: evidence that their baby had done the
impossible. Their baby had survived a curse meant to kill, and fulfilled the prophecy laid on him
before his birth.

Word spread rather quickly, by mouth and by owl, of a boy who lived.

When the dust had settled, the Healers had looked over their baby, and the Aurors had confirmed
the destruction of that very-dangerous-man, Lily sat down at the dining room table in their old
home, James’s family’s estate, and composed a letter. A letter she’d thought about very often, but
had never sat down to write. She thought that perhaps now, without the threat of a madman and a
prophecy hanging over her head, she could write it.

Lily began with, “Dear Sister,” but she sighed, tapped her wand against the paper, and the letters
disappeared from the page. This time, she began the letter with, “Dear Petunia.”

She paused once more, tapped the feathered quill against her chin, then went back to writing.

"I am sure you have noticed a few strange things today. There are owls everywhere, lots of
fireworks, and wizards celebrating in the streets."

With another tap of her wand, the word “wizards” vanished, and she filled in the small space with
a very cramped, “my sort of people.”

"The truth is, we had a bit of an accident here. I mean me and James and Harry, not just my sort of
people. I’d been meaning to write to you all year, ever since Harry’s birth announcement, but a
very dangerous man was on the loose. You probably didn’t hear of him. He killed a lot of Muggles
—"
Lily erased the word "Muggles" and filled in "your sort of people," before continuing, "but it was
very well-covered-up. And this same man was after Harry. James and I have been on the run and
in hiding all year. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to write to each other more. As it is, last night,
that dangerous man came to kill Harry. There’s nothing like a life-or-death situation to remind you
what you value most in the world. I know Vernon and James don’t get on, but you’re my sister, and
I would love to see you. I do miss you. Your son would be about Harry’s age now, wouldn’t he? We
can take them out to the park. Have a stroll. Do something perfectly ordinary. I miss you terribly,
and would love to see you. Please write soon."

And she signed it with, “Your dearest Lily,” then frowned. That was how she usually signed her
letters to James. Her wand hovered over the paper momentarily, then she dropped it without
changing a dot of ink.

It was the same problem as always: regular post or owl post. Her sister would never read a letter
dropped off by an owl. That meant Muggle post. That meant a trip into town. That meant stamps.
That meant Muggle money exchanges.

That was all a problem for another day. Not today, not when they were still so tired, not when they
had only just returned home.

Lily left the letter lying on the table and went upstairs to the baby’s room.

Harry was in his crib, turning fitfully in his sleep. James was sprawled in a chair, head lolling to
one side, glasses askew, and a bit of drool just beginning to drip from the side of his mouth.

Lily leaned over the edge of the crib and whispered quietly to soothe her baby. James stirred in his
sleep, and Lily moved to give him a gentle kiss on the forehead. She gently pried the wand from
his tightly clenched fist and rested it on the table next to him.

"I’m not letting it go," he’d said to her that morning. "Never again."

"You’ll have to eventually," she’d said with a genuine smile, but she knew what he meant. She,
too, felt a deep panic she was not sure would ever go away. No matter what happened, no matter
how much time had passed, she knew that her fear over Harry would stay lodged in her heart, like a
stone that had fallen to the bottom of a lake. It might be smoothed over by time, it might be buried
by sand, but it would always be there.

She tucked a heavy blanket over James — it was November, after all, and he was bound to get cold
in the middle of the night.

Lily went to the master bedroom and changed into her sleeping attire. She sat down on the bed,
looked around the large empty room. They had packed up so many things, and unpacking them
once more seemed like a mountainous task. She looked at the large, empty bed. Sleeping alone
seemed like a mountainous task all on its own.

So she grabbed as many pillows as she could carry and took them into her baby’s room. She piled
the pillows up on the floor, pulled a blanket over herself, and fell asleep, wand clutched tightly in
her hand.
 The Vanishing Glass
Chapter Summary

Harry takes a trip to the zoo and discovers he has an unusual ability.

Nearly ten years had passed since that nightmarish evening, where the Potters' home was invaded
by a mad man. And though that home had been reduced to rubble, James, Lily, and Harry now
lived comfortably in James's family home, a very large estate named Styncon Garden, after the
oldest Potter anyone knew, Linfred of Stinchcombe, a man who loved wizards and Muggles alike,
and had a habit of giving his healing potions to unsuspecting midwives and Muggle villagers in the
area. He'd also grown a lot of unusual plants, at least, unusual to Muggles. And though the garden
had changed plants as many generations of Potters cultivated the flowers and herbs they each liked
best, the spells inside the house had not changed. Inside, it was filled old magic tucked away in the
walls. There was a grandfather clock in the living room that chimed every hour, like a normal
clock. But it also chimed at 3:33 and 8:17. There were drawers that only opened on rainy days and
some that never opened at all. And it wouldn't help anyone to start talking about the attic. That
could take another ten years.

There were many portraits hanging from the walls, all of old wizards with kind smiles. And, on the
fireplace mantle sat new pictures of a young couple and their young son. These pictures did not
speak the way the portraits did. They did not admonish you to comb your hair or advise you to
watch out for the loud buzzer that sounded when you stepped dead on the centre of the fourth stair,
the way the large hanging paintings did. These photographs only moved, like a single moment
being replayed over and over again. On some of them, you could hear laughter.

These pictures were of James and Lily and Harry, and of Harry growing from a tiny baby into a
strong ten-year-old boy. He was much skinnier than the chubby baby in the earliest photographs,
and his hair had grown out dark and unruly like his father's. But he had his mother's brilliant green
eyes. And — his most prominent feature — he had a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead
that he was quite proud of, most of the time.

When he went out with his parents, there were witches and wizards everywhere who knew his
name and the scar on his forehead. It was very important, whatever it was he had done. But James
and Lily did not tell him anything more than, "It's the mark of something great and something
terrible. We'll tell you when you're older." Those were the days he was not proud of his scar, the
days where James and Lily spoke in hushed whispers, with voices full of something sad.

Today, however, there was nothing to be sad about. The sunlight filtered in through the window of
Harry's bedroom, but he rolled over and pulled his pillow over his face. He wasn't ready to be
awake yet. Until his mother called from the stairs, "Rise and shine, Harry! Sirius is almost here!"

His feet were flat on the floor in a second. Sirius was Harry's godfather, and practically James's
brother. Lily tried convincing everyone to use, "Uncle Sirius," (both James and Sirius had protested
“Mr. Black”), but it never quite stuck. Sirius was always just Sirius.

The best thing about Sirius, in Harry's opinion, wasn't even the loud flying motorbike or the daring
tricks he could do on a broom. The most exciting thing about Sirius was his love and knowledge of
the Muggle world. Whenever Harry went out with Sirius, it was an exciting Muggle adventure. To
the cinema, to a restaurant that only served three kinds of food at costs that Harry learned equated
to Knuts, or to amusement parks with rollercoasters as high as any professional Quidditch match
Harry had ever seen.

Of course, Lily knew about the Muggle world too, but Mum explaining the difference between a
postage stamp and a rubber stamp wasn't nearly as exciting as Sirius explaining it.

Today, Sirius was taking him to the zoo. It was a school day for Muggle children, so the zoo ought
to be rather empty. Harry expected that he and Sirius would have a complete run of the place.

Lily had tried putting Harry in a Muggle school at first, to learn his numbers and letters, but he
hadn't made it past reception. Not that he wasn't smart. All of his teachers were impressed with his
work. It was the students he didn't get along with.

He'd been strictly ordered not to answer questions about his scar, or to talk about magic while he
was at school. So, when a student inevitably asked him, he would quietly mumble something about
a staircase or a broken mirror, like he'd been told to. He ended up teased by some of the older
students for his awkward answers, but his good-natured spirit allowed him friends. Still, there was
the unfortunate matter of his magical abilities.

Most magical children could not do much more than break a glass when they were upset, or maybe
levitate a small object if they concentrated very hard. Their magic was uncoordinated and untapped
without proper training. Harry, however, performed rather intense spells for a child. One time he'd
shrunk a set of dress robes he hated wearing, just by insisting they wouldn't fit. Another time he'd
gotten a hold of his father's broom (instead of his, which was charmed to stay at safe heights and
speeds) and zipped halfway across the county before his parents knew he'd gone. At six, James had
said it was more miraculous than dangerous. Lily had disagreed. The worst was when he had run
from a school bully and accidentally ended up on the roof of the school. That was when James put
his foot down and insisted Harry be educated at home. If their son was powerful enough to
Apparate without a wand or training, he wasn't safe around Muggle children. And Muggle children
weren't safe around him.

So Harry learned his numbers from his mother, his letters from his father, his sciences from Uncle
Remus, and bits of wizarding history from both Sirius and his father. But he wouldn't be educated
at home forever.

Harry was ten now, eleven in the summer, and he would be going to Hogwarts in autumn.
Hogwarts would teach him how to be a proper wizard, with his own wand and everything. And
there would be Quidditch and duels and a House Cup. He truly couldn't wait.

Until then, it was days at home with mum and dad, the occasional Quidditch game, and trips into
the Muggle world with Sirius (or the less exciting trips with Mum).

Harry ate his eggs and toast as quickly as he could, "Just because you finish faster doesn't mean
he'll get here faster," Lily scolded, but Harry didn't listen. He swung his legs anxiously while she
tried to comb his dark, unruly hair flat. It was a fruitless effort, but a battle Lily had not given up
on, even after ten years.

"Make sure you talk about magic quietly when you're out today."

"Yes, Mum."

"And Sirius is not allowed to fly the bike while you ride it. Don't let him."
"Yes, Mum."

"And don't talk to Muggle strangers. They're not like wizards. They —" But she was drowned out
by the deafening roar of a motorbike. Harry downed his orange juice in one gulp, shouted, "Yes,
Mum!" and ran to the door.

Just in time for James to walk in, still in his pajamas, hair as messy as his son's, and eyes bleary. He
squinted about the kitchen without his glasses. "Sirius here?" he asked and yawned.

"Just pulled in," Lily smiled and kissed his cheek. "I'll tell him you aren't decent."

James snorted. "I've never been decent around Sirius."

"Just decent for me, then?"

"You get my most decent and my most indecent," he said with a grin and tugged at the backside of
her dress. Lily swatted his hand away and went outside to make sure Sirius wasn't flying off with
her only son.

The spring day wasn't exactly cool, but Sirius was still dressed in a leather jacket, with thick black
boots laced up over his jeans. His long black hair hung loose to his shoulders, and he was grinning
wide as he picked Harry up in a hug.

"Won't be able to do that much longer," he laughed as he set Harry down. "You'll be as big as your
dad soon."

With Harry out of his arms, Sirius pulled Lily into a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. "James
out of bed yet?"

"Nearly," she smiled at him. "Did you get breakfast?"

"Yes," he laughed. "Thank you."

"Let's go," Harry pleaded, and climbed into the attached carriage. He grabbed his helmet, complete
with a lightning bolt on the front — he and Sirius had both agreed it was perfect; Lily and James
were less enthused — and sat in his seat. Lily made sure he was buckled in safely.

"I know how to take care of him," Sirius sighed.

"I know, I know. I do trust you." Lily smiled, but she still felt that stone of fear lodged in her heart.
Ten years had smoothed it, but had not worn it away. "And no flying," she said, though she had
said it a dozen times since Sirius had gotten his bike.

"No flying," he agreed with a grin. "James would probably transfigure and collar me if I did."

"Glad you see it our way," she smiled, then kissed Harry's cheek. "And you'll be careful —"

"Yes, Mum," Harry said with exasperation so far above ten years old he could only have learned it
from Sirius and James.

"Alright, alright, go," she smiled and stepped away so Sirius could mount the bike.

With a roar like a chimera, the bike took off down the unpaved road that connected the Potters'
estate to the other houses in the countryside.

Harry sat patiently, as he always did, enjoying the way the countryside passed them by in a blur of
colours. He loved the way it felt like riding a broom, but somehow more dangerous — perhaps
because of the loud noise of the engine and the constant jerking as they rode along uneven roads.

The road that lead away from Styncon Garden eventually turned onto a smooth highway through
the Cotswolds, then the scenic countryside became suburbs, and the suburbs gave way to a
bustling city.

The zoo was exciting. There were lions, tigers, penguins, rhinoceros, giraffes, and all sorts of
animals Harry had never even heard of (like wallabies). Sirius mentioned a few magical creatures
that would be interesting to see — hippogriffs and unicorns and hippalektryons.

"You'll learn about all those at Hogwarts, though," Sirius said with a smile.

"I can't wait!" Harry said and skipped over to the kangaroos. "Dad says I'll have to wait to play
Quidditch, though."

"First years can't,” Sirius agreed, “but you'll have plenty else to keep you busy. Astronomy and
Charms and Transfiguration." He had a secretive smile on his face.

"And Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"I'm sure you'll be great at that."

Harry was excitable and ten, but he wasn't unobservant or ignorant. He noticed Sirius's tone shift
and it made him feel uncomfortable. He knew his mother and father were excellent in Defense
Against the Dark Arts — he'd overheard stories when they thought he was sleeping, and he'd
watched his parents duel for fun — and he knew he could be just as good. But whenever he
brought it up around his family (and Sirius and Uncle Remus were family), they would get very
quiet. The same tone of voice they used about his scar.

Harry walked away from the kangaroos towards the reptile house, trying to think of a way to
broach the subject of his scar with Sirius. James and Lily had always said, "when you're older,"
which was the most irritating answer he could get.

"That's for your mum and your dad to say," was Uncle Remus's answer.

Sirius was the only one who would accidentally let a secret or two out. One time, Harry had gotten
Sirius to say, "You saved the wizarding world," and he'd thought it seemed silly for his parents to
be so secretive about something so wonderful. Then Sirius had added, "A lot of good people died,"
and it wasn't at Harry — Harry knew Sirius was thinking aloud and hadn't meant to say it at all. So
Harry hadn’t said anything, but had filed that away under reasons that maybe his scar wasn't so
great after all.

He paused at the display of a sleeping boa constrictor. It was huge, large enough to wrap around
Sirius motorcycle, twice, and if the description of the creature on the plaque was anything to go by,
it would break Sirius's motorcycle in half. It sounded frightfully dangerous, but it looked so
harmless, curled up and sleeping.

He heard Sirius's noise of disgust behind him. "Not much for snakes. I'll just uh, wait outside
then?"

Harry only shrugged, rather interested in the snake. It sounded like such an exciting creature, but
stuck behind a glass for people to stare at and annoy — like that young couple tapping on the
glass.
Maybe all that was why Harry was excited to go to Hogwarts. At Hogwarts he could find out who
he was, and what his scar meant — all the secrets his family wouldn't tell him. At Hogwarts there
would be teachers who would know, surely. Then again, the teachers might have all the same
answers his parents did: "When you're older."

But he couldn't wait until he was seventeen. That was far too long. Surely other students would
have answers. Students who had parents who knew. Older students who would have maybe learned
in their classes what had happened that was so amazing all wizards knew about it, but so sad that
no one in Harry's family wanted to talk about it.

The obnoxious couple moved on, tired of the sleeping snake. The moment they moved on, the
snake opened its beady eyes and slithered towards Harry. Then it raised its eyes so that it was level
with Harry, and it winked.

Harry grinned back. "Sirius may think you're creepy, but I think you're alright."

The snake lowered its head, as if to say "thank you," and Harry couldn't help but think it was
smiling at him.

"Harry, you still in here?" Sirius called. "Did you want to see the birds? They're as colourful as
phoenixes."

Harry glanced toward the end of the reptile house, where he could just make out Sirius coming
back in. He smiled, knowing Lily would not approve of how loudly Sirius had said "phoenixes."

Harry looked back at the snake. "Guess I'd better go."

The snake turned its head towards the exit as Harry just had, and Harry hated to see how sad the
snake looked. He did not know how he knew it was sad, but he knew. It must not have known
anything besides these glass walls. People staring at him, day in and day out, with nothing really to
do. At least Harry had a broom, even if it was charmed to stay below fifty feet.

"Harry," Sirius called again, and Harry could see him just a few feet away. Reluctantly he pulled
away from the glass and walked back towards Sirius.

"I'm ready."

"Really into that snake?"

"I think it liked me," Harry shrugged, and glanced back over his shoulder.

"Better you than me, mate. Come, let's —"

Harry turned around when Sirius stopped talking, and Harry's eyes went wide. The snake slithered
out of its glass enclosure and onto the floor. There was no broken glass, no sign that something had
broken it out of its cage, just pure open space between the display and the walkway, and the snake
was quickly crossing that space. It looked at Harry, winked again,
and Harry swore he heard it say, "Thanks," but Harry wasn't quite sure what for.

"Harry," Sirius started in a choked voice.

"I didn't mean to make the glass disappear. I didn't even think about it, it just —"

"No, that's fine. We'd better go home."

"You're not going to put the snake back?" Harry asked, partially worried and partially teasing.

Sirius looked positively green at the thought and started for the exit of the zoo.

When they got home, Lily and James were just finishing lunch.

"You're back so early," Lily said and hugged Harry.

"How was it?" James asked, but frowned at Sirius's grim face. The three adults disappeared into the
kitchen and closed the door behind them, leaving Harry in the dining room to help himself to lunch
leftovers. He grabbed the unfinished half of his dad's sandwich and crouched at the door to listen.

"You're sure that's what happened?" Lily asked.

"Positive," Sirius answered.

"I'll write to Dumbledore," James said.

"And what do we tell Harry?" Lily said.

"When he's old enough —"

"He'll be off to Hogwarts soon. We can't keep it from him any longer than that."

"Then we'll tell him before he leaves."

The conversation seemed done at that point, so Harry quickly went back to the table and pretended
he hadn't heard a thing.

That evening, at a very quiet dinner, after Sirius had gone home, Harry said, "I didn't mean to make
the glass disappear. It was an accident."

James and Lily looked surprised by this meek confession and both immediately got up from the
table and went to hug Harry.

"We're not upset with you for that," James said.

"We're not upset with you at all," Lily corrected.

"We just worry about you."

And Lily knelt so she was eye level with Harry. "Did you talk to that snake today?"

"Sort of. It winked at me."

"And what did it say?"

"It just said 'Thanks.' For the glass, I suppose."

"Talking to snakes is a very rare gift," James said. "Even among wizards. Just be careful who you
tell about it.”

Harry suddenly felt like he understood all the anxiety and whispers of the evening. Of course Sirius
would be upset about Harry talking to snakes. Sirius hated snakes. Harry still wasn't sure what
talking to snakes had to do with Dumbledore, but he also didn't really care about that. Dumbledore
was little more than an interesting wizard his parents knew, like the Minister of Magic or Celestina
Warbeck.

"Can I tell Uncle Remus?"

"Of course," Lily said with a smile. “Remus is family.”

"And... can I ask a snake to take a nap on Sirius's motorbike next time he comes over?"

James grinned. "Definitely. I'll even help you find one."

 The Letter from Hogwarts
Chapter Summary

Harry receives his acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
and celebrates his eleventh birthday.

Harry spent nearly every day of July at the window, anxiously awaiting the owl that would bring
his letter. His birthday wasn’t until the end of July, and his acceptance letter would come a week
before his birthday, but Harry didn’t care. He wanted his letter now. Surely wanting it this badly
would make it come faster.

"Will it come today, Mum?"

"I don't tell the owls when to deliver letters."

"But you could tell them, couldn't you?"

"And how would I do that?"

"You and Dad write to Dumbledore all the time. Just write him a letter and tell him to send my
Hogwarts letter back right now."

"Dumbledore won't be writing the letter. It'll be the Deputy Headmistress."

"Then write to her and tell her to send me my letter."

"Be patient."

On Tuesday, Harry came down the stairs rather morose. He picked at his eggs and nibbled on his
toast and turned down porridge.

"What's the matter?" James asked.

"I'm not going to Hogwarts."

"What? When did you decide this?"

"My letter hasn't come. I don't think I'll be going."

"You're not eleven yet. It'll come soon."

And with the grave sagacity only a nearly-eleven-year-old-boy could muster he said, "No. I've
already come to terms with my fate. I'll not be a real wizard after all."

James wanted to laugh. He tried very hard not to laugh. With a twitching mouth he patted his son's
arm, choked out in as sympathetic a tone he could manage, "I'm sure it will come soon," then
nearly ran to Lily in the next room to tell her what had just happened.

James and Lily spent the day talking him out of his strange low. And by the end of the day Harry
was back to waiting at the window, watching for the owl.
"They won’t send it after dark." James tried to call him to dinner, but he didn't budge, and fell
asleep in the window sill without eating at all.

The next morning, Harry was woken at sunrise by something tapping at the window. Harry had
hardly looked at the owl before he was scrambling to pull the glass open. The owl fluttered in and
dropped a thick parchment envelope into his lap. It was addressed:

Mr. H. Potter
Styncon Garden
Stinchcombe, Gloucestershire

"Mum! Dad!" he shouted.

The owl screeched as Harry bolted to his feet and sent the bird tumbling onto the floor.

"Mum! Dad!" It was louder than Harry had been on any Christmas morning as he bounced into
their bedroom. James groaned at the weight and Lily rolled over with a sigh.

"It came, did it?" James mumbled and fumbled for his glasses on the dressing table. He didn't find
them, but his hand tightened around his wand. "Accio glasses," he mumbled. His glasses came to
him, but so did Harry's. "Merlin's beard," he muttered as he sat up and gave Harry back his glasses.

"Spells before seven, James, we've talked about this," Lily said groggily as she too sat up.

"Right, right." He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "Well, congrats, Harry. Did you
open it?"

Harry proceeded to rip open the parchment, "Carefully, or you'll tear it," Lily warned, and Harry
drew his letter out, written on standard wizarding parchment, as thick as the envelope it had been
sent in.

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY," Harry read aloud. "Headmaster:

Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class— Mum, Dad, you have that, don't you?"

Lily and James only gave him gentle smiles for an answer, and Harry read on, "Grand Sorc., Chf.
Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) — He sounds important! 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."

Harry quickly picked up the list of supplies he would need for school. "Does this mean we'll be
going to Diagon Alley?" he asked excitedly.

Lily took the list from him and looked it over. "No where else to get a standard cauldron." She
wrinkled her nose. "They still require you to wear hats? Ugh. I've really been wishing they'd change
that."

"Maybe it's only for special feasts or things like that." James shrugged.

"It says for day wear."

"No fashionable wizards wear hats anymore. That's ridiculous."

"The Malfoys wear hats," Lily said with a smile.

"My point exactly." James shook his head. "I'll be quill-ing a strongly worded letter to
Dumbledore. Hats. Really."

Harry didn't care much about whether he needed to wear a hat or not. He just wanted to go to
Hogwarts. He'd show up in bright red shoes with purple hair if they asked him to. "Can we go to
Diagon Alley today?"

"No, no," Lily shook her head. "We've got a lot to do to get ready for your birthday next week.
We'll go to Diagon Alley afterwards."

The next week was a flurry of excitement. Cleaning the house from top to bottom, pruning the
garden in the back. Lily said the wild look gave it character; James said he was worried it looked
alive and could eat the guests. Harry said that it might be more exciting if the plants did eat the
guests. He'd become rather dismal about the party ever since he found out he had to wear dress
robes for it.

On the day of the party, a large cake was set in the garden under a small tent. Sirius and Uncle
Remus arrived early and helped James set up the tent and a few minor enchantments to keep the
summer heat from beating down on the guests. And there were a lot of guests.

Augusta Longbottom was the first to arrive. Her son Frank, his wife Alice, and their son Neville
were close behind. Dumbledore arrived early, but didn't stay long. He said his hellos to everyone
present, told Harry to have a wonderful birthday — "Eleven is an important year for a young man,"
took a slice of cake, charmed it from chocolate to lemon, then said his goodbyes.

Minerva McGonagall, the Weasley family, the Bones family, and the Prewett brothers all arrived.

The children naturally grouped together — Susan, Harry, Ron, and Neville — since they were all
ten years old, and all would be going to Hogwarts in autumn. All of them had already had their
eleventh birthday parties, and Harry had suffered it with them. Ron’s, at least, hadn’t required dress
robes.

Ginny tagged along next to Ron, swinging her short legs in the chair and picking at her chocolate
cake. The twins Fred and George were nowhere to be seen, and Percy was busy showing his prefect
badge off to any adult who would pat his shoulder and tell him how excited they were for him.

"I want to go with all of you," Ginny pouted.

"You’ll come next year," Susan said with a smile.

"I don't want to go at all," Neville moaned, and worked his way through his second piece of cake
with the steady pace of a marathon runner.

"It'll be exciting," Harry said. "We'll all be in Gryffindor, of course."

"I'll be in Hufflepuff," Neville said assuredly.

Ron looked green at the thought. "I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff, too. I'll never live it down."

"It doesn't matter where we end up," Susan scolded them. "Nymphadora was in Hufflepuff, you
know."

The five children turned their heads to look at the young woman chatting with Sirius and Remus.
Her hair was a vibrant pink, and while she spoke, she was tapping her fingernails against the table.
Her fingers would roll once, perfectly normal, but then they'd grow long like dragon claws or tiny
and sharp like cat claws every few clicks.

"Fred and George said I'll be in Hufflepuff for sure," Ron said gloomily.

"Course you will, mate," one of the twins popped out from under the table. The other one followed
close behind, and Neville fell backwards from his chair in shock.

"You'll never make it past the sorting into Gryffindor," the other said.

"How do you get sorted? Is it a test?" Ginny asked.

"Oh yes," they said in unison.

"There's a long written essay," one said, "and then there's the practical, of course," the other
chimed in.

"What's the practical?" Ron asked nervously.

"Facing a dragon of course."

Harry and Susan burst into laughter. Neville and Ron looked ill.

Before anyone could assure Neville and Ron that the twins were joking, the Macmillans arrived.

Ernie Macmillan, loud as usual, made formal greetings to Mr. and Mrs. Potter, then practically
bounced his way over to where the other children his age were.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," he said loudly.

"Thanks. There's cake —"

"Don't mind if I do. Thank you so much."

Ginny giggled and Susan rolled her eyes. Ernie was always like this — eleven years old, and
pretending he was thirty-five in a different era. They were all rather used to it, and it was a blessing
they only had to see him at family parties.

"Are you all ready for Hogwarts? I'm ready, myself. Got my books and everything. Mum let me try
a few charms out, for practice. I expect I'll be well ahead of the class when we begin. It's a shame
we can't bring a broom. I'd've loved to play a bit of Quidditch, for fun, of course."

"We can't bring a broom?" Harry nearly choked on his cake. He hadn't seen that in his letter.
Suddenly Hogwarts did not sound nearly as exciting.

"We'll let you borrow ours," the twins grinned. "Little Ronnie does sometimes, that is, when he can
get it off the ground."

"I can too fly," he snapped.

"Yeah, but Ginny always outstrips you by a mile."

"So what?" he mumbled. "I can fly a broom."

Ginny looked to Harry, to see what he thought of her flying faster than Ron, but he wasn't listening.
Harry was busy wondering if he could convince his father to let him smuggle in a broom. It would
have to be behind his mother's back. She would never approve of it. But he knew his father had
played Quidditch at Hogwarts. Surely he would understand.

As the sun set and the evening settled in, people began to say their goodbyes. The Longbottoms
first, the Prewetts, the Tonks — Nymphadora lingered a while longer, until nearly everyone else
had gone, before finally excusing herself — the Macmillans, the Weasleys, and Minerva. The last
guests were Susan Bones, her aunt, her parents, and of course Sirius and Remus were still there.

Susan and Harry had moved inside, and were playing wizard chess. They were on their third game,
and clearly quite tired of each other. Their eyes kept drifting outside to the adults conversation,
which was no longer in separate parties. Amelia Bones was speaking and the children were trying
very hard to listen, but she was too quiet for them to hear anything other than murmurs.

"He has a right to know," Sirius's voice said, much louder than anyone else. Someone tried to quiet
him, but he wasn't listening. "I mean it. If I was him, I'd expect to be told. I wouldn't take no for
answer."

"You've never taken no for an answer," Lily said. "And you have to understand — how do you tell
an eleven-year-old child —" and her voice dropped.

Harry and Susan glanced at each other, and in silent agreement, abandoned the game and crept to
the back door so they could hear clearly.

"Lily's right," Uncle Remus said. "We can't tell him that."

Sirius made a disgruntled noise, but had nothing further to protest.

"Are you sure you don't want us here?" Susan's father said quietly. Harry and Susan had to press
their ears right up against the door to hear. "Susan was young during the war, but she's someone
Harry can connect with, perhaps —"

"Thank you," James interrupted, "Honestly, thank you. But I think... I think it should be a family
conversation. And we do have someone coming to help. Perhaps afterwards…. I'll be sure Harry
knows he can talk to Susan if he needs someone his own age."

The sound of chairs moving and the rustling of grass sent Harry and Susan darting back to their
chess game, looking as innocent as they could. Harry chewed on his lower lip, hoping that he
looked more like he was concentrating on the game and less like he was worrying over what his
parents had said.

When the adults came into the room, Harry and Susan got to their feet.

"Time to go, Susan," her mother said sweetly. "Do you need to help clean up?" But Harry had
already packed the chessboard away, and the pieces were climbing obediently back into the box.

Susan and Harry said awkward goodbyes, with furtive glances to each of their parents, and then
James and Lily walked Amelia and Mr. and Mrs. Bones out.

Sirius sank into a rather plush armchair, and Remus took a seat on the edge of the sofa. Harry sat
on the armrest of Sirius's chair.

"Did you have a good birthday, Harry?" Remus asked with a smile.

"Yes, I did. Only —" He stopped, unsure how to ask after their secret conversation.

"Only what?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at him.

"What were you all talking about? Are you going to tell me?"

"At least wait for your mum and dad," Sirius half-laughed. If either Sirius or Remus were
disappointed in him for eavesdropping, they didn't show it.

Lily and James came back into the room.

"Should I put on some tea?" Lily asked, hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves.

"Please," Sirius said.

"If you have coffee," Remus cleared his throat.

"Of course."

"Rough weekend?" James asked as he sat down next to Remus.

"Not as bad as it could have been."

James nodded understandingly. "If there were any damages —"

"Thank you, James. You've always been too generous."

It was a compliment which James only shrugged at. "Can't be generous if I've got too much of it,"
and Sirius snorted.

Harry moved from Sirius's arm rest to the seat beside his dad. "Dad, what are you going to tell
me?"

James's face lost a shade of colour. "Just be patient. Give your Mum and I a minute. And we're
waiting on —"

There was a thunderous knock at the door, and a weary smile slipped over James's face.

"Waiting on Hagrid."
 Keeper of the Keys
Chapter Summary

Hagrid comes to visit; Harry finds out what he did that was so incredible to the
Wizarding World.

Harry had never actually met Hagrid. He'd heard his parents talk about Hagrid, a good family
friend, but he'd never actually seen the half-man-half-giant before. It was intimidating at first.

Hagrid was so large that he had to duck and turn sideways to fit through the door. His hair was long
and shaggy — just like his beard — but beneath it all he had deep, dark eyes that twinkled with a
familiar kindness, not unlike what Harry saw when he looked at his godfather, uncle, or parents.

"Hallo, Harry," he said in a gruff, deep voice, with an accent Harry remembered from family trips
into the local Muggle town, though this man was certainly not a Muggle. "Nice ter officially meet
you — I met you as a baby, but o' course yeh’ll not remember that." He extended his very large
hand to the boy. Harry shook it politely, and tried not to gape as Hagrid’s hand engulfed Harry's
arm.

"Have a seat," Lily said, and with a wave of her wand, pulled a chair over.

"Wouldn’ want ter break it —"

James said a few quick strengthening charms over the legs, and Hagrid sat down. It groaned and
creaked, but withstood the weight. He gingerly lifted Lily's dainty china to his lips.

Harry was bursting with questions. When his father had said family only, he understood Uncle
Remus and Sirius staying behind. They were family. But he didn't even know Hagrid. What did
Hagrid have to do with all these secrets? And would they finally answer all his questions about his
scar?

"Hagrid works at Hogwarts," Lily started and sat down on Harry's right. His father still sat on his
left. At the least, no matter what was said tonight, Harry would feel safe between the two of them.

"He's the groundskeeper — Keeper of the Keys. And a very close friend of Dumbledore's."

"That sounds important," was all Harry could manage as he looked between each adult in the room,
wondering who would be the one to tell him what this was all about.

“Yes,” Lily smiled, “it is. He’s also a good friend of ours. He helped us a lot when we….” She
seemed to lose track of her sentence. Her eyes looked past Harry, searching for the right words. It
reminded Harry of the way Remus would searched for words when talking about his condition.
“Werewolf” was a forbidden word, even in private. Whatever Lily was trying to tell Harry was
something that his family simply did not speak about. It only made Harry more curious.

James leaned forward in his seat and rubbed his jaw with one hand. "You're eleven now. That's a
big year for a wizard. And you'll be off to Hogwarts in a month. There are things you should know
before then."
James hesitated, so Lily tried again, "When your father and I were your age, the Wizarding World
was becoming a very dangerous place — not like it is now. There were many people, sometimes
very violent people, who believed that wizards like Uncle Remus and I were not proper wizards."

"You mean they didn’t like Muggle-borns and half-bloods?" Harry said.

Remus's mouth twitched in a small smile. "And half-breeds."

Sirius's upper lip curled back and something of a snarl came out, while James gently put his hand
on his friend's knee. Hagrid coughed uncomfortably and took a sip of his tea.

"There have always been people who think that pureblood witches and wizards are the only
acceptable sort of wizard," James said.

"But that's ridiculous. Mum's as great a witch as you! Even better sometimes."

"Always got top marks in Charms," Hagrid said gruffly. "One o' the best in her year, she was."

Lily blushed at the compliment. "There are plenty of excellent Muggle-born witches and wizards,
but there are still some people who don't agree."

"I've never met any of those wizards."

"Because we don't like any of those wizards," James said.

"But you will meet people like that in school. People who don't like Muggle-born witches and
wizards," Lily said.

"Then I won't be friends with them. I'll be friends with all the Muggle-borns."

"You be friends with who you like," Sirius encouraged. "The problem, though, is that there weren't
just a few wizards who passed some bad laws. There was a particular man. A very powerful wizard
who gathered a large following."

"His name was Lord Voldemort," Lily said quietly, and the room went silent, apart from Hagrid
choking on his tea.

"But we don't use it," James said quickly. "Most wizards just call him, 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
Named.'"

"That's a lot longer than Lord Voldemort," Harry said with a puzzled expression.

Hagrid coughed loudly and Lily suppressed a small smile.

"Names hold a very dangerous power. Or, at least, they can," Remus said quietly.

"Like yours?" Sirius said with a smile, and James snorted.

Lily allowed a smile at Sirius’s joke, then returned to the story, voice still somber. "This man was
very determined to destroy all witches and wizards who disagreed with him. Your father and I were
on that list. So were Sirius and Uncle Remus, and Hagrid, and the Prewett brothers, the Bones
family, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom — there were a lot of us," she finally finished. "And your father
and I had to go into hiding to keep you safe. It was very dangerous. Uncle Remus wasn't able to
even see you when you were born."

"There were a lot of reasons for that," James said stiffly and glanced at Sirius, who frowned back.
"A lot," Lily repeated, as if she were ending a discussion before it began, and Harry's mind only
spun with more questions.

"And your father and I, after you were a year old, went very deep into hiding so that no one would
be able to find us. Dumbledore helped us by suggesting we use a charm called the Fidelius Charm.
We would choose one person to be our Secret Keeper, and only they would know where we were,
and only they could tell anyone else where we were. We chose a man named Peter Pettigrew.
Unfortunately, we didn't know at the time that he was in league with Lord Voldemort. And he
betrayed us. He told Voldemort where to find us."

"But that night that You-Know-Who was supposed to come," James said, "Peter was there. And he
stayed with us, and in the end, he faced You-Know-Who. He stood up to You-Know-Who, and
because of that, he saved our lives, and yours."

"He killed Voldemort?"

"Not exactly," Remus said. "When You-Know-Who went to kill you, he couldn't. He tried, but
whatever he did didn't work. And he vanished."

"He died?"

"No one really knows," Sirius said quietly. "Some think he died. Some think he's still out there. The
house completely collapsed, turned to rubble. Hagrid and I were the ones that found you and your
parents."

"Yer mum had her arms wrapped around yeh tight as anythin’. She weren' lettin’ yeh go fer
nuthin'."

"That's where your scar came from," James said quietly. "When You-Know-Who tried to kill you,
he left that scar. You're The Boy Who Lived, and a lot of people think you saved the Wizarding
World."

"But you have to be careful, Harry," Lily warned. "We don't know that he's dead — many of us
who fought him think he's waiting until he's powerful enough to come back. And he'll come back
for you when he does."

"But why me?" Harry asked with a frown. "I was just a baby."

James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus, all exchanged a quick series of glances. Sirius opened his mouth
but James spoke first, "We don't know why, Harry. Maybe because your mother is Muggle-born.
That would make you a half-blood. He tried to kill your mother, too. He tried to kill a lot of people
— and did kill a lot of people. A lot of good people. Most of your friend Susan's family died
fighting him."

Harry sat very still and very quiet. There was something they weren't telling him; he was sure of it.
Of course, the story they did tell him was horrible, and he completely understood why you
wouldn't want to tell a child about this. It was one thing to learn about a war in school. It was very
different when a man tried to kill you and your family. But he knew that couldn't be it. Because as
bad as that story was, it wasn't as bad as the looks his parents got whenever he asked them about
his scar. It wasn't as bad as their heartbroken faces they tried to bury in cups of tea or in books and
newspapers, when they couldn't quite look at him for a few hours after.

"So that's why every wizard knows me when we go out," Harry finally said.

"And that's why we don't go out much," Lily said with a small smile.
"Is that how you got Merlin Order First Class, then?"

"Yes, well, it wasn't the first time we'd faced You-Know-Who," James said with a smile, "But I
guess it's the time everyone knows about."

Harry still had so many questions. About his scar, about Susan's family, about what happened to
people who were on Voldemort's side. But the clock chimed — 8:17.

James yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "It's late."

"It's not," Harry protested, but when he glanced around at everyone, they looked very tired. "I
didn't even open my presents," he tried.

"Tha' reminds me," Hagrid said, and dug into his coat pocket — er, one of them. Harry realized his
coat had many pockets, and they seemed to hold much more than their size allowed. He pulled out
a small brown key with the numbers 713 stamped on the stem, accompanied by a tiny parcel
wrapped in brown paper, but that package wasn't Harry's present. He kept digging, and finally
pulled out a small brown owl and a larger snowy white one. "'Ere, Harry. I was in Diagon Alley on
Hogwarts business today. ‘S why I couldn’ make yer birthday party, so I picked her up fer yeh.
Thought yeh might like her. I know yer Mum and Dad haven' taken yeh to get yer school things
yet, and ye'll be needin' an owl to write letters home an' all."

Hagrid leaned over in his chair and handed the large white owl to Harry. She'd been sleeping and
didn't seem pleased at the disturbance. She ruffled her feathers and nipped at Harry's fingers when
he reached for her, but settled on his arm after she got a good look at him.

"She's lovely," he said, slightly in awe.

"Hagrid, you didn't have to," Lily said quietly.

"I know. Jus' wanted ter do somethin' nice."

"Thank you," Harry said with a wide smile.

"I was going to get him an owl," Sirius sighed.

"I'm sure you'll find something else exotic and expensive," Lily said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I already did that," he grinned and jerked his head towards the parlor, where all the presents
had been piled.

Harry jumped off the sofa, snowy owl still clinging to his arm. "Can I open them now?"

"I suppose it can't wait until morning, can it?" James said with an exhausted smile.

Harry looked shocked and appalled at the thought. "It's not even late."

"Heavy hearts and heavy conversation," Remus said quietly. "But I think presents would be a much
better way to finish the evening."

Lily nodded in agreement and got to her feet. "I'll put on more tea."

"I got it," James said.

"And I'll help," Sirius got to his feet and followed James to the kitchen.
"I'd better be gettin' back ter Hogwarts," Hagrid said as he pocketed the key and package. "Happy
Birthday, Harry. I'll be seein' yeh at Hogwarts."

Harry grinned. "Thanks. I can't wait."

Lily and Remus walked Hagrid to the door, and Harry went to wait for everyone in the parlor. He
heard a quiet conversation between Lily and Uncle Remus, but only the tail end of it, "I understand,
Lily —" and her response of, "But you shouldn't. That's what we want you to understand." And
they said nothing more, because they knew Harry was in earshot. There were only smiles as they
stepped into the parlor. And Sirius and James weren't far behind.

Remus's statement had been right. Presents were a much better end to the evening. The weariness
slowly wore away from the grown-ups faces as Harry went through each of his presents, and Lily
kept a list of who got him what, so that thank you letters could be sent later.

Even as Harry fell asleep, hand clutched around the Nimbus 2000 that Sirius had bought him, the
parents conversations and quiet laughter continued late into the evening.
 Diagon Alley
Chapter Summary

James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius take Harry shopping for his school supplies.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Harry loved going to Diagon Alley. Lily and James didn't take him often. He had a few memories
of people stopping the three of them and commenting on his scar. Specifically, he remembered a
man in a top hat and a woman in a long violet cloak. Looking back, he supposed Lily's bright red
hair, James's height, and a child with a prominent scar on his face made for a rather noticeable
group, especially right after the war.

Today, though they were a larger group, Harry thought they might be able to move about the
crowded streets of Diagon Alley easier than they had in the past. Lily placed a standard witch's hat
with a wide brim over her long red hair. James put on a matching hat, then linked his arm in hers as
they stepped into the fireplace. Sirius tugged a set of wizard robes over his usual Muggle-day-wear
with a wrinkled face, but when he caught Harry watching, smiled, clapped him on the shoulder,
and stepped into the green flames of the Floo Network. Harry went next, combing his dark hair
over his scar. He wanted today to be about getting ready for Hogwarts. Though the news about his
scar was thrilling, he wanted this trip to be like any other wizarding student getting ready for
school.

Lastly, Uncle Remus came through, and dusted off his long, ash-blond hair, though there was no
soot in it to begin with.

"Well, what do we need first?" Lily asked as she pulled out Harry's school supply list.

"A stop at Gringotts, I think," James said as he pulled a handful of Knuts and Sickles from his
cloak pocket. "We spent most of what we had on the party yesterday."

"Gringotts it is. Hang on to me, Harry."

The troop of four wizards and one soon-to-be-wizard walked down the tightly crowded alley.
Harry held Lily's hand as they walked, and with his other hand, clutched at the back of James's
cloak as the wizard led the way to the one and only wizarding bank at the end of the street.

Along the way, Harry's head swiveled from left to right, taking in all the sights, sounds, and smells
of Diagon Alley. He caught sight of the Nimbus 2000 Sirius had just bought him. There was the
Owl Emporium he assumed his white owl from Hagrid had come from. She still needed a name.
He saw a vendor selling dragon liver, and wondered if she'd take to a dragon name. He thought
about writing a letter to Ron's brother in Romania. And, before he had quite decided how he would
go about that letter — "Hello. Can you name my owl after one of your dragons? Thanks." — they
had reached the end of the street, and the bank towered far above
them.

"What's this?" Sirius asked quietly, as they realized most of the crowd in the alley was not actually
made of shoppers, but people packed tightly around Gringotts.

The group carefully pushed their way to the front, until there were ten feet of empty space between
them and the bank, but that space was guarded by goblins, holding the crowds at bay.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

But neither his parents or his uncle or his godfather answered. They didn't know. It was a witch on
his left that said, "There was a break in last night, there was! Never anyone dared steal from
goblins before and get away with it, but this one did!"

"Nothing was stolen!" a goblin shouted at the witch. "Now clear out!" Despite his stature, Harry
found the goblin very intimidating. He had a gruff voice and a rather mean face. Harry had found
in his very short life that most goblins had mean faces. He assumed it was because they spent all
their time counting money. That would give anyone wrinkles.

Still, none of the crowd moved, and continued to shout questions at the goblins, who only repeated,
"Nothing's been stolen."

"We're here to make a withdrawal," Lily said, as loudly as she could.

The goblin looked at her, upper lip curled back, like he didn't quite believe her. "Name?"

"Lily Potter," she answered, in a much quieter voice.

The goblin then did a double-take, surveyed the wizards in front of him, then gave a curt nod.
"Account holders only."

James and Lily were let through the barricade, and they pulled Harry with them.

"I'm family," Sirius protested, but the goblin only sneered at him, and led Lily, James, and Harry
into the bank.

"Really ought to put Lupin on the account, too," James said as they stepped into the bank.

The doors thudded closed behind him, and all the chaos and shouts of the crowd were replaced
with an eerie silence and the gentle clinking of coins.

"Don't think he'd let you," Lily whispered back.

James made a noise that sounded like he agreed, but his face said he wasn't too happy about it.

Harry had not been inside Gringotts since he was very small. And though he had grown quite a bit
since then, it was still as big as he remembered: large columns, high ceilings, and thick iron gates
between tellers and patrons. On the left there was a sign for Muggle-to-Wizard exchanges. There
was another sign displaying the current exchange rate in England. Further back were international
exchange rates, where a witch and a goblin argued about Brazilian wizard gold and Brazilian
Muggle currency.

But the most captivating and unnerving display was the large doors at the back, engraved with a
silver script that Harry remembered glistening in the bright light — and today they looked like
they burned angrily:

"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."

And then the burning poem split into two as the doors opened for the Potters.

"Griphook!" their goblin guide said sharply, and another goblin grumpily climbed down from his
post.

Griphook the goblin took Harry, James, and Lily down into a dark cave. The large doors thundered
shut behind them. For a moment they were plunged into darkness, then green glowing torches lit
up the immense caverns. They were wide and Harry could see at least six different tunnels. And
then about fifteen feet away, the ground disappeared and it was impossible to see just how far
down the caverns and tunnels went.

Harry couldn't imagine how a thief could even get in here, let alone find his way around.

There was a metal track that Harry could see reflecting torch light throughout the caverns.
Griphook whistled and a cart came out of the darkness, along the track, and stopped when it
reached them. James, Lily, and Harry climbed in, and the cart hurtled through the maze of the
caverns. James sat back, unfazed by the speed. Lily kept one hand tight on the railing and the other
tight on Harry, who was far more interested in how many twists and turns there were on the track
to be worried about how fast they were going.

"What's the difference between stalactite and stalagmite?" Harry asked above the noise of the
rattling car.

James shrugged his shoulders. "One's up and one's down, isn't it?"

"Stalactite hangs tight to the ceiling," Lily said in a tight voice of her own. "Now, Harry, will you
please sit down?"

The cart stopped in front of one of several doors along the passage wall. Lily stepped out first and
adjusted her hat. James ran his hand back through his hair so the ends stuck up and looked rather
windblown, and Harry excitedly ran to the door.

Griphook unlocked it, and a green smoke hissed as the metal frame sprung an invisible seam and a
door slowly swung outwards. When the green smoke cleared, mounds of gold and silver were
visible as well as several of the more valuable family heirlooms along the back wall. Old family
and old money went hand-in-hand.

While Lily and James debated how much they would need for the next few months, how much
they ought to give to Remus, and hadn't Sirius offhandedly mentioned something about nearly
being out of his inheritance, Harry walked along the back wall and looked at all the old Potter
family heirlooms.

There was a trunk with Old English engraved into it that Harry couldn't read. He found a gold
necklace with a large ruby in the centre that hissed at him when he tried to touch it. There was a
matching bracelet he didn't dare approach. He saw a shimmery bundle of fabric and he was just
debating on whether or not he should try to touch that — he was very curious about what it felt like
— when James called him back.
"Harry, let's go. Careful or you'll get lost." He had a wide grin on his face as he beckoned Harry
back to the door, but Harry noticed his eyes flick back to the shimmering bundle before they left
the vault.

The cart was just as fast going up as it was going down, and soon, Harry, Lily, and James were
stepping back out into the sunlight outside Gringotts. The large crowd was still there clamoring for
questions, and then, as Lily and James pulled Harry back into the crowd, the noise petered out into
whispers.

Lily pulled the brim of her hat down and pulled Harry close. He heard a wizard whisper, "Was that
the Potters?" before James pulled them into the nearest shop.

The nearest shop was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"Oh, Harry, I meant to bring your dress robes to get them extended. I'm sorry," Lily sighed.

"Definitely alright," Harry said, quite pleased that he was not going to be putting on his dress robes
again. Yesterday had been plenty.

Madam Malkin came out of the back of the shop. She was a short, round little witch dressed in
lavender robes.

"Hogwarts robes? Been seeing you little ones come in and out all month. Come on, to the back, I'll
get you fitted right away."

Lily and Harry started towards the back of the shop, but James hesitated.

"I'm going to find Remus and Sirius if that's alright."

"Today's for Harry," she said tersely.

"And they want to be a part of it. We'll meet you right back here. Or wherever you're going next."

Lily pursed her lips, clearly displeased, but nodded once and waved James off.

He hesitated again, as if he might change his mind, but he stepped out the door after all, and Lily
helped Harry step onto the fitting stool. Madam Malkin pulled a long black robe over his head. The
edges of it fell around the stool to the floor.

"Well, if he grows up to be anything like his father, he'll need a lot of hem, won't he?" Madam
Malkin said as she knelt down to pin the hem on Harry's robe. "Then again, you young ones get
into so much trouble, I expect you'll wear through your robes before the year's out. Or are you a
good, quiet boy, hm?" she asked with a small smile.

"Definitely a troublemaker," Harry grinned and adjusted his glasses.

Lily gently flattened the back of his hair. "You're impatient and curious, but you are not a
troublemaker. You're very well-behaved. More than your father was anyway."

Harry fixed his hair back to how he usually liked it — fringe shoved to one side and a bit of a ruffle
in the back so he didn't look like his mother had gotten him dressed. And when Madam Malkin
looked up she raised her eyebrows.

"Didn't realize I was fitting Mr. Potter. Well, it's very good to see you, all grown-up and off to
Hogwarts."
"Thank you. We're very proud," Lily smiled, and Harry, suddenly self-conscious, pulled his fringe
back down over his scar and mumbled a quiet, "Thank you," to Madam Malkin.

They left with two winter cloaks, a hat, protective gloves, and five new black robes for Harry, all
with all the proper enchantments to automatically change lining colours the moment he was sorted.

"Mum, what if I'm in Hufflepuff?" he asked as she led him towards Flourish and Blotts.

"Then your robes will be yellow."

"I mean — but what about Slytherin?"

"Then they'll be green."

"That's not what I mean, Mum. I mean, what if —"

"Harry, wherever you end up, your father and I will be proud of you. I had friends in all sorts of
houses."

"But Dad didn't. All of Dad's friends were in Gryffindor — Uncle Remus, and Sirius, and —"

"Your father was an arrogant, ignorant, and pompous prat when he was in school. Don't be like
him."

"But Mum!"

She seemed rather irritated, and he noticed her looking around for James with thinly masked
irritation before stepping inside Flourish and Blotts.

Books were stacked to the ceiling from end-to-end of the store. In the middle were pyramids and
towers of all kinds of books.

"Don't they believe in bookshelves?" Harry asked as he wandered towards the Hexes and Jinxes
section.

Lily grabbed his collar and tugged him back towards the school supplies.

The bookstore manager was stacking "Standard Book of Spells, Year 7," in a corner when he saw
Lily.

"Here for Marauding with Monsters?" he asked with a smile.

Lily's frown deepened and her voice was sharp. "No."

He looked surprised by her anger, and then caught sight of Harry. "Ah! School books. Of course,
of course. Let me guess... year three?"

"Oh, yes, definitely," Harry grinned.

"No." Lily did not seem very amused. "Year one, please."

"Yes, yes, of course." The manager seemed eager to smooth over Lily's displeasure, unsure if he
was the cause of it. He hurriedly gathered Harry's books together, put them into a neat
stack — much neater than any stack in the store — and politely asked, "This is all, correct?"

Lily looked the stack over, checked it against the list, and nodded. "Yes. Thank you."
The manager quickly took the galleons from her and handed back a handful of Sickles and Knuts,
and wished them both a pleasant day. Lily looked almost determined to defy him.

When they stepped out of the shop, Lily went over Harry's school supply list again. "Looks like we
still need your potions supplies, a telescope, and your wand." She glanced around the street and
briefly went up on her toes. "I suppose we could check in at the Leaky Cauldron and see if your
father stopped off for a drink with his friends."

"Can I get a firewhiskey?"

"No," she said very sharply, then glanced down at Harry and saw his wide smile. She sighed,
smiled, and tugged on his hand. "Come on. Let's get your Potions supplies."

Lily and Harry bought all the basic requirements for standard Potions. She even checked his school
book to make sure he had enough of the necessary ingredients before going to get his cauldron.

In the window of the shop were silver and gold cauldrons, and just when Harry opened his mouth
to ask, Lily already was answering his question.

"No, you may not have a solid gold cauldron," she scolded. "It's Potions, not Alchemy."

They stepped into the shop and were surprised to find James and Sirius at the shopkeeper's counter,
with the rest of Harry's necessary school supplies, arguing over who was going to pay for it. "I
couldn't get him an owl. Let me get this," Sirius was saying.

"No," James was protesting. "You got him a racing broom. That's more than enough."

"That was a birthday gift. This is a Hogwarts send off."

"These are his school supplies and I'm his father."

Remus saw Lily and Harry and waved with a weary smile. "They've been at this for about fifteen
minutes," he said to them quietly.

The poor shopkeeper looked driven out of his mind by the argument and went to help Lily. She
smiled at him sympathetically.

"Sorry, that's my husband, unfortunately. Don't worry about it. I'll cover it now and deal with them
later."

The shopkeeper looked at the the men nervously, then at Lily, and nodded.

She paid for the school supplies, then tugged a bewildered James and an offended Sirius out of the
shop.

"Then let me get his wand," Sirius pleaded.

"No," Lily said firmly. "That's our gift to him."

Sirius looked ready to keep arguing, but Remus put a hand on Sirius's arm, and Sirius shut his
mouth. He still looked rather sullen as the five of them stepped into Ollivander's.

A small, gentle bell sounded as the door opened and closed, and a thin, wizened old man came to
the front of the shop. "Ah, what a crowd! I daresay I've seen you all before. Let me remember...
Sirius Black — hawthorn and very unyielding, no?" he smiled. "And Remus Lupin — a ten-and-a-
quarter pliable cypress, excellent for protective spells. Miss Lily Evans —"
"Mrs. Lily Potter," James corrected with a smile, and wrapped his hand around hers.

"Ah, yes," Ollivander smiled, "of course. Swishy willow, excellent charm casting. And for Mr.
James Potter, a dragon heartstring core, yes? Pliable mahogany. Then you must be Harry Potter,
hm?" Ollivander leaned in very close — Harry found it unsettling — and swept aside Harry's fringe
to look at the scar. He touched it gently. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. 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…." His voice trailed off, and Harry shifted
uncomfortably under his close, silvery gaze. "Well now," he finally said as he stepped away, "let
me see." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long measuring tape. "Which arm is your
wand arm?"

Harry glanced back at his parents, who both gave him encouraging smiles. He swallowed hard, and
held out his right arm.

Ollivander measured Harry all over — shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to
armpit, around his head, even between his nostrils. Ollivander went on about wand cores while the
measuring tape worked on its own, and he went through boxes. Harry was distracted by the silver
swishing tape, and only caught the end — "dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just
take it and give it a wave."

And a wand was pressed into Harry's hand. He waved it, like he'd seen his mother do in morning to
water the herbs, but Mr. Ollivander took it back halfway through the swish and handed him another
wand — "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy."

Harry flicked this one, the way he'd seen his father summon the brooms from the shed, but
Ollivander snatched it away again.

He tried wands in all woods, in all cores, in all lengths. Harry wasn't sure what it was supposed to
feel or look like, and as Ollivander kept snatching wands before he could even finish a wave, he
began to be more and more disheartened. He glanced back at his mother and mouthed, "I'm going
to be in Hufflepuff," and she stifled a giggle.

At the least, Ollivander seemed to be having fun. The wispy, quiet, and distant old man turned into
a limber and excited wandmaker as he bounced between shelves and boxes, putting wands in and
out of Harry's hands with ease and giddy smiles.

"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."

Oh, Harry thought suddenly as his fingers curled around the wand, this is what it’s supposed to feel
like. The wand was warm in his hand, and there was a faint tingling sensation as he raised the wand
above his head and brought it down with a flourish. Red and gold sparks burst from the end — not
in a single spout, but in a steady flow, bathing the whole room in dancing red and gold lights.

Lily, James, Sirius, and Remus all laughed and applauded. Even Ollivander's giddy grin widened as
he cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very
curious..."

Mr. Ollivander carefully wrapped Harry's new wand back in his box and tied a red and gold ribbon
around it, still about the curiosity of it all.

Harry and James, at the same time, asked, "What's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander seemed once again the distant and wizened old man they had seen when they
arrived. He fixed his strangely distant gaze on Harry. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr.
Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave
another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this
wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar."

An eerie silence settled over the group, and Harry felt James put a protective hand on his shoulder,
and Sirius's tightened on his other.

"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."

There was a bad taste in Harry's mouth as Lily handed the galleons over for his wand, and he took
the box from Mr. Ollivander. He held the box gingerly, as if it might spontaneously combust.

They walked out in silence and no one said anything until James finally asked, "Well, Harry, it's
your day. Do you want dinner at the Leaky Cauldron?"

Harry thought that he very much did not want to be magical for a moment, and said, "Can we go to
that one place Sirius took me to for my birthday last year?"

James and Sirius apparated the cloaks, hats, and school supplies home before they headed to the
Muggle restaurant in London.

The quiet troop sat down in the quaint diner on a corner in downtown London, and finally, Harry’s
first words apart from ordering his meal were, "How many people did Voldemort kill?"

James cleared his throat. "That's not a good question —"

"How many?" he repeated, and was met with a moment of silence.

"No one really knows," Lily finally said. "A lot of witches and wizards and Muggles. And there
were a lot of his followers that did what he wanted and did what they wanted. Why do you want to
know?"

Harry picked at his plate, not quite sure what his answer should be. "Everyone thinks I'm going to
be a great wizard. They're all so excited for me to go to Hogwarts. But I don't even know what
really happened. You haven't told me anything."

"We told you as much as we know," James said quietly. Sirius snorted, then took a hasty sip of his
water when Lily glared at him.

Remus was the one who gently put his hand over Harry and said, "What they think of you isn't
important. You don't need to be what everyone expects. Hogwarts will be fun. You'll make friends,
you'll learn all about magic, and you'll decide who you want to be. You just do your best, and we'll
all be proud of you, no matter what."

Those weren't the words Harry wanted to hear, but they were still comforting. More comforting
than anything he'd heard all day. But Uncle Remus was like that. He had a talent for seeing what
Harry needed when others could only see what he wanted.

"You'd make a great teacher, you know," Lily said quietly as the waitress set their food down.

Remus only shook his head.

 The mood picked up considerably after that. Harry slightly regretted his choice because he still had
a craving for butterbeer, but changed his mind again when Sirius ordered him an enormous triple-
banana-split-with-all-the-toppings-and-more, that was so large even all five of them found they
could barely finish it.

Chapter End Notes

disclaimer; I completely guessed on Sirius's wand. There are no given specifications

for it anywhere, so I read all the HP wandlore there is and made an educated guess. If
Rowling ever reveals Sirius's wand specifications, I'll go back and edit. Remus and
Lily's are 100% canon! And I pegged James as a dragon heartstring sort of person. Idk,
the passion suited him. The rest of his wand is canon, though.
 The Train Ride from Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters
Chapter Summary

Harry takes the train to Hogwarts and makes some new friends (as well as becoming
better friends with old friends).

The morning of September 1, 1991 was a very loud and chaotic morning for the Potter family.
Harry had hardly slept. He kept packing and repacking his trunk. His parents had written out a
packing list for him, but he kept adding to it.

At seven in the morning he heard his mother get up and start cooking breakfast. He leapt down the
stairs two at a time to help. It was a big breakfast — everyone was coming to send him off.

At eight, James came stumbling into the kitchen, dressed, but hardly awake.

At eight-thirty, Sirius and Uncle Remus arrived. Lily and Harry put breakfast on the table and
everyone ate quickly.

At nine-thirty, James and Sirius tried to take Harry's trunk downstairs.

"It wasn't this heavy last night," James grunted, and set it back down. He opened it up with a frown.
"Harry, you can't take all these books."

"But what if I want to read something besides my school books?" Harry shouted from downstairs.

"There's a library."

James and Sirius carefully rooted through what was essential and nonessential.

"Harry, you can't take your broom," James said with a sigh.

"I don't have use it," Harry said. "I just want it with me."

"No."

And Lily took it and held onto it, so it could not get repacked behind anyone's back.

Sirius and James tried taking Harry’s trunk down again. Halfway down, Sirius stepped on the
centre of the fourth stair. The loud noise that sounded throughout the house startled him so much
that he dropped the trunk on his foot, and with a yell that was drowned by the faulty alarm system,
tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs. James fell too, on top of the trunk, which slid its way
down the last few stairs.

When the buzzer had died down, and the portraits were calm again, James and Sirius laughed.

"You of all people," James wheezed breathlessly.

"I know, I know. I forgot about that one."

Sirius sat down for a minute and cast a temporary cooling charm on his foot while Remus and
James put the trunk and Harry's owl beside the door.

Lily took her list and went through Harry's trunk again.

"Mum, I've got it all —"

"I know, I know. I just want to be sure."

Sirius called Harry into the parlor while Remus and James cleaned up breakfast.

"What is it?" Harry asked as he sat down on the couch.

"Wanted to give you this," and he pressed a galleon into Harry's hand. "There's a candy trolley on
the Hogwarts Express, and I wanted to be sure you get enough, in case your Mum gets stingy."

"Thanks!" Harry said with a wide grin, then lowered his voice, "And you can't help me sneak my
broom in?"

Sirius snorted. "After that garden snake you set on me two weeks ago? Not a chance. Sorry, mate.
Next year."

Harry sighed dramatically, but was still grinning as he went to make sure his mother properly
repacked his trunk.

"And you fed Hedwig?" she asked.

He'd decided to name his owl Hedwig, after a woman in his book A History of Magic. She'd taken
to it well enough.

"Yes, I did Mum. Can we leave now?"

"I'm ready. Is your father?"

Harry went to the kitchen where James was putting the last of the dishes away and Remus was
wiping down the dining table.

"Remus, you don't have to," James was protesting.

"I know, I know," Remus shrugged. "Might as well." He tossed the cloth into a bin and washed his
hands. "Ready to go Harry?"

"Yes, can we, please?"

"Just going to grab my cloak," James said and ducked back into his and Lily's room.

Remus glanced into the hall and then knelt next to Harry so they were at eye-level. He pressed
twelve sickles into Harry's hand. "Just in case you want a few more chocolate frogs on the train,
alright?"

"It's alright," Harry protested, but Remus refused.

"I did some Horklump gardening the other day. Consider it a birthday present."

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, and tucked the sickles into his pocket. Somehow, they felt more
valuable than the galleon Sirius had given him.
"Everyone ready?" Lily shouted from the doorway.

Remus and Harry joined her, and Sirius limped after them. James was pulling on his cloak as he
came through the door.

It was ten-fifteen.

"Harry, you have your ticket?" Lily asked, and Harry pulled it out of his cloak pocket for her to see.

"Okay. Harry, you're with me. James, you have the trunk. Remus, here's Hedwig. And Sirius,
you're on your own."

"Don't know how I'll manage," he said with a grin, and with a loud crack, Disapparated.

There were three more cracks in quick succession, and they all Apparated into a side alley in
London.

"Quickly," and Lily ushered them all down the street — Remus and James shared the trunk — to
the train station. At least there, they were able to get a trolley for Harry's things.

By ten-forty-five they had arrived at King’s Cross, Platform Nine.

"Through the barrier," James said with a grin. "Ready?"

"Don't be scared and don't stop," Remus said quietly. "That's the trick."

"Okay," Harry said firmly. He wanted to sound more confident than he felt. With a deep breath, he
rushed forward, and pushed his trolley through the barrier between the platforms.

He emerged on an entirely different platform, with a scarlet engine emblazoned with the words,
"Hogwarts Express." James came right behind him, then Remus, then Lily, then Sirius.

The platform was already crowded. He saw Neville with his grandmother, anxiously hunting for
his toad. He saw Fred and George Weasley with a boy he didn't recognize — dark skin and
dreadlocks, small wooden box in his hands.

"Let us see," George was begging.

"Come on, Lee, open it," Fred pleaded.

Sirius pulled his attention away before he could see what was inside the box. "Well, where to?" he
asked.

Harry stood up on tiptoe and noticed the crowd was thinner at the back of the train. So that was
where he led his family, until he found an empty compartment.

"It's almost where we sat, isn't it?" Sirius asked with a grin as he stowed Harry's trunk under the
seat.

James's head brushed the door of the compartment as they helped Harry get his things in and
stowed away. "Sure you want to be back here by yourself?"

"Yes," Harry answered readily.

"You don't want to be with Ron or Neville or Susan?" Lily frowned.

"I'll find them later."

"Well... alright." Lily pulled him close and kissed his forehead, right on top of his scar. "We love
you, and we're very proud."

"And you'll have to write every day," James grinned.

"Every day?" Harry frowned. "Then you won't even have time to miss me."

"Once a week, please," Lily smiled, and tried to smooth his hair flat. It didn’t stay.

"Send Remus all your History of Magic essays," Sirius said. "It's what we did."

"Write your own essays," Remus scolded, but with a smile.

The whistle blew — time for the train to go.

Remus and Sirius each hugged Harry goodbye, then James took his turn to say goodbye. He knelt
down beside Harry and pulled him into a tight hug.

"You're going to have so much fun. And we're all very proud." When they parted he said, "And I
am sorry about your broom. I'm sure Sirius will help me keep it limber while you're gone."

"Don't break it."

"No, of course not," James smiled. "And say hello to McGonagall from me. I'm sure she'll roll her
eyes, or something."

The train whistle sounded again.

"James, let's go," Sirius shouted.

"I know, I know! I'm coming," James shouted back. He stood up and gave Harry a galleon. "From
your mother and I, for the candy trolley." And he gave him a second one. "And that one's from
me," and he winked. He pulled Harry into a hug again, then stepped out of the compartment.

Harry went straight to the window and waved to his family on the platform. Another whistle blew,
there was a rush of steam as the brakes released, and slowly the engine began to pull away from
the platform. Harry waved and his family waved back, all the way until they were too small to see
among the rest of the crowd, and then Harry sat back down in the seat and let out a deep breath.

He looked over at Hedwig and poked his finger into the cage. She nipped at it playfully.

Then the carriage door opened, and Ron Weasley stood there, an apprehensive look on his face.
"Can I join you?"

"Oh, sure," Harry said, and moved Hedwig's cage so Ron could sit. "Where are Fred and George?"

"Apparently Lee's got a tarantula."

"You didn't want to see?"

Ron’s face seemed to turn green at the thought. "No thanks. What're you doing all back here by
yourself?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Wanted some quiet I guess."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I can —"

"No, it's alright. I don't mind. Really."

Ron sat back down and cleared his throat awkwardly. Harry didn't exactly except Ron to be much
for conversation on a good day, and now he'd gone and ruined it all together by saying he wanted
to be alone.

"Uh, Ron," Harry started awkwardly, "do you know why our parents are friends?"

Ron shrugged. "The war, wasn't it? My uncles fought You-Know-Who with your parents. Until
you beat him, that is. Oh — can I talk about this? Mum says not to bring it up around your family.
She says things were real bad when we were born, and that —"

"It's alright," Harry shrugged. "Mum and Dad don't talk about it. But, I don't know.... What do you
know about it?"

"It?"

"Yeah. The war. Voldemort. All of it."

"You're not supposed to say his name," Ron whispered.

"Oh. Sorry." But he wasn't really. His mother was comfortable saying it, so why shouldn't he?

"Well, Mum and Dad don't talk about it much. But once Mum said Uncle Fabian and Uncle
Gideon took down five Death Eaters and Uncle Fabian only lost an arm. He does spells left-handed
now. Kinda off. But I didn't really know him before. I mean, I was only a baby. Well, so were you.
Sorry, mate, I don't really know much else. You could ask Percy, when he's not too busy polishing
his prefect badge. He would've been five, though. Do you want me to write to Charlie? Or Bill?"

Harry shrugged. "They'd probably just say to ask my parents."

"What do your parents say?"

"Nothing interesting," Harry shrugged and scratched at his scar.

Ron picked at the fuzz on his jumper while Harry watched the houses grow more sparse as the
train began traveling through the countryside. Soon, it was all green around them. It reminded
Harry of home, with rolling hills and clumps of trees. He wondered if Hogwarts would have a lake
to swim in, or trees to climb like he had at home.

Around noon the candy trolley came by. Ron declined, claiming he was fine with his sandwich.
Harry spent his three galleons and twelve sickles on as much candy as he could for him and Ron to
share.

They ate pumpkin pasties, traded Chocolate Frog cards, and dared each other to try suspicious
Every Flavor Beans until the quiet countryside turned into wild woods and raging rivers. It was a
pleasant trip, just Harry and Ron. Harry’d never noticed how fun Ron could be when he wasn’t
surrounded by his brothers.

Around sunset, there was a knock at their compartment door. Neville came in, looking very sullen
as usual. "Oh. Hello, Harry. Ron. Um, you haven't seen a toad, have you?"

"Sorry, no," Harry said, and Ron shrugged his shoulders.

"I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me."

"He'll turn up," Harry said encouragingly.

"Yes," Neville answered miserably. "Well, if you see him...." He moaned as he walked away.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it quick as I could.
Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

Harry held his forefinger out to the dark-coated weasel for it to sniff, but it snapped at his finger
instead.

"He's not really nice to anyone. He was Percy's first, and he hated Percy, too. But Percy got an owl
this year, since he's a prefect and all. So I got him."

"He's pretty dark for a weasel."

"I guess so. I tried to turn him yellow but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look..."

Ron pulled his wand out, an old battered thing with the unicorn hair poking out at the top. He’d just
opened his mouth to do the spell when the door opened again. Neville was back, but with a girl
neither Harry nor Ron recognized, already in her Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.” Harry had never met someone with hair messier than
him before. He wondered if her mother tried combing it flat as often as his did.

“We already told Neville no,” Ron said with a frown. Clearly he didn’t like the bossy tone.
But the girl already didn’t seem to care. She was much more interested in the wand. “Oh, are you
doing magic? Let’s see then.” She even sat down in the compartment.

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance and a shrug, and Ron cleared his throat.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow

Turn this stupid weasel yellow.”

The only thing that happened was that Scabbers bit the back of Ron’s hand.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” asked the girl. “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 a bit dizzied by it all and looked to Ron or Neville for help. Neville looked just as
bewildered but Ron managed to mumble, “I’m Ron Weasley.”

He looked back at the girl and, thinking a Muggle-born witch wouldn’t know anything about the
Wizarding War, said, “Harry Potter,” in the most unassuming voice he could manage.

“Are you really?” she said. “I know all about you, of course — 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.”

He didn’t like that a witch raised with Muggles knew more about him than he did, but he was more
curious than anything else. “Blimey, am I really? Mind if I borrow those?”
“Goodness, you didn’t know? I’d have found out everything I could if it was me.” As if he wasn’t
trying.

But she changed the subject before he could ask her any more questions about it. “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, we’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, dragging Neville with her.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” Ron said grumpily, and threw his wand into his
trunk. “Stupid spell — George gave it to me. Bet he knew it was a dud.”

“Is everyone in your family in Gryffindor?”

Ron nodded gloomily. “Mum, Dad, my uncles—all my brothers. 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 did not like to think about what would happen if he had to write a letter to his father saying
he’d been sorted into Slytherin either. He didn’t think his mother would mind much, and he
imagined his father would cool down after she talked to him — he always did — but Sirius
wouldn’t be very happy either. Harry wanted very much to be in Gryffindor like his family, too.

“You know, I think the ends of Scabbers’ whiskers are a bit lighter,” Harry tried in an effort to get
him and Ron talking about something other than houses. But Ron still looked morose, so he tried
again. “How are Bill and Charlie?”

“They’re alright. Charlie’s still in Romania. Bill just went off to Africa. Always top secret with
him, though. Gringotts doesn’t like people other than goblins knowing what they’re doing. Bill’s
pretty lucky, Mum says. Did you hear about Gringotts? The robbery?”

Harry nodded. “I was there the day after. They said nothing’d been taken.”

“Yeah. Really weird. They didn’t even catch the bloke that did it. Dad says it must’ve been a
powerful dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but everyone gets scared when something like this
happens in case it’s You-Know-Who.”

“So you don’t think Vol—er, You-Know-Who is dead either?”

Ron shrugged. “Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon don’t, but they’ve always been a little nutty. Good
friends with Moody, y’know?”

Harry smiled. He did know. Paranoid was a word invented to describe Alastor Moody.

“Been keeping up with Quidditch?”

Harry nodded vigorously. “Sirius got me a Nimbus 2000 for my birthday.”

“A Nimbus 2000? Really? That’s incredible. Can I see it?”

“First years can’t bring brooms,” Harry sighed. “I tried to convince dad to let me anyway, but I
think Mum talked him down. She always does that.”

“Maybe we can borrow Fred and George’s. They’ll probably make us do something stupid in
exchange, but it might be worth it. Percy said there’ll be proper flying lessons for first years. Might
not be the end of the world.”

Suddenly, the boys were exchanging flying tips and swapping Quidditch game stories. It was the
most conversation Ron and Harry had ever had. Harry thought things were a lot more comfortable
between them without Neville or Ernie Macmillan around like at family parties.

Their carriage door slid open and three boys Harry didn’t recognize walked in. They all looked
curiously at Harry, and were wearing their robes and even their hats. Their gazes made Harry wish
there was an inconspicuous way for him to cover his scar.

“Is it true?” the pale boy in the middle said. “You really are Harry Potter?”

“Yes,” he said, and he wished he didn’t sound like Neville’s toad had lodged itself in his throat.
The other two boys looked very mean, like bodyguards on either side of the boy in the middle.
“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “And I’m Draco
Malfoy.”

Ron snickered quietly and Harry mumbled, “The hat might’ve given it away,” but Draco didn’t
catch it. He was too busy glaring down Ron.

“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.” And 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.”

So that was what his dad had meant by, “We aren’t friends with those sorts of wizards.” Even
though Sirius had encouraged him to be friends with who he liked, Harry had already decided he
would much rather be friends with Ron, who could be a little quiet and self-deprecating at times,
than with this snobby boy, who walked around with a pair of bodyguards like some sort of self-
appointed prince.

So Harry ignored Draco’s extended hand and said, “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for
myself, thanks.”

A pale pink spread across Draco Malfoy’s cheeks and his voice turned very cold. “I’d be careful if
I were you, Potter. Unless you’re a bit politer, you’ll end up considered a blood-traitor, especially
if you hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys.”

Harry and Ron were both on their feet.

“Say that again,” Ron said, completely red with anger.

“My mother is Muggle-born,” Harry nearly shouted. “You better learn some manners yourself
before you start throwing around words like ‘blood-traitor.’”

“Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Malfoy sneered.

“Unless you get out now,” Harry glanced quickly over Crabbe and Goyle, took in their massive
size for eleven-year-olds, and something told him he was doing something far more reckless than
Sirius had ever done.

“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys?” Malfoy glanced back at Crabbe and Goyle. “We’ve
eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.”

Goyle reached out to grab the last of the Chocolate Frogs, and Ron dived at him. But before Ron
got more than a step closer, Goyle was screaming.

Scabbers hung from Goyle’s knuckle, his long slinky body swinging in the air as Goyle tried to
shake him off. But the weasel had a stronger grip than Goyle could manage, and even as all three
boys disappeared out of the compartment, Goyle trailing behind, still screaming, the weasel refused
to let go. Ron and Harry ran after them, nearly bumping into Hermione Granger in the hallway.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“They’re stealing my weasel,” Ron said and pointed after Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Hermione pulled her wand out of her robes and said, “Spiculus.”

There was a high-pitched squeak and Scabbers dropped to the floor. Ron quickly scooped him up
and all four of them, Hermione and Scabbers included, went back to their compartment. Crabbe,
Goyle, and Malfoy left.

“I’ve heard all the Malfoys are that mean,” Ron said sourly. “They were some of the first to come
back to our side after the war ended. Said they’d been bewitched. Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon
don’t believe it, and dad doesn’t either. Says the Malfoys never needed an excuse to go to the dark
side.” And then Ron looked over at Hermione, as if he hadn’t realized she was still with them.
“Can we help you with something?”

“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on. I’ve just been up to the front to ask the conductor,
and he says we’re nearly there. You’d better be careful about picking fights. You’ll be in trouble
before we even get there.”

“We didn’t pick that fight,” Ron scowled. “Would you leave then, if we’ve got to change?”

She sniffed. “Well, I only came in to make sure you were all behaving yourselves. It’s rather
childish to chase people down the corridors. And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way. Did
you know?”

Ron glared at her until the door closed. Harry looked away to the darkening skies. The train really
did seem to be slowing down.

So he tucked his jacket into his trunk and pulled his robes on. They barely brushed the edge of the
floor, perfectly hemmed. He noticed Ron’s robes were a bit short, and you his trainers were visible
underneath.

The conductor’s voice echoed through the train, “We’ll be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’
time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.”

Harry and Ron grabbed as many sweets as they could fit in their pockets. Harry let Hedwig nip
gently at his finger and Ron left Scabbers snoozing on the seat. Though he did leave him a
Chocolate Frog as a reward for his courage in battle.

They joined the crowd of students in the corridor as the train slowed to a stop. People pushed their
way out of the train and onto a small, dark platform. Harry pulled his robes tighter, wishing he’d
left his jacket on underneath. Then he saw a lamp high above everyone’s heads, and Hagrid’s voice
calling over the crowd.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?”

Harry smiled up at him and followed close behind. Not that Hagrid was very easy to lose.
“C’mon, follow me — anymore firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

The path was very steep and very narrow. A couple times, Harry had to grab Ron’s shoulder so he
wouldn’t slip. Nobody said anything to each other. The only sound, besides a few stumbling
children, was Neville, still sniffling over his missing toad.

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

And as they came around the corner, everyone let out a soft “ooh.” They had reached the shoreline
of a great black lake, and across the water was a castle, with lit windows flickering like candle
light, like orange stars on the horizon. Great spires rose up from the castle, and its grand gates
glittered in the light of the waning moon.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid shouted, pointing to the small wooden boats on the shore of
the lake. Harry looked around to see if he knew anyone nearby — he hadn’t seen Susan or Ernie at
all today — and ended up in a boat with Ron, Neville, and Hermione.

“Everyone in?” Hagrid called from his own boat. “Right then — Forward!”

And all the boats moved at once, gliding across the water as smoothly as Harry’s Nimbus 2000
flew on a clear summer morning. The first years were all still quiet, gazing at the castle.

“Heads down!” Hagrid said as they passed under the cliffs, and the boats carried them through the
ivy hiding the entrance into the castle through the rocks. The caverns seemed to travel under the
castle, to its very centre, before the boats docked themselves onto the shore of a hidden cove. The
children climbed out into the harbor onto rocks and pebbles. The castle looked enormous now, its
stiff walls looming over them.

“Oi, you there, is this yer toad?” asked Hagrid, as he helped a few of the first years out of their
boats.

“Trevor!” Neville said with a shout of relief, and tucked the toad into his pocket.

The first years followed Hagrid up a flight of stairs until they came out in front of the castle’s
large, glittering doors.

The grass was damp as the crowd of children moved to sturdy oak front door, Hagrid and his
lantern still leading the way.

“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?”

When Neville squeaked out a, “Yes!” Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the
castle door.
 The Sorting Hat
Chapter Summary

Harry arrives at Hogwarts and gets sorted.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The large doors to the castle swung inwards. A tall witch with a green cloak and a stern face stood
in the entrance. Harry immediately recognized Minerva McGonagall, but he was used to seeing a
kind, motherly sort of affection on her face. Right now, her expression reminded him of his
mother’s face, that time he’d nearly set the cat on fire.

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

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

She led the first years through the vast entrance hall, over the stone walkways, to the top of a
marble staircase. There was a doorway across from the top of the steps, and from it came the
sounds of hundreds of voices — the rest of the students, Harry assumed. But instead of taking them
through those doors, she led them to a small side-chamber. All forty of the students packed very
tightly together in the small room.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she began, “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
dormitories, 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 each of you will be 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 all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Harry pulled his hair down over his scar and adjusted his glasses. He watched Ron rub at his nose
and Neville adjust his cloak.

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

Harry thought now was not a very good time to pass along his father’s greeting. And anyway, he
was a little nervous about the Sorting. Though he knew Fred and George were teasing about the
dragon, he still felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what it could be.

“I — I know George was joking about the dragon,” Ron said, with a quiver in his voice, “but Fred
said something about wrestling a troll. Y’don’t think it’ll be that, do you?”
Harry honestly had no idea. He just hoped that, whatever it was, he would pass. His father wasn’t
one to talk much about school being difficult. It sounded like he and Sirius had blown off most of
the school side of things. It was Uncle Remus and Lily who had always encouraged him to work
hard, but what if he didn’t work hard enough? What if hard enough wasn’t enough? He’d done fine
in his lessons at home with Uncle Remus, but that was at home. School was something very
different.

He tried to listen to the spells Hermione recited very quietly to herself, but got distracted by
screams from the back of the group. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the source.

Several silver ghosts glided into the small room and passed through the students, so absorbed in
the conversation that they didn’t notice the wave of shivers passing through the first years.

“Forgive and forget,” a rather round monk was saying, “we ought to give him a second chance.”

“My dear Friar,” responded a very regal looking ghost with a large ruff around his neck, “haven’t
we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not
even really a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?”

The ghosts all vanished into the hall except for the ruffled one and the friar, who had finally taken
notice of the first years, but none of the students had a reply.

“New students!” the monk said with a wide smile. “About to be sorted? Hope to see you in
Hufflepuff. My old house, you know.”

“Move along now,” Professor McGonagall’s stern voice cut through the chill in the room, leaving
a different sort of cold behind. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

The last of the ghosts passed through the wall without argument.

“Now, form a line,” she told the students, “and follow me.”

Harry shuffled along behind an unfamiliar boy, and Ron took the space behind him. Professor
McGonagall took them out of the door they had come in through, back into the main hall, and
lastly, through the large double doors into the Great Hall.

It was nothing like the dining hall at the Potter Estate. This hall held four dining tables that
must have seated over a hundred people each. And the ceiling was so high, the sky sat inside it.

Wait, no that wasn’t right.

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

Harry thought he might have retorted that no one asked, but he was too enchanted by the castle and
the golden dishes and floating candles. He was also beginning to feel very nervous under the eyes
of the rest of the school, and the staff sitting across the head table. His shuffle down the centre aisle
slowed from nerves, and he wasn’t the only one. Several students began to huddle towards the back
of the crowd. Harry caught sight of Ernie Macmillan's pale blonde striding confidently to the front
of the line. Harry was unsurprised.

But before the students reached the head table, Professor McGonagall placed a stool in front of
them and set on it a very old-looking witch's hat. Harry suddenly felt a little bit better about his hat,
even if he didn’t want to wear it. He also thought that he’d like to see Malfoy wear this old, tattered
hat.
Then, a rip in the brim opened, and a song came out.

“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,
But 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!”

There was a riotous applause; the hat took its bow and became very still, like any old wizard's hat.

“That’s it?” Ron whispered to Harry. “Blimey, I could do that in my sleep.”

Sure, that was easy to do, but where were they going to end up? Harry didn’t have the precedent
that Ron had. Ron had five older brothers that all got sorted into Gryffindor. Harry was all on his
own.

Sure, his parents were both in Gryffindor, but was that enough? As much as he wanted to do Sirius
and his parents proud, he didn’t think he felt particularly brave right now. Hufflepuff might be
more willing to take him.

Professor McGonagall unrolled a piece of parchment and said, “When I call your name, you will
put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”

Hannah was a small girl with pink cheeks and blonde pigtails, who stumbled forward and climbed
onto the stool. She put the hat down over her head and after a moment, her sorting was announced
—
“Hufflepuff!”

The table to Harry’s right cheered and the students already there, in their yellow-lined robes,
shuffled over to make room for the new girl as the lining on her robes changed from black to
yellow.

“Bones, Susan!”

Harry stretched onto his tiptoes to see Susan put the hat on. He wouldn’t mind being in whatever
house Susan got into.

“Hufflepuff!”

Hufflepuff really wasn’t so bad, was it? Harry thought as he looked at the table of students
cheering for their new recruits and welcoming them with wide smiles. He looked past the
Hufflepuff table to the Gryffindor table and saw Fred and George making faces at him and Ron. He
couldn’t tell what exactly they were mouthing, but he noticed them gesturing to the Slytherin table
on the other side of the hall with wide grins.

Ron looked green in the face.

“You won’t be in Slytherin,” Harry encouraged.

“But what if I am?” Ron whispered back.

“Worst comes to worst, we can be in Hufflepuff together.”

That wasn’t cheering for Ron at all, who only moaned.

“Finnigan, Seamus,” McGonagall called, and the boy in front of Harry walked up. It took nearly a
minute for the hat to finally announce, “Gryffindor!”

“Granger, Hermione!”

The girl ran to the stool and pulled the hat on her head. Harry couldn’t imagine being that excited
about something right now, especially the sorting. He supposed if she was Muggle-born, this all
would be very exciting, but Harry was just a bundle of nerves.

“Gryffindor!”

Ron moaned again, and Harry wondered what exactly the hat sorted you for. Because, so far, that
girl had done nothing but boss them around and tell them things they didn’t ask about. Did it look
into everything you’d done before? Would it see that he’d spoken to a snake? Harry glanced at the
green table on his left, past the Ravenclaw table, and saw the silver snake embedded on a green
field.

“Longbottom, Neville!”

Harry quickly turned back to the stool and waited with baited breath. Surely Neville would be in
Hufflepuff. Him, Neville, Ron, and Susan could all be in Hufflepuff together. As long as he was
where his friends were, it wouldn’t be so bad.

After a very very long sitting, the hat shouted, “Gryffindor!” louder than it had for anyone else. “If
Neville can do it, so can we,” Harry whispered to Ron, and that seemed to cheer Ron up at least a
little.
Harry watched Ernie Macmillan go into Hufflepuff, and Draco Malfoy was the shortest sorting of
the night. He’d barely put the hat on — had he even put it on? — when it announced, “Slytherin!”

Draco joined the Slytherin students, as well as Crabbe, Goyle, a girl named Bulstrode, a boy named
Davis, and a girl named Greengrass. All of them were reasons Harry did not want to join Slytherin.

Harry waited, very impatiently, for a Malone, Moon, Nott, Parkinson, two twins who got sorted
between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, a Perks, before finally McGonagall called, “Potter, Harry!”

The whole room fell silent for a moment, and then erupted into hushed whispers. He swallowed
hard and wished that someone else would step forward and say that they were Harry Potter. As he
walked to the stool he tugged his hair down over his scar, and pulled the hat down over his head.
The students disappeared from his view and he heard a quiet voice in his head that was definitely
not his own.

“Difficult. Very difficult.” Oh no—he didn’t have any traits worthy enough for any house. He
wouldn’t get sorted at all. He was going to be sent home. “No, not at all!” the hat said back.
“You’ve a great destiny before you, and Slytherin is a house full of those marked for greatness.
Plenty of courage, too and not a bad mind, either. You’ve a lot of talent, yes — and a nice thirst to
prove yourself, now that’s interesting…. So where shall I put you?”

Definitely not Slytherin, Harry thought determinedly.

“No? Are you sure? Your parents were in Gryffindor, but is that what you want? Is that what you
really want?”

Yes, that was exactly what Harry wanted, more than anything. Gryffindor, please.

“You’ve got the talent to go anywhere, and that’s your choice? Alright then, so it is. Gryffindor!”

There was a thunderous applause from the red table, and Harry felt a slightly warm sensation on his
back and arms, and when he looked down his robes were washed in red lining. He handed the hat
off to a Rivers without even looking and sat down next to Seamus Finnigan and Neville. Loads of
Gryffindors crowded around him, reaching for his hand — even Percy, who hadn’t spoken to him
in a year — or patting him on the back. The twins shouted to the rest of the hall, “We got Potter!
We got Potter!” He couldn’t even hear the rest of the Sorting until the twins quieted down for,
“Weasley, Ronald!”

Harry craned his neck to watch his friend climb on the stool and nervously pull the hat down over
his face. It was only a moment before the hat shouted, “Gryffindor!”

Harry clapped as loud as he could and patted Ron on the back, who was smiling, but very red in the
face. His three brothers also congratulated him.

“Well done, Ron. Excellent,” said Percy, though Harry thought it sounded more self-congratulatory
than praise meant for Ron.

Lastly, Blaise Zabini went to Slytherin, and McGonagall took the Sorting Hat away.

With all the anxiety in his stomach relieved, Harry suddenly realized how very hungry he was.
Candy from the trolley hadn’t been any sort of acceptable lunch. Wasn’t there supposed to be a
grand feast? But he couldn’t see or smell any sign of food.

He looked back up at the head table, and saw that Dumbledore had come to stand at the podium.
“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!” his voice boomed. “Before we begin our banquet, I’d like
to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.”

He tipped his head in a small bow at the laughs and applause and took his seat.

The moment Dumbledore was seated, food appeared on their plates. Everything was hot, steaming,
and smelled delicious, and there was so much of it. It was bigger than any Christmas or Halloween
feast Harry had had with his parents, and that wasn’t just because it was for four hundred people
instead of five.

He tried to take small bites of everything, and laughed as Ron tried to scarf down whole servings of
everything.

The ghost from the side chamber with the giant ruff came and sat down next to Harry. He noticed a
chill, but it vanished when he took a bite of the warm mashed potatoes.

“So, if the monk over there is for Hufflepuff, are you for Gryffindor?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Sir Nicolas de—“

“Oh!” Ron interrupted. “You’re Nearly Headless Nick! Fred and George told me about you.”

“I much prefer Sir Nicolas de Mims—“

“‘Nearly Headless?’” repeated Seamus Finnigan in a thick Irish accent. “How can you be nearly
headless?”

Nearly Headless Nick did not look happy with the question, and with a frown, pulled down on his
ear. “Like this.” And his head came unhinged from his neck, but still hung from the side — an
incomplete beheading. Lavender Brown screamed and Fred and George laughed.

He looked at least proud of the shock in the first years’ faces as he straightened his head back on.

“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.”

Harry looked across the hall and could just make out the silver ghost, sitting with the Slytherin
first years. He was very creepy looking, like a ghost he might’ve seen in a Muggle film, complete
with blood on his clothes and chains on his wrist.

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

“I’ve never asked,” Nearly Headless Nick answered, in that same uncomfortable tone he’d used
when Seamus asked how anyone could be nearly headless. Harry wasn’t sure if it was because
ghosts didn’t like to talk about their death or if Sir Nicolas just didn’t like Seamus.

After everyone was full, dessert came around. Harry thought he was too full, but grabbed a treacle
tart anyway. He took a bite of that and tried some of the apple pie and one of the jam doughnuts, as
the students around him started talking about their families.

“I’m half-and-half,” Seamus said with a grin. “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 first years erupted into laughter.

“We’re all pureblooded,” Neville mumbled when everyone was looking at him. “Though — Mum
and Dad thought I might not be magical at all. Mum was ready to raise me with Muggle children,
but my gran kept insisting I’d turn out fine. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to get me to do
magic, accidentally dropped me off a balcony once, and I bounced down the street. My Mum
wasn’t too happy, but everyone was glad I was magic, and when I got my letter, Great Uncle Algie
bought me my toad.”

“Harry, your family is pureblooded too, isn’t it?” Parvati Patil asked.

“Er, sort of?” Harry grinned. He was just glad to have a question like everyone else, and not
something about his scar or You-Know-Who. “Mum’s a Muggle-born. Makes me half, actually.
But she’s a better witch than dad, most days. Especially in the mornings.”

And the table laughed again, and Harry thought that was such a wonderful feeling, to have friends
to laugh with. Family was good, but this was really nice too.

He turned to ask Hermione what her family was like — rather surprised she hadn’t volunteered the
information herself — and found her already asking Percy about classes. That was hours away, he
thought with a roll of his eyes. Why spoil a good evening by talking about homework already?

Harry looked back to the head table and saw Hagrid, still eating and drinking. McGonagall was
next to Dumbledore, talking quietly. And on the end were two professors he didn’t recognize —
but one looked very familiar.

One professor wore an absurd purple turban, and kept fiddling awkwardly with his
hands. And the teacher he was talking to had greasy black hair and a large hooked nose. Something
about him looked very familiar to Harry, and he wasn’t sure why.

Then, as Harry was staring past the large purple turban at this oddly familiar professor, their eyes
met, and there was a sharp pain in his forehead. He gasped and clutched a hand to the scar on his
head.

“What is it?” Percy asked quickly.

“Er — nothing.” The pain had already faded. But it had never done that before. Harry wasn’t quite
sure what that meant. He wondered if he could ask his parents. But, then again, they didn’t like
talking about his scar in person. Surely they wouldn’t want to write to him about it in a letter.

“Who’s that professor there? With the dark hair?” he asked Percy.

“The one talking to Professor Quirrell? That’s Professor Snape. Head of Slytherin House. He
teaches Potions, but he really wants Defense Against the Dark Arts. Been after it for years.
Everyone says he’s biased to his own house, but that’s ridiculous. He’s a professor. Students just
like to complain. Do your work, pay attention, and you’ll be just fine.”

But Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he would definitely not be fine. He hadn’t seen anyone
glare at him with such loathing before.

And finally, when the desserts had gone, Dumbledore stood back at the podium and the entire hall
quieted down.

“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.”

“Don’t know what he means,” Fred whispered into Harry’s ear with a grin.

“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 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 most painful death.”

Harry laughed a little, but some of the other students didn’t, and he wondered if it wasn’t another
one of Dumbledore’s humorous jokes. The professors all looked uncomfortable as well.

“Is he serious?” he asked Percy.

“Must be,” Percy frowned. “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’ve told us prefects at least.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore said.

Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the words appeared on a long golden ribbon that twisted in the
air above them. Just when Harry was wondering if it would be a familiar tune, Dumbledore said,
“Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!”

Harry laughed and went along, trying to match his new friends’ songs at different parts. He started
following Ron, then tried Seamus’s tune, before finishing off with a familiar melody he knew but
couldn’t remember how he knew.

The whole school finished at different times, and in the end, the only ones left singing were Fred
and George, going on at the pace and tone of a very slow funeral dirge. Instead of hurrying them
along, like Harry expected a teacher to, Dumbledore conducted them through the end of their last,
long, final note.

“Ah, music,” he said as he clapped with the rest of the students. “A magic beyond all we do here!
And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Harry realized he was very sleepy — it had been a long day and he’d been up since six. He
followed Percy out of the Great Hall and up the stairs — up a lot of stairs. He wasn’t quite sure
he’d be able to find his way down again. Just when he was wondering if there was some sort of
map for first years, they arrived at a portrait of a very large woman in a pink ballroom gown.

“Password,” she said, and Percy immediately replied, “Caput Draconis.”

The portrait swung outward, revealing a round hole in the wall. The students scrambled in behind
Percy and emerged from the short tunnel into a room decorated in red velvet with gold embroidery
on all the plush pillows and armchairs — and there were a lot of cushions. It reminded Harry of
nights when he and his parents would take all the pillows in the house they could find and pile
them into the parlor, just for the fun of it. Except that had been a much wider colour palette. The
red and gold made the room feel cozy, and the fireplace filled the whole room with a gentle
warmth.
 Percy led them to a stairwell. There were two small towers that branched up this large set. Up one
hall was the girls’ dorm, and the other was the boys’ dorm.

Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean Thomas climbed the stairs until they found the first years’
dormitory, labeled with an elaborate gold sign. When they walked into their new dormitory they
found all their trunks and belongings already present. Harry immediately let Hedwig out of her
cage and she fluttered around the room for a moment before taking off outside.

The boys started getting their night things out of their trunks and chatting excitedly about the feast
as they settled in for the evening.

“Scabbers! You don’t go in my bed,” Ron grumbled as he gently set the weasel on the floor.

So instead, Scabbers crawled under the bed where he spent the rest of the night gnawing on the
frame and keeping Ron awake with his tiny chewing noises.

But Harry was too exhausted to even notice as he flopped into his bed and drew the thick red
curtains around it. He was asleep instantly, exhausted from such a long day.

Tired as he was, Harry had a strange dream that instead of the Sorting Hat, he was wearing
Professor Quirrell’s turban, and it was insisting he be re-sorted into Slytherin. His destiny was too
great and he had no choice in the matter. Harry refused and tried to pull the turban off, and all the
while someone was laughing at him.

At first it was Draco, and then it was Snape, and then it was a face he didn’t recognize — but there
was a flash of green light and he awoke trembling.

But he fell asleep again without much trouble, and when he awoke in the morning, the only
memory of his dream was a faint throb in his scar that he hardly noticed.

Chapter End Notes

I know a lot of you thought Harry would end up sorted differently, though I'm not
entirely sure why. If anything, being raised with James and Lily and Sirius and Remus
would want to be in Gryffindor even more. But seriously, if anyone knows a good
Slytherin-Harry AU, I want to read it. I love all the gifsets I see on tumblr. (Slytherin-
Harry and Ravenclaw-Hermione and Hufflepuff-Ron with Gryffindor-Neville is one of
my favorite au-teamups.)
 The Potions Master
Chapter Summary

Introducing the one and only Professor Severus Snape.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The next morning at the Great Hall, the students were treated to a breakfast that was not as
elaborate as the feast the night before, but was just as bountiful. Harry helped himself to toast and
eggs while Ron reached for a sausage and the owls swooped into the hall.

It was a fascinating sight. Hundreds of owls swirled over the students’ heads in the enchanted sky,
dropping letters and parcels to their intended recipients. Hedwig stood out among them, snowy
white, and swooped down with a small letter for Harry. She picked at his eggs while he read it.

“Dear Harry,

We’re hope you’re settling in all right. Don’t feel rushed to write back, since we’re sure you’ll be
busy with your school work, but your father and I would love to hear how your Sorting went.
Wherever you end up, we know you’ll do well.

We miss you terribly at home, of course. It’s not the same cooking for two as it is for three, and the
house is so quiet. Your father can’t make enough noise for the both of you.

Write to us when you have time.

With love,
Mum and Dad”

Harry scribbled, “Gryffindor,” on the back of the letter and tied it to Hedwig. She snatched the
corner of his toast before taking off, and Harry and Ron rushed off to Herbology.

Professor Sprout was a sweet lady, but didn’t tolerate any messing around. She lectured them for
over an hour on proper safety in the greenhouse, from dragonhide gloves to enchanted goggles
before finally having them take out a parchment for notes. There was no practical work.

After Herbology was History of Magic — the most boring class Harry could imagine. The ghost
professor droned on and on and it took all he had to stay awake long enough to take any notes. At
least if he and the rest of the boys in his dormitory pooled their notes, they nearly had the whole
lecture.

On Tuesday, Harry received another letter from his parents.

CONGRATULATIONS! was written at the top, clearly his father’s penmanship.

We’re so proud, Lily’s handwriting continued, and we know you’ll do well. Gryffindor is a
wonderful house. Hope you’re adjusting well to your classes and learning a lot!
Write to us when you can.

With love,
Mum and Dad

P.S. Check under your bed for my name. We left our mark before we graduated. You could be in
my bed!

Harry gave some of his toast to Hedwig and she hung around him and Ron for the rest of breakfast,
before flying back up to the owlery while they went to Charms.

The second day of getting to class wasn’t any better than the first. People were constantly
whispering wherever he and Ron went, trying to get a glimpse of him. Harry wished they would let
him be. He didn’t know what he’d done any better than they did. From what his parents had said, it
was a fluke of some sort. He was having enough trouble just getting to his new classes, and the
changing staircases weren’t help.

Charms, however, wasn’t too hard to find. Professor Flitwick — short stature, and easily excitable
— toppled over when he saw Harry Potter on the register. Harry rather wished he wouldn’t.

Transfiguration was exactly the opposite. Professor McGonagall looked as stern as she had that
first day she led them into the Great Hall. She did not give Harry a smile, or pause before calling
his name when taking attendance. She proceeded with class like it was any other group of first year
students. And though he was relieved McGonagall didn’t treat him differently, Transfiguration was
unfortunately difficult. He had trouble grasping the complicated theories, and when she had them
turning matchsticks into needles, Harry couldn’t seem to make it do much of anything. He had no
idea why this was his father’s favorite class. At least the rest of the class didn’t do too well either.
It was only Hermione who managed to give her matchstick a silver sheen.

On Wednesday morning, Hedwig brought him another letter.

“Blimey, Harry, does your Mum ever lay off?” Ron had gotten just one letter from his mother,
congratulating him on making Gryffindor and encouraging him to do well in his classes.

“This isn’t from my Mum,” Harry said with a grin, immediately recognizing Sirius’s large and
excessively curled handwriting on the parchment envelope.

Harry!

James told me you made Gryffindor! Congratulations. I knew you had it in you. Did you look
under your bed yet? James, Remus, and I all left our names under the beds. You could be in mine.

Write soon. I want to hear how your year is going!

Love,
Sirius
P.S. Have you met Professor Snape yet? Tell him I said hello.

“Snape’s Potions, right?” Harry asked Ron as they got up for another day of classes.

“Yep. When’s that again?”

“Friday. With the Slytherins,” Harry sighed.

But for now, they had Herbology, History of Magic, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Harry had been excited for Defense against the Dark Arts. He knew it was a class his parents
excelled in. But his excitement was dashed when he met Professor Quirrell, a very nervous man.
He stuttered a lot and told them all disjointed stories. They hardly had any practical lessons. Most
of it was lecture, and even when someone asked an interesting question
— like what happened to the zombie in Africa or was there really a vampire in Romania — he
would only stutter a vague answer and change the subject.

On Thursday morning, after a midnight Astronomy class, Harry was greeted with two letters. They
were brief, and both generally communicated the same thing.

Dear Harry,

Congratulations on getting into Gryffindor. We’re all so proud of you.

I’m sure your father already told you, but the four of us left our names under our beds. The beds
have probably been replaced since then, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

I know Sirius told you to mention him to Professor Snape. Do not do that. Please. It would not do
well to start off the year with any of your professors badly.

With love,
Uncle Remus

And the second was like it,

Dear Harry,

Please do not mention Sirius to Professor Snape. They have a bad history, and while Sirius may
think it was funny, you would not have seen the humor — and neither would Severus.

Hope your classes are going well and you’re settling in just fine. I know they’re feeding you
properly, but your father and I still worry. We hope to hear from you soon, but your classes come
first.

With love,
Mum and Dad

“Professor Snape’s first name is Severus?” Ron asked when Harry told him why he’d gotten two
letters that day.

Harry shrugged. “Professor McGongall’s is Minerva. Maybe all teachers have to have fancy
names.”

“You’re the one with uncles named Remus and Sirius,” Ron laughed.

Harry grabbed his bag and grinned, “And you have Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon.”

They were laughing at each other, exchanging weird names from their families — Bilius, Linfred,
Iolanthe — as they headed to Transfiguration and subsequently took a wrong turn. The door they
expected to be open was locked, and suddenly Mrs. Norris and Filch were berating them for trying
to go down the forbidden corridor. Harry and Ron tried to say they were only lost, but Filch
wouldn’t hear of it. It was only Professor Quirrell, passing by on his way to his lesson that saved
them and set them on the right staircase (facing the right direction) to Professor McGonagall’s
classroom.
Afterward was Herbology again. Three times a week. At least, this time, Professor Sprout let them
get their hands dirty by showing them how to properly plant a Snare Devil.

After lunch, they had another History of Magic lecture that Harry could not stay awake through, a
Charms lesson where they were actually allowed to use their wands, and finally their day was
done.

Harry very nearly wrote a letter to his mother and father that night, but was too exhausted by the
time he and Ron got back to the dormitory. They hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, after
their midnight Astronomy class, so nearly all the first years were asleep as soon as they got back
from dinner. Only the most determined managed to scribble out a few lines of their first
Transfiguration assignment.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry didn’t receive a letter from Lily or James or Sirius or Remus.
He knew that he would have to respond to them after Potions.

Harry did, however, receive a letter with unfamiliar handwriting. It was very soiled parchment,
smeared in dirt, and the ink ran, like the quill had been dipped too heavily into the inkwell

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me
around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send an answer back with Hedwig.

—Hagrid

His family could wait a little longer for a letter. Harry was curious about this giant-of-a-man and
how it all tied into the story behind his scar. If Hagrid was as close to his family as Sirius, close
enough to be there the night he got his scar, why had he never met Hagrid? He hardly remembered
his parents mentioning him.

Harry quickly wrote, Sounds fantastic. See you later, on the back of the note and sent it off with
Hedwig.

Thank goodness he had something to look forward to after Potions besides responding to letters
and doing more homework, because Potions turned out to be the worst class in the history of the
wizarding world.

Harry didn’t understand why Snape disliked him, but it was definitely there, and it wasn’t just
dislike. It seemed more like an unfathomably deep loathing.

To start, class was in the dungeons. Anyone who preferred to hold their class in the dungeons was
either really exciting and interesting or really dark and creepy. Snape was decidedly the latter. The
glass jars filled with animal parts soaking in fluorescent green liquid did nothing to abate the
creepy atmosphere. Neither did Snape’s dry, drawling voice as he went through the register. And
Snape, like so many professors before, paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity.”

A handful of the Slytherins in the class chuckled and Harry whipped around, but Malfoy looked
innocent — smug, but innocent.

Snape finished roll call without any other comment, and began his class right away without
introducing himself.
“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making.” At the least, he knew
how to hold an audience with a dramatic voice. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many
of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the
softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep
through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the sense…. I can teach you how to bottle
fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually
have to teach.”

Harry was at first enthralled by but then quickly put off by this over-dramatic display. He realized
he already had a preference for McGonagall’s straightforward approach of, “This class is
interesting but difficult so pay attention.” He also definitely didn’t appreciate the dig at the class’s
intelligence — they were all of them only first years. Maybe Harry’s disapproval showed on his
face, because Snape singled him out.

“Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added leaves of a pheasant’s eye to an
infusion of wormwood?”

Harry didn’t know there were leaves in pheasant’s eyes. Or was pheasant’s eye a type of plant?
And wormwood — wasn’t that for stomach aches? He glanced at Ron for help, who shrugged, but
Hermione’s hand shot in the air.

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry said.

Snape’s sneered.

“Tut, tut — fame clearly isn’t everything. Let’s try again, Potter. What would happen if I properly
added marigold petals to a sleeping potion?”

Hermione seemed to know the answer to that too, but Harry couldn’t say he remembered coming
across that potion in his textbooks. He could hear Malfoy and his cronies laughing behind him. He
tried to ignore them, but he felt the tips of his ears turn pink.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh Potter?”

Harry stared straight back at Snape and held in every sarcastic retort that pressed on the tip of his
tongue. It was one thing to sass back his mother and father or Sirius when they were making him
mad. There was usually another adult to intervene. But this — this was a teacher, at school, and
Remus had encouraged him to get along with his teachers. But was it really his fault Snape was
being so impossible?

“What’s the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Harry knew wolfsbane was also called aconite, but he’d never heard of monkshood before.

Hermione, however, looked like she might rocket out of her seat at any minute.

“I don’t know,” Harry said and couldn’t help it — “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you
try her?” He heard Ron and Dean Thomas chuckle on either side of him. He caught Seamus’s eye
and Seamus winked. Snape was not amused.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, pheasant’s eye and wormwood
are the main ingredients in a potion for relaxing anxiety. Marigold in a sleeping potion can have
the side effect of prophetic visions while sleeping. And for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the
same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

Everyone scrambled for quills and parchment, and Harry quickly wrote down what Snape had said.

“And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

Harry was glad he hadn’t said any of the other things he’d been dying to spit back at Snape, and
instead just scribbled, “Snape is gross and greasy,” in the margins of the notes and scribbled a
rather grotesque caricature of Snape with an over-exaggerated hook-nose for the course of the
lecture.

After the lecture was the practical lesson, and they were all paired off to construct a simple potion
to cure boils.

Harry worked with Ron, and they used Ron’s notes while Harry tucked his back in his bag, since
Snape was walking around examining their work. Unfortunately, Ron’s notes weren’t quite as
useful as Harry’s would have been. On occasion, when Snape wasn’t looking, Harry sneaked a
glance at Hermione’s notes, to make sure they were properly weighing ingredients. Her notes were
impeccable.

Snape was busy praising Malfoy’s potion, telling everyone it was stewed to perfection, when a
green smoke and loud hissing came from the Gryffindor side of the room.

All the Gryffindors leapt onto their stools as a thick green sludge melted through Seamus’s
cauldron and started eating holes into student’s shoes. The only student who wasn’t standing on his
stool, who had the unfortunate mishap of spilling the failed potion all over himself, was Neville.
He began to whimper in pain as boils sprung up all over his skin.

“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, and the potion was gone with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you
added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Neville only moaned back.

“Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape spat at Seamus. Then he turned on Harry.

“You — Potter — why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? thought he’d make you look good
if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Ron kicked him.

“Don’t push it,” he hissed. “I’ve heard Snape can turn very nasty.”

An hour later, when they left the dungeon, Harry felt like he was going to spill over with anger and
guilt. Anger at Snape, but also guilty that he’d lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week.

He couldn’t understand why Snape hated him so much. But then again, Snape seemed to like
Malfoy, so anyone with that bad taste probably didn’t need logical explanations.

“Cheer up,” Ron said. “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet
Hagrid with you?”

After lunch, they left the castle and crossed the grounds to Hagrid’s hut at the edge of the
Forbidden Forest. When Harry knocked on the door of the hut, there were loud barks and a
scrabbling noise.
They heard Hagrid shouting, “Back Fang!” before the door opened.

He opened it only just enough for the two boys to slip inside while he held his large mastiff at bay.

The hut was only one room. Food hung over the fire alongside a boiling kettle. The centre of the
room was consumed by a large table with a few chairs, and against the wall was an enormous bed.
There wasn’t much else in the small hut, and there wasn’t room for much else besides.

“Make yourselves at home,” Hagrid said, and let go of Fang. The dog was large with slobbering
jowls, but when it jumped at Ron, it only licked him. For all his size, he wasn’t vicious in the least.
Harry may have grown up with a cat, but he was certainly no stranger to very large dogs.

“This is Ron,” Harry introduced them, as he sat down onto a very large chair.

“Another Weasley, eh? I’ve spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest. How
many more of yeh are there?”

“Just one,” Ron said as he glumly tried to wipe Fang’s slobber off with his robes.

Tea with Hagrid was the most unpleasant meal Harry had in a long time, but the most pleasant
conversation he could have asked for. The rock cakes were impossible to eat, and the tea was
stronger than any Harry had tasted, but Hagrid listened to their woes about the week with the
appropriate amount of sympathy. He even called Flich, “that old git.”

“An’ as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I’d like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D’yeh know, every
time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can’t get rid of her — Filch puts her up to
it.”

The only thing Hagrid couldn’t seem to sympathize with them on was Snape. When Harry insisted
Snape hated him and had it out for him, Hagrid only said, “Snape hardly likes any of the students.”

“But he seemed to really hate me.”

“Rubbish! Why should he?”

Harry frowned and folded his arms over his chest. Hagrid was hiding something. Everyone was
hiding something from him and he was rather tired of it.

In a completely subtle change of topic, Hagrid asked Ron, “How’s yer brother Charlie? I liked ‘im
a lot — great with animals.”

While Ron talked to Hagrid about Charlie’s work with dragons, Harry glanced around the small
hut.

There wasn’t a whole lot to take in. He picked up a scrap of paper from under the tea cozy and
realized it was actually a newspaper clipping.

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST read the headline.

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of
Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken.
The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. ‘But we’re not telling you what
was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,’ said a Gringotts
spokesgoblin this afternoon.
 Harry knew about the break-in, but why did Hagrid have a clipping of it? Judging by the size of
this hut, Hagrid didn’t have an account in Gringotts. Or if he did, no one was breaking into it to
steal anything. He did remember Hagrid saying something about Hogwarts business in Diagon
Alley on his birthday. And he’d had that package and key with him….

“Hagrid? You didn’t break into Gringotts on my birthday did you?”

“What? No, of course not Harry. What makes yeh say that?”

“You were there the day it happened. Was it that little package that wasn’t my birthday present?
And you had a key — was it for a vault in Gringotts? What was it you took out? Was that what
someone wanted to steal?”

Hagrid did not answer any of those questions and offered him another rock cake. Harry thought that
was almost answer enough.

The boys walked back to the castle as the sun started to set, and Harry could not help but turn over
the conversation every way he could. What was the package? How did it link to Hogwarts? Why
did someone want to steal it? And, most importantly, what weren’t people telling him about
Snape?

Chapter End Notes

There's the translation of Snape's original question to Harry--"What do you get when
you mix crushed asphodel root with wormwood?" which, asphodel is a lily that in
Victorian flower language means, "My regrets follow you to the grave," and
wormwood is known as a bitter herb, so Snape is saying to Harry, "I bitterly regret
Lily's death."

Since Lily's not dead, I had to modify this a bit. Pheasant's Eye means "sorrowful
remembrance." And pheasant's eye or Adonis is used to slow heart rate. (Ironically,
wormwood contains chemicals that are accelerants and can be toxic.)

And I chose marigold instead of a bezoar, because, while a bezoar is important, a

marigold had greater importance to me. It represents both love and passion as well as
sorrow, and in myth and magic is thought to induce psychic visions, so I chose it to
connect to the way in which Snape was responsible for the attack on the Potters (by
sharing Trewlany's prophecy with Voldemort), while still expressing his feelings for
Lily.

I kept the monkshood and wolfsbane, because not only is it a potential jibe at Remus
Lupin, traditionally aconite means both chivalry and misandry. I didn't think there
could be a plant that suited Snape any better.

I know a lot of you were expecting Snape to maybe be nicer, or have repaired his
relationship with Lily and James in some way but I can't see this happening for a lot of
reasons. Not only would Snape still feel intense guilt that he nearly killed Lily--guilt
Dumbledore would probably still hold over him--Lily would never, for an instant, let
him get away with the fact that he was the one who told Voldemort about the
prophecy. And I can't imagine them repairing their friendship without that secret
spilling out, and I can't imagine them repairing their friendship after that secret spilled
out. (We WILL see more of this in Order of the Phoenix though.) I hope this helps
reconcile any expectations you had with what I wrote. Always happy to chat and
exchange headcanons!
 The Midnight Duel
Chapter Summary

Harry attends flying lessons, Malfoy challenges him to a duel and doesn't show. Harry,
Ron, Hermione, and Neville end up running from Filch and finding a three-headed-
dog guarding a trap door.

Chapter Notes

I spent a REALLY LONG TIME on this chapter because I had no idea how to write it.
This story is turning into something of a carbon copy of the original book. The only
difference was that I gave Harry a bit more confidence in his magical abilities, having
grown up a wizard instead of a Muggle.

So I made a decision, that on chapters like this, where they play out nearly exactly the
same, I'd write letters instead. Here are the letters that Harry exchanged with his
family during Chapter Nine, The Midnight Duel, of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's
Stone.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Classes have been a lot of work. There’s so much to learn, I don’t even know where to start. Was
Professor Binns a ghost when you were at school? He’s very dull now, and I hope he was at least a
little better when he was living.

Professor McGonagall says hello. She also said she hopes I’m as good at Transfiguration as Dad.
But I don’t know. It’s very hard.

I like Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Professor Quirrell is pretty boring. He mumbles and
stutters a lot, and we don’t get to do much, but it’s the most interesting reading. Fred and George
said there’s a new teacher every year because the position is cursed. Is that true? Did you have a
new teacher every year?

I don’t like Potions. At all. Professor Snape HATES me. I don’t know why. I thought my potion
was just fine, but he liked Malfoy’s best, and then he yelled at me because Neville’s melted the
cauldron. I wasn’t even working with Neville, I was working with Ron!

I also can’t stand Draco Malfoy. He’s rude, called the Weasleys blood-traitors, and then asked if I
wanted to be his friend. I was going to punch him, but Ron’s weasel ended up biting Goyle and
they ran away. Mum always said you were arrogant, Dad, but I hope you weren’t like that. He’s
awful. And he’s always making smug faces at me.

But Ron and I get along really well. He’s great. We both like Quidditch. A lot. Can we bring Ron
to the World Cup when it happens?
I had tea with Hagrid today. His tea isn’t as good as yours, Mum. You should send some scones. I
miss eating at home.

With love,
Harry

PS: Ron, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and I all checked under our beds. Neville has “Nymphadora
Tonks” scribbled under his bed and Ron has, “Charlie Weasley” on his. Wasn’t Nymphadora in
Hufflepuff? Maybe they move the beds around. I hope Draco Malfoy isn’t in your bed.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,
School sounds exciting. I know it can be hard, but just do your best. It will be enough. You’re very
smart, and you’ll be able to do it.

Yes, Nymphadora was in Hufflepuff. But she was always getting into trouble. Try not to sneak into
other students’ dormitories to carve your names under their beds. You don’t need to rack up a list
of detentions like your father did.

The Quidditch World Cup is a long way away. If we go, your friends are welcome to come.

Here’s a box of scones, though they probably won’t be warm by the time they arrive. Sounds like
you should give one to Ron’s weasel, too. He sounds like quite the valiant Gryffindor.

With love,
Mum and Dad

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Uncle Remus,

Thank you for your letter. I didn’t tell Snape that Sirius said anything. But I got in trouble anyway.
Why is Snape such a jerk? I know you said I should get along with my professors, but I don’t think
I’ll be able to with Snape.

I really like Defense Against the Dark Arts. It’s not as exciting as it is learning from you or Dad,
though. Professor Quirrell doesn’t let us practice much. He talks about a lot of things, but your
stories and Dad’s were always more exciting.

Quirrell said he met a vampire in Romania. Are there a lot of vampires out there? Also, he wears a
turban that smells disgusting. Everyone says he keeps garlic in it to keep away the vampire. Does
that really work?

Love,
Harry Potter

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

PROFESSOR Snape is your teacher, and you need to listen to him in class, even if he can be harsh
on Gryffindors. Just do your best in Potions. There’s a lot to learn and remember, but you can do it.

Vampires are actually very common in Romania and there are several pockets of them throughout
Eastern Europe. Much more common there than in the west. You’re not likely to run into one out
here, unless they’ve been bitten, though I’ve known a couple of half-vampires. Vampires are
protected under the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard-Part-Humans (note: there is some
record of vampires being wizards and it’s actually common among half-vampires, and the laws
become even murkier there) but even though they’re protected, there is a lot of discrimination
against them. I knew a very nice half-vampire who couldn’t get a job. Everyone’s excuse was that
she could only work from dusk to dawn, and had to sleep during the afternoon, but it was pretty
clear they just didn’t want to hire a half-vampire. Some even doubted her ability to do magic,
though she has the strongest perfume charms I’ve ever seen. They’re quite nice. She’s doing very
well for herself now, selling perfume and potpourri, but her shop is only open at night. When
you’re home for the holidays, I can take you to meet her, if you like.

As for garlic, it does keep vampires away, but it’s not poisonous to them. They look at garlic the
way you looked at Sirius’s cookies, that one time he tried baking while your parents were out. It’s
very repugnant to them, and it will make a few of them sick if they ingest it, but it isn’t deadly.
There are some cases of vampires claiming immunity to garlic, but there hasn’t been any real
verification on the subject.

And, anyway, vampires are just like us. Except they drink blood instead of pumpkin juice. You
should have no need to ward one off, unless you make him or her angry. As long as you treat them
the way you treat anyone else, you’ll be fine. Some can be a little stuck-up, but overall, they’re very
charming people with an interesting nightlife.

Good luck in your classes. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, but I won’t write your essays for you. I
didn’t even write your father’s when he was in school. I just edited for him and Sirius. Don’t let
them lie to you. Maybe I wrote an introduction or two. But I promise I made them do most of the
work.

Love,
Uncle Remus

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Sirius,

I love Hogwarts! Flying lessons start soon. I wish I had my broom. I hear the school brooms are
awful. And we have to learn with the Slytherins. I don’t like them at all. Especially Draco Malfoy.
And Potions with them is bad enough.

Snape absolutely hates me. I didn’t say anything about you to him, and he still got me in trouble
even though I didn’t do anything. What is his problem? I don’t understand.

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

I don’t blame you for not getting along with Slytherins. I grew up in a house full of them and
couldn’t stand it. Draco Malfoy sounds a lot like his father when we were in school. Mind you,
don’t let Filch catch you hexing him. Your mother would probably say don’t do it at all, but if he’s
got it coming then it’s his fault, isn’t it?
Snape went to school with your mother, father, Remus, and I. He was friends with your mother but
your father and I didn’t get along with him. I thought it’d be funny if he got a sarcastic hello from
me, but maybe it’s better you don’t start off your school year making him think about me and your
dad. He’s known to hold something of a grudge. Though he was always excellent with dirty jinxes.
Stay on his good side.

Love,
Sirius

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Sirius,

Remember what I told you about Draco Malfoy? I didn’t know I could dislike him even more.
Flying lessons went great, actually. Ask Dad. But after totally showing Malfoy up during flying
lessons, he threw a fit and challenged me to a wizard's duel. OF COURSE I accepted. But when I
showed up, Malfoy wasn’t there. He’d even given Filch a warning that students would be at the
meeting place. Ron and I didn’t get caught, of course, but WHAT A COWARD. (Don’t tell Mum
and Dad I snuck out of the dormitory to go to a duel with another student. Mum would send a
howler.)

Please send me a good hex or two for Malfoy. Next time he tries to show off, I want to be ready.

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Mum and Dad,

You’ll NEVER guess what happened at flying lessons.

GO ON.

GUESS.

So, I was being a well-behaved Gryffindor. Perfectly good. Didn’t even say anything when Madam
Hooch corrected my grip. (Which, speaking of, Dad, did you know if you pull your hands to the
centre you can pull up faster? It totally worked!) I was being well-behaved, and then Neville got
nervous and sort of took off and ended up falling and breaking his wrist. He’s alright now, though.
Madam Pomfrey mended him up really quick. But while Madam Hooch took him to see Madam
Pomfrey, Malfoy thought it’d be funny to take Neville’s Remembrall and hide it somewhere like in
a tree or a tower.

You know I’m trying really hard to obey school rules, right Mum? And I haven’t gotten a single
detention so far. Uncle Remus told me that Dad had three detentions by his second week. So you
know I’m not trying to get in trouble when I tell you that I had to go after Malfoy. No one
else was doing anything!

So I got on my broom and flew after Malfoy and told him to hand the Remembrall over. He said no
and then ended up throwing it up. Well I CAUGHT IT after a 50-foot dive. Dad, it was amazing. I
wish you could’ve seen it.

Then McGonagall saw me. I thought I was in so much trouble. She was yelling and everything. She
had that stern look on her face. Dad, you always talked about her being mean but I didn’t get it.
Now that I see her in school I know what you mean.

I was sure she was going to kick me out of Hogwarts. But then instead of expelling me, she
introduced me to the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

I’M GOING TO BE THE NEW SEEKER FOR GRYFFINDOR!

I’m the youngest seeker in a century! That’s what McGonagall and Oliver Wood said. You have to
come to all my games! And Uncle Remus and Sirius, too, of course!

Also, you need to send me my Nimbus 2000. McGonagall said to wait until you hear from her or
from Dumbledore, but promise you’ll send it the moment they okay it? I want to start practicing!

With love,
Harry

P.S. How are you? Is everything okay? Your letter was rather short. But the scones were delicious!
Thanks a lot! Ron said they were almost as good as Mrs. Weasley’s (and, I’m sorry, but, he’s right.
Her cooking’s always been a little better).

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Uncle Remus,

BIG NEWS. But I don’t want to tell it three times, so ask to read the letter I sent Mum and Dad.
Otherwise, classes are fine. Thanks for the information about vampires. I’ll probably use a lot of it
in the essay due next Thursday. Want to tell me the secret to brewing a perfect cauldron of
Twinkling Dew? That essay’s due on Friday.

What do you know about three-headed dogs? Are they very vicious? Can they be kept as pets?

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

I did not get three detentions my second week of school. Sirius and I, between the two of us, had
three detentions our second week. One was shared, and then we each got one individually. Remus
exaggerates and assumes we both always were in trouble for the same things. Not true.

AND CONGRATULATIONS ON MAKING SEEKER. WOW.

I never would’ve expected you to make the Quidditch team your first year! Mum and I are so
proud of you. Write to us as soon as you know when your first game is. I know you’re going to be
amazing! Sirius has already said he’ll be there for sure, and Remus has said he’ll gladly attend as
long as it doesn’t conflict with any other obligations he has in his calendar, of course.

We’re all so excited for you. Mum says not to let Quidditch interfere with your studies, but I know
you won’t. You’re our son, so you should do excellent in everything. At least, between the two of
us. I was never very good at History. And your Mum was certainly never any good at Quidditch,
but we make up for each other’s flaws, and so then you should have the best of both of us, right?

Everything is fine at home. Your mother’s a bit stir crazy without you to look out for. She started
saying things like, “Maybe I should get a job,” which is ridiculous. She doesn’t need one. But we
definitely miss having you around. Already counting the days until Christmas.

We’ll send your broom as soon as we get the okay from McGonagall or Dumbledore. Don’t worry.
I won’t leave you waiting for that any longer than I have to.

With love,
Mum and Dad

P.S. Sirius mentioned something about you getting into a fight with Malfoy? Please be careful. Just
because I got detentions in school doesn’t mean you should too. Best of us both, right?

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

CONGRATULATIONS.

You’re not only the youngest Seeker in a century, you’ll be the best Seeker in a century. I know
you’ll be great. You’ve been flying since before you could walk!

Your father wouldn’t let me read the letter. Had to tell it himself. Said you dove nearly 100 feet for
that little marble. That’s incredible!

This Malfoy kid sounds like he had it coming. Do me a favor and try out a good strong Bogey hex
on him. Or a Hurling Hex on his broom next time you go out for flying lessons. The trick is not
getting caught.

Best of luck!

Love,
Sirius

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

Congratulations on becoming a seeker! That’s incredible! I’m sure your mother’s already told you,
but do keep up with your school work. You’re being afforded a wonderful privilege. Use it well.

I’m glad I was able to help with the vampires. And I’m afraid I hardly remember a Twinkling Dew
potion. Potions really was my worst subject. Try your mother if you really need help with potions.
It was one of her best subjects. Though I suppose, being friends with Severus helped her out there.

I don’t recall Cerberuss being on the list of creatures you study in first year. Did Ron mention one?

There’s not a lot known about Cerberuss. They’re very rare and hard to study even if you find one.
I do not recommend keeping one as a pet. Ever. They’re very vicious dogs, who only eat raw meat
and that includes living people! They’re known in mythology for guarding the gates to the
underworld, because they can keep living people out, but let spirits in. Muggles have a legend
about a man besting Cerberus without a weapon, though it’s not very true. There is a record of a
wizard who tried stunning a Cerberus and had his wand arm bitten off before he could cast his
spell.

I don’t know why you’re studying Cerberi but I don’t think you want to get too close to one.
They can be charmed to sleep with good music, but I doubt you could get close enough to try.

If you’re looking for a good breed of dog, ask Sirius. He should be able to point you in the right
direction.

Love,
Uncle Remus
 Halloween
Chapter Summary

Harry receives his broomstick; a troll is let loose in the castle.

Chapter Notes

Once again, chapter 10 doesn't deviate very much. So here are letters.
I did realize that people might want a refresher on the chapters, so I have my "version"
of JKR's chapters, which are for the most part, just abbreviated and slightly varied
from her original chapters. The dialogue is 90% identical, and the events are equally
identical, I just try very hard to change the wording in the narration so that I'm not
copying her verbatim, and that the chapters still sound like my writing rather than hers.
Not sure if it works at all.

Dear Harry,

Again, congratulations on making the Gryffindor Quidditch team. We’re so proud of you. Please
promise to be careful and only use your broom during practice and not to use it to get yourself into
trouble. And don’t let it take time away from your school work. And don’t forget to stay well-
rested. You know how dangerous it is to fly when you’re tired.

We love you and miss you.

Love,

Mum and Dad

P.S. DO NOT OPEN THIS AT BREAKFAST. I’m sure you can imagine the uproar a first year
getting a broom will cause. Please be considerate of your classmates.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Mum and Dad,

Sorry I haven’t had time to write. Things have been very busy! I’m trying very hard to work on all
my classes while doing Quidditch practice. At least Quidditch is something I’m good at. Can’t say
the same for Potions.

Are things still going well at home? Mum isn’t really going to get a job is she? That would be kind
of weird. Ron’s Mum doesn’t work. But his Dad does, so I guess that’s okay. And both Neville’s
parents work. And Susan’s aunt. Would she get a ministry job or a Muggle job? A Muggle job
might be kind of fun.

My first Quidditch game is on the 16th November. I hope you can come. And Sirius and Uncle
Remus.
I’ll see you soon. The Halloween Feast is coming up, and it’s only a month until our first game.
I’m so excited I can’t wait! But also there is too much and I wish it could slow down just a little
bit. Does school always feel like this?

With love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

Of course we’ll be at your Quidditch game. We wouldn’t miss it for anything.

And I don’t know if I’ll be getting a job or not. I only glanced through the ads in the Prophet and
your father nearly had a fit. I just need something to do at home now that you’re not here is all. It’s
a bit dull when I don’t have to chase down your broom or worry about patching up your scrapes.
As much as I could do that to your father, he generally takes care of himself.

Uncle Remus says he can make your Quidditch match, and I’m sure it would take a hoard of
dementors to keep Sirius away.

And yes, school always feels like that. It’s alright. You’ll get used to it, and if not, you’ll have
summer breaks to help out.

With Love,
Mum and Dad

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Sirius,

Thanks for the spells! I haven’t tried them yet, but I did open my Nimbus 2000 at breakfast where
Malfoy could see. He looked so jealous. It was some worthy revenge.

Also please stop telling Mum and Dad things. Dad thinks I’ve gotten into a fight when I didn’t, I
was just out of bed late. The garden snake was months ago. I said I was sorry — even if it was
pretty funny. Dad and Uncle Remus even thought so.

I hope you can come to my Quidditch game!

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

Sorry about that slip. I only mentioned to your dad you were coming along as an excellent dueler,
and he asked me where that came from, and I told him that Malfoy had challenged you and you’d
accepted. Not to worry, your mum didn’t hear a word of it. And I did tell your dad you didn’t get
into any trouble and there wasn’t a fight. Though I don’t think he believed me.

I’ll go through my old books and school things, if I can find any of it. I think most of my first-year
things might’ve been left at the old house. I’ll see if I have anything you’d be able to use and send
it your way as soon as I do. Might even be able to find some Zonko’s stuff. The good old stuff,
none of the boring newfangled ones.

I’ll definitely be at your Quidditch game. I wouldn’t miss it for the world! If I remember right, the
first match is always Gryffindor-Slytherin, eh? I’ll break out all the red and gold I have. You’ll
crush ‘em. I know it!

Best of luck and see you soon!

With love,
Sirius

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Uncle Remus,

I’m so excited you can come to my Quidditch match! (At least, Mum said you were coming. You
are coming, aren’t you?)

We’ve just had the Halloween Feast. I’m sure it would’ve been amazing, but there was a bit of an
accident. McGonagall said she’d tell Dumbledore, so I’m sure Mum and Dad know already, but if
they don’t, just show them this, okay? (I figured I should tell you because it’s more your area.)

So Ron and I walk into the Great Hall and we’re just about to start eating when Quirrell comes
running in and tells Dumbledore that there’s a troll in the dungeon. And then everyone is running
around and prefects are trying to get everyone into the dorms. Ron and I were going back—I
promise, we were doing what we were told—but we remembered that one of the Gryffindor girls
was in the bathroom, and didn’t know about the troll, so we went back to tell her.

Except we ran into the troll on the way. It went into the bathroom and we went in to try to get her
out. But she was so scared she couldn’t move. And Ron and I tried making noise to confuse it and
that worked for a little bit, but not for long, and then it went after Ron. So I jumped on it and my
wand got stuck in its nose. Then Ron used Wingardium Leviosa on its club and then dropped the
club on its head and knocked it out.

After McGonagall scolded us, she gave us ten points. (Well, five, after you take out that she took
five from Hermione, but it was still points.)

Ron, Hermione and I are all okay. It was a little scary and smelly (so smelly) but we are fine.

Do you know how to get rid of troll smell? Ron says my wand is fine, but I think there is still a bad
smell every time I try to practice a spell.

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

Of course I will be at your Quidditch game. I’m very excited. Not nearly as excited as Sirius, but
very excited.

And your parents did tell me something about the troll. They said they received a letter from
PROFESSOR Dumbledore commending your bravery and quick thinking. I’m happy to share your
version of events with them. I’m sure they will be sufficiently worried about you.
And I’m sure you heard it from PROFESSOR McGonagall, and I’m sure your parents will write to
you again and tell you to be careful, but you’re still going to hear it from me.

BE CAREFUL.

Facing a troll is dangerous even for a skilled wizard. It’s a miracle none of you were hurt. You’re
lucky you were able to knock it out. And for that, you and Ron were very smart for doing so.
Never forget your rudimentary spells. A more experienced wizard might have tried a Stunning
Charm, which would not work on a troll. But you were able to stun it more creatively with spells
designed for other things.

Remember, never let your knowledge of spells stifle your creativity. It’s important to think outside
the box, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts. There are often wards and protections against
the common spells you would think to use, so keep working at unusual ways to solve problems.
There is always more than one answer!

Again, congratulations, (on all of it, from Quidditch to the troll) and I will see you very soon! Only
two weeks until your game!

With Love,
Uncle Remus

PS: Be very careful about cleaning your wand. Use no magic or potions. If you still can’t get the
smell out, we can take it to Ollivander to take care of it so none of the magical properties in the
core or wood are compromised.
 Quidditch
Chapter Summary

Harry's first Quidditch game of the season--against Slytherin--does not go very well....

Chapter Notes

FINALLY A REAL CHAPTER. I had a lot of fun writing this and it's setting up so
many wonderful dynamics i didn't expect! Like the marauders not just raising Harry
but actually developing relationships with the golden trio and the roles the marauders
will play in the shenanigans the golden trio will get up to are finally solidifying in my
mind this is fantastic. I really loved this chapter.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

November meant Quidditch season. And of course the first match was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.
Harry started to have an increasingly difficult time getting through meals the closer the game
approached. Harry’s parents were encouraging, naturally. And Sirius was so confident he’d be
brilliant. Of course Malfoy had his share of insults and predictions.

Even though Wood had tried to keep Harry’s position as their Seeker a secret, it had leaked out, as
things do at Hogwarts. Gryffindor was thrilled to brag about their new Seeker, confident in Harry’s
talent though he hadn’t played yet. Slytherin students protested about the unfairness of it all and
blamed his fame for earning him a position he didn’t deserve. Among the other houses, Harry
found the older students were more curious than anything. They hadn’t seen a first year play
before, and wondered how Harry would fare. The younger students, however, all seemed to look on
him with envy.

But thank Merlin for Hermione Granger. She wasn’t just on speaking terms with Ron and Harry,
they were all actually friends now. There were some things you just couldn’t do without becoming
friends, and facing a mountain troll together was one of them.

She was brilliant at schoolwork and spells, and without her, Harry might never have made it
through classes and the extra Quidditch practices. He also had Uncle Remus’s excellent letters
detailing Defense Against the Dark Arts creatures, spells, and methods to keep him ahead in that
subject. He, Ron, and Hermione were Quirrell’s top students. Though Harry found it odd that
Quirrell hardly mentioned it. Not that he wanted Quirrell fawning over them the way Snape
fawned over Malfoy. But a little recognition would’ve been nice.

The night before the game, Hermione started her Potions paper, and encouraged the boys to begin
theirs as well. She never let them copy her work, but if either had a wrong answer she gave them a
full lecture on why they were wrong, in true Hermione fashion, so at least it was helpful (and at
least they wanted the explanation when they were doing homework).

“Potions isn’t due for a week!” Ron groaned when Hermione unrolled the parchment on the
common room floor.
“I’m not going to start it the night before,” Hermione sniffed. “Professor Snape is always strict with
his marking.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of an ass —”

“He’s a professor!” Hermione said with a gasp.

Ron only laughed at her indignation.

“D’you notice he was limping in class today?” Harry asked.

“Hope it’s really hurting him,” Ron said.

“Harry, stop,” she scolded.

“What? I didn’t say —”

“No — You’re… bouncing.”

“I am not.”

“You are, mate,” Ron agreed sheepishly. “And you keep moving. Bit nerve-wracking, actually.”

“Can’t help it I’ve got the biggest day of my life tomorrow,” he mumbled.

“It’s just Quidditch,” Hermione said.

“‘Just Quidditch?’” Ron and Harry exclaimed at once.

“It’s also Gryffindor vs Slytherin,” Harry added, trying not to sound as anxious as he felt. “If we
lose everyone will kill me.”

“No one is going to kill you for losing.”

“Not if I die on the Quidditch pitch first,” he mumbled. “Have you seen Slytherin’s Seeker?”

The burly seventh year was probably three times Harry's size. Any minor fouls the Slytherin
Seeker might commit could send Harry right off his broom. He wasn't too thrilled about facing
something like that.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

The next morning, he was not feeling any better. He’d slept poorly, and he was not the least bit
hungry. The students were all decked out in red and gold or green and silver. Even some
Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were showing support for their friends’ teams. Most of them,
however, were sporting Gryffindor colours. People were eager to see the house that had held the
House Cup for the last six years topple. Seeing their support only made Harry feel worse, like he
would let down half the school if he failed.

He was just finishing up breakfast — not that he’d eaten much — when there was an excited yell
from the doors of the Great Hall.

“Harry!”

Harry perked up instantly. He’d know that voice anywhere. “Sirius!” he shouted and ran to the
door.
At the entrance to the Great Hall stood Sirius, Remus, and Harry’s parents. All of them were here,
and Harry couldn’t be happier to see them. Their support was enough that he felt okay eating a
piece of toast before they walked down to the Quidditch pitch together.

While they walked, Lily fussed with Harry’s hair, repeatedly asked if he was alright, how he was
liking school, and Harry, eager to turn the conversation to literally anything else, dragged his
family to the crowd of first year Gryffindors who were making their way to the pitch.

“This is my friend Hermione Granger,” Harry introduced. “And this is Seamus Finnigan and Dean
Thomas. And you know Neville —" Neville waved shyly — "Oh, and there’s Hagrid!”

Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Sally-Anne Perks, and Sophie Roper joined them, and the small
group of students, all decked out in red and gold, escorted Harry to the Quidditch pitch. He felt
lighter than he had all week, like he might take off without his broom. It seemed all he really
needed to face a task like the biggest Quidditch game of his life was the support of his family and
friends.

“Wood’ll be wondering if I’ve skipped,” he said when they finally reached the stands. “Better
run.”

“You’ll be great,” Lily said. She gave him one final kiss as he ran off to the locker room.

“He doesn’t seem half as nervous as James was,” Remus laughed.

“I was not that nervous,” James protested, and started following Sirius up the stairs.

“Boys,” Lily called, “Professors and parents up this side.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. “Or we could sit in the Gryffindor stands. That’s where you’re
sitting, aren’t you, Hagrid?”

“Bit more exciting up that way,” he smiled.

“See? Come on,” James laughed and grabbed her hand.

Sirius sat between Hagrid and James, with Lily on James’s other side. Hermione sat down between
Lily and Remus, and on Remus’s left was Ron and Dean, then Seamus, and lastly Neville. They all
squeezed together both because the stands were crowded for the rivalry game, and because it was
very cold in the mid-November air. The banner Dean had painted for Harry stretched over all five
of the students and Remus. Sirius complimented Dean’s artwork, and Remus congratulated
Hermione on the excellent charm that allowed the paint to flash different colours.

“Why didn’t we think of anything like that?” James groaned.

“Next time, dear,” and Lily patted his arm.

James gave Sirius a wide grin. Sirius winked back.

Down in the changing room, Harry was putting on his red Quidditch robes. Now that he was alone,
he was back to being nervous. His fingers trembled as he tied the gold lacing.

Wood cleared his throat. “Okay, men.”

“And women,” Angelina Johnson said with a hint of offense in her voice.

“And women,” he conceded. “This is it.”

“The big one,” Fred said solemnly.

“The one we’ve all been waiting for,” George added with a dramatic flourish of his broom.

“We know Oliver’s speech by heart,” Fred whispered to Harry.

“Knock it off,” Wood scolded. “This is the best we’ve been in years.”

“It’s only been a year since we lost Charlie,” Katie rolled her eyes.

“And we’re even better than that,” Wood snapped. And the look on his face definitely said if they
didn’t win today, it would be weeks more practice, even rougher than before. Harry felt his toast
try to climb its way back up his throat.

“Alright,” Wood finally said, “Good luck, men. And women.”

Madam Hooch was refereeing the game and encouraged them to play fair. Harry was pretty sure
his team needed that reminder as much as the Slytherins, especially when he saw the glint in Fred
and George’s eyes.

When they were finally up in the air, he caught sight of the banner his friends had made him. His
nerves eased a little, and he waved, but immediately went back to hunting for the Snitch. Wood’s
plan was to keep Harry out of the fray of the game and searching for the snitch from up high,
which was fine with Harry, if only it wasn’t so small. He didn’t know how he was supposed to see
it from so far away.

Lee Jordan was commenting on the game, though his comments were peppered by compliments to
Angelina Johnson’s good looks and insults to Slytherin’s team. McGonagall scolded him for it, but
really the Slytherins weren’t playing fair at all, at least not what Harry thought to be fair. They kept
intentionally ramming the Gryffindor players, even when they didn't have the Quaffle. Even Harry,
who was away from the real fray game, had to dodge a couple of Bludgers that had "accidentally"
been aimed at him.

Gryffindor had scored once, and Slytherin was about to tie, when the Snitch made its first
appearance, zipping right past Slytherin’s Chaser and spooking him enough to make him drop the
Quaffle.

Harry and Slytherin Seeker Terrence Higgs dove for the snitch. The game seemed to be on pause as
everyone watched the two Seekers go neck and neck for the Snitch. Harry had maybe an inch lead.
He reached out —

Harry was nearly knocked off his broom by Slytherin Captain and Chaser Marcus Flint colliding
with him. There was a lot of yelling as Harry righted his broom and the Gryffindors took a penalty
shot. By the time the game had resumed, the Snitch was long gone.

Dean and Lily were both shouting for red cards.

“There are no red cards in Quidditch,” James mumbled under his breath. “Still, it was a dirty
move.”

“They should at least send him out of the game for that,” Sirius said angrily. “Filthy Slytherin
cheats.”

“At least Harry’s alright,” Remus said. “He’s a strong flier. And not throwing a fit the way James
might’ve.”
Sirius and Lily found the comment rather funny. James did not.

Lee Jordan was (even more) biased in his commentary from then on, and McGonagall scolded him
less for it.

Harry ducked under another Bludger, when suddenly his broom lurched beneath him. He’d been
flying for his whole life and never experienced anything like that. Before he could even consider
why it had happened, his broom was jerking and zigzagging. Harry struggled to hold on, to get it
steady again, but his broom was entirely out of his control.

“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled.

“Feinting for the other Seeker?” Lily suggested.

“Looks more like he lost control of his broom,” James said with a tight jaw. “But that’s not
possible.”

Harry’s broom had started doing barrel rolls, and with a wild jerk, threw Harry. He managed to
hang on with one hand, which left him dangling from his broom high above the stands.

Lily and James were on their feet instantly.

“We have to do something,” she said desperately.

“Could it have been Flint?” Seamus asked.

“No,” Remus answered. “It takes some powerful dark magic to charm a broom like that. Especially
something as competitive as a Nimbus.”

Hermione took the binoculars Lily had abandoned on the seat and started scanning the crowd.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked.

“Look at Snape,” she said and passed the binoculars to him.

Snape was sitting with the professors opposite them. His eyes were fixed on Harry and he was
muttering nonstop.

“He’s doing something — jinxing the broom,” said Hermione.

“What do we do?”

“Leave it to me.”

“Miss Granger, I don’t think —” Remus started, but Hermione was gone, leaving Ron and Remus
next to an increasingly frantic Lily and James, who were shouting for Dumbledore or Madam
Hooch or anyone to actually do something. Lily pulled her wand out, but Remus pulled her back.

“We don’t know what the hex is — Don’t risk making it worse.”

The only people who seemed to be doing anything were Fred and George, who tried to get close
enough to help Harry on their broom, so at least he wouldn’t be in danger of falling. But Harry’s
broom only continued to lift him higher, out of their reach. Instead the twins dropped down and
stayed beneath him to catch him in case he fell.

Slytherin took the distraction as an opportunity to score a few times.

Hermione ran as quickly as she could through the crowded stands. She accidentally knocked
Professor Quirrell over, and with a quick spell, cast bright blue flames onto the hem of Snape’s
robes. And as soon as Snape realized he was on fire, she scooped the blue flames into her pocket
jar and disappeared as quickly as she’d come. As Snape readjusted his robes and examined them
for damage, she noticed a very deep bite on his leg.

Up above the pitch, Harry clambered back onto his now still broom.

“Neville, you can look,” Ron said. Neville peered over Seamus’s shoulder, but Lily and James still
refused to sit down.

And then suddenly Harry’s broom took a sharp dive. The entire crowd gasped. Lily and James both
screamed.

But instead of colliding with the ground, Harry tumbled neatly and when he stood, he coughed
something up into his hand.

“I’ve got the Snitch!”

Lily and James sank back into their seats like their knees had gone weak. They didn’t even move as
the rest of the crowd began to cheer their excitement at Gryffindor’s victory. Sirius patted James
comfortingly on the back and Remus squeezed Lily’s hand.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Moments later, instead of celebrating with his house, Harry was shut up inside the Headmaster’s
office, seated across from Dumbledore. Any other day, Harry might have been entranced by the
strange objects that littered Dumbledore’s desk, or the slumbering portraits on the walls, but right
now, James and Sirius were shouting at Dumbledore, repeating Hermione’s accusations against
Snape, and that took up all of Harry’s attention.

Lily and Remus stood quietly next to Harry. Lily continued her vain attempts to flatten his hair,
and Harry wondered if, after all these years, she was less interested in getting his hair flat and more
interested in just holding him to know he was alright.

“I assure you,” Dumbledore said with a quiet and calm authority, “Severus would not have done
this.”

“Hermione Granger saw him,” James repeated. “And it was only after she distracted him that the
broom went back to normal.”

“I was trying to reverse the jinx,” Snape spat at them.

“Why would you do that for Harry?” Sirius snapped.

There was an uncomfortable pause and Snape’s eyes shifted between Lily and Dumbledore, before
Dumbledore finally stood.

“We’ve had a rather exciting day. Quidditch always quickens the blood, doesn’t it? I think Harry
could use a nice hot cup of tea.” And he smiled at Harry with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry nodded gratefully and Lily helped him to his feet.

Ron and Hermione were waiting at the bottom of the stairs and said they’d all been invited to
Hagrid’s, and Harry and the adults agreed it was an excellent idea to take tea there, away from all
the celebrating.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

“I still think it was Snape,” Sirius said irritably as he took one of the mugs filled with tea. There
weren’t enough tea cups to go around, so Sirius, Lily, and Hagrid were all drinking their tea from a
combination of Hagrid’s heavy mugs or thick tankards.

“He has no reason to jinx Harry,” Remus sighed.

“Snape’s a professor. ‘E’s not about’ ter go around jinxin’ his students,” Hagrid said.

“Especially not Harry,” Lily said quietly.

“Or maybe especially Harry,” Sirius snapped back.

“Dumbledore trusts him,” James finally said. “That’s enough for me.”

Sirius did not seem appeased by this, and even when Remus whispered something quietly in his
ear, Sirius only muttered something back with the same bitter and disgusted expression.

“But —” Hermione started hesitantly, “—what happened to Professor Snape’s leg? He was limping
— and it was bitten —”

“That proves it,” Harry said suddenly, “We saw Snape in the corridor on Halloween. He must’ve
used the troll as a distraction to try to get whatever’s under the trap door, but got bitten by the
three-headed dog.”

“How’d you know about Fluffy?” Hagrid said.

“There’s actually a Cerberus in the school?” Remus said in astonishment. “That’s incredibly
dangerous! What if a student finds it?”

“Seems like a student already did,” Lily said with a tight expression.

“What’s it doing here?” James asked Hagrid with raised eyebrows.

“Can’t answer that,” Hagrid said sheepishly and took a large gulp of his tea.

“I’d like to see it,” Sirius said and took a sip of his tea. “Sounds interesting.”

“They’re incredibly dangerous,” Remus said. “I can’t believe Dumbledore would just keep one in
the school.”

“Fluffy lives in the Forbidden Forest usually,” Hagrid said, “and I look after him, keep him away
from the kids. And I asked Dumbledore, I said, ‘Dumbledore, are yeh sure it’s alright ter keep
Fluffy in the castle?’ and Dumbledore said it’d be jus’ fine, that he’d make sure the corridor was
off limits, and tha’ he only needed Fluffy fer a little while, tha’ he’d send him right back when he
was done guardin’ the —”

Hagrid stopped suddenly and took another gulp of his tea.

“The what?” Harry and James asked simultaneously.

“It’s nothin — top secret Hogwarts business. Yer not to be knowin’, any of you.”
 “But if Snape’s trying to steal it,” said Ron.

“Rubbish. Snape’s a Hogwarts professor — he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”

“Then why did he jinx Harry?” Hermione and Sirius asked at the same time.

“Severus did not jinx Harry,” Lily said quickly. “If he says he was protecting Harry, I believe
him.”

“But someone was jinxing Harry,” said James.

“Who else could it have been except Snape?” Sirius said.

“I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that,” Hagrid said, a hint of a temper in his voice, “but
Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all of yeh —” he included Sirius and James
in the glance as well (James suddenly remembered being sixteen, and nagging Hagrid about the
rumor that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was actually a vampire, and they’d been
met with this same temper), “yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. You forget that dog, an’
you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel —”

“Who’s Nicolas Flamel?” Sirius and Harry asked at the same time.

Hagrid’s face was red, and no one was sure if it was anger or embarrassment. He hardly said two
more words the rest of the afternoon, though Sirius, Harry, Hermione and James all asked inciting
questions, first directly at Hagrid, then sort of generally, hoping he might answer. But Hagrid gave
them no more information, and as they trudged back up to the castle, Harry relayed his theory
about the package from his birthday to his parents. Sirius seemed interested, Lily and Remus both
told him to stop investigating, and James only said, “as long as you leave Professor Snape out of
it.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all gave their word they would stay out of trouble and not slander any
teachers (“prematurely,” Harry added, and Lily gave him a stern glare).

They all exchanged hugs — even Hermione got a hug from Sirius and James; Lily, and Remus
shook her hand and expressed that meeting her was a pleasure — before Remus, Sirius, James, and
Lily all headed back to Dumbledore’s office to Floo home.

“Hermione, where are you going?” Ron asked, as he and Harry started going upstairs, and she
started going down.

“The library, of course.”

“On a Saturday night?” Harry asked incredulously.

“I want to find out who Nicolas Flamel is. Don’t you?”

Chapter End Notes

PLEASE LEAVE ME SUGGESTIONS FOR HOW TO HANDLE THE MIRROR OF

ERISED IF HARRY GOES HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.
 The Mirror of Erised
Chapter Summary

Harry, Ron, and Hermione discover the Mirror of Erised; Harry and Ron go to the
Potter's for Christmas

Chapter Notes

I'm SO SORRY about the delay on this guys. I've literally been working on it so
painstakingly slowly. First I was all hung up about the discovery of the mirror, and of
course changing what was in it. There were a lot of issues. And then on top of it I now
have a third job so my life has been hectic as fuck. The only reason I had time to sit
down and write today is because I got sent home from work early and now I'm rushing
to post it before I run off to my next job. So enjoy because I put a lot of work into it,
but also it's a bit rushed so some grace is appreciated~

Dear Mum and Dad,

Ron’s parents are going to Romania to see Charlie for Christmas. Can Ron come home with me for
Christmas? I don’t want to leave him at Hogwarts all by himself.

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

Ron is welcome to spend Christmas with us. But you must also invite Fred, George, and Percy to
stay with us as well. I know Ron is your best friend but they are family friends, and they are
welcome to join us.

Love,
Mum and Dad

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Ron closed the book with a thud that echoed in the not just quiet but absolutely empty library.
Empty except for three first years at a table piled with books.

Harry also closed his and looked at Hermione, still thoroughly engrossed in her book (though it
was more of a tome than a book).

“There’s got to be an easier way of finding Nicolas Flamel than spending the last day of term
before Christmas in the library,” Ron said.
“Why don’t you just ask Professor Dumbledore who Nicolas Flamel is, then?” Hermione said
hotly.

Harry knew she was as irritated that their search hadn’t yielded any clues as he and Ron were, but
he wished she wouldn’t take her irritation out on them.

“What if,” Harry started slowly, putting words to a thought he hadn’t dare voice yet, “we go into
the trapdoor and see for ourselves what’s down there?”

“Are you mad?” Ron asked. “There’s a head for each of us on that dog.”

“Uncle Remus said you can put it to sleep if you play a bit of music.”

“We could get expelled for that, Harry. It’s a miracle we weren’t caught the first time.”

“We haven’t been caught yet. I bet we could do it.”

“Sure, let me just dig out my Great-Aunt Tessie’s bag pipes and we’ll play a soft lullaby for the
thing,” Ron snorted.

“I’m sure there are charms for music.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Of course there are,” Hermione said. “But that doesn’t mean this is a good idea.”

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

“This is a terrible idea,” Hermione hissed for the seventh time that hour.

Harry just shrugged his shoulders this time and carefully peered around the corner of the third floor
corridor, double checking that neither Filch nor Mrs Norris were guarding it.

Harry held his wand over the lock, ready to use the spell Hermione had cast last time to open it. He
looked at Hermione. “Are you ready?”

Hermione tightened her hand on her wand and nodded stiffly.

“I’m going to open the door. And you’re going to say the spell. What’s the spell?”

“Harmonium Concordia.”

Harry nodded, then whispered, “Alohomora.” He pushed open the door and the three children were
greeted by a three-headed snarling beast. It towered over them, slobber dripping from its jowls, but
it did not look half as friendly as Fang. All of its snouts bared teeth as large as Harry’s forearm.

Harry resisted the urge to step back in terror and told himself to be brave, but when Hermione’s
musical spell didn’t immediately follow, he started to panic. He glanced back at Hermione and
found her frozen, just like when they’d fought the troll. Her mouth was open, and it was obvious
she wasn’t thinking about casting a spell at all.

“Harmoniam Concordian!” Ron tried, but the only sound was that of a deflating accordion.

“Harmonium Concordia!” Harry tried, and there were a few notes of gentle music. The cerberus
tilted its head at Harry, ears beginning to droop, but the spell didn’t last long, and the dog was
quick to come out of its brief period of drowsiness.

Before it could recover enough to bite their heads off, Harry and Ron each grabbed one of
Hermione’s arms and ran.

They ran as long as they could, putting as much space between them and the loud snarling as
possible, hoping they wouldn’t run into Filch or Mrs. Norris along the way.

They finally stopped inside a small, unused classroom, and, as soon as he had his breath back, Ron
rounded on Hermione.

“What was that? Why didn’t you do the spell? Do you want to get eaten?”

Hermione was red in the face, but Harry wasn’t sure if she was ashamed, angry, or just winded.

“We shouldn’t have been out there anyway,” she snapped. “It’s after hours and the corridor is
forbidden, and it’s dangerous!”

“It wouldn’t have been dangerous if you’d said the spell! At least Harry remembered it well
enough to buy us time. Harry — Harry, what are you looking at?”

Harry had lost interest in the argument and was much more intrigued by the large, ornate mirror
that stretched almost to the ceiling. The glass was framed in gold and silver. Dramatic arches and
crowns decorated the top, framing an unusual inscription. He had to squint in the darkness to read
the words at the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

It didn’t mean anything to him, so Harry stepped closer to see his reflection and was shocked to
find his parents in the mirror as well.

“What is this mirror?” he asked Ron and Hermione.

Hermione tried to read the inscription on top out loud, but the words were difficult to pronounce.

“I’ve never heard of that language,” she said.

“Maybe it’s mirror language,” Ron laughed. “You wouldn’t know about those.”

“Ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo urhe arts desire?” Harry tried.

“Art’s desire?” Ron snorted. “What does that mean? Who’s Art?”

“Does it show your family then?” Harry asked, tilting his head at the reflection of his smiling
parents.

And then Uncle Remus and Sirius were there too, and it was like everyone was laughing at
something, even Harry’s reflection, though Harry himself looked puzzled.

Harry stepped away so Ron could look in the mirror.

“Hope it doesn’t show my brothers. I see them way too — Whoa! I’m all tall and older. I’m Head
Boy! And — that’s the Quidditch cup! And I’m Quidditch Captain! D’you think this mirror shows
the future?”

“How can it?” scoffed Hermione. “You’ll never make Head Boy with all the rules you break.”

“I can too,” Ron said back sharply. “Well, go on, what do you see Hermione?”

Hermione stood in front of the mirror but said nothing.

“Well, what do you see?” Harry asked.

“Just me,” she said, in a very flat voice, that reminded Harry of the voice she’d used when Ron
made the comment that she hadn’t any friends.

“Mine didn’t show anything different either, just my family. And Sirius and Uncle Remus.” Harry
shrugged.

“Let me see again,” Ron begged, and gently pushed Hermione aside. He turned in front of the
mirror, awe in his face and voice. “D’you think I’ll really be Quidditch Captain?”

Harry took another turn in front of the mirror and squinted at his reflection, who winked back at
him. He looked up at his parents' happy faces and tried to think about what was different. Why did
what he saw feel so right and so wrong? He scratched his head and — oh. He had no scar.
Something ached in his chest suddenly and he stepped away from the mirror.

“Let’s go back before Filch finds us,” he said, voice a little glum.

“One more time,” Ron said, and stepped in front of the mirror. He turned, taking in his full
reflection from all angles, then nodded firmly, and skipped after Hermione and Harry.

Back in the Common Room, Ron disappeared to bed, a content smile on his face. Harry and
Hermione both paused on the stairs. Harry wished he could tell her what he saw, but he didn’t think
she would understand. He wasn’t even sure he understood why it made him feel the way he did.

“Do you want to talk about what you saw?” Harry asked.

Hermione hesitated, and finally gave a slow, halting answer. “I just saw me. And you. And Ron.
And Dean and Lavender and Parvati and… and everyone in Gryffindor.”

“And we were all friends?”

Hermione nodded. “What did you see?”

“My family. They were happy. I mean, they’re always happy but they were… happier. Do you ever
get the feeling like your parents are scared of the future, and you don’t understand why, but you
think it’s your fault?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Oh.”

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“It’s not your fault. Whatever your parents are afraid of isn’t your fault. They probably just worry
about you because they love you.”

“Yeah. And Hermione?”

“Hm?”

“You have friends. Ron and I are your friends.”

It was dim in the stairwell, but Harry thought he saw tears in her eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.” And she disappeared into the girl’s dormitory.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Christmas at the Potters was usually a noisy affair, and with four extra boys in the house, this
year's was no quieter.

Lily and James had gone a bit overboard with the Christmas decorating. There were christmas trees
in every parlour, decorated with gold stars and baubles. Twinkling red and gold stars framed each
doorway in the house, and James had added mistletoe to the doorway over his and Lily’s bedroom.

“We didn’t have anything else to do,” Lily said with a small, slightly embarrassed smile, when the
boys looked around in awe.

“Mum, did you hang my stocking?” Harry asked as he set Hedwig in his room. There was an extra
bed — he’d be sharing with Ron. Fred, George, and Percy would be sharing a room just across
from them.

“It’s right here,” Lily gestured to his dresser. “And your Mum had yours sent over by owl last
night,” she smiled at Ron.

Harry quickly grabbed his stocking and looped the edge over the post at the end of his bed. It was
a bright red stocking, with soft white snow for trim. “You added stars!”

“I thought a little gold wouldn’t hurt, in honor of your sorting,” Lily said with a smile.

The gold stars on his stocking twinkled like they were real stars in a red sky and Harry looked over
to Ron. “Well, hang yours too!”

Ron looked a little uncomfortable as he put his patched stocking up next to Harry’s. But Harry
didn’t pay any attention to its poor condition and went to see Fred and George’s stockings.

Fred and George were wrestling over theirs, arguing over whose was whose, until Percy said very
sharply that they were embarrassing him, at which point they increased the volume of the argument
to the point where James came down from the attic, glasses pushed up into his wild hair, and a box
of red and gold ribbon held precariously in one hand.

“Everyone alright in here?”

“Fine,” the twins grinned, traded parcels, and hung their stockings.

Lily levitated the box from James with her wand and carefully set it down at the base of the stairs.

“Sorry. Not sure where my wand is,” he laughed.

Lily shook her head and used her wand to wind the ribbon around the bannister of the staircase.

When she’d finished with the ribbon, Lily led the boys into the kitchen. “We thought with a house
full of Gryffindors, it might be fun to decorate in style.”

The kitchen smelled of gingerbread, but there were scones and tea laid out on the table.

“The gingerbread is baking still, so we can make gingerbread houses later tonight. For snacks for
now, I made scones for you all. I did use Molly’s recipe but I’m not sure it came out as well as she
would have been able to do,” she said.
Percy thanked her and said they were perfect.

Fred and George said, “Thanks!” with their mouths full of two scones each.

Ron nibbled on one with a polite, “Thank you.”

“Mum, you really ought to practice it more first.” Harry shook his head. “But they’re better than
your usual ones.”

This earned him a kiss on the forehead and another vain attempt to flatten his hair. “You’re
growing too much like your father.”

“I’ve never once insulted your cooking!” James shouted from the hall.

“Remus tells me what you say behind my back.”

“I knew your tea dates with Moony made me uncomfortable,” James said as he walked into the
kitchen, shaking his head. Lily gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and popped a biscuit into his
mouth.

Fred and George exchanged an odd look, but Harry had no idea what it could have meant.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

On Christmas Eve, Remus and Sirius came to stay the night, which made for an evening of loud
fun and games, and of course, the next morning there were presents ready at the foot of their beds.

“What d‘you get?” Harry asked excitedly.

Ron looked over his presents sleepily. “The usual, I guess.” He pulled out a lumpy package. “This
must be the jumper from Mum.” He opened it, face rather gloomy for Christmas morning.
“Maroon, as always.” He looked over at Harry’s pile. “Oh, no. Looks like you’ve got one from her
too.”

Harry grabbed a package wrapped in green tissue and tore it open. It was a bright green jumper. He
thought it rather nice, actually, and far better than anything his Mum could knit. He pulled it on
over his head and opened the rest of his presents.

From Uncle Remus, he got a large package of chocolate frogs. From Sirius, he received a new set
of Quidditch gear, which he was grateful for. His old ones were getting a bit small. And from his
parents, he got a wizard chess set. That gift rather puzzled him.

“I didn’t tell Mum and Dad you were teaching me,” Harry said.

“I might’ve written about it to Mum. She must’ve told them,” Ron said, a little pink. “I know you
don’t get on with Seamus’s. With your own you’ll be able to learn better.”

“Well, thanks, mate,” Harry grinned. “It’s as good as if you gave it to me.”

Ron was more than pink at that.

Lily called them down for breakfast, and all boys came downstairs in their jumpers — though
Percy’s arms were not quite through the sleeves; the twins had shoved it over his head and he had
to adjust it himself to be able to eat breakfast.

“Your jumpers all look lovely,” Lily said with a smile.

“’Specially Harry’s,” said Fred. “She puts an effort into it if you’re not family.”

“And she has to put letters on ours,” George said with a frown. “Thinks we’ll forget if we don’t, I
s’pose.”

“But we won’t. We know we’re called Gred and Forge.”

Sirius snorted and James laughed into his napkin.

Breakfast was as cheery and wonderful as dinner had been. Everyone ate their fill and the rest of
the day was spent lazing about in the living room. Harry thought about trying out his new
Quidditch gear, but he didn’t have the energy. He and Ron would have to play the day after.

Though the day itself was lazy, there was plenty to do after the sun had set. Everyone was put to
work in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, seasoning food, watching pots on the stove. setting the
table — the Potters’ kitchen had never felt so crowded to Harry. Even Percy, Fred, George, and
Ron were put to work, and by evening a large feast was on the table.

“Nearly as good as a Hogwarts feast,” James said proudly as he surveyed the table.

“Though I do miss Dumbledore’s silly toasts,” Sirius said with a sigh as he charmed a toy train
from one of the crackers to circle in between the turkey and the gravy boat.

“And catching McGonagall with one too many glasses of wine,” Remus grinned.

Harry listened quietly and thought that maybe next year he’d stay at Hogwarts. At least once. But
he quickly forgot in the excitement of opening Christmas crackers, with fireworks, hats, chess-sets,
and bangs inside. The large dining hall hadn’t seen so much activity since Harry’s eleventh
birthday. Though that wasn’t all that long ago, Harry felt like it had been years ago. He’d only been
at school for a few months, and already things were so different. He’d learned about his scar, he’d
learned so much about casting magic, he’d joined the Quidditch team and this Nicolas Flamel
business and Snape business consumed so much of his thoughts. Harry wanted to believe this was
normal, that everything happening at school wasere the same sort of adventures his parents had
had, but he remembered what he’d seen in the Mirror of Erised, and couldn’t help but think he
would never have normal adventures, not as long as he carried his scar. What had they said? It was
the mark of something great and something terrible.

After dinner, when everyone was on their way up to bed, James called Harry aside.

“Harry — can I talk to you in the study?”

Lily glanced at him, but James only smiled innocently as he took Harry into the study room beside
the master bedroom. Harry had only been in here a few times — it hadn’t held much interest for
him as a child. Now, though, his eyes roved over all the books and he thought maybe he could find
Nicolas Flamel in here.

James opened up a drawer on his desk and pulled out a package. “This gift has been in our family
for many generations. My father gave it to me when I was about your age, and I think it’s time to
give it to you.”

Harry pulled the wrapping off the package and a cool, silvery fabric that shimmered in the dim
light fell into his hand.

“Put it on.”
Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders, not really sure what it was meant to do. Then he turned
and looked in the mirror and gasped. Only his head was floating at its usual height, but no body
was attached. He pulled the hood over his head and disappeared completely.

“This is amazing!” Harry grinned.

“I know you’re a little prone to getting into trouble, so please use this well. Don’t be stupid with it,
like I was.”

“I haven’t gotten a single detention,” Harry protested.

“And your mum and I are so proud of you. We just want you to keep doing your best.”

“Of course.”

“Now, I do need to warn you,” James said slowly, “while I don’t like keeping secrets from your
mother, I’d rather you didn’t tell her I was giving this to you.”

Harry pulled the hood off of his head. “Why not?”

“She wanted to wait until you were seventeen. I didn’t think it fair to deprive you of all the
adventures this cloak could afford you at Hogwarts. Can you use it wisely? Not get into trouble
with it? Prove to me and your mum you’re ready for it?”

Harry grinned from ear to ear. “Yes! Of course!”

“Alright, then, off to bed.”

Harry practically ran to his room and shook Ron’s bed. “Ron! Ron you’ll never guess!”

“Calm down, mate, I wasn’t even asleep. No need to shout. What’s the matter?” he yawned.

“Look!” and Harry threw the cloak over his shoulders.

“Whoa! That’s incredible! Where’d you —”

“My dad gave it to me for Christmas. Isn’t it amazing?”

“It’s incredible! Wow! I wonder how he got it. They’re supposed to be really rare.”

“Family heirloom I guess.”

“Wish we had something like that. Instead I get to inherit a weasel,” he said with a frown.

Harry dug into his box of chocolate frogs and tossed one to Ron.

“Thanks.” Ron grabbed at the frog before it could jump off his pillow, and while chewing it
looked
at the card. “Aw, another Dumbledore. You want it?”

Harry reached over and took the card, even though he had nearly two dozen of Dumbledore. He
was far more interested in looking at the picture and trying to see if he could imagine Dumbledore
in a flower bonnet.

“Nicolas Flamel!” he said suddenly.

“What? Oh, yeah, we could use the cloak to look in the restricted section.”

“No, look,” Harry said and showed the card to Ron. “Nicolas Flamel is right here — his work with
Dumbledore on alchemy.”

“Oh! Wait’ll Hermione hears about this. At least reading about alchemy will be more interesting
than Witches and Wizards of the 20th century.”

“Hope so,” Harry agreed, and tucked the collectible card into his trunk. Somehow, the card
mattered more than all the other cards. Even though all the other cards were the same, and said the
same information, this one came with the discovery of a long-searched for answer. And, it had
shown him Dumbledore in a flower bonnet.
 Nicolas Flamel
Chapter Summary

Harry, Ron and Hermione know what is hiding under the trapdoor. And they know
Snape's after it.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Hermione replied to their letter with a detailed description of Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher’s
Stone. How he had invented the long-sought for Elixir of Life, and the stone that could produce it.
Harry and Ron agreed that the Philosopher's Stone was definitely what Fluffy was guarding, and
that Snape was definitely trying to steal it. They also agreed that the only adult it was safe to share
this with was Sirius, but Harry cautioned against it, knowing Sirius had a hard time keeping secrets
from James and Remus.

“He told my parents about our duel with Malfoy. I know he’d tell them about this,” Harry said, and
so Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained the only ones who knew.

Harry spent the rest of his Christmas break outside with Ron, Fred, and George. They organized a
handful of Quidditch scrimmages between the four of them. Though, with two players on the team,
they couldn’t have much more than a Quaffle and a Bludger. For at least two games, however, they
managed to drag Sirius and James out with them, which meant they could play with a snitch. The
first game was Potters (Sirius included) against Weasleys. Harry played Seeker opposite Fred,
Sirius was Beater opposite George, and James the Chaser against Ron. Everyone filled in the role
of Keeper. The Potters won by a mile, and Ron complained the teams were very unfair, so it was
switched to adults against children, and Lily joined the adults to even the odds a little. But she
wasn’t much help, since she so rarely rode a broom, and Harry and the Weasley brothers easily
won.

“You’re pretty quick on that Nimbus 2000,” Sirius said to Harry with a clap on the shoulder. Can’t
wait to go to your next Quidditch match.”

“Against Hufflepuff,” Fred shrugged. “Easy-peasy.”

That match would not turn out to be easy-peasy, as Fred suggested.

Back at school, after a very wet practice session, Oliver Wood informed them that they better be on
their best game because Snape would be refereeing, and if they screwed up, they wouldn’t be able
to beat out Slytherin in points.

Harry knew that for Snape, it couldn’t just be about points. He knew that Sirius still didn’t trust
that Snape was innocent in the match against Slytherin back in November, and he agreed. Snape
certainly did seem to have it out for him.

“Don’t play,” Hermione said as soon as he passed the information on to her and Ron.

“Say you’re ill,” said Ron.

“Pretend to break your leg,” Hermione suggested.

“Really break your leg,” said Ron.

“I can’t,” said Harry. “There isn’t a reserve Seeker. If I back out, we can’t play at all.”

Before anyone could suggest another plan, Neville Longbottom toppled into the common room.
His legs were stuck together with a Leg-Locker curse. He must’ve hopped all the way up the stairs
to the tower. Everyone in the common room found this hilarious, except Hermione, who
immediately stood and performed the counter curse.

“What happened?” she asked gently and led him over to where her, Harry, and Ron were sitting.

“Malfoy,” Neville said, still shaking. “I met him outside the library. He said he’d been looking for
someone to practice that on.”

“Tell Professor McGonagall!” Hermione said. “Report him!”

Neville shook his head. “I don’t want more trouble.”

Ron, for once, was on Hermione’s side. “You have to stand up to him. He’s used to walking all
over people, but that’s no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier.”

“I already know I’m not brave enough to be in Gryffindor —”

“Don’t say that,” Harry said encouragingly and squeezed Neville’s shoulder. “You’re worth twelve
of Malfoy. We’re all here because the Sorting Hat put us here —” Though he felt a like that was a
bit of a lie in his case — “and if we weren’t meant to be in Gryffindor, well we just wouldn’t be. It
put Malfoy in Slytherin, so it must know what it’s doing.”

Neville sniffled a bit and rubbed his eye. “Thanks, Harry. You’re always good at that stuff.”

Harry looked puzzled, but Neville said good night and went to bed, so Harry couldn’t ask what he
meant.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus all came to the Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor game. As they had before,
they sat with Ron, Hermione, and Neville.

“Snape’s refereeing?” Sirius said as the teams walked onto the pitch. “Are you kidding? After
Harry’s last game?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Lily said sharply. “I’d rather him on the pitch than any other teacher.”

“Besides, Dumbledore’s here, too,” James said and nudged Sirius’s shoulder.

“He does look especially angry about that,” Ron whispered to Hermione. “And they’re off —
Ouch!”

He whipped around to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle behind them.

“Sorry, Weasley. Didn’t see you there,” Malfoy said with a cheeky grin. “We’re taking bets on
how long Potter’s going to stay on his broom. What do you think? I mean, if you had any money to
bet, what do you think?”
Sirius glanced around at Ron, looking for permission to interfere, but Ron and Hermione both
shook their heads ever so slightly. They turned their attention to Snape and Harry, determined to
make sure that nothing would go wrong.

“You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?” Malfoy said loudly. “It’s the
people they feel sorry for. See, there’s Potter, who’s got no talent. Then there’s the Weasleys,
who’ve got no money — You should be on the team, Longbottom. You’ve got no brains.”

“I — I’m worth twelve of you, Malfoy,” Neville stuttered.

They laughed at him, but Ron said, without looking away from the match, “You tell ‘im, Neville.”

“Longbottom, if brains were gold, you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something.”
Now James, Lily, Sirius and Remus had all taken their eyes off the match to watch Ron and
Malfoy.

James was tense, but Lily had a tight grip on his arm, practically holding him to the seat.

“Harry!” Hermione suddenly shouted, turning everyone back to the game.

Harry was diving towards the ground. Hermione, Lily and James were all on their feet, anxiously
waiting for Harry to pull out of his sharp descent.

“You’re in luck, Weasley. Potter’s obviously spotted some money on the ground!” Malfoy
laughed.

Ron’s temper snapped and he whirled around to tackle Malfoy, but Remus Lupin was suddenly
between them.

“Draco Malfoy, why don’t we take a walk?”

Draco looked frightened for only a half of a second before sneering, “You’re not a teacher. I don’t
have to go anywhere with you.”

“Then I’ll just report to Dumbledore the incident that happened here, hm? Or we can take a short
walk back to the castle and your teachers will remain none the wiser.”

Reluctantly, Malfoy followed Remus Lupin out of the Quidditch stands while everyone else was
celebrating Harry’s quick catch of the Snitch and Gryffindor’s victory, placing them in the lead
over Slytherin.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Harry went to return his broomstick after all the celebrating on the pitch had died down, knowing it
would only be continued in common rooms over tea and food nicked from the kitchens. But when
Harry reached the broomshed, he saw Snape hurrying down to the Forbidden Forest. That seemed
suspicious enough to follow. So Harry hopped back on his broom and took off. Snape stopped in a
shadowy clearing, where Quirrell was already waiting.

“… d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus…” The Defense
Against the Dark Arts teacher stammered.

“Oh, I thought we’d keep this private. Students aren’t supposed to know about the Philosopher’s
Stone, after all.”
Harry leaned closer, but he couldn’t make out Quirrell’s mumbling.

“Have you figured out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?”

“B-b-but Severus, I—“

“You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell,” said Snape, and he took an aggressive step closer to
Quirrell.

“I-I don’t know what you—“

“You know perfectly well what I mean.”

Harry was so focused on their conversation that when an owl hooted loudly, Harry nearly fell from
the shock, but he steadied himself in time to hear Snape say,

“— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I’m waiting.”

“B-but I d-d-don’t —”

“Very well,” Snape cut in. “We’ll have another little chat soon, when you’ve had time to think
things over and decide where your loyalties lie.”

Snape quickly left, cloak over his head. Quirrell remained petrified in the clearing.

Harry returned his broom, and though now might be the best time to tell an adult how sure he, Ron,
and Hermione were about Snape stealing the Philosopher’s Stone, and that he was trying to coerce
Quirrell into doing it for him.

When he was walking back up to the castle, he ran into Remus and Malfoy.

“Harry,” Remus said with a surprised smile. “What are you doing all the way out here? I
thought you’d be back celebrating by now.”

“Just — put my broom away.” Harry looked curiously between the two, wondering what had
happened to make Malfoy look so sullen, and why was he with Uncle Remus, of all people?

“Ah, well we’d best get back on up to the castle, shouldn’t we? Your parents must be waiting.”

The three walked in a sort of awkward silence, peppered by polite questions from Remus Lupin
about their school year and what classes they liked. Harry had already answered most of these
questions for Remus, and Draco’s were short, one-worded answers.

When they reached the castle, Draco went down to his common room in the dungeons, and Harry
walked Remus to the Headmaster’s office, where James, Sirius, and Lily were waiting.

“Where have you been?” Lily asked, worry on her face. “And Harry, shouldn’t you be with your
friends?”

“Oh, I walked back with Remus.” He suddenly wasn’t entirely sure he should tell them what he’d
seen between Snape and Quirrell in front of Dumbledore. Dumbledore seemed to trust Snape for
reasons Harry couldn’t understand. Maybe he should put it in a letter to Sirius later. Sirius would be
the most likely to believe him.

Then again, when he caught Ron and Hermione in a quiet corner later, and told them what he’d
seen, Ron said something that made him think he really shouldn’t wait to tell Sirius in a letter.
 “If it’s only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape,” Ron sighed, “It’ll be gone by next
Tuesday.”

Chapter End Notes

I don't have to teach over Thanksgiving break, just work at my retail job a couple of
days so I'm hoping to finish out the Philosopher's Stone by Christmas and get started
on Chamber of Secrets before New Years <3 I'm always happy to read your comments
and headcanons! Thank you all.
 Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback
Chapter Summary

Harry is at a loss to protect the stone; Hagrid makes a new friend.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Dear Sirius,

We figured out the Cerberus is guarding the Philosopher’s Stone and Snape is after it. We saw him
confront Professor Quirrell about helping him get the stone. But Dumbledore trusts Snape so what
do we do?

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Sirius,

Dumbledore called us to his office to tell us everything was fine and Snape was trustworthy and the
stone is safe. He said all the teachers have placed a guard over it, and Snape would never steal the
stone. I even told him I saw Snape confront Professor Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest, but he only
said things look different between dusk and dawn, whatever that means.

Love,
Harry

P.S. Hagrid’s got a dragon.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

I told your father what you told me in your first letter. He told your mum and they decided to write
to Dumbledore. Your mum and Snape were friends in school, and your father trusts Dumbledore
with his life, so it’s no wonder they believe him about Snape. But I still think you’re onto
something. Snape’s never been a good sort of person.

Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, so good for him. What sort is it?

Love,
Sirius

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Sirius

Norbert is a Norwegian Ridgeback, and Hagrid’s the worst sort of mother. The dragon could burn
 the school down and Hagrid wouldn’t care. We finally convinced him to let Norbert go. Charlie’s
got some friends willing to smuggle Norbert out. We’re meeting them at midnight at the top of the
astronomy tower. Don’t worry, I’ve got Dad’s Cloak.

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Draco Malfoy,

I hope your second term is progressing well. You’ve still got a ways to go before exams, but it
never hurts to start prepping now. If I remember correctly, you should be studying Doxies and
Bowtruckles. Not the most dangerous of creatures, but they are fascinating.

Have you gotten to Hags yet? Their position as “Beings” or “Beasts” is up for debate in the
Ministry next week. I imagine your father will be one of the people voting on it. Fascinating topic
of conversation. Has your professor mentioned anything about classification?

I remember you said Potions was your favorite subject. I confess I wasn’t very good at it, but when
I went to school with Professor Snape, he was a very skilled potions maker. I’m sure he’s an
excellent teacher.

Feel free to write at your convenience.

Sincerely,
Remus Lupin

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Mr. Lupin,

Did you know Harry Potter has a dragon?

Sincerely,
Draco Malfoy

Chapter End Notes

Looks like MOST of the rest of the book will be letters, with scattered dialogue. It's
about 75% complete right now, so it should be finished by Christmas, as promised.

As always, comments and headcanons appreciated!

 The Forbidden Forest
Chapter Summary

Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Draco serve their detention with Hagrid.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Dear Sirius,

We got caught. Malfoy knew about us and ratted us out to McGonagall. Now Hermione, Neville,
and me and Malfoy all have detention. I’ll have to tell Mum and Dad. I can’t believe we left the
cloak at the top of the tower! And we lost Gryffindor 150 points! That’s everything I won in the
Quidditch match. We’re in last place again. And there isn’t any time to catch up. I can’t believe
McGonagall would do this to her own house. No one will even talk to me, Hermione, and Neville.

If I live through detention, I’ll write to you again.

Love, Harry.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

The Forbidden Forest was as terrifying as expected, with tall dark looming trees that groaned in the
wind as if invisible spectres wove their way between branches. Neville clung tightly to Harry’s
robe as they approached the edge with Hagrid.

“I’m not going in there,” Draco protested. Harry was pleased to hear how terrified he was.

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” Hagrid said.

“But this is servant stuff! I thought we’d be copying lines or —”

“I would much rather explore a forest than copy lines,” Harry said cheerfully. He didn’t feel
particularly brave, but he fed on Malfoy’s fear and turned it into his own pride.

Hagrid led them deep along the path. “Right then. Now listen, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re
gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

He knelt down, just off the path, and held his lantern high so all the children could see.

“Look there. See that stuff shinin’ on the ground? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in here
bin hurt badly by summit. This is the secon’ time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday.
We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” Malfoy asked.

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang. An’ keep ter the
path.”

The trail of silver unicorn blood led in two different directions. Hagrid took Hermione and Harry
with him, and sent Fang with Neville and Draco.

Harry didn’t know a lot about unicorns, but Uncle Remus spoke of them very reverently when they
were brought up. He knew it was unspeakable to hurt something so precious and valuable, but he
also knew it was difficult to even get a hold of one. Whatever they were hunting had to be deadly.

Hagrid suddenly pulled Harry and Hermione from the path and behind an oak tree. He had his
crossbow ready to fire. There was the sound of something slithering in the dead leaves, and Harry
suddenly remembered the snake from last summer. But the sound wasn’t quite right. Then he
thought of a cloak trailing in the dirt.

“There’s summat in here that shouldn’ be.”

“No full moon so it isn’t a werewolf,” Harry whispered.

“You can see the moon?” Hermione whispered back, squinting up at the thick growth of tree
branches.

“No werewolf and no unicorn,” Hagrid frowned. “Right, follow me, but careful now.”

Their footsteps were slower now, and they strained their ears for any unusual sounds in the forest.
Suddenly, there was movement in the clearing ahead.

But it was no monster that emerged — a Centaur, in fact. Harry remembered a conversation he
had overheard in the kitchen between Uncle Remus and Lily about the classification of Centaurs as
Beasts or Beings. He seemed to remember them both believing centaurs were Beings, but he
couldn’t remember where the Ministry stood on that. He also couldn’t remember why Lily and
Remus were discussing it if they agreed on it.

This particular Centaur was chestnut with red hair and tail.

“Just you, Ronan.” Hagrid lowered his crossbow. “How are yeh?”

Hagrid and Ronan shook hands. Harry was shocked to see they were nearly eye-level with each
other.

“Were you going to shoot me?” Ronan’s voice was deep and heavy. It reminded Harry of one
Christmas morning when he’d woken up before the sunrise, before the rest of his family, and found
Sirius brooding in front of the fireplace without having slept at all.

“Can’t be too careful,” Hagrid patted his crossbow. “There’s summat bad loose in this forest. This
is Harry Potter an’ Hermione Granger. Students up at the school. An’ you two, this is Ronan. He’s
a centaur.”

“We noticed.” Hermione’s voice was distant, almost breathless.

Ronan nodded his head to Harry and Hermione. “Students? And you learn much, up at the
school?”

“Yessir,” Harry answered.

Ronan grunted and looked up at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.”

In the clearing they could see the waxing moon, a bright star right next to it, and a brighter, redder
one further off.
“Listen,” Hagrid said, “I’m glad we’ve run inter yeh, Ronan, ‘cause there’s a unicorn bin hurt —
you seen anythin’?”

Ronan paused for a long moment and then finally said, “Always the innocent are the first victims.
So it has been for ages past, so it is now.”

“Yeh, but have yeh seen anythin’ Ronan? Anythin’ unusual?”

“Mars is bright tonight. Unusually bright.”

They were joined by a second centaur. This one was even bigger, with dark hair and a dark tail.

“Hullo, Bane. Look, I’ve jus’ bin asking’ Ronan, you seen anythin’ odd in here lately? There’s a
unicorn bin injured — would yeh know anythin’ about it?”

Bane looked over the small group, then joined Ronan in gazing at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.”

“We’ve heard,” grunted Hagrid. “Well, if either of you see anythin’ let me know, won’t yeh? We’ll
be off, then.”

Harry and Hermione followed Hagrid back to the path and away from the centaurs.

“Never try an’ get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin’
closer’n the moon.”

“Are there many of them in here?” asked Hermione.

“Oh, a fair few. Keep to themselves mostly, but they’re good enough about turning’ up if I ever
want a word. They’re deep, mind, centaurs. They know things, jus’ don’ let on much.”

“Maybe it was a centaur we heard earlier,” Harry suggested, though knew it was a foolish hope.

“Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what’s bin killin’ the unicorns —
never heard anythin’ like it before.”

They kept walking. Harry couldn’t shake the nasty feeling they were being watched. Suddenly
Hermione pointed towards a bend in the path just ahead of them.

“Hagrid! Look! Red sparks! The others are in trouble!”

“Wait here on the path,” Hagrid said and went crashing through the forest.

“You don’t think they’re hurt, do you?” Hermione whispered and clung to Harry’s arm.

Harry squeezed her arm right back. “I hope Neville’s alright. It’s our fault he’s here in the first
place. But as for Malfoy….”

The wait was longer than they could count and every sound was louder than usual and far more
terrifying. Even though Harry knew Hagrid would not have left them alone if they were in real
danger, the waiting seemed to make everything more terrifying. Finally, Hagrid’s heavy footfalls
came back in their direction, with Malfoy, Neville, and Fang behind him.

Apparently, Malfoy had thought it a funny joke to scare Neville. Neville had panicked and sent up
the sparks. So Hagrid sent Harry off with Fang and Malfoy, and kept Neville and Hermione with
him.
Now it started to feel like a detention to Harry.

Harry held the lantern and Draco held onto Fang. The path they were on seemed to disappear in the
thickness of the woods, but the trail of silver blood got thicker too, so they kept pushing forward.

There was a thick, gnarled oak, splashed in unicorn blood. Harry swallowed down his fear and
whispered, “Uncle Remus says it’s one of the worst evils to kill a unicorn.”

“If it’s a unicorn, it's probably not —” But Draco stopped once he had climbed over the tree’s
roots.

Just the other side, collapsed in a brush, was the unicorn they were searching for. It was impossibly
white and bright in the dark forest, but it wasn’t moving. No heavy heaving or nostrils flaring — it
was dead.

That same slithering sound Harry heard with Hagrid transfixed both Draco and Harry. They stared
into the darkness, where leaves quivered, until a hooded figure crawled out. It was shaped like a
man, but slinking close to the ground like a predator approaching its prey. And then the figure
reached the unicorn, dipped its head down, and drank from the wound.

Draco screamed and ran. Fang followed. Harry still couldn’t seem to move.

And then the figure looked up at Harry, unicorn blood smeared down its cloak and dripping from a
grotesque mouth, twisted in a terrifying grin.

Pain shot through Harry’s scar, like the lightning bolt was on fire. His vision went white with pain
and he finally moved, but only to stagger backwards, groping for the old oak they’d passed. His
hand grasped the solid tree but slipped in warm, slick unicorn blood and he fell to the ground.

There was the sound of hooves galloping and something jumped clean over him. He imagined it
was a unicorn, coming to avenge its brother, and Harry wanted to tell it to run, that this thing would
kill him, but that was as far as the thought went, because everything else was too much to conjure
against the pain.

A minute or two passed before Harry could stand. When he opened his eyes the cloaked figure was
gone, and a centaur was standing over him. This one was younger than Ronan or Bane, with white
blonde hair and a silvery coat, but he was just as big as Ronan.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes — Thank you — What was that?” Harry let the centaur pull him up.

The centaur did not answer Harry’s question, and instead lingered his gaze on the scar across
Harry’s forehead. “You are the Potter boy. You had better get back to Hagrid.”

The centaur, who introduced himself as Firenze, knelt down onto his front legs so Harry could
climb on.

Before they could get back to Hagrid, Bane and Ronan rushed into the clearing.

“Firenze!” Bane shouted at him. “Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?”

“This is the Potter boy,” Firenze said. “The quicker he leaves this forest, the better.”

“Remember,” growled Bane, “we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not
read what is to come in the movements of the planets?”

Ronan intervened, “I’m sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best.”

“For the best?” Bane bucked and kicked back with his hind legs. “What is that to do with us?

Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like
donkeys after stray humans in our forest!”

Then Firenze reared up and Harry clung tightly to his mane to keep from falling off.

“Do you see that unicorn?” Firenze was shouting now, in a deep voice Harry could hear rumbling
from deep beneath where he was seated. “Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the
planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, and yes, with
humans alongside me if I must.”

And then Firenze galloped off into the woods with a swish of his tail that Sirius would’ve been
proud of. Harry hung on tightly — it was far more difficult than riding a broom. Brooms were
smooth, able to be controlled. This was the work of powerful muscle and sinew moving between
Harry’s legs, and he had no idea where it was taking him.

Harry turned the conversation over between Firenze and Bane in his head. He thought about the
whispered conversations between his parents long after he was supposed to be asleep. Familiar
words like destiny and fate pulled together, but Harry didn’t know what it had to do with the
unicorn.

Once they had slowed down, Firenze asked, “Do you know what unicorn blood is used for, Harry
Potter?”

“No. Uncle Remus said it’s unspeakable to kill a unicorn.”

“He is correct. Only one who has nothing to lose and everything to gain would commit such a
crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death, but at a
terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have
but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

“If you’re going to be cursed forever, death is better, isn’t it?”

“Unless,” Firenze said slowly, “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something
else — something that will bring you back to full strength and power—something that will mean
you can never die.”

“The Elixir of Life — the Philosopher’s Stone,” Harry said with a breath of awe. But that wouldn’t
be Snape. Snape had no need of unicorn’s blood. “Who would —”

“Can you think of no one who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life,
awaiting their chance?”

Harry thought again to the conversations of fate and destiny. To the night of his eleventh birthday,
when his family sat down and told him the story, to Sirius saying, “Some think he died. Some
think he’s still out there,” and his mother’s warning, “Most of us think he’s waiting until he’s
powerful enough to come back. And he’ll come for you when he does.”

And the why still burned furiously in his chest. The why that his parents had vaguely answered
with being a half-blooded wizard. That didn’t feel right. If Voldemort had killed so many people,
so many Muggle-borns and half-bloods, then why had Harry, as a baby, been able to stop him?

“So — that cloaked figure — was Vol —”

“Harry! Are yeh alright?” Hagrid was thundering towards him, Hermione miraculously keeping
pace. Neville and Draco trailed behind.

“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione helped him down from Firenze’s back.

“I’m fine,” he said, still very dazed with both the trauma of the event and the realization of what
had happened. “Hagrid — the unicorn is back in that clearing — it’s dead.”

“And this is where I leave you,” Firenze said as he watched Hagrid hurry towards the clearing.
“Good luck, Harry Potter. The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I
hope this is one of those times.”

Harry felt cold in his bones. He, Draco, Hermione, and Neville stood in silence on the path while
Hagrid buried the unicorn in the clearing. Hagrid cried as he did. Loud half-giant sniffles filled the
forest, but even Draco had nothing to say about it.

Though their detention was supposed to end at dawn, Hagrid walked the four straight back to the
castle. After all that, Hagrid decided the children had done enough.

When Harry, Hermione, and Neville returned to the Gryffindor common room, they found Ron
asleep in a chair by the fire, apparently intent on waiting up for his friends. Harry woke him to tell
him what happened.

The four of them all huddled around the fire, but Harry couldn’t sit with his friends. He paced
frantically, hands shaking.

“Voldemort,” he said. “The stone is for Voldemort. That’s got to be what Snape’s after.”

“You shouldn’t say his name,” Neville said in a terrified whisper.

Harry didn’t listen. “Firenze saved me from Voldemort — he was the one drinking unicorn
blood, he had to be, while he waits for Snape to get him the stone. And Bane was upset with
Firenze for saving me — for going against the planets — Voldemort’s coming back and the stars
say he’s going to kill me.”

“Stop saying his name,” Ron hissed at him.

“So now we just have to wait for Snape to steal the stone and then Voldemort can come finish me
off.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, her voice strong even though her face was very pale, “Everyone knows
Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, you
can’t be touched. And anyway, Professor McGonagall says Divination is a very imprecise branch
of magic.”

But Harry thought about what his mother said, that Voldemort would come back for him. He didn’t
think the stars were wrong about that.

As they climbed up to bed, with the sun rising, Neville pinched Harry’s sleeve and whispered
quietly, “My parents are Aurors. I can tell them for you. They’ll be able to help.”
 Harry nodded. “Thanks Neville. I think if we’ve got Dumbledore, we’ll be alright.”

Neville almost smiled at Harry, or at least, his pale face twitched into something that looked like a
hopeful smile. “Okay. You’re right.”

Harry pulled back the sheets to climb into bed, but found the Invisibility Cloak tucked underneath,
with a note pinned to it that read, “Just in case.”

Harry slipped it under his pillow and crawled into bed without even taking a minute to wonder how
the cloak had been returned to him. He was exhausted, mind too full of worries about Snape and
Voldemort and stars to add the cloak to his concerns. Harry fell asleep immediately, but did not
sleep well. He dreamed of a hooded figure and hooves pounding in his head. He dreamed of a
woman screaming and a bright flash of green light and through it all his scar burned.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Draco Malfoy,

I heard you had detention this evening. I hope it was at least something more exciting than copying
lines or polishing trophies.

I’m not sure how you found out Harry had a dragon, but I imagine it wasn’t a secret he chose to
share with you. The next time something like this happens, I advise you to go directly to a teacher.

Telling me out of some sort of spite seems rather ineffective, don’t you think?

Even better, if you and Harry could work your problems out between the two of you, I think you
could be good friends. You both remind me of two very good friends of mine when I was in school.

Sincerely,
Remus Lupin.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Mr. Lupin,

Do you know what sort of creature drinks unicorn blood?

Sincerely, Draco Malfoy

P.S. I hear Hags are still classified as Beings.

Chapter End Notes

I hope the letters between Draco and Remus haven't weirded anyone out. But I wrote
out their conversation from the Quidditch game in Chapter 14 and it seemed like a
mentorship Remus wouldn't back away from. I have my own headcanons about
Remus's absent father (high up in the ministry, but his werewolf-son is always broke?
suspicious imo), so I can see Remus looking at Draco and seeing a boy who just needs
someone to look out for him and all of his natural teaching skills would drive him to
fill that role.
As always, I love hearing your criticisms, questions, comments, and headcanons.
 Through the Trapdoor
Chapter Summary

Nightmares and letters and the return of Lord Voldemort.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Dear Sirius,

Detention was exciting. We went into the Forbidden Forest. Met some centaurs.

I know I tell you lots of stuff and make you promise not to tell Mum and Dad, but can you keep this
one a secret, too?

When we were in the Forbidden Forest, we were looking for a hurt unicorn. I finally found it, but it
was already dead. And something was drinking its blood. Then it came for me. It was terrifying. A
dark, hooded, cloaked-thing. A centaur named Firenze scared it off and saved me. But I keep
having nightmares about it. And there’s this green flash. And a woman screaming. Sometimes it
sounds like Mum. And my scar keeps hurting.

Promise you won’t tell them? They get weird about my scar. All quiet and distant, and I don’t want
them to worry. It’s just nightmares like normal, right?

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

Congrats on surviving your first detention! You’ll make it alright.

I wouldn’t worry too much about your nightmares. Your exams are coming up, aren’t they? The
Forbidden Forest can be a bit scary, and the extra stress of exams can make it worse.

You’re better off asking your Dad or Remus about what you saw. It sounds a bit like a Dementor,
but those shouldn’t be in the Forbidden Forest. Might’ve been a Boggart.

I promise not to tell your parents about it, but you really shouldn’t feel like you can’t tell them.
They’re your Mum and Dad, and no one but them loves you more. They only want what’s best for
you, and sometimes they get a little worried about you. It’s because they love you.

I told Remus I was getting some stress headaches and he gave me a funny look, but recommended
some teas. I tucked the recipes in. Maybe you can sneak some potions supplies out from under
Snape’s nose, eh? And I also added on some hexes for that Malfoy kid. Nothing de-stresses for
exams like hexing Slytherins who deserve it.

Best of luck!
Love,
Sirius

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Remus,

I had detention in the Forbidden Forest. We were looking for a hurt unicorn. We didn’t find it in
time, though. But I did meet some centaurs. One of them was friendly. His name was Firenze. The
other two didn’t seem to like me much. I think they knew about when I was a baby and You-
Know-Who tried to kill me, Mum, and Dad. They didn’t seem very happy about the whole thing.
Are all centaurs like that? They kept talking about Mars. But we don’t take Divination until third
year, so I have no idea what it means.

What happens to you if you kill a unicorn? And are the centaurs any better at Divination than
humans?

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

I’m sorry you had to see a dead unicorn. It’s a tragic thing. No one should have to see something
like that.

But you’re very lucky to have met some centaurs! They don’t usually like talking with humans, but
I understand Hagrid is on decent terms with them. I’m glad you met Firenze. He is a dear friend of
mine who helped me through a difficult time at Hogwarts.

I wouldn’t take anything the other two said personally. Centaurs generally aren’t sociable, but I’ve
heard they’re more cantankerous than usual. The Ministry’s been pushing through new laws and
restricting what lands they’re allowed to live on. Dumbledore’s been very kind to let them roam the
forests around Hogwarts. And if you’re worried that they’re supporters of You-Know-Who, rest
easy. Centaurs stay out of the affairs of humans, and if it came down to it, You-Know-Who would
exterminate them. He was never fond of half-breeds in his regime.

Good luck in your exams. I’ve included some recipes for relaxation and increased concentration.
They’re not potions, just teas with magical properties. So it isn’t cheating, and you should be able
to brew them yourself. I think Ms. Granger might like to try them as well.

Love,
Remus Lupin

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Mum and Dad

Exams are coming up. Hermione has made colour-coded notes for us and everything, so I think
we’ll be okay.

Detention was fine. And I feel bad about losing the points for Gryffindor, but we were breaking
rules for the right reasons, so I don’t feel bad about what we did. It was to protect Hagrid, and
that’s okay.
But the Forbidden Forest is pretty terrifying. I was glad we had Hagrid. And we met some
centaurs.

I’ll see you guys soon.

Love,
Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Harry,

Best of luck in your exams. I included some scones for a midnight study snack. But the best thing
for you is a good night’s sleep.

Your father seems to think you must’ve had a grand old time in the Forbidden Forest. I think he
and Sirius and Uncle Remus did a lot of illegal adventuring in their day. I hope you weren’t too
frightened.

I’ve never seen a centaur. They’re supposed to be lovely. You’ll have to tell us all about it when
you come home.

We’ll see you soon!

Lots of love,
Mum and Dad

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

And somehow, they made it through exams. Voldemort never came pouncing out of any hidden
doors, or ducked around dark corners. And no one fainted — though Neville nearly did in Potions.

Their last exam was History of Magic. Then they were free to relax beside the lake. At least, Harry
and Ron were relaxing. Hermione was going over her notes, looking for the answers to all the
exam questions.

“The 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct wasn’t all that important, or Elfric the Eager.”

“The 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct was revolutionary,” Harry said, “and it prevented hunters
from coming after werewolves who abided by the rules. It allowed Werewolves to be treated like
Beings and not Dark Beasts.”

“I know that,” Hermione snapped. “I just meant for the exam.”

“The exam is over. Why not just pay attention to the parts that matter?”

“Like the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct?” Ron laughed, and Harry’s ears burned, but he
couldn’t explain to Ron why the Werewolf Code of Conduct was so important.

Harry sat up and rubbed his forehead. He saw Neville, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones coming
down the path. He had barely spoken to Susan this year. He wondered briefly what her exams had
been like, then pain shot through his scar.

Harry groaned and laid back down in the grass. “I wish I knew what it means! It happens
sometimes, but not as often as this.”
“Maybe Madam Pomfrey will know what to do,” suggested Hermione.

“I’m not ill. Maybe it’s a warning. I think it means danger’s coming.”

But it was too hot to convince Ron and Hermione to do anything. They told him he was just
stressed from the exams, and that there was no sense worrying with Dumbledore around. And that
they at least were sure Snape didn’t know how to get past Fluffy, since he’d failed last Halloween.
Quirrel hadn’t helped him; it was only Hagrid who knew about Fluffy, so there was nothing to
worry about. Hagrid would never turn against Dumbledore.

Harry jumped up so suddenly, he startled his friends. “We’ve got to see Hagrid right now.” He
walked so quickly towards Hagrid’s hut, his friends had to jog to catch up with him.

“Don’t you think it’s odd,” Harry explained, “that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a
dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people
wander around with dragon eggs if it’s against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don’t you
think? Why didn’t I see it before?”

“What are you talking about?” Ron groaned as they approached Hagrid’s hut.

Hagrid was sitting outside, enjoying the sun, and smiled pleasantly at the trio. “Hullo. Exams all
finished? Want ter stay fer tea?”

Ron started to accept, but Harry interrupted. “You know that night you won Norbert? What did the
stranger you were playing cards with look like?”

Hagrid scratched at his beard. “Dunno. He wouldn’ take his cloak off. It’s not that unusual. Yeh
get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head — Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn’ he?”

“Did you talk to him about Hogwarts at all?”

“Mighta come up. Yeah… he asked me what I did, I told ‘im I look after the creatures here. I said
I’d always wanted a dragon egg. He kept buyin’ me drinks…. I told ‘im after Fluffy, a dragon’d be
easy.”

“And did he seem interested in Fluffy?”

“Well — yeah. How many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even at Hogwarts? So I told ‘im, Fluffy’s
a piece of cake if yeh know how to calm him down. Jus’ play a bit o’ music and he’ll go straight
off ter sleep —”

That was all Harry needed to hear. He ignored Hagrid shouting after him as he headed up to the
castle. “We’ve got to go to Dumbledore. Snape has everything he needs to get into the dungeon and
the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

They started up towards the Headmaster’s office, but they were stopped at the stairs by Professor
McGonagall.

“You wanted to see Professor Dumbledore?” she said with a frown. “Why?”

“Er — it’s a secret,” Harry explained weakly.

She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago. He
received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left at once for London.”
 “He’s gone? Now? But this is important!”

“Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard. He has many demands—“

“Professor McGonagall, it’s about the Philosopher's Stone —”

Professor McGonagall dropped all of her books to the floor in shock, and did not even stoop to pick
them up. “How do you know —”

“Professor, I think Snape is going to steal the stone and I’ve got to tell Professor Dumbledore.”
McGonagall’s shock gave way to suspicion. “I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but
rest assured, no one can possibly steal it. It’s far too well protected.”

She refused to listen to any more of the stories and explanations, and the three were forced to
retreat to their common room in defeat. Harry whispered to them that he was sure it would be
tonight that Snape went to steal the stone.

“But without Dumbledore,” Hermione said, “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I can steal the stone first,” Harry said, green eyes determined.

“You can’t! You’ll be expelled!”

“You’re mad if you think you can do that, mate. There’s a whole pack of enchantments protecting
the stone.”

“So what?” Harry shouted at them. “How do I make you guys understand?” He lowered his voice
so the rest of the common room couldn’t hear. “If Snape gets the stone, Voldemort comes back.
You’ve all heard what it was like when he tried to take over. There won’t be a Hogwarts left. He
killed a lot of people and I won’t let it happen again. Not when I can do something about it.”

Harry thought maybe this was what Firenze meant when he said there was something horrible in
his future. He was going to face Voldemort for the stone. Well, it was that or do nothing, and if his
parents, Sirius, and Uncle Remus had taught him anything, it was that doing nothing was just as
bad as going dark.

“Yes, you’re right,” Hermione said very quietly.

“I’ll take the Invisibility Cloak so I don’t get caught.”

“Is it big enough to cover all three of us?” Ron asked.

“You don’t have to come —”

“As if we’d let you go alone.”

“How do you think you’ll get to the Stone without us?” Hermione sniffed. “I’m going to go
through my books for some useful spells.”

Harry’s chest swelled. He hadn’t thought they’d help him. It’d be dangerous, and maybe they
didn’t understand, but it would be wonderful to have someone with him. Wonderful to have the two
people outside his family that he trusted just as much.

Chapter End Notes

Ch 17 is done just waiting for it to be beta'd because someone offered and I guess now
chapters will be beta'd before they get posted. So that's a thing.

As always, headcanons appreciated!

 The Man with Two Faces
Chapter Summary

Harry Potter faces Voldemort for the Philosopher's Stone.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Dear Mr and Mrs Granger,

I am writing to inform you of your child’s exemplary performance inside and outside the
classroom.

Hermione has received nothing but praise from her teachers on her intense desire to learn, and
performed exceptionally well in her exams this term. She is a remarkable student. Outside of the
classroom, she has stood up to bullies and reversed hexes performed on her classmates
demonstrating skills at least two years above her current level.

When Hermione believed the school — and our entire wizarding world — to be in danger, but
found the help from her professors to be insufficient, she and her friends took it upon themselves to
do what they deemed necessary.

Hermione faced a cerberus and charmed it to sleep with a spell at a third year level. She rescued
her friends from a vine with a fire spell at a fifth-year level. She participated in a chess match with
an incredible display of bravery and solved a logic puzzle under enormous pressure.

She is an incredible girl with a brilliant mind and a very brave heart. You should be proud.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Mr and Mrs Weasley,

I am writing to inform you of your child’s exemplary behavior at school, both inside and outside
the classroom.

Ronald has received good marks in his exams and no teacher has described him as disruptive or
rude in the classroom. Outside of class he has befriended students who are otherwise bullied, and
both stood up for them as well as encouraged them to stand up for themselves.

When Ronald believed both the school and the wizarding world to be in danger, and he was
dissatisfied with the way his teachers handled the situation, he and his friends took it upon
themselves to do what they deemed to be necessary.

Ronald used his knowledge of the wizarding world to encourage his friends to perform to their best.
He also played the best game of wizard’s chess ever seen in our history, against a chess set of my
own making. Not only did he outwit the chess match, he risked his own life so that his friends
could go on to save the school and the wizarding world.

Your son is intelligent and brave, proving his place in his house to be not the result of family
lineage, but of true merit. You should be proud.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear James and Lily Potter,

Harry is an incredibly bright and gifted wizard. He performed excellently in his exams and has
shown remarkable growth for a wizard his age, not unlike yourselves, when you were in school
here.

Even his penchant for mischief and rule-breaking stems from a good nature and desire to help
others. When Harry found out that the school and the greater wizarding world were in danger from
the return of the worst evil our generations have witnessed, he knew he could not stand aside and
let it happen. He did his best to alert his teachers, but when he did not feel they were taking the
situation seriously, he took it on himself to stop Voldemort.

Harry went after the Philosopher’s Stone himself, hoping to get to it before Voldemort would. He
admirably completed tasks and solved puzzles designed to prevent full-grown wizards from
reaching the stone. Harry arrived at the stone after Voldemort, but instead of faltering, he fought
Voldemort for the stone and won. The love you two had when you stood between him and
Voldemort ten years ago protected Harry and gave him what he needed to destroy Voldemort once
more.

We have always expected great things from Harry. We knew that facing Voldemort again was
inevitable. These events prove that Harry has been raised into a fine young boy with bravery,
courage, and compassion far beyond what we hoped for. You should be very proud.

Yours Sincerely,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius were all in attendance to pick Harry up from the station. There was
a lot of hugging. Lily cried and kissed his forehead, several times. James squeezed his shoulder and
smiled. Sirius tousled his hair and joked about his detention. Remus smiled and congratulated him.

At home, there was cake and tea and Harry shared all his best stories with excitement. They went
over his infamous dive for the Rememberall again, and his Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. He
told the full story of Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback, their midnight ascent to the Astronomy
Tower, and how they put Gryffindor in last place for the House Cup. He left out that they had used
the cloak to sneak around.

Sirius thought that the whole story was a riot, Remus thought that the dragon smuggling harness
was very clever, and James was offended that he was only just now finding out about the dragon.
Lily told Harry he was very smart and kind to solve the dragon problem all on his own without
getting Hagrid into trouble.

Then Harry told them about the conversation he had overheard between Snape and Quirrell
(“Professor Snape, Harry.”) in the forest. He told them how later, he had overheard Quirrell talking
with someone again, and he had been certain it was about the stone, but he had only just missed
who Quirrell was speaking to. Harry told them how he had decided to get the stone before
Voldemort, because Dumbledore was gone. He told them that Neville had actually stood up to
them, and how now he was very happy for Neville, but then it had been terribly inconvenient. He
told them how Hermione had lit the Devil’s Snare on fire. He told them how he had caught the key
while on the broom. He told them how Ron won an incredible chess game, as play-by-play as he
could remember, and made sure to emphasize how brave Ron had been. He told them how
Hermione had solved the potions puzzle, and could not help saying how impressive it was, even if
it had been Snape’s puzzle.

Harry told his family how he had been surprised to find Professor Quirrell in the final chamber. He
told them how Quirrell had taken off his turban and revealed that Voldemort himself was attached
to Quirrell beneath it. He told them how he found the stone without meaning to, and that
Voldemort had tried to take it from him and kill him. But there had been a burning sensation in his
hands and Voldemort and Quirrell had both melted when he touched them. Harry tried to gloss
over how horrifying it had been, because he was grateful that he was safe, and alive, but he didn’t
think he did a good job hiding his fear. Lily took his hand and held it tightly, and James squeezed
his shoulder.

Harry finished his story about Quirrell as quickly as he could, and told them what Dumbledore had
told him: That when Peter Pettigrew died to protect the Potters, and Lily stood up to Voldemort for
Harry, he was protected by the magic of love and self-sacrifice.

He told them that Voldemort could touch neither Harry nor Lily nor James because of the spell.

Then he told them how Dumbledore had awarded the points at the end of the term, and Gryffindor
won the House Cup.

His family was proud of him. They all were worried, but so proud, and so glad he was safe. Sirius
cut him an extra thick slice of cake. Remus quizzed him on his Defense Against the Dark Arts
knowledge, and was very impressed with Harry’s answers. Lily, several times, moved like she was
going to try to flatten Harry’s hair, but stopped herself each time and settled on a kiss to his
forehead. James found a moment alone with Harry in the kitchen and asked how the cloak had
worked out that year. Harry told him how they’d used it to help smuggle the dragon out, but he
didn’t mention that he’d left it on top of the staircase or that it had been mysteriously returned to
him.

It was late into the night when Remus and Sirius finally said good night and left. Harry was half-
awake when his parents carried him upstairs to his room.

“He’s nearly too big for this,” James grunted.

“We could levitate him —”

“I got it.”

Harry pretended to stay asleep as his dad set him down in his bed. He heard his mother whisper,
“Nox.”

“So is that it, then?” James whispered. “You-Know-Who is gone and our boy did it?”
 “Seems so.” Lily sighed. “But I never imagined it would be this easy.”

“But it could be, couldn’t it?”

“Nothing with Harry ever has been.”

“Couldn’t we just once —”

“Shh…”

The door clicked shut and the clock downstairs chimed 3:33.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much for all your comments and headcanons! They are always
appreciated.

I'm taking a vacation this coming week, and I plan to take Chamber of Secrets with
me. I have to reread the books two or three times during the course of writing and
making lots of notes. (Easy now; won't be so fun when I get to Goblet of Fire...)

So expect me to start the next book in a month or so.

Works inspired by this Harry

one Potter y la piedra filosofal [all lives]by Cam28

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