Disclaimers and all that rot: I own nothing but this fanfiction, and if you were told differently then please show me that in writing because I would love nothing more than to own the only book franchise in the world that has made over a billion dollars.

Once again I return with another attempt at working the Harry Potterverse. I have found that this book series is easily the hardest bit I've attempted to write on, and that's saying something since I've written fics in GoT. This is a rewrite of another one of my fictions called Born of Earth, and hopefully it will turn out better than the older version did.

Out of all my stories, be it past or present, I have never used an OC for a main character that didn't know the plot beforehand. They were either reincarnated or somehow miraculously arrived into that universe and did whatever they felt like with their unusual opportunity. With that said, I felt that such stories have somewhat degraded my enjoyment of these series I write for, sad as it may seem. This is my attempt at using an OC that does not possess any prior knowledge of this universe; one that I feel is quite unique in the HPverse. Though I think it is unique, it is nearly impossible to avoid clichés due to the massive amount that exist in fanfiction so please bear with me.

Something to note, I set the HP timeline up 20 years in the future. Reason? Because I was six when the year 2000 came. I do not remember a lick of what happened in the 90's aside from Pokemon coming out and my older brother getting pissed at me when I deleted his save of Blue because I wanted to have a Bulbasaur.

I am also looking for a beta. If anybody is interested in the position, please PM me and I'll get back to you as quick as I can.

Special thanks to Noodlehammer for writing the story For Love of Magic, which is the inspiration that started this idea. He is an amazing author and I highly recommend you look up his work.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

On the night of September 23rd, 1999, the London street of Burdett Road was quiet and unnaturally empty. A woman walked the street with purpose, a small basket covered in cloths inside was held in her left hand and a while a wand was tightly gripped in her right. She was large, far larger than any had the right to be and stood near twelve feet high. Minutes passed in a similar silence, a ward surrounded her that made her inconspicuous to any muggle watchers, and she found herself stopping in front of a large square brick lain building without any lights on.

Leopold House, 199 Burdett Road the sign read above the building door. She released a strained sigh, muttering to herself in French, and placed the basket on the step of the building. She bent down low, unveiling the cloths of the basket to reveal a fairly large babe with a small tuft of brown hair and pale olive skin sleeping peacefully.

She went through her robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. Tucking it inside the cloths that held her infant, she placed one last kiss on her sons head while tears marred the cloths surrounding him. She turned away, hiding her freely falling tears from the world and wordlessly apparated to places unknown.

The sound of her apparition awoke the baby boy in a jolt, causing him to wale loudly. The lights of Leopold House suddenly turned on, and the door swung open. An elderly woman with wavy grey-red hair and dull blue eyes stared blankly at the infant in a basket.

She groaned, a Scottish accent ringing through the building patio as she spoke to herself, "Why do these folk think this is 'ow they drop off'a kid? There're papers they got'ter sign fer a damn good reason."

With a put upon sigh she picked up the basket and brought it inside, trying her best to stoutly ignore the crying boy in order to process the fact that some bloody idiot left a baby on her doorstep. Yes, this building happened to be an orphanage, but there was a process in which people left children to her care, and even then she had the right to reject children. Whoever dropped this child off was damn lucky that she had two open slots; else she'd have no choice but to bring the baby to the authorities.

She found a note in the basket, hidden under some of the layers of expensive cloths that told her that whoever dropped the baby boy off likely had the income to support him. She looked at the note and opened it.

A scoff escaped her throat, she didn't know how to read French and she wasn't going to bother looking for a translator; whoever dumped this child on her had no say in how he was brought up. The only thing that mattered was a name, and at the very bottom of the note had it written in an elegant script.

Gregor Anton Maxime

TTTTTTTTTTTT

At the age of five Gregor understood he was different. He had a French surname and was tall. Taller than his fellow orphans, taller than even those that were past Primary School!

His size didn't make making friends very easy though.

When Ms. Waters, the Scottish matron that had brought Gregor inside as a baby, passed away in March of 2002, Leopold House was taken over by a new, stricter matron.

The replacement matron of Leopold House, Ms. Hill, was a firm believer in the Catholic Church, and she was quite open with her opinions. She claimed that tall children were fine, and then went on to claim that children his age being over four feet tall was unnatural.

She hated anything that was unnatural.

She also hated the French; meaning his surname gave her more incentive to dislike him.

Petty though it may have been, she warned the children of Leopold House away from Gregor. She caused a rift between him and his fellow orphans early on, one which made them antagonistic against the tall boy and Gregor to be more closed off as a whole because of it.

It was when he was five that he was able to truly understand he was different from his fellow orphans; aside from the fact that he was taller than them and of French origin. During one of their required recesses a few children of Leopold House, ranging from ages four to twelve, had taken to playing a ballgame on a sunny Spring day. Gregor tried to join them but was told to bugger off by the older children while the younger just listened to their elder orphans. Gregor was, naturally, angry and wished and wished and wished that if he couldn't play ball that nobody could.

And then the ball they were playing with popped.

It was labeled an accident, a simple problem that had a simple fix; using another ball. But, in that moment Gregor felt something he hadn't felt in all his five years at Leopold House, something he found he liked far more than playing with other children.

Power.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

"You're looking to adopt?" Matron Jane Hill asked the woman in front of her with a wide and yellowed smile over a pair of garishly purple painted lips.

Dorothy Clegane rose a trimmed eyebrow and chose not to dignify the woman across from her with an answer. What else would she be doing at an orphanage, window shopping?

Though she had to admit she'd never expected to end up adopting in the first place; especially not in a muggle more so, her fourth trip to a London orphanage.

She was the one planning to take in a child; she had the right to be picky.

She'd been born Dorothy Smith of the Ancient House of Smith, a family that claimed their descent from House Hufflepuff through the female line in the year 1976. Though her family had a well-respected title and claimant, she had no right to either due to something that her father labeled a birth defect.

She was born a squib.

When it was discovered that she was a squib on her eleventh birthday when no Hogwarts letter came, her father, Lord Edmure Smith, forced a myriad of potions down her throat that would ensure she could never become pregnant. He didn't want any "upstart halfblood children of hers asking for a handout" as he so eloquently put it. He then took her by the collar, dragged her out into muggle London, implanted a mass of false memories into an elderly woman and from then on she became Dorothy Clegane, bastard and only child of Lysa Clegane; a very successful female entrepreneur in the automotive industry.

They lived a good life together until a decade later Lysa died of natural causes, leaving Dorothy a substantial inheritance that kept her quite comfortable. Comfort, however, didn't much matter when she was lonely. She had no belief that she would have many suitors due to her uneven face, crooked teeth and her plump body and with her inability to produce children she felt the loneliness quickly pile up without any likelihood of stopping.

So she'd attempted to substitute her loneliness by spoiling herself; the inheritance was plenty large and it wasn't like she could pass it on to the next generation. She went to the States and got surgery to even up her face, straighten out her teeth and remove her excess fat while also receiving lessons on beauty. She would never be able to compare to the true beauties that she saw from time to time, but she no longer felt undesirable and that was more important than anything. From then on she went traveling; enjoying the sights she saw and the men that now payed her attention. Still, she felt hollow, and after over a decade of this lavish life she determined that she needed more than just enjoyment; she needed a family.

So, here she was. Back in London where she would to stay for good, her traveling days done, with the intention to adopt at the fair age of thirty two.

The orphanage matron, Jane, awkwardly coughed into her wrist and gave a fixed smiled to Dorothy. "Right. Well, the children are on their daily recess and should be outside. If you'd like to follow me I can show you them."

Dorothy nodded and the duo walked through the orphanage and into the backyard where a group of about fifteen children with ages ranging between three and sixteen were out and about.

"Children!" Matron Hill called, "come here and introduce yourselves to Ms. Clegane!"

Nine of them, the younger ones, scrambled over to her. The older ones just looked at her sullenly and ignored her presence all together.

Dorothy spent nearly twenty minutes just speaking to the many children in front of her. They were an interesting bunch, she noted, and desperate as well. Though, she herself would have been a similar circumstance if not for her father being such a heavy handed man and randomly finding a woman of higher means to adopt his squib daughter; though she highly doubted the man considered her a relation anymore.

Finally, after tiring of having children squabble to hold her attention, she looked around the yard more closely. There was a group of four teens just looking at her sullenly from a corner, talking in hushed whispers. There was a three year old playing in a sandpit without a care in the world. Her attention, however, was held by a fairly large boy sitting under a tree in the shade while staring at her with a furrowed brow.

"Ms. Hill." Dorothy said, "Who's the boy under the tree?"

Matron Hill looked over at the tree and scowled, "Nobody you'd be interested in."

That made Dorothy pause, "Actually." She said, "I'm quite interested." Anybody that could annoy this stiff old bat deserved a bit of attention.

The matron loudly exhaled through her nose, "The boy's name is Gregor Maxime, some French harlots son; left him here a week after he was born I'm told. He's- he's unnatural. Barely seven years old and already taller than some of the older children here, not only that but…" she trailed off.

Dorothy found her gaze immediately held on the boy. He wasn't much of a looker, his nose was fairly large and his brow was longer than average, but he had deep hazel eyes that seemed almost yellow in the sun and a batch of cropped dark brown hair.

That, and he seemed to bother the matron. Dorothy found it much easier enjoy people that caught the enmity of people she didn't enjoy the company of, and Jane Hill was one such woman.

"Not only that but…" Dorothy implored Jane to continue her train of thought.

Jane frowned slightly, her voice lowered so the children nearby couldn't fully hear her, "Things happen around him, strange things. Have been since two years ago. Sometimes when the other kids ignore him, their toys break. Sometimes, when I walk past him my heels will snap from under me. One time, when it was his turn to sweep the floors the broom he was to use cut in half like an axe did it, but we don't keep any tools like that here."

Dorothy had heard enough, though unlikely she had a good guess as to what the issue with the boy was; she'd seen her older brother doing similar things in her early years. Accidental magic. Which meant that, if that truly was what was happening, that Gregor Maxime was a wizard.

She didn't spare a second to think about her decision; she made her choice the instant she'd made that revelation.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Gregor Maxime, though he supposed his name was now Clegane, found his new home to be curious. Dorothy, who insisted heavily to be called mum, had told him that this was her own childhood home. Number 16, Prince George Road in Stoke Newington.

He'd never seen such a fancy place before, never been inside such a fancy place either.

In about a month they came into a routine. He was home schooled by Doro-mum in the morning and afternoon since she had a primary education license but never took the opportunity to use it. After schooling they would do something together be it playing games, watching movies or going out somewhere in order to bond.

It took time, but Gregor found himself relaxing around his new… mother. He was used to adults spurning him, so it was only natural he be cautious when it came to spending long amounts of time with one.

It was also progressively getting easier for him to identify her as mu-mum.

Easier didn't necessarily mean it still happened easily.

Three months into his new living situation, Gregor told Dorothy about what happened around him when he wanted. That he could make things happen if he thought really hard on it. Sometimes what he wanted would happen immediately, sometimes it would happen later. But, so long as he wanted, so long as he willed it to happen, then it could.

And she told him about what he could do, about his magic, magic! She said that the reason he caught her attention was not his size, but the stories Ms. Hill said about what happened around him. That she was born to a family that could do this, and when they learned she didn't have the ability she was kicked out and Lysa Clegane, his apparently deceased grandmother by law, had taken her in.

She didn't have much to say on what magic exactly was or how it worked, it wasn't like she knew much- it had been over two decades for her. But, she knew enough to get his imagination working.

She also had a computer with access to the internet.

That was how he spent most of his free time away from Do-mum. Researching and learning about magic and supernatural abilities in legends and practicing what little he could with his magic.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Filius Flitwick let out a small sigh as he used his wand to press the doorbell. Though being short was a boon in many situations in the wizarding world, he cursed his small stature when he was forced to enter the muggle world for visits such as this. The Clegane household was quite large, not obscenely so like many of the more affluent members of magical society boasted but definitely not what he expected.

The door opened only a minute after he pushed the button, revealing a woman in her mid-thirties with long dirty blonde hair, brown eyes and a small frown on her painted face.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I believe you can, yes. Does a boy called Gregor Clegane live here?"

She narrowed her eyes and her red lips thinned, "Who's asking?"

It wasn't like a question like that told Filius that the boy wasn't here.

"My name is Professor Filius Flitwick, I teach at a boarding school in Scotland that has accepted Mr. Clegane, should he agree to attend. Part of our policy is for our staff to personally determine whether a student will be joining us or not." That, and to figure out whether he needed to perform an Obliviation. He may not have agreed with the act, but understood it was necessary when facing muggles that believed magic and devilry were one and the same.

She stilled, her narrowed eyes widening a fraction before a smirk took pace over her thinned lips, "Would this school happen to be called Hogwarts?"

Filius couldn't help but goggle at the woman who looked like she'd just won a sort of lottery.

"How do you know about that?" he asked with wide eyes, if muggles learned about Hogwarts it could be disastrous.

She kept the smirk on her face and opened the door wide, beckoning the diminutive professor inside. "I was born a squib. I've forgotten a great deal of the wizarding world over the years, but the day I was kicked out of my home was also the day my Hogwarts letter was supposed to come in. I suppose you could say that the school is burned into my memory."

Filius found himself frowning; he'd never much cared for the way many members of the wizarding world looked upon squibs. Yes, they couldn't do magic, but that didn't mean they didn't have other abilities. Anybody could tend potions and work herbs and learn history and astrology. Squibs could be wonderful, if not a tad stunted, members of society and produce children that had higher chances of wielding magic.

"I'm sorry to hear about that, I know our world can be quite cruel to those that are different." He knew from personal experience, being a quarter-goblin. The goblins as a whole treated him neutrally, only slightly better than they did wizards, but Filius had to fight tooth and nail through the dueling circuits in his youth for the wizards and witches of Britain to treat him as an equal.

She shrugged her shoulders daintily, "I don't much care anymore. What's done is done and while I do wish things had gone differently it was a quarter century in the past. Oh, but where are my manners? My names Dorothy Clegane, I'm Gregor's mother."

She led him to a quaint sitting room and let him have the couch, "Now please take a seat while I find Gregor, he's been looking forward to this for a while."

Filius found himself looking around the house in curiosity. Normally, when introducing himself to muggle families and muggleborns alike he had to prove magic existed, never getting the chance to well and truly give a house a proper look over. The walls of the Clegane household were white and the shelves were littered in knickknacks and books. He took a glance at some of the covers and delighted in what he believed may lead to a new Ravenclaw. They were filled in stories and legends and all sorts of fictions that looked ever so interesting to the Charms Master.

A cough was heard from behind and he turned only to see Dorothy standing next to a wall of flesh. He looked up, his neck straining like it would when he spoke to the ever tall Albus Dumbledore and didn't bother control his jaw as it opened involuntarily. This child of eleven was absolutely huge! He stood at what looked to be over six feet tall with a long brow, slightly large nose, hazel eyes and cropped brown hair with stocky arms and legs covered in a pair of sweat pants and a gym shirt.

Filius had only seen one man in his life with a body type that fit the description he saw before him, on a larger level of course. Bu-but it was impossible for a normal, human woman to bare a giants or a half-giants child! The human womb could never take such strain, nor could the woman that was pregnant survive when the child was stealing all of her basic nutrients.

"He- He hm… He takes after his father I suppose?" Filius said, trying and knowing he was failing at keeping his tongue in check.

Dorothy had to put a hand over her mouth to stop a torrent of giggles from escaping, and young Gregor held no such adversity to showing his amusement if his booming laugh was anything to go by. "Professor," Dorothy wheezed, "We look nothing alike! No, I adopted Gregor when he was seven."

That forced Filius to return to reality. He was a Ravenclaw, more than that he was a professor! Normally he was calm and cool in the face of strange students, he'd just never had the chance to meet one that was so physically strange. No, it was best to think about such thoughts in a better environment, Hogwarts for example.

Speaking of Hogwarts.

"Ah! But the reason I'm here I suppose would be a good place to start, yes?" Filius said, earning nods from his hosts. He stuffed the whole of his arm into his seemingly small breast pocket and pulled out a letter. He handed it to the stunned boy with a small smile; that was one of the subtler ways to make people interested in magic. Expansion charms were among his favorites.

Gregor took the letter slowly, still wide eyed at the casual display of breaking physics and looked over the parchment with no small amount of curiosity.

The second bedroom, 16 Prince George Road

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Clegane,

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 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 1 August.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

He looked over the back of the letter, taking in the needed supplies with curiosity.

"As you are to be a first year student, it is my job as a professor to guide you through Diagon Alley, the cornerstone of the wizarding world in Britain. The letter states that you need to owl the school your acceptance, but since I'm here all I need is written consent from your mother and we can schedule in when I should take you to the alley."

Dorothy nodded quickly, "I always intended for him to go to Hogwarts. When do you have time for the three of us to go together if you don't mind me asking? I never had the opportunity to go the muggle way, only went through the floo as a girl you see…"

TTTTTTTTTTTT

"Are you certain?" Dumbledore asked in curiosity. Filius had just returned from his day of recruitment, and had apparently met a very interesting hopeful. Dumbledore always enjoyed hearing about the muggleborn crowd that would be joining his school, why just yesterday Minerva gave a glowing report about a young Granger girl that had him quite excited for the coming term.

"Certain? No. But it's the only thing that makes sense to me. He's likely got some giants blood in his veins, I doubt he's a half like Hagrid but possibly a quarter or an eighth that sprouted early."

Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard absently with a far off look. This year was turning out to be interesting. Harry Potter would be returning to the wizarding world at long last, and now he had news that a mixedblood would be attending. He never cared much for the term, preferring to simply call them humans-with-a-little-extra, but it was an aptly blunt name if nothing else.

"Hm… I wonder if Hagrid would be willing to take him to Diagon Alley, perhaps give the boy some advice should he indeed have giants blood." Giants, while brutish and relatively low in intelligence, were connected to magic in a way wizards never would be. Giants were beings of earth, similar to how goblins were beings of metal and veela were beings of fire, and those that carried their blood in part had the ability to tap into certain properties of said element. Hagrid, even with a broken wand, was capable of silent Transfiguration since the study derived from the earth in its most primal form. He was also quite good with Herbology, which made Hagrid ideal for raising the various fruits and vegetables that were used during feasts and celebrations; Dumbledore especially loved Hagrids giant pumpkins on Halloween.

"I'm afraid I've already scheduled to take the boy and his mother to the alley, but I'm sure Hagrid would be delighted to talk to somebody about what it means to have giants blood; should young Gregor be mixedblood of course. If I were to just tell him my assumption and I turned out to be wrong, well… As the yanks say, it would make an ass out of me should I say something prematurely."

Dumbledore smiled down at the small professor, mirth dancing in his eyes at the mention of the American phrase. "A splendid and well thought plan as always; you do Ravenclaw proud, Filius."

TTTTTTTTTTTT

"This is the entrance to Diagon Alley?" Dorothy asked with a skeptical look on her face. While she wasn't expecting anything grand when it came to entering Diagon Alley, she did expect better than a pub with poor plumbing.

Filius chuckled lightly, "Indeed Dorothy. The Leaky Cauldron might not be the fanciest of places, but it's inconspicuous and that's what matters most."

Gregor looked around the pub curiously. There were all sorts of folk, men and women and old and young going about their mornings inside the Cauldron. A few were staring at him with sneers on their faces, muttering something about mixedbloods, and he found himself trying to hide inside his hoodie.

The odd trio walked through the back of the Leaky Cauldron and made way to a wall of bricks with a small indentation; like it was hit with a sledge hammer a few times.

"Now," Filius said, turning to Gregor and Dorothy and speaking as seriously as his high pitched voice allowed. "Diagon Alley is the largest marketplace of magical persuasion in Britain. Because of this, there will be all sorts of people around, and all sorts of curious items up for sale. I cannot stress this enough, but this is a tour. I am not going to take you to all the shops in the Alley, and I am not going to let you peruse to your hearts content in the shops that we will be going in. That is for you to do on your own time. What we will be doing is going to Gringotts to transfer your Pounds for Galleons, and then we will be going to the shops that sell your required supplies for Hogwarts. Since we are going to Diagon Alley as teacher, student and parent, please refer to me as Professor Flitwick for the remainder of our trip."

Without waiting for a reply from either of the Cleganes he turned around, pulled out his wand and tapped it on the brick wall five times around the indentation from left to right. The bricks collapsed on themselves and absorbed more bricks into each other until all that remained was a hole the size of a car, showing the trio the wonder that way Diagon Alley.

Professor Flitwick quickly had the mother-son pair follow him through the alley, and Gregor found himself entranced. It was thin; the cobblestone lain pavement separating the Victorian buildings of the was barely larger than a normal sidewalk and merchants of all walks of life, be it foreign or different species, were beckoning him and his mother over as loudly as they could.

Gregor wanted to look at their wares, desperate to sate his curiosity of the world he was to be a part of, but the tugging of his sleeve by his mum corrected such thoughts. He would have to wait until after the tour, until after Professor Flitwick was finished and gone, before he could look through the alley on a more personal level. By the gleam in his mums eye, she was of the same mindset.

Gregor had to squint his eyes when, upon reaching the end of Diagon Alley, he was led to a blindingly white multi-story building that seemed to reflect the sun like a mirror would. Standing guard at the white buildings silver doors gilded in gold were a pair of short bald creatures with leathery pink faces and tipped ears that were covered head to toe in red armor while wielding what seemed to be silver spears.

"Welcome to Gringotts," Professor Flitwick said, catching Gregors attention. "The safest place on earth; for Galleons at least. It's the bank of Britain, run and manned by goblins for over 500 years."

Gregor found his mind boggled at the thought. These were goblins! He'd read a few stories where goblins were depicted as smelly, and completely unintelligent cannon fodder. His favorite game, World of Warcraft, also had goblins, though those ones also didn't fit the stereotype of the stories he'd read.

He sincerely hoped that the goblins of Gringotts were not in any way, shape or form similar to the goblins of WoW aside from sharing a species name.

Gregor also noted that Professor Flitwick was barely taller than the goblin guards. He chose not to dwell on it, size was something he himself struggled with though in the opposite format, and he was certain that no professor would care to hear a student ask about his stature.

He looked at the doors as they passed by, reading the phrase engraved in what looked to be rubies on the silver doors.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath out floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Well, Gregor thought. At least these goblins aren't like the ones from WoW.

He had to smother a snicker when he compared these goblins to those goblins, Gringotts goblins would tear those green skinned pricks apart with a smile on their faces.

Professor Flitwick frowned and stopped Gregor. "Theft is no laughing matter to the goblins of Gringotts, Gregor. When somebody attempts to steal from them there are only two options; the gold price or the blood price. The gold price is simple, the goblins take everything you own from your Gringotts account; if the amount satisfies them you shall live and forevermore be banned from the bank. The blood price comes about if the amount in your vault doesn't satisfy them, meaning they will simply torture you to death. Do not ever contemplate theft in Gringotts."

Gregor was quick to stop snickering when he noticed the barely hidden sneers on the faces of a few goblins that heard his laughter. With a small shudder he quickened his pace with his soon-to-be-professor and his mum. These goblins sounded a fair bit more like orcs from WoW than anything else.

Professor Flitwick led them through the halls of Gringotts, making way to one of the many teller stations that littered the lobby labeled with the number fifty three in bright gold script. Filius calmly spoke in a hushed guttural tongue and held out the back of his hand, which was tapped by the back of the tellers hand in turn. The teller turned his attention onto Dorothy, "Do you desire a vault, or just conversion?" he questioned bluntly, his voice far deeper than either of the Cleganes expected when compared to Professor Flitwick's natural squeak.

Dorothy blinked a few times, not expecting to be addressed in such a way, but quickly composed herself. "Both if possible. Gregor will be a part of this world and I'd like him to have every opportunity he can."

The teller nodded, pulled out a parchment and quill and wrote something down in a strange set of letters. He handed the freshly inked letter over to Dorothy and spoke clearly. "Take this to teller station forty five to convert your muggle currency into Galleons, then go to teller station thirty two to use those Galleons to purchase a vault." He then pointed to where both teller stations were and shooed them away.

They gave their thanks and made their way over to station forty five, having to wait in line behind a family of three; two moderate looking adults and a little girl with bushy brown hair looking around the bank with overly clinical fascination. Time passed somewhat slowly, it took some twenty minutes for the family of three to finish their business, but Dorothy was finally able to speak to the teller.

"20 Pounds is the equivalent to 1 Galleon, Mrs. Clegane." The goblin behind the teller station said.

She nodded and dug her hand through her purse, "Does this bank take cheques?" The teller nodded quickly, informing her that so long as her muggle bank was based in Britain they would do so.

Money was exchanged easily enough from that point on. Dorothy was a believer in being safe over being sorry, and exchanged 2,000 Pounds for 100 Galleons; an amount that Professor Flitwick assured her would easily pay for a vault, Gregors school supplies, and plenty extra without issue.

They then made way to teller station thirty two, which was luckily completely devoid of any lines.

The goblin teller looked at the trio, offering a small nod towards Professor Flitwick and held out a hand. It took a moment for Dorothy to understand what the goblin wanted and she hastily dug through her purse and handed the teller the piece of parchment the teller at station fifty three wrote her.

He looked over the page and nodded with satisfaction. "Gringotts Vaults come in many different varieties, each involving different levels of security. The larger the vault number the closer it is to the bottom, while the smaller the vault number the closer it is to the top. Because of this, larger number vaults tend to be more expensive."

Gregor furrowed his brow, "What do you mean by closer to the bottom?"

The goblin looked at Gregor with annoyance, "The goblins as a whole live underground, we find strength being near earth and metal in their untouched form. Gringotts is merely an entrance for humans and other magicals to use our caverns to store gold and valuables. The closer to the bottom a vault is, the less likely anybody would be attempt to steal from the vault. Though theft attempts are rare, we get one or two annually, and while it is even rarer for a theft to be successful there has never been a theft from a high numbered vault."

Gregor was about to ask another question but a quick smack in the arm from his mum got him to shut his mouth. Dorothy smiled apologetically to the teller and was met only with a blank look and a raised eyebrow.

She coughed awkwardly into her hand, "What are prices?"

"As I said earlier, Gringotts vaults come in a variety of security levels. Every fifty vaults the security is increased, the size, and the price along with it. Currently, for a vault between the numbers one and forty nine, the starting price would be 50 Galleons."

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, "How much is a vault from the next tier?"

"Fifty to ninety nine?"

"Yes."

"200 Galleons."

"Is there any way that we could get discounts or are there things you would trade for better vaults?" she said with a small stutter, the price elevation had caught her off guard.

The teller offered a sneer, "Discounts are only available to those that work for Gingotts or share goblin blood. The only thing we would be willing to barter with would be goblin made possessions. Tell me, do you have any?"

The moment Gregor heard the statement he immediately filed it away in his mind.

She sighed, "One vault from the lowest tier then."

The teller nodded, his sneer replaced with a bland look on his face, and pulled out a large leather bound book. He opened it and, after turning through some of the many pages, turned it around to show it to Dorothy.

"Currently we only have six low tier vaults in service; vaults 8, 11, 24, 28, 37 and 41. You've the right to pick your vault from those available."

Dorothy turned to her son and motioned for him to speak. "It's to be your vault, go ahead and choose."

He cupped his chin and closed his eyes, "Well, my favorite number is 8." It was a good, solid number and sideways it was the infinity symbol.

The teller nodded, "Very well, the Galleons?"

Dorothy handed them over with a pained look on her face; she didn't enjoy spending 2,000 Pounds only to lose half of what she'd spent in a single moment.

The teller took the money without the slightest inclination of caring about the look on her face and pulled out a contract and a quill with a red tip, "The owner of the vault will sign here using this quill."

Gregor turned to his mother and she ignored him and instead took the contract.

She gave it to him a few minutes later, "There's nothing bad on here, it just says what you can and can't store in your vault and that you should be aware that since you're buying a lower tier vault that it's more likely you'll be stolen from."

Gregor nodded and wrote out his name on the contract with the quill, wincing slightly at the painful feeling on the back of his hand. The teller snatched both the contract and quill back and, after rolling up the contract and putting it in a drawer, pulled out a dull grey key with a set of small runic indentations all along the metal. He put the tip of the quill against the runes of the key and Gregor and Dorothy watched with wonder as the grey key turned bronze before their eyes and the runes disappeared. "This key has just been bound to your blood through use of a Blood Quill. It will respond to any that use it so long as you yourself give them permission."

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Upon leaving Gringotts the trio began Gregor's school shopping in earnest. The first stop was Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Despite Gregors size and likelihood to still grow, she stayed entirely professional and outfitted him accordingly. He was being fitted next to the bushy haired girl that stood in front of him in the bank and some Parkinson girl. Gregor was quite glad that she apparently mistook him for an older year and generally ignored his presence; he found her interaction with the bushy haired girl to be quite disturbing.

The trip to the local apothecary passed without incident.

When they were getting a trunk for him, Gregor asked Professor Flitwick a simple question he meant to ask at the apothecary but was otherwise distracted by the myriad of curious ingredients that littered the shop.

"Professor, what does mudblood mean?"

The small statured professor stiffened his shoulders, "Where did you hear that term?"

"In Madam Malkin's, some Parkinson girl was calling another girl one; that brown haired girl that was in front of us at station forty five in Gringotts."

Professor Flitwick nodded with a frown, "Mudblood is a cruel and derogatory term for what some of the higher class wizards and witches of magical Britain, called purebloods, call muggleborns; it essentially means they have dirty blood. Sadly, some of these purebloods like to teach their children to use these words and, children being children, listen to what comes from their parents' mouth without filter. When the school year starts up I'll make sure to speak to Ms. Parkinson, but as it stands at the moment I have no right to counsel her choice of words."

Gregor had a scowl on his face, his teeth grinding lightly. He didn't like people acting like that, not at all. Though rare, he had gotten plenty of whispers behind his back for his unusual size, and he vividly remembered Ms. Hill calling him unnatural and telling other orphans to avoid him.

The trip to the local apothecary passed without incident. In the Magical Menagerie, Dorothy bought a standard tawny owl to carry mail back and forth between Hogwarts and their house. She did not, however, get a pet meant singularly for Gregor; he didn't find anything of interest and Dorothy decided that their new owl, who was named Sandor, would be a family pet and that Gregor didn't need anything more than that.

The last stop prior to Gregor's perusal of the book store was the wand shop, Ollivander's.

They walked inside the small side-alley shop that had dust littered everywhere and was home to various wands and boxes that likely held even more wands.

"Good afternoon." The soft greeting came from behind, causing Gregor to give his standard knee-jerk reaction to being surprised.

He turned around and punched.

Ollivander stared at Gregor's incoming fist, his wide eyes looked magnified behind his glasses, and barely dodged the punch. Gregor's arm was buried in the wood of the wall, right above Ollivanders left shoulder while the wand crafters head was tilted away from the meaty limb.

"Well, perhaps not so good anymore." He said slowly, and Gregor flushed red and muttered an apology. Over the last year, Gregor had been attending boxing classes on his mums order so that he would "learn how to use his size properly." He wasn't a great fighter or anything along those lines, but he did build up the standard physical reactions that were commonly associated with fighters, including what Ollivander nearly experienced. Dorothy did not look disapproving in the slightest for his use of violence and Professor Flitwick appeared to be trying very hard not to fall on the floor laughing.

Ollivander's attention went from Gregor's arm towards the squeaking Professor Flitwick, who had a tear in his eye.

"Filius Flitwick, how I wish I was the one to match you."

"I-I'm afraid Gregorovitch w-would be quite cross with me, as would my wand, if I let y-you try Garrick." Professor Flitwick wheezed out poorly, his squeaky laugh filling the small shop.

Ollivander nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "Yes indeed, your wand would be cross and rightly so. For it is the wand that chooses the wizard." He chose that moment to move away from Gregor's arm and began to sort through the various boxes on the shelves of his shop.

He handed Gregor a wand that was seemingly pulled at random, "Try this one. Beechwood and unicorn hair, ten inches; fairly brittle. Give it a wave."

Gregor complied mutely, still embarrassed from nearly punching the ancient salesman. Nothing escaped the tip of the wand, and Ollivander snatched it away an instant later muttering no's as he continued to give the large boy more and more wands.

After a total of thirty seven wands were tried, Gregor finally found a match. The wand in his hand let out a mass of yellow sparks, which caused Ollivander to clap joyously.

"Indeed! Well done! Vinewood and dragon heartstring, fourteen and a half inches; unyielding. Good for transfigurations."

Dorothy paid for the wand immediately after, she did not appreciate having to spend an hour in this small shop Professor Flitwick had left the shop midway in and returned with sandwiches from the Leaky Cauldron for the Cleganes, an action that was well received by them and largely ignored by Ollivander.

"Gregor," Professor Flitwick said as he finished his sandwich. "This day has been eventful, and I have enjoyed it, but not even I expected for you to spend so long at Ollivanders. I have other duties to attend to at Hogwarts and I doubt I'll have enough time left to take you around the rest of Diagon. Instead, I'll just tell you what you need to know now and I'll head out; the only things you need to buy now are books anyways."

The large boy nodded and Professor Flitwick spoke once more. "First and foremost, do not go into Knockturn Alley, not until you are 17 and able to use magic without preamble at the very least. It is located to the left of Gringotts entrance and caters to the less savory folk in the wizarding world. They will not appreciate your mother being a squib, and they would make assumptions about your size that is best left for when you're older. If you need any help with looking for someone or something in Diagon, the owner of the Leak Cauldron, Tom, would be more than happy to give you directions or tell you who to talk to.

"Finally, do not buy any potions that aren't an over the counter brand unless you ask for proof of the brewers qualifications. If you're wondering what constitutes for an over the counter potion, go back to the apothecary and ask for a form; it'll have the information on it. While relatively rare, some people sell potions they buy from Knockturn Alley in Diagon while lying about what the effects are, which can lead to disaster. These are very simple rules, but the fact of the matter is that you are 11, and while you seem mature for your age you need to listen to these rules. Do you understand?"

Gregor nodded quickly, all in all he found those rules to be perfectly reasonable. Don't go to Knockturn, ask for help if you need help, don't buy potions if you don't know who brewed them.

Professor Flitwick smiled, "Well, it's been good to meet you properly today, and I hope to see you even more in the school year but I really must be going. Have a good rest of your trip in Diagon." He then walked out of Ollivander's and disappeared in a loud pop, his form looking like it was sucked through a tube.

Gregor looked at the spot his professor had been with wide eyes while Dorothy just smiled and tugged on his arm. "C'mon Gregor," she said. "We've an Alley to explore!"

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Gregor sunk into the cushioned seat of his Hogwarts Express compartment with a sigh of relief.

Leaving his mum for ten months would be difficult. He truly came to view her as a mother after his first six months in her care; she was upfront in the fact that she only found him interesting at first and her interest turned into affection.

He was also going to miss his computer. And WoW, can't forget that.

He would miss the internet in general.

He dug through his backpack and withdrew a copy of the Book of Rune Secrets, one of his extra purchases from Flourish and Blotts, which served as the textbook for the Ancient Runes course to coincide class lectures for years 3, 4 and 5. He'd found runes absolutely fascinating ever since he saw the goblin tellers casual display of them on his Gringotts key. Currently he couldn't make out what the book was asking for very well, but he had years of study ahead and he was sure there would be a student or two that would be willing to help him out.

Speaking of Gringotts, or more specifically the location that Gringotts was located at, Gregor and his mother had returned to Diagon Alley five times after their initial tour. They explored the Alley as much as they could; heeding Professor Flitwick's warning and straying away from Knockturn Alley all the same. There was just so much there! They could spend months in the Alley and still not find or learn everything there was to offer.

His mum wanted to be able to go there at any time too, so she bought a floo connection.

Personally Gregor had always thought his mums' spending was a little haphazard, but he knew not to complain when the things she bought were for his benefit.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?"

Gregor's was quite glad he chose to sit close to the window; else he would have just elbowed some poor girl in the face. He turned his head, eyes wide in surprise, only to find the same bushy haired girl from the bank and Madam Malkin's standing in the doorway of his compartment with her belongings at her side.

Wordlessly he nodded to her, and she smiled widely in return; showing off a pair of large and glaringly white teeth. She marched inside with authority, bringing her trolley into the compartment and Gregor silently helped her put her things in the overhead.

"Thank you. Are you a fifth year by chance?"

"First year."

She stared at him with an open mouth, no doubt judging him silently, before grinning openly.

"Me too! Oh I can't wait to start the term, I was ever so surprised to learn I had magic; I'm a muggleborn you see. Oh, I'm sorry, I've been quite rude haven't I? My name's Hermione Granger, and you are?"

Gregor blinked at her slowly, taking a moment to comprehend the words she spoke in rapid fire.

He was also surprised to learn that, even if she seemed a tad brusque, she had enough tact not to ask about his height.

"Gregor Clegane." He slowly stated, taking a moment to sit back down and place his book on his lap; an action Hermione noticed quickly.

"It's nice to meet you! If you don't mind me asking what book are you reading? I've read and memorized all the required books for the year but didn't see that one on the list."

Gregor had to take a moment to process what she said once more before speaking, and also took a moment to wonder if he should have paid more attention to his own books for the year outside of skimming. "It's the textbook for Ancient Runes."

She smiled widely, "Oh! That sounds interesting, I would have bought it but I spent most of my allowance on books that were recommended from our textbooks, like an addition to our potions book that explained some ingredient reactions. Why did you get that book? If you don't mind me asking of course."

That started a fairly pleasant conversation about runes and how both had seen them used that lasted all the way until the Express left for Hogwarts. Going from Gregors experience through Gringotts to Hermione's through an upgraded trunk she saw that had a rune chain meant for expansion. Gregor found Hermione to be a nice enough girl, if a tad belligerent and prone to bossiness.

Their compartment opened once more, thirty minutes into the trip, revealing a chubby boy with sandy blond hair and light blue eyes.

"Have you two seen a toad? I've been looking for Trevor ever since the train started moving."

Hermione seemed sympathetic to his cause and, while she admitted she hadn't seen a toad, she offered to help him look. He smiled widely at that and introduced himself as Neville Longbottom.

"Gregor, would you like to help us?" Hermione asked.

Gregor liked to think of himself as a nice enough guy, but he didn't really want to leave his compartment; especially not in search for a toad. "I'll hold down the fort, wouldn't want anybody to take our compartment."

Hermione nodded jerkily, her bushy hair splaying everywhere as she did so. "Of course."

It took thirty minutes for her to come back, this time with a teary faced Neville taking a sit next to her. Gregor didn't necessarily mind adding another to the compartment, he actually welcomed the chance to meet other people, he just didn't much like the way Neville was acting. Still, his mum forced enough manners down his throat for him to know that, should he comment on it, it would likely earn him no friends.

And wasn't that the whole point of the Hogwarts Express when, instead, one could simply use the floo?

Conversation in the compartment died relatively quickly however, Neville was sniffling randomly and Hermione didn't have the heart to just ignored him. Gregor found himself returning to his runes book, gladder than ever that he didn't leave it in his trunk like he did the rest of his books.

Another twenty minutes passed silently in the compartment until, once again, it was opened; this time with relative force. A pale blonde boy and a pair of chunky kids that were taller than average though nowhere near Gregors size stepped forward.

"I'm looking for Harry Potter, you three know where he's at?" He asked, though it sounded more like a demand.

Gregor had of course heard of Harry Potter, how could he not when Diagon Alley had been going absolutely mad after he came through? He was curious, naturally so, and bought one of the Harry Potter adventure books from Flourish and Blotts.

What an absolute load of rubbish. The book was filled with nonsense about a six year old Harry and his house elf sidekick, whatever those were, that went around saving pureblood princesses. It was easy to figure out that the books were simply works of fiction, but they, the author of the series, would need Harry Potters say so on whether or not his name could be used.

It made Gregor less interested in meeting the famed Boy-Who-Lived.

"You're quite rude, did you know? Barging into our compartment, asking about some boy without even giving your name or asking for ours in turn?" Hermione said, her voice prim and proper and filled with admonishment.

The pale boy flushed pink before straightening, "Apologies, you're right of course. My name is Draco Malfoy, these are my friends Crabbe and Goyle. And you are?"

"My name is Hermione Granger."

Draco scrunched up his face, trying to place the name. "Any relation to Hector Dagworth-Granger? The Potions Master?"

Hermione looked thoughtful but shook her head, "Not that I know of, maybe. I'm muggleborn you see, but–"

"Oh, just a mudblood."

Hermione looked as if she'd just been slapped, Neville gasped and Gregor...

Well, Gregor, ever since his first trip to Diagon Alley, learned he hated that word. He stood up, catching the immediate attention of the trio and spoke one simple word with as much force as his voice that, contrary to how his body looked, still held the high pitch one would expect from an eleven year old, "Leave."

Draco was caught off guard, especially when the boy in the corner turned out to be a good foot taller than both Crabbe and Goyle and his arms were even thicker than the chubby boys and a much meaner look in his eyes than any of the three could use. He offered the compartment trio one last sneer and walked out, Crbbe and Goyle following along like dogs.

Gregor grabbed the door, slammed it closed and returned to his seat. Neville looked to him with a sense of awe while Hermione stared at him in what seemed to be both thanks and admonishment.

The rest of the Express went by in silent with no more unexpected interuptions.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

"Clegane, Gregor!" Professor McGonagall called, her voice echoing across the Great Hall where a myriad of students ranging from ages twelve to eighteen sat along the four long tables.

He walked towards the professor with as much purpose as he could, trying to hide any embarrassment he might have felt from being singled out.

"Look at that kid, he's huge!" Was what was said throughout three of the four tables in varying forms.

"Mixedblood filth." Was what the last of the tables primarily said.

He ignored the voices as best he could, though his teeth were grinding, and after sitting on the stool the ratty sorting hat was placed atop his head, making all the sounds of the hall die out as an ancient voice spoke softly.

Curious, the voice of the hat murmured in his mind, startling him lightly. You have plenty of smarts, definitely enjoy a good book, but you don't have much interest in academics do you?

Gregor didn't really know what to say to that, his grades were decent enough he supposed but they never held his attention. What did hold his attention was magic, more specifically the learning of magic now that he was at a school dedicated to just that.

He supposed that wasn't a particularly unusual mindset.

Yes, I see, said the hat. You have a thirst for magical knowledge and have quite an ambition and work ethic towards what catches your fancy, though your cunning is relatively low so Slytherin would be a poor choice. Mmm… You'd do well in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff though; they tend to have a similar mindset.

So put me in one of those houses, Gregor thought. He didn't really care which house he ended up in; where he slept and what colors he wore had nothing to do with learning magic after all. Didn't mean he liked a ragged piece of cloth telling him he had low cunning all the same.

Ah, but I'm not done yet. Mmm… Plenty of courage, willing to do what is right over what is easy. Yes, yes you have the smarts for Ravenclaw and the attitude for Hufflepuff, but your merits would suit you far best in "GRYFFINDOR!"

He made his way towards the house of the brave, his tie turning red and gold as he walked. He had to smother a snigger as a pair of ginger twins acted like Christmas had come early when they did the exact same thing for the Brown girl that got placed in Gryffindor before him.

The rest of the sortings were relatively tame. Hermione and Neville both made their way to the lions table too, each taking a seat next to Gregor. Draco Malfoy was placed in Slytherin without even having the hat touch his head.

Then came Harry Potter.

The hall stilled, people were whispering none too quietly over the Boy-Who-Lived and Gregor finally got a good look at the magical celebrity. He was a pretty short kid, shorter than almost all of the first years, with messy black hair, pale skin and green eyes hidden behind a pair of large glasses. And, of course, the fabled lightning bolt scar hidden under his fringe.

The boy seemed to shrink when his name was called and hesitantly made his way to the sorting hat. When it was placed on his head, he scrunched up his face and abruptly paled. A moment later the hat yelled out to the world "GRYFFINDOR!" and the whole of the table burst into applause.

Gregor politely clapped along with his table, but couldn't help but feel a little disappointed with how the boy wonder seemed so scared of attention; a thought many members of Hogwarts also held.

The rest of the sortings were simple things, the Gryffindors received two more first years in the form of Dean Thomas, who found a seat next to Seamus Finnegan across from Gregor, and Ron Weasley, who took a seat next to Harry Potter.

The sorting ended when a boy named Blaise Zabini went to Slytherin and, soon after came the feast. Gregor had a grand time gorging the various foods down, much to Hermione's unhidden disgust. He also got to meet some of his classmates, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who were both nearby. They seemed like a pair of right decent blokes.

When the feast ended Headmaster Dumbledore stood from his throne-like chair at the head table and pointed his wand to his throat, making his voice amplify throughout the hall.

"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 not 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." His gaze lingered on the ginger twins that Gregor now knew were called Fred and George Weasley as they tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.

"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."

Gregor shrugged, not really bothered by the rule. It essentially said he couldn't use magic in the halls during class hours, but he could still do so in classrooms and on weekends. There weren't enough teachers at the head table to take up all of the rooms in Hogwarts, and he was sure to find a good empty classroom for practice. He'd make sure to ask Professor Flitwick, the man was blunt with Gregor and seemed willing to help out a student easily enough.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Gregor, along with his fellow Gryffindor first years followed the ginger prefect called Percy Weasley from the Great Hall to a portrait of a fat woman in a pink dress. While they were making their way to the dorms they were stopped by a poltergeist named Peeves, and Gregor could tell that that one would be an annoyance. He couldn't help but wonder how many members of the Weasley family were at Hogwarts, he knew that there was another ginger in their year; was it possible that there were even more?

"Password?" the fat lady said. Gregor had only seen talking portraits twice before, once in the Leaky Cauldron where the previous owner found great enjoyment in taking a mickey out of Tom and in Flourish and Blotts, where the portrait of the current managers aunt kept an eye on anybody that tried to steal books and would screech at the top of her lungs for the whole of Diagon to hear if she caught anybody.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a large round hole in the wall. All the first years scrambled through it, Gregor had to duck his head slightly, and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room. It was a cozy place, decoratively squashy armchairs and couches of red and gold littered the circular room in every which way and a roaring fire was going off in a pit with no smoke escaping.

Percy then ushered the girls through a door which apparently led to their dorms and the boys through another. After a trip up a set of spiral staircases the group of six boys found their beds. There were six four-posters hung with red curtains, one of the beds was nearly twice the size of the others and it was obvious that was meant for Gregor.

The group of boys didn't really talk, all of them too tired from the feasting to have a proper conversation, and they just pulled on their night clothes and fell into bed. Gregor found his bed even more comfortable than the one at home, and likened it to a spell of some sort.

He exhaled into his pillow, the stress of the day dying out quickly, and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Gregor got up early on the morning of September 2nd, an action Hermione also copied, and together they decided to do something both had never really done before; explore. Hogwarts quickly became the most interesting place in the world for Gregor, the castle was absolutely massive yet somehow didn't feel too large. There were exactly a hundred and forty two staircases at Hogwarts; some wide, some narrow, some rickety, some solid, one wouldn't even let Gregor up until he asked politely.

When they determined that that was the staircase that led to the library all exploration took a halt. Gregor couldn't help but snicker in memory of Hermione's face when, upon seeing the huge stacks of books, she actually drooled.

Classes began in a similar way that the standard muggle school would, not that Gregor had much experience with a standard school curriculum. The professors, as a whole, used their first class to give a broad overview of their subject and a small glimpse of what they'd be learning throughout the year.

History of Magic turned out to be more of a joke than a class; most first years, barring Hermione of course, wrote it off as a free period since the ghostly teacher didn't bother to take role. Professor Binns quite literally taught straight out of the book, and his monotone voice soothed many students into a short nap, Gregor included.

He could have gone without Hermione's lecture about proper classroom behavior though.

Herbology was a very hands-on class, something that Gregor could appreciate. Professor Sprout really seemed to love what she did, the plump woman would joyously skip around the room, her belly bouncing around as she did, and in a fairy godmother-esque way was able to make most of the classroom smile along with the lesson.

Defense the Dark Arts was one of the classes Gregor was looking forward to the most, and to say he was disappointed would be an understatement. The class itself was fine, the book detailed a lot of interesting spells and things to watch out for, but the lectures were impossible to follow. Professor Quirrell had a stutter that was so pronounced he couldn't go two words without fumbling his tongue, and adding that to the garlic smell of the classroom made most of the class hard pressed to find any interest in the subject this year.

That also brought Gregor to sending Sandor over to his mum with his first letter and care package request; he would need some spray deodorant if he was to sit in that room for an hour at a time.

Astronomy was, to put it mildly, strange. Gregor had never watched the stars before, never had much of an interest in astrology aside from stories that involved the naming of stars and constellations, but even with his limited knowledge Gregor could tell that the tools provided for Astronomy were outdated by over a century at the very least.

He decided that it would simply be a class he would coast by on; regardless of what Hermione or his mum would say on the matter.

Charms was what Gregor had been looking forward to the most, mainly because it was Professor Flitwick's class. The subject as a whole was somewhat difficult for him, but the many uses in everyday life that charms provided gave Gregor the motivation to learn the subject matter as well as he could.

Transfiguration was a class that surprised him, pleasantly at that. He didn't have much of an interest in the course on its own but when a cat on Professor McGonagalls desk turned into Professor McGonagall herself and then proceeded to berate Weasley and Potter for being late?

Gregor was hooked in an instant.

He remembered her opening speech very clearly, almost fondly. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back."

She then split the class into pairs; Neville with Hermione, Seamus with Dean, Potter with Weasley, Lavender with Parvati and Gregor found himself paired with a Scottish girl named Fay Dunbar. After explaining the assignment and giving all of the pairs a couple of match to work on, she walked around the room and looked over the students desks at random.

Gregor didn't understand why, but he found the assignment rather easy. He could tell by looking at Fay that he seemed to be alone in this. He was able to change the shape of the match on his first try. On his second, he was able to turn the sharpened match silver. On his third attempt he turned the match into a needle.

He earned ten points to Gryffindor and found a new niche by the end of class.

And then there was, Potions. He knew that Professor Snape didn't care who was paired with who, an older girl named Alicia Spinnet was very clear on that, so the moment the classroom door was opened Gregor grabbed Hermione by the shoulder and snatched a spot with her. She was a tad put out, not having been a fan of the manhandling, but she grudgingly didn't do anything aside from giving Gregor the Look.

Professor Snape came into class a few minutes later, and after calling role and landing on Harry Potter's name began to grill into the kid. Gregor only know the question involving the Bezoar, and even then the book said it was in his emergency kit not in the stomach of a goat.

He pitied Potter at that moment.

When Professor Snape told the class to write down what he was grilling the poor kid about, Gregor, smartly, pulled out a pen and notepad and jotted it down.

"Clegane!" Professor Snape barked, "What is that?"

Gregor blinked a few times, not certain as to what the hook nosed man was referring to until he saw the man staring balefully at his notepad. "Pen and paper sir."

"You were told to bring a quill and parchment, not some muggle nonsense. Put that away."

"But sir! I only brought these to class." He tried to use a quill and parchment but his writing would come out blotchy and substandard; it only made sense to go into a note-heavy class such a Potions with a pen.

Professor Snape offered a sneer and strode to the front of the blackboard, grabbing a piece of chalk and writing quickly. "If I see those muggle contraptions when I finish writing on the board I will vanish them and dock you five points."

Gregor grumbled but put his things back in his bag, Hermione kindly offered him a spare parchment and quill.

"Oh," Professor Snape, "And two points from Gryffindor for not being prepared."

It was official, Gregor hated Professor Snape.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

A/N: So, that's that. For those of you savvy GoT fans, yes I did physically base Gregor off of Gregor Clegane from the show and books. The books describe him as nearly 8 feet tall, and I was like "Huh… That'd work for a quarter-giant." Gregor Clegane from GoT was an absolutely terrible human being though, and while my Gregor isn't going to be all sunshine and daisies the only thing I want my character to share with that Gregor is a name and body.

This is a rewrite of a fic I made called Born of Earth. My intention was for this to be my first attempt at a more serious fic. Naturally I don't do serious very well so there will be some comedy and satirical bits thrown in at random, but I wanted this to be something different from my usual tripe. I could have gone the simple route and just written about Harry Potter, but I wanted to write an OC! My intention isn't to derale cannon or add my own major twists, the books did just fine in my opinion and there's no reason to drastically change them. But the Potterverse is absolutely massive! There's so much potential here that for me to ignore said potential just feels wrong. It's far too common for people to purely focus on Harry or Hermione or Voldemort or, for some strange reason, Ron and I want to escape that mold.

Cannon will still happen, it may not happen exactly as it did in the books, but it will, as a whole, reflect what we know came out of the noggin of Rowling.

As always, if you liked this story please Favorite/Follow and send me a Review. This story, I would greatly appreciate some solid feedback for, it's new territory for me and I want to make sure I do the series justice.