Serpent Skins

by V for Voldemort

This is a redo fic for the entire HP series starting from book 1. What would have happened if Dumbledore's Letter to the Dursley's never made it? What if no one knew where Harry potter was? Would our savior be treated differently, would he see deceit in the Light's abrupt attitude change when the truth was reviled? Will eventually be Slash and Het Pairings and warnings inside.

1. Dark Water Chapter 1

Ok so the rating on this story is quite high just to be safe. There will eventually be a SLASH THREESOME of Harry/Draco/Voldemort but not in this book or for quite a few to come. There will also be a HET Severus/Hermione pairing but again not for a while. Really this is PRE ROMANCE because they are 11 boys and girls. Dumbledore bashing doesn't really start until book two or three as my current plans are going, Ron bashing will commence shortly. Also I've changed the orders of the books slightly to match my fancy!

Heads up before you start reading I've put these chapters up but as I am in my final year of my DEGREE (ARRRGGGG) please don't expect lot's of regular updates!

Also I think Fanfiction is trying to Americanise my writing so it could be a combination of the two spellings.

I've tried to Spell Check Grammar Check and all that stuff but like I said as this is my final year and i have no beta it will not be perfect, maybe if anyone is interested in the job at the end of this year then I will look into it.

Ok I think that it so on with the show!

This Chapter Word Count- 16,077

Serpent Skin Chapter 1

Dark Water

A feeling of warmth, of being held in soft surroundings and dreaming peaceful innocent things held the child in sleep. It was only when the light started slowly building up that dark eyelashes flickered open to reveal curious pale green eyes taking in the surrounding sights, smells and sounds. There was a creaking sound as something changed in the child's line of sight and then there was a scream; it's was so panicked and terrified that it managed to pull a sudden cry from the child as well. An abrupt jerking motion caused the child to whimper and then the sound of voices caught his attention. The voices kept talking and even though they were not soothing the child's eyes started to slowly fall shut again, the dreams that flitted through the child's unconscious mind this time were not so peaceful.

When consciousness captured the child once again eyes flickered open but this time a wale immediately escaped the child's mouth upon taking in his surroundings. There were shouts, loud, angry and then the jerking motion again, a movement far rougher than any the child had felt before until a cold darkness that is not sleep surrounded the child like heavy air. The whimpered cries of the child went unheard; no relief from the hunger pains arrived and so sleep was once again embraced, the only way to conserve energy as the noises and shouts from outside the darkness continued.

The third time the brown eyes opened it was to the darkness of the night, to the feeling of moving forward while not moving at all, feeling sick and odd growling noises. When the growling noises stopped so did the feeling of movement; confused the child did not cry but simply stared and waited for something to happen. Suddenly the child was being swung around again, picked up and then the night sky appeared above beautiful and clear.

There were sounds, a gruff furious voice and then the feeling of flying through cold air until the small body hit icy water. Breathing became impossible as the child is pulled down into the depths of cold, wet, darkness and then every sensation creases to nothing.

"Emma, stay close to us dear," Emma's mother called as she ran along the small dirt path in Hyde Park.

"I'll be fine mum," she called with a smile as she turned and ran over to a low hanging branch where she thought she could see a squirrel. As she neared the branch her ears picked up and she could hear something, it sounded like whimpering. Quickly rounding some of the bigger trees Emma cautiously approached where the sound was coming from and found a small figure curled into the base of the tree.

Completely soaked from head to foot and shivering violently was the most horrific sight Emma's young mind had ever seen. The pale flesh of the child before her was riddled with ugly deep purple and yellow bruises, the child's lips were a pale blue and Emma was surprised she could even hear the whimpers over the sound of the child's chattering teeth. The child didn't seem to notice Emma as she approached; hair shining all the colours of a dying sun was plastered all over the small child's head and the child was curled up so tightly in a ball Emma could see the child's knuckles turning white.

Stopping about a metre away from the child Emma crouched down and said quietly, in the softest tone she could possibly manage, "Hello?"

The response was immediate, the child stopped shivering, and with slow precise movements started to uncurl. As the child turned to face her large green eyes opened and pinned her with a look of confusion and mistrust.

Ten years later

Professor Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him as he made his way down the corridor towards Gryffindor tower, his destination the office of one Professor Minerva McGonagall the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This was the year, this was the year that all his planning would come together, this was the final moment, in a matter of minutes the spell would be set and the letters would be sent. He sighed, of course, one of the letters would not reach its recipient, of that he was sure, however he had to try the conventional way first before he sent someone to fetch the child. He would send Hagrid of course, he could think of no one more loyal and trustworthy.

Taking a left he finally got to Minerva's office and with a cheery hum knocked on the door. When the door opened however it was not to a placid smiling woman as he had expected, but to a frantic wide-eyed witch who nearly wretched his painstakingly long beard out of its very sensitive roots in her haste to pull him inside.

"Albus," Minerva began in a frantic voice, her Scottish accent becoming more pronounced in her anxiety, "I don't understand what's wrong, it's never happened before, he's not on the list!"

"Minerva my dear," Albus exclaimed in a surprised voice, "I'm afraid I do not understand, who is not on the list?" For there could only be one list Minerva was talking about, and that was the list of children destined to start Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the coming autumn term.

"Harry Potter!" Minerva practically shouted as she gestured wildly to a list floating above her desk, "I was looking through it, just a quick scan as you know I do every year but when I got to wear his name should be it was not there!"

The temperature in the room dropped, the thin summer robes Minerva was wearing no longer able to keep her warm as she felt a chill start to creep along her skin, "What?" Albus asked in the low calm tone that struck through Minerva like an iced blade; most of the time the fact that the man standing in front of her was arguably the most powerful wizard alive seemed to slip into the background, his power seeming to fade into the background of his cheerful grandfather like aura; but then there were those instances, like now, which served to remind her of its existence.

"He's not on there Albus," she whispered not daring to meet the ice blue eyes that were staring down at her, as if this was her fault, as if one flick of the wrist she was going to be cast into oblivion. "Like I said, when I got to where his name ought to be he was not there."

Without a word Albus strode over to the desk, grabbing the list from the air to look through it himself and just as Minerva had stated, when he got the part of the list where Harry Potter's name should have been his name was not there. Taking a breath to calm himself Albus went straight to the top of the list, reading and absorbing each name with a meticulous eye, hoping desperately against hope that for some reason Harry Potter would be written elsewhere on the list.

As his mind started to panic Albus stopped, this would not help him, with a flick of his wrist he sent the list back to McGonagall's desk, "Send out all the other letters Minerva, I shall go and find out what is wrong."

Petunia Dursley hummed as she worked in the kitchen rolling out the pastry to make blueberry tarts for her dear Duddikins when he got home from school. When a knock at the door came she quickly popped the tarts into the oven and went to answer it. What greeted her on the front porch however made the happy little smile that graced her face fade into obscurity and fear became etched into every wrinkle on her horse shaped face.

"Hello Petunia, it has been a long time," Albus Dumbledore greeted, the cheerful lilt to his voice and happy sparkle that was normally a characteristic of his eyes noticeably absent.

"I suppose you better come in then," Petunia replied in the bravest voice she could muster, "Lord knows you probably won't take no for an answer anyway and I was expecting this visit a lot sooner." Moving aside to allow her guest to enter she meekly followed him into the lounge, back ramrod straight as she watched him settle into one of the comfy armchairs.

"Please sit Petunia," Albus said in a hard tone, "I insist." and with a flick of his wand the chair behind Petunia came skidding forward knocking her legs out from under her. "Now, where is he?"

"I… I I I… I don't know," Petunia stammered out and cringed backward as pale blue eyes so completely cold she was afraid pieces would start to chip off continued to stare at her.

"Petunia, normally my patience is known as one of my characteristic traits but at this moment it is wearing very thin, I'm going to need you to expand on what you are telling me if you please."

Petunia gulped, her eyes started flicking round erratically, her subconscious trying frantically to find an escape route, "We found him, he was on our doorstep and I knew immediately who he was, I remember the picture that Lily sent me of him even though Vernon burned it. We took him into the house and we we we –"

"Stop!" Startled Petunia looked up into Albus's eyes and was just able to get out of startled gasp as he tore into her mind.

Going to fetch the milk from the porch, Petunia opened the door with a small smile on her face only to look down and scream, there on the doorstep was a child with deep midnight black hair wrapped in a small blue blanket and snuggled into a basket, a child about the same age as her own dear son. The child had woken when she screamed and was now wailing at the top of his lungs; Vernon came running then and at the sight of his doorstep quickly grabbed the basket pulling the startled Petunia inside and dumping the child on the kitchen table.

"It's him isn't it Petunia," he said in a low voice, it's that freaky child of your sisters, they've dumped him on us because his freakish parents are dead. I heard them you know, muttering all day yesterday, it's why I asked you what his name was when I came home."

"Dead? What do you mean by dead Vernon?" Petunia whispered, fear clouding her eyes.

Vernon felt almost sad for his wife as he watched her crumple into the kitchen seat, "She's gone Petunia, your sister is gone, they were all talking about, she and her husband were murdered and now they've dumped that… thing with us."

Petunia glanced fearfully over at the child and then anger started to surface as she thought about her sister, "I don't want it!" She exclaimed, "I had enough freakishness in my life with my sister, I finally got rid of her for good when she ran off with the waste of space Potter, I don't want or need anything to do with that!" She was shouting by the end of her speech, causing the child to start wailing again.

With a snarl Vernon once again grabbed the basket and shoved it into the cupboard under the stairs, "The question Petunia, is what we're going to do with it now."

"I don't know Vernon," she whispered fearfully, glancing at the cupboard where whimpers from the child could still be heard coming through the door, "what can we do?"

With a hard glint in his eye Vernon said in an undertone, "We could get rid of it, no one would–"

"No Vernon, they would find out, they have ways of finding out, they make you tell secrets, they invade your mind, Vernon we can't!"

Vernon seemed taken aback for a moment before his face hardened the look of determination Petunia could not understand, with a nod Vernon turned around, stomped out of the room and up the stairs. For the rest of the day Petunia was on edge, she ignored the crying from under the stairs until it stopped, kissed her husband on the cheek as he went to work and took Dudley shopping for a new toy. When she and Dudley got back later that day she started to cook dinner and waited for her husband to come home.

They sat silently at the table that night; even Dudley, smart boy that he was was able to tell that making noise just then was not a good thing. Over dinner Petunia came to the conclusion that they had to just accept the child into their home, but later when she tried to retrieve the boy from the cupboard Vernon stopped her.

"No Petunia," he said the slight shake of his head as he held her wrist inches from the cupboards handle, "we are tired, leave it there until morning and then we shall deal with it, okay?"

"But… but Vernon, it might – we have to… we can't –"

"No Petunia," Vernon repeated, "leave it there until morning and we shall deal with this whole mess then. We are not able to contact the fre – them to take it back so they obviously meant us to have it even if they didn't have the common decency to leave a note explaining what they wanted. They have left us to do this all on our own and we shall because as much of a freak as your sister and her… husband were that child may still have a chance if he stays with us. Come Petunia, get Dudley and we shall go to bed and deal with this in the morning."

Vernon was so eerily calm, in the way he had never been before that Petunia felt she had to do as he wished.

The next day that calm was still surrounding Vernon like mist, Petunia cooked breakfast and set it in front of him in unusual silence. It was only after he had finished eating that Vernon spoke, "Petunia, go get it out."

Petunia still wary of her husband's mood slowly rose from the table and went over to the cupboard; opening the door slowly she gasped drawing her husband's attention.

"What is it Petunia?" He asked, hurrying over, only for his eyes to widen at the empty cupboard that lay before them. "They must have taken it back," he said at last. Closing the cupboard with a decisive snap Vernon strode back into the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea.

Albus withdrew from the woman's mind but all the same kept her gaze locked on his. Studying her face it was obvious she knew what he had done but he didn't care, she was a muggle, what could she do?

"Petunia," he asked in a very soft voice, "did you or Vernon ever talk about what happened? And bare in mind, I will know if you are lying to me."

Petunia shook her head, "We never mentioned it after that day, I tried a few timesbut Vernon was adamant that one of your lot had simply taken him back."

Albus shook his head, "No, I left the child here in your care, for him to be raised by you until such a time that he was ready to re-enter our world. There is one thing that puzzles me however, nowhere in your memories did I see the letter that I left you, where is it Petunia, it's very important."

Petunia once again shook her head, "I don't know what you are talking about, maybe it simply blew away."

Albus's eyes narrowed as he stared into the woman's eyes trying to determine what really happened; but no, Petunia was telling the truth, as far as she knew no letter had been left with Harry Potter that night. This was not good, that letter was critical… had been critical to his plans. Now he had to rethink… everything… if he didn't things would start falling apart and the first step towards that was finding out what happened to Harry Potter. With a decisive nod to himself Albus turned and made his way out of the house and across the street, he would come back to the Dursley's later, he was not through with Vernon

Mrs Maggs was a lady in her late fifties who had lost her husband some twenty five years ago to cancer. In life Mr Maggs had been a rather successful banker and as such had bought a very large London townhouse which had consisted of five bedrooms, a kitchen, study, one dining room and one reception room. After the death of her husband Mrs Maggs had felt rather lonely in the large house; unwilling to sell the house that held so many fond memories she had become a short-term foster parent.

"He's not a problem child, at least not in the normal way," she said to the small oddly dressed gentleman in front of her, it was strange she didn't even know why she was divulging such intimate information about one of her children, "most of it I think, stems from the fact that he hasn't been adopted.

By all rights because he was so young, no more than two years old when he was found, he should have been snapped up by any parents looking to adopt, but he hasn't and that's one of the reasons why he ended up here. I looked over his file when he first came to me and I noticed that until the age of four he was only at one foster home, it specialised in young children. It really was a terrible tragedy, the house burned down, there were eight foster children in that house, he was the only one to survive… From the time of the fire till the age of six he had been in seven different foster homes already and that was when he first started going into homes for challenging youths."

The man in front of her nodded, a sad frown covering his face as he asked, "How many foster homes has he been in?"

"This will be his twenty third, for some reason he never seems to go to long-term foster homes or the ones that he does go to get rid of him soon afterwards." Mrs Maggs said with a sigh, "I specialise in problem children, children that come from very abusive homes and cannot get along in other foster homes. When I looked at the number of foster homes Mordred had been through I was expecting to have a really hard time with him, but I could never find a reason why he was classed as a real problem."

"So he's not like other children you've had through this house then?" The man in front of her asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

"It's strange, most of the children I get through here are rather… violent, they swear, punch walls and people alike, skip school, everything that you it would expect from a typical problem child," Mrs Maggs paused, wondering how she should word what she next wanted to say, "I knew Mordred was different the moment he held out his hand to me politely and told me his name. The first few days I saw hardly anything of him, but I thought nothing of it because this was a new house to him and he was just getting used to it. I thought he must have been getting up early to eat breakfast and then disappearing to his room, so one morning about three days after he had arrived I went down early as well to catch him and try to have a chat with him.

It was about half past six when I saw him coming down the stairs and he smiled at me. It was all going perfectly well, we had a lovely breakfast together, even if it was only cereal and chatting to the boy I realised how lovely he was, but then… when he finished his breakfast, instead of going up the stairs and back to his room the way I thought he would, he tried to leave the house. It was then I realised why I hadn't seen him in all the time he'd been there, he hadn't been up in his room, he'd been out somewhere, probably wandering the streets, I was so worried. I told him off for trying to sneak out and said he was under my supervision, that he was just a child and the streets were a dangerous place for him to go on his own.

I don't really remember much after that, I remember him looking into my eyes and then waking up in my bedroom. It took me a while to figure out what had happened but when I did I was frantic, I grabbed his file and looked through it trying to find something that would indicate where he might have gone but I couldn't find anything! I called foster care placement and they said this was the usual occurrence for him, one of the reasons he was labelled a problem, but they said he always came back and for me not to worry. I couldn't understand how calm they were about it but like they said he did come back around about eleven o'clock that night. I was so scared and angry, I had been worrying all day; I shouted, a lot, when I had finished he simply said that I didn't need to worry about him, he did this all the . time, so calm and polite I felt rather bad for shouting. He turned around and went upstairs, from then on he went out when he wanted came back when he wanted nothing I could do or say would stop him from doing it, even locked doors and windows have no effect. He's always incredibly polite, does any chores I ask him too, but he's always very detached."

The man in front of her looked slightly upset by her comment as she had predicted, "So what are the children's reaction to him, surely in a house such as this fighting is a problem?"

"True in a house like this fighting is a huge problem but to Mordred they seem almost indifferent, it's a sort of wary acceptance of him. The other children seem to stay away from him and he, out of respect for their distance stays out of the house as much as possible."

At this comment, the small smile that had crept back onto the man's face disappeared to be replaced by a worried frown, "Where does he go when he's not in the house? Surely a 10-year-old child needs to be supervised by an adult most of the time?"

"I have tried numerous times to find out where he goes but somehow he is able to avoid my every attempt at following him," Mrs Maggs sighed.

"Very well," the man nodded, "would it be agreeable if we went and saw him now?"

"Hello Mordred?" Mrs Maggs called softly from outside Mordred's room as she knocked the door.

"One moment Mrs Maggs," Mordred replied, quickly getting up from his bed and going over to unlock the door to his room, "what can I –?" The question went unfinished as Mordred spied the stranger standing behind her. The little man was no more than four foot tall, a tiny bit shorter than Mordred himself. He had a short Santa Claus style white beard, a slightly out of date dark blue Velvet suit on and the biggest smile Mordred had ever seen.

"Mordred this is Mr Flitwick and he is here to see you," Mrs Maggs said with a nervous smile back at the little man before she stepped away and let Mr Flitwick through, "I'll leave you to do to get acquainted," she said giving Mordred an encouraging smile over Mr Flitwick's shoulder.

Mr Flitwick stepped forward and held his hand out to Mordred, "Pleasure to meet you Mordred," he smiled and Mordred remembering his manners as he shook the man's hand then invited Mr Flitwick to sit on the chair by his desk.

"The pleasure is all mine Mr Flitwick," he replied placing a warm smile over his face, one that he had perfected over the years of being interviewed by prospective parents, "may I enquire as to your visit? The way Mrs Maggs introduced you, it made it seem like you had specifically come here to see me." There was no need to beat around the bush, if this odd Mr Flitwick had come here to take him to a new Foster home, Mordred wanted to know outright. He could see no other reason why the man would come to the Foster home looking for him especially, someone looking to adopt would look round everyone, not just him.

Flitwick smile didn't falter as he chuckled, "You're a straightforward young man aren't you? Very well, I shall take the direct approach, I am a Professor at a special school for a certain type of gifted young children and I'm here to offer you a place at that school."

Mordred's eyes widened slightly, his intelligence had never been one of the things that drew any attention to him, he made sure of that, at least no one that hadn't been in his room would know. While it was true that other children would interact with each other, run around and play tag, Mordred found them boring, he would walk around the edge of the playground reading everything from on from science fiction to actual science and back again; though he would make sure to keep the covers well hidden, it wouldn't do for the teachers to see a 10-year-old reading degree level physics books. On the other hand maybe it had been Mrs Maggs that had been in his room had alerted this gentleman to his intelligence, she was easily sharp enough to notice. Stuffed with books, all second-hand from charity shops and from libraries of course, his room was full to bursting; the condition of a book did not matter to Mordred, the contents was his only interest.

"What kind of special school?" Mordred asked with a raised eyebrow, opportunities like this didn't come around for children like him; penniless, he was rather hesitant to take the man's offer at face value, there was just a niggling feeling in the back of his head that made Mordred think the man was holding something back.

Flitwick's smile if possible grew even wider, "Mordred, have you ever had anything unexpected happened to you, something out of the ordinary that just couldn't possibly be explained within the rational laws of physics?"

Curiosity piqued, Mordred leaned forward from where he had settled himself on his bed. There were a few instances he could think of to fit into an answer to Mr Flitwick's question, but he wanted the teacher to explain further before he divulged anything. He had only tried a handful of times to tell someone about his abilities because each and every time at the mere mention of something like his abilities being possible the person had simply scoffed turned away, "What do you mean by that Sir, are you speaking of Newton's Three Fundamental Laws of Physics?

Flitwick laughed again, a jolly sound that seemed to reverberate from his chest and vibrate throughout his will body, "Oh my boy, if you do not end up in my house I will be incredibly surprised. I've never in all my years of teaching had a ten-year-old respond to my question with one of their own about Isaac Newton, I bet very few of your classmates present and future even know the name Isaac Newton."

Mordred gave Mr Flitwick a slightly nervous chuckle in response, "I read a lot of books Mr Flitwick, when you mentioned the rational laws of physics my mind automatically jumped to Newton and his theories."

"Well done Mordred, it's that kind of quick mind and search for knowledge that will land you in my house, Ravenclaw, the house of thinkers."

Mordred frowned, "Ravenclaw?" He asked in confusion.

Mr Flitwick's eyes widened comically in his head and Harry was reminded of an owl he had once seen, "Oh my, I seem to have, as the muggles are fond of saying, jumped the gun a bit there," Flitwick chuckled, "The school I work at is called Hogwarts and in Hogwarts there are four different houses, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Gryffindor is the house of the lion, Ravenclaw is the house of the Raven, Slytherin is the house of the snake and Hufflepuff is the house of the Badger, bravery, intellect, cunning and loyalty."

"Those are some very funny names Sir, if you don't mind me saying so," Harry said with a raised eyebrow, he was starting to think that maybe this school wasn't such a good idea, it sounded rather barmy.

Mr Flitwick tilted his head to the side slightly but the smile on his face didn't falter, "Yes, I suppose to an outsider Hogwarts would sound a bit strange, but I assure you young man that it is anything but. I go back to my original question, has anything strange ever happened to you, something you couldn't control, couldn't explain?"

Mordred tilted his head to the side making it look as though he was thinking about it. For a moment he entertained the idea of telling this person, this total stranger about all his different gifts and the strange things that often happened to him, but quickly discarded it, put on a confused mask and brought his eyes met up to meet with Mr Flitwick saying sincerely as he could manage, "No, to be honest Sir nothing really springs to mind."

Mr Flitwick seemed to buy his answer but instead of it discouraging the small man he seemed to get even more excited, "Well well well, when I said you'd be in my house, I was only teasing, now I am not so sure."

"Mr Flitwick, I really must insist on you explaining what you mean," Mordred said, he was getting a little worried about his health being in the same room as this madman.

Flitwick made no verbal response simply smirked jovially at Harry and reached into his coat pocket and drawing out an aged looking letter, "This is your invitation letter to join Hogwarts as a student, read it and then tell me what you think."

Mordred took the letter cautiously and turned it over. The first thing Mordred noticed was his name; it was addressed simply to Mr Mordred Pendragon. No matter how many times he had seen it written down Mordred still felt a smile grace his face, it had been his name as long as he could remember, he had never known his birthday either, or at least he had never known his real birthday but it never really mattered. He loved his name, it was individual and interesting… shaking his head out of his wanderings Mordred looked down at the rest of the address on the letter, it said

Mr Mordred Pendragon

Room Number 5

Smallest Single Room on the Top Floor

Westside Foster Home

London

Mordred frowned, how on earth had these people known which number room he was in, let alone its location within the house and its size he had no idea. Giving Flitwick one last curious look Mordred reached over to one of the draws in his desk and pulled out a letter opener. It was a beautiful piece, the blade itself made from a material very closely resembling a abalone shell. The hilt of the dagger was separated from the blade by a large clear diamond about the size of Mordred's eye and was covered with a soft blue suede like material. The whole thing looked fragile but Mordred had found on closer inspection that it was actually incredibly strong. He never had the opportunity to use it before, but he had seen it in a charity shop awhile back and had just had to have it, he couldn't explain in rational terms why he had needed it so badly, simply that it had… called out to him? Was that the right way to describe how Mordred had not physically been able to leave the shop without it, the way it had shone and glowed in his eyes? Mordred had often wondered how it could have ended up in the charity shop and not some antique auction, but as it had no hallmark or any other marking to indicate that the silver or the diamond was real, he supposed it was plausible for someone to mistake it as fake, he didn't.

Before he had the opportunity to use the knife however Mr Flitwick gasped and he seemed to reach for the dagger only to pull his hand away when Mordred moved it behind his back.

"It's one of my most precious possessions Sir, I do not allow anybody to touch it, it took me a great deal of time and effort to get it, please understand." Mordred said with a hard look at Mr Flitwick.

Once the astonishment had cleared from Mr Flitwick's face he smiled in understanding and nodded, "Do not worry Mr Pendragon, I merely… oh it is very exciting," he exclaimed clapping his hands together in delight, "but please I need you to open your letter first before I explain."

Turning his attention back to the letter once more Mordred lifted knife and cut it open. Inside were two sheets of paper, taking the first he started to read-

Dear Mr. Mordred Pendragon,

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 acceptance owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Mordred turned from the letter and looked back at Mr Flitwick with a raised eyebrow, "A school of witchcraft and wizardry?" He asked slowly, "You expect me to believe that your some sort of wizard Professor from a magical school that teaches children how to do magic?"

Mr Flitwick chuckled, "I know, it is a rather amazing idea child, but I can assure you every bit of it is true. Can you truly tell me you have never done something strange, out of the ordinary?"

Mordred stared at the man for a second, fear gripping his chest and squeezing all the air out of his lungs; what if this was a trick to get him to admit to all the things he could do? Were they going to cast him off to some insane asylum? With a shake of his head Mordred chuckled, "Wizards and witches, so where's your magic wand then?" He asked sarcastically." If he didn't admit to anything, they couldn't take him away.

Instead of being offended Mr Flitwick (or should he call him Professor Flitwick) simply smiled wider and he once again reached into his dark blue velvet jacket and pulled out a long thin stick, "It's right here!"

Mordred's own eyes went round and he gazed up at the man in front of him in astonishment.

Professor Flitwick turned towards Mordred's desk chuckling at the wide-eyed response. With a slight swish and flick of his wand Mr Flitwick and everything on the desk suddenly started to glow light blue. Seconds later one by one the objects started to levitate off the table and fly around the room. Mordred could only watch in amazement until with one final whizz around the room and another final chuckle from Professor Flitwick the items zoomed back to resume their previous places on Mordred's desk the glow leaving as quickly has it had come.

When Mordred made no move to respond in any way Professor Flitwick explained, "That was a simple spell called the Levitation Charm, normally one would use the incantation Wingardium Leviosa to make the spell work and objects would normally hover. I myself am a Charms Master and so saying the spell in my head and altering my intention with the spell slightly to make the objects on your desk fly around instead of just hover was no great challenge."

Professor Flitwick seemed to allow Mordred a moment to regain his wits and when he did Mordred's eyes fixed onto his dagger and he asked, "So what is this then, it seemed like you recognised it?" He asked… he supposed his new Professor.

"It was not so much that I recognised it, as I recognised it as an object made by a wizard, you see those patterns carved all along the hilt and dagger, to any muggle they would just look like pretty pattern carved into the wood, but most wizards could identify them as runes."

Mordred frowned in confusion as he examined the dagger in his hands, but when the Professor 's word sunk in his eyes shot up to catch Flitwick's, "Runes Prof?" He asked, eyeing the Professor carefully as he made his answer.

"Yes Mr Pendragon, do you see that pattern there?" He asked pointing at the diamond part of the blade where the hilt and blade met, a part that from what Mordred could see, had absolutely no writing or pattern on it whatsoever. Mordred nodded slightly, deciding to find out what his new teacher was going to say before he gave anything away. "Those patterns are what wizards call runes," Professor Flitwick went on with a smile, as he looked at the dagger, "That is a single word in Elder Futhark, the oldest known runic alphabet. Unfortunatly I can't read the language, there is no power in the object, it's not magical and it can do nothing magical, it was probably made as a present to someone, for ornamental purposes only, the saying probably had some significance to the original owner."

Mordred stared thoughtfully at the dagger for a second then looked back down at the letter in his hands, flipping the pages to read the second sheet of paper-

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

sets of plain work robes (black)

plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

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

Reading through the list of things he had to get Mordred's heart sank slightly, it was obvious he was supposed to buy these things himself, but he had no money of his own with which to do so, "Professor I can't go, I don't have the money to buy any of this," he said quietly, his eyes downcast.

"Don't worry about that young Mr Pendragon, there are trust funds in place for people who do not possess the means to pay for themselves."

Mordred felt a small relieved smile reform on his face which Flitwick returned, "Now," the Professor said with an air of excitement, "we need to schedule a time for you to come with me shopping to buy school supplies." With another flick of his wand a small diary popped into existence in front of him and opened. "I'm busy for the next few days, but I can come and collect you on Saturday we can do some shopping then if that is agreeable with you?" He asked Mordred.

Mordred grinned and nodded.

"It's not him Albus," Fillius Flitwick insisted with a shake of his head, "he looks nothing like the Potter boy, his bone structure is completely different, don't you remember Lily and James performing that silly spell to show what Harry would look like when he was older? Not to mention his hair is blood red for Merlin's sake, Lily's was strawberry blonde; the only thing that's even the slightest bit similar is the shape of his eyes but even they are a different shade of green than Lilly's used to be."

"It must be him Fillius," Albus muttered as he paced up and down his office deep in thought, "he's the only one on the list without parents or a blood relative that can confirm his identity."

Fillius shook his head, "Harry Potter had black hair, pale green eyes and a lightning bolt shaped scar on his head Albus; this boy has nothing in common with Harry Potter. I think you need to accept Albus that Harry Potter may be dead or if he isn't that he's not in Britain any longer."

Albus stopped pacing and looked out the window over the grounds, "I will find him Fillius, I have to."

Fillius nodded, "I know Albus, if he is alive to be found I know you'll find him but in the meantime I suggest you turn your attention back to the school you are supposed to be running as headmaster." With that final piece of advice spoken to Albus's back Fillius turned around and left the office a sad frown on his face as he contemplated the mental state of his friend.

The next few days past incredibly slowly for Mordred, even with a few new books nothing could keep him entertained for long. He just kept thinking about that coming Saturday and by the time it finally arrived and Mordred spotted his soon-to-be teacher from his window he was so excited his magic seemed to forgot about the stairs and all of a sudden he found himself at the front door. After a little disorientation, (he had learned to expect and not question the weird things that happened to him a long time ago) Mordred pulled the front door open and called out a half arsed farewell to a slightly stunned looking Mrs Maggs over his shoulder, shut the door behind him and sprinted the rest of the way down the street to meet a slightly startled and amused looking Professor Flitwick.

"Nice to see you so bright and chipper this early in the morning Mr Pendragon," Professor Flitwick said in amusement, eyeing the small boy.

Mordred grinned, but as his brain finally caught up with what his eyes were seeing, "ProfessorI don't mean to be rude but what are you wearing?" He asked, eyeing Flitwick up and down in confusion.

Flitwick blinked for a moment but then looked down at himself and chuckled with a shake of his head, almost making the pointy green velvet hat he was wearing fall off, "I keep forgetting muggles don't we robes," he gestured down to himself, "They are the fashion of the Wizarding world Mordred. Robes help a wizard or witch to perform magic; it's the same with pointy hats. Magic is all around us," he said gesturing looking around, "it is in every living being and the way robes are shaped helps us to absorb and channel that magic.

Mordred laughed excitedly, pulling his Hogwarts letter out of his pocket, "So where do we go to get all of these things?" He asked, waving the second sheet of his letter around excitedly but then frowned slightly his eyes lighting up again with curiosity, "And what's a muggle?"

Professor Flitwick chuckled and took out his wand, holding it out as one would hold out a thumb when trying to catch a lift. A few seconds passed and nothing happened but then all of a sudden a blur of purple came hurtling round the corner of the street rattling towards Harry and Flitwick at such a speed that Harry was afraid of getting run over. His worry was all for nothing of course as the blur came careening to a stop quite suddenly in front of them. It took a moment the Mordred to figure out what was going on but as his confused mind started to settle he realised he was standing in front of a glowing bright purple tripledecker London bus with the words Knight Bus scrawled messily across the side in big gold letters.

Mordred and Professor Flitwick climbed on board and after being greeted rather mechanically by the conductor, Professor Flitwick told him they were going to a place called The Leaky Cauldron and handed over four odd looking coins he called Sickles. The two settled themselves into a pair of seats and just as Mordred was about to launch into another round of questions the bus lurched into motion and all he could concentrate on trying not to lose his breakfast. Thankfully the ride only took about two minutes to get to their destination and the bus driver was soon breaking incredibly hard causing Harry to fly forward out of his seat and into a rather strategically placed cushion attached to the wall in front of the rows of seats.

Flitwick chuckled all the while as he got up from his own seat and gently took Mordred's arm to guide him off the bus. When the world had stopped spinning Mordred managed to look around and found himself outside a shabby two-storey Tudor house with a sign declaring itself The Leaky Cauldron… in the middle of… actually he didn't know where exactly. The pub was situated somewhat oddly between two incredibly ornate and majestic stone buildings looking out over a river. On the other side a little way down Harry thought he could make out an enormous Ferris wheel which made Mordred assume they were still in London and what he was spying was in fact the London Eye, meaning they were on the back of the Thames.

Mordred was gobsmacked that people just seemed to walk past the pub without even glancing at the shabby exterior, especially while it was surrounded by such strong and elegant looking structures on either side. He voiced his opinion to Flitwick and his soon-to-be Professor explained that there were special spells on it to make muggles ignore it and even if they did manage to see it because of some tiny amount of magic in their blood that they would simply forget about it as soon as they looked away from it.

"What are muggles?" Mordred asked with a frown as Flitwick ushered him that towards the pub.

"Non-magical folk," Flitwick said with a small smile, "people who can't do magic, they don't know about the Wizarding world."

As Mordred entered the pub after Flitwick his eyes widened dramatically for the thousandth time that day; inside the pub was nothing like its exterior. Inside Mordred found himself in a large room with dark wood beams and pillars riddled with carvings that stood like stripes in contrast to the almost luminescent white walls. Large ornate portraits that were moving and talking were hanging on the walls flitting in and out their portraits as they went to talk to their neighbours. Large high windows allowed in the beautiful summer sun making everything gleam and glitter and glow. As Mordred looked up he could see that the place seemed to somehow be magically enlarged as they were five more floors with mezzanine balconies stacked one on top of the other. Lush squishy looking armchairs and sofas piled with cushions stood upon thick creamy carpets and the only source of light Harry could see was the large chandelier that hung down from the huge glass vaulted ceiling. The light feature like the rest of his new surroundings seemed to be made of vines that twisted, turned, changed and grew the longer Mordred looked it. People of all shapes and sizes sat around dressed in robes, some people simply had a drink in hand but others had large trunks beside them that seemed to disappear as they laughed and gossiped. At the far end of the room directly opposite Mordred was a large door; to the left Mordred could see a beautiful mahogany reception desk with a woman sat behind it and a highly polished mahogany bar on the right.

As Professor Flitwick steered Mordred towards the door at the far end, many of the people sitting around called out of greeting to the Professor and he acknowledged each with a cheery wave and a quick greeting. Mordred couldn't help smiling at the excited atmosphere that seemed to bubble and ooze from everyone.

"Come on Mr Pendragon," Professor Flitwick said with a wide smile opening the door with a flourish, "I understand The Leaky Cauldron is rather astonishing sight to behold, even I am astonished sometimes and I've had eight years to get used to it; however I think it's time you were properly introduced to the Wizarding world.

He may as well just keep his eyes permanently bulging and his mouth permanently open like a goldfish, Mordred thought as he looked out at the sight before him.

"This Mordred, is Diagon Alley," Flitwick exclaimed proudly in a large booming voice that Mordred thought shouldn't be able to come out of such a small man, "This is the Wizarding world!"

Mordred didn't know where to look, he and Professor Flitwick was stood at the top of a set of steps leading down onto a large wide street. Shops on either side built in the same Tudor fashion as The Leaky Cauldron interspersed with large Gothic church looking structures towered and arched over each side of the street. Instead of a road running down the middle like Mordred expected large colourful market stalls had been set up. Everywhere Mordred looked things glowed with what he was starting to realise was magic, he could see it, feel it buzzing in the air as the wonderful smells and sounds accosted his senses and drove him into fits of excitement far greater than anything he had ever experienced.

Just as he was about to set off into the crowd a small hand clamped firmly down on his upper arm and he reluctantly turned to see an incredibly amused looking Flitwick guiding him down the steps and over to one of the first shops on the Alley.

"The first thing we need to do with you, before we do anything else is get you a wand," Flitwick proclaimed entering the shop to the sound of the tinkling bells, Mordred just being able to read the sign above the door which read Ollivander's Wand Shop before three women seem to get impatient with his dawdling pushed him inside in front of them. Feeling rather bemused Mordred went over and sat down next to Professor Flitwick where he had settled himself down on a comfy looking bench to wait.

The shop itself seemed rather busy and Mordred didn't get a single glimpse of Ollivander for about thirty minutes as the man seemed to be surrounded by eagerly waiting customers. When there was a lull in the crowds of customers Mordred was able to see the shop in its entirety and felt slightly overwhelmed by what he saw. Surrounding every single wall, piled up to the ceiling with small piles scattered here and there on the floor boxes and more boxes seemed to fill every alcove in the tiny shop. A single oil lamp and a scattering of parchment pieces took up residence on a large intricately woven wooden desk placed in the far corner. Ollivander (or at least the person Mordred thought was Ollivander) tall and lanky with white fuzzy hair stood behind the desk shaking his head in weary amusement before he came over and greeted Flitwick.

"Fillius, old man good to see you," Ollivander held out his arm in greeting and Fillius grasped it in a strong firm hold. Ollivander seemed to spot Mordred in that moment and his is a eyes lit up with understanding, "Ah, bringing round another new recruit to get his things are we?"

Flitwick smiled, "Yes, this is Mordred, I already have a feel for him Alexander, he's either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin, not quite sure which yet but that should help you in your search for his wand."

Ollivander eyed Mordred up and down for a moment before sighing and giving Flitwick an amused look, "Why you lot at Hogwarts can't possibly bring your kids here earlier in the year to get their wands I don't know; I've been run off my feet for the last three weeks and I don't see it stopping any time soon. Don't people know how long it takes to choose a –"

Flitwick chuckled, "So sorry to get interrupt Alexander, but can we get on with this, I only have two hours to help Mr Mordred here saw on a bit of a tight schedule, I have to introduce a family called the Granger's at one o'clock."

Ollivander sighed, "Very well, I suppose."

An hour and a half later, after Mordred had had every angle of his body measured by flying measuring tape he then proceeded to try every single wand in the shop. Ollivander would hand him a wand, Mordred would flick the wand and something would blow up. A few times Mordred's fingers had hardly even brushed the wood before Ollivander would snatch it back muttering that it was definitely not the one for Mordred.

The glow of magic in Diagon Alley was starting to get to him. Normally the only magic he was around was his own and so had become accustomed to that level. Now, surrounded by so much magical energy, it was like being in a room where loud drum and bass music was being played. The only difference was the beasts of sound were replaced with waves of magic crashing into his body. To add to Mordred's growing fear of never getting a wand, if Ollivander spent too long trying to help Mordred crowds of angry parents would start to build up, getting impatient that they couldn't get on with their days and so many times Ollivander had had to go and help them to stop the angry parents and impatient children from tearing his shop down.

In the end Flitwick had had to leave Mordred with Ollivander in order to meet his appointment with the Granger's and half an hour later turned up with the family to Ollivanders.

"Mordred young man, this is Miss Hermione Granger and her parents Mrs Elizabeth Granger and Mr Howard Granger," Flitwick said, leading the Granger's over to where Mordred was sitting morosely on the bench watching as Ollivander fitted out yet another young wizard that wasn't him with a wand. "Still not got your wand yet? Alexander will be running out of them soon."

Mordred sighed, "Not yet, I still hold out a slight hope."

As a way of distracting himself Mordred looked over at the girl and her parents; the Granger's Mordred thought Flitwick has called them. He held out his hand the girl, "Hello I'm Mordred," he said introducing himself with a small smile as he looked the girl up and down. She had pewter black curly hair that hung down in large defined ringlets framing her thin pale face. There was only a hint of colour in her cheeks and she had large deep-set eyes which shone out from her face in a dazzling midnight blue. Even at such a young age Mordred could tell an incredible beauty when he saw one and this girl definitely fell into that category.

"And I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said taking his hand in a small pale one of her own and shaking it surprisingly firmly, "Is Mordred your first or second name, it's rather… old fashioned don't you think?" She continued rather rudely as Mordred got an odd sense of déjà vu.

"Hermione," Mrs Granger said in stern warning voice, causing Hermione to look up at her mother in annoyance.

"What?" Hermione asked her mother in confusion, "I only asked him whether it was his first or second name." She turned back to Mordred, "So, what is it, your first or second name?"

Mordred realised that Mr and Mrs Granger while looking nothing like their daughter looked awfully familiar to him, "Have I met you before," Mordred asked them, before turning back to the girl in front of him and peering at her closely, "It's only, your parents seem familiar to me."

Hermione seemed for the first time to properly look at Mordred and then her eyes widened comically, "Badger?"

Mordred frowned, "There's only been one –Fox?" He asked in disbelief and seconds later he had rushed forward and embraced the girl in the tight hug.

"Oh my God, Badger I thought you never see you again," Hermione whispered into Mordred's hair as she clung to him.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you either Fox," Mordred said hugging the girl so tight she almost couldn't breathe.

"Hermione?" Hermione's mother asked coming to lay a hand on her daughters back, "You can't possibly mean the Badger that used to come round to our house all the time?" She asked, turning to her husband to share a look of shocked disbelief.

Hermione nodded in answer to her mum's question as she pulled back to look at the boy in front of her, "I've missed you so much do you know that?" She asked him

"The same here Hermione, gosh is that really your name Fox?" Mordred asked with a small smile, taking her hands.

Hermione laughed, "Well it's better than either of your actual names Badger, or should I call you Mordred?"

"I'm missing something," Professor Flitwick said stepping forward and looking at the two children who were embracing like old friends.

Hermione beamed, "Badger – I mean Mordred used to live up the street from me, but then there was the fire and you moved away, I couldn't believe it." Through the course of her sentence Hermione's face transformed from a beaming smile into a sad teary eyed frown.

"But I do seem to remember you having brown hair when I left Fox," Mordred said coming forward in picking out one of the girls luscious black curls, "Along with a pair of brown eyes, how did they become blue?"

"They were turning blue the whole time," Mrs Granger said coming forward to put her arm around Hermione, "It's only within the past year or two that they've become the deep blue that they are now, it's quite a strange but not unheard of occurrence according to the doctors we've been to see, although the huge change from brown to blue is quite unheard of."

"Are you still living in London?" Mordred asked, "I wandered your way once a few years back, knocked on the door and everything but the lady living in your house said that you moved about a year ago."

Hermione nodded, "Yeah, mum and dad got their own practice a little way further out the other side of London, we moved so they didn't have to commute every day."

At that point Ollivander wandered over intending to give Mordred another go at finding a wand. After another thirty minuets it was painfuly obvious this wasn't going to happen any time soon and Olivander turned his attention towards Hermione. Ten minuetes later and the dark haired girl managed to acquire a wand, 10¾" vine wood wand with an Ashwinder scale core according to Ollivander.

"Don't worry Badger, I'm sure you'll find one soon," Hermione said with an encouraging smile from where she sat on the bench waiting for Mordred. Her parents had wanted to take her off and do their shopping while Mordred was getting a wand, but Hermione had insisted on waiting for her old friend, her only friend if she was to be honest.

"Yes you most certainly will Mr Pendragon," Ollivander said with a nod of encouragement as he came out with yet another wand only to discard the moment Mordred's fingers curled around it, "Let's see, you seem to lean more towards wands that have some part of a Phoenix as the core, whether it be a tail feather, a scale, or a claw, but then you also have an affinity for the very few basilisk core wands I have as well, with two such opposing wand cores both working for you equally as well this will not be easy. At the fact that Dragon cores are also a contender… All three are so powerful, I wonder…"

Mordred frowned, "What you mean when you say that they are opposing?"

Ollivander lifted an eyebrow, "Simply this, a Phoenix is the Light animal, the animal of fire, warmth and life. The Phoenix tears can heal any wound, whether mental or physical. A basilisk on the other hand is the Dark animal, an animal of shadows, cold winter night and death. One single glance into the eyes of a basilisk can kill any living creature. A Dragon, equally powerful as either of the other two with traits from both is a neutral being, neither of light and darkness, just simple equilibrium. The fact that you seem to lean towards all three of these cores would indicate that you yourself are… a complete mystery."

"So does that mean anyone with a basilisk core to their wand is evil and dark and the thing that anybody with a Phoenix core is light and good? What about someone with a Dragon core, are they destined never to take a side?" Hermione asked curiously.

Ollivander turned to Hermione in surprise, "Not at all my dear girl, it merely means that the person with either a Phoenix or basilisk wand core is more disposed to be incredibly driven by their beliefs and that once their beliefs are there, solid in place in their minds, it will be very hard to persuade them otherwise and would take something drastic to do so. Whereas the Dragon core is more likely to indicate a person of changeable beliefs, not easily manipulated of course, simply that the person is willing to accept that they are wrong sometimes. However the wand chooses the wizard Miss Granger and I have seen many a wizard and witch walk out of the shop with one of those three wand cores that display none of those traits.."

"You must have one somewhere that will fit me, even if it's not a perfect fit?" Mordred asked apprehensively, "At this point, I'm starting to think it's my only option."

Ollivander turned his head to the side and contemplated Mordred for a moment, slowly Ollivander said, "You have tried almost every wand in my shop and so far none have fit Mr Pendragon but I assure you there will be one that does. I am starting to wonder however…" Once again his eyes darted up to Mordred's forehead and back, "I can tell you need a powerful wand, but you seem to have very little allegiance to one animal, the closest allegiance is to a Dragon, but that cannot be the actual core to your wand, no you need something for more… decided."

Mordred nodded slightly, still a bit unsure but respecting the wand makers opinion. Ollivander smiled down at Mordred's nervousness and disappeared off down one of the many towering rows of wands. A minute later there was a loud crash and a plume of dust came shooting out from one of the rows of wands the.

"Mr Ollivander," Mordred called out in concern, "are you alright?"

"Fine," was the reply as Ollivander emerged from the cloud clutching a very dusty looking box, "it has been over hundred years since this particular wand has been out for me to try and match it, I have never found the right person."

Ollivander reverently opened the box and pulled out a dark red pearlescent wand, "Eleven inches, made out of King Dragon scale, with a hollow core," Ollivander whispered reverently.

"How does it produce magic if it doesn't have a magical core?" Professor Flitwick asked in confusion.

Ollivander laughed, "That was Albus's question was well, when I tested him and the answer is that because the wand itself is made of a magical material there is no need for a core. This wand is completely unique, and I did not make it myself, my great grandfather eight times removed who was the original wand maker, the original Ollivander of Ollivander's Wand Shop. He made this wand for two very special customers, before he had even officially opened the shop. The wand was used for a very long time by its owners, but at their death, instead of being buried with it like most witches and wizards to, they had it given back and told my many times grandfather that one day it would be needed again for a very powerful core. They told him it would not feel right straightaway because the person who it eventually belonged to would need to add their own unique element to it, but that it would happen.

Yes I'm taking a chance on this one," Mordred heard Ollivander say. As his fingers curled round the handle of the wand Mordred couldn't help the gasp at the warmth he felt radiating from the Dragon scale. The wand felt heavy in his hand, nice really, but there was still the niggling feeling in the back of his head that it wasn't quite right, that there was only half of what he wanted in his hand right now.

"How does it feel Mr Pendragon?" Ollivander asked.

"I don't know," Mordred whispered staring at the wand in amazement, "it feels right, but it feels like there's something… I don't know… missing?" He asked, looking up at Ollivander who had a very pleased look on his face.

"Try it Mordred," Hermione insisted grinning at him, holding her own wand out and flicking it causing red sparks to fly everywhere.

Mordred nodded and held the wand out in front of him. For a second nothing happened, but then large jets of red light came shooting out the tip and making him want to laugh with joy. As the lights dissipated Mordred felt the feeling of euphoria leave him and a slight dizziness overtook causing him to clutch his head and groan.

"You need to learn to control that power Mr Pendragon," Ollivander warned with an amused look, "it may have something to do with the wand as well, it definitely belongs to you, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the way it feels right now, you need to add your core to it."

Mordred frowned, "It's not my wand, not quite, I've never touched my own wand before but I know this isn't quite it."

Ollivander gave a commiserating nod, "I understand completely child; it took me five hours of my father handing me wands to find the one that I was meant for. Even when I did find it, there was something missing." He took out his own wand and showed it to Mordred, "12 inches, Black fairy dust core, Pine. It took me five years to realise that what was missing was the varnish. Most wands only need to be polished with normal wood polish, my wand had to have under layer of White fairy dust to balance out the core." Ollivander shrugged putting away his wand and smiling at Mordred, "You'll find out what's missing from your wand, don't worry."

After that Mr Ollivander boxed up Mordred's new wand and he paid ten galleons for it before following Professor Flitwick and the Grangers out into Diagon Alley once again.

"The next stop along our little journey should be Flourish and Blotts for your new books." At the mention of new books, both Hermione and Mordred became almost unable to contain their excitement.

As soon as the two children entered the store the adults lost sight of them in between the mounds of cascading books and shelves. To Mordred, and apparently Hermione as well the idea of so many new and unknown books in one place was mouth-watering. There were books the size of tombstones covered in thick leather that neither of them could open even though there was no lock. Books with the most horrible putrid smells coming from them, (the two avoided that section) books the size of a double bed and others that had to be read with a magical magnifying glass (apparently that was the section for fairies) and even books that they couldn't pick up because they were, as Professor Flitwick explained, ghost books, books for the dead to read. It took almost two hours for the children to round up all the books on their class list, one of which was entitled The Monster Book of Monsters, the store clerk almost had a fit when he was told they needed two of them. The books themselves were being held in a cage; covered with brown matted looking fur and with four beady black spiderlike eyes sticking out the top they were incredibly fearsome looking as they used clasps that looked like teeth to rip each other apart.

By the time they had left the shop Hermione had not only got the class required books but about fifteen others that she wanted, most detailing histories about the Wizarding world, transportation systems, government and culture. Mordred looked on in envy, but resigned himself to knowing only what was taught in his new school books by the end of the holidays when he was to start Hogwarts.

The small group made their way along the street and Professor Flitwick announced that their next destination would be Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions so that the children could get their school robes for that year.

When they entered they found Madam Malkin, a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve, tending to a boy with a pale, pointed face and bright white blond hair standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

"Hogwarts, dears?" Madam Malkin said, when she saw the group. "Got the lot here," she pronounced her smile widening even more as she saw Professor Flitwick standing with them, "Oh Fillius, how nice to see you, how is it up at Hogwarts this time of year, nice and sunny?"

Professor Flitwick grinned, "Yes but quite glorious I will confess." He turned to Mordred and Hermione, "Now, you're going to be here for quite a while so Miss Granger I think I'll take your parents to the teashop over the road, I shall see you both in about half an hour."

Mrs Granger came to Hermione smiled and kissed her forehead, "Be good, and don't be rude," she insisted with a stern finger pointed in Hermione's face.

"Don't worry Mrs Granger," Mordred said coming up and standing beside Hermione with a grin, "I'll make sure she behaves."

"Thank you Mr Mordred," Mr Granger thanked him with a wink as he steered his wife from the shop.

"Hello," said the blonde boy the two had seen earlier, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Hermione with a bright polite smile and Mordred couldn't help the smirk at the suppressed questions he knew Hermione was trying not to ask.

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

"Why not simply persuade him?" Mordred asked curiously.

"Pardon?" The boy asked in confusion, but as he glanced over he caught Hermione's eye, looking her up and down, "We're not related are we? The names Draco Malfoy, my mother is a Black, you have a very strong resemblance."

"Oh, no, I doubt it, I'm a muggleborn," Hermione explained with a smile.

"Oh are you," the boys face instantly morphed into a sneer, "they're still letting your lot in then are they?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione shot back, a sneer of her own twisting her features.

The boy's attention went to Mordred and his eyes narrowed, "And what about you, are you a mudblood as well?" The boys eyes travelled up and down Mordred's scruffy clothing and for the first time in a long time Mordred felt rather ashamed, "Never mind, I can tell by the way you dress, or are you a Weasley? With your hair and tatty clothing I wouldn't be surprised, Bloodtraitor."

Mordred's anger which hadn't been sparked in such a long time was suddenly at the forefront of his mind, he wanted to destroy this boy, "Do you know," he calmly, swallowing his anger and stuffing it in the back of his head, "the people who insult me never normally have the guts to do to my face," he said taking a single step forward and locking eyes with the boy, "and if they do, they normally don't end up in such good shape afterwards."

The boy seemed to lose a slight bit of his bravado for a moment, but he quickly regained it, "How dare you threaten me mudblood, my father is-"

"Oh, your father," Hermione said stepping up to Harry with a smirk on her face, "going to run to daddy instead of facing two mudbloods on your own? Coward!"

"Oh now none of that!" Madam Malkin said coming back in through the back door to the storeroom, it "You're only first years, I will not have you casting spells on each other that you don't even know how to cast yet and blowing up my store."

She motioned to Malfoy to get down from the stool, "That's you done," she said ushering the boy out to where he was met by a blonde haired couple. The boy seemed to give one last sneer at the shop before he looked up at the blonde man and seemed to burst into a rant.

"I know you two properly don't understand what just went on, but maybe you should ask Professor Flitwick about it." Madam Malkin said when Mordred and Hermione opened their mouths to start questioning her. In other words, Don't ask me! Mordred thought annoyed as the witch ushered him up onto a stool.

It took another forty minutes before the two of them were ready with they're new school robes, and by that time Flitwick and Hermione's parents had come back into the shop to wait for them.

"Well now then, I suppose we need to get your potion things and then hop over to the apothecary for your standard ingredients."

Like before, both Mordred and Hermione were totally fascinated by the apothecary, it took ages to get everything they needed because they were always distracted by something unique and interesting looking. Hermione got far more than she needed, constantly thinking of all the different potion she could create with them and Mordred was starting to think his eyes were going to permanently go round in circles he was rolling them so much.

After they had got both Hermione and Mordred a set of scales for potions and a cauldron Professor Flitwick declared their shopping (or at least Hermione's) finished. Just as Hermione and her parents had turned to leave she suddenly gasped digging into her bag as she ran back to Mordred's side. Pulling his hand to her she started writing on his hand, "If you don't phone me before the start of school I will be very, very upset and I shan't have any scruples in hexing you as soon as we get on board Hogwarts Express!" She declared with a happy and slightly scolding look. With a kiss on his cheek she said a happy goodbye to Professor Flitwick and Mordred before going after her parents into Leakey Cauldron.

"So what are we going to do now?" Mordred asked, turning to Professor Flitwick as he tried to hide his slightly red face.

"I think it's time we took you down to Gringots bank Mr Pendragon, you're going to need a vault of your own to hold your money," Professor Flitwick said with a smile.

Gringots bank turned out to be a huge Greek looking white marble structure with huge towering columns on either side of huge dark wooden doors further down Diagon Alley. The place was completely at odds with the rest of the surrounding buildings and Mordred knew that if he was going to put his money anywhere he would definitely feel safest putting it here. As they reached the entrance to the towering building Mordred spotted a small looking man dressed in the uniform of scarlet and gold. He looked to be about a head shorter than Harry with a long pointed nose, shrewd looking eyes and a small black beard.

When Professor Flitwick spotted the small man he gave a warm chuckle and a wave which was returned with a small nod and smile of acknowledgement but nothing else.

"Do you know him?" Mordred asked curiously but they were faced with a set of closed ornate silver gates.

Professor Flitwick smiled at Mordred didn't say anything you strode forward and… walked straight through the gates. At the moment for Mordred's astonishment to past when it did he laughed and walked forward towards the gates as well… only to find himself bouncing back off a falling on the floor with a hit head, the gates were completely solid.

Professor Frederick chuckled, "Oh, that never gets old," he laughed and pointed up at the archway above the gate, "Read it please," was all he said.

Before looking up the words Professor Flitwick wished him to read Mordred examined the silver gate or closely. Since being in Diagon Alley Mordred's senses seemed to have gotten used to the glow that the magical world produced, his headache had calmed down dramatically and it was now only a slight twitching sensation in his mind. However looking up on the gate Mordred realised he could very clearly see a glowing aura around the metal bars. Touching them again Mordred's eyes lit up slightly as he felt a zinging feeling under his fingers; stepping back he looked up at the dark stone archway, and seeing the silver words engraved there started to read-

"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."

Looking back to Flitwick the man nodded, "You can walk through it now," he said indicating the gate. Wearily Mordred walked up to the gate reaching out his hand and laughing in delight as his hands simply passed through it. With a smile he walked the rest of the way through and went to stand next to Professor Flitwick.

"What was that?" Mordred asked curiously looking back at the gate.

"That Mr Pendragon was a warning from the goblins; it is impossible to rob Gringots Mr Pendragon. The gate reads every intention in your head, if it found any evidence to suggest you had the intention of taking something that was not yours, you would not be able to pass through the gate. On entering Gringots for the first time everyone must read the warning aloud as it activates the spell. If you have not read it aloud, you would not have been able to enter."

Another pair of small men dressed in black velvet and with silver trimming bowed to them as they approached yet another archway, this one with golden see-through curtains shimmering as they swayed in a non-existent wind.

"This arch reads magical potential Mr Pendragon," Professor Flitwick explained as he passed through the curtain without seeming to see it, making it glow slightly, "it will not harm you in any way so you have nothing to fear."

Still cautious, Mordred walked up to the curtains and reached out his hand. Once again they glowed slightly but unlike the set of gates that he could feel nothing of, these were almost tangible, it felt like water woven into cloth. He could almost grasp the golden fabric but just as his fist try to close around the material slipped from his grasp.

"What are you doing?" Professor Flitwick asked in confusion

"Feeling the curtains material Prof," Mordred said in confusion.

Flitwick eyebrows rose up and disappeared and his pointed hat, "There is no curtain there Mr Pendragon," he said slowly.

Mordred frowned as he stepped fully through the curtains. They once again glowed but Professor Flitwick seemed not to notice. Looking back he saw the two small men who had bowed them in the main entrance shooting curious glances with each other as they examined Mordred more closely. Nothing else happened as he came to stand beside Flitwick some Mordred shrugged it off as just another one of his weird quirks.

"Well now," Flitwick said as he set off at a brisk pace through the vast black marble hall, "welcome to Gringots Mr Pendragon."

Around the Halls edge a hundred or more small people were sitting behind what Mordred could only describe as high judges benches, bringing them up to just above eye level with most of the wizards and witches surrounding them.

"I don't mean to be rude Professor Flitwick, but why are all these people so small?" Mordred asked quietly gesturing around at the people behind the benches.

"Oh," Flitwick's eyes widened slightly before he laughed, "those are not humans Mr Pendragon, they are goblins."

Mordred's eyes widened and he once again looked at the small beings, yes he could see it now, they had pointed ears and their fingers were oddly long, he supposed in retrospect he really shouldn't have thought them human.

"I'm actually a quarter goblin myself," Professor Flitwick said with a wink to Mordred as they walked further into the Hall.

Mordred laughed but it was quickly cut off as he spotted a large white stone archway with what seemed like a mirror encased within it in the centre of the Hall; men and women stepped out of the mirror every few seconds causing ripples in its surface, and as Mordred and Professor Flitwick walked around the archway Mordred could see people on the other side of the archway walking into the mirror.

Flitwick grinned at Mordreds slightly slack-jawed face, "Goblin transportation," he said proudly, "The mirror acts the same as the Liars Gateway."

"Liars Gateway?" Mordred asked confused

"There is an identical archway in every Wizarding town in Britain, it transports people from that location to Gringots. The silver gate you passed through, well the mirror acts the same way, the only difference is it's possible for someone wishing to steal something from Gringots to pass into the mirror, " Flitwick explained, but just as Mordred was about to turn away thinking the explanation over, a predatory grin spread over Flitwick's face, revealing feral white pointed teeth as he continued in a slightly more bloodthirsty tone, "however they never emerge from the other side."

Mordred suppressed a shudder that wanted to spread throughout his body, if he had had any doubt that Professor Flitwick was not human before, he had none now.

Walking up to one of counters where a goblin was scribbling in a large leather bound ledger, as he weighed coins on a brass scale Professor Flitwick cleared his throat and smiled up at the goblin, "Morning," Professor Flitwick said brightly, "we are here to open up a new vault for Mr Pendragon here."

The goblin looked down its nose at them, "Very well," he said clicking his fingers and causing the ledger, coins and brass scales to disappear, "I will need your wand."

Mordred nodded and reached into his bag of shrunken school supplies to pick out the box in which his wand was carried. Taking the wand from the box he handed over to the goblin who examined it a moment before nodding to himself and disappearing as he climbed down from behind the bench and emerged through a small door in its side.

"Follow me please gentlemen," he said as he set a brisk pace across the Hall to a door on the other side. Ushering them through the goblin led them across a small antechamber and up a set of dark wood spiral staircase. When they reached the top they walked down long twisting corridors, the goblin every now and again leading them through the door that went to another corridor until finally he came to a stop in front of a light wood door with a brass handle and knocker.

After the goblin knocked at the door and an answering, "Enter!" sounded from inside the goblin pushed the door open and led them into what looked like a miniature office. Everything in the room was half size one would normally expect them to be and the Mordred got the oddest feeling that the goblins did this on purpose to make fully grown wizards uncomfortable in this situation. The goblin sat behind the desk pushed a small tray of precious looking stones he seemed to have been examining away from him as he looked curiously over his spectacles at Mordred and Professor Flitwick.

"How may I help you Fillius?" He asked with a raised eyebrow as the goblin who had led them there placed Mordreds wand on the desk before disappearing back out of the door.

"The child wishes to open a vault Vallen," Professor Flitwick replied with a small smile

"Very well," the goblin nodded and motioned Mordred and Professor Flitwick to sit down in the chairs in front of his desk, "I'm assuming that you are acting magical guardian for the child until he has been sorted into a house at Hogwarts?" He asked Professor Flitwick

"Yes," Professor Flitwick replied as he settled himself down on the small chair and turned to Mordred, "Then your magical guardian will be your head of house."

"Very well," the goblin replied and with another wave of his hand caused a rolled piece of parchment to come flying out of a chest of drawers to the side of the office and straight into his hand. Unravelling the parchment the goblin trailed a long thin pointed finger down the parchment, "Let me see, wand 11 inches, Dragon scale with… no core?" he asked curiously picking it up, "and your name is… Mr Mordred Pendragon, now there is a name I have not heard in a long while," the goblins shrewd eyes turned and pierced Mordred, "I wonder," the goblin whispered, his eyes going slightly misty.

"Wonder what?" Mordred asked curiously with a raise of his eyebrow.

His words seemed to jolt the goblin out of his trance and he blinked slightly a frown crossing his face, "Never mind child, everything is in order here," the goblin said pressing his thumbnail into his forefinger and pricking it to allow a small globe of green blood to form there. Allowing the drop of blood to fall onto a black wax seal that had appeared at the bottom of the parchment, the goblin once again tapped his finger to the paper causing the parchment to roll up and transform into a small golden key.

"Yours is vault one thousand two hundred and twenty seven, "the goblin announced holding their key out for Mordred to take, "it is not one of the blood vaults you either have to inherit one of those or be of legal age."

Mordred nodded, taking the key and thanking the goblin; he had a feeling all the questions he wanted to ask would not be answered just then. Moving out from behind his desk the goblin walked over to the corner of the room and opened both doors on a large cherry red wood cabinet; inside stood a roughly carved stone ring about the diameter of a small hula-hoop. Engraved around the edges were runes quite similar to the ones Mordred had seen on the arch in the main chamber and at the very bottom of the ring was what looked like a keyhole.

"In order to get your money out of the bank Mr Pendragon you will have to go down to the vault yourself but to put items into the vault you need only ask in the main chamber and one of these rings would be used. Simply put your key into the keyhole and turn it to the left. Mordred nodded, stepping forward and doing as the goblin had instructed. The moment he turned his key the inside of the brink shimmered and warped creating a bubblelike surface.

"Simply throw your money in and it will go straight into your vault." The goblin said with a small bow to Mordred. After throwing his money into his new vault, Professor Flitwick took Mordred back to the Foster house.

When they got to his room Professor Flitwick handed over a small letter, "What's this?" Mordred asked

"This is your ticket to the Hogwarts Express," Professor Flitwick said with a smile, "It says platform 9 and 3/4, it's a platform on the Wizarding train station Drosanthar, you get the station by walking into one of the pillars between platform nine and ten at the muggle train station Paddington."

Professor Flitwick smiled, "One more thing Mr Pendragon, you're not allowed to perform magic outside of school under any circumstances, do I make myself clear?" He asked, his face for the first time Mordred has seen it going quite stern as pointed a questioning finger at Mordred.

Mordred give single nod that he understood and Professor Flitwick, after giving an indulgent chuckle held out his wand and in the blink of an eye was gone.

Since he had turned five, and therefore able to travel on all public transport for free and without supervision Mordred had spent as little time in any of his Foster homes as possible. In the morning he would get up early and go down to the kitchen to have breakfast before anybody else and then either go off to school or if it was during the holidays out to the local library. The reason for this was simple, Mordred saw absolutely no point in getting to know people that he was just going to have to leave again in a few months time, allowing himself to get close to someone was just asking for heartbreak.

He had been told by Mrs Maggs to expect a visitor the day before Professor Flitwick had arrived, which was the only reason he had been in the house on a Saturday, instead of at the local library. Now, after the last week of school had finished his holiday schedule had changed very little, the only difference was instead of going to the local muggle library over his holidays he now went into the Wizarding world.

It hadn't taken Mordred long to find out that Diagon Alley was only one Wizarding Street out of many. Diagon Alley was essentially the main commercial shopping street in Wizarding London that catered to working-class wizards and witches as well as school students, it had all the main clothes shops, toyshops, and furniture shops, making it the longest of all Wizarding streets. The other streets were Horizont Alley, Vertic Alley, Parallel Alley, Perpendicular Alley, Crescent Alley, Nocturn Alley and Diurnal Alley.

Horizont Alley and Vertic Alley were essentially easiest to understand, they ran from West to East in the case of Horizont Alley and North to South in the case of Vertic Alley; Horizont Alley consisted of a mix between industrial units and large sports arenas dedicated to quidditch (apparently one of the most popular Wizarding sports), pegasus polo, winged horse racing, broomstick racing and a duelling arena to name but a few. Vertic Alley was dedicated to a mix between apothecary shops, estate agents, (although in the Wizarding world they were called House Finders) and Hogtusk, the Wizarding equivalent of University. Parallel Alley ran (as its name suggests) parallel to the Thames River and held all the important Ministry of Magic (Wizarding Government) buildings, Gringots Bank, (the bank was located at the intersection between Diagon alley and Parallel Alley) as well as St Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Perpendicular Alley cut across Horizont Alley and was pretty much a magical arts and crafts Street where wizard and witch artists had studios and shops to sell their goods from. Nocturn Alley ran off at an angle from Diagon Alley and was dedicated to the dark arts, dark arts books, dark arts furniture, dark arts toys, dark arts apothecary, you name it and if it had Dark written in front of it, it was sold there. Diurnal Alley was Nocturn Alley's exact opposite, running off at the same angle from the opposite side of Diagon Alley, Diurnal Alley focused most on light magic, the very lightest, it had surprised Mordred immensely that it was avoided just as much as Nocturn Alley. However out of all the Wizarding streets yet come across, Crescent Alley was by far his favourite; predictably in the shape of the crescent, Crescent Alley joined the end of Nocturn Alley and Diurnal Alley together. Crescent Alley was the place to come and eat, the whole street was dedicated to restaurants, cafes, small delicatessens, grocery stores and any other food related store under the sun. It was not however because of any of the eateries or food shops that Mordred liked this particular street the best; no, the reason he liked this street best was because right in the centre of it was the Wizarding Grand Library.

The library was a colossal building that consisted of two hundred floors worth of books, scrolls, script, musical instruments, music rolls, pensieve memories and many other things that Mordred had no clue what to do with.

This was where he spent his summer, reading as much as he possibly could about the culture he was entering into. The only breaks in his days of reading were when he was writing to Hermione, or sleeping.

His friendship with Hermione had, to his surprise blossomed, the two of them seemed to get along like peas in a pod. Not a day passed when a phone call was not exchanged between the two of them, they mostly consisted of a mainly Hermione phoning Mordred and then Mordred telling her everything he had read that day in the library. Hermione bemoaned the fact that she could not join Mordred in the library, but her parents were insistent on her spending as much time with them as possible over the summer, doing family things because she would be going away for so long when she started Hogwarts.

Hermione told Mordred that she found her parents insistence on spending time together rather irritating. She said she loved her parents a lot, but she also admitted to it being a love of the fact that they were her parents as opposed to any real fondness for them or their personalities. She admitted to Harry that she had nothing in common with her parents; they were both dentists and although both academics themselves did not have the obsession with knowledge that Hermione had. They didn't understand their child, and Harry pitied his friend for that, at least he didn't have that pain, and having parents he couldn't connect with, who didn't understand him though it was little consolation.

Review? :)