Hello, everyone.

I have adopted this story from TumTums, with permission of course, so please don't hesitate to PM me at this account if you need to! I'm open to any suggestions you have to offer.

Chapter I

"So, you excited for your first day, kiddo?"

"What do you think, Sirius?" Harry rolled his eyes at his over enthusiastic godfather. Ever since Sirius had gotten engaged, his overly cheerful mood had begun to affect every one of his "family" members, and it was steadily beginning to piss Harry off.

Sirius sharply turned, ignoring Harry's loud yelp and snarky remark about his driving techniques, and slowly eased into one of the free parking spaces. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around, a slight frown on his handsome face. "What's wrong, kiddo?"

"Don't call me kiddo."

"Fine, then, Harry. What's wrong?" Sirius amended, and then repeated his earlier question. "You'll be able to see me soon enough, the others too! Thanksgiving is only a few months away!"

Harry gave his godfather an incredulous look over his new glasses. They had been a birthday present. "I don't care about that, Sirius." He sighed at his godfather's hurt expression. "I don't mean it like that, okay? I'm just not worried about that. I know I'll get to see you."

Sirius studied him. "What is it then? You said you weren't too upset with the move. You know Ron and 'Mione, are coming for Thanksgiving, with Remus, and Molly, and everyone. And Ginny's coming too." He raised an eyebrow and smirked insinuatingly.

"I don't like her, Sirius!"

"I never said you did."

Harry glared at his godfather's infuriating grin. "Well, whatever. I still don't. I just don't want to go to some preppy private school!"

Sirius' smile faded and he looked at Harry concernedly. "I thought we went over this, Harry. Private schools are-"

"-Not that different from public schools, I know," Harry interrupted, his hot temper flaring up. "But the thing is, Sirius, that's wrong! You're wrong!"

Sirius frowned for the second time. "Harry, please don't talk to me like that. You're a sweet kid; don't let your temper get the best of you."

The car was silent for a few minutes.

"Sorry," Harry apologized, feeling slightly ashamed of his behavior, but no less reluctant to leave the car.

"I know you are," Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. "We'd better get to the front office. Your first period starts in fifteen minutes." He pulled the key from the ignition and opened the door of his black truck, stepping outside onto the parking lot. "Come on."

Harry slowly unbuckled his seat belt and did the same, standing next to his godfather. "Where is the front office? Do you know?"

"Uh," Sirius scratched his nose and pulled a brochure out of his back pocket. "There's a map in here somewhere. "Ah, there it is. Good that it is so near to the parking space." He smiled hesitantly at Harry. "I know you might not be too eager to come here, but you can't deny that this building is a beauty."

"I guess," Harry wasn't too excited at the prospect of living in a luxurious, rich dorm, or roaming musty halls full of historical relics, or even playing soccer on the campus' vibrant green grounds. And he definitely was not excited to meet all the snobby private school brats who probably looked down on him because he came from a public school. Hermione used to go to private school and she was horrible before she became friends with Ron and him and finally started to ease up. Here, they probably wouldn't even let him try out for the soccer team, or football as they called it here. And the studying! Harry wasn't a terrible student, not by far, but he wasn't too good of one either. The only subject he was any good at was English, that and football. Moreover, all these kids were probably ten thousand times smarter than him because they read books like Pride and Prejudice and other novels that Harry was apparently too dense to understand the deeper meanings of, according to Hermione, who was admittedly a genius. He liked Ray Bradbury, and John Grisham, and Agatha Christie. Those authors wrote the real classics, at least in his opinion; however, he had feeling that his opinion would not matter too much here. This school seemed like it was one with a self-appointed student council that was actually more of a clique. They probably argued over stupid things like furnishings for the teacher's lounge and what types of foods should not be sold in the cafeteria. Did they even call it a cafeteria here? It was probably called something equally snobby as the kids who went to this school, like a tea room or a dining hall. Harry inwardly berated himself for being so pessimistic, yet he could not find any good in this situation no matter how he tried. Well, there was the higher standards of education, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much about that.

"Harry, anybody home?" Sirius looked at him bemusedly.

"What, yeah. Sorry."

"No problem, kiddo. Let's go."

Harry did not bother to correct him. As he and his godfather walked briskly to the main entrance, he noted the buildings' design with reluctant appreciation. The bricks were a soft brown color, with white bricks creating an intricate design that framed the frosted glass windows. As they neared the school, Harry noticed an etched banner draped artistically across the arch of the front door reading "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus". "Sirius," Harry began curiously.

"Yes, Harry?" Sirius pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a short drag and blowing gently in the direction opposite his godson.

Harry grimaced. "Should you be doing that here?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's a freaking private school, Sirius."

Sirius did not bother to correct his language; he had heard much worse from his godson. "I know."

Harry exhaled exasperatedly and grinned despite himself. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Sirius punched Harry in the shoulder playfully. "And you should smile more. It definitely improves your looks. You've been moping so badly lately I was afraid that was your only expression! You might actually get some girls this way!"

"Ha, ha," Harry retorted dryly. "As if I'd care about that."

"You should. When James was your age, well, let's just say that I was the looker, but he got more girls, you know why?"

"Why?" Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Ah ha! So you do care!"

"I don't Sirius! It's just-" Harry stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder as if he was afraid someone would hear him, but there was no one else outside except for him and Sirius. "It's just that I miss him, you know?" He said quietly. "I know it's stupid, I barely knew him but I still miss him. Not in the way that I miss Cedric-" He winced and his voice got even harder to discern. Sirius placed a comforting hand on his godson's shoulder. Harry continued hesitantly. "I miss him in a different way, kind of like I miss the idea of him? Or something like that, like what I'm missing about him isn't him, it's the fact that he was my dad. And with Mom too, I feel like that. But it's worse with him, I don't know why." He finished and looked up at Sirius, cheeks slightly pink.

Sirius contemplated Harry seriously. "Harry," he began slowly. "You are one of those people who are so easy to read. You wear your heart on your sleeve! You are very easy to hurt, to anger, to frustrate. But as cheesy as this sounds, this also means that you are easy to love, and there are so many people who love you back. You are very lucky. I know that I'm not exactly the best father-"

"That isn't true, Sirius!"

Sirius shook his head wearily. "Yes, it is. The fact of the matter is, I am not your real father, and I have to accept that. Nobody can replace your parents, Harry. I cannot replace James. And no matter how much Molly tries," He laughed weakly. "She can never replace Lily. We need to understand that. But, Harry," He peered into Harry's emerald green eyes. "We still love you, and would do anything for you. You are still our family."

Harry pulled his godfather into an awkward embrace, his thin arms wrapping around his godfather's back tightly. Sirius hugged him back briefly and let go, smiling warmly at his godson. Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Sirius, I know I don't say this often, but I love you."

"Me too, kiddo."

"Don't call me kiddo!"

Sirius laughed.

"Your name is Potter, correct?" A thin woman with a stern mouth and green eyes asked briskly. Her hair was in a tight, brown bun that seemed to be pulling at the sides of her scalp painfully.

"Uh, yes," Harry replied, feeling a bit out of place next to the stiff woman, even in his new school uniform. "My first name is Harry."

"I address students by their surnames, therefore I will address you as Potter or Mr. Potter. It is customary at this school for most professors to address their students by their last names."

"Um, that's okay, I guess." Harry cursed his unfailing ability to trip over words. Give him a soccer ball, and he could score without ever falling down and having to brush grass off of his knees, but torture him with an oral presentation and he was as inarticulate as a brachiopod. He only knew what that was because of Hermione, of course.

"Glad you approve, Mr. Potter," She glanced at Sirius. "I'm afraid you may not accompany your son to his classroom, sir. It is not customary at this school."

Harry got a feeling that she said that quite a lot.

"Godson, ma'am."

"My apologies," The lady seemed mildly annoyed.

Harry turned to his godfather and reluctantly said goodbye to him. "Bye, Sirius," Harry gave Sirius another brief hug.

"You too, kiddo. I'll miss you. Email me, okay?"

"I will, I promise," Did they even have computers in this place?

"Good." Sirius regarded Harry with warm grey eyes. "You'll like it here, I promise. Just give it some time."

Harry eyed him skeptically.

"I'm sure he will, Mr. Black." The lady cut in and Sirius made a face at her back. Harry smiled feebly, but his heart wasn't into it. Harry did not want to leave his godfather. He did not want to see him again in a few months. He did not want to go to this school. "Come, Mr. Potter. I will guide you to your first class today, as you are already five minutes late. You will get a student guide afterwards."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Sirius who waved bemusedly and shot Harry an encouraging smile. "You'll like it, I promise," he mouthed. Harry nodded one last time for his godfather's sake and turned, grudgingly hurrying after the woman.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall. You may address me as Professor McGonagall." She informed him as they walked briskly down the hallway, their steps echoing through the school on the hardwood flooring. Harry unwillingly admired the stone carvings and paintings displayed on the walls. A large, winding staircase on the far wall extended above and Harry almost gaped at the sheer size of the structure. Here, eyen more paintings were cluttered artfully on the walls and ornamental rugs draped from the sides of the staircase. As much he tried not to be, he was thoroughly impressed, coming from a public high school whose fanciest relic was the auditorium. He might be able to get used to the décor, at least. The kids were probably an entirely different story altogether. "This is where all of the tenth class classrooms are located. The boys' dorms are at the end of this hall to your right. The girls' dorms are to the opposite side, but I trust you will not go there." Harry blushed slightly and Professor McGonagall turned from the main corridor into a smaller hallway. "There are four boy's dorms: Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw. You will be rooming in Gryffindor."

"How will I know which dorm is which?"

"It has a brass plate with a sign on it," McGonagall said curtly. "I trust you can read, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," Harry replied sharply, slightly annoyed.

"Good. The dining hall is located on the third floor, above the ninth class wing. Breakfast is at six-thirty sharp on weekdays and at nine on weekends. Lunch will only be served on weekdays, at twelve o'clock. Dinner will be at six o' clock every day. Are you vegetarian?"

"Er, no."

"Then your daily menu is in your student handbook, two pages behind your daily schedule. In America, you have fixed periods, I am aware?"

"Yes," Harry said, slightly confused.

"Here your times for classes are varied. For example, today you have one hour of Literature, two hours of Chemistry, two hours of Advanced Arithmetic, one free period, and one hour of UK History. Tomorrow you have two hours of Literature, one hour of Advanced Arithmetic, one hour of Physical Education, one study period, and two hours of Psychology. All classwork must be turned in on the due date. Consequences will be moderated by the professors and occasionally me and Headmaster Dumbledore. Exams are always noted beforehand, though quizzes may not always be. The dorm common rooms seem to be the most popular location for students to complete homework. Of course, the library is open for students to work in a quiet area. It closes at nine o' clock every evening." She stopped in front of a dark mahogany door, identical to the other doors along the corridor wall and turned to Harry expectantly. "Any questions?"

Harry was processing this wealth of information. This new school was so drastically different from his old one. He only hoped that the kids here weren't as uptight as Professor McGonagall; however, the pessimist side of him was convinced that they would be. Harry slowly shook his head. "No, Professor."

McGonagall glanced at him coolly with stern green eyes. "Very well then, you may enter class. Give this note to the professor and you will not be given a detention for tardiness." She nodded in goodbye and to Harry's surprise, smiled softly before quickly retreating back the way they had come. Harry took a deep breath and nervously flattened his ever-wild hair before turning the handle of the door and stepping into the classroom.

The classroom was silent as Harry walked in. He could feel thirty of forty pairs of eyes following him as he walked cautiously up to the professor and handed him a pale pink slip of paper. The professor was tall, with blonde hair and handsome features. He scanned the slip of paper and looked down, giving the new student a friendly smile.

"Hello, you must be our new student. I am Professor Mariott. Why don't you introduce yourself?"

Harry grimaced inwardly. He was not looking forward to this. He turned to the sea of students and counted forty two pairs of eyes. This was a big class. "Um, hi. My name is Harry, Harry Potter." Immediately, whispers broke out amongst the students, especially the girls, and he could hear faint giggles reaching his ears. His face burned. Were they making fun of him?

"Harry here is from the States." Professor Mariott smiled encouragingly. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry noted that this professor seemed to address their students by their first name, unlike McGonagall, and that he seemed much friendlier. Well, at least McGonagall didn't make him introduce himself to a class full of preppy private school kids.

"Um, yes, sir. I'm from Los Angeles, in California."

"Where's that?" He heard a girl ask loudly and turned to see a black-haired girl. She was pretty in a way, though Harry thought her face was strangely reminiscent of a pug.

"In California, Pansy, as Harry just said." Some students masked laughs as the Professor replied. "Well, that's excellent Harry. Why don't you have a seat and get out a pencil? We're taking notes right now. There's one free, next to Draco. Draco, raise your hand please. "

Harry let out a relieved sigh and glanced at the boy named Draco. What a strange name. He seemed about Harry's height, though it was hard to tell when he was sitting down, with a pale face and platinum blond hair Harry doubted was completely natural. He stumblingly made his way to his new seat, feeling the eyes of the other students, and awkwardly sat down at the oak desk. Of course, they had oak desks here, instead of faux wood littered with pencil graffiti. Harry took out a pencil and a piece of notebook paper. Noting the title of the book on the board, he groaned quietly. Pride and Prejudice.

The class bell rung after a surprisingly interesting discussion of Jane Austen's life. He had not totally changed his mind and started to like the book or the author, but at least he understood why she wrote about such stupid things. She was a woman and in that time, a woman of her stature didn't have much else to write about, according to Professor Mariott. He found himself liking the professor, even with the awkward introduction at the beginning of the class. Sadly, he could not say the same for the students yet, or the rest of the professors.

Harry shoved his pencil and paper into his bag, not being the neatest person in the world, and made to leave when he noticed a blond boy standing in front of him, smirking. What was his name again?

"Um, hi. Can I help you?" He noticed more girls giggling out of the corner of his eye and frowned self-conciously, fiddling with the button on his black blazer.

"Never would have pegged you for a tosspot, Potter. I can usually tell by first sight." The boy drawled, smirking. Harry noticed that they weren't the same height after all: the boy had a good few inches on him.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, my apologies, I must not have introduced myself. My name is Draco Malfoy." He stuck out his hand to shake, smirking wider. His accent sounded slightly more polished than Professor Mariott's, yet judging by his expression, what he had said was not exactly polite.

Harry looked at his hand and shrugged, shaking it briefly. "What does that mean?"

"What, tosspot?" Draco looked at him with amused grey eyes.

"Yeah."

"Nothing. I just noticed that you seemed quite riveted on the lesson today. Usually boys aren't such a big fan of fluffy ball gowns and such."

Harry caught on and glared at him. "I'm not gay."

"I never said you were," Draco replied snarkily, in a way that reminded him of a meaner version of Sirius. "Want me to show you to your next class? I have French."

"I have Chemistry, and no thanks." Harry turned and walked away. Draco caught his arm and Harry turned, giving him a short glare.

"Bye, Potter."

"Whatever, Malfoy." Harry heard Malfoy snort loudly in amusement as he walked away.