Here's the second chapter, hopefully some interesting stuff will come up and it'll be a change from what you would normally read in the first bits of a Harry Potter story by using an unusual perspective and show more unexplored regions of magic.

Also, I'd like to apologize if you guys saw an update yesterday. I didn't like how the first chapter ended and added some dialogue, but Fanfiction went a little wacko and forced me to delete the first chapter and upload my updated version of it in a weird way.

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Hogwarts Great Hall, September 23rd.

Gregor piled food onto his breakfast plate with a smile on his face. He was the only first year at Gryffindor table that was up yet, and only a small smattering of upper years were around as well. The food at Hogwarts was truly of high quality and Gregor loved it, his size made it so he had to eat more than the average elev- twelve year old boy.

He nearly forgot it was his birthday, that's how wonderfully distracting Hogwarts was.

Truthfully, today wasn't his actual birthday; nobody knew what the actual date of his birth was aside from his birth parents. But since it was the day he was brought to Leopold House as an infant it only made sense to consider it such. It wasn't like the date truly mattered all that much, prior to becoming a Clegane the only thing his birthday meant was that he was getting farther and farther away from that toddler period adoptees preferred.

Hermione interrupted his train of thought by taking a sit on his right, a pile of books in her arms and a tired look in her eyes. She'd taken to spending the majority of her time inside the Hogwarts library when they weren't taking a look through the school.

She daintily started putting food onto her plate, only small bits like bacon and eggs unlike Gregor's high stack of pancakes and grabbed a pot of steaming coffee. Gregor found the stuff to be nasty and could never understand why people would subject themselves to the bitter drink only for a pick-me-up when they could simply have some tea and be done with it. But, he knew not to vocalize those thoughts to Hermione; especially after his mum snapped at him for asking a similar question a year ago, before she had her morning cup.

When Hermione took a sip of the coffee she let out a small sigh and turned to Gregor, her eyes wider and more awake. "Good morning Gregor."

"Morning." He greeted in turn, giving her a small smile and bringing his attention back to his pancakes.

"I'll never understand how you can eat that much."

"I'm-" he paused to swallow his food. He had no interest in giving her a show like Weasley would to anybody that spoke to him when food was nearby. "I'm a growing boy!"

She rolled her eyes, "Obviously." She gave his stomach a pointed look and turned to her own plate.

Gregor chuckled at that, he found Hermione to be a fairly fun girl when she wasn't talking about schoolwork. She had difficulties when it came to making friends, just as Gregor did, but when she made one she was an entertaining friend to be sure.

If only she'd stop trying to force him into the library for so many hours of the day.

Sandor, his mum's owl, came down not a moment later with a large empty bag and a letter tied to his leg. Gregor quickly traded a piece of bacon from Hermione's plate, which caused her to squawk in indignation, for the both of them. He read the letter first, knowing that the only one that had access to Sandor was his mum.

Gregor,

Happy Birthday son! Twelve already? My, how time flies.

I'm sad that we won't be able to have our day off together, I have always enjoyed that and will miss it dearly.

So, news first. With you going to Hogwarts I've found myself to be bored all of a sudden. I know it's only been a few weeks, but it's true all the same. I've decided to start looking for a job, part time since I don't want to miss my morning soaps of course. There's a position at the local Primary School that opened up and I'm hoping to get it.

But, I'm sure that you don't much care about that. So, let's talk presents!

First, on your request, I bring you a can of spray deodorant. You'll be needing it soon enough anyways, I've a feeling you'll be hitting puberty early.

Second, I did in fact read and listen to your complaints about Professor Snape. While I myself think his words were harsh, he's a teacher and he has the right to dictate what you use in his class. I do however agree that writing with a quill and inkwell is silly. So, to help you I went to Diagon Alley through our floo, the address is The Mountain by the way, and in Flourish and Blotts found just the thing. They're called self-inking-ever-neat quills that have something called an unbreakable charm on them, they write exactly like a pen does. I bought you two so don't lose them!

You'll find them inside the bag. Looks empty, doesn't it? I got it at Gringotts, it's a bag with an expansion charm on it, like the one in Professor Flitwick's breast pocket from when he delivered your letter. Clever bit of magic that. The goblin that sold it to me told me it can hold fifty kilos! I put the deodorant and quills in it and put a few Galleons in it too; you never know when you'll need some pocket change.

Please write me more often.

Love,

Mum

Gregor found himself grinning by the time he finished the letter. The can of spray deodorant was a plus, as were the quills and Galleons, but best of all was that his mum got him a Bag of Holding!

Best birthday present ever.

She also got the floo system linked up. That was good; it meant they didn't have to drive half an hour to get to the Leaky Cauldron. The address was funny in a sort, he knew his Mum had been a huge fan of the Hobbit growing up and confided that she wanted to live in the Lonely Mountain when she was a girl.

"What's all that?" Hermione asked, softly stroking Sandor's head as she spoke.

"Birthday card."

"Happy birthday!" she said, her voice high and her smile wide and Gregor found his ears turning red. He wasn't used to people wishing him such aside from his mum and the occasional tutor.

He abruptly stopped blushing, his mind thinking hard but coming up with no answer when it came to his friend. "Hermione, when's your birthday?" it was weird that he didn't know something so basic.

She blinked, not expecting the question. "September 19th."

"What!" Gregor blurted out, his eyes wide. "Why didn't you tell me?!" That was four days ago! He might not have had anything to give her but he could have at least wished her a proper happy birthday!

She found herself blushing too, her cheeks instead of her ears. "Well," she said, tucking a few strands of her bushy brown hair behind her ear. "It never came up."

Gregor studied her with narrowed eyes before offering a harrumph. He grabbed his Bag of Holding, dug an arm inside, which made Hermione open her mouth wide, and pull out his two new quills. He handed her one with a grin, "Happy belated birthday."

She took it with a small, confused smile on her face and when Gregor explained what it was her smile turned into a wide white grin and she gave Gregor a full bodied hug.

They finished their meals soon after, both with smiles still on their faces and split up. Hermione needed to return her rentals to the library and Gregor needed to write a thank you letter for Sandor to take back to his mum.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

After Potions class, where Professor Snape finally chose to ignore Gregor due to his having written properly using a quill and turned his full ire onto Potter, Gregor learned from Seamus that the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years would be having flying lesson together. Gregor thought it strange that Gryffindor would be paired with Slytherin for this, but he supposed that evened out the classes. Gryffindors only had to do with Slytherins during Potions. Their other class combinations had Hufflepuff in History, Herbology and Defence while Ravenclaw took Charms, Transfiguration and Astronomy with Gryffindor.

Gregor couldn't help but be excited for flying class, though he was equally nervous; something Hermione also felt. When she returned her books to the library she came back with one called Quidditch Through the Ages in hopes that it would shed some light on how flying worked. Unfortunately it didn't really have anything aside from the occasional obscure tip but she held onto those obscurities like a lifeline and spewed them out for the whole of the Gryffindor first years to hear during lunch; only Neville seemed to be listening to her words.

At half past three in the afternoon the Gryffindors made their way down to the grounds for their flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns towards a smooth, flat bed of grass that stood opposite to the forbidden forest.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were about twenty broomsticks lying in neat rows on the grass. Gregor remembered listening in on the Weasley twins complaining about school brooms, saying that some of them would vibrate if you flew to high or always skewed left when in the air.

Madam Hooch arrived soon after, her yellow eyes trailing on the first years like a hawk. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everybody stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

The students took their places at random. Gregor took the end of the row and looked at his broom, frowning when he noticed some twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

Gregor positions his right hand over the broom and hesitantly called out an "UP!" that his fellow first years echoed.

The broom barely moved.

He frowned, an idea coming to mind. "Madam Hooch?" he called and the teacher turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "What if you're left handed?" It was a bit of a sore point of his, another thing that made him different from most folk; a tolerable difference to be sure but a difference none the less.

She took a moment to speak, her hawk like gaze catching the attention of all the students that didn't get their broom in hand. "If you're left handed use your left hand. Brooms are like horses or dogs, they'll know if you're afraid so use whichever hand you're most comfortable with. Keep your voices firm and don't let any nervousness show."

Gregor nodded and switched positions, something that Blaise Zabini also did. He cleared his throat and spoke as clearly as he could, "UP!"

The broom slapped his hand soundly and Gregor couldn't help but let out a grin, his hazel eyes lighting up in glee.

He had to wait for a few minutes for the rest of the class to have their brooms in hand, but when they did Madam Hooch showed the class how to mount their brooms properly and walked up and down the rows, correcting any wrong grips. He couldn't help but snicker when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years, something both Potter and Weasley seemed to agree with if their blatant amusement was anything to go by.

"Now," Madam Hooch said. "When I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and the come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two – "

Neville, however, chose to go off at two and pushed off hard before the whistle came to Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle. Gregor blinked as Neville went right over him, the other students were scattering away from what was likely to be a crash zone. Neville fell down only a few feet away, his chubby body making it seem like he was falling faster and Gregor moved without thinking. He dove down, catching the smaller boy in his arms and rolled around on the grass; ignoring the small red sphere that fell from Neville's pocket. His right thumb stung horribly and was quickly turning purple and had bent at an odd angle while Neville was whimpering and holding his red and swollen wrist, but they were safe and sound as a whole.

Madam Hooch came barreling over, a frown on her face when looking at Neville and approving eyes when looking at Gregor. "Come up boys, good show. Longbottom, two points from Gryffindor for going without my signal. Clegane, ten points to Gryffindor for saving your classmate from what could have been a fatal injury." She took a look at both of them, "Broken thumb and a sprained wrist, nothing too bad but worth a visit to Madam Pomfrey." She got up, dusted off her robes and motioned for both Gregor and Neville to do the same.

She turned the rest of the class, most of whom were wide eyed at what they just saw occur.

"None of you is to move while I take these boys to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on dears."

Neville had tears rolling down his face as he clutched his wrist and hobbled off with Madam Hooch who had an arm around him. Gregor was to the other side of the flying instructor, holding his right hand and looking at his oddly bent thumb with a frown on his face. He'd broken bones before, fingers more than anything when boxing, but it was still strange that he could barely feel the broken bone in question when he knew should have felt immense pain.

Madam Hooch led them through the staircases and halls until they found their way to the hospital wing. Gregor had never been here before, he assumed Neville hadn't either, and it was always interesting for Gregor to explore new places in Hogwarts.

If only he'd come here under different circumstances.

Madam Pomfrey was a nice woman with long grey hair tied up in a bun and kind blue eyes, but she was equally strict. The moment that Madam Hooch brought Gregor and Neville inside the clinic Madam Pomfrey quickly got the situation from the flying instructor and shooed her out. She pulled out her wand and hovered it over Neville's wrist, the redness and swelling went down in a near instant and she gave him a potion to take, which he downed with a shudder, and sent him on his way.

She turned to Gregor and beckoned him over. "Take a sit," she said, pointing at a wooden chair next to a hospital cot. Gregor did so, and she held a hand out. Mutely, he gave her his right hand and she turned it so that his broken thumb was facing her. She clicked her tongue and pulled out her wand, "This will likely hurt, but the bone needs to be put back into place before I can heal the break."

Without waiting for his approval or disapproval she snapped her wand at the thumb and Gregor sucked in his breath when the thumb was put back into place, swollen and an angry purple though it was; he definitely felt that. Madam Pomfrey then did the same thing with her wand that she did to Neville and the swelling and coloring returned to normal. Unlike Neville however she then grabbed a thin strip of gauze and dabbed a strange pink paste on it and wrapped it around Gregor's thumb.

"What's that?" Gregor smartly asked, his curiosity overcoming his pain.

"It's meant to make the swelling stay away. Unlike the other boy, who only sprained his wrist in one way, you broke your thumb in three ways. I've healed it but there will be continual swelling if this paste isn't covering your thumb."

She finished wrapping the gauze around his thumb and nodded sharply, "Come to me tomorrow and we'll take it off, you should be right as rain at that point." She then waved a hand towards the door, "Go on to your next class or wherever you need to be. You can ask Madam Hooch or a student for flying help later, but you won't be grabbing anything with that hand for the rest of the day."

"No potion?" Gregor knew Neville took one, and his injury was smaller than his was.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, "I gave the other boy-"

"Neville," Gregor corrected absentmindedly, closing his mouth shut when he saw the stern look on the healers face.

"I gave Neville a potion because he has low pain tolerance. You however have a very high pain tolerance if your reaction to when I righted your thumb was anything to go by. Unless you want the potion? It works well but tastes quite a bit like cherry flavored horse dung."

He quickly shook his head and made his way out of the hospital wing, his ears pink. He had free period for the rest of the day. He paused, needing to take a moment to figure out where he should go, and soon enough squared his shoulders and made way to the library.

Hermione was likely to show up there soon enough, and he had to write up a Potions paper regardless.

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After his stint to the hospital wing and his trip to the library, where he was able to finish half of his Potions paper, Hermione came in with a wild look in her eyes. The first thing she did was admonish Gregor, then went on to say she'd never seen anything more dashing in her life. They spent the rest of their time in the library, finishing up their papers – Hermione offered to edit – and talking about what Gregor missed in the flying lesson. He was sad that he couldn't be there to watch the show.

He may not have liked Potter all that much, truthfully Gregor didn't really know him all too well since he spent all his time with Weasley, but Gregor could appreciate the guy giving Malfoy a proper smack in the arse.

When they finished up their work it was nearly time for supper. They made their way to the Great Hall, Hermione said she needed to make a quick stop at her dorm so Gregor told her he'd save her a seat. It was strange, in a nice way, for his fellow Gryffindors to pat him on the back and wish him well for his saving Neville; apparently the tale grew far wilder as more people spoke of it. Angelina Johnson even asked him if he really did use wandless magic to save Neville's life from a one hundred foot drop.

He had no words to that, so he just stared at her until she went red and muttered a "Sorry for the dumb question."

He made a plate of chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy and was just about to dig in when Hermione came to his side in an angry huff.

"You will not believe what I just heard." she said angrily as she stabbed hard at a pork chop and put it on her plate with none of the calm Gregor usually associated with his friend.

"And what wouldn't I believe?" Gregor hadn't ever seen Hermione angry before, annoyed yes but never angry, so whatever happened must have well and truly set her off.

She had to pinch the bridge of her nose and count backwards from ten to one aloud before she began her tale, "Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley."

Gregor made a face, knowing this was likely not going to something fun and motioned for her to continue while stuffing a spoonful of potatoes in his mouth.

"I had just come back from my dorm, I needed to drop off the books I rented from the library, and made my way into the Great Hall when I overheard them talking to Malfoy at the table. Words were spoken and Malfoy challenged Harry to a wizard's duel."

Upon noticing Gregor's confused look she elaborated, "It's essentially a fight with honor on the line using magic. A wizard or witch that feels they've been wronged in some way or form will challenge another and the winner gets to dictate a term, usually it's just a public apology but I've read some cases where winners took valuables as reparation."

Gregor nodded and she continued what she was saying before, "So naturally Weasley-" she didn't much care for the ginger either "-accepts in Harry's place and calls himself his second, which is somebody that can tag in if the duel gets too out of hand. Malfoy named Crabbe his own second and said they'd meet up in the trophy room at midnight!"

"But we've got curfew." Gregor protested lightly. He didn't want either Weasley or Potter to lose the points he'd broken his thumb for.

"I know. I told them it was a bad idea, that they should think of Gryffindor if they got caught, but they wouldn't listen! They just told me to shove off and that it wasn't any of my business! The nerve of those- those prats!" She ranted, her hand furiously stabbing a fork into the pork chop on her plate.

Gregor stared at her with wide eyes, never before had he heard her so enraged and never in a million years would he have expected her to curse. She was normally such a prim and proper girl with a penchant towards bossiness, but she'd always been calm even when annoyed.

He decided then and there that he would never want to be the focus of her ire.

"Well," he started conversationally, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice and making a face at the overly sweet drink. "We'll just have to stop them."

She paused her furiously stabbing of her pork chop and turned her eyes onto him. "Have I ever told you you're my best friend?"

TTTTTTTTTTTT

At half past eleven Gregor heard Weasley muttering to Potter from their dorm and, after both put on bathrobes and grabbed their wands, they made their way out. He quickly got up; he was in his standard sleep attire of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, put on a pair on slippers and followed them. The common room was empty save for Hermione, who was sitting in one of the darker corners in her pink nightgown that caused Gregor to snigger quietly.

Hermione ignored Gregor, her cheeks were matching her choice of nightwear, and called out to Potter and Weasley who were nearing the portrait hole, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

Her lamp flickered on and both Hermione and Gregor were met with the surprised face of Potter and the quickly angering face of Weasley.

"You!" said Weasley. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, one of the veins in her forehead was twitching as she spoke. "Percy, he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Potter looked at her darkly before turning back to the portrait hole, "Come on," he said the Weasley. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione let out a smattering of none-too-kind words, straightened her shoulders and followed the pair of idiots. Gregor quickly followed her; he had to make sure she didn't get hurt if there really was a duel going on. Malfoy was likely to hit her with a spell purely because she was a muggleborn and would claim it was bad aim on his part and that she shouldn't have been there in the first place.

Not that he should have been there either.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves?! I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells." She hissed at them, her voice quickly losing whatever calm remained.

"Go away," Potter said.

"I don't want you to lose the points I broke a thumb for either." Gregor said, he was much calmer than Hermione in the way he spoke but his tone was equally forceful.

Weasley paused a step and turned his head only slightly, "Greg-" how he hated it when people called him Greg "-you're fine, mate. Just head on back to the dorms and we'll tell you all about how we knocked Malfoy to the ground."

Gregor sorely wanted to knock the gingers teeth out at that moment.

He grabbed Hermione by the wrist, and when she looked at him mutinously he shook his head. "Fine, but the moment you two get caught we'll be happy to tell your brothers all about it, Weasley. I'm sure they'll be thrilled, the twins anyway."

Weasley looked like he just swallowed a lemon and Gregor found himself grinning inwardly. He turned around, ready to get back to bed, only to find the portrait of the Fat Lady missing a Fat Lady. He blinked, turned to Hermione who was equally befuddled, and turned around once more only to see the retreating figures of Potter and Weasley.

They quickly took the situation in and decided it was better to follow and point the finger if necessary than to stand outside the empty portrait for the rest of the night.

"We're coming with you," Hermione said as she jogged past the corner the boys took.

"You are not."

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us, Gregor and I will tell him the truth, that we were trying to stop you, and you can back us up."

"You've got some nerve-" Weasley said.

"If you back us up your brothers won't hear any of what happened from us," Gregor cut him off.

"Shut up, all of you!" Potter said sharply. "I heard something."

It was some sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" Weasley questioned in a whisper, his eyes were squinting and he fearfully took a step back.

It turned out that it wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was, however, Neville. He was curled up in a ball of his robes on the floor, fast asleep with a bit of drool coming out of his mouth. Gregor none-too-gently tapped the boy with his foot, and Neville jerked suddenly awake.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours; couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed-"

Potter cut him off quick enough, "Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now. The Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

Neville looked down at his feet, sniffling a tad, and Potter tried to change the subject. "How's your arm?"

"Fine," Neville said, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute. How about your thumb, Gregor?"

He in turn showed the bandaged limb, "She healed it up but needed to wrap it for the night so it wouldn't swell. Says I'll be fine by tomorrow."

Weasley coughed into his sleeve awkwardly, "Good. Well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later-"

"Don't leave me!" Neville said, scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to stay her alone; the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Weasley looked at his watch then glared furiously at Hermione, Neville and Gregor.

"If any of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, likely to tell Weasley how the curse was used, but Gregor quickly put his large hand over it just as Potter shushed the lot of the group and beckoned them forward. They went through the corridors as quietly as they could; Potter looked like he expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris at every turn. They sprinted up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet, making the large circular room look even larger. The crystal trophy cases glimmered whenever moonlight touched them. Gregor had a feeling in his gut that this was all a sham, a waste of time, so he decided to check out the trophies in the room so that he could at least get something out of following Potter and Weasley aside from a detention; he'd yet to look at this part of Hogwarts with the ban on the third floor corridor in effect.

He paused when he came across a certain picture, and rose a brow when he read the plaque that accompanied it.

"Oi, Potter." Gregor whispered to the smaller boy, "Found your dad. The picture says he was a Chaser for Gryffindor from '74 through '78. Head boy too."

Potter blinked behind his glasses and his eyes went wide, all thoughts of his upcoming duel lost as he looked at the picture with some kind of reverence. Gregor could sympathize, if only somewhat. He didn't know Potter much, but the kid was an orphan regardless and Gregor knew what that was like all too well.

"He's late, maybe he chickened out." Weasley whispered happily, snapping Potter out of his reverie.

A noise in the next room suddenly hit their ears and the quintet jumped and started in response. Potter had his wand out and Gregor took his boxing stance, cursing himself for not bringing his wand. The noise turned into a voice – and it wasn't Malfoy's voice, Crabbe's neither.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

Gregor knew that voice, if only in passing. It was Filch, likely speaking to Mrs. Norris.

Potter grabbed Gregor and Weasley by the sleeve, Neville and Hermione were nearby and equally scared, and urgently whispered, "This way!" and led them down a long gallery full of suits of armor. The group could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run and tripped, grabbing Weasley around the waste in hopes of getting some balance.

The pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor; the clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Potter yelled, throwing caution to the wind. The five sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether or not Filch was on their tail. They swung around a doorpost and ran down one corridor then another with Potter in the lead and likely no idea where he was going. He tripped on his shoelace into a tapestry, only for the painting to shimmer out of existence and make way for a hidden passageway that seemed to lead to the Charms classroom, which should have been impossible since it was on the other side of the school.

Magic is great Gregor thought as the tapestry painting shimmered back into existence from behind him.

"I think we've lost him," Potter panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent doubled over, wheezing and spluttering. Gregor was out of breath just as they were, but Neville looked as if he'd just run a marathon.

"I told you," Hermione gasped, clutching at her chest. "I. Told. You."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," Weasley said, ignoring Hermione without missing a beat. "Quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Potter. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you- Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Potter scowled at her and jerked his head forward, "Let's go."

Naturally something worse than Filch soon came upon them. They hadn't walked more than a dozen steps before a door to the side opened wide. It was Peeves and, by the squeal of delight he gave, Gregor knew they weren't going to like whatever the poltergeist had up his sleeve.

"Shut up, Peeves, please, you'll get us thrown out" Potter pleaded.

Peeves just cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please." Potter tried once more.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, his eyes glittering wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," Weasley snapped, taking a swipe at Peeves.

Gregor felt his body go still; there was no way what Weasley just tried could end well.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeve bellowed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

He hated it when he was right sometimes.

Ducking under Peeves, the quintet ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a locked door.

"This is it!" Weasley moaned, as they pushed and pulled helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

Footsteps were echoing down the hall, Filch was running as fast as he could towards the shouting specter.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled, her hair frizzing with her stress. She snatched Potter's wand right out of his hand, tapped the lock and whispered as strongly as she could "Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open and they piled through it and shut it not a second later and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch said, his voice muffled through the door. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please."

"All right, please."

"NOTHING! Ha! Haaa! Told you, I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" The sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage filled the groups ears until they heard nothing but Flich's footsteps going away from their door.

"He thinks this door is locked," Potter whispered. "I think we'll be okay- get off, Neville!" Neville had been tugging at the sleeve of Potter's bathrobe for the last minute or so, "What?"

Potter turned, as did Gregor, and saw, quite clearly, something that should not have been. It was like the world was against them, there was just too much bad that happened on this night.

Gregor vowed never to follow Potter and Weasley out at night ever again.

He stared straight into the eyes of a monstrous brown dog whose body filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads, which instantly brought Gregor back to his old Greek Mythology tales; namely that of the Cerberus. Each head had a pair of huge brown eyes, a lighter color than the beasts' fur, and, most disturbingly, three mouths that each began to drool as the beasts eyes surveyed the group of five.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Gregor felt that the only reason they weren't being attacked yet was because their sudden appearance took it by surprise.

He could hear Hermione opening the door from behind, so he went with his gut and tried to talk to the clearly angry beast the same way he would any normal dog.

Most dogs stayed away from him due of his size, so his experience with them was highly limited.

"Down! Bad! Stay, uh- um- Fluffy! Stay Fluffy!" He knew nobody would be stupid enough to name a beast like this such a common name, but surprisingly the dog just whined pitifully and shuffled further into the back of the room it occupied; away from the door. Gregor held out his hand and backed away slowly, "Good boy- Stay! Good boy!"

He left the room and closed the door quickly, Hermione locking it with a spell an instant later. He turned to the group, their eyes were just as wide as his and it was silently and unanimously decided that now would be a perfect time to return to the Gryffindor dorms. They ran as fast as they could, a goal in mind now that they knew where they were, and after nearly five minutes of nonstop running found their way to the Fat Lady's portrait on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at the clothes sticking to their skin and their sweat covered faces.

"Never mind that- pig snout, pig snout," Potter urged and the portrait swung forward in turn. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed soon after, trembling into the armchairs. Hermione seemed to need something physical and found her way to Gregors side, holding his arm like a lifeline.

It was a while before any of them started speaking again, seemingly hours when they knew it was likely just a few minutes.

"What do you think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Weasley asked. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione quickly shot a glare at him; the small amount of composure she had regained broke quickly. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Potter sarcastically suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with the heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She stood up randomly, her hand combing through her thoroughly frizzed hair, and turned to Gregor. "What do you think?"

He was silent, had been ever since they left the room with the Cerberus. He'd been thinking furiously, questions such as why it was there? and where it came from? filled his brain. More than that however, he wondered why the dog acted so docile. Was it trained? Was Hermione right, and that it was guarding something?

He didn't know any of that, but he knew one thing for certain.

"I want one."

She blinked, "Want one what?"

"The dog, I want one."

She stared at him silently, her mouth working but no sound came out until she grabbed a pillow from the chair she stood from and screamed into it. She tossed the pillow at Gregors head and stormed up to her dorm without saying another word.

"Mental that one." Weasley couldn't help but add after a moment of blissful quiet.

Gregor threw the pillow at his face, hard.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

The month of September and October passed in relative quiet when compared to their night adventure on Gregor's birthday. It took Hermione a full three days before she returned to Gregor's side.

She took his comment about wanting a Cerberus especially hard, muttering about boys and idiots constantly under her breath. She pointedly refused to speak to both Potter and Weasley for as long as she could, and Gregor could tell that they were quite gladdened by this.

Nothing much happened in Hogwarts in the passing weeks, the only thing of relative interest came in the form of his mum blatantly telling him that "No, Gregor, you cannot have a Cerberus. I don't care if it listens to you, I will not feed a mouth, or mouths in this case, that can swallow me whole" and Potter getting some weird package that had to be carried by six owls. It took a bit of digging, really all Gregor did was eavesdrop on Weasley from their shared dorm, but he learned that it was in fact a Nimbus Two Thousand, a broomstick that cost over 100 Galleons.

Gregor had to wonder who Potter tricked into buying it for him, possibly the author of the Harry Potter adventure books.

He knew how Quidditch worked, he had read Quidditch Through the Ages when Hermione rented the book for their first flying lesson. One Keeper, one Seeker, three Chasers and two Beaters. All of the positions were filled for Gryffindor aside from Seeker, and the only way Potter wouldn't get in trouble for having a broomstick came in the form of being a Quidditch player.

Gregor didn't really have any kind words to that, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

He'd also been hearing more people whispering none-too-quietly behind his back lately, saying that same word over and over again: Mixedblood. He didn't know what it meant, Hermione didn't either, and he was slowly going mad. Finally, in the early bits of October, he went to Professor Flitwick after class and asked the diminutive professor what it meant.

Professor Flitwick had a dark look on his face, muttered some words under his breath, and told Gregor that he would tell him after he prepared some things and shooed him out. Gregor pestered the small man for days at a time, but he would not budge and simply told the tall boy to wait until the preparations were finished.

And then Halloween came.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Gregor piled into Professor Flitwick's class once again with Hermione at his side. Today they would be learning how to make objects fly, and the whole of the class was excited for the lesson after they saw Professor Flitwick make Neville's toad fly around the class the other day.

"Now," Professor Flitwick said from atop a tower of books as Potter and Weasley were, once again, the last to enter the class. "Today we will be learning the levitation charm, a simple yet extremely useful bit of magic to be sure. However, I want to change things up a bit today." He waved his wand at the blackboard and all of the names of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw first years appeared; lines stretching at random from one name to another. "The names these lines are connected to will tell you who will be paired with who for the rest of today's class."

Gregor squinted at the board. Potter got paired with Seamus, Neville got paired with Lavender, Dean got paired with a Ravenclaw called Terry Boot, Parvati got paired with her sister, Gregor found his name attached to a Ravenclaw named Su Li and-

And Hermione got paired with Weasley.

Gregor could see the annoyance overcoming her features, and he could easily hear the groan coming from Potter and Weasley's seats.

"Now, up class, up! Go to your partners, if you've never met introduce yourselves and we'll start the lesson in a few minutes."

Gregor smiled apologetically at Hermione, stood up and made his way over to the Ravenclaw tables. Some of them squeaked upon his arrival and Su Li, a small Chinese girl with her hair stuck in a bun, looked as wide eyes as her features permitted. He took his seat and introduced himself, Su Li doing so in tern with a small stutter, and she studiously ignored Gregor when he tried to strike up a conversation.

Professor Flitwick then floated a single feather in front of every pair of students and began his lecture, "The incantation, the magic words, for the levitation charm is Wingardium Leviosa, which is translates to 'lift up high.' The charm was crafted in the sixteenth century by a wizard named Jarleth Hobart, I highly recommend to you all to look him up."

The Ravenclaw's in the room all nodded seriously, as did Hermione. Weasley had the audacity to yawn theatrically from next to her.

"Now don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, perched on his pile of books. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important too, never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said S instead of F and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

If History of Magic were as interesting as the stories Professor Flitwick told when going over certain spells and individuals Gregor was certain he would have kept awake; most of the time.

The spell was actually quite difficult, Gregor had had the most trouble when they did the color changing charm a couple weeks back, and he found this charm to be no different. Su was able to make it twitch more and more as the class went on.

He found himself furiously staring at the feather. It wouldn't move, nothing he tried made it do so. He said the words right, he knew that for a fact; so why didn't it work?!

A moment of clarity hit him then. He was relying too much on the incantation, too much on what it was supposed to do and not what Gregor wanted it to do. It was obvious in a way. Before coming to Hogwarts the only way anything magical would happen is if he got in an accident or if he willed it to happen.

He closed his eyes, focusing purely on the image of the feather in front of him. He saw, in his mind, the feather moving from the desk and into the air, and after wanting to make the actual feather do the same thing he snapped his eyes open he swished and flicked his wrist and spoke so loud Su squeaked, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

His feather rose off the desk an instant and hovered around. Gregor grinned widely, especially when he saw another feather rise up from behind him and it turned out to be Hermione's.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger and Mr. Clegane have done it!"

He gave them both five points to Gryffindor and Gregor found himself finally being spoken to by Su. She asked, with her usual stutter, how he was able to do that. He explained as best he could, and by the end of class she was able to get the feather to hover a foot off their desk.

"Oh," Professor Flitwick said as students were leaving for their next class, "Mr. Clegane, could you stay for a moment?"

"Sure, professor."

When the last of the students filed out of the room Professor Flitwick hopped off his stack of books and made way to his desk. He grabbed a small slip of parchment and his jacket and had Gregor follow him through the door opposite to where the other first year students went on the other side of the Charms classroom.

"You've asked me a good few times this month what the term Mixedblood means," Professor Flitwick began as they walked, and Gregor found his interest immediately held. "And I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to answer. Normally I would just answer your question as it is fairly simple one, but since the question involves you in particular I wanted to make sure that preparations were made so that your question would answer the question likely to come after. I've already informed Professor Snape that you will not be attending his class this afternoon; I'm sure your friend Miss Granger would be willing to share her notes."

Regardless of where they were going, Gregor couldn't help the grin that broke over his face upon learning he would be skipping Potions class without consequence.

For a little over twenty minutes the pair went through various portraits and up and down strange staircases and even went down a chimney chute, until they eventually made their way to a bland stone wall on the fifth floor. Professor Flitwick then offered Gregor the same piece of parchment he grabbed from his desk, "Read this."

Gregor did so, his eyes squinting in order to read the small script.

The Ritual Chamber is located in the Ancient Runes corridor on the fifth floor of Hogwarts.

He looked up at Professor Flitwick, intending on asking why he needed to read that, but noticed a thick wooden door suddenly materialize from behind the smaller man.

"The Fidelius charm," Professor Flitwick squeaked, hobbling over to the newly formed door and opening it with a wave of his wand. "A charm that can conceal any secret, be it the location of a simple diary to that of a grand mansion, inside the soul of the person who performs the charm. You won't be learning it any time soon, it's not a part of the Hogwarts curriculum and is a Mastery level charm you see, but it's dead useful. In this case, I inherited the secret of this room from Professor Oblanksi, who taught Charms before I took over, and he inherited it from his predecessor and so on and so forth."

Professor Flitwick then beckoned Gregor to follow him inside. The room was made purely out of stone and there were no windows, all light came from rows of oil lamps. It was large, a few trophy cases littered the back wall and a myriad of books were on display. In the middle of the room was a large wooden pedestal with a square carved into it, the corners of the square made lines that crossed towards the middle of the shape where a curious black symbol lay. Gregor recognized it as one of the runes from his copy of Book of Rune Secrets but couldn't remember what it meant. It looked like a rotated square with the two lines on the bottom sticking out like a bow.

"Othala." A female voice called out from behind Gregor, causing him to jerk upright. "The rune of ancestral spiritual power, divine inheritance, and earthly estate."

She was a fairly pretty woman, with copper hair, tan skin and a charming smiled. She stood tall for a woman and had a book tucked under her arm. Strangely, her black eyes looked distant, she had her head cocked to the side and she stared at Gregor like a piece of freshly cooked meat.

"This is Professor Babbling, who teaches Ancient Runes." Professor Flitwick said.

She wove her hand at Professor Flitwick as if she were trying to swat a bug, "Yes, yes Squeaks. I've wanted to meet Bigs ever since his sorting."

Gregor wasn't sure what to make of this woman, but judging by the strained look on Professor Flitwick's face he could instinctively tell that her off-putting attitude wasn't faked in the slightest.

He's been called worse things than Bigs.

"Anyways," Professor Flitwick said, coughing into his sleeve and turning to the pedestal. "Today we will be having a practical lesson in a very obscure magical art. Tell me Gregor, what do you know of rituals?"

He hadn't known much aside from the fact that they existed; any information on the subject seemed to have been stuffed in the Restricted Section. He told Professor Flitwick just that and the small professor nodded sharply.

"Rituals are dangerous bits of magic involving tedious amounts of preparation, so it's only natural that they be highly monitored and restricted. A ritual is the magic of sacrifice; what you give will determine what you gain. There are two major forms of rituals; Rune based rituals and Potion based rituals. Today we will be performing a Rune based ritual, one that was designed many centuries ago by the goblins and is called the Inheritance of Othala."

"Professor," Gregor started. "I'm interested in all this, don't get me wrong. But I've got to ask, why are we doing this?"

Professor Flitwick grabbed a knife from his expansion charmed jacket pocket and began carving into the wooden podium, on one of the corners of the square. "You asked me why people called you Mixedblood and what a Mixedblood was. A Mixedblood is the common name for a person with creature inheritance, though calling them creatures often leads to an early grave."

He finished his carving and moved on to a different corner of the square. Gregor took a look at what Professor Flitwick made and saw it was a letter of goblin origin; he faintly recognized the word from his Gringotts vault contract.

Professor Flitwick continued speaking as he carved into the wood. "Did you know I'm Mixedblood? My maternal grandfather was a goblin, nasty sort that took my grandmother as a prize when she lost too many Galleons in a bet of some kind. She gave birth to my mother, who became pregnant with me during her work at a Knockturn Alley brothel a couple of decades later; nobody else would hire a half-goblin female. Goblins are a paternal people, they don't respect women in the slightest, but when Gringotts learned I was a male quarter-goblin they scooped me up and sponsored me to go to Hogwarts within the hour."

Gregor stilled, not certain if he liked where this was going. He chose to remain silent, simply staring at the letters Professor Flitwick was inscribing into the wooden pedestal.

"A small history lesson that you likely wouldn't have heard until you're were a sixth year, should you have chosen to take your NEWTs in History of Magic that is." Professor Flitwick said, moving on to the third corner of the square. "Goblins are one of only four known magical species in Europe that can breed with humans; goblins, veela, giants and merfolk. Naturally there are exceptions to this rule, werewolves and vampires predominantly, but we are speaking of magical species and not ritual curses.

"Each of these magical species are strongly connected to an element of nature. Veela are beings of fire, merfolk are beings of water, giants are beings of earth and goblins are beings of metal. You might ask 'what about wind?' and the answer to that would be humans. Because of these elements, these species have gifts in magic that are commonly seen in their descendants."

Gregor wasn't certain where Professor Flitwick was going with this, but he was captivated to be certain. Anything his favorite professor taught easily caught Gregor's attention.

"Fire is the element of change, and there is no branch of magic more ever changing than Charms. Water is the element of calm, and a potion handled by a merfolk or merfolk descendant tends to work twice as well as it would without. Metal is tricky because it is used both for building and for war. Goblins have minor talent in Transfiguration and Charms, but their strength lay in the warfare aspect of metal; Dueling. Earth is the element of growth and stability. The giants of old tended to the greatest gardens the world had ever seen, and they were able to bend the earth in such a way that the first wizards attempted to copy them and made what was known as Transmutation, which later evolved into Transfiguration."

Gregor's eyes widened, his heart hammered, and he choked on air randomly. Professor Babbling walked up behind him and repeatedly slapped her hand against his back, forcing his breathing to return to normal. While this was happening Professor Flitwick moved on to the fourth and final corner of the pedestal square.

"Wind is the most difficult element to define because it takes everything in. Wind can snuff out fire, can create monstrous waves on the ocean, can destroy metals from stone and can tear the earth asunder. Wind can also keep a fire going, can carry ships across the sea, can unveil metals from stone and can carry soil and dirt for plants to grow. The greatest power of wind is the fact that it has no form, it has no limit. Human witches and wizards are similar in this regard, they have no natural specialty when it comes to the magical arts but they have the ability to be great at any and everything. They can go past what magic the magical species I previously said specialize in and create their own arts. It is because of this, because of this nature, that humans can breed with the four magical species I mentioned. The term for people born from and descend from this union are called Mixedblood. I should note that while Mixedbloods normally have talent in their ancestral element, there is nothing wrong with focusing on another subject."

Gregor felt his heartbeat going a mile a minute. His breath quickened and he felt like the room was spinning. Was he Mixedblood? Was his mother or father or grandmother or grandfather one of these- these… He didn't know the words. He felt his mouth dry and abruptly sat down on the ground, his body seemed like it had shut down on him.

Professor Babbling put her hand back on his back and started to rub it softly, humming a strange tune all the while. Professor Flitwick looked at the large boy with empathy, at one point in time he had a similar reaction to learning of his heritage.

He continued speaking, knowing that the boy needed distraction from him self-destructive thoughts more than anything.

"There is a reason the Ritual Chamber is hidden under a Fidelius charm. Three centuries ago, the Ministry of Magic banned all forms of rituals in England and labeled them a Dark Art; this decree was later copied by almost all of Europe. The Ministry intended to destroy this chamber and seal it up, and it was around that time that the Fidelius charm was invented by Hogwarts very own Charms professor, Edgar Whit. He put the Ritual Chamber under the charm and the responsibility to keep it secret has been passed down by Hogwarts Charms professors ever since."

Gregor found his breathing slowing down as he listened to Professor Flitwick speak. "Wha- Why were rituals called Dark Arts? What are Dark Arts?" The term Dark Art was quite obscure; he didn't even know what it meant aside from the fact that it was bad.

"Dark Arts are magic's that the Ministry labels as illegal, each having different punishments for their use. Most of these magic's are indeed extremely immoral and are banned for good reason, but some, such as rituals, were called Dark Arts for political reasons. As I said earlier, rituals are the magic of sacrifice; pain, flesh, blood, life. The Ministry couldn't keep track of ritualists all too well, and like all forms of government they like to control their subjects. I am not badmouthing the Ministry mind you, plenty of rituals were terrible and inhumane things, but it was a poorly planned bit of law that has put a stop to what used to be one of the most celebrated fields of magic in Europe."

Professor Babbling continued from there, her hand still rubbing against Gregor's back. "As an Ancient Runes mistress, I have an exemption towards using a specific list of rituals, including the Inheritance of Othala. I set up the wood and branded the rune and pentagon into it, but since it was a goblin ritual in the first place I had Squeaks here do the detailing."

Professor Flitwick scowled at the nickname but offered a short nod to Gregor, "I carved the name of the four races in Gobbledegook, the goblin tongue. What we would like for you to do is to help us determine if you truly are a Mixedblood and participate in this ritual."

Gregor closed his eyes and tried to remain calm.

It wasn't working well.

All his life he'd been called unnatural, been called a freak. His mum has tried to keep him away from people like that but all the same he knew what they would say behind his back.

Bu-But what if he really was unnatural? Humans were supposed to breed with humans, not whatever made him. It wasn't right.

He found himself drifting in memory, remembering the day when he asked his mum if he was a freak.

"If you're a freak then I'm useless piece of trash. They're a pair of labels that we've both gained, you from Ms. Hill and me from my father. And you know what? To hell with my father, and to hell with Ms. Hill too! Freak? Useless piece of trash? Who cares what they say about us? They don't matter Gregor, nobody matters unless you make them matter. You matter to me and I hope I matter to you. I don't think you're a freak, do you think I'm a useless piece of trash?"

When he told her No, of course I don't, you're my mum she nodded with a smile.

"Then that's all that matters."

His mum wouldn't care, and she was the only one that mattered.

"I'll do the ritual." Both professors looked pleased and Professor Babbling explained how it worked.

"The Inheritance of Othala is a blood based ritual; all you have to do is cut your hand and put it on the Othala rune. The blood will either do nothing, showing that you're just a tall human, or it will flow towards one of the four square corners. If the blood does flow towards one of the corners, then the symbol on that corner will light up a certain way to determine how closely related to that magical species you are. I will be able to tell you what light will mean, but you need not worry about the details."

Gregor nodded and shakily made his way to the podium. Professor Flitwick offered him the knife that was used to carve the goblin script, and Gregor took it with unstable fingers. He knelt down, put his hand over the Othala rune and after closing his eyes as tightly as he could slit the ritual blade across the palm of his hand. It hurt, far more than breaking bones did for certain, but he trudged on regardless of his pain and slapped his palm on the rune. He could feel his magic surging with his blood into the rune.

Othala started glowing brightly from underneath Gregor's hand and the blood pooled from the rune towards the bottom left corner of the square. When it reached the symbol, it radiated a dull green, like algae.

"Well," Professor Babbling started. "You're a quarter-giant Bigs."

He felt numb and blacked out.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

As it turns out, Gregor cut at his hand far deeper than was necessary which, added to his internal crisis and the blunt revelation of his origins, forced his body to shut down.

Professor Flitwick needed to return to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, but Professor Babbling, not being a head of a Hogwarts house, opted to stay with Gregor. She confided that she didn't like feasts, she was a fairly introverted person and only accepted her Hogwarts job on the condition that she could pick and choose when and where she ate her meals; feasts included.

She decided that, since Gregor did such a good job, she would show him one of her main haunts. She brought him to the Hogwarts basement, which she explained was where the Hufflepuff dorm was located, and led him to a portrait of a gigantic silver fruit bowl. She tickled the pear of the portrait and Gregor watched as it squirmed and laughed and turned into a green doorknob.

She opened the door, and revealed to Gregor the entrance to the Hogwarts Kitchens. It was a gigantic room, nearly size of the Great Hall with five tables that looked identical to Great Hall's tables in the same positions.

Professor Babbling explained that this was because the tables were linked, and when food was placed on a table in the kitchen it would then transfer to its identical table in the Great Hall.

The house-elves were all too happy to have company, and Gregor found his attention quickly losing focus on his identity crisis and focusing on how the hell these things were so damned peppy.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

The next day, Gregor was hoping to just return to his standard routine. He would get up early with Hermione, go to breakfast, go to classes, go to the library and explore the grounds.

Instead, Hermione didn't get up early like she normally did. He could ignore that, he had slept in a few times and just because she hadn't yet didn't mean she wouldn't.

What he could not ignore, however, was the fact that Hermione came in with Weasley and Potter and the three seemed to be joined at the hip. She led them over to where he sat, took her normal place on his right and both Potter and Weasley sat in front of them.

He did not know how this came about, but he knew for a fact that it wasn't likely his routine would be returning any time soon.

He scowled and stabbed his fork into a bit of sausage, knowing somehow that life wouldn't be simple anymore.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

A/N: So, here we are. Chapter 2 is done.

This didn't take nearly as long as it should.

So, Gregor and Hermione. In Cannon Hermione was an outcast and a loner because nobody liked her. In my story, Gregor is also an outcast, though more out of people straying away from him than anything, and when Hermione didn't do that he clung onto her. They're friends, and while I don't have any pairings in mind, if I even do any, it's unlikely that they will be paired together.

The scenes with Harry and Ron were pretty much taken from the book. Harry was a bit of a jerk pre-Halloween, and Ron is a character I just don't like on a personal level; though I have absolutely no intention of bashing anybody.

Gregor views Harry poorly because he believes the boy to be a money grubber. I know, weird right? But think of it like this; Harry has an entire book series using his name. Normally, if that were to happen, the author of the stories would need permission from the person they wrote about to do that, and that permission would involve a percentage fee. So, after looking through the Harry Potter adventure series, Gregor's opinion of Harry is pretty damned low. He doesn't hate the guy, he just doesn't really know him and has made his own opinions, false though they may be.

And the thing with Ron? Ron's eleven, Gregor's twelve. He doesn't need a reason to dislike people, I know for a fact that I hated half my class at that age for no reason whatsoever.

The ritual bits were tricky to write, but Gregor needed to learn early on that he was a quarter-giant and, in the future, I intend to use rituals quite a bit. So, to get him familiar with them I decided to have him learn about his heritage through a ritual.

As always, if you liked this chapter please Favorite/Follow and don't forget to send me a Review. If anybody is interested in being a Beta for this story, please send me a Private Message.