CHAPTER ONE –

School Year: 1991-1992

The Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Saturday, 1st August, 1998

Harry smiled at the crowd. "After the Sorting feast, I followed Professor McGonagall up the stairs to the Headmaster's office, where Professors Snape and Dumbledore were waiting. I saw Fawkes, and a wave of memory overcame me."


Flashback: Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Saturday, 1st September, 1991 – 21:58

As Harry entered the room, he looked around shyly, noting the shelf full of silver instruments, spinning and puffing smoke. All around the walls, a series of paintings hung, the people inside watching him as he looked around.

"Ah, Harry. It's good to see you." Dumbledore said, smiling happily at Harry. "I'm glad that you decided to attend Hogwarts, my boy. Truly glad."

"Thank you, sir." Harry replied softly. "I'm glad to be here."

"Good, good." Dumbledore held out his bowl of lemon drops. "Would you care for a lemon drop? I know we've just finished dinner, but one sweet can't hurt." He popped one into his own mouth.

Harry took a lemon drop, pushing it into his cheek, so he could carry on speaking, while Dumbledore offered the lemon drops to McGonagall and Snape. "You asked to see me, sir?"

"Yes, I did. I'd like your permission to perform a spell on you to restore a memory, Harry." Dumbledore intertwined his fingers on his desk. "Six years ago, we made an appearance at Privet Drive, after an incident with your cousin, and we suppressed your memory, with your permission."

"Suppressed memory, sir?" Harry asked. His gaze was drawn as a soothing trill of song filled his ears. As he looked to his right, he saw a perch, a beautiful red bird staring at him. "You... I've dreamed about you..." He stood up, ignoring the adults for a moment, as he walked tentatively to the firebird. "I... I've seen you before, haven't I?"

Fawkes trilled softly, leaning forward so Harry could start to scratch his head. He trilled in pleasure as Harry tickled under his chin. "I didn't think you were real..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, looking thoroughly amused at the situation. Harry blushed as he turned back. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Quite all right, Harry. Quite all right indeed. Fawkes is a compelling sight to anyone. Now, may I restore your memory?" At Harry's nod, Dumbledore raised his wand, a small flash of white light erupting from the end, impacting Harry squarely on the forehead.

Harry blinked as a short memory, from just after his fifth birthday, reappeared in his mind. It only took a moment for total recall. "Oh, I remember. I wondered how my wrist healed." He looked up at Snape. "Thank you again, sir, for healing my wrist."

"You're more than welcome, Harry." Snape said, smiling warmly at the boy. "Have you had any other such injuries since?"

Harry shook his head. "No... every time it seemed Dudley was about to hit me, he'd... get bored, and go and do something else. I always wondered why."

"That was us." McGonagall said. "We put a set of wards, a form of protection, over the house, so they couldn't hurt you."

Nodding slightly, Harry began to blush again. He looked at Dumbledore. "Did I really call you 'Grandpappy Firebird', sir?"

Dumbledore sent a mock-glare at McGonagall when she started sniggering, while Snape hid a small smile. "Yes, Harry. I should thank you, really. It kept Minerva amused for months afterwards."

"Still does..." McGonagall managed to gasp out through her sniggers.

"I'm sorry, sir." Harry replied, looking down at his hands.

"Harry." Dumbledore said, making the young man look up. "Please do not be embarrassed. I've been called far worse. It was... endearing, really. And, as I said, it kept Minerva happy and laughing. If an endearing name can keep my friends amused, I'm more than happy to be the recipient."

"Okay, sir."

"Now, we asked you here to answer any questions that I'm sure you must have, Harry. I know that, if I were in your situation, I would certainly have questions."

Harry nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. About my parents, sir. They came to Hogwarts, didn't they?"

"Indeed, Harry." Dumbledore replied. "They began attending in 1971, and graduated with high honours in 1978. A fine pair of people they were. Professor McGonagall was their head of house. I'm sure she'd be able to share many recollections about them with you. Professor Snape was a year-mate with them, and he knew your mother before you began at Hogwarts. I'm sure he'll have many fascinating stories and anecdotes to share with you."

Harry looked at McGonagall, who nodded, then at Snape, who smiled warmly. "I can think of a few tales."

"However," Dumbledore said, regaining Harry's attention, "the evening wears on. It wouldn't be prudent for us to sit tonight and listen to enjoyable tales. What I suggest is that, every Sunday, you spend time with some of the Professors and Madam Pomfrey, our Medi-Witch, and ask them for stories."

"Come and see me tomorrow, Harry." McGonagall offered. "I'll be able to share some details."

"Thank you, ma'am." Harry replied politely. "Ten am?"

"That'll be fine." McGonagall smiled, then turned back to Dumbledore.

"Your next question, young Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Sir... why do I have to live with the Dursleys? They really don't like me, sir."

"Ah..." Dumbledore sighed, "a difficult question, Harry, but certainly a fair one. The basic tenant of Wizarding law is that family is important. If a child loses their parents, and they have a living relative that is capable of supporting them, then that child must be placed with them. It's true, many Wizarding families wanted to take you in after your parents' untimely deaths, but the law stated that you must go to your aunt's house, however unpleasant she may be. If you were to be placed anywhere else, it would be violating the law."

"Oh..."

"There is also an advantage to you living with the Dursleys, Harry. Since she is your mother's sister, we were able to create a unique set of defensive wards about the property, based on familial blood. No-one affiliated with Voldemort or his Death Eaters will be able to harm you there. Those wards actually protected you from six kidnapping attempts between 1983-1987. Each time, the perpetrator was arrested by Magical Law Enforcement."

Harry nodded, assimilating the information. It made sense. "There was one other thing, sir... according to my aunt Petunia, I was left on the doorstep in a blanket."

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, you were. We couldn't afford to be seen, unfortunately. However, we cast a long-term warming charm and a Somnus charm, not to mention a notice-me-not ward over the step. You were warm, comfortable and would remain asleep for a good length of time."

Again, Harry nodded. He'd been wondering how the hell anyone decent human being could leave a baby on a doorstep at the beginning of winter. This answered that question. "Sir... can you tell me about Voldemort?" He asked. He was pleased to note that neither Snape nor McGonagall flinched at the name, as everyone else had during the train ride.

Dumbledore chuckled dryly. "I know quite a bit about the self-styled 'Lord' Voldemort, Harry. I spent years learning about him, so that he could be fought. With the exception of himself, I would wager that I know more about him that anyone else alive." He looked down his long nose at Harry. "Do you... do you remember anything about that night?"

"I... I've had dreams." Harry said after a moment of contemplation. "Small things... I see a flash of green light... and someone laughing. It's... it's a cruel laugh. Sounds like Dudley when he's just hurt someone."

With a sigh, Dumbledore nodded slowly. "There is very little known about what happened on that night ten years ago, Harry. There are no witnesses, so we can only make an educated guess. Voldemort was a very powerful wizard, Harry, one of the most powerful in the world. He wished to rule, and attacked anyone who disagreed with him."

"Like a terrorist, sir?" Harry asked.

"A what? I'm sorry, I'm unfamiliar with that word." Snape admitted.

"Yes, Harry, Voldemort was what the Muggles would consider a terrorist. A person who attacks targets designed to cause fear and apprehension amongst his enemies. The Potters, your parents, believed that terrorists like Voldemort shouldn't be allowed. They fought against him, believing that tolerance and peace were a better way of life than fear and violence."

"But... he's just one man, sir." Harry said. "Couldn't he be fought?"

Snape plastered a grim smile on his face. "He was very powerful, Harry, but he wasn't just one man. He had an organisation, a group of witches and wizards who believed in his ideals. They called themselves 'Death Eaters', and they were a bunch of murderous thugs. They revelled in chaos and destruction." Snape seemed to pause for a moment, before gathering his courage.

"I joined the Death Eaters when I left school. I thought that Voldemort would be an engine for change, getting rid of bigotry and intolerance. There was an incident shortly after I obtained my Mastery in Potions that truly enraged me. I believed that by joining the Death Eaters, I would be researching potions to cure diseases, stamping out the bigotry... I was a fool. Naïve and gullible. I was used. When I found out the truth about the situation, barely three months into my tenure, I left, came to Dumbledore. He offered me sanctuary, and a chance to do some good. I became a spy, reporting information to Professor Dumbledore, so that we could stop some of the attacks."

"Hmm... so, you fought for the good guys, sir?"

Snape chuckled. "Yes. I fought for the good guys, against the bad guys. However, this leads us to our current situation. Voldemort, while currently without a body, is not yet dead. The 'bad guys' are still around, Harry, waiting, watching, listening. And worst of all, they now have children. A prime example would be the Malfoy family. They were caught, in full Death Eater robes, and with a 'contribution' to the Ministry of Magic, they were suddenly innocent."

"I met a Malfoy on the train." Harry said slowly. "I didn't like him. He's... arrogant. He seems like a bully. He was telling me how he can help me 'avoid the wrong sort'. I didn't understand what he meant."

"Yes, well, Mr. Malfoy will undoubtedly be a thorn in your side, Harry." Snape said. "Because I'm a teacher in this school, as well as a spy, I have to 'suck up' to the little miscreants. Malfoy will expect you to pay homage to him, because he's 'the right sort', as he will expect from me."

"But, what does that mean, sir?" Harry asked.

"Ah... you've heard about purebloods, haven't you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir. They were in some of my textbooks. Purebloods are people who have nothing but witches and wizards in their family for recorded history."

"Correct, and I'm glad that you've been reading your textbooks. Education is very important, Harry. Now, on the other end of the spectrum, you have Muggleborns, a witch or wizard who is the first in their family to show magic. So, old families on one end, and brand new on the other. Then you have the categories in between. Muggleborn parents, Muggleborn/Pureblood marriages, Pureblood/Muggle marriages, all produce magical children, with no appreciable difference in power or abilities. However, a powerful minority of the purebloods believe that they're better than everyone else."

"So, this minority... they're all idiots, sir?" Harry asked innocently.

"Arrogant, inbred, bigoted idiots." Snape replied, grinning at Harry. "Oh, yes, they are. What truly matters is ability, Harry. Ability, and your choices. You have gifts. You can use them for good, or evil. It is your choice to make."

"I understand, sir."

"Harry, one more thing before you go. Do you remember that I told you about a series of letters and packages that have been arriving for you?"

Harry thought for a moment, going over his newly restored memory. "Yes, sir."

"We've been keeping them to one side for you, in one of the storerooms. When a package was received, we arranged to mail a notification to the sender, thanking them for your gift and informing them that you would be unable to reply, since you were in the Muggle world, without access to owl post.

"Any package that contained money has been added to a new Gringotts vault, #1194; we didn't want to allow your relatives the opportunity of stealing it. Any clothing that was sent that you have obviously outgrown was sent to magical orphanages in your name. Some people sent alcohol and other age-restricted gifts to you; these have been also placed into your new Gringotts vault, so that you may access them when you're of-age, at 17. All the letters and toys have been put into the storeroom for you. I would suggest that you spend some time going over these." Dumbledore said kindly, before glancing at his watch..

"Now, I must insist that you head to bed, young man. You've got an appointment with Professor McGonagall in the morning, and you've certainly had a long and exciting day. We're here if there's anything that you need to talk about. Also, I would suggest that, if you get a free moment, you look up information regarding the history of blood-status in the Wizarding world. That sort of information can only be beneficial to you."

Harry stood, nodding respectfully to Dumbledore. "Yes, sir. Thank you for your time, sir."

"My pleasure, Harry."

"Er, sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Could I have another lemon drop before I go?"

Chuckling, Dumbledore held out the dish, letting Harry take a sweet, before heading out of the door, escorted by Professor McGonagall, as she led him to his dormitory.

"Well, Adrian?" Dumbledore asked the Sorting Hat.

"He'll be great." The Sorting Hat replied. "Oh, yes. Brave, intelligent, loyal and cunning. Truly a mix of the Founders."

"Any possibilities?"

"Hermione Granger. She's the one." The Hat replied smugly.

"Compatible?"

"Most definitely."

"The 'Potter Foible'?"

"Already activated."

Dumbledore took a moment to think. "Good."


"You never told me that!" Harry said indignantly to the portrait of Dumbledore.

"Of course I didn't, my boy." Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling, even through the paint. "There are some things you must learn for yourself. This was most certainly one of them."

"Wait a minute!" A voice called from the crowd. Harry and Hermione stood on tiptoes, looking to see who it was. Ernie McMillan. Harry suppressed a minor groan, as the pompous prick carried on speaking. "Dumbledore was trying to turn you against purebloods! He said it himself!"

Percy cleared his throat, standing up and adjusting his glasses. "Yes... I heard that, too. This is very disturbing, Mr. Potter. This sort of bigotry will warrant investigation by the Ministry." He sat down, scribbling notes on his parchment.

Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged slightly. She decided to take this one. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. McMillan, were you not listening? At no point did anyone spout bigotry in that meeting. What Albus and Severus actually said was that ability is what matters, and then suggested that Harry look up the information, and make his own decision. Surely, the best way of teaching. The 'superiority' of purebloods vs. those with Muggle blood is something we can look into later."

"What's the 'Potter Foible'?" Ginny called up, her face still sulky. Both Harry and Hermione could almost feel her determination to 'win Harry back'.

Dumbledore twinkled from his portrait. "In my life, I have seen four generations of Potter men pass through the halls of Hogwarts. All of them had the tendency to find their life partner early in life. They're usually the brightest witch of the generation, and often a little shy and introverted. Or, as Minerva put it, beautiful, brainy, bashful and bookish."

"Nonsense!" Molly shouted up, her face splotchy-red with anger. "The Potter love of red-haired women is famous!"

"Er, no?" James said from his portrait, looking nervously at Lily. "The red hair has nothing to do with it, although I don't deny it's beautiful." He shuffled slightly to one side, to avoid the inevitable outburst of temper. "I liked Lily because of those four B's, just like Minnie said."

Lily laughed at her husband. "Get over here, you bloody idiot. I'm not gonna snap at you." She wrapped an arm around his back, resting her head on his shoulder. She looked at Hermione. "I'm proud you're my daughter-in-law, you know."

"Thanks, Lils." Hermione replied quietly, before turning to Dumbledore. "So, you knew, on the first day, that we'd end up together?"

"Of course not!" Dumbledore protested. "I know, however, that it was possible you would be together. You and Mr. Potter are very compatible. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, you're lucky enough to fall in love with your best friend. I was, and I'm glad to see Mr. Potter was fortunate in that regard, too."

Ron suddenly stood, his face red with rage... or possibly exertion. The poor boy's brain must have been working triple-time in order to form a coherent thought that wasn't involved with his penis, food or Quidditch. "Wait, this is all bullshit!" (Privately, Harry and Hermione were convinced they could smell burning; must have burnt through every brain cell in his head to get there.)

"Language, Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall shouted out.

"Whatever." Ron said dismissively to her, before turning back to the stage. "You said Snape was there, and he was nice and friendly. That's utter shite! Snape's an evil, bigoted prick who hated you from the get-go. He was picking on you during your very first potions lesson."

Harry nodded. "Again, Ron... you saw what we wanted you to see..."

As the group packed up their belongings at the end of the lesson, Harry made certain that his actions were slower than everyone else's. The group trailed out, thoroughly depressed with the lecture and the day's activities.


Flashback: Potions Dungeon, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Wednesday, 4th September, 1991 – 16:34

The last person trailed out, leaving Harry sat at his desk. "Sir?"

Snape looked up from his desk, where he was marking potions. "Mr. Potter?" He looked around the room, spotting that it was empty. With a quick flick of his wand, the door shut, and sealed with a squelch. "I'm sorry, Harry. Merlin, I hate some of those arrogant little snots."

"That was part of your act, sir?" Harry asked, hoping that it was.

"Yes..." Snape admitted. "It's necessary for me to play up the guise of a vile, hateful man to favour myself with the Slytherins."

"But... I lost points, sir."

Snape stood up, holding onto his marks book. He came round his desk, putting the book on the table next to Harry, resting a hand on his shoulder. He pointed to an entry. "This is your grade for the day, Harry."

"An 'E'?" Harry looked up. "Was it that bad, sir?"

"Bad? An 'E' is very good for your first day's brewing, Harry. Very good indeed."

"Oh... why not a 'B' then, or even an 'A'?"

Snape looked puzzled for a moment, before realisation washed over him. "Ah, I understand. You're used to using the Muggle grading system, where they go from 'A' to 'F', aren't you? 'A' being the best, and 'F' being the worst. No, here in the Magical world, we use a different system of grading."

"Oh... why?"

Snape chuckled. "The Magical world is very resistant to change, Harry, and this system was instituted centuries ago. There are six grades, like the Muggle equivalent, but they use different letters. The top grade is 'O' for 'Outstanding'. That would be an 'A' in the Muggle world. The next grade is 'E' for 'Exceeds Expectations'. That would be a 'B'. The final pass grade is 'A' for 'Acceptable'. The Muggle version would be 'C'. In both magical and Muggle worlds, a 'C' or 'Acceptable' is the lowest pass mark.

"You then have three failing grades; 'P' for 'Poor', which would be a 'D' in Muggle exams, 'D' for 'Dreadful', which would be an 'E', and finally, 'T' for 'Troll', which would be an 'F'." He looked at Harry's slightly confused look. "Grab a piece of parchment, and write this down."

He watched as Harry pulled out a pad of lined Muggle writing paper. "This seemed to make more sense, sir. My writing's bad enough without having it snake all over the page." He pulled out a fountain pen, far easier to use than a quill, and wrote down what Snape told him.

"I'd suggest that you share that little scrap of information with Miss Granger, Harry." Snape said, when Harry finished writing. "She seems to be striving for academic excellence. This will surely help her." He closed the mark book, and picked up another book from his desk, showing it to Harry. "Now, about losing points. I took two off you. They'll be restored by the end of the day."

"Sir?" Harry looked at the book; it was a list of all points removed, showing that Harry had lost a point for cheek, and another for deliberately causing a class-mate to fail.

"Again, part of the act for the Death Eaters. At the end of each day, I pass the list of points to Minerva, and she restores them, either by over-awarding points in her class, or simply slipping them in at the end of the day. The only time I don't re-award points is if someone's done something to truly earn it. The Weasley twins spring to mind." He mumbled the last part.

"Sir?"

"Hmm?" Snape looked up. "Sorry, Harry. The Weasley twins fancy themselves pranksters. However, a lot of their pranks go beyond the grounds of being appropriate. In their first two years, they have nearly killed three students thanks to their pranks going wrong."

"Oh... they seemed okay, when I met them."

"Don't take my word for it, Harry." Snape said. "Don't you remember what Albus said to you in his office? Investigate, and come to your own conclusions. Don't blindly accept what you're told. Always look into a situation. If you get into the habit now, it will serve you well during later life."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Not a problem. Now, why are you listening to me droning on in this drafty dungeon, when you can be outside with your friends, enjoying yourself?"


"You really expect us to believe that Snape was helpful?" Ron spat in disgust.

"No, Ron. I don't expect you to believe anything. However, like Severus and Albus, suggested; don't take my word for it. Investigate the situation, and come to your own conclusions. Don't just let somebody blindly tell you what to think." Harry replied coolly. "Personally, I think you're far too much like Malfoy; rude, arrogant and utterly convinced of your own superiority and intrinsic rightness. Your bigotry is ingrained in you, and nothing I can say will remove it."

"What?" Ron roared, pulling his wand. Fortunately (for Ron), Arthur grabbed his arm with a firm hand, pulling it down.

Harry looked around the hall. "You all seem to believe that Snape was utterly useless and biased as a teacher and that he didn't teach you anything. But, I have a question for you; did any of you go and ask him for help, if you didn't understand his lectures? Or did you all complain, bitch and moan about his teaching style?"

In the crowd, a hand was raised. Harry saw Oliver Wood stand up slowly. "Er... I went to see him one night, during second year. He told me that he would need to cast a spell to keep his assistance quiet."

"Yes, Mr. Wood." Snape's portrait called out. "And congratulations on making Puddlemere's first squad. From what I understand, you're well on the way to winning the league."

"Er... yes, sir. Second on the table." Wood replied, not quite believing that Snape was polite.

"Have you beaten Chudley yet?" Snape asked, spearing Ron with a glance.

"Yes, Professor. 580-0. Clean sheet."

Snape cackled for a moment. "Ah, bless Chudley... they're so brave, aren't they? Going out to play, knowing they'll never win. Gryffindors, through and through."

"Shut up!" Ron shouted, again trying to pull his wand. Arthur, perhaps the most sensible Weasley, snatched it out of his hand, tucking it into his robes. "Chudley are the best team!"

"Getting back on subject." Harry said briskly, not wanting to get into a conversation about Quidditch. "Do any of you think that Snape would survive as a teacher if he was really like that? Good God, he'd be sacked for unprofessional conduct after the first bloody day, never mind lasting almost two decades!" He sighed, before carrying on with his tale.

"Most of the first term was pretty quiet. I was getting settled in, having weekly meetings with Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape and Dumbledore, as well as Madam Pomfrey, learning about my parents. I was completely on top of my school work, being allowed to flourish as I learned. I was getting on with Ron, who, even then, struck me as a bit of an arse. Seamus seemed like a nice guy, Dean was good at drawing, and Neville sort of hid in the shadows.

"Then, that Halloween."

"Let me, Harry." Hermione said, stepping forward. Harry obediently took a step back, letting his wife have the podium. "Most of us remember what happened on Halloween of 1991. A troll got into the school. Thanks to a conversation with a certain Weasley," and she glared at Ron, "I'd spent a good portion of the day, crying in the bathroom. I felt like I didn't belong if I got shouted at and abused just because I liked learning. I was seriously considering writing to my parents, asking them to pull me out of school, and go back to the Muggle world.

"Then, the troll came in. And I was saved. But, it's what happened afterwards that changed everything..."


Flashback: First Year Boys' Domitory, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Friday, 1st November, 1991 - 02:14

After a very trying evening, Harry had retired to bed. He could hear the deep breathing of Seamus, Dean and Neville, and the overpowering chainsaw buzz of Ron's snores. He was still jumpy, the fight with the troll fresh in his mind.

How could Ron be so stupid as to take the mickey out of someone who was trying to help him? And what does he do? Insults her. Laughs at her. Arsehole... He was broken from his musing by the dormitory door opening, and a pair of soft footfalls creeping closer to his bed. Poking his head out of the curtains, he saw Hermione, nibbling on her bottom lip in nervousness.

"Can I speak to you, Harry?" She whispered.

Deciding to take a chance, he opened his curtain, letting Hermione climb onto the bed, cross her legs and start staring at him.

"So..." Harry was a little unnerved by the stare. "What can I do for you, Hermione?"

"I'd like to ask a rather personal question, Harry." She said slowly. At his nod, she continued. "Why did you come and save me in the bathroom? I mean... I've not exactly been very friendly to you, have I?"

Harry shrugged. "It seemed like the right thing to do, Hermione. You didn't know about the troll, and I felt a bit guilty that I didn't stop Ron from flapping his mouth off at you."

"So... you don't hate me?" She asked shyly, looking at her hands.

"It wouldn't matter if I liked you or hated you, Hermione." Harry replied firmly, but quietly. "I wouldn't let anyone get attacked if I could do something about it."

She nodded slowly; it certainly fit the profile of a hero in the making. "Can I ask another personal question?" He nodded, since her previous question hadn't been that personal. "D-Do... do you like me?"

Harry took a moment to decide how to answer. He could sense she was nervous, and saying the wrong thing would cause her to bolt. "I'll be perfectly frank, Hermione; you seem like a nice person. But, you're bossiness is a bit of a downer; my relatives always boss me about, and I don't like it. I think that you're bossy to cover up the fact that you're nervous about being here. You're scared you won't fit in, so you like to throw information at people, to cover it up."

Her jaw dropped as she looked at him. "How do you know?" She whispered.

"You're a lot like me. Muggleborn and Muggle-raised, not sure if we fit in." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're both struggling to make our way through this entirely new world we've found ourselves in, where we don't know the rules. Me, I'm keeping my head down and listening, so I can learn the rules, while you're trying to read your way through the library, so you can learn the rules."

Unconsciously, she nodded. "I've been doing some reading, ever since I got back to my dormitory."

"Oh?"

"Bear with me, Harry, and I'll explain." She said, smiling at his slightly confused expression. "What do you know about magical life-debts?"

"Er... Muggle-raised, remember?"

"I'll take that to mean 'nothing'." Hermione replied. "Okay, I've just been looking it up. If a witch or wizard saves the life of another witch or wizard, they're owed something called a 'life-debt', basically a request. You saved my life, thus I owe you. You can ask any one thing of me, and I will be... compelled to do it."

"Wait." Harry said, holding up a hand. "It wasn't me that saved your life. It was Ron. He was the one who levitated the club onto the troll's head."

"And why did Ron come to the bathroom with you, Harry?" Hermione asked doggedly. "Was it his idea to come and find me... or yours?"

"Mine." Harry said slowly.

"And who instantly leapt into battle to defend me, clambering onto the troll's back to distract it?"

"Me."

"And where was Ron while you were swinging from the troll's back?" She didn't give him a chance to answer. "He was stood in the doorway, nearly pissing his pants in terror. And besides, you're forgetting the key point: It's Ron's fault I was in that bathroom in the first place. It was his insults and patronising comments that made me go there. You can't endanger someone's life and then claim a life-debt when you save them."

"Right. So, Ron's help in the bathroom cancelled out his debt to you in the first place?"

"Not quite." Hermione corrected. "Had Ron come alone, without any prompting, without any help and defeated the troll on his own, then he would have cancelled out his actions. As it is, he owes me. It's not quantifiable, but in the cosmic scale of things, Weasley owes me." She looked at him. "And I owe you."

Harry looked at her intently. "You don't owe me anything, Hermione. It was reward enough just being able to help you."

Hermione, predictably, felt her heart melt at Harry's words. Oh, that's so romantic... She thought, sighing at Harry. "Thank you, Harry. But, it doesn't work that way. I owe you my life. And I want to say thank you properly." She rose up on her knees, then rested on her haunches. "Another personal question?" He nodded slowly. "Have you started having wet dreams yet?"

With his face erupting into a furious blush, Harry could only gurgle something incomprehensible.

"Focus, Harry." Hermione said, keeping her tone low and safe. "Please."

With herculean effort, he managed a strangled, "Yes." He heard her sigh. "Why?"

"Because, I'd like to... well, I'd like to do something to you. Make you feel good."

Leaping to the wrong conclusion, Harry pulled back, folding his legs against his chest. "I thought you were different!" He spat. "I thought you weren't gonna be one of those 'Boy-Who-Lived' fans!"

Hermione let out an undignified giggle. "Harry... it has nothing to do with your fame, you silly boy! It's your face!"

"Eh?" Harry just looked confused.

"Harry, you're beautiful!" Hermione exclaimed, then lowered her voice. "Sorry. You're... you're really pretty, Harry. You have a very nice face."

"Eh?" He repeated, still not getting it.

She raised herself up, crawling forward, until she was directly in front of him. With trembling hands, she reached up to his face, gently tracing the lines of his cheekbones, his jaw, and his brow. "You're really good-looking, Harry. I like you."

"Oh..." With the barest hint of realisation, Harry smiled timidly at her. "Really?"

"Yes." Hermione replied emphatically, but quietly. "Do you think I'd just come up to anyone's bed in the middle of the night?" She shook her head. "Now... would you lower your pyjamas for me?"

Harry gulped, making Hermione's eyebrow shoot up. "Do you think I'm gonna laugh at you, Harry? We've both got a lot of growing up to do, so I'm hardly going to judge you, am I?"

She reached up to his waistband, near-fighting him to get his pyjama bottoms off. When they were round his knees, she took a good look. He was adorably free of pubic hair, and was about three and a half inches long, already at full throttle. "Now, I've never done this before, so I'm sorry if I'm not too good at it." With that, she lowered her mouth onto Harry, pursing her lips and creating suction.

For Harry, that was about all it took. He felt his abdominal muscles tighten, and a boiling in his stomach. "Hermione..." With a grunt, he came, crying out softly as Hermione maintained a steady suction. The sensation was very curious for Harry, who hadn't really begun to explore the possibilities of manual self-gratification.

Hermione, on the other hand, kept her mind focussed on pleasing Harry. When he tightened, and spluttered out her name, she knew it was time. While loitering in the common room, at the bottom of the stairs for nearly fifteen minutes, trying the gather up the courage to head up, she'd decided that if Harry agreed, she'd swallow, not complaining. After all, it was because of him that she'd be alive to swallow, so it was a fair trade.

As she felt something warm splash into her mouth, she focussed on maintaining her rhythm, making sure to ride it out. Fortunately, they were both still young, so there wouldn't be bucketfuls. After four spurts (the last of which was decidedly feeble), Hermione pulled up, making certain Harry saw her swallow noisily.

She grabbed her wand from her robe pocket, performing a breath-freshening charm, while Harry wearily pulled up his pyjamas. They looked at each other for a moment, before Hermione made a movement to climb off the bed.

"Wait." Harry said. He scrabbled under the duvet, tucking it under his chin, before he held up the side. "Do you... do you want to stay?"

With a smile, she nodded, climbing into the bed next to him, snuggling into his side, resting her head on his chest, and her arm over his waist. "This is nice..." she slurred into his chest. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Hermione... and thank you."


Silence reigned through the Great Hall, as the people assimilated what they'd just heard. Several people (mainly older women with far too much time on their hands) looked scandalised at Hermione's 'scarlet woman' actions, considering she was just a chit of 12. The head of an Ancient and Noble house should be with a strong, beautiful pureblood witch, not some mousy little bookworm Mudblood like Granger.

Molly Weasley was certainly one of these. Harry Potter was the property of Ginny, while the bookworm belonged to Ron. That was the order of things, and she'd put it right. She stood up, clearing her throat. "Harry?" She called out in a mock-sweet voice.

Harry glanced over at Hermione, noting the slightest hint of twitching at the corners of her mouth. He knew she was amused by their silence and shock, and was particularly looking forward to the petulant outbursts.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry looked into the crowd. "Is there something you wish to say?"

"Yes, dear." Molly smiled simperingly at him. "Don't you think the fact that... that girl performed that action on you, so early on in your friendship was a clue of what kind of woman she is? Shouldn't you be with a young woman who knows proper comportment, someone who shows class and breeding?"

Harry read between the lines, and got 'don't you think she's a little slag if she sucked you off?' Ah... a 'young woman who knows proper comportment', meaning an utterly dull fuck. No bloody chance.He wasn't pleased by Molly's comment, and intended to return a few choice remarks back to her, but she just had to open her mouth again.

"I mean, a man of your station, Lord of two Ancient and Noble houses, really shouldn't pollute your bloodline any further by sullying yourself with a Muggleborn." She rested a hand on Ginny's shoulder, who was looking up at Harry with sickening adoration. "I really think you and I need to have a conversation about appropriate conduct of young ladies, Harry."

Harry turned to the paintings, spotting impending blow-ups on all seven figures, and shook his head slightly. They silenced themselves, but he knew the reckoning would be coming. Deciding on a mature course of action, instead of crossing his eyes at Molly and blowing a raspberry, Harry simply raised an eyebrow. "I think you should follow the old adage of 'it's better to be silent and thought of as a fool, than to open your mouth and prove it', Mrs. Weasley." He retorted coolly. "Any slurs against Lady Potter-Black will be met by severe action." He very prominently turned away from Molly. "Now, for everyone else who isn't so bloody stuck-up, allow me to clarify the tale my beautiful wife told."

Harry heard someone scoff loudly when he said the word 'beautiful'. He glanced at Hermione, who nodded imperceptibly. She'd spotted whoever it was that had scoffed. Another one to add to the list. "From that moment on, me and Hermione became closer. Every week while at school, she spent at least two nights a week in bed with me, snuggling, laughing, talking. When she was on her monthly cycle, she'd spend the whole time with me, and I'd take care of her. Hot water bottles, massages and comfort. We discussed everything, from Muggle school subjects to Hogwarts homework, the state of the economy, the people around us... nothing was a taboo subject for us. We formed a bond, best friends. And we knew it would last."

"That's bollocks!" Ron shouted, yet again interrupting the flow of conversation. He stormed to his feet. "I'm your best mate! Me! Not her! We were best friends from the first day! During the train ride!"

Harry looked at Hermione, as though to say 'can you believe this guy?', then at Ron. "Were... were you not paying attention when we were speaking earlier? 'Cause I think we've said it twice so far; you don't 'know' the truth. You only 'know' what we've allowed you to believe. Now, shut your gob, Ron. I'm getting sick of listening to you squawk pathetic protests at me."

He turned back to Hermione, who nodded at him supportively, before facing the crowd again.

"The Christmas break during my first year, I stayed at Hogwarts. I had no desire to go back to my relatives' house, and they had no desire for me to be there. Over the break, I received presents. My relatives didn't give me presents, and I never sent them anything either, so that was fair. Hagrid gave me a flute. I felt kinda bad, since I didn't get him anything, but I'd change that when I next saw him. Hermione got me a box of chocolate frogs. I'd gotten her a selection of Wizarding sweets, things that she could show to her parents, since they're dentists."

Harry let loose a Snape-class sneer at Ron. "Remind me, what did I get off my 'best friend', Ron? I don't recall a present from you. I'm not materialistic, and I certainly have enough wealth to buy myself anything I wanted or needed, but I would have thought that my 'best mate' would have given me something." He ignored the impending signs of a Ron eruption, (red ear tips... a dead giveaway, every time) and carried on.

"One of the presents I got was a Weasley sweater, which I found curious. Why would a woman I've never met send me a hand-made present? Especially considering it was of significantly better quality than the ones she sent to her own family. Ron said that he'd told his mother that I didn't expect any presents, a little fact I actually found both rude and quite patronising. And out of the goodness of Molly's heart, she sent a poor little orphan boy a present. Further evidence of this is that Lee Jordan was a close friend of the twins, and he never received a Weasley sweater."

Hermione cleared her throat. "If we were the suspicious type, and believe me, we are, we might just speculate that such a present was a way of endearing the Weasley family to Harry, so that he'd want to spend time with them. And it's only a short journey from spending time with them to thinking of them as replacement family. But, that's a conversation for another time. Later on today, actually."

"The final present," Harry continued, "was the old Potter family invisibility cloak. The note wasn't signed, but I'd seen that writing before, and I knew it came from Dumbledore. But the most telling part was when Ron saw it. I've seen enough jealousy and greed to recognise it, plastered all over Ron's face. Do you remember what you said, Ron?" He asked, not bothering to look over at the fuming redhead. "'I'd give anything to have one of these. Anything.' And the three times you stole it from me, only for me to recover it and have your memories modified certainly proved that statement.

"The other Weasleys turned up, announcing how I must be an honorary Weasley, since I had a Weasley jumper. I had to sit with them, since 'Christmas is a time for family.'" He again ignored the fuming looks on the Weasleys' faces, apart from Arthur, who looked serene.

"I spent Christmas relaxing, reading up in the library. A room full of fascinating books, and oodles of free time? It was like a match made in heaven. When Hermione came back to school on the fourth of January, we had another... encounter."


Flashback: Disused Classroom, Sixth Floor, North Tower, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Saturday, 4th January, 1992 - 21:05

The New Year's feast, held on the day the students returned to the school after the Christmas break, had finally come to a close. During the entire holiday, Harry felt like he'd eaten a small farm's worth of food, and had taken to performing a few exercises, trying to get rid of some of the flab he was certain was beginning to form.

Hermione had rushed up to him as soon as the train pulled in, the students making their way straight to the Great Hall for dinner. "I need to speak to you after the feast!" She advised breathily, before digging into the meal.

Afterwards, she'd taken his arm and led him away from the other students, heading to one of the quieter areas of the castle. She slowed to a stop, and shyly lowered her hand from Harry's upper arm to his hand, waiting to see if he objected.

With a smile, Harry interlaced his fingers with hers, and carried on walking. Hermione could feel herself blushing at such a blatant display of affection, but couldn't deny that it thrilled her.

"So, where are we headed?" Harry asked.

"I overheard one of the prefects." Hermione replied. "This part of the school isn't used at the moment, so we can get some privacy. There's something I need to tell you."

Once inside the room, Hermione cast a locking spell at the door, added a silencing charm, and finished by hooking a chair under the knob. It was about the limits of her capabilities as a first year. Harry leaned against the professor's desk, resting his hands by his sides. "So, what's up?"

Hermione came and sat next to him. "I, er... I told my Mum about what happened with the troll."

"Ooh..." Harry hissed air through his teeth. "I can't imagine she was very happy about that."

She snorted. "Not really. I explained it in an appropriate context. She understood. She was more pissed at Ron for being an insensitive arse."

"You 'explained it in an appropriate context'?" Harry repeated. "How the hell would you explain a mountain troll wandering into a school full of children?"

Hermione gave him a dense look. "One of the things that all kids remember is the day a dog ran into school." Harry nodded. "I explained it the same way. A very big and dangerous dog, but the same principle. She didn't have a problem with it."

"Oh... okay... that's, er... that's good to know, Hermione." Harry said after a moment.

"Hold on, hero, I'm getting to the point. I explained how you basically saved my life." He nodded absently. "I also explained what I did to you afterwards."

Harry gurgled. Thoughts of oh, god... they'll kill me! flashed across his mind. "O-Oh? And?"

"Harry, will you, for the love of god, relax? I didn't tell my Dad, for obvious reasons, but Mum said that if it had been her and Dad, she'd have done the same thing. So, chill. You're safe." She giggled when she heard him sigh in relief. "They also gave me 'the Talk'. Have you had 'the Talk'?"

"Just the basic one at the end of primary school." Harry replied. "Which could be summed up as 'Don't!' It didn't really help explain pretty girls creeping into your bed and attacking you."

She smiled, then replayed his words in her mind. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Of course." Harry said, as though it were obvious. And to him, it clearly was.

"Thank you, Harry." Hermione said in a soft, emotion-filled voice, before she shook her head slightly, getting back on track. "Anyway, Mum suggested to me that this point in my life is where I'll start to undergo quite a few physical changes, and it's time to start investigating my body."

"That makes sense." Harry replied slowly. "Everything's changing, and you need to keep your knowledge up to date."

"Exactly." Hermione beamed. "Then, I started thinking about you. And I suddenly had a wonderful idea."

Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Ran rampant through Harry's brain, then he realised that this was Hermione, his best friend. "Which was..."

"I'll show you mine... if you show me yours." She said, smiling innocently at him.

Harry took a moment to think about the proposition. She'd already seen him, two months ago, and, in an odd way, he was eager to see her, too. He knew the basics of the differences between boys and girls, thanks to one of Dudley's abandoned biology books, and he'd memorised it, as he did with all his books, so he knew the technical names and anatomical maps... but he didn't know what it looked like, or felt like.

"Okay." He whispered. He looked up, to see her beaming at him. "Do you want me to go first or second?"

"That's up to you, Harry." She said. "But, I want us to promise one thing; no matter what happens, we don't laugh and we don't get all embarrassed. We're both young, and have a lot more growing to do."

"Agreed." Harry said, rustling up all his Gryffindor courage, and pulling off his robes. "I'll go first, then." Once his robes were gone, he pulled off his tie, casually tossing it onto the desk behind him. With a nearly imperceptible pause, he began to unbutton his shirt.

Hermione tried not to stare, really, she did, but she couldn't quite tear her eyes away. True, she'd touched Harry before, but that was in a dark and curtained off area, and he'd kept his top on. Now, though, she was gonna see the full show, and she was near-breathless with anticipation.

When his shirt was unbuttoned, he paused again, but began pulling it out from his waist band. Hermione kept her eyes locked on his chest, secretly admiring the smooth skin underneath. Feeling more scared by the minute, Harry kicked off his shoes, before reaching for his belt buckle. He locked eyes with Hermione. "Are you sure?"

"Umm-hmm." She squeaked, gathering up her own Gryffindor courage. "I'm sure, Harry." She said after a moment. "Me and you... all the way."

"All the way." He repeated back softly, as he unbuckled his belt, and lowered the zip. His trousers dropped to his ankles, before he stepped forward, leaving them on the ground. He quickly pulled off his socks, and stood before Hermione, clad in just his boxer shorts. He looked at Hermione, who nodded softly.

Taking a fortifying breath, he pushed his boxers down, stepped out of them, and stood up straight, his hands resting by his sides. Hermione looked him up and down, before extending a hand slowly. "May I..."

He nodded, bolstering her confidence. She stepped closer, resting a warm, dry hand against his chest. She began to run her fingers across his chest, making him squirm slightly as she brushed over his ribs. She stepped behind him, running both hands over his shoulders, feeling the potential for huge muscles there as he grew older. Her hands dropped to his kidneys, waiting there for a moment, before they sank a little lower, grabbing hold of the globes of his buttocks.

While she was performing her 'inspection', she was busy taking mental notes. Hmm... he's still small and a bit scrawny, but he has definite potential. He'll never be like Schwarzenegger, but he'll certainly be able to have a swimmer's body if he eats right and exercises. Same with his shoulders... although, those'll be like a draft horse. When her hands trailed over his lower cheeks, she smiled. I swear, by the time he's properly developed, he'll have the female population of this school wanting to kiss him on the cheeks. She carried on, down his thighs, which'll also be bloody strong, and his calves, which will be huge.

She took a deep breath, and crab-walked round him to the front, working her way up from his feet, which are so cute! to his knees, then up his thighs. She stopped for a moment, before reaching up to caress his scrotum. By this point, his happy place had woken up, reaching up to sing to the heavens. It's really quite pretty. I wonder how big he'll be when he's fully developed? She ran her hands over it on both sides, making his shiver slightly, before running her hands over his stomach.

Inspection complete, she stood up slowly, taking a step back. Harry was looking at her, his eyes wide, and a small smile on his face. "So, how am I?" He asked teasingly, but with more than a hint of nervousness.

"V-Very nice." Hermione replied. "When you grow up, with a good diet and plenty of exercise, you'll have a very nice body, Harry."

He blushed, ducking his head slightly. Unfortunately, ducking his head brought his penis into view, and he looked up.

Hermione nibbled on her lip. "Would... would you like me to t-take care of that for you?" She asked.

"It'll... it'll go down on it's own." Harry replied after a moment. He did want her to take care of it, really, 'cause last time felt good, but it felt a bit too... a bit too clinical. He'd wait.

Nodding slowly, a little disappointed, Hermione began to unbutton her robes. "My turn." She said.

"Y-You don't have to." Harry said gallantly. "If you don't want to."

Her hands froze in position as she looked up. "D-Don't... don't you want to s-see?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I do... but, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

With a small smile, she reached forward, caressing his cheek. "Thanks, Harry. But, I want to. You've shown me yours, it wouldn't be fair if I didn't show you mine."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, something which helped to bolster her confidence, and also make her heart melt even more in her chest. He's noble... bless, I'll have to help him break that habit, though. Sometimes, it'll do more harm than good. She pulled off her robes, revealing the standard school uniform of blouse, ties, pleated skirt and sweater, with a pair of knee-high grey socks. She kicked off her shoes, pulling off her socks, and then pulling off her jumper.

Her tie was loosened slightly, then pulled over her head, before she started to unbutton her blouse. Harry caught a flash of white fabric as her blouse parted, and had a horrific flashback to doing the laundry at the Dursleys. Fortunately, images of Aunt Petunia's underwear vanished as Hermione pulled off the blouse, revealing pale skin, with a small training bra on.

She tossed the blouse onto the desk, then unbuttoned her skirt, allowing it to puddle onto the floor. She stopped, and looked at him. "Do you want me to take these off... or would you like to?"

Moving instantly into action, Harry stepped forward. "Er... I will... might need you to help though."

With a small giggle (after all, she'd overheard her Mum saying how utterly useless Dad was at taking off her bra), she nodded.

"C-Can... I do the same as you did?" Harry asked timidly. At her nod, he reached out, running his hands over her collar bone, before grazing his hands over her bra.

"It's at the back." Hermione whispered, watching him disappear behind her. "It's a hook and clasp. Take hold of the top piece, and pull it to the side." She felt the bra tighten for an instant, then release as Harry successfully undid it. Ooh... one-handed, too. Definite potential there, Potter.

His hands reached up to the shoulder straps, gently pushing them down her arms. She held out her hands in front of her, letting the bra fall to the floor, before she rested her hands at her sides, unconsciously mirroring Harry's pose from earlier.

Instead of instantly coming round to the front, Harry gently ran his hands over her back, tracing the slight grooves left in her skin by the elastic. She gave out a little sigh as his gentle fingers worked the small itch away. His hands continued over her shoulders, the muscles there already showing signs of definition. After all, carrying around ten kilos of heavy books would do that.

His hands traced over her sides, prompting a small giggle, as Harry his arms round her stomach, pulling her into a brief, but very enjoyable full-body hug. She could hear him breathe deeply as he inhaled the scent of her hair, resting his chin on her shoulder for a moment.

"Carry on, Harry." She whispered gently. As if waiting for the cue, Harry's arms unfurled, as his hands gently stroked up her chest, brushing lightly over her nipples. She let out a little sigh as he run his hands up and down.

To her shock, Harry didn't seem to focus on her nipples. She'd read several of her mother's health magazines, where women wrote in about problems with their love lives, in which they complained their partners didn't seem to understand breasts. It seemed Harry didn't have that problem.

His hands slowly drifted down to her waist, taking a gentle hold of the waistband on her panties. He stopped. "Do you want me to carry on?" He whispered nervously into her ear. She trembled when she felt his breath against her earlobe.

"Yes." She breathed shakily. "Please, Harry."

Releasing her waist, Harry pushed the panties down, Hermione feeling his breath on her back as he lowered himself to his knees. She lifted her legs, one at a time, so that Harry could remove the knickers, then stood still.

After a few nervous seconds, Harry's hands began to slowly kneed her butt cheeks, his breath on them, letting her know that his face was quite close. She jerked slightly when she felt his lips kiss each cheek, before his tongue flicked over the cleft.

His hands gently stroked up and down the back of her thighs for a few moment moments, before he placed his hands on her hips, gently prompting her to turn round. Taking a deep breath, Hermione complied, standing in her nakedness in front of Harry.

Being head level to her crotch, Harry kept his eyes locked on her, while his hands ran up and down the front of her thighs, before stopping again on her hips.

"Keep going, Harry." Hermione cajoled after a few moments.

Nodding slowly, Harry began to trace his fingers over his stomach, heading slowly down. Like him, she had no pubic hair to speak of. As his hands touched the edges of her thighs, she moved her feet apart, widening the distance between her thighs. Harry leaned closer, gently running a finger over her opening, making her shudder slightly.

"It's wet." Harry said neutrally. "That's your... that's your Bartholin gland, isn't it?" He asked.

"Y-Yes." She stammered.

Harry leaned closer, breathing in. "And it has a smell."

"Harry!" Hermione took a step back, scowling down at him. "That's very rude!"

He looked up, a little confused. "What?"

"Saying I smell, Harry!" She snapped.

The confusion remained. "What? My new shoes had a smell. My broomstick polish has a smell. Treacle tart has a smell. Saying that something has a smell doesn't mean it's bad."

Properly chastised, Hermione stepped forward again slowly. "Sorry, Harry. Jumped to conclusions, there. But, 'smell' is probably not the best word to describe... that. Saying 'something smells' usually implies a bad smell. Perhaps 'scent' would be better."

He nodded. "Okay. It has a scent." He smiled up at her. "If it's any consolation, it's a very nice scent." He pressed closer and inhaled deeply, making her blush.

"Thanks, Harry." She smiled warmly at him. "Now, extend your finger... that's it. Turn your hand over, and press up." He complied, making her hiss slightly. "You feel that? That little bumpy bit?" He nodded again. "That's my clitoris, Harry. As my mum described it, 'every girl's best friend'. If you s-start..."

She trailed of as Harry's finger began to rub gently, moving in a circular motion. Like Harry's first encounter, this was short and sweet, as Harry expertly (How the hell is he this good at it? she wondered idly) manipulated her to a very satisfying orgasm.

Staggering back a step, she grinned at Harry. "That was good..." she sighed happily, only to grin even wider as Harry licked his finger, nodding before sucking on the end. He looked up, noticing her stare and wide grin.

"What?"

"That was actually quite flattering, Harry." She replied. "When you licked your finger. In polite company, rather grim and disgusting, but it made me feel better."

Not understanding, he shuffled forward, running his finger over her again, and then sucking on it. "It's nice. Tastes good and has a nice scent." He shrugged, before standing up. He wrapped her in a hug, resting his head on her shoulder again as he held her tightly.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, enjoying the close sensation. "Is this gonna make us weird?" She asked after a few moments.

Harry pulled back slightly, so he could look into her eyes, and rested his forehead against hers. "I hope not. Why should it?"

She shrugged helplessly. "According to Mum, some people get weirded out after stuff like this."

He pressed a kiss against her cheek, before hugging her tightly again. "Not us."

"No... not us." Hermione replied, enjoying the hug. "Now, we should get dressed and head back to the tower."

Dressing quickly, Harry was about to lead her out of the classroom, and stopped. "You gonna come and bunk with me tonight?"

She cocked her head slightly. "Do you want me to?"

"Every night." Harry replied. "But, I wasn't sure if you still would after you went to see your parents."

She took his hand, squeezing firmly. "Unfortunately, I don't think we can get away with every night. But, as many as I can, yeah."

They started walking out together, holding hands. "Good."


"She's a whore!" Ron shouted. "You've just proved it!"

Instantly, Harry's face changed from introspection to harshness. Gone was amiable Harry, this was Warrior Lord Potter, the Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort. "Say that again, Weasley, and you won't leave this hall alive!" Ron flinched. "Are we clear?" A moment of silence, before, "Are! We! Clear?"

Ron nodded jerkily, truly terrified of his 'best mate'.

Harry glanced about the Great Hall. "Anyone, and I mean anyone, who denigrates my wife will not survive my wrath. Are we perfectly clear?"

The Hall clamoured yes, none of them wanting to face the true wrath of what was probably the most powerful wizard in the world.

Dumbledore's portrait cleared his throat, the sound echoing throughout the Great Hall. "We didn't actually find out about that until quite a bit later, Harry. May I say, you cost me fifty galleons to Minerva. I didn't think you'd engage in that sort of exploration until the end of your first year."

Harry looked out in the crowd, seeing a rather smug-looking McGonagall.

Snape let out a good-natured snarl. "You think you had it bad, Albus? I lost two hundred to her. I didn't think it would be until the start of your second year. Devious little kitty."

McGonagall snorted. "You lost, Severus. Accept it gracefully. I must admit, I thought it would be later in the year, but before the end of term. So, I won, you both lost, and I particularly enjoyed the holiday, good food and wine that money bought me."

Before Harry could retort, Ron again opened his mouth. "You betrayed me, both of you!" He snapped. "You knew I liked Hermione, Harry, you knew it, and you went and took her! Bloody Potter, always has to have everything, doesn't he?"

"Shut up, Ron." Hermione replied in an icy-cold tone. "You were too late, and your motives aren't exactly pure. Don't worry... we'll come to you in time. Until then, be silent. Your opinions are neither wanted nor needed."

Ron turned to Harry. "I'm your best mate!"

"No." Harry replied neutrally. "Hermione is. And always was, Ron." He saw Ron open his mouth again. "Hermione's right, Ron. Shut your gob." He turned back to the crowd. "Most of that year was pretty straightforward, and you all know most of it. The only other thing we kept confidential was that I began teaching Hermione how to fly."

"Ha! Another lie!" Ginny sneered. "We all know that the boring bloody bookworm hates flying!"

Harry was about to retort, yet again, that people only 'knew' what they knew because they'd been led to believe it, and changed his mind. With his wand, he wrote flaming letters in the air, like he had seen the young Tom Riddle do in the Chamber of Secrets, so many years ago. 'You only 'know' what we wanted you to believe' floated into the air, growing bigger until each letter was four feet high, and began to bob above the podium.

"I won't say it again, 'cause I'm getting bored with saying that. I will tell you this, though; at the end of fifth year, after taking our exams, we had a bit of a break, and we headed over to Puddlemere United's tryouts. Under special glamours, me and Hermione tried out. I tried out as Mr. Indago, while Hermione tried as Miss Fugo. We-"

"That was you?" Oliver Wood shouted. "Oh, you evil buggers! The entire team loved you two!" He crossed his arms and began to sulk.

"Cheers, Ollie!" Harry called back, smirking when he saw Oliver frown at being called 'Ollie'. "Anyway, we pissed all over the tryouts, and had we been seventeen, each of us would have been offered a starting spot on the first team, instantly. Hermione's Quidditch skills far outweigh yours, Miss Weasley."

"No, they don't!" Ginny shouted back petulantly. "She's just a bookworm, who couldn't fly a broom to save her life!"

The floating letters flashed once, reiterating the message. Harry ignored Ginny, and carried on.

"We carried on with our learning, the pair of us devouring the library. During one of my conversations with Albus, he advised that it would be better if people thought that I was not as intelligent as I am. He said that it would throw our enemies off if they thought I was only an average student.

"Now, he wasn't asking me to throw my exams or fake substandard homework, but he was asking that when my results came out, that he could post a set of false results for me, while giving me a second copy, with my actual results. This is important later on.

"Myself and Hermione were the top two students in our year, and Ron... seemed to hang around a lot. We could already tell that he was not tremendously bright, inconceivably lazy and rather bigoted, so any allusions to some mythic 'Golden Trio' are wildly overrated. By the end of the year, just before the final exams, we got 'the offer'. The vast majority of you won't know what this is, so I shall explain.

"The top two or three students of the first year are offered a special end-of-year test, in the form of an obstacle course. It's designed using all the first year curriculum, to take you through a series of tasks. In our case, it was getting past Fluffy the three-headed dog, a wall of Devil's Snare, using our newly-gained Herbology skills, grabbing a flying key, both a test of Charms and Flying, bypassing Professor Snape's potions riddle, which was a combination of potions and logic, and finally, getting past an age-appropriate magical creature.

"Albus offered to let me and Hermione take the course." Harry looked over at the crowd, spotting the dirty-blonde he was looking for. "Luna, didn't you take it at the end of your first year?"

Luna looked a bit shy at being singled out, but nodded. "Yes, I did. It wasn't nearly as exciting as yours, though."

Harry chuckled. "Did you pass it?"

"Of course." Luna looked a little offended at his question, but was mollified by his 'sorry' expression.

"The obstacle course is a closely-guarded secret among the staff. The only people who are aware of it are the Heads of Houses, since they are the ones who select which students will be taking it, the Headmaster, and Hagrid. Each of the students who take the course are sworn to secrecy, so that they can't reveal the existence of the course. However, it was stopped in fourth year, because of the Tri-Wizard, and with the Ministry's interference in fifth year, it wasn't restarted then. Because of Dumbledore's death at the end of sixth year, which happened before the test could take place, it was cancelled.

"Dumbledore had brought the Philosopher's Stone to Hogwarts, because he knew that someone was after it. He made a big show about having it hidden somewhere in the castle, telling people to avoid the third floor corridor. Naturally, it wasn't there.

"Quirrell tried to capture it one night, using a student under the Imperius curse, something which Dumbledore quickly found and stopped, but the stone's hiding place, on the sixth floor at the time, had been discovered, so Dumbledore moved it, putting it at the end of the obstacle course. After all, it's a first year test. Why would you hide such an immeasurably powerful object at the end of such a low-level challenge?

"Quirrell, after a bit of snooping, found out that the stone was at the end of the course. So, at the end of term, Albus offered us the course, and suggested the Ron be allowed to join us." Harry turned to his wife. "I really don't know why. He bitched and whinged during the whole bloody thing."

"Wait a minute!" Ron snapped, hauling himself to his feet, yet again, to speak about things that he didn't understand. The floating letters above the podium began to flash again. "That was us saving the Stone from You-Know-Who! I helped save the school!"

At the back, McGonagall burst out laughing. It took over a minute for her to regain control of herself, then she glared at Ron for his stupidity. "Are you serious?" She asked, before looking up at the stage and holding up a finger, prompting Padfoot's portrait self to fold his arms across his chest and pout.

McGonagall turned back to Ron. "Do you really think that those obstacles were in any way a deterrent to someone of Voldemort's power? Devil's Snare? A flying key? A game of bloody chess? What utter nonsense, Weasley! Those obstacles were perfect for the end-of-first-year test, nothing else."

"No, I helped stop You-Know-Who! That dog alone would have killed us all if we hadn't got past it!"

Shaking her head slowly, McGonagall speared him with another glare. "Do you really think that we'd keep such a large animal at a school full of children without a valid reason or suitable control? The damned animal eats nearly a metric ton of dog food a day. He's here as a guard dog and as a suitable obstacle, nothing more." She pondered for a moment. "That, and Hagrid's obsession with large animals."

"But he would have killed us! That wasn't a test!" Ron shouted, somehow managing to turn even more red.

"The people who fail the test facing Fluffy end up near-licked to death, Weasley. While big and nasty-sounding, he's a complete softy. The gerbils in third year transfiguration are more dangerous than Fluffy."

"No, he's dangerous, and he nearly killed me!" Ron protested, still feeling a need to prove himself as a useful and valid member of the so-called 'Golden Trio'.

Harry cleared his throat. "You know," he drawled, "both myself and Hermione have seen Fluffy, the huge three-headed hellhound, running like hell from this little grey and white tabby cat. That was funny."

Minerva blushed as she remembered during Harry's second year, when Fluffy had come sniffing round while she was patrolling in her Animagus form. She scratched him on the noses, and hissed menacingly. Fluffy, not being nearly as thick as most people thought, had run like hell from the tiny cat, and been chased through the corridors.

"Anyway..." Harry said slowly, smirking evilly at McGonagall. He turned back to Ron, as a thought struck him. "Ron, don't you think it was really convenient that Dumbledore just happened to get called to the Ministry that night? And more to the point, why the hell would he fly to London? The man had a Floo connection in his office, and was one of the few people who was authorised to make Portkeys. He didn't need to fly anywhere." Sighing, and shaking his head at Ron's foolishness, he continued the tale. "The three of us went down. We got past the Devil's Snare thanks to Hermione, I caught the key, and Ron began to order us around for the chess game. After an embarrassing incident involving a Knight, we-"

"I sacrificed myself for you!" Ron shouted. "It was because of me that you and her could carry on!"

"You fell off, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore said from his portrait, twinkling merrily. "You did not 'sacrifice' yourself. While standing up to shout something offensive at Miss Granger, you slipped backwards, hitting your head. I modified your memories after Mr. Potter explained everything to me, so that you would believe what we wanted you to believe. It was at that point that you proved yourself as a liability to Harry and Hermione, and we took the appropriate steps."

Harry nodded, suppressing a smirk at Ron's 'righteous' indignation. "After me and Hermione passed through Professor Snape's potions riddle, we saw Quirrell in the final chamber, and we knew that the game was over. The two of us did what we could to fight him off, but Hermione got caught up in Quirrell's Incarcerous. Quirrell dragged me over to the mirror, then took off his turban, revealing Voldemort.

"When he touched me, my Mum's blood protection began to burn him. I didn't need to hold on to him, a single touch was enough. At that moment, Dumbledore burst into the room, Professors Snape and McGonagall hot on his heels with wands drawn.

"It was at that point that Quirrell's magical core detonated, causing a massive magical backwash, that knocked me and Hermione down, while making the Professors stagger. Albus used a Portkey to take us directly to the hospital wing..."


Flashback: Hospital Wing, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Saturday, 20th June, 1992 - 18:51

Harry opened his eyes, groaning slightly as the sunlight seemed to burn straight through his retinas, directly into his brain. "Ugh..." He moaned.

Next to him, Hermione stirred slowly, beginning to wake up.

"Ah, you're awake, Harry." Dumbledore said quietly, recognising the signs of a truly award-winning headache. "How're you feeling?"

"Did you get the number of the bus?" Harry asked softly. "Or the drummer who's using my brain right now?"

A hand appeared from his left, holding a vial of potion. Without bothering to look who it was or check the potion, he threw it back. Instead of the standard 'I'm going to die from the taste' feeling, he tasted peach as his headache faded into nothing. A quick glance at his left revealed Snape, who had a look of concern on his face. "Thanks, sir."

"Better?" Snape asked.

"Much, now." Harry looked around. "What happened? I remember Quirrell being in the final chamber. He tied Hermione up... Hermione! Is she okay?"

"Quietly." Hermione's voice hissed from his right. "Headache... ooh, for some Anadin right now..."

Snape leaned over Harry, passing another vial to Hermione. "I don't have Anadin, but this should work for you." He said tenderly.

Hermione swallowed the potion, feeling the headache vanish instantly. "Ah..." She sighed happily. "Thank you, Professor. That's much better."

Dumbledore smiled at the two. "Are you up to hearing what happened, or would you like a bit more time?"

Harry looked at Hermione, who nodded slightly. "I think we're ready now, Professor."

"Good." Dumbledore nodded. "Well, you both successfully completed the obstacle course. Congratulations on that, by the way. The last person who succeeded was your mother, Harry, while her partner, a Mr. Eric Barnsley, Ravenclaw, failed, and she was the first in almost eighty-five years. Well done."

"Thank you, sir." Harry and Hermione intoned in unison.

"With regards to Professor Quirrell, he unfortunately passed away. We didn't know that Voldemort was sharing his mind. Normally, such a thing would be detectable to all three of us, plus the school wards, but it appears that Voldemort was somehow able to hide his presence. We have taken steps to ensure that such a thing does not happen again."

Harry nodded slowly. "Sir... Professor Quirrell sort of... well, he burned, sir, just on me touching him. How's that possible?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Do you remember, at the beginning of the year, I told you that I had created a set of blood protection shields over the Dursleys house, based on your mother's sacrifice?" Harry nodded. "Those shields don't just work for the house, Harry. You carry the protection within your very skin. That single touch was like being dropped in acid for the possessed Quirrell."

"So... I killed him, sir." Harry concluded, slumping down a little further into his bed.

"No." Snape said brusquely. Harry and Hermione looked at him. "Think of it in a different light, Harry. Picture the situation as Voldemort riding a bicycle. You destroyed the bicycle, true, but not the person riding it. Professor Quirrell, unfortunately, was dead the instant Voldemort possessed him. He would never have survived. You allowed him to move on to the next great adventure. Do not think that you've taken a life, Harry. It's not true. What you did was release Professor Quirrell from a flesh prison, something he would have thanked you for."

Harry allowed the words to wash over him, plus the comfort he was drawing from Hermione's presence. "Thank you, sir." He said, in a soft voice filled with emotion. "Sir, while I was down in the Chamber, Voldemort said that I'd reduced him to shadow and vapour." He took a deep breath. "He said that Mum didn't need to die, that she could have saved herself, if she hadn't tried to stop him killing me. Why did he want to kill me, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed, taking a moment to think. "I will never lie to you, Harry. And I will never withhold something from you, unless I have a very good reason, and I will explain that reason in detail." He looked at McGonagall, who nodded. "The very basic reason is that Voldemort learned of a prophecy, detailing his defeat. He wished to make certain that didn't happen, so he attacked your parents."

"Do you know the prophecy, sir?" Harry asked.

"I do, Harry. It is a terrible burden to bear, and I wish strongly that you did not have to bear it. At the moment, you do not need to know what it is. I would suggest that take the time to enjoy your childhood before allowing this sort of burden." He waited for a moment, then carried on. "If you really wish to know, Harry, ask me again, and I shall tell you."

Hermione pressed a hand onto his arm. "Harry, maybe you should wait for a while. I mean, you've only been back in the Wizarding world for less than a year, and from what you told me about your relatives, they don't exactly provide a suitable child-raising atmosphere. Like Professor Dumbledore said, maybe you should enjoy your childhood for a bit before hearing it."

Dumbledore nodded. "The offer is always open, Harry. When you wish to know, tell me, and I shall reveal the precise details to you."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"There's something else we wish to discuss with you, Harry." McGonagall said. "Now that Voldemort has made a reappearance, and this is his first showing in nearly ten years, it's time to begin training the younger generation to protect themselves. We have the feeling that both you and Hermione will be on the front-lines of the upcoming war. As such, we'd like to offer you some more advanced training, so that you will be ready."

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly. "Why do you think we'll be on the front-lines?" She asked shrewdly.

McGonagall smiled. "My dear Hermione, I've known you for ten months. I can safely say that, if you perceive an injustice, you will fight it, with all that you are. Am I wrong in my assessment?"

"No." Hermione admitted grumpily.

"And you, Mr. Potter. You leapt into battle to save a girl you barely knew, against an enemy you knew nothing about."

"True." Harry agreed. "So, what kind of things will we be learning?"

The teachers exchanged glances. "To be frank, Harry," Snape said slowly, "there's a whole host of things we could teach you. Your seven core subjects, begin work on the third year electives, combat magicks, Mind Arts, Animagus training... there's a huge range of information. One very valid question is, do you want to spend all summer in the company of a bunch of old farts learning?"

"Yes!" Hermione said instantly, making Dumbledore snicker.

"I am not an 'old fart', Severus!" McGonagall snapped. "Behave yourself. You're not too old to put across my knee!"

"Promises, promises." Snape drawled silkily, making McGonagall's stern expression crack as she chuckled.

"What about you, Harry?" McGonagall asked.

"Anything to keep me away from my relatives, Professor." Harry replied.

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore leaned forward. "About that, Harry. The blood protection wards on Privet Drive require you to be there, but not for the full summer. You can spend most of the day away from the property and sleep there, or vice versa. Ideally, eight to twelve hours per day for four weeks would be sufficient to recharge the protections. At the moment, we can allow them to stay at about seventy-five percent, since Voldemort is not nearly strong enough to penetrate them."

"So, I need to either sleep there, or spend the day there." Harry concluded.

"Yes, Harry." Dumbledore replied. "Now, the question then becomes, where will you spend the rest of the time? Normally, we do not permit students to stay at Hogwarts over the summer, for several reasons. There is a lot of cleaning that needs doing, plus we tend to fumigate the whole castle, removing any vermin, while there are no students present. Not to mention, most of the teachers take holidays away, which would mean there are very few people around to talk to, and none your own age."

"Sir..." Hermione spoke up, "I told my parents about Harry back at Christmas. They know he's an orphan, and that he lives with... not very nice people. Isn't there a way for him to live somewhere else?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I truly wish there were, Miss Granger. Ten years ago, when the Potters passed away, many magical families came forward, offering to adopt Harry. However, the law states that, since he still has blood-kin, that he must be placed with them."

Harry shuddered lightly. "Plus, half of those families would try and use me. People like the Malfoys would love to be connected with me. Drain my vault, and use my fame. In a perverse way, I'd rather be with Aunt Petunia than them."

"Yes." Dumbledore said heavily. "I, too, was concerned over some of the people who wished to take you in. The Malfoys, the LeStranges, the Carrows... all families with a history of Dark activity. I will admit that I was pleased to be able to deny them."

"I wonder if Mum and Dad would let you stay with us." Hermione mused. "I mean, I already told Mum about you, and what we've done, and she didn't seem to be annoyed, plus, she knows we've shared a bed, and I can't believe I just said that in front of three professors." She closed her eyes in defeat. "Bugger..."

"Language, Hermione." McGonagall said, amused. "We already knew about you two sharing a bed. We didn't stop it, since you two have behaved and you have a close friendship. You both seem to be better people since you started snuggling, and we have no problem with that. I will have to insist, however, that you are not caught. If it becomes public knowledge that we allow this, we'll spend all night every night chasing people back to their own beds."

Both youths blushed as McGonagall casually described their sharing a bed, but gave small smiles at being allowed to continue.

"Miss Granger, assuming that your parents would be willing to allow Mr. Potter house room, would you be willing to allow him to stay with you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, I'd need to write to them, sir." Hermione said. "But, I don't think they'll have a problem with it."

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Do your parents have a telephone?"

"Yes, sir. Of course."

"And do you know the number off the top of your head?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Yes, sir. Is there a phone here at Hogwarts?"

"No." Snape replied. "Electronics don't work here, because of the ambient magic in the air. Anything with an electronic circuit goes haywire. We can, however, apparate or take a Portkey to a Muggle area, and telephone your parents from there."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You know about phones, sir? How? I didn't think wizards bothered with Muggle technology."

Snape saw Harry's eyebrow, and raised him a slight sneer. "Anyone who disregards technology without weighing up it's benefits is a fool, Harry. Just because I am a wizard doesn't mean that I don't have Muggle friends. I call them, since it's far quicker than a letter."

"Somehow, sir, I can't picture you with a telephone." Harry chuckled.

"It would solve our problems." Dumbledore said. "If you would care to get dressed," he noticed the two looking shyly at each other, "separately, or together, if you prefer, then we would be able to take a Portkey to King's Cross station, and make the telephone call from there. We could then apparate to your parents' house to speak in person."

The two looked at each other and nodded, clambering out of the bed. The teachers quickly disappeared as a privacy screen materialised, allowing them to get dressed. While the two were changing, McGonagall held out her hand to the two men. "Pay up. They've obviously seen each other before."

With a pout, Snape reached into his robes, pulling out a heavy sack of gold. He passed it across, before folding his arms and scowling at Minerva.

Dumbledore coughed softly. "It's in my office, Minerva. We'll collect it after we return." She smiled at him, before tucking the sack into her robes, and smiling smugly at Snape.

A moment later, the privacy screen parted, as Harry and Hermione reappeared, dressed in their school uniforms, minus the robes. "We didn't wear the robes, sir," Hermione said, "since our school uniforms are very similar to Muggle ones."

"Good thinking, Miss Granger." Dumbledore said. "Now, with a little bit of wand work..." He waved his wand over Snape, changing his robes into a plain black suit, with a white shirt and a black tie.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who nodded with a grin. "Professor Snape, could I make a suggestion?"

"Of course."

"Sweep your hair back, like Malfoy does, and put it into a pony tail." Harry said. Snape complied, flicking his wand over his head, and conjuring a small tie, which he quickly fastened. "Now," Harry continued, "you need a pair of sunglasses."

McGonagall conjured a pair of basic black sunglasses, small and fashionable, which Snape slipped onto his nose. He marshalled his expression into neutrality.

"Perfect, sir." Harry said, smiling. "You look cool."

"Thank you." Snape replied, crossing his arms and looking down at them.

"Very cool." Hermione added.

Dumbledore's wand flicked over McGonagall, changing her tartan robes into a black suit, with a knee length skirt. Again, a white blouse and a black ladies' tie completed the ensemble. She conjured another pair of sunglasses, mirroring Snape's pose.

"This is gonna be cool!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's like Men in Black! (1)"

"I'm not sure I would be a suitable third." Dumbledore said, changing his star-spangled robes into a plain grey suit, with a matching tie. "However, I believe this should be sufficient."

Harry looked at him intently. "It seems really weird seeing you without a hat, sir." He said.

"Indeed." Dumbledore chuckled, before pulling a pen from his suit pocket. "Portus." He intoned, before holding out the pen. "This is a Portkey, a form of magical transportation. If you would put your finger on it, we will be arriving at King's Cross in a few moments."

The five people crowded round the pen, managing to touch it slightly. "Activate." Dumbledore said firmly, and in a blink, the hospital wing was empty again.

The quintet landed neatly on their feet on platform 9¾. Snape and McGonagall volunteered to wait on the magical platform, watching Dumbledore, Hermione and Harry pass through the barrier onto the Muggle side. At the end of the platform, a bank of telephones waited.

As Hermione entered, she slapped her hand against her forehead. "Oh, I forgot to bring my purse!"

Dumbledore held out a hand, on which a dozen shiny ten pence pieces rested. "Permit me, Miss Granger."

"Thanks, sir." Taking one of the coins (2), she fed one into the slot, and quickly tapped out the number.

"Mum!" Hermione called out. "Hi... no, I'm not in trouble... well, I'm in London at the moment... yes, you could call it a field-trip, I suppose... of course I'm not on my own! I'm with Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape... yes, Harry's here, too... how did you know? That doesn't matter at the moment, Mum... yes, I did... that, too... yes, I think he enjoyed it... Anyway, the Professors want to know if we can come over and speak to you... yes, it's about Harry... hang on, I'm getting the beeps." She turned round, absently noticing that Dumbledore was still holding out the coins.

She quickly fed another one into the machine. "Right, I'm back now... yes, tonight... well, they didn't just want to turn up at the door without ringing first, did they? Okay, I'm sorry... so, is it okay if we pop round? Well, the back garden's enclosed, and as long as the nosy witch from number 7's not peeking through her curtains, it should be fine... no, she's not one of us, just a nosy old bag... yes, I'm sure... no, seriously, not even a witch would wear those slippers... okay, a couple of minutes, Mum... Thanks... Love you, too. Bye."

She hung up, and backed out of the call box. "They said that's fine. If you can arrange it, we can arrive in the back garden, it's enclosed on all sides."

Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion on our side of the barrier." He led the group back through the portal onto platform 9¾. "The best way, Miss Granger, would be if you were able to guide us. Have you heard of apparition?"

"Yes, sir." Hermione replied.

"Do you understand the basic premise of how it works?"

"Not really, sir. Most of the books about it were listed in the restricted section of the library, so I couldn't read them."

"Ah." Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. The basic premise of apparition is that you tap into your magical core, summoning the power. Then, using mental discipline, you create an apparition field around yourself, in essence turning your body into highly charged magical energy. While the field is forming, it is necessary to picture your destination, and use the energy to create a directional energy signature. Once the direction is set and the apparition field created, you vanish, travelling to the other side."

Hermione nodded slowly. "I understand the concept, sir." She said diplomatically.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes. Now, I can certainly apparate, as can Severus and Minerva, and we can take you wish us by a process known as 'side-along apparition'. However, we do not know where we are going, exactly. So, we will need you to guide us."

Harry looked a little confused by the process, so he tried to get it straight in his mind. "So, you're going to turn all five of us into energy, while Hermione magically tells us where to go, and you then take us there?"

"A succinct and accurate summary." Snape said. "I'd say 'five points to Gryffindor', but I'd never hear the end of it."

"So, Miss Granger, if you would take hold of my arm, and Harry's... that's it. And Severus and Minerva will take hold of Harry's other arm... Now, picture very clearly, Miss Granger, your back garden. Find us a nice empty spot to land... Do you have it?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes scrunched closed.

"Excellent. Severus, Minerva?"

The five vanished with a loud 'crack'.

As they arrived in Crawley, Mrs. Emma Granger opened the back door, spotting her daughter, a young man, two Men in Black, and what was clearly the Headmaster stepping forward.

Hermione dashed into her mother's arms, wrapping her in an effusive hug. "Hi, Mum!" She said quickly. "I missed you."

Harry watched the reunion with undisguised longing. He'd never had an encounter like that, and simply ached inside. McGonagall placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think I understand how you feel, Harry." She said softly. "I lost my parents when I was young, but even that cannot compare to never knowing them."

He nodded slowly. "It's just... I've heard people complaining about their families. Ron Weasley, for example. He complains that he's got so many brothers and a sister. I'd hack off a testicle for just one sibling."

Emma looked up at hearing the word 'testicle'. "Harry Potter, I assume?"

"Yes, ma'am." Harry said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Granger."

Taking his hand, Emma pulled Harry into a loose hug, holding on for a moment. "The pleasure's mine, Mr. Potter. And please, call me 'Emma'."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry replied. "And call me 'Harry', ma'am." He quailed under her mock-glare. "Sorry... Emma."

"Won't you all come in?" She led the party into the living room, where a man was sitting, snoring gently under a newspaper.

"Wake up!" Emma swatted the man on the back of his head, forcing him to wake up with a jerk.

"Wha... Em? What's up... hello, Hermione. What are you doing here?" He looked around the room, easily spotting her fellow student, and a trio of older people. "What did I miss?"

"If you weren't snoozing underneath your paper, you'd have found out." Emma replied.

The man's eyes locked onto Harry. "Let's see... bit short, messy black hair, glasses... logic dictates you, sir, are Harry Potter."

"Er... yes." Harry held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

Not holding out his hand, the man leaned a little closer. "You wanna see my shotgun, kid?"

Harry blinked nervously, not noticing Snape, Dumbledore and McGonagall subtly reach for their wands. "No, sir. I don't think so..."

The man smiled, taking Harry's hand. "Relax, Harry. I'm just teasing. I'm Daniel Granger, please feel free to call me 'Dan'."

"Er..." Harry glanced at Hermione, who was glaring at her father.

"Daddy!" She scolded. "Didn't I say that you have to be nice to him?"

It seemed even her father was intimidated by the potent force that was Hermione Granger. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It's every father's job to threaten any possible suitors. It's in the contract and everything."

"Behave, Dan, or you'll be on the sofa tonight." Emma said firmly.

"Yes, dear." Dan sighed. He turned back to Harry. "Being young, Harry, you won't understand that it's a father's job to make sure his baby girl is looked after. I'm sorry if I upset you."

"T-That's okay, sir." Harry replied timidly. "I... okay, sir."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I apologise for our intrusion. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. This is Severus Snape, professor of potions, and my deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall."

"Yeah, we met Professor McGonagall last year." Dan said. "You came to deliver Hermione's letters."

"I did." McGonagall confirmed. "May we assume that you do not wish to show Mr. Potter your shotgun?"

Dan suddenly blanched as he noticed that all three of the magical adults were holding onto the handles of their wands. "Er... I don't actually own a shotgun." He sighed with relief as the wizards and witch finally released their wands. "Would you care to sit down?"

After everyone was sat, and the required tea and biscuits produced, Hermione launched straight into her speech. "Mum, Dad, I was hoping that we'd be able to let Harry stay here during some of the summer."

"Well, that was certainly... blunt." Dan said. "Er... forgive me if this sounds a bit rude, but... why?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "There are several reasons, Mr. Granger. The first is that young Harry and his family are not on the best of terms. They, like yourselves, are non-magical. However, they are not... tolerant to Harry's powers. As such, he does not reside in a comfortable family environment. Second, both he and your daughter have expressed an interest in spending a good portion of the summer holidays performing advanced studies, and it would be beneficial if they were learning together."

"Summer school?" Emma asked her daughter. "I'm sure you've already been doing more than you should, sweetie."

Hermione blushed prettily. "Just a little."

Harry coughed noisily, cocking an eyebrow at Hermione, which quickly finished when she jabbed her elbow in his ribs.

Emma looked at Hermione sharply, who dropped her gaze. "Sorry, Harry." Hermione muttered.

"So, you'd like Harry to stay here." Emma repeated back. "Well, we certainly have room for your friend to stay." During the sentence, she kept her eyes on her daughter, who quickly looked up. Emma nodded slowly, as she realised the guest bedroom wouldn't be necessary. "Do you know what dates he'll be staying?"

Dumbledore grimaced slightly. "That's, er... that's actually a bit difficult to explain. By staying at his relatives' house for a certain length of time each year, Harry charges up a series of wards and protections on the property."

"Wards?" Dan asked.

Hermione stepped in. "Picture Star Trek, Daddy. If Harry's house was the ship, the wards would be the equivalent of the shields."

"Ah. Okay. Got it." He replied gratefully. "So, Harry needs to stay with his family to recharge the shields, then he can come and stay with us, right?"

"Er... not as such." Dumbledore replied. "Harry will need to spend a certain amount of time, 8-12 hours a day at Privet Drive. The rest of the time, he will be free to spend time elsewhere."

Dan cocked an eyebrow. "Where's Privet Drive?"

"Little Whinging, Surrey, sir." Harry replied.

Letting out a low whistle, Dan shook his head. "That's a hell of a lot of driving, Headmaster. That's what, 80, 90 miles round trip? Twice a day..."

"Transport will not be an issue, Mr. Granger." Dumbledore said. "I will be able to furnish both Harry and Hermione with appropriate devices for transportation."

"So, he'll just need room and board?" Emma asked. "I'm sure we can manage that. We've not actually planned on a holiday this year; we were waiting 'til Hermione got home before we made any decisions."

Dumbledore sighed in relief. "That would be marvellous, Mrs. Granger. I, and my staff, thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Now, with regards to Harry's staying, he will either need to spend a day or a night a Privet Drive per 24 hour period."

Dan nodded. "So, he either spends the day here with us and goes home, or he kips here and spends the day at home."

"In a word, yes." Dumbledore replied. "This will need to happen for four weeks, then he is free to spend the time wherever he likes."

"Sounds fine to us." Dan said, after looking at his wife, who nodded. "So, what was this about extra training... and what will it cost us?"

Dumbledore reached into his robes, pulling out a piece of parchment. "I'll answer your second question first, Mr. Granger; the answer is 'nothing'. We shall volunteer our time free of charge. The answer to the first question is a little more complex." He handed over the sheet of parchment. "This is a list of core subjects, electives, and 'special' studies available by the staff at Hogwarts."

The three Granger and Harry crowded round the parchment, reading through.

Core Studies:
Astronomy
Charms
DADA
Herbology
History of Magic
Potions
Transfiguration

Electives:
Ancient Runes
Arithmancy
Care of Magical Creatures
Divination
Muggle Studies

'Special' Studies:
Advanced Flight
Animagi
Apparition
Detection
Duelling
Headship Prep.
Healing
Legilimency
Magical First Aid
Occlumency
Portkey Creation
Prefect Training

Dumbledore continued. "Harry and Hermione will be able to select what they wish to study, and I will then arrange the appropriate tutor to call at your home for the training. Again, this will not cost you anything."

Dan read the list. "I don't recognise half of these words."

"I'm sure Miss Granger already knows what these subjects are." Snape said, speaking for the first time since he arrived. "However, some of the activities are legally age-restricted, such as apparition and Portkey creation, while others will be hampered by the ages of the children, such as Animagus training. However, training in these subjects will serve both children very well as they grow older."

"This seems like a lot of work." Emma said. "I mean, you've just finished a full year of schooling, and you look to be signing up for more."

Dumbledore again cleared his throat. "We're not suggesting that Mr. Potter or Miss Granger devote their entire summer to extra studies. Perhaps a few hours per day, five days per week. Maybe a morning lesson, or an evening lesson. Obviously, some subjects can be solely reading assignments, such as History of Magic, while in others, like Herbology, we could only cover theory-based work."

Emma looked at Hermione. "It's fine by us, sweetie. Just as long as you remember to have fun during the holiday. There's more to life than studying. Maybe even a holiday." She turned to Harry. "You're welcome to join us, Harry."

"Thank you, ma'am." He corrected himself at her glare. "Emma. I'm sorry. So, how about we start with..."


Harry took another drink of his water. "And that's how it began. I started spending time at Hermione's place, kipping with her with her parents' permission. And we began studying. Dumbledore modified Ron's memory, so that he'd think that his 'help' with dealing with Quirrellmort was beneficial, instead of bumbling his way through. I'd made five very good friends; Hagrid, Albus, Severus, Minerva and, of course, Hermione.

"I'd faced Voldemort again and survived. But, we all knew that just being able to survive wouldn't be enough. There was more to learn. I had arrangements made to have an enjoyable summer, and we began studying. But, both me and Hermione could feel that there was more coming... something on the horizon. So, we worked our arses off. And none of us were expecting what came next."


Author's Note:

(1) Yes, I am perfectly aware that Men In Black wasn't released until 1997, but then again, this is not a documentary; I'm allowed to manipulate the timeline since this is fiction.

(2) A quick note; back in 1992, the GBP (pound) was very strong in the economy, worth almost 2.00 at the time. That would make a standard telephone call 10p, or 20¢. Of course, now (2008), you need to put four times as much into a public phone to make it work (robbing bastards...)