AN: Alright people, here you go, just as you ordered. I think the updates will be coming at around this interval. One update per week, but I am busy man and I have a life outside of this so no promises. Also, as you can see below, I have responded to your reviews. This is how it will be from now on. If you leave a review with questions, I will try to answer them at the beginning of each update. When it gets to the point when there are too many reviews to logically answer(hopefully it will), I will simply pick the best ones. So, without furtherado, here is chapter two. Please sit back, and enjoy.

Emily: Oh my god, so many good points. Ok, how to explain this. As for Harry acting older/stiffer then a normal eleven year old, I am trying to walk a very fine line. He is definitely mature for his age, yet I think you are right in that I went a little over board. Still, the point is made. I'll see what I can do to clarify it in later chapters. And yes, there are similarities between Harry and young Tom Riddle, that was on purpose, but eventually those similarities will end. As for why Dumbledore went personally, I like to think that he feels a certain measure of responsibility towards Harry and, yes, in a way is singling him out (after all he did visit Riddle personally as well).

Le Diablo Blanc2: Thank you. This is the Harry I always thought would be better than the CANON version. And as for the Slytherins, a taste in this chapter, and more in the next.

ViolatedMonkey: Don't worry, my friend. I'm thinking the same thing. I don't know about Alchemy, considering I know almost nothing about it, but some of your suggestions are already in play, and more on top of those.

Cloudstrike: Yes and No. Kinda-sorta, but at the same time not at all. Just keep reading. For christ's sake, it's only the first chapter and you're all assuming Harry will be just like Tom!

Man of Constant Sorrow: Thank you. My only worry is that Harry will come off as unbelievably intelligent for a boy of his age. I want him more mature, and generally more intelligent, just not ridiculously so. And don't worry, both of those people are going to be in his circle, however there will be one from CANON that will not.

Chapter 2: On Alleys, Wands, and Goblins

A few days and much pondering (and no little amount of plotting) later, Harry found himself getting out of a taxi near the center of London. He paid the cabbie with a few pounds he had nicked from his uncle and then surveyed his surroundings. The pub didn't look like much: a small rundown building with a creaky sign out front. But then, maybe that was the point. He reached up briefly to pull the beanie he was wearing further down on his head, hoping to hide his scar. He didn't know how much of what the headmaster had told him was true but he didn't want to take any chances. He was hoping to pass the whole day without being noticed. After he made sure his hat was secure, he walked briskly through the front door of the pub. Instantly he knew that his hopes of going unnoticed were all but dashed. Crowding the dingy bar were dozens of people bustling around all wearing robes: different colors, designs and shapes, but robes nonetheless. And Harry, wearing his muggle jeans and T-shirt, was bound to stick out. He immediately made a mental note to visit the wizarding clothing store first.

Slowly making his way around the edges of the room, trying to go unnoticed, bright flashes of green light caught his attention. He turned to look and almost fell on his ass in astonishment. Along the far wall, was a neat row of several tall fireplaces (which was odd in and of itself). But, the sheer number of them aside, people, with a sharp cackle and flash of green flame, were, quite literally, walking out of them. Harry stared at the phenomenon for several long moments, trying to discern if his eyes were deceiving him, until he shrugged it off and turned back towards his destination. When dealing with magic, he supposed, stranger things were possible.

Scanning the crowd, he quickly singled out the man he assumed was Tom the Bartender, a tall scruffy looking, dark-haired man standing behind the bar. Harry waited until it appeared that Tom had a free moment and approached. "Excuse me, Tom?" He hesitantly required, not entirely sure he had found the correct man. His fears, though, turned out to be for naught as the man jovially responded, "That's my name. Don't wear it out." With a grin on his face, he set the glass he was cleaning down and turned his attention to Harry. "Now, what can I get you, young sir? If you don't mind me sayin', you look a bit young for firewhiskey or even butter beer for that matter. Have you lost your parents?" Harry smiled at the cheerful man. "No, I am here by myself. I've never been before I was told you could inform me how to get into Diagon Alley." Tom was shocked. "All on your lonesome? And on your first visit, too? Now, I'm not sayin' that Diagon Alley ain't safe, but ain't you a bit young to be runnin' around all by yourself?" Harry put on his most winning smile and gave a small laugh, "Don't worry, Tom, I'm used to it. I go most places without supervision." Tom chuckled. "Ya know, I really should turn ya away and tell ya to come back with your parents. But then again, you don't seem like a normal kid." With that, Tom led Harry toward the back of The Cauldron, to a blank brick wall. Then, taking his wand in hand, he tapped a series of bricks. For a few seconds nothing happened. Harry was about to ask Tom when the wall started to move. And not the wall as whole, each individual brick came out of its place and rolled either to the side or straight up towards the ceiling until the blank wall and turned into an archway. The site through the archway, however, made the actual transformation look bland. Laid out before him was a long street bustling with activity. Shops of all kinds were lined up on either side. Men, women and children were running all about carrying packages and trunks. People were swooping in from above flying on what looked like brooms. Off to one side was an area where people were literally popping into existence. "Welcome, young sir, to Diagon Alley." Tom said with a sweeping gesture at the alley. "Be careful in there, and take care who you talk to. As a matter of fact, I never caught you name." Harry, too shell-shocked at the moment to be thinking clearly responded, "Harry. Harry Potter". With that he walked into the Alley leaving a very dumbfounded Tom behind.

Harry was in a daze as he walked down the alley, drifting from shop window to shop window. He didn't know how much of this stuff he needed, hell, he didn't even know what half the stuff was. But at the moment, he was content to just observe, browse and relish his first real experience of the wizarding world. He got a few curious glances from passers-by due to his attire but he ignored them. At least he hadn't been recognized yet. He passed shops full of cauldrons, books, writing supplies and broomsticks (he presumed for flying). He passed cafes and offices for a wizarding paper he had never heard of. And it wasn't until he came to a towering white marble structure, with a large sign that labeled it as the wizarding bank Gringotts, did Harry's brain finally wake up from its stupor and begin to function again. This was his first stop. He would need money before he could begin crossing things off his list, after all.

Swiftly climbing the large pyramid of steps in front of him, Harry was soon entering through the large double doors to the bank. He had only taken a few steps inside when, for the third time that day, he was nearly floored in astonishment. Standing behind the counters and administering to the various costumers of the bank were not people, but small, squat, green creatures with long ears and pointed teeth. Their entire bodies seemed wrinkled like the skin of ninety-year-old men. Their fingers were gnarled and twisted, ending in long, sharp, yellow nails. They were, without a doubt, the most horrifying creatures Harry had ever seen. But, seeing as no one else in the bank seemed to have any qualms at their existence, Harry walked timidly towards the nearest free teller. "Excuse me, I'd like to make a withdraw from my account." "Name?" barked the creature, not looking up from the stack of papers he was furiously scribbling on. "Harry Potter." Now that caused the creature to look up. He survey Harry up and down with a raised eyebrow. Well, technically the creature had no eyebrows to speak of, but Harry did see the muscle that would normally house an eyebrow twitch upward slightly. "Indeed?" growled the creature. "I'm surprised you made it here in one piece, Mr. Potter. Your appearance in Diagon Alley is likely to cause a stir." Harry gave a small smile, "Well, the fact that no one has ever seen me before gives me a slight edge. All I have to do is cover this pesky scar." Harry said, gesturing to the beanie. "So far the ruse seems to be working, so if you could keep the fact that I am here quiet, I would be most grateful." The creature smiled a big toothy grin that was more terrifying then comforting. "Have no worries, Mr. Potter, your family was always good to us goblins. You don't have to worry about me givin' you away."

Now it was Harry's turn to raise his eyebrows. 'So they are Goblins', Harry thought, 'Interesting. I wonder what other 'mystical creatures' exist in this world.' "Now," continued the Goblin, "How much were you hopin' to withdraw today, Mr. Potter. Anything less than ten thousand Galleons and I can give to you right away. Anything more, and you'll have to take a trip to your vault and withdraw it personally." Harry thought about it. "Could you tell me how much I have in my vault? I've never been here and haven't received any statements before." The goblin nodded. "Could I have your hand, Mr. Potter?" he asked, pulling a knife from somewhere underneath his desk. Harry eyed the knife warily and his hand didn't leave his side. The goblin, seeing his hesitancy, explained. "Blood identification, Mr. Potter. Just a small slice on your palm, a few drops of blood, just to prove you are who you say you are. Can't be givin' out Potter account information to just anybody. The cut will heal almost immediately after." Understanding the reasoning, Harry offered the goblin his hand, and a quick slash later, a few drops fell onto the piece of parchment waiting on the table below. Just as the goblin had said, the cut healed remarkably fast. Magical knife, Harry presumed. Then, Harry's attention was drawn to the now bloodied piece of paper. Instead of pooling together, as drops of any liquid are prone to do, the drops started to swirl, shimmer and elongate, until they formed words that stretched across the parchment. "Hmmm. Yes." The Goblin said, picking up the paper, "Hadrian James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Potter nee Evans. Everything seems to be in order." Harry's eyes narrowed when the goblin read his name. 'Since when am I Hadrian?' he thought. But he didn't have time to comment, because the goblin soon had disposed of the piece of parchment and had pulled out another, seemingly from thin-air, and was handing it to him. "Here you are Mr. Potter. Unfortunately, since you are not of age as of yet, you do not have access to your family vault. I can't even let you see a list of its contents. However, this is statement regarding the Trust Vault that your parents set up for you to get you through school." Harry nodded absently, looking down at the rather short list on the paper he was holding.

TRUST VAULT OF HADRIAN JAMES POTTER

-750,000 G.

-Misc. Family Heirlooms

His eyes widened slightly. He had no idea of 750K was a lot of galleons, but it sure seemed like it. He was also curious at what family heirlooms his parents had bothered to put in his trust vault, but decided to leave them for now. He really didn't have time today to go browsing through old family artifacts. Handing the slip back to the goblin, He reached into his pocket to retrieve his school supplies list. "Mr…" Harry paused as he realized he had no idea what to call the goblin. "Griphook, Mr. Potter." The goblin offered helpfully, taking back the vault statement. Harry smiled in thanks. "Mr. Griphook, I have a list here for school supplies, and I don't know much on how currency in this world works. Could you take a look and see if ten thousand galleons will be enough to cover it all? I would rather not have to visit my vault today." Griphook nodded and eyed the list carefully. After a moments, He handed the list back to the boy. "Most indefinitely, Mr. Potter." He said with a grin. "In fact, I'd wager that only three thousand would suffice." Harry nodded and pocketed the supplies list. That affirmed that 750K was indeed a substantial amount of galleons. 'If that's how much I have in my trust vault, I wonder how rich I really am.' He thought to himself."Still, I'll withdraw ten thousand, just to be sure. Something else might catch my eye." Harry responded with a slight smile. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. Indeed." Griphook said, reaching under the counter. "Here you are." He produced a small bag with what Harry assumed to be the Gringotts seal on the side. Harry eyed the bag dubiously. As far as he knew, Galleons were gold coins. That bag should be a lot bigger. Griphook rasped out a sharp laugh at Harry's face. "Magic, remember Mr. Potter? Don't worry. I'm not trying to swindle you. They are all in there." Harry still looked doubtful but he took the bag anyway. "For your sake, they had better be." He said, with a pointed look at the goblin. Griphook felt a small shudder go down his spine, but ignored it as he watched the young boy walk away. He was just a kid. Nothing to fear from him, right?

Walking out of the bank, Harry took a glance at his list. The first thing on it was the uniform specifications. Relieved to finally get out of his conspicuous clothing, Harry glanced up and down the street. Quickly, his eyes found a large sign that read Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, and he made his way toward it. The door dinged as he walked through it, and in no time at all, a short, stocky woman came bustling out of an adjoining room. "Hello deary. What can … Oh, would you look at those clothes! You can't go walking around Diagon wearing that!" The large woman gave a small huff before smiling again. "But I forget myself, deary. Hogwarts for you as well, I suppose?" Harry nodded mutely, and barely had time to prepare himself before he was whisked off into the room the woman had originally come from. "Right this way. I'm already fitting someone but if you'll just have a seat, I'll get to you in just a moment." Harry thanked her and sat in one of the numerous waiting chairs lining the wall. Standing up on a slightly elevated platform, in front of several mirrors, was a boy with bright blonde hair about his age. Apparently, Harry chose a seat too close to the stage because the other boy felt the need try and strike up a conversation. "Hello." The boy called from where he was being fitted by the large woman, who Harry now assumed was Madam Malkin. "This is your first year at Hogwarts, too? My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." The smug look on the boy's face and the way he said his name, as if it demanded respect, instantly made Harry want to grimace in dislike. But Harry managed to nod politely before turning his attention somewhere more pleasant, the wall, for instance. The smile on Draco's face began to fade. "What? You don't have a name?" Without looking back at the annoyance, Harry simply said, "Hadrian." He had come to quite like the name. Especially since 'Harry' Held such a stigma with it. "Hadrian…?" Came a questioning response from the boy accompanied with a smirk. This time, Harry turned and looked at Draco, giving him the full force of his green-eyed gaze. Draco repressed a shudder. "Just Hadrian to you." Harry responded. "My last name is none of your business." He had no intention of telling this pompous prick, of all people, who he was.

Draco flushed slightly in anger, but he shrugged it off and tried a different tactic. "So what house do you think you'll be in? I'm sure I'm going to be in Slytherin." Harry simply gave him a blank, questioning look, having no idea what he was talking about. Draco's eyes turned critical. "You know, the four houses of Hogwarts? Do you know anything about our world? You're not a mudblood are you?" By the way Madam Malkin ceased her work briefly and gasped in surprise, Harry surmised that 'Mudblood' was a derogatory term, so he quickly ran it through in his mind.

Mudblood

-Someone with dirty or tainted blood/ancestry

-Could mean non-magical parent(s)

-would explain why being one would increase ingnorance of magical world.

-Blood Purity might be strong issue in Magical world. Perhaps Status, Nobility, or Wealth?

Harry analyzed his brief outline, then decided to take a guess. He shrugged slightly at Draco. "No. My parents were magical, but they died when I was young. I was raised my aunt and uncle. They aren't magical." "You were raised by muggles?!" Draco exclaimed quickly, the disgust clear in his voice. "That's disgusting! I've never heard of such a thing…" He paused as if to collect his thoughts but whatever prejudiced tirade he was about to let loose, was cut short by Madam Malkin telling him she was finished. With one last glance at Harry, Draco stormed out of the shop. Harry then stood calmly and walked toward the stage. As Madam Malkin started to work on his measurements, she softly murmured to him, "Don't mind him, Deary. Some wizards have just got it in their heads that they are better than all the others. The Malfoys are the worst sort." Harry gave a small reassuring smile, "Don't worry Madam, I've dealt with his kind before." Indeed, Malfoy did remind Harry strongly of his Uncle Vernon: full of blind prejudice and narcissistic obsession. The rest of the measuring, they spent in silence. When she was done, Madam told Harry that the robes would be delivered within the week. So he paid for them and left.

The rest of Harry's time shopping passed uneventfully. He spent an extended amount of time in the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, browsing many of their volumes. He understood very little, but assumed that was what Hogwarts was for, so mostly just stuck to the books on his list for school. The only exception had been on the subject of Herbology. He had been overjoyed when he read that an entire class of Hogwarts was dedicated to the growth of magical plants, and his imagination started to run wild with the possibilities that magical plants offered. So, aside from the required school text, he also picked up Plants from A to Z: An Encyclopedia of Magical Plants by Matilda Connerspike, and an interesting volume titled Create your Own!: A beginners Guide to Mag. Plant Crossbreeding by the same author. Eventually, Harry managed to drag himself out of the bookstore and back out onto the street. Looking down at his list, he realized that the only thing left on his list was his wand. He would debate getting a pet at a later date. He grinned in anticipation of finally getting his wand and started down the street toward where he had seen Ollivander's Wand Shop earlier. However, as he was passing by a shop called the Magical Menagerie, he felt something that made him stop. It was as if something was…pulling him toward the shop. Slowly following the light tug on his will, he entered the shop, which turned out to be a magical pet store. 'Looks like I might be getting a pet after all.' Harry thought, as he followed the pull toward the avian section. Soon, Harry found himself surrounded by the hoots of hundreds of owls of all different colors. Immediately, one owl, a snowy white one, caught his eye and he made a move towards it, but the tug pulled him past and further down the aisle. Then, at the end of the aisle stood a large cage, and inside stood a bird that took Harry's breath away. It was deep, pitch black, with sharp talons, a vicious beak and blood red, squinty eyes. It was a raven, and the pull was leading him straight towards it. Harry approached it and, for a reason unknown to him, started to reach his small hand between the bars of its cage. But the vicious looking bird did not strike but almost seemed to lean forward, welcoming Harry's touch. As soon as they made contact, though, a bright flash of light caused Harry to jerk his hand away. He looked at it in confusion when, suddenly, he heard a deep, masculine and almost respectful voice, 'My Lord'. Harry whirled around, furious with himself for being snuck up on, but found nobody. The Raven gave a short caw, that Harry somehow knew was a laugh. 'I am behind you, my Lord.'Came the voice again, that Harry suddenly realized was in his head, and not spoken out loud. Slowly Harry turned around and looked at the raven who now seemed to have an amused expression with his head cocked to one side. "You're in my head." Harry said bluntly. The raven nodded. "Why are you in my head?" Harry asked. 'Well, I am your familiar, my Lord. How else would I communicate with you?'The raven said with what Harry would swear was a smirk. How the raven could smirk with a beak, Harry didn't know, but he was almost positive it was. "My Familiar?" Harry said, starting to put two and two together. 'Yes, my Lord.' "So, that flash of light was…" 'A familiar bond, my Lord.' "And what does a familiar do, exactly?" Harry asked, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. He could remember wizards having familiars from the old stories, but he couldn't remember any details. The raven gave another short caw-chuckle. 'I see you are new to this world, my Lord. Very well, I shall instruct you. In short, a Familiar is a wizard's companion. I can also help to extend your magical reserves a bit. I will fight, spy or whatever you need at your command. I am at your service.' Harry thought on it for a bit and saw no down side. "I don't suppose Familiars are free?" Harry asked hopefully. The Raven chuckled. 'Alas, no my Lord. You will have to purchase me.' Harry sighed before picking up the cage. "Well it was worth a shot, wasn't it? What shall I call you, anyway?" 'Kegen, my Lord. My name is Kegen A'san.' Harry nodded, and made his way to the front desk.

Thirty minutes later, found Harry finally making his way out of the Magical Menagerie. It had taken quite a bit of time to convince the desk clerk that, not only was Kegen not going to kill him as soon as Harry let him out of the cage, but that he also had money to pay for him. The clerk had absolutely refused to believe that Kegen was his familiar, claiming that no one his age ever felt a 'familiar pull' as he put it, until finally Harry was forced to open the cage, take Kegen out and show that the raven wasn't hostile. Harry smiled as he thought back. It was probably the fact that the raven would be hostile toward the clerk on his command that had clinched the deal. Kegen had done a number on his hands. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he was on his way to get his wand.

A bell tolled when Harry walked through the door to Ollivander's Wand Shop, but no one came to greet him. Harry waited for a few minutes and was about to call out to the back of the shop when a voice came from behind him, causing him to jump. "Well, well, well. Finally Harry Potter finds his way into my store." Twirling around, Harry came face to face with a elderly man with long grey hair. "How did you know who I was?" Harry asked in a low voice, his hand creeping up to his beanie to make sure it was still there. The man gave a short laugh. "Calm yourself, Mr. Potter. I mean you no harm. I won't go spreading it around that you're here either. And to answer your question, I can recognize you even without your scare. It seems only yesterday when your parents came through those doors, looking for their own first wands. You look just like them, you know." The man said with a small smile. Harry relaxed a little, but was still wary of the man. "Are you Mr. Ollivander?" He asked. "Indeed, Mr. Potter." Ollivander replied with a smile. "But you can drop the mister. Just Ollivander is fine. Now, let us see if we can find you a wand. Or, more like help the wand find you. For it is the wand that chooses the wizard you know." Harry was slightly mystified at that last statement but followed Ollivander to the counter figuring he would soon find out. Ollivander started rifling through rows upon rows upon shelves of long thin boxes, all while calling out questions. "What is your primary hand?" "Do you like to write in cursive, or print?" "Do you often work with your hands?" Even down to "What is your favorite color?" Harry answered all of these, raising an eyebrow somewhat at the last one, and waited for Ollivander to return. He was not long waiting, for Ollivander soon came up to the counter with several boxes stacked in his arms. "Ah, here we go, try this one. 9 ½", oak, dragon heartstring core, nice and firm. Very good for transfiguration. Give it a wave." Harry took the wand and, feeling slightly ridiculous, started to twirl it. He wasn't even going for a full second before the wand was snatched from his hand. "No, no. That's no good. Here we go. 10", Elm, unicorn hair core, a little swishy. Useful for Charms and rune-making…" and on and on they went until they had used up all the wands that Ollivander had initially brought over and he was forced to go get more.

After an hour or so, Harry started to worry that he would never find a wand, but Ollivander just looked more and more excited. "A tricky customer, eh? I haven't had one this good in years. People are just too predictable now-in-days…" he said with a grin as he rummaged through his shelves for the umpteenth time. As more time and useless wands passed, Harry started to get hot in the shop. Ollivander must have had the heat up, and it was July! Taking off his beanie and setting it aside, he freed his ponytail and started to air off his head. He was sweating all over. Just then Ollivander came back with another box. He looked confident about this one. "Alright. This is the one. 11", Holly, Phoenix feather core, nice and supple." Harry took it and gave it a wave just like the others. Ollivander seemed to wait longer than the others, but still, nothing happened. Taking the wand back and returning it to its case, he mumbled something that sounded to Harry something like "…Dumbledore seemed sure…". Putting aside the case, Ollivander gave Harry a long penetrating look. Then flitting his eyes from Harry to the raven, Kegen, he spoke. "That is your familiar, is it not, Mr. Potter?" Harry nodded in response. Ollivander left, going deep into his shop muttering, "I wonder, I wonder…" When he returned, he was holding a case that looked older than the rest. Indeed, Ollivander soon affirmed that saying, "This Mr. Potter, is one the oldest wands in my shop and if it is your wand, well, I must say you have expensive taste." With that, he opened the case and withdrew a wand that was so black it was almost purple. From the tip toward the middle, the wand was straight, but after it certain point it started to corkscrew slightly. At the end, the wood curled in toward itself and nestled firmly in the loop was deep red gem. "11 ¼", Wenge wood, Thestral hair core with a red spinel for magical focus, pliable. Very good for battle magic and … necromancy. " He said as he gingerly, almost fearfully handed the wand to Harry. As soon has Harry's fingers touched the wand, it felt warm in his hands and his magic thrummed in response. Harry gave it a wave and immediately red sparks shot out of the tip and the room got visibly darker. Ollivander's eyes flitted around nervously but Harry was too engrossed by his new wand to really notice. Ollivander chuckled nervously, "Well Harry," he said, "You certainly are filled with surprises. But then, when have you ever been normal." Harry gave a small smile to that. 'It is a magnificent wand, my Lord.' Kegen said, throwing in his two cents. Harry was about to put the wand in his pocket when Ollivander stopped him and handed him a gadget made primarily of leather straps. "It's a wrist holster, Harry." He explained, seeing the boy's confusion. Then he showed him how to put it on and insert his wand. "Now, just give your wrist a flick and the wand will spring free." Harry did so, but wasn't quick enough in his grab and the wand clattered to the floor. Ollivander chuckled as the slightly embarrassed boy bent over to pick it up. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter. I will come with practice." He assured. Harry thanked him and paid for the items, his wand apparently costing significantly more than most due to its age and the rarity of the ingredients.

The last thing on his list crossed off, Harry grabbed the trunk he had bought filled with all his supplies, and Kegen's cage and started toward the exit. However he hadn't gone twenty, when he heard someone shout beside him. "Bloody Hell! It's Harry Potter!" Harry and half of the alley froze. Harry grabbed his head and then, with a groan, realized he had left his beanie in Ollivander's shop. Deciding quickly, Harry put on a burst of speed and walked briskly toward the exit, which wasn't hard as people parted the way for him. Finally escaping the alley, Harry was half embarrassed, half furious at the people who were openly ogling his forehead. Luckily, whether out of fear or respect, nobody approached him, and Harry was able to leave The Leaky Cauldron without losing his temper or his sanity. Quickly calling a taxi, he loaded his things into it, ignoring the cabbies curious looks at Kegen and went home.

AN: And another one down and up! We'll get through this book in no time. Ok, real quick. I'm holding a contest. The first one to guess what Kegen A'san(Harry's familiar) means and in what language it's in, will get to insert an OC character of their choice into the story. And before you go running off to google translate, I changed the spelling slightly, so beware. So, if you feel like you know it(or you really know how to work google translate) send your guess in in a review with a brief outline of the OC character you want me to add(name, age, house, personality, etc.) It can even be a character of another book or movie if you want to. Just know if you go that route, I won't be making this story a crossover, I'll just integrate and adapt that character to the Harry Potter Universe. Anyway, thank you for reading. Please review and I should have the next chapter up soon.

Lord Sweater, Out