A.N: over 10k words! Woo! I feel accomplished.

Harry was bored out of his mind. Had he known that his little experiment over a month ago would make charms and transfiguration so dull, he might not have done it. It had gotten to the point where Harry could recreate most third year spells after watching a demonstration and performing a small number of unsuccessful attempts. And since these attempts didn't involve any wand movements or speaking, it looked like he wasn't doing anything at all. Whenever they had a practical lesson (which was nearly every lesson) Harry found himself with nothing to do after the first five or ten minutes. It felt like cheating...

Filtwick and McGonagall, who still weren't used to the idea of Harry being ahead of the other students, would occasionally demand that he pay attention, or that he demonstrate that he had figured out the spell and was not slacking off. Harry obliged, pointing his wand and silently casting whatever was required. One of the perks of being the boy-who-lived was that whenever he did something remarkable, people tended to accept it and move on. And so, no one was really that surprised that he wasn't using incantations to cast spells. No one even bothered to ask him how he did it.

Fortunately, defence against the dark arts was still fun. The spells were easy enough, and Lupin made the lessons enjoyable and entertaining. The professor did genuinely seem to care for Harry, which confused him a bit. At first, he thought that Lupin's kindness towards him was the same old hero worship that he was used to, but after a few months of class, it was clear that that wasn't the case. Whatever the reason, Harry found himself making excuses to spend more time with the mild-mannered teacher. He would stay after class to ask questions, or drop by unannounced on weekends to ask for clarification when he found a passage in a book that he didn't understand. In the back of his mind, Harry wondered if this was what it was like to have family.

He'd started to devote more effort to his other classes. His enchanted glasses and secret knowledge of spells didn't help him directly, but the free time they afforded him allowed the young Gryffindor do study more and spend more time on his homework. He grudgingly started to enjoy his potions homework. The classes were still unbearable, but when he was left to his own devices he found the subject was rather calming. In his spare time, Harry started experimenting with non-magical ingredients to make potions taste better. After weeks of experiments, he concluded that the only thing he really had to worry about was pH and viscosity. As long as he stayed away from really acidic fruits, or didn't change the consistency of the potion too much, his modified potions generally worked as they should. His mint flavoured dreamless-sleep potion, in particular, worked wonderfully. He passed that information along to the Weasley twins, who simply grinned knowingly and asked "Is that so?"

In any case, Harry now had a second result for his experiment notebook.

Hypothesis: Potions can be made to taste better by adding non-magical ingredients.

Conclusion: True, as long as they don't change the pH or the consistency.

That done, Harry decided to try tackle spell casting again. He'd more or less constructed a picture of how magic worked, at least on the basic level. Runes were created using some mysterious force that wizards called 'will', magic was manipulated by the beating of three hearts, and when the magic met the runes, things happened.

Will was the tricky part. One problem he faced was that it was extremely difficult to create runes if you didn't have a desired effect in mind. Only witches and wizards who were intimately familiar with their magical core, and who'd spent decades practicing could do it. As much as Harry wanted to cast each rune individually to try to figure out what they did, he couldn't. To complicate matters further, will didn't seem to work unless you knew that something was possible. So if Harry knew that a rune set existed that create a particular effect, he could usually cast the spell (there were a few exceptions to this. Healing, warding, alchemy, and other kinds of complex magic were still a mystery to him.) If he just picked an idea out of thin air, however, he couldn't.

The only way around this, as far as Harry could tell, was to find some way to get intimately acquainted with his magical core in order to be able to test out each rune. If he could figure out what they did, and how the grammar of the language worked, then he would be able to know, without checking a book, if a spell was possible. The problem with that was that anything involving contact with one's magical core was considered dark. The only legal way to do it was to live long enough and do enough magic that it became second nature, and Harry didn't want to wait eighty years before being able to continue his study.

~§~

He honestly didn't know how he'd missed it. For weeks, he'd been looking around his classrooms using his Slytherin specs, and only now did he notice Hermione's necklace. It was a remarkable piece of magic, and unlike an other he'd seen before. Rather than being written out as a paragraph with a clear beginning and end, the runes on her pendant wove around themselves in an intricate closed loop that reminded him of a celtic knot. He'd wondered briefly how loops of runes were different from the usual layout, but decided that there was no point in speculating until he could actually experiment.

He asked her about it during lunch.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering where you got that necklace."

"Oh, why?"

That wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. Trying to hide his surprise, he quickly replied, "Just curious. The chain is rather nice."

He wasn't lying, either. The chain was made of elaborate gold and bronze knots, interlinked in a way that made it curl into a loose helix.

"Oh, well thank you. My grandmother bought it for me from a muggle jewellery store."

Liar, thought Harry, though he was too amused by her nervous blush to really care.

"Careful, Harry," Ron teased, "first the glasses, and now this? Someone might think you're a poof!"

He laughed, along with a few of the Gryffindor boys, but they were the only ones. Hermione looked uncomfortable, and Harry couldn't help but feel slightly offended. Insulting gay people was something he was used to hearing from the Dursleys, not his friends.

"Oh, cheer up," laughed Ron as he punched him playfully on the shoulder, "I know you're not. I'm only joking."

~§~

That night, Harry decided it was time to take a trip to the restricted section. He'd spent days combing through books, looking for any sign reference to core magic. Needless to say, he was unsuccessful. So, taking care not to wake any of his housemates, Harry unpacked his invisibility cloak and snuck out of Gryffindor tower.

He'd gotten much better at navigating the castle at night. In first year, he'd been terrified of getting caught or getting lost. Now, though, he knew Hoqwarts halls like the back of his hand, and he could easily see when someone was nearby thanks to his enchanted eyewear. The restricted section was also much easier to navigate now that he could tell which books were cursed.

He took out his wand and used a handy little spell Hermione had taught him. It would make books glow based on how often a particular phrase appeared in them. He scanned the book shelves, skimming through everything that contained the phrase 'magical core'. There were quite a few; a lot more than he was expecting, in fact. Most of them, however, made only passing reference to it, and he quickly learned to ignore books that didn't glow particularly brightly.

After an hour of searching through every book (there were only about twelve that glowed brightly), the most useful thing he managed to find was a brief passage in an old healing text about magical exhaustion and other related ailments.

"Damage to the magical core is particularly difficult to diagnose due to the fact that there are no good methods of examining it. Only a handful of select wizards posses a strong enough connection to their core to detect anomalies. Therefore, we are limited to indirect methods of detection.

"In some extreme cases, the ministry may grant permission to use dark magic to probe the core directly. Should this need arise, readers will need to consult Myra Gorey's book on core magic (published 1264, banned in 1273). We caution readers to limit themselves to the first three chapters of said tome, as the rituals contained in the later half will have permanent effects."

That was it, then. One banned book, published centuries ago. That was his only lead. With a reluctant sigh, Harry copied the passage and returned to his dormitory.

~§~

The next day, Harry decided to stay behind after defence class. He'd been quite disappointed with last night's discovery and really wanted something to distract him. So summoning all of his Gryffindor courage, he asked the question that had been on his mind since the first lecture of the year.

"Professor."

"Yes, Harry? Did you have a question about today's lesson?"

"No, sir. I have a question but it's a bit more... um..." Harry bit his lip, "...personal."

Lupin, to his credit, just smiled encouragingly. Harry cleared his throat and continued.

"I was wondering why you're so nice to me, sir. Not that you're not nice to the other students, or anything. You're a great teacher. It's just that, well-

"It's all right, Harry," the older wizard interrupted, "I know what you mean."

He stared away for a moment, as if trying to organize his thoughts. Harry couldn't help but feel nervous. He hadn't felt this exposed since his first day of Hogwarts.

"I was friends with your father, Harry. We had a group of friends, a bit like Ron and Hermione with you, who did absolutely everything together. You wouldn't remember, but I spent a lot of time with you when you were a baby. We were close right up until the very end."

Lupin smiled sadly before continuing.

"I met him and the other in Hogwarts, and were friends long before your father started dating Lilly. We had a club, of sorts, called the Marauders. We were a bit like the Weasley twins, actually, and spent most of our time pranking people. I'm sure you could get some of the older professors to tell you stories.

"I guess I can't help but think of James whenever I see you, Harry. I'm sorry if it's made you uncomfortable. I know I should probably try to treat you like any other student. It's hard, though. You look just like him."

Harry shook his head. "It's fine, sir. I don't mind. I actually kind of... well..." Harry blushed. Why was it so hard to admit he enjoyed the attention? Lupin seemed to get the picture, though, and chuckled softly.

"Sir," Harry started to ask.

"You can call me Lupin, Harry."

"Right... well. Who were the others, if you don't mind me asking. The Marauders, that is."

"Apart from James and me, there was Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black. Peter died, though, and Black, as you know, turned out to be a death eater."

Harry could see that Lupin was getting uncomfortable, so he quickly changed the subject.

"What about my mother? Did you know her too?"

The defence professor smiled again and started telling Harry stories about his parents, and their time at Hogwarts. He didn't stop until hours later, when they were both forced to leave to attend dinner.

~§~

There was no other way, Harry decided. He'd spent weeks trying to find an alternative, but time was running out, and nothing else seemed to be working. It was almost too easy, in a way. Something illegal should be so easy. And yet, Harry was hard pressed to see any way in which it could go wrong. He still didn't like it, though.

It was now or never. Christmas Holidays were approaching, so if he didn't act now, he would have to wait until next year. And so, being as discreet as he could, he slipped a note into Malfoy's bag.

D. Malfoy,

I have a proposition for you. If you're at all curious, meet me in the abandoned potion's lab on the fourth floor tonight after dinner. Come alone.

H. Potter

~§~

It was a stupid idea. There was no way he was going to show up. And even if he did, he'd probably bring a teacher with him, or something. It didn't matter, though. He hadn't done anything wrong... not yet, anyway.

"So, Potter, what's this about you propositioning me?"

Harry winced. He really should have seen that coming. He ignored the jab and cast a few spells on the room. When he turned to face the Slytherin, he couldn't help but laugh when he noticed the bond had his wand in hand, and had assumed a defensive duelling pose.

"Calm down, Malfoy, I'm just casting proximity and silencing charms."

"What's so important that I had to come all the way up here, Potter?"

"I have a favour to ask," replied Harry, trying not to wince.

"What kind of favour?"

"I need a book."

Malfoy regarded him for a moment before relying.

"I know you're spoiled, Potter, but getting someone else to buy your school books is a bit much, don't you think?"

Instead of replying, the Gryffindor just handed him a piece of parchment. Malfoy had the decency to look impressed.

"That's some awfully dark magic, Potter. Why on earth would the golden boy want something like that? More importantly, what makes you think I'd know where to find such a thing?"

"One of your old house elves is quite fond of me, Malfoy. He's told me quite a lot."

That was a lie, of course. Dobby hated talking about the Malfoy's, but Draco didn't know that. Said boy frowned.

"You still haven't answered the first question."

"Does it matter?"

The Slytherin decided to ignore the question.

"What makes you think I won't just tell a teacher, Potter? This kind of thing would easily get you expelled."

Harry smirked. He'd thought of that.

"Do you really think they would believe you, Malfoy? You've been spreading rumours about me going dark for nearly a year. They would dismiss you out of hand. And besides, you've said so yourself, Dumbledore would let me get away with anything. I'm the golden boy, remember?"

Harry did his best to imitate a Slytherin smirk. Based on the blond's reaction, it worked better than he'd expected.

"All right, Potter," Malfoy began, much more cautiously than before, "suppose, hypothetically, that I agreed to get this book for you. What would you do for me?"

"I can pay you?"

"Is that a question?"

"No. I can definitely pay you."

"I have enough money, Potter. Try something else."

"I can show you the chamber of secrets. The basilisk should still be down there. You could collect rare potion ingredients."

The thought of Malfoy having access to basilisk venom was rather alarming, but Harry didn't have much else to offer. He sure as hell wasn't giving the git his glasses or his invisibility cloak.

"Good start, Potter, but I'm going to need more than that. This book is probably incredibly rare, based on the publication date, and I could be sent to Azaban if I was caught."

"I don't have anything else, Malfoy."

"How about those glasses?"

"No deal."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Pick something else."

Malfoy thought for a while before nodding.

"All right, how about this, you show me the basilisk and you'll owe me another favour, to be specified later."

"What kind of favour?"

"That's the point, Potter, it's to be specified later."

"I won't do anything that will harm anyone, bodily, emotionally, psychologically, financially, or otherwise."

Malfoy grit his teeth. "Fine."

"And I want the book after Christmas."

Malfoy was silent.

"Do we have a deal, Malfoy?" asked Harry, holding out his hand. The blond glared at him through narrowed eyes before quickly grasping his hand and saying: "Deal."

There was a bright white flash around them, accompanied by a slight burn in his palm.

"The fuck was that, Malfoy?!"

"Basic wizarding oath, Potter. Don't you know anything?"

Malfoy turned and left the room. Before he left, he hissed:

"And remember, Potter. You owe me."