A/N: Hi everyone! Here's the next chapter!

Chapter 7

Assistant Professor Archer Latham groaned as he stumbled into his tower and flattened his couch, just as a crisp dawn broke over Hogwarts. He felt sore and grumpy, and was rather amazed at how much magic he had been forced to use. Not to get past the Stone's defenses; no those had been child's play. But turning that child's play into a lethal defense for the stone, plus adding his own… special surprise, that had really taken it out of him. It was worth it, though. Anyone capable of taking Flamel's toy now would put the best professional curse-breakers to shame.

Just before falling asleep, he asked Steve, the man whose portrait hung over the fireplace, to inform Albus that he was not able to work that day. Dumbledore would understand, being the one who had asked him to protect the stone. Archer drifted off wondering who exactly Steve was.

He awoke to a gentle rapping at his door. If that was a Ravenclaw, Archer knew just what he'd say to them. He waved his hand and his clothes suddenly looked less rumpled, then got up and moved to the door, yanking it open. "Nevermore!" He shouted, then realized it was Harry standing there.

"What?" asked Harry, stepping back slightly. He had come after supper using the excuse he had invented the day before. None of his new friends questioned him as he left. They were well aware that memories of his deceased parents would be precious to him.

"Sorry." Archer grinned unrepentantly. "Is it Friday night already?"

"Yes," Harry replied slowly. "Were you drin-."

"Then by all means, come in, and we can play with your head a bit."

Harry sat down in a cushy chair, and his unofficial guardian sat opposite. For a couple of minutes he looked around at Archer's new home. He saw a few pictures of the Flamels and more of him, which he was told changed to American landscapes if anyone else looked at them. Odd trinkets littered the shelves. Yes, Archer appeared quite comfortable.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Archer asked quietly.

"Yes," Harry replied to his mentor, smiling, as he thought back to the first time this had happened. Just before they had left for Privet Drive, Archer told him to sit on a couch opposite him, similar to how they were seated now. Their other preparations had been taken care of, like writing his acceptance letter to McGonagall and the forged Hogwarts letter for the Dursleys.

"Harry." Archer had been deadly serious. "When you get to Hogwarts, you'll be in danger of revealing our secret."

"I'll never tell anyone," Harry protested, slightly hurt by Archer's apparent lack of trust in him.

Archer frowned. "You wouldn't willingly divulge information, but there are multiple branches of magic, and one is the dual art of Occlumency and Legilmency. To put it very simply, Legilmency gives the ability to break into people's minds and retrieve memories, while Occlumency alerts and secures your mind from such attacks. And there is at least one person at Hogwarts who is skilled at using both."

"Then you need to teach me!" Harry was frightened by the fact that someone could just break into his mind on a whim.

"I'm afraid I can't. It usually takes a very long time to learn, and this is magic that could be mentally damaging for someone your age to attempt to learn."

Seeing Harry's mutinous expression, he quickly said, "I'm not questioning your character or abilities. The younger you are, the harder it is to learn Occlumency." He smiled, "Luckily, I do know how to solve this problem. Many years ago, some friends helped me perfect a spell that targets certain memories." Archer had a nostalgic air about him as he continued. "It's useful, because when someone tries to enter your mind, those memories become the last thing you think of, so the assailant has to dig through every last memory you possess before he finds those targeted ones."

"In your case, they would have to slog through the ten years of awful memories from the Dursleys that I have given you from your clone. As you attend Hogwarts, there will be more and more mundane memories to protect the targeted ones."

Archer looked sadly at Harry. "The drawback of this technique is that it cannot be used to protect your entire mind, and knowing someone might callously sift through your memories, dreams, and thoughts is not a fun idea. Harry, I think protecting some of your memories is the best we can do for now, but whatever happens is your decision."

Green eyes stared back at blue ones as the boy considered the request. He appreciated the fact that Archer treated him like an adult, always telling him the truth, then taking his opinion seriously. It was obviously an integral part of the plan, yet the man hadn't done it without his knowledge, which could have been much easier. "Do it." He said, trustingly.

"Celaverimus!" Then and now, that was the spell Archer used. Immediately, a beautiful white light enveloped Harry's head. He tried to concentrate just on his two recent meetings with Archer, the memories they were trying to guard.

It was an easy task. Harry was still surprised by the facts he had learned so recently. Archer had told him that kind, quiet Nicholas was, in all likelihood, the world's premier alchemist.

He had also been told that Nicholas's greatest creation, the mythical Philosopher's Stone, was in Hogwarts, and Harry should not search for it under any circumstances. There had been a wicked gleam in Archer's eye when he had remarked that he had 'significantly increased' the protections the stone had.

As quickly as it had appeared, the white light faded. Archer and Harry stood up, walking to the door leading out of the tower. "We had better keep these meetings to a minimum, until we find better methods," Archer said reluctantly. "However, you must never hesitate to come to me in the case of an emergency."

Harry nodded, still thinking about the Stone as he walked back to the dormitories.

oOoOo

"Is it time, brother o' mine?"

"Indeed it is, old boy. Let's go see what adventures this deadly third floor corridor holds."

Fred and George Weasley shrugged off their blankets and crept out of their beds, making sure their roommates were asleep. George whipped a large, blank parchment and his wand out of his pajama pockets.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, tapping the parchment with his wand. It was no ordinary parchment. It was called the Marauders Map, the brainchild of Messrs. Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail. It not only showed the location of every room and hallway within the castle, a marvel considering the castle's ever-shifting layout, but the location and name of every person in Hogwarts as well. It was, effectively, a prankster's Holy Grail.

After silently blessing the Marauders, George spread the map out and Fred helped him see if the path to the corridor was free of patrolling teachers, prefects, or Filch. They no longer worried about Mrs. Norris.

"That's interesting." Fred pointed to the North - East tower. "Harry Potter's still at Mr. Latham's tower."

George grinned. "Bloody brilliant history lesson that man gave." Though, in all fairness, Binns did not set a high teaching standard.

"Mmm. We're clear. Let's go!" The twins rushed down into the common room, and out the portrait hole, where the Fat Lady was sleeping. Then they made their way down the Grand Staircase, bare feet quietly slapping the stone steps as they expertly made their way through the castle. Five minutes and one secret passage later, they were standing outside the door of the restricted third floor corridor.

"Here goes nothing," Harry heard, and stopped around the corner from the voice. His left hand held a note from Archer explaining him being out well after curfew, but the man had given him directions back to Gryffindor tower via the off-limits corridor, just so he'd know how to avoid it.

Who else would be outside the corridor this time of night. Thieves? As his heart rate quickened, he peeked around to corner to identify the miscreants, and wasn't extremely surprised to see the Weasley twins. Apparently Dumbledore's warning had interested them.

Harry watched as one of them stuffed a parchment in one pocket, then drew a collection of thin, strangely bent metal rods from the other.

"Let's try the Muggle way first," the twin said. After peering at the keyhole, he selected two of the rods, shoved them in, and began twisting and shifting them energetically. Immediately, the rods glowed red. The boy dropped them with a yelp as the rods glowed even brighter red, then disintegrated completely. "Blimey," the defeated Weasley said, blowing on his burnt hands.

"Never fear. Stand back, Fred," the other one said grandly. Harry's eyes widened with an idea. He knew how he could prank them. Whispering a spell very quietly, he pointed at the back of Fred's head, before hiding around the corner again.

Archer had taught him a spell to paint an ultraviolet mark on objects, as well as one for revealing those marks, so that they never got lost exploring an underground labyrinth in Syria they had stumbled upon. Archer had admitted that a normal painting spell was easier, but didn't want to ruin the labyrinth experience for other explorers.

Now Fred had a ultraviolet mark on the back of his head, which meant Harry could easily determine the twins' correct identities. The idea for the prank was still forming in his mind as he glanced around the corner, curious to see if they could trump Archer's protections. George waved his wand, and yelled, "Alohomora!" The whole door flashed red, and three spells shot out, knocking George out cold. He fell to the floor.

Fred stood for a few seconds, too startled to act, before he went down on his knees next to his fallen brother. "George, chum. SPEAK to me!" He wailed theatrically, before pulling out his wand and casting a quick Rennervate.

"Mission failed," George groaned. Fred nodded sadly. The twins rushed back to the dorms, and Harry followed at a safe distance.

oOoOo

Harry watched in amusement as the other first years stressed about the upcoming flying class. The Ravenclaws and Puffs had taken it yesterday, and poor Hermione had discovered that Quidditch Through the Ages hadn't helped her with the practical side at all. Some people were just rubbish at flying brooms. Neville had fared even worse, managing to break a wrist after kicking off prematurely and careening into a castle wall, falling stunned to the ground. The horrible school broom, of course, remained intact.

Harry had learned of these mishaps by visiting the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables during breakfast. He then dutifully relayed them to his Gryffindor friends, which hadn't boosted their confidence at all. Harry could tell that even Ron was nervous, though he had probably been flying for years. It showed when he started talking about a broom flight that involved running into hang gliders and a reverse Wronski Feint. Ridiculous. Harry himself was perfectly calm, because he actually had been flying for a couple of years, under Archer's tutelage. Archer wasn't at all fond of Quidditch, given the number of injuries the players usually sustained, even on an amateur level. However, he quickly saw that Harry was a natural on a broom, so he had bought him a trusty little Comet 260, which was currently at the Lighthouse due to the Hogwarts ban on first years having brooms.

Over the past couple of days, the school had gotten used to him having meals at different tables, and now he had friends in three Houses, which was brilliant. The bell finally rang for the end of Transfiguration, breaking his reverie. Harry packed away his book, and was rewarded with an approving smile from Professor McGonagall as he made his exit. He had been the very first to transfigure his matchstick into a needle. Really, all the core wand subjects seemed very easy after learning basic wandless magic under Archer, who turned into a perfectionist when teaching.

As the Gryffindors neared the designated flying pitch, a large grassy courtyard inside the castle, Harry tried to reassure his friends everything would be fine, but they were turning various shades of green, which gave Ron a distinctly Christmassy appearance. There were two rows of brooms on the pitch, lying facing each other. By unspoken consent, the Gryffindors lined up by one row, and the Slytherins, who trickled in more slowly, took the other.

Harry noticed a lot of posturing, and whispered insults flying back and forth. It was rather shocking how a House rivalry could be taken so far in the first week of school, when by rights, the students shouldn't know each other. Did everyone just copy their older siblings?

The whispers died down as Madam Hooch walked up to the pitch. She walked stiffly, and had spiky grey hair and bright yellow eyes. She glanced over the class quickly. "Everyone's standing by a broom? Good. Now stick your right hand over your broom, and say UP!"

Harry followed her instructions frowning as the broom whacked his right palm. It was a nearly worthless task, only a party trick really. It made the broom climb to chest height, which made it awkward to mount. He had figured out that brooms only seemed to respond that way to people who had practice flying, or were naturally talented, which was unfair to a lot of the class. Far better just to pick it up off the ground. Eventually everyone mounted their brooms, while Hooch corrected grips. After that they were told to hover for five minutes. Harry was falling asleep.

Finally, they were allowed to run basic drills, like flying through hoops, allowing them to practice gentle turns and dives. For the last half hour, they were allowed to play a massive game of broom tag.

At the end of class, Madam Hooch called for Harry, Ron, Draco, and two other Slytherins, a boy named Blaise Zabini, and a girl named Lily Moon, to stay behind. "You five are far beyond the others in terms of flying ability," Hooch said, surprising Harry. He hadn't tried to show off any. He stifled a snicker as both Ron and Draco preened, displaying frighteningly similar expressions. Hooch continued, "I suggest you all try out for the house teams next year." Lily gave a delicate snort. It was well known that Slytherin Quidditch Captain Marcus Flint did not allow girls on his team. "I will train you apart from your classmates," Hooch said. "Now, what positions do you want to play?"

"Seeker," Malfoy strutted. The easiest position, from Harry's point of view. It didn't involve any teamwork, and you had a good chance at coming away with more points than all three Chasers.

"Chaser," Moon said tonelessly.

"Chaser," Zabini said.

"K-keeper," Ron stuttered. Harry eyed him appraisingly. Nice long arms. He'd do.

"Chaser," Harry said, and watched the other would be Chasers look at him in surprise. He had basically just volunteered to practise with them.

"Wonderful!" Hooch smiled. "Off you go now. I'll have you all sorted out for the next lesson."

Harry raced back to the common room to continue planning his Weasley twin prank. Hogwarts was turning out to be even better than he had expected.