The Boys Who Lived

Casper felt as if his insides were being turned into scrambled egg. The revelation of his magical power, as well as the sudden teleportation, could well have caused him to throw up everything inside his stomach - but luckily he hadn't eaten for over a day.

They appeared inside the strangest building he had ever seen, one that was - to his guardians annoyance - filled with patrons, who sipped steaming beverages of brightly coloured liquids. Cocktails, thought Casper, like Mad Maddie sometimes makes.

'Harry!' called a middle-aged woman from behind the bar, she had a kind face that was shrouded in thick smoke from the pipe she smoked, 'I just got Neville's message, it's wonderful to see you!'

The bar erupted in activity, and Harry, Casper's guardian, was quickly surrounded by what Casper assumed must be his fellow wizards and witches. It was almost as if he was famous.

'Bloody great to see you!' shouted one, eyes wide.

'You can bet the Auror department misses you, Harry!' said another knowingly, giving him a wink.

Harry had turned a delicate shade of red, and he shook many hands as the men and woman crowded around to welcome him, almost as if he had been missing for a long time.

'So, is it true?' said the wide eyed witch, 'has the chosen one become the Headmaster of Hogwarts?'

Harry stammered an unintelligible reply as the room launched into a fresh wave of cheers and gossip.

'Who better to teach the future of our kind?' called a man who had climbed atop a wobbly table, 'than Harry Potter, vanquisher of the Dark Lord!'

There was a cheer, and Harry looked positively horror struck. He sought Casper through the throng of bodies, and beckoned him towards the bar. Harry shoved his way through the crowd, making apologies and excuses, all the while ignoring the various compliments and cheers that followed him.

They eventually escaped through the bar, and out into a small, walled courtyard. They were completely alone, excepting a dustbin and a variety of overgrown garden weeds.

'Are you famous?' Casper asked, as Harry gulped in several deep breaths.

He nodded impatiently, and Casper fell silent, although his head had filled with a hundred questions. He could've sworn someone in the bars' hair colour had changed colour at least twelve times, and one of the ladies had an owl sat atop her shoulder.

Harry sucked in several more breaths, and Casper verged on asking whether he was having a panic attack, like his old room-mate Owen used to have, much to Mad Maddie's irritation. Before he could, however, Harry had swept his wand, producing a heavy cloak like the one Casper wore, except Harry's had a large, black hood.

'Much better.' he said, throwing the hood over his head.

'Did you kill a dark lord?' blurted out Casper, the curiosity gaining control of his tongue.

'No,' denied Harry hastily, 'I killed the Dark Lord - and don't look at me like that, he killed me first.'

Harry stepped past Casper, who found himself speechless, and tapped his wand three times on a specific brick in the wall, which proceeded to wriggle unlike any brick Casper had previously seen.

He watched, open mouthed, as a hole appeared, small at first but growing wider and wider. Before he knew it, the wall had changed into a large archway that led onto a twisting cobbled street.

'Welcome to Diagon Alley,' said Harry with false merriment, 'Try not to touch anything that looks like it might eat you.'

The archway shrunk behind them, but Casper barely noticed. He stared in amazement at a world so completely and wonderfully different to his own, that he was suddenly sad that it had taken him eleven years to discover it.

'What happened to your parents?' asked Harry, out of the blue, as Casper ran his finger along the rim of a gigantic copper cauldron. 'We need one of those, size two.' he added.

'Car crash,' said Casper, almost too quickly. It was a lie he had practised since he was old enough to lie.

'Doubt it,' said Harry, seeing through him with ease. They had entered a shop that exclusively sold cauldrons; cauldrons of every shape, size and material, cauldrons Casper could climb inside and bathe in.

'Fine, they were murdered,' admitted Casper coldly. It was half the truth, but it was enough to convince Harry, who promptly purchased a size two cauldron, and vanished it into thin air.

'It'll be waiting for you at Hogwarts,' explained Harry, bidding a farewell to the warty salesman.

'How old were you when it happened?' asked Harry, almost casually, but he was watching Casper oddly.

'About nine,' Casper shrugged, distracted by about a hundred things more interesting than the conversation; such as a shop which sold bat spleens by the barrel. 'I don't remember it; they kept me in hospital for two months.'

'Funny pair we make,' said Harry to himself, 'The boys who lived.'

Casper caught himself scratching his arms where his skin had been magically healed, imagining the itchy, red welts that had lined his skin this morning. The same cuts that he had awakened with the night his parents were murdered...

'Here we are,' said Harry, stopping outside a building the colour of solid ice.

Engraved above the burnished bronze doors was the name 'Gringotts Wizarding Bank'. The building towered above all others in the odd, little street. Wizards and witches sauntered in and out of the building at their leisure, nodding their greetings to a squat, swarthy creature that stood guard beside the doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold.

'Goblins,' muttered Harry, as they climbed the stone steps. Something in his tone betrayed a warning to Casper, and he kept his eyes ahead as the Goblin looked him up and down.

They entered a large, marble atrium. Hundreds of Goblins lined the walls, sat atop high stools behind a long, winding counter. Behind them were doors, of all shapes and sizes, that Goblins and wizards alike crept in and out of. Harry led Casper to the nearest unoccupied Goblin, and placed the key that his partner had given him on top of the counter.

'Good morning, I've got an orphaned Muggle-born wizard with a severely traumatising past, and he's going to need some of the Hogwarts gold to get him safely through his first year at Hogwarts.'

'No,' replied the Goblin, without looking up.

'What do you mean no?' growled Harry, aghast. 'His parents were murdered.'

'I mean precisely what I said - no.' the Goblin retorted, pausing his business to fix Harry with an evil stare.

'Don't tell me you're still upset about the dragon.' said Harry hotly, placing his hands on the counter and leaning forward.

'It was a valuable specimen -'

'Dragon?' piped Casper, unwilling to be left out of a suddenly interesting conversation, 'what dragon?'

'The Ukrainian Ironbelly that Mister Potter stole -'

'You stole a dragon?' Casper shouted, drawing looks from those closest to them.

'Borrowed, actually,' said Harry, pulling his hood tightly about his face, 'and it was only for an hour.'

'The dragon was never seen again.' said the Goblin, a threatening gleam in his eye.

'Well I was having a bit of a stressful day.' spat Harry, who was now nose-to-nose with the Goblin.

Nobody spoke for at least a minute, and Casper was certain they would be promptly kicked out of the building. Several more tense seconds passed, before the Goblin's pointed nose twitched, and he reclined back in his stool. Harry relaxed his shoulders, and the Goblin placed a single finger atop the vault key.

'Your friend Hermione Granger has done wonderful work within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and for that reason alone I will grant you access to your vault, Headmaster Potter.' said the Goblin slowly, although Casper could tell it pained him to do so.

If Casper had still been sceptical regarding the sudden turn of events, the next twenty minutes of his life would have cemented the fact that he had entered a world filled with wizards, dragons, Goblins and Dark Lords.

A small, unsafe looking cart took them on a journey through the twisting belly of Gringotts, past ancient looking vaults, cascading waterfalls and a massive underground lake. They eventually stopped at what Casper assumed must be the deepest, and darkest of the vaults.

The Goblin pulled back a giant, circular, bronze hatch, which billowed dark, green smoke into the trio's faces. Upon waving the smoke away, Casper gasped at the sight of a genuine treasure trove, holding vast amounts of gold and silver coins, as well as precious objects, and ancient looking weaponry.

Harry scooped a modest amount of coins from the vault, tipping them into a sack, and handed them to Casper.

'This is a year's allowance, probably. Spend it wisely.'

First, Casper bought his wand. It was perhaps the strangest purchase of his life, as he spent a good amount of time waving wooden sticks around until the man that ran the shop - a tall, dark man named Dean who was on very friendly terms with the Headmaster - placed a yew-wood wand into his hand, which grew warm at the merest touch. As directed, Casper wafted the wand around the room, feeling a little silly, but gasped in surprise when the candles along the walls suddenly turned a shocking shade of green.

He purchased a set of glass phials, a brass scale, and a state-of-the-art telescope. He was forced to wait patiently while Harry examined a series of broomsticks, alongside a group of teenagers, and was then whisked quickly past a bizarre jokes and sweets shop by an anxious Harry, who seemed to want nothing to do with 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes'.

Casper could've spent hours in Flourish and Blotts, the booksellers in the north side of Diagon Alley. He found particular joy in hunting down each of the books on his list, as well as a few extras that the Headmaster recommended, such as Hogwarts: A History. He also bought a small book of tricks, such as incantations for shuffling cards and extending handkerchiefs, which he couldn't wait to try out.

Eventually he found himself in a tangle of enchanted measuring tapes bewitched by an elderly seamstress. She had cast away the overlarge robe that Casper had taken from Harry in the tree-house, and outfitted Casper in a completely new wardrobe, including corduroy jeans, which she insisted all the children were wearing.

As she began to pin his Hogwarts robes to the right length, another boy entered the store with his father, who was attempting to look as important as possible.

'Is that Harry Potter?' said the man curiously, spotting Harry lingering at the back of the store. 'I'd recognize that scar anywhere.'

Casper knew what he was referring to; a lightening-shaped scar that zigzagged across the Headmaster's forehead, one he hadn't summoned the courage to ask about yet.

'Hullo,' said Harry noncommittally, shaking the man's hand with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

'I'm Doctor Stebbins, of St. Mungo's,' said the man, puffing out his chest, 'I often have the pleasure of treating the Auror division's injuries... as well as their... erm... victims.'

'I know you!' said the boy suddenly, drawing the attention of all of those in attendance, 'we sat together at the Hollyhead Harpies game! Except your beard was bigger, and you smell better now.'

'Nicklin!' exclaimed the Doctor in horror, 'This is Harry Potter, your Headmaster at Hogwarts, and you will show him the appropriate respect!'

Harry watched the exchange uninterestedly, but smiled politely at the Doctor's hurried apology. Nicklin wandered off in a sulky silence, shooting Casper a scathing look which he hardly felt he deserved. The two men exchanged small talk as the seamstress finished her measuring, and presented Casper with a bundle of clothing.

'Freshly healed cuts,' remarked Doctor Stebbins as Casper approached the two men. 'Barely two hours old, it would seem.'

Casper began scratching the smooth skin, but Harry casually put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at the frowning Doctor.

'Boys will be boys,' he said calmly, and bid the man a good day, marching Casper from the shop.

'Smug git,' said Harry, and Casper raised his eyebrows. He was finding it hard to see Harry as the famously important Headmaster that most others regarded him as. He was perhaps the most unprofessional and oddly amusing man he had ever met.

'The boy didn't like me,' said Casper, his good mood lessening.

'Well you have my express permission to not like him back,' said Harry, leading Casper down a quiet alley.

Harry checked an ancient looking watch, nodded to himself and placed his hand on Casper's shoulder once more. Casper anticipated what was about to happen, and clutched the bundle of clothes tightly to his chest. In an instant they were being squeezed through the air like highly mobile pasta.

'Do I have to go back?' asked Casper, eyeing the orphanage with distaste.

Harry grimaced, knowing the boys pain. Staying with the Dursley's as a child during the holidays gave Harry some of his least favourite memories, and no doubt Casper would be itching to return to the wizarding world after getting his first taste of it in Diagon Alley.

'Yes,' said Harry firmly, 'but only for six days, I'll arrange a Ministry car to collect you and take you to Kings Cross. Your train ticket will be in the post; look for the barn owl.'

'Wait!' called Casper, as Harry prepared himself to apparate. 'Harry, I -'

'Professor Potter from now on,' said Harry, smiling as the words awkwardly fell from his mouth, 'Hogwarts is big on formality.'

'Professor Potter, I just want to say thank you... for everything.' he said sincerely, almost causing Harry to feel a modicum of human emotion, 'even if I wake up tomorrow and it's all a dream, this was really amazing.'

'You're welcome,' replied Harry, looking down fondly at the boy, with his arms and bags full of Diagon Alley's finest. 'I know the feeling, Casper.'

'GET OUT!' roared Harry, for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon.

The man, rather large and balding, scurried from room as Harry's anger caused several books to throw themselves at him on his way out.

It was the fourth, or perhaps fifth time, that an interviewee had begun their conversation by asking for Harry's autograph, or his recollections of what happened in Diagon Alley, or what particular spell he had used to vanquish the Dark Lord.

Harry's patience was wearing thin, and he was seriously considering cancelling the last interview and just teaching the subject himself; he was rather good at summoning charms after all.

Suppressing his fury, he sent his Patronus - an elegant stag - out of the office, to summon the final candidate.

It was the first female of the bunch, and perhaps the youngest. She strode into the office purposefully, her expression stern and regal. Harry offered her a chair with a wave of his hand, which she took quickly, nodding her thanks.

'Right. Hello. Name?' said Harry, attempting to get this whole ceremony out of the way as quickly as possible.

'Norma Harp, sir, you will me suitably qualified for the post, as well as any extra-curriculum activates you need supervised. I am also a decent flyer, a dab-hand at healing spells and the current Magical Chess champion of the South-East.'

'Right, and do you want my autograph?' asked Harry, his voice sounding as tired as he felt.

'What? No - I mean...'

'Brilliant. You're hired.' he said happily, holding out his hand.

'I am?' she said, shocked. Harry's hand hung in the air, untouched.

'Yes, you passed the test.'

'That was no test, Mister Potter -'

'Good point,' he said, retracting his offered hand, 'um... levitate me.

'You? Right now?' Norma's tone was becoming increasingly alarmed, which Harry was secretly delighting in.

'Yes, right now.'

'You're sure?'

'I hope so.'

'Wingardium Leviosa,' she said calmly, her wand performing a perfect swish and flick motion. Harry felt himself hover two feet in the air.

'Good wand work.' complimented Harry, as his body settled back into his chair.

'Thank you, sir,'

'It's Harry,' he corrected, smiling.

'Thank you, Harry, I won't let you down.' said Norma with earnest, tucking her wand into a sheath in her belt.

'Good, that's just what I needed to hear,' said Harry, hardly daring to believe his luck, 'Neville's waiting in the staff room, on the ground floor. He can show you to your new quarters.'

'Thank you, Harry,' she said, but when Harry stood, she remained firmly implanted into the chair, 'I also heard that you had an opening for the Head of Slytherin House.'

'You heard correct,' said Harry slowly, knowing which route this conversation was about to take.

'I was in Slytherin house, sir.'

'I appreciate the offer, but you're far too young.' said Harry simply, hoping that would curtail the conversation. It did not.

'Me? Too young? You are the youngest Headmaster in recorded history!' she exclaimed, a hint of anger entering her voice.

'Funny thing that; I still feel ancient.' he replied whimsically. 'But no, age isn't the only factor. It's too much work for your first year; you'll thank me when term starts.'

'So Slytherin will go without a head of house?' she asked incredulously.

'Oh no, they'll have a great head of house.' said Harry, smiling, 'They just won't be a Slytherin.'

About an hour later, Harry waited patiently behind his desk, almost looking as if he belonged, when Artemis Knowles walked nervously into the room, nodding a greeting, his polished pistol bouncing against his hip.

'Hello Harry, you wanted to see me?' he said, frowning.

'Take a seat please, Artemis, I've got some news.'

Professor Knowles did as he was ordered, taking the seat previously occupied by Norma Harp, whom Neville had informed Harry was moderately pleased with her new quarters, and had last been seen having an intense discussion with McGonagall regarding wand safety.

'Good news or bad news?' asked Artemis, forcing a smile.

'Well, that would entirely rely on your feelings towards being Head of Slytherin House.'

The office was so delicately silent you could've hard a pin drop, or a fly land on a silk pillow, or Artemis Knowles on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

'Pardon?' he tried, not meeting Harry's eye.

'Head of Slytherin.' said Harry solidly.

'But...' he began, wringing his hands, 'Harry, I'm a squib.'

'Pardon?' said Harry.

'A squib.'

'Yes, and? I'm not following.'

'They'll eat me alive Harry!' he exclaimed, running a nervous hand through his thick hair.

'I doubt it, but if it happens then I will make sure the perpetrators are given a month's detention.' said Harry sternly, hoping it may calm the man's nerves.

'Oh my, this is really happening isn't it?'

'Come on, Arty. You were my first choice,' lied Harry, 'well, that's not true. I asked Professor McGonagall but she threatened to turn my intestines into liquorish.'

Artemis had gone a sickly, pale colour, but after a minute or so, he looked up at Harry solemnly, and nodded.

'Brilliant!' said Harry happily, and he couldn't help but feel he was starting to get to grips with once again being a man of immense responsibility. Just need to write back to Lily, and I'll be ahead of schedule, thought happily.

'The money better be good,' said Artemis at last, 'I'll need to be able to afford bigger guns if I'm looking after Slytherin's.'

Harry hoped he was joking.

Casper was quite alone; he had made sure of that. He wore an old pyjama top, as well as an older boy's borrowed pair of jeans. He sat atop his bed, listening intently as Maddie ordered the last of the boys to sleep. He chanced a look out of his bedroom window, which had once again been crudely nailed shut.

A mass of clouds obscured the night sky, giving the world beneath his window no natural light. Instead, the streets were occasionally lit by a passing car, or the gang of teens that would walk by, flashing their phone at the pavement to guide their way.

Casper checked his watch; it was time.

He placed his wands against the window, and closed his eyes, thinking of the world outside in vivid detail. The hooting of the forest owls, and the buzzing swarm of bees returning to their hives. Sounds and sights that he loved, and that lay outside of the prison he lived in.

With a collection of pops, the nails sprung from their placed in the window, bouncing from the walls. Casper smiled, knowing now that what he had just done was true magic, not some gravitational fluke.

He was outdoors, running into the night. A sheen of sweat quickly covered his forehead as he continued to sprint, desperate to return to his safe place.

His bare feet soon found the forest floor, and his toes and ankles were coated in mud and grime. Thorns and nettled ripped at his already battered clothes, tearing fresh holes. The darkness had fallen about him, but a tiny break in the clouds allowed a slither of moonlight to guide his way.

Soon he was travelling on instinct alone, letting his gut and his nose guide him, until finally he came across the trampled clearing, and the tree-house that had become his one and only safe place.

More light found its way through the clouds as he climbed the rope ladder, rung by rung. He felt himself gaining strength, and the struggle of climbing becoming near effortless.

Inside the treetop cabin, he tore off his shirt, casting it to the ground. As he did so, the clouds hanging above him finally passed, revealing a perfectly round, full moon.

The change was instantaneous. Thick, brown fur burst from his arms, and the backs of his hands. He felt his spine alter and curve, and with an excruciating burst of pain his jaw elongated.

He screamed a boy's scream, knowing nobody would hear him here. The scream, so childlike at first, became more and more feral as his body writhed and contorted, his fingers shrivelling into paws, and his toes growing talon-like claws.

Soon he was not screaming, but howling. Howling at the moon with all the fury he could muster. His human mind had perished, giving way to the canine thoughts and simple emotions of the wolf that lived inside him.

The wolf that had changed his life, and murdered his parents.