Harry sat in his compartment of the Hogwarts Express next to Daphne, twirling his wand idly while she slept against his shoulder and Zephyr slept atop the other. The rush of events over the past week had not given her the chance to fix her sleep schedule, and –mixed with the fact that she had only just adjusted herself to Canada's time zone the night before they left –had spent the entire morning grumbling until they finally arrived at the station early and she pushed him into the first empty seat she could find before promptly curling up and volunteering him to be her pillow.

"You're the one who's responsible for this, so you're the one who's gonna help me not fall asleep in the middle of the feast tonight," she had mumbled only a couple minutes before her breathing evened out and she fell asleep.

Zephyr had found it hilarious, as had Neville and Susan, who had joined them in the compartment before Tracey and Blaise returned from saying goodbye to their parents. Wanting to let Daphne sleep as long as she could, Harry casted the most powerful privacy charms he could so as to ensure they would remain undisturbed. It was already dark and Harry was reading an article in the Daily Prophet about the attack at the World Cup. According to them, there had been a team of mysterious witches and wizards that specialized in a type of combat ice transfiguration that had most likely helped from the shadows during the attack as there were multiple reports of Death Eaters impaled with shards of steaming ice and no one was coming forth to take the credit for casting what, according to the Prophet's experts was very complicated magic.

Harry rolled his eyes and took out his rune notebooks where he wrote down his own theories and ideas for experimental arrays, and an ancient, leather-bound book that had quickly become one of his most prized possessions.

"What do you have there, Harry?" Tracey asked quietly as Harry pulled out a pen and cracked open the book.

"It's called a pen, Trace," Harry replied with a cheeky grin. "I would have thought that at least you know what they are."

"Funny," Tracey deadpanned. "But I was actually talking about the book, you prat."

"Harry," Neville asked cautiously, his eyes wide with amazement. "Is-Is that… a grimoire?"

"What's a grimoire?" Blaise asked.

Neville's face blazed as he turned his attention solely on the book in Harry's hand. "They're books charmed to show any book within the owner's. They're extremely rare, and ridiculously dangerous."

"Why are they dangerous?" Tracey followed up.

"Because," Susan explained. "The only people known to have grimoires are the oldest or most powerful magical families. The grimoire allows for any text the owner possesses to remain safely stored away at home while they can still read it anywhere. But since that means that someone would simply have to steal one book to have access to all the information at the owner's disposal, grimoires are always remarkably well protected so that only the desired reader may use them. In fact, in most families that have one, it's tradition for any member that wishes to use their library to have both contributed to it, and the defences protecting it, including it."

"Which means that the older the family, the more likely the grimoire will kill you if you try to steal it," Daphne concluded groggily.

"Sleep well?" Harry asked.

Daphne hummed and nodded an affirmative, then stretched her arms above her head as she yawned. Harry was filled with a sudden warmth in his chest as he thought about how cute Daphne looked with her somewhat messy hair and bleary eyes.

I think I'd like to see that every day.

He was confused by the strangeness of the random thought that had just crossed through his mind but shook it off. Daphne was his best friend of course he would want to see her every day.

"You're comfy," she said curling back up against him while the others smiled as he wrapped an arm around her casually.

"So, that grimoire of yours means you have direct access to the entire library of yours back at your place?" Tracey asked enviously. She and Daphne had both been instantly enamoured with the sprawling room filled with books and texts as far as the eye could see.

"As well as all everything in my other family vaults, with the exception of texts concerning those specific family spells and secrets. According to Griphook, I can merge the other grimoires with this one next time I go in, so that shouldn't be a problem."

"You know, if you do that, you'll be in possession of what will probably be the most dangerous book in the world," Susan noted.

"Are you sure you want to have something that heavily defended inside a school filled with stupid teenagers?" Neville asked.

"Don't worry, Sirius, Moony, and Severus all helped me already develop my own defence to add to the Potter Grimoire that deals with that."

"What's it do, if you don't mind my asking?" Daphne inquired.

"The first checks the age of the person trying to take it and, with the help of the Marauder's Map, checks whether they're a student at Hogwarts," Harry explained. "After that, the defences and warnings vary depending on who is trying to open it, with the really dangerous ones only applying to an adult who really wanted to take it."

"Well, at least you're thinking ahead," Susan conceded with a shrug.

"And you don't have to carry around any textbooks other than that," Neville added.

The train came to a stop and Harry was intrigued to see that there was someone other than Hagrid's hulking form waiting for them at the station. Replacing him was a stern-looking, elderly witch with short, grey hair and a pointed chin. She was dressed in crisp robes, beneath which she wore a worn two-piece suit.

"First years, with me!" She called, taking the gnarled pipe out of her mouth and blowing out a puff.

"I wonder where Hagrid is," Harry said as they made their way to the carriages, only to pause as he saw yet another new addition. Standing in front of the carriages were a pair of hauntingly beautiful creatures he had never seen before. They resembled skeletal horses in their body structure and posture, but there was a uniquely reptilian aspect to them. Their dark skin shone in the dim light, and looked to Harry as if oil poured over bones. Massive leathery wings sprouted from their backs and their pupil-less eyes glowed a soothing white, like twin moons shining from within their dark, draconic skulls.

"You see them too?" Daphne muttered in his ear, her icy mask slipping as she grabbed his hand fearfully.

Harry nodded, and couldn't tear his eyes as he slowly took step after step towards the gentle creatures. The one nearest to him blew out a huff of air, and Harry felt the touch of its mind, smiling as a tear slid down his cheek. Reaching out with his hand, he placed it on the creature's head and closed his eyes as he brought his own forward to rest his forehead against the top of its snout.

"Harry?" Tracey asked. "What are you doing?"

"He's petting the thestral," Susan replied quietly, watching transfixed as Harry interacted with the morbid creatures.

"What's a thestral?" Daphne asked.

"They're extremely rare creatures," a voice said causing Daphne to whirl around in surprise. Standing with her hands in her pockets, smoking her pipe lazily. "They can only be seen by someone who's seen death, and because of that they get a pretty bad reputation as evil or cursed."

"Aren't you supposed to be with the first years?" Blaise asked.

The woman chuckled and shook her head. "Nah, I just brought them down to Hagrid, who was waiting by the boats. He and Dumbledore both find it fun to impress the first years with a half-giant before they even step inside the school." She walked over to Harry who was still standing with his head against the thestral, stroking it with his hand. He barely even looked away for a second when she placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's not often you see someone connect with these creatures the way you seem to have."

"Yeah, Harry seems to have a knack for attracting all sorts of magical creatures," Neville said.

"Judging by the thunderbird sitting on his shoulder, I'll take your word for it," the woman replied with a smile. "Name's Willhelmina. A friend of mine asked me to come here and shadow Hagrid for a year. Said I'd find the experience enlightening."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Harry said, finally pulling himself away from the thestral and offering her his hand.

Willhelmina shook his hand and nodded gratefully to him as he opened the door to the carriage and allowed her and Daphne to get in before him. It was a bit of a tight fit, but Harry couldn't really argue against being pressed right up against Daphne. Talk during the carriage ride turned to predictions about the year, and an easy atmosphere set over them all the way to edge of Hogsmeade where Harry felt a sudden chill in the air. The clear sky and twinkling stars overhead seemed to darken further as it seemed the stars began to wink out of existence. The cold bit deeper and deeper into Harry's flesh and he could see his friends all seemed to be shivering quite violently. Even Willhelmina had become noticeably pale as she shuffled through her robes for her wand while Daphne was nearly catatonic next to him.

Then, several things happened in rapid succession.

With a loud bang their carriage was thrown on its side. Harry and Blaise were the first to climb out, and were helping the others out of the carriage when a flash of green light came streaking out of the darkness and Harry tackled Blaise off the carriage to the ground while the loud crack and pop of an exploding block of ice filled the air and steaming shards rained down on them. Harry briefly heard footsteps running away from them, but was distracted by Susan who had managed to climb her way out of the carriage and screamed as amidst the sudden darkness, a more solid mass was moving towards them as the air continued to get colder.

Dementors.

At least ten or twenty of them were gliding towards them and Harry could only watch, transfixed as screaming filled his ears and bright green light flashed behind his eyes.

White light filled the air as Willhelmina expelled silvery mist from her wand. Unsheathing his own from the sheath on his wrist, Harry ignored the sound of his mother screaming and focused on how it felt to be reunited with Daphne, and how happy he had felt simply sitting on the train with her sleeping against him as they were headed back towards the first place he had been able to truly call home. He didn't even realise he had done anything until a hellish shriek filled the air and he opened his eyes to see his own wand pointed at the coming dementors, and a massive twenty foot long wyvern made entirely out of silver light had caught one of the dementors in its jaws and bitten right through it, shaking its head as it viciously tore the dark apparition to shreds while the other dementors fled the scene. Harry's Patronus was not done, though, for it managed to crush another dementor with its tail and snap another one up with its mighty fangs before the rest managed to get too far away.

With the danger gone, the wyvern crawled towards Harry, using its clawed wings as forelegs, and swivelled its head about as it inspected the premises for additional threats.

"Okay, what the hell is this?" Tracey demanded after regaining some of her composure.

"That's some Patronus you've got there, Mister Potter," Willhelmina said.

Daphne, meanwhile, simply ran up and hugged Harry as tightly as she could. She had been aware of his inability to produce an emotion strong enough to give his Patronus a corporeal form, and it filled her with pride and happiness to know that something must have happened to him to allow it.

"I'm proud of you," she whispered, before stepping away as a series of cracks filled the air setting them all on edge and causing the wyvern to actually growl.

"What is going on here?!" Professor McGonagall shrieked seeing the overturned carriage. She, and Professors Dumbledore, Snape, Flitwick, and the newly announced Professor Moody had apparated as soon as they had gotten outside the wards after Dumbledore's phoenix had appeared with the bird Harry had taken to being seen with and informed the headmaster what was going on.

"Dementors," Willhelmina grunted, taking a puff of her pipe. "Whole bevvy of them came swoopin' in after someone attacked our carriage. Potter here managed to cast a Patronus and scare them off, did something nasty to three of them as well."

Dumbledore turned to look at Harry just as another series of cracks rang through the air and Harry raised his wand in anticipation.

"Professor Dumbledore," one of the men shouted wearing an auror badge shouted. "Dementors have been coerced away from Azkaban! We believe they may be headed for Hogwarts as it was the last place they were posted."

"No need to worry, Auror Shacklebolt, the problem has already been dealt with," Dumbledore replied calmly.

"Headmaster, I do believe these dementors are… dead," Snape called from where he and Flitwick were examining the three dementors Harry's Patronus had caught.

"Impossible," Shacklebolt said, shaking his head. "Dementors can't be killed."

"If I may, Mister Auror, there has never been any official documentation regarding anything to do with the life cycle of dementors," Willhelmina countered. "It's entirely possible that the strength and potency of Mister Potter's Patronus charm could have not just counterbalanced their negative energy, but overloaded it with his own positive force."

"Remarkable!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "I have never seen a corporeal Patronus this powerful before!" Reaching out a hand, he ran it along the belly of the shining wyvern that was still standing protectively over Harry and laughed giddily when he pulled it back. "Simply remarkable! Mister Potter has somehow produced a corporeal Patronus so substantial that it is in fact an actual solid!"

"Looks like I found my guinea pig for practice duels," a man Harry recognised from his readings as Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody said, flicking open a flask and taking a hearty swig. Harry frowned as he smelled some sort of potion within the flask but couldn't, at the moment, think of which one.

"If it's alright with you all," Harry said, drawing everyone's attention. "I think I'd like to simply get back to the school and sleep this off before dealing with anything else."

As if summoned by his desire to leave, the two thestrals that had been strapped to the carriage and fled when it was attacked swooped in out of nowhere and landed next to Harry, nuzzling him while Zephyr flew down and landed on his shoulder. Harry smiled and patted the pair of creatures on the nose while simply walking with them down the path, ignoring what anyone else was about to say as he thought only of getting in a nice, soft bed, and sleeping off the craziness of the last few weeks.

*(OoO)*

Harry opened his eyes and looked around curiously. At first all he could see was darkness. Unending black that spread out in every direction. He couldn't even see his own body through the all-encompassing pitch. A sense of unease filled Harry and he knew, intrinsically, that this wasn't right. He wasn't afraid, but he did understand how someone else might be in his position. Something was just… wrong about the never-ending void that surrounded him. The darkness grew thicker as he thought this, and he suddenly felt like he was suffocating as the shadows surrounding him tried to crush him into nothingness. The ultimatum was clear; submit, or die.

Not particularly liking either option, Harry resolved himself to fight. He knew it wouldn't do much. How was he supposed to fight this oppressive umbrage when he wasn't even sure if he had a body to fight with? Either way, he was never going to submit. Especially when the first reaction the darkness gave was to crush him for his supposed impudence. At least he was going to die knowing that he remained true to himself. How many times had he prepared himself for death over his short life? How many times had he asked for the particular brand of pain he was being subjected to end and he be allowed to be reunited with his parents? How many times had he figured that he would probably be better off with them than wherever he was now?

But if that was the case, why was he still fighting? Why did he get out of bed each morning? Why did he even bother inhaling after he finished exhaling?

Slowly, the answers came to him. The whistle of a train. The feeling of a wand in his hands. The sound of wind rushing by his ears. The feeling of tears as he looked at an impossible image in a mirror. Barking laughter and haunted, yet sparkling eyes. An apology made over a photo on a desk. The surge of fear before grabbing a blade and doing what he knew to be right. The cry of a bird and the clap of thunder. The hissing of a friend so close he sometimes wondered where one of them stopped and the other began. The pop of coming whenever beckoned that he now associated with the very concept of loyalty. The protective rage of seeing a friend in pain. The roar of pride as he proved himself against constant obstacles. The desire to not see others suffer as he did. The hope to, one day, live in true freedom.

All of these and more were worth it. Even the pain which he had begged Death to release him would serve to make him a better man. He would take his suffering and use it to grow, to better understand others. His curses would help him appreciate his blessings. One day he would let Death take him, but it would be on his terms. He wouldn't allow this darkness to simply crush him because he refused to bend to its will. He would fight. He would win. And, when the day came where Death came for him, he would go with his head held high, sharing stories with the spectre like old friends.

As soon as he came to this conclusion, the darkness vanished and was replaced with light. Bright splashes of white exploded all around him while bright kaleidoscopes of colour danced before his eyes. The energy and vibrancy presented to him was astounding and he felt himself relaxing, letting the blinding lights pull him in. As the sheer beauty that was surrounding him seeped into his being, blinding him to everything but its brilliance, fear gripped his heart and he started to fight back. Unlike the darkness, which was blunt in its suffocating presence, the hypnotising spectacle before him was not. The lights caressed him, whispered promises of happiness if he only give in and help it fight of the darkness. Played to his guilt, his selflessness, his nobility, his pride as it filled him with euphoria unlike anything he had ever known. All he had to do was give in. Accept the lights as the one true way. Cast off his anger, his ambition, his integrity, his dignity, and allow the light to steer him down the path he was chosen for.

Harry screamed –or, thought he screamed… he wasn't entirely sure if he could, or knew how, or even had whatever it was one needed to scream. This prompted him to fight even more. At least fighting the darkness was easy. In the darkness he knew what he was. Who he was. The light asked for him to give that up, and as tempting as it was, he was held back.

Soft, golden waves.

Warm, comforting weight.

Gentle, even breaths.

Vanilla and old parchment.

Harry struggled to remember which of these thoughts were associated with which sense. He would not succumb to the darkness, but if worshipping the light meant losing himself, living as a collective, then he would just fight them both. He would find the third option. And if there wasn't one, he would just have to make one, regardless of what these two forces seemed to think.

Once again, he felt the oppression around him fade away. This time, he was surrounded by nothing. Not light, not dark. Simply… nothing. Except for himself. Finally he could see himself as he floated nude amongst the vacuum. Patting himself on the back for small victories, and snickering as his recent interest in learning had taught him about the actual correlation between darkness and nothing, and the insanity of being surround by something that was not even that, he gasped as his surroundings changed once more.

Harry was now lying in a field of grass, enjoying the warm sun and cool breeze across his naked form. Sitting up, he looked around and saw that he was in a clearing surrounded by trees and that everything seemed… clearer than normal. Colours were sharper, shadows were darker. Details that should have been blurry were almost painfully detailed –especially considering he wasn't wearing his glasses.

Looking around, he noticed a figure gliding out of the treeline.

*(OoO)*

Harry woke up feeling surprisingly good. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest and he suddenly felt more assured and confident. That feeling didn't last as he looked around and noticed that he wasn't in the Gryffindor dorm room. Instead he was in a room similar to his one back at Potter Manor. There was only the one single four-poster bed, and all of his belongings were sitting in the corner near a window that provided a nice view of the Black Lake –which was even more confusing considering Gryffindor Tower faced away from the lake. Two doors led out of the room, one opened to reveal a rather luxurious bathroom, and the other to a room that looked like a cross between a common room –with two thick, leather loveseats and a plush couch arranged around an ornate fireplace –and a professor's office. Frowning in confusion, Harry transfigured his boxers and undershirt into a wetsuit and stepped outside only to find himself on what he guessed was the seventh floor, if the tapestry of a knight trying to teach trolls to dance was anything to go by.

What a weird prank to start the year off with, Harry thought as he made his way down to the Entrance Hall. After a couple laps across the lake, and a friendly wrestling match with the Giant Squid that ended with Harry being launched from the water by a massive tentacle and soaring almost all the way to the shore, Harry returned to the seventh floor where his trunk had been moved to and got dressed before heading down for an early breakfast.

Apparently, he was earlier than he thought, as there was barely anyone in the Great Hall when he arrived. Looking for a familiar face, he smiled and strolled over to the Hufflepuff table, taking a seat across from Cedric, who was reading from one of his textbooks.

Cedric looked up from his book and smiled at Harry. "Hey, Harry. What's with your robes?"

"I'm not sure," Harry replied. He was dressed in regular Hogwarts uniform, but it seemed to be missing any sort of trim, leaving him in simple black and white, even his red and gold ties had been changed. "I woke up this morning in some room on the seventh floor that I've never seen before, and all of my robes had been changed. Figured I'd talk with McGonagall when I saw her this morning."

"Well here's your chance," Cedric said, nodding his head towards the doors, where the woman in question had just entered.

"Good morning, Mister Potter, Mister Diggory," McGonagall said. "Mister Potter, is there a reason you are seated at the Hufflepuff table?"

"Not particularly, Professor," Harry replied. "I saw Cedric sitting here, and decided to join him for breakfast."

"Well, five points to both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor for inter-house comradery," McGonagall said before handing Harry his schedule. "Though, I'm tempted to rescind those points for a lack of proper uniform, Mister Potter."

"Sorry, Professor, I woke up this morning in a room I'd never seen before, and all my school robes had been changed into this," Harry replied as he looked over his schedule in confusion. "Professor, I think you may have made a mistake while writing my schedule."

"The schedules are charmed to write themselves, Mister Potter, so as to ensure no conflicts," McGonagall asked, pondering what Harry meant about waking up in a different room.

"Well, it's just that all of my classes show that I have them with two houses. Some of them, even say that I have them with Gryffindor and another house, which would be redundant, wouldn't it?"

"May I see your schedule Mister Potter?" McGonagall asked.

Harry nodded and handed the schedule over to her. True to what he claimed, Harry's schedule was completely different, as it said he had only two classes each day, one that spent the entire morning, and seemed to be joined with whatever houses were taking that class, and another in the afternoon. Even more confusing was that for each class, his schedule simply said that he had a double class in the subject followed by classes the rest of the time with younger years.

"This is very troubling indeed, Mister Potter," McGonagall muttered. "You said you woke up outside the dorm room, correct? Is it possible you could have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way? I do seem to remember you being rather exhausted after the excitement of last night."

"I may have been tired, but not that tired, Professor," Harry replied. "I do remember agreeing to help Professor Flitwick by demonstrating my Patronus to his seventh year class at some point, but after that I went straight to Gryffindor Tower. You can even ask the Fat Lady."

"Blimey, Harry, you can do a Patronus?" Cedric asked, eyes wide with awe.

Harry chuckled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. I couldn't get it to become corporeal until last night, though. Too much power, not enough focus."

"Harry, I believe you and I need to go and visit the Headmaster concerning your scheduling mishap," Professor McGonagall declared.

Harry nodded and followed her out of the Great Hall, snagging a couple pieces of toast to eat along the way. They walked in silence all the way up to Dumbledore's office, and Harry immediately made a beeline for Fawkes, gently stroking his fiery plumage and listening to the soft melody of happiness Fawkes trilled in response while McGonagall and Dumbledore spoke quietly behind him.

"Harry, my boy, if you could please join us," Dumbledore said, bringing Harry's attention to the two Professors watching him curiously. Harry nodded and walked over to take a seat across from the Headmaster, making sure that his Occlumency shields were firmly in place while portraying complete relaxation. "It would seem, that Hogwarts itself has seen fit to appoint you with the position of Professor's Apprentice."

"Is that why my schedule is the way it is, sir?"

"Indeed it is," Dumbledore replied. "Your classes have been structured so that you will be spending time with members of all houses, first to attend your regular fourth year session, then afterwards as an assistant to the professor with the younger years."

"And Hogwarts itself chose me to do this?" Harry asked skeptically.

"There are many mysteries concerning this school, Harry, as I'm sure your past adventures will confirm. One that is not as often spoken about is the fact that, after centuries of so much high concentration magic permeating these walls, the castle seems to have taken on a sort of sentience. It can be seen in many facets of the everyday life here; from the stairwells, to the sorting hat, to the enchantments that send letters to prospective first years and design the schedules."

"Do you have any idea why it chose me?" Harry asked.

"It's hard to say," Dumbledore replied. "The last person to become a Professor's Apprentice was my predecessor, Armando Dippet, and his tenure as a student at Hogwarts was well over three hundred years ago."

Harry sighed in defeat and slouched in his chair only to snap back up when one of the paintings adorning the walls of Dumbledore's office shouted at him. "Don't sit there grousing! You've been given a great honour, act like it!"

The painting of Headmaster Dippet glared down at Harry angrily, and Harry couldn't help but feel defensive.

"With all due respect, Headmaster Dippet, but I never asked for this. I didn't want to be even more segregated from the other students."

"Albus, what have you been teaching these children?" Armando demanded. "They just seem to get duller with every passing year."

"If you could get to the point, please, Armando," Dumbledore requested calmly.

"Boy, have you ever offered your services to help a professor in class?" Armando asked.

"I offered to come show Professor Flitwick's Charms class my Patronus," Harry said.

"Then there you go. Hogwarts interpreted that as you voicing your desire to teach within these hallowed halls, and upon reviewing your past performances, deemed you fit to take the position."

"But my grades first year and second year were barely above average," Harry argued.

"Are you sure you should be helping educate your fellow students?" Armando asked scathingly. "Of course the school would look at more than just your academic performance! For Merlin's sake, boy there is an award for services to the school with your name on it!"

"Alright, fine," Harry conceded. He may not enjoy being ostracized as he was, but he might as well seize the opportunity he had been presented with. "What are my responsibilities?"

"For the moment, you will have authority similar to a prefect," Dumbledore explained. "You will be expected to do well in all of your classes, and follow whatever instructions the professor you are assisting gives you. Other than that, you should learn about the different ways each of your professors teach and help out your fellow students however you can. Now, I believe you have Transfiguration, so I will leave you and Professor McGonagall to discuss matters further on the way."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said as he rose to his feet. After giving Fawkes one final pet, he followed Professor McGonagall out of the office and they headed for her classroom.

"Given your marked increase in your academics, it's safe to say you've been studying ahead independently, correct?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied.

"Harry, whether you like it or not, you are not a regular student anymore. Please, when we are in private, address me by my first name."

"Yes, Minerva," Harry corrected. "As far as the practical aspects, I just started the sixth year texts on Defence, Charms, and Transfiguration, while my theoretical knowledge is about halfway through fifth year in them as well as Herbology, Potions, Runes, and Arithmancy. History, is difficult to say, but I'm fairly confident I could pass my OWL for it, and if Professor Babbage would allow it, I would probably be able to overhaul Muggle Studies." Of course Harry omitted the fact that just because he was only that far in the curriculums for those courses, didn't mean that he wasn't learning things far beyond. It was really just a matter of applying what he already knew and using the foundation he built with his textbooks to form his own understanding of everything else.

"Good, in that case, I will spread the word, and we can get straight to discussing how your first class is going to go. According to your schedule, you will be spending the morning with me, then heading to the dungeons to assist Professor Snape."

"How should I handle the obvious outrage that's going to come with me accepting the position?" Harry asked as they walked into her classroom.

Minerva smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder. "You leave that to me. Now, I'd like you to move one of the desks over near the window, so as to distinguish you from the other students."

Harry nodded, a smile on his face at her emphasis on reminding him that his separation from the other students was a sign of merit. Deciding to be a little cheeky, he silently levitated Minerva's desk over by the window. Minerva opened her mouth to reprimand him, but was stunned into silence as he continued silently waving his wand, conjuring an ornate mahogany desk to replace hers and causing all the drawers on both to open before the contents of the first desk floated through the air to replace the second.

"Was it really necessary to show off like that?" Minerva asked when she regained her wits.

"If you had asked me two years ago, I would have said no, and done what you probably expected me to in the first place," Harry replied. "And if you had asked me last year, I would have said that there was no point of being able to use complex magic to perform mundane things if you couldn't have fun and be a little showy with it."

"And now?"

"Now, I've been doing a lot of independent study and introspection to try to fully understand my magic and how it works, and I've found that when it comes to certain spells –especially in Transfiguration –it feels better to use a spell to its fullest extent than to try and restrict it."

"Setting aside what you said about the feeling of your magic," Minerva said, taking a seat at her new desk. "Would that not come with the risk of overexerting yourself?"

"Not at all," Harry replied. "We have first years for your first class, correct?" Minerva nodded and Harry pulled out his wand summoning the box of matchsticks to him. Taking one out, he quickly turned it into a needle. "The full extent of the spell to turn a matchstick into a regular aluminium needle, does just that. The needle is a simple object, made of a simple material. In contrast, conjuring your desk like I did, requires me to think about several variables. What I meant when I said it feels better was that rather than just thinking about a plain desk and willing the spell to create it, I imagined things like the type of wood I wanted, and the length of screws holding it together while picturing it in my head."

Minerva was astounded at the way Harry was describing the fundamentals between magic and intent, and the simple way he explained it. For a single moment, as he spoke, she saw a glimpse of a man who could teach and guide generations towards greatness. In that moment, Minerva McGonagall resolved to help guide the boy before her into the man she had briefly glimpsed, and pulling out her wand she did something she never would have considered doing before.

"I, Minerva McGonagall, do vow to stand by and support Harry James Potter in all his endeavors. I vow that secrets shared will never be revealed, and knowledge gleamed will always be available. As I will it, so might it be." A bright light shone from the tip of her wand, and Harry stared wide-eyed, shocked at the implication behind what she had just done. Before he could ask, though, the clock chimed and Minerva winked before transforming into a cat and leaping to sit on top of her desk to greet the first years. Harry snickered, and figured he'd join in the fun, casting a quick Disillusion Charm on his desk before throwing his Invisibility Cloak over himself just as the more punctual of the first years started to arrive.