The Savior, Child of the Tardis, Son of a Mad Man

by blackcatkuroi

Out in the Universe is a bright blue box, holder of a fantastical realm. Inhabiting this box is a mad man who calls himself the Doctor, his son, the Savior of the Wizarding World aka Harry Potter, an immortal man from the 51st century who affects a Captain in front of his name, Jack Harkness, and a pink and yellow once-human who is simply Rose Tyler. What was Dumbledore thinking?

25. In Which There is Shopping and Mishaps

I am back! And I deeply apologize to all who have waited for this story. I have no excuses except for life. So here's an extra long chapter. I hope it makes up for some of the wait!

~~~~~~In Which This is a Beginning

Harry was woken by Rose, who, instead of dumping water on him and

Pashti, pulled off blankets and turned on lights while cheerfully informing him, in a loud and high pitched voice, about the wonders of the morning and the brightness of the sun.

Pashti protested with a huffed mreow, but obliged to the wake up call, sitting up on Harry's chest and stretching. Her slowly warming emotions clashed against Harry's desire to sleep and tangled into her companion. Harry sighed and pulled Pashti closer, before relenting and sitting up. He rearranged Pashti onto his lap, mouth twitching as Rose grinned at him from the door.

"You up? Not gonna go back to sleep?" she asked.

Harry shook his head, swinging his legs out of bed and lifting Pashti up as he stood up. "I'm up. Let me get dressed and I'll be out. How long until McGonagall get's here?"

Rose laughed. "It's 7."

"So an hour yeah?" Harry confirmed.

"Look, you can tell time!"

Harry scowled. "I can do math, thank you. Just cause I know the unit doesn't mean I know how long that is in the real world. Time doesn't care what you label it."

"Your continued refusal to learn how to tell conventional Earth time fascinates me. You could, I know you could. You suck up languages and math and science and history like you were a sponge. But throw time at you and all of a sudden you get this blank look of incomprehension. How could you live in the Tardis for ten years and not learn how to tell time?" Rose looked over the boy. "It's just so strange."

Harry stuck his tongue out at her. "There's no point to it, not in the Tardis. This is sort of a timeless environment. I mean, sure, time passes, but its importance isn't really measurable in units. Why give something so ephemeral units, why define it? It doesn't care about them, it'll exist whether you do it or not, time isn't something that can be defied. Sure, you can travel along it, change things about it, hope from point to point, tangle it all up, but you can't stop time. So why bother to measure it in such infentesimally small units? I get the days thing, those are useful, I can do cycles, or days, or whatever term you want to use, they separate sleeping from being awake, but all those little ones in between? That just seems so...pointless. That implies there is a definitive end to it, an answer, some sort of finality to time, and there isn't. I just don't get it." Harry shook his head.

Rose considered him. "Well, you're going to either have to learn how to tell time or get really good at programming things to tell it for you. Cause I'm fairly certain schools run on a time table."

"Argh…" Harry contemplated getting back in bed, but Pashti leaned up onto his chest and licked his face. "Alright, alright, fine. I'll get going. I'll figure out the time thing. Right now I'm hungry." Harry shooed Rose out of his room. "Let me get changed in peace. I'll be down soon."

"If you're not, I'll send Jack up here," Rose warned.

"I'll be down."

Harry waited for Rose to leave before gesturing his door shut.

Shopping. He would have to go shopping. He loved shopping for tech stuff, for books, for interesting gizmos, but the process for anything else was painful.

Pashti sat on his bed as he changed out of sleep clothes and into something he could wear for the day. Comfy, loose trousers and a wrap around top went on, followed by his beloved jacket.

They were not making him trade in his jacket for a robe. He had spent way too much time on his jacket.

After he had gotten it from Prysh and she had told him all the things she had been able to add, Harry had taken some of his father's old notes and tech on transcendental spaces and went to work on his jacket pockets. Transcendental dimensions was one of the few advanced physics work his dad would let him have free reign in, mostly because the most he could do was accidentally make something bigger than it was supposed to be, or get stuck inside it. Unless one seriously messed up, it was a relatively safe way to play around with physics concepts.

His pockets, all six of them, were dimensionally transcendental. He had shoved in some things to handle the strain of the added weight, and had only been able to expand the interior space to a few meters square each, but until he knew how to balance magic and technology more, that was the most he could do without shorting out every single circuit he used.

He stared at his feet, wondering if, since it was rather chilly, he should find some of those shoes his dad kept stashed around in case he ever needed them, then shrugged. He could survive. Shoes weren't really that important. He usually never needed them, only when they were somewhere especially cold or hot, or especially dangerous. Hogwarts was none of them.

As soon as he finished his morning ablutions, including running a brush through his hair and contemplating putting some beads in it when he got back to the Tardis (since he wasn't sure he had the time now), he tilted his head at Pashti.

She jumped onto his shoulder immediately, hunger radiating from her. Harry agreed. He had grabbed a bite to eat before he had gone to bed but that had been a while ago. Food was a must.

He headed for the kitchen. Inside were Rose, Uncle Jack, and his dad.

"You're coming with me still, yeah?" he confirmed. Head nods all around. "So how are we supposed to buy all of these supplies? It's not like we have conventional money. What do magical people even use?"

The Doctor looked up from his tea. "No need. James and Lily left you money, I'm pretty certain. From what I remember on magical history, James was from a wealthy family, what Jack calls Old-bloods. Sort of like magical royalty or something. Lily was some sort of spell inventor if I recall the histories correctly. But unless they used it all before they died, which is somewhat unlikely, they'll have left money for you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? So I'm now a royal celebrity?"

"No, not like non magical society. Think more dukes and earls from Earth history. A decent amount of money but there were slews of them."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, at least I'm not that. Don't need even more attention." He pulled out some raw fish for Pashti and set it on a plate for her. She promptly jumped off his shoulder to devour it.

Rose looked at the Doctor, concern on her face. He shook his head. They would deal with Harry's wizarding world celebrity status later today. If they told him now, chances of actually getting him out of the Tardis and to Diagon Alley would be slim.

Harry ate fruit slices and some strange, jelly-like mound that shivered and seemed to shift colors. He had grabbed some vivid pink drink that smelled oddly like watermelon with a hint of ginger, downing it and grinning at her.

His teeth were pink.

"If that doesn't come off you're going to be walking around with bright pink teeth for your first day. What an impression," Rose pointed out.

Harry laughed. "It fades after a few minutes, but it's pretty awesome. There's a whole bunch of drinks like this, all of them different colors. If you mix them just right, you can get each tooth a different color. Or you can turn your mouth a muddy brown."

"That sounds appealing."

"It's fun!" Harry glanced around. "What time is it?" He harrumphed at the looks he got for the question. "What? I figure if I get in the habit of asking the question, it'll be easier to figure out the whole bloody mess."

Jack snorted into his coffee. Rose sighed but obliged. "It's 7:40. You have twenty minutes. Or about the amount of time it takes you to rush and brush your teeth and put fun things in your hair." She knew he liked to put beads and bobs in his hair when he had the time. It was one of the reasons he grew it out. His dad had never been too sure why his son liked to decorate his hair, but nevertheless Harry enjoyed it.

"Thanks Rose!" Harry took off down towards the bathroom.

"You know he's gonna come back with beads in his hair," Jack said. "Clanging all day and if he puts bells in they're gonna ring."

"Hey, we won't lose him at least," Rose pointed out. "Better than himself over there, who can wander off with the best of them. 'Don't wander off!' he says, then goes and wanders off."

"Oi, at least I manage to get myself out of any trouble I wander into! I remember that time you wandered off and brought back a boy. Several times." The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Rose.

"'S not like you were doing anything back then. All leather jackets and northern accents and I can't dance." Rose stuck her tongue out at him.

"You were nineteen!"

"I ran off with you, didn't I? Figure you could take a hint."

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

Just as Rose's watch touched 7:59, Harry skidded back into the kitchen. His hair, indeed, had a collection of beads strung into it. Not many, he hadn't had a lot of time, but he had added a number of brightly colored jewels to the hair that hung down beside his face on each side. If he ever decided to wear make up, Rose thought, he would look rather like those rockers her mom enjoyed.

"Am I finished in time? I rushed, and Pashti let me know when it was getting close. I think she might be able to help me with the time issue, if she's right."

"What a novelty, the cat learning to tell time before the human," Jack muttered, amused.

"You're in time. Now, let's head out. I'm sure McGonagall will be there. She sounded like a punctual person. Doctor, you joining us?"

The Doctor set down his tea cup and pushed the history books to the side. "Yes, yes, I'm coming." He pushed up and headed out after them.

Harry skidded out the Tardis and pushed open the portrait. "Hello!" McGonagall was indeed standing on the other side of the entrance. "I'm on time right?"

McGonagall looked down at him. "You are. It is just 8. Are the rest of your companions joining us? And is that a cat?" She was looking at Pashti, sitting on Harry's shoulder.

"This is Pashti, she's my companion." Harry rubbed a hand down Pashti's back. "She was sleeping the last time."

"Pets are allowed, but is it wise to bring her with us to Diagon Alley?" McGonagall looked closely at the tiny cat. She was beautiful, and while McGonagall knew personally that cats were rather intelligent, this one seemed a step beyond.

Harry shrugged. "She wanted to go, so there's no persuading her otherwise. She'll just stay with me the whole time, so no worries about her running off."

McGonagall stared at the little cat, and the little cat stared back at her. For a long few moments, there was silence as the two of them bored holes into the other. Harry looked back and forth between his companion and McGonagall. Pashti seemed unconcerned, if he was reading her emotions correctly. A sense of possessiveness, though that wasn't unusual. A touch of challenge, which was also normal, and a flair of amusement, as if this professor amused her. Harry wondered why.

"Are we interrupting something?" the Doctor said, breaking the silence. McGonagall looked away first.

"No, no, I was just wondering why you were bringing a cat with us, but it seems as if she's overruled my decision. You are all coming?"

"Of course, can't let Harry have all the fun!" Jack reached out to mess with Harry's hair, a favorite tease.

Harry ducked his hand, moving out beyond his reach. "No, not my hair. I just put my beads in it! You'll get them all tangled."

"What is it with pre-teens and this sudden obsession with their looks?" Rose asked. "I mean, you weren't so concerned just two years ago. Aside from that jacket, you could care less what you looked like."

"Oi, I spend a long time to get my hair looking like this!" Harry protested.

"Why are you not wearing any shoes, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, interrupting the banter. "It's November. You shouldn't be running around without shoes."

Harry looked down at his feet, then up at the transfiguration teacher. "I don't like shoes," he said.

"It's November, Mr. Potter."

"So? And my name isn't Potter."

McGonagall frowned. "Really now, this is absurd. You need to put shoes on. It's cold out and we'll be going outside."

"Just give it up. If it's really that cold, the Doctor will make him put on shoes. His feet can take it. He's sworn off shoes for near on five years." Rose shook her head, smiling.

"You just let him wander out with bare feet? What if he steps on something dangerous?"

"Let me worry about my son, Professor. I think after ten years I am capable of this, correct?" McGonagall was faced with the direct stare of the Doctor, and she backed down quickly.

"Well, let's get going. We only have a few hours to get all this done." McGonagall held out a diving ring. "This portkey will take us to the Leaky Cauldron. We'll go to Diagon Alley from there. Everyone has to be touching the ring. Including your...companion, Harry."

Harry looked at Pashti, and then the cat seemed to nod. Harry touched the ring, and Pashti walked down his arm until her paw came in contact with the portkey. McGonagall felt she should have been more surprised by this.

Rose, Jack, and the Doctor crowded around, reaching to touch the ring.

"Fizzing Whizbee," McGonagall said, and Harry felt a hook around his navel jerk him backwards. His finger remained glued to the ring, but all around him colors streamed by at nauseating speeds. His stomach swirled around and the hook felt like it was tugging on something uncomfortable.

When his feet finally hit the ground, he rocked, trying to keep steady as the world swirled around him.

He really didn't like this form of transportation, he discovered. It made his body feel uncomfortable and squished.

As he regained his composure, Pashti complaining loudly about her dislike of that portkey, he looked around.

Rose looked as uncomfortable as he did, Jack was sprawled on the floor, and his dad looked like he was contemplating trying it again. Only Professor McGonagall remained unfazed.

"What was that? It felt like it was digging into something inside me," Harry complained.

"It hooks onto your soul to pull you along. It's useful, even muggles can use a portkey."

"Muggles?" Rose asked.

"Non-magical people."

"That sounds rather demeaning a name," Jack said. "Sort of rude, if you ask me. Why not just use non-magical?"

McGonagall pressed her lips into a thin line. "Come on now, we have to go to the bank. Your par...James and Lily Potter left you their vaults. I have the key, the Headmaster gave it to me. We'll pull out some money, then go and get you your supplies." She headed out of the small room they had landed in. Harry and his family followed her, Pashti curling up under his ear.

The bartender waved at them as they passed through and towards the back door into a small alley.

McGonagall tapped her wand on several of the bricks and waited a second. Harry wondered what for.

When the wall opened to reveal the street beyond, Harry blinked, impressed. That was certainly an interesting spell. He would have to learn how they did that later. It would be cool to replicated in some fashion.

McGonagall didn't stand by and wait for them to take in the street, hurrying them towards a large, white building halfway down the road.

"This place looks like it's from some Old Earth town," Harry muttered to his dad. "They're still using thatch roofs and old-style doors and building techniques, especially for this time."

"You did your research, you read up that they were horribly behind in technology. Their shopping centers would reflect that, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but this, this is really old."

The Doctor shook his head. Harry had been used to extremely advanced technology his entire life. Only occasionally were they in places that didn't use such tech and even then it was only for short periods of times. More often than not, there was more running than shopping being done in those places.

"This is Gringotts. The Finest Wizarding Bank. Up here, if you please. And don't stare at the tellers. They're goblins and don't take kindly to being stared at."

Harry exchanged looks with his uncle, Rose, and his dad. Really, they thought.

As they passed through the two doors, Harry caught sight of the poem inscribed on them

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"Bet the Tardis could get in and out without a problem," Harry whispered to Jack. His uncle gave him a small grin and a thumbs up.

The goblins were, indeed, different from what Harry had imagined, but Harry had seen species whose appearance was so far from humanistic that the goblins strangeness barely registered.

The Doctor, however, was muttering under his breath. Rose placed a hand on his arm. "What is it?"

"They bare a striking resemblance to a species from Halliprex, a species that thrived in heat and rock. Loved crafting things out of the metals they found and building massive underground structures. There were rumors of a ship heading out towards this quadrant to try and find new areas to mine and live, but they lost track of the ship. It was in the early days of their space travel and they hadn't perfected long range travel yet. Maybe the ship got lost, landed on Earth way back when and they integrated into the magical system here to survive. Found a purpose. It would be interesting to see their history, check it out for sure." His eyes gleamed. "It would be brilliant to be able to solve that mystery."

"Wasn't that program you were watching the other night called something like "Greatest Mysteries of Space Travel?"" Rose asked.

"Yep. I love that show. Always gives me good ideas."

Rose shook her head.

"Harry, please come here. The goblins need proof of identity." McGonagall was gesturing him up.

Harry trotted up next to her. "Yes?" he asked, looking the goblin straight in the eye.

"You are Harry Potter, son of James Potter, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House Potter, and Lily Potter nee Evans?" the goblin asked, voice bored and nasally.

"If you insist on using Potter, then yes, my birth parents were James and Lily Potter. I mean, I don't know about all this ancient and noble house business, but I assume it was James', yes?" Harry stared up at the goblins. "What's your name?"

The goblin blinked at him, before smiled a wide, toothy grin. "I am Griphook. You are brave, young Lord Potter."

"Harry, please, and you really don't need to use the lord bit. Dad's got that covered already." Harry thumbed over his shoulder.

Griphook looked towards the three standing a bit further back. "I see. Your father, Mr. Harry?"

"Yeah, the guy with the spiky hair and suit. He's my dad, the Doctor." Harry wondered if the widening of Griphook's eyes was the typical sign of recognition.

"The Doctor? Is that so. Who are the other members of your...family?"

McGonagall stared at the unusually friendly goblin with astonishment. Rarely did they do much more than terse conversations, wanting to whisk any magical folk out the door as soon as possible. Goblins and wizards rarely got along.

"That's Rose, dad's mate, and that's Jack Harkness, uncle, when he's not too busy trying to charm his way into anyone's bed." Harry pointed out his family.

The goblin paused at Jack's name, giving him a terse once over. "Jack Harkness, Lover to Sa…"

"Yes, yes, that's me," Jack said, rushing to cut the goblin off before he could let out a bit too much about their history. "How did you know?"

"Your name has been a curiosity in the bank, ever since, well, ever since their possessions came under our purview, or the key to their possessions along with individual requests. All four of them spoke of you and you feature heavily in those requests, but your name is in no other document, none that have survived. I assume you wish to see what was left?" Griphook was, Harry marveled, rather quick to pick up hints.

"Of course, yes. Where…?"

Griphook rang a bell, and a goblin came out of a side chamber. "Nagnok will take you to their possessions and return you here when you are done. Nagnok, this is Jack Harkness."

Nagnok's eyes widened in sudden understanding, and he gestured Jack to follow him. Jack took off with a grin and a wave back to them, then was gone.

"What is going on?" McGonagall asked. "We came here to get money for Mr. Po...Harry's supplies. I wasn't aware you had an account under Mr. Harkness's name."

"It is a special account, Professor. We can now take care of Harry's account. Mr. Harry, I will tell you, your friend, Arthur, left you some things through his mentor. It has been a great mystery to us all as to how you would know such people, but your father is well known here. The goblins, after all, pay attention to the outside world." Griphook bared his teeth in a wide grin. "It is a privilege, Sir Doctor, Dame Rose."

Rose and the Doctor winced. "Ah, yeah, hello. You are well informed."

"We feel it is prudent to pay attention to the non-magical world, as they often have wonderful advances that we may be able to use." Griphook stepped off the high stool behind the counter and gestured for Harry to follow him. "Professor, you may wait here. We have a couple stops to make, and you are not a magical guardian nor do you need to get anything from your vault."

McGonagall stood in shock as she was left in the lobby of Gringotts while Harry Potter and his strange little family followed the goblin to the carts.

"They know who you are, dad," Harry said. "Apparently Arthur left things for me through Merlin. Didn't know how I could know Merlin until I told them your name."

"I gathered," the Doctor said.

"Anything we need to do about it?" Rose asked.

"I don't think so. When he realized we were trying to not let the professor know, he didn't say anything incriminating. So it's probably fine. Besides, I think he likes you dad." Harry grinned up at his dad.

"Here, this is the cart to take you down. I have your key from your professor. The vault from Merlin requires a password. I was assured you would know what it was."

Harry blinked, confused. "A password?"

"Indeed. It was a puzzle when it was discovered. Gringotts was built here nearly four hundred years after Merlin's time, but it was in the same place many people stored treasures and valuables in the first place. It was just decided that there should be a system to deal with it all. Merlin's vault, along with the room Nagnok is taking Jack Harkness too, were here long before Gringotts was originally set up. We built around them, along with the vaults from several other ancient lines." Griphook climbed into the cart in front of them. "Hold on," was the only warning they were given, before the cart shot off downwards at high speeds.

Harry cheered in glee. Rose laughed and the Doctor joined her as the cart took them on a roller coaster of a track.

It skid to a halt in front of a vault, and Griphook climbed out. "Your vault, Mr. Harry. James and Lily Potter left this trust vault to you. It contains the money they possessed before they died. The Potter Family vault will be available to you when you are of age. It contains the heirlooms and relics of the family." Griphook inserted a tiny golden key into a slot, then the wall seemed to melt away.

Harry stared at the piles of gold and silver and bronze beyond. "What's all this then?"

"This is wizarding money. The gold ones are Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts. 17 sickles to a galleon, 29 knuts to a sickle. I would recommend a decent amount of money, as you are buying school supplies," Griphook informed him.

"What's the normal cost of things? I'm crap at currency and exchange rates until I get the math all sorted."

Griphook leered. "Books cost anywhere from 5 sickles to 100 galleons for the extremely rare and valuable books. Average is about a galleon. A trunk of passable quality will cost you about 13 to 15 galleons, and a good quality trunk with some interior space will run you about 50. The nicer trunks can be hundreds of galleons, but unless you plan on living in one, they're rather impractical. As for your other supplies, under fifty galleons for high quality supplies, though if you like high quality robes you'll be looking at a hundred or more."

Harry stared at the piles of coins, picking up a few and fingering them. "Well, I guess I can just shove a ton in my pockets for now, figure it out later then." And he started picking coins and shoving them into his pockets. In no time, he just resorted to grabbing handfuls of the gold coins and pouring them into his pockets. Faster the better. He wanted to see what Arthur had left him.

Griphook stared at him as he left the vault. "Where did you put all that money?" he asked.

Harry patted his pocket. "Here. It's got a transcendental dimension. Not huge, but it lets me shove a ton of stuff in it without it affecting the outer dimension."

"I see. That is a rather handy design. Much like our bottomless bags." Harry's eyes lit up. "You can find them in the shops that sell trunks, though of course Gringotts has special personal bags tied to one's vault, though they are expensive," Griphook told him, correctly interpreting his look. "And impractical for young wizards and witches who have just discovered their wealth. There is a standard policy to wait until after their coming of age to give a child such a bag."

Harry didn't seem concerned with the goblin's pronouncement and bounced out of the vault and back into the cart. "They have dimensionally transcendental bags here! Made with magic!" He looked at his dad. "I have to get one! I could use it to figure out the spells they used!"

"Well, make sure you ask the professor to take us to the shop. Did you grab enough money?"

"I think so. I mean, I ended up just shoving handfuls of the gold coins in my pocket until I diminished a small hill, so I probably did some damage on the number of coins in there." Harry took a few of them out. "They are rather large."

Rose took one, examining it. "Wow, it's gold. It would go for a fortune on the open market."

"It couldn't be sold there. There are extensive enchantments woven into the coins that make them appear as useless copper disks unless someone is knowledgeable about the wizarding world. And you can't melt the coins down, so there isn't an easy way to get rid of the enchantments," Griphook explained.

"Ah, that makes sense. Otherwise you all wouldn't have much of an economy if a money oriented new blood gets the idea to sell these to non-magicals." Rose handed the coin back to Harry.

Griphook started the cart up again, and they enjoyed the ride deep into the bank, further than Harry thought it was reasonably safe to travel into the Earth.

A long while later, the cart came to a stop beside a large, stone door that looked stuck fast to the surrounding stone.

There were carvings on the door, Harry could see, and he lept up to get a better look at them.

"To gain entrance, speak the word of Light that grants its true vision," Harry said. "Dad, Merlin's password is in Old High Gallifreyan. Can I use it?"

"Well, that's one way of making sure no one can get in but him," Rose murmured.

"Merlin had always been a clever chap. He probably used his memory to set the password, so it has to be Harry saying it." He raised his voice. "Be careful. Make sure you aren't holding your focus at the time or thinking about the magic behind the word. Just use the word, Harry."

Harry nodded, breathing in deep. Then he placed his hand in the stone and spoke the word from those many years ago. It echoed around him, reverberating off the walls. Griphook, sitting in the cart, felt the word rattle his bones and wondered what kind of child Harry Potter was, to know such a language that made his entire body rattle.

Under his hands, the stone seemed to melt into mist, and he had to pull back or risk falling on his face.

Old air escaped the confines of the cave, and he choked at the dust. "Merlin really didn't bother with airing charms," he said.

"It was hundreds of years ago, I doubt they would have lasted this long," the Doctor said.

"If he had carved them into the walls, then they would have. This stuff is hard, it would have lasted." Harry tapped the walls.

"Stop complaining and go see what your friend left you," Rose said, shooing Harry into the vault.

Harry stuck his tongue out before heading into the darkness. Well, it was dark until he stepped foot into it, then a soft light seemed to radiate from the stone all around him.

"Welcome back, Harry. We have been waiting for you."

Harry started at the voice. "Merlin?"

"In a sense, I am Merlin. Though only an impression, left here to give you instructions. Arthur insisted. He was sure you would need them, though I never knew why. He was such a strange child, after you left. That journal never left his hands, and you all talked to each other for years. I believe you had more impact on the future of this world than you ever realized, through King Arthur."

"Really? I mean, Arthur was always strong headed."

"Yes, but you were his first real friend, and he valued your words. Do not let him down."

"Not that I could," Harry muttered. "Not after hearing you say that. Do you know that you're basically causing a paradox loop by telling me this? Now I have to fulfill it simply because it has already happened, though it hasn't happened yet?"

There was a chuckle. "I am aware. I gathered as much from a note you wrote to Arthur once about this."

"Great, now another thing I have to do. I hate having to follow the laws of time, sometimes."

"And yet I see you still carry my enchantments that tell time for you." Merlin's voice was amused.

Harry sighed. "Alright, so what did I come here for? It wasn't just for the witty banter."

"No, though that was enjoyable. Arthur left you a few of his possessions. I have enchanted them to remain timeless until you touch them, so I would suggest taking good care of them. Arthur valued them, and he insisted that you would need them at some point and time."

A bright light shone from further within the vault, and Harry headed towards it, wondered what his friend would have left him.

A chest sat at the back wall, alone but for a tall staff standing next to it. Harry peered at the staff closely. "That….that staff's yours, isn't it?" Harry asked.

"It is, young mage. I left it here, knowing you might find a use for it. I could no longer use it in my old age and circumstances forbade me from passing it on. So here it remained. I would trust you to not let on its secret. There are many in this world who would abuse its power."

Harry nodded. "You can trust me. The Tardis is probably the safest place for it. I mean, I have my own focus, so I don't really need another one."

"You may one day need it, young mage. Now, the chest is from Arthur."

Harry leaned down, touching the locking mechanism and watching it pop off. Convenient.

He lifted the lid and looked inside.

Oh. Well, he hadn't expected Arthur to leave that behind.

He reached inside and pulled out the twin to his journal, the one that sat beside his bed. He tried to lift the cover, but it was stuck fast, so he couldn't open it, but he would treasure it. Arthur had left it to him, he would imagine that at some point he would need its messages.

There were several other strange items within the chest. A scabbard for a sword, but no sword. A dagger intricately carved with runes he couldn't read. A stone bowl with more runes. Bottles with odd floating mist inside them. A few more books. And a cloak of deep red.

"The scabbard is for Arthur's sword. When you need it, it will come. The dagger is a ritual knife imbued with enough magical power that it should be sufficient for any ritual you will ever need to perform. The bowl and the bottles go together, though you will learn their use later, and the books as well. That cloak was Arthur's. He wanted to leave you something to remember him by." Merlin's voice was soft and filled with affection for the boy he had helped raise.

Harry touched the cloak, smiling. "He got sentimental in his old age," he murmured.

Harry looked over the objects, then decided the trunk would be easier to carry out than bringing everything out on its own.

He shut the lid, grabbed the staff, and headed back out towards the entrance. "I need some help. I've got a chest back here, and I'm supposed to keep everything in it. Arthur told Merlin that it was all important and I would need it. Someone mind helping me haul it out? It's sort of heavy. Oh, and here's his staff. He said I could take it." Harry held out the staff.

Griphook's eyes were wide. "Merlin...Merlin's staff...you are in possession of Merlin's staff," he said, a daze in his eyes."

Harry looked at the staff, shrugged. "Yeah. He said I could probably use it at some time. Dunno why. I mean, it's awesome and it's powerful, but I could probably do the same with my focus."

"Don't underestimate that staff's power. There has been much curiosity over it's location, young mage. I have felt the searching probes of their magic for centuries," Merlin's voice echoed.

Harry sighed. "Then I'm really going to have to keep it hidden. Hey, how long does this spell work for your semi-conscious spirit?"

"It will last until you close the vault. It was a one time enchantment and after you leave, it will never be used again."

"Huh?"

"I had to drain nearly my entire magical core to leave this echo of myself for you. I was near death, it wasn't such an issue, but most magicals do not like to do such things."

"Ah, I see. Well, um, thank you? I mean, really, thank you. You didn't have to do that. Is there any way I can make it last longer, or take it with me? The spell, I mean," Harry said, feeling a little awkward that the great wizard had done this for him.

Merlin chuckled. "No, young mage. It is alright. I merely wished to make sure you received all the necessary information about these items so you would understand the importance of the things you will be taking."

Harry looked back at the chest. "Ah. I see. Will I understand in time or something? I don't even know what half of that is."

"It will be useful when the time for its use is upon you. You will need it at some point and it may save your life. I am unsure. There was a period of time that is unclear in my memory, so I don't really know."

"Well, at least there's something temporally important to look forward to," Harry said. "Alright, so is anyone going to help me with the chest? It's large and awkward." He looked at the staff, measured it with his hands, then nodded. It would fit into his pocket. He shoved it in.

Rose climbed out of the cart and walked over. "Alright, let's see this chest of yours. Any way you can store it like all that money or something?"

Harry shook his head. "The staff is fine in my pockets, but I don't know how to compress something as hard as that chest into a small enough space to fit into my pockets, and I think the chest is important as well. So I'll just have to bring the whole thing up. Maybe the professor can make it lighter. I don't know that spell yet."

The two of them headed to the chest, one on each end. "Wow, this is heavy. You better hope your professor can lighten it. I don't think you could carry it around if it isn't lightened."

They struggled with it back to the cart, where the Doctor had engaged Griphook into a conversation about getting ahold of the goblin historical records. Harry heard the conversation end with Griphook's assurances he would ask his superiors.

"Will that even fit in the cart?" the Doctor asked, looking at the chest.

Griphook smiled. "No need to worry. The carts are designed to expand to fit anything a customer may wish to bring. Now, let's get you back up to the surface. Your professor is probably wondering if we have stolen you."

Harry laughed. "Wait, wait, I need to go say goodbye to Merlin. He's gonna vanish when we close the vault, so I want to say bye." He dashed back. "Merlin?"

"Yes, young Harry?"

"I'm, well, I'm leaving now. I wanted to say thank you, for doing this for me. And leaving me your staff, and for helping with my magic. I don't think I would have been able to do anything without your support."

There was a soft chuckle. "Young mage, it was a pleasure to teach you. I missed your presence when you left. It was an experience I would never forget, and your support and lessons to Arthur raised him to be a great king. I hope you teach him as well as I remember you doing so."

"Well, now that you've said it, I don't have much choice," Harry joked, grinning. "I'll be sure to tell Arthur to tell you that I say hi when I write him this evening!"

"Thank you, Harry. Goodbye, and good luck. May your path be prosperous, and remember, young mage, to tell your Uncle Jack that it was not his fault. You will learn why soon."

Harry groaned. More cryptic message. But Merlin's presence had faded and he couldn't get any answers.

He headed back out to the cart and climbed in. "Alright, let's go. I'm sure Professor McGonagall is pacing the lobby wondering where we are. We've been down here quite a while. She's gonna complain we're wasting the day away. And I still have to go shopping and everything." He made a face.

The cart ride back up was fast and exciting, but Harry was going over the words Merlin had told him. He wondered what was so important in the future that he would need so much from Arthur now.

He would have to wait though, as both Uncle Jack and McGonagall were waiting.

"Where have you been? It's been almost forty five minutes!" McGonagall fussed as soon as she saw Harry. "It shouldn't take so long to go down to your vault!"

Harry sighed. "We had another stop. Can you lighten this for me?" Harry gestured to the trunk he was dragging.

McGonagall blinked, looking behind him for the first time. "What...where did you get that?" She had never see the like before. It looked positively medieval.

Harry shrugged. "Down in another vault that belonged to me. I needed it, so I'm bringing it. But it's heavy and I don't know how to lighten things get. So, can you lighten it?"

"But, why hasn't your...father lightened it for you?"

"Sorry, can't do that! Different kind of magic," the Doctor said, wiggling his fingers at her.

She narrowed her eyes, but obliged since she was more focused on getting Harry the rest of his supplies. She would discuss this with Dumbledore later.

"Wow, awesome! Thanks! Any chance you could shrink it? I can stick it in my pocket that way."

McGonagall sighed but shrunk the chest, then gestured at them to follow. "If you have all the money you need, let's get going. We don't have all day."

Harry waved to Griphook, who was slipping a ream of parchment to the Doctor, before they all headed out. "Uncle Jack, what did they have for you?"

Jack smiled down at Harry. "A key for a special room in Hogwarts. I was wondering if I would see it again."

Harry's eyes widened. "You'll take me, right?"

"Of course."

They had to trot to keep up with the transfiguration professor who, they discovered, walked way too fast for comfort.

"Here, the headmaster wanted Ollivander to test your wand to make sure it works for you. It's standard. Our students must have a wand they can use."

Harry sighed. They were standing in front of a wand shop that, if the plaque was to be believed, had been around for over a thousand years. Ollivanders.

"Guess we might as well get it over with," he said, then opened the door.

The moment they all stepped in, there was a startled yelp from within the shop and the sound of something crashing.

A moment later, a small, pale man came from within the depths of the store, eyes wide and full of confusion. "Who...what are you?" he said, awe in his voice. "You aren't...you clearly aren't human."

McGonagall cut a look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Minerva McGonagall, fir, dragon heartstring, 9 and half inches, stiff. How lovely to see you. You have brought some strange company with you. Is the littlest one to go to Hogwarts? You glow with the shine of time, child. Pray, what is your name?"

"Harry. Can you actually see time?" Harry asked, curious.

"You glow in it, and the young woman, my dear, do you know you have a wolf inside you?"

"Yes, I do." Rose touched her chest. "She's been with me for a long time."

"A...a werewolf?" McGonagall stuttered. Had they really let a werewolf around the Wizarding World's Savior?

"No, no, nothing of the sort. She is Time's Chosen. The Bad Wolf. An honor." He turned towards Jack. "What are you? You...you don't...you don't have...it flows around you. So strange…A rock in the eddy. You repel everything." Ollivander, Harry figured, then turned to the Doctor. "And you, oh, wow. My eyes…" He blinked. "I can't seem to make you out. You are bathed in time. It clings to you, a child to their parent. So strange."

Harry looked at his dad. "Well, it comes with the title," the Doctor offered. "I'm the Doctor, if that helps."

"I see. I think, yes, it fits you. How odd. Well, young Harry, are you sure you need a wand? I would expect one such as you to not need one."

Harry shook his head. "I need one for now at least. I have one, if that helps. The headmaster wanted you to take a look at it for some reason."

"Ah. Well, that makes my job much easier. I would fret over having to match you to one of my wands, I fear none would accept you. May I see it?"

Harry reached down to his focus and pulled it out of it's holster, holding it out. "I wouldn't touch it. I don't know how it would react," Harry warned.

Ollivander quickly put his hands down. "There is an immense amount of power coming off that wand...are you sure it is a wand?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "What are you? You see things much too clearly," he said, voice bordering on a whine.

Ollivander grinned at him. "I am a tied to a wind spirit, child. My family must be, you see. To maintain our bond with the animals we gather parts from and the trees we harvest branches from, we must be part of nature. Many many generations ago, one of the first Ollivanders performed the ritual. Since then, all Ollivander wand makers are matched with a wind spirit at birth, and over time we merge. Connected to nature and energy." He looked closely at Harry, scrutinizing him and his wand. "My word, are you...are you Harry Potter?"

Harry groaned. "No, no, no, I don't, ugh really?" He sighed. "Why do you know that name anyway? I mean, really, I understand why the teachers at a school I'm supposed to go to know that name, but why do you?"

"You mean, you don't know?"

"Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't ask." Harry frowned.

"My dear child, you are not as I expected you. You are, there is only a small part of that is Harry Potter, child of Lily and James Potter. You survived the Killing Curse, and in doing so you defeated the dark lord. Your survival bolstered the wizarding world and you became their savior."

At this, Harry glared at his dad. "You know, you should have just told me I was some sort of savior to them. I wouldn't have run away."

"You sure?" the Doctor asked. "The last time I told you something like that, you hid from me in the Tardis for two whole cycles. I wasn't risking it again."

Harry grumped. "Well, I'm going to have to deal with this in any case, I have to stay here after all. So, anything about my focus….wand. I mean." Harry looked at Ollivander.

"May I cast a spell to see what its components are?" he asked, a wand in his hands, held loosely as he waited for permission.

Harry shrugged, not really seeing the downside to that. "Sure."

Half a minute later, Ollivander looked like he had been standing in the center of an explosion. "That was not the expected reaction," he coughed.

Harry looked down at his focus. "Um, I guess those kinds of spells out out of the question too, then," he muttered. He would have to chat with his focus a little later, to see what the fuss was about.

"Did you learn anything?" McGonagall pressed, wondering if this was perhaps beyond her knowledge.

Ollivander coughed again, shaking soot from his hair and clothes. "It is a functioning wand, though it wouldn't work for any but young Harry here. And that is about all I can tell you." He looked at Harry. "Your wand is possessive child. I would not let it out of your sight."

"I wasn't planning on it," Harry replied, holding it close.

"Then, if that is all, we need to get going. We are on a tight schedule." McGonagall was wondering if this odd group she was escorting would perhaps lead to her downfall in some way or other. Ollivander found them strange, and that was cause enough to worry.

With a wave back to the bedraggled wand crafter, they left the shop.

"So, where to? I mean, Harry here's already blown up one shopkeeper, we might as well keep the ball rolling," Jack said, grinning.

"The trunkshop. Better to have a place to put all your purchases before actually buying anything. Then we'll grab all the rest of the things you need before we go to the bookstore. And no, we will not be spending all day in the bookstore," McGonagall said, choosing to ignore Jack's words about blowing up shopkeepers and correctly interpreting the look on Harry's face.

"Ah, well, I guess I'll just have to grab as many as I can," he said.

The trunkshop was much as they would expect. Trunks lay on shelves with signs listing their properties. Various colors, from dull black to, for some reason, a literally fuzzy pink, ranged around the store.

"Any recommendations?" Harry asked the teller behind the counter.

The girl grinned at him. "What do you like? Clothes, books, potions, or quidditch?"

"Books," Harry said firmly, not sure what quidditch was.

"Ah, well then, first year yes? You look tall enough for a first year. Muggleborn?"

"Hm?"

"Yes, definitely muggleborn. Now, let's see. A muggleborn first year who likes books. First trunk? I'll take that as a yes. You have your wand? Another yes. A little odd, coming after the school year started, we don't get many Hogwarts kids around this time. Almost none in fact. Ah, yes, here we are!" And she pulled a card out. "Here, this section has the best models for your needs!" She held the card out to Harry.

Harry took it, looking at the neat script in elegant calligraphy. "Area 6B?" he queried.

"Just through this door is area B. Just look for the six, and take your time! Trunks are an investment. A good trunk can stay with you your entire life!" She beamed at him.

"Um...alright then. Thanks...what's your name?"

The girl looked a bit surprised. "Oh, wow, um, my name's Jamie. This is my uncle's shop, and he's been teaching me how to make trunks! It's quite fun!"

"Well, thank you Jamie. When we're ready do we come back out here? Also, how do you add spells to trunks? Things like making it easy to carry or to make it smaller when you need to? And how to keep other people out of it." Harry was thinking he could store some of his experiments in it, away from his dad.

"Trying to keep your roommates out of your stuff, huh? I guess it's a problem everyone has. It's rather late in the year for a first year to be getting a trunk," she repeated, leaning in and aiming for an answer this time.

Harry shrugged. "Just arrived. I was a bit late, you see."

Jamie nodded. "Well, some of the trunks come with the spells already placed on them, triggered with key phrases. If you buy one, I'll give you the manual. It'll tell you everything you need to know about it. The spells each trunk comes with will be listed in the description affixed to each trunk."

"Got it." And with that, Harry headed through the door and into the back part of the shop.

Just how could there possibly be this many trunks in one shop? was Harry's first thought. Trunks were piled high and probably held there by magic, if his knowledge of physics was any judge. Otherwise he might have been buried in trunks at the slightest movement.

He looked around, searching for the number 6. It took a bit, but he found it, surrounded by plenty of trunks.

How was he supposed to choose one? It seemed absolutely absurd to have a trunk really, when he wouldn't be staying in a dorm and there would be no need for it. Not unless the headmaster forced him. But he had to get one, it said so on his list.

So he went through each trunk, looking at the descriptions before discarding them.

Too frivolous, why would he need three separate library rooms with enough space for chairs?

Was it necessary to have a living space in a trunk?

Too small; if he was any judge, he would be getting a lot of books, either today or over his years at Hogwarts.

No charms, he was not dragging the behemoth around with him.

Why would he need something made out of dragon skin? That seemed wasteful and unnecessary.

Alright, this one was absurd. A full sized chandelier as a feature? The magical world, he decided, was insane.

Finally Harry knelt down next to a rather plain looking one with a simple iron lock on it. The placard told him that it was a one compartment, 3 meters by 4 meters by 3 meters, trunk with basic weight reducing charms and a locking spell opened only by password and magical signature. It didn't shrink, but it was the tamest Harry had seen yet. He wondered if most students bought the strange and weird trunks.

He dragged it behind him, heading back out to Jamie. He was done with trunks.

~~~McGonagall POV~~~

"Why did you send him back there? The standard Hogwarts trunks are out front, if I recall," the transfiguration professor said, eyes narrowed.

Jamie beamed. "He's not a standard first year, is he? I mean, coming in this late, with that adorable little cat on his shoulder and that sparking aura around him. A standard trunk would be a disservice. All our back room trunks are special. They take care of their owners."

"You are an odd young girl, aren't you?" Rose said. "More to you than just what the eye sees."

"My uncle says the same. Says they've never had sales like I make. I think it's the magic in here. It speaks to me." Jamie lifted her hand up to caress something in the air.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

McGonagall sighed. This trip really couldn't get any stranger. Really, it couldn't.

This child, Harry Potter, was not what she was expecting. She had been expecting a small James Potter clone, or a little Lily Evans, uncertain, intelligent, a bit shy, but eager to learn, or trouble making and a bit dim on social niceties, or some combination of the two. But this little boy was, he was….

She wasn't sure. And she would have to teach him. She wanted to cradle her head in her hands, but that would be unbecoming of a teacher.

First his wand, which she had never seen the like of, blew up Ollivander. Then he's sent back for a special trunk, which first years at least were never sent back for. There was no need for a child to have a trunk they could enter, or that they could store incalculable amounts of things in. If the Weasley twins had such a trunk, she shuddered at the amount of trouble they could get into.

The rest of this trip would be a trial of her patience, and she had already agreed to let him into her afternoon first year class with the Slytherins and Ravenclaws. At least it wasn't a Gryffindor/Slytherin class. She had those in some of the upper years and they were a nightmare.

So when Harry came out of the back room dragging a pitch black trunk with an iron lock on it, all McGonagall could be thankful for was that he hadn't gone for a gaudy and silly looking trunk.

~~~~Harry and Co POV~~~~

"So, this one's good yeah? I like it." Harry gestured back to the trunk he dragged out with him.

Jamie grinned. "An excellent choice! The Black Steamster used to be a very popular choice, but it's fallen out of favor as better expansion charms have come into existence and the widespread use of dragonhide in the making of expanded trunks." Jamie dug under her counter for the manual, pulling out a dusty and old looking slim book. "This will tell you how to use all the features on it, there are a few more than advertised, special Traveler's Trunks like the Black Steamster have all sorts of little handy spells worked into its construction."

Harry grinned. He had chosen well, if he had to get a trunk in the first place. "So, how much for the trunk? Probably more than the normal ones, if it was in a special section of the store." Harry raised an eyebrow.

Jamie coughed. "A bit yeah. It's not as extravagant as some of the trunks we provide, so it isn't as expensive as some of the trunks back there, but it's pricey. Traveler's Trunks are typically a bit pricier than standard expanded trunks because of the useful spells woven into them designed for travelers. Is that okay?"

Harry waved a hand. "Yeah, it's not a problem. I mean, I was left a lot of money by my biological parents, so I'm almost literally swimming in the stuff. I never know what to do with money, really."

Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright. So, the trunk will be 150 galleons."

Harry blinked, then chuckled. "Wow, that's quite a bit. Oh, wait, Griphook also said you sell bottomless bags."

"Oh, yes, we do! A popular item amongst students and researchers!" Jamie beamed. "Also, your cat is adorable. And very well behaved."

Harry stroked Pashti, who preened under the praise. "She's amazing. Wouldn't know what to do without her."

"She's a lovely cat. Is she still a kitten? She's very small."

Harry shook his head. "Nope. She just prefers remaining small. I think if she wanted to she could get pretty big, but right now she's comfortable being able to sit on my shoulder."

"Adorable and intelligent. Alright, now, our Mokeskin bags, that's the proper name for them, aren't cheap, but they aren't as expensive as a trunk. You good with that?"

"No problem. What styles do you have?" Harry wanted to make sure whatever he chose he liked. He would use it for a long time to come, and a better product tended to stand up to experimentations well.

"Over here then." Jamie led Harry over to a wall filled with various bags of all colors and shapes.

"Wow, that's a lot of bags," he said.

"My mum specialized in expansion charms! She made it possible to change the shape of the fabric so it didn't have to be just one shape for the charm to work. We have standard bags over here," she pointed at a simple sling bag on a nearby rack. "These are common, but they don't come with many features, other than theft protection and a basic retrieval spell. They're popular for students though since they aren't as expensive as the more customizable versions. But the ones you seem to be looking for are these. They've got most of the standard spells for item retrieval and theft protection worked in as well as protection charms on the bag itself, along with a handful of others that will be detailed in the pamphlet that comes with them."

Harry grinned. "Sounds awesome!" He immediately disregarded the normal ones. He had the money and his family had never been all that good at saving money, or even using it properly. They rarely had the need for money in the first place.

The bags were many different colors, but he had always liked green. Green jacket, green hair, green clothes. He was probably influenced by his eye color, but it made it so much easier. So he narrowed in on the green bags that hung near the bottom.

One was a muddy green and he decided against it. Another was a pastel green and he flinched. Pastels. Just, no, not after that run in with the society that resurrected some ancient Earth tradition involving giant rabbits and painted eggs.

Rose watched from her spot back with the Doctor and Jack. "He's extremely picky when it comes to clothes and bags, isn't he?" she asked.

The Doctor snorted. "You have no idea. He'll agonize over colors and shapes for hours, then promptly go jump in every single mud puddle he can find after he puts them on. I'll never understand. Clothes are clothes. You wear them so you don't get cold and you use bags to put stuff in, why should the outside matter?"

"Says the man who wears the same exact jacket and suit combo and has for years," Rose replied.

"Oi, at least I found something I liked and stuck to it. He still can't decide if he wants to wear shoes or not."

Jack laughed. "You give him as much leeway as he wants with things. Of course he'd run wild with it. No guidance means he had to figure it out himself."

"Well, he should. It's his life."

Rose chuckled. "Most parents only let their kids wear certain things. A lot of clothes are off limits or unacceptable. My mum certainly let me know when I went over that line."

The Doctor waved a negligent hand. "He can choose what he wants. Only time I make him wear anything specific is for safety reasons. Otherwise, his body, his rules."

Jack and Rose exchanged grins and raised eyebrows. They did see McGonagall looking over at them with a narrowed expression, having heard the conversation. "Students are required to wear robes during class times," she said primly.

The Doctor sighed. "Good luck getting him to agree. If he has to take off that jacket of his, deal breaker right there."

"You're his...his father, you should be able to persuade him to wear the robes," McGonagall said.

"I've never managed to get him to wear anything he hasn't wanted to since he knew how to choose his own clothes. After a bit, it didn't seem to matter. If he wanted to wear something, then he could wear it."

"But…"

"Later, guys, later," Rose said. "Harry, you got a bag yet?"

Harry turned at the sound of her voice, holding a couple bags up. "Nope, but I think I might have one!"

~~~~Harry~~~~

He looked at Pashti. "Any opinion? I mean, I like these two," he gestured at the two in his hands. They were both green, one a vine green, bright and lively, the other darker and deeper. They had a single strap for him to carry them with. The bright green one had leafy designs worked into the fabric while the darker one had intricate knots.

Pashti looked them over, before indicated the darker green one. Harry grinned.

"Chosen one?" Jamie asked.

"Yep! This one." Harry held out the dark green bag.

"An excellent choice! I've always loved the celtic knots in it. So, the bag works by using vocal commands to call up anything you want. So long as it's in the bag, you can call for it. I'll need a small blood sample to tie it to you. Wouldn't want anyone else to get their hands on it, yeah?" Jamie grinned.

Harry frowned a bit. "Blood sample?"

"Oh, don't worry. I have a special device for that. No need to go slicing up fingers or anything. It'll call out the right amount of blood for the enchantment to recognize you then burn anything remaining. Quite useful."

"Alright then. That'll work. Um, you think I could tie Pashti into it? She's helpful and all."

Jamie furrowed her brow. "Well I could tie her in, but I don't know how well a recall would work for her. She doesn't speak human, does she?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but she's intelligent enough to figure it out. It would save a lot of trouble for me later. Do you have to speak English for the recall to work?"

"Alright then. Not the most unusual request I've had. Well, let's go over here and we'll get everything set up." Jamie grinned at Harry. "And unless you find an enchanter, yes the word has to be in English, or the name of the thing as recognized in the English language, since the charm for the recall uses the caster's own language knowledge. In Italy, if you bought such a bag, you would need to use Italian, and such and so on. But I know you can tweak the spell if you can find an enchanter who speaks the language you want the bag to recognize. I've heard there was once an enchanter who could tie the retrieval spell into the owner's native language, but it was just a rumor. Such things are notoriously hard with the restrictions on blood magic."

A few moments later, after Harry had gotten blood drawn from his left ring finger and Pashti had chosen her tails, tightly winding the two together so they looked like one, Jamie tied them both into the bag. "Thanks!" Harry said. He would enjoy looking at the spells woven into the bag. He could feel them through his magic, but picking them apart would be enjoyable.

"Alright, so the total will be 200 Galleons and 12 sickles!" Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of galleons at a time.

"Um, you have any way to count these?"

Jamie snorted. "And here I thought you would have it all in a special Gringotts bag," she remarked.

Harry shrugged. "Eh. I have pockets. No need. Also Griphook said they don't let underage kids have those bags."

"Ah. I do suppose the only kids who have had one of those are the kids from wealthy families, and I think their parents just let them borrow theirs. Useful things though."

"Ah, well. I think the Mokeskin pouch will be just fine. Don't need my entire fortune on me at all times." Harry started dropping his galleons into the large bowl Jamie had pulled out from under her counter. Numbers started popping up over it.

14

27

50

87

99

110

140

157

188

210

"Oops," Harry muttered, taking out galleons until it read 201. "There."

Jamie beamed again. "Thank you! Here's your change, 5 sickles!" Harry dropped them into his new Mokeskin bag. "Have a nice day, and enjoy your purchases!"

Harry waved as he turned back to his family and the professor. "Alright, where to next?"

McGonagall thought it best to leave things like robes and books till the end, so she led them to first the potions shop and ordered a standard first year potions kit. Harry added that he would like a nicer set of knives than those offered, remembering Salazar saying that how one chopped/diced/sliced/whatever something was very important.

His professor gave him an odd look.

Harry then proceeded to reject three sets of knives the Apothecary owner showed him.

"Don't you have anything that doesn't lose it's edge and can be used on all ingredients, or includes the knives that you need for them?" Harry complained.

"How old are you, Harry?" the Doctor asked. "I remember you being more agreeable when you were five than you are now."

"When I was five I wasn't buying something so integral to my education," Harry retorted.

The owner was wondering if the child he was serving was actually eleven. Most eleven year olds didn't care one way or another about knives, and rarely did they know that knives affected potions. "Well, I do have, I mean, it's rather expensive and only experienced potioneers every bother with them. They aren't really suitable for a first year…" he trailed off.

"I can still use them as a first year, yes? I mean, they aren't impossible for me to use. I was taught that preparation was utmost when it came to making potions and my teacher was rather strict about the whole process." Harry huffed at that. "So I would rather have the nice ones and not hear his voice haunting me for poor choices in my sleep."

"Well, yeah, you can use them. If you're sure."

Harry nodded.

McGonagall sighed and wondered how Snape would react hearing about Harry Potter being interested enough in potions to buy the highest quality knife set they sold in Diagon Alley.

Harry grinned at her then put the potions kit in his new bag and dropped the cauldron into his trunk.

They stopped by the stationery store and Harry moaned over the parchment rolls and quill/ink combo sets.

"Really?" he complained to his dad.

"Well, you want to change all this, yeah? So get some here, then just used things from the Tardis. Though I will say the idea of writing with a quill and ink is just fascinating."

"If you don't mind your hands being splotchy and ink covered when you're done," Harry commented.

"Just takes some practice," Jack replied.

Harry groaned. This was so unfair.

"Besides, it looks lovely when you write well," Rose said, enjoying the dawning look of horror on Harry's face as he realized they weren't backing him up.

"You guys, come on!"

"They require parchment and quills, so get going!"

Harry groaned, but reluctantly picked out a set of quills and a couple ink bottles, before grabbing whatever parchment he put his hands on. He didn't bother checking the prices.

McGonagall stopped him with an outstretched square of white. "Here, this will erase any mistakes. It's an Ink Remover. So long as you get it within a few minutes of the mistake, you don't have to Vanish all the ink. It's useful for those just learning how to use quills."

Harry took the little square. "Um, thanks. That's helpful." Not that he would be using quills.

"No problem. I'm glad to be of some assistance."

Harry dropped seven galleons on the counter for his purchases before dropping the unwanted quills, ink, and parchment into his bag.

"What's next?"

"A telescope."

Harry laughed. "Really?"

"Harry," the Doctor said.

"But I mean, I know all the names of the stars and planets. Is it really necessary?"

"Do you know their names here in the UK?" Jack asked.

Harry frowned. "Aren't they the same?"

Rose sighed. "No, no they aren't. So dazzle them later with your knowledge and just get a telescope for now."

They trudged after McGonagall, Pashti making sure Harry knew her amusement at his situation. Harry just moaned back.

The telescopes they were to be using, Harry discovered, were ancient.

"These are old," he informed McGonagall. "How do you expect to see anything of importance through these? You do know that by this time the Hubble has already been put into orbit. There are better telescopes in the non-magical world!" Harry glared at the telescopes that sat on display around him.

"The Hubble?" McGonagall asked, hesitant.

"The large, multi-spectrum telescope in low Earth orbit. It's outside of the planet's atmosphere so it can take high resolution photos of stars and planets that you can't see from the planet's surface. I mean, it was one of the most significant advancements in astronomical science humans made in the 20th century." Harry rolled his eyes. "How separated are you from the non-magical world that you don't even know about the Hubble? You do know humans have been to the Moon, yes?"

McGonagall blinked at Harry. "Of course. Are you implying we are completely ignorant? Wizards have, on accident or through some odd spell, been to the Moon as well, long before Muggles ever made it there. I don't quite understand how they made it there, they don't have magic and I don't understand their technology, but we were informed of their trip. The Moon is quite inhospitable without advanced enchantments, but it's not impossible!" She sounded outraged.

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Well, forgive me for the assumption, but looking at these models, I could be forgiven for it. These look like they're straight out of the pre-circumnavigation era."

McGonagall sighed. "Just...just choose a telescope. They have runes and enchantments woven into them to improve visibility." She kneaded her temples. The child was insufferable.

"Fine, fine." Harry picked through the models until he found one he didn't mind being seen with and paying for it, before shoving it in his trunk.

"So, just robes and books left," the Doctor commented.

They walked out into the bright, sunny daylight once again. There were a few people wandering the streets, but they weren't packed. The day after Halloween wasn't a popular day for shopping, and since students were at Hogwarts there weren't people out getting supplies for school and filling the streets.

"They're both towards the beginning of Diagon Alley. We'll get robes first since I'm sure the bookstore will be of great interest to you," McGonagall said, eyeing Harry. "And I would rather only have to drag you all out of one store to get to Hogwarts."

"You know bookworms rather well," Rose commented.

"I know that look. It's an unmistakable gleam at the mere mention of books. There's a young first year with the same exact look. I was surprised she was sorted into Gryffindor, to be honest," McGonagall said. "You'll get along with her quite well."

Harry tilted his head, the beads rattling against each other. "What's her name?"

"Hermione Granger."

His eyes widened. "Really now," he murmured. Hermione was the name of the girl the troll had almost squished. It was unlikely there would be a second girl with the same unusual name.

"What's that look?" Jack whispered to him.

"That's the name of the girl who was in the toilets the troll was ripping up," he replied in an undertone.

Jack blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. Makes me wonder what she was doing down there. They're sort of out of the way for Gryffindors, yeah? Library and the grounds are the opposite direction, and it was feast time, so there wouldn't have been classes."

"Indeed. Godric claimed the North Tower overlooking the grounds for his students. The dungeons were always Sal's. He liked the cool temperatures, especially since it helped preserve his ingredients longer. Rowena found a tower room that hadn't been there before and claimed it. Helga set up shop near the kitchens, mostly because she was the only one out of the four of them who remembered to eat at regular intervals and had any skill at cooking."Jack smiled.

Harry loved hearing about his Uncle's time with the Founders. He remembered them, but he had only been there for a little while. His uncle lived there for years! More years than he had been alive.

In his musings, Harry nearly ran into McGonagall's back. "This is Madam Malkin's. She has been providing robes to Hogwarts students for many years." The transfiguration professor looked Harry over. "So be polite."

"Oi, I've been nothing but polite!" Harry protested.

She raised an eyebrow. "You fought with the Apothecary owner over knives, you blew up Ollivander, you fought the shop owner over a telescope, and you whined at the quill shop the entire time we were there."

"She's got you there Harry," Rose quipped, smirking. "One would think you were five instead of eleven, but I have it on good authority that you weren't nearly this irritable at five."

Harry sighed, hanging his head. "Alright, fine. Let's just go get this over with. I don't have to wear them all the time right? I can wear my jacket yes? I mean, robes are rather impractical and this jacket is rather special." Harry fingered his jacket.

"Robes are required," McGonagall informed him.

"I'm not taking my jacket off for some robes that get stuck in door frames and on desk legs," Harry retorted.

"Do you have to be the most difficult student I have ever taken shopping?" McGonagall just barely resisted calling him Mr. Potter. She didn't think she could deal with the boy's reply about his name. "Just get the robes and complain to the headmaster about it!" And she sincerely was hoping the boy wouldn't be in her house. She glared back at Harry's family. "You all could help out you know?"

Rose put her hands up. "I have long ago learned that Harry will do as he pleases. Take it up with his father."

The Doctor smiled a wide, unnerving grin. "So long as he isn't endangering others, doing unauthorized experiments, or causing unnecessary chaos, he's got free reign to argue for his stance. Though he has to abide by the reigning authority on the matter, in this case the Headmaster." The Doctor looked at Harry. "And he is well aware of this requirement."

Harry rolled his eyes, absently petting Pashti. "I know, I know. I'll plead my case to Dumbledore. It's odd, not having to appeal to you. I know what to say to get you to let me do something. Dumbledore, I have no idea." He shrugged his shoulder. "Ah, well, it'll be fun."

McGonagall stared in astonishment. "You allow an eleven year old to argue for what he wants to do?" she said, shock in his voice.

"Of course. How would he ever learn to do anything on his own if he wasn't given the choice? I mean, I might not like everything he wants to do, but if he has good reasons for doing it, and can express them articulately, than he's got the right to at least try." The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets. "How else would children ever learn how to survive in the world?"

McGonagall wanted to argue that Harry was eleven and that he wasn't old enough to logically make decisions like that, but stopped herself. Harry was far and away more mature than any first year she had ever taught. "Then you can argue with the headmaster about the robe requirements later. For now, just get robes." She glanced at Pashti. "And Pashti will have to go somewhere else. You need to take your jacket off for the measurements to work."

They entered the store, and a middle aged woman in well made purple robes bustled over at the sight of McGonagall.

"Minerva! It's wonderful to see you! And who's this? A Hogwarts student? A little late in the year for robes? Did they not get winter robes? It's getting rather chilly out, though why you wouldn't owl order them…"

"No, not that. This is Harry...Harry. He's a new first year. There was a mix up and he arrived a little later than expected. So we need to get him the full set. Is that alright?"

The woman blinked. "Oh, of course. It is really late, though, isn't it? Alright then, young man, over here."

Harry held his hand up to Pashti, who stepped onto his palm, and he transferred her to Rose. "Um, alright. Here?" Harry stepped onto a platform in front of the woman. "And what's your name? Professor McGonagall already told you mine and it feels weird for you to know mine but I don't know yours."

The woman laughed. "I'm Madam Malkin. This is my store but I rather find I like working with customers over all the tedium of the business side of things. Your jacket is amazing dear. Where did you get it? It has a lot of spells woven into it, I don't think I've ever seen the like." Madam Malkin fingered the coat.

Harry grinned. He loved it when his jacket was complemented. "I got the fabric from the non magical world, but I had it specially made for me by a rather eccentric friend. She put protection spells and a charm to make it grow with me, along with a bunch of others. I had to model for her as payment." He scrunched his nose in memory.

"It's quite a work of art. You'll have to take it off for robes though dear." Harry sighed but shrugged out of his jacket. He handed it carefully to his uncle with a look promising dire consequences if he let anything happen to it. Jack chuckled in response.

"So, what do you do? Is there a spell or something for measuring someone for robes?" Harry asked, curious.

"Oh, of course there are spells, but they can be woefully inadequate unless you're completely nude, and most people don't really want to stand naked in a store just for robes." She chuckled at Harry's wide eyes. "I actually measure a bit closer to how muggle tailors do. Oh dear, why aren't you wearing any shoes? It's just November, you'll catch a cold!" Madam Malkin looked at Harry with concerned eyes.

"Don't like shoes, and it's really not all that cold out. I'm sure dad'll make me put them on when snow starts falling, but until then, I'll enjoy the freedom."

Madam Malkin looked between Harry and the trio of adults standing over near the chairs, worry plain on her face. "Well, I suppose it's not really my place. Let's just get your measurements." She summoned a tape measure and a large robe.

The robe she slung over Harry, urging him to slip his arms into the sleeves. "This is stuffy," he commented.

"In that drafty castle, you'll be glad for it. Now, let's see. Tall for a first year, but you've got no meat on you. Whip thin. You should eat more." She tutted.

"I like to run, thank you very much," Harry said, feeling a tad self conscious.

"Well, boys," she said absently.

Harry felt mildly insulted on Rose's behalf. Half the running she did was for pleasure and he joined Rose for those runs. She was fast, wicked fast, and would tease him if he couldn't keep up. Harry didn't think it was fair, seeing as how she had over a century of running practice on him. She beat Uncle Jack five out of six times and even dad had trouble keeping up!

For longer than Harry really felt comfortable with Madam Malkin prodded and poked at him, adjusting the robe's length and tucking in bits of fabric here and there.

"Alright then dear, you're good. I'll have the standard set ready for you in an hour. You'll still be in Diagon Alley in that time, right?"

Harry's eyes went wide and he cast a mildly panicked look over at his family, but before he had to worry Professor McGonagall answered for him.

"Yes. We should be just leaving. I'll stop by and get them right before we head back to Hogwarts."

As Harry thanked Madam Malkin and took his jacket back from Uncle Jack, he ignored the snickers from all three of them. Pashti jumped on his shoulder the moment he had slid on his jacket, tucking herself up by his ear and resuming her silent observation of the world around.

"So, bookstore now, yes?" Harry asked, gleam twinkling in his eyes.

McGonagall sighed. "Yes, the bookstore. You have one hour. One hour to find all the books you would like and pay for them, before we must be heading back to Hogwarts. Lunch starts in an hour and half and there are a number of problems to sort out before you join classes this afternoon. Your schedule for one, your house for another, and your family for third." McGonagall looked at the four strangers, Harry Potter was a stranger at this point as she had no idea what to make of him, the boy who had plopped right into the ordered life she had been enjoying.

The moment she pointed out the bookstore, just a ways down from the robes, Harry took off, his trunk left in the hands of the tall and grinning Jack Harkness. That green coat McGonagall knew would be the source of controversy later flapped around the thin boy.

"Anyone want to go after him?" Rose asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a bookstore, how much trouble could he get into in a bookstore? Wouldn't he be more concerned about the books to be causing problems?" Minerva questioned.

Rose gave her a pointed look. "This is Harry we are talking about yeah? He could get in trouble in an isolation cell."

The Doctor huffed, then took off at a steady trot after his son.

McGonagall stared at the two remaining strangers. "We'll be at the bookstore in maybe five minutes," she pointed out.

Rose shrugged. "Five minutes is enough time for Harry to not only create a wormhole in space and time but to destabilize the local reality for ten kilometers. There is a reason he is the Doctor's son, and most of that has to do with just how quickly he can either find, make, or stumble into trouble."

"Surely you're joking. The child is eleven."

"You have never been stuck in the same room as a bored, restless, and impossible to entertain Harry before. Just wait, you'll see." Jack hummed, recalling an incident with the roller coaster Harry had finally convinced his father to let him build. Something went wrong with the stabilizers and the entire construct nearly collapsed on itself before the Doctor could initiate a shutdown sequence to see what had gone wrong. Harry had been told to go wait in the lab and to not touch anything, and Jack had been sent along to make sure he didn't get into trouble. It had lasted all of five minutes before Harry had turned Jack fuzzy and orange and himself a jelly purple.

McGonagall looked with skeptical eyes at the two, who just gave her identical, creepy smiles. She turned her attention to the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, instead, hoping to catch sight of the young wizard she was supposed to be escorting around the alley.

She walked into a scene of chaos.

Well, as much chaos as could happen without explosions, fire, or spells.

There was a small crowd of customers crowded near the entrance, holding books they had possibly wanted to purchase but had yet been unable to. The reason was obvious, and the transfiguration professor blinked.

"But….he hasn't even been in here for seven minutes…." she breathed.

"That's four minutes longer than Harry really needed to start causing a scene," Jack commented.

"That's being generous. I've seen him get an arrow pointed at him in under two."

"It's been seven minutes….seven minutes, how can an eleven year old manage this is seven minutes?" McGonagall seemed to be in a state of shock, staring at the scene in front of her.

The path leading up the the register was littered with various stacks of books, haphazardly gathered in unspecified piles but blocking the way just as easily. Several shelves had been ransacked and though the books were placed with care, the furniture suffered in return. And among it all, a small boy rushed back and forth, flickering between the aisles. Despite the speed he was moving with, he managed to not step on any books in the process.

"You've unleashed the monster," Jack said, shaking his head.

"I forgot he was this bad around books," Rose murmured. "We haven't hit any new bookstores or the like in a while."

"It's been seven minutes," McGonagall repeated. "And he's eleven!"

"Eight minutes, actually, and Harry loves books. Never been otherwise, not since he was able to hold one and read." The Doctor popped up next to the deputy headmistress.

McGonagall turned to stare at him, eyes wide. "How...what is going on here? He's a first year, he's eleven! He shouldn't ever need this many books!"

The Doctor laughed. "He's actually cheating a bit right now. He's been starved for information on the magical world, I wouldn't let him get anything of significance so now he's touch reading. Well, reading's a bit of an exaggeration. He's….he's touch skimming. I've let him do it this once since he doesn't have to worry about having the money to pay for it."

Rose gave the Doctor a concerned look. "But doesn't that mean he has to take his necklace off?"

"Why do you think everyone's over in the corner? After I let him take it off, I made sure everyone in the store was away from the stacks." The Doctor gestured at the huddle of maybe ten people. "Very confused but understanding lot."

McGonagall looked over at the small group. Half of them were employees, she realized, and the other half looked like housewives or night workers. Then she looked back over at the flickering figure of Harry Potter, fluttering through the shelves like a fairy. "You said he was touch...skimming? And something about a necklace?"

The three members of Harry's family cast wary looks at each other. "Touch skimming is…" the Doctor trailed off. "You know how Harry was able to tell the enchantments on magical objects he holds?"

"Yes, it's a rare sensing ability. I've never seen someone so young with the same level of sensitivity but it isn't uncommon for muggleborns to come to Hogwarts with a glimmer of it." McGonagall wondered where this was going.

"Well, Harry uses it to cheat at books sometimes."

"Cheat at books?"

"He can use the same sensing ability to sense the ink or whatever writing material was used on the pages and he can read that way. Takes less time, but I think it's cheating since he's not actually reading anything. And he doesn't remember things as well when he does that and he's more likely to get things wrong. But since he only has an hour here, I let him skim. Five seconds a book or less is skimming." The Doctor didn't see McGonagall's mouth drop open in shock.

"He's doing what?" she managed to get out.

"He's using his magic to identify the differing compositions of the ink and the paper and letting his magic read the ink," the Doctor repeated.

"But that...that's advanced level wandless magic!" she stuttered. "He shouldn't be able to do that!"

Rose huffed a laugh. "Don't tell Harry he can't do something or you'll turn around a few hours later to see him having either done that exact thing or nearly blown up the nearest solid object in the attempt."

"He's eleven!"

"You seem to be stuck on his age for some reason. Really, if you stopped thinking that just because he's eleven he shouldn't be doing any of this, then you would be having a much easier time of it. Less stressful that way," Rose assured her.

McGonagall stood in silent contemplation for a few moments, turning this over in her mind. Really, from everything she had seen today, Harry Potter did not act like an eleven year old. Sure, he whined over the quills and ink, he protested at the telescope, he fought over knives and robes but he did it with both the attitude and the vocabulary of someone already reaching maturity. If she had just heard him in passing without having seen him, she would have mistaken him for a high pitched 7th year.

She put her head into her palms, massaging her temples.

"There there, it happens to everyone who meets him eventually. No one's exempt from the stress headaches induced by the Doctor's son. Not even the Doctor's son." Rose grinned brightly at her when she lifted her read.

"That doesn't help," McGonagall muttered.

"I didn't think it would."

Minerva McGonagall moaned softly.

~~~Harry POV~~~

He had an hour and an entire bookstore to go through, not that he really knew what that meant in practical terms. But he knew he had a while. Time enough, maybe, to get a bit of everything.

He wondered where he would start.

"You can touch skim, Harry," his dad's voice came from behind him. "Skim only. I'll move everyone out of your way."

Harry turned around, eyes wide. "Really? I can skim?" He grinned at the nod he received. "Awesome! Pashti you hear that? I can skim!" He reached up for the clasp on his necklace and Pashti mreowed in pleasure.

As his necklace fell away and his magic spread out around him, tasting freedom once again, Harry's eyes lit in pleasure.

He was unaware they glowed a soft green, though the Doctor had seen them and he wondered what that could mean.

Then he was off, avoiding the areas he knew had people in them until his dad could get them out of the way. Revealing his touch empathy was not on the menu for today.

His hands touched spines of books and their topics flooding his mind. He grabbed three off the shelf and headed towards the register, starting his first pile. His dad was convincing the last of the customers to stand over in this corner, please, and yes, it really was important. It wouldn't take long, really.

Harry grinned. He had the store!

He took the aisle closest to the register first, letting his fingers skim the books closest and allowing his magic to touch those he couldn't reach, the reason he needed his necklace off in the first place.

A dozen books were taken off the shelves. He had decided to stick with at least introductory basics for things, figuring he could order the more advanced ones later and he would be getting enough books as it was already. Also, Hogwarts had a library, there should be plenty of useful advanced books in there.

Alright, he took both the introductory basics and the next level up. Really, he would be bored with just the introductions, he figured.

He turned the aisle quickly, taking down more books as they caught his fancy and missing the entrance of Professor McGonagall and the rest of his family. He was mostly down the second aisle and into the third, some sort of story section, he believed, when something stuck out in his mind.

His magic had highlighted a specific phrase, "Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World". He stumbled to a halt.

What?

He pulled the book out and looked at the title. "Harry Potter and the Hundred Headed Hydra," he read out. His magic skimmed through the story, pulling the main passages out for him. "Oi, what's this? Is this supposed to be about me?" He looked back at the shelf. "Harry Potter and the Bothersome Banshee. Harry Potter and the Vicious Vampire. What is all this?" He pulled a few more of the "Harry Potter" books off the shelf, frowning.

"Harry? Something wrong?" His dad's voice broke him out of his battle with the books.

"Um, I think...I found something weird dad," Harry called out. "One sec."

He headed out towards the aisle, stepping over the piles of books he had lined up to go through when he had finished choosing all the ones he might buy from the shelves.

"What is it?"

Harry looked down at the books in his hands. "These. What are these dad?" Harry held one out to his father. "I found a whole shelf with them!"

The Doctor took the edge of the book, making sure to keep his hands away from Harry's. "Is this...about you?" he said, voice rising in confusion.

"It's got my name and my supposed last name, and a kid with green eyes and that stupid scar on their forehead on the cover. Though it doesn't really look much like me, other than the black hair and eyes." Harry rubbed absently at his fringe where he had taken to hiding the lightning bolt they hadn't managed to get to fade away.

"Professor, what are these?" the Doctor asked, turning back towards the transfiguration teacher. "Harry found a shelf of them, but are they supposed to be about him?"

McGonagall came closer, looking at the book in the Doctor's hand, then the ones Harry was holding. "Let me see those," she said, reaching out.

Harry backed up a bit, putting a bit of space between him and the professor before holding the books out with the edges of his fingers. Pashti watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, ready to interfere if anything happened.

But other than an odd look from the professor, Harry was able to hand the books over with little issue. He retracted his hand back quickly. He would like to leave Diagon Alley without a splitting headache and the need for the mediation room.

"So?" Harry asked. "Are they?"

"I think...these were published some...two, three years ago. A children's fantasy series that used your name and basic description. Very popular, since its target age was actually your peers. I don't recall much about them as the Headmaster quickly stopped their production. He allowed the ones already written and published to be sold but wouldn't allow any new books to be released. There were only maybe six of them released."

Harry groaned. "Really? Why me? I mean, why couldn't they have used a kid's name that actually had some sort of alliteration scheme since they're so fond of it?"

"You're famous, Harry, and you're still a child. It makes it easier for kids to relate to you, since they know you're real and you're their age." McGonagall smiled as Harry's face fell and he moaned.

"Oh, this is brilliant. Just what I wanted. You know what, no, I'm not leaving my room when we get back. You couldn't bribe me with anything to make me go to school with a bunch of kids who grew up hearing all about me, or at least the lies they were fed about me. I refuse." The chagrin on his face was real and deep.

"See, this is why I didn't tell you. You'd just become all melodramatic about it. And you don't have an option, remember our discussion?" the Doctor said.

Rose and Jack snickered behind them. "I'm willing to turn into tiny shards of time energy if it means avoiding a whole school of people who grew up hearing my name," Harry retorted. "And you two, you're too old to be snickering like a couple of children sneaking cookies!"

"You're utter disdain for hero worship is adorable," Rose said, covering a grin.

"I grew up with him, it's easy to see how quickly it turns," Harry said, jerking a thumb at the Doctor. "Besides, why would I be famous for something I didn't even do? It was probably some spell or time causality or something, nothing I did." Harry moaned, rubbing his temples.

McGonagall reached out to put a hand on Harry's shoulder, ready to offer a bit of comfort to the young boy who was just really finding out the extent of his fame, trying to ignore the building confusion over mentions of things she couldn't explain.

She wasn't ready for the sudden and complete retreat of the boy, Pashti on his shoulder hissing softly, and her wrist in the iron hard grasp of the Doctor. She looked up at him, startled and ready to let him know her displeasure at being grabbed so suddenly, but her protests died at the look of panic and worry on his face. "Um...what? Did I do something?" she asked, unsure.

The Doctor dropped her hand, looking at her. "Not...precisely no. It's just…" he struggled to find the words he wanted to say.

Harry backed up further down the aisle, keeping his hands behind him. "Pashti doesn't like sudden movements," he said. "She get's a bit upset if someone tries to grab me or touch me without warning me first."

The Doctor sent his son a relieved look.

McGonagall bit her lip, not sure if she was really going to believe that or not. Pashti had been quiet all day, far more silent and composed than any other cat McGonagall had ever seen. Willing to sit on Harry's shoulder, accepting treats and sips of water from various things Harry kept in his mysterious pockets ,and generally making the transfiguration mistress wonder if she was an animagus. Still, there wasn't another reasonable explanation she could come up with for the sudden fear she had seen flash across Harry's face as he moved away from her, shoving his hands behind his back and putting a good couple meters distance between them.

"Well, as it is, you'll have to deal with a bit of idolatry or jealousy from some of the purebloods and halfbloods at Hogwarts, or at least everyone recognizing your name. Though if you don't use Potter, you don't look much like the Harry Potter people were expecting." McGonagall squinted at him. "Your hair's a bit long, and your eyes aren't quite the same shade of green as your mot...as Lily's were. And you don't really look like either James or Lily, not fully. Though you weren't much more than a year old when they died and the Doctor took you, so no one could really say for certain how you would look when you came back."

Harry breathed a sigh. "I'll pretend I'm someone else then. It's not like anyone can see that blasted scar since I grew my hair out and anyone who asks to see it has no tact." He glared at the books McGonagall was still holding.

"I'm afraid that pretending to not be Harry Potter would be rather impossible, as everyone was in the Great Hall when you arrived and the headmaster announced your name," McGonagall told him, not mentioning that just the name Harry on a boy with green eyes and black hair would have been enough.

Harry groaned. "This sucks. Now, since I've unhappily discovered my fame, you mind if I continue my perusal of the bookstore? I still have four more aisles to go and then I need to decide if I need every book I've picked out. How much longer do I have? You said there was an hour or something right? How much of that do I have left?"

Rose glanced at her watch, a special one designed by the Doctor to match the local time based off of the Tardis's readings. "Well, we got here at 10:55, and it's currently 11:25, so you have half an hour, or thirty minutes." Harry gave her a blank stare. "The amount of time it takes you to make and eat those silly blue pancake things that fluff up and then explode if you don't eat them fast enough."

Harry grinned. "Awesome, thanks!" and he raced off back down the aisles.

"What?" McGonagall blurted.

"Harry….Harry's got a bit of a time telling issue. It's something we're working on," Rose muttered.

"I see." She didn't.

For the next twenty minutes, Harry was a blur of motion, piling books ever higher and blocking off more of the walkway. She was grateful his piles never seemed to reach much above thigh height, she didn't think they would stay standing if that happened.

Still, when he was finally finished with the aisles (she was having a hard time believing he had 'skimmed' every single book in the store), he hovered over his piles.

"Ten minutes Harry. Or about the amount of time it takes you to eat in a hurry," Rose reminded him.

Harry blinked. "Crap. Alright, let's get this over with." He wished he had more time to go through the books, but that didn't seem like it was happening today. He was really getting tired of imposed time limits. Stopping a revolution, a civil war, something disastrous, those were limits imposed by huge and oppressive forces and most of the time they were on the move and doing something so he never paid attention. Now though, a teacher was imposing the restrictions and it was chafing.

He sat, cross legged, in the middle of the aisle and closed his eyes. His magic, still free from the confines of his limiter, spread out around him and delved into the books, matching them with his desires and discarding those that didn't fit well.

To McGonagall, it seemed as if Harry had gone into a trance, eyes closed and quiet, far quieter than any first year meditating had a right to be.

It passed in just a couple minutes, and Harry began to dash around again, removing books from piles and setting them aside, and then collecting the ones remaining.

"Alright, done." Harry grinned. "I even remembered to keep the ones from the school list, though they weren't really interesting at first glance, well, most of them weren't." Harry looked at his dad. "Ready. Is the cashier one of the ones over in the corner?"

"Harry," the Doctor said, pointing at Harry's pocket.

"Ah, yes. It's been awhile since I…"

Harry turned around, pulling his necklace out of his pocket and slipping it back on, before tucking it under his shirt.

McGonagall stared at the faint shimmer of gold she could see, wondering what was so special about that necklace. It was obviously important but she couldn't fathom its purpose. Most of the boys she had ever interacted with never wore anything so gaudy as sold gold necklaces, most girls didn't either, especially not at eleven.

But as she looked around at the other members of Harry's family, she realized the question would not be answered. At best, they would ignore it, at worst someone would give about as lame an excuse as Harry gave when she went to comfort him.

In a few moments, Harry had gathered his books and the Doctor let those who had decided to remain in their confined corner back to their browsing. All but one customer had left, deciding to come back when the crazy people were gone.

Grumbling but unable to really complain seeing as they were selling quite a number of books to the strange group that had come in, the employees went back to their jobs, most of which now consisted of restocking and organizing the shelves Harry had left in disarray.

While Harry was finishing buying his many many books (McGonagall once again wondering what an eleven year old was going to do with that many books), a courier from Madam Malkin's came down to let them know the robes were ready for pick up. McGonagall told Harry he had five minutes to finish everything, to which Harry just blinked at, before Rose mouthed "Hurry up" at him. Harry quickly dumped coin after coin into a bowl similar to the one they had at the trunk store until he had paid for everything, then promptly piled all the books into his trunk. He would enjoy having a space for just his books.

"Finished, let's go. I'm going to have to face the students at some point, might as well get it over with sooner," Harry muttered. "The quicker they figure out I'm not some hero to be gawked at better."

Rose muffled a giggled in Jack's shoulder. Harry not a hero. Well, child of the Doctor and all that, she supposed. Jack gave her a sly smirk.

Harry took the bag filled with robes from Madam Malkin, shoving them into his trunk. Then McGonagall fished out a sock from her pocket and held it out. It was bright green with magenta stripes and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"What's this?"

"A Portkey."

"Ah. I didn't know they came in sock shape," Harry replied.

McGonagall frowned. "Portkeys can be anything. It's a spell, not an object oriented enchantment."

Harry heaved a sigh."Alright, but really, a sock? Didn't we use a hoop or something coming here?"

"That one was keyed to Diagon Alley. Use it now and we'll just end up back at the beginning of the alley. For long lasting Portkeys, there can only be one destination."

Harry nodded, a thoughtful frown taking over his face. "Wouldn't there be a way to key different destinations based on passwords or word cues?" he asked.

"Some high level enchanters can, but it's expensive and time consuming and most people don't need to have a multi-destination portkey. The portkey spell is difficult to do but not impossible, though most people don't bother learning it. But those who need to use portkeys frequently do take the time since it's much more cost effective to make your own portkey when necessary," McGonagall informed him. "Now, if everyone would touch the sock, Pashti included. Hold on to your purchases, they'll come with you. 3, 2, 1."

The familiar jerking sensation accompanied their journey again, and they landed in a crumpled heap (well, most of them did) in the Headmaster's office.

Jack groaned. "I swear, magical transport is literally just trying to see how closely it can replace my atoms with those of a couch," he complained from his spot on the floor, right next to a squashy armchair. "It's highly discomforting."

"You'd survive the replacement," Rose assured him, climbing to her feet. "It would just make taking you down a much more comfortable experience."

Harry laughed.

"Shopping finished Minerva?"

The four looked over at Dumbledore's voice, seeing the headmaster sitting behind his desk, smiling.

"Yes. Classes start in an hour and a half, so have you decided anything?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry. "I've received a lot of letters about your reappearance. Quite a few people are wondering where you've been for ten years and why you were late to school. I've turned down a number of interviews but don't be surprised if you start getting requests. The Minister also wishes to have a word with you sometime. Saturday or Sunday would be ideal."

Harry blinked. "Um, what? Why? And when?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Surely you know of your status within our world?"

"About that," Harry started.

McGonagall sent him a look. "Don't even start. You've made yourself very clear on what you think of the matter." She turned to the mildly perplexed headmaster. "Harry knew nothing of his fame, though he happened to discover those books published a few years ago about him. And he is, in a word, unimpressed. I'm sure he will voice his displeasure plenty of times in the near future. For now, we need to sort out his House, his family, and classes. Though after today, I'm not sure if he needs much remedial work. He should catch up to his peers fairly quickly, if what I saw today was any indication." And surpass them, but she kept that to herself for the moment.

Dumbledore nodded, having figured as much. "Then we shall sort out the current issues and worry about others later." He steepled his fingers, staring at Harry. "We've never had an unsorted student. There are no contingencies for such a case. Only before the Sorting Hat's creation were students not placed in houses. There must be something we can do with you. Also, your...family." Dumbledore looked over at the three adults. "I will admit that I don't know how to keep you out of Hogwarts if you want to be here and I cannot remove you from the grounds as you have done nothing wrong by just being here, since it is only school policy to not allow parents to stay in school rather than a rule."

The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, what are you going to do?" He said it with a hint of challenge in his voice.

"As pointed out by Harry yesterday, there is a severe lack of physical education at Hogwarts, something I hadn't quite considered before. We can begin to hold mandatory sessions for all years once a week, if Ms. Rose and Mr. Jack would be willing to teach them." The headmaster looked at the two immortals. "I feel that such classes would be beneficial to the health and well-being of the students. It would also give you reasonable cause to be at Hogwarts."

Rose flashed him a grin that was more than a little intimidating. "Oh, don't worry, we'll have your pack of wand wavers in shape in no time."

Jack chuckled. "They probably won't enjoy it, but they'll be all the better for it. Besides, any rule skirting I can be part of is a bonus."

"Those poor children," Harry said, laughing a little.

"Don't say that, you'll be joining the first years when they start."

Harry waved a hand. "Please, I've been running with you since you joined us, Rose," he said. "And before that I learned how to keep up with dad."

"As for you, Doctor, I have been looking for someone to hold extra classes in history, something aside from goblin rebellions. Professor Binns is a tenured professor and they are notoriously hard to get rid of, and in the magical world death doesn't end a contract if the deceased's ghost continues to exist and work as they had before. Unfortunately this means a poor showing on OWLs and NEWTs from many Hogwarts students as few take the initiative to study outside of class, and Professor Binns has regretfully forgotten most of everything aside from goblin rebellions. If you could hold several sessions a week for those willing to work on their History, I could consider you in good standing as a teacher here, and the ministry would be less likely to raise a fuss over you being here."

Harry stared at the headmaster in wide eyed wonder. "You want him to teach history? Are you sure?"

"Oi, I can teach history just fine!" the Doctor replied, huffing at his son.

"If you can remember the proper century, galaxy, and planet," Harry muttered under his breath. "And you never do manage one of those."

"You're good at history!" the Doctor protested.

Harry stared at him slowly, blinking. "We live in the Tardis," he deadpanned.

The Doctor just pouted, before turning back to the headmaster, who was watching them with a half smile, amused. "So what about the house issue you seem so invested in? Is it really that important?"

Dumbledore frowned. "It's a long standing tradition that students join one of the four Houses upon entering Hogwarts. Houses provide structure and support as well as giving youngsters a group of peers with which they can grow up. Houses become a base for many witches and wizards joining society as it is a group of friends you can call upon for help."

Harry snorted a bit, trying to keep it quiet. It was beyond just unlikely that he would be staying in this timeline for any period of time beyond what he had to be here for, it was not going to happen, flat out. He refused to stay in one timeline for the rest of his life, especially not one so...insipid as this one was turning out to be. He supposed he was a bit spoiled having been to Haleysio and seen a functioning and advanced magical society, but he would not hang around in this world just because some expected it of him.

He was Harry, son of the Doctor; he lived to defy expectations.

But telling the headmaster that went against his own outline for his plans on Hogwarts, so instead he asked "What are you going to do then, if you can't sort me properly? I mean, I think it's rather ridiculous, sorting eleven year olds into Houses in the first place, but if you think it's so important I'm not really fitting into the mold here."

Dumbledore gave Harry a beaming smile Harry felt was wider than was appropriate. "I have set up a schedule for you, where you will take classes with each house. At the end of a week, you will have hopefully found a house to join and we can sort you there. You can then join your housemates schedules and dorm."

Harry scoffed. "I am not sleeping in a dorm."

"Every student sleeps in the dorms, and though your family will, for now, be part of Hogwarts staff, staying with them is strictly against protocol." Dumbledore frowned at Harry. "When you have a House, you will sleep with your housemates."

"I look forward to seeing you make me," Harry muttered, softly enough that the headmaster couldn't hear.

"I'll have your schedule for you for the next week on Monday. First years only have one class after lunch on Fridays, so you'll be joining Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws and Slytherins. After that, she will determine your skill level and if you need any catch up lessons in that class. Professor Flitwick agreed to meet with you after Transfiguration for Charms, and Professor Snape has agreed to finish up your core classes this evening before dinner in Potions. Astronomy, Herbology, Defense, and History of Magic are currently not magic based classes, so much of the necessary catching up can be done with textbooks." The headmaster peered at Harry. "Professor McGonagall will give you your schedule and directions to get to Professor Flitwick's class after you are finished in Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick will tell you how to get to Professor Snape's class after he is finished. You should be done in time for dinner. The next two days are, of course, the weekend so there are no classes, though I believe I will let the Minister know he can come by tomorrow to make sure you are actually real."

Harry blinked. "The what? And who?"

Rose rolled her eyes, sighing. "You left a lot out of his upbringing," she muttered to the Doctor.

"Well, there wasn't much need for named days of the week when there are no days of the week in the Tardis," the Doctor defended.

"The weekend, Harry. No classes, thus you are free to get to know your peers and explore the castle."

"You have two whole days where you don't teach classes? What? Why?"

Dumbledore looked a little bemused. "They are traditional days of rest. Saturday and Sunday have been that way for many years." He looked over at the three adults who had raised Harry, eyes wide. "What is this? I assumed you raised him with a proper education."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Yes, but having days off from learning wasn't really a thing. For one, Harry would be learning whether you decided to actively teach him or not, and two, it was always better to keep him occupied with books and experiments. Left less time for mischief and possibly blowing things up."

Harry glared at the headmaster. "You don't need to follow a traditional schedule to learn anything anyway. It's silly. Learn when you want, what you want. It makes more sense, that way you always want to learn."

"I for one am curious as to this minister you've mentioned twice now. You said he is coming tomorrow? Who is this?" the Doctor interjected.

"Cornelius Fudge is the Minister for Magic and is responsible for running the magical community here."

"And why does he want to meet me? I'm a student," Harry said, then stopped and groaned. "It's because of that famous thing isn't it? Ugh. I hate fame."

Rose patted him on the shoulder with little sympathy. "It's alright, you'll survive. I have every confidence in your ability to strive through this hardship."

Harry glared at her. "You're not helping." Pashti mreowed on his shoulder, amusement seeping through their connection. "You aren't either. In fact, none of you seem to be the least bit sympathetic here."

Jack shrugged. "You should have gotten used to this long ago. He's your dad, after all." Jack jerked a thumb at the Doctor.

"And it's unsettling and irritating every time." Harry slouched down in his chair. "I hate it."

"It's not going to up and vanish in thin air, magic boy," Jack said, grinning.

"Well, the minister will be here tomorrow, unless you have any objections that are of merit."

Harry attempted to say something, but a glance from the Doctor shut his mouth and made his slump back down into his seat. "Fine, fine, whatever. Gonna have to get used to it anyway. Might as well start with the head guy"

Dumbledore frowned but decided to forge on with his speech. They had under half an hour until lunch ended and Harry needed to have the basics down before he was shuffled off to classes. "Now then, you will be following a schedule here. Since you will be missing lunch as we sort out the details, I have taken the liberty of having the house elves prepare something for you."

The four watched in mild bewilderment and curiosity as a small, greenish being popped into existence, holding a tray filled with sandwiches and fruits, followed by another with a pitcher and classes.

"Headmaster sir has requested lunch?" the being said, voice high and squeaky.

"Thank you Lottie, Bopsy. You can leave the trays on my desk."

The little beings, Lottie and Bopsy, left the sandwich and drink trays on the desk before bowing and popping back out.

"Who were they?" Rose asked. "You said they were house elves, but what is a house elf exactly?"

Dumbledore smiled a bit. "They're a magical race of beings. Highly dependent on the magic from wizards and witches to survive so they form pacts of a sort, trading their services for a bond of magic. Their magic is geared towards quieter tasks and they function well as cooks, maids, and general maintenance."

Rose frowned. "Sounds like the Ood, Doctor," she muttered.

"We'll see what's up later. We have far more time here than we would normally have," he replied.

Jack gave them both a look.

"Please, enjoy lunch. I have a few questions for you. I am curious as to how much magic you know, seeing as you have a wand, however unconventional it is." Dumbledore leaned forward.

Harry looked back at his dad, eyes wide and a bit unsure. "Dad, what now?" he asked in the only language he knew the Tardis never translated, Gallifreyan.

Rose and Jack groaned. "Now we'll never know what they're saying," Rose complained.

"They always do this. You'd think after seven years you'd get used to it," Jack added, tone sulky.

Harry shot him a look. "Dad? I mean, I can't just say Emrys taught me," he continued.

"Well, you have a tendency to show off, and your focus doesn't help matters much. What do you want them to know?"

"Well, I don't want them to think I'm incompetent with a focus, wand, whatever word they use, but I don't think they really need to know everything. I mean, my necklace for one is definitely an off limits topic, and the specifics of my focus."

"I would also recommend you don't show off your solar system. It's impressive, but considering the reaction we've received before, I don't think Hogwarts is quite ready for that level of strangeness. Give it a year or so. They'll have gotten used to you by then."

Harry sighed. "Alright, I guess that's fine. I have some experience but not formal training will be the standby. Can't exactly say the founders or Emrys taught me."

"I tried learning that once," Rose commented softly as Harry and the Doctor exchanged words. "I figured, hey, I got pretty good at languages after so long, I managed to get a good half dozen learned without the Tardis's help, how bad can his language be." Rose shook her head. "The tenses, stars above, I nearly got dizzy just looking at them. I mean, they have a tense for 'happened-yet to happen-after then-before this-perhaps-nonpresent first person'. Just one tense was that...that nonsense. After a few feeble attempts I just threw my hands up and gave it up as a bad job."

Jack blinked, a little stunned. "They have time tenses like that?"

Rose shrugged. "They made Tardises, I'm sure they needed a tense at some point to describe something that happened, yet it hasn't happened yet, but it happened before this important event but not this one, but that one was before this one in memory due to things so really it was about here, and I wasn't there to see it." She shook her head, trying to clear it of the fuzziness. "It's insane. I think the only reason Harry's fluent is because the Doctor raised him speaking that as his first language, and taught him the rest later. You ever hear him when he gets deep into his research, he'll mutter in Gallifreyan and draw complex circles all over the place."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I remember finding those circles everywhere. Seems too complicated for daily writing though."

"Who knows what's going on in his head. Half the time I don't think he even uses English but the Tardis translates whatever he says for the rest of us."

Dumbledore watched the proceeding conversation with mild bewilderment. He prided himself on his language skills, knowing nearly all the magical languages and a good deal of nonmagical ones, and an ear to recognize a language even if he didn't know it. But he couldn't even begin to pinpoint what language his newest student and his father were speaking in. It sounded beautiful, rounded and circular, falling in and in on itself as they spoke. But it's origin was as much a mystery as any of the ones surrounding Harry Potter.

The conversation trickled off and Harry turned back to the headmaster. "I have some basic experience with magic, I had to to get my f..wand. I've never been to a magical school before though so no formal training."

McGonagall wondered if that was really it. Harry seemed far too comfortable with magic, his wand, and things in general, as well as derisive about things that seemed commonplace and normal. She would evaluate his skill soon enough, then she could place him properly.

"Well then, we will take into consideration the evaluations this afternoon and then decide whether you need any remedial lessons. Hopefully by this time next week, both your House and your schedule will have been decided."

Harry sighed. "Whatever." He glanced to the side. "It's not like I wanted to come here anyway," he muttered in Gallifreyan. His dad whacked his head.

"If you're going to complain, do it in a language people here understand," the Doctor said.

Harry glared at him. "You're going to regret this soon enough, I know it. We've never been in one place for so long. You're going to go stir crazy and blow something up."

"Before you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Silence.

Dumbledore stood up. "Well, as we have a plan for the near future, please, enjoy the sandwiches and then Professor McGonagall will take you down to the Transfiguration classroom. We will discuss your positions and lessons while young Harry is in classes, if that is acceptable." He looked at the three.

"Sure, let the little magic tyke go play while we hash out the details." Jack grinned at Harry. "He gets a bit fidgety if you keep him in one place too long."

"Idle hands, idle minds," Harry said, Pashti climbing down into his lap to nibble at pieces of ham he fed her from the sandwiches. "These are fairly good sandwiches, all things considered. Pashti likes the meat." Pashti purred loudly as she snatched another piece from Harry's hand.

"Don't give her too much. She'll enjoy it now then complain later," Rose warned. Pashti turned her head to look at Rose, eyes narrowed, before she flicked her tail and went back to eating the ham. "Don't come complaining to me when your tummy hurts, Pashit," Rose said. Pashti ignored her.

McGonagall felt this was not making her believe Pashti wasn't an animagus any less. If it were legal to throw around the revealing spell as you wished, she would have already used it on the tiny kitten, but it was only allowed to be cast with reasonable suspicion in hand. Right now, she had none.

She exchanged looks with Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow. The both looked at the current source of turmoil in Hogwarts devour a few more sandwiches and down a glass of pumpkin juice, the cat in his lap devouring another slice of ham.

The headmaster just sighed, gesturing at the time. Clearly they would be discussing it later. McGonagall cleared her throat. "Harry, it's time for class. We have just enough time to make it to the transfiguration classroom. You can leave your supplies here. Your family can bring them back to the rooms we provided you, and you shouldn't need anything for these review lessons."

Harry let Pashti finish the ham she had before placing her back on his shoulder, where she curled up and seemed to blend into the shadows under Harry's hair. "Cool. Let's go. I want to see if you all teach cool things to first years. You seem to think eleven year olds can't do much, so I wonder what sort of magic you even trust them to do." He left his trunk with his uncle, waved to his dad and Rose, then skipped out the door ahead of the professor. The green Mokeskin pouch stayed slung over his shoulder, McGonagall noted. She wondered what he had shoved in there.

McGonagall kneaded her temples. Harry was like a smart ass genius teenager, all sass and cheeky questions and back talk, but with the intelligence to back up anything he said. He was going to be one of those irritating, smug students who got everything right first try, at best. At worse, she would have to spend half the lecture devoted to either refuting whatever he said or backpedaling to see if it was even possible in the first place.

This first class would tell her which he was.

She hoped it was the first one. The second type were rare, she's had maybe two in her entire career, and always left her perplexed, frustrated, and wondering if she had really overlooked something so obvious.

Harry was down the stairs and out the gargoyle, having dodged, of all things, a ball of flame and was standing at the end of the corridor, tongue stuck out at the gargoyle.

"Mr. Po..." she sighed. "Harry, if you would cease whatever it is you have done to the headmaster's guardian, the Transfiguration classroom is this way." She swept ahead of him, ignoring his eye rolling theatrically. "And first years learn basic transfiguration in my class, inanimate to inanimate. If I deem them ready to advance, I will start to cover animate to inanimate near the end of the year." She gave him a side glance, briefly wondering if the first year curriculum would be difficult enough for this child.

Pashti opened her eyes, slitted bright irises that glowed from beneath Harry's hair, before she decided all was well and went back to sleep. McGonagall resisted frowning at the tiny cat who seemed far too intelligent. Staying not only silently but happily on a small boy's shoulders for well over four hours was not just unusual but weird and a bit creepy. Then again, Harry wasn't exactly the type to attract normal, not strange friends.

She sighed as they arrived at the classroom. The Ravenclaws and Slytherins had already started to file in and take their seats as she strode to the front of the room to prepare for the lesson. "Sit wherever there is an open seat, Harry," she told the boy.

Harry looked around. Everyone was wearing those silly robes and carrying heavy looking bags, holding their focus in weak hands. He wondered if they knew how precious foci were. He doubted it.

"Potter? Finally deigned to show your face here. Figured you were too good for Hogwarts."

A loud, irritatingly high pitched voice grated on Harry's ears and he turned to glance at the source, a boy with white-blonde hair and a green tie, but since Harry had resolved to ignore anyone using Potter as his name, he didn't even acknowledge the remark.

"Are you deaf Potter? Oi, look, the Boy-Who-Lived, deaf and dumb. Guess that's why you came late."

Harry snorted. Really, insults were so pointless when not accompanied by realistic threats of death. He further jeered the blonde haired menace by continuing to ignore him and sitting next to a boy with some kind of complexion Jack would liken to coffee. Harry rather thought he suited the colors his genetics gifted him with. The green tie around his neck seemed to indicate something though, as the students in class all wore either a blue or green tie of some sort.

Probably one of those House things Harry was planning on not joining.

"Mister Malfoy, five points from Slytherin. I will not hear such language. Now, sit down. Quills out, wands away for the moment. Your essays as well, pass them forward. Thank you. As you all are aware, we are covering inanimate to inanimate transformations. Now, who can tell me the properties we have covered regarding this form of transfiguration? Yes, Ms. Chang?"

Harry looked over at the girl wearing a blue tie who was in possession of long black hair. "For the spell to work correctly, both the wand movements and the spell's pronunciation must be perfect."

"Correct, a point to Ravenclaw. Mr. Zabini, what can you add?"

Harry's deskmate stood up. "It's also important to take into account the size of the object and its weight to account for the amount of magic it will take to transfigure the object."

"Excellent, a point to Slytherin."

Harry grinned. His deskmate sounded intelligent. Maybe there would be some intelligent conversation amongst his year mates. "Professor, I have something to add," he said, raising his hand. He remembered Godric and Sal's lectures on transfigurations and Merlin's very practical demonstration.

McGonagall only looked surprised for a moment before gesturing towards him. "Very well, Harry."

"Well, with transfiguration, as with most magics, intent is far more important than however you flail your fo...wand about or spout latin. You can say the spell to turn a rabbit into a hat all you want, with as many brilliantly perfect wand movements and variables taken into account, but if you really aren't sure you want to turn that bunny into a hat, a brilliant joke by the way, then all that's going to happen is squat all. Or your bunny target might get bored and hop off. Visualization is key. Desire and magic go hand in hand."

McGonagall gave him a considered look. "You are correct, intent is half the work, but a spell doesn't need perfect visualization to be performed correctly."

"If you don't mind half transfigurations, or weak ones, or dangerous ones, sure. Lack of visualization is probably why half of the students struggle with the magic. Magic is a deeply personal thing, tied to your very being. If you don't use your whole being in every spell, your results will always be half assed." He shrugged.

McGonagall restrained a sigh. He was going to be one of those students who turned class into a debate club. "You can prove that to me later. Today, we are going to be introducing the Scribblifors spell." She used her wand to write the name of the spell on the board. "Can anyone tell me what they think this spell is used for?" She looked around, ignoring the knowing smile on Harry's face. "Mr. Prewett?"

"Is it related to writing?"

"Correct. This is used to transform any small item into a quill. Like so." She set a fork on the table in front of her and held her wand over it. "This is the motion for the spell," she said, before waving her wand sideways then curling it up at the end in a half circle. "The incantation is 'Scribblifors'. Pay close attention to the emphasis." She repeated the incantation and wand movement.

Harry watched the fork turn into a beautiful feathered quill and immediately realized what his problem was going to be. He hated quills.

Really really hated quills.

His magic would never cooperate with him on this spell. He wondered if he could even get the spell to work or if he would end up just staring at a fork for the rest of the period.

As everyone else in the class waved their wands in loops and circles and said the silly faux latin word over and over again, Harry laid his head down on the desk and sighed.

"Were you paying sufficient attention to the demonstration, Harry?" Professor McGonagall asked as she set a fork down in front of him.

"Yeah, I got the silly latin and the movements." I only lack motivation, he thought.

McGonagall gave him a long look before moving on.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" a hushed voice came from his deskmate.

Harry sighed. "I'm Harry. No Potter. I suck at growing plants and really, plants do just fine themselves without ever need a pot."

Zabini, if Harry remembered correctly, blinked at him. "So, you're not? I mean, when you appeared yesterday, the headmaster said you were Harry Potter. I didn't think he could get that wrong."

"I don't have a second name so no, I'm not your Harry Potter. Just, just Harry."

Zabini held up his hands. "Okay, okay, sorry, didn't know I'd touched a nerve." He rolled his eyes. "So, what house are you in? I mean, you aren't wearing robes but you're in here with the Slytherin and Ravenclaws, so…"

Harry shook his head. "No house. The Sorting Hat had an issue sorting me so the headmaster has me with all the classes to see where I fit in."

"That's weird. I've never heard of someone not being sorted."

"I'm a bit of a special case. Now, about this spell." Harry moved the topic off himself.

"Oh, yeah, you've missed all of the basics, I forgot. You sounded like you'd been in class when you spoke earlier."

Harry waved a hand. "I know magic. But this spell, is it only supposed to be a quill at the end?"

"Um, I believe so, why?"

"I hate quills. I'm never going to want to turn the fork into a quill, and my magic will know."

Zabini stared at him. "You're a little strange."

"Well, yeah, what's the point of not being strange? The universe is full of the ordinary so why not try to be different?" Harry grinned. "Also, is your name Zabini? That's what Professor McGonagall called you, but I know people tend to have more than one name on Earth."

"You're really weird. Like, more than just trying to be different weird. But you can call me Blaise. Zabini's my last name and when you say it it sounds weird."

"Alright then Blaise, let's see you make a quill from a fork. Even though quills are pointless writing instruments."

Blaise looked like he was contemplating ignoring Harry, but seeing as how the point of the class was to do that exact thing, he sighed before focusing his attention on the fork.

"Scribblifors," he said, waving his wand. The fork shuddered and seemed to struggle, before one end turned pointy but overall remained fork shaped. "Not bad for a first try. Your turn." Blaise looked at Harry, eyes expectant.

Harry sighed, then reached down for his focus. "Alright. It's not gonna work though," he warned, focus in hand.

Blaise's eyes went wide when he saw the focus. "Wow, that's your wand? I've never seen a wand like that. What's all that writing on it? Whis is it two different colors? What's that shiny thing at the end?"

Harry let the wave of questions roll over him, feeling the amusement from his focus. "You finished?" he asked. Blaise flushed. "This is my….wand. Do you want to tell me all the details about yours? I was under the impression that wands were rather private things."

Blaise scowled. "Sorry, it's just, you showed up in that blue box yesterday with those other strange people, you took off after a troll, you don't have a house, you won't even acknowledge your last name cause I know you're Harry Potter, and now you've got a strange wand and it's just...what's that on your shoulder?" Blaise was suddenly distracted by Pashti sitting up, yawning.

"Oh, this is Pashti, she's my companion. Lovelier friend you will never meet. She's always with me." Harry was grateful for the distraction.

"McGonagall let you bring her to class?"

"She didn't really seem concerned. Pashti's been with us all day. We went to Diagon Alley for supplies and such."

Blaise looked at the cat, who stared right back at him, until he decided Harry Potter was weird and he would collect weird friends, even if one of those friends was a strange, tiny cat that sat on his shoulder. "Alright then. Still, it's your turn. I wanna see what you can do." He pointed at Harry's fork.

Harry sighed, gripping his focus tighter. He would never make a quill, but this spell was for quills.

'So long as you focus, Our Harry, the end result will be a writing utensil. From the wording, there is nothing about it having to be a quill, that is merely a preconceived notion. Scribblifors takes its root word from the word "writing" so that is the goal of the spell.'

So my point about intent is correct, Harry replied, feeling a bit of satisfaction.

'Of course. Magic is merely a tool. You must focus and point it. We are here to help, but the desire must come from you. Now, your spell. You remember the movements?'

Yeah, alright.

Harry followed the wand movements as McGonagall had demonstrated before, focusing on his favorite fountain pen. If he was going to make a writing utensil, he was going to make one he liked.

"Scribblifors," he intoned, and felt his magic rush out of him, enveloping the fork.

A moment later, a green and black striped fountain pen sat where the fork had been.

Harry grinned.

"Wow…" Blaise whispered, awed. "You actually did it." He turned towards the Professor, who was helping a Ravenclaw boy with the pronunciation. "Professor, Professor McGonagall! Harry did something strange!"

McGonagall heard what she had half been expecting all class. She sighed. "You alright on your own, Mr. Fordsworth?" The boy nodded, so she headed over to where her newest headache was sitting. "So, what have you done?"

Blaise Zabini pointed at a father fancy green and black pen sitting on the desk. "He turned his fork into that."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"He said the spell and waved his weird cool wand and the fork turned into that weird pen thing!"

"Fountain pen, Blaise. It's a fountain pen."

"Whatever. It's cool!"

She resisted the urge to knead her temples. "That's not possible."

Harry raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Want to see?"

McGonagall frowned, but retrieved another fork from the many she had acquired and set it in front of the boy. "Alright, let me see."

Harry smirked. He raised his wand and his eyes slipped half closed as he followed the wand movements precisely and said "scribblifors" just as he should.

So when another...fountain pen, this one gold and silver, appeared instead of a quill, she felt like she shouldn't have been as shocked as she was.

"That spell isn't supposed to make a pen, Mr. P….Harry. It's only use has been for quills."

"And I hate quills and think they're not only an ancient relic to this time but also horrid for handwriting. I'd never be able to take notes with a quill." Harry shrugged.

McGonagall picked up the pen, turning it over in her hands. "This is a spectacular pen for sure. Really. But how did you manage to create a pen?"

Harry sighed. "I explained before. Magic makes up for the difference in mass and chemical properties, so really the direction of the magic is your intent, and it's focused with words and movements, in this case the swish and curl of the wand's motions and the word 'scribblifors'. Since I don't particularly like quills, my intent was on a writing instrument I prefer. You probably think it's only for quills since that's all you have. A good pen and you'd never look at quills again."

McGonagall held onto the pen. She felt like Harry might just be a bit too advanced for the basics but also felt that moving him up would be dangerous to her sanity and other students learning. It would be better to keep him here, where she could keep an eye on him and guide his learning, than to throw him into an upper level class and watch him tear apart transfiguration laws in the middle of lessons. Not that he wouldn't do that anyway, but among his own peers there would be less collateral damage.

His intent theory sounded like the basis for wandless spellwork, something she had little aptitude for. But Harry would probably excel at it, if she was any judge of talent. Should would have to mention it to Dumbledore.

"Mind if I keep this for now?" she asked, holding up the pen.

Harry grinned. "Sure, I've got a ton laying around." He gave McGonagall a look. "So I passed your test?"

"We'll talk after class, Mr….Harry." Not using Potter was going to take some time, especially when in class, but so long as the boy refused to acknowledge that as his name, she would have to stick with Harry.

When she left with the fountain pen, Blaise looked at Harry. "You know, I said you were weird before but now you're really odd. Like seriously, I've never seen or heard of a student talking like that to Professor McGonagall, especially a first year."

Harry ignored the blazing look of curiosity and confusion in Blaise's eyes. "Just because someone's a teacher doesn't mean they know everything. No one knows everything. But I do know more about how my magic works, it's mine. It's been with me since I was born."

Blaise frowned. "Think that focusing thing will work with my magic too?" he asked, a bit hesitant.

Harry's smile was wide. "Only one way to find out!" He gestured at the fork with a pointy end. "You have to try."

Blaise easily reversed the partial transfiguration. "What do I do?"

Harry's mental plan for his taking of Hogwarts ticked off a box. He would start here, with a young curious boy in a green tie who thought he was strange.

Well, there were always worse places to start a revolution.

By the end of the class, Blaise not only managed to turn the fork into a quill, but after trying Harry's cool 'fountain pen' and enjoying the smoothness, got a second fork to turn into something resembling the pen.

McGonagall wondered when first years started breaking fundamental understandings of transfiguration. If it had just been Harry, she could have passed it off as something special to him, the Boy-Who-Lived, but with Blaise Zabini's successful pen transfiguration, she needed to have a talk with the boy who hadn't even been here a day and was already shaking things up more than she was comfortable with.

So when the class filed out, Blaise extracting a promise from Harry to meet him for dinner at the Slytherin table (it's green, Harry, it's hard to miss), it was just her and her most troublesome student.

"Harry," she started, sitting down in one of the abandoned chairs. "How good at magic are you?"

The boy shrugged, opening his mouth.

"Not some absent phrase like you gave the headmaster," she interrupted him. "You didn't tell him anything. What you just did today, that wasn't the magic of an inexperienced first year. If I'm to judge your abilities, I need something more substantial than a single, albeit impressive, lesson. A comprehensive understanding of your magical knowledge would be a good start."

Harry regarded her with bright green eyes. "The answer you want implies I have formal training, which I don't have, just a few stray lessons here and there. My magic and me are intimately connected. I can always feel it, right at the edges of my skin, struggling to break free. I've been told that's unusual." Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

McGonagall stared at him. "You're joking," she said, tone flat. "That's impossible. Your core is located centrally within your body."

"I'm sure for you it is, but mine's not. There was some kind of accident when I was younger so now my magic lays just under my skin. Makes it easier to do magic but I have to want to do something, otherwise my magic is too close to everything and knows. You can't hide intentions from something that's everywhere." He looked at the pile of half transfigured forks. "I figure most magis is like that, though mine's a bit extreme. I mean, if you don't want to do something, your magic might only half heartedly perform the spell but it'll do it. Mine won't even work at all. If I don't want to do it, I literally can't."

The professor eyed the boy again, taking in his thin frame, long black hair with those silly beads in it, the odd clothes and jacket he fought so hard over, the tiny cat curled up on his shoulder, and those piercing green eyes that were brighter than even his mother's. "I'm not sure how to go about teaching you Harry," she finally said. "If you master spells as easily as you did this transfiguration, then the most you will ever need from me is a short demonstration. The theory taught here may even be counterproductive to your casting."

"Well, it is just theory, there to be disputed. If I attend class, at least I'll have the advantage of knowing that I can debate the theory with you, yeah? There's always something to be learned with magic, it's not all about spells."

"You might be one of the first first years to have that opinion. Most of them are far more interested in how many spells they can learn," McGonagall mused, a smile on her face.

Harry spread his hands out, palms up. "Well, I have a taste for learning what's behind all the waving and faux latin. I mean, you do know you only use latin because that's what you believe will work? If you believed that only, say, Chinese would work, you would have to say every spell in Chinese. Belief is a powerful thing when it comes to magic."

"There have been a few theories floating around about that idea. Mostly from those who visit the far East and return, telling us stories of wizards and witches who use a different tongue to cast their spells in. But there are differences in the spells," McGonagall said.

"Of course. Different cultures perceive things differently. Each culture would have a spell for light, but that idea, light, differs slightly. It might be an electric torch here, but in India it could be a lamp, and in China a flame, or in Canada the burning of oil. So light will manifest closer to how their culture perceives it, though they are all using a spell for light."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "That makes quite a bit of sense, I've never heard it put in quite those words before." She regarded the young wizard. "I have a feeling you are going to be quite the student, Harry. Whether that is good or bad will have to be seen."

"I'm here to make things exciting," he returned, grinning.

"That's what I'm afraid of. Also, your impossible magical core, what exactly happened? When you were a baby your core was normal according to the scans taken by the mediwizards and witches. Even after the attack on your family, your core was still fairly standard if more powerful than expected in a small child."

Harry fidgeted. "I was too young to really remember," he finally lied. He would never really forget that night, no matter what he told his father. "Dad says there was an accident and my magic responded to the situation, but he's never really told me what happened. I think he was really scared." He knew for a fact his father was terrified. And terrifying. He didn't know what happened after he passed out, but from the looks Uncle Jack gave him, it couldn't have been good.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "I see. I shall speak with him then. I will also have to inform our Healer, Madam Pomphrey. She may wish to run some diagnostics on you."

"I expected something of the sort. Well, can't really help it really. I'm gonna be stuck here for a while," he said, sighing. "Let me know when to report."

"You are extremely blase about this, Mr. P...Harry." McGonagall sighed heavily. "Are you really not going to use your last name? It's quite frustrating."

"I don't have a last name. I understand you all have this custom of using your….mother's? Father's? second name as your second name, but it's rather pointless, yeah? I mean, what if you really don't like your parents? You're still stuck with an identifying mark of some sort saying you're theirs. What if you don't care for the sound? Do you have to keep it? Really, it's all just too much trouble. I like Harry just fine, and I was given the option to choose a name I liked. Harry seemed to fit, so I kept it."

McGonagall resisted the urge that was becoming more and more prevalent to rub her temples. "Your questionable knowledge about your own cultural heritage is troubling, but that isn't the reason for this discussion. Your magic, however...odd...it seems to be, is. I am curious as to how you will hold up as lessons get more difficult. You've said your magic relies heavily upon intent and you cannot perform a spell if you don't want to. That may become a severe issue. You're here to learn, whether you enjoy the topic or not, though I would hope you would find most of your studies here to be interesting."

"I mean, I can work with the given problem, like how I managed to make my favorite fountain pen instead of a quill. It isn't that I must want to cast magic for a spell to work or want to cast a spell. I'm magical, my magic wants to be used. What needs to happen is that my desire for the spell has to match up with the spell's outcome. I couldn't have used the spell we learned today to do anything more than turn a fork into a writing instrument, because the purpose of that spell was a writing instrument. That is the meaning behind "Scribblifors" and the movements. But my idea of a writing instrument isn't a quill, which is why the end result was different from your intended result." Harry tilted his head to the side. "I suppose it's a bit like different cultures and their idea of light. In a distant sense." Harry scratched his head. "Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "So if I gave you a spell with no explanation on the end result of the spell, could you still perform it?

"Sure, but it would be what my idea of the spell was. And once I have that belief, I won't be able to do the spell with that word the supposed proper way. So maybe that isn't such a good idea." Harry mulled the idea over in his mind. "It would also take quite a bit of my magic to make work, since I would have to create the focus of the spell rather than using the conventions that culture has given it. Might also cause an explosion. It would be worth trying though…"

"No, no, you will not be trying anything regarding such...experiments." McGonagall shuddered at the thought. "If you want to try such magics, I would request you have one of the professors with you, to reverse whatever damage you may cause in the process." She couldn't believe she was saying this to a first year, but she needed to head this off before Harry blew up part of the castle or himself.

"So, are we done here? Anything else?"

McGonagall sighed. "I want you to try out a few of the basic spells before I send you off to Professor Flitwick. You'll be his problem then."

Harry grinned. "Cool. So, what's the plan?"

"Our first lesson was turning a match into a needle. It's standard practice for first years and is the first spell taught." She pulled a match out of a drawer on her desk.

"Not exactly useful, unless you happen to have a lot of matches on hand and you need to repair some clothes, or stitch up a wound, though cauterizing it would be better, and you wouldn't want a needle then, the match would be more helpful," Harry commented.

"Then think of this as an exercise not in usefulness but in control. Can you make the match turn into a needle, that is the question. Not whether it is a particularly useful spell to you, but whether you can master that particular bit of magic." McGonagall hoped that this would be a useful avenue to steer her new troublesome student down. If he took it as a challenge rather than a need to actually use the spell for something pertinent he might actually do the spell as instructed.

Experimenting, in her mind, could be done when students were less likely to blow themselves up.

Harry pursed his lips. "Alright, that's a useful thought. I think M...my former teacher used that method. He would set me a task just to see if I could do it. Levitated glasses through town for ages. If I broke them cause they fell I had to levitate the pieces in the right shape. He was working on my control, which was probably a good thing. Before I used to blow things up or cause minor catastrophes."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Levitate? That's quite advanced for a young child. How old were you?"

"Hmmm, that time my birthday was at the Galleria Fantastica, so I was probably seven."

"Yes, that is unusual," McGonagall said faintly. "Highly." Not that Harry seemed to understand that concept, she noticed. This was going to be a long seven years.

"Alright, so how does one turn a match into a needle with a conventional spell?" Harry asked. "I could figure it out on my own, but if you've got a way, that would probably work out better for everyone. Less explosions."

McGonagall hurriedly set about explaining the principles and spell, before watching the boy attempt it.

Unsurprisingly, he was successful his first attempt.

As were the next few spells she had him do.

So, with a sigh, she assigned him an essay on the basic principles of Transfiguration and how they are used in spellwork. Possibly advanced for a first year, but Harry seemed like he would be up to the task.

With his assignment jotted down on a spare sheet of paper with the pen he had transfigured, she gave him directions to the Charms classroom where Professor Flitwick would be waiting.

Though if his claim about the levitation spell was true, she doubted he would be there long. But hey, he wasn't her problem at the moment so she let out a relieved sigh as he left, staring at the small pile of transfigured items he had left on the desk.

She felt a small amount of sympathy for Flitwick. Harry wasn't exactly the easiest to deal with.

~~~Harry~~~

"I'm actually gonna learn magic, Pashti," Harry said, a grin on his face. "Even if I think it's all rather backwards here, I get to learn magic! Spells and enchantments and potions and everything!" His excitement bubbled up and Pashti purred against his ear. "Somewhere I can actually use magic and experiment without possibly blowing a hole in the time-space continuum!"

Pashti mreowed against his ear.

"Alright, with a less tangible chance of blowing a hole in the time-space continuum. But hey, I can use magic all the time! How brilliant is that?"

Harry skipped down the halls towards the charms room. There weren't any students populating them, making Harry wonder if there was perhaps some event taking place he wasn't aware of. Classes perhaps? Dumbledore mentioned that the next two days were weekends and there weren't any classes, so maybe class ended early today?

He still didn't get the reason why there were two whole days with no classes at all. It was learning, why would you want to take a break from it? And magic too!

He sighed. Well, just because everyone else took the weekend off didn't mean he had to ignore everything. There was so much to learn and never enough time, no matter how long you spent travelling through it.

The charms classroom was just ahead when Harry took the time to observe his surroundings, and he grinned. Apparently he hadn't lost all sense of where things were in Hogwarts.

Professor Flitwick was hovering behind a desk at the far end of the room, looking over what appeared to be a collection of essays. He was shorter than the average human by quite a fair margin, and Harry wondered if he had a mixed magical lineage, his nose for genealogy rearing its head. He had been too distracted the previous meeting to give it much thought.

He would have to sate it later, after he had managed to get that self-levitation spell out of the professor.

"Professor Flitwick?" he called out. "Professor McGonagall said you were to evaluate me next." Harry wondered what the evaluation would consist of. He ran through the half dozen charms theories he had cooked up over the years, some from his arguments with Rowena and Helga over the subject, some from his time with Merlin, and a couple more he had wanted to test himself.

There was a squeak from the tiny professor as he wobbled in the air. "Oh, yes, Mr. Potter. You're much earlier than I had been expecting. I take it you have James' affinity for the subject."

Harry sighed. "Just, Harry please. I've never gone by Potter my entire life and didn't even know I had a second name until you all started calling me by it. And by affinity I suppose so. I think the Professor was tired of me defying her known laws of transfiguration and sent me down here to get rid of me."

Professor Flitwick frowned. "I see...Harry. That will take some getting used to. Are you sure about the name? Yes, I see you are. Hmm, well. Let's see what we've covered in Charms so far this year. Very basic stuff. You should be able to figure it out pretty fast."

"First, I have a question. How are you hovering like that?" Harry gestured towards the professor. "I was taught it was insanely difficult to self-levitate."

Professor Flitwick chuckled. "It is, Harry, but I wouldn't be worthy of my title as Charms Master if I couldn't perform such a spell. It also helps with grading. I don't have to shrink everything down to my size, which is convenient."

"I see. Care to teach me that spell?"

"Oh, no, this is much too advanced. Your core needs to have matured properly before you attempt this spell. It uses your core as power source rather than directing your magic through a wand and it can be very dangerous. Best to wait, I think. Now, tell me, how much experience have you had with magic?"

Professor Flitwick looked eager for the answer, far more eager than someone who looked his age was generally comfortable being, in Harry's experience. Harry grinned. He loved eager people.

"I've had a few lessons, when I was younger and it was obvious I needed some measure of control over my magic. I had a teacher who made me practice control by levitating breakable objects through a busy marketplace and if they broke I had to levitate the pieces." Harry grinned. "Went a long way to helping me figure out how much magic I needed to put into a spell."

Flitwick's eyes went wide. "You've levitated multiple objects at once? Already? How old were you?" he said, voice squeaking out.

"I was somewhere around seven, I think. I used a practice wand, from China. They don't have cores but they're made of magical wood and regulate magic well. I can also cast a Lux and Nox spell. We used the first one to see if my control was any good, since the first time I tried it I blinded everyone in the vicinity." He grinned at the memories of several knights flailing about and his dad blinking spots out of his vision as Merlin croaked out Harry's need for control.

Flitwick sputtered. "That...that's unheard of! A seven year old performing controlled levitation on multiple objects at once without even a proper wand! My boy, are there any other surprises for me?"

Harry pondered this for a moment, wondering if he should mention the color changing charms Merlin had taught him to help him learn focus as well as control. "Um, what have first years learned so far?" he asked, hesitant.

The professor cleared his throat. "Well, much of the first few months have been theory and going through basic wand movements and pronunciation. Pronunciation is especially important and between Professor McGonagall and myself we drill students in proper enunciation and far we have learned lumos, the light spell, lux was what it was called back before English was influenced by so many different people, and nox. We have started on the levitation charm, Wingardium leviosa, just this past week, but it sounds like you need no assistance with either spell."

Harry huffed a laugh. "Well, um, I'm good on pronunciation, I think. I speak latin fluently, though you all don't really use proper latin in your spells, so that might be an issue. I'm not sure of the wand movements you use though. I've never really gotten them down, just the ones for the spells I know personally."

Flitwick nodded, a look of relief passing over his face. "I'm glad there is something I can cover with you. I feared for a moment that you would be beyond all of my students though you haven't been here a day. We can review the basic ones now and I can lend you a small book on the rest of them. Most first years only use the basic ten and they rarely bother to memorize the rest unless they are particularly studious. I believe if you wish a demonstration, Miss Granger would be of great help. She is, I believe, a mis-sorted Raven in Gryffindor house, with her intellect and appetite for knowledge."

"Hermione Granger?" Harry asked, the name familiar.

"Yes, do you know her?"

"Not...not exactly. We met briefly when I first got here. I should be able to find her easily." Harry thought back to the bushy haired girl he had helped out of the toilets.

"Well, that's good. So, let's go over the basics of wand movements before I send you off to Professor Snape. It's nearing dinner time, I would rather you not miss it."

Harry took out his focus. "Alright, let's go."

"Your wand is most unusual. I assume from its presence that Ollivander has said it is okay?"

Harry nodded. "It'll only ever work for me but that's probably not a bad thing in a wand, yeah?" He grinned.

"Indeed it is not. So, watch my wand. These are the ten basic wand motions that you will use in the majority of spells you learn in your first few years at Hogwarts. There are, of course, many many more, but they will come later."

Harry focused on Flitwick's wand, taking in the movements and moving his focus in tandem. Pashti had moved from his right shoulder to his left so as not to be dislodged by his shoulder movements.

"So, like this?" Harry went through each movement, carefully outlining each one.

Flitwick looked a little taken aback. "I wasn't aware you were learning them as I was demonstrating. That was merely a quick example...though I must say, you have most of them perfectly. You need to zig your wand more to the right when you follow the pattern. Each zig should be equally distant in each direction. And...yes, just like that." Flitwick stared at Harry in consternation. "You learn things much too quickly for your age," he murmured.

Harry laughed. "You wouldn't be the first to tell me that. I've always been a fast learner."

Flitwick personally thought there was a difference between a fast learner and instinctive genius. "Well, yes, and for your curl, you should twist your wand slightly in your hand. It's not common practice among first years, but it helps focus the spell more tightly on what you want. Like so," he said, demonstrating the rather advanced technique for Harry.

"So, it's almost as if you're rolling your fo...wand in your hand just a bit at the end," Harry commented, then copied the move perfectly.

"Yes, yes indeed. Well, Harry, I feel as if you are quite adept at wand work. Since we seem to have some extra time, I would like to review your ability with the levitation charm since you say you are proficient in it." Flitwick summoned a feather from the stack in the far corner. "Students practice with these, as they are light and don't require much magical strength to levitate."

Harry looked at the feather lying on the desk beside him. "Alright then. Easier than how I learned. I think my teacher was a bit of a sadist when it came to working on my focus and control. Then again, I had very poor control."

Flitwick wasn't sure telling Harry that most seven year olds had very little control over their magic would really mean much to the boy. "I would very much like to see your proficiency with the charm. I you would." He gestured to the feather.

"Volatus Levis," Harry said, moving his focus in the correct manner. The feather immediately floated upward, following Harry's wand movements to the tiniest shift. Harry made it spin, twirl, and zoom around the classroom, a bright smile on his face.

Flitwick blinked. "Is that the incantation you use?" he asked, a bit taken aback.

"Yeah. It's the one I was taught. Do you all say it differently now?"

"Now?"

Harry mentally face palmed. "I mean, do you use weird not-latin?"

Flitwick stared at him in consideration. "We use 'Wingardium Leviosa' as the incantation. Though I can see from your skill that the spell is basically the same. Where did you learn that version?"

"My teacher taught me. He used Latin nearly exclusively, rather than the mix you all seem to use. Which is why the spells I know are the older versions. Before you all corrupted your language."

"That's a bit harsh," the diminutive professor commented.

"Well, it's true. English is one of the strangest compilations of languages in this region. You all collected several different languages and sort of...squished them into what you have now. Latin, Greek, French, German, Scandinavian, several others, and mix it all together to get English. It's why you have weird word pronunciations." Harry shrugged. "Just a fact of linguistics."

"I see. Well, you will be learning the incantations used now, rather than the old ones. I'm sure you can work it out."

Harry grinned. "Yep! No problems from me. It's just a cultural focusing word, you know. Each country uses different ones. In China, they use whatever form of Chinese is native to the region, in Japan, it's Japanese, in France, it's French. Spells are influenced by cultural ideas given to them. In all honesty, language affects the spell we use far more than we realize, but with such minor spells you can't tell the difference. I once used a language for a light spell that nearly drained all my magic and would have killed me if my dad hadn't come and knocked some sense into my head."

Flitwick felt he was looking at possibly the most Ravenclaw student he had ever seen, with possibly too much Gryffindor brashness mixed in. He wasn't sure he could believe him about the light spell, but he could imagine that happening. "I look forward to seeing you in class and watching you test your skills on spells. For now, I shall give you the guide I mentioned. It would be helpful if you could outline a short essay on the first ten movements and their basic properties. The guide will explain all of them in detail, but please don't turn in more than a foot of parchment. Conciseness is the key to success." Flitwick hovered over to his desk and rifled through the drawers before pulling out a dusty book. "Here, take this. I don't expect the essay for a little while, so just get it back to me when you can."

Harry took the book with a grin. "Cool, can do. Thanks!"

"No, thank you. It's been quite a while since I've had such a...fast learner. I look forward to your classes with me. The next class should still be covering the levitation charm, though you seem proficient in it." He glanced up at the still floating feather. "So I may have you work on the various ways to alter the spell." Flitwick grinned. "Now, it's off to Professor Snape with you. He's down in the dungeons. Take the closest staircase to the left down three times, take a right at the bottom, and at the next staircase go down one more flight, then turn right at the portrait of Queen Victoria. The potions room is to the left."

"Is the potions room underground?" Harry wondered. It would have been similarly placed to Sal's rooms if so.

"Yes, for the cool temperatures. It helps when storing potions ingredients for long periods of time, especially those that can't be preserved with magic."

Harry tucked the book away in a pocket, jotting down the essay he had been assigned, and grinned up at the professor. "Well, I like potions so this should be a fun lesson!" he commented. He didn't miss the look of concern that flashed over the tiny professor's face. "I'll be off then. Thanks, Professor!"

He heard the murmured "Oh, Severus will not be happy with him," from Flitwick as he left, and he wondered if perhaps this potions professor wasn't entirely welcoming of new students.

The dungeon classroom was easy to find, only a few doors down from where Sal used to hold his lessons. Professor Snape. He remembered the man from his non-Sorting earlier, sallow skinned. Him and the giant of a man Harry figured wasn't entirely human had come to deal with the troll, if he remembered correctly.

He hoped the man would be somewhat like Sal, considering he was the head of Slytherin house, but he sorely doubted it after his encounter with whatever was corrupting the Sorting Hat.

"Um, hello? Professor Snape?" Harry pushed the door in further, looking around the deserted potions room, so much like the one he learned from Sal in. So little had actually changed over the years it was hard to believe this wasn't the time of the Founders, aside from the addition of the chalkboard (though no chalk) and far more metal and glass, both more precious commodities at the time of the Founders.

When no one answered, he walked into the room, turning as he went to take in more of it. He would bet a significant amount of his research that this was the same room Sal used to teach him how not to blow potions up in.

"Mr. Potter. I see you have decided to...grace….me with your presence," a silky voice emerged from a far doorway.

Harry spun to see the sallow skinned Professor in the far doorway. If his memory served him right, Sal used to keep precious ingredients he never let Harry touch back there. "Not a Potter, Professor. It's getting rather irritating having to keep correcting teachers who were in the room when I told the headmaster that," Harry groused. "It's just Harry. One name's served me well enough until now, why would I need a second one?"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Your name is Harry Potter, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, Mr. Potter. Celebrity will do you no good in a potions classroom," he said, sneer dripping all over the words.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Really, you think not acknowledging whatever name I was given before I even had a choice in the matter is some kind of celebrity thing? What celebrity thing anyway?" He paused, blanched. "Please don't tell me you're talking about all the surviving some impossible to survive curse nonsense that I found out about earlier. I refuse to be taught in a classroom where someone actually believes in it out loud." He started backing towards the door. "So, if that's the case, I'll find someone else to teach me potions or something, really."

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing?"

Harry stopped his retreat at the sharp snap of words. "For one, that's not my name. And for two, if you think I'm going to spend another moment of my time in a classroom with someone who wants to call me a celebrity for something I don't even remember happening and probably not even something I did, you're insane. All offense intended."

"Your choice to take potions is not an optional one, Mr. Potter," Snape said, once again ignoring Harry's request to not call him that.

"Can you not get your head around a simple name? Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick decided the better part of valor was to just call me Harry. Potter is not my name."

Snape bristled. "It is the name your insufferable father gave you by right of birth. Just because you don't particularly care for it will not erase it from your identity."

"James you mean? That's some weird tradition you cling too tightly to, I think. Really rather absurd. I'll choose a second name later if I think I ever need one, and it'll be one I like rather than one handed out to me. Also I have been reasonably assured that it isn't part of my identity any longer, no matter what history books may call me."

Snape growled in frustration. "I'll show you the truth, Mr. Potter. There is but a simple spell to reveal the identities of a fellow magic user. Then will you stop this inane chatter about names?" He pulled his wand out, pointing it in Harry's general direction.

"Um, not to be impolite, but you seem to have some issues with me. I'm not sure shooting a spell at me is in any way going to endear me to you," Harry hedged.

Snape didn't bother listening and the spell was cast with barely a murmur and a flick up and to the left with a small curl before Harry was hit by a light gold beam of magic.

He glared at the potions professor. "That was horribly impolite. You're lucky that was a harmless spell otherwise my magic wouldn't have been so passive about it," he bit out.

But the potions professor was staring at a point above his head, eyes wide in confusion.

Harry glanced up, seeing something hovering above his head.

Harry written in English was on top. Underneath was the flowing circular script Harry had learned from the moment he could hold a pencil, his name written with all the meaning his dad had given it.

"But….but that...that isn't possible," Snape breathed.

Harry sighed. "I'm sure for most people it wouldn't be, but whatever you're thinking is impossible is possible simply because of who I am. It happens a lot. Sorry. I tend to get in the way of standard thinking. McGonagall didn't like me much either, if it's any consolation."

"But...your name on record is Harry James Potter, why wouldn't the spell show that name?" the professor continued muttering, clearly ignoring Harry. "What is that circular shape?" Snape finally looked at Harry. "Who are you?"

Harry groaned silently "I'm Harry, son of the Doctor and the Tardis and Rose, nephew to Jack Harkness. Magical. Apparently now a first year at Hogwarts. I've been recently informed my birthdate is July 31st, though that doesn't really mean much to me. No house affiliation in Hogwarts, not that I'll need it."

Snape blinked at him, seemingly unable to take in the information. "Not Lily's eyes," he muttered. "Too green. Not Potter's stupid hair, it's too long. He doesn't even look like him." The muttered words were loud enough for Harry to hear, and it worried him somewhat.

"Um, professor, are you alright?" Harry asked. "I mean, I've been told you're a good potion maker, so if you could drop all the name stuff you insist on, I wouldn't actually mind learning from you, grudge or not."

Snape had retreated to his desk, ignoring Harry completely, pulling papers out of drawers and obviously searching for something. "This is crazy, does Dumbledore know what he's done?."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Erm, I have no idea what you're on about, but you should probably take that up with the headmaster. I'd be of little use," he pointed out.

"Why does the spell not work as it should? It doesn't give your full name and I have no idea what that circle thing is. That shouldn't be possible."

Harry sighed. "You said that it was a name revealing spell, yeah? Well, that would mean it would rely on my perception of my identity first and foremost. And my identity to me is Harry, and that 'circle thing' you're so confused about is, incidentally, my name. Just not in any language you know."

There was silence as Snape looked at him. "I suppose I could concede that the spell is reliant upon the knowledge and magical signature of the person receiving the spell first, only drawing upon the caster's knowledge if the receiver's magic should be unable to provide an answer," he said, haltingly, as if unable to believe he was saying this.

"Alright, so now that you've decided I am who I'm supposed to be and you can act like the adult you are and call me Harry, can we get on with the potions? I heard the food here is rather spectacular and I'm supposed to meet Blaise at the green table he says belongs to Slytherin house. Which is really rather silly. Why have a table belong to a house? Does that mean no one else gets to sit there?" Harry pondered. He would have to ask Blaise.

A long moment stretched between the two.

Snape stared at the young boy who was Harry Potter, not that the child acted anything like either James or Lily. It was hard to reconcile the intelligent, sharp witted, long haired, too green eyed eleven year old with the mental picture of James Potter he had been kindling his hatred for.

A pair of bright yellow eyes, distracted him, staring at him from underneath the child's hair, and it took him a moment to realize it was a cat.

"Why do you have a cat in the potions room, Mr. Potter?" he asked, deciding for now he would just go with what Dumbledore believed and ask him about the odd information given by the spell later..

Harry sighed. "Not a Potter, really, and after you finish evaluating me I'm going to make it a point to bring this up with the headmaster. And Pashti goes where I go. She's my companion." He reached up a hand to pet her. "So, are you going to do anything about my potions knowledge?"

Snape resisted a sigh. Really, this was weird, too weird. "Tell me what the main ingredients are in a blood replenishing potion," he ordered. "This is a simple first year potion that we have covered. If you have done any reading for this class, which I doubt, this should be easy."

Harry pursed his lips, pulling up the exhaustive list of ingredients he had memorized while studying under Sal and then from a couple texts he had convinced his father to acquire for him. "Blood replenishing, blood replenishing. Since its required function is to either increase or multiply the drinker's current red blood cell count, you would need licorice root, preferably cut under a blood moon to increase its potency, a base of water to match the consistency of the body's natural supply, chamomile to calm the brain's response to the increased blood flow, a few newt eyes, preferably taken from a recently deceased newt, crushed, ground bone to induce the multiplication effect, taken from any magical species, preferably with a charm on it to preserve the marrow, and of course a drop of blood, preferably the makers but any human blood would do, to act as a catalyst." He grinned. "I think I got it right."

Snape blinked in what might have been mild astonishment. "Did...did you just make that up, Potter?" he asked, disbelief in his voice as he went over the list of ingredients Harry had just provided.

"Not a Potter. And yes, I did. Isn't that the point of potions, to use the known ingredients and their effects to create a potion? Recipes are boring, I've always been a bad hand at them."

"As a matter of fact, it is not. Students follow a set recipe for potions to make sure they don't screw up too badly, though that is usually the case." He paused once more going over the ingredients. If you added them in the right combinations and at the right time, they would in fact create a potion that replenishes blood. "The list you gave me is not the same recipe as from the book. Celebrity, Mr. Potter, won't get you far in my classroom."

Harry groaned. "Really, my name is Harry, you checked with your spell and everything, and cut it out with the celebrity thing. And the ingredients I gave you would create the potion you're looking for, whether they follow some recipe or not. Recipes aren't the only way to create something." He was getting more than irritated with Snape not calling him by his name as well.

"Be that as it may, you are here to learn how to make potions that have been created, not to create new recipes for potions we have already. Experimentation is done after one has achieved at least some semblance of knowledge in potions. There is too much room for error and poor reactions if you just decide to...experiment every time you make a potion."

"Isn't that why you memorize the ingredients first? I mean, I don't know all of them yet, but I know all the common ones and their reactions and properties. You put together potions based on your desired outcome, using the knowledge of the ingredients you have."

Snape furrowed his brow at him. "Only masters working on their own projects ever do that. First years especially don't have the experience or drive to work like that." He hadn't, not until he was a few years older.

"But, why? I mean, recipes are good and all, but what's to stop them from just creating monotony? Boredom invariably leads to uninterest and lackluster performance." Harry sighed at the look of disbelief and contempt. "You're a teacher with no desire to teach your students any creativity. Why are you even teaching?"

"Potions is a delicate art form, Potter."

"Harry."

"Not everyone has the desire to learn thousands of ingredients just to create simple potions that others have set recipes for. It's tedious and time consuming. I'm not even sure you've done as you've claimed."

Harry rolled his eyes, but at least this was delving into his potions knowledge. "I've memorized the 5000 basic ingredients used in most cases and their properties, as well as 2000 of the more esoteric ingredients, though a couple of them have fuzzy properties. There are about 3000 or so that I've been informed are rarely used and as a beginner student I wouldn't even see them, and thus I have taken to focusing on those I would most likely see. I'll work on the more esoteric things later. It would be better to solve a problem most likely given to you rather than one you might not encounter for a while."

Snape raised an eyebrow. This was not the Harry Potter he was expecting at all. This wasn't typical first year behavior. This was rarely typical NEWT student behavior. "What are the most common bases used in potions?"

"Water, oil, blood, various vegetative juices, saliva, bodily fluids of any kind really, venom," Harry continued on.

Snape furrowed a brow. "Only three of those are used commonly, Mr. Po…" Harry's glare cut him short. "Why are you listing all of them?"

"You asked for bases. Commonly used ones I am unsure of, as you seem to be referring to recipes that I haven't looked at properly."

Snape resisted rubbing his temples. "Tell me the most common ingredients, in order of usefulness."

Five minutes later he had to stop Harry, wondering who on Earth had taught him potions before. Whoever they were was a mad genius, to devise a system of memorization the likes of which this eleven year old child demonstrated.

"Who taught you potions?" he demanded.

"Sal. Best teacher, in my opinion, after he realized I couldn't learn with recipes. I tended to blow things up because I was impatient. He set me to memorizing things instead, and then left me with books to keep my studies up."

Sal. Single name, probably a nickname of sorts. He wouldn't be able to find anything conclusive with just that information. "You use a memory trick to recall all that information. No one could do it otherwise," Snape commented.

Harry shrugged. "Well, yeah, but I've had memory tricks since before I could remember. Doesn't everyone? I follow a fairly well proven method, the method of loci, or a version of it. Actually it was popularized here, you know. Wonderful system, fairly similar to what dad uses, though I don't exactly have dad's brain power so I had to work out a version I could use myself. But it allows near perfect recall if you can use it properly." Harry grinned. "You probably use something similar. It's a fairly standard way of memory recall for human norm brain types."

Snape just stared down at the boy. He was tempted to use legilimency on him, just to see what this method of loci was and if it was anything remotely similar to occlumency, but his personal ethics code held him back. Also, the Potter brat wasn't worth the fines and/or jail time he could get for using Legilimency on an minor without their guardian's consent.

"I see. If it should interest you, there are magical arts for the mind. Occlumency and Legilimency, to be specific. For the time being, I will gauge your abilities in class and if I see you are failing, which you might very well, I will set you remedial lessons." He looked down at the boy he had prepared so much hatred for, only to see intelligent, eerie green eyes peering up at him. "Get going. Mr. Zabini will, no doubt, wonder where you are, as dinner has already started. I hope you can find your way back to the Great Hall as I have other business to attend to." He would refrain from using any name at all for the moment. Potter seemed adamant that he not be called by his last name and the fuss was more irritating than the payoff of irritating the boy.

"Well, alright. I'll see you whenever class is then. Bye, Professor Snape." Harry headed off with a cheerful wave, the tiny cat under his hair considering Snape a final time before Harry turned and headed out the door.

The Great Hall wasn't too hard to find, Harry recalled the trips he had taken there before and managed to wind his way around the staircases and up to the main floor.

As Professor Snape indicated, dinner had started, though just recently if he was correct. There were four long tables stretching from the front of the hall towards the back, bookended by another long table. Students were sitting or milling about around the four long tables, and Harry took the end table to be for staff only, a pity.

The color scheme was, he had to admit, rather impressive. Red and Gold, Yellow and Black, Blue and Bronze, and Green and Silver, marked by banners and various table cloths and sundry on the tables. Really, was it necessary to color code everything here? First all the students seemed to be color coded by tie, then the tables. Next would be personal belongings followed by bedrooms and bathrooms. Another reason to avoid this house system. Harry hated having colors chosen for him.

He scanned the room with mild interest, until he spotted his newly made friend over at the green and silver table. Blaise, with his dark coloration, stood out quite well against the typical pale colors of UK natives and Harry headed his direction with a grin.

"Hey, I made it! Managed to keep myself in one piece too."

Blaise huffed. "I'm more surprised you kept the professors in one piece. You did, didn't you? I was expecting some report of you driving them mental before you made it to dinner. Which you're late to, by the way."

Harry shrugged. "I had to wander from Professor McGonagall's room to Professor Flitwick's, then down to Professor Snape's. Hogwarts isn't the smallest place, you know, quite a few stairs. And everyone's in one piece. I can't be that unusual, this is a school for magic, after all."

Blaise shook his head. "You have no idea how weird you really are, do you?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Harry said, grabbing a plate and picking out a few interesting looking foods. "You know, I've never had some of these. Dad always preferred fish and chips or bananas, given the choice, and Rose never has the best sense of what to eat either. If we left food decisions up to Jack, I don't think we'd have anything resembling proper food in the Tardis at all."

"Really? You've never had meat pies?"

"Well, I've had things resembling meat pies, but I don't think anything in it was actually meat, or remotely edible. In fact, I recall us all turning a lovely shade of violet before hovering a few centimeters off the ground and spinning in place. Supposed to be some traditional food or whatever, but I think they were just pranking us. I've never seen that many mouths laughing at once." Harry shuddered.

Blaise thought Harry couldn't get any stranger.

Pashti took the opportunity of food to jump down and meander over to the ham, delicately taking a piece to Harry's plate before eating it in small bites.

Blaise thought Pashti was the weirdest animal in Hogwarts as well. The two made quite the pair.

"Potter, what are you doing at the Slytherin table?"

Blaise groaned. Malfoy just had to make an appearance. "Go away Malfoy. It's not really your business."

Malfoy sidled up to Blaise and Harry, followed, as always, by the two overly large eleven year olds who acted as his bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle. Though what an eleven year old needed them for was beyond Blaise. "If you aren't part of Slytherin, you shouldn't sit at the table," Malfoy shot back.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember that being part of the rules," he replied. "Besides, Harry doesn't have a House so it shouldn't matter."

"No House Potter? Did the Sorting Hat think you were too dumb to Sort?"

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't bother answering the blonde. He hadn't even acknowledged Malfoy's presence. "Blaise, what's this chocolate looking thing here?" He pointed at something that mildly resembled chocolate logs.

"Blood sausage. Not bad, but maybe a bit odd if you've never had them." Blaise looked at him in consideration. "You didn't grow up in the UK did you?"

Harry shook his head, taking a small piece of the sausage to try. "Nope. Home's the Tardis, only one I've ever had."

"Potter, are you really ignoring me?"

Harry snorted. "Really, this isn't that bad. Besides the cloud of pre-teen self rightiousness hovering behind me, this is a rather nice meal."

Blaise choked on his food. "Are you seriously calling Malfoy…?" he started, incredulous.

"Well, he is. Unable to properly address someone without adding insults is both childish and stupid. Who wants to talk to someone who insults them? Besides, what's an eleven year old going to do to me? In a crowded hall as well. There isn't much he could do."

"I'm right here! Are you stupid Potter?" Malfoy protested.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, my name isn't Potter, and if he can't even figure out how names work without adding insulting addendums to them I'm not going to talk to him. Why anyone would want to talk to him is beyond me. I mean, sure, Professor Snape had an issue with my name, but he didn't constantly insult me at the same time. I'm sure he wanted to, he certainly started to a few times, I've seen that look before, but he didn't spend the whole lesson dropping insults. Maturity is key." Harry popped a blood sausage in his mouth, chewed, frowned. "This is weird. Not bad weird, but weird."

Blaise was goggling at him over his lifted fork, seeing the shade of red Malfoy had turned behind Harry. "Um, you might want to be careful," Blaise said to Harry. "Malfoy, casting spells in the Great Hall is supremely stupid," he added as he saw the boy going for his wand.

"Potter," he ground out.

"This is fantastic pudding Blaise, you should really try it," Harry said cheerfully, for all intents and purposes ignoring the mildly insignificant threat of a pissed off eleven year old behind him.

"Harry, um, are you, well, I mean," Blaise tried to grasp for words.

"He's not much of a threat, Blaise. He's eleven and only just starting his magical education. I doubt he has the power to cast any of the stronger spells he may have picked up at home, and there are half a dozen teachers here. Starting a magical battle in the Great Hall is a really good way to make them angry, I'm sure." Harry didn't bother to mention his own magic's unique reaction to harmful spells, which was usually to toss them right back at their owners if the magic used to cast them wasn't too powerful.

"Stop talking about me as if I'm not here, Potter!" Malfoy ground out, hand twitching for his wand.

Pashti glanced up at him, eyes narrowing in dislike, before dismissing him with an eyeroll and turning back to her ham. It was enough of a sign for Harry to decide that Malfoy, especially as he was now, wasn't worth investing the time in. Maybe given a bit of room to mature and grow up he could be worth it, but at the moment it was too much effort. He would give the boy a moment, then it would be up to him.

He turned to look Malfoy in the face, to make sure that this time his words weren't brushed off by the angry child. "You, Draco Malfoy, are immature, spoiled, and self-centered. Why you think I should give you my time is beyond me. You can't use my name properly, your first words to me are insults, and then you expect me to talk to you. Well, this is me, talking to you. You're eleven, old enough to form your own opinions, to think about those around you, and to be respectful of others. If you can't do any of those three, you aren't worth anyone's time. Now, I'm eating and you're interrupting. I would suggest you take yourself back to your seat and finish dinner before it's over. Good bye." Harry gave him a long look, taking in the shocked grey eyes, before he turned back to his plate and proceeded to continue ignoring him.

Blaise felt like he couldn't breathe properly, trying not to gasp out laughter or choke in shock. No one had spoken to Malfoy like that, ever.

Inarticulate rage, touched with confusion, covered Malfoy's face before he stomped back to his seat further down the table.

"You've just poked an angry bear," Blaise told Harry.

Harry huffed. "Really? That spoiled child, a bear?"

"His father. He's really powerful in the Ministry."

Harry shrugged, unconcerned. "So? What can he do, throw me out of Hogwarts? I didn't want to come here in the first place, not a reliable threat. Toss my family out? Unlikely to happen, not even the headmaster can keep my dad out of Hogwarts, and Hogwarts likes me and my family. There isn't much he could do to me, really. Besides, someone needed to tell him he wasn't five anymore."

Blaise shifted in his chair. "Well, I mean, I don't know exactly what Mr. Malfoy can do, but there are plenty of rumors about some dark things he's got his hands in."

"And what, he's going to curse me for telling his son the truth? He'd be even more immature than the brat he's raised."

Blaise gulped quietly. The magical world, he felt, wasn't ready for Harry Not Potter, not at all.

~~~~In Which This is a Scene Break~~~~

Dumbledore sat in his office, the four Heads of House in various chairs or leaning against walls in front of him.

"Harry Potter," he began.

"Not a Potter," McGonagall muttered. "Sorry, I've heard that all day. He's very insistent, Dumbledore."

Snape shifted. "The boy's magical signature doesn't acknowledge his name as Harry James Potter. I...may have become frustrated with his insistence about his name and cast the spell at him."

"Severus, that's bordering on illegal," McGonagall warned, eyes flashing. "You can't just cast that spell whenever you like, especially on a minor."

"I am aware. But it revealed his name as simply Harry, with some strange circular mark underneath. I've never seen anything like it. The boy said it was his name, just in a language I didn't know." Snape scowled. "I didn't even know there was a language that was written in circles and lines."

Dumbledore furrowed his brow. "I see. It is the same with the Hogwarts registry spell. His name on his letter was, simply, Harry. Perhaps his magic has adjusted to never knowing his last name. Though I have never heard of it happening before." He sighed. "This is not the issue, though I am sure you are all concerned about the implications of that." He saw nods from McGonagall and Flitwick. "As it stands, just call him Harry. He has made it quite clear he doesn't go by Potter and we have more important things to discuss besides his name." Dumbledore looked over his spectacles at them. "His magical ability, for instance. We can start there."

McGonagall spoke first. "He's powerful. If he wasn't so argumentative and contrary and more than likely to be detrimental to lessons rather than helpful, I would move him up into a higher class. He can easily do inanimate to inanimate transfigurations, though they don't always turn out how you would expect."

"Wouldn't that indicate he failed, then?" Sprout piped up.

McGonagall sighed. "In most cases, yes, but in his case, he not only managed to turn a fork into a fountain pen, but he managed to teach Blaise Zabini how to as well. I'm not quite sure I understood how he managed to do so, but the fact that another student was able to perform the same transfiguration indicates that it isn't a fluke of his magic."

Dumbledore hummed. "That is the Scribblifors spell, yes?"

"Yes, and it's meant to transfigure quills from small objects, not fountain pens." She pulled Harry's gold and silver striped pen out of a pocket. "This is the pen I watched him transfigure. It's not just a pen, but a rather ornate one. Harry said it looks like one of his favorite pens." She handed it to Dumbledore.

"I see. This is an impressive first year creation. And from a spell not intended to create a pen. Did he give you a reason as to why he made a pen rather than a quill?"

"You mean aside for his absolute disdain for quills?" McGonagall said, a hint of frustration seeping into her voice.

"Pardon me?"

"Harry hates quills, and was most adamant about telling me this while in Diagon Alley." She sighed, kneaded her temples. "He is the most irritating student I have ever taken shopping, Albus. He practically blew up Ollivander, he argued with the telescope salesman, he whined through the quill and parchment shop, he barted with the potioneer about knives like a master potioneer, he dragged his feet getting robes and I believe he bought half the bookstore. The only shop he remotely got along in was the truck shop, of all places, and I have half a mind that the girl behind the counter was a bit odd herself." McGonagall kneaded her temples. "Also he's probably the most intelligent first year I've ever talked to. I'm sure you've noticed it," she said, raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I have," Dumbledore replied.

"He is certainly far more intelligent that many students I have ever taught. He's not just smart,it's as if magic comes to him instinctively." Flitwick shifted. "I thought to test him on wand movements and teach him those since much of the first year curriculum has been covering that. But all it took was a quick demonstration before he had copied them all nearly perfectly. His levitation spell was unconventional but well executed, and I shall be testing his capabilities next class, but if he is anything near as proficient as he says he is, I don't know how useful class will be to him."

Dumbledore nodded, then looked up at Snape. "You were the last one to see him. How is his potions knowledge?"

A faint frown covered his face. "Whoever taught him potions was a mad genius," he finally said.

McGonagall felt mildly stunned. "What?"

"The boy doesn't know any recipes, but he can name all the bases used to make potions, list ingredients off by usefulness, and come up with potions based on a given problem. I asked him for the recipe for a blood replenishing potion, it's the first one we cover in class and also the first in the book, and instead of giving me a standard recipe or, as I expected, nothing at all, he instead made up a potion on the spot, though it would work. When I asked him further about it, he said his teacher thought it better for him to learn ingredients and their reactions rather than recipes. Something about the boy being too impatient and blowing them up." Snape curled a lip. "He is far too intelligent to be an eleven year old, Dumbledore. Who is this Doctor you gave him to?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, the Doctor, well…"

"I too would like to know who this stranger you can't control is, Albus. You told me barely anything about him ten years ago," Minerva said, a hint of impatience in her voice.

"Me as well. There is something strange about a child being able to perform a levitation charm so easily, to catch on to movements and instinctively master them."

Four sets of eyes peered at the elderly headmaster who wasn't sure himself who the Doctor was exactly.

Silence permeated the room for longer than was comfortable.

"The Doctor is…" Dumbledore started, trying to gather his thoughts and piece them together into a coherent message. "He is...ineffable. He is, maybe he always has been and will always be. He has a presence that you can't ignore and is powerful beyond words. He is an unknown to all sides and thus truly safe. And he is essentially a good person. I believe that." He had to, otherwise he had made a grave mistake ten year prior.

"So you basically handed the savior of the wizarding world over to an unknown man and hoped for the best? Is that what you're telling us right now?" Minerva said, voice hardening.

"Maybe that is a bit premature an assumption to make…" Sprout began.

"No, he gave a child to a stranger, a powerful and renowned child to a powerful and mysterious stranger he met once years ago. Then he lost all track of him until Harry-Not-Potter comes back, but he's about as far from a normal child as you could imagine. I would like to know why you trusted this Doctor over the dozens of families who would have been willing to take Harry in 10 years ago."

There were mutterings of agreement around the room.

Dumbledore sighed. "What would you have had me do? Raise him myself? I am probably the least fit person for parenting. Give him to a magical family as you suggest? They would raise him on a pedestal for destroying the dark lord and what would we have when Harry finally came to Hogwarts other than a spoiled child? Leave him in a muggle orphanage? Look how well that worked out for Tom Riddle. All of those in the Potter will were ineligible, his only remaining blood relatives dead. I needed to find a solution, and the Doctor was that solution. The Doctor is probably the most powerful magical I have ever encountered. I've been inside that blue box, and it was unlike anything I'd ever seen." He paused, eyes going distant. "The expansion charms alone must have been an impressive working, not to mention the ability to make it a portkey at will, one that can pass through wards. The enchantments it contains, that it must contain, led me to believe the Doctor was someone powerful, and essentially someone good." He looked over the rim of his spectacles at the teachers arrayed before him.

"Quite the leap of faith," Snape muttered.

Dumbledore continued on. "So when I needed so give Harry a home, I thought of him. If there was anyone who could raise Harry in an environment so removed from danger, who could raise him with new views and perspectives as well as keep him safe, there was no one better than the Doctor."

"Teach him new views and perspectives? Dumbledore, that child defies the laws of logic and magic. You gave him to a mad genius, at the very least," Snape said bitingly. "An eleven year old should not have a working knowledge of 8,000 potions ingredients at his fingertips. No master I know has ever bothered memorizing more than the most commonly used four or five thousand, preferring to keep notes on the rest. And he hates recipes."

They all stared at him. "How many ingredients did you say?" Sprout asked in a small voice.

"8,000, and I have it on decent authority that he isn't joking." Snape slumped further into the wall. "He's going to be a nightmare to teach. His former instructor let him experiment, having him memorize potions ingredients and their reactions rather than teaching recipes. How could a child even sit still long enough to memorize that many potions ingredients?"

"Former teacher?" Dumbledore picked out of the complaining.

"Yes, someone named 'Sal'. Not much to go on. Also, should the boy ever take my advice on mental magic, he would be a formidable occlumens I'm sure."

"You seem impressed," McGonagall noted.

Snape glowered. "He is remarkably level headed and intelligent, if much too mouthy for a first year. He resembles neither parent and surpases many of my seventh years in articulation. At the very least he isn't boring."

McGonagall felt a small spark of amusement, though she wouldn't voice it. That Snape was doing anything other than imagining James Potter's son's downfall in his class was a minor miracle.

Dumbledore clapped his hands. "It is late and we have other things to discuss before the night is through and I would like to see my pillow before the sunrise. We still have the problem of his House. Any early takers?"

"Not mine," McGonagall said immediately. "He'd drive me crazy in under a week if he was my charge."

"I too fear that Harry may alienate my Ravens. It will take a bit of time to tell, but he is frighteningly intelligent. I fear his ease with magic may spur jealously within my House," Flitwick added.

"I am unsure yet if he would fit with my Badgers, but from what I've heard, I don't know how well he would do," Sprout said. "Still, I have yet to meet him in a classroom setting. I shall withhold immediate judgement."

"He would destroy Slytherin House before they even knew what was happening," Snape said, voice firm.

"Then we shall have to see what the week brings. As for out two new classes, I am willing to hear suggestions for time frames and locations."

"You are referring to the new classes you are adding, the fitness one and the history class," Sprout said.

"I am. I admit I am unable to force the three members of Harry's family out of Hogwarts and thus they need some reason to be here, before the Ministry gets suspicious. As it is, they will be any way, but with legitimate professions and reasons for being here, there is little they can do about it."

"I still don't understand why you can't just force them to leave. You're the headmaster," Sprout said.

McGonagall huffed a laugh. "That would be a sight to see. I dare say our headmaster would be on the losing end of that disagreement."

Said Headmaster declined from commenting.

"I will agree that History needs another professor. I endlessly hear complaints about Binns and his one track teaching. But this fitness class, are you sure?" Flitwick looked mildly concerned, thinking about some of his bookish Ravens who particularly disliked strenuous activity.

Dumbledore nodded, brooding. "It was recently pointed out to me that it is unwise to rely on magic to support the body when in poor health. Without adequate nutrition and fitness levels, magic is concentrated on making sure the body stays functional and when in poor health, this lack of fitness taxes the magic and makes it harder to recover. This could be solved with a weekly fitness regime, and Ms. Rose and Mr. Harkness seem adequate for the job. Now we need only to decide on a time frame for this. I would suggest either early morning or late afternoon, as there are fewer lessons at those times and they can be easily shifted."

"How are you going to teach them? By house?" Flitwick asked.

"No. By grade. First and second years together on Mondays, as they have the closest physical similarities. Third and fourth on Tuesdays for the same reason, Fifth on Wednesdays, Sixth on Thursdays, and Seventh on Fridays. That way each class gets a period a week to rotate through. I am sure Ms. Rose and Mr. Harkness will have time set aside for students who either struggle or are too advanced for their level and they can be placed in those time slots after the first class evaluation. Also, they insisted that the classes not be separated by house, as they wouldn't be wearing uniforms anyway. Gym clothes would be required, but they haven't said how they will acquire them, only that they would."

"You're going to put all the houses together by year for this lesson?" McGonagall said, a little taken aback.

"There'll be blood," Snape huffed softly.

"I'm sure Mr. Harkness and Ms. Rose will be up to handling them. So, is this agreed? We can shift the schedules a bit tomorrow, so that they will be handed out on Monday."

"I propose the empty ballroom in the east wing. We never use it and it can fit about 100 people. Large enough for whatever they want to do and out of the cold," McGonagall said.

Dumbledore grinned. "Perfect! I had forgotten about that room." McGonagall didn't believe him for a second. "So, is this agreed then?"

Nods all around.

"And the History lessons?" Flitwick asked.

"The Doctor indicated he would provide several hours every evening for students who wanted to learn. I request that we make this mandatory for all students though, as Hogwarts has an increasing track record of failure when it comes to the History OWLs and NEWTs."

"Agreed," Flitwick said. "We should find a way to get Binns to pass on as well. It's been a long time coming but he does need to let the position go. I do believe, though that he might lecture to an empty room. We could just move the students' History lessons to another room and keep the time slots the same. It would mean less shuffling of lessons and no need for added hours that some students wouldn't attend."

McGonagall hummed. "We can try it first. I do believe Binns fails to recognize students are present until someone addresses him directly. It would solve some of the problems we have been having with that course." McGonagall looked around. "What do you think, Pomona, Severus?"

"I think, so long as Binns fails to notice the lack of audience, this would be an ideal solution," Sprout said. "I would dearly like to not have to rearrange schedules more than they have to be."

"I as well. We can use this next week to observe. If it seems to be acceptable, than I say keep the Doctor. Binns is a mild nuisance and fails to impart much education on anyone, unless you have a great fascination for goblin rebellions," Snape huffed.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Alright, we shall try it that way. I rather hope this will help Binns move on. It's been a number of decades."

And thus the new classes were agreed upon, even though they all found it a bit odd to be adding new classes at all, much less in November.

~~~~In Which this is a Scene Break~~~~

Saturday morning came late, as it was wont to do when fall began its turn towards winter. Still, this wasn't much of a concern for Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, who rarely bothered to keep track of seasons. Magic, after all, made it much too convenient to simply set the temperature around you as you wished. Only when it started to snow did he bother to take into account the change of temperature.

Still, it was an odd day for the beleaguered Minister, having been woken up especially early that morning by a multitude of owls all hopping and chittering at the end of his bed.

Each owl seemed to carry a similar message, save for one, and that one was the reason he was up earlier than normal and rushing towards his office with single minded purpose.

Thursday evening, Harry Potter had burst into Hogwarts with some fanfare. Friday he had been spotted at Diagon Alley by curious shoppers, most of whom had been uncertain who the boy was. Most of the letters he had received were all from reporters, reporters demanding he get an interview for them from the child, as Dumbledore had denied them all rights to see the boy.

The news of his return came with shocking unexpectedness, as the boy saviour had been missing since his expected arrival two months ago. No one knew where he was, and any tracking charms failed miserably, despite there being plenty of material for them. Dumbledore, the sly bastard, had been tight lipped about where he had placed the boy and Fudge was kicking himself for not caring about it ten years ago.

Now though, the child was back. At least a dozen employees had received letters from their children at Hogwarts attesting to that fact late Thursday evening, and Fudge had spent all Friday attempting to figure out the best way to confront both Dumbledore and Harry Potter about his apparent absence.

The letter that had him up so early from his bed was, in fact, a letter telling him that he was welcome to Hogwarts on Saturday to talk to Harry following the lunch hour.

He had an interview to prepare for.

~~~~~In Which This is an Ending~~~~~

So, here it is. Another chapter.

I make no promises on when the next one will be out, I suck at keeping them. Only be assured that this story isn't abandoned, won't be abandoned, and I love writing it. I recently won NaNoWriMo this year with this story, so there is 50,000 more words to this, I just need to edit them. Because NaNo does not let you edit. So many mistakes.

To all my reviewers, I love you. Thank you. You make writing this a joy, and I'm so glad you all like this story. I will get to individual questions/requests/what-have-you in private replies. If you have a request for this story, be it a side story you want to see, something happening in the upcoming chapters, let me know.

Thanks so much! ありがとう！！

Kuroi