It was late by the time the party ended. After the professors had taken their leave, the teens had had Harry open his gifts, few though they were. The first was a book from the Weasley's on wizarding genealogy, given that Harry was heir to a noble house, a written apology from Ronald ("Mum made him do that," Ginny said in disgust, plucking the note from Harry's hand before she wadded it up and tossed it away. "He's not really sorry for anything."), and an assortment of homemade treats.

The second gift had surprised all of them, but none moreso than Neville and Draco, who had heard tales of invisibility cloaks since they were learning to walk. There was no indication of who sent it, other than a note in loopy script that informed them that the cloak had once belonged to Harry's father.

The party wrapped up a couple hours later when the teens had all begun to have trouble carrying on intelligent conversations due to fatigue, and they all followed Harry back to his suite. To their astonishment, Harry's quarters had expanded. The sitting room had turned into what looked like a common room with all four house colors represented, with separate quarters and adjoining bathrooms for the boys and the girls respectively. A quick look around told them that the girls could not enter the boy's room and vice versa, and that someone (probably the house elves again) had moved all their belongings to the appropriate areas, trunks and all.

"There is being a note from Professor Dumbledore," Maggie said, handing Harry an envelope, "and here is being lesson timetables from the professors," she added, passing around color coded pieces of parchment.

The teens quickly compared schedules, finding that there would be collective study time as well as break-out lessons that depended on the subject and the person. They would be working on dueling together in the mornings, then Harry, for example, would be spending a large portion of his afternoons catching up on magical theory- in which he'd be being tutored by one of his friends- transfiguration, and power control. By contrast, Neville would be spending his remaining afternoons alternating between caring for the greenhouses and being tutored in his own spellwork, along with Ginny as she was a year younger, by Hermione and Draco. Ginny's extra time would be spent flying drills on the Quidditch pitch consistent with her professional goals, and Hermione and Draco's would be spent paired together for NEWT-level research projects and spell creation across several disciplines, starting with charms. They would have free time every evening to hang out, fly, talk, study, or whatever else they wanted to do.

Finally, once everyone was satisfied that they understood what their next three weeks would look like, Harry unfolded the note from the Headmaster.

Dear Students,

Welcome to Paracelsus House. This will be your home for the time being. I deemed it best to let you stick together throughout your summer lessons. Seeing as you are all in different houses, staying alone in your house dormitories would get rather lonely, I should think.

For reference, Paracelsus was a wizard who lived in the mid 16th century. He was a medical genius, and challenged others to think differently to make a number of well-known medical discoveries. I hope that you five will be similar- challenging ideas and making astounding social and magical breakthroughs.

Each of you are exceptional in your own right, and your dynamic as a collective is even more astounding given your vastly different upbringings and experiences. Treat each other with the respect and care you would your family, as that is what you will be for the time being.

For now, your breakfast and lunch will be delivered to your common room at the appropriate times. Please join the staff for dinners in the Great Hall.

Rest well, and good luck with your studies.

Professor Dumbledore

As Harry finished reading the letter aloud, he noticed that the others were looking exhausted. Hermione was trying to stifle a yawn behind her hand, Draco was trying his best to keep his eyes open, and Ginny and Neville were slumped against walls and furniture in an attempt to keep themselves upright.

"Why don't we all go to bed?" He suggested, feeling like the others looked. "We can think about this more tomorrow."

And with that, the teens separated for the night, thoroughly spent from the day's activities.

Early the next morning, Harry was awoken to the sound of an alarm. It took him a few moments to realize that it was not his alarm clock going off. Momentarily confused since he'd never shared a room before, he opened his eyes, trying to locate the source of the noise. It was then he realized that Draco was rolling out of bed and trying to locate some clothes.

"Where you going?" he slurred groggily.

"For a run," Draco whispered, pulling on his shoes and socks.

"Hmm," Harry murmured, his sluggish brain having a hard time processing. After a moment, his mind caught up. "Hold on. 'm comin'."

Draco stared at him. "What?" But Harry was already out of bed, blearily searching for workout clothes, shoes, and socks. Draco shrugged, figuring it wouldn't do any good to ask again.

The two boys quietly crept out of their room into the common room area to find Hermione, who was reading a book on one of the sofas. She looked up when they entered.

"Harry? Malfoy? What are you doing?"

Draco shrugged in response, but Harry spoke up. "Draco's going for a run. He's letting me tag along. Want to come?"

Hermione looked from one to the other, then shook her head. "If you're going tomorrow, I'll come. If Malfoy's ok with that," she added. He nodded stoically. "I'll be ready tomorrow, then. I've already gotten ready for classes today."

"It's Sunday, Granger," Draco reminded her with a smirk. "No mandatory lessons today." She frowned.

"Then why are you going for a run this early?" she pointed out. Draco shrugged again.

"Habit," he said shortly, before turning toward the portrait hole. Harry waved to Hermione and followed.

The boys made their way down to the Quidditch pitch. Draco took off at a jog, and Harry kept pace. It soon became apparent, however, that as good shape as Harry was in, Draco was more used to running distances.

"How long have you been doing this for?" Harry panted as they made their fourth lap around the pitch.

"Since second year," Draco replied. "I made my house's Quidditch team because my father gifted Slytherin a whole team's worth of top notch racing brooms," he scowled. "Once they had the brooms, the Captain told me I better win every game that season or I was off the team. In hindsight, I should have just tried out fairly," he admitted. "But I started doing everything I could to improve my chances. Kept up with it ever since, including the summers. I just ran the pitch at home or the gardens around the manor, rather than this one."

They ran in silence for a while longer, Harry clutching a stitch in his side. "How many…laps…do you usually…run?"

"About ten," Draco said, looking at his friend in concern. "You can stop whenever you want. Don't overdo it the first time or you're going to be extremely sore tomorrow."

The bespectacled boy laboriously finished the lap they were on, then slowed to a walk, preparing to flop down on the grass.

"Keep walking til your heart rate goes down," Draco ordered, calling back over his shoulder. "And make sure you stretch afterward!"

Harry groaned audibly, but did as he was told. Draco only did a couple more laps before he came and walked around the grassy field near where Harry was attempting to stretch his aching muscles.

"Maybe after I've done this for four years, I'll be able to not feel like I'm dying when we stop," Harry complained. Draco smirked.

"Don't worry, Potter," he drawled. "No matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to keep up with all…this." He gestured to himself in a manner that was meant to convey his own awesomeness. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, Draco," he muttered, shaking his head at the blond.

After a few more minutes, Harry got to his feet, waiting with Draco as the Slytherin stretched briefly.

"Hey, Draco," Harry asked suddenly. "Did you have a secondary house? You know, when you were sorted?" Draco quirked an eyebrow.

"Meaning…?"

"For example, Hermione would have fit in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Or Ginny, the hat had suggested Slytherin instead of Gryffindor." Draco's eyes widened at this, looking surprised the redhead would ever admit to that. "And Neville was a fit for Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. So…what about you? Did the hat ever consider another house for you?"

Draco looked conflicted for a moment as he got to his feet, then shook his head. "No," he admitted, sighing heavily. "But I had a secondary house for me." When Harry raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I really wanted to be a Ravenclaw. I love studying and books and creating and learning new things. Actually, those projects with Granger we're being assigned…those are going to be so cool!" he enthused. "Between the two of us, who knows what we could come up with!"

Harry was astonished. This was easily the most emotion he'd seen out of his blond friend, barring that first time they'd bumped into each other in the corridor when he'd been scared half out of his wits.

"Anyway," Draco continued a little sadly, "I knew my father would never allow anything but Slytherin, and I was terrified of disappointing him. My worst fear at the time was that he would disown me if I was chosen for a different house. So I made it my mission to become a Slytherin. I locked every other part of my personality away and portrayed the perfect Slytherin prince. I became it so much that I even believed it. And the hat put me in Slytherin, probably to not shatter the precarious image of my eleven-year-old self at the time. In the end, I just didn't have the courage to go against my father." His face darkened. "If I'd just gone with my first gut feeling, I probably wouldn't be in the mess I'm most likely going to have when school starts again this year."

When Harry raised an eyebrow, Draco sighed again.

"The others in my dorm have all joined the Dark Lord. I've most likely been labeled as a traitor to the Dark Lord's agenda, so I'll probably have to worry all year about people trying to murder me in my sleep or ambush me in the dungeons somewhere if I go back to Slytherin."

Harry's eyes glinted coldly.

"That's not going to happen," he said confidently. "We can place wards- my wards can't be broken, not even by Dumbledore. Or we can ask the Headmaster if you can stay at Paracelsus. Or…" Harry smirked evilly. "Or we could set a trap." Draco frowned at the raven-haired boy. "Think about it! If we know they're going to try something, why not use it to our advantage?"

Draco smirked at his friend. "You'd make an outstanding Slytherin, Harry," he commented. Harry grinned.

"Thanks. We'll just need a few trip wires, some thermal lasers, and a video camera," he said. Draco just stared.

"We'll need…what?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you ever watch any spy movies as a kid?" he asked.

"What's…movies?" Draco asked. Harry smacked his forehead in exasperation.

"Let me guess- wizards don't have television, either?" Draco just looked at his friend as though the boy had gone crazy. Harry sighed. "Never mind, just ask Hermione to explain it to you. She knows more about it than me, anyway. But basically, Muggles have a way to record people and send the moving images to thousands of people at once. They use it to get news to people quickly, for sports, and for entertainment. Sort of like the Wizarding Wireless, but with pictures."

Harry could see some understanding starting to dawn on Draco's face. "Muggles do all of that…without magic? There's no way…" But Harry nodded.

"Yep, no magic. Only science." Draco looked confused again, but Harry waved him off.

"Ask Hermione," he repeated. "She just…knows things."

Later that day, Harry sat at a desk in the common room, pulling parchment and quill towards himself. Opening his transfiguration book to where he was reading, he tapped it with his finger. It began to read aloud softly and very slowly- softly so as not to disturb the others, and slowly so that he could keep up as he wrote.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Neville asked after a few moments, looking up from his game of Exploding Snap with Ginny curiously. Draco and Hermione were reading in separate corners of the room, keeping to themselves.

Harry sighed in frustration, tapping the book again to pause his audio. "Fighting a losing battle with this quill," he said wryly. Neville frowned.

"Has it been bewitched with a prank spell or something?" he asked, distracted when there was small BOOM! from the game. Ginny was looking sheepish with a black smudge on her face.

"Looks like you win," she said to the Hufflepuff, wiping at her face and getting to her feet. Harry was looking at them with a dubious expression.

"No," he replied as though there had been no break in the conversation, "it's just taking some getting used to. Muggles don't use these to write with." He held up the feather-topped quill, looking at it in distaste. "It's an elegant-looking instrument, but my handwriting looks like chicken scratch. Professor Snape has been complaining about it all week."

"That's true," Ginny admitted, shrugging when Harry huffed in over-the-top mock-outrage. "What? Your letter was pretty hard to read."

"The trick to good penmanship," Neville said confidently, "is keeping enough ink on the nib, but not too much. May I?" Harry nodded, handing over the quill and making room for the other boy. He dipped the quill into the ink, carefully wiping off the extra. Then he wrote his name in neat script, keeping the tip flat to the parchment. The ink flowed evenly from the quill, and the letters came out nicely formed. As the ink began to dry up slightly, he re-dipped his quill and began again. Harry watched carefully, hoping he could copy the Hufflepuff's movements.

"See?" Neville said, showing Harry his finished writing. "Gran made me practice every day from the time I could hold a quill until I went to Hogwarts," he admitted. "She said every Head of a Noble House should have good penmanship. Anything else brings shame upon my family."

Harry studied the quiet boy, noting that Neville had probably heard those same words applied to many other things, too- things he didn't feel himself to be living up to currently.

"Thanks Neville," he said, taking the offered quill back from his friend, attempting to copy the other heir's process as he painstakingly wrote his name. To his satisfaction, it looked some better. "Like this?" he asked, holding it up to show the other boy.

Neville smiled, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Keep practicing, Harry. You'll get it," he said encouragingly.

"If I were Hannah, I'd count myself lucky to get letters from you, your handwriting is so pretty," Ginny teased, making the Hufflepuff turn bright red.

"Ginny," Hermione scolded without looking up from her book, "Don't tease Neville."

"Hannah?" Harry asked with interest. "Your girlfriend, Nev?"

Ginny patted the red-faced boy on the back. "Ok, ok. I'm sorry Neville. And no, they're not technically together," she said in a carrying whisper to Harry. "But he's had a massive crush on her forever…" Neville made a choking sound, his cheeks going from brilliant red to purple.

"Ginny!" Hermione said warningly.

"Hey Harry," Ginny spoke over Hermione, changing the subject, "I don't suppose you have one of those…pen things, that Muggles use to write with?" Harry shook his head.

"No," he said slowly, studying the quill in his hand, "but maybe…" Focusing intently, he visualized what he wanted, then tapped the quill with his finger just as he had the book to begin the audio. A second later, a ballpoint pen with green ink sat innocently in his hand. He handed the pen to Ginny, who held it up to her eyes.

"Cool," she breathed. "How does it work?" Harry grinned, clicking the top to bring out the point. The redhead quickly stole Harry's scrap parchment to try writing her name. "Wow, look at this!" she cried. "I can write and write forever and not have to stop and refill it?" Harry nodded, eyes shining as he took in his friend's excitement. "And look! No ink all over my hands!" She held up her conspicuously clean fingers. She passed the pen to Neville, who tried it out, too.

"That's really efficient," he commented, holding up the pen so he could examine it. "Draco," he asked hesitantly, "do you want to try?"

The blond looked up from his book. "What, Longbottom?" he asked distractedly, evidently not having caught anything of the previous conversation.

"Harry's transfigured a pen!" Ginny exclaimed, bouncing over to the blond. "Come see!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Pen?" he asked. "That Muggle writing contraption?" Hermione looked up at him from her own book in surprise. "What?" he asked. "I pay attention."

Neville held up the small object so Draco could see. The blond wizard raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't look that special to me," he said, holding out his hand regally and gesturing for someone to pass him the writing instrument. Neville quickly crossed the room, dropping the pen into Draco's outstretched palm.

"But…no messy ink!" Ginny protested. "And no having to refill it every three letters!"

"Really?" Draco asked, looking interested now. "And…there's no magic involved?"

"No magic. Only science," Harry repeated his earlier quip from that morning, looking around at Hermione with a smirk. "Hermione, what else can Muggles do without magic?"

Hermione grinned. "Fly," she said casually.

Draco looked thunderstruck. "You're…you're lying," he said weakly, though there was no malice in his words. Hermione shook her head.

"Nope, not lying," she said, leaning forward and setting her book to the side. "They have these huge machines called airplanes. Muggles fly from place to place hundreds of miles in the air. They also made rockets that sent people to the moon. Muggles even walked on the moon."

Neville and Ginny's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "No…way," Ginny whispered. "I thought that was impossible." Harry smirked again.

"Not for astronauts," he said.

"Muggles who train for years to be able to go into space," Hermione explained when their wizard-raised friends looked confused.

Harry quickly summoned a book from one of the shelves lining their common room, flipping through it as he showed his friends all about cars, computers, movies, video games, telephones, amusement parks, and all the other cool appliances and technology Muggles had invented to improve their lives

"Too bad many of these things won't work here," Hermione said wistfully. Harry looked at her questioningly. "High levels of magic interfere with Muggle tech," she explained. "If your Muggle-made devices run on electricity, they can't work at Hogwarts."

"Harry, would you make me a pen?" Ginny asked hopefully. He smirked at her eager expression, but nodded.

"Just a standard black pen? Or do you want one with colored ink?" he asked, pulling another quill out of the desk. Ginny thought for a moment.

"How about maroon?" she asked. "Or Gryffindor red." Harry nodded and a moment later, another pen, this time with maroon ink, sat in his palm.

"Anyone else?" he asked, looking at his other friends. "Limited time offer…"

"I'd like one," Neville spoke up. "Blue, if you don't mind."

"Don't forget mine!" Hermione added. "Purple, please."

When their remaining friend said nothing, Harry turned his gaze on the blond. "What about you, Draco? Fancy a ballpoint pen?"

The Slytherin looked at Harry, who was waiting patiently, then at the others, who were all looking at him expectantly. He sighed. "My father would kill me if he knew," he mumbled to himself, then rolled his eyes. "Oh, go on then, Harry," he said finally, throwing up his hands in defeat. Harry smirked.

"I knew you'd see it my way," he said, waving his hand over a fifth quill, turning it into one with shining silver ink.

After Harry handed over the pens, he went back to his dictation. Hermione, seeing his preoccupation, gathered the others.

"We should split up the subjects so we make sure Harry gets theory tutoring in all the basic areas," she said. "Does anyone want to claim a class in particular?"

"I'll take Herbology," Neville said instantly. "That's pretty much the only one I can help with." Hermione made a note.

"That works out well, because I think you're probably better at it that the rest of us," she said.

"Speak for yourself, Granger," Draco said haughtily. Hermione shot him a stony look, while Neville's expression became worried, eyes bouncing between the two as though he were at a tennis match. Ginny, however, who was getting used to the way Harry and Draco's humor and sarcasm worked, rolled her eyes with a laugh.

"Just keep telling yourself that, Draco," she replied. "Neville's scores in Herbology are ahead of yours and Hermione's, and you know it." He smirked at her, and the tension dissipated slowly. "I can take defense and care of magical creatures," she continued.

"I can help with Potions," Draco volunteered.

"If I take Transfiguration, that just leaves Charms," Hermione said. There was silence for a moment, then Draco spoke up.

"I can do Charms, too. Harry nearly knows every charm ever invented, so it won't be too hard." Hermione looked at the blond.

"I think it actually might make it harder," she disagreed. "He knows how to get the results, but not the incantations or wand movements because he's never needed them. You remember what the written OWL's were like. Basically all the questions focused on those things!"

They sat in silence for a moment as they processed this, before Hermione sighed. "If nothing else, we could just make him a set of flash cards. Muggle study help," she added, when the three others looked confused.

"Don't worry Hermione," Ginny spoke up. "We'll get him through this. He's brilliant. He'll be all caught up in no time."

"I assume you're talking about me," came Harry's voice from behind them. Hermione and Neville jumped, looking around, while Ginny, herself, turned bright red. He'd evidently finished his handwriting practice and had slipped over to see what they all were doing.

"Why would you say that? Everyone knows you're entirely hopeless," Draco said calmly, smirking at the bespectacled boy, who smirked back.

"Really?" Harry said, echoing Draco's calm tone. "I don't suppose you'd like another dueling match? I think I might have to remind you who beat whom last time."

"Never mind that," Hermione said impatiently, cutting in just as Draco opened his mouth to retort. "We'd better go or we'll be late for dinner."