Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to J.K. Rowling and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: Hello, guess who's back! I know it's been a hot minute since I last updated, but not-so-fun side effects from medicine and college have been taking up a lot of my time. Thankfully, though, I had some free time recently, and I wrote this chapter up relatively quickly :) I hope you like it.

I don't know when the next chapter will be at this point in time...depends on which chapter I choose to write next and how much time I have (...I have an essay due on Monday that I haven't started yet, shame on me!). But, rest assured, there willbe another update, as this story is one of my babies.

Also, I edited Chapter 6 (Chapter 7 if you ignore the titles), as it was pointed out to me by a certain reviewer that my French (which comes from all of 3 years of high school education) is a little...lacking. Much thanks to them, and if any of you see any faults with my French in the future, feel free to correct me on it!

Sincerely,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~The Chronicles of Mabon~

~Harry Potter & the Secret of Life~

~Chapter 17: Professor Pritchard~

Tuesday, 13 September 1994
Hogwarts, Scotland, Great Britain

In some ways, Harry's second day of school – at least when it came to the morning of it, that is – was better than his first.

It was better because, when Harry walked into the Great Hall that morning for breakfast, he did so with a new time table in his hands – a time table which no longer contained Divination in its schedule. This was because, after having a long conversation with Professor McGonagall the previous afternoon (in which the deputy headmistress also asked him "how he was doing", much to Harry's chagrin), Harry had decided to drop the class entirely, as not studying it all was apparently "much easier" than trying to study it independently. Plus, it also meant that he could drop the second elective entirely, because apparently that was possible for students in "remarkable cases" such as his to do during or after their third year.

Because of this, his morning was also better when he walked into the Great Hall, because while most of his classmates still vehemently glared at him and Professor Dumbledore still looked at him concernedly, both Professor McGonagall and Professor Pritchard no longer did the latter. It was as if him talking to both of them yesterday had somehow alleviated their worries about him, at least to the point where they were no longer were worried enough to stare at him. For this, Harry was thankful, even if he was astonished at the fact that this probably meant McGonagall believed him when he said that he was doing "just fine".

However, despite these two reasons for the morning of his second day of school being better, in many ways, his morning was worse.

It was worse because, as Harry walked through the Great Hall and desperately tried to ignore the glares of his classmates and the concerned look from Professor Dumbledore, he caught the distinctive sight of a head full of silvery-blonde hair sitting at the Ravenclaw table...a sight that meant that Gabrielle Delacour must've completed her transfer to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons. And while that may not have been a reason for his morning to be worse for some, it was for him, because it served as a glaring reminder that her life, just like his and the other betrothed, had been ruined by all of this.

After all, if all of this hadn't happened, wouldn't Gabrielle still be in France, still be with her father, her mother, and her sister? Wouldn't she still be with her friends as well, instead of having to sit with what looked to be Luna Lovegood and Sophie Roper?

...Not that either of them were bad choices, of course, but still. If Gabrielle truly knew as much English as he thought she did, then having to make friends at Hogwarts outside of his bonded certainly wasn't going to be easy for her, due to the language barrier.

Another reason why his morning was worse was because, as he later sat down at his usual place across from Ron, Hermione was once again missing – and not just from their vicinity, either. Just like the previous days, the bushy-haired girl was completely missing from the Great Hall, and just like before, it sent a pang through Harry's heart as he morosely helped himself to the various plates of food in the center of the table.

But, undoubtedly, the biggest reason why Harry's morning was worse rather than better was because of what happened as soon as he finished filling his plate. This was because, as soon as he set his plate down, a large, horned black owl landed in front of him.

As soon as he saw the owl, Harry promptly dropped his silverware in surprise – no, not surprise. Shock. This action then caught the attention of Ron, who before had seemingly been just fine with leaving Harry to his own devices, but now looked up at him with a concerned look on his face. "Is that from Sirius?" the other boy proceeded to ask, his voice low.

Wordlessly, Harry nodded as he gingerly took the letter that the owl was offering him on its outstretched leg. Truthfully, in the almost-week since he had talked with Amelia Bones and last seen Sirius, he had forgotten all about the fact that his godfather was going to have to turn himself in to the Ministry so that he could prove his innocence, just like he had forgotten the fact that the man was going to send him a letter before he did so. Of course, this was most definitely due to the fact that, due to all of the articles that Rita Skeeter had published about him in The Daily Prophet, Harry hadn't looked at a single newspaper since Friday.

But, despite knowing this, Harry couldn't help but think of himself as a careless idiot and a horrible godson.

Without even looking at the letter or the plate of food in front of him, Harry stood and hurriedly grabbed his still-packed things, just as tears – oh Merlin, was he crying? He never cried, he knew better than that, had been taught by the Dursleys to be better than that – began to appear in his eyes.

"Hey, Harry, where are you going?" Ron asked, his voice now louder and more concerned. "You just sat down and fixed your plate!"

"I'm not hungry anymore," Harry said bitterly as he began to walk away. When he saw that Ron looked just about ready to follow him, even if his own plate was only half-empty, Harry hurriedly added, "Don't worry, Ron. It's nothing. I just...need some time alone."

With that being said, he rushed out of the Great Hall, not willing to have to endure Ron's caring for much longer, even if that thought made his stomach twist at his own selfishness.

For what seemed like an eternity afterwards but must have only been a few minutes, Harry aimlessly walked through the halls of the castle, not sure of where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do. Eventually, though, he decided to walk to the History of Magic classroom, his first class of the day – not because he wanted advice from Professor Pritchard, per se, (after all, as far as he knew, the older wizard was still in the Great Hall) but rather because he knew that the class had been moved to another room after Professor Pritchard had replaced Professor Binns, and that meant that it may be hard (or even impossible) to find.

So, with these thoughts in mind, Harry set off, carefully choosing not to look at the Marauder's Map due to his desire of wanting a challenge – or, at least, something challenging enough to take his mind off of everything that was going on. However, much to his disappointment, the class wasn't hard to find at all, as he found it within only a few minutes of walking. And, what's more –

– Professor Pritchard was already inside.

"Err...hello, Professor," Harry said carefully as he stepped inside the classroom and took in its decor, which mostly consisted of large, Persian rugs which covered both the floor and the walls. There was also a portrait of a fair, blonde-haired woman next to the professor's desk, but Harry paid it no mind as he looked at Pritchard curiously. "Is it...fine if I come in?"

"Oh, yes," Professor Pritchard replied with what felt like fake surprise – after all, hadn't he just been in the Great Hall earlier, and hadn't he told Harry the previous day to stop by his office whenever he liked? – and a quirk of his lips. "Although, since you are here so early, would you care if you did me a favor?"

"Err...no, Professor," Harry replied as he set his things down on one of the desks.

The professor's smile widened. "Very well," he said, before he gestured to a stack of books that were sitting on one of the desks in the first row. "Would you please place each of these books on the desks?"

Harry nodded and did as he was told, although it took him a few trips of taking small portions of the stack of books to do so. Curiously, though, as he placed all of the books on the desks, he noted the cover of the book, which depicted an old Celtic cross. Also on the cover of the book was its title, The History of the British Isles: From the Druidic Era to the First British Wizarding War, and its author, Wolfram Prinz.

Having never seen this book before – both in the library, back when he and his best friends had been trying to research Nicholas Flamel in their first year, and in the bookstore Flourish and Blotts – Harry turned to look at the History of Magic professor with a small frown on his face. "Professor?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" the professor replied as he read what looked to be a battered, black-leather book.

"...I've never seen this book before," Harry admitted hesitantly after a few moments.

The professor chuckled in response. "No, I imagine you haven't," he said. "The book is not very well-known, you see. That is to say, it is not a piece that anyone except for scholars, such as myself, would care to read."

"Oh," Harry replied, not sure of what else to say.

After having finished his work, Harry then sat down at the desk where he had set his things. Figuring that it would still be at least a few minutes until his fellow classmates began to pour into the room, he looked at the portrait of the blonde-haired woman that he had seen before, suddenly curious.

The woman was very beautiful, with long, pale blonde hair that disappeared below the canvas, even though she was in a sitting position. She also had pale, pale skin, a small nose, freckles, and large, silvery-grey eyes, that reminded Harry both of Luna Lovegood's eyes and of small, silver pools. Her clothing consisted of a dark blue, Anglo-Saxon or medieval-looking dress and also a blue scarf, which she strangely wore around the middle of her neck.

Noting all of this and the attention of detail that was paid to her painting, Harry decided to ask Professor Pritchard who she was. However, before he could, the first of his classmates began to walk into the room, effectively cutting off any conversation that could've possibly been had between him and the older wizard.

"Hey," Ron whispered as he slid into the seat that was right next to Harry's. "I saved you some muffins from breakfast. Are you sure you're alright?"

As if on cue, Harry's stomach grumbled, reminding him of the fact that he had not yet eaten anything. "Thanks," he replied as he took the napkin full of muffins that Ron held out for him underneath the desk. "I'm fi – I'm okay. I just...I forgot that Sirius was going to send me a letter when he – you know. That's all."

Ron nodded somberly in response, and for that, Harry was thankful. It was hard enough for him to admit that he wasn'tfine, so he wasn't really wanting for his best friend to poke and prod, not like –

– Hermione.

Harry watched as the bushy-haired girl in question walked by his and Ron's desk, her head bent down and a Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck. Although he had seen her in much of the same state yesterday, his heart still ached as he watched her sit towards the front, right next to Neville. Just like yesterday, the pudgy boy looked surprised at this fact and also concerned as he shot a sympathetic look towards Harry, but he said nothing as the girl promptly took out her parchment for her notes, not looking back at either Harry or Ron once.

"Hello and welcome," Professor Pritchard said a few minutes later as he stood up from his desk, after all of the ten Gryffindors and eleven Ravenclaws – History of Magic was one of the two classes that they shared with the other house this year, with Charms being the second one – had settled into their seats. "As you all already know, I am Professor Ulric Pritchard, your new History of Magic professor for this year – and hopefully for the rest of your education here.

"In front of you is your textbook for the entirety of your education with me," Professor Pritchard continued. "This book was written and published in 1988, and I consider it to be the magnum opus of history textbooks about the British Isles. Of course," he added with a wry grin, "I am sure that many of you will disagree with me on this, considering that A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot is something of a...'common staple' when it comes to books. However, as much as our society loves Bagshot's work, it is undoubtedly biased, and also excludes much of our history that purebloods grow up learning, meaning that it gives many muggleborns a severe disadvantage when it comes to their History of Magic N.E.W.T.S and beyond. This is not surprising, considering that Bathilda Bagshot is the great-aunt of Gellert Grindelwald – " here, Neville, Ron, the Patil twins, and the MacDougal twins all inhaled sharply " – but, I digress.

"Now," the professor said with a clap of his hands. "Let's see how much you know. Tell me, what do you know about the Druidic Era and the founding of the first magical government in the British Isles?"

For several long moments, no one spoke or raised their hands. In fact, the air became heavy and thick with tension, as almost every single student in the room tensed. Harry, meanwhile, sunk into his seat, as he all but prayed for somebody to raise their hand so that the moment could end.

Thankfully – or, at least, Harry thought it was thankfully – Seamus eventually raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Finnegan?" Professor Pritchard asked.

"Well, the Druidic Era is where the ritual used on Harry comes from, isn't it?" he answered.

Harry sunk further into his seat as every single pair of eyes in the room, save for Hermione's but including the portrait-lady's, turned to look at him.

Professor Pritchard chuckled humorously. "Yes, indeed, the Ritual of Mabon is a creation of the Druidic Era," he said, before he flicked his wand. The Ritual of Mabon was then seemingly written in chalk on the chalkboard, even though there was no chalk in sight and the professor performed the magic wordlessly. Harry blinked in surprise at this, as did the rest of the classroom. "So five points to Gryffindor, even if that was not the answer I was hoping for. Does anyone else care to spread their knowledge?"

Gingerly, Lily Moon – who was a girl with dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes – raised her hand.

"Yes, Ms. Moon?"

"Well, the first magical government was formed by thirteen families," she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "And these families later gained the 'Founding' title and three votes in the Wizengamot, unlike the Ancient and Noble houses, which have two, and the Ancient houses and Noble houses, which each have one."

"Excellent!" Professor Pritchard exclaimed, before he once again flicked his wand. Founding Families then appeared on the chalkboard. "And can you tell me the names of these Founding houses?"

Lily's face reddened. "The families are Peverell, Moon, Nott, Ollivander, Lovegood, Black, Macmillan, Fawley, Cuilinn, Emrys, Gryffin, Shafiq, and Hengist," she replied.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," the professor said with a nod, and flicked his wand once more. "Indeed, these are the thirteen Founding families. Some of these, I am sure you recognize – Ms. Moon belongs to the Moon family, your classmates Mr. Nott, Mr. Macmillan, and Ms. Lovegood belong to their respective families, and so forth. Some of these families are also families that you probably do not realize you recognize as well. For instance, Godric Gryffindor was part of the Gryffin family, Salazar Slytherin was part of the Shafiq family, and Rowena Ravenclaw was from the Hengist family. All three of them changed their names in order to maintain an appearance of a lack of bias at Hogwarts. Helga Hufflepuff, of course, was a muggleborn, so while she also changed her name, it was for different reasons.

"Of these thirteen families," Pritchard pressed onwards, obviously ignoring how Harry and most of the other students blinked in surprise at this revelation about the founders of Hogwarts, "nine are still extant, or surviving. The Emrys family died only three hundred years after the founding of the first magical government in 800 A.D., and the Hengist family died one hundred years after them. The Gryffin family died when Godric Gryffindor, the last member, changed his name, and the entire Cuilinn family was killed during a skirmish between British and Irish wizards in the 1700's.

"As for the Peverell family, which I assume many of you think is an extinct family as well, given that the name died out in the 1300's, it is actually still extant. The Peverells, as we will find out, were very fond of loopholes," here, Professor Pritchard smiled wryly, "and so when the last surviving member, Iolanthe Peverell, married a wizard called Hardwin Potter, she combined their families into one. Thus, the Potter house today has the full title of the Founding and Ancient and Noble House of Potter, which allows them five votes in total."

Once again, all of the eyes in the room, save for Hermione's, turned to look at Harry. Harry, not knowing what else to do, flushed, but rather than sink into his seat even further he sat up straight, although he wasn't exactly sure why he did so besides the imminent threat that he would actually fall out of his chair.

"Anything else?" Professor Pritchard asked, his voice laced with disappointment.

Suddenly, a memory bubbled to the surface of Harry's mind – a memory from over the summer, when he had been trying to research what had happened to him. It was the memory of reading an excerpt about the formation of the first magical government of the British Isles, a memory about how a wizard called – oh, what was his name? Wulfnith? Wulfnod? No, Wulfnoð! – Wulfnoð Peverell played a "key role" in it. A wizard with "lightning scars", just like a him, a wizard that was –

Nervously, Harry raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Professor Pritchard asked, his grey eyes suddenly alight with something that Harry couldn't ascertain.

"Didn't Wulfnoð Peverell help form the first magical government?" Harry asked.

The professor smiled widely in response, as if this was precisely the answer that he was looking for. "Five points to Gryffindor," he said. Wulfnoð Peverell then appeared on the chalkboard. "Although, allow me a moment of clarification, since Bathilda Bagshot was not entirely...truthful about Wulfnoð Peverell's role. You see, he did not just 'help' form the first magical government, he was the founder of it. Originally from what we now call Gloucester, Peverell founded the government in order to unite all of the witches and wizards of the British Isles – whether they be from Wales like Peverell's ancestors and the Emrys family, or from Ireland and Scotland like the Cuilinn and Macmillan families, respectively. Because of this, Peverell also became the first Chief of this government, and remained as such until he died one-hundred-and-fifty years later.

"Now that we have set the basic groundwork for the Druidic Era, let us get into the first chapter, Chapter 1: The Druidic Era, or the British Isles From 1200 B.C. to 800 A.D. But, before we begin, a word of advice: you may want to start taking notes now if you have not already, because unlike my predecessor, I know that notes help you retain information more than sleeping does."

"Err...Professor?" Harry asked as the rest of his classmates – save for Ron, who was waiting for him – walked out of the classroom, muttering about both the large amount of work that had just been assigned to them and the history that many of them had never heard of before.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Professor Pritchard replied as he began to manually clean the chalkboard, even though he had spelled the chalk on earlier.

"...I have a question about Wulfnoð Peverell," Harry admitted with some hesitation as he shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Was he – I – I mean...I read some interesting stuff about him in A History of Magic over the summer, and I was just wondering – "

"Was he a bearer of the Ritual of Mabon, like you?" the professor finished for him as he suddenly turned around, an unascertainable look once again in his eyes.

Nervously, Harry nodded.

The older wizard regarded him with a quirk of his lips. "Usually, I would tell you the chapter of the book that this is discussed in, so that you may find the answer yourself," he replied. "However, one of the few unfortunate issues that I have with Wolfram Prinz is that he does not, in fact, discuss this in the book. Of course, Prinz was a German wizard, meaning that he did not have access to the same documents that I do, but..."

Pritchard sighed and shook his head. "Truthfully, Mr. Potter, the best answer that I can give you is that we cannot know for certain if Wulfnoð Peverell was a bearer of the Ritual of Mabon," he said. "While he does have many indicators of being such – such as his Lichtenberg figures, or 'lightning scars', and his mentions of rapid healing," here, Harry blinked, as he recalled how his ankle had seemingly instantly healed from a sprain or breakage during the aftermath of the Quidditch World Cup, "could be construed as such, these could also be effects of other rituals lost to time. Thus, it is impossible to know for certain."

Harry frowned. For some reason, the...lack of a definite answer bothered him. "Does that mean some people...think he was?" he asked.

The older wizard hummed thoughtfully. "Besides myself, I do not think anyone has given it much thought," he responded, before he gave a soft smile. "But, as for myself...I prefer to think that he was. It is a matter of Occam's Razor, after all."

Harry's frown deepened. "Occam's Razor?"

"'The simplest answer is most likely the right one'," Pritchard quoted with a wink. "Now, go on, Mr. Potter. Your other classes are waiting."

Word Count: 3,778

Next Chapter Title: TBD (It's either gonna be A Talk With Ginny or Testaments Pt. 1...I'm leaning towards the former but don't be surprised if it's the latter)