Chapter 8: Second Hand News

Harry stood in front of the door to McGonagall's office, took a deep breath and knocked.

"Enter," Harry heard as the door opened.

At her parchment-covered desk sat McGonagall.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. "How was your first week of classes?"

"Good ma'am," Harry said, an uneasy feeling in his gut. "I'm not in any trouble, am I?"

"No Mr. Potter. I wanted to ask you here because I have something for you. I was the godmother to your father. Because of the war, when you were born, your father wasn't sure if they would live to see you grow up. In the case he was not able to watch you grow, he… he wrote this letter and asked me to give it to you once you entered Hogwarts.

"I am sorry you didn't get to grow up with James and Lily. They were both exceptionally brilliant and were among my favorite students. James was particularly skilled at transfiguration. Your father also tried to change match into something other than a needle," She said to his hopeful eyes, drinking in stories of the parents he never knew. "He tried to make it into a fish hook and ended up making a hook big enough to replace someone's hand.

"I look forward to seeing you grow up. I have no doubts you will make your parents proud."

Harry took the letter from her hand, tears slowly crawling down his face as he realized he was looking at his dad's handwriting, the first real piece of his father that he ever held.

"Thank you, Professor. Do you know if my mother did something similar? It'd be nice to have something from both of my parents."

"I am not sure. It would not shock me but I am not aware of one. She was close to Professor Flitwick so maybe he would be a good one to ask."

"Thank you again, Professor."

"You are welcome, Mr. Potter. If you should ever need anything, my door is open."

Harry left the office clutching the letter like it was made of gold.

"What's this here? An ickle firstie, off wandering alone?"

Harry looked up to see Peeves, his first encounter with the poltergeist. In a worn out overcoat and top hat, he looked like the Mad Hatter come alive.

"Now, don't be afraid, Peevsie won't bite… that hard," the Poltergeist laughed maniacally as he drifted closer to Harry. Harry tried to retreat but found his way blocked by a suit of armor.

"Easy up there, Peeves," Harry looked at the new voice, finding identical heads of flaming red hair.

"That's Harry Potter, that is.

"Enemy to Dark Lords, he is." One twin started the sentence while the other finished.

"And also, if you harass him,

"We won't give you these," They held a box of prank items aloft.

"Okay, okay, I give!" Peeves held up his hands in surrender. "But this better be some good stu-Ooh Dungbombs! Later, boys!

Harry watched Peeves fly off before returning his attention to the twins.

"Close call, mate," one started

"That was almost," the other finished

"Disastrous," they chorused.

"I'm George," the left one introduced himself. "That's Fred. Saw you in a bit of trouble and thought we'd help.

"Doesn't help that we were here to deliver those items to Peeves anyway," Fred said.

"Thank you. I was not looking forward to dealing with him alone."

"Ah him," Fred said. "He's not so bad. Just have to learn to bribe him and suggest better uses for his time.

"Like harassing Filch,

"Or trapping Mrs. Norris,

"Or giving the dungeons a new paint job," they said in stereo.

"Oh I almost forgot about that one. Dungeons were hot pink for days, Snape was furious. It was incredible," George said.

"Well good to meet you two at last. I have to commend you on your prank to Ron, with the Sorting Hat. Enjoyed that one tremendously."

"That wasn't anything," George said. "Not as good as the time we charmed Percy's quills to only write 'I'm a little teapot, short and stout' over and over again. He changed every quill until he figured out it was his ink."

"Remind me to never leave anything sitting around for you two to find," Harry said. "I'm heading back to the common room, are you coming with?"

"With this much time before curfew?" Fred looked to George.

"No thanks," came the stereo response.

"We prefer to do something useful with our time," George said.

"Alright but don't do anything too crazy. It is the first week and you need to pace yourselves. I'll see you back in the common room."

As Harry was finishing up his conversation with the twins, Hermione was finishing up her letter to her parents.

Dear Mother and Daddy,

The first week is over here and I'm having so much fun. Harry, remember the boy we helped onto the platform, sat with me the whole train ride and he actually called me his friend! Can you imagine? Once I was off the train, I met this giant of a man named Hagrid whom Harry said is just the friendliest guy. They took us to the castle in boats! I first saw the castle from the lake on which we were sailing, all lit up. It was like a fairytale come to life, I swear. I was sorted into Gryffindor along with Harry. Professor McGonagall, remember the one who first told us I was a witch, called us one-by-one and put a hat on us that talked inside my head and told me which house I belonged in. I ended up having a conversation with it, which it turns out is rather rare, for it to put me in Gryffindor.

After the sorting, food just magically appeared on our house tables. Don't worry, I didn't overindulge on sweets and made sure to brush extra hard, like you always tell me to, Daddy. Following the feast, we were escorted up to our dormitories which are literally in a tower in the castle, guarded by a portrait of an opera singer they call "The Fat Lady." I'm rooming with three other girls though I have not had the opportunity to get to know them yet. Their names are Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and Fay Dunbar.

Classes are fun, for the most part. In transfiguration, we turned matchsticks into sewing needles. In charms, we just learned a few spells: one to push objects away from us, and another to light wands. Defense could be interesting but we haven't done anything beyond theoretical discussion. History is taught by a ghost but he's boring. He drones on worse than the teacher from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Almost everyone naps during the class. We just had Astronomy, which isn't all that different from going to the planetarium but there's no light pollution up here so you can see so many more stars than in London. I just came from Potions. Professor Snape teaches it. He wears all black and has a cape that billows behind him when he walks. I keep expecting to see him hanging upside down in his office like an actual bat. He also seems to dislike Harry, which is odd, considering he never met him before today.

Speaking of Harry, he's actually Harry Potter, the Harry Potter that is in all the modern history books. But he's not like I imagined. I figured he would be a stuck-up, entitled, arrogant boy but he's kind, caring and funny. He's got a great sarcastic sense of humor and doesn't appear to like bullies very much. He even stood up for me on the train! Though, I am worried about him. He said he was raised in the muggleworld by his sister's aunt and her husband but he doesn't say much about them or home in general. Every meal he treats like it is a feast and makes small comments about observing people to recognize when someone is angry. Something isn't right with his living situation. I don't want to invade his privacy but I worry all the same.

Overall, I love school and am very glad to have made friends with Harry. Next week we start learning to fly, which I am NOT excited for, but Harry seems to be looking forward to it. I'll wrap this up here and I'll try to ask the owl who delivers this to stick around for you to respond and hopefully they will listen.

Love,

Hermione

Hermione was putting the final touches on her letter when Harry stepped through the portrait hole into the common room.

"Good evening, Hermione," Harry said, joining her on the sofa, his eyes a little distant. Hermione noticed a letter clutched in his hand. "Did you finish your letter?"

"Yes, I was actually about to head to find the Owlery to get one of the school owls to deliver it," Hermione said as she rolled up her letter.

"Would you prefer to use Hedwig?" Harry offered. "She probably would love the work."

"You don't mind?" Hermione asked. "I'd also like her to stick around, in case my parents wanted to write a response, if that's okay?"

"We could ask her but I don't think she would mind."

"Thank you, Harry. What did Professor McGonagall want?"

"She gave me this," Harry held up the letter. "Apparently she was my father's godmother. My dad wrote this letter when I was born, before they had to go into hiding. He… he was worried they wouldn't live to see me attend Hogwarts so he gave this letter to McGonagall for me to have when I started school."

Tears glistened in his eyes as he looked in her eyes. Hermione wrapped an arm around him, bringing him into a hug. For once, he didn't bristle at her touch and he leaned in.

"I'm not sure I want to read it. Wha-what if he would be disappointed in me?" Harry asked softly, his eyes downcast.

"Harry, I didn't know your parents and I just met you," Hermione started gently. Harry's green eyes met brown. "But I know they would VERY proud in who you are and excited for what you'll become. Would you like to read it alone or would you like me to read it with you, for support?"

"I think I could use the support," Harry said. "But not here. There are too many people here at the moment."

They exited the common room and found an abandoned classroom. Hands shaking, Harry broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter.

"My Son Harry,

As I am writing this, you are in your mom's arms, your first day home. I hope that 11 years from now, we can both read this together and have a laugh but just in case, know that my mother and I love you with all our being. When you were born, everything changed. Growing up, I took almost nothing serious. Magic was easy for me and I didn't have to work at it. Friends came fast and easy. But I was a bit of a berk and, if I am being honest, a bully when I was younger. It took six years for someone to knock some sense into me and that someone was your mother.

Lily Evans was the smartest, fiercest, most impressive witch I have ever met, always the top of the class. She was also not someone to cross. More than once, she berated me when our pranks went too far. Around third year, I started to fancy her but I went about it the wrong way. I pursued her too hard and it only served to push her away. In sixth year, I deflated my head, stopped worrying about pranks and got serious. I didn't just want to be anyone; I wanted to be someone Lily would admire. It worked and we started dating and married right after Hogwarts.

I hope that, regardless of whatever happened to me, you and your mother are safe and healthy. If not, I am so sorry you didn't get a chance to know her. She was the best of humanity and the best of Mother Magic herself. Our time together has been nothing short of magical. Know that we are both very, very proud of you and we are with you wherever you go. You got my hair so maybe you also got my skills in Transfiguration or maybe even Quidditch. It really is the best game, if you can convince your mother to let you play. She's told Padfoot that she'll neuter him if he buys you a broom before you're one. You also have your mothers beautiful eyes so perhaps her talent in Charms or Potions. Or maybe you'll have skills in a different area.

Whatever you do, I know you'll be great. Work hard in school to become the best wizard you can. Potter men have penchant for attracting trouble and I want you to be ready for whatever comes. Make friends that will push you to make you stronger and find a woman (or man, if that's what you prefer,) who will keep you in line and with whom you can build a family. I know that whatever you do, you'll be great and no matter what, know that we will be proud of you.

I love you so much,

James Potter

Tears were rolling down Harry's cheeks as he finished reading. The only thing holding him up was Hermione sitting next to him.

"They really loved me," Harry said, his voice breaking. "Vernon and Petunia always just told me they were lazy drunks who never loved me; that I was the burden that drove them to drink harder. They said it was because of me they were driving drunk and got themselves killed."

Hermione's horrified gasps filled the room.

"How could they say that to you!?" She softened seeing his visceral reaction. "How do you feel, now that you know the truth of your parents and learn more of who they were?"

"Angry," Harry said, his eyes hard. "They lied to me about the two people who loved me enough to literally die for me."

"Well now you know and you have written proof," Hermione as she held him tighter.

Hermione moved back, drew her wand and whispered "Impervious."

"Preservation charm. It will keep water and dust off the letter."

"Thank you, Hermione. Where'd you learn that."

"It's one of the first spells I researched and learned before coming here," Hermione said with a touch of sadness. "I wanted to keep my books from getting dirty, in case they were thrown on the ground… or into water… or even some cases mud. I had a copy of Pride and Prejudice ruined that way. I also learned reparo, the one I used on your glasses, in case I needed to repair them."

Harry noticed her eyes starting to glisten. Remember how much it had helped him, He leaned over and hugged her tightly.

While Harry and Hermione were ensconced in the abandoned classroom, a sandy-haired boy was finishing his own letter in the common room.

Dear Gran,

First week of school has come and gone. Herbology is fine but I'm still struggling in the other subjects, especially Potions where I melted a cauldron. I am working hard to make you and dad proud of me.

I've been sorted into Gryffindor and I am dormmates with Harry Potter. He actually was the one who helped me find Trevor on the train. Something seems odd, however. He dresses in rags and knows nothing of his history or heritage. I mentioned on the train that mum was the best friend of the brightest witch of her year and he never picked up that I meant his mother. And then there's his eyes; he's always looking for exits and analyzing the faces of everyone, like he's always deciding whether to run or fight. He tenses when anyone but Hermione Granger, a muggleborn- sorry she prefers First Generation Witch- first year, touches him. Aside from that, he is smart and learns well. He will certainly be a powerful wizard one day.

I will keep an eye on Heir Potter and, as always, endeavor to be a credit to House Longbottom.

Your Grandson,

Neville

Thursday dawned bright and clear. Harry bounced out of bed, excited for what the day held.

Flying lessons! I get to actually fly, to be free! Harry thought as he finished his morning routine.

"Somebody's happy," Hermione laughed as Harry flounced into the common room. "Let me guess; you just can't wait for Professor Binns to tell you about another Goblin revolution?"

"We get to fly today, Hermione!"

"Oh right. I think you mentioned that once or twice… a minute… every day this week."

Laughing together, they both exited the portrait hole to make their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. On the way down, Harry brought her up to speed on some of the things he was learning from the wizarding culture book.

"… So you can't even declare a duel unless you state the exact reason with the time and place," Harry was finishing as they entered the hall. "The Wizarding World is apparently still living in Victorian times. They even still use betrothal contracts, though Neville said they are rare nowadays. It is mostly used in business dealings, to broker an alliance or something."

"So you're saying that the old families would, and in some cases still will, sell their daughters to make a business deal!?" Hermione was incensed. "How can they still do that?"

"Considering how blood status is almost an asset unto itself, this doesn't surprise me. Doesn't mean change is not happening or that we can't help it along. I'm sure that's why first generation witches and wizards are looked down upon. The purebloods are frightened of them. They come into the world, used to how things are in non-magical Britain, expecting the same thing to be true for the Wizarding World. If they haven't read up on culture, they don't know their ideals are an affront to everything that purebloods hold dear, despite the fact they'll soon be extinct if they continue on."

"What do you mean?"

"Well the purebloods consider themselves royalty and much like royalty, they want bloodlines to remain pure. Considering how few truly pureblood families there still are, the breeding pool is thinner which increases the probability of inbreeding. History has proven that level of inbreeding can lead to madness, birth defects and sometimes infertility.

"If purebloods keep going the way they are, that is the path they are, on but we can't tell them that."

"Why not?"

"You're one of the blood purists. I just told you that you need to start breeding with muggles or first generation witches to keep your bloodline going. What would you do?" Harry took a bite of his breakfast as he looked at her.

"I'd breed with a muggleborn, whether they wanted to or not. I probably wouldn't stop at one. I'd have a score of them, claim the child as my own, reap the rewards and get rid of the mother."

"Exactly," Harry said. "If we are to espouse these ideals in the current culture, the response would not be kind. I personally think magic is magic. It isn't owned by any one person or any one race and trying to claim ownership of magic diminishes its beauty and value."

"That's surprisingly well thought-out, Harry," Hermione said, impressed. "I think that's a cause I would happily join."

At this, Neville joined them at their breakfast table. He started spooning some eggs onto his plate.

"Good morning, Neville," Harry said.

"Mornin'," came Neville's gruff reply. "Could you pass the bacon?"

As if summoned by the word bacon, Hedwig flew in to the hall and landed in front of Harry, a letter on her leg.

"Good morning, girl," Harry autonomically offered his familiar her favorite treat as he took the letter tied to her leg.

"Who wrote to you?" Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued. Harry rarely got mail.

"No idea," Harry said, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. He was keeping something from her, she was sure of it.

"No way!" Neville's shouts drew their attention. "Gran sent me a Rememberall!"

"What's a Rememberall?" Harry asked, glad for the distraction as he pocketed the letter.

"It's a small glass ball," he held it aloft. "It turns colors if you have forgotten something. I think this one actually used to be my dad's."

As Neville was talking, he pulled out the ball that promptly changed from clear to red.

"Only I can't remember what I've forgotten."

"Look down," Harry said, as Neville finally realized he had forgotten his Gryffindor tie."

"Guess I was rather groggier than I thought this morning," Neville said.

"Fascinating thing you've got there, squib," Came Harry's second least favorite (Snape narrowly edged him out) voice.

Draco had seen Neville receive a package and decided then was the ideal time to come over. He snatched the orb from Neville's hands. Harry, nearing his wit's end with the blonde jerk, shot to his feet.

"Malfoy! How dare you take an heirloom from Heir Longbottom," Fire lit behind Harry's eyes. "Give. It. Back. NOW!"

Harry finished the sentence in a low, cold voice that chilled the air around him.

"What's going on here?" McGonagall, well practiced at spotting trouble before it could brew, arrived on the scene.

"I was just looking at it," Malfoy said as he stalked away.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall turned to the still-irate boy. "Calm yourself. You're dangerously close to letting your magic loose."

From there, the day flew by fast but at the same time, oh-so-slow. Harry couldn't pay attention in History, He found his eyes drawn to the only window in the room, wistfully wishing he was outside.

"Harry! You're not paying attention. I know you're excited for flying but this is important. You're not even taking notes," Hermione admonished him.

"I just can't focus. I'll just borrow your notes for today to study from."

"You will not!" Hermione was vehement. "Unless you are sick or injured, if you want notes, you will take them yourself."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said, suitably cowed. "I'll do better the rest of the class, I promise."

After an excruciating hour, the class filed out of the room. Together the Gryffindors traipsed back to their dorms to deposit their bags before heading down onto the castle grounds for their lessons.

Stepping outside of the castle, Harry groaned as he saw a familiar blonde head of hair, clad in green, standing by a host of broomsticks. Draco sneered and Harry glared right back.

"Alright everyone," a gray-haired woman with yellow eyes called attention to the class. "My name is Madam Hooch and I will be your flying instructor. Now everyone, step up to a broom, extend your right hand and say 'up'."

Shouts of "Up" echoed throughout and Harry was shocked when the broom leapt into his hand. On either side of him, Neville and Hermione were still struggling.

Harry leaned in to Hermione.

"Hermione, you sound afraid of it," Harry said.

"I am," Hermione said, primly. "I'm rather afraid of heights and prefer to keep my feet on the ground, thank you very much."

"It's still a good skill to learn so that if you have fly a broomstick, you can do it under control," Harry said. "Just be confident and commanding. Say 'up'."

"Up!" Hermione shouted and the broom slowly ascended into her hand.

Neville was paying attention to what Harry said and, confident as he could be, said "Up!?"

The broom wasn't sure if Neville was asking or telling it what to do so it levitated half way and Neville ended up bringing his hand down to meet it.

"Everyone have your brooms?" Madam Hooch then went around teaching people the proper way to grip the brooms. Harry chortled when she told Malfoy he had been doing it wrong for years.

"Okay now everyone mount your brooms," Madam Hooch commanded. "When I give the signal, gently kick off the ground.

Before she gave the signal, however, Neville pushed off the ground as hard as he could. Rising ten feet in a matter of seconds, Neville panicked and slipped from the broom and fell with a sickening crunch to the ground below.

Harry and Hermione ran to him as he writhed on the ground in pain.

"Broken wrist," Madam Hooch diagnosed. "I'll take Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. Everyone stay on the ground until I get back if you would like to continue here at Hogwarts."

Hooch levitated Neville and escorted him to get treatment.

"What a useless idiot," Draco laughed, leaning on his broom for support when he noticed something on the ground. "Oh look, he dropped his ball. Maybe if he had two, he wouldn't be such a worthless wizard."

"Shut your mouth, Draco," Parvati jumped to her housemates defense.

"Thank you for finding his family heirloom, Mr. Malfoy," Harry stepped forward, his hand extended. "I'll see that it gets returned to him."

"You want it, Potter?" Malfoy smirked, mounting his broom and kicking off the ground. "Come and get it."

Blood pounding in his ears, Harry ran toward Malfoy, screaming "up!" as he went. The broom closest to him flew to his hand. Mounting it while on the run, Harry rose to meet Malfoy.

"Not bad for a half-blood, scarhead," Malfoy drawled. "You're such a good dog. Now… FETCH!"

Malfoy threw the ball as far as he could. Before he could turn to gloat, a burst of air nearly knocked him from his broom. Harry bolted after the ball with reckless abandon. He could still see the glass glimmering in the distance, getting bigger as he caught up to it.

Realizing he wasn't gaining quick enough, Harry flattened to the handle of the broom and willed it go faster. The ground was coming up quickly and he knew if the ball hit the ground, it would shatter. Harry finally caught up to the ball as it was almost to the ground.

Rolling on his broom while extending his hand, Harry snatched the ball from the air, flipped rightside up again and kicked off the ground. Harry could feel the G's he was pulling as he rocketed toward the sky. Harry corkscrewed to head back toward the group, coming to stop near his classmates. The Gryffidors were clapping while Malfoy looked dumbfounded. Even a few Slytherins seemed impressed with his catch.

Sound returned to his ears as he heard his classmates cheering him on. That was … fun! Harry thought as he landed among his group of housemates.

"HARRY POTTER!" The adrenalin rush immediately wore off. "I have never… Such reckless… Never in my life."

Harry knew that when an adult lost the ability to form coherent sentences, trouble was on the horizon. He shoulders slumped and tried to become as small as he could.

"Follow me, please," she beckoned him forward.

"But Professor…" Ron started.

"Malfoy started it," Lavender added.

"He threw Neville's Rememberall," Hermione said. "It would have broken…"

"That's enough, children," McGonagall ended all protests. "I will handle it from here. On my heels, Potter."

Harry handed the Rememberall to Hermione and told her to get it back to Neville. She watched with sadness as he followed close behind the Deputy Headmistress, hoping her best friend wasn't just expelled. Harry trudged behind McGonagall, trying to ignore the laughter of Draco and his cronies behind him.

Am I going to be expelled? They can't be sending me back to Privet Drive, can they?

Harry had all matter of horrifying thought roll through his mind as they stopped outside the classroom for Defense.

"Excuse me, Professor Quirrell," McGonagall interrupted his lesson. "May I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Do they use corporal punishment here? Vernon will be pleased. Harry thought as he hardened his eyes, ready for the beating that was to come. To his surprise, a lanky fifth year student stepped into the hallway.

"Wood," McGonagall said, a rare smile gracing her features. "I have found you a seeker!"

McGonagall gestured to Harry whose eyes retreated into his hairline. Whatever he was expecting, it was not this. McGonagall then went on to tell Wood the maneuver that Harry pulled off.

"Grabbed the ball right before it hit the ground. Most impressive bit of flying I've ever seen."

"Interesting," Wood put his hand to his mouth, deep in thought. "He's got the right build for a seeker. Maybe a little lean but he'll fill out with proper diet and training. Potter," Wood finally addressed him.

"You said this was your first time on a broom?" Harry nodded. "You might well be a natural. Doubt anyone else could have pulled that off, especially on the tinderboxes those brooms are.

He turned back toward McGonagall.

"He'll need a proper broom, though. Something fast, a Nimbus if possible or the new Cleansweep isn't bad."

"I'll talk to the headmaster about bending the rule for first years having brooms," McGonagall said. "We might have a shot at the Quidditch cup this year, or at least better than last year. I couldn't look Professor Snape in the eye for a week after last year."

"I know what you mean," Wood said. "I spent all summer devising a new training regimen. We have a new chaser line too, which should be helpful. Our newest one, Katie Bell, already works well with Angelina and Alicia is ready to be promoted from the reserves."

Harry moved his head between the two like he was watching the Championship at Wimbledon, trying to keep up with them. Eventually they realized he was still there and broke out of their discussion.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall's stern demeanor was back in full force. "What you did was impulsive, reckless and dangerous. And if you are half that good on the pitch, I pity your rival seekers trying to beat you. I expect you to work hard both on the pitch and in the classroom. Players must keep an Exceeds Expectations average to keep their spot on the team. Work hard, or I might reconsider not punishing you. You are dismissed."

Harry walked back trying to avoid mental whiplash from the last 15 minutes.

Guess it's a good thing I loved flying. McGonagall isn't really giving me an option here.

Harry took a walk through the hallways to absorb everything that happened. As he walked back in to the common room and was nearly blown back through it. At his entry, the house all cheered.

"Way to go, Harry," one of the twins, Fred he thought, said.

"Sticking it to the Snakes while sticking up for one of your own," the other finished.

"Thanks for grabbing my ball," Neville came up and said. "Gran would have been so upset at me for breaking it."

"No worries, Neville," Harry smiled at him. "I'm just glad you're okay. That fall looked rough."

After the furor died down, Harry made his way toward Hermione who was by herself, in their usual chair beside the fire.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione said. "I was so worried! First you nearly died on that broom, then when McGonagall showed up, I was certain you were going to be expelled. Do you know just how dangerous that was?"

"I was so nervous they were going to send me back to Privet Drive," Harry said. "But McGonagall took me to the Defense classroom and asked for Wood. I thought she meant a stick, you know, to punish me?"

"Hogwarts doesn't use corporal punishment anymore, Harry," Hermione said. "Hogwarts: A History says they used to but they abandoned that practice about 50 years ago."

"Anyway, Wood turns out to be a student, captain of the Qudditch team. What I'm going to tell you is Top Secret," Harry leaned in and lowered his voice. "I'm the new seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Youngest in a century I think McGonagall told Wood."

"Congratulations. Though if you do any more death-defying stunts like today, I will hurt you. You understand?"

"I'll try but no promises," Harry smirked at her. "I will need your help, however. Players are supposed to keep an Exceeds Expectations average. I'm good on practical but my theory and essay writing could improve. I was hoping you could…"

"Of course I'll help you keep up," Hermione smiled as she laid a hand on his arm. "I'll draw up a study schedule to work around your training."

"You're the best, Hermione." Hermione beamed at these words.

That night, Harry was the subject of two letters winding their way from Hogwarts

Hey family!

It's almost the end the second week here and so much has happened.

I've been sorted into Gryffindor, like the rest of the family and guess what!? Harry Potter is in my house. I sleep in the same dorm as the Boy Who Lived! I tell you he's just like the books. Malfoy tried to tell me that Harry shook his hand, which is ridiculous. Can you imagine Harry actually touching a Snake?

He's really a nice guy, super brave and an incredible flyer. Draco tried to destroy Neville Longbottom's Rememberall today and Harry flew and caught it right before it hit the ground. He said it was his first time on a broom. Wonder what Dumbledore has him working on if he hasn't had the chance to fly yet?

School is fine and I'm trying to do my best to follow the steps of Bill and Charlie (tell them I say hi.) We have Potions with the Snakes but it's only once a week so that's not so bad.

Last, to Ginny. Hope you're safe and healthy. I can't wait to have you join us. I know you're super excited to meet Harry. I'm sure I can get him to visit over the summer. We play chess every Saturday so I'll be sure to invite him sometime around the spring.

Love,

Ron

Dear Father,

I have followed your orders, sir, and tried to get close to Harry Potter. I am disheartened to report that I was too late as he's already as soft as his father. He has made friends, and become the protector of, a mudblood named Hermione Granger: a bucktoothed, beaver, know-it-all of a girl. I tried to show him the path, to bring the Potter family back to its purest roots but he insisted I apologize to her. Can you imagine?

I do have one thing to report, however. I overheard him saying he lived with his muggle relatives until Hogwarts. Can you imagine? The heir to House Potter being raised MUGGLE! I think I'd die. I don't know anything about them, he doesn't say much. He's mentioned a "Petunia" a few times, which I think might be his mother's sister?

Classes are fine, Professor Snape sends his regards and I am already working to bring Slytherin house under my leadership as you did while here. I endeavor to make you proud of me. I will let you know if I hear anything more regarding Potter.

Sincerely,

Draco

Lucius Malfoy sat in his study, rereading his son's letter. Raised by muggle relatives? His thoughts raced. That is interesting. Lucius finally had a lead, after 10 years. He grabbed his travelling cloak, money sack, threw some powder into the fireplace and disappeared on his next errand.

Next up: Halloween