Novus Dux Magum

by psytronix

Harry Potter is thrown into a world of magic, madams, and mystery, after almost having his own arcane spark snuffed out. How will he change the world for the better? GENDERBENDS, EVENTUAL HAREM - CO-WRITTEN WITH STRANGE IDEA

Tap, tap, tap

The giant's umbrella struck the bricks in the archway. From the practised, precise movements Harry guessed Hagrid must have come this way before, or maybe this was a spell he was seeing in action? He'd have to try it out once he got back to the inn. The brick began to shift, morph before his eyes - to form a gateway in the wall, to a new place. A new world, it seemed.

The lad by the giant's side could only gape in wonder. As Hagrid strode confidently into Diagon Alley, Harry fell behind in his dumbstruck stupor, only just catching himself enough to hurry in his wake, the seventeen-year-old simply stumbling forward as he marvelled at the sights.

Cobblestone roads, baubles, both magic and not. Plenty of witches, young and old, and a scattered few wizards, all decked in robes of varying colours, topped with hats that seemed to move on their own. The very air was electric, alive with an unseen force that Harry could feel crackling at his fingertips - the surge of a new life itself. As he finally caught up to Hagrid, who could only stare back at him with a longing sadness, he noticed the stares, the uncomfortable looks.

"H-Harry Potter," a young witch uttered, clutching her mother's hand, in awe of the lad.

"The Boy Who Lived!" another cried as he ducked behind Hagrid, trying to hide his face now.

"Lovely place, innit?" Hagrid asked, not expecting a response. He could only beam at Harry as he continued fumbling, trying to form words where there were none, could be none. He simply took in the sights, the smells - plentiful pastries and the funky foetor of perilous potions alike. A small cart wheeled itself by as it's owner sang aloud for Hogwarts students to stock up. This was a dream… No, this was better than a dream.

He was bursting with questions. He had never felt less a part of things than ever before - had never been out of his depths by such a magnitude, and it was wondrous. His eyes wandered to the crowd of witches, a few wizards scattered throughout, and he blushed, catching sight of a kiss or two. Harry took a moment to fan himself as he snapped his gaze away quickly - taking note of the witching world's fashion sense.

He was expecting crones, hags, wart-ridden warlocks and banshees. Instead, he found people. Attractive people. People, a lot of girls, with dresses that peaked a wee bit of cleavage here and there. Shamefully, the young man averted his gaze as soon as he caught himself. A parade of robes, hoods and cloaks fluttered across, up and down the street - older witches wearing their robes, and the younger ones wearing whatever they pleased. He caught flashes of fantastic legs, thighs that made his already fluttering heart pitter out like a hummingbird's.

He had never seen so many people in one place - let alone women. He stayed meek, however, calming himself, ensuring not to overstimulate. Puberty, he remembered so suddenly, was not a fantastic experience. His hormone addled eyes could hardly even see the wizards for all the witches. Why couldn't he have come here back when he was younger, like, 11? He cleared his throat, and tried to walk properly, hiding himself further behind the giant.

As Hagrid told him of the worlds only wizarding bank, Gringotts, Harry continued looking at this world and found a nibbling anger worming it's way into his excitement. Just why hadn't he been shown this before? Why hadn't he been exposed to it, like others were? To keep his head straight - to not let fame get to him? It irked him.

But even that kernel of doubt could only dig into his heel for so long before the sheer spectacle of Diagon Alley washed it away. Here they passed a cart, loaded with stuffed animals that were actually growling and purring at potential shoppers. Over there was a stack of cauldrons piled so high he almost mistook it for a strange smokestack. And over there a wizard was showing off a lightly-smoking cage to a gaggle of cooing witches, basking in the attention.

Further ahead the majestic pillars of a building signed 'Gringotts' stood proud and twisted, as if challenging the force of gravity itself.

The weird and the wonderful flourished here. These were the kind of people the Dursleys would undoubtedly say were freaks. And he could barely stop himself from gawking at each and every one. The goblin guards of Gringotts seemed to smile, upon his approach. At least he very firmly told himself that was how goblins smiled. They were short, with long feet, and pointed ears framing sharp faces. Harry shuddered as he closed the distance, but they allowed the two to pass through into the bank, undisturbed. Hagrid, however, came to a dead stop and hugged him closer at the door.

"Now mind yerself Harry," rumbled Hagrid softly. Harry stood straight and sidled closer. "Try not to stare, very proud creatures goblins, and they don't take kindly to any insults. So be on yer' best behaviour and keep yer' eyes straight ahead." And with that, he pushed open the doors.

Harry tried. He really did his best not to stare, but found his eyes kept stealing glances of the hard-at-work, toiling goblin folk. Goblins! Real goblins!

They chattered about quietly as two rows of tellers worked diligently, a scribble of quills and a rhythm of stamps like music to the lad's ears. He shivered as the caves connected to Gringotts seemed to belch with a brisk air, cooling them considerably. Hagrid attempted and failed to chat to the teller as the two approached.

"We're looking to make a withdrawal from Mister Harry Potter's account."

"And does Mister Potter…" The teller looked down at their desk. Even from where he stood, Harry could see it's eyes narrow at the figure, then flick to leer at him. He swallowed a lump in his throat and hoped his current balance passed whatever test it was thinking of, "have his key?"

"Oh, right here, wait… Wait," Hagrid patted down his various pockets before producing an ornate bronze key with an "aha!" As he clapped it down onto the desk, Hagrid's voice dropped to an attempted low whisper, "and there's… One other thing. While we're down there…"

Harry couldn't catch much, and was surprised the teller could hear Hagrid at all. Something about an officer's scone? Whatever Hagrid had mentioned, the goblin's eyes lit up further, and it called for an assistant - "Griphook!"

They were led to a cart, and in a scant few minutes whipping and whistling deep into the bowels of the earth. Weaving through stalagmites and stalactites alike with maniacal speed. All to grab coins - as shiny as the desert's sun reflecting off an oasis. This was how banking worked in the wizarding world? It was like a rollercoaster! Or something from a fairytale! He half-expected a dragon to come roaring around the corner at any moment.

Harry swore he heard the goblin, Griphook, chuckle under its breath as he and Hagrid stumbled off the cart. Hagrid had acquired, in no particular order, a headache, a worrying case of cart-sickness and a bag, stored singularly in another vault. He'd insisted his detour wouldn't take long - but frankly, looked like he would have liked it to take a little longer.

"What's in the bag, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"I can't say, Harry. Official Hogwarts business," Hagrid said, looking very proud of himself between patches of green, "can't say much more, and please, don't ask".

Harry cursed to himself. Now all he wanted to do was see what was in the bag. A sudden lurch of the cart nearly sent him stumbling into Griphook - and he was snapped from that curious thought. Though small and wiry they may have been, there was a sharpness to the goblin that made him sure he'd regret it if he didn't catch himself.

The cart rocketed it's way back to the surface, depositing the sickly, stumbling pair back into Gringotts, weighed down by more money than Harry had ever carried before. And in a blur of bureaucratic efficiency they were out the door and back on the pavement. Harry welcomed that warm sight of Diagon Alley, as seen from the other side. His heart simply swelled with happiness as he looked upon it again. This, he decided, was his favourite place on earth.

Hagrid quickly ushered them away, "not a big fan of goblin-folk," he mumbled, panting as he steadied himself against a wall.

"Erm, why?" well, aside from the obvious. He'd swear that Griphook had sped up just to spite Hagrid.

"They're uh, y'know, a bit on the angry side," Hagrid sighed as he smacked himself in the head again, "an' not picky about who they take it out on." Once he led Harry to another shop he paused out the front and sighed, turning to the boy.

"Look, Lemme put it plain as I can; the Ministry, an' by extension, a good chunk of the witchin' world, are not fond of other… Uh… Races. Each one's got their own reasons to be upset - Centaurs didn't like that Hags were classified the same as them, Goblins don't like that we know how wands work, n' they don't, and everyone else…"

Harry waited with bated breath as Hagrid scratched that ragged beard, sighing again.

"At least the House Elves are happy with their lot."

"House Elves?"

"Servants, eh… Small critters. A whole swathe of them are under Hogwart's employ. They love their work, the odd buggers," He said, "reckon they might think we're all their pets or some such. No matter though, we still need to be buyin' some supplies. Come on, then."

The tailor, Madam Malkin, though shocked at seeing a man enter her store, was happy to have him fit. He didn't fault her, it must have been a while from the way she kept getting his sizes too tight. Though he wanted to splurge, with actual, real money, Hagrid kept his head cool, advising that pewter for his cauldrons would suit just fine. The giant took care not to pat the lad on his shoulders too often - he still seemed jumpy, on edge about physical contact.

That edge didn't dull with a visit to the wand-maker's shop. It was run by a small, worried looking man who was quite possibly the oldest person Harry had ever spoken to. As his gleaming eyes seemed to peruse the boy, the air around them grew thick, choking. Hagrid thought the wand-maker meant nothing by it, but couldn't help but feel unsettled. Harry simply gawked at the shop - packed with thousands of boxes piled high to the ceiling, stretching on as far as he could see. Some small, giddy part of him would almost swear the roof was even higher, further in.

There was a power coming from those boxes, wands, he thought. It excited him - the thought of a tool of magic, within his own grasp, to bend and shape everyday objects like he'd seen all around him To connect with that eldritch force, and create something!

Harry cleared his throat as he greeted the elderly man behind the counter.

"Too long, Mister Potter. I've wondered when you'd step in my shop, and well," he smiled, "I can safely say I'm excited. Your wand," he continued, reaching for a maple-wood and phoenix feather wand, first.

He placed it in Harry's hands, instructing the teen to give the wand a flick or two. All of a sudden, Harry felt his arm yank to the floor by gravity's force, the wand suddenly growing heavier. It took Hagrid's help to remove it from his hands, struggling for enough time for Ollivander to retrieve another wand.

As he did so, the boy could only exclaim in wonder, gasping for breath as he nursed his hand.

"Ebony and unicorn hair," he marked, apprehensively, "good for… Combat, transfiguration and-"

The wand exploded.

Harry tumbled back from the blast, and found himself lying on the floor, wandless. Instead, there was only ash and an odd strand of shimmering, brilliant hair waiting in his hand… Had he turned a wand into hair? He couldn't feel his face right now, but he got the impression he was grinning. He heard a weary sigh emanate from the old man, and shivered, feeling the magic coursing through him now - remembering as it surged in a clear and true defiance against the wand as he'd held it.

"Let's… Try something else."

Ollivander plucked the hair from his hands, and shook his head, retrieving another wand.

"...Spruce and troll whisker, not my usual materials - and generally a very underwhelming sort of wand - but perhaps that might be the idea to prevent another power surge like that…"

With a flick of his wrist, a fine spray of water burst from the tip of the new wand. A rainbow, producing colours that Harry had never seen before in his life, sparkled through as the water soaked a few of the boxes.

"Ah… A bit unfortunate, but it would seem that…"

The wand started shaking - Ollivander snapped his jaw shut mid-sentence and dived out of the way as a torrent of ocean spray burst from the tool's end, with enough force to carry him backwards across the room into the wall. Harry held his grip for a moment before the wood shattered under the rapidly rising pressure and the water hit a storage-case hard enough to topple it. Harry swore he'd seen something big taking shape in the midst.

"Hmm… No, no… How about this - Acacia with a coral core, 12 inches…"

This one felt better, Harry thought. A spark leapt from the wand, spinning in the air before him. As the three watched with mixed excitement, the spark grew into a spinning pinwheel of flame. Smaller sparks broke free and burned out with increasing intensity, like a firework about to burst. The wheel then flashed from an angry red to a steady gold, and seemed to pull itself tighter, and tighter.

"Mister Potter, it seems that... No, wait- I'd advise you to get ready to jump!"

The wheel flashed a bright green and made a dive for harry, harmlessly exploding into a brilliant menagerie of colours - fire licking and lapping at his clothing before whispering away into nothingness. A horrid, black smog filled the room, before being absorbed into the wand, not of Harry's accord.

When they'd cleaned up the debris and the remains of the shelves, Ollivander had sighed, face deep in thought, thinking dearly back to the boy's parents. Harry had no idea if this kind of composure was normal for shopkeepers in the wizarding world, and if so, what that meant about the average shopper. He dearly, dearly hoped Ollivander's resolve was the norm. Though, he was happier now that the wand-maker removed his gaze from him, instead, wandering back further in the shop.

He returned, with no more smiles. "Holly… And phoenix feather," he gingerly placed it in the lad's hand.

Hagrid preemptively flinched, guarding himself with a stool. With no sound, with no feeling, and no bright light, he calmed himself. He slowly lowered his shield and sighed with relief. Harry was no worse for wear, and appeared to be flabbergast, again. His grip was perfectly taut 'round the wand's base, and he tested a swish, a flick - sparks erupting from the wand's tip. Gold and red seemed to pour from it, tapping into that well of magic, that built up cauldron of chaotic mana, and soon lit up the room.

It synced with him. It felt right. Harry couldn't help but tear up at it. He quickly apologised to both the men staring at him, and wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt, clearing his throat. Ollivander barely registered the payment in hand as Harry's hand caressed the grip of the wand, still holding back tears.

"That wand, Mister Potter," Ollivander mumbled, "much like yourself, may be destined for great things…"

They left quickly, and Hagrid did his best not to rush the boy, not to draw any unwanted attention to him.

"Y'alright, Harry? Need a moment?" He asked, voice soft.

"I'm… I'm fine. Let's keep going," he mumbled, clutching the wand close to his chest, blinking away a few more tears. He cracked a smile back to Hagrid, and the giant of a man thought aloud.

"That's right. I still need to get you your present, Harry!"

Hagrid ushered him away with a coy smile, edging him to grab his books while he shopped around for a gift. Harry protested, but found himself in the middle of a bookshop before too long, Flourish and Blotts. As he hunted for the more basic tomes first, as outlined clearly in his letter, he felt a sense of unease. As beautiful as this new world was, he was going to have to labour tirelessly to catch up the level of his peers.

Hagrid told him that students usually learnt magic either from their parents or smaller, local schools, often starting formal magical education at the age of 11. Hogwarts was more of a university - "these days", Hagrid said - acting as a specialisation school for older students, at least, for the later years. Taking a peek into the advanced books proved it just as much.

"Wand forms," he muttered, reading aloud, "core movements, evocation of an earthly link…"

It did his brain in. He placed the tome on his tiny cart, reaching for the next, Standard Book of Spells, 7th Grade. In hindsight, he should have looked up from the book as he did. As his hand reached for the book cart, it passed by the bookshelf ladder, just in time to brush against the heel of the customer climbing down. There was a shriek and a sudden rush of pain as that leg shot outwards; Harry had just enough time to see a shiny, hard heeled shoe-

Crack!

He found himself lying on the floor, with his head swimming. As he groaned in pain, a voice drifted down through his mental haze.

"Alright, explain yourself!"

As his eyes cleared, Harry found himself looking at a familiar pair of now slightly scuffed shoes. Standing in them were a pair of legs in long white stockings, and looking up, and up and up above them was a girl a size too small for them, standing tall and posed with her arms crossed.

"Wha-?" mumbled Harry, clearly as he could.

"My leg," said the girl. She would be quite pretty, he thought, if she wasn't so blurry. "Why did you grab my leg?"

"-Was reaching for the book cart," Harry said, gesturing in the direction as far as he could tell.

The unfocused girl turned and hummed, considering his story before apparently deciding it sounded plausible enough.

"Well then," she said, "I may have overreacted," she gently bent down and picked something up, pressing it to his face. The blurriness cleared, and Harry immediately changed his mind.

Far beyond pretty, this girl was beautiful. As she stood up, he took her in clearly. Even calling her a girl was misleading, even at around his age she was already a woman, tall and with long, blonde hair. Her striking blue eyes and trembling lips seemed almost as alarmed as he was, but she was maintaining her composure with almost effortlessly across the rest of her posture. Even her green cardigan and black skirt looked crisp and freshly pressed despite the last few seconds.

"M-my apologies," she began, her voice quiet, yet firm, "I... Didn't expect to run into a boy here... Hogwarts, I presume?"

He nodded, not trusting his own voice. She smiled, and held out a hand. As she lifted him to his feet she nodded at him and handed him the book, before grabbing a copy for herself.

"My parents are busy fussing over my supplies, even grabbing me a broomstick. Though I hardly see the point, really - Hogwarts has a standard set between it's matches," she scowled, the quiver dropped from her voice, "ruddy old Tinderblasts, I think. Though the practice wouldn't hurt," she admitted. Harry couldn't help but stare, quickly snapping his gaze back to the bookshelf, unsure of what to say.

"Y-you play?" He asked. Falling back on the traditions of introverts everywhere, He didn't even know what match she was referring to. "you watch any, uh… Games?"

"Of course," She said, raising her chin high in pride "I've been practicing since my parents were busy leading the campaign against sullying the good name of Hogwarts," she joked, chortling. Harry didn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about, but he could tell she was proud of something, so he gently chuckled along.

"Though personally I've visited it many times before of course," she continued, waving her hand dismissively, "my parents had to keep their little girl's expectations for the place from getting too high. They believe very firmly in being prepared…" even so, Harry could see a giddy sparkle creeping into her eye as it latched onto him. "Say, do you know what house you might be sorted into?"

"Erm... House?" Harry asked. The girl gave him a strange look at that as they walked up to the counter. Lost for words, Harry took her copy of the book alongside his own and passed them to the cashier. The counter-hag accepted the identical copies of the tome with a knowing wink which was probably supposed to be more secretive than she'd managed. As he handed over what he hoped was the correct amount the girl brightened back up and he knew his little slip was, if not forgiven, certainly overlooked for the moment.

As he stepped outside Harry looked around and was surprised to find that Hagrid, against all physical, vertical evidence, couldn't be seen in the crowd.

"Looking for someone?"

The girl had stopped a few strides up the street and looking over her shoulder curiously. Harry shrugged awkwardly.

"Yeah, I'm… Meeting with a friend. He seems to be running a little late."

"Hmm…"

The witch tilted her head and turned to stare down the street. Probably at some store where she was meeting someone. Considering it for a second, she turned to look at the new textbook in her hands and nodded softly. Dropping it neatly into her bag, she turned on her heel and marched back to Harry.

"I know a place we can wait," she said, turning down the street. Following her gaze, an open-fronted cafe with iron seats and large, rosy windows was only a few doors away. A small but cozy crowd of patrons were already gathered with ample room for two more to sit down. The ornate figurine of an iron kettle, complete with smoke magically drifting lazily from the spout, hung over a wide, cheery doorway engraved with the name 'Rosa Lee's Tea Bags'.

As Harry looked back to check whether he'd found the right store, he was surprised to see his friend was gone, only to find her already halfway there and tapping her foot impatiently. The two were seated quickly in a snug little table just off the road, where Harry could see the passers by and the witch could drink in their attention. After sitting comfortably in silence for a while, the conversation drifted to what was left on their shopping list (Harry had to bluff but she seemed impressed), their family history (Harry came up short, Dracaina came with a register of her families' history), before eventually turning back to the subject of houses. Harry quickly paid for the tea and took a long, long sip to avoid saying anything this time.

"Mm, I'm certain I'll be in Slytherin," she cooed. She sounded so warmly excited at the idea, "both my parents were, of course were, so it's only fitting - and well, I couldn't see myself in Hufflepuff to be honest," she scoffed, scrunching her nose with a quiet laugh broken by a few snorts. Harry nearly choked at the sight. the way her nose twitched, the way her eyes snapped back open when she realised, the way she quickly pinned Harry with a glare. Hiding his smile behind his cup, he couldn't bring himself to mind. He couldn't help but blush, it was just so cute. He quickly cleared his throat, and shrugged his shoulders.

"N-not sure, really. I-I'm just hoping I won't make a fool of myself," he said. Seemingly pleased that she'd re-asserted her dignity, the girl tittered, and looked him over, chewing her lip in thought. Harry squirmed awkwardly under the gaze. She seemed to like it.

"Hm… Maybe, you look like you'll do fine," she said, tilting her head. "Might even make the quidditch tryouts… You seem lithe enough," her eyes slid back up to meet his and she shot him a lopsided smile. "I'm Dracaina," she introduced herself, "Dracaina Malfoy." She offered a manicured hand.

He extended his hand, and cleared his throat as she shook it, trying his hardest to smile politely.

"Harry, Harry Potter," he almost whispered.

She bit back a gasp, but quickly calmed herself. Instead she gave a dignified hum, nodding as she smiled at him. He felt his heart skip a beat as she did so, squirming under her gaze. She was sizing him up, he thought.

"I had… Figured as much," she murmured, making sure no one around them heard her. She almost seemed proud to have found him, "once I saw the glasses. You've been the talk of the town for the past 17 years or so. I believe just about everyone knows who you are."

His face fell at that, and he feigned a smirk back.

"So I've heard. T-truth be told, I've only recently been, erm…" he scratched the back of his head, finishing his book selection, "reintroduced."

Dracaina's smile faded. Her eyes narrowed.

"...How recently?"

"...This year."

Dracina's eyes sharpened.

"You mean to say," she said slowly, silently prompting him to correct her at any point, "you've been living with muggles your whole life?" her gaze made it very clear he had better tell her 'no' for decency's sake.

He nodded.

Dracaina inhaled sharply, and simply shook her head, shivering in disgust. Harry hadn't realised the thought was so upsetting. Still, even as her face flooded with sympathy, Harry found that wasn't the only reason he felt uncomfortable.

"W-Well," she said, straightening her hair over her shoulder, "I can assure you that you'll find good company at Hogwarts, at least among Slytherin," she advised, "I'll guarantee it. There's a lot you'll need to catch up on, of course, and you really want the best education you can get. Oh, no wonder you were so badly informed," Harry flushed.

Apparently he hadn't been as convincing as he'd thought. The future 'Slytherin' chuckled at him and turned to watch the passers by. Every so often, one of them would turn curiously to see her and Harry and she'd give them a slight nod. Yes, this was who they thought it was. and every time he could tell she revelled in it. Harry never had gotten the hang of people-watching, but with a little help he was starting to see the appeal. After a while though, she clicked her tongue distastefully.

"Ugh. What's he doing?"

Harry looked, and across the street in an oversized coat was a familiar giant man, peering into the window of the bookstore. Who had in his hands a cage. There was something white inside, something he couldn't quite make out at this distance.

"O-oh," Harry said, "that's Hagrid."

"I recognise him… He works at Hogwarts, yes? A servant?" She seemed a little too comfortable with the term. Harry gave her a concerned look.

"The Gamekeeper," Harry said, glad to finally have the answer. thinking back, Hagrid had mentioned something else, hadn't he? "-Keeper of keys." Hagrid had apparently found the shop devoid of Harry and was looking around the street to see. Harry sent him a wave and watched him light up as he saw him. To his surprise his arm was suddenly yanked back to the table by Dracaina.

She looked almost scandalized.

"Ahem... yes," Dracaina added said, steeling her composure, "now, Harry I know you're looking forwards to Hogwarts and all, but you can't go introducing yourself to every member of the staff. You need some with a little more… Experience at duelling, wizardry, to make up for lost time. You've been gone a while, but some people will only drag you further back. Especially him. I remember him from my own visit and, well, he's a bit of an oaf."

"If you ask me," he said back, quietly and slowly "I think he's brilliant." Dracaina smiled softly at him and patted him gently on the arm.

"Right… If you consider living in a hut, tending to the vermin 'round a school brilliant, then yes," she said, softly and kindly. For a given value of kindly, "Mother used to share stories about him. How he lived in this ramshackle hut of the edge of the school and would spend every night getting drunk, trying to do magic and lighting his bed on fire..."

Harry turned to her, staring her right in the eyes.

"Hagrid's been nothing but kind to me since we've met. I and I don't think you've really met him at all, so who are you to say who he is? Do you have some grudge against him, Dracaina?".

She stared for a bit, not expecting the challenge, a tinge of red dusting her pale cheeks.

"Wait, he's the one you're meeting up wi-" She cleared her throat. "Look, Harry, I-I'm simply saying that some magical folk are probably better to know than others. It can be hard knowing who the right kind of people are, especially if you've not seen, well, a real wizard or witch before. That's something I could guide you on. Teach you which teachers to talk to and the difference between quality company and riff-raff like that lumbering-"

Harry held a hand up as she began to build her next insult, and stared aghast. She wasn't sorry, was she? He shook his head.

"I think you've shown me enough for now. You have yourself a good day, Miss Malfoy," he said, standing abruptly before he could say any more. He didn't trust himself to keep talking to her. For all the wonder he'd seen so far, this was the first time he'd met someone he'd call an honest to goodness witch. He walked quickly fuming across the street, pointedly not looking back, to approach his friend. Hagrid was glancing over his shoulder when Harry reached him, trying to pass it off as a trick of his height and looking quite bashful.

"I was wonderin' where you'd run off to now. Hoped I hadn't gone and lost you on yer first day in wizarding and all and… Erm… I didn't ruin your little chat with your friend there, did I Harry?," he said, looking like he might burst into an apology at any second.

"You didn't, she did," Harry said, biting down on the rest. Hagrid seemed to understand, going by the pats on his shoulder and the muttered 'oh'. His fuming stopped as he noticed the cage in Hagrid's hands, and felt that spike of wonder shoot through him, all over again. Another little piece of the big picture that made him feel part of this new world, that made it all worth diving into.

"I-Is-"

"Oh, right! Happy Birthday, Harry! Be careful now - she's a bitey one," he smiled, gifting the boy his present. 'She' was an owl. white with little flecks and golden eyes, fluttering her wings against the cage.

"Hey, you know what the cure is for a meetin' gone bad? I think You'll like Florean Fortesque's place. Got the best magic in the world he does… Just the thing-"

(...)

It was a travesty, Dracaina thought.

She sipped her cup and watched as the young man was led away by Hogwart's leased lunatic.

What a waste of the young man's skill! It wasn't enough that the boy who killed You-Know-Who, the boy who lived, squandered the formative years of his life away in a muggle household, of all places! Now he was going to have his head filled with the mad ramblings of a failed magician, and probably other genetically ignorant hangers-on.

It was to be expected, of course, such a young and promising celebrity. Of course the lowlifes would want him to endorse them. She hummed to herself, idly tapping the sugar-spoon clean as she cleared her head.

She'd been so close to getting through, and putting some proper wisdom and experience in that hollow head of his. And really, what was he thinking with that haircut? With the right grooming he'd look half decent, but as it was he was practically a street urchin. He should've been thankful she, the right kind of person, had been the one to discover him. It was a wonder anyone could recognise him. Although she considered, if that groundskeeper was the kind of attention he was attracting, she could almost see the benefits. He'd been such a serendipitous find too, and yet his malformed social sense hadn't recognised what an opportunity he'd found in her.

Still, the day wasn't a complete waste. she'd gotten a new textbook and a decent cup of tea out of it. Had he held his senses longer, she thought as she took a sip, then she may have even gotten something actually useful too. He'd need to learn better if he was going to make any progress in the world. Well… That, and learn to recognise his betters. Celebrity status was a useful tool, but it was no match for real connections or family pull. Something he'd NEVER have if he didn't clean up his act. Had she not known better, she'd almost blame herself for failing to reach him. Foolish! If he fell short he had only himself to blame… Although…

She paused and leaned into the street to steal a last glance as he left. Alright, not a bad view from behind she'd admit. There was some potential. Oh, the lesser houses would probably trip over themselves trying to snatch him up. Too bad he'd walked away over nothing….

Well, marched away, she thought with a smile. Marching very stiffly in fact. And not entirely out of anger if she was any judge. She'd made an impression at the very least. That was one positive of the evening, and a minor step in the right direction for good taste. She'd have to teach him about the other benefit of robes sometime. With the scavengers of society trying to pick at her table scraps, he'd never last a day if he didn't learn to hide his base attractions. They'd spring on it in an instant for a bit of glory!

There was nothing else for it. As soon as they got to hogwarts, she'd have to see to it his taste for anything less than the best was drummed out before those pretenders had their chance. When she had the time and he showed a few more signs of promise, she'd have to cultivate some good choices in the poor fool. Some words to her friends would give her a bit of breathing room to watch without too much pressure, and decide whether he was worth the attention or not. And who to bring into line, of course. More allies were always a benefit. If she played things right, this could be a very rewarding endeavor.

Besides, he owed her a new pair of shoes.

(...)

Coming back to the non-magical, muggle world was like a cold shock. Though feeling like a stranger to everyone was welcome, in an odd way. Harry didn't outright despise the attention given to him, but it felt uncomfortable, superficial with most.

He didn't know them and they didn't know him, but they knew of him; of a single deed done 17 years ago he couldn't remember, with no idea how he'd achieved it. If he truly did anything at all. Although there was always something - maybe a memory. A green flash and a feeling of…

The broken thought slithered back into the shadows of his mind, leaving behind a chill.

The indifference of the "muggles" around him, while obviously not as flattering, was a welcome relief. He'd walked five minutes without a hushed request for a "moment" of his time from a passer-by, and he hadn't realised how great that felt before!

Though, he didn't quite feel like a wizard yet. It still felt odd to use the term "muggle" for a non-magic human, so he'd decided he'd best refrain for now. He'd rather keep it locked away unless needed, than risk finding out exactly how much uncle Vernon objected to the term. Plus It reminded him a little too much of that bewitching Malfoy girl, and that distaste she had for Hagrid.

That had been a blight on an otherwise shining first day, and the thought of Vernon Dursley had brought things down even further. Without a proper place to stay, he'd either need to find an inn to rest at or, heaven forbid, go back with his relatives. And as much money as Hagrid was spending on him, he couldn't ask him to pay his board forever.

He turned back to the giant and felt a pang of gratitude for everything he'd done so far. The way he just blocked the gaze of everyone they passed by. The way he just as easily as he blotted out the sun. He didn't even seem to mind the looks, he just strode down the street, talking loudly about things Harry simply must see sometime, and let the gazes roll off him like water off a duck's back.

It was hard to keep his spirits down as he watched him, beaming with joy and babbling words Harry could hardly understand. And if he ever got the chance, he'd gladly take another trip with the man. Besides Dracaina, his teachers had been completely wrong about strangers.

Today had been, bar none, the best day of Harry's life… And he didn't want it to end. But for all the wonder he was seeing with his own eyes, he couldn't quite believe it. At any moment, he half-expected the Dursley's to appear out of nowhere and announce it had all been some grand prank. To reveal Hagrid was some up-and-coming actor of a particularly cruel bend. The better part of his mind realised that such a joke was well beyond their reach and, admittedly, more humour than they'd ever really shown, but… It was hard to rule it out when the other option was to accept magic was real. There wasn't exactly a reasonable option either way, so, what would he do?

As the day went on, accepting magic became not only easy, but enthralling. He'd beaten the voice of doubt back and thrown himself into the wonders of Diagon Alley. Even the discovery of the shrewish Malfoy only made things better because the dose of reality only reinforced that the rest was, in fact, equally real. As Harry lay down in his perfectly ordinary bed, across the street from the perfectly ordinary Leaky Cauldron, he looked out the window. On the street below, people passed by a blank stretch of wall that had once been the entrance to diagon alley. None of them even gave it a second glance…

Even as Hagrid had arranged a place for the night, a horrible truth had crept back in. He couldn't stay. Even as he lay there, Hagrid had other duties back at Hogwarts, and unless the school year began the very next morning, he'd need a place to live until then. Watching Hagrid fumble his way through paying the desk with ordinary money had been… Entertaining… But uncomfortable, too. Harry couldn't possibly ask him to pay for room and board here. He'd probably do fine back in the magical world, bartering with his own money. And boy did that feel weird to say. There was now weight to his name, wealth to his person.

Harry gripped his head tight as he forced himself asleep. These thoughts were best left for a new day.

And with a fresh ray of sun kissing his face - definitely not rousing him from an otherwise lovely sleep - he awoke. Just as quick as he'd fallen asleep, he was, up, refreshing himself and cleaning before jumping down the stairs, curious as to where Hagrid could've gone to. Surely he would've heard him exit the room, at least.

"Ah, mornin' Harry!" Hagrid lofted a mug (which Harry could hardly see in his oversized hands) and smiled, "Just in time too, I reckon- I've got some people I want ya t'meet."

Harry was cautious, given Hagrid's spiel the day before in this very inn about how he couldn't be careful enough, about the people who'd only want his attention for his fame and fortune. What had happened to that huh…? But despite that, well, he couldn't stop a smile coming to his cheeks. The giant was a good judge of character… and a good TEST of character, as yesterday had proven,so why not take a little risk?

"B-brilliant, who-"

The inn door swung and someone bustled inside - an older woman, wearing tatty, brown robes, topped with a full head of long, fiery red hair. The woman muttered to herself as she looked around and, noticing the lack of pub patrons, sighed with relief. The muttering made an irritated return as she took out a purse and started to rifle through, before pocketing it, and producing another, rattier one. Finally, she withdrew a few coins, and triumphantly pressed them to the counter.

"Morning Tom, business booming as usual?" she asked, her voice firm, but tired. She reminded Harry of a teacher he'd seen once, used to getting their way and sick of having to, all the same.

"Always, Molly, always" Nodded tom, "got a room saved for you and the clan. What's the count this year, three?" Tom replied, setting a glass down to count the sickles and knuts. The woman sighed.

"Going to need a bit more space than usual I'm afraid, I've got four coming to Hogwarts this year-"

"aaaah, let me guess - is the missus Ginny that you talked about starting?"

"My little Veronica, actually. I must have mentioned her? Oh, they grow up so fast…" Molly thanked him as he slid a few coins back, and she sighed again, exclaiming as she saw Hagrid and Harry.

"Oh, Hagrid, good to see you! And this must be Harry, oh dear, it's a pleasure to meet you!" she hugged him first, then squeezed the life out of Harry after.

"I-it's good to meet you too, erm, Miss… uh," he mumbled, unsure how he was supposed to look right now. This was the first time he'd ever been hugged by a woman…. And he could still count the number of hugs he'd received in his life on his fingers. The red-headed stranger had, for all that she'd nearly crushed the air from his lungs, made a compelling case for them should the opportunity knock down the road.

"Ah, my apologies, my name is Molly, Molly Weasley! Hagrid's told me a little bit about you, and my little Ronnie and Ginny are simply mad about all your stories-" Molly, it transpired, was a relatively short, round woman who looked like a warm painting of a storybook grandmother that hadn't gotten around to the whole 'old age' thing yet. The hair she'd been able to tie back or comb formed a neat frown around her head, while the rest of it flowed through like a curtain. She had a stout, bosomy figure squeezed into her robes, which he now noticed was topped by a hand-knitted shawl and scarf. Her arms were heavily built and, he noted, were gripping him with surprisingly firm strength.

If Harry were feeling melancholy… He'd almost think she looked built to catch him up on hugs. Harry shook his head, aware this probably wasn't the point of their little get-together.

"-Stories?" Harry asked, confused.

"Little children's books," Hagrid answered, slurping loudly from his mug, "cautionary tales with you, and… You-Know-Who. Had to 'ave a word to them about royalties a while back, but, well, giving a forwarding address was out o' the question wasn't it?" Harry hoped he'd misheard, he had no idea what he was going to do with more money. "Speakin' of little tikes though, where are yours, Molly?"

She sighed, and her face fell, the warm energy not exactly vanishing, but draining under a clear exhaustion. "Percy is currently convincing the local constabulary to release Frederica and Georgia, they're being kept up on account of them setting off some fireworks or some such dribble. They always love to get on my nerves 'round this part of London, I swear…"

"Not anythin' traceable I hope?" he asked, a little too casually. Harry noticed his hand drifting to his umbrella, which was resting against the bar's edge. He felt a pang of… something... that was hard to name, and a little insight into Hagrid's character.

"No! No, and if they've done something as stupid as that, well," she paused, narrowing her eyes. "they didn't pick up any tips on that from YOU, now did they?". The giant seemed to shrink under the red-head's searching glare before Molly sighed, tension rolling from her shoulders. "Never mind that. Ronnie should be behind me soon, she was just setting her eyes on a top or two."

As if on cue, another Weasley entered the Leaky Cauldron, muttering under her breath. The girl, and it took Harry a second look to realise she was a girl, was hauling a small mountain of luggage behind her with some difficulty. As she managed to pull the trunks past the doorway, sending them bouncing off her shin, her muttering rose to a cluster of words Harry had never heard before. Of course, enough time with his cousin Dudley and his friends had taught him to recognise cursing in most languages.

Harry had to take a moment to catch himself, to stop himself from staring as she kicked the tunks, and had to fight down the blushing as she turned and noticed them all for the first time. Her hair was cut short, but held that unmistakably red warmth to it. Her face was pocked with freckles, framed by two striking bangs, and unmistakably pretty, a fact that the muck stains couldn't really hide. She'd quickly shrunk down once she'd noticed him, as if to obscure sight from her muscular frame.

A tomboy, Harry thought, swallowing hard. He'd seen a few of her kind around the boarding schools he'd grown up in, but had never had the guts to approach one before.

"Just in time, Ronniekins - this is Harry, Harry, this is Veronica, my second-youngest," she introduced them, Harry awkwardly jutting his hand out to shake. Ronnie met him, gawking at the scar on his forehead.

"Please, call me Ronnie- Wait, woah - are you Harry P-"

"-Yes, yes he is," Hagrid answered, clearing his throat and looking 'round the room to any and all other shady figures in the bar.

"Blimey," Ronnie enunciated, smirking to him, "you must have loads to tell us about You-Know-Who, hey, Harry?"

"Veronica!" Molly shushed her, elbowing her.

"Ow! What, he defeated him, mum! I just want to know-"

"-I was actually a baby at the time, and… umm…" Harry coughed into his hand… "II don't really…. know what the books say about me?... so I can't tell you if any of it's too" he mumbled. "I've actually been raised with non-magic, erm, muggles, since I can remember. sorry…."

The room went deathly quiet as the girl winced. Harry watched her try to quietly shoot a look to her mother, then Hagrid, who shook his head about as covertly as he could. The red crept down from her hair, flooding out her freckles….

"er…. S-sorry, I didn't mean to bring up-"

"It's fine, really! S-so, where are the Weasleys from?" he tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible.

"Oh, Ottery St Catchpole - in Devon - a little commune with muggles and witches alike, we really ought to show you some time, Harry!" Molly smiled, filled with pride. Harry couldn't help but reciprocate it - another magical community?

"That'd be brilliant," he said, "I-I'd love to visit."

"Just be careful of the Lovegoods - you'll want to have an eye out for a Loony-"

"Veronica!" Molly yelled again, smacking her in the chest with her purse.

"Oh come on mum, you can't stifle the truth - it's what the Lovegoods would want-"

"Enough! I won't have you slandering Xenophilia and Luna like that, now, put away your things and come back down soon, young lady!"

Harry couldn't help but giggle at the exchange, not at Ronnie's expense, but at her natural cadence. He saw her flick out an older wand, and mutter something, aiming at the luggage. Within a second, it levitated, carrying itself up the stairs as she guided it, stomping all the while. Was she wearing boots?

"Actually, you should shift yours as well, Harry," Hagrid advised him, Molly nodding along.

"Too true - you'll be bunking with us tonight Harry!"

"I, uh, sorry?" he stuttered, instantly coming to a blush as Hagrid placed his hand upon his shoulder.

"The Weasleys have offered to keep you for another night, before you head on to the Hogwarts Express. They're good folk, Harry, but if you're concerned, I'll be back soon to see you on the station," he assured the lad, who kept stuttering, before reaching into his pocket feverishly.

"A-alright, thanks, Hagrid. A-and thank you, Missus Weasley - surely I can pay you back-" he stretched his hand out, only to have it pushed back gently by Molly.

"Ah-ah-ah, nonsense, young man. You march on up with Ronnie and shift your things over this instant. You understand?" She smiled to him, employing her firmest tone.

Hagrid smiled as Harry instantly straightened out his stance, pocketing his dosh. He'd have to find a way to pay them back, Harry thought.

"O-of course, Missus Weasley, of course…"

"I'll catch ya's later - by for now!" Hagrid nodded to them as he left.

Harry didn't bother noticing the singular bed in Ronnie's room, struggling to find space to fit in his things. She didn't react if she knew anything about their arrangement - so he surmised he'd be sleeping on the floor tonight. Just being near her was something else - unlike his meeting with Dracaina, Ronnie was calm, if a bit mopey. And she smelled just like freshly-shawn grass.

Fair, that they were meant to share a room. Seemed like the Weasleys weren't well off, financially. As Harry struggled to shift the first of his bags in, Ronnie took it from him, her strength on full display. He sat back, marvelling a bit as the blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Th-thanks."

"Don't mention it. Hey, um… Is this really your first time meeting witches and wizards?"

He could only nod, tearing his gaze away from her rippling forearms, as she took another briefcase from him, loading it effortlessly up to the roof's height.

"Rough, that is. I've been a witch, well, I've been 'round magic my entire life. Mum and dad took me to St Cyprian's School for Witches along with my sisters before now," she grunted, motioning for Harry to continue handing her his belongings.

"Why now?" he asked.

She chuckled at him before slapping her head in irritation, "sorry, I forgot, you're muggle-raised. So, back in '91, I was supposed to go to Hogwarts, like my older sisters, Charlie, Billie, Percy, Freddie and Georgia - but a reform came by in the Ministry of Magic."

"Why's that?"

Ronnie sighed as she finished shifting the last of his stuff, falling back on the mattress tucked into the corner of the room. Harry gulped as he saw the ring on her ear - bright pink and black, it was.

"So, a bunch of mums complained one year after all their kids got "assaulted" at Hogwarts. If you ask me, I think it was just one or two kids' injuries that got blown out of proportion - but at the end of it, they proposed an ultimatum to Dumbledore at the time. Either he gets sacked, or Hogwarts re-establishes itself as a university for witches and wizards who have already trained at safer schools, so they're more prepared."

She huffed, looking to the peeling ceiling, and kicked her feet up onto the bed, looking Harry up and down.

"Obviously, Dumbledore relented. Said he loved teaching and nurturing young minds too much to stop, and that he'd vow to curtail all the dangers Hogwarts presented to it's students."

"How'd that go?"

"You can ask him in 4 years time to see if he's made any progress," Ronnie giggled, "but, it just sounds like a bunch of old hens getting their insem's in a twist." She saw the confusion rise to Harry's face, and smacked herself in the head again.

"Sorry - insem, short for inseminator. A… You know what? Never mind, I'm sure you'll figure it out on your own," she mumbled, looking back to the ceiling as she noticed Harry's blush grow stronger, dangerously red.

He went to ask another question, but kept quiet, surmising it was too embarrassing to bring up. "Weird," was all he could say.

"Must seem that way, from where you're standing," Ronnie smiled to him, chuckling past the pinkness tingling her cheeks, "but you'll get used to it. Let me know if anyone calls you any names, and I can help translate."

They shared a laugh, Harry truly feeling the tension between them lower. He liked her.

"C'mon then, let's go back to your mum," he murmured.

"Good idea," she tittered, clapping him on the back as they left the room. Ronnie ignored the quiet little jump he made, and quickly took her hand away, not saying another word until they came back out to the bar.

God, she's tall, Harry balked. Or was he just small?

"Hail, Weasleys," she mumbled to them, driving her hands into her pockets as she kicked her way down the staircase.

"Hail yourself, Ron!" another Weasley yelled back - sat next to her twin, at the same table as their mum. Harry guessed Freddie, or Georgia, given Ronnie lumping them in together. Where Ronnie was cute, they were hot, with wild long locks of red streaking down their faces. They had their legs kicked up onto the table, and arms crossed under their chests, drawing Harry's sight.

"Yeah, hail yourself!" The other twin barked.

"Oh, shut up you two! Enough noise and you'll bring the police down upon the Cauldron!" their older sister, returning with a few drinks, scalded them. Compared to the rest, her clothes were nicer, neatly pressed and washed, and her hair was cut by a professional, shaped almost too well for a student. She looked positively mousy.

"Took you long enough," Molly teased, sipping from the flagon brought to her, "Harry - this is Frederica, Georgia, and Percy, ah- sorry, you'll be calling her assistant professor Percy!"

"Why yes, assistant ponce Percy, can I get your hand with this transfiguration assignment?" Frederica, Freddie, taunted, speaking in a squeaky, haughty voice.

"Why of course, assistant priss Percy - I am the most-assistive, most-perfect Percy on hand, you see-"

With a flick of wandless magic, Molly closed her hand, silencing the twins instantly. In spite, they continued their impressions using exaggerated, flamboyant hand movements, prompting Percy to sneer, and take a swig from her flagon. Ronnie and Harry joined them, leaning back in their seats.

"Pleasure to meet you Harry," Percy reached over the table and smiled at Harry, shaking his hand.

"You too. Busy day I'd imagine?"

Percy spared a look to her younger sisters, and rolled her eyes, "you can say that. Can't wait to get to Hogwarts and sort them out - I'll be finishing my last year there doing practical teaching work, as part of my course," she noted, with no small amount of pride.

Harry smiled back, "that's fantastic. I'm, erm… Quite nervous, myself."

"Oh, don't be," Molly assured him, rubbing his back, "you've got Ronnie looking out for you - and Percy will keep an eye, and a leash, I'd hope, on these two," she motioned to the twins, releasing her hand, letting them speak once more.

"-And that, I swear, ass-proff-Perky, will be the last time I ever sit in your classroom, good day!" Georgia huffed.

"Good day! And good evening to one Mister Potter," Freddie drawled, shaking his hand.

He shook it, and smiled, "I hope a leash won't be needed."

"Come now," Georgia scoffed, "we don't bite."

"Hard," Freddie corrected, earning another smack from their mum.

Soon noon came upon them, as did a spot of lunch at the Cauldron. The sounds of conversation and clinking cups soon filled the room as the sun began falling, initiating a slew of wizards and witches to return for more revelry. Harry saw Janine Quirrell, who Hagrid had introduced as a new professor at Hogwarts. She appeared to be stuck chatting with Tom again, stealing glances at Harry every now and then. He tore his gaze away from her, ignoring a building pain in his scar when he looked in her direction.

"S-say," he got Georgia's attention, clearing his throat as Molly was busy conversing with Ronnie, "can you do me a favour?"

"But of course wee-Harry, what is it?" she asked, batting her eyes at him.

He giggled, motioning to a coin he held under the table, "please sneak this to your mum. I feel bad that she's paying for a room for me."

Her smile faded quickly as she looked between herself, Freddie, and their mother, and she sighed. "When mum says "no" to charity, she means it, Harry-"

"-Please?" he begged them, the galleon almost slipping from his hand. Georgia sighed, quickly snatching it, stopping for a moment, then shifted it Freddie's way. Without further word, they simply nodded to each other, and Freddie levitated it under their table, towards Molly's front facing pockets.

With nought but a "clink", disguised by the nearby tapping of a keg to a cup, it landed, and a small part of Harry relaxed. Freddie and Georgia sent him a knowing look, and shook their heads in sync.

"You owe us, mate."

"I'm sure. Thanks, you two," he smiled.

They meandered a bit in London and in Diagon Alley late at night, before Molly wrangled them back in. As dinner came to pass, and the pub grew loud, the Weasleys began to excuse themselves, one by one. Molly and Percy were left at the table, joined by a few of their friends as Harry left them yawning, thanking the Weasley matriarch for her gracious patronage. He stumbled from the room he shared with Ronnie, knocking first, to his clothes, then to the bathroom to change, before returning, retrieving a sleeping bag from his belongings.

This is going to be awkward, he warned himself. The bag hit the ground with a wispy slip, and he sighed, collapsing into the ground with exhaustion. The days were taxing on him, and he didn't quite know why. Maybe it was his head, telling him to slow down with all these new experiences? Harry shivered his way from those thoughts as he looked up to Ronnie's bed, blinking.

She was oddly quiet, and from her snoring just a few seconds ago, he could tell she wasn't asleep any more. Her back was to him; and the rise and fall of her chest remained unsteady, nervous. Was she alright? Did she think he was going to crack onto her? Fair enough, he thought, this setup was by far the most odd he'd been in his entire life, so he couldn't fault the girl. Harry simply laid down, turning his back to her, shutting his eyes tight.

Then he heard the tell-tale creak of her bed, as she flipped herself. Surely it was that, for he felt a studious gaze pierce the back of his skull. What was she thinking? About how small he was? About how weird he was, that he'd been raised with non-magic folk his entire life? No, he shook his head again, she's probably just trying to sleep, you dolt.

She yawned, loudly, like a lion roaring. "N-Night, Harry."

He cleared his throat, shutting his eyes tighter. "N-Night, Ronnie."

He laid awake for far too long after that. All he could hear was Ronnie's breathing, all he could smell was that tinge of grass, and now, a bit of her deodorant? It was an interesting scent to say the least, and one Harry wouldn't have minded exploring further. Tearing himself from such thoughts, he rolled around on the floor, once, twice, and thrice, grunting with each turn, already feeling his muscles cry out in exhaustion.

As he dared to roll a fourth time, Ronnie flicked a light on, and stared at him, over her bed's edge, her sheets opened. Harry blushed, and didn't move an inch, waiting for an explanation.

"C-Come on. I'd rather have you here than have you making noise all night."

"I-"

"-I wasn't asking, Harry. H-Hop on in," she nudged the spare spot on the bed. Reluctantly, very slowly, as if he were a rabbit approaching a trap, he calmed his beating heart and slipped in, leaving his sleeping bag on the floor. Harry swallowed that quiet fear in his throat at the thought of Molly finding them together like this, and sighed, his back facing Ronnie.

Ah, that was much more comfortable than the floor. Probably less filthy, too.

"There," she spread the blankets over them, and flipped herself, so that their backs faced each other, "was that so hard?"

Harry laughed again, already feeling his dreams take a hold of him, her smell, her undeniable smell hitting his nostrils. "Th-thanks again, Ronnie…"

"Don't," she yawned again, "mention it, Harry…"

Morning came back, slowly. Harry swore he could hear a rooster crow, despite them being in the heart of London - but what shocked him that morning wasn't the potential existence of a barnyard critter in the heart of their urban jungle, no. It was the muscly arms tied neatly around his frame - and the head resting in the crook of his shoulder. It was Ronnie, spooning him - making contact in the most intimate of ways.

Fidgeting, shaking, scared out of his wits, Harry crawled his way out from her strong grasp, and stood, quickly trying to hide his morning stiffness. He fussed about before picking up his sleeping back, draping it in front of himself as Ronnie stirred awake, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. He didn't hear what she said to start, but felt his heart settle quickly, calming him again.

"You all good?" she asked, smacking her lips, ignorant to the lack of warmth once held in her arms, still half-asleep.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good - just about t-to hit the shower, erm…"

"Y'know," she mumbled into her pillow, no longer looking at him, "y'always hear "never meet your heroes", but I met mine, and he's a great guy! Like, like a-the little brother I always wanted…"

Harry blinked at her. She didn't wake up at all, did she? He shook his head, and shook her awake, an idea hatching in his mind.

"Hey," he whispered, hand on her shoulder, "want to join me in Diagon Alley? Looks like it's early, and the Hogwarts Express leaves at 11AM…"

Ronnie grumbled, and flipped herself on her back, blinking her eyes at Harry again. She sniffed, scrunching her nose, and smiled at him. "Alright," she said, "you're on."

They said a quick goodbye to Molly, who warned them to meet them back within a few hours before they headed off to King's Cross Station, and explored more of the Alley. Ronnie was quick to point out places - shops she'd never been into, but others she fancied, looked upon longingly.

Harry offered, as he did to her mother, to pay for anything vital, but was shot down. Ronnie didn't even want to acknowledge it, so he dropped the matter, and focused instead on finding out as much of the world he could from her.

"Did people learn magic the same, all around the world?" - or rather - "How far back will my education be? How stunted will my magical ability be?"

"What are some of the basics?" - or rather - "Is there anything you could teach me now, before I make a fool of myself?"

Surprisingly, he did learn a trick or two from Ronnie, a difficult charm that was used to protect a wizard from incoming offensive spells, called Protego, and another, that had the ability to turn rats yellow. She advised against practicing them in public, without a teacher or rat to test on, so they continued just wandering. The last question Harry asked, however, really stumped her.

"How has the world treated you?" - which, in hindsight, he realised was a loaded question. One that seemed to slightly change Ronnie's demeanour towards him, at least, for the remainder of the day.

Without buying a single item, with no further protest or offer from Harry, they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, and from there, travelled with the rest of the Weasleys all the way to King's Cross Station. Harry almost felt a switch flick inside of him - real world now, he thought, though, quickly amending it, what makes this any more real than what I've just seen?

Ruminations and realities aside, their arrival was met by yet another redhead - who was stuck in conversation with Hagrid. This one was younger than the rest, Harry could barely tell. She looked spunkier, light on her feet, cute, like Ronnie was, with hair going down to her back - but the second she saw him, she froze.

"H-Harry Potter?" the youngest of Mrs. Weasley's daughters blurted, a blush forming on her cheeks. Perhaps she'd come with them now to farewell her sisters for the year?

"Mornin' Weasleys! Mornin', Harry," Hagrid greeted.

"And to you too Hagrid - did you get plenty of sleep? I know Harry and Ronnie did - they were up with the birds this morning," She greeted him.

"Like a vulture, Ronnie was..." Frederica fake-stumbled, shivering.

"Look at what's left of our boy - thank Merlin, his behind's intact!" Georgia bellowed. Harry at least had the decency to blush, before checking out his own rear.

"Frederica, Georgia!" she smacked the giggling pair on the back of their heads, "One more quip like that and it's back home with you two! And Hagrid, keep an extra-close eye on them, please? Merlin knows what they'll get up to this year," she shouted at them, huffing and puffing.

"I'll do my best, Missus Weasley," he chuckled, shaking his head at the bickering pair.

"Mum, we're going to be late if we don't-" Percy uttered, her robes looking particularly cleaner today.

"Right, right - my apologies for the crassness of those two - shall we continue this-"

"Of course," Hagrid answered, disappearing from Harry's sight like water into earth. He blinked once or twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, and simply gawked, trying to pinpoint where he'd escaped.

"Into that pillar, Harry," she motioned, showing him as her eldest daughter charged straight into a crowd of people crossing in front of it. Harry could see her almost melt through them - through the veil of magic and into that shimmering, warbling portal.

"Wow," he breathed, as the twins sent themselves through, mounting their carts and ushering the youngest daughter to give them a mighty kick forward. They hollered, and disappeared the same as their older sister.

Ronnie gave Harry a look of worry before proceeding, shooting herself in.

"Now, straight through - should be simple enough. Just don't slow down," Molly guided, patting him on the back. With a smile, he nodded to her in thanks, and launched himself forwards, eyes closing as he neared the pillar's edge. With another blink, he found himself gawking again - peering deep into the red of the Hogwarts Express.

Wow, he thought. More of those magic people. Fully back where he belonged, and for longer. With the "Freaks". There was a mighty hustle and bustle of new students pouring into the train as Hagrid watched his step, hailing the young lad. He clapped a hand to Harry's shoulder, and smiled at him, wincing as Harry fought the urge to jerk his body backwards.

"I've eh, got to be on the other side of this thing when you all arrive," he informed him, crouching down to meet the young man's eye, "will you be okay?"

Harry's heart swelled as Hagrid beamed at him, and he could only nod, edging his own hand atop the giant's.

"I-I will. Thank you, Hagrid - for everything."

"Yer' welcome," he murmured, now blushing, "catch me at the castle grounds if you ever want to chat now, I'm always happy to have some visitors!"

He jogged away after that, fixing himself into a chute built into one of the nearby pillars, and was lit with a green flame - disappearing again from Harry's sight. His mouth dropped, and he shook his head, wondering what had just happened. He lept in fear as someone approached him from behind.

"Floo powder, that is," he recognised the voice as one of the Weasley twins.

"Instant transport to any location connected to the Floo network," the other added.

"Though be warned - a wizard or witch may only use the Floo at a terrible price…"

"...The price of one's soul…"

Harry backed away from them both, eyes wide in disbelief. They both flinched as their younger sister came up behind them, smacking them both on the back of the head.

"Knock it off, you two! Don't believe a word they say, Harry - it's all lies and rubbish. Unless it's actual rubbish they're flinging at you," she warned him.

"We do not fling rubbish, thank you very much - we launch it, rocket it, ickle Ronniekins! Though you prefer to be called Ronald, isn't that right Freddie?"

"Right you are Georgie. Such a strong, manly name - plenty of hair on it's chest!"

"Ignore these two comedians Harry," Ronnie motioned to them, "one always tells the truth, the other always lies - problem is that they switch who does what every day."

"R-right, o-of course," He giggled. Ronnie put her arm around his shoulder, and fended off her sisters with one hand, ignoring Harry's sudden jolt.

"Honestly, just... Stick with me, and you'll be fine."

"Oo, does wee Ronniekins have a crush?" Georgia hollered, narrowly dodging a pebble that Ronnie lobbed her way. Harry could only giggle, holding back a terrible flush to his cheeks. Before he could speak, he heard their older sister yell to the students to scramble aboard.

Harry went to load his luggage onto the train, and struggled valiantly before Ronnie came to his aid, doing away with the work quickly. He thanked her, now feeling a bit emasculated, and boarded the train. She was quick behind him, and in their compartment, sat opposite. The redhead peered out the window, waving bye to her mum, who was doing her best to hold back a few tears.

Harry felt a lurch - one both physical, and magical, dare he say, as the train roared to life. It chugged, hissed, and bellowed as it announced it's departure, and soon the station faded from view. He released a breath - one stuck in his throat, and shivered with excitement. This was it.

There was a brief moment of silence, Harry staring out the window, transfixed on the verdant green countryside, where they just sat. For a few minutes in fact, before Harry cleared his throat, finding himself being a bit rude.

"S-sorry, it's just, I'm… A bit distracted, with everything going on," he chuckled. He sat back in his seat, inhaling the fresh leather of the seats, the no-doubt magically-cleaned carpets, and the cheap deodorant of his companion. A blush tinged his cheeks as the scent hit him - was there a bit of mint there as well?

"It's no worries, honestly," she replied, "it's uh… My first time, being away from home for this long, so… Sorry if I'm a bit teary myself."

He smiled, nodding, even just listening to the sound of the track rolling, the creak and whistle of each ancient part of that train, held together by that lovely magic. He could hear laughter, bickering, even a bit of a sparking and popping in the adjoining compartments.

"Honestly," Harry began, rubbing the back of his head, "I'm… I'm very excited. Scared, too. Do… Erm… Do you think you'll be, y'know, set for magic this year?"

She nodded, not quite meeting his gaze.

"You learn a lot with six sisters. Dad works in the Ministry too, but he never really has a need to use much. Or so he says," she chuckled.

Harry nodded back, ignoring the growling of his stomach. A sweetly scent wafted down the passageway of the train, and instantly he felt himself salivate. He shook his head of the smell, and sighed. Ronnie couldn't help but smile at him.

"I don't want to harass you, but... How was living with muggles? I'm deathly curious."

"Hell," Harry replied instantly, "well, erm, living with my aunt and uncle was, anyway. They hated... Magic."

Ronnie wanted to withdraw that question so very much, and cringed to herself as she saw the lad's reaction to it.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine. Most muggles are fine, just my only living relatives were, uh," he mumbled, "bastards."

That much elicited a laugh from her, and their tension ceased for a little while, as they stared out into the countryside once more.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Harry murmured, almost not wanting to voice the question aloud.

"Mm," Ronnie intoned, not having anything further to add. She took a moment to appraise the small teen. He was scrawny, almost sickly thin, and short, especially for his age. Despite that, she couldn't help but find it endearing - the way he viewed their world with fresh eyes, clearly still entranced with every little detail of it all.

"So, how was your first trip through Diagon Alley? I figure the way you were looking at it the second time, you were in love."

"Bloody brilliant," another instant reply, this time bringing a golden smile to his face, "though I ran into a judgy witch who made fun of Hagrid," he recounted, scrunching his nose.

Ronnie couldn't help but chuckle.

"Wouldn't have been a Malfoy, would it?"

Harry snorted. "How did you know?"

"The Malfoys are all a bit judgy, put plainly. They hate muggles. Anyone who isn't a pureblood, really. That Dracaina is such an ass."

Harry nodded, "that she does". He blushed as he realised what he'd said.

Before Ronnie could question him, their eyes snapped to the compartment's door as it rolled open, another student quickly sitting herself down as she wrangled her fat pet toad. She sighed, and quickly mumbled an apology to both of them. Another cute one, Harry thought, who carried herself shyly, hunching her back and hiding her face. He shook his head, down Harry, down. Were all witches this cute?

"S-sorry, every other compartment was full. I-I'm Neve, Neve Longbottom," she introduced herself, holding a moistened hand out to Harry. He shook it without question as Ronnie giggled at her, quickly sobering.

"Harry Potter."

"Ronnie Weasley, a pleasure," she greeted.

"Me t-, wait- The Harry Potter?" Neve asked, shrinking into herself. Harry would swear she wanted to be anywhere else if it weren't for the way her eyes widened.

He nodded. Neve stuttered for a bit, before catching herself, and shying away from the two further. She seemed to sink in her chair.

"Longbottom, eh? I think my mum and your nan have met a couple of times before. We were just talking about pureblood families and whatnot," Ronnie said with a sneer, "but enough of that - got a house you're looking to be sorted into, Neve?"

"P-Purebloods, huh? Honestly, ask m-my family if I'm a pureblood and they'll tell you d-different, and… Erm, I'm not sure, really, I'm just hoping it's not Slytherin," she answered, easing herself.

"Didn't mean anything by it, Harry here ran into Dracaina Malfoy, if you know her. Says she was a bit of a slag," Ronnie joked.

The others erupted into titters.

"Not a slag," Harry clarified, "just discriminatory."

"I-I know her, just s-saw her down the h-hall, in fact... She may not have the f-face of a hag, but she's certainly got the m-mind of one," Neve mumbled, feeling proud of herself as Ronnie & Harry giggled.

"That is a bit rude, t-truth be t-told. Your preferred house, Ronnie?" Neve rescinded her comment, blushing. She saw a little mirth disappear from Ronnie's face as the question came to mind, and she leaned back in her seat with a sigh.

"I'm hoping not Gryffindor, just so I can get some bloody time away from my sisters," she whined, "but it's a certainty by now. Whole family's been in Gryffindor."

"Ah," Neve swallowed, nodding, "a-and you, Harry?"

Before he could answer, the door opened again - by an older woman pushing a cart full of sweets and treats.

"Anything from the cart, dears?" She asked.

Neve's toad croaked in response, masking the uproarious growl from Harry and Ronnie's stomachs. Tarts, pies, creamed lollies and lollied creams, stacked high onto the creaky cart's trays. The baked goods alone were enough to make a strong man break.

Ronnie averted her gaze, motioning to a beef sandwich in hand, "I'm fine, thanks."

"I-I'm good. I lost some coins on the way to the station," Neve grumbled.

The young lad shared a quick look between himself and the others, and pulled out some sickles.

"I could go for about one of everything there, cheers," Harry said.

As soon as their haul was offloaded to a seat - the one next to Ronnie, he advised the others to dig in, and take what they wanted. Ronnie sent him a confused look, and he said nothing, refusing to mention payback. With fervour, Ronnie dug in, cracking open a chocolate frog and biting its head off, sighing in sweet relief.

"O-Oh Harry, I couldn't-" Neve protested.

"I insist."

"I can p-pay you back if-"

"No need. How are Bertie Botts?" Harry questioned, defusing any further tension, eyeing the small jellybean box in awe. Ronnie tried to speak, excused herself, and swallowed her gobful of chocolate, clearing her throat.

"Mixed," she mumbled, tearing the plastic off a cake next, "I got a grass flavoured one once."

Harry's eyes widened as he opened the box, smelling the sweets with giddy glee, disappointed that they revealed no further information to him. He gingerly bit into a green one, holding back a moan as it's sweet mint exploded in his mouth. He saw Neve gingerly nibbling on a treacle tart, and her toad, catching any scraps that fell.

"Bloody hell," Ronnie groaned, as she finished her cake, holding a burp back, "fanks, Harry," she mumbled.

"Y-yeah, thank you!" Neve echoed.

As Harry went to open his mouth, there entered a haughty witch - carrying herself in a similar manner to Dracaina. Harry squinted, rubbing his glasses a bit, before noticing the girl's bushy brown hair, and a wooden box in her hands. He corrected himself - she was high strung, yes, but smiled to the cabin with a genuine warmth and humour.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

"You could say that. You are?" Ronnie asked, brushing off any crumbs from herself, clearing her throat again.

"Hermione Granger, head of the Coalition for the Liberation of Indentured Magic Folk, or C.L.I.M.F, for short. I'm going around collecting funds to help free those trapped by abusive witching families, or to create for others a community in which they may feel accepted," she introduced herself, tapping on her wooden box of funds. With a slight shifting, Harry could tell how little she'd made going through the train, and couldn't help but feel pity.

"Erm… Who in p-particular are you referring to when you say magic folk?" Neve asked.

"Centaurs, Merpeople, the Veela, in certain cases, but the bulk so far has been House Elves, who are-" Hermione explained, before Ronnie piped up.

"Servants, and who indenture themselves as such," she put it flatly. With Hermione's mood souring, Harry could tell that she'd received the argument before, but kept up a veneer of a cheery salesman.

"They can speak, converse, and think for themselves. While yes, the majority of them would prefer to work for witch and wizard-kind, almost no House Elves have the freedom of that choice. It's not their choice to do so, it remains an illusion of such."

Ronnie's jaw began to slowly descend as she struggled to think of a rebuttal, a blush slowly forming on her cheeks. Harry simply held back a laugh, and quickly caught the weariness on the witches face.

"H-hasn't been too successful I take it?" Neve asked. Hermione simply shook her head rattling her box around.

"You're the first group that hasn't tried to hex me out of their compartment, to be quite honest," she sighed, shifting the lolly load off the seat next to Ronnie, plopping herself down.

"Look, I meant nothing by it, it's just that it's hard to just tell an entire society to quit using their homestead workforces. That's like-" Ronnie said.

"-I get it. But there's no limit on the amount of labour that can be delegated to charmed objects - simply make your sink wash your dishes, tell your linens to dry themselves - transfigure that patch in your cloak with another piece of cloth! It's just-"

"Maddening. I understand. Some old bitches and bastards are still stuck in their ways though, and families will react… Well, violently, if they're pressured to change how they've lived for centuries," Ronnie mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

There was a pregnant pause of silence before a jingle came from Harry's pockets.

"What's your donation average?" he asked.

"O-oh, um… Even a pound would be greatly appreciated," she replied.

"Don't you mean a sickle, or galleon?" clarified Ronnie.

All Hermione did was sigh, falling back in her seat, bringing a hand to nurse a throbbing pain in her head. "Yes," she grumbled, "that's what I meant."

Without further word, Harry dropped in two galleons.

"With all this charity Harry, you may just end up owning a few of us by the end of year," Ronnie sniggered, a dark blush suddenly rushing to her cheeks.

"That can happen?" Hermione's head snapped back up in shock.

"Though, who'd c-complain, right?" Neve added. Hermione stared at her, aghast.

Harry's throat locked up as he darted his eyes round the room, blushing and stuttering furiously, daring not to meet anyone else's gaze. A silence fell over the four of them, and for a few minutes, they stared out into the passing countryside again.

"Let's pretend I didn't say what I said. Scotland's beautiful, isn't it?" Ronnie distracted herself, snatching a Bertie Botts bean from Harry, chewing past the awful flavour with no comment.

"Aye," Harry mumbled, taking deep breaths, "it is."

They arrived under cover of night, and, under said cover, travelled to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. Lit by a speckling moonlight, surrounded by a moat of dark waters, sat the castle of Hogwarts. It was breathtaking, Harry gaping in sight of its brilliance, it's stone towers almost defiant compared to the surrounding greens and forests.

He heard a belly-laugh erupt from the end of the station, at a dock, and reigned himself in, clearing his throat. Naturally, of course, that deep, boisterous sound came from none other than Hagrid, who was practically beaming at Harry. Barking, he ushered the first-years onto boats, occupying one himself, next to Harry's.

It was by Hagrid's beckoning they left Hogsmeade, the fleet of teens sailing in a beautiful silence. Silence. Harry shivered at the cool air whipping past him, and sighed, eyes glued to the school. He let his hand dip in the waters of the Black Lake, and felt his throat lock up. Truly, it was magical. Arcane in its glory, and welcoming, the fires inside the castle lighting it's windows with a blazing orange glow. He went to speak, went to pinch himself, to wake up, but ended up crying instead.

Forgetting the other passengers in his boat, he quickly wiped away his tears, apologising to Ronnie in particular. "S-sorry, it's just-"

"Wondrous," Hermione said, as flabbergasted as Harry was at the majesty of the place.

"Grand," Neve murmured, blinking her eyes a few times, feeling a knot twist in her core.

"Pretty," Ronnie chuckled, unable to hold back a smile.

"Doesn't matter the age," Hagrid grinned, elbowing Harry all the way from his boat, "kids'll be kids."

Past a tunnel, up on the green, and into the castle's grounds proper, they disembarked, and waited in the pale moonlight. Harry could feel it now - that energy he first witnessed in Diagon Alley - that magic, crackling at his fingertips. The air was electric. The massive wooden doors creaked open, locks unlocking and seals unsealing in a clicking, ticking way - and a swathe of heat spewed forth, welcoming all new students in.

They shuffled, stalked like shambling zombies, enraptured by the billowing winds and smiling staff. Harry was lost in that sea of wonder, swallowing hard each time he darted his gaze around. So many pretty faces, he thought. So many people. It made him a tad uncomfortable - thinking on what they were thinking, wondering what they were wondering, but his worries were cut short. They, the beautiful people, smiled to him, ignored him, and went about their own introspections.

Well, all, save the gorgeous Dracaina Malfoy. It was as if a sneer was permanently imprinted on her face - as if she'd been making that face beforehand, and the winds of the lake changed. Harry was almost offended before he realised it wasn't directed at him - but upon seeing it's target, he grew actually offended. Dracaina had her eyes dug deeply into Ronnie - who was simply walking, like the rest were.

Finally noticing the gaze, Ronnie scoffed at her. "Smell a fart, Malfoy?"

The crowd erupted into titters, as Dracaina's expression fell. "W-what!? No, I-, oh, fuck off, Weasley!"

"Bah - 'ey, language!" Hagrid roared over the crowd, instantly back to smiles as he noticed the approach of another professor, clad in black, wearing a witch's hat. Dracaina shot one last glare and turned back to face the castle.

"Nah, I forgot. She always looks like that," Muttered Ronnie, leaning in conspiratorially.

Harry chuckled, but privately filed the exchange away for later. He'd been expecting a little tension between Ronnie and Dracaina after their comments earlier, but, well, he'd hoped his first two friends in the wizarding world would meet on slightly better terms. Harry opened his mouth, paused and closed it again, shaking away Ronnie's curious look. He wanted to fix this. But, really, he didn't know how. He just didn't have the experience with women, and he was nervous enough as it was.

Talking to Ronnie was fine, but he didn't think he had it in him to talk to two women at once.

Soon enough, his worry returned.

Harry had never been more terrified in his life.

He shuffled closer to Ronnie for protection, well aware she was part of the problem, bless her. Girls! Girls everywhere! He was adrift in a sea of beauty, as far as the eye could see in all directions. It wasn't fair! He'd had nightmares like this (and some dreams, admittedly). Harry had thought that, maybe he'd just had a run of good luck to meet so many pretty faces in a row, or that maybe Diagon Alley had been one of those "all women's towns" his uncle had complained about once, but as he looked around the witches and occasional wizard of hogwarts students, he was beginning to realize just how mistaken he'd been.

It was a cruel thing for a young man to have all his wishes granted at once out of nowhere. He was not prepared for this at all. He needed time to soak in, seeing the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Time he didn't have if it happened whenever he turned his head. A short distance away, he noticed a beet-red Hermione bobbing along like a buoy, clearly used to the muggle gender ratios herself, and wondered if he should call her over.

No, bad idea. That'd just draw attention to themselves. Stay close, look around for more men, try to keep your head down. Hermione had the right idea….

Daring that dangerous sea with only Ronnie at his side - like a mermaid helping a fisherman on a boat - he braved it's perils, it's depths, and, to his surprise, had completely ignored the lovely old lady with the witch's hat. When he came to - when the hall came in sight, his jaw dropped.

It boggled him. So much food. So much jollity. So many students to pour through, such little time that made him realise just how hungry he was. His very stomach gnawed at itself, growling and grumbling as Hedwig flew away once more, to god knows where. Harry was flabbergasted, mouth agape again at the spectacle that the Start of Term Feast brought with it - floating candles, a starry night's sky twinkling above them - rich, colourful banners of every house. It was like reality had given up trying to top itself and decided the sky was, quite literally, the limit. What else was he going to see here?

Oh. Little floating fellows. Hovering ghosts.

He was floored - unable to vocalise a word, from Ronnie. He was eyeing a piece of chicken as he heard his name be called out, mind far away as the other students were processed. A talking hat? Sure, why not?

He tripped, catching himself quickly, and darted his gaze around the room as the hat was placed upon his head, ignoring the giggling from the crowd. An eerie calm washed over him as the hat began to speak - whisper, barely audible, even to him.

"And, oh… Oh my," it croaked, the creases of its ancient cloth crafting into a crooked set of lips.

Harry sighed, hands in his lap, brain firing with a joke, with a quip, with so many questions.

"...L-let me guess. You're going to tell me there was a mistake. Something like that. That this is a dream, and when I wake up, it'll be in a dump in Surrey," he joked, the very movement of his future classmates ceasing entirely.

"If you want. By Merlin, with a neurosis like that, you'd be a great fit for Ravenclaw. But your mind, so quick, so analytical - Slytherin would suit. Mayhaps a tenure in Hufflepuff would calm you? Mellow you out, into a fine young mediator for the Ministry…"

The hat paused, as if waiting for Harry's input.

"Nothing for Gryffindor?" he squeaked, the verisimilitude of the world now finally starting to sink in - every face, every person staring, all of this, all this magic, real.

"Nothing I can put my finger on, no. Then again, a lack of fingers will do that to you," the hat cracked back, a smile appearing on Harry's face as he laughed, heart slowing as he breathed in, and out.

"You're intent, focused on it. Does the colour draw you in?"

"No. Partially. M-maybe. I…"

Another pause between them, the flames now stopping their gentle licks.

"You what? We haven't got all day."

"I-I'll save the therapy session then... I want a chance to reinvent myself. I-I want to submerge myself in this place and never look back at my old life. As sad as it sounds…" Harry mumbled, throat shaking as tears pricked gently at his eyes - as the world seemed to fade away from him.

"Hmm… No… No that's not it. What do you want, boy? Fame? Secrets? Power, no... You're terrified of them… Think boy, why are you here? What do you want?"

He'd swear he could feel the words, reaching down into his brain like roots. As if he were compelled, by spell or by speech, Harry answered, "I… Want to make friends."

"There it is… Better be… GRYFFINDOR!"

A swathe of reactions cut through the crowd - all silenced, all dwarfed by the roar of the house of Gryffindor. Harry would've been locked in fear if it weren't for their cheer - their smiles and whistles, telling him he belonged. Well, he thought, that's a start. His reaction, his happiness was dulled ever so slightly as he caught Dracaina's pale face in the crowd - scandalised. As their gazes met, she snapped forward, cold.

A shyness returned as he quickly made his way to the table, knowing exactly where to sit.

"Just knew it'd make the right choice," Ronnie smirked, welcoming him onto the table.

"Harry, howdy," Frederica and Georgia nodded, leaning in to greet him and squeezing their sister in against him.

"Saw you didn't look too happy up there in the sorting chair for a moment, Harry," Georgia noted, as dryly as she could've.

"Still got a thing for blondes, eh?" Freddie asked him, gurning like a gargoyle.

Harry nearly choked on his spit at the comment, and fought a deep red blush. Was it that obvious?He raised his hands in defence, and Georgia queued to Freddie to let it go. Ronnie also looked a bit embarrassed - but said nothing, hand over her hungry stomach.

"Not to worry. A week with Gryffindor and you'll be right as rain. Plenty of good folk here," Frederica assured him, eyes glued to the new teenagers pouring in, a few more additions to their house having joined the table.

"Aye - if ever you find you need a hand, a rundown of what's magical, then come seek a redhead," Georgia spoke, rustling her locks, winking at Harry.

"Shut your cakeholes - professor's coming!" Ronnie whispered, shaking her head at the two of them. They responded in kind by poking their tongues out at her, before yowling as they were raised in the air a bit - ears pinched by an unseen force.

Behind them strode a woman, said professor, draped in what appeared to be a very dark curtain. With slickened, oily hair, she sneered at their gathered group, her wand the cause of the twin's misery. They were sat down only after she stood in between them both, hands on their heads. With utter discontempt, her pale face barely moved an inch as she glared at Harry.

"Weasleys. You were given the utmost respect upon your first days at Hogwarts, it's only fair that it should be paid forward, so far as you are capable of such a thing. You may resume your buffoonery only after the Sorting ceremony, when the school year formally starts. Upon which time, you'll have a loss of 5 points to Gryffindor, each," She intoned, finally releasing them from her spell, returning to the professor's desk.

"Nice going Freddie," came a spitting remark from down the table.

"Good one Georgie," came another, from the other end.

"Who-" Harry asked, not noticing that his heart had been racing. Ronnie shot him a glance, and they snapped their eyes back to the front, as the last students were filtered through.

"Professor Snape. If you thought Malfoy was uptight, then just wait until you're one on one with Snape. She's a bit of a slag."

"I swear the old bat's singled us Gryffindors out," Georgia lamented.

"Couldn't be because you were being a loudmouth, Weasley," another professor walked up behind them - clapping their heads together. They went to yell, only to smirk upon recognising her stunning face.

"Olivia Wood, Mister Potter. Hopefully I'll see you on the Quidditch pitch this year," she winked at him, towering over the pair.

Harry failed to hold back a titter, as the twins recoiled, nursing their aching heads. He stood straight and serious as Snape snapped a look back to him, but quickly returned to her table. As the last student was assigned to their house, Justine, he heard, the headmaster rose from his seat - Dumbledore. Ronnie went on about him, his work, and the myths that surrounded him.

He seemed straight out of the tales - of olden books and stories, of knights and honour and magic, like Merlin. It was so odd. He smiled to the gathered students, announced their feast, and wished them all a happy year.

The murmurs, coughs and tiny bits of chatter roared into a frenzy as students dug in to the feast presented, consuming in droves. Harry took notice in abject horror as Ronnie tore into the food, chucking a whole turkey leg onto her plate amidst some mash and peas. More confusion swept over him as he gingerly picked at a few pieces of carved ham, noticing that there was too much, an excess of food.

So, he grabbed his fair share. Maybe a little more than that. And dug in.

As the cream of the mash, the juice of the meat, and the umami of the gravy all hit his tongue, he actively had to hold back tears. He hadn't eaten like this. Period. He swallowed after a good long while of chewing to save face, making sure not to be seen weeping over the potatoes - and tried his best to keep up the conversation with Ronnie and the twins. He soon came to the realisation that he hadn't many experiences to discuss, to talk about; and that made him sad. Here they were, having lived magical lives from birth - seeking adventure, schooling, and encountering eldritch things along the way, and what could Harry respond with?

"I… Erm… Spent most of my time in a cupboard under the stairs," he'd intone, a sadness to his glance. He only said it once, and regretted it, squirming under the Weasley's pitiful looks.

"I suppose that's why you're so small the-" Georgia began, only to have her foot stomped down by Freddie, who motioned to the stressed lad.

"No worries Harry - magic stuff can get boring eventually, but I'm sure you'll have some fun here at Hogwarts," Freddie assured him, winking.

That perked him up. Even the boring magical stuff would be fun to sift through. He chuckled, and resumed consuming. The very thought of it all sought to overstimulate him - there was already so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to pour over, to actually study for once in his life. Harry remarked to himself, wondering if he'd remember the place in 20 years, or in 40, as he got older.

Even if not Hogwarts itself, he was certain he'd remember that community. That unity he'd never felt before in his entire life. That sense of belonging.

After they had eaten - after the jollity died down and the conversations wrapped up - all heads stared forward at the headmaster, who once again approached his podium.

"Fluttering faces, fluttering hearts. Love and lore to be discovered here at Hogwarts, and as it's headmaster, I am filled with joy, seeing your freshly-fed faces. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you," he spoke, capturing Harry's attention instantly.

"The forest to the borders of the castle grounds is strictly forbidden. Anyone caught wandering near it, without the supervision of a professor, will face suspension. Hide your faces from the trees."

Harry's stomach lurched, for reasons he couldn't explain. The students murmured among themselves upon hearing those words, but quickly fell silent as McGonagall stepped up to murmur something in the headmaster's ear.

"Hmm… Oh, no magic should be used between classes in the corridors - supervised groups and tutors are fine, however."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch and assistant professor Wood."

"And finally, I must tell you that this castle holds many secrets in it's old halls. Far too many, more than we can keep track of. I implore you not to look - not to search, and not to turn your shoulder if you hear a whisper. Memorize the way you walk to your classes, you will be guided the first few times, but after that you will be trusted to find the way yourself. Should you find something, tell a professor, and if necessary, forget. Not all things are meant to be found."

Dumbledore finished with a smile, clear and true. Well, damn it all, Harry thought. Now all he wanted to do was explore the castle. To retread the steps of wizards, ancient and powerful. To see what they saw - and to talk to ghosts, the portraits...

His mind continued to be occupied with these desires as the feast wrapped up, and the students were shipped to bed - guided by house heads, prefects, and assistants.

"Want to do some exploring tomorrow?" Harry asked Ronnie, jokingly, as they followed her sister Percy to the Gryffindor common rooms - spiralling up the constantly shifting stone staircases.

To his surprise, Ronnie replied instantly, "I know Dumbledore said not to, but that's all I can think of now. That's a plan and a half, Harry."

They laughed, and got a scornful look from Hermione, who was lagging behind them. "You're not seriously thinking of wandering the castle after hours, are you?"

"No, well, not tonight," Ronnie burped, "not on a full stomach."

"Y-you two can count me out," Neve whispered, shivering in fear, wondering if they were going to invite her at all, "I can't imagine plundering this place in the dark, alone…"

"We wouldn't be alone," Harry reasoned, "we'd be together. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Haven't you read the Daily Prophet's old reports, Harry?" Hermione asked him, keeping in time as they neared the portrait which garnered entrance into the Gryffindor common rooms.

"No," he sighed, "enlighten me, please."

"Students have died here." They all stopped, bumping into a few other Gryffindors as Percy convened with the lady in the painting.

"Oh come on," Ronnie scoffed, "you actually read that rubbish? You know it's all slander and celebrity gossip, right?"

"M-more slander than gossip, truth be told," Neve added.

"Be that as it may, I cross-check said reports, thank you very much," she scoffed back at Ronnie, "two students went missing in 1992, and the school was forced to shut down in a search attempt. They were never found, and they're still listed as missing."

Harry's heart clenched, yet still, the strongest grip on said organ still told him to search. Find things. Explore. "Alright, you've got a good point Hermione. We'll only explore during the day, and never alone," he reasoned with her, nodding.

"That's not-"

"Alright, listen up Gryffindors! This term's password is Lapis Venandi - remember it well, and follow me in, please," Percy bellowed, ushering them in, one by one.

He was greeted with another lovely room - less magical, but more cosy. Home. A glorious fire burned in the common room's fireplace, and dotted around were desks, lounges, and a noticeboard.

"Girls, dormitory to our left - beds have been marked with your names. Your luggage should be sat at the foot of your bed - if you have any questions, please ask. I'll be down in the common room for the next 15 minutes."

Harry saw them leave - and breathed a sigh of relief, before heading to the right of the room's split. He then stopped as he was met with a stone brick wall - erected squarely and seamlessly. Ah, of course, another predicament. Why wouldn't there be?

"P-Percy, uh-, sorry, assistant professor…" He trailed. Harry cleared his throat and quickly apologised, not finding the boy's dormitory. At all.

"I'm afraid we're…"

Harry traced a hand over the stonework, and found it solid - no illusory walls to be found. In fact, it seemed to emanate an emptiness, as if there existed nothing, not even the foundations of the room behind the wall.

"...Short a whole dormitory… Well, uh… What about the other boys?" Harry joked - surely there had to be other lads in Gryffindor! Percy could only cringe.

Harry's heart sank at that look she gave him.

"I'll be right back, I just have to find Professor McGonagall. Won't be a moment," she uttered, beaming with pride as she fixed up her badge, darting a final glance back to Harry as the portrait wall opened for her.

He waited, for a long while, as said professor - the woman in the witch's hat earlier, arrived. She gave Harry a stone-cold look, before her gaze softened a tad. Percy was quick to follow, smirking.

"Mister Potter. A small discrepancy in the castle's layout - I shall fix this. A moment, if you will," she ushered him away from the wall, tapping her wand against it thrice.

"Quaerite Locus."

She kept her eyes shut and hummed lowly as the wand traced the bricks, sighing after a good long while of searching. Nothing, Harry surmised. She felt the same that he felt - a complete absence in that wall and beyond, as if the room had been destroyed.

"This castle gets on my nerves, at times. Potter, you have my apologies, but I'm afraid we're going to have to slate you elsewhere, and-"

Harry shook his head, "no, no, that's fine, I'll just set up a bloody blanket on the lounge. If the castle won't find room for me, I'll make some."

"Potter I must insist on finding you a suitable bed to sleep on-"

"-Tomorrow, then, professor. I'm tired. I don't care where I sleep - and by the fire seems nice."

She glared at him, before turning to Percy, motioning her to leave the room once more.

"...Very well, Potter. Just for tonight only."

"Tonight only," he repeated, "sleep well, professors."

They left him in near silence - the crackling of the fire his only companion. Even now he could hear the bickering of the ladies upstairs, Ronnie's laugh and Neve's giggling. He found a simple comforter, folded neatly in a cupboard, and kicked off his shoes - hanging his robe on the back of a chair.

As he collapsed on that lounge - barely big enough to let him lie down, he sighed with relief, happy to know he was free from prying sight. The ambient light of the common room dimmed with the closing of his eyes, and Harry fell quickly to slumber - heart full of excitement, his soul yearning for the adventure this place held for him. In his head, his sleeping thoughts, he tossed. And turned, and cringed as he slumbered, remembering Dumbledore's words - echoing about in his mind.

Hide your faces from the trees. Not all things are meant to be found. If necessary, forget. If you hear a whisper, do not turn around.

Hide your faces from the trees.