That Tuesday, Harry went to the library after school, like he always did. This time, instead of sitting in the main area where he did his homework and read books, he went to the tutoring section, and looked for the purple eyed sorcerer Eamon. He quickly noticed the man, and walked over to his table.

He looked around to make sure they weren't being watched, and turned back to see Eamon's face turned up in amusement.

"Magic works many wonders. It's easy enough to put up a paling that distracts the mind of those who cannot use magic," he explained to the wide eyed boy. "Don't worry, no mund will notice us, and I'll see any mages well before they see us."

"I understand. And mund? That's a person without magic, right?"

Eamon smiled. "You're quick! Yes, it's short for mundane, which means normal, regular, boring. It's still a less offensive term than the one that's popular among European mages, muggle, which essentially is a ruder way to say fool." He frowned. "Many European mages actually believe munds aren't people, merely oddly smart apes."

Harry scowled. "That's awful!"

Eamon nodded in agreement. "So, Harry, I've never had an apprentice of your age before, so I'll have to start you at the very beginning. The fundamentals. When you get more formalized classes, you may be told other things, but don't judge them harshly. Some of these are secrets taught to me by my own master and confirmed through my own experiments, some others were lost to history until I dug them up. When you're ready, I'll have you begin your own experiments to prove what I'm saying for yourself."

Harry grinned. "Fantastic!"

Eamon grinned right back. "First though, I want to know. What are the craziest things you can think of that you think magic can do?"

Harry's grin widened. "Dragons?"

"Oh, yes. You'll see one, some day. They're always scarier in person."

"Raising the dead?"

"Be more specific."

"Like that bible story? Lassie?" Harry said, scrunching his face up, trying to remember the name.

"Lazarus?" At a nod from Harry, Eamon continued. "No. Once the soul travels to the next life, they're not able to come back. Not like that, anyways. Zombies and ghosts exist, however."

"Can you make a fireball?"

Eamon waved his left hand and a small blue flame appeared in the air. A click of his fingers, and the flame disappeared. Harry caught himself clapping in joy, and pulled his hands apart, embarrassed. Eamon noticed, and said gently, "It's alright to be excited. You're a young boy, learning about magic for the first time. Can you think of anything else?" Harry paused, and then shook his head.

Eamon smiled. "Very well. Do you know the fundamental forces of physics yet?"

Harry paused, thrown by the sudden shift. "Uh, no? Gravity?"

Eamon paused. "Oh, that's probably above your level. Well, there are forces in the world that can't be described by anything else, like gravity. Magic is one of them. Like any other force, there are rules and limits." Harry nodded, and Eamon continued.

"Unlike those other forces, magic can be manipulated by will alone. Not everything can use magic, obviously. There are three components something must have to be magical - a place to store magic, a way to absorb it, and a way to release it.

"For mages, that's a magical core, and magical channels. The larger your core, the more you can hold. The more and larger your 'in' channels are, the more quickly you recharge your magic. The more and larger your 'out' channels are, the more magic you can let out at once. Most mages have two large 'outs', in the hands or arms, though they can have more small ones. Each 'out' channel can hold a different spell if you can concentrate on them properly, and will get larger with practice.

"Most mages have a lot of 'in' channels, typically very small. It usually takes eight hours for the average mage to completely fill their core. With certain practices, your 'in' channels can grow, and you get more as you physically grow."

Harry was wide eyed, and sat silently while Eamon explained. Eamon fell silent, and for a minute, the two stared at each other, before Eamon gently prodded, "Repeat me in your own words so I know you understand."

Harry nodded, and focused again. "Three parts to be magic, the core, the in channels and the out channels. A couple large outs, and a lot of small ins, and both can be increased with practice." He looked to Eamon, who smiled proudly. "I have a question. What about a wand like you have?"

"Great question! They are far from necessary for casting magic. They are tools that make magic casting easier, but they don't fill the role of any of the three components. It's like... how the barrel of a gun shapes the explosion to send the bullet where you want it to go, or a spout on the teapot that makes pouring easier. When you see the magical world at large, you'll get and be expected to use a wand, but it's a crutch. When you work with me on a spell, you will only use a wand until you successfully cast the spell for the first time, then you will work on it without the wand. I'll also expect you to learn them silently, but your magic is too undeveloped for that right now." Eamon lectured, and Harry nodded along, frowning at being told that he'd be made to work harder, but accepting it. "And, I won't make you, but you should take notes when you're learning from me, unless you think you can memorize without them," Eamon added.

A couple years passed this way, with Harry meeting Eamon twice a week, doing his school studies, and reading when he had time. He had grown to the point where he could cast several small spells quite easily, with just a whisper and a flick of the wrist. It was the night before his eleventh birthday, and Eamon had warned him that something was to happen, though he hadn't gone into specifics, merely excused the boy from his studies for the day, a first from the strict man.

Harry wasn't going to skip his work for the day anyways. He enjoyed receiving praise from his mentor, and he worked hard to make the man proud.

He sighed, and gave up on falling asleep. He clicked his fingers and cast a dim light charm in his room - his ROOM, and not the cupboard! He had cast a small mind manipulation on his relatives to make them give him a room last year, the most revenge his mentor would allow Harry to take - and pulled out an introductory physics textbook for high school students.

Eamon had ordered him to study and understand as much of this as he could before he went back to school this year, since he wouldn't have time during the school year. "A solid understanding of physics, even the mundane side, will only help you when you aim to master magic," he had said.

He even wanted Harry to come up with a theory on how the light charm worked, using his knowledge of mundane science and magical theory before he resumed school!

Harry read by the light of his charm until the sun rose, when he dispelled the magical light, and basked in the sun for a few minutes to absorb the ambient mana in the sunlight. And how far he had come in just two and a half years that he understood that!

A loud knock came from the front door while Harry was sunbathing, and he quickly changed into his clothes for the day, wondering if this wasn't what Eamon had warned him about.

The knock came again, followed by an angry outburst from Harry's uncle, which was quickly silenced. Harry cautiously opened his bedroom door, hoping he didn't irritate his uncle, and was thankful to see nobody outside his door. He crept down the stairs, and saw an older woman peeking about the house, with Harry's uncle frozen in place in the (now closed) doorway. Harry attempted to access mage sight, but he couldn't still himself enough to concentrate on it, so he settled for the next best thing.

"Who are you?" He asked calmly, after he sat on the staircase with his legs crossed leisurely, as if he wasn't worried at all.

The woman stiffened, and turned rapidly. "Harry Potter?" she asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow, putting on his best Eamon impression. "You don't look like a Harry," he replied. "Now, this is my home, so it's only fair you answer me first."

She got flustered by his insistence, but she comported herself. "Very well. My name is Minerva McGonagall. I'm a professor at a boarding school, and I'm here to inform Harry Potter of his acceptance to that school. Am I correct in assuming that you are he?"

Harry smiled, and jumped up from his seat. "Oui, c'est moi," he replied with an exaggerated bow. "What school is this for, and what would I get out of attending? You say that you've accepted me, but why should I accept you?"

McGonagall looked almost as angry as his uncle at his worst. Harry decided that perhaps his Eamon impression was too good, and started acting normally.

"My apologies, I was copying the general behavior of one of my tutors for my own amusement. However, I am serious. Please, I would like to hear your sales pitch."

At Harry's apology, McGonagall calmed down visibly, and started to speak. "I represent Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yes, magic is real, and you are, in fact, a wizard."

"Sorcerer," Harry mumbled.

She didn't even notice Harry's interruption, thankfully. "We are the foremost institution in all of Britain for the learning of magic, and one of the top three in all of Europe. If you want an education in magic, there's no finer choice than Hogwarts, I assure you."

Harry could barely contain a derisive snort. A formal school would be awful compared to his apprenticeship with Eamon. If Eamon hadn't suggested that Harry take his first opportunity to dive into the magical world, Harry would probably have turned her down. As it was: "Am I correct in understanding that the finest school in all of Britain would have a tuition to match?" He asked coolly, feeling triumphant at her flinch.

"Well, that is the case, normally. However, your father paid your tuition for you mere days after your birth. He and your mother both attended."

Harry hummed. "And how does that bode for my employment chances after I graduate? Compared to, say, having a single master teach me everything he knows?"

McGonagall snorted with disdain. "There is no single master of all the subjects you need to know. Such a man would be an archmage, and there hasn't been one recorded since Merlin."

'Really?' Harry thought to himself, vowing to ask Eamon his opinion on that statement.

McGonagall continued. "And Hogwarts is taught exclusively by people with registered Masteries of the appropriate subject with the magical government of Britain, which is more than can be said for most other schools. Our students are first choice hires for most large employers in our world. I assure you, Hogwarts is the best school in Britain, and, unless you want to learn a foreign language, the best in Europe."

"Je parle déjà français," Harry replied. "But I agree with your points. Very well, I accept."

McGonagall blinked a couple times. Harry smiled brightly at her. "So, I assume I will need supplies. Do you have a list, and where can I purchase them?"

She shook her head. "Right, yes. I can take you there."

Harry went into his next session with Eamon, brimming with excitement and questions. Eamon waved him over, as always, but this time, Harry started the conversation.

"What's an archmage?"

Eamon grinned. "I was wondering how long it would take you to hear that term in the wider magical world. Simply put, an archmage is a powerful mage who has gained true mastery over multiple branches of magic."

"And are you an archmage?"

"Of course I am. You've seen my aura with the mage sight I taught you, yes? The stronger the mage is, the brighter they shine. Compare what you've seen from me to your future teachers. I don't expect you to believe me, yet."

"So why does no one believe that there could be an archmage now?"

"British mages have an almost religious devotion to Merlin, a famous British archmage. It may be a subconscious bias, but I think they don't want to believe another archmage will ever arrive. And I have kept my existence rather hidden, though I expect that will change soon."

Harry nodded, humming. "Will I lose my apprenticeship by going to Hogwarts?"

Eamon waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'll find a way into the school." He checked his pocket watch, an odd habit that Harry had noticed the first time the pair had spoken. "In fact, it's just about time for me to start on that. The news should break in the morning," the self-styled archmage muttered.

"Forgive me for cutting this meeting short," Eamon said as he stood abruptly. "I have something important to attend to. I'll let you know about the school situation." He simply vanished into thin air, an act Harry knew the man considered rude. His forgotten business must have been quite important.

Harry showed up to his next meeting with Eamon early. He didn't see Eamon, so he sat down at his normal table for mundane work and reading to wait for his mentor. Time passed by slowly, and for the first time, Eamon was late. Harry read the physics book Eamon had given him, while repeated checking the clock. Ten minutes late, thirty, forty-five, an hour, two hours. Still, Eamon hadn't arrived. Disappointed, Harry went home.

Eamon missed every meeting that he had with Harry for the rest of the summer, but he somehow managed to write a note to Harry and leave it on Harry's pillow after the third missed meeting with news that he would be able to continue his lessons with Harry once Harry got into Hogwarts, but that he wouldn't see Harry until then. He instructed Harry to read every textbook he had for Hogwarts prior to the school year starting. That bit left Harry irritated. Of course he was reading his textbooks, and more besides.

September first came quickly, and Harry was quite excited to catch the train to Hogwarts. Following McGonagall's instructions, he walked through the illusory wall that separated the magical platform from the mundane ones, and strode confidently to the nearest entry, levitating his trunk alongside him. He found an empty compartment and floated his trunk into the storage area, then pulled the window open.

He did meditative breathing exercises and opened his eyes to the flow of magic as Eamon had taught him, activating his mage sight. To his enjoyment, there were many varying shades and colors to behold. Some students glowed more brightly than others, and Harry made a note of their faces. More powerful mages could be solid allies, formidable enemies, or potential tutors.

There was a blond boy who glowed dimly, flanked by two heavyset boys who barely glowed at all. Harry ignored them, and looked at a gaggle of redheads, of various ages. None of them stood out, all roughly average in their glow. A new student came in, with two munds, who stood out in his mage sight for not glowing at all. The young girl, possibly his age, glowed brighter than most of the other young students Harry had seen so far, and he decided he'd speak with her at his first opportunity.

Eamon always stressed having friends, especially ones who could challenge him to be better. Harry looked around for any more people who stood out, and saw a couple holding hands, waving to someone on the train. Their magic flowed through and around each other in an odd way, circling about before joining the ambient mana in the air. Harry decided to ask Eamon about that, and shut off his mage sight. He rubbed his temples to deal with the headache that always accompanied the magic, and then closed the window back.

Harry pulled out a book on the history of Hogwarts, and flipped to reread a chapter on the Houses and Sorting process. He needed to know where he'd end up, how, and why. Eventually, he huffed and slammed the book closed. It simply wasn't in enough detail for what he wanted. He started some meditation practices to center himself, though he knew he'd not manage a meditative state on this train. Finally, someone screwed up enough courage to ask to sit with him, and without opening his eyes, Harry gestured for the person to sit.

Harry stood, and stretched, then opened his eyes. His new traveling companion was one of the redheads he'd noticed earlier, and he gave the boy a polite smile as he sat in his own seat. "Hello," he said.

"Hi, my name's Ron!" the lanky, freckled boy said exuberantly, as he bounced in his seat. "I'm new here all my brothers went and I'm finally going who are you-" he rambled impressively without stopping to breathe.

Harry blinked. Once, twice, then finally interrupted Ron. "Hi, Ron. My name is Harry. I'm new as well, a mun- muggle born student," he fibbed. Eamon would be disappointed that Harry lied, but Harry didn't want to deal with this fame angle for as long as he could avoid it. Surely he could get away with one lie.

Ron nodded. "Nice to meet you!" He grinned. "Do you know how to play chess?"

Harry tilted his head a bit. "I know the rules, but I've never actually played. I've always been a bit too busy. I don't have anything planned for the train ride, so I suppose I could play with you, if you want."

Ron's grin grew to seemingly impossible proportions, and he pulled a chess set out of his bag that Harry could tell had magic, even without pulling up his mage sight. He unfolded the board, and pieces leapt out of an accompanying pouch to assemble in their proper places. Ron explained the way he could move pieces with verbal instruction, and let Harry go first.

Harry moved his knights out onto the board, then moved a few pawns around, trying to confuse Ron about his tactics, before moving his rooks and queen to trap Ron's king. Unfortunately, he missed Ron's own strategy, and eventually, he lost. Harry grinned. "You're good at this," he complimented Ron.

On the other hand, Ron looked at Harry suspiciously. "You said you'd never played!"

Harry arched an eyebrow. "I didn't say that I had never read books on chess tactics." Ron laughed.

"You can't learn everything from books, but you're good! Friends?"

Harry paused a moment. "Sure. Friends," he replied.

The two played another game, and then Ron packed up his board, and Harry pulled a book on transfiguration theory, written in French, out of his side bag. Before he could open the book, however, the door opened, revealing a nervous boy and the girl Harry had noticed earlier.

"Excuse me, but have either of you seen a toad about?"

"A... toad?" Ron asked, but Harry spoke over him.

"No, we haven't seen any animals at all, but I can help you look, if you'd like. My name's Harry."

The dark skinned girl with the wild, dark hair smiled at Harry. "I'm Hermione," she said, then she pointed to the slightly overweight, pale boy beside her. "He's Neville."

Harry looked at Ron. "Hey Ron, would you like to join us in looking?"

Ron shook his head. "Sorry, mate."

Harry smiled. "I'll see you in a bit, Ron." He walked out with Hermione and Neville. "I'm assuming this toad is magical, right?" He asked, as he activated his mage sight again, and Neville stammered out a yes. "Fantastic, thank you."

Harry let Hermione lead them to the next compartment, and as she opened the door, quickly looked about for magical animals. He only saw a regal looking owl, and the two girls in there confirmed there was no toad.

The next compartment, however, was more interesting. It was full of young kids, including the blond boy he'd seen earlier. One of the larger boys had a small magical creature cupped in his hands, hidden from normal sight. Hermione asked, "Have any of you seen a toad? Neville's ran away and we're trying to find it."

The blond boy drawled. "So the squib lost his toad. I don't care. Haven't seen a toad, and I wouldn't touch one if I was paid to. But I'll be happy to kill it if I see it. Get lost."

Before Hermione could speak, Harry interjected. "Then what's he holding in his hands?" He pointed to the boy holding the animal. "I can't tell what it is, but it's certainly a magical animal of the right size."

Everyone looked at Harry with wide eyes, and their eyes got wider when they met his. The students nearest him flinched away, with the exception of Hermione, who looked closer.

Harry turned his gaze back to the kid, who - surprisingly meekly - handed a toad to Neville, and gruffly said, "Sorry," before slamming the door shut in their faces. Harry released his mage sight, and rubbed his temples again. He turned to see both of the students he was with look at him with curiosity.

"What was going on with your eyes?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"Wait, what?" Harry asked. "What do you mean?"

Neville finally spoke up, though he had a small stutter. "Your eyes were glowing, sort of dark bl- blue. They look sort of cyan now but they're going b- back to green."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. "I didn't know that that made my eyes glow. It's called mage sight, and with a ton of practice, you can see the way that mana flows through the world. Magical people, objects, and creatures glow brighter than mundane ones. That's how I knew he was holding a magic creature."

Hermione looked excited, while Neville looked confused. Harry invited the pair to sit with him and Ron, and they gratefully agreed. When they all reassembled in the compartment, there were proper introductions. Neville hit it off with Ron immediately, and the two began a card game they called "Exploding Snap."Harry and Hermione, however, bonded over their interest in learning when Hermione saw the book he had been reading, L'art de transformer, and he told her it was on the magical theory of transfiguration. He showed it to her, and was delighted to learn that she also knew French.

Eventually, Harry and Hermione joined the other two in conversation and magical games. They had a rather pleasant train ride, and eventually they arrived at Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione both began to grab at their trunks before Harry stopped them. "Don't worry about them, the school elves will take them to your dorms."

Ron and Neville nodded, and Hermione looked puzzled. "School elves?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, in Hogwarts, a History, it says the school usually employs over five hundred house elves at any given time. They handle everything in the castle."

"What are house elves?" Hermione asked as the quartet made their way off the train and towards a gigantic man shouting for first year students.

"Magic servants," Neville replied.

"At the most generalized, a slave race who work for mages because they have to in order to survive," Harry added. "However, most of them genuinely want to serve and will even request contracts even WORSE for them because they enjoy magical and physical labor that much. They have a unique connection to the world's magic that allows them to perform feats that would exhaust mages and continue, but they have to have a constant small supply of the mana of mages in order to survive for very long because their own magic can't keep them alive."

Neville and Ron looked at Harry in surprise, while Hermione looked shocked and disgusted. "I don't like it either, but most people do treat their elves like employees and not slaves, while people who abuse their elves are shunned, if it's ever discovered, at least," Harry added to Hermione, and she nodded, pacified for the time being.

"I thought you said you were muggleborn," Ron said.

"Okay, technically, I lied about that. I was raised in the mundane world by munds, but I've been apprenticed to a sorcerer for a couple of years now. And I like to read," Harry added, a small grin on his face.

"Munds?" Ron and Neville asked, nearly at the exact same time.

"Short for mundane. I think it's a little less rude than muggle," Harry shrugged. Hermione looked at Harry, looking for something. Eventually, she smiled at him, seemingly satisfied, and the four climbed into one of the enchanted boats.

A/N: My muses frickin love this story so far. I had to stop myself to make this chapter end at a reasonable length. So, thanks to Eamon's intervention, Harry is a more studious student, and he's immediately pulled together a group of friends. The cast is almost entirely introduced now. Do you guys have theories about Eamon yet?