From that point on, the year settled into a routine for Harry relatively quickly. He fell straight back into his study routine with ease, most promisingly managing to avoid getting dragged into any one-on-one conversations with Professor Lockhart. Perhaps his implied threat of stealing his thunder had had more effect that he'd hoped.

It was two days after he arrived that Harry checked the safety of Riddle's diary and was pleased to see it lying still and unmoved in the third compartment where he had left it. Standing there on the steps looking down at the innocuous little book bound in leather, he was stunned to feel a strange sense of haste to destroy it immediately well up inside him.

Tension rose in his shoulders; his fingertips tingled.

Resisting the impulse, Harry did not draw his wand; in this timeline the basilisk waking was not part of his plans. No action was urgent…although he wouldn't get the Sword of Gryffindor absorbing the venom, either, Harry realised with a jolt. But hey, the castle was safe, the Basilisk was sleeping, the horcrux was secure. He could grow stronger at his own pace and destroy the Basilisk when he was ready. There was time to find other solutions. There was no need to be on edge.

Still standing in his third compartment, Harry decided not to experience with Fiendfyre or the Avada Kedavra just yet, either. He was planning to be a better man this timeline. That was a thorny path he didn't want to take.

As such, he promptly determined to avoid thinking of the diary. Focus on the good things, good things, Harry decided. Nevertheless, he mused as he turned and left his luggage, it would be reassuring to see all the little baby mandrakes being grown under the careful supervision of Professor Sprout.

As classes settled in properly, Harry was pleased to discover that his hard-won study had paid dividends. He soon learned that Transfiguration class remained easy for him, what with his natural abilities in practical wandwork and his extra practice. McGonagall sent two mildly impressed looks Harry's way that first lesson, and mentioned he "was his father's son" at least once within his hearing that first week.

What was more surprising was the apparent increase in his theoretical knowledge. As McGonagall stood upright at the front of the room, her long fingers gesturing elegantly and spoke of the Laws of Transmutation, recapped animate to inanimate transformations, Harry felt sparks pop in his mindscape. Enlightened, he realised how the theory was significant, how an unhuman will and a network of dazzling logic caused his Transfiguration to hang together miraculously, just beyond his understanding. For a mystical moment, it all seemed to clear. Then he reached out to touch it and the pattern faded, frustratingly escaping beyond his grasp.

A similar thing happened in Charms and, somewhat to Harry's surprise, Defence remained manageable too.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was totally focussed around the heroic mythology of Gilderoy Lockhart, of course, and as such contained many cringe-worthy personal references in preference to actual facts about anything. Sitting in class with his open textbook – Quirrell's second-year textbook, on Harry's part, and with a healthy notice-me-not cast just in case – he observed how his classmates actually treated the man before focusing on his own work.

Surprisingly, Lockhart did actually seem to be genuinely popular, Harry mused as he chewed on the tip of his quill and headed up the top of his notes. The man was a born story-teller; for those students – coughGryffindorscough – who had not done the class readings, Lockhart's opening story was positively thrilling. Holidaying with Hags indeed. Harry was loath to admit the fact even now that he wasn't taking part in any dramatic re-enactments, but the man could command the stage. Even the boys, Harry was surprised to note, were perched on the edges of the seats this first dramatic lesson.

Ironically for Harry, who had decided to sit in the back row to better focus on his own study plans, he found Binn's History class to be preferable in some ways. The old ghost's monotonous drone was easily tuned out and ignored, providing a surprisingly effective 'white noise' that helped him focus on his own work. Lockhart, on the other hand, did not seem to get a steady pace going.

"And then," Lockhart paused dramatically, interrupting Harry's critical thinking again, "what do you think happened? Thomas, was it?"

The startled audience member blinked in the face of all the attention and mumbled a guess.

"Precisely!" Lockhart crowed loudly. "My dear chap, you must have read the book!" A cheerful wink; a grin. Then his voice lowered to an intense, precise clip, and after another pause: "Why, then, as I lay in that shrubbery for two days and three nights, you could not imagine the agony of my morals. Was she, I wondered, simply a misunderstood single lady, rejected from her peers by simple virtue of her less-than-attractive face?"

His voice built up, and his speed of delivery increased, causing Harry at the back of the room to shuffle and try blocking his ears another way.

"Could I possibly," Lockhart appealed, "add injury to insult as I reached the end of my hunt? Was I simply adding to her pain and pathos? Were all her problems a misunderstanding based on her hideously disfigured face and a shy demeanour? Or," he spun on his heel and growled menacingly, "was she truly the eater of children and scourge of the village, as I had been told? I," he grandly proclaimed, "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five-times winner of the Witch Weekly's Most-Charming Smile Award could not find it in me to back down from the challenge!"

Harry readjusted his seating again and made a note to research muffling spells that affected the listener rather than the target immediately after class.

However, considering his developing experience with self-managed study schedules, once a few kinks in his plan had been worked out, Harry thought he'd be surprisingly happy to work through the textbook on his own.

In the meantime, he was well prepared to face the disastrous pixie lesson and found himself relatively composed when facing the prospect of the upcoming lessons.

History of Magic, Herbology, and Astronomy lessons remained unremarkable as Harry routinely visited them all. With his now-established practice of a Dicta-quill recording Professor Binn's lectures, Harry managed to find his way through the History readings on his own and then begin to branch out some. It was gratifying to see Hermione bend this year, and stoop to using the same technique.

It was only about a week into the school year when Harry discovered the wonder that was appendices, and his self-directed learning grew more varied from that point on. He was beginning to see why Hermione found such enjoyment in planning study…but only beginning, mind.

It was really only Potions that kept Harry on his toes, although he couldn't really say with any honesty that he had expected otherwise; even then it was Snape's biting comments and unyielding hatred that added a nostalgic spice to the lessons.

Outside of classes, Harry made tentative overtures of friendship towards Ginny that were sometimes received with a smile, and occasionally with mortification; her crush would sporadically cause in her some great failure of coordination.

Little Colin Creevey was offered a photo of Harry that had recently been taken with a wizarding camera, and was so excited to write that to his parents that he forgot to thank Harry for his gift.

Life seemed good.

As the first days of school turned into weeks and everything began settling into a routine, Harry finally gave up hoping for a coincidental meeting with Luna and set out to look for her himself.

One empty Saturday afternoon when Hermione and Ron were engaged in a riveting chess battle, with Neville looking on, Harry left his common room behind to range the halls, hoping to find her.

He wandered through the library and peered out the windows at the lake. She was not even at the Quidditch pitch, although Harry had already assumed it was a futile hope.

His best chance was to ask one of her Housemates. Arriving at the base of the Ravenclaw Tower, Harry faltered. Should he climb the stairs himself? Or be more polite about his request? What was the official custom for visiting other House common rooms anyway? Was he supposed to know where it was, anyway? Harry scratched his head, not being currently Polyjuiced or under an Invisibility Cloak as he had always been previously.

Fortunately his luck was good, and Ravenclaw prefect Penelope Clearwater happened to stride down the stairs and straight past him.

"Excuse me!" Harry called out, and she halted suddenly, spinning around as his hand managed to snag her on a sleeve. "Sorry! I'm looking for a friend, but I can't go up the Tower myself. Could you help me out? Please?" Harry finished his sentence hopefully, once again mustering up the innocent, wide-eyed gaze of an innocent twelve-year-old in his attempt to pass as a young child.

She looked at his expression sharply but moderated her tone when she replied.

Harry rapidly explained his predicament, and her general disinterest melted into prefectly approval as she learned of his dilemma.

Ten minutes later, Penelope had trotted back up the Tower and returned with a very small first-year, Luna Lovegood. There was only a brief scolding about respecting House boundaries before he and Luna were left alone. Apparently she had 'heard of his reputation' and was giving him 'the benefit of the doubt just this once'.

Harry ferried Luna down the hallway and into a private window-seat before he began the baffling conversation that was sure to follow. She was wearing shoes, Harry noticed. It was a good start.

"Hello," he managed, settling down on the padded seat.

"Hello," Luna replied demurely. "You're Harry Potter."

"I am," Harry replied after a brief pause. "And you're Luna Lovegood."

"Apparently."

Harry took this in his stride. There was another small silence as both parties looked at each other patiently. Harry had assumed the conversation would flow more naturally than this, and was somewhat unsure of how to explain his actions, now that Luna was before him. For her part, Luna appeared supremely unsurprised to be dragged down from her bedroom by a Ravenclaw Prefect to meet the famous Boy-Who-Lived on his request. The quirk of her eyebrows that gave her that permanently surprised look gave Harry the feeling that she was waiting for him to say something specific. He had no idea what it was.

"Uh..." he began again, feeling uncertain, "I suppose you're wondering why I called you down..."

"Some reason of your own, I assume," Luna demurred.

Harry began again bravely. "So I wanted to meet you because I just know we're going to be good friends!"

"Oh," Luna quirked her head. "Is that so? Friends? I had a friend once."

"…Good for you?"

"I thought so at the time." Luna smiled at him in her dreamy way. "When will we do this, then?"

"I thought," Harry struggled on, "that we could begin right now. Er," he looked at the blonde girl hopefully. "Would you like that?"

"Are you the type of friend who laughs at people when they're not with you?" Luna asked Harry curiously.

"No!" he gasped out, "No! I want to be the kind of friend who – er – gets to know you, and studies together, and shares interests?" He trailed off as he realised what some of Luna's greatest passions were. The little first year considered his words gravely for a few moments, before graciously nodding her head.

"Friends," she smiled. "I'd like that. I suppose we should start now then."

"Sure," said Harry.

They had another small silence while they each thought their own thoughts.

To Harry's surprise, Luna spoke first. "Do you have strong opinions on Bundimuns, by any chance?"

"No?" was Harry's honest reply. For the life of him, he couldn't quite remember what they were. Some kind of wizarding animal, he was sure.

"Oh," sighed Luna sadly, leaving Harry nursing a strange, guilty kind of feeling. "I thought it might explain them."

"Huh?"

"Your glasses," Luna looked up more cheerfully as Harry invested in the conversation. "They seem terribly old and neglected. I thought you could be trying to attract them."

Harry whipped them off his face and polished them half-hearted on his robes. "Not really, it's just I've always had them. I feel off a bit, when I think about getting new ones."

"I understand," Luna nodded. "My earrings are the same." Harry peered at the purple radish-like things that dangled by her neck. He remembered them clearly from his previous timeline. They looked just as ridiculous now as they had then. "They were my last present from my mother, you know."

"Ah."

"They give you wisdom, Daddy says."

"Well, I think that anything that makes you feel close to your mother would help you be" – he grasped for the word – "safe. They must be very precious." He remembered about her problems with missing belongings. "You will look after them, won't you? Did you want me to put a charm on them to keep them safe?"

"I'll manage." Luna smiled. "You're very kind, Harry Potter." Suddenly, she stood. "I'm going to go now and think about my mother for a while. Perhaps we will meet again."

"Okay," said Harry. "You can find me in the library, often, and at the Great Hall. And, of course I spend lots of time at the Quidditch pitch too. Come and say hi when you see me. Does that work for you?"

"The question should rather be, does that work for you, Harry Potter?" Luna returned. "I'll see you sometime." She turned and walked directly back towards the Tower stairs.

"I'll look for you, too," Harry called to her departing back, feeling somewhat confused. Perhaps he should wait a bit longer before he introduced the little girl to his rather more raucous Gryffindor companions, but he was hopeful that he had managed to develop the relationship before some of her more painful bullying experiences occurred.

All in all, not a bad start to the school year.

Entirely unsurprisingly, Gryffindor Quidditch practices began almost immediately, and Oliver Wood was pushing his team harder than usual to overcome their period of rest. Or so he said.

The Weasley twins, being more cynical than usual as a result of being thrust back into the strict routine of school, claimed that he was taking advantage of their settling-in period to brainwash the team into accepting harder practices.

But they joined in the practices anyway.

Harry became used to trudging back to the common room both shivering and damp.

Draco Malfoy once again wrangled his way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team as seeker by way of a significant donation or seven, and when he had a chance Harry dropped him a quick challenge, muttering, "Congratulations, may the best man win" as they passed each other in a hallway shortly after the news had broken.

He walked away from Malfoy, leaving the blond standing in the dungeon hallway looking confused. Harry hoped that rather than worsen their relationship, the display of respect might improve it. At the very least, he hoped to keep Malfoy guessing about his real character.

Malfoy, whatever he thought about Harry, continued to keep his distance and watch.

School continued unremarkably for some weeks with only a couple of exceptions. The stairs seemed to be teasing him, Hermione complained with a frown.

"When we walk to class with you, Harry, we're almost late every time."

It was true.

He even got shut out of McGonagall's class once, and he thought she'd locked the door on the late-comers. Surprisingly, she'd opened the door from the inside and claimed it hadn't been locked. Harry eyed Seamus and Dean with suspicion all day, but they never admitted anything.

A tapestry in the great hall almost squashed him once too, and only Harry's great Seeker skills – and his survival skills, polished to perfection after all these years – saved him. Poor Neville got crushed instead, and had to have three bones and a concussion fixed overnight by Madam Pomfrey.

So other than the occasional excitement, Harry focussed most keenly on his own, private studies. He spent long hours in the library with Hermione, and Ron and Neville joined them on occasion. Luna never joined them, and Harry could not quite convince himself to bother her at the Tower again. If she wanted him, she would come to look for him, surely?

He completed his regular homework to the same standard as last year, finding new meaning in searching for the practical application in each topic he covered. The appendices help greatly in this endeavour. Occasionally, this caused him to get greatly off topic.

Hermione's homework was therefore of consistently higher quality than Harry's, and she was left baffled as to why his practical achievements and test results were unfailingly better than hers.

She battled on in a one-sided competition with good grace. True to her words the year prior, Hermione enjoyed the challenge of working with someone more accomplished than she, and they studied beside each other in good company.

In fact, the year continued with such peace and lack of drama that Harry found his sense of urgency slowly dwindling. The regular rhythms of each day and the slow march of the seasons drew Harry into a sense of security.

"Luna!" he finally exclaimed one Wednesday afternoon as Charm class was packing up. "Hermione, have you seen Luna around since I finally met her?"

Hermione stacked the last of her stationery back into her bag and looked up. "Who, Harry? I don't think I've met her."

"…Right." Harry still wasn't used to his best friends not knowing each other. The Ministry Six, for Merlin's sake, weren't even all on speaking terms! "Ron?" Harry tried.

"Yeah?" Ron swung his own satchel up off the floor.

"Have you seen Luna around recently? She hasn't come to say hi."

Ron looked at Harry blankly for a moment before his face scrunched up in thought. "Luna? Luna…like, Lovegood? Ginny's little buddy?"

"Yes!"

"Harry, I didn't know you knew her! Where did you meet?"

Harry felt the new story and the original story warring within him, and resolved his difficulty by ignoring the question. "Yeah…I haven't seen her around for a while and we were going to meet up. Do you know where she spends time these days?"

"Nope," Ron admittedly easily. "Haven't actually spoken to her since Ginny's tenth birthday, I don't think. She'll be in Hogwarts too, now you mention it! I wonder what House she's in?"

"Thanks." Harry scratched the back of his neck. "I'll go check up on her."

But when he eventually made his way to the bottom of Ravenclaw toward, another first-year student told him she wasn't in.

"Do you know where she might be?"

"She likes…animals?" the first year told Harry with a strange laugh and side-ways look. "Hey, can I have your autograph?"

Harry took the quill and parchment and signed absently while he pondered. Animals. As a first-year student, she might not even know about the thestrals yet, but…

"Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, and dashed off.

To Harry's dismay, Hagrid told him that he'd never met any such student, but perhaps he might try the Kettleburn Club instead, "if she likes animals, like ye say."

"What?" Harry asked. He was pretty sure he knew Hogwarts pretty well now, being in his eighth year here, give or take, but… "Kettleburn Club? What's that?"

"One o' Hogwarts' social clubs," Hagrid told him with a broad smile on his scraggly face. "The bes' one, I reckon. 'S run by a good friend o' mine, Silvanus Kettleburn. E's the Care of Magical Creatures perfessor. Don' you know 'im?"

Harry had forgotten that there had been a Care of Magical Creatures class before Hagrid had been hired.

He followed Hagrid's instructions curiously, wandering westward around the castle, past Greenhouses One and Two. Towards the back of the castle, he came across a curious sight that he had never before paid attention to.

On the sunny slope away from the castle, all sorts of little buildings were dotted around the grass looking somewhat like a ring of mushrooms; one or two were close enough to stand heavily in the castle's shadow. From a distance, all Harry could tell was that they looked sort of like Hagrid's house: all wood and stone, squat and oddly shaped. As he drew closer, he saw there were dozens of figures scurrying around through the doors.

Closer still, Harry could identify a number of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff upperclassmen, although he didn't know any by name. A couple of Gryffindors and Slytherins were mixed in with the crowd, and they were doing a lot of carrying, lifting, and some minor spellwork by the looks of things. All students looked young to him these days - just teens, no war experience, barely any pain or hardship - but he thought these might be bigger than most, and were probably in their final few years at Hogwarts.

In the middle of the chaos, a stationary figure was conducting the chaos with grand arm-sweeps and the occasional bellow, and for want of any better destination, Harry found himself coming to a stop next to the man who had to be Silvanus Kettleburn.

The teacher in charge, Harry realised, turned out to be a figure more astonishing to the eyes than Mad-Eye himself. Harry found himself taking an inventory of the man's incredible first impression.

He was full of energy, was Harry's first observation, despite a litany of scars and wounds, all of them old.

The middle-aged wizard must once have had a magnificent mane of auburn hair, but now most of the left side was missing. In its place was a terrible burn wound that ran from the back of his head and over, around to the left side of Kettleburn's face. Instead of his hair, the glossy pink skin was puckered and creased where knots of scar tissue had formed. Patchy tufts of auburn hair fuzzed stubbornly around the man's left ear at the edge of the wound.

Although the pirate-like patch over his right eye was noticeable enough – possibly from some other injury, Harry guessed, due to the lack of burn on that side – Kettleburn's left eye was half swollen shut and puffy. It looked embarrassingly naked and intimate without any eyelashes or eyebrows. Presumably, they had been burned off in the same accident as his hair.

"Dragon flame," the man muttered as he saw Harry stop and stare beside him. "Hotter'n hellfire and just as impossible to cure. Who're you, then?"

Harry flushed with embarrassment. He of all people should know better than to stare at scars. "Harry Potter, Professor."

Then despite himself, he continued to take note of Kettleburn's wounds. The right arm he gestured with was stocky and muscular. Tiny scars littered the freckled skin that Harry could see on his hand and forearm, and an awesome welt on the back of his hand had healed into a snake-like ridge where something-or-rather had scratched him deeply. He held a dark wand masterfully in his fingers and little spells shot out the tip as Harry watched in fascination.

The teacher's other arm gesticulated wildly, which was why it took Harry a beat or two to realise that the whole forearm and hand was missing, replaced instead by a weird assemblage of hooks and…wrenches?

From Kettleburn's left hip down, an empty trouser leg flapped, from which a skinny wooden peg emerged; it drew Harry's attention to the wizard's other thigh. His left leg also ended above the knee and was replaced by an excellent wooden carving of a calf and a single leather boot.

The wizard bellowed some more instructions to the flurry of students dashing in and out of the buildings and then turned to peer at Harry blearily out of his single, swollen eye.

"Potter, you say?" He grunted. "From that unpleasant business a few years back, eh?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably.

"Heard you're well nigh indestructible," the man continued in his raspy voice. "Took a Killing Curse to the head, they tell me. How do you think you'd fare against dragon flame?"

"…I couldn't really say," said Harry, bemused.

The man continued to eye Harry with interest. "Nundu breath? Fwooper calls? Know any good spells?"

Harry struggled to enquire about Luna's presence in the club, "I…I'm not bad with spell work, I don't think."

"You're on the scrawny side," Kettleburn scrunched his face up into a weird grimace that Harry realised was probably a thoughtful frown, "but you've got yourself a history of survivability, so I'll try you over by the fire pit for now. See how you go against salamanders. A bit of a challenge never hurt anyone, eh?"

He pointed to a nearby hut and went back to bellowing at the other students, most of whom were N.E.W.T. level, leaving Harry to incredulously walk over to the building indicated. No wonder the man was good friends with Hagrid.

The problem was though, he'd come here for Luna. Harry spared a distracted glance around him and meandered through the door. It wouldn't hurt to find somewhere to settle down and wait, after all. A light scent of chilli pepper and burnt dust hit him as he walked in and Harry felt his eyes water as he paused to a moment to acclimatise.

Somewhat to Harry's surprise, he wasn't immediately made welcome.

"What're you doing here, pipsqueak?" An older boy with brown hair asked impatiently as Harry paused to blink his eyes. "You're too young for the salamanders." He flapped his hands at Harry rudely. "Go on and bugger off. Get outta here."

"Pritchard, he's just a kid," someone defended. Then a Ravenclaw boy came out of the gloom and eyed Harry up and down. "Are you lost, kid? Where are you supposed to be?"

"Fire pit," Harry shrugged. "The professor sent me here."

The first boy snorted. "Pull the other one. All the squirts say that. You think you're special, do you?"

"..."

"Hang on," said the kinder Ravenclaw, but then a hand rudely reached out and pushed Harry suddenly out the door again. "Get lost."

Harry felt a rush of pure fury flush through him and almost reached for his wand. He'd fought Voldemort face-to-face, Merlin be damned, and even though Hogwarts might not have believed him before... Then he remembered that he was stuck in a twelve-year-old body right now and the battle at the Ministry hadn't happened yet. He could...he could be patient.

To his astonishment, the impatient boy had followed him out the door and shouted in Professor Kettleburn's direction with an undeniably familiar tone of voice. It was the exact nasal whine of Dudley when he was about to tell on Harry to Aunt Petunia.

"Professor," the kid whined. "We've got a midget trying to get in the fire pit!"

The professor bellowed back. "Get kitted up and put yourself to work, Potter! What are you waiting for? A written invitation!?"

Harry turned back to the student with what might have been a rather smug expression. "Do you mind? You're blocking the door." He stepped past the stunned upperclassman and back into the room. He tried to ignore the rather shocked mumblings of, "Potter, did he say?" "Trust the Boy-Who-Lived to get special treatment", and "Did you see the scar?" that erupted as he did so.

Back inside the room, a few older students, though looking harried themselves, barked out some useful if sceptical advice.

"You know the flame freezing charm?"

"Did you bring your dragon-hide gloves? Ugh…borrow these for now. They'll be a bit big."

"They like eating pepper, but only give them small coals for now, and don't let them get bossy."

"If you see any looking purple-ish, call me over. We use chilli for scale-rot." Harry paused for a moment to stare at the very attractive Asian girl in Hufflepuff colours who was genuinely offering her support. Her golden skin tone shimmered attractively in the firelight of the room, and her shoulder-length, silky black hair was stunningly decorated with two bright purple streaks that framed her face. For some reason, she reminded Harry a bit of Tonks. He blinked and refocused.

Harry was quite lucky that he was not the second-year student he looked like when the names of advanced spells were called out to him hurriedly.

"Right. Got it. Yup," he accepted the pile of equipment thrust upon him. "Thanks."

As the senior students rushed off, Harry made his way further into the room and spotted a small wooden stool by the innermost window. Organising himself carefully, he watched the others around him reaching in and around the fire pit dug down into the stone floor. A large pile of hot coal, glowing a soft orange, sat on a grid above the fallen ash, and black rocks ringed the circle of heat. Presumably they acted as a fire break of some kind. In and around the glowing coals and hot ash, little lizard-shaped creatures scuttled. Harry looked at it all carefully before putting the gloves on and reaching straight into the heat.

"Not bad, for a start," the Hufflepuff girl nodded approvingly. "Better than some of the O.W.L students we see around here."

He picked up his first salamander and held it firmly in his left hand while his right dug into the nearby bucket of unlit coal.

"Here you go, little guy," Harry murmured. The jewel-bright eyes of the salamander eyed him back before its tongue reached out to lick the tiny lump of coal curiously. Suspicions assuaged, its mouth widened and Harry watched it nibble of the coal nub with interest.

Although the windows were small and the sunshine could barely enter, the room itself was warm and bright with the flickering light of the banked fire and the luminous bodies of the salamanders themselves. Harry tugged open the collar of his robe and settled into his task. His spot was perfect for Luna-spotting, if she was here.

As he settled into the routine of feeding the tiny, hot creatures, Harry kept a wary eye out the window. Within fifteen minutes a solitary blonde figure trudged past his window, and Harry lit up as he beckoned her in. Pritchard and a friend might have mumbled something about a "crazy witch".

"Harry Potter?" Luna asked as her silhouette stepped through the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Harry smiled and handed over the gloves. "Friends with shared interests, remember? Want to have a go at this? I'll teach you."

"I wasn't sure if you meant it," Luna explained. Her whole face lit up, before eying the senior students around him uncertainly. No friendly gazes met her back; the best Harry could see were the Hufflepuff and the friendly Ravenclaw boy looking exasperated and tired. "They don't let me do much around here," she worried. "They say I'm too...small."

"I'll help you out," Harry asserted, and gave up his seat to settle her down. He shot a glare Pritchard's way.

There were five older students in the room, and all of them eyed Harry suspiciously as he crouched by Luna's elbow. A couple of other students in the room sniggered and whispered together. Harry systematically ignored them. Eventually, one moved quietly around to lean down at Harry's workspace.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" the kind Ravenclaw asked sceptically, his quiet voice reaching Harry's ear in little puffs of air. "Pritchard's ...got character, but he wasn't actually wrong. We normally only see fifth years and up around here. We're almost exclusively N.E.W.T students getting practical experience, with a few fifth years thrown in."

"…But what about me?" Harry asked, astonished.

"A special case, apparently." The boy shrugged. Harry himself maintained a stoic face: he knew about special cases and the assumptions that came with them. "The professor must think you're capable to send you straight to the salamander room," the boy nodded at Luna, "which means you're technically allowed to supervise others. She's all yours, if you insist on keeping her."

Harry scowled to himself. "I'll keep her company then." He watched with brotherly concern as Luna explored the tiny creature in her hands and it nipped gently at her fingers. If this dismissiveness was how they were treating her before he arrived, he was very glad he came.

In the gently glowing fire pit, dozens of other white-hot salamanders scuttled about waiting to be fed. Luna was enchanted, and as Harry supervised her with surprising competency for a second-year-student, the others eventually got back to work.

The companionable peace didn't last for long.

From the direction of the fire pit, there came a burst of crackling pops and an audible roar of heat. Harry looked up to a flaming pillar of flame.

The comfortable glow of the Salamander room was replaced by a sudden, overwhelming heat. Where the gentle radiance of coal had been stood a burning wall of blue-ish flames.

Students around the room jumped backwards with startled exclamations and someone cast a what were presumably fire-management spells.

Then the fire began spitting, hot sparks and flickers of flame reaching beyond of the stone walls of the pit, tongues of flame snapping. Cries of pain and shock erupted as robes were singed and a few stray droppings of dried grass and mud on the floor caught alight and spluttered. A maelstrom of salamanders erupted from the rampant heat and scampered eagerly around the room.

"Stay calm," the kind Ravenclaw student, probably a seventh-year, cautioned over the whoosh of hungry flame, as someone else cried, "There's something wrong with the flame!" The seventh-year jerked his head and Pritchard's friend slipped out the door to fetch help. As he did, the loose salamanders made it to a shelf on the wall. A girl scuttled through the exit in alarm and dashed out. Pritchard followed, cursing, "Bloody Loony," as he did. The shelf crashed down on the floor in front of the door; everything on it caught fire.

Now two fires burned with a whoosh, leaving only Harry, Luna and two senior students trapped inside.

A jar of pepper on another shelf was pushed over with a crash, and chittering salamanders made for the sprawling mess. Tongues of small flame grew from the floor that they stepped on.

Even as Harry watched, the air in front of him began to shimmer with the haze of heat.

He spared an astonished glance at the two students who remained stuck in the building with him even as he fumbled for his wand.

"Wh-what happened?" the Hufflepuff girl asked, her face pale even through the red-hot glow of flames and the shimmering heat. "I was looking straight at it – where did the flames come from?"

The seventh-year boy snapped back. "Don't know, don't care. Got any plans?"

"Water?" she quavered.

"It'll kill the salamanders," the boy retorted, backing into a corner away from the flames, before continuing. "Uh…I don't know if we could if we wanted to. There's something odd about this."

"Do you think it could be..."

"Not even Loon-, Lovegood could do this," the boy rolled his eyes. "Look at her, she's just a kid."

The Hufflepuff girl glanced over at Harry, who stood protectively in front of Luna. She visibly breathed in and then smiled, even as hair plastered to her forehead in the heat. "That's fair. Had to ask, sorry." She grinned a little at Luna, her expression strained. "You're alright; don't worry. Happens a lot around here." She forced a grin. "Know many spells yet? No? No need to worry, I've got you." She moved to stand between the fire and Harry's corner and Harry let her; even if she hadn't had the highest opinion of Luna, she had good intentions. Besides, she was just a kid herself. As she stood in front of him, Harry could see her wand-hand shaking.

Still perched on the stool, Luna's eyes were large.

His wand snapping up, Harry stopped thinking and descended into that calm state of mind he could access under extreme stress. He quietly cast a flame-freezing charm on himself and felt his muscles relax as the threatening heat was replaced with a numb kind of cool tickle.

He did the same to Luna, then the Hufflepuff, catching the girl in her unprotected back. "Thanks," he heard her murmur to the seventh year, mistaking the caster. Harry let the misunderstanding slide.

All four students watched in astonishment as the flames in the room grew bigger again, for no apparent reason that they could see. The Hufflepuff girl stamped sparks out as they inexplicably splattered her robe. The seventh-year coughed as he tried to cast a spell and inhaled black smoke.

Harry felt an acrid burn at the back of his throat and his eyes began to water again. Who stored chilli powder and peppercorns next to an actual fire pit anyway? Harry wanted to curse someone. Probably Kettleburn.

Snapping out his wand, he instead subtly repeated the same freezing charm on the seventh-year who hadn't managed to do it himself, then glanced around the room for ideas. Door blocked, fire pit raging with a pillar of flame, salamanders scattered…

The roof was beginning to smoulder, Harry noticed, and his lungs beginning to burn.

Outside, Harry thought he could hear panicked discussion of other senior students, but without coming inside they could only cast water onto the roof.

His eyes flickered.

Wasting a moment Harry cast a spell at the nearest window but it bounced off harmlessly.

"Unbreakable," the Hufflepuff girl explained with a cough. "Hang on…let me think."

The noise of the flames grew with the heat, and soon the voices outside were drowned out. Even through the flame-freezing charm, Harry began to feel himself sweat. Luna shakily stood up, wand arm out, and grasped his robe.

The salamanders were spreading the fire, Harry could see, as they scuttled all over the room. The stone floor developed black patches as fires burnt out on it, but a wooden strut by a wall began smoking.

Harry thought about blasting a hole in the wall, but the building didn't seem sound.

"Water now?" he dimly heard the Hufflepuff ask, but the seventh-year Ravenclaw shook his head frantically.

"NO," he called over the roar of the flames. "IT MIGHT SPREAD THE FLAMES. THIS ISN'T A NORMAL FIRE." He broke off coughing.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Then she spluttered too. The smoke was full of the bite of chilli and pepper, and the heavy black bitterness of cursed flame. Harry felt his ears pop from the pressure of the room changing.

Holding his own arm across his mouth, Harry cast a bubble-head charm on himself, and then the others in the room. He looked at the smoky roof and blackening walls.

"Impervius," he muttered. Hopefully the spell would work on fire as it did water, and keep the building impervious to damage. Meanwhile, he could stop the fire spreading.

Slowly at first, and then faster as he refined his technique, Harry began freezing the salamanders with the impediment jinx and throwing them back towards the firepit with a twitch of his wand.

The seventh-year mouthed something with raised eyebrows and joined in.

Harry asked the shivering Luna by his side, "DO YOU KNOW IT?"

He kept casting, pronouncing the syllables clearly and crisply shaping the wand movements as he went.

She looked sharply as he cast and began imitating quickly.

"GOOD JOB."

Soon all the small critters were back in the central fire pit, although they retained a manic energy, scuttling about within the flames and knocking coals over madly. The noise of the flame grew louder.

"Hold on," Harry muttered, and transfigured the rock wall around them higher, taller, more slippery. "That should keep them there."

He looked thoughtfully at the enchanted flame with its fury unabated. "I won't try to do anything to that thing though." Over the noise of the flame it was unlikely anyone could hear him, but he had everyone's attention now. The Hufflepuff girl stepped aside to watch him work, and the seventh year nodded approvingly.

"Muffliato," Harry cast around the fire pit, and the noise reduced suddenly. The heat, however, grew stronger. His spellwork wouldn't last long at that rate. Harry felt a droplet of sweat roll down his nose and drop onto his chin.

"We've stopped the fire spreading for now," he said to the others. "But I wouldn't touch that flame with a wizard's staff."

The older girl looked between Harry and the older boy. "Now what?"

Harry shrugged, then nodded urgently at the fire in the doorway. "That one's probably not enchanted. Can either of you transfigure flame?"

"No."

"Nuh-uh…Can you?" The Hufflepuff looked hopefully at Harry. "You're pretty impressive for a pipsqueak."

Harry only had the truth. "Sorry, elemental transfigurations are beyond me." He cocked his head and felt the sweat run faster down his forehead. "Apparition's out. Portkey, too. Uh…Fawkes?" A sudden surge of joy welled up in him as the thought occured.

"What?"

Brilliantly, Harry said it again, but meant it this time. "Fawkes," he demanded, and the phoenix came in a rush of cool flame and a soaring song.

"Oh," he said, moderately unsurprised. "That's convenient."

The other students gaped. "That's the Headmaster's familiar!" the seventh-year exclaimed. "Did you call it to you? How did you know it would come? Look at its feathers!"

"Not the time," Harry bit out, and moved quickly. He grabbed Luna's hand and reached his other out to Fawkes. "Grab hold, guys."

While they made a small chain, Harry held his hand up to the flaming bird, which grabbed Harry's wrist in its claws. In a dizzying whirl of colours and song, the room seemed to spin.

Then Harry and the human chain were standing on the lawn outside the salamander room, the rest of the Kettleburn club staring at them in awe. They converged on the group with abandon. Harry tugged Luna to stand in front of him and scowled fiercely: he hadn't missed those few students who were staring at her with suspicion. They were at the mercy of the crowd, being tugged and pushed and patted down for injuries. Harry ignored the students.

Behind him, the sound of stone shattering sounded, and Harry knew his muffliato had failed. Probably his transfigurations as well. Smoke escaping wildly from the eaves of the room behind him drifted over his head, low in the air.

But behind the crowd of onlookers, coming down the hill from the castle, Harry spotted Dumbledore striding magnificently towards the group, his orange and gold robes flapping impressively, his long beard streaming over his shoulder. A giant silver turtle patronus floated ahead of him, leading the way. Tension seemed to drain out of the students surrounding them, and Harry noted in amazement that belief in Dumbledore extended so far.

But Harry relaxed too, and realised he was still holding Luna's hand. He let go.

The air seemed suddenly cold and fresh on his skin. His eyes were watering madly, Harry noticed. They were positively streaming in the chilly breeze as his eyes madly cleansed themselves of chilli smoke. Harry suddenly realised that his robes were damp and heavy with sweat and he shivered.

With Dumbledore on the scene, Harry only had to stand back and watch as the chaos was resolved. Unsurprisingly, the enchanted fire was put out quite rapidly. The gawking students were sent away quick-smart, leaving only the most experienced of the Kettleburn Club to finish feeding the bestiary before they, too, were shuffled off.

Harry and his companions were, meanwhile, corralled by Professor Kettleburn and Sprout who quizzed them on events.

"The fire just grew up out of nowhere," the Hufflepuff, whose name turned out to be Sumire Tsukuba, explained earnestly. The seventh-year Ravenclaw, apparently a prefect called Thaddeus Thorpe, confirmed her statements.

"No one was casting spells; no one odd came in the room. Even L–," he barely stumbled, "Lovegood was part of the club – except Potter, of course. And it was lucky he was there because he was the one who got us out!"

Harry made his excuses and tried to shuffle the attention aside. Fortunately for him, both senior students seemed to think the other one had cast the bubble-heads and the flame-freezing charms. They were merely impressed with his transfiguration and impediment jinx.

"I only held on to the phoenix," he dismissed, and did his best to avoid too much praise. "Attempted a basic rock-to-block transformation. Lucky it worked. Do you know what happened to the fire?" he deflected quickly.

The teachers shook their heads. "We're looking into it, Potter," Professor Sprout said warmly, having rushed up from the greenhouses when smoke was spotted. "Headmaster Dumbledore has everything under control. Don't you worry."

"And twenty points to you all for remaining calm under pressure," Professor Kettleburn added. Then he continued. "You've all impressed me with your ability. Some survivability you've got there after all, eh Potter? Got cool heads under pressure, the lot of you. Would any of you be interested in helping a wizard out on a special project he's got coming up?" He leaned forward. "I'd hazard a guess you're wanting a bit of a break from fire now, wouldn't you say?"

Magical creatures not really being Harry's interest, he was about to decline before Luna's bight-lit eyes caught his attention. He remembered she didn't seem all that popular with the students. He paused. "Luna and I will come," he volunteered. "Just send us an owl."

The mystery now out of his hands, it was time to focus on making Luna's first year a happy one.

He saw her brilliant smile, and thought he'd done a good thing. Harry grinned too.