- Aside from OCs and AUs everything is the property of J. K. Rowling-

-Chapter Three- Breakfast with a Strange Old Man-

'Dementors at Hogwarts.' Liram said as they left the hall, shaking his head. 'My father won't be pleased when he hears about this.'

'He has influence at the Ministry?' Harry asked curiously, walking next to him as they followed a female prefect up the stairs.

'He has money, which is as good as.' Liram told him, smiling slightly. 'Though, unlike Malfoy, he doesn't often use it to buy political favours.'

Harry nodded thoughtfully as they left the main set of staircases and walked along a couple of corridors before beginning up a lengthy spiral of steps.

'This is Ravenclaw Tower.' Announced the girl leading them, glancing back. 'Professor Flitwick's chambers are at the bottom of the staircase; the door to the left as you come down. He's available at all times should you need him; but please don't disturb him late at night or early in the morning unless it's an emergency.'

After climbing several dozen steps they arrived at a heavy, arched door. It had neither handle nor keyhole, only a bronze eagle-shaped knocker. The prefect knocked firmly, and the eagle opened its beak.

'Measure my life in minutes or hours, I serve you by expiring. Quick when thin, slow when fat. Breath brings me naught but death.'

The girl turned back towards them, pale skin and dark eyes gleaming as she scanned the first years crowded in the stairwell.

'Does anyone have a guess?'

Harry glanced behind him, grinning as he saw most of his housemates frowning, a few even muttering the words of the riddle under their breaths to themselves.

'A candle.'

'Well done.' The prefect nodded approvingly at Liram as the door swung open, ushering them after her.

The Ravenclaw common was beautiful. It was a wide, airy, circular space, its vaulted ceiling arching high overhead and painted a dramatic dark blue, scattered with slowly drifting golden stars. The stone walls were lined with gilt-framed paintings, the tall arched windows were flanked by heavy blue and bronze curtains and set above comfortable looking window seats. Graceful chandeliers filled with pale wax candles illuminated the space, their light absorbed by the thick cream carpet. Great bookshelves filled with tomes occupied alcoves in the walls, and elegant furniture littered the floor. A crackling fire burned cheerfully in a spotless grate on the far side of the room.

'This is the centre of Ravenclaw house.' The girl, who Harry thought had introduced herself as Roberta Hilliard, began. 'Here we study and socialise.' She led them over to a pair of archways, between which stood a pale marble statue of a beautiful woman, expression serene and wand raised. 'Boys to the right, girls to the left.' She said. 'Your rooms will be off the first landing; you go up the levels as you move up the school. If you have any problems, then come downstairs and, if there aren't any prefects in the common room, speak to the statue of Rowena,' here she indicated the woman in marble, 'and she will let one of us know in our dorms.' She paused, clearly trying to remember whether she'd left anything out. 'The house elves will have brought your luggage to the landings, but you'll have to take it into the rooms yourselves as you decide who's dorming with who. I think that's everything for now, but be down and showered by eight o'clock tomorrow, when a prefect will escort you down to breakfast and sort you out with maps and your class schedules. Otherwise, good night.' She smiled briefly at them before hurrying up the left hand staircase, presumably seeking out her own bed.

'Shall we?' Liram asked, tilting his head.

Harry followed him, the other boys trailing after them. The landing they reached was a narrow stone lobby with a torch in a bracket, a small blue rug and a slim window at the far and. A single door stood on either side. Their combined luggage filled most of the space.

'I assume there are four beds in each.' Liram said, opening one of the doors. 'Who's taking this one with me?'

Harry gave him a small grin and stepped forwards, flicking his want to levitate his cases. Anthony followed after him a little nervously.

'I'll come.' Oliver Rivers, a tanned boy with long copper hair grinned and grabbed his trunk.

'Well, it looks like we're in this one, then.' Terry Boot, short with black hair, said cheerfully, going over to the other door.

The chamber Harry entered was circular and surprisingly large, with four blue and bronze draped four-poster beds set against the wall, three large windows and a deep, dark blue rug with an eagle emblazoned on it in the middle of the floor. A door off to one side led to what Harry assumed was a bathroom. Harry took the bed furthest from the door, between two of the windows, with Oliver between him and the entrance to the bathroom, and Liram and then Anthony on the other side.

Harry had quickly discovered that he no longer needed an alarm to rise with the dawn, for as soon as its first rays came through the windows of his bedroom at the Flamels' estate Adonis could be relied upon to jump onto his stomach, demanding food and attention. It seemed to be a precedent that would continue at Hogwarts, for Harry opened his eyes wincing as Adonis massaged his claws gently against his naked chest.

'Calm down.' He murmured, gently lifting the paws up. He slipped out of a bed that had proved almost as comfortable as his own, and settled Adonis down in the pool of warmth he'd left behind. He fetched a silver saucer of milk and a fillet of salmon from a box in one of his trunks which Perenelle had put under heavy stasis charms. He knew he had enough food to last Adonis at least a fortnight, which should give him time to sort out whatever arrangements Hogwarts had for feeding familiars. He wasn't sure how enthusiastically his fussy cat would take to consuming the mice and rats that no doubt lurked around the cellars and dungeons; he would eagerly hunt them, no doubt, but consuming them was another matter.

'Harry?'

He glanced up from tending to Adonis, and saw that Liram had stuck his head out through the curtains of his bed. He couldn't help but notice how handsome the other boy was, hair tousled, tanned skin gleaming in the morning light and long lashes blinking away the sleep from dark blue eyes.

'Go back to sleep.' He told him. 'I'm just feeding Adonis and going for a run.'

'A run?' The other boy exclaimed, barely keeping to a whisper, and glancing at the happily purring cat.

'Yes.' Harry agreed, rolling his shoulders and grabbing a pair of muggle jogging bottoms. Liram watched curiously as he slipped them over his underwear and strapped his wand to his forearm before he put on a long sleeved t-shirt. Harry looked at him as he waved a hand to summon a pair of neon blue and silver running shoes. 'Fancy joining me?'

'Maybe another day.' Liram replied. 'I need at least another hour's sleep.' He said, before shaking his head at Harry's antics and retreating back into the warmth of his bed.

Harry smiled slightly to himself, before walking over to the door and going down the steps to the common room, Adonis trailing after him curiously. He paused by the entrance for a moment, before walking over to one of the great windows, kneeling on the cushioned seat below it as he looked out at the spectacular view of the grounds it afforded. The common room was empty at such an early hour, and so he spent a few minutes going round the windows, admiring the view whilst memorising the layout of the school and its surroundings sprawled below him. He could see the lake, its waters still and gleaming like silver, the tall wooden stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch, the great spread of the Forbidden Forest and the oversized hut that he assumed was where the groundskeeper lived. The castle's courtyards and towers were grey and empty, but he could see the early sunlight glittering in the glass roofs of a series of long greenhouses.

He jogged down the steps to the bottom of Ravenclaw Tower, heading for the main staircase, and took deep, invigorating breaths of the cold morning air as he slipped out through the castle's doors. He took a moment to cast a spell on his shoes that would prevent them from sinking into the soft, slightly damp ground before setting off at a steady pace in the direction of the lake.

I wonder what he wants. Harry thought curiously, breathing steadily as he kicked back up the steep path towards the school forty minutes later.

'Harry.' Albus Dumbledore greeted warmly, smiling at him softly from the top of the steps leading to the castle's entrance as Harry caught his breath and stretched his muscles at the bottom. He'd practised at the estate, but he still wasn't quite comfortable exercising in his new body, which he didn't feel looked like it was up the rigours of his training.

'Professor.' He replied, nodding his head politely as soon as he had his breath back.

'The school told me you'd left her embrace very early this morning.' The headmaster said cheerfully. 'It's most gratifying to see there are students who can manage to get up as early as I do.'

Harry wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, but luckily Professor Dumbledore pressed on.

'I thought I would come down to see what you were up to, and invite you to join me for breakfast in my office.'

Harry couldn't hold back a flicker of surprise from his expression.

'I know you'll likely want to eat with your new friends this morning, but I hope you don't mind doing an old man a favour.' The headmaster told him. 'I will make sure that you get your map of the school, although you seem to be finding your way around perfectly well by yourself, and I will have Fawkes collect your class schedule from Professor Flitwick.'

'Certainly, Professor.' Harry agreed, gathering himself, although he had no idea who or what Fawkes was. 'Would you permit me twenty minutes to shower and change?'

'Of course, of course. I will have Fawkes come and guide you to my office. The password is Toxic Waste.'

'Toxic Waste?' Harry repeated dubiously.

Dumbledore nodded.

'Just so. The name of a type of muggle sherbet. I do so love lemon sherbets, but I fear I find their acidity somewhat lacking nowadays, and have had to seek out a stronger drug to sate my addiction.'

'Yes, sir.' Harry replied politely.

The sudden appearance of a bright red and gold bird whose form was licked by flame in the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory was something of a shock, and Harry felt slightly vulnerable standing, damp, and with only a towel around his waist as the beady black eyes examined him.

'I guess you're Fawkes, then.' He said, and the phoenix nodded its head regally, perched neatly on the back of a chair.

He quickly pulled on his school robes, before turning back to Dumbledore's familiar.

'I'm ready.'

The bird nodded and tilted its head towards the door to the lobby.

Fawkes reappeared in a soft whoosh of fire when he reached the bottom of Ravenclaw tower, and glided from perch to perch ahead of him as he walked through the school. The phoenix led him to an alcove on the seventh floor, in which a fantastically ugly gargoyle crouched. Harry blinked when the magnificent bird disappeared.

'Umm, Toxic Waste?' He said uncertainly.

The gargoyle began to turn in place, and from underneath its feet rose a twisting staircase. Harry stepped on hastily and rode it all the way up until it stopped in front of a gleaming door, bearing only a brass knocker wrought in the shape of a phoenix. Harry knocked twice and waited.

'Do come in, Harry.' The old man called, and Harry pushed the door open to step into a large and beautiful circular room. A great desk stacked with parchments stood on a dais on its far side, in front of a pair of staircases that twisted up to a second floor. The walls were ringed by dark wood bookshelves and delicate tables scattered about the room bore clusters of tiny silver and glass instruments that whirred and ticked and fluttered, emitting whistles and small puffs of multicoloured smoke. Dozens of pictures of previous headmasters and headmistresses filled the walls above the shelves, their occupants all dozing quietly in their frames.

In the centre of the room stood Dumbledore, ancient and kindly, garbed in layers of brown and gold velvet. Next to him was a breakfast table laid with a white cloth, cutlery, and a steaming selection of delicious looking food.

'Welcome!' He said, smiling genially. 'Please, take a seat and help yourself.'

Harry did as ordered, settling himself on a chair that was considerably more comfortable than the benches in the Great Hall.

'Sir…' Harry began tentatively, after avoiding the unhealthiest looking foods and starting on a plate of fruit salad and a bowl of cereal. 'Can I ask why I'm here?'

The old man finished a mouthful of the scrambled eggs he'd, for some strange reason, covered in maple syrup.

'Of course, Harry.' He agreed. 'I have a few matters I would like to discuss with you, and thought they were best dealt with in private.'

Harry nodded politely and wait for him to continue, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

'Firstly, I should let you know that only myself, and the four heads of house, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Snape are aware of your true identity. I do not, personally, necessarily think it wise for you to conceal yourself, but respect your decision, and trust that Nicholas and Perenelle have given you their best advice and guidance.'

'Thank you, sir, they have.' Harry said politely, somewhat relieved that Dumbledore appeared happy for him to remain Harry Flamel. He knew Nicholas had owled the headmaster about the matter, but hearing him say in person that he was willing to go along with it, and restrict the information to the school's most senior teachers, was helpful.

'Secondly, I would like to tell you about a prophecy.'

Harry clenched his jaw, raising an eyebrow at the old man, who was eyeing him as though suffering from an obscure kind of pain.

'A prophecy that suggests I will be the one to kill Voldemort?'

It gave Harry no small amount of pleasure to see the expression of genuine surprise run across the headmaster's face. He lowered his head in agreement after a few long moments.

'You have guessed of its existence?'

Harry shrugged.

'I have suspected for a couple of years now, and talking to Nicholas and Perenelle about it had made me almost certain. It just didn't really make sense for you to go to such pains to hide me if there weren't some larger threat to me out there than the scattered followers of a dead Dark Lord. I might be a target of their hatred but, until recently, at least, the most dangerous of their number were locked up in Azkaban, and taking revenge for a dead man makes little sense when it would likely condemn yourself for life.'

'Perhaps.' Dumbledore replied, nodding slowly. 'Although I feel you underestimate the loyalty and devotion Voldemort inspired in his followers.' His gaze sharpened. 'Tell me, Harry, do you believe Voldemort to be truly dead?'

'No.' Harry said simply. 'I do not believe that whatever prophecy you have heard has been fulfilled. Of all people, Nicholas Flamel knows how many ways there are to cheat death, and it seems inconceivable that the set of robes and the wand that were reportedly all that was left of Voldemort the night he killed my parents actually indicate that he died. The Killing Curse does not vanish its victims.'

'Indeed it does not.' Dumbledore said heavily, before he cleared his throat and began to recite.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born beneath a falling star as a red dawn breaks… Born to live, to those destined to die… And the Dark Lord will hunt for his rival… And forfeit the battle in exchange for the war.'

Harry shivered slightly, at both the words and Dumbledore's solemn delivery. He didn't reply for a while, turning the words over in his head, memorising them, and absently helping himself to yogurt.

'His rival.' He echoed at last, watching the headmaster's expression closely.

A trail of indecipherable emotions fluttered across the wrinkled face.

'Yes.'

'The prophecy expects me to be a Lord by Magic?' Harry asked, curiously. There were three ways to become a 'Lord' in wizarding society; a Lord by Blood, a Lord by Inheritance, and a Lord by Magic. Lords by Blood and Inheritance were the heirs of ancient and powerful families, families who had ruled territory independently before the rise of the Ministry of Magic. Lords by Inheritance were chosen as heirs by a deliberate decision of the previous lord of the family, and underwent a ritual to confirm their status. Lords by Blood were the heirs chosen by Magic itself from within the family line, chosen to carry on the legacy of the bloodlines it had long blessed and favoured. Lords by Magic were those blessed individually by Magic; its favoured children, in whom magical strength gathered in a way it simply did not in ordinary witches and wizards. They were not necessarily particularly powerful, although the vast majority tended to be, but rather completely at one with their strength. It was they who many considered the natural leaders of their generations, they who tested the boundaries and laws of magic. It was also Lords by Magic fighting for power and preeminence that led to the vast majority of magical wars, for the rhythms of the world demanded balance, and as soon as a Lord by Magic declared themselves for the Dark, the Light was forced to respond. An endless cycle of violence, driven ever forwards by the desire of the two sides of magic for domination over the other.

'I do not know, in truth.' Dumbledore said slowly. 'There have been Lords by Magic declared at the moment of their seventeenth birthday, and others who only come into their powers after a century or more. There are also many ways to be someone's rival.' He said, sighing slightly. 'Prophecies have a tendency to be terminally unspecific, I fear.'

Harry nodded. He knew that Dumbledore was the only acknowledged Lord by Magic currently in Britain, and had declared himself for the Light sometime during the Grindelwald War. Voldemort had provided a beacon of hope for the Dark-aligned families after decades of Dumbledore's preeminence.

'Forfeit the battle in exchange for the war.' Harry said. 'That sounds pretty unequivocal.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'I fear so, my child. It will be a war in which I have no doubt you will play a significant part. I am sorry.'

'Don't be.' Harry told him simply, having long since reconciled himself with the prospect. 'I will not let my parents have died in vain.'

'You show remarkable maturity.' Dumbledore mused, almost to himself. 'I find myself caught between a desire to train you for what is to come, and a desire to protect your childhood.'

Harry didn't necessarily want to tell him he was already training himself; the man had been remarkably forthcoming, and had seen to his protection growing up, but was also a declared Light wizard. He would inevitably have an agenda, of which Harry's safety and happiness were only a tiny part. Harry thought he could trust Dumbledore more than most, but had long since resolved that there were none he could put complete faith in. Ultimately, it would only ever be himself he could rely on.

'I would be grateful for any teaching you might see fit to give me.' He said politely, carefully.

Dumbledore looked at him for a long while.

'How strong is your Occlumency?' He asked. 'I know that Nicholas will not have allowed you to come here without some skill in it, and I would not have told you of the prophecy without it, but I must know how comprehensively you have been trained.'

'Mind Magic has always come easily to me.' Harry admitted. 'I am not a Master Occlumens, but my skills would be more than adequate for an active-duty auror.'

Dumbledore nodded.

'Excellent.' He sat silently again, and Harry took the opportunity to finish his breakfast, and glance at a beautiful grandfather clock which told him that it was almost time for classes to begin.

'I would like you to allow me an hour a week in your schedule.' Dumbledore said at last. 'Perhaps in the mornings, when I suspect there is less chance of your being missed by your fellows. I'm sure you can give up your run one day a week to indulge me.'

'Of course.' Harry agreed immediately, not a little flattered by the offer. 'Can I ask what we will be doing, Professor?'

'Many things, many things.' The old man said breezily. 'Studying law, politics, the nature of magic. Perhaps even some poetry.'

Harry nodded uncertainly.

'Oh, before I forget,' the old man continued, 'I take it you are aware of the particular danger Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange pose to yourself?'

'Yes.' Harry said shortly. Dumbledore eyed him sympathetically.

'Then I am sure that I do not need to remind you to keep yourself safe.' He said. 'There have been few students at Hogwarts in the last century who have demonstrated the potential that those two possessed.' He warned, before turning his head. 'Fawkes.'

The great bird fluttered over to land neatly next to Harry on the breakfast table. Harry carefully took the parchment clutched in one golden set of talons and unrolled it to find his timetable.

'Thank you.' He told the bird politely, reaching out slowly to stroke the strangely warm feathers. Fawkes leaned into his touch with a slight chirp of happiness.

Dumbledore smiled benevolently, before rising and going over to his desk to extract a map of the castle and grounds, which he handed to Harry.

'I will let you go to your first class now. I will be in touch about our lessons.' He said, politely dismissing him.

'Where were you?' Liram whispered as Harry dropped into the seat next to him.

'Got distracted on my run.' Harry lied. 'Had to go and find breakfast in the kitchens.'

Liram frowned at him, apparently suspicious, but turned his attention back to the front of the class as the teacher came in and called for order.

'Welcome to Economics.' The balding, middle-aged professor said, smiling slightly at the disgruntled looks on the faces of his new students.

Harry knew that the class was important, and probably ultimately more useful than most of his others would be, but the knowledge didn't stop his boredom as Professor Winding spent the next hour and half teaching them ridiculously simple mathematics.

'Cheer up.' Liram told him, leaning over as Harry sketched idly on his parchment, having finished the exercise within the first few minutes. 'It's Transfiguration next. At least we'll get to use our wands for that.'

He was correct, in a fashion. After Professor McGonagall had impressed them all by jumping from her desk as a cat and landing on the floor as a human, she delivered a lecture on the dangers and complexities of transfiguration, and then had them attempting to turn matches into needles. It quickly dawned on Harry that some members of the class had been practising magic at home for years, whilst other were complete novices to wandwork. After he'd transfigured his own match into a hat pin with an intricate model of Professor McGonagall's animagus form on the end he turned to watch his classmates. Liram, Daphne, Anthony and the bushy haired girl Harry had taken note of before the sorting and thought was called Hermione had managed to create the required needle. Half a dozen others in the class were also making good progress, and clearly had some idea what they were doing. The remainder seemed to be poking their matches with their wands, and without much hope.

A boy called Seamus had managed to light half a dozen of his matches, singeing both his desk and his eyebrows in the process. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seemed to have no interest at all in the exercise, and were busily gossiping away at the back of the room. A boy with flame-red hair, whom Liram said he thought was a Weasley, sat in the row in front of them getting increasingly, and amusingly, frustrated by his match's stillness.

'May I?'

Daphne, Tracey and Blaise looked up at him curiously.

'Of course.' Daphne replied after a moment, gesturing to the space opposite her and next Blaise.

Harry smiled and seated himself at the Slytherin table, receiving a few frowns from the older students nearby for his trouble.

'How was Potions?' He asked Blaise curiously as he helped himself to lunch. He knew the other boy had had a double period with Professor Snape that morning. The four houses were mixed up, seemingly randomly, for each subject; supposedly ensuring that they all interacted with everyone in their year at some point.

'Not bad.' He commented, helping himself to soup. 'I don't think Snape's too bad with Slytherins, but that chubby Gryffindor, Longbottom, nearly wet himself.' He smirked at the memory as he spoke.

'Not good at potions?'

'Terrible.' Blaise replied succinctly. 'I was on the other side of the classroom and even I was afraid that his cauldron would blow up and kill me.'

Harry winced in sympathy.

'How was McGonagall's class.'

Daphne shrugged.

'Easy enough. I think she was trying to work out how much we all knew.' She looked at Harry. 'Harry had to show off, of course.'

Blaise rolled his eyes.

'Naturally.'

'Can we join you?'

'You might as well.' Blaise replied to a curious Liram and a nervous Anthony. The two Ravenclaws hastily sat themselves next to their housemate.

'Are any of you trying out for Quidditch?' Harry asked, playing idly with his salad.

'Quidditch?' Blaise asked. 'I didn't think first years were allowed to play on the house terms.'

'I don't think there's a rule against it.' Harry said, feeling slightly defensive.

'But we haven't even had our first flying lesson.' Daphne pointed out. 'I know that most of us have flown before, but still… nearly all of the students on the house teams are at least fourth years.'

'I was thinking of trying out.' Harry said quietly.

He felt Daphne and Liram examining him closely, apparently already familiar enough with him to identify his behaviour as uncharacteristic.

'Well, if there's no rule against it then I don't see why you shouldn't try.' Liram said supportively, before grinning. 'I'm not bad on a broom, so I might join you.'

'Excellent!' The diminutive Professor Flitwick exclaimed happily as he watched a room full of students and floating feathers. 'A most promising class!'

Liram didn't bother to restrain his snort. Levitation charms were about as simple as controlled magic got, and he wouldn't be surprised if even Malfoy's apparently troll-thick toadies could manage it.

'Now, seeing as you've all apparently found Wingardium Leviosa so easy, perhaps I can challenge you.' The professor continued, jumping from atop the stack of books on his chair and onto his desk. 'Levitation charms are not particularly difficult in themselves, but they become more complex as soon as the objects multiply.' As he spoke he waved his wand and every feather in the room duplicated itself and fluttered slowly, with its new companion, to the desk beneath it.

'I don't believe that you've had your first period of Arithmancy, but the equation behind this variation is quite simple.' He continued, levitating a piece of chalk to scrawl a formula on the blackboard behind him. Professor Flitwick spent a few more minutes explaining the method, and the slight variation to the wand movement required to draw additional objects into the spell, before letting his students loose on their feathers.

Liram concentrated on the instruction, and carefully made the gesture, speaking the incantation with the required stresses.

He watched, both pleased and disappointed, as one of his two feathers took immediately to the air, tracking the movement of his wand exactly. The second jerked slightly before trailing lazily after its fellow.

'Not bad, Mr Shafiq.' He heard the professor call. 'But a greater sweep next time, to properly tie the secondary object into the spell. Oh my, Mr Flamel…'

Liram felt the slight smile at the professor's praise fall from his face as he turned towards his new friend. Harry was sitting at his desk, talking to Daphne, wand twitching idly in one hand as a trail of half a dozen white, fluffy feathers danced obediently through the air, each following the next immediately and with precisely equal gaps. Liram could see Daphne trying to concentrate on the conversation, but her eyes kept flicking to the objects in her peripheral vision.

'Show off.' Liram said, nudging the boy, who turned to him with a slight grin.

'I thought you told me you'd been doing levitation charms since you were eight?' Harry asked innocently, even as he swept his wand gracefully and added Liram's two abandoned feathers to his floating flock.

'I have.' Liram told him, watching slightly enviously. 'I can levitate almost anything, but I just don't know anything about doing multiple objects at once. The arithmancy behind it is…'

'Simple, as the professor told us.' Harry said, before getting his feathers to settle themselves decoratively in Tracey's carefully curled hair.

Her indignant shout of 'Harry!' caused Daphne to snort with laughter just as Professor Flitwick toddled over to them.

'Most impressive, Mr Flamel!' He said. 'As I'm sure you know, the arithmancy gets exponentially more complex as you increase the number of objects.'

Harry tilted his head consideringly.

'It does.' He acknowledged, 'but it also runs in a pattern, so if you memorise the sequence of numbers behind it and practise the spell enough then it becomes instinctive.'

Professor Flitwick nodded.

'Exactly, Mr Flamel, but if you've just memorised the sequence from a book then I suspect that the intricacies of the charm's construction might have escaped you.'

Harry grinned.

'My father had similar concerns.' He said. 'The Levitation Charm was the first he taught me, and he made me work out the next sequence of numbers every time when adding objects to it.'

Flitwick nodded approvingly.

'Very well done, that's at least fourth year Arithmancy. Ten points to Ravenclaw, and exemption from the homework.'

Harry almost failed to hold back his smirk as the redheaded Weasley in front of him turned to glare at him.

'Are you coming?'

'You go on,' Harry told Liram as they neared the door of the Charms classroom. 'I just want to speak to Professor Flitwick about something.'

The other boy frowned slightly, but nodded and left with Anthony in tow.

'Yes, Mr Potter, can I help you?'

Harry jerked his head back round as he approached the teacher's desk, making sure that none of his departing classmates were in earshot. Professor Flitwick chuckled.

'Don't worry.' He said. 'When a student approaches my desk to have a private word then no one in the room can hear them except for me.'

Harry nodded, reassured, though still a little uncomfortable at being addressed by the name he was trying to conceal.

'Thank you for telling me, sir,' he began respectfully, before broaching the topic he'd wanted to ask about. 'I was wondering about your duelling club…' He continued, pausing slightly.

'Oh yes?' The professor asked, smiling. 'It's proved very popular over the last few years. As I believe Professor Dumbledore said at the feast last night, the first session for first to third years will be immediately after school tomorrow in the Great Hall.'

Harry nodded.

'Yes, sir.' He agreed. 'But you see, I was wondering whether you might let me come to the more Advanced Class on Thursdays?'

The man frowned.

'Hmm.' He said. 'I have, in the past, allowed some third years to join my Advanced Class, if they showed sufficient promise, but a first year? Is it your schedule that stops you from coming on Tuesdays?'

Harry shook his head.

'No, sir, it's just that I've already done quite a lot of duelling, and I think that I would be more comfortable in the class on Thursday.'

'Hmm.' The professor repeated, eyeing him. 'There are quite a number of students who come to Hogwarts with some experience of duelling, even at thirteen, so I do not think you would find yourself alone in having some skill.'

'Sir, I would be happy to try the junior sessions, but I really think I would be more suited to the more advanced class.'

Professor Flitwick looked slightly surprised that he had pressed the matter, however politely. Eventually, though, he nodded thoughtfully.

'Are you free after school today, at, say half five?'

Harry nodded.

'I can be, sir.' He replied curiously.

'Excellent. There is another student seeking to join the senior class, a third year. I told him at the end of last year that if he practised hard over the summer then I would allow him to join the advanced students. I will be testing him this afternoon. I was going to ask one of my fourth years to be his opponent, but if you're willing to volunteer yourself…'

'I am.' Harry told him. His voice was calm, but he felt a thrill of excitement run through him at the thought of fighting someone close to his age.

'Then I will see you this afternoon, Mr Potter. You may give this to your next professor.' Flitwick said, dismissing him with a scrap of parchment.

Author's note: Hope it's all hanging together so far, but do let me know if you spot any spelling/grammar/continuity errors. Sorry if this chapter was a bit heavy on exposition, but I couldn't really think of a neater way to get the information I wanted in than the conversation with Dumbledore. Anyway, less lecturing in the next chapter =)