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So far... After discovering Dudley's computer, Harry is set on making a career as a software programmer developing video games. But at the age of eleven, Dumbledore thwarts his plans to attend a technical college. Read on...

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Chapter 2

Merlin's Halo

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The day after Dumbledore dragged him off to Diagon Alley, and Aunt Petunia cautioned the boy he'd be forced to attend Hogwarts instead of Guildford Technical College, Harry began to plan a way out. He rummaged through the paperwork he'd retrieved from his vault and discovered a seven-year diary that had been kept by his mother. This seemed unlikely to provide any solution to his immediate problem so apart from skimming a few sentences here and there, he left it for another day. Instead, he persuaded Aunt Petunia to tell him what she knew of the magical world that might help him escape it. The main thing he learned was that a dark wizard called Voldemort had killed his parents, tried to kill him, and would no doubt try again, but he was safe until he was seventeen so long as he regarded four, Privet Drive as his home.

"But that means you're all in danger too!" Harry shook his head at the injustice of it. "I need to alter what I look like and... do you know what's... is it easy to change my name? How long would it take?"

"Well of course it is, we're British! There's no central registry of everybody like nasty foreign countries have..." She sniffed disdainfully. "We do have standards, you know! There are records of birth, death, census of residents, of course, but anyone is free to get a certificate of change of name. You're underage so we'll have to apply on your behalf. It takes a week or two I believe."

"I could be a Dursley! – if you don't mind that is?"

Petunia stared at him. A couple of years ago she'd have screamed at the very idea; now it made sense. "I'll ask your uncle tonight."

"I need a businesslike name... how about... John? John Dursley sounds cool. Dumbledore will blow a gasket when I get to– what kind of punishments do they have at his freak school?"

"How should I know!" Petunia thought for a moment as an old memory came to her recollection. "Your mother did say there's a points system and detentions. That's it apart from expulsion, but that's not going to happen is it? Not if Dumbledore wants to keep you there."

"Pity, but I'll test all of those to find out what I can get away with. I'll find a way to live like normal people somehow."

Within the week, Harry had collected a wide variety of magic charms including not only a Magi-shield charm, but one called Mugergy that powered electrical devices by magic. A tiny twin-twined feline figurine called a copycat came with a warning that it could not duplicate gold, food, or working magical items, while a scourge stone cleaned any surface it touched except for fairy wings. In an apothecary, he was delighted to find and buy an eye-correcting draught that also made them brown, a potion to change his hair light brown combed flat, and bewitched Wartwotwart flesh paint to permanently hide his scar. That should offset some of the stares he was getting, and make him less conspicuous to anyone wishing to threaten him. While there, he also bought medicines like Dittany, Murtlap Essence, Painaway gel, and others.

Then there were trinkets he bought from Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley:

"What's that one do?" said Harry, pointing to a glinting light partly concealed within a tall, glass-fronted cabinet behind Mr Borgin and the counter.

Borgin glanced back. "That? That's nothing special. How about those scarab daggers over there? They–"

"–What is it exactly?" Harry knew from his business studies that the best stuff was kept protected. "Is it jewellery? Is it gold? Is it cursed?"

Borgin sighed and brought forth the item, which Harry could now see was a scintillating crystal ring in a little opened box of blackened wood. "This is Merlin's Halo, forged of lovelight from the eyes of Morgana Le Fey before–"

"–Get outta town! You think I'm stupid? Merlin? You mean, the Merlin? Listen, I've studied sales talk but that is the daftest– wait! Don't put it back. What's it do?"

"Do! Is not its history sufficient to give it value and interest? How can you–"

"–What's it do?"

Borgin drew another deep breath. "It is said to protect those worthy enough to deserve it. It dissuades the aggressor, confuses enemies, deflects attacks, and–"

"–Does it work? Show me it working and I'll consider buying it."

"Alas, only the rarest of our clientele would–"

"–Let me try then. You could punch my arm or something."

"You cannot put such a sacred artifact to the test! Your very invitation for me to strike you would invalidate the enmity, would it not?"

"How much?"

"Eighteen-thousand."

Harry's laughter continued for half a minute. "You seriously think anyone would pay that much for something you cannot prove even works? I bet you've not been able to shift that for years. I'll give you three-hundred."

"One thousand. Anything less is unthinkable."

"Think about five hundred."

"Eight. That's it. Not a Knut less."

"Let me see if it fits and I'll jump to seven. Looks too big anyway."

Harry soon found the ring was not hard crystal at all, but softly lit his finger then melted away.

"Where'd it go?"

"The Halo reveals itself as needed."

"Then how am I supposed to show it off to" – the band of light flashed into view as Harry spread his fingers in a flaunting, threatening pose. "Cool! This is my side of the dumpster, asshole – back off!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Have you never played Street Venger 2: Catharsis? I gotta twinkly thing here and I ain't afraid to use it? – I guess not."

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He was soon using his new name in his business and working out how to keep the venture running while he was away. He wasted two days on a 2G mobile phone that had no way to connect to the modem in his PC, but within a week had set up a ham radio with a phone patch. He showed the Dursleys how to scan orders and other important business letters and send the documents directly to him using one of the several modems he'd bought. With the business taken care of, they all set out to King's Cross Station at the start of September where he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

He found a compartment with only a couple of kids in it and pulled his Toshiba laptop out of his bottomless bag. It had only a black and white display and no connectivity without a phone line but at least he could work on coding his game. How the stick-on stud charm powered it without even being plugged in he had no idea nor cared. He booted up Windows 3, ran his editor, and began work.

He was aware he'd attracted the attention of the other occupants of the compartment, but they soon lost interest, and he thought he heard one of them mutter, "funny Muggle book," or somesuch in reference to his laptop.

After a couple of hours he put his laptop away and began reading September's PC World, but the dull rhythmic drumming of the train was making him drowsy, so at some point he dozed.

Half in a dream he thought he heard people talking about a toad. With one sleepy eye he thought it might be the modem girl he'd seen in the Cauldron shop, but she didn't seem to recognise him with his changed appearance. She left. He snoozed off again.

He didn't awake until the train jerked to a halt.

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"You there! Where are your school robes?" It was the McGonagall woman in a small chamber near the entrance of the castle, and she stared at Harry in a very annoyed manner. "See me after the Sorting."

She began telling the new first-years gathered before her about school stuff and wasn't paying him any further attention, so Harry didn't tell her he'd burnt the robes and books that Dumbledore had bought. But she faltered here and there, and she seemed to be scanning the newcomers – as well as glancing at Harry now and again.

She's wondering if the missing Harry Potter might be me... thought Harry.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." McGonagall's eyes lingered for one more moment on Harry then she headed out the door without realising that Harry was following her.

"Professor McGonagall!"

She whirled about.

"Yes, it's me, John Dursley, formerly Harry Potter. I'm in disguise."

"Well! It doesn't work very well then does it. I susp–"

"–You saw and heard me speak not long ago, as did the Headmaster. It was only a matter of time you'd work it out. But for everyone else they'd have no idea. I've recently been told there's a bad wizard wants me dead so I'd prefer you don't tell anyone except maybe–"

"–I shall inform the Headmaster and the heads of house. You're being very foolish, Mr Potter and–"

"–Dursley. My legal name is John Dursley and I won't answer to anything else. I don't expect to remain here long, but while I do, you'd do well to ignore me."

"Mr Dursley! Do not dictate to me how to perform my job. You will keep in line and you will attend Hogwarts for the customary seven years. Now go back to–"

"–Wanna bet? You kidnappers will be glad to see the back of me before too long." With that Harry sped away, leaving behind a shocked Professor McGonagall.

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The Sorting went smoothly until the D's were reached:

"Davis, Tracey."

"Hufflepuff!"

The girl frowned in surprise at the Hat's cry, muttering something like "quotas?" under her breath, but quickly accepted the decision.

"Dursley, John!" McGonagall called.

A murmur swept through the gathering as they perceived that nobody was stepping forward from the group of new first-years.

"Dursley, John!" McGonagall repeated, more loudly. She quickly saw that Harry was not where he should be so her eyes began sweeping around the Great Hall.

"Very well ... Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

And so the Sorting continued.

At the Gryffindor table, two fourth-year lads, Fred and George Weasley were poring over a portion of a folded parchment, frowning.

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Meanwhile, Harry Potter was prowling the corridors of Hogwarts Castle searching for anything that might help his cause. He had to gather information, had to gain an edge, perhaps even find a way out of the castle. He peered into many classrooms but they appeared to be regularly used. What he needed was a hideout: a base for his covert operations. He was starting to feel rather hungry so pulled out a pack of egg sandwiches from his bag and munched as he walked along. His spirits were still high but he'd be in difficulties if he couldn't find a place for the night before–

"–Well, what have we here, Fred?"

"Looks like a little lost firstie to me, George."

"I'm not lost! Just thought I'd find out where everything is. You're not going to turn me in, are you?" Harry paused, then quickly gulped down his last sandwich before they could steal it.

"Us? Unlikely. But you've not been Sorted. Your travel trunk won't know where to– you did leave it on the train, right?"

"Don't have one. I travel light." He patted his shoulder pack with the Gringotts crest on its side.

"Why are you...? What exactly are you trying to do?"

Harry tried to assess the older boys. They looked more amused than angry. "I want to be ... a nuisance."

Fred and George stared at each other, crafty grins slowly twisting their expressions into ones of delight , then said in unison. "What is it you need?"

"Food, drink, escape, freedom, a spare room where I can stay the night without being found."

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Harry yawned and stretched his limbs when he woke early next morning lying on a blanket on the ground in a low, gloomy passage: luxury! And what good fortune to run into the Weasley twins. They'd not only shown him how to get into the kitchens, but had shown him this tunnel they said led out of the castle and into Hogsmeade!

However, he needed more information about school life so off he went towards the Great Hall for breakfast to mingle with other students and discover if any of the lessons would be of use to him.

Before he even found a seat, McGonagall was onto him like mud from a bog. "See me immediately after breakfast, Mr Dursley!"

The ends of the long tables nearest the entrance were filling up with older students – some of them quite mean-looking. Harry was no fool; he found a place towards the front next to the youngest, most timid girl he could see, knowing she'd be the least likely to cause him a problem. Head down to hide a face twisted by misery, her fair hair was skewed in disarray as though one pigtail had been tugged hard enough to lose its ribbon. Like everyone here but himself, she was wearing robes. She flinched nervously as he sat down.

As Harry stared at the huge variety and quantity of food available, he became aware of her sideways glance, and then a gasp.

"You're Muggle-born? Shouldn't you be wearing...?" Her head ducked down again.

"Yeah, I live with normal people and I want to live a normal life." He seized a couple of crispy bacon cobs and began munching. "I'm starting out as a video game developer and that's what I'm going to be, but I suppose you don't even know what I'm talking about, right?"

Her head jerked up, and she was staring. "Actually I do. My mum's got an Atari ST and an Amiga."

"Really! Have you played Time Bandit?"

"My favourite!" she nodded vigorously. "I can't believe someone here would even have heard–" Her head lowered again, face flushing.

"I've got the DOS version. I can't make games that good yet, but one day..." He hesitated before asserting himself. He knew it was stupid and unlikely, but he had a chance it might come true: "One day I'm going to be important."

She drew a quick breath, then dared to peek sideways at him then. "You're that..."

"That what?" He started on his second cob. This was the best food he'd ever tasted.

"You're the one who wasn't Sorted, right? Everyone's been saying you'd run away like a scaredy-cat. I almost wish..."

"What?"

"I hate this house. I'm a mistake. I begged to be in Hufflepuff to make friends but the Hat said I could do that far better at..."

Harry had no idea what she was talking about; House? Hat? Hufflepuff? Aunt Petunia had not mentioned any of those. "Do better at what?"

"At Slytherin's table," she finished lamely. "But they hate me because my mother's... not magical. They keep jabbing me and... and... worse."

Harry turned to look at her properly. He knew that expression well, having worn it himself most of his life: tormented, fearful, broken, dark shadows round red-rimmed eyes as if she'd been crying most of the night. On impulse he reached out and pulled up her sleeve. "Cheezers..." Her forearm was dotted with ugly blotches. "I thought you meant with fingers. What did they jab you with? Why?"

"Wands. Scores of times. Half the night... The girls were the worst. It's because my mum's a Muggle so they think my blood's tainted."

Harry groaned, remembering his body – all except the face – covered in bruises and looking almost as bad as that arm. Just one of those marks would sting badly, he knew well after the times Dudley had burned him with a smouldering cigarette butt he'd picked up. She must be suffering dreadfully with more to come each day and night. "Tell–" He stopped himself. He knew it would be a waste of time telling the Headmaster who didn't seem to care about children at all.

"I have," she said. "I sent Mum an owl asking if I can come home, but I'm not sure what Dad will say."

Harry had lost his appetite and abandoned his cob roll. The girl was in a worse state than he was. This school truly was a brutal prison. He gave her his bottle of Murtlap hoping it did what it said on the label, then added it to the shopping list on his Psion Organiser to get a replacement.

The class schedules were brought round by a sallow-skinned man with shoulder-length, greasy black hair.

"What are you doing at this table, Dursley. Leave!"

"I wish," muttered Harry, disliking the man immediately, but since the pig-tailed girl was already hurrying off with her timetable, he followed. Perhaps he could copy her list of class times with his Copycat charm.

He'd almost caught up with her when she disappeared into a toilet, so he waited outside. Quite a long time passed and he realised she must be applying the Murtlap. He tried not to visualise that. For about five seconds.

When she finally came out, she bowed her head away and blushed furiously to see him waiting there; she seemed to do that a lot. He wished he'd waited out of sight to save her the embarrassment. He tried to think what to say:

"I just wanted to–"

"–DURSLEY!" roared a voice immediately behind him just as his shoulder was grabbed. It was a much older boy with a badge on his robe. "McGonagall is going to rip you to pieces with her claws you little shit!"

He was dragged away to the deputy-headmistress's office.

"Detention!" was her first word the moment he was pushed inside, then something was thrust over his head and held there.

Aha! This won't take long, said a voice in his ear. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and ambition aplenty with a nice thirst to prove yourself. Has to be... "SLYTHERIN!"

As whatever-it-was lifted off his head, McGonagall snapped, "Arrive here at seven-thirty prompt for your detention."

He blinked at the sudden light after having his eyes covered, then could see she was shuffling through some papers.

"This is your class schedule. GO!" Her voice was cold.

Harry pondered the class he should be at right now: History of Magic. Was there any point in attending? He could think of no use whatsoever of learning magical history when he'd rather be studying... He pulled a hefty hardback book on PC hardware architecture out of his bag. He needed to gain some understanding of this if he wished to become an advanced game programmer. But boy, it was thick, needing two hands to hold it for more than a few seconds, and he was more interested in the fun side of writing code and play-testing it.

He sighed. He'd work through it bit by bit, but not today – wait! He could kill two birds with one stone: attend History, use the period to study his hardware book, and maybe disrupt the class enough to upset Dumbledore? Off he strolled.

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Harry stood in the doorway at the back of the classroom, hardly believing his eyes: a ghost was teaching History and seemed utterly oblivious of Harry standing there! How do you annoy a dead spirit? But his hardware book was getting heavier by the minute and he needed a seat. He could see only a few empty places, and one of them near the front was offside. Still that might do nicely as he wouldn't have to attract attention strutting down the centre of the room.

As Harry moved into the leftmost aisle, a boy catapulted – no, slung with his wand! – an inky quill that hit the back of the dark-haired girl sitting next to the empty place, and it was obvious many previous darts had already hit their target. Anger swelled up within Harry. He recalled himself in that exact same situation with Dudley and his gang lobbing things at him, and it was intolerable to watch it happening to someone else.

A rage burst out from him. Storming forward, he swung the weighty computer book sideways at the head of the offender, almost toppling over with the release of momentum. THUMP! Something flashed briefly before his eyes as his attention was distracted by his precious book crashing down out of sight. But it had done its work and the other boy staggered half-over sideways looking dazed. Even so, as he struggled up and turned to point his wand, Harry saw he was much bigger than himself in every way – but then so was Dudley! Harry's left fist hit the boy in the eye and his right followed down well below the flailing arms. The thug grunted as Harry's knuckles sunk into his gut. It was ugly fighting, and Harry wasn't very good at it, but he'd had lots of practice and adrenaline powered his every move – and perhaps something more...

Harry backed away to avoid a lunge, stepped aside of blindly grappling fingers, then two-arm-elbowed the boy really hard in the side of the jaw as he stumbled by, head down. Harry power-punched the back of the youth's neck, brought up his knee into the face, then kicked at a shin, causing the kid to howl and sway. The rest was easy, Harry was ten times more nimble and practised than this lumbering brute who had been dozy since the book hit him; Harry hammered blows upon him mercilessly without any reply, then, once the boy was doubled over, wailing and off-balance, slammed his fat head down hard on the desk. Then again. And again. The boy slid unconscious to the ground. Surely Dumbledore would have to expel him now!

He looked around. Every student was staring at him in silent astonishment – perhaps fear – yet the teacher was still droning on about goblin rebellions. Nobody spoke. It occurred to Harry then that possibly magical kids had no conception at all of a fist fight. That was why his success had come so relatively easily. Never before had he inflicted so much damage on anyone! Why had he beaten the boy so badly? He'd lost control for some reason, probably because he thought he'd left his own victimisation behind him yet today saw it resurrected on another pitiful child!

Harry recovered his book from the floor along with the boy's wand, then went and sat down at the front. Only as he relaxed his muscles did the pain hit him: knuckles, elbow, shoulder.

Ignoring the stares, he dug into his bag for Painaway gel and rubbed some into his hurting joints. As he twisted about, he saw again the inky quills in the back and head of the person next to him – that was when he recognised who it was. She was the pigtail girl whose fair hair was soaked with black ink! And she seemed to have become mute and frozen. Was she scared of him?

He plucked the quills from her, invoked his scourge stone to remove the thick stains, then turned to the page in his book he'd dog-eared to mark his place. His heart was thumping and his minding racing even faster as a dozen thoughts a second fought for attention. Cool he was not. Had he become a bully? Had he played Street Venger 2 so many times he'd become corrupted?

The book. The book. Focus on the book. Clock speed. Clock speed. Right. Focus on the book. Right. Ah yes, his clock speed of 33 MHz could be increased by–

"–thank you," came a tiny whisper from his left. The girl had partly found her voice.

"Did you hear from your Mum?" said Harry, not knowing how else to reply.

"Dad says a bit of bullying is normal at the start but I'll get used to the rough and tumble of school life in time, and I'm probably just homesick. He wants me to think it through at least until Christmas, and not make any hasty decision."

Harry wondered if she'd survive till then. "What would happen if you just go home? Would he...? Would he punish you?"

"Dad? No! But he'd bring me back to school. He believes in Hogwarts you see."

"That's rough, really rough. I wish I could help but... Tell me if it doesn't improve and I'll... I'll..."

"You need to be careful; there's much older boys than Crabbe."

"Crabbe? Who's he?"

"That boy you fought."

Harry looked round. Two other boys were struggling to carry Crabbe out of the classroom.

"Where are they taking him?"

"Hospital wing. He'll be back on his feet tomorrow, maybe even today, so watch out: magic can heal very quickly."

"Wasn't really a fight. I had the advantage of surprise and he didn't know what to do. I've never done anything like that in a normal school, but here... I..." Harry couldn't tell her he'd been looking for trouble when he walked in the classroom, nor that he'd been carried away by fury at the bullying. It was a wonder he'd been successful considering he'd not kept a cool head. Come to think, how had he–?

–Did Borgin's flashy ring really work? Had it confused and distracted Crabbe? He had a ton of money in his Gringotts' vault and more in his normal bank so could easily afford another ring for...

"Hey! Maybe I can help you, uumm...?"

"Hannah."

"Right. I'm John. Here, put this on." Merlin's Halo reappeared as he placed it upon one of her fingers. "It's a protective–"

"–Oh, John, you're wonderful!" And the girl was crying again. But between her sobs he thought he heard: "means ... so much ... to me."

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Harry hung back at the end of the lesson to avoid conflict and to watch where everyone else headed – which was Herbs according to his timetable. He wouldn't be coming to History again for sure, and he was wondering whether to bother with Herbs too when he became aware that Hannah was still with him. "Uumm..."

They reached the door and found two other kids waiting outside. One of them was the girl he'd spoke to in the cauldron shop but who didn't see through his new look on the train.

"You've broken so many rules!" she cried, eyes flaring.

"Not to mention teeth," said the other boy who, Harry saw, had fair hair and was a little chubby. "Where'd you get that? Who are you?"

"Get what? I'm John Dursley."

"Your protective light ring! That's lost magic that is! Powerful! There've only ever been seven and all thought gone forever. It's priceless! And yet on your first day you bestowed it upon..."

"Hannah Abbott," whispered Hannah, and there was something alight in her eyes that Harry hadn't seen before. Was it hope?

"Well met, Hannah Abbott! I'm Neville Longbottom and this is my friend Hermione Granger. We found each other buying cauldrons in Diagon Alley and got along famously straight away!" They smiled at each other, then Neville turned back to Harry. "John Dursley, you have performed gallantry beyond comprehension upon one in great need. What valour! What honour! You do realise what you've done?"

"Of course I do," said Harry. "I can manage without–"

"–You've doubled its power in the binding. You two are unassailable, and Hannah will be forever graced by purity and–"

"–Now wait a min–"

"–Goodness! We have to go or we'll be late for Herbology," cried Hermione, who was tugging Neville's sleeve.

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Throughout the day, Harry didn't see how he could skip lessons without hurting Hannah's feelings. The girl felt obliged to him when really she didn't need to be. And she was transformed with happiness, hardly the same person at all. Hannah was practically shining! What on earth was he going to do tomorrow when he had to try to set up his main computer so he could work properly on his game? If, as Neville had said, the ring was for real, then she should be safe in... in wherever Slytherins spend their evening, and he definitely was not going to give away the location of the secret escape tunnel. What to do? What to do? Working in an empty classroom for one night might be an option but that would only put off the inevitable until nighttime.

By the last lesson he'd decided to slip quickly away as they mingled with the crowds entering the Great Hall for dinner. But it didn't quite work out that well. As he headed down to the kitchens he heard her footsteps right behind him.

"Where are we going?" she cried, slightly out of breath.

"Uumm... thought I'd–we'd eat somewhere quieter. The Weasley twins told me how to get in here."

The house-elves greeted them enthusiastically. A little elf named Trula was particularly devoted, the head-elf explaining that the castle had assigned her to the couple personally because that is where they had begun – whatever that means, thought Harry. And Hannah seemed really happy to be away from the other Slytherins.

After they had eaten, Harry again wondered how to solve the problem of his accommodation. "Trula, I need a room to stay where nobody can find me or–"

–The elf gave a little skip, her ears waggling cheerfully, and clapped her tiny hands together. "Trula knows the perfect place, sir!" she said happily. "It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!"

"Why?" said Harry, curiosity showing on his face.

"Because it is a room that a person can only enter," said Trula seriously, "when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs."

"So..." Harry thought quickly. "It would be whatever is essential? Could it even divide into smaller rooms with–"

"–Of course, sir! The room will know what you need better than you do yourself!"

"How many people know about it?" said Harry, sitting up straighter in his chair and pushing his empty dinner plate away.

"Very few, sir. Mostly people stumble across it when they need it, sir, but often they never find it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, sir."

"Sounds brilliant," said Harry, his heart racing. "When can you show me where it is? This evening?" he added hopefully.

The elf eagerly led him out of the kitchens and he noted Hannah was now clinging to his arm. She clearly was intending to see his new home for herself. Did she intend to stay in one of its rooms? She didn't need to if the ring was protecting her. Did she understand that?

"Will you wait for me while I get my things?" she said. "Almost everyone's still at dinner in the Great Hall, but anyway..." Light flashed as she raised her left hand. "...I'll be safe now."

Harry frowned as he stood with the elf, watching her depart. If she accepted that the ring would now protect her, why did she want to stay with him? This was about as weird as that one time Dudley had stopped punching him for no reason, just nodded and walked away.

Hannah soon returned with a small travel chest almost floating behind. Harry said nothing. Trula guided them up to the seventh floor corridor where they were shown a stretch of blank wall opposite a tapestry, and there she explained how to enter.

"Right," said Harry. "I need to think about this for a bit."

I need a room to hide where only I can get in... he thought, then, realising Hannah was expecting to see, perhaps even guest, where he was going to live, he added, only me and Hannah then and nobody else can find it ever or get in it ever. But I... we can get out and... maybe have Trula bring us food? And a nice room for Hannah and it must be comfortable, and my computer and radio must work and I must be able to study and do computer stuff, and something for Hannah so she's not bored, perhaps a television?

He forgot to pace as he'd been told but after a good while a door appeared anyway. They entered.

The room was modestly sized but sumptuously furnished with an arching desk in one corner, cabinets and abundant shelving – some already stacked with books. There was even a fireplace with a well-established log fire already glowing well – how was that possible? His eyes took in several doors and in the furthest, most dimly lit corner, a decent bed by the looks of it. This would do fine!

He looked back at where they'd entered but the door had vanished. So too had the elf. "Where'd Trula go?"

"Oh, John..." smiled Hannah. Was that a little giggle?

Harry touched the wall and the door reappeared. He backed off and it disappeared again. Brilliant!

He went to investigate the other doors with Hannah: A bathroom with toilet, shower, and working taps! A walk-in wardrobe – no, a complete dressing room! A storeroom lined with empty shelves. A different passageway in the castle. And another near the kitchens! A third that was a dark, cool... alley? Sky above? He was outside! How? Where?

A breeze was just strong enough to stir Hannah's pigtails. "Is this... Hogsmeade?" she said in astonishment. "I could call the Knight Bus and be home in minutes!"

"Freedom..." murmured Harry. This opens up so many possibilities...

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Hannah helped Harry set up his PC and, with the Magi-shield and Mugergy charms. They soon had Windows 3 displayed on the monitor, and Harry showed off his game to Hannah. In turn, he tried to help with her homework, though he'd not paid much attention to the day's lessons.

Finally, they relaxed on the sofa in front of the fire which seemed to be still burning nicely. They chatted about many things. Hannah wasn't so bad, Harry decided. Was she becoming a friend? He'd dealt with those in his text adventure but never in real life. He was finding it enjoyable.

After a cup of hot chocolate, Hannah kissed him on the cheek and went to get ready for bed. Harry nodded. She was in the bathroom and the dressing room quite a while. Why did girls take so long? Only when she re-emerged wearing a dressing gown did it occur to him they'd not come across another bedroom. He stared, slack-jawed as she disrobed to a nightgown then dived into the only bed available: his bed.

Harry froze.

It was a wide bed but even so... this was really strange. How had all this happened?

He took a shower then eventually, after checking all the doors again in case he'd missed a room, he lay down beside her, leaving a decent space between them.

"Goodnight, John," whispered Hannah. "Thanks for... everything. You've made me so happy."

He nodded awkwardly, wondering what to say.

"I'll owl Daddy tomorrow so he can explain to Mum. She won't understand."

What did that mean? thought Harry.

It was a long, long time before he fell asleep.

But not much later he was awoken. Hannah was pressed up against him whimpering and murmuring very softly in her sleep, eyes closed. He kept quite still. Was she dreaming? He'd seen one of Aunt Marge's bulldogs growling and twitching in its sleep just like this, probably gnawing on a trapped rabbit – but Harry was no rabbit!

As she moved against him her breathing became more laboured. Her legs stiffened – fingers entwining around his neck – lips softly dabbing at his face. And then, without warning, her body convulsed, then released and hardened again, over and over. During the next minute her agitations increased into more rapid oscillations; her other hand crept up to the side of his face, brightly lit: the ring of light!

As her eyes flashed blindly open with that strange luminescence reflecting from them, Harry saw many emotions: a seizure of bliss, out-of-control rapture, animal triumph. The girl accelerated against him in a rising wave that lasted many minutes before it subsided, only to rise again and again. For a long time her happy delirium proceeded unabated before eventually subsiding into a deeper stupor where Harry could not tell where her body ended and his began.

This deeply relaxed state drew him into sleep too, only to join with her in a strange flowing vision of freedom, enhanced meaning, and.. completeness. This was where she'd been all this time? On a higher plane? Where? Far off at the edge of awareness, his physical sense of body could not fail to respond, and he felt every imperfection, even the scar in his forehead, dissolve away by the overwhelming experience of their affinity.

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When Harry awoke he could hear Hannah singing in the bathroom. What had happened last night? He'd come straight from junior school, and the Dursleys had taught him nothing about girls, but surely the dream experience with Hannah hadn't been normal? Had it even been a dream because it had impacted more strongly than daily life. For the first time ever, he felt complete – yet with purpose; the two seemed contradictory – but merged into one.

Hannah appeared in a bathrobe, squealed when she saw he was awake, and dashed into the dressing room. Harry used the opportunity to take yesterday's clothes into the bathroom with him, showered, and dressed. He needed to reassess magic, yet his ambition for a career developing video games had not diminished in the slightest – in fact it was stimulated!

He dashed to his PC, booted up, and began typing frantically, brimming with new ideas. More interesting characters were needed for Viking Pirate Treasure and the plot could be improved too. He barely had time to plan and make notes before he sensed Hannah at his side. He sensed her.

"I still can't believe you chose me, John" she said. "You changed my life. Please tell me you'll come and meet my parents at Christmas?"

"Erm... yes, though I have to fit in some work at home too. So are we...?"

"I'm not afraid anymore, John. We can go to breakfast if you want." She took a few steps towards the blank wall, unsure exactly where the invisible door had been, but the Room knew what was needed and it soon came into view.

"Yeah, okay. Uuh... don't laugh, but... you and me..." He busied himself powering down the PC while he thought what to say. They had some sort of relationship he couldn't fathom; it was outside his experience. He had no idea how he was supposed to behave. "Uumm... should we hold hands, do you think?"

Her laughter from across the room was like heavenly bells to his ears. "Oh, John, we're always holding hands, silly." She tapped the side of her head, still smiling.

And astonishingly, on a deeper level, he knew last night still existed as more than just a memory, and he saw she was right: they were literally inseparable within.

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Each night was the same: during sleep, Hannah would draw Harry into that higher experience of extraordinary comfort in her arms and he'd awake refreshed each morning. At the first chance he searched the books provided by the Room for anything about girls – and his need was met immediately. But although learning about mundane sex was fascinating to a young boy, his and Hannah's experience had not been physical. They'd discovered, and were sharing, some kind of psychic environment where material sensations had been reduced to a remotely-felt side effect, a shadow of an inner illuminated togetherness.

Illumination! Again he turned to the books, and again the Room delivered! Merlin's Halo had elevated their life to something higher. He learned not only about Hannah's extreme physical excitations being an outward effect of something indefinable within, but he almost grasped something of their inner mystery too. The ring of Merlin had bound them in a happy state. Its magic had revealed a finer contact and familiarity with each other. Had Merlin wanted everyone to have such rings?

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

Wish I had a ring like that so you could go around thumping people and have fourth-dimensional raptures and stuff. ;)

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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