"Everyone is just so boring, Cissy. All the rules I have to follow. All the restrictions I have to obey... I'm sick of it. Would it really be so bad if I just did whatever I wanted to do? Shouldn't we all just do what we want?" -Bellatrix Black to her younger sister while they walked the Hogwarts grounds. November, 1965.

Chapter 11:

"Fuck that putrid cunt and the damned inbred womb he crawled out of!" Harry spat, throwing his book bag atop a nearby bench as he paced angrily up and down the stone corridor.

Ron simply sighed, the rather colorful insults no longer meriting so much as an acknowledgment from him at this point. It was hard to feign interest after listening to almost twenty minutes straight of Harry Evans hurling abuse towards their potions professor. Ron had to give it to Harry though, the guy was creative enough to compete with the worst things Bill had said, and his eldest brother regularly worked on expeditions with goblin clans every bit as mean and vile as the Gringotts goblins. Still, he wasn't quite sure Snape's mum deserved to get called a 'fat, stupid cow' for not shoving a coat-hanger up herself when she realized she was pregnant, but he was very, very glad Snape hadn't been around to hear it. The poor Hufflepuff girl that had overheard his ranting had appeared utterly scandalized. To be fair, Neville was scandalized as well.

The warning offered on their first night had Hogwarts had successfully tempered majority of the Gryffindors' expectations of their upcoming potions class, but even with that warning in the back of their minds they still weren't ready for the never-ending stream of vitriol spilling from Snape's mouth. The man hadn't raised his voice once, he hadn't even appeared to enjoy the constant insults, but they still didn't stop. Fortunately for the first years that weren't named Harry or Daniel, the two twins had borne the brunt of their professor's ire. Ron had gotten a sneer for being 'another Weasley' with a veiled reference to rabbits. Lavender and Parvati were denigrated for being shallow, Seamus was apparently a dimwit, Dean received a snide comment about being outsider. Hermione, oddly enough, seemed to take the personal attacks less well than most of the others, recoiling in spite of herself when Snape likened her to some bloke named Icarus. Ron wasn't sure what the meaning behind the insult was, but it had left an impact.

The secret Ravenclaw apparently hadn't been discouraged enough to not be insufferable during the remainder of their class though. The second they'd started brewing Hermione adopted her bitchy, know-it-all demeanor once more. Ron didn't hate Hermione, but he couldn't deny that he had an aversion towards people that had to advertise how damn smart they were everywhere they went. It was the same reason why Ron got along great with Bill but wasn't that close with Percy. At the end of the day Ron loved Percy, but the two largely kept their distance from one another. Hermione and Percy might as well have been the same person when it came to academics.

The worst part was that Ron knew she didn't really mean anything by it when she tried to correct him, but it rubbed him the wrong way all the same. They would've been fine if she had taken the not-so-subtle hint he had thrown her way to stop correcting him, but instead she doubled down on her efforts. Ron was not going to apologize for the words they exchanged in hushed tones whenever Snape was far enough away to not hear them, he'd given her an out and she'd trampled right over it. Ron did feel bad about not realizing just how pissed off Harry had become over the course of the lesson. The bloke had shrugged off pretty much everything they'd encountered with an easy-going smile and confident stride. Snape had gotten to him though. Something he had said had struck a nerve and Ron had missed it completely.

"Harry, give it a rest already, will you?" Daniel said, approaching his twin, hands raised in a placating fashion.

"Fuck that," was Harry's mature response before he lit another cigarette. That was smoke number four if Ron's count was accurate.

Daniel rolled his eyes but chose to retreat without comment, returning to where Neville and Rose had decided to make themselves comfortable. A number of Gryffindor first years had elected to stick together in the wake of their first potions class. Whether they found some subconscious safety in numbers or whether Harry's ranting was just too interesting to miss he wasn't sure, but it was why they were still grouped up and staking their claim to the random first floor corridor that they all agreed was only a short walk away from the Great Hall… or so they hoped anway. None of them still had any real idea how to navigate the school.

"Wish he'd just move on already," Daniel groaned. "It's not like I'm over here throwing a fit, and Snape was just as much of an ass to me."

Neville started to say something about maturity but was drowned out by Lavender talking over him. She could do that to anyone at any time, but Ron nevertheless thought her timing was deliberate at that moment. "Did you even hear the final comment that set him off?" Lavender asked, her accusatory tone matching her narrowed eyes. "That asshole said that it was no wonder Harry was sent away to be raised a muggle urchin after examining his potion, and then mentioned how he was an embarrassment even to his shameful lineage!"

Oh, Ron thought to himself, all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fitting together neatly. Harry wasn't cagey about anything, except when it came to his family. The bloke didn't share any of his thoughts when it came to the late Potters, and the majority of the polite people of Hogwarts had quickly realized that it was in their best interest not to ask. It just so happened that Snape was the furthest adjective imaginable away from polite.

"I… I get why that would set him off," Daniel acquiesced, the sympathy in his voice immediately apparent for all to hear. His negative opinions of his brother were seemingly mollified since it wasn't just any gibe that made Harry so livid.

Even Neville seemed to accept why that comment would be particularly infuriating to Harry if his chagrined expression was any sort of judge. That said a lot since normally the guy was the first to hop on and stay on Harry's case. He appeared genuinely remorseful, the sympathy on his features as he stared at the still raging teen plain to see. "I guess we know what topics to not broach with Harry now," he muttered quietly.

Ron thought that had already been made painfully obvious, but then again, he wasn't involved in a perpetual, passive-aggressive war of words with Harry so he let it slide without comment. Though, sometime down the line he'd have to imply to Harry that some manner of vengeance would fit in with the karmic value of the world rather well. Weasleys always got even, Ron would continue that unofficial family creed on behalf of his friend.

"Ranting like that can be cathartic, just let him get it out of his system and focus on your own shit," Fay said from her place on the bench next to Lavender. "Not like he's really making it our problem since he's keeping his distance at this point."

"Actually, he's just walking away," Rose said, somewhat surprised herself at her own statement. She was right though; Harry had just kept walking rather than continue to pace back and forth in a line as he had been.

Ron pushed himself off the wall and scooped up Harry's book bag before taking off after his wayward friend.

"Hey," Daniel called, having not moved even an inch. "Maybe just give him some space for now?"

The red-headed teen didn't even have to think about what to do. "Nah, mate, there's a time for that, but this isn't it. We'll see you all in the common room later." And then he was off, lightly jogging to catch up to his best friend.

"What do you want, Ron?" Harry asked once he had caught up. The fiery rage had simmered, replaced by a cold anger as the drugs settled into his system. Ron wasn't sure what to think about the fact that his friend was so reliant upon narcotics at their age.

"Nothing," Ron said, his hands finding a resting position behind his head as he simply kept pace with Harry. He had no clue what the troubled teen needed at that moment, but he figured that supportive company couldn't hurt.

The two roamed the corridors aimlessly and without a destination in mind. The labyrinth of halls had started to seem familiar though navigating them was still a challenge and a half. Ron thought he knew where they were, that McGonagall's classroom was down the hallway on their left, but it was impossible to be certain given that some of the hallways literally moved depending on the day of the week Stupid castle.

The only sound between the two friends was the steady thuds produced from their shoes making impact with the stone floor. Eventually, Harry stopped in front of one of the many, many paintings that decorated the walls of the ancient castle. For a moment Ron thought it was a random stop, but a family eating dinner was anything but random when it came to Harry. It wasn't a perfect match to what the Potter family was, with four kids present instead of two, but the poignance had evidently still hit close to the heart.

"I'm still pissed off," Harry said, his voice quiet. "I was pissed from the moment he made his first comment against Daniel and it just fucking spiraled from there."

"Mind if I ask why?" Ron tried to keep the dumbfounded lilt out of his voice. The last thing he wanted to do at that moment was cause further offense. "I mean, we were warned about what to expect from him…" Snape had gone after Harry and Daniel far more than anyone else in the classroom in terms of both the number of verbal attacks and how personal they were. Ron understood why Harry was angry given what was said, but he was still surprised by the degree to which the black-haired teen reacted.

"You know how I have my mum's journals, yeah?"

"You mentioned having a bunch of them." The question came seemingly out of nowhere, but Ron figured there was a point to it. Harry wasn't such a poor conversationalist that his subject changes would be forced or awkward unless deliberately intended to be so, and that was clearly not the case then.

Harry slumped to the ground, that same galleon he always carried on his person slowly being twirled between his fingers. "He's in them," he murmured sullenly.

"He's in them?" Ron repeated confusedly. "Wait, Snape is? Professor Snape? He's in your mum's journals?"

"Severus fucking Snape," Harry confirmed with a slow, heavy nod. "Not many bastards with a name like that."

An accurate statement. Even among wizards, Snape had a particularly unique name. Ron made a mental note to laugh at the asshole's first name being Severus later. "So, he knew your mum?"

A bark of humorless laughter escaped Harry's lips. "Oh, they didn't just know each other – they were best friends!" The messy haired teen scowled up at the painting of the happy family. "They met as kids. Snape was the one that introduced her to magic. She was a muggle-born, but she learned of magic years before she ever got her Hogwarts letter thanks to him."

Ron didn't respond, he simply leaned up against the bricks of the wall immediately adjacent to Harry. Sometimes it was better to just listen. George had taught him that, funnily enough.

"They were best friends!" Harry stressed, the words emerging through clenched teeth. "Even back then he was quick to insult, but to her he was kind. She confided in him! He helped her! Defended her! In spite of the warnings, I expected a man who knew my mum better than almost anyone. Someone that could tell me about her firsthand without the baggage of a fucking history with me… and instead I get a spiteful cunt that enjoys denigrating who she was, and the kids she died saving!"

Ron wasn't sure what he was supposed to say in that moment. Harry had not talked about his family or the circumstances that surrounded them. Beyond the occasional gibe about his brother being the Boy Who Lived, it was not a topic he ever brought up. Ron realized then that Harry needed to talk to someone. There was absolutely no way that he was the best person for the task, but his friend needed his help and that meant he didn't have a choice.

The redheaded teen lowered himself to the ground, feet splayed out in front of him. "Forget Snape for a second," Ron said in as light-hearted of a tone as he could manage, "tell me about your mum."

"What?"

"Your mum," Ron repeated himself. "Snape's a bloody bastard, we agree there, but this is the first time you've mentioned your mum. I've told you loads about my family, but you haven't talked about yours."

"For good reason. My family is dead, and I never knew them." Harry didn't even sound angry about that fact, just… resigned. Ron wasn't sure what to make of that.

"But you have her journals, so you can still get to know her in a way, right?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not the same as having memories of her, mate. It's just not."

Silence fell over the two once more and Ron didn't know how to correct that – hell, he didn't even know if he should. What was he supposed to say to someone in Harry's position? Was there even a right thing to say? Minutes passed, but eventually Harry snorted, and with eyes fixed on the floor he began to speak.
"Her name was Lily Evans. The first journal of hers I've read was from when she was eleven. She had just recently learned about magic and had to write in her diary about it… She was smart, really smart. Had a better vocabulary than I did at her age, that's for sure. She was so excited to learn about the magical world. Every little new thing she learned she made mention of. The first time she was shown a self-inking quill, even…"

Ron wasn't sure how long the two of them sat there, him just listening to Harry talk about his late mum. It was a surprisingly peaceful experience. At first, Harry's descriptors were vague and bordered on impersonal, but the more he talked the warmer he became. Information about Lily Evans turned into him retelling stories of her. The way Harry spoke was genuine and earnest, but Ron could tell that Harry's earlier words rang true. Harry didn't talk about Lily Evans like he knew her, because he didn't know her, he hadn't been afforded that chance.

Most of the stories Harry relayed about his mum were from when she was younger than them, before she even went to Hogwarts. From what Ron could gather she'd been a lovely girl, but she wasn't yet the woman that would die protecting her children. All the same, it seemed to be comforting for the black-haired teen to talk about her.

"And to think," Harry said, a depressed chuckle spilling forth, "I was actually looking forward to that fucking class."

"Potions?" Ron asked, seeking a bit of clarification.

"Yeah, it was one of my mum's favorites. She practiced a lot before Hogwarts and would write about her experiments a lot. Apparently, she had entire notebooks specifically for potions. I just hope they're in the vault somewhere… would be nice to cross-reference her notes with the ones I've already taken."

Potions being all but ruined was a damn shame. Ron figured there were a lot of resources available for self-study given how adept his elder siblings were at the subject, but that was just making the most of a shitty situation.

"At least some of our other classes are going to be interesting," Ron said optimistically, not wanting to backslide into a rage inducing topic.

"That's true," Harry agreed. "Transfiguration was… incredible. The lack of fundamental change while still being permanent…" The green-eyed teen trailed off, but unlike before where he was brewing in his own anger, he now seemed to be consumed by pondering.

"What did that feel like to you? You know, as a sensor." Ron was actually incredibly jealous of that ability. The ease of which Harry was able to cast spells was just not fair.

"It's a bit difficult to describe, but" Harry pointed to the various paintings on the wall, "the portraits are a decent metaphor."

"How so?"

"Well, they look very realistic, right? The human ones look like a human, sound like a human, behave like a human… but you'd never mistake one for being a living, breathing person because they only exist on canvas."

Harry reached into his book bag and tore out half a sheet of parchment, setting it on the ground between them. Their Transfiguration textbook was then hoisted into his lap. Ron was amazed at just how different their two textbooks were. Same author, same edition, but Harry had numerous notes in the margins, with certain pages earmarked for easy reference. The redhead's book was aged and worn as a byproduct of belonging to his brothers before him, but it wasn't personalized. Maybe Hermione wasn't the only closet Ravenclaw in their year.

"Lapize en Char," Harry spoke softly but with clear enunciation, his wand waving over the parchment from left to right. The paper seemed to roll in on itself, rapidly forming into the rough shape of a sphere and taking on a gray hue, the soft texture became hard and coarse. A split second after the spell was cast, a small stone lay on the ground in place of the parchment.

"Show off," Ron murmured good-naturedly, smiling all the while.

Harry did not react to the comment, instead continuing with his explanation, he got really focused when it came to magic. "To me, this rock is like those portraits." He tossed it up in the air, catching it before then lobbing it at Ron. "It looks like a rock, it feels like a rock, but I know it's not a rock. The magic of the spell did not fundamentally change the fact that it's a parchment. And in a way, even the rock knows that it's not really a rock."

Ron rubbed his fingers along the coarse stone as he tried to process Harry's surprisingly coherent explanation. Only the final aspect had really thrown him off kilter. "The rock is… aware?" The questioning lilt in his voice even more pronounced than he'd intended.

"Not quite, no. It's more like there's a way things are in the world, and by being a rock, it isn't in accordance with what should be."

That explanation still did not help Ron understand even a little bit. "Yeah, you lost me, mate."

Harry shrugged unconcernedly. "Didn't expect you to grasp it, honestly. I mean, how could you explain sight to someone who cannot see? You can do your best, but they won't be able to understand, not really."

There was a whole other aspect to the world that Harry could sense that Ron would never be able to. Life really wasn't fair sometimes, but there was literally nothing he could do about it so there was also no need to dwell on that fact.

"Thanks, by the way," Harry said, turning to look at Ron. "For listening."

Ron rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, but he nodded all the same. "Anytime." He rose to his feet and offered Harry a hand to help him stand. "Let's head back to the dorm and drop off our shit before dinner."

The transfigured rock was returned to its natural state and placed back in Harry's bag. "Works for me, sitting on the floor was hurting my ass anyway."

"Thousand-year-old stone really isn't the best seat, is it?"

"Not even a little bit," Harry chuckled. "Next emotional outburst I have, we find a better place to talk."

OoooOoooO

"I've got the report for you, sir."

"Just drop it there, Perkins, thank you…"

"Something troubling you?"

"It's just this case – the one with the broomsticks."

"What's bothering you about it?"

"Based on where we keep finding these things, I would suspect it's some pure-blood, magical supremacist looking to cause issues for muggles, but now I'm not so certain."

"You realize something while I was out?"

"The behavior of the broomsticks perfectly matches that of the enchanted broomsticks in the muggle movie, Fantasia."

"I haven't seen the film, but you think it's a muggle-born copycat?"

"That's what my gut is telling me, but that's not definitive. They could easily be a half-blood or even a pure-blood looking to sow chaos with disinformation… but I have no idea what the motive could be regardless."

"Well, whoever they are, they're talented. The enchantments are surprisingly potent given that they aren't further sealed or amplified with runes."

"NEWT level work, no doubt."

"The crime itself is quite juvenile… think it could be a student?"

"Or one that has graduated in recent years, maybe."

"I'll send an owl to Professor Flitwick and see if we could speak with him soon. He may recognize the work."

"That's a solid lead on the who, but I want to know the why. There's no profit being earned as far as we can tell. Just enchanted broomsticks left in areas where they can cause havoc."

"Our perpetrator could just be doing it for the thrill. Young but talented, looking to have some fun by causing a stir. For all we know they were watching the chaos they unleashed, watching our investigation even."

"If you're right, it's a safe bet that they'd also enjoy the fact that we have to look into their work, study the enchantments they created."

"And acknowledge their skill in the process."

"People have done more for less… It's all supposition, but it's not a bad profile to start with."

"I'll owl Flitwick right now."

"Thanks, Perkins."

"Not a problem. Anything else you'd like me to take care of? If not, I'll head out after sending the request."

"I've got nothing else for you, enjoy the rest of your evening."

"You too Arthur, see you tomorrow."

OoooOoooO

"Settle down, class," Professor Quirrell called out the moment the bell signaling the top of the hour rung. It didn't matter which classroom or hallway you were in, that bell could always be distantly heard.

Harry had been desperately looking forward to his first Defense Against the Dark Arts since potions turned out to be such a colossal disappointment. Petty cunt, he thought, even the vague thought of Snape provoking slight feelings of anger. The room itself had already piqued Harry's interest given the excessive number of armaments and artifacts decorating the walls. No one knew that much about Professor Quirrell as a professor for his current subject and thus had not been able to tell Harry too much, but the aesthetics of the room were providing a solid first impression.

Most curious of all was the decorative, red, and purple chalice sitting on Quirrell's desk. Incredibly ornate, balanced upon four small legs, and decorated with symbology indicative of the elements. The only vague feeling he could associate with what he sensed was that it was less of a container and more of a gateway, but even that was far too literal of an interpretation. Harry did not have a clue what the strange item did, but he knew it contained very tumultuous, very powerful magic.

Professor Quirrell had risen from his place at the desk to write his name on the blackboard. Unlike the other professors who had already written down information or just spelled the chalk to write for them, their Defense professor did it by hand.

"My name is Quirinus Quirrell, but to all of you I prefer either Professor, or Professor Quirrell if you wish to be specific. I am your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

The professor was dressed in a neat, white dress shirt with a magenta tie, and well fitted black slacks. Over the back of his chair there was a jacket that had clearly been tossed without too much care. The man appeared to have no shaved that morning if the very small amount of gray facial hair growth was any indicator – it didn't look shabby though, he made it work surprisingly well. The premature balding was the only indicator that he was likely a bit older than his otherwise ageless features would suggest. The turban he had worn at the start of term feast was absent, but Harry thought that was a note in his favor. Overall, his appearance was very put together and cut an impressive figure.

"Within this classroom we will be focusing largely on practical aspects. The casting of spells, how to defend yourself against both other magicals as well as the creatures that go bump in the night."

Harry grinned, Defense Against the Dark Arts was the start of his journey to catch up to that dick, Savage. The idea of being an auror didn't even cross his mind, law enforcement wasn't even remotely his style, but he still wanted to show up Savage someday just to prove that he could. Never mind the general desire he had to learn to fight with magic. The world was a big place, and Harry had no way of knowing who or what he would encounter in his desires to seek out interesting things and places. Self-defense might as well have been synonymous with common sense with those goals in mind.

Professor Quirrell was slowly walking back and forth at the front of the classroom, hands clasped behind his back. "I still expect all of you to read your textbooks and perform any necessary self-study you believe shall help you. Assuming I am not in a class or with another student, my door will always be open for questions or guidance."

The emphasis on self-study whilst only attending the respective classes twice a week each suited Harry just fine. The time spent in the classroom would undoubtedly be valuable, a fact proven by the classes he had already had the pleasure, or displeasure in the case of potions, of attending. The green-eyed teen was more than confident in his ability to thrive in such an environment. Some students may prefer a more structured environment, but Harry had come to enjoy the freedom he'd established as a standard in the final months of the summer.

Harry could tell that Ron was just as interested as he was in this class. His best friend may not have held the same academic interests that he did, but the guy was not a fool, and he still enjoyed magic. There were undoubtedly many nights of practicing spells on one another in their future. Or maybe they could find a friendly suit of armor that would allow them to practice with it. The possibilities were endless in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

"Now, to begin I will be demonstrating the first combative spell in your books." Professor Quirrell stopped walking and pulled out his wand, the quick movement one Harry recognized as being indicative of a holster. "Who seized the initiative and actually read chapter one of their textbooks?"

Every student in the class raised their hands. Whether everyone was telling the truth was up in the air, but Harry did not see any obvious signs that someone was lying.

"Very good," Professor Quirrell seemed genuinely pleased that no one advertised themselves as an idiot. "Initiative such as that will serve you well at Hogwarts. Onto the spell itself though, who can recall its name and incantation?"

Hermione's hand was, unsurprisingly, the first into the air. Harry had no issue with the girl's enthusiasm, it was her choice to be a teacher's pet if she wanted to. The rest of the first year Gryffindors were not a collection of dullards, and a number of other hands were raised aloft. Harry lazily held his up, his apathy to getting called upon very purposefully standing in contrast to Hermione's intense interest.

"Miss Granger," Professor Quirrell said, nodding at her. "I saw your hand first, go ahead."

Harry hoped that same method to call on students would remain constant throughout the year, it would make his role in classroom discussions far easier.

Hermione sat up even straighter, a feat Harry hadn't thought possible, and began to quote, almost verbatim, from the book. "The spell is named the 'Full Body-Bind Curse,' but has also been referred to as the 'Body Freezing Spell' in other regions of Europe. The spell causes temporary paralysis on whomever it is cast upon. Its incantation is 'Petrificus Totalus,' and it does not require a particular wand motion."

"You are correct, Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor."

Hermione preened under the praise and points earned, but she seemed to be one of the few in their House that actually gave a shit about the House Cup. Harry would not deny the fact that she was excellent at earning points, but it was obvious her efforts would be utterly fruitless. It was still only the first week and the Gryffindors had already fallen far behind the other three Houses. There was a constantly updating record of which individuals received and awarded points, and Harry had been greatly amused to see that two of Ron's older brothers had lost over 50 points between them. Then there were the actions of Madison Fluke and Otis Magrath, who had each lost 15 points in one go, never mind the 10 Harry himself had lost during potions. Ralphy's words from their first night were proving prophetic. The Gryffindor's didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of winning the cup, so there wasn't really a point in trying.

"The Body-Bind Curse is not a difficult spell to cast as long as you focus. Now, in just a moment you all are going to pair up and practice this spell on one another." Professor Quirrell had wasted even less time than the other professors and just jumped straight into the lesson. "Before that, however, I will be showing you what the spell should look like. Do I have any volunteers?"

Harry almost laughed when no one raised their hand. The idea of being a guinea pig for a combative spell wasn't exactly the most appealing task.

"No one?" Professor Quirrell said, amusement apparent. "I suppose I can't blame you, but I assure you the experience will be utterly painless."

No one raised their hand.

"Random selection it is, then," Quirrell murmured, haphazardly waving his wand so a thin strand of blue energy was flung out. It flew around the room for a second before settling over the head of Roy Patterson, a boy that Harry had not really spoken to since introducing himself at dinner on the second day. "Patterson it is then. Front and center if you please."

Patterson let out a barely concealed groan but followed the Professor's directions. "Do I just stand here?" He asked, nervously biting his lip at the prospect of what was to come. That little detail made Harry think he might not have read the chapter as he claimed.

"Yes, Mister Patterson, you will just stand there," Professor Quirrell responded easily, a single finger rising into the air as he addressed the whole class. "When cast properly, the Body-Bind Curse does not appear as any sort of visual beam or stream of colorful energy as many other combative spells do. Depending on the potency of the spell there can be a flash of light at the point of impact, but that is all." The professor waved his wand at the wall and a split second later a burst of energy sounded against the stone surface. "As you can see, the spell does travel rather quickly, hence its effectiveness in a fight." He paused and shook his head slightly. "Though, its potential is heavily diminished by the fact that it is easily blocked by shield spells."

"When will we learn shield spells?" Dean asked loudly, his hand half raised in the air even as he called out his question.

"A proper shield will be formally taught in your third year, though you're more than welcome to attempt to study such spells on your own at an earlier date," Professor Quirrell answered before brandishing his wand towards Patterson. "Today though, we focus on this spell. Petrificus Totalus."

A split second after the words left the professor's mouth, a flash of light impacted Patterson and his body went completely rigid. His hands ceased their nervous wringing, frozen in place. The words he had been about to speak, only half formed on his lips, died as his mouth was stuck ajar. There was no discoloration or visual sign that the spell had taken beyond the fact that Patterson could not move in the slightest. The Gryffindor first year would have collapsed backwards were it not for a small, circular wand motion from Professor Quirrell. A barely visible, shimmering energy materialized around the frozen teen and stabilized his standing position.

"Now, bear in mind that this spell inflicts paralysis only on the physical," Professor Quirrell lectured, slowly examining Patterson. "Neither the mental nor the magical capabilities of the target are impacted in the slightest. Though it is extraordinarily difficult, there are some magicals that would be capable of casting even from this paralyzed state."

Harry raised his hand aloft. "So, given the detriments that the spell possesses, would you recommend against its use in a duel or actual combat?"

Professor Quirrell chuckled softly. "When it comes to magical combat, Mister Evans, I would recommend any and every spell that can lead you to victory."

That answer was a bit too cryptic for Harry's tastes. "But aren't some spells objectively better for combat than others?"

"Objectively better? Absolutely not." The Defense professor tsked a few times. "There are many spells that are more conventionally suited for specific tasks, but it would be ill advised to underestimate the creative potential that lays within spells and the minds of those who employ them."

Harry couldn't deny that fact, but he nevertheless thought the Professor was being deliberately difficult and dodging his question. "Have you ever used the Body-Bind Curse in combat, Professor?"

The man's lips quirked upwards. "I have."

And that's enough for me, Harry mused, lowering his hand. The teen planned on mastering every spell he came across, but some spells were more valuable than others, that was just a fact.

Professor Quirrell waved his wand once more and the paralysis spell faded off Patterson over the course of a second. The Gryffindor student shook out his limbs and rolled his neck, glad to have movement restored. He wasn't frozen very long at all, but it was as thorough as thorough got. While not painful or harmful, there was no way that curse was a pleasant experience.

"Thank you for your assistance in that demonstration, Patterson," Professor Quirrell remarked, waving him back to his seat. "Now that you've seen what the spell should look like, it's high time for you all to attempt it yourselves.

Harry grinned in excitement. Spellcasting was always a treat for him thanks to his sensing ability, but he was even more enthused to finally be practicing combative magic. The idea of fighting itself didn't seem that enjoyable to the black-haired teen. He'd much rather enjoy a nice drink or fool around with a pretty girl than get slammed in the gut by a fist or get thrown against a wall thanks to a blasting spell. But Harry wasn't naïve, and he'd had his illusions about his place in the magical world shattered by Tom months ago. There was value in learning how to defend oneself, that fact was even more true in the world of magic where everyone walked around with what was essentially a more diverse and powerful gun. The magical world was fun as fuck in his opinion, but it was dangerous too.

"Go ahead and pair up," Professor Quirrell called out. "We only have so much time in this classroom, and I do not wish to see that time wasted. Hop to it. Oh, and I recommend whoever is getting the spell cast at them remain in their chairs with their feet firmly planted on the ground. Your body will freeze in whatever position you happen to be in once hit. If you fall, that's on you."

Harry almost burst out laughing at the utter lack of concern for the students' safety whereas Hermione just seemed horrified. "If we fall that's on us?!" She repeated, mouth agape and eyes wide. "On these floors? We'll break bones should we fall!"

"Oh, don't worry about it, Granger," Seamus called out, wand already pointed toward Dean whose hands were furiously clenching the desk. Poor guy looked like he needed reassurance almost as much as Hermione did. "Broken bones aren't that bad! Petrificus Totalus!"

No one was prepared for the gout of fire that exploded out of the tip of the Irish teen's wand – Dean and Seamus least of all if their startled screams were any sort of judge. Dean was fortunate that the flames did not travel further than a few inches, but that did not help Seamus who started yelling as the sleeve of his uniform caught fire. "Fucking fuck! Put it out! Put it out!" The teen immediately leapt backwards, trying to scramble his way out of his robe.

Before the fire could spread any further it coalesced into a single ball and floated away from Seamus' sleeve. Every eye in the classroom was locked on the sphere as it moved across the classroom and to the tip of Quirrell's wand. With an almost negligent wave the flames extinguished completely. "Do try and maintain your mental focus, Mister Finnigan. I am not very fond of unanticipated explosions in my classroom. I believe Mister Thomas would also appreciate not being set on fire."

"Yeah, no more of that shit, please!" Dean agreed, nodding furiously.

Hermione was slowly shaking her head, dumbfounded by the events that had just unfolded. "Why is the Professor so calm? Seamus and Dean could have been seriously hurt!"

"They're fine," Ron replied, shifting his desk so it faced Harry's, the two of them partners for the exercise. "Worst case scenario the school's healer will fix them right up. No biggie."

"Just because magic can heal them that doesn't mean injuries are something to shrug off!" Hermione shrieked.

Ron seemed genuinely confused by her protest, not even annoyed, just perplexed. "Okay…" He said, glancing at Harry and shrugging.

As amusing as the sight of the random flames had been however, Harry's gut instinct was more akin to Hermione's than Ron's. Most of the class seemed to be in the same boat as the one who was actually raised around magic. It was a curious bit of insight into magical culture that he'd have to explore later.

"You want to cast the spell first, or should I?" Harry asked.

"You cast first, you'll get the handle of it quickly enough and then we can help me." Ron set his legs apart and flat on the ground, but otherwise didn't prepare his body in the slightest. His prerogative if he wanted to fall.

Harry grinned in spite of himself, rather proud that his ability to pick up spells easily had already been noted. "Hope you're ready," he remarked, ebony wand pointed at his friend. "Petrificus Totalus." Magic rapidly flowed throughout his person, seeking the now familiar outlet through his wand. Harry could feel his intentions meld with the incantation to give shape and structure to the magic as it formulated into a spell. The process itself was instantaneous, but he still felt the spell unfold as if time was slowed down.

The ability to sense the detailed elements of magic that wasn't within him was still a skill he was an utter novice at, but Harry had spent a great deal of time focusing on himself and what his magic felt like. There was an intrinsic knowledge that accompanied what he felt. There was no way to describe how he knew how to alter the subtle elements of his spell to better produced the desired effect, but it was irrefutable that he did. The young Gryffindor had a great deal to learn about being a sensor, but even at his skill level he considered it the most valuable tool at his disposal. How other magicals practiced their spells without the ability genuinely perplexed him. If he hadn't been born a sensor, he would have undoubtedly figured out how to cast spells just as most other magicals did, but he was very content with his method thanks to the natural gift he had been fortunate enough to receive at birth.

Harry's first attempt at the Body Bind Curse on Ron left the poor redhead only partially frozen. Both hands and arms sans the fingers were stiff as a board, the left leg was free below the knee while the right leg was locked in place completely. His entire midsection seemed frozen, but everything from the neck up was unaffected. Not too bad for a first attempt, honestly.

"How in the bloody hell did you not get my fingers?" Ron asked, amazed as he waggled them on the desk.

"I'm honestly not sure…"

"Well, undo the curse so you can try again."

Harry realized at that moment that he had not bothered to memorize the counter curse. "Yeah, you're going to have to give me a second," he murmured, pulling out his textbook and beginning to flip to the necessary section. He'd read the entire book already, but the details had escaped his mind.

"Really, Harry? Really?" Ron asked, staring at him blankly as he drummed his fingers.

"Do you know the counter curse?" Harry replied, raising an eyebrow imperiously and not looking up from the text.

"Hey, I'm not the one that went first."

Harry did not buy into that logic at all. "Just wait patiently, I'll find the counter-curse in a second."

"I literally can't do anything else," Ron said, genuinely laughing as he flailed his one working foot.

Off to the side Daniel was partially frozen by Neville, but it was only his head that was stuck in place rather and the rest of his body was fine. Harry made a mental note to find a spell for that specific purpose down the line. More incredible was the accidental babbling spell Lav had cast on Fay. Poor girl just could not stop talking to save her life; as more time went on the frequency of 'fucks' was increasing rapidly, a highly amusing scenario in Harry's opinion.

"Do not forget that the counter-curse is every bit important as the curse itself," Professor Quirrell declared. "This is your time to practice both, so make good use of it." As the class slowly descended into chaos Professor Quirrell began to walk around the room, putting out both literal and proverbial fires whenever they sprung out of control. The man wasn't just herding headless chickens though, to most students he passed by he took a moment to stop and offer bits of instruction and advice. "Intent goes a long way with all spells, but especially the simple ones. You know what you want to happen, so visualize it in your head before casting the spell. You're capable of actualizing your intent with a few simple words, so make it happen."

Not too much time had passed before Harry was able to fully cast both the curse and its counter. It was nice to finally have a partner that he could practice spells on and with. There may exist some method that he could practice spells that had to hit someone on his lonesome, but it wasn't something he'd bothered to look into during his stay in Diagon Alley. There had been so much information to absorb that it hadn't even crossed his mind. Ron didn't seem to mind being a test dummy though, so Harry was optimistic about his ability to practice going forward.

"Alright, turnabout time. Sit down and grit your teeth because this isn't going to be pretty," Ron declared, pulling out his wand and waving it at Harry. The gesture was pretty damn menacing when combined with his advice. The grin he sported did not help in the slightest.

"If you set me on fire, I set fire to your bed," Harry said, claiming the vacated seat, though he wasn't quite as relaxed as Ron had been. The idea of making impact with the stone floor because only half of his body and he lost his balance was not a pleasant one.

Ron took a second to glance over the book before turning back, nodding slightly. "Alright, it says I need to put the wand inside your right ear."

"Bite me."

"Spell doesn't call for that, actually," Ron murmured, grinning as he readied his wand.

Here we go, Harry mused, mentally preparing for all manner of spell effects.

The remainder of the class passed with Harry repeatedly getting hit by variant versions of the Body Bind Curse. By the end of the period Ron had a firm grasp of the spell itself, but still had to work on the counter curse. Every time he tried to cast it Harry's left foot was consistently left frozen. That was a far better result than what had happened to Neville when Daniel had first used the counter curse on him. Harry wished he'd been paying attention to know exactly how a simple counter curse resulted in Neville getting blasted twenty feet across the room, but it was entertaining all the same. Thankfully for Neville's bones, Professor Quirrell was able to cast a cushioning charm in time to prevent injury. Daniel was fairly adept when it came to spell work so that only happened once, but the initial how remained a mystery. Magic was fun, but it was also fucking weird, there was no denying that.

The bell sounded once more, signaling to the class that their final class of the week had come to an end. "Your homework is to practice the Body Bind Curse as well as its counter, and to fully read chapters one and two of your books," Professor Quirrell called out, wand awhirl as he tidied up the desks while talking. "No written assignments for the weekend since this week was only a half-week but expect them to begin soon."

Harry was not too enthused about the prospect of essays for a practical class, but he reserved judgement since there was a slight chance they could prove useful for understanding the material.

"Weekend time!" Ron cheered, passing Harry his textbook. "We've got that assignment for the ass-hole due Tuesday, but other than that it's just reading and practice."

Reading their textbooks and spell practice was still a fairly substantial amount of work, but nothing unreasonable in Harry's opinion. "Don't forget the assignment for Professor Sinistra," Harry added, slinging his bag over his shoulder and exiting the classroom alongside his friend.

"Oh, shit, I forgot about Astronomy," Ron groaned.

"At least it's an interesting topic. An essay on common rituals that could have added benefits depending on the phase of the moon is way more exciting than just charting stars or some shit like that."

"That's true, I suppose," Ron murmured. The bloke did not seem that enthused but the visual annoyance was gone.

Astronomy had been the one class that had well and truly blown away Harry's expectations. The textbook had clued him into the fact that there was a great deal of powerful magic that had relevance to the subject, but he'd still been dubious on just how much knowledge of the cosmos the magical world could honestly have without access to technology. If he had bothered to test out all of the various knobs on the telescope he'd purchased he may have been clued in sooner, but once again his foolish presuppositions about magic's potential had gotten the best of him.

Their first class with the extremely beautiful Professor Sinistra had been set inside a classroom near the top of the astronomy tower, the final stop on the stairwell before it ascended to the literal, open air top. The interior of the classroom lacked any windows, lit by floating globules of light that hovered around the open air. There were no desks, just a series of circular tables lining the edges of the room. On the ground itself was a thick, impossibly soft and comfortable rug that felt more like a stiff bed than anything you were supposed to walk upon. The ceiling had been similar to the one in the Great Hall except it solely depicted the star filled night sky rather than reflecting the current time of day and weather.

Professor Sinistra had directed the class to lay down while she talked about the various aspects of what the class would cover, and the various applications astronomy could have in other subjects. Harry had been to the London Planetarium once or twice in his life and had even managed to catch a show that utilized lights and projectors to great effect in its depiction of the night sky. All of what he had seen before absolutely paled in comparison to the sheer majesty and detail of the Astronomy classroom.

The whole class' attention had been captured the instant the ceiling began to expand downwards, covering both the walls and floor until the rug the students were seated upon appeared to be floating in the vast emptiness of space. The number of stars was staggering, utterly beyond true comprehension and understanding. Then their perspective had changed, and they were moving forward, different celestial bodies either coming into view or the same ones suddenly able to be seen from a different perspective. Stunned silence was the only apt term to describe the first year Gryffindors at that moment. Harry had held only a passing interest in the subject before, but after that display a genuine passion for the expansive cosmos had developed within the teen.

Harry had absolutely no idea how magicals had managed to glean such information about the universe, but it was something he was going to figure out. The evening after that first class Harry had tried his hand at using his own telescope and discovered it was a fair bit more advanced than the one Beth had owned. The obviously magical mirrors and lenses did not allow for the wonders that Professor Sinistra's classroom had, but Harry was still able to observe the stars in more detail than he would have thought possible for a telescope that he could carry in his hands.

"It's not due until Wednesday though, do you think we really need to work on it over the weekend?" Ron asked pleadingly. Harry had fought off Sarah's puppy dog eyes before, Ron's were no match against him.

"I'm not religious about schoolwork, man, but we really probably should. It will save us the stress later."

"Fine, fine," Ron acquiesced, grunting slightly as he adjusted his book-bag. "If you turn into Granger though I'm going to arrange an intervention. Or an exorcism."

Harry had absolutely no issues with that contingency plan. "If I ever turn into Granger, then please save me from myself no matter what it takes." A healthy respect for getting work done on time was not the same as the obsessed fervor that Hermione lived with every single day of her life. The girl was a borderline genius, but she also spent more time studying than anyone else Harry had ever seen.

"So, that was a fun class," Fay remarked, walking up alongside Lav and Parvati, catching up to the two boys. The sarcasm in her voice could not have been thicker.

"I said sorry about the talking thing!" Lav cried, taking cover from the acerbic girl by hiding on the other side of Ron. The redhead got nervous when he caught sight of Fay's narrowed eyes. An understandable reaction.

"I couldn't control what I was saying at all! You're lucky I didn't start talking about who I've slept with in the middle of Defense!" That little detail made Harry sad he hadn't paid better attention to the girl's babbling. Alas, there was always next time.

Lav cocked her head to the side. "Is information like that really a secret?"

"Not the point!"

"Ugh, fine!" Lav groaned, rolling her eyes heavily. "What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

Harry started to zone out as the byplay between the two girls continued but was pulled out of it by Parvati saddling up to his side. "What's up?" He'd spoken to the girl fairly regularly over the past few days, but they'd both realized that while they got along well enough, they would never be best friends. The attraction was still there, and Harry did consider the girl a friend, but that was the extent of their relationship. Parvati was the most social girl he'd seen though, forming friendships with just about everyone but seeming especially close to both Lav and Rose, flitting between the two of them depending on the day.

Parvati hooked her arm in his. "Since it's the weekend, you down to have some fun tomorrow night?" She asked impishly.

Goddamn, I love booty calls, Harry mused to himself, a satisfied grin forming on his face. "Tomorrow works for me. My room or yours?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find a place." Parvati replied, winking up at him as she released his arm and stepped closer to Lav.

The no strings attached friends with benefits scenario he'd established with the girl was his dream scenario. Sex with a gorgeous girl was obviously a plus regardless, but it was the lack of commitment or romantic attachment that was the crown jewel of the entire situation.

The entire group of first years were forced to come to an abrupt halt as a suit of armor was flung down the corridor perpendicular to them. Immediately in its wake danced a strange, spectral figure, different from the ghosts that inhabited the castle, but clearly not human either. The individual was clearly male, but their face seemed to change ever so slightly the more you looked at it. The pseudo ghost was dressed akin to a jester, but somehow even more odd. His bizarre outfit was themed after the suits of a card, with diamond patterned, thigh high tights, a series of hearts forming a bandolier strung over his shoulder. Spades were stitched into a line along the entire main portion of his hat and under his left eye was a tattoo depicting two clubs, vertically in a line. The odd man's shirt had long, billowing sleeves that tightened at the wrist, over top which a thin, two button vest was flush against his chest. Two, short ties hung from their neck, extending down from the ruffles that adorned their collar but stopping at the chest. The diamond patterned tights vanished into a pair of billowing shorts that matched the shirt in both color and fit as they tightened above the knee. A festive pair of ankle boots rounded off the ensemble, little bells hanging from each shoe.

The jester, for what else could he be, appeared to be laughing manically as it danced, each erratic movement barely avoiding the swing of a sword as two other suits of armor harried it with their blades. The suits of armor as well as their blades were shimmering with a slight silver glow, evidently imbued with some manner of magic, though they were moving too quickly for Harry to try and sense any details about.

"So much effort for little old me? In the middle of the corridor where all can see? Quite unbecoming for a fine lady. Wouldn't you agree, young Miss Headley?" The jester said, every word walking the line between being sung or simply spoken, but all of them dripping with condescension. Just as the odd entity's face was always slightly changing, so too was his voice. The subtle pitches, tones, and intonations were slightly altered with every new word.

The woman the jester was addressing turned out to be a ghost herself. She was a beautiful woman seemingly in her early thirties, though it was difficult to say given her translucent appearance. The woman was garbed in an exceedingly ornate dress that indicated she had been a part of the nobility when alive, perhaps even royalty. Most eye catching of all were the large bloodstains that coated the garment she'd evidently died in, as well as the long, deep gash that stretched across her throat.

"I've grown tired of your mockery, Peeves!" Miss Headley, as the now identified Peeves had referred to her, practically hissed at her fellow incorporeal being. "You may not die, but you will know pain!" The suits of armors renewed their attacks in accordance with her words, forcing Peeves to dodge and dance around their blades with even more speed than before.

"What the fuck is happening?" Ron asked, dumbfounded as his eyes tracked the various ghosts and suits of armor engaged in a full-on melee in the middle of the corridor.

"No idea, but I'm enjoying it," Harry replied absentmindedly, his attention riveted on Peeves and the way he moved. Surprisingly, they were all movements that the human body was actually capable of.

Laughter then emanated from Peeves, louder than anything else he'd said or done, the sounds echoing off the walls and reverberating into the ears of everyone nearby. "Oh, pitiable, little Headley… still clinging to power that was never truly yours," Peeves mocked, the target of his provocative comments growing more upset by the second. "Threats and anger combined together – a wildfire they make."

"You-" The jester did not allow her to finish whatever vitriol she was about to spew before fading into nothing and instantly materializing right in front of Headley. She screamed and lurched backward through the air. A lone, disembodied hand pressed into her back and prevented her from gaining distance. Peeves' disembodied hand.

"You best be careful, little Nela. We all remember what happened the last time you stuck your neck out a bit… too… far…" Peeves mimed slicing open his own neck, but to the horror of everyone watching, a wound exactly akin to Headley's own actually opened across his throat. A cruel mimicry of the injury that had claimed her life Merlin knew how many years prior.

Anger remained on Headley's twisted, spectral visage, but above all else there was fear. The woman had frozen completely, her eyes wide as she stared into nothing. Her bearing strangely reminiscent of the Body-Bind Curse the students had just learned. Harry would bet anything that the woman was remembering her death at that moment. An experience he himself hoped to never have to go through. Dying was already a concept that terrified him, the idea of remembering such an event while only existing as a facsimile of life somehow seemed worse

The wound vanished from Peeves' neck as he floated away, cackling loudly and erratically all the while. "Send your guards, send your men! Peeves will best them all again!" The spectral jester bowed dramatically before the small crowds of students that had assembled at various portions of the hall. His hat was held in his grip as he repeatedly bent his body completely over, continuing to do so even as his body slowly sunk into the floor below.

"Peeves will best them all again."

The words were repeated again, but in a far more eerie fashion. The latter half of the rhyme gaining a sinister quality as Harry heard them within his own mind. A quick glance toward Ron confirmed that he'd heard the same.

"Hogwarts is fucking weird," Fay murmured, eyes following Headley as she too floated away through a wall.

"Yeah, but I'm into it," Harry responded, resuming his walk since the unexpected performance had come to a close.

"Have any of you ever heard of Nela Headley before?" Parvati asked.

"I'm certain that library could tell you," Hermione said, quickly walking past the group as she was wont to do. That girl walked faster than anyone else Harry had ever met.

"Pass," Lav called after her, shrugging when there was no reply. "I'll just ask Binns next time we have History."

Harry had admittedly only attended History of Magic once thus far, but his first impressions of the class were far more positive than what Leia had led him to believe. There wasn't a lot of magic involved, and Binns could stand to be a bit less dry in his delivery, but at least the content itself was interesting. The green-eyed teen had always enjoyed history, but the opportunity to see a different side to the same events was utterly fascinating. The journals within the Potter vault had given him a taste for just how different the reality of the past may differ from what he'd been told growing up, and he could not wait to discover more.

"What time is our 'broom lesson' tomorrow again?" Ron asked, mocking the very idea that they needed lessons.

"One, I think?" Harry answered, rather excited at the prospect of flying for the first time. To someone that had grown up in the magical world it was commonplace, but Harry couldn't wait to try his hand at that which was utterly impossible to achieve in the mundane world.

"I'm tempted to skip it," Ron said. "I mean, it's not like I actually need any lessons on flying."

"We were told it was mandatory to attend," Fay cut in and scoffed. "But hey, if you want to tempt McGonagall's wrath that's your choice."

The redheaded teen paled and shook his head. "Nope, I'm good. Flying lesson sounds fun, actually."

Harry couldn't resist the urge to tease his friend. "And they say bravery and stupidity are one and the same. Way to prove them all wrong this time, Ron."

"This time?!"

"Yes, this time."

OoooOoooO

"Good morning, Daddy!"

"Good morning, Luna, dear. Did you sleep well last night?"

"I don't believe so, but I did Dream very well."

"That's marvelous, sweetheart! Where did you go? What sights did you see?"

"I decided to go to the beach and build a great castle from sand, but I did get a bit distracted just enjoying the water hit my toes. At first it was cold, far too cold, but I wanted it to be warmer and so it was."

"Your control is getting better then?"

"Oh, much so.

"So, what happened next?"

"Well, after I had built my castle and helped some gryphons settle inside of it, I decided to go visit a real one."

"A real gryphon?"

"No, silly, a castle."

"Ah, that makes far more sense. Which castle did you visit?"

"The Alcázar of Segovia."

"A lovely choice, please continue."

"There were a great many people who kept popping up for a few seconds and then vanishing. I tried to peak into their dreams, but I was only able to see glimpses and flashes."

"Even your mother had difficulties peering into the dreams of others when she was still alive. Do not worry, my dear, I am certain you will master it in time."

"I did manage to catch sight of quite a few Heffalumps and Woozles."

"Are they still up to their usual tricks?"

"I imagine so, they are very covetous creatures, but I was not able to stick around long enough to confirm."

"I'm certain they were. Extraordinary creatures the Heffalumps and Woozles are, extraordinary… distinguishing between them is proving difficult but as a collective they are fascinating. But enough about them, what happened next?"

"It was shortly after that, I was still inside the alcázar, when he showed up."

"Ah, him again? And how is our mysterious friend?"

"Oh, he is doing quite well. Still smiling, still a bit peculiar. He did say that things were starting to get interesting in this country though. That was different. I don't know what he was referring to, but he seemed excited."

"He did not elaborate any further?"

"We were talking for a few minutes but no, he did not clarify his interests."

"That is a shame. I was thinking about writing an article on him, but I want a bit more meat for the story..."

"Well, actually, when I asked him if he was still reading that rag, he did say yes because it was a 'good source of information' for him."

"Ministry controlled propaganda! All of it! Whatever miniscule tidbits of truth he is able to derive from those pages is not worth the subtle magic that infects his mind and warps his thoughts!"

"I did tell him that, though I used slightly different words."

"And? What did he say?"

"He laughed, tapped his head, and said his mind was assuredly his own. A very strange reaction since if his mind wasn't his own, then denying that fact is exactly what he would do to convince me of the opposite."

"Unless he knew you'd anticipate that line of thought and went a step further."

"That is a possibility! It is hard to say for certain though…"

"Indeed. For his sake, we must hope he has not fallen victim as he seems to believe. And we should also hope that he does not consume from their cursed, factually incorrect pages anymore – it is for his own good."

"I thought you said hope was hollow?"

"No, no, I said it is only as hollow as the Well of Eternity that Fudge and his secret cabal drink from to preserve their youth – but that Well is quite full on every day but Wednesday."

"Today is Tuesday."

"Then hope is not hollow!"

"In that case, I hope he's okay."

"I do as well, sweet girl. Now come, let us prepare breakfast together."

OoooOoooO

"I never imagined that Da Vinci's supposed words would ring so true," Harry said, his voice reaching only his own ears before being drowned out by the steady, powerful winds that were ever present hundreds upon hundreds of feet in the air.

All that kept him from plummeting to his death was a single, wooden broom that had clearly seen better days, but Harry didn't care – on and on he flew in the warm skies above Hogwarts. The feeling of soaring through the air at speeds faster than cars was utterly incomparable. There were no safety standards, no contingency plans, only his grip on the wooden length and his feet on the metal foot grips keeping him connected to the flying tool.

Harry was a natural at flying. Alice had mentioned that his father was rather skilled at it as well, but he was still surprised that the skillset came so easily to him. While he could sense his own magic intertwining and connecting to the magic enchanted into the broom, he knew that wasn't the reason behind his ability to do so with such ease. Flying on a broom was as simple as walking to the teen.

Aimlessly, he continued to follow the whims of desire and fly. Where he flew was unimportant, the act of flying alone was all the sustenance he required. Harry was fairly certain that he had a series of detentions waiting for him back on the ground. Madam Hooch had given the students that seemed even halfway capable on a broom permission to fly around freely, but he ignored her instructions to stay within eyeshot. The weather was warm, the sky was surprisingly clear, and Harry could not bring himself to ignore the allure of just flying to wherever he could see. In the span of only a few minutes he could reach the Quidditch pitch, Forbidden Forest, the main gate, or the greenhouses. All of Hogwarts was available to him. From the tallest towers to the distant town of Hogsmeade. Flying was the purest expression of freedom Harry had discovered since entering the magical world. A direct 'fuck you' to the flightless anatomy humanity had been cursed with since time immemorial.

The distant sound of someone shouting drew Harry's attention behind him. "Oi! Harry!" Ron called out, waving one hand through the air as the other gripped the broom.

Coming to a stop and just hovering, Harry waited for his friend to slowly catch up. Poor bastard's broom kept slowing down, veering to the left, and generally just not cooperating with the subtle movements used to control the flying device. That was on top of him being stuck with a broom that was likely from the previous century. Harry had lucked out and gotten one in solid condition.

"Blimey, Harry, I thought you said you hadn't flown before?"

"I haven't, first time on a broom," Harry said, a somewhat cocky smile in place as he maneuvered closer.

Ron was taken aback. "What? Bullshit. First time flyers are supposed to be like Hermione and not get more than two feet off the ground." The poor girl really had been dreadful. An amusing change given that she excelled at literally everything else that was related to coursework.

"Sorry, mate, guess god just loves me more than everyone else." Harry deserved the punch he received in the shoulder.

"Why am I friends with a git, again?" Ron chuckled, shaking out his hand.

"I guess the parts of me that are a git speak to you on a personal level. You know, Ron, you may be a git too." Harry was only half kidding. In the brief time he'd known Ron he had realized that the guy was as adept at insulting others as Harry himself was. All of the Gryffindors made fun of each other. So much so that thick skin might as well have been a prerequisite for joining the House, but Ron had demonstrated that it came naturally to him. "Not to mention I buy you food, so." Harry shrugged.

"You've only bought me food one time though," Ron countered.

"So far. I've only bought you food one time so far." Harry planned to be rather generous with his finances when the first years were allowed to visit Hogsmeade on certain weekends come October. The magical village was essentially just a college town that students flooded into on the weekends. There were supposed to be a lot of cool places to visit, hang out, and spend money at though, so Harry was looking forward to it.

"I am so holding you to that," Ron laughed, but it slowed as he cocked his head to the side slightly and pointed back toward the ground. "What's that building over there?"

Harry followed where his friend was pointing and saw a sizable, wooden hut sitting near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, at the base of large hill that led up to Hogwarts. "I'm not sure. Want to go check it out?"

"Think Hooch will kill us if we do?"

"The more time we spend away the more convinced I am that she actually doesn't give a shit what we do as long as we bring the brooms back," Harry replied, mostly trying to reassure himself. Madam Hooch had given rather explicit instructions about not soaring off, but she hadn't enforced said rules, so he was at an impasse on what to believe. "Worst case scenario is that we're already in trouble, so might as well go all the way."

"By getting expelled?" Ron was incredulous. The idea of getting expelled in the first week of school did not sit well with him it seemed.

"We won't get expelled for something like this," Harry said confidently. "Expulsion is for the seriously bad shit, like getting someone killed."

Ron raised an eyebrow imperiously. "And how sure of this are you?"

"47 percent sure."

"Good enough for me, let's go see what the weird hut is about."

The two friends angled their brooms downward and began to descend rapidly. Harry debated letting the magic stop flowing through the broom to see what it felt like to just fall through the air, but he decided to save the skydiving experience for when he had a better broom and less oversight. As they neared the hut Harry got a closer view of the structure and realized 'hut' did not quite do it justice. While not erroneous in size, the building was a lot larger than he had initially believed. The doors and windows of the establishment were twice as large as the standard sizes of such features. The same was true of the front steps, the handle on the door, and even the chimney. The entirety of the wooden structure appeared to be built for someone that was far bigger than any human.

"Oh, I know who lives here!" Ron declared, stepping up to the hut with his broom in hand. "That big guy!"

"Big guy?"

"You know, the one who gathered us up on the first night and led us to the boats and across the lake."

"Shit, I think you're right," Harry said, nodding along. "I think his name was H something. Harrod? Hargon?"

"Yeah! The big guy!"

Harry knew that he had caught the ginormous man's name that night, but his attention had been on a million other things and then he'd gotten hammered. Those circumstances combined meant that recalling a name he'd only heard once was completely beyond his capabilities. Whatever the large man's name had been though, he'd seemed friendly enough, never mind that he was employed by the school, so Harry wasn't nervous about stumbling onto his home. Hansel and Gretel was an amusing tale, but not one that was applicable to his life… or so he hoped anyway.

"Think he's home?" Harry wondered aloud, hovering on his broom to peer through the windows. There was no light shining from within, but that did not necessarily mean much.

"No smoke from the chimney," Ron said, following Harry's example and remounting his broom. "Guess he's out right now."

That was unfortunate, Harry actually wanted to speak with the giant man. He was weird and different; separate from the rest of the school but still clearly attached to it in some fashion. Those oddities were interesting and had piqued his interest more than most of the shit he'd seen thus far. "Well, damn. Want to come back here tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me. We won't have our brooms, but" Ron gestured to the rocky, dirt path that led back up to the castle, "I think we'll manage to find our way just fine.

The two friends took to the skies once more and held an impromptu race to see who could get back to Hooch the fastest – a race that was quickly abandoned when they remembered just how shabby Ron's assigned broom was.

"I hate this thing so bloody much," Ron grumbled, once again adjusting course just to stay straight. "Even my old Cleansweep is better than this flying piece of firewood. I would've brought it to the lesson if I thought the school brooms were going to be this fucking bad."

Harry had to concur, as far as brooms went, it was pretty much the worst. "How the hell is Hogwarts not better funded? Imagine if some poor, brand new to magic muggle-born had gotten that broom."

"Oh, they'd fall within forty-five seconds," the redhead said confidently.

"And how high can these brooms rise in that time?"

"High enough to hurt when you land, that's for sure."

Prior to his start at Hogwarts Harry would have assumed there were safety measures in place, or that Madam Hooch would at least be ready to cast protective spells on those who fell… but his experiences thus far had demonstrated quite clearly that short of death or magical malady, magicals did not give a single, flying fuck about injuries. It was as inspiring as it was terrifying.

Though it took some time, eventually the two friends made it back to the large, open section of the grounds where their lesson had begun. Harry mentally braced himself for an angry tirade the second Madam Hooch came into eyeshot. The spiky, white haired woman had her hands on her hips, and her yellow eyes were narrowed. We are so fucked.

"Evans! Weasley! What in the bloody hell were you two thinking flying off by your lonesome?" Hooch shouted, not bothering to hide her reprimand from the rest of the class.

Harry was fairly familiar with the public censures often offered by teachers and other individuals of authority in the world – they were an old friend to the troubled teen. Hooch seemed pissed, but he had honestly expected more vitriol.

"I'm sorry, Madam," Harry said, feigning contriteness. "I'd never flown before and just got carried away, and Ron came after me to bring me back." He had long since figured out that fake apologies were the fastest way to get passed the yelling and onto the punishments.

"Spare me your bullshit, Evans," Hooch said sternly. Evidently, she was familiar with these situations as well. "You took off to Merlin knows where the second you bloody well could. And you, Weasley, you were right on his damn heels!"

"Well, I couldn't let him go off alone…" Ron muttered, rubbing the back of his head. Though if Harry had to guess, getting yelled at was not a new experience for him either.

"Oh yes you could!" Hooch countered. "Here's a piece of advice for you, let fools make fool decisions on their own. Evans wasn't in any danger of falling, you knew that just as I did, so there was absolutely no reason for you to go chasing after him."

Harry was torn between annoyance at being called a fool and pride at the recognition of his day one flying skills. The snickers from the student onlookers settled the mental debate for him rather nicely. He surreptitiously flipped the crowd the two-fingered salute where Hooch was hopefully unable to see. Boring bastards had no right to laugh at him when they'd stayed neatly inside the lines and not had any real fun.

"Give me your brooms, you're both done with them."

Sighing heavily, Harry followed Ron's example and placed the broom into Hooch's outstretched hands. "How many days of detention do we get?" The black-haired teen asked, mentally preparing for the loss of free time.

Hooch placed her hands on her hips. "None."

"What? Really?" Ron exclaimed, a hint of hope entering his voice.

Harry was just as taken aback as he was. "We're not getting detention?"

Hooch smirked at them. That was not a good sign. "If I assign you detention then I have to preside over it. I don't feel like dedicating my free time to your damned punishments. So, no. No detention."

The optimism that had welled within Harry faded away in an instant. "Shit."

Shit is right, Evans. Both you and Weasley are banned from flying for the next two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" They yelled in unison.

"Two weeks," Hooch repeated. "I had one blasted rule and you two decided to flagrantly ignore it. I think being landlocked and unable to practice flying leading up to your Quidditch tryouts for your House is more than fair for disobeying me. You're lucky I'm being lenient, I've half a mind to make it a month.

Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from lashing out. He knew it was important to take into account whose rules were being broken but he hadn't done so. Wounded pride was the reason he and Ron were being punished more than anything else.

Hooch nodded firmly, the punishment administered and over with, and turned toward the rest of the class. "If you want to borrow a school broom from here on out, just sign one out and return it in the same condition you checked it out in. If you have any questions stick around and ask, otherwise you're all dismissed."

The majority of the Gryffindors began to make their way back into the castle, first among them Hermione, who looked very, very pleased to be finished with the lesson. Harry did not see his brother anywhere among the crowd though.

"Oi, where's Daniel?" He called out to anyone within earshot.

"That's right, you weren't there to see what happened," Seamus replied, walking backwards while talking.

Saddling up next to him, Neville took over from where the Irish teen had left off. "So, you know how Daniel loves flying?"

Harry nodded, "yeah, he mentioned it a few times." That was an understatement and a half. Daniel had talked about flying more than almost anything else in the short time that Harry had known him.

"Well, he doesn't just love it, he's incredibly talented and regularly practices to get even better," Neville said proudly. Pride in the accomplishments of others was not an unfamiliar concept to Harry, but he hadn't experienced it in regard to his twin just yet.

"And?" Harry dragged out the syllables trying to stress how little he still knew.

"After you flew off, Daniel decided to do as he always did and run some drills," Neville resumed his recounting. "Standard stuff for him, but way beyond what the rest of us could do."

Fay hummed in agreement. "He's not kidding, Harry. Your brother is a really fucking good flier." Quite the endorsement given who it was coming from. Fay and Ron had firmly established themselves as the Quidditch duo among Harry's circle of friends, but even betwixt them Fay had gone to more professional matches.

"So, what happened next?" Ron stepped in to help usher the story along.

"Wood, the fifth year Captain of the Quidditch team came sprinting out of the castle, waving his hands in the air, shouting at the top of his lungs that he'd 'found his Seeker,'" Neville said, mimicking the arm movements and almost hitting Rose in the face.

Harry had trouble imagining the stern guy from their first night acting so enthused, but given how rowdy Quidditch fans got, he supposed it wasn't a stretch that the player had an alternative, more passionate side to him.

"He called Daniel to the ground and yelled at Hooch that he was going to 'borrow' him for a while, and then marched him right inside," Fay chimed in. "No clue what he said to Daniel beyond that, but it doesn't take a genius to guess."

"Wood was actually skipping," Neville laughed. "Can't blame him though, Daniel is a great addition to the team."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "I thought first years couldn't be starters on the team?"

"I'm pretty sure that's just an informal rule," Fay replied, though she seemed uncertain herself. "We'll have to ask Daniel for the details when he's finished."

Harry was not naturally a jealous person, but he could not help but feel a bit of it prickle at him as he heard about his younger twin landing what was presumed to be a special and coveted position. Playing Quidditch wasn't even something that held particular interest to him, at least not yet as he'd only just gotten on a broom… but Daniel was already the center of attention wherever the first year Gryffindors went, joining the Quidditch team was only going to exacerbate that fact.

Intellectually, he was well aware that Daniel neither asked for nor wanted the copious amount of attention he received, but in a way that was almost worse. The spotlight was going to shine on the Boy-Who-Lived regardless of what he did, but instead of enjoying that attention for what it was, Daniel always sought the politest way to step out of it. Harry wasn't mad at Daniel for not enjoying the stares and focus of the magical world, he was just frustrated knowing everyone else in their year would always be in his shadow. Daniel wasn't a prodigy at classwork, but he was good enough that people would note his intelligence. His spell-work wasn't top of their class, but the world would note how quickly he mastered spells, all the while ignoring everyone else his age.

Harry was just being petty; he knew that better than anyone. Daniel was a prodigious flier and so deserved his spot on the team. His placement was not born from nepotism or as a result of his fame, he had genuine skill. He may not have had to tryout but rumors of his talent painted a very clear picture… even with all of that in mind though, the jealousy remained all the same. No one would ever hear of Harry's disgruntlement over this fact, and nor would he allow any clues to bleed through in his mannerisms or behavior. Daniel didn't deserve to be made a victim because his elder brother was wallowing in childish feelings of envy.

The throng of Gryffindors all split off into groups and went their differing directions. Harry and Ron decided some lunch was in order and made their way back to the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling made him feel like he was still outside enjoying the pleasant weather and feeling of the sun on his skin. All that was missing was the light, perpetual breeze gusting through his hair.

Lunch that day consisted of a sandwich station operating on its own, a sight they had already seen earlier in the week as well. The surprisingly large array of ingredients and option for ambient or grilled varieties meant that the food was still quite amazing. Far better than anything Harry had tasted during his time in the muggle school system.

The two friends had just sat down to enjoy their meal and mutually bitch about their newly received punishment when two, tall redheads flanked Ron on the long benches. Harry guessed these were the infamous twins he'd heard so much about but had only seen in passing.

"You would not believe what we just heard!" The one on the left said, throwing an arm around Ron's shoulders.

"Our little brother, Ronniekins the First-"

"Got himself on the wrong end of Hooch's temper!" The two were in perfect sync with each other. Harry almost wondered if there was a magical phenomenon that allowed them to share a single mind.

Ron waited a moment to finish swallowing his food before answering the duo. "Wasn't that big of a deal," he took a long drink. "She just got mad when we flew off on our own."

"Oh yes, we heard that you weren't alone," the one on the right said, now looking across the table at Harry for the first time since sitting down.

"Harry Evans, the evil twin brother of the Boy-Who-Can-Fly." The one on the left was smirking rather heavily as he snagged a chip off of Ron's plate.

"News travels fast around here," Harry said, feigning a small chuckle.

"That's true, that's very true-"

"But we hear things more quickly than most."

"Especially when it pertains to Quidditch rosters."

"We're on the team so it wouldn't do to be blindsided by who else is taking the pitch."

Harry felt like he was at a tennis game the way his eyes flicked back and forth to whomever was talking. The twins were utterly identical in both appearance, cadence, and demeanor. It had to be magic. There was simply no other explanation. Identical twins did not manage this level of synchronicity. Harry and Daniel were not a good basis on which to judge given the circumstances of their respective childhoods, but Parvati and Padma had very clear differences between them as well. The same was true of every muggle pair of twins Harry had even heard mention of. The Weasley twins were different somehow, that much was clear. At some point Harry resolved to try and sense if there was anything unique to them, but that could wait for another time.

"Oi," Ron butted into the conversation, elbowing his brothers lightly. "Introduce yourselves, you gits."

Ron was tall, but the two twins made eye contact over his head, both of their mouths slightly ajar. "Did we just get rightfully told off by Ronniekins of all people?"

"By George, I think we did!" The other said, dramatically placing his hands on his cheeks."

"Well, George, I think we should introduce ourselves!"

The other nodded profusely. "Right you are, Fred, it's clearly the polite thing to do." Both brothers turned back to Harry and stuck out a hand to be shaken. "I'm Fred," the one who had been addressed as George said.

"And I'm George," the previously referred to Fred declared.

Torn between amusement and bewilderment, the slowly mounting headache Harry felt in the back of his brain settled his opinion on the brothers. Fun blokes, but only in short bursts. "Pleasure."

"Likewise, little Harrykins," Fred said, vigorously shaking the proffered hand. "So where did you two ne'er-do-wells soar off to long enough to send Hooch into one of her moods?"

"No where in particular, we were just flying," Ron grumbled, Harry nodded along in agreement as his mouth was full. "She just got her knickers in a twist because we broke her pointless rule."

"No surprises there," George said, commiserating with his little brother and patting him on the shoulder.

"Everyone knows Hooch is a right terror if you get on her bad side," Fred continued sagely.

"Doubly so if you try anything during a Quidditch match," George finished. "Hooch officiates every match here at Hogwarts, and she takes the matches more seriously than anyone but Wood."

The helpful advice was appreciated even if it had come a few hours too late. "Good to know," Harry muttered. "Any other tips?"

The two twins rose from the bench in unison. "Not today, Harry, old chap," one of the twins said. Harry had lost track of which was which the moment they weren't seated in place.

"Places to be, people to see," the other remarked, already moving away from the table.

"We have plenty of tips, of course-"

""We just won't be sharing them today!"" They called out together.

Harry waited until they were out of earshot before looking at Ron earnestly. "If those two ever say 'Come play with us, Harry,' I'm grabbing an ax."

"What is it with you and axes?" Ron asked, not understanding the reference in the slightest. "First when we were with Hank, and now this?"

Harry sighed and wiped his hands off with a napkin. "If you'd seen The Shining, then you'd understand."

"What is that? Muggle theatre?"

"Close enough."