Disclaimer: The usual, none of the characters are mine. JKR is the creator, blah, blah, blah. The name of Harry's ancestor, Methos, is the property of whoever owns the Highlander series. I just needed the name of someone very old. Merlin isn't the property of anyone, except possibly British culture, and as that isn't an entity capable of suing me, I don't need to disclaim him. Anything you may recognize from another fic is either coincidental, meaning it's from a fic I haven't read, accidental, meaning it's from a fic that I have read, but forgot it came from someone else's work, in which case I apologize, or is something that I thought up, but someone else used in a similar way before I had the chance to post this, if that makes sense. Does anybody even read these things?
(A/N: Here it is, Chapter Three, just like I promised. And it's on time, too, thanks to my excellent beta reader, who is currently visiting me, which really sped up the process. I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed, all fifty-something of you. And finally, here we go…)
Chapter Three: Summer Job and ChangesWhen Harry awoke that morning, his first thought was 'What a weird dream!' His second thought, after noticing how clearly he could see with his glasses on the bedside table, and the multi-chamber trunk next to the door, was 'Holy shit! That wasn't a dream; it was real! It's true! I am the third heir of Methos!!!'
After his initial shock, he realized he was extremely tired, and he wondered why? Then he saw the clock. '2:45 am. Why am I up this early if I didn't have a nightmare?' He sighed as he remembered his new job. He only had fifteen minutes to get ready and leave for work if he wanted to get there on time. 'Wait a minute,' he thought to himself. 'Merlin said that compartment seven of my trunk is a flat with everything I need, and that six hours inside is only one hour outside. That means that for every hour I spend inside, only ten minutes pass outside, so I have an hour-and-a-half to get ready. Perfect!' With this thought, Harry realized that he was getting smarter already. Normally he would have completely forgotten about the trunk, but he was very glad that now he could remember important information when he needed to.
Harry pressed the seventh oval and said the password to open it. He climbed inside and gasped. He was faced with the most comfortable-looking room he had ever seen in his life. It was similar to the Gryffindor common room's style, but was slightly smaller and had somewhat nicer furniture.
In the middle of the rear wall was a massive fireplace, and positioned around it were a number of chairs and couches that looked softer than he could imagine. On the walls around the fireplace there were decorative displays of muggle weapons: swords, daggers, spears, shields, axes, bows and arrows, and many others Harry didn't recognize. He assumed they had been collected during the travels of his ancestors. From the ladder, Harry looked to his right and saw two doors and a small archway, each with a sign above indicating where it led. The two doors were on the right wall and led to the bedroom and bath accordingly, and through the arc was the kitchen. Around the doors were paintings, tapestries, and small bookcases. The whole room radiated a sense of comfort and warmth, and was instantly put on Harry's very short list of "favorite paces."
Figuring that he should probably start getting ready, Harry went through the door labeled "bathroom" and let out another gasp. It was not as nice as the prefect's bathroom, but it was pretty close. It was made of marble: black, white, and a little bit of red, and charmed so that it wouldn't feel cold. Sunk into one corner of the room was a bathtub that was so large deep that Hagrid probably could have used it if he needed to. Next to the tub was a shower, and in the other corner was a toilet. A few feet down the wall from the toilet was the sink, and as he passed it the mirror said, "You need more sleep, you look terrible!" On the wall opposite the tub and shower was an incredibly life like mural of a mermaid who looked like a veela. It almost looked like a photograph it was so realistic. She smiled beautifully at him and said "Hey there, cutie, come by here often?" Harry blushed very red at this statement because he had not noticed her until she had spoken to him, and by then he had already removed all of his clothes and was stepping into the shower. He jumped inside very quickly and turned the water on, pleased to feel that it automatically went to the exact temperature he wanted: very hot.
After he had showered, he dried himself off with a warm, fluffy towel and put on a bathrobe made of the same material. He exited the bathroom through a small side door into the bedroom, thinking he might find some clothes in there. After examining the king-sized four-poster bed with Gryffindor colors on the sheets, blankets, and comforters, he found a closet with a wide variety of wizard robes and muggle clothing. Harry selected a pair of black shorts, sneakers, and a dark green tee shirt and got dressed. He then made his way to the kitchen.
Once inside, he found the icebox and marveled at the incredible selection of food. He quickly decided on eggs, sausage, toast, and potatoes, watching in amazement as the food he had taken was instantly replaced. 'It never goes empty,' Harry thought with glee. Now he wouldn't have to starve on Dudley's diet!
After eating, Harry let the food settle in his stomach for a few minutes, stretched for his run, and left the trunk. He wanted to check out the rest of the trunk, but he realized that he had no choice but to wait until he got back.
Very quietly, he left the house and did a little more stretching. He then set off for work one minute ahead of schedule, 2:59 AM.
~*~*~*~*~
Near the end of his journey, Harry recapped the last three and a half hours in his mind. For the first two miles, he had been able to keep up his jogging pace. This confused him, as he could not remember ever being able to run continuously for such a long distance before. Then he realized that an increase in endurance must have been one of the "physical benefits" that Godric had mentioned. After that, however, Harry was acting like any other person who was unaccustomed to long runs. He alternated between periods of jogging and walking. The periods of jogging steadily grew shorter and shorter, and when he had to walk, he struggled to breathe and tried to get the cramps out of his ribs and sides. 'Don't worry, Harry,' he thought to himself, 'you'll get used to this real quick, remember?' But these thoughts served as only a small comfort to his legs, which felt like lead weights attached to pieces of rubber, and his burning lungs didn't care at all.
Then, just when he was certain he would pass out, the plant came into view down the road. When he actually arrived, Harry took a moment to catch his breath and check his new watch. He had found it among a pile of Dudley's recently discarded possessions, but it worked fine, so Harry took it and put it to use.
Harry was ten minutes early, and remembering Vernon's instructions from the previous evening, Harry sought out his employer, a man named Daniel Stone.
Mr. Stone, however, found Harry first. (A/N: Because I can't write accents nearly as well as I can imitate them, I will simply indicate when a character is speaking in an accent other than standard British. In Mr. Stone's case, the accent is Welsh.) "Hey! Are you Harry Potter?" Harry turned to face one of the largest men he had ever seen. Not in weight, though: Vernon and Dudley were still the top two places on that list. This man was large in terms of height and muscle. He must have been at least seven feet tall, towering over Harry's five feet even, and weighed well over 300 pounds, most of which seemed to be muscle. The man seemed like he could easily defeat anyone who wanted to fight him, and if he ever fought Hagrid, he might even last a few minutes. Despite Mr. Stone's gargantuan stature, Harry wasn't nervous at all. He had the distinct feeling that Stone, though very large, was just as gentle and friendly as Hagrid, but probably did have a little temper.
"Yeah, I'm Harry," he replied.
"Good to meet you, Harry. I'm Dan Stone. Your uncle told me about you, but you don't need to worry about me thinking you're a delinquent; it was obvious that he was exaggerating. Wait a minute," he paused, pulling what appeared to be a photograph from one of his pockets, and scrutinizing it carefully. "Do you need to wear your glasses to work?"
"No, I don't need them anymore," Harry said, but knew that some elaboration was expected, so he continued, "I got contacts near the end of the school year."
(A/N: I know that in the books, the Dursleys didn't have any pictures of Harry, but let's just pretend they got one by accident, OK?)
"Oh. All right then, Harry, follow me. And by the way," he said as he started walking, "we're pretty informal around here. We call each other by either our first or last names; no 'mister's, no 'sir's, just names, understand?"
"Yes. What should I call you, though; Dan, or Stone?"
"Whichever, but you'll probably end up using Stone; there are at least six men here named Dan, so we all just go by last names out of necessity. Well, I think we've wasted enough time here. Let's get you started, shall we?" As he finished talking, they arrived at an open space in front of a conveyor belt where Harry assumed he would be working.
"That line of machines over there is where the sacks are filled and sealed," said Stone, who had to start shouting to be heard over the noise the machinery was making. "After the bags are sealed, they get sent down the belt. That's where you come in: you take the bags off the belt and carry them to that pallet over there." He pointed to a short square wooden frame on the ground about fifteen feet behind them. "Once you've got twenty-four on that thing, press this button to call a forklift to come for it. The lift might also bring some empty pallets for you, but while you're waiting for it to come, you can catch your breath. I'm going to have you start with the fifty-pound bags. When that gets too easy for you, come talk to me and I'll see if I can move you up to the hundred-pounders. I really don't think this will happen, but if that gets too easy, you might get to work in the 150-pound line, the heaviest we make. You get all that, Harry?"
"All of it," Harry replied.
"Good, lad. Now remember: don't go too fast, pace yourself. You've got four hours until lunch, and four more afterward. If you don't get used to the workload first, you'll wear yourself out. Good luck, Potter."
"Thanks, Stone," Harry said. Stone walked away, pointing toward the belt as he left. Harry turned and saw the first bag moving down the line. He picked it up and carried it to the wooden frame behind him, then turned around and walked back to get the next one. 'That wasn't too hard,' Harry thought.
Thirty minutes later…
'I'm gonna die.' He had done fine for the first few minutes, but he was quite out of shape, and at that point, his arms were starting to feel as bad as his legs, and he was sweating profusely.
How he made it through the four hours until lunch break, Harry never knew. He wolfed down the sandwiches he had brought like a starving man, which he was, and wondered what he would do for the rest of the hour, apart from drinking a few quarts of water. Noticing a few of the younger workers laying outside in the sun, he decided to join them. Though annoyed at first by their jibes about his pale skin, Harry realized that they were actually quite funny. 'Besides,' he thought with a smirk, 'at the rate I heal, they won't be able to make cracks like that for long.'
Harry returned to work with slightly recovered limbs, and a very red upper body. Apparently, he burned very easily. Another four hours later, Harry began the long run back to Privet Drive. He could no longer feel his arms at all, and was unsure about whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. His legs, he was pleased to feel, had almost completely recovered from their exertions that morning, and even improved slightly: he was able to continue jogging for another quarter-mile before he began to get winded. In spite of his exhaustion, he was quite pleased with the progress he had made in just one day.
~*~*~*~*~
Harry arrived back at Privet Drive just after 9:00 PM. The trip had taken an hour longer than he expected because at 6:30, unable to ignore his growling stomach any longer, he had stopped at a restaurant he was passing by to have dinner. It wasn't very fancy, but the food had been good, and the people who worked there did not try to keep him out because of his sweat-soaked clothes, though a small group of elderly women seated nearby glared and crinkled their noses at him.
When he walked into Number Four, he was immediately greeted by a bellow from Vernon. "Where the Devil have you been, boy?"
"It's a twelve mile walk, Uncle Vernon. What did you expect?"
"You got off at 4:00. That was five hours ago! Even a freak like you should have only taken four hours, so where were you?"
"I had some money, and I was hungry, so I stopped to get some dinner on the way back, alright?"
"Very well then, boy. Just call the next time you'll be late."
"Okay, Uncle Vernon. I think I'll just go up to bed, I'm really tired."
Harry was about halfway up the stairs when Vernon spoke again:
"A letter arrived this morning while we were eating breakfast. It was brought to the table by an owl."
"Where is it?" Harry asked, confused. The Owl-Repelling Ward was supposed to be in place.
"It wasn't addressed to you, it was for Petunia and I. It was from your headmaster."
Now it made sense. If professor Dumbledore did send a letter, he would wait until after the post owl had delivered it before casting the ward.
"What did it say?" Harry asked, somewhat anxiously. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had a pretty strong suspicion of what it said. He noticed that the television in the living room, which had been blaring only moments before, was muted. Apparently, Dudley and Aunt Petunia were listening in on the conversation.
"Read it yourself," Vernon said, pulling the folded parchment out of his inside pocket and rudely tossing it to Harry.
Harry, despite his uncle's horribly aimed throw, effortlessly caught the correspondence, unfolded it, and began to read:
'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,
'I am writing to inform you that a ward is to be placed over your home to prevent post owls from delivering mail except from myself in emergency situations. Harry should already have explained this to you on your trip home from the train station yesterday. The spell shall be lifted for one hour, from ten o'clock to eleven o'clock in the evening on the night of Harry's birthday, so that we will be able to send him his supply list and so his friends may send him gifts; you only turn fifteen once, you know.
'There is another reason for this correspondence, however. Harry probably has not told you about this, but I feel that, you, as his guardians, have a right to know. This past year at Hogwarts, a special tournament was held for the first time in over a century. Traditionally, this tournament has only three competitors, but a dark wizard who had infiltrated the school disguised as a teacher made it so Harry was chosen as a fourth champion. By the rules of the tournament, Harry was forced to compete and did so quite admirably despite being at least three years younger than his opponents. Harry won the tournament, but when he touched the championship cup, he and another champion were transported to the Dark Wizard Voldemort, the man who killed Harry's parents. It was later revealed by one of Voldemort's servants that Harry had been entered into the tournament in a plot to return Voldemort to his former strength.
The other boy was killed in front of Harry. Then Harry had to endure the Dark Lord's resurrection, where his own blood was a key ingredient.'
Harry paused at this point, unconsciously clutching his forearm where Wormtail's silver dagger had penetrated his skin. He continued reading:
'Harry faced many terrors that night. Twice, he was tortured with a very powerful dark curse, whose very use is punishable by life imprisonment. Harry was forced to duel with Voldemort, and narrowly escaped with his life. What is most impressive, however, is that in his escape, he put himself in even greater danger to return the body of his fallen classmate for a proper burial. Such a display of honor and courage I have not seen in many years, and I am immensely proud of Harry for it. Many fully trained wizards would not have been able to show such courage in the face of danger.
Now that you know what Harry has been through, I hope you will be easy on him because he is still recovering from this traumatic ordeal. I would also like to thank you for obtaining a job for Harry, as it will help him pull through this difficult time.
With regards,
Albus Dumbledore
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'
After reading the letter, Harry handed it back to Vernon.
"So, is it true?" asked Vernon.
Harry could see Aunt Petunia and Dudley as well, and they were all waiting for his answer. "Is what true?" Harry asked.
"The part about you being captured and tortured, and watching that other boy die. Is it true?"
"Yes. All of it," responded Harry.
"What does it feel like? That dark curse your professor mentioned," asked Petunia.
Harry visibly shuddered at the memory, but decided to tell them anyway. "Imagine all of the pain you have ever felt. Then pretend you are feeling it all at once.'
"That doesn't sound so bad," grunted Dudley. "If you freaks think that is torture, you all must be sissies."
Harry smirked. "I wasn't finished. All that pain is magnified one thousand-fold, and you feel it all throughout your body. Words can't properly capture the pain one endures during the curse. It is so horrible that when repeated, it can cause a person to go crazy.
The Dursley's didn't respond to Harry's last comment, so after a moment, he turned and went to his room. No one even tried to stop him.
As he entered his room, he realized he only had six hours before he had to leave for work, so he started to get ready for bed. As he was walking toward his bed, he stubbed his toe on the new trunk and remembered that on the inside, time was extended. He climbed down into the trunk and went to the bathroom, filling the tub and relaxing in the hot water. By the time he got out, he was too tired to even notice the mermaid in the mural giggling at him in a way that even Parvati Patil and Lavendar Brown would have considered too flirty. Harry mindlessly dried off and staggered into the bedroom. He put on a pair of shorts he found in the closet, went over to the bed, and collapsed onto it. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
~*~*~*~*~
Two hours later (outside time), Harry awoke feeling better than he had in weeks. He realized that he somehow knew exactly what time it was outside, though he did not have a clock or a watch. After briefly pondering this matter, he concluded that he must have some kind of internal clock. 'Yet another strange ability,' he thought. Though it was not an overly incredible talent, it would be invaluable in helping him keep track of the outside time while within the trunk, as he would without a doubt be spending a great deal of time inside it.
He decided to first investigate the rest of the flat and become more familiar with it. He found that the amazingly soft furniture in the living room was extremely pleasing and that the kitchen contained simple furnishings. It was not particularly luxurious, but was complimented nicely with dishes of solid gold and cups that were eggshell thin, unbreakable, and seemed to be carved from large gems. The kitchen was exactly as it was supposed to be, at least in Harry's opinion, and he guessed that it somehow reminded him of the house he and his parents had once lived in. Re-entering the bedroom, he appreciated the warmth and comfort that seemed to radiate from the place. The thick, soft carpet and the king size, four poster bed made him feel so comfortable that he wanted to go back to sleep despite the fact that he had been awake for a while inside the trunk, and had slept over twelve hours prior to that. He looked in his closet and found a note that he had overlooked before:
Harry,
We thought you could use some decent cloths. After all you are an heir and should be dressed accordingly. You can still buy some cloths with your earnings, but now you won't need so many.
Enjoy,
Methos, Merlin, and Godric
Harry grinned at this; they really knew how to give gifts.
Harry then went to the trunk replica and decided to go to the training area in the ninth compartment. After he entered, he found himself in a standing in the center of a circle. Branching out from the circle were various environments, like pieces of a pie. As Harry looked out, he saw deserts, forests, beaches, plains, hills, mountains, and many more. 'They did say this place was for exercising. I guess after training here I will be able to survive in just about any environment.'
After exploring the training area, Harry thought it would be a good idea to spend a little time getting to know where some good books would be. Again Harry went to a trunk replica, opened the eighth chamber, and climbed down the ladder. He turned around and his jaw dropped. He was in the most enormous room he had ever seen. After a moment of staring in awe, he realized that this area was not just one library, but dozens of libraries, each with a different language and all much larger than the library at Hogwarts. 'Hermione would go crazy if she knew about this place,' Harry thought to himself as he began to walk around, once again feeling the sensation of warmth and happiness that come whenever he thought of her. He was becoming quite familiar with the feeling, as he had been thinking of her almost constantly since he had realized that he like her in that way. 'I really do have it bad.'
[Editors Note: This is a crazy conversation in Harry's head. If you would like to skip it go right ahead, although you might just get a kick out of it.]
Is that such a bad thing? Said a little voice in the back of his head.
Who are you?
I am you.
No you're not. I'm me.
Of course you are. But I am you, too.
What?
I am you. Or at least a part of you. The part that is more rational, and the part that helps you fight the Imperious curse. You are the more emotional part. (A/N: He's not crazy. But I am. MWAHAHAHA!!!) An important part of growing up is learning to balance the two parts, although I'm sure it isn't common for the two parts to converse. You and I will learn to work together in harmony so we can maintain our sanity.
OOH-KAAAY. I take it that's a good thing?
Very. Now lets get back to our original topic.
Which was what?
Hermione. Is it really such a bad thing that you like her?
Of course it is!
Why?
Well… She is already dating Krum, I know that Ron likes her too, she's my best friend, and, oh, lets not forget that if we were together, it would be like putting a target on her back that said, "Hey Voldy, come and get me!"
Whoa. Calm down. Those are all good points, but here are a few of my observations that might interest you. One- She doesn't seem to like Krum that much, and they probably won't be dating much longer anyway. Two- Ron's feelings seem fairly one sided. He likes her, but she doesn't seem to like him in that way. Three- Being best friends is actually a good thing because you already know each other very well, and your friendship should last even if the relationship doesn't. Also, she is already a target because she is your friend, and because she is muggle-born. You and her being together won't change that, so don't worry.
But what about Ron? If Hermione and I get together, Ron would hate me for it.
If Ron can't accept the feelings you and Hermione have for each other, he isn't as a good a friend as you think he is.
I guess you're right. Thanks, you really made me feel better.
Glad I could help. Now stop wasting time and start studying. You have a lot to learn, and although your time and resources are limited, your potential is not.
[E/N: Didn't I tell you it would be fun. J ]
Harry, the normal Harry, was a little surprised at how eager he was to begin learning. Two weeks earlier, the prospect of studying would have repulsed him; now, however, it seemed that studying would be … fun. He guessed that a love of learning was a very fortunate side effect of his increased intellect. After all, Hermione was the smartest witch he knew, and she loved to learn new things as much as Dudley loved too eat.
Harry decided to begin looking around, as he only had about a half hour outside the trunk before he had to leave for work. But then he remembered that one minute in the real world equaled a whole day in the library. He could study for a full month before he had to go to work. Harry was about to go exploring, starting from the English section, but before he got there, he found another note form his ancestors:
Harry,
There is another thing about the trunk that we neglected to tell you. No matter how long you stay inside, your body will age as if it were still in the real world. You could spend a decade in the library, but you would only age about three days. Also, when you are in the library, you will not need food, water, or sleep, but if you do want anything, there is a small room next to the ladder with a bed, ice box, and bathroom.
Happy Studying,
Methos, Merlin, and Godric
After spending another moment marveling at his ancestor's generosity, Harry ventured into the stacks where the English books were located. (A/N: Books written in English, not books on English grammar.) He decided that the best place to start was with his schoolbooks, and he quickly found all the books he would need for his remaining years at Hogwarts. While he was looking at schoolbooks, he grabbed his previous year's books so he could review and memorize everything.
He started with his first year's books and was amazed at how everything that had once seemed so confusing was now becoming crystal clear. He was also astonished that he remembered everything that he was reading. He guessed that this would save him some time because he would not need to reread the difficult books when he got smarter in order to understand them. By the time he had to leave, Harry had read all of his previous books, as well as books for his next two years at Hogwarts. Harry was amazed at how quickly he could read and at how easy the new spells were becoming. In one month he had mastered six years of magical education, two of which were completely new to him, and he had done it without too much effort. Realizing that he had to get to work, he exited the trunk and stealthy left number four.
~*~*~*~*~
In the following weeks, Harry settled into a daily routine. Each morning he left for work, jogging a little more each day. After about three weeks, Harry was able to jog all the way to work without getting winded, so he decided to run. He reasoned that it would be useful to be able to run at top speed for long distances. As with the jogging, he was able to run a little more each day, though his progress was somewhat slower.
At work everyone was amazed at how quickly Harry got used to the hard labor and how such a young man could get strong so quickly. He didn't eat lunch, preferring instead to lounge out in the sun. He skin had taken on a slightly tanned shade, no longer able to blend in with a cup of milk. A few days before his birthday, Harry asked Mr. Stone, his boss, if he could move on to the one hundred pound bags, as the lighter ones no longer seemed challenging. Stone complied, but only after observing Harry work with the fifty-pound bags, moving them as if they were empty.
After work Harry would return to Privet Drive and immediately enter his flat in the seventh compartment, where he would then eat a very satisfying meal. He was now almost as good a cook as Mrs. Weasley, or the elves at Hogwarts. After dinner, Harry would take a brief shower before heading to bed. When he woke, he would take a long bath to relax his muscles for the day ahead. He had grown accustomed to the mermaid mural, and now only her most lewd teasing could make him blush.
He divided his remaining time between studying and training, usually three hours for study, and two for training (trunk time: 6 months, and 12 hours, respectively). He made quick work of the English library, reading most of its contents in a little over a week (which is pretty impressive, considering the size of the library). Harry, desperately seeking more knowledge to satisfy his rapidly expanding mind, decided to make use of a language-learning spell and explore some other parts of the library. Within two days he had learned a wide variety of modern languages. When he was done, he know too many to list. After that he moved on to ancient tongues, such as Egyptian, Greek, Hyksos, Latin, and many others. He could now speak, read, write, and understand almost every single language, including the ancient runes which he and Ron once taunted Hermione for learning.
After he had finished learning a multitude of languages, he moved to other sections of the library, taking his time and savoring every piece of information. In his travels, he came upon a N.E.W.T. practice book and found that he had mastered everything that would be on the exam. Even with all this knowledge, he was still humble, and didn't mind having to continue his schooling. When he had fifteen minutes before he had to leave, he entered the flat and got ready for work. He showered, ate, and got dressed before leaving the trunk and heading to work.
~*~*~*~*~
The day before his birthday, Harry began his usual routine. He bathed, having and unusually pleasant conversation with the mermaid on the wall, but when he went to brush his teeth, he saw something that shocked him to the very core of his being.
It was his reflection! There was no possible way that the person he saw in the mirror was himself. Harry was short, scrawny, and overly thin, but the person in the mirror had developing muscles all over his body, and was taller than Harry by an inch or so. His hair was longer, hanging down to his neck, and beyond that, the person Harry was looking at could have been considered handsome. 'That is definitely not me,' Harry thought. 'The mirror must be broken.'
"Excuse me," Harry asked the mirror, "but are you broken or something?"
"No. Of course not," the mirror replied indignantly. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I am looking into you right now, and I know that the reflection is definitely not me. So, what's up?"
"I assure you, dear boy, that really is your reflection. How could you not recognize your own refle--- Oh, I see. You've seen your reflection every day, but you haven't paid any attention until just now. Isn't that right?"
"Yea, I guess so," replied Harry, realizing that the mirror was absolutely right. He really hadn't paid any attention to his reflection for the past few months, which made the changes he had undergone all the more startling. 'I know Gryffindor said I would experience some changes, but I didn't think they would be this drastic or this fast,' he thought.
Harry pondered many things that day: Hermione, his changed appearance, Hermione, certain things he taught himself over the summer, Hermione, the gifts he would be receiving the next day, Hermione, the promise of another meeting with his ancestors, and Hermione, as just a few examples of what was on his mind (A/N: He is quite obsessed with her, isn't he?). As he went to sleep that night, he couldn't shake the feeling that tomorrow would be even more unusual than he originally thought.
(A/N: That was the third chapter of Harry Potter and the Heir of Ancients. Hope you liked it. Please review with comments and/or compliments and/or constructive criticism.
Once again, I need some ideas for the names of a few first years, and some of the spells and such that the fifth years will be learning. If it's about a part of the year that I haven't written or already have plans for, then I'm open to suggestions. If I really like an idea, I'll try to find a way to incorporate it into the story.
I'm also starting a review poll to help determine other pairings in this fic. Please leave your vote in a review, but only one per person; this isn't American Idol, that disgrace of a TV show.
I haven't even started typing Chapter Four yet, but I will work on it as much as I can. Besides, the real fifth book comes out in less than 36 hours, which will probably keep us all busy. I renew my promise that no matter what, I will eventually finish this story. Thank you, and please review.)