Title: The Sorcerer's Stone: Alternate Year One

Author: Jade Hunter

Disclaimer: The characters and properties of Harry Potter all belong to J.K.R. May her genius never end. Bury Lawn school actually is a private school in England, but only the name is really used here.

A.N.: Merlin's beard, can it be true? Is this really another chapter? Former readers will note that, yes, indeed, the first chapter went through another rewrite. I just hated the names I'd used in the beginning, so changed that, and the history of the Cabots just seemed like a good way to start things.

Ten Years Later...

It was that time again, when letters were sent out to the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, both new and old. To the families that were aware of magic, of course. There was always a new batch of families each year who had never produced a magical child before, and to these families, a different sort of letter was sent.

And so it was that the maid set a yellowing envelope next to the plate of one Tristan Harold Cabot on a particular July morning during breakfast.

He was startled to find that there was no return address, nor was there a stamp - just his own name and address, written in green ink. It wasn't an invitation to a party, that was for sure. None of the people he knew would ever use - was this parchment? That would explain the color, then, as well as the unusual thickness and weight of it. Brows furrowing, Tristan turned the envelope over in his hands, and found that it was closed by means of a purple wax seal with a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

Noticing his son's preoccupation, Hugh, seated at the head of the dining room table, lowered the morning paper and addressed him, "What is it?"

Adelaide, seated across from her son, also looked up, even as the cook brought in a fresh plate of toast, taking away the old plate, and went around refilling cups of coffee and orange juice.

"I'm not sure," Tristan said absently in reply, and carefully opened the envelope, shaking out the letter inside. He scanned the letter, eyebrows rocketing up in surprise, and read aloud:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL for GIFTED YOUNGSTERS

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

Dear Mr. Cabot,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School for Gifted Youngsters. We are aware that you may have some questions, and a representative will visit you on Saturday, July 22, at one o'clock in the afternoon.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

When he was done, Tristan looked at his father in askance, extremely surprised. Had his father applied to this Hogwarts in his stead?

"Of course not," Hugh answered briskly, when his son proposed the question. "Cabots go to Eton. We'll just have to explain that to this representative they send tomorrow, and that'll be the end of it."

At precisely one o'clock the following Saturday, the doorbell rang. The butler answered the door as Hugh, Adelaide, and Tristan gathered in the sitting room at the right of the entrance hall of their manor.

A little research had shown that Hogwarts School was a very prestigious, private boarding school somewhere up in Scotland. It was so private and prestigious, in fact, that they had no way for people to apply - only those who received the invitations the school sent out were eligible for attendance. It pleased Hugh to no end that his son had received one of these highly coveted invitations (though Tristan himself was a bit more skeptical - yes, he was one of the top ranks in his class, but it was nothing extraordinary, and he wasn't aware of any gifts), but Cabots went to Eton. And that was that.

Idly, Tristan wondered how the representative had gotten to the front porch without ringing in through the gate - but then the butler was leading the representative in, and the three of them stood up. She had black hair, pulled back tightly into a bun, and wore conservative clothing that consisted of a long, heavy skirt and a high-collared, long-sleeved blouse covered by a tweed cardigan. A pair of spectacles rested themselves on the tip of her nose, adding to her stern, no-nonsense appearance, and her steps were brisk and firm.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall to see you," Zachary, the butler, announced dutifully, halting by the doorway.

Hugh stepped forward, hand extended and a charming smile on his face as he introduced himself, "Hugh Cabot. My wife, Adelaide, and my son, Tristan."

Tristan waited until his mother had stepped back from her handshake, but stopped in his tracks when Professor McGonagall gasped and stared wide-eyed at him. Her gaze made him uncomfortable; being the Cabot heir, he was more than used to attention, but the sheer intensity in her stare made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and stand up. Nonetheless, he ignored it, took her suddenly drooping hand, shook, and said, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Professor."

"Please, have a seat," Adelaide offered, exchanging a look with her husband as Professor McGonagall fairly collapsed onto the couch. "Are you all right, Professor?"

That seemed to get her attention, and she waved away their concern, her eyes flickering to Tristan once more as she said absently, "Yes, fine. It's just... Your son looks very much like a former student of mine."

Tristan became aware of how his mother stiffened next to him, but tucked that fact away into the recess of his mind, more preoccupied with now Professor McGonagall was looking at his forehead. It was disconcerting, especially since she couldn't possibly know that she was looking at the precise location where his strange, lightning-shaped scar had been before plastic surgery had erased it. To disguise his unease, he ran a hair through his short black hair, ruffling the spikes that stood up all over the place.

"Tea?" Adelaide asked politely as the maid came in, carrying a large tray with tea and biscuits, relieved to have something to fill the uneasy silence that had arisen at the Professor's strange behavior.

Professor McGongall gathered her bearings, "Yes, thank you."

They spent a few moments in less awkward silence, the only sound the clinking of spoon against the delicate china teacups as each adjusted their tea to suit their tastes, Tristan nibbling on twice the biscuits everyone else ate.

"I suppose we should inform you that you are wasting your time," the Cabot family Patriarch said, finally. "While we have heard great things about your school, and are flattered at the invitation, my son will be attending Eton."

"Perhaps you should hear me out before you make any final decisions, Mr. Cabot," Professor McGonagall smiled faintly. "Hogwarts is not...your average school."

"Yes, well, nevertheless, Tristan will attend Eton," Hugh insisted. "It is a family tradition, you see."

The Professor's smile turned slightly more amused, "Yes, well. I suppose I should tell you outright that the letter you received a few days ago wasn't the correct version. It was just something to pave our way. I have the correct letter right here."

She pulled out an envelope from an inside pocket of her sweater and handed it to Tristan. He glanced at his parents before turning this new envelope over in his hands. On the outside, nothing seemed different - same parchment, same wax seal and coat of arms.

Well, there didn't seem to be any harm in opening it.

He ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter, eyes widening as he took in the words written on the parchment. Tristan gaped at the Professor - was she insane?

"Read it aloud, please, Mr. Cabot," Professor McGonagall said quite firmly, in a tone that told Tristan she was used to being obeyed.

One eyebrow arching upwards skeptically, Tristan nonetheless did as he was bid:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Cabot,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

For a long time, there was pure silence in the room. Tristan glanced at his parents, who were staring at Professor McGonagall, their polite expressions more than a bit strained. He knew that it was only years of experience that was letting them keep their composure instead of leaping up and demanding the obviously mad woman leave their home at once.

Hugh opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, struggling to find something to say that wouldn't be rude, but Professor McGonagall interrupted him. She pulled out a long stick from the same pocket as the letter, pointed it at the plate of biscuits, and muttered something under her breath.

Obediently, the plate floated up about a foot off the table.

Silence.

Tristan gaped anew. Was he seeing things? A quick look at his parents and their own bug-eyed expressions told him that, if he was seeing things, he wasn't the only one. He leaned forward, reaching out to check if there were any strings holding the plate up - but his mother snatched his hand out of the air and clutched it in a grip so tight he felt his bones creak.

"Mother," he protested, even as Professor McGonagall said calmly, "I assure you, no harm will come to your son."

"Wha - wha...I just...you - I mean..." Hugh Cabot was, for the first time in his life, at a loss for words.

"Magic is real," Professor McGonagall said in reply, setting the plate down neatly with another flick of her stick. "There are people in this world who can perform magic - who we call witches and wizards - through the use of a wand."

A flick of her stick - her wand - and suddenly the armchair opposite the one Hugh was sitting on was replaced by a swan, who stretched out its long neck and flapped its wings. Another flick, and the chair was back, cushion and all.

Suddenly, the too-tight grasp on Tristan's hand went slack, and he turned back just in time to see his mother slump over in a dead faint.

It had taken a while to get Mrs. Cabot back into the land of wakefulness, and even more time to fully explain the concept of the magical world to the trio. Minerva was used to this muggle reluctance to believe in new things, despite having all the proof in the world, so she was patient with them. Even when, after all her painstaking explanations, Mr. Cabot (senior) insisted that the young Mr. Cabot needed to attend Eton.

It was only when she explained that young Mr. Cabot needed to be trained, or his magic would begin to lash out indiscriminately, that the senior Mr. Cabot began to seriously consider the options. But another step was taken backwards when Minerva began to outline all the different jobs were available in the magical world - apparently, young Mr. Cabot already had a job. He would one day take over the family company, and, to do that, he needed a muggle education.

They had (politely) argued the point, until the young man in question suggested homeschooling for his muggle subjects during the summers. It would be no trouble, Tristan Cabot pointed out, for them to hire the best of Professors to teach him at home. The option had been mulled over, the potential problems discussed, and eventually the senior Mr. Cabot had consented. His son could attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry come September.

With the acceptance letter in hand, as well as a promise to come back the following Saturday (the 29th) to take the lad shopping for his school supplies, Minerva apparated back to Hogwarts. She reported to the Headmaster another success, and retreated into her own office to think.

Young Mr. Cabot's uncanny resemblance to her memory of an eleven-year-old James Potter had been a great shock. Oh, there were little differences; for one thing, Tristan Cabot was a bit less gangly than James Potter had been, and had no glasses. But the similarities were there, enough to make her wonder if that old adage about everyone having a twin out there was, indeed, true. She imagined that Harry Potter would look much like Tristan Cabot, right down to the colors of his hair and his eyes.

And that made her remember that Harry Potter was nowhere in the Book of Names. And if the child wasn't in the Book, then the child had no magical potential - at least, not enough to warrant an invitation to school. It had baffled them all - how could the child who had defeated You-Know-Who as a baby possibly be a squib? Had those muggles ruined him? Minerva had known that it was a bad idea to leave the savior of the wizarding world with the likes of them, she'd just known it!

The Headmaster was planning on sending Hagrid to Harry Potter's location in a few days, to find out exactly what was going on, and Minerva, for one, couldn't wait to get some answers.

TBC…