Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

"You haven't met yourself yet, but the advantage of meeting others in the meantime is that one of them may present you to yourself." Steve Brudniak, Waking Life

Potter

Chapter Seven: Knowing and Meeting

By: Water Mage

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington had been a chivalrous man before he died. Being dead for five hundred years didn't change his manners one bit. Pale as smoke, and dashing as any gentleman, he floated down the corridor with a grace that many in twentieth century didn't posses. A dashing, plumbed hat covered his long curly hair that touched the ruff of his elaborate, decorated tunic. The ruff of his tunic concealed the fact that his neck was attached to his body, only by a thin strip of flesh. Idly, as he floated down the hallway, he thought of ways to get the poltergeist, Peeves, exorcised from the school. The entity had been a thorn in his side since his materialization. He stopped suddenly, seeing a young child standing in the corridor. Confusion was written all over the young boy's face. It was none other than Harry Potter. He didn't know the boy personally, but Lady Morgana, the ghost that was tied to the Ravenclaw house, spoke a good word about him.

"You look troubled, young Potter," he said floating to Harry.

Harry looked up as Nick glided to him, quieter than any gale of wind. Harry studied Nick, finding an honest and kind face looking back at him. Nick seemed at first glance like a trustworthy man. Briefly, Harry couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't in the Here After, the Afterlife, Heaven or whatever you want to call it.

Harry met the ghost's eyes, feeling a little unnerved that he could see right though his translucent body. "Umm… Yes. Do you happen to know where Headmaster Dumbledore's office is?"

Nick smiled widely, showing all his teeth. "Why, I sure do, young one. Come right this way, and I shall escort you along."

"Thank you," said Harry, as they walked up the stairs of the dungeon to the main floor of the castle.

Instantly, as they climbed the last stair, Harry felt a rush of warm air. It was a fresh and welcome change from the ice-cold weather of the dungeons. They walked down the corridor in silence. Not an awkward silence, mind you, but a companionable silence. Harry liked it and didn't want to break it, so he kept quiet, keeping the questions he had to himself. While he was scared of what Professor Dumbledore would do, his curiosity was bursting inside. He so badly wanted to ask Nick, what it felt like to be a ghost. He wanted to know why didn't he move on and what him tied to Hogwarts? Was it where he died? So many questions. But Harry knew it would be rude and ill mannered to ask, so he kept his curiosity checked, keeping silent. Before he knew it, they rounded a corner and Nick stepped before a statue of an ugly, stone gargoyle. It was in mid pose, looking as if one wrong step and it would come to life, and slash your throat. Very friendly thing to have in a school. Yeah, right.

"Singing Sweets!" he said.

Harry's eyes widened as the gargoyle came alive, suddenly hopping aside. The wall behind it moved splitting in two. Evidently, that was the password for this James Bond-esque scene. Even though he was amazed, Harry still felt a heavy sense of dread of what's to come clench his heart. This was Dumbledore's office. He walked forward and behind the wall was a spiraling staircase that moved, like an escalator.

'Why don't they use electricity if they imitate it so much,' Harry thought, stepping onto the moving staircase.

He waved goodbye, nodding his head in thanks. The moving stairs took him up higher, and higher. He didn't see, but heard the echo of the wall behind him closing. It took him up probably three or two stories, before it deposited him before a short narrow hall. At the end of the hall was a tall, oak door that shined, as the light of the candlelight's attached to the wall hit it. Impressive sight, or would be, if he wasn't so scared shitless right now. Mounted on the door was a brass knocker in the shape of a crouching griffin.

Harry moved his hand, reaching forward, then stopped. He took a deep breath feeling his lungs expand and contract with the calming action. 'Be calm. Don't show fear. Dad always says, don't let them ever see you afraid.'

Wiping his sweaty hands on his robes, Harry grabbed the knocker and rapped two times on the door. Slowly, with a slight squeak the door opened by itself. He walked through the door, stopping once he was fully inside. The door shut behind him causing him to jump slightly. Harry looked around. Dumbledore's office looked like a cross between a museum, office, and a library. Moving portraits tacked to the walls, turned their heads to stare at Harry. Books lined the walls shelved in tall bookcases. A spiraling staircase led to a second floor that was railed off. Even more books took up the upstairs wall space. On various tables were silver gadgets and small trinkets. They looked more like displayed things than items one would actually use. A sort of tribute. An enormous claw footed desk was positioned in front of a long vertical window, spotlighting all the papers and silver instruments sitting on its surface.

Harry found his gaze drawn to an area beside the desk. On a shelf was the battered, old sorting hat. But that wasn't the impressive thing. Before him on a tall, golden perch was a bird. The bird looked like a cross between a hawk and a falcon, but much bigger. Its feathers were sleek, shiny and the color of a roaring fire. Its glittering, golden and crimson, tail feathers were long and flowing resembling that of a peacock. The bird cocked its head at Harry studying him intently.

"What are you?" Harry whispered, taking a step forward to get a closer look. Harry walked halfway there, then felt more than heard a shift in the air currents.

He spun around coming face to face with Professor Dumbledore. The old headmaster was dressed in a purple robe with stars and crescent moons decorating the cuff of his sleeves. His silvery, white hair flowed down his back. His beard beat it in length, streaming past his waist. A pair of half moon glasses covered his face, but that didn't stop one from noticing his eyes. His eyes were a bright baby blue, that seemed to twinkle with an inner light. It gave him the appearance of always being cheerful and good-natured.

"I see you found my bird, hmm," said Dumbledore softly, moving past Harry to stand behind his desk. He turned those kind eyes to the bird. "Fawkes here is a phoenix. A truly, magnificent species they are. So, dutifully faithful and loyal."

Harry took a seat in a chair in front of the desk. Dumbledore did the same, seating himself in his own comfortable high-backed chair. He smiled openly and warmly. Harry kept his face blank. Not wanting his fear that bubbled in his stomach to show. He didn't want to go home. Not yet. He had only just got here. He silently cursed his temper and himself for being so quick to respond verbally.

"What brings you to my office, Harry?"

Harry almost asked how he knew his name, but stopped himself. Of course, Dumbledore knew him. He was the freaking Boy Who Lived. Whoop-dede-do. Instead he took a deep breath and just started from the beginning, toning down his voice to sound polite and professional. See he could be friendly. "Sir, I was sent here by Professor Snape. He said something that I didn't particularly like and I got upset. I spoke out, talking back to him."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up an inch. That was the only surprise shown on his rosy cheeked face. "What did Professor Snape say that caused you to respond in such a manner."

Harry wanted to say 'The bastard just pissed me off too much' but didn't. He looked down at hands folded in his lap then up at Dumbledore. The Professor stared at him with those twinkling, blue eyes. Harry resisted the urge to look behind him for a spotlight or something. No one's eyes did that. They weren't… normal. Harry shook himself realizing that the Dumbledore was still waiting patiently for an answer. He had zoned out.

"He made a comment concerning my," he paused to look for the correct word. "fame."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I see." He sighed. "I suppose that all of this must have come as a shock to you. The sudden fame would play with anyone's emotions. I don't fault you from responding the way you did. The stress on one so young…"

Harry opened his mouth to agree with the Professor. He wanted to blurt out all the feelings this was causing inside of him. Harry wanted to express how discontenting it was to have all those adoring faces look to him in awe. They didn't know him. Didn't truly know him. Those kind eyes of Dumbledore drew him in. They wanted him to spill his secrets. They wanted him, encouraged him to tell him everything. Harry shook his head. That wasn't right. He wasn't so forthcoming with knowledge to a complete stranger. Even if the stranger seemed, no felt like someone he could do him no harm. Like a grandpa. Harry felt the tendrils of his senses reach out. The same power that could feel Quirrell soared out like a cool wind. Like invisible tentacles, they reached out over the space of the desk to touch Dumbledore. His power touched the Headmaster, roaming over him, searching for what made him give off such weird vibes. Suddenly, he looked at Dumbledore with new eyes, as if seeing for the first time.

"You're not human," he gasped.

Dumbledore wasn't surprised that Harry went off on Professor Snape, but he was at this comment. His eyebrows damn near shot into his hairline and his eyes were wider than saucers. If this weren't such an odd situation, Harry would have laughed at the look at his face. It was so comical coming from his once impassive pose. Dumbledore's face transformed from surprised, then to curious in the span of seconds. A surprised smile touched his lips. Lacing his fingers together, on his desk, he looked to Harry with a newfound expression. It was an appraising one.

"You truly are your mother's son, aren't you?" The surprised smile was still on his lips.

Harry was distracted by that announcement. It took his mind from the non-human issue for a moment. A moment. "You knew my mother?" he asked. He still kept his previous query pushed to the front of his thoughts.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes I knew, Lily. She also saw through my glamour."

"Glamour? What is that? And what are you?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes in concentration. When he opened them the twinkle disappeared and he seemed to age almost a hundred years at once. Harry gasped. It all had happened so suddenly, and if he had blinked he had would have missed the change. His eyes once a bright baby blue were now just plain blue. He no longer exuded that aura of friendliness and trust. He was just a plain, ordinary man. Well, as ordinary and normal as a wizard could get. He caught a glimpse of his ears and saw the way they ended in a delicate point. Almost triangular.

'Okay, what the fuck just happened?' Harry thought. What he had just witnessed was so weird that his mind was having trouble comprehending. Was this Professor Dumbledore's true form, a decrepit, old man? No, that wasn't right. Harry could sense a well of power inside of Dumbledore. The old man was powerful, but he wasn't human. So, what the hell was he? And how did he suddenly know how to sense things with this new spider sense inside him.

"You are right, Harry. I am not entirely human." He gave Harry a tired smile. "My grandfather was not a mortal being. He was of the fey. A faerie."

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Fairies are real?"

"Yes, quite so. They exist, however beyond this realm. There are many kinds of fairies. My grandfather was of the lesser fey," said Dumbledore. If he seemed uncomfortable discussing such matters with Harry it didn't show. "What you saw through was a glamour. It's fairie magic. It allows the fey to cloud minds, make things seem better or worse than they are. A minor magic, really."

Harry prevented the urge to squirm in his seat. The glamour had helped hide his true face. While Dumbledore did look old now without the glamour, he didn't look normal. His eyes had triple irises, making them bigger, taking up more white space in his eyes. His hair was glossier and shinier. He didn't want to touch it or anything, but it was just fact.

"So with the glamour you hide your…" Harry gestured to him, indicating his ears and eyes.

Dumbledore nodded. A sad smile tugged at his lips. "Yes. Precisely so. It's an old prejudice among the wizarding realm that the fey have no soul and lack personal responsibilities. Using glamour magic, I am able to hide my uniqueness. I hope that like Lily, you will keep my secret. No one knows my heritage, and I would like to keep it that way."

Harry was new to the realm of magic and he hadn't time to form such prejudices. So finding this information out didn't change his opinion of Dumbledore. He didn't trust him before and he still didn't now. The glamour only added to his list on why not to trust the old man. Dumbledore had used some sort of mind trick with his eyes, trying to draw his feelings and secrets out. Which didn't put the man too high up in his book. Sill however, according to books, Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, and having an ally in him wouldn't be bad. Especially, considering that he now had this information to use against him. A mental smile formed on Harry's face. There was no way that Dumbledore would treat him ill or try to bespell him with this eyes now or in the future… Harry knew his secret.

Harry smiled a real smile. "I won't tell anyone, sir."

The air seemed to shimmer, and a very visible ripple surrounded around Dumbledore. Harry blinked and when he looked again, Dumbledore appeared just as he originally did. He had placed the glamour back on. Harry looked him in the eyes but that twinkle that just demanded and oozed sincerity and trust was gone. He wasn't using his mind tricks or whatever fairie magic he had on Harry. If Harry concentrated he could see the face of Dumbledore blur. He could see through the glamour if he truly tried.

"Splendid," said Dumbledore, clapping his hands together with an anxious grin. "I'm afraid I have kept you here long enough. You are free to leave. No punishment will be given. Professor Snape will understand that you only spoke out because of stress."

"Thank you, sir," replied Harry gratefully. He stood up and took his leave from the room.

Harry checked his watch and according to his schedule he had a free period. Briefly, Harry paused stopping in mid stride on the way to the Ravenclaw common room. He wondered if he should go to the dungeon to retrieve his stuff. But that would mean seeing Snape and he didn't want to do that. He could only hope that Kevin or Terry thought about him and took his things with them. Harry could only guess that they were in the common room waiting for him. Walking around this school alone made him paranoid. It took willpower not to draw a knife out and throw at moving things in the shadows. Of course the moving forms would be suits of armor or the occasionally statue that felt the need to move location. It would take him a few weeks to get used to the castle before he stopped jumping at every random noise that came from places unseen. Harry turned a corner and let out a muffled curse as he collided with another person.

Harry fell backwards throwing out his arms so that he could control the fall. He had once got jumped in a parking lot. His head had collided painfully with the pavement, taking off a layer of skin from his face and leaving him with a concussion. Needless to say, Harry never wanted to repeat that accident again. Ever. Quickly, he got to his feet. A foot in front of him, sitting on his rear, was Draco Malfoy. Harry raised his eyebrow about to say some scathing remark but kept it down. He had told himself yesterday that he would make a friend out of Draco. You know the saying, Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer and all that. What better way to keep an eye on the kid than to have him be a friend? Harry would be his friend but he would never forget. He could forgive but he would never forget.

"Let me give you a hand," said Harry, holding out his hand to the blond.

Draco looked at the offered hand suspiciously. But the embarrassment of looking like an ass sitting on the floor won out. He took Harry's hand and was hefted to his feet. Dusting off his robes he bent over to retrieve his shoulder bag that housed his books and supplies.

"Thanks," said Draco gruffly, not meeting Harry's eyes.

Harry shrugged. "No problem. I should have been looking where I was going." A silence descended on them. Harry racked his brain for a topic to talk about that would fill the silence. "You ended up getting in Slytherin like you wanted." Harry almost rolled his eyes at how dumb he sounded.

He smiled. Draco actually smiled an honest and semi open smile. "I hoped I would. Hey, at least you didn't get stuck in Gryffindor."

Harry ignored the insult. It was a backhanded remark about the house his parents were once in. He took a deep breath still trying to look friendly. Oh yeah, he was trying real hard here to make a friend. Still however, despite the effort. He was still throwed off by Draco's smile. His teeth were really white. Either he brushed really well or he had porcelain veneers. Porcelain veneers were the thin coverings that rich actors put over their teeth now a day, that made them white and they stayed white. Really cool looking and expensive as hell.

"Do you do teeth commercials?" Harry blurted out unable to stop himself.

Draco lost his smile as confusion settled over his features. "Come again? What are you talking about?"

Harry was glad at that moment that Draco was a pureblood and didn't know what he was talking about. He really had to get his mouth under control. He was always talking before his brain caught up with his mouth. Harry smiled sheepishly and gave Draco a never-mind look.

"I've got to go, I'll see you later, Potter," said Draco slowly, regaining that superior look with each word he spoke. He tilted his head high, regally again, and his full on confidence mode was back. His confusion at Harry's friendly mannerisms were gone, replaced by that Malfoy charm that Harry, oh so loved.

Harry touched Draco's shoulder as he moved past him. "Harry, Draco. You can call me Harry."

Draco stopped, going still. He gazed into Harry's eyes. Gray stared into green. Neither blinked during this staring contest. Harry didn't have a problem with the stare. Hell, he could do it all day. He knew what Draco was doing. He was judging his honesty by gaze alone. Seeing if he had any ulterior motives for doing what he was doing. Harry knew this little game well. He had played with the best of them. His face was blank. Erased of all emotion. The perfect game face. If he had ever learned how to play poker he would be the master at it.

Draco finally nodded. The superiority chip that he had once worn on his shoulder was gone. His face softened a little but the confusion was still swimming in his eyes. He gave Harry one more lingering look then after finding whatever he found there, he replied, "Alright then, Harry. See you around."

Harry watched the confused boy walk away. It wasn't a surprise that he was so confused. Yesterday, Draco thought he and Harry would be mortal enemies, and now here he was acting like a friend. Harry continued his journey, thinking mentally of the way to the common room. He ended up walking back to the familiar entrance to the dungeons, and then he retraced his steps from the dungeons to the common room. Finally, it had to be fifteen minutes later when Harry found the entrance to the common room. He stood before the long mirror fixed into the stone wall.

"Knowledge is power," he said.

The mirror's glass surface rippled, as if it was water and stone had been thrown into it. Harry stared at it for moment thinking how so much like the waves of the ocean. He stepped through the mirror, not feeling anything but a cool wind touch him, as he came out the other side. Harry stopped in his place, gazing about the room. No one in the room moved. This was basically a free thirty-minute period where students rested, so that meant most of the Ravenclaws were in the common room. The amount of people didn't make Harry stop-no that wasn't it. What made him stop was that they all were staring at him. As soon as he stepped into the room, heads turned, conversations stopped, and the room froze. There was no whispering and, surprise, surprise, no pointing. Harry blinked and was about to ask what the hell was going on, but stopped. As the thought flashed through his head a pretty girl with long, thick black hair stood up and began clapping. Then like some kind of cheesy, teen movie the others followed her example clapping so hard that he was sure their hands would bruise. Cheering and yelling came from the mouths of some of the older boys. Harry's cheeks flushed, as all those smiling, clapping faces looked to him.

Kevin and Terry broke free from the crowd, joining Harry near the portal. They wore wide, matching grins. Harry was sure if that they grinned any wider their faces would split.

"What is going on?" Harry asked.

Terry smiled. "They found out you went head to head with Snape, mate."

Harry blushed as a "Way to go, Potter!" floated through the air.

Kevin clapped him on the back in a good-natured sort of way. "As you can see, no one really liked the bastard," half laughed Kevin. His Scottish accent came through thick and very pronounced. The next Harry knew the crowd of Ravenclaws had formed around them. They were grinning and giving Harry congratulations and clapping on the back, smiles on their faces the whole time.

The time that they had for free period didn't last too long. Thirty minutes later, Harry, Terry, Kevin, and their fellow Ravenclaw first years were traipsing down the grounds. The grounds of Hogwarts was a sea of green grass holding within its arms a great lake, and bordering its east side was an ongoing forest of darkness. Harry kept his eyes on the line of twisting, dark limbs of the Forbidden Forest. A tingle of unease made its way down his spine, as he gazed at the front line of trees. Harry was a gut person and his gut was telling to stay the hell away from the damn forest. And that was all the warning he needed.

Rising like white sentinels with many glass windows were the greenhouses. The four greenhouses stood in a neat column one behind the other, their windows sparkling and their walls freshly coated with white paint. Greenhouse one, their destination, was the first in line. Filing into the house along with the Ravenclaws, were the Gryffindors. While the Ravenclaws chatted amongst them selves at an acceptable level, the Gryffindors were loud and a roaring bunch. A perfect contrast. Harry took a seat at a wooden table with his two friends, sitting on either side of him. Harry looked around the room. The windows above them let sunlight shine down upon the many plants dotting the room. It was like being inside a mini, low-budget rainforest. Only no lions, or tigers, or crazy people with long, pointed spears.

Harry eyed all the green ferna and fauna, surrounding him. 'When they decide to go for a theme in this school, they don't fuck around.'

Harry glanced down at his watch. It was all silver and the diamonds set around the face glittered in the stray beams of light. The watch had been a Christmas gift from his father last year. While it was a bit showy and hella expensive it did the job, which was tell time. Precisely, as the clock struck two thirty, Professor Sprout entered from a side door that he hadn't noticed. Mostly because it had been hidden by a grouping of plants. Sprout was a short witch, with mousy brown hair covered by a long pointed hat. Her robes were all black, covered by one of those long aprons that Chemists wore in labs.

"God, I'm taller than her," muttered Terry, under his breath.

Kevin kicked him under the table. "Its not like she's a munchkin, Terry."

Harry snorted at the Wizard of Oz reference. "Might as well be."

Professor Sprout was 4' and what she lacked in height she made up in tough attitude. Harry could tell instantly that she was the kind of person that had been short all their life, and had no choice but to toughen up. When you're the smallest kid on the playground, you had no other options but to be tough or be picked on. Harry could tell because he was only 4'1 and he knew how it felt to be small.

"Hello, children," began Professor Sprout, gracing them with a full smile. "Herbology is not just any class. It's a complex and get down and dirty class. You might think that all magic is just wand waving and incantations, but there is more. Think behind the scenes. All the potions and magical healing substances get most of their ingredients from the Earth around us. That's right, plants and flowers. The plants and flowers in this room can be augmented to produce powerful, effective healing potions."

Harry listened, fully getting swept away by her words. His eye made the briefest of twitches before he regained control. Basically, what she was telling them that for the rest of the year they were gardeners. Joy. Buuut the thought of having the knowledge of healing plants and their properties overrode his initial feelings of distaste. That could come in handy, seeing as how many times he had been hurt throughout his life.

Professor Sprout wiped her hands on her apron and from a pocket she pulled out a wand. "Accio!"

A chalkboard wheeled out from behind a pair of twin, plotted trees. Notes and drawings of flowers and leaves were already covering its surface. Professor Sprout positioned the board in middle of the room, so they all could see easily.

"Now please take out your quills and parchment, so you can take notes."

Harry muttered a "Yeah right" at that. From his shoulder bag he pulled out a couple of black pilot pens and a spiral notebook. He would do the homework or whatever classwork he had on parchment, but for notes he would use what he was used to. Terry looked at the parchment and quill in his hand then to Harry's paper and pens. He pouted and Harry grinned, as he handed him a pen and paper. Five minutes later, Kevin's hand started to cramp from writing so delicately with the quill. Rolling his eyes, he took the pen and paper handed to him. The scrabbling of quills and the ongoing voice of Professor Sprout were the only voices in the room. Her light voice filled the silence, lessening the aggravating sound of the scratch, scratch sounds of rapid, writing quills.

Professor Sprout paused in the middle of her lecture. "Since we are on the subject, who can tell me what are the physical characteristics of a Flower of the Dragon's Breath."

Harry was the first to have to his hand in the air, along with three other Ravenclaws. Only one Gryffindor, Hermione, had her hand up. Professor Sprout nodded her head to Harry, giving him the go ahead to say his answer. He nodded. "The Flower of the Dragon's Breath is very bright red at the base of its petals, then goes from orange, to red, ending with yellow."

"Very good," smiled Sprout. "Five points to Ravenclaw. Can you tell me how the flower is made?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer then closed it. A frown appeared on his face as he raked his brain for an answer. He could remember reading the information, but he had sped read a good chunk of his books, and most of the details were lost to him.

Sprout nodded to Hermione, who was the only with her hand in the air. The bushy haired girl that Harry had met the night of the Sorting Ceremony spoke with a quiet confidence. Her voice was quiet but it resonated through the room with a sure tone. "The Flower of the Dragon's Breath appears only on holy ground, when the Moon, Sun, Earth, the North Star, and Haley's Comet all align on the night of the Northern Lights."

"Five points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout, impressed. "The Celestial Symphony is truly a glorious night. You all should consider yourselves lucky that this once in millennia event will occur in your lifetime."

Harry turned from Professor Sprout, looking toward the other side of the room. He met the eyes of Hermione and the girl gave him a challenging smirk and a raised eyebrow. Harry grinned unable to help it. It wasn't a normal happy grin. This grin was an answering grin of acceptance. Almost predatory. Hermione nodded. Harry turned back to Professor Sprout, picking up his pen he resumed his note taking.

From his peripheral vision, Harry caught sight of Hermione writing to catch up also. To someone who wasn't looking carefully it may have looked like Hermione and Harry was giving each other love looks. But that was so not the case. When Harry met Hermione's eye, a silent challenge had been issued. As far as they were concerned they were the smartest in their year, and that mattered to them. It just came down as to who was smarter. Hermione wanted to contest their knowledge. Harry, couldn't let the chance to wipe the smirk off her face go, so he had accepted. Hermione had made it clear in their stare that she thought she would take this. There was one thing she didn't know about Harry… He does not lose. By the end of grade term they would see who would win this friendly challenge. Harry smiled. He always loved a challenge.

"Who you writing to, Harry?" asked Kevin.

Harry looked up from the notebook in his lap. "My dad."

It was night and the moon and stars glittered in the sky outside. The boys sat underneath a window in the common room, occupying a table that was covered with an old-fashioned chess set. Both boys were focused intently on the game.

Kevin moved a knight vertically one space, then looked out of the window. "I wonder how my pop is doing?"

Terry looked at him interested. "You know, we haven't really talked about our families. Weird, eh?"

Kevin laughed. His laugh caused his lilac eyes to seemingly shine. It transformed his whole face, making him seem younger somehow. "Yeah, that is kind of odd. I usually don't click this well with most people, but you two are really easy to get along with. There is nothing to tell about my family. My mam and pop live in Scotland. They're both magic and our whole family is pureblood, but I grew up around muggles, since we live close to so many. My mam is really funny, but if you cross her she turns meaner than a dragon. Dad is very mellow but he is really strict about tradition, and heritage and all that." Kevin waved his hand around, as if his Dad's strictness wasn't a new topic.

Terry shrugged, touching a hand to finger his cross earring. Harry had noticed this gesture throughout the day. Touching the cross was a habit Terry often did when attention was focused on him. "Well, I don't know my Dad. He's not around and never has been. It's just me, mom, and Corey, that's my older brother. We live in London and Mom works for the Ministry of Magic with the Department of Unlawful Paranormal Events. She's a psychic. Her job is to police the paranormal, so muggles don't catch wind. She's always working so it's just really Corey, who takes care of me."

Harry pointed to the cross. "Is that real silver?"

Terry shook his head, still touching the earring. "Naw. I'm allergic to real silver. This is sterling steel. I'm Catholic and I always wear a cross. Either this earring or my crucifix necklace, which is in my suitcase."

"I've never been to church," said Kevin in a quiet voice. His blond hair fell hiding his eyes, shielding Harry from reading what the other boy was thinking. "We're not a very religious family."

Harry didn't like the silence that descended. It was too awkward. It took two tries before he finally had a reply. "My father and I only go to church occasionally. So don't feel left out," assured Harry.

"You've only mentioned you're father, Harry," said Terry, sensing too that the subject needed to change. "Is he not married?"

Harry snorted. "Dad, married? I could never see Dad married. It's always been just him and me, always. He owns a law firm in London." Of course Harry left out that the law firm represents every bad guy in the United Kingdom. It didn't matter what crime they committed; the firm always got them acquitted of charges. Always. "Dad is half Japanese, half white. So I got some flack growing up from other kids, but Dad is the best."

Kevin nodded. "So he's you're adoptive father, right? I remember reading an article about you being adopted."

"How did you know--" Harry shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Of course, Boy Who Lived. Got to get used to that. Yeah, I'm adopted."

Terry cocked his head, like an animal would do when curious. "You didn't know who you were, did you?"

Harry shook his head. It took him fifteen minutes to explain that he never knew his true origins and how he found out. By the time he was finished a Prefect was calling for lights out and everyone was shooed to their dormitories. Harry put the finishing touches on the letter to his father. Picking it up he looked it over, making sure that he didn't miss anything.

Dear Dad,

It's been a weird first day around here. I won't bore you
with the exact details. Alright, I can see you already smirking. I only got in
a little, teeny, weeny trouble. I swear. It wasn't even my fault anyway! The
Potions Master… Yeah, potions… I know. Odd. Anyway, he was baiting me!
It was like I was on some hidden game show and he was the host. I should
have kicked him in the nuts, but I threatened him… I know, I know. I
shouldn't have did that. I'm sorry. I would apologize to him, but I think he
hates me. Like, literally.
I made some friends, too. Their names are Kevin and Terry. I can
just tell they don't have some secret agenda. They're good guys. I know…
I'm just being paranoid. But can you blame me.
There is something else, though. You know how I always had a
second sense about things. Like that time, Lady Helen tried to date you…
I was the only one who could tell that she wasn't… right. You remember?
Well, ever since I've been here that sense has gotten stronger. I don't know
what it is exactly, but I can tell it's a part of me. There is a teacher, Professor
Quirrell. He gives off badness, Dad. If you looked up evil in the dictionary
a 5 by 5 glossy-picture of Quirrell would be there.
I don't know what exactly he is, but I can tell he's not human. No joke.
He hasn't hurt me, but I think that he knows that I know he's bad news. Now,
before you go all Punisher on me, he hasn't done anything. Maybe this spidey
sense is crack, and I'm just imagining things, but the first sign of real trouble
I will tell you. I promise to be careful and safe. I love you.

Your son,
Harry

P.S.--Tell Dylan and Todd that I haven't forgotten. I'm waking up early
tomorrow, so I can practice.

Harry looked the letter over and once satisfied he nodded, folded it up and slipped it into his pocket. He blew out the candle sitting on the windowsill. He looked at it. Really looked at it. The candle had been burning for hours but there didn't seem to be any melting wax.

He shook his head. 'This is really going to take some getting use to. Physics is something I know, but Metaphysics are a bitch.'

Waving at Wesley, the Prefect, Harry wandered up the spiraling staircase to the First Year dorms. His fellow dorm mates were in various states of undress, each preparing for bed. Harry followed their lead and stripped to just his boxers, then thinking it over he put on a pair of pajama pants. None of his other dorm mates seemed to have noticed his sheathed shortsword above the headrest of his bed. That was only because he had kept his hangings drawn all day. He didn't want to scare them. He had better tell them soon though. One of them could come up dead if they tried to suddenly wake him up. Harry slipped into bed, tucking the comforter around him, he let out a deep sigh.

'I think that I could really get used to this', Harry thought letting out a sigh of content.

He felt serene for this one moment of tranquility.He closed his eyes succumbing to the darkness behind his eyelids. Suddenly, a flash of red eyes appeared in his mind eye. They glowed red, hot, accusing. Harry snapped awake, bolting up in bed. Blindly, he reached for the pair of knives sitting in the drawer of his nightstand. It was hard to see without his contacts, but he managed. Sometimes you had to rely on other senses besides eyesight. His hands gripped the smooth grips of the knives. The sharpened blades glittered in the moonlight, as Harry took them from their place. He put them under his pillow and lied back down. His heart was thudding in his throat, and his hands gripped the edge of the comforter in a white knuckled grip. Sightlessly, Harry stared at the ceiling as fear held him in a death grip. Every little creak and noise the old castle made was suddenly so loud and clear. Some might call him paranoid, but Harry had been through more shit than any other kid. He moved his hand underneath his pillow to grip the blade. He usually didn't sleep with weapons under his pillow. There was a chance he could hurt himself in his sleep if he wasn't careful. However, the knowledge of the sword above him and knives so near made him feel better.

'Just in case…'

Thanks you so much everybody for the reviews. I do really appreciate them. Next chapter will be the Halloween chapter.

Someone had a question about, where did I come up with an idea for this story. I read an R version of Peter Pan once, and I had a thought of what it would be like for Harry Potter to be rated R. Then after months of planning and thinking I decided to write, Potter.