Thank you so much to those of you who've reviewed, favorited, and followed! To answer an idea brought up in a review, when reading CHERUB, I didn't think the agents were extremely intelligent, though they were more resourceful than the average child, perhaps; that's how I tried to portray them. The exception, of course, is Harry, who's OOC. Anyway...

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own CHERUB. If I did, Harry would be a lot smarter, and 'Moon, Lily' would be Lily Luna Potter come back in time... It's a random theory I have.

Chapter 1: The School of Magic

30 July 1991
CHERUB Headquarters
1900 Hours

"Harry, could you come with me, please?" Harry glanced towards the door, mildly surprised that the chairwoman of CHERUB, Jenna McAfferty, herself, had come to his room.

"Trouble in paradise?" another voice chimed in. Suriyawong Singharattanapan, a Thai boy who'd joined CHERUB at age six, with his older brother, and who'd clung, despite Harry's efforts otherwise, to Harry throughout the years, smirked playfully. "Never thought I'd see the day, when Harry Greyson was called to the chairwoman's office."

"He's not in trouble," Jenna told them neutrally, as Harry stood and moved towards the door.

Suriyawong rolled his eyes at Harry, grinning conspiratorially. "Perfectionist. Fine, fine! I'm going!" he added, seeing Harry about to respond. He may have found it to be less trouble to simply let Suriyawong work in his room, but that courtesy only extended so long as Harry, too, was present. He didn't trust Suriyawong enough to - or, perhaps, simply knew the other boy well enough not to - leave him alone in his room. Suriyawong had a reputation as the king of pranksters for a reason. "Not like I'd stay, anyway," the boy grumbled. "Your room's only worth it when you're here."

"So you've said," Harry returned.

"What can I say? You're a genius, mate."

Harry, privately, disagreed. He was smart, of course, and perhaps a little brighter and more resourceful than the average CHERUB agent, but a lot of his success had come down to the strange things that tended to happen around him. It was incredibly lucky, and it had done wonders to his reputation, but he disliked relying on things he couldn't control. And, though, through practice, he'd gained some semblance of control over the happenings, there were times when he didn't think that made him a genius.

Suriyawong slid past them to his own room, proving that he wasn't entirely oblivious through one last, bemused, glance at Jenna, before disappearing up the stairs.

"Come," Jenna issued, nodding to the stairs down. Harry followed her to the administration building, where her office was, wondering all the while about her summoning - both why she was summoning him, when she customarily only handled disciplinary matters, and why she was summoning him, since she was the chairwoman of CHERUB. She seemed less assertive, too, her gaze darting slightly about, her words containing an edge of hesitation. It made no sense, but it was almost as though she was afraid of Harry...

Or, afraid of his reaction.

Emerald eyes widened as Harry realized why she'd called him. No, it was impossible... But it fit. Jenna's attitude, that she'd come herself, that he wasn't in trouble, per say...

His previous record... The strange things that happened to him, that, it seemed, had gotten too strange for their liking...

Harry noticed that he'd been lagging behind, slowing in his realization, and hurried to catch up to the chairwoman again. He would not react badly, he vowed to himself. He was better than that.

Even if they didn't think he was good enough for CHERUB... Even if he abhored even the idea of being expelled...

Jenna stopped, outside her door, for whatever reason, and turned to look at Harry. The scene was almost as though she were preparing him to meet someone higher than her, but that was impossible. The chairwoman was one of the highest positions that knew of CHERUB's existence. Unless… this wasn't to do with his expulsion from the organization?

"Is something the matter, Miss?" Harry asked, deciding to feign ignorance about his revelation. Just in case it was wrong.

The chairwoman closed her eyes for a moment, visibly - to Harry, at least - taking a steadying breath, before meeting his gaze. "There's someone here to meet you, Harry." He couldn't help the slight lift of his eyebrows. Interesting. Certainly not what he'd been expecting. "Some of what she's going to say will sound … ridiculous, impossible, like a joke. But from what I can tell, all of it is true. She can prove it."

Harry waited for her to expand, as he had no doubt she would. She'd tell him everything she could, in her urge to prepare him. He mulled over what she had told him. Someone here to see him... Someone to do with his family? That was a complicated subject for Harry; on the one hand, like any orphan, he was immensely curious about his family, having been abandoned on the doorstep of an orphanage, ten years ago. On the other hand, though, having a family was inconvenient, for a CHERUB agent, especially if that family found you, and cared enough to keep track of you. And he did not care to be forced to leave CHERUB, through expulsion or other means.

There was a long pause, before Jenna did, indeed, continue. "The world, it seems, is much more complicated than we know." Before Harry could puzzle over her words, though, she reached over and opened the door, then gestured for him to enter.

Not ladies first, then. CHERUB had never been much for chivalry, anyway.

Harry entered the room, his stance carefully casual, his guard raised. Immediately, his attention was drawn to the woman who stood by Jenna's desk, the only aspect of the office out-of-place, and no doubt the visitor here to see Harry. Or, she was one of the only aspects out of place; for whatever reason, a gun lay, the safety off, on the desk.

The woman, herself, looked to be in her sixties, with dark hair tied into a tight bun and a stern expression. She wore a dark green coat over black clothes, clothes that were perfectly normal, and yet, somehow, seemed strange on her. Most peculiarly, she held, what seemed to be, a stick, in her right hand, gripped casually, yet as though it were a weapon.

Was this what had prompted Jenna to draw her gun? Harry couldn't see how a stick could be threatening, unless to poke someone's eye out? He supposed that was possible; CHERUB agents were taught that anything and everything could be used dangerously, and that looks could be deceiving. People had certainly underestimated him because of his appearance, before.

The visitor, too, seemed to be assessing Harry, but upon realizing what she had been doing, she spoke. "Mr. Potter," she greeted, slight excitement and approval in her tone.

"Greyson," Harry corrected. It was interesting, that she knew his former surname; that would seem to support his family theory.

He only hoped…

"Greyson?" the woman asked, confused.

"My name; I was Harry Potter, but that was six years ago. I'm Harry Greyson, now." He wondered if he was allowed to say that, but a glance at Jenna, and the fact that she hadn't stopped him, told him that he, likely, was.

Though, if this woman didn't know about his change in name, then did that make her unaffiliated with CHERUB? He wondered what she did know. And, for that matter, who she was.

"Harry, this is Professor McGonagall," Jenna introduced. A professor, was she? Of what? Of some university? Though, it would still be seven years until Harry retired from CHERUB. Unless… she was some sort of researcher?

Some sort of psychologist?

"Yes. I am a professor at a special school, Mr. P- Greyson," Professor McGonagall corrected. So she made an effort to be polite… but what was this special school? Suddenly, Harry's expulsion theory was seeming a lot more likely. They weren't sending him away, were they? "The school is called Hogwarts," the woman continued, and Harry barely held in an incredulous laugh. What a strange, and unattractive, name. "You see, Mr. Greyson, Hogwarts is a school of magic. And you are a wizard."

Harry stared.

What had she said? A school of magic? And he, a wizard? He dismissed his psychologist theory; unless this was some sort of elaborate ploy - or joke - this woman was crazier than he was. Because magic wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

And yet…

Jenna had all but confirmed it. Everything McGonagall said could be proven, the chairwoman had told him, and Jenna wasn't the type to take proof lightly. And it would certainly explain her strange attitude; the discovery that magic was real could certainly throw the normally imperturbable chairwoman off. Not to mention, there was the strange things that happened around Harry, the strange things he could do. There were the countless incidents that led up to Logan Walsh, when he was five; his Spanish teacher's confusion that one time he'd forgotten to do his homework, when he was seven; everything that had happened during basic training, including the time he'd shielded himself and Jasper from the explosion; his first (and only) mission…

The fact that he had some control over the strange occurrences… If it was some sort of magical ability, it did make sense.

Still… "Prove it," he requested politely.

McGonagall nodded, as though she'd been expecting the request. She raised the stick - a wand? - in her hand, inciting, to Harry's interest, an almost imperceptible flinch on Jenna's part, and gave it a flick. An envelope rose from its position on the desk, flying towards Harry, who caught it instinctively, emerald eyes wide. Another twitch transformed a stack of papers into an ornate jewelry box, and back.

Yes. That, it seemed, was magic. Harry couldn't help the slight smile that sprung at his lips, because magic was real. He could do magic.

"It's for you," McGonagall said, nodding towards the letter in his hand, which Harry realized he'd been staring blankly at. He nodded slightly at the professor in acknowledgement, before his eyes flickered back to the envelope, to the words elegantly written in a strange, dark green ink.

Mr. H. Potter
Room 413
Main Building
CHERUB Campus

The next two lines were blacked out. Harry's lips twitched. Jenna had done that, no doubt, since no one was allowed to know where CHERUB headquarters were. Though, McGonagall had probably already seen the location, and there was no way Jenna could make the professor forget that. She'd probably made the professor sign some sort of non-disclosure contract.

Though… could magic erase memories? And, now that Harry thought of it, did wizards even follow the same laws as normal people? Would such a contract be binding, for the professor? Were there magical contracts, then?

Could McGonagall have been about to use magic on Jenna, earlier? Could that be why Jenna's gun was out? Perhaps, since non-magical people, it seemed, weren't to know of the existence of magic, the professor had been about to make Jenna forget. Though that would imply that magic could erase memories - could that have been what he'd done to his Spanish teacher? Then, what were the limitations of what magic could do? Could it, for example, create life, or bring back the dead? How, for that matter, did magic work? Or did it completely defy the non-magical laws of science, of physics?

Setting aside the questions and thoughts for later, he flipped the letter over, examining the strange purple seal of a lion, a badger, an eagle, and a snake, around the letter H, before opening the envelope neatly.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

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

Harry wondered what all the titles meant. 'Mugwump' didn't sound like a word; it was eccentric, but then again, so was 'Hogwarts'. Professor McGonagall had said that he was a wizard; what was the difference, then, between a wizard and a warlock? Was she a witch, since the school was of witchcraft and wizardry; was the difference simply gender-based? Were 'Order of Merlin' and 'First Class' two separate titles? It was nice to note that wizards, it seemed, were international, but was the wizarding government international? How many wizards, and witches, were there in the world, anyway?

He read on:

Dear Mr. Potter,

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

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

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

The professor who stood before him now, and who, it seemed, was waiting for an answer. He supposed he wouldn't need to send an owl - magical communication? - to send his response.

At first thought, his answer was simple - yet, Harry hesitated. He did not want to leave CHERUB, not after he'd waited and trained for five years to qualify for basic training, not after he'd gone on exactly one mission, not when there was still so much he could do, with CHERUB, in the next seven years. But, perhaps…

"Tell me about the magical world," he requested. Perhaps more information would help him make his decision. McGonagall nodded again, unsurprised. Did that mean that she regularly encountered students like himself, ones who knew nothing of the magical world? Could two non-magical people give birth to a wizard or witch?

"Of course. I'll tell you a bit about Hogwarts, first?" Harry nodded. "Hogwarts is a school of magic, for students aged eleven through eighteen; there are seven years of schooling. Instruction is split into subjects. I teach Transfiguration, but there is also Charms, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts." Interesting. So there were 'Dark Arts', whatever that encompassed. Memory spells? Killing spells? "Beginning in third year, electives may also be chosen, out of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Care for Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and Divination." McGonagall said the last with an air of distaste, though Harry couldn't see what was so distasteful about predicting the future. And, what were 'Muggles'? "Students are also split into one of four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, each of which contributes a symbol to the Hogwarts crest." She nodded to the letter Harry held - the purple seal on the envelope. And a House system, that was interesting.

"The wizarding world, itself, is in some ways very similar to the Muggle world - Muggles are non-magical people," McGonagall added. Did the headmaster Albus Dumbledore's 'Mugwump' title have something to do with Muggles, then? "We have a government, the Ministry of Magic, that is split into Departments, and that is led by the Minister for Magic, presently Cornelius Fudge. We have our own society, with our own towns, alleys, stores, sports, and more."

"And your intelligence system?" Harry asked. Did they, by any chance, have an equivalent to CHERUB? If not, well, could he establish one? CHERUB was incredibly useful, anyhow.

"Sorry?" For whatever reason, McGonagall seemed not to know what he was talking about.

"Your intelligence system," he repeated. Her gaze remained blank. "Your spy system?"

"Ah, that. The Ministry doesn't have one." Harry's eyes widened reflexively. They what? How could they not have an intelligence system? "I suppose the closest equivalent would be our Aurors - Dark wizard catchers." There it was again, the idea of Dark magic, whatever that was. Though, if these Aurors were there specifically to 'catch' Dark wizards, then perhaps Dark magic was illegal, magic used to harm. "They're like Muggle police and soldiers." But neither of those were the same as spies.

And that, Harry realized, was a brilliant opportunity, even more so than his, possibly, establishing a CHERUB-equivalent in the magical world. A complete lack of an intelligence system, which would no doubt be important, as non-magical - Muggle - espionage agencies were, to apprehend criminals and to save lives. At CHERUB, he would make a difference, but he was only a single agent. In the magical world, it seemed, there was so much more he could do.

McGonagall had been hesitating, but spoke again. "And, Mr. Greyson, something else you should probably know… You're famous."

"Sorry?" This time, he was the one asking for clarification. He was famous? How was that even possible, when he'd been a baby when he'd been left at a Muggle orphanage? Unless he'd been some sort of child hero, how could he possibly be famous?

"The wizarding world was, until ten years ago, in a war, against Dark forces led by You-Know-Who." There it was, that term, Dark, again. Harry supposed that meant evil, since the wizarding world would have criminals and villains, as well. And war tended to lead to an increase in crime…

Though, what McGonagall had said… "I don't." Who was this 'You-Know-Who'?

"My apologies," McGonagall corrected. "His name was, well, Voldemort." That was French, Harry recognized, for 'flight from death'. A pseudonym, most likely, but then, why the 'You-Know-Who'? "No one likes to say his name - people are still scared - so he is normally known as You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Harry noted that the professor had used both past and present tense - was this Voldemort gone?

"Ten years ago, the war was at its peak," McGonagall continued. "Constant battles and deaths, terror around, mistrust between friends, even the Muggles knew something was up. And then, on October 31st, 1981, he disappeared." Interesting. How- "He'd gone to Godric's Hallow, to kill your parents, Lily and James Potter." Harry soaked up the names - he hadn't known anything about his family, or his parents, whom he presumed were dead, if this Voldemort was as powerful as McGonagall had described. "And… he tried to kill you, but he failed, and he disappeared. Gone, presumably dead." What?

Harry stared incredulously at her. Voldemort had tried to kill him and had died? He'd been one! "Was it something my parents did?" he guessed. A ritual, a spell, perhaps?

"No one knows," McGonagall answered quietly, sadly. Had she known his parents? "But they say it was you who stopped him; you who survived the Killing Curse with nothing more than a scar on your forehead." She gestured at the lightning-shaped scar, half hidden behind his bangs, the one that was incredibly frustrating during missions because of its noticeability. But how was that possible, that he could survive this 'Killing Curse' that presumably never failed, at the age of one? "They call you the Boy Who Lived," McGonagall added. Wonderful. The wizarding world, it seemed, loved its monikers.

But… in some ways, entering the wizarding world was looking more appealing than ever. A recent war, his own fame, the complete absence of an intelligence system, a smaller population - presumably… There was so much opportunity, so much Harry could do and change and improve. And it seemed, going to Hogwarts would be a necessity, to maximize his opportunities; though McGonagall hadn't said so explicitly, he assumed that the majority of the wizarding population, in Britain at least, went to the magical school. A perfect opportunity to establish connections. Not to mention, he would learn to control his magical ability, something that would definitely be necessary, and something he would have to go to Hogwarts for, unless there were private tutoring options…

At the same time, though, he already had a well-established position, in CHERUB, something he'd waited five years for, something he'd gone through basic training for. And he was making a difference, mission by mission. He was saving lives. He was bringing down villains. And… he loved going on missions. Loved the thrill, the danger, the knowledge that he was doing good. Even if he had to kill - even though he had killed - it was more than worth it, to him. If he went to Hogwarts, he would lose that all.

But, if he went to Hogwarts, there was a chance he could do so much more, than what he could at CHERUB. He could help save the world, the magical world.

Though… "Is Voldemort dead?" McGonagall had said that he was 'presumably dead,' but she'd also used both past and present tense to describe him. And if this Voldemort was coming back, it would be even more important to establish an intelligence system, among other things. Knowledge of the other side was always crucial, in conflict.

The professor eyed him, a spark of satisfaction in her eyes, though Harry wasn't sure if it was from his response or, perhaps, the fact that he'd used Voldemort's name. Though that was hardly fair, since he had never known any of the fear associated with it. "No one knows," she answered again. "He disappeared, but there are some who believe he has simply gone into hiding, and is biding his time." McGonagall was part of that 'some', Harry had no doubt. And it seemed… unlikely, at best, that he could have killed the wizard, so he supposed that he, too, was part of the 'some'.

But that still left the question: CHERUB or Hogwarts? On the one hand, there was his goal for the past six years. There was relative security and the surety that he would save lives. On the other, there was magic - and that was nearly enough said. There was wider opportunity, and a prominent lack of something he could establish. There was a chance to learn about a whole new world. There was a mysterious villain who was not-quite dead. There was the chance to find out more about his family and his past and his strange, magical abilities.

Well… when he put it like that, it wasn't exactly an impossible decision.

"May I inform you of my response, rather than send an owl?" He assumed that was how wizards delivered letters… unless they could talk to the birds? Could magic be used to talk to animals? Were animals intelligent enough to, say, be used as spies? For that matter, could wizards transform into animals? McGonagall had said that she taught 'Transfiguration', after all.

"Of course," McGonagall answered expectantly. Harry glanced at Jenna, who was watching their exchange impassively, then back at the witch.

Last chance to decline. "Yes," he answered. McGonagall gave a small, satisfied smile. "Yes, I'll attend Hogwarts."

"Very well then. I'll be back again tomorrow, to assist you in purchasing your supplies." And, Harry hoped, in purchasing books that would tell him more about the wizarding world. He had a month, after all, until school started; a month to catch up with those who'd grown up in the wizarding world.

-oOo-

31 July 1991
CHERUB Headquarters
0730 Hours

"Can I help you, Suriyawong?" Harry finally asked, annoyed, at the Thai boy, who'd been standing in the corner of his room for the past thirty minutes, glowering angrily at Harry. It was that time of year again, it seemed, when Suriyawong grew insecure about their friendship, and Harry had to comfort and reassure him, again. The first time it had happened, Harry had considered ending their friendship, since Suriyawong was a pain to deal with, the best of days; however, he'd weighed the advantages - predominantly, the connection Suriyawong provided him to the rest of CHERUB - against the disadvantages - the sheer effort and annoyance expended on maintaining their relationship - and had decided that having Suriyawong as a friend was worth it.

"You're leaving CHERUB," Suriyawong stated flatly. Interesting. So he'd found out - though, of course, it was difficult, if not impossible, to keep a secret at CHERUB. He hoped, though, that the magical part, at least, remained unknown.

"Yes," Harry answered. Ah, it seemed, Suriyawong was taking that decision badly. "My apologies; I was about to tell you."

"Sure you were," the other boy sneered. "Why don't you tell the truth for once? You don't actually want me as your friend."

"Suriyawong, you are my friend. Maybe I didn't like you that much, in the beginning, but I've grown to care about you. You've been a great friend to me, and, you're a great person."

"Then why are you leaving?!" Suriyawong demanded. Harry barely kept from staring incredulously at the other boy.

"Suriyawong," he said patiently, "this isn't about you. How much do you know?"

"Enough," Suriyawong huffed. "And of course this has to do with me! You're leaving CHERUB! You're leaving me!"

Harry paused a moment. "You do know what that sounded like, don't you?"

Suriyawong held his glare for another moment, before breaking down into chuckles. "Okay, fine. You're definitely not my boyfriend. I don't have any claim over you, other than being your best mate. But Harry," he added, his face morphing into his renowned puppy-eyed pouting expression, something that had saved him many times, when he'd been in trouble. "Won't you tell me why?"

"Of course, Suriyawong. I can't tell you everything - secrecy laws and all -" Something Suriyawong, or any CHERUB agent, would understand, "but I can tell you this: that I've been accepted into a school that will act as a passageway into a world that my family was part of, and that this is a brilliant opportunity for me, to make a difference."

Suriyawong gave a deep sigh. "That's not anything at all," he complained. "I know, I know," he added quickly, "secrecy laws, but… You're leaving."

"I am," Harry agreed. They were both silent for a long moment, and Harry contemplated why he was still cultivating their relationship, when it would have been so easy to end it, without consequence, since he was leaving the Muggle world and joining the wizarding one. It was just habit, he supposed, and that he didn't want to hurt his friend. Huh. He never would have thought, six years ago, that that would be true, but he realized, then, that what he'd said earlier was true. He did like Suriyawong.

"I guess… this is goodbye," Suriyawong said hesitantly, sadly.

"I still have a month… but yes. After that, I'm not coming back." There were breaks, of course, in the Hogwarts school year, but Jenna had arranged for a former-CHERUB couple known for their discreetness to host him, if necessary, over the summer, to keep from attracting too much attention to his situation.

Suriyawong looked down. "I'll miss you," he murmured.

"And I, you," Harry returned. He was almost surprised to find that it was the truth. He glanced at the clock in his room; it was nearly time for his meeting with Professor McGonagall. "Suriyawong-"

"You have to go. I get it. I know, I'm leaving, too." Suriyawong sighed, then moved to the door. "Bye, Harry."

"Goodbye, Suriyawong." And, goodbye, CHERUB.