A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who has agreed to help keep my muse in mind. It means a lot! I managed to wring another chapter out of her in a much more timely fashion this time, I'm happy. Aren't you? Thank you for sticking with me, and, as always, reviews are love.

He told me that I was more than a boy

He said I could learn to be a wizard

I could see the magic – the wonder out there

Soon I'll go to a place that he called Hogwarts

Soon I'll be with kids, with kids just like me

- Ministry of Magic

Chapter 16

"But you're the Boy-Who-Lived! Let's start with the basics, Harry. You know about You-Know-Who of course…."

Harry's expression of confusion deepened.

"No, sorry."

The redhead blinked, and then tried again. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"What, is this guy name shy or something?" Harry finally asked grumpily. "Honestly, if you don't like your name, just make a new one. What is his actual name, Mafalda? Because frankly, I'm not sure who you are talking about right now."

Mafalda shifted, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"I don't know his actual name, Harry. Dad doesn't like talking about him much. He just taught me after I started showing magic that not all wizards or witches are good. And one went really bad, styled himself a Dark Lord, and he killed anyone who stood against him. He said that it was thanks to you he was gone. He tried to kill you and you lived." Mafalda paused briefly before adding, "Well, that and you shouldn't say his name. I'm not sure why though."

Harry frowned, realizing that this was probably the man that Uncle Remus had told him killed his parents, all in an attempt to get to him. There was one thing he did not fully understand though, so he looked back into Mafalda's eyes.

"What's so special about me surviving, though? People try to kill each other all the time, and plenty of people screw it up."

The girl's brown eyes look horror stricken for a moment before she shook her head rapidly.

"No, Harry, you don't get it. He didn't try to slit your throat or strangle you or something. He used magic – the killing curse. It's one of the Unforgivable Curses. No one can block it, just like no one can truly bring back the dead."

"Then… then how did I survive?"

The young girl shook her head. "No one knows. Maybe it was something you did, or maybe it was your parents, but either way – you're famous Harry. There isn't a child in the Wizarding World that doesn't know your name. I expect you get a bit more gifts at Christmas and your birthday because of it."

Dimly, Harry recalled the first time Uncle Peter had come over with gifts. He and Dudley had overheard the man mention fans, but at the time, Harry had discarded the idea. It seemed far too ridiculous to be real. How ironic that they had heard correctly all those years ago and been living in ignorance.

"What if I don't want to be famous? I mean, I'm just… Harry. Just Harry!"

A small hand found his arm as Mafalda looked up to him quietly.

"Just Harry is fine. I'm surprised no one told you. What else do you not know?"

Harry sighed, not really sure where to begin. At least with Mafalda he did not have to pretend to already know things like he had earlier with his aunt and uncle. He had not wanted them to know that Uncle Remus had told him anything – and he certainly was not prepared to bring up what the snakes had taught him.

"I know plenty of magic itself, or at least, I know what I have been able to figure out. What I don't know is almost anything to do with the Wizarding World as a whole. Although, I admit, some of my old toys and the candies I get on holidays make more sense now. Like that book with moving pictures…"

"Yes, most wizarding pictures move. I've heard portraits can actually talk and move between frames," Mafalda acknowledged, expecting him to continue.

Her statement had thrown the boy though, and he had to take a moment to close his eyes and process things. After a time, emerald eyes met hers once again.

"See, it is things like that I need to learn. I don't suppose there are any books I could read on customs or even about Pigfarts… er, I mean Hogwash?"

"Pigfarts?" The redhead blinked and then promptly started giggling. "It's Hogwarts, Harry! Why did you think it was called Hogwash?"

He looked a little sheepish. "Well it isn't exactly a common name, is it? But that just proves my point. I mean, how can I expect to do well if I can't even remember the name of the school? Who names a school Hogwarts, anyway?"

"Obviously the founders did." Mafalda retorted before she started giggling. "Oh Harry, I do see your point. And I will try to get some books for you. My dad's a squib, and mum's a muggle so neither of them really went. But I bet Da has something on hand. If not your… erm… adoptive uncles should?"

This spiel left Harry looking a bit goggle eyed. Holding up a hand, he shook himself slightly before speaking.

"Okay, hold the horses there. The founders? And what's a squib? As for my uncles, I will be asking them things, but I figured… well I thought you might have valuable information."

The last statement was enough to make Mafalda straighten her spine and put on a more serious expression.

"Alright then," she paused to clear her throat before continuing, "Let's start with the founders. There were four total: two witches and two wizards that came together to start a school. Their names were Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Godric Gryffindor. They all wanted to provide a place where magic could be taught to those with the aptitude, although they did not agree on whom to teach. So they each founded their own group of students to teach, which became known as a house. Upon entering Hogwarts every student is sorted into one of them.

"According to Da, everyone knows that Slytherin was against the teaching of muggleborns, although no one is sure why anymore. He could have been a purist, or it could have been that while there were many magic users, they were vastly untrained at the time and muggles had plenty of weapons that could annihilate us, or even something else. Anyway, Slytherin prized the cunning and ambitious. Ravenclaw chose those with wit, intelligence, and a thirst for knowledge. Gryffindor was a Lord, and rather preoccupied with ideas of chivalry and knighthood. As such, he only took the brave. Hufflepuff took the rest, they say, the loyal and hardworking."

Mafalda chewed her lip briefly, "I'll get you a few editions of Hogwarts, A History. They're written by different alumni, so it differs a bit. Anyway, that should tell you the rest of what you need to know about it. I don't know all about it, obviously as neither of my parents went. And a squib is someone born to a magic family that doesn't have magic themselves, or not enough for spells and such anyway."

Just as she finished, their discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door. A very put out Linda slid one of the doors open before crossing her arms and staring at the two.

"Mum says it's time for tea."

Harry, feeling torn, looked between them both, then turned to Mafalda.

"Thank you for your help. Erm… could I have your number or address maybe? Then I could ask you questions without having to wait for you to visit Linda.'

The redhead nodded, ignoring the irritated look coming from the girl in glasses at the doorway as she grabbed a pen and paper and wrote the requisite information down.

"I'll see you later, Harry."

The boy just waved absently, walking out of the room with a mumbled hello to Linda as he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. The blonde huffed but followed him anyway.

An anxious Harry Potter and a confused Dudley Dursley would later be found inside the former boy's bedroom. Harry was occupying himself lifting and spinning various objects while he paced the room, relaying the information he had gotten from Mafalda to his cousin. As he wound down, the stress of the situation caught up with the boy, causing him to lose his concentration and drop one of the lamps with a particularly loud crash.

On the plus side, Petunia was not at home, and Uncle Vernon rarely paid attention to anything other than human cries when the telly was on. Further on the plus side, the telly was indeed on and playing one of Uncle Vernon's favorite programs. On the down side however, Harry had absolutely no idea how to fix the lamp.

Dudley was the first to break the silence, promptly taking the chance to tease his cousin.

"Some wizard you are, huh, Potter? Can't even lift a lamp without breaking it."

When Harry stuck his tongue out at his cousin in retaliation before lifting a pillow with a look that clearly said 'Push me I dare you', Dudley decided to quickly change the subject.

"But you're famous? Really? That's… " the blonde boy seemed at a loss for words for a moment, "Kind of freaky."

"Yeah, yeah it really is."

"Still… good you know now. I can't believe Mum and Dad kept something like that from us for all those years!"

"I'm just glad they finally told us, Dud. I would have hated to have to ask Mafalda about everything, and we agreed only to wait until our ninth birthdays. School's almost out for the summer now, and July is almost here."

"True," Dudley conceded thoughtfully, taking down the floating pillow carefully – and rather hoping Harry wouldn't notice his ammunition was gone as he had turned around to examine the lamp. Once that was accomplished, he sat back down, clutching the pillow to himself. "You didn't tell her, did you, Harry?"

Thrown by the question, Harry looked to the cousin he considered all but a brother. "Tell her what, doofus?"

"About that thing you do with snakes?"

Dudley watched as his cousin grew quiet. "I've seen you, Harry. You talk to them. And well… Mum said Uncle Peter and Uncle Remus were, you know, magic like you. And neither of them ever do that. Peter's the only one that seems to notice, and he seems kind of afraid of them."

Soberly, Harry met his cousin's gaze.

"No, Dud, I haven't. Because as much as part of me says, 'It's just another magic thing, I bet loads of other people can do it', I don't want to be wrong and have that knowledge in Mafalda's hands. For all I know, it could be dangerous or some mystic important thing. No… I'll ask Uncle Remus." A smirk slowly grew on his face. "But before that, I'm going to see if we can finally coax out of him why it is he vanishes once a month."

By the time the boys snuck down to the kitchen for biscuits, they had covered a few other topics (which included Dudley teasing Harry about how he should practice wearing a dress, and Harry asking if he was sure he wasn't jealous, as he seemed a little obsessed with the whole dress robe mess) and the lamp was as good as new. The only exception to the lamp's fixed condition was, perhaps, the wiring. Neither of their guardians was bound to notice or care though, the lamp had been flaky lately anyway.

Both of the boys' birthdays were coming up soon, which only led to more of an uproar in the already straining the bounds of normalcy Dursley household as school finally let out for the summer. Luckily, their neighbors on Privet Drive were quite use to the amount of excitement the two young boys at Number 4 could produce, let alone the amount they seemed to draw to themselves. The neighborhood considered Dudley and Harry, along with their friends, to be a bright spot of sorts for their community. Basically, they were the examples that proved their cookie cutter homes really did lead to happiness and success.

Over the years, the dual birthday bash had also become a piece of notoriety for those living in Little Whinging. Each year after its inception, the party seemed to improve. One year, the invitees had been invited to a flight museum of sorts, complete with replicas of planes, jets, and spacecraft. That same birthday also meant a hot air balloon ride for the young boys and their relatives. Each year, those invited and those who lived close enough to join in without seeming rude, had plenty of gossip as well as fun photographs to show off come the end of summer when everyone is faced with the dreaded 'how was your vacation' question.

This year, with the boys both turning nine, was to be no exception. While it was slightly more educational than normal, given the rare treats the Dursleys always seemed to be able to find (cute little chocolate frogs being the guest favorite). The gang would be going to a Hampton Court Palace to see the gardens, and possibly go on a tour of the house as well, depending on the attention span of both the birthday boys' and their guests.

It was what came after their official party that excited Harry and Dudley the most though, for after some coaxing they had convinced their parents (Harry knew they weren't really, but every once and a while there was a slip) to take them to Charing Cross Road. Aunt Petunia had been surprised when he pulled out the worn picture of his mum and the strange pale boy. Afterwards, she had told him about The Leaky Cauldron, wizards and witches wearing robes since they were stuck centuries behind normal people in some ways, and the boy whose name was Severus Snape. Harry and Dudley could both tell there was more to Snape than they were told though. Just the way his name had been said, much less the way Petunia had reacted to seeing him in the photograph, indicated quite a bit of history. Neither of the boys was keen on pushing their luck with finding out more about Severus Snape for the moment though, there was too much on their plate already.

Dudley had not given up on the idea of the invention of their own oath either. Harry's apparent fame in the other world only served as an incentive. People looked up to celebrities, after all, and even though Harry was only a kid and bound 'to mess up and be a prat now and then' he still had to make the effort. Harry could not really blame him either. Not only was the idea wicked in and of itself (what little kid doesn't want to be part of a secret society at some point in his or her life?), but it could also be useful, given a later talk with both Mafalda and his uncles had led him to believe that the terrorist who was after him had followers on the loose still. Seeing as Mafalda claimed oaths could be magically binding, what better way to ensure those he trusted were truly on his side? Or at least, the side not out for arbitrarily killing him?

And that was another thing; Harry didn't really understand why the differences in 'blood' were so important. Uncle Remus had tried to explain, and Mafalda had helped as well by telling him how wizarding society looked at squibs and 'mudbloods', or less derogatorily, muggleborns and the like. It still did not make much sense to the boy. What he did know was that he was starting to loathe the term muggle. He wouldn't say anything about it to anyone other than Dudley for now though. Not until he had better replacements for what he saw as slurs.

"Harry! Duddikins! It's time to work on the garden. The sooner you start, the more likely you are to avoid the heat of the day."

The boys had mixed reactions to this call. Dudley, who had been staring at their summer school work that had been assigned both by teachers and his mum, was quite glad to have an excuse to go outside. As long as their work was done first, he knew she would not have a problem with him or Harry horsing around or soaking each other with the hose. Harry, for his part, was not the most excited as Aunt Petunia always fussed over their skin beforehand, and the insistence on sun tan lotion and aggravating floppy hats, not to mention the reminder to drink plenty of water (and that's water, not tea, young man) got on his nerves every once in a while. Then again, he knew that she cared, and perhaps, that was all the difference.

Either way, Harry and Dudley still found themselves outside in the garden. Some of the time they spent out there was even productive – mostly because Aunt Petunia still joined them when she had the time, although she trusted them to do the job themselves now. Apparently she took pride in her gardening, or at least, she took pride in a well tended lawn and having fresh veg and herbs at her disposal come harvest time.