Chapter 2 – Forging a New Path

Harry adjusted the cap on his head so that it covered his scar and then walked down the sidewalk looking at the list of bus lines and transfer points from Little Whinging to London. "This will take hours to get me there," he muttered. A shadow fell over the paper in his hand and he paused on the sidewalk as an inquisitive voice asked, "Are you going somewhere, Harry?"

The dark-haired boy hid a sigh and managed to smile up at the eccentric old woman with the grizzled grey hair in front of him. "Good morning, Mrs. Figg. How are you today?" He was surprised to see only one of her many cats slinking near his old baby-sitter's feet. For years, whenever the Dursleys were going to be away, they dropped him off at Mrs. Figg's, where he had to bear the smell of cabbage filling the house as well as the dozens of cats she bred. He supposed it could have been worse; instead of being locked out of the house and working a ten-hour day on yard chores, he was only bored at her house.

The elderly woman smiled benevolently at the polite boy. "I'm fine thank you, Harry. Where are you off to today?"

"I'm heading to the London library today, ma'am" he said courteously. "Aunt Petunia said I could go as long as I got myself there. I'm just trying to make sure I know all of the transfer points and times."

The woman frowned at Harry. "But that will take hours with several transfers." She muttered almost to herself, "who knows what could happen?" She looked at him with troubled eyes as she seemed to have an internal struggled before she finally nodded decisively. "Follow me, Harry. I'll show you the fastest way to London." She turned and began walking down the sidewalk. Harry hesitated, but as it was in the direction he needed to go, he followed her. A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he saw a very large black dog pacing them a dozen yards away, but closer to the houses and hoped it wasn't going to attack Mrs. Figg's cat. He wasn't in the mood to try to rescue a cat from the very large, albeit skinny dog.

At the corner, she turned into a rarely traveled alley. Once she was sure Harry was next to her, she looked both ways and then nodded. "All right dear, this will do. You're going to take the Knight Bus. All you need to do is hold out your wand hand and think about needing a ride."

Harry turned wide eyes at her. "My..my wand hand?" He stepped back a step and wondered whether this was really Mrs. Figg or someone using Polyjuice. How could she possibly know he had a wand?

The elderly woman sighed heavily. "Yes, Harry. Your wand hand. I know that you're a wizard. My parents were magical, but I'm a Squib."

His eyes widened to impossible dimensions and he knew he was stuttering, but couldn't stop it. "But…but…why 't you ever say ? I came to your house so many times! You could have told me about the wizarding world! Why didn't you say something?" His voice rose in pitch as the words tumbled out.

A wrinkled hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "I'm sorry, Harry. I really am, but Dumbledore only wanted me to watch you, not reveal anything to you. He said you were too young then. And I'm sorry I made it so boring for you to visit, but if the Dursleys thought you enjoyed visiting me, they wouldn't have let you come over. I had to walk a fine line…" Her voice trailed off in discomfort.

Harry didn't think he could be surprised any more, but was mistaken. "Dumbledore? Headmaster Dumbledore asked you to watch me and not tell me anything about the wizarding world? But why would he want me kept ignorant? Why would he want to deny me my parent's heritage?" He paused and then said quietly, "Wait. You knew the Dursleys…weren't kind to me? Did Dumbledore know?"

"I…" the elderly voice wavered. "I think you need to speak to the Headmaster about that, Harry. Now just hold out your wand hand and think about needing transportation."

Harry swallowed his frustration and questions and thrust out his hand, thinking about how badly he wanted to go to London to find a better school than Hogwarts, especially with this revelation. To his immense surprise, a loud Bang was followed by the appearance of a violently purple triple-decker bus that screeched to a halt beside him. The words "The Knight Bus" were painted in gold on the front windshield.

The door opened and a purple-clad pimple-faced teenager leapt out. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor today." He looked at the two of them and his face relaxed into a smile. "'ello there Missus Figg! Where are ya off to then?"

The wizened face smiled at the eager young man. "It's not me today, Stan, it's my young neighbor H…err Harold Dursley."

Stan ushered Harry towards the steps, talking as he went. "'ello Harold, come on then. Where ya off to?"

Harry noticed the large black dog looking curiously into the alley and stepped quickly aboard the bus. He waited until the door closed and then said, "I just need to visit Diagon Alley is all. How much for that?"

"Eleven sickles," Stan said promptly. Harry had carefully separated his Muggle money into his left pocket and his wizarding money into the right pocket. He rummaged through the coins until he had eleven sickles counted out into Stan's waiting hand. The youth turned further into the bus and then stopped in surprise at seeing half a dozen brass beds lining the bus aisle, each under a curtained window. "Um…Stan? Where are the seats?"

"Crikey," Stan muttered. He looked at the bus driver, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses that distorted his eyes. "Ernie! You forgot to switch to day mode!"

Amidst unintelligible muttering, the driver hit a large purple button and the beds shimmered and then became seats. Harry took the nearest one. As soon as his bottom touched the seat, the bus erupted into motion with another Bang! Harry found himself thrown against the back of the seat with the violence of the movement. He pulled himself up and clung to the side of the seat in desperation as he looked out the front window. They were hurtling down another street, then abruptly mounted the pavement, but somehow didn't hit anything. Instead the objects in their way seemed to jump away to avoid being hit. Harry's stomach churned and rather than thinking about what he had just learned about Dumbledore, he tried not to think of anything but holding on as the bus lurched its way to London.

Twenty minutes later, Harry stood in front of one of the goblin tellers inside Gringotts. "Excuse me.." Harry looked at the name plate by the goblin, "…Teller Khagun, I have questions about my vault and Gringotts services. With whom should I speak?"

The swarthy face looked up from the ledger he had been scribbling in and ran disinterested eyes over Harry's slight frame before grudgingly setting the quill in its stand. "Do you have your key?"

Harry pulled the small golden key from his right pocket and handed it over. The goblin looked at it closely, and the youth wondered whether the goblins had some way of identifying vault owners through their magical signatures on the key.

"Very well," the Teller said, handing the key back to Harry. "I will see if one of our vault managers can spare a few minutes. Strongjaw!"

A goblin about half a head shorter than Harry came up and waited with his eyes intent on the Teller. "Take…," he paused as if recognizing that Harry wanted privacy, "…this young man to Vault Manager Brastang."

Harry inclined his head to the Teller, as he slipped his key back into his pocket. "Thank you, sir" he said respectfully before hurrying to catch up with the already moving Strongjaw. He would have been surprised to know that the goblin's eyes tracked him until he was out of sight down one of the hallways.

Harry lost count of the number of doors they passed before they stopped at one that looked like every other. Strongjaw rapped his knuckles three times on the door and turned away, hurrying back down the hallway. Harry stopped, not hearing anything from inside, but gathered his Gryffindor courage and turned the handle and stepped into the room.

The room was about the size of the master bedroom in the Dursley household, holding two uncomfortable looking chairs in front of a large wood desk filled with papers, a brass scale, and several folders. Wooden file cabinets lined the wall behind the desk. Perched on a stool, sat an elderly goblin with wisps of white hair forming a fringe around the base of his skull. Gold wire glasses were perched on a long narrow nose.

Harry closed the door behind him and stepped forward. He bowed slightly and then said "Vault Manager Brastang? Teller Khagun said you would be able to help me with questions about my vault."

The goblin laid the quill down that he was holding and looked at Harry as if analyzing his worth. He waved a hand negligently at a chair. "Sit down, Mr. Potter. What burning questions bring you to Gringotts?"

The dark-haired youth perched on the edge of the hard chair. "Quite a few, actually sir. I was raised by Muggles and don't know much about my vault, Gringotts, or the services the bank offers."

Brastang tipped his head curiously at the polite boy. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. Then please ask your questions."

"Well sir, can you tell me what my vault is worth? I have my key here if you need it." At the goblin's nod, he retrieved and handed over the tiny key. "Oh, and a list of all the deposits and withdrawals that have been made since October 31, 1981, please?"

The goblin opened a box on his desk and placed the key inside and said "Value, contents and history". A quill began moving across a parchment, and a minute later the goblin handed it and the key back to Harry.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter," the goblin began before releasing the parchment, "do you expect to see a major change since the last quarterly statement that was sent two weeks ago?"

Harry dropped his hand from the parchment. "Quarterly statement? I've never had a statement from Gringotts, Mr. Brastang."

Black eyes narrowed at the youth. "Do you have an owl ward around your home, Mr. Potter?"

"Um, I don't think so. Hogwarts sends me my letters, and the Ministry sent me a warning for magic once – although a house elf did it. Oh, and my friends have owled me before."

"Hmph, then either you have a ward specifically against Gringotts or….", he paused and looked appraisingly at the boy. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, have you gotten much mail from those thanking you for You-Know-Who's defeat? Do you receive gifts on your birthday from people you don't know?"

Harry shook his head emphatically, "No sir. The first mail I ever received from the wizarding world was my Hogwarts letter." Harry's whirling thoughts stopped at a memory of Snape mocking him for his fans and his fan mail. The boy had ignored the Potions Master at the time, but as the famous Boy-Who-Lived, wouldn't someone have sent him something? He would have remembered Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon screaming about it, but it never happened. Did Dumbledore do something?

Brastang nodded and then waved a hand dismissively. "Then someone warded your property or you specifically to filter mail. They should have included Gringotts though. Now, this shows that since October, 1981, there have been only four withdrawals. Two were transfers in the amount of 2500 galleons each to the Hogwarts vault for your annual tuition. Two others for 100 galleons each were made by you in August last year and the year before. There have been no other transactions other than the annual interest accruals. Your current vault balance is 92,803 galleons."

Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected quite that much. "Can you tell me how much that would be in pounds sterling, sir?"

The goblin sighed and scratched briefly on a scrap of paper before saying, "At today's conversion rate, that would equal 464,015 pounds. That does not include the non-currency contents of the vault. Now, Mr. Potter, what other questions do you have?"

Harry swallowed and said "Do you have branches in other countries? If so, are they connected to this vault or would I have to transfer money if I moved overseas?"

The goblin crossed his arms and a brief smile revealed sharp pointed teeth. "Yes, Gringotts has branches in most wizarding communities. Funds can be transferred almost instantaneously as needed." He wondered where the youth was thinking of going.

Harry nodded and hoped a branch would be local to another school, should he be able to find one. "I would like it kept confidential, but I am considering attending another school, Mr. Brastang. Would you please hold off on transferring the next Hogwarts tuition payment for now? I will let you know whether I will be transferring or not within the next month."

The goblin hid his amusement at hearing the young Boy-Who-Lived might be departing. "We will wait until you tell us the name of the school and the amount of tuition to transfer, Mr. Potter."

"Tell me, are there other methods that will make sure I receive my Gringotts statements regardless of mail wards?"

Brastang kept his face bland and wondered just what was going on in his customer's life that he had to go out of his way to be kept informed of his own gold. It grated on his honor as a Vault Manager that someone would prevent Gringotts information from being received by a customer. He took a small breath and inclined his head. "Yes, Mr. Potter. You could rent a two-way mail box at any public mail service. There is one a block south of Gringotts." He raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

Harry shook his head and stood and then stopped. "Oh, yes one more thing sir. Do you have a list of services that Gringotts provides to customers? I mean things for a fee?"

Brastang opened a drawer and withdrew a folded parchment. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. Gringotts provides a variety of services, from renting conference rooms, to executing wills, to managing accounts. In our non-financial areas, we will provide the services of curse-breakers, warders and even body guards upon occasion. This pamphlet will explain the basics and give you a contact for additional information."

Harry accepted the pamphlet and smiled gratefully at the elderly goblin. "Thank you, Mr. Brastang. You've been great and very patient. I appreciate your time." He turned and left the office, stopping to smile and incline his head once more before closing it behind him.

"Very interesting," the elderly Vault Manager muttered as he made several notes on the meeting, "very interesting indeed."

The sun indicated it was still morning as Harry left Gringotts and headed south looking for the public mail service. Five buildings later, a sign of an owl with a letter tied to its leg indicated he had found it with "Grover Stillman, Proprietor" under it.

"Welcome, young man," said a cheery voice as Harry opened the door. "Come in, come in. I'll be with you in just a moment." The speaker behind the counter was a chubby middle-aged man with warm brown eyes and a ready smile.

The front of the shop had empty boxes, writing supplies and owl treats. Behind the counter, were two doors with the right door opened to the back that revealed an owlery with several dozen birds, not all owls, resting on perches. He watched the man launch the owl on his arm upwards and realized there must be an opening in the roof for the birds to exit.

The man came back to the front of the room, removing a heavy glove as he walked. He smiled cheerfully at Harry and asked, "Now then, young man, what can I do for you today?"

Harry couldn't help but return the smile. "Would you tell me about your services, please Mr. Stillman?"

Interest sparkled in the warm brown eyes, but the rotund man only nodded and didn't ask questions. "Such a polite young man! We have a number of services that we offer. You can rent an owl for a one-time delivery; you can subscribe to a service that redirects all of your mail here first to be filtered for hexes, curses, jinxes and the like before being delivered to your location. For customers who spend a lot of time overseas, we offer a two-way mail box that provides instant deliveries. Much easier on the owls, don't you know. We also provide packing and cushioning charms for those delicate deliveries."

Brastang was right about the mail boxes then. "How does the two-way mail box work, sir?"

"You receive a charmed box that is the mate to one kept here. One section is where you place mail to be delivered and another is for where you will receive incoming mail. The mail comes here first and is placed in your box. The box operates similarly to a port key in that your mail is transmitted magically from the box on our end to yours almost instantly. For a slight upcharge, the box will expand automatically to accommodate the size of any package being sent or delivered."

Harry grinned at the man, pleased with the idea. "And security, sir? Will anyone be able to get at my incoming or outgoing mail? Or track it?" He didn't want to think that the Headmaster would try to access his mail, but wanted to be certain it was secure.

Stillman chuckled at the dark-haired youth. "Oh, you're a suspicious one, aren't you? Each box is charmed for security. It would take a skilled curse-breaker to break those charms, and the shop wards would alert the Aurors before their spells would take effect. As far as tracking mail, that is one of the filters we provide if you subscribe to that service."

"That's brilliant, Mr. Stillman! I would like to rent one of those boxes, plus have all mail checked for hexes, tracking charms and the like before it's sent on to me. How much would that be, please?"

The cheery smiled dimmed a bit. "Well, young man, that's the rub. It will be expensive. The mail box is 30 galleons a year, including the mail redirection charm; with the expansion charm to allow any size package, it's 45 galleons. The subscription to filter all of your incoming mail for hexes, curses, jinxes and tracking charms runs another 15 galleons. Usually only businessmen are interested in those services."

Harry grinned at the man again and began counting out galleons. "So 60 galleons? It's worth every knut, sir."

Stillman blinked in surprise as the pile of galleons grew on the counter. The youth wasn't dressed like the son of a wealthy family, but he wasn't about to question a new customer. He drew a contract out from a drawer under the counter. "All right then, lad, I'll need you to check off the services you want, sign at the bottom and then I'll apply the redirection charm on you."

The man was surprised at the boy's slight hesitation before he signed the parchment and then pushed it back across the counter. His eyes widened slightly at the name and his smile returned. "Of course, Mr. Potter, now I understand your desire for privacy." He drew his wand and added, "Just stand still a moment for the redirection charm."

Stillman cast the family's custom charm on the boy and then frowned as a red glow surrounded the slim body. "Now that's odd, the charm didn't take." He cast an identifying spell at the boy. "Hmm, are you aware that there is a mail ward on you?" He waved his wand again in an intricate pattern and words appeared above the boy's head. "It only allows mail from Hogwarts, the Ministry, and those you recognize as friends." He looked at Harry, who had closed his eyes and had a look of irritation.

"Bloody hell," he thought to himself, "who but Dumbledore would have done this? He's the one that dropped me off at the Dursleys. He's the one who keeps sending me back there. He's the one that sent Mrs. Figg and told her not to tell me about the wizarding world. I'll bet he placed the ward as well." He opened his eyes and met the curious and slightly worried eyes of the proprietor. "Would you please remove the ward, sir, and then replace it with your charm?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter." The chubby man cast again and then frowned as the spell resisted him. "Tricky caster, hmm? But I bet you didn't think of this." He opened another drawer under his desk and rummaged around until he pulled out an amethyst-colored ball. At Harry's questioning look, he added "This is a focusing crystal. They're not used that often as they have to be specially attuned to the caster, but it strengthens the spell being cast." He held recast the spell and Harry felt a tingle across his body and couldn't help but grin at the man's look of satisfaction as he muttered "Got'cha!" A second spell was cast, and Harry only felt a warm glow that was quickly absorbed.

"There you go, Mr. Potter," the pleased man said. "Now I'll be right back with your box." He opened the door on the left and Harry could see rows of shelves filled with various supplies. The proprietor selected a box and returned quickly to Harry. "This is a nice box made of Alder wood; the color will deepen to a pale red as it ages. Very durable." He cast another spell, touching both Harry and the box, both of which had a brief golden glow. "And now your mail charm is tied to this particular box. Its mate will be here, and no one will be the wiser." He winked cheerfully at the young celebrity, pleased to provide this service.

Harry opened his backpack and carefully stored the mail box. "Thank you, Mr. Stillman! How will we renew this if I'm overseas?"

"Just send me a note indicating your desire to renew the contract and include the number to your vault. As long as we have an approved contract, I'll be able to deduct the fee directly." He was rewarded with another radiant smile as Harry said "Brilliant!"

After leaving Mr. Stillman, Harry headed to Flourish and Blotts. He made sure to keep his forehead covered with the cap to avoid unwanted notice. He received an odd look or two for the obviously Muggle cap, but ignored them. Once in the book store, he browsed the shelves, looking for anything that might be helpful.

In one section of the store, he found several books on Wizarding customs and traditions as well as Wizarding law with a focus on children. He browsed through the books and in one on Wizarding customs he found mention of schooling options. Some families chose to home school their children, while others preferred small schools that have more one-on-one teaching versus the larger schools like Hogwarts, Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. The bibliography points to several books on magical education, which he quickly sought out.

Leaning against one of the book cases away from the clerks and other customers, Harry skimmed through the schooling options. He certainly didn't want to be tutored at home; that simply wasn't feasible with the Dursleys and their hatred of all things magical. He found a section on Hogwarts and was surprised to discover that it was part of a triumvirate coalition with a school in France called Beauxbatons and one in northern Norway called Durmstrang. These schools coordinated their classes and standards, and kept close ties.

"Not going to happen," he muttered. "I don't want to attend a school that is closely linked with Hogwarts." He flipped the pageand found references to other schools that were not guided by the three older schools. His interest picking up, Harry eagerly searched through the information listed about the other options. He was delighted to find detailed information about multiple schools.

He was about to delve into the information when he heard a throat cleared behind him. With a small jump, he turned to find a clerk looking at him suspiciously. "Can I help you," she asked.

Harry gave a small smile. "I think I've found what I need, thank you. I'll be taking these." He brought the small stack of books to the counter and paid quickly, then placed the books into his backpack. "Excuse me, ma'am. Would you please cast a featherlight spell that will last until I get home?" Since he had proven to be a paying customer, she cast the charm as requested.

It was now noon, so Harry stopped at the Leaky Cauldron for a quick meal. The daily special was a hearty Shepherd's Pie. Considering he had only had a slice of leftover toast for breakfast, he filled up on the substantial meal, not certain whether he would have another meal that day.

Harry decided to take the Muggle buses back to Little Whinging as the trip would give him enough time to read about the other schools. He figured that even if his Aunt had given him a day off chores, if he came back too soon he would be put to work. Better to ride several buses for a couple of hours to begin his research.

"I think I want a school in another country," he thought to himself as he pulled his first book out of the backpack. "Preferably a school without any ties to Hogwarts or even Britain, so that I can't be forced back. I wonder if there are translation spells if I have to go to a non-English speaking country. Hermione will probably know." He stopped himself from thinking that. "No, I have to do all the research myself."

By the time he had made his first transfer to another bus, he had pulled a notebook and pencil from his backpack and was spread out across the back of the bus making notes. He was amazed at the information about the schools that was contained in the books, including the school rules, the background of the teaching staff and their qualifications, the curriculum and testing standards, as well as information about the physical buildings and grounds. "I wonder why they never gave us any of this information before we first came to Hogwarts," he mutteredto himself.

The first school that drew his interest was Monaci Bianchi Academia in the Tremiti Islands of Italy. The academic classes seemed well balanced and rounded, but many of the mandatory classes implied that this was a finishing school for the elite who planned political careers. "Ballroom Etiquette? There's a term-long class on Ballroom Etiquette?" He shuddered slightly.

The next interesting school was the O'n Academy in Alexandria, Egypt. This school had an interesting range of topics, including Archaeology, Warding, Curse Identification and Counters, Healing, as well as one they called "Survival Skills" in addition to the core classes he took at Hogwarts. Harry was drawn to the idea of sunshine and Archaeology. Unfortunately, they only offered ten month sessions, which would still require that he spend two months back with the Dursleys or find other accommodations. Even with that drawback, he marked the school with a star.

An Asian school was available in Hong Kong named Tang Fu Hsieh. This school did provide year round classes, but had only limited Muggle classes, specifically History and World Events. They had an interesting series of classes on Warding, but few other additions. They also had the most numerous rules and emphasized strict adherence to them.

Magic and Spellcrafting Lyceum in Crete, Greece appealed strongly to him. Harry liked that they offered an entire study program on spell crafting and creating new spells. That especially fascinated him as did their focus on Enchanting. The rest of their curriculum also looked comprehensive from a magical perspective, but lacked any Muggle classes. Unfortunately, they had a ten-week hiatus during the summer months. However, he liked everything he read about the staff, campus, and curriculum, so marked it with another star.

Finally, there were two schools in the United States that drew his attention. First was the Institute of Magical Crafts in Salem, Massachusetts which offered a rich variety of both magical and non-magical classes. The non-magical classes included Art, Biology, Computer Science, Languages (French, German, Spanish and Japanese), Government, and Physical Education (described as a rounded inclusion of archery, gymnastics, self-defense, and soccer), as well as Warding. Unfortunately, they did not have a year-round program available. The information clearly stated that summer classes were independent study away from the campus. He marked it with another star for the curriculum and wondered what other housing options he could find for someone his age.

The final school was the St. Croix Academy for Magic and Science in Stillwater, Minnesota. This Academy looked interesting, especially as they offered a blend of "traditional non-magical" courses as well as magical training. Besides the core Hogwarts classes of Astronomy, Defense against the Dark Arts (called Battle Magics there), Charms, History, Herbology/Botany, Potions and Transfiguration, they also offered Ancient Runes, Art, Business, Biology, Chemistry, Computer Science, Healing, Languages, Mathematics, Magical Creatures, Magical Culture and Customs, Magical Government and Law, Music, Physical Education, Spellcrafting and Warding.

He was also surprised to see a number of one-day courses including "Writing Essays and Research Papers", "Career Opportunities", "Introduction to a Non-Magical Culture", "Introduction to a Magical Culture", "Introduction to Computers", "Magical and Non-Magical Careers" and "Resume Writing and Interviewing". Turning the page, he found independent study courses such as "Estate Management", "Financial Planning for Individuals" and "Investments". His eyes opened wide as he read that seats were limited for the summer classes, and students staying on campus for the summer had the first opportunity to select those courses. He quickly drew a series of stars around this school.

Looking at the listed school rules, they were all common sense and not terribly restrictive. Owls and familiars were allowed to students, as long as the familiars were well-behaved and house-trained. Beyond the secondary school certification, they also offered Mastery courses. Year-round tuition and board was 2,750 galleons or $13,750 USD.

He turned to the staff information. The Principal, which he supposed was like the Headmaster, was Victoria Graham, a septuagenarian with Masters in Charms and Warding, including several patented procedures. The Vice-Principal was 48 year old Michael Talbot, who held Masters in Battle Magics and Transfiguration, as well as a non-magical Masters of Education. Looking at the rest of the staff, he noticed that all of them held at least one Mastery, either in a magical or non-magical field. He was surprised to see that the staff contained two vampires; one married with her blood supplied by her spouse; the other was identified as receiving blood through certified donors; both were under magical oaths not to harm others unless attacked first. Odd, none of the other staff members had their race identified.

By the time he reached Privet Drive, he was ready to apply to St. Croix Academy as his first choice, but would also apply to O'n Academy as well as Magic and Spellcrafting Lyceum and the Institute of Magical Crafts if he wasn't accepted to St. Croix. If he couldn't get into St. Croix Academy, he would have to find another option for the summer breaks and hope that no one demanded that he return to England for the summers.

He arrived home only a few minutes after Vernon did. He noticed the black dog across the street again, and wondered if it was a stray, but shrugged and went into the house. "Well boy," his uncle demanded, "what did you find today?"

Harry allowed himself a cautious smile of success. "It was a very productive day, Uncle Vernon." He opened his backpack and showed him the number of books he had brought home. "I found several schools out of the country and am going to write and send out applications tonight."

A brief smile flickered across the corpulent man's face. "Good, see that you do, boy." The man turned to his wife and smiled as he rubbed his hands together. "Pretty soon, Pet. We're going to be rid of him pretty soon!"

The dark-haired boy hid the hurt that once again rose up in him. He turned and quietly climbed the stairs and shut the door. He heard rustling in Hedwig's cage and uncovered it, then let opened the door and waited for the bird to climb up on his hand. He drew her out and stroked her soft feathers. "I would rather be alone in a strange country than stay here and be despised" he said despondently. The snowy owl nibbled his fingers affectionately and he found comfort in her unfaltering devotion.

"Well, what do you think, girl? Shall I send in an application to St. Croix Academy?" At her positive nod and click of her beak, he smiled and moved to his wobbly second-hand desk and withdrew parchment and his favorite purchase of the day; a steel tipped never-ink quill.

Hedwig chuffed softly as he crumpled yet another parchment. It took eight attempts before he was satisfied with his letter to St. Croix Academy.

St. Croix Academy

To the Attention of Principal Victoria Graham

Stillwater, Minnesota

U.S.A.

Dear Principal Graham,

My name is Harry Potter. I am approaching my 13th birthday and have completed two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While Hogwarts has a long history in Britain, I find myself wanting a school with a more diverse curriculum that satisfies not only my wizarding half, but my non-magical half as well. St. Croix Academy offers the range of courses that I seek, so I am writing to request that you accept this letter as a formal application to attend the school.

I should say in advance that I am unfortunately a local celebrity because I survived the Avada Kedavra curse as a toddler. The fact that it was something my Mother did to protect me before her death seems irrelevant to those that choose to make me a public figure. I do not enjoy being in the public eye and would be happy to attend St. Croix Academy under another name or use any method to help ensure both my and the school's privacy.

I am enclosing a letter from my guardian, Mrs. Petunia Dursley, giving her approval for me to transfer to another school.

If you accept me as a student, are you able to provide a port key to your location? That would simplify the transfer process enormously.

Thank you for your consideration,

Harry James Potter

He signed his name and then folded one of the transfer approval notes that his Aunt signed inside that letter. As he folded and sealed the parchment, Hedwig jumped down and held out her leg for the letter. Harry stroked her head and said apologetically, "I'm sorry girl, but this one is going overseas and I can't bear to be without you that long. I have a box that will send the letter. OK?"

He could have sworn Hedwig actually growled at him, but when he reiterated it would likely take her a week to get there and another to get back, she finally seemed to forgive him. He placed the letter in the outgoing portion of the box and was surprised to see an immediate flash as it disappeared. "Now that's good service" he grinned to himself.

Harry decided to wait to see whether he was accepted by St. Croix before writing to any of the other schools. He went to bed that night hoping it wouldn't take more than a couple of days to hear back.

The Dursleys were unexpectedly nice, at least for them, the following morning. When Vernon heard that Harry was waiting for a response from an overseas school, he permitted his nephew an egg, rasher of bacon and a slice of toast for breakfast. He even limited his chores to mowing the grass and weeding the flower beds. "You'll need time to work on those applications and pack your things," he said with a large smile.

After his chores were completed, Harry spent the afternoon working on applications to the other schools, but held off sending them. He truly hoped he could enter the year-round St. Croix Academy. He checked the mail box frequently, but had to go to bed with no response.

When he awoke the following morning, he was delighted to see that mail box was glowing, apparently to indicate new mail had arrived. He opened the incoming mail side and eagerly withdrew a letter with the St. Croix Academy seal. He took a deep breath and opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Thank you for your interest in St. Croix Academy. Our summer session is currently in progress, but you are granted provisional acceptance for the next term beginning August 23rd. Your final acceptance is based on passing your entrance exams with satisfactory grades.

We appreciate your desire to attend the school anonymously, but recommend that you continue to use your actual name. Not only will that make record keeping less complicated, but you will be pleased to learn that your reputation will not promote the same degree of interest in the United States.

This letter may be used as a port key to St. Croix Academy, although you will still be required to register as a student with International Customs. To activate the port key, touch everything that you want to transport with you and say "Portus St. Croix Academy". The school is six hours behind Greenwich, England or GMT -6. Please adjust your departure accordingly.

Sincerely,

Victoria Graham

Principal, St. Croix Academy