Yay! Chapter 2! This story is a lot of fun to write, so you're getting longer chapters than normal and updates shouldn't be too far apart.

Enjoy!

CHAPTER 2—A Matter of Time

"So I'll be in England for nine months of the year?"

"Yes."

"And I won't get to see you at all?"

"You'll come home for Christmas and Easter."

Harry slumped back into the couch cushions and frowned. "Do I have to go?"

Nathan gave his son a puzzled look. "Yes. You need to learn about your magic so you can control it. I can't teach you that."

"But aren't there schools here so I can stay close to home?"

"Harry, we hardly ever see eachother anyways. You'll be able to call and write whenever you want. And, this is the school your parents went to. I'm sure you'll get to hear stories about them and things."

"I don't want to go to England, though. I don't know anybody there and I don't like the idea of being so far from home and... what if they make fun of me for not having an accent?"

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose to repress a sigh. "Harry," he began slowly, "how about this: I'll get in contact with the DOM and have them set up a time for you to meet with representatives of several different schools. Then, if you really don't want to go to Hogwarts, you can choose a different one."

Harry nodded reluctantly and Nathan patted him quickly on the shoulder before sending him off to bed, thinking that maybe having Harry leave the country wasn't the best idea after all. Putting all these thoughts aside, he got back to his mountain of work. It was hours later before he fell into his bed.

The meeting was a disaster. More than eager to help, the Department of Magic had brought in people from five different North American schools, one Central Americal one, and two Southern American ones in addition to several European schools and an agency that provided personal tutors.

Harry ended up huddled in a chair next to his father, trying to look small, after only a few minutes and Nathan was fighting off a serious headache in no time.

The information was conflicting and incredibly difficult to cipher through without having been trained as a wizard himself, but there was a Canadian school that caught his eye and he collected contact information from them as well as two US schools before sending everybody but a Professor McGonagall away.

McGonagall sat directly across from Harry and Nathan at the long conference table and Harry, no longer surrounded by mobs of people all trying to get his attention, sat up a little straighter and looked at her. She gave him a kind smile and then looked to Nathan. "What would you like to know? It isn't often that non-magical parents look into more than a couple of options for their children's educations."

Nathan put on a slightly predatory half-smile. "I'm sure they don't. Harry and I would like to know everything before we agree to being parted by an ocean for nine months of the year."

She cleared her thoat, "Yes, I can see how that might be a difficult decision. Hogwarts is though, Mr. Stark, the premier school of magic in Europe."

"I notice you don't say 'world' there, Professor. Which schools are better?"

"Obviously that's not what I meant, Mr. Stark." He raised an eyebrow and looked at her over steepled fingers. "The United States and Britain have long been seperated by more than just water and in the wizarding world especially, there is very little contact between the two. Never before has an American student attended Hogwarts. Tradition, however, is indicating a new story for your son. Since his biological parents both attended the school, most would say that it were only fitting that Harry should attend as well. Of course, it is your decision, but he would be welcomed with open arms. Our teachers are highly skilled, our curriculum is top-notch, and our-"

"Yes, we've read all about your academics and although I'm thouroghly disappointed in the lack of non-magical subjects, Harry has already completed high school as of this year and simply doesn't need them. So, tell us about extra-curriculars. Sports teams, clubs, study groups. What would happen if Harry were injured while at school? How involved can parents be in students' lives? What sort of ways do they have to communicate to those outside of the campus? What sort of careers are you preparing your students for?"

McGonagall stuttered a bit at the start, but quickly recovered and answered the questions, explaining all she could. Nathan was actually quite impressed. Any Hogwarts graduate would easily be able to compete at the professional level.

"Three more questions," Nathan said. "I understand that most non-magical technology doesn't work well with magic. Would Harry be allowed to bring and use his phone and computer?"

McGonagall looked quite skeptical. "It's doubtful that they would work, but if they did, I'm certain we could work something out for him. Obviously not during class, but it shouldn't be a problem during his free time. Most students bring games and other personal things from home with them."

Nathan nodded. "My son began official schooling before he turned two and has now reached past the levels of people nearly twice his age. Obviously he is a quick learner and is used to working at a fast pace. Does the school provide any way to accelerate learning? Advanced classes, studying ahead, skipping years?"

"Very few manage anything beyond the standard workload, but if Harry were to prove himself capable, the professors would be more than willing to personally work with him to keep up with whatever pace he works at." She sounded very confident.

"I'm glad. Has the situation with the terorists been taken care of? That is why Harry was removed from the country in the first place."

McGonagall smiled. "Of course. Several suspected members of the organization are still out of prison, but they have not attempted anything beyond petty bribery in many years. Harry will be completely safe while at school."

Nathan stood and offered his hand to the professor, indicating that the meeting was over. "Good. Please set up a date with my secretary. We'll be meeting every professor and taking a tour of the school before making a final decision. Anything you'd like to say, Harry?"

Harry looked up at McGonagall nervously but with a calculating and thoughtful air before saying, "No." He stayed in his seat and watched.

"Well then, thank you for your time, Professor." And with that, he buttoned his suit jacket and left the room, Harry standing and following after him, only pausing for a moment to say, "Thank you, Professor," and leavingMcGonagall in the now-empty room.

"So, Harry?" Nathan asked as the pair walked purposefully down the hallway.

"I still don't want to go to England."

"It's a good school and you're going. You're strong and you'll make it. And you'll be allowed to have your phone and computer so you'll be fine. I have a meeting in New York tomorrow, so I'll drop you off at home and then see you on Thursday. Deal?"

Harry frowned but said nothing and simply followed his dad out to the car.

When Nathan Stark returned home from his business trip/family squabble, he entered his apartment to find his son curled up crying on his bed. Nathan had always struggled with emotions and whatever had gotten Harry into such a state was definitly something he really didn't want to attempt dealing with, but with a deep breath, he crossed the room and sat down by his son, putting an arm around the narrow shoulders. The small boy immediately burried himself deeper into Nathan's side and tried to slow the sobs. "What's wrong, Harry?"

After a few moments, Harry had slowed his breathing enough to answer. "I'm terrified, Dad."

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut against the oncoming headache and pulled Harry closer to him.

"I know, son. I remember when Tony went off to a boarding school. It hadn't occurred to me until yesterday how much your childhood has parallelled his. And I should have done better. But right now, going away to school is what's best for you. You'll be able to learn about magic, which is a huge part of who you are, and you'll be able to be around people your own age, which is something you haven't ever had before and you should have."

"I already almost never see you. I d-don't want it to be less."

Nathan pressed a kiss into the messy black hair and said, as calmly and as clearly as he could, "I promise, Harry, that I will speak to you each and every day if you want. I will make time for you. Do you hear me, Harry? You are important and I will be there. It doesn't matter if you're far away because you've got a phone. I'll miss you too, but we'll get through this."

Harry nodded, tears falling much slower now. "I know."

The trip to Vertik Alley was was exciting. Harry was trying his very best now to overcome his fears and insecurities and face what was coming with bravery since there didn't seem to be any way of getting out of it. It was far from their first visit to the shopping center but this was the first time he'd get to buy much besides books and he was finally going to get a wand!

He and Nathan stepped confidently into the sky-scraper, barely even flinching as the gravity switched and they found themselves on a cobbled path climbing up the internal wall. The robes shop grumbled loudly at having to create robes of a specific design to accommodate a school they'd only heard of in passing once or twice but none of the other shops looked at him any differently than they did all the other students. He gathered cauldrons and potion ingredients and placed them in his brand new trunk before nearly skipping into the wandsmith's, dragging his dad along.

It was a cheerful place, smelling of warm wood and herbs, and sunshine streamed through the skylights. When colorful sparks shot out of a hawthorn wand with an augurey feather and a unicorn tail hair, he jumped for joy and pounded his fist in the air, making the wandsmith chuckle heartily and even causing Nathan to crack a smile and shake his head in amusement.

A couple days later, Harry packed his favorite old telescope into his trunk next to some of his old and new school supplies and sighed, looking wistfully about his room. He dropped the lid of the trunk down and sat on top of it, putting his chin in his hands.

The next night, he securely tucked his iPod, phone, and new organic computer into his backpack alongside his spare set of robes and zipped it up. It was the thirty-first of August—a Wednesday—and he'd be leaving for school in just a few hours. Flopping down on his bed, he got a restless bit of sleep before his alarm blared at two o'clock.

It took all Nathan had to get his eleven year old son out of bed and moving before the portkey activated and when they appeared with a jerk on platform nine and three quarters in King's Cross station in the middle of all the mid-day hustle and bustle, a still-sleepy Harry jerked awake at the sudden movement and noise.

It didn't last, though. Nathan helped him get his trunk up into the luggage rack and then gave him a hug and an embarrassing kiss on the top of the head. "Call me tonight, Harry. I expect to hear from you by two. That's ten your time. Got it?"

Harry nodded his head, pulled a blanket out of seemingly nowhere, plugged his earbuds in, and curled up on the seats, too tired to fully appreciate that he was leaving home and wouldn't see his dad for months, despite how much he'd been fearing this moment for weeks now. In just minutes, Harry had fallen asleep again and Nathan smiled as he gave his kid one last kiss and left the train station, the red engine pulling away just as he did so, at three bloody am.

When someone touched Harry's shoulder, he rolled over slightly, pulled out one of his earbuds, and glared sleepily at whoever it was. He took three seconds to poke his contact back into place and then let his vision clear to reveal a set of identical redheads with lots of freckles. He vaguely registered that they were asking him if he was okay and then talking about his scar. They must have seen the letter addressed to him sticking up out of his backpack and then looked for the nearly invisible scar on his forehead.

"It is!" one of them exclaimed.

"Harry Potter, so very-"

"bloody amazing to meet you."

"Have you met anyone else yet?"

Harry glanced down at his watch and scowled.

"It's bloody three thirty in the morning," he growled. He then rolled over again, pulled his blanket tighter around him, put his earbud back in, increased the volume, and went back to sleep, ignoring whatever was geing said by those around him.

When he woke up for a third time that day, Harry leisurely stretched and stood to shake out his aching muscles and was pleased to see that his compartment was still empty. And someone had been thoughtful and pulled the curtains closed for him.

He checked his watch again and quickly did the addition in his head. It was nearly three in the afternoon by this time zone. He rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes and changed into the uncomfortable robes before sliding open the compartment door.

Lots of people stared as he exited the compartment and moved down the corridor but he needed the bathroom badly enough that he was able to ignore them. He didn't have as easy a time on the way back. He was grateful that he couldn't hear what they were saying because good or bad, he would inevitably care about it, but if all he could hear was his favorite rock music, he didn't have to care about what they thought or said. He could still see them though, and the way their eyes followed him was unnerving. Harry pulled his iPod out of his pocket and switched the song, avoiding the glances of other students. As soon as he was back in his compartment, he sluped into the seats in relief and happily pulled out a book.

Then he was interrupted.

The compartment door slid open to reveal a girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth. Behind her was a chubby boy with sandy hair who looked thouroughly miserable.

"Excuse me, have you by any chance seen a toad? Neville's lost his." Harry quickly decided that she was bossy and annoying and he tuned her out but he interrupted her to speak to the boy. "I didn't bring a pet. If I had, I'd probably have lost it by now too. I saw two toads on the way back here from the bathroom. What does your look like?"

The girl had stopped talking, looking slightly taken aback and the boy who Harry had identified as Neville looked shocked that someone was talking to him.

"He's.. uh... green with some brown markings. There's this spot over his right eye that looks really cool, like a bat."

Harry smiled. "That's awesome! My name's Harry." Harry decided that Neville wasn't too bad. Ignoring the girl though had made her angry and she left the compartment. Neville quickly sat down in one of the empty seats.

"Neville," he said. "Neville Longbottom."

"Nice to meet you, Neville Longbottom. Harry Stark. I don't think it's any use looking for your toad, really. The luggage and everybody's pets are supposed to be magically taken to their rooms, so he should show up then. If not, you can try asking a professor, maybe."

Neville smiled a bit. "Why are you in here alone?"

"Me? I just woke up. It's only about seven thirty you know. Which reminds me, I'm hungry."

Harry began digging through his back pack looking for food as Neville spoke, confusion evident in his tone. "Seven thirty?"

"Yeah, I'm from America. I haven't changed my watch yet." He pulled a couple of egg and bacon sandwiches and a thermos of orange cranberry juice from the bottom of the bag and grinned in triumph. Neville gave him an odd look.

"That explains the accent."

Harry set down the thermos and frowned, his voice suddenly loosing a lot of its previous cheerfulness. "I knew people would notice my accent."

"No, no, it's not that bad. Just a bit... off." Harry ripped a bite out of his sandwich and chewed, leaving them in silence for about eight seconds. "So why are you going to Hogwarts if you're from America? Why not Salem Academy or something?"

"My biological parents both went to school here," he answered, his mouth still stuffed full of cold eggs.

"Oh, you're adopted?"

"Yeah, my dad took me in when I was one." He swallowed and asked a question of his own. "So what about you? What's your family like?"

"I was raised by my gran, mostly. Not much to tell."

The two fell into a companionable silence filled with scattered conversation on various topics. Harry decided that he really liked Neville and offered him half of a sandwich which he quickly turned down, eyeing the cold eggs suspiciously. Harry replied with a quick "suit yourself" and continued eating as they talked.

After about an hour, Harry pulled his ipod back out and motioned for Neville to come sit beside him. "What kind of music do you like?"

"What?"

"You know, like classical, rock, jazz? How anyone can like Jazz is beyond me, but some people do I guess."

"What are you talking about?"

"Music!" Impatient with his new friend's lack of comprehension, he handed him one of the buds. "Here, put this in your ear, like this." Then he hit the random button and waited. Soon enough, "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" was playing through the tiny speakers. Neville looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What—what is this?"

"It's music, Neville. Why, do you not like it? I can switch to a different song." In a second ,the music had switched to "Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and Neville couldn't possibly have looked more surprised. The next hour was spent explaining non-magical music genres and some basic and not-so-basic non-magical inventions and technology. It didn't take long for Neville to be completely in awe of his new friend and muggles in general.

When the light started to fade, the two boys were laughing and taking funny pictures of eachother with Harry's top-of-the-line and modified-by-Starks ipod. When the train finally began to slow then pulled to a stop, Harry slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way to the compartment door to look out.

"Why are you bringing your bag?"

"There's hundreds of thousands of dollars of tech in this bag. I leave it to no one. Not even whatever magical force is supposed to take our stuff to our rooms."

Neville looked at him oddly but left it at that and when they heard the call of "First years over here!" they quickly slipped and slided down the muddy slope to where the largest man Harry had ever seen was standing with a lantern.

And miraculously, Neville's toad, Trevor showed up in one of the boats, which they both quickly occupied as well.

Harry had already seen Hogwarts during his tour with his dad, but the view of all the towers and turrets in the fading sunset was definitely impressive and he gasped along with everyone else when it first came into view.

Whe nMcGonagall told them all to smarten up, Harry fidgetted with his hair and brushed his hand against his scar. He was grateful that his dad had insisted on getting it fixed. For some reason, it stayed there no matter what they tried, but it was much less visible than it had been before and most people wouldn't ever notice it. Unless they were really looking like those twins from before must have been. That was great because Harry hated being in the spotlight-he had found that out rather early when he'd attended some of his dad's award dinners- and he'd heard stories about how famous he was and what kind of symbol that scar was to people. He wasn't anxious to attract attention that way.

He was quite nervous as the hat finished its song and he looked out across the student body, but he tensed up horribly when the name "Potter, Harry" was called and the noise erupted. A rapid-fire internal debate broke out in his head and he couldn't decide. Did he stand up for himself and correct them on his name use or just go up? Eventually, when they'd called the name twice more, he nervously stepped forward. He could make sure people knew his name later, when he wasn't standing in from of the entire school.

He heard some of his fellow first-years gasp when he stepped forward, but he tried to block out the outside noise to focus on the hat as he dropped it onto his head and it slid over his eyes.

"No preferences at all, I see," the hat said. "Interesting, interesting." Harry gripped the seat of the stool firmly, his knuckles turning white. "You're brave and have a clear set of morals, but your first move is not to run into battle. No, you think things through. There's a thirst for knowledge, but it seems to mostly be from the desire to make your father proud—not from your own goals. You could have ambition, were you to find something you really believed in, but right now, you have no direction—no real focus. The question, it seems, is whether you belong in Hufflepuff or Slytherin."

"I don't care," thought Harry loudly.

"Yes, yes I can see that, which is what makes this sorting so difficult."

The hat stayed on his head and the minutes ticked by, the tattered piece of cloth endlessly debating with itself inside Harry's head. The whispering in the room got louder and more distracting and Harry had a hard time ignoring it.

Eventially, to Harry's great relief, the hat made up its mind and it yelled out to the crowd: "Better be SLYTHERIN! With a chance to re-sort at the end of the year."

The whispering stopped, leaving dead silence and stares as Harry removed the hat and placed it back on the stool like those before him had done. Then it started up again, loudly. Eventually, as Harry started walking down the aisle, there was cheering from the Slytherin table and Harry sat down on a bench with a thunk, sliding his bag under his seat. Some people tried to shake his hand or pat him on the back, but Harry just put his head down on his arms and groaned. Just what he needed—more attention. Because obviously his accent wasn't enough. There was no way that kind of sorting was normal.

So, let me know what you think! Much like pretty much every author ever, I love reviews!

Thanks for reading!

-MP