First Year, Part 2

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Posted January 17, 2014

5: FIRST YEAR, PART 2

November 1 – end of school year

The following morning, he wrote a letter to Justin, requesting the Ministry of Education's Level One syllabus for Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had explained already the difficulties he was experiencing with the class, and what he now planned to do.

When he met Justin for his weekly tutoring session, he was given the course outline, as well as a list of reading material. Justin had spoken to his old Level One teacher from Sir Malcolm Davis, and he was more than willing to help out, considering he was somewhat aware of the lacklustre state of the course at Hogwarts. Harry would sit for the exam at the end of the year, but no way was he going to waste valuable time listening to the useless teacher blather on about everything but what he was supposed to be learning.

Initially, Harry spent the period in the library, but by the second week of November, he realized it was actually not a good choice for a study location, since he would also need to be able to practice. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a ferocious woman when it came to her domain, and practising spell-work there would get him thrown out in a real hurry.

So, he instead began using an disused classroom on the second floor. There had been rude words written on the blackboard the first time he used it—likely left there by Peeves, the resident poltergeist. He knew, however, to not bother Harry... ever. Apparently, the fear spell worked on poltergeists too, and so now, Harry was in a very exclusive club of only a few people having any sort of control over the menace.

With a few cleaning charms and a bit of repair work, the room was much better suited for his needs. He left a few desks set up, but the rest were pushed to the side of the room. That way he could spread out a number of books, much like he'd been doing in the library.

By the end of November, however, Harry was no longer alone. At first, it had been Hermione, as she realized Harry was right. No one was learning anything useful, and so she asked Harry if she could join him. Then Ron had followed, although likely because his two friends had done so.

To Harry, though, this was old hat. As he'd gotten older, he'd helped tutor new students at the college—adult students. They quickly learned his age was not a factor, and his spells were rather painful. So now, here at Hogwarts, it was no different. Though, he thought, it was baffling he was being forced to resort to such measures.

By the end of the term, he had been joined by several more housemates, as well as a few Hufflepuffs—the house which shared that period with them. Ten students dissatisfied with the Dark Arts Defence teacher. And, word was, they weren't the only ones. It was a source of general discontent in the school, for several reasons. For fifth and seventh years, for example, it was an important exam year for them—a review year. Harry felt bad, not being able to help them out. Just the fact he was a first-year made that very clear. Maybe more thought was needed on the matter.

And then, he was boarding the carriages that would take them back to the Hogwarts Express. Alice, Will, and Justin would be waiting for him in London, as had been the plan. Nearly three weeks away from the school, and Harry somewhat looked forward to it, along with a chat with those who were looking out for him. As nice as the school was, there were a lot of shortcomings, making him question the sanity of returning for a second year.

When the train arrived in London, he bid his friends good bye, and met up with his caretakers. Neither Mazhe nor Justin were there, but Harry knew he'd meet up with both sooner than later. A single port key took them back to the College of Winterhold, where indeed, Mazhe was waiting. And, while they embraced, Justin arrived only seconds later.

"So? How was it?" Mazhe asked, simply. His visits had been rare, him only being able to visit four times during the term.

"Half and half," answered Harry, as they claimed seats in the common area. The area had changed more than a few times since Harry had arrived at the college over five years prior. Being a magical place of study, it was only to be expected. Conjuration, was, after all, pretty much an art form in itself.

"Dark Arts Defence is bad enough that about ten of us are studying independently at this point. Quirrell easily overshadows Binns as the worst teacher I've ever seen, and he's a ghost. Potions is tolerable, although Snape doesn't like me a whole lot. At least I don't end up with a blinding headache after his class. I don't think I could take another year there. I'll finish up the year, and enrol here in the Commonwealth."

"I'll see to it," said Will, "Sir Malcolm Davis Institute would probably love to have you."

"It would certainly give the British Ministry a black eye, that's for sure," Alice agreed.

"Otherwise, painfully boring in many cases. I did make a few friends though. I mentioned Hermione, right? And Ron, although we butt heads occasionally. Still count him as a friend, he's got a wonderful family. And another boy, Neville. He's really shy, but I'm working on it."

"We'll have to figure a way so the lot of you might get together over the summer," said Will.

"That would be excellent. Hermione's a Muggle-born, but Ron and Neville are both purebloods. It would be fun to show them the, um, not-magical world."

"Muggle-born. That's me too," said Justin. "Mom and pop were a little shocked getting the letter, but it all made sense, right? I mean, I did accidentally blow up my sister's doll when she flushed my favourite G.I. Joe figure down the toilet when I was eight." That got a laugh out of Harry. "I also had a tendency to blow light bulbs when I got upset."

"As in explode?"

"No, they just burnt out prematurely."

"Oh. Right." Harry was still grinning at the visual.

"Well, I mean, there was that sabre cat that chased after us when you were... seven, wasn't it? About four years ago?" Mazhe recalled, trying but failing to cover a smirk.

Harry groaned loudly. "Gods... that was terrifying, Mazhe. Never mind the sickening feeling of being squeezed through a rubber tube."

"Quite a feat, being able to Apparate at that age. It took me forever to get the concept," said Justin, shaking his head.

"Bloody hell... what did that?!" Harry pointed to three long scars that now marked up Mazhe's face.

"Nasty encounter with a sabre cat. She got me good before I managed to kill her. I used the last of my healing potions, but they weren't enough. Got infected, so now they're permanent."

"At least you're still whole. Gods, forgot how dangerous it can be here. Worst trouble I've got right now is some blond ponce who thinks he's better than everyone else. He's a little dense too. He quickly forgot about the fear spell I used on him."

"Thing is, just get through the year, you won't have to worry about him."

"Oh, I'm not. Really, he'll do something and I'll fix him for good. No worse than a bandit, in my books. They only respond to force."

"I need not say be careful," said Alice, seeming to be a little put out on Harry's view of the matter.

Christmas morning, Harry woke to a strange feeling, as if something heavy had sat on him. He blinked his eyes open, and rubbed the sand out of his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Mazhe?"

"Happy Christmas." Mazhe did not celebrate Christmas, but from the five years knowing Harry, he knew they did. Harry had to giggle, realizing how his best friend had chosen to wake him.

"You're funny."

"So are you."

"Happy Christmas. Now if you'll let me get up..."

Mazhe obliged, and Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Threw on a jumper that was handy.

"Okay, first things first." He summoned a box that was about the size of a shoebox. Another gesture from his hand, it was resized to that of his school trunk. From inside, he pulled out another box about the size of a shoebox, and passed it to his best friend.

"What is it?"

"Last summer when I was shopping for my school things, I stopped in the post office, and I saw these. It's a special type of post box that delivers anything put in it to a twin, which I have. So we can keep in touch even if I'm not here."

"It's brilliant."

"What I thought. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas. Guess it's my turn then."

Mazhe reached into his satchel, and pulled out a stack of books.

"You remember Farengar, the court wizard in Whiterun?"

"Yeah, of course."

"He came across a few tomes which mention the dragon tongue. When he mentioned them, I thought of you." Mazhe passed over the books. "Maybe next time you go delving into a Nordic ruin you can make more sense of the bone-walkers while they're trying to kill you."

"Oh, you're funny," Harry smirked.

He looked in the box, and pulled out one other item. It became a rather large bundle wrapped in non-descript packaging. Harry unwrapped it, and something silvery-grey fell onto the bed. It glittered in the dim light of the room.

"Wow, that's... unique," said Mazhe, as Harry read the card, written in narrow, loopy writing:

Your father left this in my possession before he died.

It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well.

A very Merry Christmas to you.

Of course, the headmaster had called him up to his office briefly the evening before, and had given him the package. So why was this strange... cloak... left in the headmaster's possession? He picked it up, and it seemed to shimmer as the dim light of the room reflected off it. As he placed it about his shoulders, Mazhe let out a gasp.

"What?"

"Gods... your body... just look down, Harry."

Harry did so, and couldn't help but let out a gasp of his own. Indeed, whatever was covered by the cloak became completely invisible.

"This is fantastic!" he exclaimed, pulling the hood up. "Certainly make exploring ruins a little safer," came his disembodied voice.

"Can still hear you though. Who's it from?"

"The headmaster gave me the package just before I left," Harry answered, as his head became visible, "But the card says it was my dad's. Bloody useful... though I have to wonder why the headmaster had it rather than my dad, when he needed it most."

Justin joined them much later in the day, and Harry wasted no time showing off his new cloak.

"Damn, Harry. Those things are incredibly rare," said Justin, "Who gave it to you?"

"Dumbledore had it, but his note said it belonged to my dad."

"Likely a family heirloom then," Justin guessed, "Likely in your family for generations."

Far too soon for Harry's liking, it was time to return to Hogwarts. With final good byes to his friends and teachers, he returned to London by port key. It had been a good Christmas, and a good break over all, back amongst his close friends and familiar surroundings.

Hogwarts was nice, but he could feel the unwritten expectations surrounding him. It was the primary reason he wasn't exactly comfortable there. He'd fell in love with the College within a matter of weeks of being there. Hogwarts? It was quite likely he would never feel the same way about it.

His first night back in the dormitory was difficult, the extra noise level being only part of the problem. He missed the comfort of his friends being close by. Sure, Ron was becoming a friend, as was Neville, but they still barely knew each other. The others in the dormitory were acquaintances, and nothing more at this point. Back at the College, he called just about everyone in his dorm a friend, someone he could easily ask for help from. It was going to be a long six months.

In the coming days and weeks, Harry found himself using his invisibility cloak to explore the enormous castle after curfew, since he found it difficult to sleep. There were so many shortcuts, hidden passageways, traps, trick stairs, and other items to keep him well-entertained to the wee hours of the morning. A few times he ended up falling asleep in some odd places, being awakened by the rising noise in the castle as people began to stir.

Naturally, this eventually led him to the forbidden third-floor corridor, in the late hours of a day in mid-March. He'd began to climb the stairs, when they suddenly changed, and the arrival of Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, sort of forced Harry's hand. Unsure if the cat could see him under his cloak, he ventured into the corridor.

Harry was startled at what he found. At the far end, was a dog the size of which he'd never seen before. Worse still, it had not one, but three heads! Collecting himself and recovering from the initial shock, Harry tried to remember what he'd read in The Compendium Guide to Magical Bestiary, a large tome he'd purchased in Trevelyan. A Hellhound. That was what he was facing. It seemed to be asleep, but why was it here? Dumbledore was truly mad, bringing something that dangerous into a school full of children!

Ah. Harry quickly spotted the likely reason. A trap door, partially covered by one of the animal's enormous paws. It was here to guard the trap door, and whatever was hidden behind it. To explore the mystery, then. That was the question.

Whatever was hidden down there was likely very dangerous, or very valuable. Dangerous, or valuable? Hmmm. That was the thousand-Septim question. Though... he did have his cloak... and the headmaster had all but dared someone to do it... "The third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a painful death." The man was truly barking if he believed that would actually keep people away. How many upper-year students had tried thus far, he wondered.

It was no trouble to get the beast's paw off the door. He simply gestured with a hand and gently levitated the paw out of the way. The animal let out three snorts from three different noses, but otherwise remained asleep. Wrapping the cloak tightly around him, he opened the trap door, and jumped through.

He landed on something soft, and was at first grateful for whatever it was, but that gave way to alarm, as whatever it was began to wrap long, black vines around him, clearly intending to suffocate him. The cloak had come off but was close by—Harry figured it wouldn't have mattered whether it stayed on or not... whatever it was—a plant, Harry guessed, it would have still known he was there.

Hoping his cloak was fireproof, Harry swiftly erected a flame cloak—a spell which immediately surrounded him in intense flames. The plant seemed to shriek as it was damaged by the flames, and Harry fell through to the floor below, his cloak following seconds later. The plant seemed to heal itself, and Harry then realized what it was: Devil's Snare. They hated sunlight, but hot flames would work too. He smirked to himself as the flame cloak died out, and he reclaimed his undamaged invisibility cloak.

There was only one way he could go, so he followed the passageway for the next few minutes. He at last arrived at a doorway leading into a room filled with, what seemed like birds. There was a door on the opposite side of the room, and three brooms in the middle.

It was then Harry noticed, they weren't birds fluttering overhead, but keys. Keys with wings. In other words, thousands of keys, one of which meant to unlock the door on the opposite side of the room.

Harry, however, wasn't in the mood to hunt for the proverbial needle in a haystack. The door was likely charmed against unlocking spells, but old-fashioned Muggle lock-picking, on the other hand? Harry reached into his pocket, and pulled out a lock pick.

Ten minutes and five broken picks later, the lock opened with a satisfying click, and Harry was through. The next chamber, however, proved to be slightly more challenging—or perhaps a lot more challenging. The room became bathed in light, presenting a giant-sized chess board. He certainly played chess, but was no expert—that was Ron's territory, or Arch-mage Aren's. But neither of them were with him, so he was on his own.

Two hours and several close calls later, he boxed the black King into submission, and it threw its crown at his feet. Harry gave a slight bow, then stepped through the door and into another passageway. Here, Harry leaned against the wall a moment to catch his breath. Each of the traps so far had been put in place by teachers, he guessed. The dog—that had to be Hagrid's contribution, he guessed. Devil's Snare—that was Sprout's contribution. The keys? Definitely charms, Professor Flitwick's contribution. The chess board was McGonagall's addition, so that left Quirrell and Snape—and Dumbledore. At least three more traps to get through. There'd better be a substantial reward at the end, Harry muttered in his head.

Moving into the next chamber, Harry was again glad he had his invisibility cloak. For the second time that year, a troll was in the school. It stood in the corner of the chamber, muttering childishly to itself. Maybe it was lonely. Harry made sure to watch where he stepped as he crossed the room, having no interest in alerting the beast to his presence.

The next chamber was definitely Snape's contribution. A table sat in the middle of the room, with a piece of parchment on it, along with seven different-sized bottles. The instant Harry stepped into the room, purple flames shot up to cover the doorway, blocking the way out. The doorway on the other side also instantly burst into flames, those ones being black.

Black. Flames. That just didn't happen.

Harry read the note, but wasn't in the mood to sort out which one was right. He applied a frost ward to himself, which protected him against any fire-based attacks he'd experienced, and trusted it would work in this instance as well. Taking a step of faith, he was more than pleased to find it worked exactly as expected, protecting him against the strange fire.

The last chamber held only one thing: an enormous mirror, erected in the middle of the room. Harry marched up to it, draping his invisibility cloak over his arm, furious. This entire escapade, for a mirror?! That was all there was to it. Albus Dumbledore was barking mad, Harry raged in his head, as he at last gazed into the mirror.

The image being reflected back to him wasn't what he expected. Sure, he was there, but... he looked... older. Mazhe was there, as was Justin, and a few others he didn't recognize. The older version of Harry smiled, and held up a red, shiny stone, then slid it in his pocket. Harry frowned, but reached down and felt his trousers... and was shocked to find a lump there. Reaching in, he pulled out the very object the mirror's reflection had just had. Reflection-Harry smiled back, and the image disappeared.

What? Harry's mind was spinning. What was this all about? The strange stone he held in his hand. He'd spent what seemed like the entire night running a gauntlet of traps... for a stone? Some part of him wanted to commit murder. And now, it looked like another hour or so getting back up. Good thing it was a Sunday.

It was the beginning of April before there came any indication the teaching staff knew about the traps being breached. One morning the staff all looked out of sorts at breakfast, and Dumbledore in particular looked troubled—he kept casting worried glanced toward Harry. Quirrell, meanwhile, looked pissed, very out-of-character for him, considering the usually meek, nervous teacher he was. However, no one approached Harry, and so he was certain they didn't know he'd been the one to do the deed.

A week later, Harry once again visited the third-floor corridor, and no surprise, found the hell hound had been removed. The teachers definitely knew, then. They would still have difficulty pinning the crime on him, however, since the stone was no longer in his possession—at least not there at Hogwarts. He'd sent it to Mazhe.

Barring that single event, things were quiet over the spring term, only being punctuated by the typical events expected to crop up during a school year. Harry continued to study with a group of friends during Dark Arts Defence, rather than waste their time with an incompetent teacher. He kept in frequent contact with Mazhe, as well as a few others back in Skyrim. It meant he could somewhat keep up with his education back at the college.

The post box Harry had given Mazhe was getting a substantial workout. He'd debated about giving one to Justin as well, but he was already seeing him on a weekly basis as it was, so he'd decided it wasn't necessary. A letter being sent to the College tended to take much longer. It only made sense, given it was not one, but essentially two international connections.

Exams came and went, and before Harry realized it, they were all seated in the Great Hall, enjoying the Leaving Feast. Tomorrow, everyone would be back on the train, heading back to London for summer holidays. As the conversation flowed freely (and Ron stuffed his face, earning constant glares and frowns from Hermione), Harry reflected on the past year.

It wasn't the greatest. The classes had been TAME in comparison with what he'd been learning and doing at the College. A number of teachers, sure, he liked them enough, but everything seemed to pass at a snail's pace. It was like being forced to crawl again after having learned to run.

Sure, he had made a few friends—there had been a few discussions about meeting up over the summer for a time, and Harry was all for it. A few friends, however, wasn't really enough to keep him at Hogwarts for another year. The place was just not in his comfort zone. Beside the point, he could still keep in contact with them even if he attended school elsewhere. He would purchase another miniature post box and leave it with Hermione, and the group would be able to stay in touch, even if he returned to Skyrim.

The following morning, the school was in a complete uproar. A number of Aurors were seen roaming the halls, and rumours were flying fast and furious. Harry, of course, became rather nervous, thinking that perhaps they had somehow discovered he had broken through all the traps in the third floor corridor. He simply kept his head down as he ate breakfast in the Great Hall, knowing it best to not draw attention to himself. That was a sure way to get busted.

Professor McGonagall tapped a glass with a spoon, and the hall fell quiet. Professor Dumbledore was already standing at the lectern.

"Forgive the interruption of your breakfast, but I'm afraid I must trouble you all with a bit of unfortunate news. Early this morning, Professor Quirrell was found deceased in his chambers. At this time we consider his death to be accidental in nature, but I must ask anyone who may have been in the company of the late professor, please see either myself or Professor McGonagall, so the we may ascertain his movements yesterday evening."

Professor Dumbledore retook his seat.

"Good riddance," Harry muttered, between bites of his breakfast, "Maybe you guys will have a better professor next year."

"You're really going to school elsewhere next year?" came Seamus' question.

"Sorry guys. I don't fit here. I'm not comfortable here, not with... well... that. Poor teachers, the spotlight—I know I'm famous, but people don't seem to get it. I didn't do anything. It was my mother who did the brave and noble thing, not me.

"My guardians are already preparing the paperwork for me to attend school in the Commonwealth. But I promise I'll keep in touch. It's one thing I did like about coming to Hogwarts... I did make a few new friends. And this summer I want you guys to come visit me for a bit."

"Only if you come visit the Burrow," said Ron, "Mum would love to have you."

"That would be excellent."

"Would we be able to see... this college you keep talking about?" asked Hermione.

"I dunno, maybe. The government really tries to limit the number of people who can visit there. I think there's maybe ten or fifteen people who have access. But I'll talk to my, uh, guardians about it. I think it would be really great if we could get together sometime during the summer. If there's one thing I won't forget about coming here, it's meeting all you guys."

"Oh Harry..." Hermione gave him a half-hug.

As Harry finished and was standing, he found Professor McGonagall behind them.

"Potter. Professor Dumbledore wishes to have a word with you in his office right away."

"Oh. Of course."

"See you on the train, Harry," said Ron, as Harry got up to follow the deputy headmistress out of the hall.

"Any idea on what he needs to speak to me about?" Harry asked, tyring to gauge whether he was in trouble or not.

"I honestly have no idea. Though he will likely be brief, given the dark circumstances of this morning."

"I didn't care for him, professor, but..." Harry thought for a moment, as they travelled up the staircase to the second floor. "May he find peace in his next life."

"Indeed."

They arrived at the stone gargoyle, and it seemed to spring to life at once, revealing the winding staircase leading up to the headmaster's office.

"Go on up, Potter. He's waiting for you."

"Thank you, Professor."

Harry climbed the staircase, leaving Professor McGonagall behind. He reached the top of the stairs, and was about to knock on the large oak door leading into the office, when-

"Come in, Harry."

Harry pushed the door open, and entered the office proper. The headmaster was seated behind his desk, watching him thoughtfully.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Indeed, I did, my boy. Come have a seat." Professor Dumbledore indicated the conjured seat in front of his desk. Harry sat down.

"And how did you find your first year here at Hogwarts?"

"It was less than inspiring, Professor. No offence intended toward the school itself, but... I just felt held back. The things covered here, a lot of it I'm already able to do, and have been since I was eight. Well... maybe not exactly in the same manner, but... most of the stuff I covered this year, I already either knew how to do it, or knew a way to accomplish the same end—if you get my meaning."

"I believe I do. Indeed, those first steps do seem to be rather tedious, rather slow... but they are building blocks which lead to greater, deeper, more difficult challenges the further along you go. You surely understand this, Harry."

"Of course. But like I said, a good part of the year felt somewhat like a review for me. I've made a few good friends, and I do love being in the castle, but... it's just... honestly sir, I think I'll do better back in the Commonwealth—or back at the College. The mages there have been keeping me busy with assignments over the past term, so I won't be too far behind over the summer."

"Ah. Getting to the main reason I asked to speak with you," said Dumbledore, getting serious. "Regretfully, you must be placed back with your relatives."

"Back with those monsters?" Harry let out a snort. "I've wondered since I arrived here, whether you might actually be off your nut. I think that just about proves it."

"Now now, my boy, you must understand-"

"Understand WHAT headmaster?" Harry asked, dangerously. "Remember what I said at the beginning of the year? That I would raise a cup to their graves? If I see them again, I may very well put them IN their graves. Is that any way unclear?"

"Harry, it is for your safety. As much as you may enjoy the comforts and the friendships you have formed outside of England, there are dangers you have yet to comprehend."

Harry could feel a strange prickling sensation about the head, and frowned. The taste of foreign magic.

"Professor, whatever you're trying to do to me, stop. It's your only warning."

Professor Dumbledore nearly lost his composure. The mild compulsion charm would normally have worked on anyone else. Particularly a first-year student, such as Harry was. Of course, he realized, Harry was by no means an ordinary student. But for him to actually notice magic being cast on him? Merlin, this boy was going to be a force to be reckoned with when he came of age. If only he could regain control of him. The crux of the matter.

"I encountered a few nasty mages when I was nine. They tried subjugating me in a similar manner, tried to get me to murder my best friend. Needless to say none of them are still among the living. Make no mistake, headmaster, I will KILL to protect my friends, nearly twelve-years-old or not."

"How many people have you killed, Harry?"

"I stopped counting at thirty. People just see a little boy, see—and don't get the idea I've grown up evil."

Harry could see the alarm on Professor Dumbledore's face.

"Gods, there would be more than a few people who would have my head should I even dream of travelling that path. But sometimes, it's me or them. And in that case, I'm not gonna play nice. Malfoy was lucky back in Hearthfire. I could have done far worse than I did... and honestly, I think eventually I'll be forced to. Not because of my choices, but because of his. He's a danger, sir. Not now, but down the road."

"Harry, I do still truly worry. The path to darkness is filled with honest intentions. I only wish to do what is best. It is for the greater good." Dumbledore pushed a hand toward the boy. "OBLIV—"

KAWHACK! The shard of ice exploded from Harry's hand to impact with Dumbledore's, piercing straight through it. The professor was absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the frosty projectile now embedded in his hand. Fawkes let out an indignant squawk, and fluttered over to heal the nasty injury.

"Don't make me resort to something more painful, professor. I will not be returning to the Dursleys, nor will I be returning to Hogwarts in Hearthfire—September, I mean. Your actions here have all but cemented my decision."

Harry rose from his seat, and strode to the door. He wrenched it open, then glanced back at the still shocked headmaster. "One last thing, headmaster. Aav dilon, dukaan kro!(1)" And with that, he was gone back down the staircase.

Dumbledore just sat there, staring at his now mended hand. It had been rather painful, but the pain was only a fraction of the reason behind his shock. The boy... an eleven year old boy, had attacked him wandlessly. This further proved his thought. The boy would be a powerful wizard when he came of age.

Unfortunately, he could become just as much of a threat as Voldemort was. That was the issue. Outside of Dumbledore's sphere of influence, he was surrounded by powerful mages, learning powerful spells, learning to be his own man, not susceptible to outside influence.

His thoughts turned to the unasked second question he had for the boy. What had become of the Philosopher's Stone? Naturally, Professor Dumbledore knew the boy had taken it. So what was Harry planning to do with it? Sure, the boy had done as he had hoped he would, but alone? With zero help from his friends? The boy was far too independent for the headmaster's taste. Something had to be done before Harry was lost forever.

The train ride home was uneventful, although Malfoy certainly tried to make an entrance. A strong locking charm put on the compartment door prevented it. Harry kept most of that morning's meeting with Professor Dumbledore private, not wanting his friends to know exactly what he was capable of at this point. He knew Hermione wouldn't appreciate the idea he'd attacked a teacher—specifically the headmaster, after all, and honestly, it wasn't their business what sort of disagreement they were having at this point.

Instead, they talked amongst themselves, and made plans for the upcoming summer. It was likely that Harry wouldn't be available until the second week in August, since he would be catching up on some of his assignments back at the college. Privately, Harry planned to put as much distance between him and Dumbledore as he could. The man had tried to do something to his head, and it made him very unsettled. He would be seeking advice on the matter from his guardians and the social workers.

As the train finally emptied at King's Cross station, Harry was overjoyed to find Alice, Will, and Justin waiting for him.

"All set, Harry?" Will asked.

"Just before we go. My new friends from Hogwarts. This is Ron, Hermione, Neville, Fred, and George," Harry introduced. "Guys. Alice and Will, they're, um, my social workers."

Both Alice and Will gave a nod.

"And of course you guys have seen Justin a few times." He glanced at Will. "Mazhe couldn't make it?"

"He was delayed in Whiterun," Justin answered.

"Oh. Well—"

"We're just about to head out for dinner. If any of you would like to join us, you're all quite welcome," said Alice.

"Thanks, but, uh, mum's just over there," said George, pointing to a rather plump lady and another group of red-heads.

"Maybe next time though. You'll try and come visit though, right Harry?" Ron asked.

"I'll try to. Your house sounds wicked. But it really depends, see. If I don't, you all have a great summer."

"Likewise. Bye Harry!" And with that, the three red-heads were off to meet up with their mother.

"I'll ask my mum when we get outside the barrier," said Hermione.

"Likewise," said Neville, sadly, "But gran probably wants to get home."

On the other side of the barrier, Harry sighed inwardly. Even five years did not diminish his memory of the Dursleys. And there they were, the disgruntled lot they were, likely ordered there to pick him up.

"Well, boy, hurry up, we haven't got all day," said Vernon, gruffly.

"You wasted your time. I don't know what the headmaster told you, but I will never live in your care as long as I'm breathing. Now if you value your life, you'll get your arse back in that car of yours, get back on the motorway, drive yourselves back to Little Whinging, and forget I ever existed."

"How dare—"

"Mr. Dursley, you clearly don't remember us visiting your residence nearly six years ago, do you?" asked Alice. "I do have to wonder, exactly how you are walking around free, when you should still be serving a rather lengthy prison sentence."

"Perhaps they may need to see the inside of a Commonwealth prison," said Will, "Something most definitely off about this."

"Either way, piss off," said Harry, nastily, "You lot are not worth getting upset over."

Vernon gave the group a death-glare, and hurried back into his car. Harry was more than happy to leave the nasty family behind.

"That was your relatives? Sorry lot, I think," said Neville.

"Horrible people. They treated me terribly, and quite honestly, I'd hoped I'd never see them again."

"If they were sent to prison, who let them out?" Hermione asked.

"That's a question we'll be asking ourselves," said Will, "We have a good number of contacts in the Crown Prosecution Service, we'll get to the bottom of it either way."

"I don't know if that will make a difference," said Harry, "I'll explain once we're someplace more private."

"Oh—there's gran," said Neville, and led the group over to a rather severe woman. It was the same lady Harry had seen on the platform back in September. Neville was quick to introduce his new friends.

"Gran, this is Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger... they're in my year. Or at least, Harry was."

"Well. Mr. Potter, wonderful to meet you. Augusta Longbottom."

"An honour, my lady," said Harry, with an incline of the head. The woman gave off an aura of power, someone to be respected.

"If you are all finished." Mrs. Longbottom was ready to escort her grandson away.

"Actually, Mrs. Longbottom, we were about to go for a bit of dinner, and Neville's welcome to come along," said Will.

"We'll make sure he gets home," said Alice.

"I see. I don't see any harm. Very well. No later than nightfall. Have him travel by floo powder."

"Not a problem, ma'am," said Will.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger on the other hand, insisted they join the group, as they headed out into Muggle London. It took them a while to settle on a place, but in the end they chose something moderate in price, with stuff appropriate for all ages.

"Really wish you were coming back to Hogwarts next year, Harry," said Hermione, as the dishes were cleared away.

"I just can't," answered Harry, sadly, "I'm eleven going on fourteen. That's how I feel. And Professor Dumbledore... I don't trust him. I... he tried to do something to me in his office this morning. I don't know what it was, but... it probably wasn't anything good for my health. He's taken an unhealthy interest in my business."

He gave Hermione a smile.

"Besides. You and Ron get along pretty well now. Don't let him walk all over you, that's all you have to remember. Same for you, Neville. We were sorted into Gryffindor for a reason."

"I know... but it's hard."

"Of course it's hard. Standing up to your enemies is one thing, but... standing up to your friends is harder... am I right?" said Justin.

"He'll respect you for it in the long run."

"You mean like what happened on Halloween," Neville remembered.

"Exactly. Ron was being a jerk and I called him on it. We're still good friends, but he knows I won't put up with rubbish like that."

"And he did apologize for it," said Hermione.

"Exactly. So don't let him get away with things like that. And really. That goes for anything else. Hermione, you had the best grades in our year. You're a bright witch, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

That got a bright smile out of the young witch, and brighter smiles from her parents.

All too soon, it was time for them to go their separate ways. Hermione and her parents took the tube back to King's Cross where the car had been parked, while the rest of the group took Neville with them back to Erwin where he was shown to a public floo.

"So this is it then. See you maybe in Diagon Alley, then?" asked Neville, hopefully.

"We'll try and hook up later in the summer. I'd really like to get together with all of you again for an afternoon or something, right?"

"I'd like that. But I'll miss you next year, Harry."

"I'll write to all of you, I promise."

With that, Neville activated the floo, and was gone.

"Hope they're gonna be okay without me. Neville looked lost, I think. Exactly what I felt like when I got on the train last Hearthfire."

"Thing is, he won't be alone, right?" Justin pointed out, "All of you are clearly friends, by the way the conversation was moving earlier."

"I just... sometimes I felt like the glue, you know what I mean? Not being arrogant, but... I dunno... best I can do is keep in touch with them."

"All you can do," said Justin, "Let's get back to the college."

"Agreed. I have something I have to tell you guys."

"Something happened?" Alice asked. That only got a nod out of the boy. She pulled out a tennis ball from her hand bag, and moments later they were off with the familiar hook about the naval.

Minutes later, they were sequestered in the room that was still set up as a classroom in the Hall of Attainment.

"What happened?" Justin asked, as soon as they were settled.

"I'll need a pensieve to show more detail, but... it felt like a prickly feeling about the head. I'd experienced something like that a few years ago, facing a few mages. They were trying to get me to attack Mazhe."

"The Imperius curse," said Will.

"No. He was doing it silently and wandlessly."

"Compulsion charm then. On a student? He wouldn't dare."

"How about something that starts with obliv..."

"He did NOT!" Justin, Will, and Alice were all outraged.

"What does it do?"

"Obliviate. Memory tampering. You're absolutely sure he started to use that spell?"

"I swear it."

"Will, d'you mind going back to the office and making a floo call to the ministry? I think we may need some input from the Ministry of Justice."

Will stood up, and activated a port key, vanishing on the spot.

"So he tried to erase my memory?"

"Yes. At least part of it. The charm is far-reaching, he could have erased years worth of your memories and knowledge," said Alice, gravely.

"Looks like I have some reading to do."

"This is Albus Dumbledore we're talking about though," said Justin, "Not likely the Commonwealth can do a whole lot against him."

"We can certainly lodge a complaint. We may not be a member of the ICW, but they will definitely not appreciate one of their high-ranking representatives misbehaving that way. We'll likely need to draw a pensieve memory for proof."

"Fine with me. Honestly, with that action, he became the number one reason I don't wish to return to Hogwarts. If you guys could see to the paperwork, I'll plan on attending the academy in the Commonwealth."

"It shouldn't take long. I've been sharing your grades with my former teachers back at Sir Malcolm Davis... they'll likely be your teachers—or at least some of them, next year," said Justin.

"Not to mention, we do have the entire summer to work out the arrangements."

Just then, a silvery shape took form in front of them. It looked to be some sort of dog, the breed not easily made out.

"Aurors will take Harry's statement in the morning. Alice, meet me back at the office," it spoke.

"We'll need to get you set up to take your grade six exams as it is," Justin noted.

"We'll do that tomorrow as well, then."

"It's hard to believe you'll be starting grade seven next year, Harry."

"Grade seven, and level two magic. I can't believe it either, Justin," said Alice, "Time's gone by quickly."

Harry simply shook his head. "Don't I know it. Just as long as I don't have to deal with more incompetent teachers, and meddlesome headmasters."

"Naw, nothing to worry about at Sir Malcolm Davis. Teachers there have to prove their credentials first. And there's no headmaster. They have what's called a principal. But she fills a similar role, if that makes sense," Justin explained, "And you don't stay at the school twenty-four-seven. You go home at the end of the day."

"I like that thought. I missed my bed here."

"It's something else we're looking into. If the Arch-mage is willing, we'll be installing a floo connection here. It'll make travel much more convenient," said Alice. A pen was busily scratching out notes without intervention on a plain notepad. "Now, I guess the next question is, is there anything you need? Or better, is there anything we can be doing for you?"

"I need a bit of a break from things, I guess. I'm taking a week off... I'd like to do something fun, y'know, something like that... Hermione kept talking about going to see movies last summer..."

"Good grief, you've never been to a movie theatre... I'm sorry, Harry," Alice apologized.

"Well, y'know what would be cool. For a great outing... we do have the theatre in San Francisco. The one the government bought nearly fifty years ago," Justin suggested, "What do they use it for now anyway?"

"Arcane Sciences has an outpost laboratory deep underground. The building serves as the above-ground access," said Alice, "Though it's been a couple of years since we've actively used it."

"Maybe Mazhe might want to come as well."

"Absolutely. Why don't you send an owl to your friends, and see who might want to come? Meanwhile, we'll work on this end, there'll likely be a group of other boys and girls joining us."

UP NEXT: A busy summer including a day at the movies, another shopping trip to Diagon Alley, and Dumbledore has an unwelcome surprise for Harry, resulting in changed plans for the upcoming school year.

AUTHOR NOTES: So there we go, Harry's first year at Hogwarts over and done. Realize, Harry may seem much more mature than an 11-year-old, but again, I point out, he's been raised in a place that demands maturity. Behaving like an immature brat is a sure way to end up dead. So Harry's grown up faster than he might have anywhere else. He's also learning things much older students are messing about with. The beginner stuff is old hat, as Dumbledore has found out, unfortunately. Naturally, this has him freaking out, thinking Harry's going dark. That mentality will come into play on numerous occasions as Harry grows up—not that Harry will let him get away with it.

As to Harry's friends, he hasn't formed as close a relationship with them as in canon, since his personality is a little different. Still, he's made some life-long friends out of Ron and Hermione, as well as Neville. Even out of Hogwarts, they'll remain in regular contact.

(1) Aav dilon, dukaan kro - "Join [the] dead, dishonour[ed] sorcerer". "Aav dilon" is a common phrase used by Draugr. The official Skyrim game guide was right useful in coming up with the rest.