"Auntie?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I've a letter."

"That's nice, Harry."

"It says it's from 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'"

The woman moved so fast Harry thought she might've teleported across the room. She snatched the letter out of his hand and read it quickly. She huffed.

"Well. I guess you won't have to study hard after all. Just like your mother."

Harry scowled. He knew his aunt didn't like his mother, but it hadn't seemed to bleed over onto him. "I don't understand."

"You're a wizard, Harry." The word "wizard" had such disdain that Harry thought he could slap it out of the air if he tried hard enough.

"Is that a bad thing? Should I not be? I mean, magic isn't real, is it?"

"When the witch came to explain about My Sister, she said there really wasn't a choice in the matter."

I am the dragon.

The thought had come unbidden to Harry. It was his birthday, after all, and he would be having a small celebratory dinner that evening with his aunt and Dudley. Most of the children at his school didn't want to hang around the kid who studied all the time, so there wouldn't be any friends.

I am the dragon.

Harry leaned against the wall.

"Auntie, I'm not feeling..."

I am the dragon.

He slid down the wall onto the floor.

I am the dragon.

The world went dark.

000

Harry awoke in his bed. He heard some voices outside. He couldn't make them out so he got up and went to the door. The flat he lived in with his aunt had three bedrooms and one of them was his. Until he came of age, then his aunt told him he'd have to find his own place.

"What's going on?" he croaked to the adults in the room as he opened the door. One of the two strangers wore a red robe while the other looked like Gandalf from the cover art of The Lord of the Rings.

The old man smiled and he saw Aunt Petunia fidget in the background.

"You had a bit of accidental magic, my boy." The old man had this beatific smile and his eyes twinkled. "Your Aunt contacted me while the Ministry of Magic narrowed in on the source of the magic. This is Auror Shacklebolt. I believe he's just finished his investigation."

Harry frowned. "Okay. Who are you then?"

The old man chuckled. "I'm terribly sorry, my boy. I'm Albus Dumbledore. I have a great many titles and responsibilities, so I quite forget that young people don't always know who I am. I'm really looking forward to seeing you at Hogwarts this year. I'm the headmaster there."

Harry blinked. Aunt Petunia saved him.

"Headmaster, I don't actually remember how to get to that magical place in London to buy supplies. I only went once with my sister, you see. Would you mind taking Harry to get his things? I have a small savings account set aside for this sort of thing, but I remember my parents never mentioned paying tuition for Lily."

I am the dragon.

The old man frowned, looking contrite. "I'm afraid I have a very busy schedule, Miss Evans, but I would be happy to send someone to help you, like any of the other Muggle-born students. It must have completely slipped through the cracks that Harry here might need someone to take him, considering his parents were both magical."

Harry was getting the sense that the Headmaster was familiar. Almost like deja vu. Aunt Petunia scowled. She didn't often scowl, usually when something unexplained happened around him.

"When should we expect them?" Aunt Petunia asked.

"I'll have to discuss it with the staff. You'll receive an owl with the details." He turned to Harry. "I should make it clear that you can't tell anyone about magic. It's one of the laws the Ministry is very strict about. I do hope you'll enjoy yourself."

With that, the old man gave a wave and walked out the door. The man in red robes followed. Harry looked at his aunt.

"So magic is real and I'm a wizard then?"

I am the dragon.

Aunt Petunia nodded.

"Right. Do I still need to pass my A levels?"

"I haven't a bloody clue." Aunt Petunia never swears. "Just… we'll tell Dudley you've been accepted to a boarding school and your parents arranged it. Say they never told me before they died, so we didn't find out until this summer."

Harry thought about for a few seconds before asking, "Did they really die in a car accident?"

"Harry, I haven't a bloody clue! For all I know, they could've been murdered in their home by a madman. Or just fallen off a broomstick. Nobody told me anything, tells me anything. Lily and I… we weren't on the best of terms before she died. I. Don't. Know."

"All right. I'm sorry I've upset you, Auntie. I know you don't like my mother."

Aunt Petunia put her head into her hands and stood quietly. It wasn't long in the uncomfortable silence before she started sobbing. Harry was just more confused.

"I was angry she left me behind! She went off to that school for ten months out of a year and I barely saw her! And then she took up with that bloody stupid James and she moved away! I miss her! I'm angry with her! But I've always loved her!"

Aunt Petunia looked up and wiped her face with her sleeve. Harry saw she had bleary, red eyes and she sniffled.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you this. It's not your fault. Just… don't tell Dudley, all right? About any of this. I'm going to take a bath, so finish your schoolwork or leave a note if you're going out somewhere, okay?"

Harry nodded. Aunt Petunia went into the bathroom and closed the door. Harry could hear quiet sobbing even through the closed door, so he pulled a piece of paper from his notebook on the kitchen table and wrote a note that he'd be at the library. He checked his pocket money stash to make sure he had enough for bus fare and went down to the stop.

He liked the quiet of the bus. It was like being with people, but not. Everyone had somewhere different to be and nobody talked.

I am the dragon.

That thought kept coming up. It started in the morning, maybe even when he'd been asleep.

Harry got off the bus and walked up the steps of the public library and absently showed the librarian at the front his card. The thought had been bothering him all day and he meant to find out what it could possibly mean. So he had to go to the only person he knew that was more interested in studying than he was.

A shock of bushy brown hair was all he needed to identify the girl. She was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs that the library put out for reading in the building. He sat down in the chair next to the girl. He stared at her, hoping she would take notice.

She appeared to get to the bottom of the page and closed the book.

"Mister Potter. I've missed our study sessions."

"Miss Granger. How was your vacation?"

"Unexpected, I must say. Did you want to study?"

Harry fidgeted. This was the game they'd been playing for the past two years. They were friends, sort of. Hermione Granger was a bit of know-it-all and she was constantly trying to "help" other students. Harry didn't really need any help. They'd taken to studying together, once he'd made it clear that he was just as quick as she. They didn't really study together though. It was more like studying the same thing, at the same time, right next to each other.

Harry took a breath and shook his head. "I need to do some research."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I…" He thought about how he could word it without giving away anything he shouldn't. When Hermione didn't budge, eyebrow still raised, he briefly wondered if time was standing still. But then he say the rise and fall of her shoulders, so he was just delaying and he really should've thought more about this on the bus.

I am the dragon.

"Dragons."

"Dragons?"

Harry nodded.

"Mister Potter. May I call you Harry?" He nodded. "May I ask what brought this up? I ask because my parents have been considering sending me to a boarding school and the school's motto is a Latin phrase. Roughly translated, it means, 'Don't tickle a sleeping dragon.' And I was curious if you were perhaps considering the same school."

Harry blinked. "I'll be attending a boarding school at the start of term. I don't know the school motto, actually. It was the same school my parents went to. Apparently, they arranged for me to attend before they died."

She nodded. "The deputy Headmistress came by this morning and explained that I'd been selected. It's apparently quite prestigious. What can you tell me about your new school?"

Harry shrugged. "Not much. I just got the letter this morning."

"A letter preceded the Headmistress, of course. It was the strangest thing: it came by owl instead of normal post."

"Owl, you say?" Harry squeeked. His letter had come by owl as well.

"Would I be correct in deducing that the boarding school you'll be attending is… Hogwarts?"

Harry blanched. "Which would mean you'll also be attending."

"Will your cousin be joining us?"

Harry shook his head.

"Good. He's a prat."

"He's not that bad."

"Of course not to you. You live with him."

"Yes. Well. Do you know anything about dragons?"

"Only what's in fantasy books. Smaug comes to mind, of course. But there's also Apollonius of Rhodes from the story of the Argonauts. That's the one whose teeth the king used to create a bunch of animated skeletons to attack Jason."

I am the dragon.

"I saw the movies. I thought the animation in the Hobbit was well done, but the claymation in Jason and the Argonauts was a bit choppy."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "They were books. I only read the Latin translation of the Argonauts. It was originally in Greek you know, but I don't speak Greek. I thought I might learn it school, but my parents insisted that Latin was more useful. They were right, of course, but there're so many stories in Greek that I won't get to properly enjoy because I don't know the language."

"So you don't know about real dragons?"

She huffed and shook her head. "No. And I expect we won't learn much about them until we get to school. Perhaps when we go to Diagon Alley we can check a bookstore or maybe find a library there."

Harry would've raised an eyebrow, but he never could figure out how to raise just the one. "We?"

Hermione seemed to blush slightly. "Well I just thought that since we're going to the same school we could carpool to the shops. I suppose you could take the tube or the bus or both, but maybe you'd like to go in a group?"

"My Aunt doesn't seem keen on going, actually. She asked the Headmaster to send someone to take me."

Harry was really starting to get jealous of Hermione's ability to raise just one eyebrow. Did she practice in the mirror or something? How could she possibly have the time? Or was it just because she's a girl?

"The Headmistress is showing my parents today. They wanted to see it for themselves before they brought me along, for some reason. I managed to convince them to leave me here instead of at home."

"My aunt is… taking a bath. She said I could go somewhere as long as I left a note."

Hermione stared at Harry and the silence grew more and more uncomfortable before she finally broke it.

"Would you like to study together after we get our books?"

Harry smiled. Maybe they'd actually become friends instead of friendly rivals. "I'd like that."

000

Minerva McGonagall was trying to limit her excitement. She'd had second thoughts about those terrible muggles almost a decade ago. And third. And fourth. But Albus had convinced her that everything was fine and, if she was honest with herself, she had more to worry about than one child. No matter who that one child happened to be. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, generally.

Now though, she'd get to see young Harry Potter. The address was different than the one he'd been left at all those years ago. A big apartment complex rising into the sky nearly a hundred feet. Part of her bristled at the sheer scope of the building. Why couldn't they have had these marvels when she was a girl?

She took the stairs up to the fourth floor and walked to the door of the flat. She took some measure of pleasure in the fact that other witches her age would've been out of breath from three flights of stairs. She knocked on the door and a boy with dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses answered.

"Yes?"

"Hello, young man. I'm looking for Harry Potter. You fit his description."

"Yes. I'm Harry."

He looked at her, eyes wide, hand still holding the door and ready to close it.

"I'm Minerva McGonagal, Deputy Headmistress and Professor. Is your Aunt or Uncle home?"

Harry flinched. "My Uncle died several years ago, but my Aunt's here. Come in." He opened the door and gestured with his hand.

Minerva walked into the flat. It was both nicer and worse than she imagined. The place felt cold to her. It lacked personal touches, like the oak desk she kept in her office or the portrait of her ex husband. She walked over to the woman who didn't resemble Lily Potter much at all and extended her hand.

"Minerva McGonagall. I'm sorry to hear about your husband. Mine passed in '85."

The woman froze, eyes not blinking and staring at her hand. Harry coughed and the woman started. She extended her own hand and they shook.

"Petunia Evans. Vernon passed in '82. You'll be taking Harry shopping then?"

Minerva nodded.

"Good. What time will he be back?"

"Some time after lunch. I won't tolerate dawdling and I'm scheduled to visit a muggle-born student this afternoon."

Petunia nodded. She was still staring, which was starting to unnerve Minerva.

"Mind your manners, Harry. Don't waste Professor McGonagall's time, understand?"

The boy nodded and looked at Minerva. He reminded her a bit of James, but the glasses were so very different. And those green eyes…

She stood and said, "Come along, Mister Potter."

She lead the boy to the street and summoned the Knight Bus, treating Harry as any other muggle-born. The children did not do well with apparition and she'd fought with Albus over putting some money into the budget for Knight Bus excursions.

After fighting her way through the small crowd in the Leaky Cauldron, she brought Harry straight to Gringott's Bank.

000

The bank impressed Harry in ways that the Leaky Cauldron couldn't. It was everything Harry expected of a bank if a bank were to be merged with ancient temples to Greek or Roman gods. The cart ride and obtaining gold coins for spending had been fun, mostly at the realization that he was rich. He really wondered where the money came from. It had to have been his father's side, but was it old or new? Was his father living off some distant ancestor's work or did he contribute himself? What of his grandparents on that side?

His mother's parents hadn't built up much of a fortune, but they were basically farmers. The most money they'd ever made had been when they sold their farm to that corporate collective. Aunt Petunia had told him all about that. She'd gotten everything that was left when they'd died and used it as a down payment on the house at Privet Drive.

It made him wonder if that vault was just a trust vault and he might have another when he came of age or if wizards stored valuables in other ways. Maybe he had some family grimoires or something.

The wand store, Ollivander's, was what he was most looking forward to and was saved until the very last. He'd bought himself an expanded trunk and gotten his school robes without incident. The clerk at Flourish and Blott's, the bookstore, had been very helpful in giving him an owl-order catalog when he'd asked about it. After that, he'd dutifully given the woman his list and asked her help in getting them quickly.

He'd asked Professor McGonagall if he could purchase an owl, since his aunt didn't have one and she'd walked him into the Owl Emporium. He absolutely loved the snowy owl he'd purchased. The apothecary in the next shop over handled all of his potion brewing equipment, so it wasn't much of a diversion.

He didn't want to waste the professor's time, after all.

The wand shop was lined with shelves upon shelves of boxes and the tinkle of the bell seemed to rouse someone from the back.

"Hello?" Harry called out into the dust. 'Why would such a shop have so much dust?' he pondered.

An older man with round, wire-framed glasses stepped through the stacks. "Hello! Hello! My name is Garrick Olivander and you must be looking for a wand!"

Harry nodded.

The man rubbed his hands together and pulled out a wand of his own. With a flick and a swish, or some other movement that Harry couldn't really differentiate, measuring tape began taking measurements while a quill began scratching on a piece of floating parchment.

"Which arm is your wand arm?"

"Right?"

"Right arm it is then."

The older man took the parchment and began reading it. He rushed into a line of shelves and pulled out a box.

"Thirteen inches, ebony with a unicorn hair core. A powerful wand with a great deal of precision."

Harry stared at the wand.

"Go on. Give it a wave."

Harry stared up at the man, Mister Olivander.

"The wand chooses the wizard, you see." And he had a genuine smile on his face.

Harry picked it up and gave it a wave. The wood of the wand splintered in his hand with a crack and hummed, glowing orange.

"Ow!"

Mister Ollivander gingerly plucked the wand out of Harry's hand and looked down at it, horror written across his face as the wand went back to its normal black color. It was still splintered though.

"I'm terribly sorry, young man. That's never happened before."

Harry was pressing his left hand into his right since his right still smarted from the wand.

"Wait right here while I get a first aid kit."

Harry nodded and waited, his hand still smarting from whatever that had been. The man came back from the back with a small, black box that had a red cross on top. He pulled out a cloth and poured a bit of something from a small bottle into it before kneeling down and gesturing at Harry's hand. The cloth stung a bit, but when it gave off steam and felt better, he marveled at the unblemished skin left behind.

"I'm terribly sorry about that. I'm going to have to do some research into why that happened. I've never even heard of a wand reacting that strongly."

Harry looked at the man. "Does this mean I won't have a wand, sir?"

The man laughed. "Oh, no! I feel I must explain. You see, when a wizard or witch comes in for their first wand, I make a bit of a spectacle out of it. I give them a bunch of wands that won't work for them first. Then I give them the wand that most closely matches their magic."

He pulled out his wand and waved it at the parchment. He snatched the parchment out of the air and showed it to Harry.

"You see? This is the wand that would best suit your magic. Fourteen and a half inches, elder wood, phoenix core. Curious."

Harry really wished he could raise a single eyebrow, but settled for, "What do you mean, 'curious?'"

"Well, the quill tried writing something else before 'elder.' You see the scratches there? That could mean any number of things. But that's just a bit of lore for me to work out later. What's important is that I don't actually have a wand exactly like that, so we have to get as close as possible. The closest wand I have is holly with a phoenix feather core."

"Will that work, sir?"

"Normally, I would say that it would, without doubt, work for you. But this little explosion has given me a bit of doubt. The only way to tell for certain will be for you to try the wand. It's very close to your optimal wand, but not perfect. I could do some research and make you a custom wand, but it wouldn't be ready for several months, well after the school term starts. It might not be ready until next summer."

Harry gathered his courage and responded, "I'll give the holly wand a try, sir."

Ollivander stood and went to the shelves. He brought back a lovely looking wand that Harry had a hard time not flinching when he touched it. But he picked it up and gave a wave, resulting in a stream of colors trailing out of the wand. It felt warm in his grasp though and he couldn't shake the memory of the first wand nearly exploding.

"Would you like me to make that custom wand? I'll charge you ten galleons for that wand, but I estimate thirty galleons for the custom. You don't have to pay it all right now. I'll take a two galleon down payment to get started and I'll have an itemized invoice for you when I finish it."

"All right." Harry didn't know anything about custom wands or what they ought to cost. He was just glad to have a wand that worked for him.

AN: I got enough reviews and the story interested me enough to put some more work into it, so hope you readers enjoyed this. Also, I managed to misspell both Ollivander and McGonagall several times for some reason. My bad.