Harry had learned about being famous. He was quite perturbed by it, if anyone would have asked him. But nobody asked him. They just wanted to see the ruddy scar. So he'd gotten to the Hogwarts Express quickly and holed up in a compartment near the rear. He really hoped Granger would find him.

As annoying as the girl could be, she was the closest thing he had to a friend and he was just glad she wouldn't fawn over him. He hoped she wouldn't fawn over him. What if she fawned over him like the rest of the wizarding world?

The door opened and he was pulled out of his personal musings. A blond boy with slicked back hair poked his head in.

"I've heard Potter's on the train. Is it true?"

Harry wasn't sure quite how to respond to that so he just nodded. The other boy looked him up and down. Harry had the distinct feeling that he was being weighed and measured. The other boy strolled in and stuck out his hand.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"Potter. Harry Potter. Feel a bit like an action hero when I introduce myself that way."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Why could everyone his age raise just one eyebrow but him? Was it a gesture he would forever be unable to do?

"You know, like in films?"

Draco looked confused. "Anyway, I could be a great help to you. Make sure you don't fall in with the wrong sort."

"I'm pretty good at avoiding the wrong sort all on my own, thanks. You're welcome to sit down, if you like though." Harry gestured to the empty seats. Draco looked like he'd bitten a lemon, but he moved in and took a seat. Two rather large boys began following him into the compartment.

"Hello. Who are you?"

"That's Crabbe and Goyle. Don't mind them."

"O-kay. Are they your bodyguards or something?"

The silence that followed answered the question for Harry.

"Shouldn't they be more concerned with school themselves? Or are they secretly adults in disguise?"

"No no no! Of course they're in our year. It's just an arrangement our families have."

"Some sort of familial obligation? Isn't that a bit… old fashioned?"

"Of course it's old fashioned! It's tradition." Draco raised his chin at the last part, obviously proud.

Harry nodded. "Alright. Have a seat then, gents." Harry gestured to the other open seats.

The door opened again and a head of bushy brown hair rushed in with a trunk, followed by another boy with a trunk of his own.

"There you are. Harry, this is Neville Longbottom. Neville, this is Harry Potter. Help me put our trunks away, would you?"

Harry got up and helped the two put their trunks away. Neville stared at Draco and Draco stared at Neville, both too horrified to speak.

"Hermione Granger, may I present Draco Malfoy and his bodyguards. Apparently, their families made some sort of arrangement. I've gathered that that's a tradition for wizards."

Neville spoke up. "Not all wizards. Just certain families."

"Yes. Well. Granger sounds like a muggle name. Did your mother rut with the filth? Or are you just a mudblood?"

"And there's confirmation that Mister Malfoy is racist. Or bigoted. I can never remember the difference. He seems nice enough otherwise though."

Everyone stared at Harry. Harry shrugged. "What? He seemed nice enough before making a complete ponce of himself."

Draco blinked. Neville blinked. Hermione's lips thinned. Goyle and Crabbe stared.

"See? This is the kind of thing you could've avoided if you'd listened to me instead of insisting you knew the right sort by yourself. That kind of overconfidence is just arrogant!"

Harry blinked. "I'm pretty sure that's irony." He turned to look at Hermione. "Hermione, that's irony, right?"

"Yes, Mister Potter, that's irony." She was doing a passable impression of Professor McGonagal, Harry thought.

"Well. Now that we've established that Draco is a," he looked at Hermione, who mouthed a word, "bigot and that I don't give a toss about genealogy, we can all move on to more interesting subjects." Harry had a wide grin on his face.

"But he just insulted her! Are you going to take that?"

"Miss Granger is perfectly capable of defending herself. I wonder if you think she can't because she's a girl or because she's, what's the term you used, Draco?"

Neville was pretty sure reality had broken. The surreality was something out of a dream.

"Well, whatever it was, I'm sure it was an awful insult or something. But I'm going to pretend Draco is giving Hermione compliments any time he says anything about her."

Draco, face turning an odd shade of purple just then, stood up and calmly stormed out of the compartment. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other before swiftly following suit.

Harry blinked as the door closed behind them. "I can't believe that worked."

"What did you do?" Neville asked.

"I've absolutely no idea, mate."

"What just happened?" Hermione asked.

"Potter just broke the world, I think."

"O-kay. Still not following."

"Malfoy… But… Potter… You know what? I've no idea what happened either."

They both looked at Harry. "Don't look at me!"

"Harry," Hermione began, carefully, "what was that?"

"I just pretended he was Dudley being a git. Dudley isn't the brightest."

"Well, that explains absolutely nothing, but I see you won't be forthcoming with an explanation, so let's move on, shall we?"

"I've an owl-order catalog from Flourish and Blott's," Harry said as he pulled it out of his trunk.

Hermione snatched it and began reading it over. Neville looked at him, but Harry shrugged, having realized long ago that Hermione had a love-affair with books that would make Shakespeare's love stories look mild by comparison.

Soon, Neville realized he'd lost his pet frog and the three went on a search for the creature, which resulted in meeting several new people. Harry bought a modest amount of snacks, realizing that if he bought out the trolly nobody else would have the chance to buy any snacks, because of Aunt Petunia's lessons in money management.

The express pulled up to the castle as the sun cast orange and red hues across the towers. A giant of a man called for first years to follow him while everyone else followed a different path. They piled into boats, four per. Harry met a redhead with a smudge on his nose and was as unimpressed with the boy as he'd been with Draco Malfoy. Whereas Malfoy had a thing about genalogy, this boy had a thing about Slytherin House.

Harry saw they were both bigots in entirely different ways. Professor McGonagal ushered them into the castle and then left them alone, which Harry found a bit odd but didn't say anything. He caught Hermione's arm and turned her to face him.

"Have you read about the House system?"

"Oh, yes. It's in 'Hogwarts: A History' you know. Each House is named after one of the four founders of the school. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw."

Harry held up a hand. "Do you know which House you want to be in?"

"I thought about it and I decided that I'd really like to be in Gryffindor. Professor McGonagal is the head of House and I really like her so I'm going to try to get into Gryffindor."

"I liked her too, but what about Ravenclaw? I'd really like to learn all I can and I'm not sure Gryffindor is the place for it."

The redhead managed to interrupt with his own strong feelings on the matter. Again. "Naw, mate. Gryffindor's the best! My brothers told me we'd have to wrestle a troll to be sorted though."

A few huffs from the gathered crowd of first years and at least one comment of, "Gryffindor is for idiots," made Harry acutely aware that the opinion was not universal.

Hermione turned to Harry. "I'm sure the Houses aren't that important. We'll get the same education in any of them."

"I hope so."

The ghosts were a shock and Harry made a mental note to look up any information on them when he had a chance. But the Sorting Hat was just plain odd. A singing piece of clothing would put them in their Houses. Logic, you obviously have no place among wizards and we wish you well.

Hermione went to Gryffindor as did Neville. A hush fell over the room when Professor McGonagal called his name. He walked up to the stool and took a seat. The hat fell onto his head.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

"Gryffindor."

"You sound pretty sure."

"Yes. Gryffindor."

"You would do well in Slytherin, I think. But you would excel in Ravenclaw…"

"I… didn't think Slytherin would be an option, but still: Gryffindor."

"You know Ravenclaw would be better for you. And you would certainly do well in Slytherin."

"I don't care. Put me in Gryffindor."

"That's not how this works, Mister Potter. I have to put you where you belong."

"I AM THE DRAGON. Put me in Gryffindor."

"What was that?"

"Just put me in Gryffindor."

"Wait. You thought something else. 'I am the dragon.'"

"I didn't."

"Yes. You most certainly did."

"What does it matter?"

"It's part of the conversation we're having."

"Just put me in Gryffindor."

"You think it's that simple? A child sits on the stool, tells me what to do, and I just do it? You don't think I take into account the type of person the child is? You don't think it takes a great deal of skill to determine which house is best? I'm just some floppy bit of cloth covering that happens to talk to you?"

"I didn't say any of that. I didn't even think any of that."

"But you are now."

"Because you said it! Like if I said, 'don't think about purple elephants,' you'd be thinking about purple elephants!"

"I suppose you want to be in the house with the purple elephants?"

"NO! I want to be in Gryffindor!"

"What will you do if I put you in Ravenclaw?"

"I don't know. Probably try to get it changed, somehow."

"I've been sorting for quite a long time, you know. I've never gotten one wrong."

"There's a first time for everything."

"Are you trying to psych me out?"

"Is it working?"

"No. I should put you in Slytherin just for that."

"No! Anywhere but Slytherin! I think I'd go utterly mad if I had to listen to Malfoy for seven years straight. I'd do something stupid for sure."

"I see. Well, in that case, better be GRYFFINDOR!"

The hall erupted in applause and Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table. Harry was in a daze through the rest of the sorting. The hat sorted him into Gryffindor because he was going to do something stupid. That was just… stupid.

000

The next day was a Saturday and he met Hermione in the library. They found out that instead of the Dewey Decimal System, the library just used magic to sort the books. It was probably better than whatever the predecessor of the Dewey Decimal System had been, but it paled in comparison, much to both of their annoyance.

"There is a whole section on dragons in the magical creatures section."

"What about this section?"

"Which section?"

"This one. Right here." Harry pointed to the stacks.

"There's no section there. It's part of the charms section."

"It's right here!"

"Mister Potter!" came a voice from the front of the library.

Harry took that as his cue to go up to the front. He was frustrated now. He knew how libraries worked, darn it.

"Excuse me, Madam Pince. I've a question about how the library works."

The woman stared down at him over the rim of her glasses.

"Is it possible for different people to have access to different parts of the library?"

"There are wards that keep students out of certain sections that they're not to be in."

"Thank you."

Harry walked back to Hermione. He grabbed her by the hand and lead her into the section of the library he'd seen that she hadn't. It wasn't really a plan as much as proving he wasn't mad. Her eyes widened almost comically.

"How did you do that?" she hissed.

"I've more access to the library than you have."

"How do you figure?"

"There are wards to prevent unauthorized students from accessing certain sections or books. I saw a part of the library you couldn't see. I asked Madam Pince about it. I figured it was probably one of the wards and if I could see and you couldn't, that naturally meant I have access. Thus more access than you."

Hermione looked completely torn. On one hand, books. On the other, rules.

"Look at this: there's a Latin title here. It's with a bunch of books on wand lore." He pulled a title out and scowled at the Old English. "I wonder if it has bad information because it's so old. I'll have to owl Mister Ollivander. He said my wand wasn't a perfect match, but it was the closest he had."

"Put that away! We're not supposed to be here."

"I just said the wards would prevent anyone who wasn't supposed to be somewhere from being there."

Hermione bit her lip and frowned. Harry looked over more books. His hand traced over another leather-bound book that looked ancient.

"Did she really say that?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, since we wouldn't be here if we weren't allowed…"

000

Dear Mister Ollivander,

I was curious after our conversation when I purchased my wand about what goes into making a wand. I'm happy to report that Hogwarts has a section on wand lore that seems rather robust.

I've found a book here in the wand lore section and I wondered if it was worth reading. It's in Latin and easily the oldest on the subject, so instead of reading it for myself, which would involve Latin-English dictionaries and more than a little bit of linguistics that I'm not sure I have time for, I thought I should ask an expert. Anyway, the book is Caduceus Eruditio by Antioch Peverell. It looks hand-written, but my friend says that anything older than about 1500 CE would have been hand-written because that's about when the first printing press was made. I was honestly glad it wasn't in Old English because the lettering gets really confusing.

If it isn't a very good volume on the subject, please let me know so I don't have to learn Latin.

Thank you for your time.

Kindest regards,

Harry Potter

000

It had been a harrowing week for Harry. His potions class had been an utter nightmare, he'd nearly had a heart attack in flying class at being caught out on a broom when he oughtn't have been, and Ron was being an utter pig. The thing with Ron wouldn't have bothered him so much if they weren't roommates. Or if Ron had been a friend.

As it was, the only bright spot was that he was growing closer to Hermione, who was no longer "Granger." Everything he'd liked about her in primary school he still liked at the castle. She did seem rather frazzled more often though.

The morning owls came in delivering all manner of post, including some strange, red letters that shouted at the recipients. That looked most unpleasant.

Harry was having a solid English breakfast when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and got a face full of prefect badge. He didn't recognize the girl attached to it.

"Can I please finish my breakfast? I don't know what I've done, but I'd really like to finish before I get in any trouble."

"Don't worry. The Headmaster just wants to see you in his office. If you were in trouble, Professor McGonagall would have sent for you to see him. He probably just wants to have a chat about how you're settling in or something."

"Now?"

"As soon as you've finished breakfast. No rush, but he said you oughtn't dawdle as classes will start whether you're there or not. And he said he'd give you a pass to be late only if the conversation takes too long, not if you show up late."

Harry gulped and nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem." She turned to leave.

"Wait!"

The girl turned around. Harry flushed.

"I don't actually know how to get to the Headmaster's office."

"Ah. Yes. I see how that would be a problem."

"I don't suppose you would mind showing me so I'm not late?"

The girl sighed. "Sure."

Harry went on to do an impression of Ron eating as he wolfed down the rest of his meal and hurried to the Headmaster's office. There was an imposing gargoyle blocking his path and he had no idea what to do. Thankfully, the prefect, whose name Harry still didn't know, looked at the Gargoyle.

"Harry Potter to see the Headmaster."

The gargoyle's eyes glowed for a moment before sliding to the side, revealing a spiral staircase. The prefect gestured for Harry to go up, but left him alone on the stairs. Harry went to knock on the large door at the top but the door moved before his hand could find purchase on the thick wood.

"Harry! Delighted you could make it. Please, come in. Have a seat." The old man motioned to the chair in front of his desk. "I have to make a floo call before we begin, so please excuse me a moment."

He stood and walked to the fireplace, tossed in a handful of something that made the flames turn green, and said, "Garrick Ollivander," before sticking his head in the green flames. When he pulled his head out, the Headmaster stepped aside and Mister Ollivander stepped out of the green flames before they died back to their normal oranges.

"Mister Potter," Mister Ollivander said as he reached into the breast pocket of his vest, "I have to ask how you came to know about the book you mentioned in your letter."

The man looked stern and Harry began to panic. "I'm sorry. Am I in trouble? The prefect said that Professor McGonagall would be here if I'm in trouble."

The Headmaster's eyes seemed to twinkle behind the half-moon glasses he wore. "No! Not in trouble. Garrick, you're scaring the boy. May I read the letter before you get too excited?"

The Headmaster's hand was held out. Mister Ollivander handed the letter to the Headmaster who slowly read it, seated at his desk, while Mister Ollivander crossed his arms. Finally, the Headmaster turned to Mister Ollivander.

"I can see why you'd be so excited. I've searched the library for it myself and never found it." He turned to Harry. "Harry, would you mind showing us the book? The wards on the library are very old and very complicated. I daresay Madam Pince doesn't understand the whole of them and although I've been at Hogwarts for most of my life, I have yet to completely unravel the library wards."

Harry nodded. Something was going on here. Something important. And he felt like he had none of the information he needed to understand it. The three went through some secret passageways that put them almost on top of the library, having walked far shorter distances than Harry thought it ought to have taken. He went directly to the part of the library he remembered and began moving up and down the aisles.

It didn't take long for him to find the section he sought and he pulled the book out, but the adults weren't behind him. He walked back out of the aisle and found them looking around.

"Here. See? Just like I said."

He handed the book to Mister Ollivander roughly and the man grasped it gently, reverently.

"Albus… Is this genuine? Is it real?"

The two seemed to completely forget Harry and took the book to a table to take a look, cast several spells, and gasp.

"Is it…?"

The Headmaster nodded. "How is your Latin?"

"I read just fine. Don't ask me to write or speak it though."

"I think, in that case, that a copy is in order." The Headmaster turned and walked toward the front.

Harry was still confused. "What's going on?"

Mister Ollivander blinked and turned to Harry, clearly startled by the question. "He made the most famous wand known. It's become a legend, you see. This book is like a legend itself among wandmakers. It's supposed to contain lore that no one else has discovered."

"But how has nobody ever found the book before?"

Ollivander stared at Harry. "I have absolutely no idea. I would think it would be in a vault somewhere, jealously guarded by the descendants of his brothers. Antioch didn't have children, you see, so his possessions would have gone to either Cadmus or Ignotus, his brothers. The book itself was only referenced by contemporaries of Antioch, wandmakers who were around at the same time or just after his lifetime."

The Headmaster returned with two books in his arms. He set the books down on the same table along with a bottle of ink and pulled out his wand, waving it without an incantation. The books opened and ink ran from the bottle onto the pages forming words as they watched.

"We shall sit here and ensure they copy completely. Harry, you are excused from class for as long as this takes. I believe you have transfiguration and I would be happy to instruct you here if you're concerned about missing out on your lessons. I taught the subject before I became Headmaster."

"Um, why would I need to sit here?"

"You are the only person to have found this particular manuscript since it was placed in the library."

"Really?"

"The only one who has said anything, in any case."

"So knowledge can be misplaced? Just like that?"

The Headmaster nodded. "Just like that."

AN: I don't like having to write so much setup. I'm trying to put it only that which matters for the story I want to tell here, so there won't be rehashing of Quiddich or Snape's first potions lesson or things like that. JK Rowling already wrote that stuff and I don't feel the need to reinterpret/rehash it.