To Harry's delight, the newly-formed trio of Neville, Ron and Hermione seemed inseparable from that day on. Despite all three belonging to separate Houses in this timeline, Harry often saw them huddled together near the end of the Hufflepuff table during meals, or in the library in between classes. His gamble with the troll had paid off, and he was happy to watch the fledgling friendship blossom between the three students.

Harry shared all of his lessons with Hermione, but only saw Neville and Ron about a third of the time during class rotations. Hermione alternated between the three of them, siting with Neville whenever they shared classes with the Slytherins, with Ron when they were with the Hufflepuffs, and with Harry when they were with Gryffindor. Harry knew he was her third option of the three, and he was content with that. Neville deserved a core friendship that was loyal to him over anyone else.

Besides, Harry was determined to branch outside his comfort zone in this timeline and make friends beyond Ron and Hermione. Terry Boot was surprisingly good company; while he was still rather immature, he had a sharp wit and never failed to make Harry laugh. Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein were a bit high-class for Harry's tastes, but he got on with them well enough.

He also made sure to befriend some of the girls in his class, like Padma Patil and Sue Li, who often giggled whenever he walked by. Harry briefly remembered Sirius' comments about Ravenclaw girls, but pushed such thoughts aside. There will be time for that in a few years, Harry told himself. Mentally he still felt fifteen and couldn't look at his classmates like that yet.

Harry finally made his first move outside of Ravenclaw during the next History of Magic lesson, which they shared with the Slytherins. Hermione joined Neville at his desk, while Harry paused when he saw Daphne Greengrass sitting by herself near the back of the classroom. Normally she sat with her best friend, Tracey Davis, but Tracey was out sick that week. So rather than join Terry Boot as he usually did, he took the empty seat beside Daphne.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked her.

Daphne gave him a questioning look, but eventually shrugged. "If you wish."

Professor Binns floated through the blackboard soon after and began droning on about some goblin rebellion that happened centuries ago. Immediately half the class was put to sleep, while the other half (minus Hermione, who actually took notes) conversed quietly with their neighbors. Harry glanced at Daphne and saw that she too had little interest in Binns' lecture, absent-mindedly twiddling her quill in her hands.

"I saw our dads talking at King's Cross," Harry whispered to her. "I guess they know each other."

"Of course they do," said Daphne, sounding surprised by his ignorance. "They have been trading favors for years."

"What kind of favors?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"Well," Daphne said, "like last year, your father supported a measure to allow werewolves to apply for jobs if they provide proof of taking Wolfsbane Potion. But he needed votes, so my father used his connections to help the measure pass."

"Huh," said Harry thoughtfully. "And what did your father get in return?"

"Oh, little things here and there," Daphne shrugged. "Like getting the Aurors off his back for some Dark artifacts we have in our basement."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Like...illegal artifacts?" he whispered.

"Oh, spare me," Daphne scoffed with an eye roll. "They're family heirlooms, centuries old. It's not like we intend to use them on anyone, even if the Ministry is convinced otherwise."

"I see," Harry nodded. He remembered helping Sirius clear out 12 Grimmauld Place in his prior timeline, and wondered just how many of the old Black heirlooms would be considered contraband by an over-zealous Ministry.

"You interested in playing politics, Potter?" Daphne asked curiously. "We're a bit young for that kind of talk."

"You seem quite knowledgeable about what happens in the Ministry for eleven," Harry retorted.

"I have to be," Daphne sniffed. "I'm heir to the Greengrass estate. Once I take over for my father one day, I'll have to know all about his allegiances and political deals to continue our legacy."

"Sounds like a heavy burden," Harry remarked.

"For some," Daphne shrugged nonchalantly. "And you? Fancy a spin in the Wizengamot one day?"

"Not really," Harry muttered. "I just thought, if our dads are friends, maybe we ought to be too."

Daphne narrowed her eyes at him. "You want to be my friend?" she asked. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason?" Harry shrugged.

"It would help."

Harry sighed; he'd known Daphne to be rather standoffish in his original timeline, and clearly that was no different here. He would have to appeal to her more pragmatic sensibilities.

"I could see myself needing favors in the future," he remarked casually.

Daphne arched an eyebrow at him. "Such as?"

"Such as keeping an eye on Neville Longbottom," said Harry.

"What do you care about the Boy Who Lived?" Daphne asked. "Your parents put you up to this?"

"Nope," Harry shrugged. "Purely personal reasons. He's a friend, and I worry about him in Slytherin."

"That's just prejudiced," Daphne snapped angrily. "We aren't all children of Death Eaters, you know."

"His dorm mates are," Harry pointed out. Daphne's eyes wandered across the room, to where Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Theo Nott were snickering in the corner.

"There's something to that," she muttered. "Trust me, Longbottom has many eyes on him at all times. Some good, some bad, most just curious. If anyone tried to harm him in the common room or elsewhere, there would be repercussions. But if you're really worried about him, I can let you know if anything changes."

"Thanks," said Harry. "Friends, then?"

"Alright, Potter," Daphne said, extending a hand to shake his. "But understand that this is not a political alliance between our families. The Greengrasses are neutral and wish to stay that way."

"I don't care about alliances," said Harry. "We can just be normal friends."

"These things matter, Harry," said Daphne. "You're heir to your family too. Half-blood or not, you'll have a lot of influence one day, especially with who your father is."

"If you say so," Harry muttered. He walked away from the lesson feeling unsure if he'd actually made a new friend, or just signed himself up for owing somebody favors for no reason.

If there was anybody he would have gladly traded favors with, it would have been Professor Flitwick, as Harry desperately pleaded with his Head of House to allow him to try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. "Sorry, Potter, but rules are rules," Flitwick chuckled. "I'm sure you've had some flying practice already, but first years aren't allowed to play. It's far too dangerous."

"I can handle it," Harry said eagerly. "Seekers are trained to avoid contact anyway."

"You wish to play Seeker?" Flitwick chuckled. "I'm afraid you wouldn't stand a chance anyway, son. Aidan Lynch is an excellent Seeker, and team captain to boot. I hear he's being scouted by several pro teams this year."

Harry deflated at this news. He hadn't realized Aidan Lynch was still at Hogwarts; he recognized the name from his original fourth year, as the youngster had played Seeker for Ireland against Krum in the Quidditch World Cup final. I'd like the chance to test him in tryouts anyway, the competitive side of him thought. But he doubted they would even entertain him on the pitch against a pro-level athlete six years his elder. He would just have to wait his turn.

But Harry's enthusiasm for the sport would not be deterred, as he awoke excitedly on a chilly November morning for Ravenclaw's first match of the season. Terry, Michael, and Anthony were also giddy with excitement for their first in-person taste of the sport, while Kevin opted to spend the day studying in peace. To each their own, Harry thought as he filed into the stadium seats along with most of the rest of Ravenclaw House.

He and the rest of the blue-and-bronze faithful cheered as the Ravenclaw squad took to the air. It still felt odd for Harry to root for a team other than his red-and-gold Gryffindors, but that instinct was slowly fading as he reveled in the collective excitement of the match.

"The Ravenclaw squad is ready!" Lee Jordan announced excitedly. "At Chaser: Davies, Stretton, and Burrow! At Beater: Inglebee and Samuels! At Keeper is Page, and at Seeker, team captain Aidan Lynch!" The crowd roared as the seventh-year boy did a few somersaults to warm up. Harry had never played against Lynch before, and only knew of him from his less-than-stellar outing against Viktor Krum, so he looked forward to seeing what he could do in his element.

"I plan on trying out for the team next year," a female voice rang out from nearby. Harry craned his neck to see Cho Chang chatting excitedly with a group of her friends. "I've been training since I was seven."

"I bet you'll be brilliant," Harry remarked. Cho looked surprised by his comment, but gave him a polite smile in response. Harry turned back towards the pitch, feeling warmed by the gesture, only to realize with horror that she would be his direct competition when he, too, tried out for Seeker next year.

"And here come the Hufflepuffs!" Lee Jordan said, interrupting his thoughts. The yellow-and-black team was pouring out of the tunnel and soaring to the sky at that moment. "At Chaser: McAvoy, Preece, and team captain Drew Sommers! At Beater: O'Flaherty and Rickett! At Keeper is Fleet, and at Seeker, new recruit Cedric Diggory!"

The other side of the stands roared in approval for Cedric, making his debut for Hufflepuff. Harry felt an odd sensation as he watched his once-rival smile and acknowledge the crowd's adulation. The boy who was never meant to die. The boy with a heart of gold who always stood up for what was right. Harry knew that no matter what happened in his new timeline, he would make sure Cedric did not suffer the same unjust fate as before.

The match began, and Harry was quickly sucked into the action. The crowd oohed and aahed appropriately as the Chasers began their delicate dance with the Quaffle up and down the pitch. But Harry had eyes only for the two Seekers, hovering high above the action, searching for the elusive Golden Snitch.

"Lynch has spotted it!" Cho shrieked, pointing wildly as the Ravenclaw Seeker entered a sudden sharp dive. Cedric rocketed after him, closing the distance within seconds.

"No, he hasn't," Harry muttered.

"Course he has!" Terry Boot exclaimed. "Why else would he be diving?"

But that question was answered almost immediately, as Lynch yanked upwards on his broom to cancel his dive while Cedric was forced into an awkward roll to avoid a well-placed Bludger. It had all been a ruse.

"An excellent feint by Lynch!" Lee Jordan appraised the boy. "A clever tactic to test Diggory's instincts. Better luck next time, Cedric!"

Harry could see even from afar that Cedric wasn't nearly as coordinated on a broom now as he would be in a few years, when Harry first played against him. He was a fair bit scrawnier as well, allowing Lynch to bump and bully him as they raced around the pitch together, forcing the Hufflepuff to play more passive. Harry knew Cedric would grow to be a remarkable Quidditch player, which only made him more impressed with Lynch's play.

Hufflepuff looked rather outmatched in general. Harry knew they'd finished last or near to it for several years up to this point, and he could see why. The team was uncoordinated and lazy, with their captain not doing a very good job of rallying them together. Cedric alone seemed to be trying, zooming close past his teammates to hype them up after a successful play or to pick themselves up from a setback. No wonder he becomes team captain in a few years, Harry thought.

Only minutes later, Lynch once again entered a dive, but this was no feint. Cedric did an admirable job of catching up, but Lynch had better position and successfully boxed out the opposing Seeker as he closed in on the darting golden ball. With an elegant swipe in the air, the Ravenclaw closed his fingers around the Snitch, and Harry and the rest of the crowd exploded in cheers.

"And Lynch has the first Snitch!" Lee Jordan exclaimed. "That's fifty points to Ravenclaw!"

Perplexed, Harry's head whipped around to face the magically-amplified scoreboard to his right. Ravenclaw's score was updated from 80 to 130, versus Hufflepuff's 10. Only fifty points? Harry thought. That can't be right…

Stranger still, the players did not appear to be exiting the pitch. Instead, they were convening around the center line, as though for another face-off. "What's happening?" Harry wondered aloud. "Isn't the match over?"

A few of his classmates gave him odd looks at this remark. "There's two Snitches to go, Potter," scoffed Terry. "What, you expect Hufflepuff to forfeit early?"

"They probably should," muttered Anthony Goldstein. "Not like Diggory is gonna get them back into it at this rate."

Harry swallowed his questions and watched silently as the Quaffle was released anew and play resumed. He quickly surmised that Quidditch rules were different in this timeline than in his last: instead of one Golden Snitch worth 150 points and ending the game, there were now three, worth 50 apiece, with the match ending once the third was caught. Clever, he thought to himself. Makes the matches less lopsided and gives both Seekers more opportunities to impact the game.

Lynch caught the second Snitch soon after, resetting play once more and tacking another 50 points onto Ravenclaw's lead (plus 20 more from the Chasers). It was clear that the Hufflepuffs had all but given up; the Chasers flew around half-heartedly attempting to score and defend, but they were just too outclassed.

There was one silver lining, however: Cedric managed to track down and snatch the third Snitch out of the air before Lynch could react in time. Harry wondered if the older boy was even trying, with his team up by 200 points by that point with zero possibility of losing. Still, the yellow-and-black supporters in the stands roared their appreciation for their Seeker, the lone bright spot of an otherwise disastrous showing.

"And Diggory snatches the third Snitch away from Lynch!" Lee Jordan appraised the boy. "Ravenclaw wins 220 to 70, but bravo to the Hufflepuff newcomer for ending things on his own terms."

Harry was still buzzing as he filed out of the stadium with the rest of the crowd. "So, what next?" Harry asked aloud. "Party in the common room?"

He drew a few odd looks from his house mates at this innocuous question. "Are you mental?" asked a fourth-year girl. "Flitwick would have us all in detention within minutes! Besides, some of us have studying to do." A few chuckled appreciatively at the jab as Harry watched on, confused. Gryffindor always took every opportunity to party in the common room after a big win. Even with the strictest Head of House in the school – McGonagall – it became an expected ritual of the House that only made Harry's Quidditch victories that much sweeter.

Things will be different when I'm on the team, Harry thought proudly to himself. I'll bring out the fun side of these stuck-up bookworms if it's the last thing I do.

Instead of joining his house mates in returning to Ravenclaw Tower, Harry headed off to the second floor towards the caretaker's office. Peter had replaced Hagrid as Harry's sounding-board on campus – the trio of Neville, Ron and Hermione had taken to visiting the half-giant often, and Harry wanted to give them a wide berth to strengthen their own internal bond. He would stay on the fringes of their friendship as much as possible, content with being a fourth wheel.

"Harry!" Peter beamed when he saw the first-year enter his office. "How was the Quidditch match?"

"Brilliant!" Harry grinned, plopping himself down on the wooden stool opposite Peter's desk. "We crushed Hufflepuff. They have a new Seeker, Diggory, who's pretty good, but Lynch was just better."

Peter listened politely as Harry excitedly relayed the details of the match. Harry didn't even realize how much he'd been rambling until he noticed Peter stifling a yawn when he thought Harry wasn't looking. "Do you like Quidditch?" Harry asked, deciding to include Peter more in the conversation.

"Oh, sure," Peter said, not too convincingly. "Your father was very good, you know, and Sirius was a fair Beater himself."

"Did you ever consider playing yourself?" Harry asked.

"Oh...I dunno," Peter muttered sheepishly. "Me and broomsticks don't mix too well. I did consider going out for Keeper one year, but...well, never mind."

"You did?" Harry asked, surprised. "Did the tryout go okay?"

"I, erm...didn't go," Peter chuckled nervously. "James and Sirius talked me out of it. They didn't think I'd be able to handle it."

"But...hang on," Harry said, frowning. "You didn't even try out? Why not at least test your strengths to see if they were right? You just believed them?"

"It was probably for the best," Peter shrugged. "I'm such a klutz, I only would have embarrassed myself. More tea, Harry?"

Harry accepted the proffered teacup, biting back his next retort and taking a sip of the sweet drink. It was obvious that Peter didn't want to talk about this subject. Harry knew from Snape's memories in the prior timeline that his father could be a bit of a bully...but to his own close friend? That seemed excessive. He resolved to ask James about this the next time he saw his father.

There was suddenly a distant crashing sound, as though a large chandelier had just fallen violently to the ground. "Peeves," Peter grumbled, getting to his feet. "You can see yourself out, yeah, Harry?"

"Yeah, no worries," Harry grinned easily. Peter winked before rushing out of the office to chase down the poltergeist and head him off from whatever mischief he was up to.

Harry too got to his feet, though he lingered for a moment, listening to Peter's retreating footsteps. Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he drew his wand. "Accio Map," Harry whispered, holding his wand aloft in the center of the room. Nothing happened.

"Accio Marauder's Map," Harry tried again, making sure to enunciate clearly and focus hard as Flitwick and McGonagall instructed him. "Accio James Potter's Map." No matter what combination he tried, nothing sprang forth from any of the cabinets or drawers lining the space. Harry stowed his wand, frustrated, then left the office.

Where the bloody hell is that map? Harry wondered as he trudged back up to Ravenclaw Tower. He'd spent weeks trying to track it down, hoping to use it to expose Quirrell for harboring Tom Riddle's spirit within his turban. He'd trailed the Weasley twins for weeks, attempting to summon the Map from them from afar, only to deduce that they must not have it in this timeline. Searching Peter's office had been a stroke of inspiration, but that appeared to be a dead-end as well.

Could his wand be malfunctioning again? Could the Map be resisting his attempts to claim it for himself against the will of its current owner? Or was it simply not in the castle after all? All four of the Marauders were alive and free in this timeline, so perhaps one of them had kept the map for themselves. He considered asking Peter directly, but he was still a member of the staff, and Harry didn't want him knowing his sneaky plans – Marauder or not.

Harry would just have to keep an eye on Quirrell the old-fashioned way. He surreptitiously followed the timid professor through the castle during off-hours, looking for any odd behavior. He sure seemed to hover around the third-floor corridor more often than seemed appropriate. He even witnessed Quirrell and Snape having a hushed conversation in a secluded corner one afternoon – clearly Snape was onto the trail as he had been in the other timeline, giving Harry some small solace.

Still, he did not want to take unnecessary risks. He had to find irrefutable proof of Quirrell's misdeeds to expose him to the staff, and was running out of valid ways to do so. He couldn't exactly tell Dumbledore what he knew – that would raise some highly uncomfortable and suspicious questions. His last resort would be simply ripping off the man's turban in the presence of another teacher – though he worried for the safety of any students in the vicinity (not to mention himself) once the desperate man's secret was uncovered.

But that would have to wait until the following term, as December passed in a blur of essays and homework assignments (which he couldn't rely on Hermione to do for him in this timeline). The next thing Harry knew, he was back on the Hogwarts Express en route to London for Christmas break. Neville and Ron were staying behind at the castle, so Harry sat in a compartment with Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Tracey's cousin, a second-year Slytherin boy named Quinn Davis. The latter two were far more amiable and easy to talk to than Daphne, who offered little to the conversation.

Harry disembarked the train at Platform 9 ¾, usually a somber affair, but this time his face broke into a smile as he saw his parents beaming and waving to him. He ran forward to embrace them, marveling at how much he had missed them despite only a few months apart. Clearly the feeling was mutual.

"Oh, dear, it's been so long," Lily fussed over her son. "You need a haircut. And are you outgrowing your jacket size already?"

"Leave him be, Lil," James chuckled, looking over Harry's head towards his compartment mates he'd gotten off the train with. "Making friends with Slytherins, are we, son?"

"They aren't all bad," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"That's absolutely right, Harry," Lily said, playfully swatting her husband on the arm. "We ought to encourage such inter-House relations."

"You haven't made any deals with Miss Greengrass, have you, Harry?" James asked, looking troubled.

"No," Harry denied. "We're just friends."

"Good, that's good," James said, sighing a little at the news. Harry didn't know what kind of ramifications this could have for him in the Ministry, but the last thing he wanted was to jeopardize anything for his father by striking alliances behind his back.

"Let's get you home," Lily said, guiding them towards the exit. "Your sister is eager to see you."

One uncomfortable Portkey ride later, Harry's feet touched down in the living room of the Potter family cottage in Godric's Hollow. He'd only called the place home for a month prior to leaving for Hogwarts, but he still felt a sense of familiar warmth at the place.

Hurried footsteps heralded the arrival of Dahlia from up the stairs, as she stared at her older brother across the room. "Hey, Dahlia," Harry said, extending his arms for a hug. But Dahlia had other ideas, instead landing a punch to Harry's shoulder. "Oi! What's your problem?"

"You didn't write to me," Dahlia pouted, crossing her arms. "You promised you'd write!"

"Sorry, I forgot," Harry admitted. He had been rather busy, juggling all his school work with developing his budding friendships and fretting over the trio from afar. "But you didn't write me either!"

"You're the older brother!" Dahlia retorted. "That's your job! You don't care about what I've been up to at all?"

"Course I do, Dahl," Harry said, stepping forward to wrap his reluctant sister in a proper hug. "I just waited until you could tell me all about it in person. And I couldn't possibly do justice to Hogwarts in a simple letter."

"Is it really as grand as Mum and Dad say?" Dahlia asked, pulling away from him and searching his face with hungry eyes. "What's it really like?"

"It's everything they say and more," Harry grinned. And he spent the remainder of the evening regaling her with stories of his adventures in the castle. Some were fabricated or exaggerated, while others were taken directly from his past experiences in another timeline. Dahlia was a rapt audience, drinking in his descriptions with awe and gleefully giggling at his hijinks.

"For your mother's sake, I hope half of those stories weren't true," James remarked later that night as he ushered Harry up to bed.

"For her sake, I hope half of Uncle Peter's stories about you weren't true, either," Harry fired back. James could only grumble under his breath about this for a few seconds before bidding his son good-night.

Harry had never paid much mind to the Christmas holiday before. It was always the time of year that all his friends went home to their families, while he was stuck in the castle alone. But waking up on Christmas morning in Godric's Hollow was a magical experience. Harry was shaken awake early by Dahlia, who insisted that he get dressed and come downstairs, practically dragging him down the steps.

His bleary eyes widened when he reached the landing and saw the Christmas tree in the corner, holding dozens of wrapped gifts beneath its folds. Enchanted snowflakes were falling from the ceiling, disappearing when they reached the floor, and festive lights were strung up all around the room, bathing the space in vibrant color. James and Lily were snuggled in an armchair by the fireplace, looking exhausted but nonetheless pleased as their children marveled at the sight.

Usually Harry was pleased enough with just a Weasley jumper and perhaps some sweets from Ron for Christmas. But he felt a bit like Dudley in his excess that morning, tearing open gift after gift from his parents. A wireless radio. A new wool jacket for the winter. A scarf and beanie, emblazoned with the blue-and-bronze emblem of Ravenclaw. And from his father, box seats to watch Puddlemere United play against their league rivals, the Tutshill Tornados, during his next spring break.

Dahlia herself was quite pleased with her haul, including a brand-new winter wardrobe, a starter makeup kit (from a reluctant Lily), and a book on magical plants called Flesh-Eating Flora of the British Isles. Harry had never met anyone besides Neville who cared so much about plants, but as always, Dahlia's own interest in the subject took a rather more sinister undertone.

After a lazy afternoon consisting of napping and messing with the thousands of stations on his new radio, Harry was pleased when Uncle Sirius and Remus arrived for family dinner. "Wouldn't spend it with anyone else!" Sirius laughed as he pulled Harry in for a hug. "If you'd met my mother, you'd understand why." Harry had in fact met Sirius' mother, in a sense, and if her portrait at Grimmauld Place was any indication, she was not worth getting to know in the flesh either.

The six of them settled around the dinner table, where Lily had set out a delicious-looking spread of baked ham, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, and a candied yam. Harry had never known home-cooked meals to be quite so satisfying – in his prior life, the Hogwarts feasts were far preferable to whatever scraps Aunt Petunia left for him after giving Vernon and Dudley the lion's share of her cooking. He ate to his heart's content, eventually left in a pleasant stupor once he could not stomach another bite.

Meanwhile, the three former Marauders were drinking heartily and sharing uproarious tales of their past adventures. They laughed about their late-night excursions at Hogwarts, only stopping once Lily chastised James and suggested that he oughtn't give his children any bright ideas. Sirius shared a few sordid tales from his brief stint in the Auror training program with James after the war, including a brief fling with a fellow female trainee that got them both kicked out of the force. (Not that Sirius seemed too torn up about the lost job opportunity.)

Remus seemed more subdued than the other two – he laughed along with their stories that he was involved with, but seemed only to humor their hijinks mildly. Harry watched the three of them carefully, trying to gauge their dynamic – it was apparent that James and Sirius were as tight as brothers, inseparable, while Remus was more of a third wheel, always on the periphery of their adventures. What did that make Peter, then? The wobbly fourth wheel barely clinging to the vehicle?

"So Harry, tell us all about Hogwarts," said Lily, steering the subject elsewhere after yet another Sirius tale that probably shouldn't have been shared in the presence of children. "How are you enjoying yourself?"

"It's going pretty well," Harry shrugged. "I'm second in all my classes, only behind Hermione Granger, who's brilliant."

"Yes, we were very proud of your report card," Lily beamed. "Though your Charms professor, Flitwick, mentioned something about your wandwork needing refinement?"

"It's not always obeying me," Harry lamented. "I know what I want it to do, but it doesn't always do it right."

"Well, practice makes perfect," James reasoned. "Professor McGonagall always stressed the importance of intent when casting magic. Wands can have minds of their own, and you have to be very clear with what you want them to do."

"They're a lot like witches in that way," Sirius winked. "You just gotta bend 'em to your will every once in a while." That quip earned him a snicker from James and a reproachful glare from Lily.

"Are you making many friends, Harry?" Remus asked. "Who you spend your time with can be just as important as your studies."

"A few," Harry shrugged. "My dorm mates are nice enough, even if they're a bit uptight. Hermione sits in lessons with me sometimes, though she has new friends now after the troll incident."

"The what incident?" James asked, eyes narrowing.

"Someone let a troll into the castle during Halloween," Harry said casually. "It attacked Hermione in a girl's bathroom."

There was a loud clatter as Lily dropped her fork to her plate and stared at her son, aghast. "What?" she gasped. "A mountain troll, in Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "But no one got hurt, thankfully. Hardly the most dangerous thing that's happened in the castle, right?"

But no one at the table seemed to think so. Even James and Sirius looked appalled by this revelation.

"Dumbledore didn't report any such incident to the Ministry," James muttered darkly. "This is highly disturbing to hear, Harry."

"Why didn't you mention it in any of your letters?" Lily asked worriedly.

"Didn't think to," Harry admitted. It was far from the most perilous situation he'd been in at Hogwarts, and he hadn't expected such a strong reaction to the news. He could only imagine how they'd react to tales of his original second year, including Petrified students and a basilisk bite to the arm…

"I'll be writing to Dumbledore in the morning about this," James groaned. "I ought to report this to Amelia Bones…"

"Dumbledore often has his reasons for such things," Lily said diplomatically. "He took charge of protecting the Longbottoms during the war—"

"And look how that turned out!"

"He couldn't have foreseen them being betrayed!" Lily said adamantly. "He's a brilliant man, but he can't account for everything."

"He also can't account for a stupid cloak," muttered James, taking another deep swig of Firewhiskey.

Harry's ears perked up at this. "What cloak?" he asked eagerly.

"Oh, don't start about this again—" Lily groaned, but her husband was undeterred.

"It was meant to be your birthright, Harry," James said forlornly. "Passed on through generations of Potters for centuries. An impenetrable Invisibility Cloak. And Dumbledore lost it!"

"Lost it?" Harry asked, frowning.

"He borrowed it during the war," said James. "Asked to study it, just for a few days. Then the Longbottoms were killed, and many things were happening at once, and the next time I remembered to ask about it, Dumbledore said he'd 'misplaced' it!"

"Like you said, many things were happening," Lily said, attempting to calm James down. "He's a very busy man, and he made an honest mistake. He even offered us compensation for it—"

"It's not about the gold!" James spat, slamming his fist on the table. "It was a priceless family heirloom! He should have known better than to be so careless...and now he's letting trolls attack his students? His mind is going, I swear it!"

"Easy, Prongs, I'm sure there's an explanation," Sirius chuckled nervously, clapping his best friend on the shoulder. "Dumbledore's a good man. He wouldn't let these things happen on purpose."

James seemed to take Sirius' words to heart more than even Lily's, and he took a steadying breath. "Course not, he wouldn't do that," he agreed.

"He was a great help in passing your werewolf legislation last year," Remus pointed out helpfully. "I owe him a great deal for that."

"Certainly," James nodded, looking marginally calmer than before. The tension in the room was palpable, as everyone seemed braced for another outburst. Harry wondered if this was a common occurrence when he and Dahlia weren't around; Lily certainly looked more stressed than he had ever seen her before.

"So, Harry, how's the Gryffindor Quidditch team looking this year?" Sirius asked loudly to clear the air.

"Haven't seen them play yet," Harry shrugged. "But they got thrashed pretty badly by Slytherin last month." He hadn't attended the match himself, but he heard through the grapevine that Angelina Johnson was forced to play Seeker due to lack of better options, and she hadn't even come close to catching a Snitch.

"Ah, shame," Sirius lamented. "I thought we had a chance last decade with that Charlie Weasley fellow, but I don't think they've won a Cup since we graduated."

"'Course, it was a different game back then," James cut in unexpectedly, an edge of humor creeping back into his tone. "A better one, if I daresay so myself—"

"Oh, enough of that already!" Sirius chuckled. "You're just mad Seekers can't monopolize an entire match and end it in seconds anymore!"

"And you're just mad you didn't get enough chances to knock people off their brooms," James fired back playfully. "You just had to get your revenge on me with the rule book…"

"Wait, that was you?" Harry asked, turning to Sirius in surprise.

"Changing the Seeker rules? Sure was," Sirius said with a note of pride. "During my brief stint working in the Department of Magical Games and Sports after the war. Course, I had to twist a few arms and pull some strings in the Wizengamot to get the changes through—"

"Such a waste," Lily muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. "The head of an Ancient and Most Noble House, using his influence to change the rules of a stupid children's sport."

Both James and Sirius took offense to this:

"It is not a children's sport!"

"Since when did you care about pure-blood politics, Evans?"

Fortunately, this succeeded in defusing the tension, as everyone seemed to relax enough to enjoy the rest of their dinner in peace. Soon James and Sirius were back to their usual boisterous ways, trading jabs and anecdotes as though they were still schoolkids. Harry had always pictured his father as a mature, responsible adult, much like Arthur Weasley had been, but he still behaved much like a teenager, full of energy and mischief. Sure, he was a good father and husband, but he was far from the model adult Harry had once pictured him to be.

"Say, Harry, have you had a chance to say hello to your Uncle Peter at school?" asked Remus during a lull in the conversation.

"Yeah, I have," Harry said eagerly. "I visit him every Friday in his office."

"Really? That's great!" Remus beamed. "Peter really is a good person once you get to know him."

"How is old Wormy doing?" asked Sirius with a twinkle in his eyes. "He following you around like a lost puppy dog yet?"

"Oh, stop it—" Lily sighed, but James had already jumped on Sirius' lead.

"He hasn't guilted you into spending time with him, has he?" James asked. "You're free to have other friends, you know, Harry."

"I like hanging out with him!" Harry protested. "He's a good person, and he listens to my problems and gives good advice."

"Yes, he's a lovely bloke," James agreed, throwing up his hands in feigned resignation. "I'm just saying, don't feel like you need to be held down by him."

"He was never the most ambitious type," Sirius agreed. "He's reliable, sure, but you have the potential to be much more in life."

"Maybe he never had the proper support system to encourage him to try," Harry retorted. "Maybe he needed better friends to push him."

James looked surprised by this comment. "You mean us?" he chuckled. "Look, Harry, he was our dorm mate, and we always treated him with kindness. But we weren't obliged to be lifelong friends with him."

"Not for lack of trying on Peter's part," Remus muttered into his plate. "He was far more eager to spend time with you than the other way around."

"Oh, c'mon, not you too, Moony!" James groaned. "I know you had a soft spot for the kid, but let's be honest, he was dead weight! He was always destined to wind up exactly where he did in life."

"Why did you discourage him from trying out for the Quidditch team?" Harry blurted out, his anger starting to get the better of him. "Why work so hard to destroy what little ambition he had?"

"Whoa, don't get it twisted now," James protested, pointing an accusing finger at Harry. "Peter decided out of the blue that he wanted to play in his fifth year, after never touching a broomstick beforehand. The game was rougher back then – he would have ended up badly hurt. I was doing him a favor."

"But now he'll never know if he could have done it!" said Harry. "He'll always wonder if he could have been something more. Even if he failed, he could have learned something."

"This is what I've been trying to tell you all these years, James—" Remus said tiredly, but James wasn't having it.

"Oh, come off it!" James said with an exaggerated wave of his arms. "Listen Harry, I'm sure Peter paints a very flattering picture of himself, but he was always a bit of a loser. I could have been nicer to him, sure. But he's deluding himself if he thinks I was the one holding him back."

"He always had self-esteem issues," Sirius added. "We tried early on to help him get over that, but gave up once we realized it was no use. In fact, we should have put our foot down earlier when he went after Alice—"

"No, no, that is precisely Harry's point!" Remus interrupted. "Peter had every right to go after the girl he fancied. It got him hurt, but that was his lesson to learn, not yours to teach him."

"It was a fantasy we fed into for far too long," James disagreed. "He never had a chance with her; even Lily would agree with that. She and Frank were destined to be together."

"Peter fancied Alice Longbottom?" Harry asked, surprised.

"She was Alice Fawley back then," sighed Lily. "And she was two years ahead of us, in Hufflepuff. She spent a lot of time at the Gryffindor table, with Frank, and she was always very kind to Peter."

"He misinterpreted her kindness for interest," James added. "And he was smitten. We tried to tell him, that she was just taking pity on a wounded bird, but the poor bloke was lovesick from the start."

"I even tried to set him up with some girls to distract him," Sirius lamented. "Mind, not the prettiest girls in our class, but he never had a chance with any of them—"

"Because you were keen on hogging them all for yourself," Lily huffed.

"All the same," Sirius shrugged. "It was just one of those no-win scenarios. He was doomed to have his heart broken."

"And I suppose I'm the bad guy for not wanting to wallow in self-pity with him for our last two years of school," James snorted. "Hell, if I tried to comfort him, he'd probably have fallen for me next—"

"That's quite enough," Lily snapped. "He lost someone dear to him, and you oughtn't tease him any further about it. Besides, this is not a conversation to be having around the kids."

"I don't mind!" Dahlia protested; she was clearly reveling in the drama. "I want to hear more about who you all dated in school."

"Wait 'til you hear who your mother was involved with before your father," Sirius winked at Dahlia. "It would make your brother's skin crawl…"

"We were not involved!" Lily protested, going slightly pink at the mention. "We were good friends, but I never—"

"You sure seem keen on seeing him twice a year for your potioneer conferences," James muttered, also looking displeased by the topic.

"Severus is an excellent potions master, and I've learned a lot from him!" Lily said indignantly. "I chose to marry you, if you've forgotten, and he'll never be more than an old friend to me—"

"You dated Professor Snape?!" Dahlia gasped, having heard several of Harry's unpleasant stories about the man. "Ewww!"

"I did no such thing!" said a red-faced Lily as Sirius cackled with glee at what he'd caused. "He was one of my first friends at Hogwarts, and unfortunately he chose the wrong crowd to hang out with. I would never, ever have considered him a romantic option."

James looked somewhat contented with this answer. But the mood in the room was still soured, and Harry still felt wound up by the charged discussion surrounding Uncle Peter. He wondered where Peter was at this very moment, and how he would feel if he knew the other three Marauders were sharing Christmas dinner together without him. Remus also looked troubled, briefly meeting Harry's eye with a discerning look.

"I'm tired," Harry announced, standing from his seat without further preamble. "I think I'd like to go to bed now." He feared saying something else he would regret, or stirring another argument that unearthed more ugly secrets from his parents' past.

"Good night, sweetheart," said Lily, kissing Harry on the head. James and Sirius toasted to him with their freshly-poured glasses of more Firewhiskey, while Remus merely nodded at him with a sad smile. And after dodging a kick under the table from Dahlia, Harry retired from the room and headed upstairs for bed.

He lay awake for some time, bothered by all that had been said throughout the dinner. Was Snape right all along in his last timeline? Was James just an unrepentant bully, unwilling to take responsibility for making the lives of others miserable in his youth? Could Peter have amounted to something more than a simple caretaker if he'd had better friends who encouraged him more? Or was James correct in his assessment that he oughtn't waste his time with someone who didn't want to help themselves?

Was Harry doing the same thing with all his incessant worrying and meddling in other people's affairs? Should he stop worrying about Neville and the Philosopher's Stone and just live his life unburdened by such matters out of his control? He was not the Boy Who Lived in this world – he could do whatever he wanted and let Neville bear the brunt of that responsibility himself. Harry could go on to do great things and have a bright future in whatever field he desired. Why involve himself in a fight that no longer concerned him?

As he contemplated this, he heard a soft knock on the door. James ambled into the room, stumbling slightly and still reeking of Firewhiskey. But he carefully found Harry's bed and sat at the foot of it. "Harry?" he whispered. "Still awake?"

"Yeah, Dad," said Harry. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry for earlier," he said with a slightly slurred voice. "I think you should be friends with whoever you want to be. Peter is a good person, and you're right, I should have been nicer to him."

"Okay," Harry said neutrally. He wondered if Lily had chewed him out after he and Dahlia departed the room, or if this was genuine self-reflection.

"I was a bloody idiot when I was a kid," James went on. "Still am sometimes. I hope you won't judge me too badly for who I used to be. I'm still learning how to be a better person."

"I know," said Harry. "Good night, Dad."

"Love you, kiddo," said James, patting his son's leg. "Happy Christmas." And with great effort, he got back to his feet and shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry wondered if James would even remember this exchange in the morning. But it gave him some small measure of comfort as he began to drift off to sleep. My father is still a great man, he told himself. He's made mistakes, but he's also done plenty of good. This was still the man who defied Voldemort three times during the war, became a widely-respected Auror, and used his influence to enact positive social change. That was the man Harry chose to think of as he fell asleep.

And perhaps Uncle Peter could still become something after all. Harry was determined to at least try.

A/N: I want to quickly reiterate that this is not a bashing fic – several characters (including James and Dumbledore) will be depicted as flawed, but they will not be one-dimensional negative caricatures throughout the whole story. I'm also taking this opportunity to fix one of my biggest pet peeves about the HP world: the Quidditch scoring system. The Snitch was always way too OP, and this change I think makes the game more interesting and strategic without drastically overhauling the rules.