Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

Author's Note:

Massive thanks for all the kind reviews and helpful feedback this fanfic has gotten, it's really helped to highlight parts of my writing and story construction that I'd overlooked. My hope is that each chapter will read better than the last, and I have spent a bit more time editing and reviewing this chapter as a result.

Hope you enjoy!


Daphne hurried over to where she saw her friends, Tracey and Sophie, leaning against one of the carriages waiting to take them up to Hogwarts. She had just said her goodbyes to Harry; fondly recalling his grumbling about having to travel with the first years on the boats across the Black Lake.

Although not how she had initially envisioned her journey to Hogwarts this year, Daphne could safely say she had no complaints with how she spent her time. Harry was certainly rough around the edges, putting his foot in his mouth on multiple occasions, but Daphne thought his attempts to extract said feet very humorous.

He was sweet, and clearly nervous about starting a new school.

'Quite handsome too," mused Daphne, feeling her cheeks heat up and willing her blushing to subside as she approached her friends, who ushered her into the carriage with impatience.

"Finally," huffed Sophie as the carriage gently pulled away towards the castle, "we were minutes away from sending a search party! Where have you been?!"

Sophie Roper was a girl of average height, with luscious, mahogany brown hair streaked with blonde highlights that tumbled past her shoulders. She had equally dark eyes that were framed by a meticulously made-up face, the highlight of which were her pouty lips, coloured a rouge that was as bold as her personality.

"Surely you haven't been with Beatrice all this time. I told Soph you were probably with Astoria," remarked Tracey.

In contrast, Tracey Davis was shorter than either Daphne or Sophie and had dark auburn hair the same length as Sophie. Her green-grey eyes were kind and complimented her soft features.

"Sorry, I know I ditched you two," apologised Daphne, "but I promise you'll be proud of me! You see, there was this boy-"

"Yeah, that's lovely Daph," dismissed Sophie with a wave of her hand, "but let's talk about the manticore in the room. Specifically, Harry Potter coming to Hogwarts."

"Don't be rude Soph," Tracey scolded her for interrupting Daphne.

"What's this?" Daphne asked perplexed.

"You mean you haven't heard? Harry Potter was spotted on the train sitting with the Puffs in our year," Sophie informed her.

"Did you see him?" Daphne queried interestedly.

"We didn't," admitted Tracey, "he had left Bones and them lot apparently quite early on, no one's seen him since. It's become quite the mystery."

It did sound mysterious. A nationally known celebrity being spotted on the Hogwarts Express and then disappearing without a trace. She wished that she had known before she went to check on Beatrice, she could have asked Harry if he'd seen the famous Boy Who Lived on his travels throughout the train.

Harry…

No.

Surely not. Harry was a very common name after all, and the boy that sat and spoke to her for hours in her carriage did not behave like she assumed a child celebrity would in the slightest.

'No,' she told herself matter-of-factly, 'there was no way her Harry was the Harry Potter.' He didn't even have the recognisable lightning bolt scar!

'He did have a fringe though,' a pesky voice in her head reminded her, which she stubbornly ignored.

"How do you know he was actually on the train?" Daphne argued. "Some morons could have made it up for a laugh, it sounds like something the Weasley twins would say."

"He has a sister on the train," said Sophie triumphantly, "she's a first year."

"It would make sense for him to join Hogwarts this year so he could watch over his sister," added Tracey.

"I plan on going to wherever my sister goes… she's a first year…"

Daphne began to get an awfully bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Well," said Daphne faintly, "I'm sure we won't be seeing much of him, unless the boy who defeated You-Know-Who miraculously gets sorted into Slytherin."

"You're right," agreed Tracey dolefully. "Anyway Daph, what were you saying about you and a boy before you were interrupted."

"A boy," queried Sophie appraisingly, dark eyes gleaming. "Go on girl! Who was he? Must have been quite the guy for you to spend the entire journey with him." Sophie was a girl with a near infinite interest in the opposite sex and the dating life of their classmates and had pushed for Daphne to show an interest in the boys at their school for a couple of years at this point, to no avail.

"It wasn't like that!" Daphne could feel her cheeks heating up again, much to her ire. "You wouldn't know him anyway." Given how muddled her thoughts were at the moment regarding the identity of the boy she had spent the past day with, Daphne was no longer eager to share her interactions with Harry to her friends.

"It wasn't a N.E.W.T student was it Daph," gasped Tracey, sounding scandalised.

"I know a few sixth years," mused Sophie, stroking her chin. "Try me. What was his name."

"Yes, that should narrow it down," nodded Tracey, joining Sophie in staring at Daphne expectantly.

Daphne squirmed uncomfortably, mumbling Harry's name.

"What was that?" Tracey pressed.

"Harry," Daphne spoke up grudgingly. "His name was Harry."

"Harry…" Sophie contemplated the name for a few seconds before shaking her head. "No one's coming to mind, what year and house is he in?"

"Well…"

"It's not a hard question Daph," stated Sophie.

"He's in our year, but he's new and hasn't been sorted yet," revealed Daphne.

The carriage was silent for a few seconds before…

"A new student… called Harry… in our year…" summarised Tracey with eyes that were widening by the second.

"It can't be," breathed Sophie.

"It's not," asserted Daphne.

"It could be!" Sophie insisted enthusiastically.

"Well," interjected Tracey with equal fervour, "what did you two talk about? What was Harry's last name?"

"It was…" Daphne faltered, trying to remember. "…actually, I don't think he ever said his surname."

"Like a masked vigilante trying to hide his identity," mused Sophie dreamily.

"Did he have green eyes?" Tracey asked eagerly. "I think I read in Witch Weekly a few years ago that he has green eyes."

Daphne knew that her Harry did. She had found it ridiculously easy to meet his gaze when they spoke, and even now after they had parted, she was certain that she could identify the exact shade, a green hue reminiscent of the leaves on a chestnut tree in the dwindling sunlight of the evening.

Daphne mutely nodded in response to Tracey's question, resulting in her friend's discussing Harry with renewed excitement, but Daphne could only recall with increasing clarity what Harry had said about his past.

He had said that his parents were Gryffindor's, just like Lily and James Potter. He stilled when she mentioned Peter Pettigrew, the man who betrayed the Potter's to You-Know-Who. He even said You-Know-Who's name, when the only other person she knew who spoke it was Albus Dumbledore. Wouldn't Harry Potter, the boy who defeated the dark lord, also say the name that everyone else feared to say?

"You alright Daph?" Sophie asked, breaking Daphne from her reverie. "You've gone quiet."

"I- I…" stuttered Daphne before she buried her head in her hands and released a muffled scream of frustration that ebbed into a distraught moan.

Tracey and Sophie shared a concerned glance before Tracey reached across the carriage to gently shake Daphne's shoulder.

"Daph, you ok?"

Sophie scoffed exasperatedly. "Honestly, Trace, look at her. Does she seem ok? Is that what a happy person does? Scream like a banshee?"

Tracey bristled, insulted. "It was an innocent enquiry Soph, and-"

"I think he was Harry Potter."

Silence fell over the carriage, the only sound permeating its walls coming from the creaking of the wheels grinding against the cobblestones beneath them.

"That isn't a good thing?" Sophie sounded confused. "That means you've spent the past seven hours canoodling with the most famous teenage boy in Europe."

"And you didn't know who he was," added Tracey, "it's so romantic, like Romeo and Juliet." She had a dopey smile on her face.

"No, it's not a good thing!" Daphne yelled. "I feel like an absolute idiot and must have looked like an idiot as well! I spoke about my owl having the shits for Merlin's sake! And we did not canoodle!"

"You told him about Beatrice?" Sophie clarified, wincing sympathetically.

Daphne groaned again. This was just her luck. She meets a seemingly nice boy, and he turns out to be the most famous wizard of the past twenty years.

And she didn't even recognise him.

She knew she shouldn't be too hard on herself. Very few photos of Harry Potter existed in the public domain, and though she was obviously aware of the boy's existence, she had a limited interest in who he was. She still couldn't help but feel that she had botched her chances of getting to know him however, and that he would likely be crowded by the admiring fan girls who did have an avid interest in him. She wouldn't be surprised if she never spoke another word to Harry again and said as much to her friends.

"I wouldn't be so sure," comforted Tracey, "you spent the entire train journey together, I don't think anyone would stay for that long if they didn't like your company. What did the two of you chat about?"

Daphne shared everything she could remember, hoping that her two compatriots would find her discussions with the Boy Who Lived to be positive.

"He said he didn't have many friends," observed Sophie, "that's definitely good news."

"How could that possibly be a good thing? It sounds quite lonely if you ask me," said Daphne. Indeed, Harry had looked quite lost, even shy, and it was apparent to Daphne before he even said as much that he didn't have many friends. His at times stuttering attempts at conversation demonstrated this.

"It's good because he's more likely to search you out at Hogwarts, that's why," replied Sophie. "You will have a personal connection and talking point with him which other girls, and boys for that matter, won't have. Plus, it probably means he's not an arrogant wanker as well."

Sophie was the member of their trio that most outwardly embodied the values of Salazar Slytherin, and her caustic observation highlighted such.

Tracey patted Daphne's knee kindly. "He seemed to find you friendly Daphne when you were being yourself; there is no need to act any different when you speak to him next or let this revelation have you treat him any differently."

"You're right," said Daphne, inhaling and exhaling briefly, "besides there is still a chance that he might not even be Harry Potter."

Tracey and Sophie vocalised their tacit agreement with that statement, but Daphne could see that disagreed with her. Her two friends spent the rest of the ride to the castle conversing about what they did during the summer and what happened to them on the train.

The most interesting, not to mention infuriating, piece of information was that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had been made the Slytherin prefects this year and had already begun lording their new status over their fellow students. Daphne had hoped her, or her friends, would be selected for the position, but apparently Professor Snape had yet to forgive her and Tracey for their cauldron of Bulgeye Potion exploding over his face in her second year.

After the carriages had pulled to a halt outside the thick, oak doors that opened into the vast Entrance Hall, the girls made their way inside Hogwarts and entered the Great Hall with the remainder of students that had yet to be seated.

Once at the Slytherin table, Sophie asked: "How was Astoria feeling about the sorting?"

Daphne bit her lip. "Alright I think, quite nervous, but she will fit in any house really." Sophie nodded in response and opened her mouth only to be interrupted by Tracey.

"Oh. My. God…" she murmured, before grabbing the sleeve of Sophie's cloak and tugging it frantically.

"Morgana's sake, what is it Trace?!" Sophie complained, trying to yank her sleeve out of its confinement in Tracey's ironclad grip.

Tracey merely pointed at the staff table at the back of the hall towards a smiling, blond-haired man with elaborately decorated marigold-coloured robes.

"Is that…" Sophie breathed in awe.

"Gilderoy Lockhart!" Tracey finished for Sophie with a squeal. At her words Daphne recognised the man instantly. Unlike Harry Potter, photos of Gilderoy Lockhart were everywhere in magical Britain. Daphne had read and enjoyed some of his books when she was younger but found his method of subduing some of the creatures he encountered in other books to be inhumane, which had soured her opinion of the man.

It was safe to say however, that most British witches, including many at Hogwarts, did not share her views. This was exemplified when Sophie leaned over to Daphne and murmured in her ear.

"Between Harry Potter and Gilderoy Lockhart, it's safe to say that the calibre of wizard in this school has significantly increased over the summer."

Daphne snorted out a laugh at that, wondering what subject the celebrity would teach, before noticing the surprising absence of Professor Quirrell, their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. That, alongside Lockhart's renowned career fighting against dark beings, all but confirmed in her mind that he was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

If that was the case, then the mystery of why she had to spend an outrageous, in her mind at least, amount of money buying Lockhart's collected works for school had been answered.

Tracey was not the only student who had noticed the new addition to the staff table, and Daphne heard Lockhart's name multiple times on both the Slytherin and other tables before the doors to the Great Hall swung open and Professor McGonagall marched the new first years into the cavernous room.

Yet there was a distinct lack of a fifteen-year-old boy with black hair and glasses in their midst, further heightening the question of who and where Harry Potter is.

She did manage to spot Astoria near the back of the pack of first years, her younger sister sending an anxious smile in her direction before whispering to a red-haired girl who was gazing open-mouthed at the ceiling. The skies were clear, and an inky midnight blue colour canvassed the top of the Great Hall with shining constellations made up of miniscule pricks of light, which illuminated the great space alongside the floating candles beneath the ceiling.

Daphne was glad that Astoria had apparently made a friend on the train journey; she just hoped that their new friendship could survive if they were sorted into different houses.

McGonagall paused next to the stool which the Sorting Hat sat upon. A stillness settled over the hall for a moment, before the previously inert hat ruffled its folds and began to sing. It sung of the history of Hogwarts, the attributes that the founders valued, and hinted at the importance of healing old wounds. When the Sorting Hat was finished, it crumpled in on itself slightly, like a puppet with its strings slackened, and McGonagall unfurled a scroll to call up the first years after the population of the hall finished applauding the hat's composition.

A handful of students were sorted, and Daphne did not have to wait long until…

"Greengrass, Astoria!"

She watched her sister climb the steps and perch on the edge of the stool as McGonagall placed the hat on Astoria's head. Daphne had to wait forty seconds, noticeably longer than other students being sorted, before the hat bellowed:

"SLYTHERIN!"

Daphne beamed widely and applauded with the rest of her house as Astoria made her way to sit next to her.

"Congratulations Tori," whispered Daphne, Astoria grinning toothily up at her as the sorting continued.

Daphne did not know any other first years getting sorted and so politely clapped for the next few minutes until Astoria's friend was called upon.

"Potter, Holly!"

Daphne's head whipped towards Astoria as the red head she had been speaking to trotted up to the stool as students across all four tables broke out into excited conversation. Astoria merely smiled innocently at her sister, but Daphne wasn't fooled, she knew her little sister was relishing her surprised reaction.

Only seconds after the Sorting Hat touched Holly's hair, before even the whispers of the student body could die out, the hat proclaimed: "GRYFFINDOR!"

Holly walked to the Gryffindor table in the centre of the hall to the jubilant cheers of the students clad in red and gold, smiling from ear to ear. Daphne looked to Astoria to see if she was upset with her friend being sorted into a different house, but Astoria was applauding happily in stark contrast to the muted response of most in their house to the youngest Potter's sorting.

The sorting of the remaining first years passed quickly, ending with an Arabella Winchester being sorted into Ravenclaw, garnering a response from Astoria, who sighed in relief for a reason that Daphne would be certain to discern later.

After McGonagall rolled up the scroll she was reading from, she raised her hand for quiet, and the rapid dwindling of sound stood as a testament to her effortless control over the student body.

"Alongside the first years, there is an additional student to be sorted this evening, joining Hogwarts and entering into his fifth year," announced McGonagall, prompting renewed whispers that the professor sharply silenced with a clearing of her throat.

"Harry Potter," she called crisply, and everyone's heads swivelled towards the still open doors to the Great Hall, where the boy in question entered and looked searchingly at the Gryffindor table as he strode towards the Sorting Hat.

Harry's gaze caught hers when he turned his head towards the Slytherin table, and he sent a small, bashful smile her way. Daphne groaned internally, finally accepting that the boy she had a crush on after spending an entire day with him on the Hogwarts Express was in fact the Boy Who Lived.

And seeing the adoring looks that many girls, girls far more beautiful than her, were subjecting him to as he turned to sit on the stool in front of the staff table, Daphne was certain that any chance she had of getting to know him better had become non-existent.


Harry waited outside the Great Hall, listening to Professor McGonagall as she finished sorting the first years. He had felt relieved when he heard Holly get sorted into Gryffindor; although he would have willingly joined any house, their parents' house was the one that he would prefer to be sorted in, the one whose values he identified with most.

He frowned slightly. When they arrived in Hogwarts, Holly and four other girls had been taken to one side by McGonagall and looked to have been lectured sternly. Holly having a sheepish expression on her face when she and the others were dismissed only reinforced his suspicions.

She had seemed happy enough when he saw her at Hogsmeade Station as they were boarding the boats, waving at him merrily as she clambered into a boat with three other students. Harry himself joined the Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, Rubeus Hagrid, in his boat, refusing to share an uncomfortable fifteen minutes with star struck eleven-year-olds as they sailed over the Black Lake.

Hagrid was an exceedingly friendly and approachable man who Harry had met on numerous occasions, his modest demeanour a contrast with his broad and towering presence. His parents had spoken favourably of the Keeper of Keys when they recollected their time at Hogwarts and had once or twice spoken in hushed tones about Hagrid being the first man to arrive in Godric's Hollow at the Potter's cottage the night Voldemort had attacked.

Hagrid had shaken Lily awake from the stunning spell Voldemort had sent at her and ensured that James was taken to St Mungo's early enough that the injuries he sustained at the Dark Lord's wand did not cripple him for life.

Hagrid's actions that night had earned him the Potter's unyielding friendship, and every summer Hagrid would have at least one dinner with the family and their friends, with a standing invitation to visit whenever he wished. Indeed, every year Hagrid had sent Harry and Holly a present for their birthdays, and in return the Potter's gave Hagrid a homemade card and gift every Christmas and on his birthday.

During their journey across the Black Lake, Hagrid had informed Harry that he was to wait outside the Great Hall until the rest of the new students had been sorted, when his name would then be called.

"Harry Potter!"

Speaking of the devil.

Harry took a moment to centre himself, before he walked into the Great Hall, finding Holly perched at the far end of the Gryffindor table and smiling beamingly at him.

He turned to see Daphne staring at him unblinkingly with her mouth marginally open, clearly stunned. Harry experienced a twinge of guilt at misleading her and hoped that she didn't take his vague explanations of his identity as a slight against her. Although in his defence, he thought he was recognisable enough that she should have been able to connect the dots over the hours they spent talking.

He arrived at the stool, turned, and sat on it, wherefore McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat upon his head.

"My, my, the Boy Who Lived. I was expecting to sort you four years ago Mr Potter, but better late than never I suppose." The Sorting Hat had a croaking voice that spoke to its old age and thousands of students it had spoken to, its worn timbre circling from the centre of his head to the tips of his ears and the back of his head.

"Sorry for the delay," apologised Harry, still a bit unnerved by having a voice that wasn't his own echoing around his skull.

"Hmm… you have the same bravery as your parents, you would do well in following your sister into Gryffindor," the hat whispered.

'That was easy," thought Harry. He had expected to have to argue his case for Gryffindor, but apparently the hat was as wise as its age suggested.

"Oh yes," it purred, "you have bravery for sure, much more than you or others believe. The boy who vanquished the Dark Lord; you will be great Harry Potter, and it is Slytherin house that will best help you on the path to greatness."

Where did that come from?!

"No thank you," said Harry firmly, "I'm not interested in greatness, I'd like to be sorted into Gryffindor like the rest of my family."

"Are you sure? You will make your real friends in Slytherin, and if I'm not mistaken you have already become well acquainted with one of Salazar's pupils."

Daphne's face came to mind, and Harry had to forcefully eject the image as he responded, "No, I can make friends in any house. Gryffindor suits me best."

The hat chuckled. "Very determined as well. Such loyalty to your loved ones is a quality reminiscent of the greatest students of Hufflepuff house."

Harry thought of spending the next three years sharing a dormitory with Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley and shuddered in slight horror.

"Definitely not," responded Harry, who was now feeling quite annoyed. Was the hat being obtuse on purpose?

"Very well," the Sorting Hat sighed regretfully, "if you do not want to be sorted into neither Slytherin nor Hufflepuff, then it better be… GRYFFINDOR!"

Thank Merlin! That was far too close for comfort.

Harry walked towards a group of Gryffindors that looked around his age and were sitting near Holly, who he grinned at as he passed her. His path was accompanied by the polite applause from the other tables and the jubilant cheers coming from the table he was headed towards, with an identical pair of ginger twins that looked strangely familiar even yelling, "WE GOT POTTER," at the top of their lungs.

Harry sat in a recently vacated space to the congratulations of his new housemates, forcing a strained smile on his face when he saw how eagerly they all looked at him, like a niffler that had seen the glint of a pile of freshly minted gold galleons.

At that moment, Professor Dumbledore stood from a gilded gold and leather throne at the centre of the staff table with a warm smile and held up his hand for the hall to quieten.

"Welcome, welcome those who join us for the first time, and welcome back to those who have already graced the halls of Hogwarts." Dumbledore had clasped his hands together, though they were covered by the long, drooping sleeves of his royal purple and gold robes.

"Before we all dive into what I am sure will be a simply scrumptious banquet," he continued, "there are a few start of term announcements to make. Firstly, Mr Filch, our tireless caretaker, has added an additional eleven items to the rather extensive list of objects forbidden inside the castle, in light of the emergence last year of sugary treats that transfigure unsuspecting subjects into various creatures of an avian persuasion, or otherwise alter our bodily makeup." At this Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles towards the Gryffindor table.

"Furthermore, as I am sure our more dedicated readers of Witch Weekly have already noticed, we have a new staff member joining us this year." It seemed to Harry that Dumbledore said this with a slight grimace, the corners of the old professor's mouth tightening slightly as though he was having difficulty maintaining his smile. Yet when Harry blinked a second later, he could detect no change from Dumbledore's welcoming persona.

"Sadly, Professor Quirrell will not be returning to Hogwarts this year, having decided after four years to pursue a significantly less hazardous profession. Thus, Hogwarts welcomes Gilderoy Lockhart as the new Defence Against the Darks Arts professor." At a gesture from the headmaster, Lockhart stood and grandly saluted the student body to the excited cheers of many.

Harry was not among them. Out of every witch or wizard in the known world, why did Dumbledore have to hire Lockhart? He knew that Lockhart was an accomplished wizard, being an honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League, but Harry knew from personal experience that the man was an insufferable narcissist that had caused Harry's parents no end of grief three years ago when he published lies about Harry in Magical Me.

Dumbledore waved the applause down with a steady downwards motion of his aged hand.

"Yes, welcome Gilderoy, it appears that I am not the only one interested in what you have to teach," chuckled Dumbledore lightly, his eyes twinkling, "but I believe it time for us to dig into the delicious spread that the kitchens have prepared."

Dumbledore's eyes flickered from Lockhart's to Harry's before he clapped once and returned to his seat as every table in the Great Hall was suddenly filled with multitudes of platters filled with dinners of all description.

Harry served himself a helping of roast potatoes and buttered carrots, as well as sausages in an onion gravy, as the Gryffindors around him introduced themselves.

There were Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, two boys in his year that he would be sharing a dormitory with sitting opposite him, who promised to show him around the castle whenever he wanted. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, also in his year, who giggled at anything he said. Angelina Johnson, a seventh year who captained the Gryffindor quidditch team and not so subtly mentioned that they were having try-outs next Thursday in case Harry just so happened to be interested in the sport.

It was overwhelming. Harry had never had to engage with so many different people at the same time before and knowing that they would be the people he would be spending most of his time with at Hogwarts, he attempted to relax and talk with his housemates as naturally as he could.

Harry hoped he wasn't making a mess of things and appearing arrogant, or awkward. Sirius had said that he should be himself, but that was difficult when he was so unsure of just who he was after eschewing the company of everyone aside from his family and their friends.

Harry also took the time to observe the high table where his new professors and the school staff sat eating the feast. They were a diverse range of witches and wizards and most spoke quietly to each other, though what they spoke of Harry could not tell. There was one though, with hair as black as charcoal hanging around his pallid face, his body wrapped in black robes, who was staring expressionlessly at Holly. His onyx eyes then met Harry's, and the professor's lips morphed into a sneer and looked away.

When asked, Angelina informed him that the professor was Severus Snape, the Potions Master, and Head of Slytherin; though something about that name sounded familiar, Harry could not think of where he had heard it before. Regardless, it seemed as though Snape was not a man to get on the wrong side of if Angelina's distasteful description of him was any indication.

It was around when Harry was reaching for a second serving that he started talking in earnest to one of the boys next to him. The ginger boy, who wore a prefect badge, looked familiar in the same way that the twins further down the table did, and Harry asked his name.

"Ron Weasley," the boy answered hastily, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. "You might not remember, but we sat next to each other-"

"- at the Quidditch World Cup last summer, of course!" Harry interjected.

His dad had secured seats in the Top Box for the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, and Harry remembered briefly meeting the Weasley family who were seated adjacent to them. He had enjoyed talking about Quidditch with Ron and his brothers before the match started and they both became engrossed in the game. At the end of the match Harry had immediately begun dissecting the game with his dad and did not get the opportunity to say more to the Weasleys before the family of red heads had departed the Top Box.

Ron's blush spread from the tips of his ears to fill his entire face. "I didn't think that you'd remember," he muttered.

"'Course I do," replied Harry kindly, "it was great being able to talk about quidditch with someone other than my dad or godfather. Say, what do you think of the rumours in Seeker Weekly that Krum could sign with the Tutshill Tornados?"

Harry vaguely remembered that Ron was a massive fan of Bulgarian seeker Victor Krum at the world cup last summer and wondered if he shared Harry's displeasure at the possibility of the Tornados adding a world class seeker to their already formidable team, regardless of how awesome it would be to have Krum playing in Britain.

Ron's left eye twitched. "I hope the tosser stays in Bulgaria," he said sourly, and Harry followed his gaze to a bushy haired, brunette girl their age that was in a conversation with Holly and some other first years.

"I take it you don't want Tutshill to add another quality player to their line-up?" Harry speculated lightly. Clearly Ron had reversed his hero worship of Krum in the past year.

"Uh, yeah… that's it," coughed Ron, happy to agree with the explanation Harry provided. "The Tornados are destroying any sense of competition in the league; they don't need any more advantages."

Harry grinned, agreeing with Ron completely. He and his dad supported Ballycastle Bats, and so had every Potter since his three times great grandmother from Ballycastle, Mildred Potter, had married into the family during an era of incredible success for the Bats. Despite being one of the better teams in Britain and Ireland, they had not won the league in his lifetime and Harry desperately wished for that to change.

He became so engrossed in talking with Ron that before he knew it, Dumbledore was dismissing everyone to their common rooms.

As the bushy haired prefect that was with Holly pressed Ron into helping her escort the first years to Gryffindors Tower, leaving Harry with the other fifth year Gryffindors to walk to the common room, Harry reflected on just how easy it was talking with Ron. There was no pressure or expectations from him, and Ron had been perfectly content to discuss everyday topics with an ease that he had not experienced since he spoke to Daphne on the train.

Daphne…

She had seemed unsettled when McGonagall revealed his identity earlier. Harry resolved to speak to her in their first class together and show that he meant no ill will by acting evasive on the train and, thinking of her aquamarine eyes and lightly freckled face, reaffirm that he would very much like to be her friend despite his being sorted into Gryffindor.

Harry walked beside Seamus, Dean and a boy called Neville Longbottom, who Harry had never met before but knew that his parents regularly visited Neville's debilitated parents and fellow Order of the Phoenix members at St Mungo's, to a portrait they called the Fat Lady.

"Password?" The lady intoned.

"I know this one," said Neville eagerly, gesturing with one hand to the potted, cactus like plant in his other. "The password is Mimbulus mimbletonia."

The Fat Lady dipped her head nobly, and the frame of her portrait swung open, revealing the Gryffindor Common Room.

It was full of Gryffindors from second to seventh years heading to their dormitories, eager to sleep after a long day reuniting with their friends. The walls were draped with wallpaper of burgundy and gold, upon which were hung portraits of notable alumni that surveyed the current Gryffindors with smiles or a critical eye, alongside tapestries displaying scenes of battle and incredible feats of magical skill and daring.

There was a fireplace to the right of the common room as Harry entered, and the hearty flames crackling in its hearth cast writhing, orange spectres over an enamelled, life-sized lion that was carved into the opposite wall which almost seemed alive as the fiery shadows illuminated its features.

Beneath the upright, roaring lion were some desks for students to work at, and situated seemingly at random throughout the room were squashy and neatly stitched scarlet sofas and chairs that Harry could imagine sinking into tiredly at the end of a busy day of classes.

The Gryffindor common room was dominated by numerous shades of red. Not bright reds that drew the eye, or violent reds reminiscent of blood and suffering. No, the Gryffindor Common Room gave the impression of warmth and security that Harry somehow knew would give its occupants hope and courage even if the rest of Hogwarts castle were to grow dark and dim.

There was a special magic woven into the mortar and stitching of this room, charms cast purposefully by Godric Gryffindor himself a thousand years ago, and they had not faded yet.

Harry followed his dormmates to their dormitory where they found Ron changing into his pyjamas, having arrived earlier with the first years.

"Explain to us again how you were made prefect mate," asked Dean amusedly, collapsing backwards onto his bed and laying down with his arms crossed behind his head. Meanwhile, Harry began to unpack his belongings that had been placed on the bed next to the window.

"Piss off," replied Ron, flushing slightly as he pulled back his bedsheets and climbed in.

"Just don't go running to McGonagall if you catch me and Lavender out after curfew yeah." Seamus grinned at Ron cheekily and slapping him on the shoulder as he walked past.

"I didn't know you two were going out," questioned Neville, sitting on the edge of his own bed, and tugging off his shoes.

"They're not," smiled Dean, "though it's not for lack of trying on his part." Seamus threw a pillow at Dean to the guffaws of the rest of the Gryffindors. It was apparent to Harry that the Gryffindor fifth year boys were all very friendly to each other.

"I'm telling you, this is the year boys," promised Seamus.

"You said the same thing at the Yule Ball last year Seamus, and nothing happened," laughed Ron dismissively.

"Well, it would have if that Beauxbatons arse hadn't been sniffing around," Seamus huffed sourly, to the muttered agreement of the other boys.

Harry went to the bathroom attached to their dormitory to get changed into his pyjamas as Seamus, Dean and Ron continued to espouse the shortcomings of boys from other schools. By the time he had left the bathroom all the boys were lying in their respective beds and Harry soon joined them.

"Hey Harry," called Dean, causing Harry to turn his head to look in the boy's direction. "I haven't said it yet, but welcome to Gryffindor mate. If you need anything let us know; you're a lion now, and we look out for each other."

It was a nice gesture from Dean. Although Harry had got on with Ron the most, after all he had not questioned him about his past once, Neville seemed kind, if a little shy, and Dean and Seamus' excitement at seeing Harry Potter had faded quickly, unlike what he had experienced with Ernie and Justin. He couldn't fault their initial interest; his mum had said that curiosity regarding his past was to be expected, but Harry was thankful all the same that Dean and Seamus' was short lived.

"Yeah," agreed Seamus, "we've got your back if any fans bother you."

"Or Malfoy," whispered Neville fearfully, prompting serious nods from the other boys.

"Malfoy?" Harry questioned innocently. He knew the name of course, from both his parents and Daphne, and did not have a favourable impression of him, but was wondering what his new dormmates would say.

"He's a nasty piece of work," warned Seamus. "Malfoy's father is filthy rich, so he gets whatever he wants, and was apparently in You Know Who's inner circle." At that Seamus shifted uncomfortably, as though talking to Harry about Voldemort was insensitive. Ron picked up where Seamus had left off.

"The apple hasn't fallen far from the tree either. He's a prefect now, a Slytherin and their seeker too, and is a bigoted bully, he calls Dean and Hermione mu-" Ron sealed his lips abruptly and ground his teeth as though hit by a tongue-tying curse, finding the derogative term too distasteful to speak aloud. Harry could guess the language that Malfoy used though, and his own jaw clenched involuntary.

"He's really talented at magic as well," mentioned Neville timidly, "curses and the like."

Dean snorted. "I don't know why you're acting so afraid Neville; you gave him an absolute beauty of a black eye last year." Dean saw Harry looking inquisitively at his words and elaborated.

"Last spring, Malfoy somehow overheard that Parvati's muggle cousin had been hit by a car and would be spending at least a year needing a wheelchair or crutches while they recover. Parvati was obviously in tears all morning when she got the letter. Anyway, Malfoy comes over while we're waiting outside Herbology and starts saying these really disgusting comments, and Parvati's crying even harder, and his goons are laughing."

"Hermione starts laying into him, and Lavender, Fay, and we were all drawing our wands," Ron interrupted effusively, "when out of nowhere Neville just slugs Malfoy in the face!"

"Malfoy hit the deck like a wet fish and Neville just kept coming for him," cackled Seamus gleefully, "then Crabbe and Goyle jumped on Neville, and we went after them!" Seamus sighed contentedly. "It. Was. Brilliant."

"Well worth losing a hundred house points," agreed Dean.

"Muggle duelling is awesome," commented Ron, with a very satisfied look on his face, as though he were recalling the incident fondly.

"My gran was pleased with me somehow," said Neville disbelievingly, "said my dad would have done the same thing."

"Parvati was pleased and all," interjected Seamus slyly, "she's been looking at you like you're the second coming of Godric Gryffindor since that day."

Harry laughed alongside the others at Neville's stuttered denials, until he saw his mirror flash on the bedside table.

"What is that Harry? It was flashing when you were in the bathroom as well," asked Ron.

"Just a silly time-keeping trinket, it lets me know when I should turn in to get a restful sleep," lied Harry easily. His dormmates seemed friendly, but he wasn't willing to let them in on all his family secrets, even one as harmless as their communication mirrors.

"Huh, never heard it but-" Ron then yawned loudly, "I'm sleepy as well. Night guys."

The others followed Ron and Harry pulled the curtains of his new (and extremely comfortable) four-poster bed closed. He grabbed his mirror and cast sound cancelling charms along the perimeter of the bed before tapping the mirror once with his wand, revealing Holly's slightly vexed face.

"Finally," she said impatiently, "I've been calling for ages. I thought we agreed to call after dinner."

"I thought I'd let you call when you were free. I'd hate to 'embarrass' you after all," explained Harry pointedly.

Holly looked guilty. "I'm sorry about that Harry, I didn't mean to be rude, I was just nervous. Plus, your sorting took longer than everyone else's, I wanted to know what it was saying, I was getting concerned."

"It took me a bit of time to convince the hat not to sort me into Slytherin or Hufflepuff," said Harry, "but it got there in the end."

"Thank goodness, I can't believe we were both sorted into Gryffindor!" Holly exclaimed gleefully.

"Go Go Gryffindor!" Harry chanted with a loud whisper, pantomiming punching his left hand into the air to Holly's delighted giggles.

Harry smiled softly at Holly. "Did you make any friends on the train? I saw McGonagall pull you and some others to one side before the sorting."

Holly looked away for a few seconds before answering. "I did make one friend, Tori, she was sorted into Slytherin."

"And the others?" Pressed Harry. Holly visibly squirmed.

"We tried to make friends with them, we really did, but they were horrible Harry!" Harry tried to process what his sister was saying as Holly proceeded to rapidly describe an argument with three other first years that ended in their wands being confiscated until McGonagall returned them before the sorting.

He would have to thank Ron in the morning for ensuring that Holly hadn't gotten hurt as well, even if he did take her wand.

"I'm sorry Harry," she finished miserably.

"What did McGonagall say?" Harry asked, after thinking through what Holly had told him for a moment.

"She said that she was extremely disappointed and that she'd never seen such appalling behaviour from students before they have even been sorted. She said she'd be writing to our parents tomorrow and gave us all detention polishing the trophies in the Trophy Room so that we, and I quote: "understand that the best of Hogwarts' students have distinguished themselves through hard work, not by behaving like hoodlums."

"McGonagall's got a point," said Harry with a small smile, "you certainly didn't waste any time getting into trouble. For what it's worth I think you did the right thing."

"You do?" Holly questioned in a tiny voice.

"I do," stated Harry firmly. From what his sister said it seemed like the only way she could have avoided that fight was if she let the other girls walk all over her, and in his mind that was not a viable alternative. Hopefully, they would know not to torment his little sister from now on.

"What do you think mum and dad will say?" It was clear that this had been worrying Holly.

"They won't be best pleased," admitted Harry. "I'll tell you what, we'll explain what happened when we write them a letter tomorrow morning. They will appreciate the honesty, and if we send Hedwig early enough, we can hopefully do some damage control before they get McGonagall's letter."

"Thanks Harry," whispered Holly. "Did you want to explore the castle together tomorrow morning? I missed you more than I thought I would today, and we don't have classes on the weekend. I could introduce you to Tori as well."

"I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing," chuckled Harry. "Sure, we can go exploring tomorrow, make sure you're in the common room by seven, we can see if we can find any secret passageways."

Their dad and godfathers had drawn a map of Hogwarts and its grounds, which showed all of its secrets that they had discovered, as well as the location of everyone inside the castle. His dad said that Filch had unknowingly confiscated the Marauders Map in their seventh year and after Harry had confirmed he would be going to Hogwarts this autumn, James Potter had advised him to locate and reclaim the map when he got the chance. Considering how unique the Marauders Map was, finding it was one of his top priorities.

Fortunately, his father had bequeathed him an object that would greatly aid him in exploring the castle. He had walked into Harry's bedroom last night after dinner, carrying a bundle of silky, silvery cloth in his arms, and closing the door behind him.

"All packed for tomorrow?" His dad asked, sitting next to Harry on the bottom of the bed.

"Just about," answered Harry, "I'll have another check before we set off in the morning."

James Potter nodded, gently running a hand over the silvery fabric resting in his arms. He noticed Harry eyeing it curiously.

"This," said James, holding the fabric in front of him where it revealed itself to be a thin, but wide cloak, "is an invisibility cloak. It has belonged to our family for hundreds of years; your grandfather gave it to me the day before I started Hogwarts, and now, I give it to you. Sirius, Remus, and I had some great adventures thanks to that cloak," he reflected wistfully.

At a gesture from his dad, Harry took the cloak with wonder, fingering the almost seamless material and the esoteric symbols that covered it. He swung it round his shoulders, looking at the full-length mirror on his wardrobe door, and seeing his disembodied head floating, laughed in amazement.

He turned back to James, who was smiling proudly and stood up to stand next to Harry, who removed the cloak.

"What about Holly?" Harry was loathe to ask, not wanting to chance giving up such an incredible family heirloom when he had only just learned of it.

"The cloak is yours Harry," insisted James, "though I would expect you to lend it to your sister when you leave Hogwarts, tradition states that the cloak is passed down the male line. Don't ask me why, I don't know. All my father said was that this cloak was one of a kind and had been passed down from father to son for centuries."

Harry nodded seriously, before engulfing his dad in a hug which was fiercely returned. "I'm so proud of you Harry," his dad whispered, and Harry had to blink back tears and squeezed James even tighter. They parted and James wore a mischievous grin.

"Now let me tell you about a certain map that I would definitely like to look at again…"

"Ok, goodnight Harry," smiled Holly.

"Night Holly." Harry tapped the mirror with his wand and Holly's face vanished. He placed the mirror back on his bedside cabinet and rolled onto his back, closing his eyes, and feeling the soft ache of his tiredness lull him to sleep.


Lockhart as DADA professor…

I can only say sorry for that one. I just find him to be one of the funniest characters in Harry Potter and from the people that I have spoken to, I think I'm the only one who has that opinion. He won't have that big of a role in the story if its any consolation; I didn't want to introduce too many OCs and thought there was a lot of content I could mine out of having Lockhart in this story.

That also applies to Snape. I'm of the opinion that in this type of reality (Voldemort dead and Lily and James alive), Snape would not be teaching potions at Hogwarts. However, I promise that he is there for a larger reason than too simply provide content and prevent my introducing another OC into the story.

Speaking of DADA, I am curious as to who you all think had the worst/best fate of each of each of the DADA professors. I cannot remember what happens to Umbridge, but the other examples we know of would suggest it wasn't pleasant.

I don't really have a specific recommendation for this week. A lot of Haphne authors whose stories I like reading publicise a Haphne discord. Now, I don't really know what a discord is or what you do on one, but from the sounds of it, it's a place where you can discuss Haphne. And if you ask me, that sounds like a fun place to find quality Haphne fanfiction. Heck, if I was more tech aware I'd probably join it, so head on over there.

Thanks for the great support and I'd appreciate reading your thoughts on the chapter. See you next time.