Key:
"Words."
Thoughts / "emphasis" / Title of Books or spells used
~~Parseltongue~~
¬¬Foreign Language¬¬
"Magical language."
End of Summer
19th August 1993
The meeting continued for a while longer, with most of the time used to calm the group down after the constant series of blows to their view of the world. Draco astonished everyone by speaking into one of the conversation lulls to apologise for his actions to both Harry and Nymphadora during their time at Hogwarts. They appreciated the act, even though everyone knew it was partly because of how Harry magically and socially outclassed him. The pair had accepted his words while also reserving judgement until they saw his future actions. Harry had looked to make it up to destroying the trainee Auror's worldview by revealing he too was a true Metamorphmagus, although that led to admitting his accelerated puberty had locked his body in its base form until it was over.
While the group hadn't become instant best friends, everyone was pulling in the same direction by the end of the meeting. The Tonkses were furious over Dumbledore's action. Andromeda wanted to gut Moody for pitting her daughter against family when Nymphadora revealed she and her Auror mentor were going to be stationed at Hogwarts, and she had been secretly told it partly to monitor Harry because of his relationship with the Rakepicks. Said daughter had been willing to do the deed herself by the end, having her eyes opened to the reality of the world and the bigotry those on the 'Light' side carried.
Plans were made, and Harry found himself faced with the realisation that everyone in the room now expected him to keep in contact. The orphan might have declared them all his family, but he hadn't understood that the eclectic group would feel that he was their family as well.
As Diagon Alley began closing down for the evening and the foot traffic moved to the other streets for the rest of the night, Harry made his way to Ollivanders. He had sent a letter to the old wandmaker requesting a moment of his time, while apologising for not knowing when his meeting at Merlin's Redoubt would end. The man might have been gracious enough to agree, but Harry wasn't wanting to push the hospitality further than needed.
The loyal holly wand that had seen him through the past two years of schooling had refused to work for him at all the first time he tried using it after the ritual. His master had admitted the Founders knew enough about making wands to be masters of the craft without being on the level of those who dedicated their live to the craft. A mastery that included a spell able to tell what part of a wand rejected someone. For Harry, that had been the holly wood. According to Sal, holly worked best for those who struggled in overcoming a deep swell of negative emotions, those who led by example and used their understanding of the darker aspects of human nature to protect their charges, or those who took an emotional or healing supportive role. It was the first part that had the wood turning against Harry. The young man had completely embraced his darker side to battle his enemies.
The Founder had used a spell to draw Fawkes' feather out of the stick and, with respect, placed both aside. There had been no question that Harry would keep the wood, even if it was just put in a case to be preserved. Salazar had then preceded to reiterate a point Harry had missed during his Animagus lesson. Namely, that wands were almost exactly like Animagus forms, in that a single wand rarely matched perfectly to a mage's personality and magic due to how complex both were. It was only through an intricate use of as many ingredients as possible that a wand created was perfect for the user. No wand made in such a way could be 'won' by another in combat, as even twins weren't that identical.
And so, using the insane number of wands in the Room's 'Room of Lost Things' configuration that the elves and Hogwarts herself used to store anything lost within her walls, along with the Founders' own collection of ingredients, the pair spent almost an hour finding just the right combination for Harry to use going forward. Harry ended up with two wands, each having five woods and three cores, with his blood as a binding agent, but now needed personalised wand holsters that wouldn't react to the unique magics of his wands. And while Salazar had the knowledge to make rudimentary holsters that would work, he lacked the materials to do so. The Founder had also declared it better to get them professionally made.
Which was why Harry found himself opening the door of Ollivander's shop far later than the man usually kept it open.
"Hello again, Mister Potter," the old man called out from the back. Harry's senses reached out and picked out the fresh alert and permission ward he had passed. It seemed the wandmaker had made sure no one else would disturb him. "What can I do for you this evening? Wand issues"
"I'm sorry to say my wand no longer works for me, sir," Harry explained, drawing his two wands from his pockets and carefully placed them on the counter. Ollivander appeared through the door and froze when he caught sight of Harry. "Someone made me these, but he said I need commissioned holsters."
The man known as Garrick Ollivander inched closer, silver eyes jumping from the wands beneath Harry's palms and the lightning pattern down his face. The young Lord of Magic had a feeling the man knew what the mark meant, especially with the wandmaker's whispered words echoing their first meeting. "Great things indeed."
Harry took his hands off the wands, fighting against himself to keep from snatching them up to keep the man from touching them. Ollivander seemed to read his inner struggle as the wandmaker only brushed his wrinkly fingers above them. When Harry was sure the man wouldn't touch his wands, his gaze lifted and caught Ollivander's glowing gaze. The moment their eyes locked was when Harry realised the old man was far more than he appeared.
"The Ollivander line began a little after 500BC, Mister Potter," the wandmaker said, breaking the silence before it became suffocating. "The first was a talented Roman merchant. Very talented indeed. He was the first to discover how to create wands. A spiteful Roman mage senator demanded he to be made the ultimate wand, a weapon fit for the man who wished to conquer Europe. He was refused, of course. The wand chooses the wizard, and the senator desired a wand of ingredients that refused him. The senator was furious. He forced the man to watch as his wife and family were slaughtered, and then commanded the priests of Janus to curse the wandmaker. The man could live a normal wizard's lifespan, only to then painfully revert back to his younger years. Should he be killed, the curse would force him through the reversal early. Should he take his own life, then it would force his spirit to wander the world, never to be able to cross into the afterlife."
The story disgusted Harry. The curse sounded similar to the lifecycle of a phoenix, but those were magical animals linked to life and rebirth. Yet, no matter how Evil the act, Harry found himself unsurprised at the cruelty of the senator. Ollivander seemed to know what he was thinking, giving the young man a wry smile.
"The senator then chained the wandmaker up and put him through daily tortures. It took another wizard who heard of the tale to free him. The first of the Potter line, I believe. The man even smuggled the wandmaker across the waters into the land of Albion, where a Peverell and another powerful individual met them. He was a man who was an ancestor of the Founders," glowing silver orbs locked onto Avada green as the tale continued. Ollivander's voice hadn't changed, remaining low and dusty as it always was. "Your ancestor. The Peverell had felt the man's curse as soon as he stepped onto Britain's soil, and wished to see who was avoiding Death. While neither could break the curse, they gave the first Ollivander a gift beyond measure. They made it that only those who already knew of his curse would connect him to his older self once he regenerated. It was he who founded this shop. He would fall in love many times, having children to continue the family business, and forced to bury his family as the centuries passed. And the Ollivanders have always kept to using names beginning with 'G'-"
"After your original name, sir?" Harry asked, able to see where the story had its end. He got a chuckle in reply, and a shake of the white mane.
"Oh, no, Mister Potter, not I. My first wife's. My original name was Prometheus. I suppose we could consider my discovery of how to create wands as stealing the fires of Magic."
Harry goggled. If what Ollivander was saying was true, and he had no reason to doubt the man, then he was standing in front of the origin of a myth. The shock quickly gave way to suspicion. "Why tell me?"
"For you to trust me in answering a question," the wandmaker admitted, the man's tone shifted to having a hard edge. "My craft is as much art as it is science, Mister Potter. I could teach a class in the techniques of making wands and have each student meticulously copy my methods. Yet every one of them will have their own style of wand. No two wandmakers' wands are alike, and that brings me to a problem. I know who made these wands. He and his three friends were the last outside my family to know my secret, and he has been dead for almost nine-hundred years."
Damn it, Salazar, Harry cursed. He had to believe Ollivander's story when the wandmaker said something like that. And he knew he only had one way to prove his own tale. The teen sighed, reaching inside him to draw out his soul aura.
Almost exactly what it sounded like, the soul aura was a spiritual version of a magical aura, but also much, much more. There was a reason only Lords of Magic could declare someone a new Lord. Becoming one, even one of the Mind Arts, changed how a mage's soul and magic interacted. One repercussion was allowing the mage to call upon the soul aura. A Lord of Magic could use the aura to power their magic to even far greater heights, but at the cost of harming themselves if misused or overused. It was also a Lord of Magic's ultimate weapon against overwhelming odds. A magical nuke that would vaporise themselves and anything within the blast radius. A soul aura was also a self-sustaining cycle as once the mage learnt how to do access theirs, it influenced them to have a greater understanding and skill with other branches of magic. That made becoming a Lord of Magic in other areas far easier, causing their soul aura to grow in power and repeating the cycle.
The problems were that only a Lord of Magic or Soul Readers like Cassie could see the change, and only the former could teach someone to find and release their soul auras. The legends of the first Lord of Magic said he had almost destroyed himself researching how to do it on his own.
Ollivander's eyes widened as Harry's aura pushed the store's shadows back. The teen glimpsed an emotion in those silver pools, yet it vanished too fast for him to identify and making him doubt having even seen it at all.
"Salazar left an imprint of himself inside Hogwarts. I'm his Apprentice."
The wandmaker bowed his neck low, a sign of respect to what Harry was and was becoming. The teen pulled his aura back in, and they had a moment of understanding pass between the pair before they were back to one crazy old man and one customer with a unique order.
"Phoenix feather, Thestral hair, and the horn of a horned serpent cores. Yew and English oak merged, with beech and black walnut slivers, and tied with silver lime. Blood bound to help the wand stabilise. 11 inches, and fairly flexible," Ollivander stated, reading off what he read in the wand Harry had decided would be his primary one. Each had the two main woods that fitted Harry's personality, twisted into a two-coloured spiral column that narrowed to a tip. The 'top and bottom' and 'left and right' sides of the wand had the second pair of woods weaved between the spirals, with rings of the last wood running along the length. It made both wands thicker than Harry was used to, but his magic had never felt so free flowing as it did when using them. "An extremely powerful wand tied to life and death more than any other I have heard of, including the Death Stick, and deeply rooted in natural magic. To be used by one who is sure of himself without being close-minded. A wand capable of doing anything its owner imagines.
"Thunderbird feather, a... dragon heartstring, and basilisk horn cores. Aspen and ebony merged, with hazel and snakewood slivers, and tied by blackthorn. Blood bound to help the wand stabilise. A highly inflexible 13 inches," the old man's eyebrows raised, but Harry remained stubbornly silent. He got a smirk for his troubles. The feather and horn were from his Animagus forms, while the dragon heartstring was something Salazar had gained from his Peverell family. The Founder had been strangely tight lipped on what breed it came from, and Ollivander's pause made Harry think the old man knew, but was holding his old student's secrets. "An extremely temperamental wand that would refuse to bow to any but the one who it was crafted for. Perhaps the ultimate warrior's wand."
Harry shrugged at that, only to frown when Ollivander sighed.
"Nothing I have here will work for you, Mister Potter. These wands will not accept being placed within the type of holsters made today. But perhaps..." the piercing gaze moved from Harry's eyes to where Cadwaladr's mark was over his heart. Harry had a distinct feeling the wandmaker not only knew the mark was there, but recognised his familiar's species. "There are some unique pieces I am in possession of. Pieces that choose those who wear them. It was the Founders themselves who were the last ones to pick from the collection. Would you be willing to try?"
"What would I have to do, sir?"
"Merely step into the room and release your aura once more. Should there be something there for you, it will reveal itself."
"I accept."
"Then follow me, and we shall see what happens," Ollivander ominously said. Harry followed him into the back of the shop, and his first thought was how it resembled what he imagined a carpenter's workshop would look like. He was distracted from looking around when the wandmaker continued speaking. "I warn you that no matter what happens, you won't remember where the room is. You will know I showed it to you, and that you tested the objects within, but you will never remember it is located here."
Harry respected the security, although he wondered why it was needed and just what the immortal man had stored away. He also noticed Ollivander had said 'located here,' and not 'located in my shop,' making him think that the walk to their destination was a part of the security. They came to a blank wall, and Harry watched as the old man placed a palm against an unremarkable spot while casting magic with his other hand. Harry guessed the language being spoken was something long dead, perhaps even from Ollivander's original time period, and he had felt the familiar taste of Blood Magic in the air. The wall rippled like a pond, and then vanished, revealing a large storage room filled with a shocking variety of items. Harry eyed the things he could see, from weapons to things he'd bet his life were objects of Power, and other items he couldn't even guess at. He gaped at the smirking Ollivander. "You're far more than a creepy old wandmaker."
The man chuckled. A wave of the hand told him he should enter. Harry did so, but stopped at the entrance. A room like this no doubt had far more security than just the locks, and he refused to tempt any of it. He let his aura shine once more, stretching it out as far into the room as he could. The act also meant he was sensing Ollivander behind him and so felt the man's surging delight and happiness when two silver bands flew at Harry's head. Harry caught them with ease, and then gasped as he felt them click into place within his magic.
"Goblin silver bracers, dragonhide leather inlaid to sit against the forearms."
"I don't suppose they've got a special name? Or you'll tell me their history and why they've been hidden away?" Harry almost frowned when he saw the neutral expression on Ollivander's face. It was the look of a man using all his control to keep his emotions from showing. "Or anything else about them?"
"I think, Mister Potter, that you will find out should you continue to do those great things I mentioned the first time we met."
.
.
OoOoO
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31st August, 1993 (1 yr, 301 days diluted)
August became the busiest time of Harry's life so far. While the escape of both Sirius Black and Bellatrix 'Lestrange' (the murder of the Lestrange brothers was still being kept hushed up), parents were keeping their children away from the Alleys as much as was feasible, but the adults continued to visit the areas as they usually did. Albeit with a little more caution and constant checking of shadows. He alternated his time helping Cassie at the Sight UnSeen with befriending the other shop owners or visiting his new extended family. The Tonkses treated him as one of their own from the beginning, and Harry noticed the longer he and Dora – the only name he got away with calling his fellow Metamorph – spent together, the more she came home ranting about her mentor Moody. Harry usually joined her, as the man had taken to interrupting their Auror beats around the Alleys to constantly stalk Harry. Everyone was sure the paranoid man was reporting his activities back to Dumbledore.
If he wasn't visiting the Tonkses, he was spending time at Malfoy Manor. While things between Harry and the males of the family were strained, Narcissa adopted him as a second son from the moment he walked through the door. She had been delighted with the changes in Kreacher and Dobby, much to her husband's chagrin and son's confused disgust, and spent many hours teaching Harry everything about House Black that Salazar hadn't known. Lucius and Snape had been unsure about getting their Dark Marks removed, so Harry split the difference and modified them. While even Riddle wouldn't notice the change, both men were a simple blood smearing and standard Finite away from freeing themselves of it. Lucius was feeling out the other repentant Death Eaters, but was playing a dangerous game doing so. Harry didn't blame him for taking his time with that.
And that left his work with Salazar. The man had seemed to have anticipated that he would return with the goblin bracers, but was as tight-lipped about them as he was over Cadwaladr's species. Harry and his familiar had worked on mastering the ability to speak mind-to-mind to the point of being in a lesson and not having it distract Harry.
Harry had long since changed his session topics. After cutting back on his physical exercises, he added alternating lessons of Astronomy and History of Magic into the first time-dilated until he had taken both to NEWT level knowledge. Salazar acknowledged that continuing with the courses was futile, given Harry's disinterest. Their substitutions were alternating non-magical combat using a sword and dagger with ''Animal Husbandry, Magical Wildlife, and Magical Fauna.' The latter was a combined Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and survival class, and had started with an impressive rant from the Founder about his thoughts on the class getting split into its modern day watered-down version.
As he was only further self-study and work away from being a Lord of Runic Magic, and quickly approaching the same state with Arithmancy, those subjects had switched out with Potions for Harry's second session, and alternating Transfiguration and Charms for the third.
Salazar was nothing like Snape in teaching the subject both were most known for. The Founder had compared Snape's skills in Potions to be similar, if not to the level of Harry's in Runes. The man had just understood the basics of potions in a way most never did, granting him a near-unparalleled foundation for the topic. Salazar had explained how the man had two problems keeping him from being either a talented teacher or a famed potioneer beyond his record for being the youngest granted the title of Master. Namely, he expected his students to understand the basics as he did and then treated them at fault for when they didn't, and he didn't have the true genius in the subject to create anything new. He could brew anything put in front of him, and even make corrections missed by others, but he could not take the next step.
The man had peaked as a beyond good, but not exceptional, name in a subject he had made his defining identity. Salazar wanted Harry to take the tale to heart to avoid a similar trap.
In complete contrast, the Founder had drilled Harry on the foundations of the subject until he was near sick of it. He spent hours mastering how to hold and use potions knives until Harry had mastered the preparations of ingredients to Salazar's demanding level. Then came the theory. More hours were spent with Harry studying and understanding the mechanics of a potion before he could even attempt to brew it. Harry had to perfectly recite the steps forwards and backwards, and even out of order. Only then was he allowed to brew the potion, and still he had to recite why the ingredients reacted as they did as he was brewing. Harry might have complained about the method of learning if he hadn't been told why. It was like his rune arrays. Knowing the potions in such detail meant he could instantly work out points of failure and know how to correct a potion that went wrong.
Sebastian had been spot on in telling the pair that Harry would never have the passion to idly decide to create a brand new potion, but he'd have the skills to do it if the idea of one took his fancy.
Salazar was equally exact in covering Charms and Transfiguration. Harry had to understand the spells and then spend time repetitively going through the motions of each until he could cast it flawlessly. With either hand or wand. And then more time learning how to minimise the wand movements, and even learning how to point and silently cast as many as he could. The Founder admitted that while every spell could theoretically be point cast – that is, no wand movement at all - or silently cast, he had never heard of anyone being able to do so. There were always some spells that people could only do the standard way. And Salazar had admitted that the Founders had found no answer for. Each had spells they had never mastered silently even when the others could. Their best guess had been that spells had certain underlying 'flavours' mages couldn't pick out that their magic could, and each mage had 'flavours' that didn't fit with their ability to silently cast.
It was the last day of the summer, and Harry was wandering over to Quality Quidditch Supplies to take yet another look at the brand new Firebolt. He had been debating getting the racing broom, and it wasn't finances that held him back. He'd spent time with Draco in the air but found the experience lacking when compared to the sheer freedom he felt when in his Thunderbird form. Harry had to constantly stop himself from manipulating the air currents during their Seeker pickup games. Even without doing so, he now had the form's spacial awareness in controlling his Nimbus, and that including his heightened senses to spot the snitch. What kept Harry from buying the new broom was his internal debate on quitting the Gryffindor team.
A familiar voice shouting his name broke his thoughts. Harry turned to see his friends enjoying ice-cream outside of Fortescue's, and the pair were staring at him in complete shock. Not that Harry could blame them.
He was now closer to six foot than five when naked, and it was a measurement he often broke given some of his boots' heels. It had turned into a friendly competition between himself and Narcissa on who could look down on whom, one she was ahead by only because of her love of deadly high heels, and his boots even allowed him sometimes to be eye-level with Lucius and Snape. He had filled out into a lean, athletic body that moved through crowds like a shark slicing through water. While not overly muscular, his body held a hidden strength that was still formidable, and he looked more like a recent Hogwarts NEWTs graduate than someone just starting their third year.
Compared to the sun-kissed pair of the very brown Hermione, and incredibly freckled Ron, Harry looked like a completely different person than the boy they said goodbye to in June. The boy, who was a month from his chronological fifteen birthday, prepared himself as he made his way to his friends. Florean Fortescue caught his eye and nodded, beginning to make up one of Harry's favourite ice cream mixes. The two had bonded over the summer because of the man's love of history, and Harry using him to bounce his new knowledge off.
"What the bloody hell happened to you, mate?"
"Language," Hermione absently said, not taking her eyes from her friend.
"According to a healer I've spoken to, the basilisk bite and Fawkes' tears helped kick start my magical maturity," Harry told them the lie the family had come up with. Salazar liked it, saying it was one he would have used had either of them cared about giving an extra reason behind the changes outside of the childhood Dumbledore had forced on Harry. The two Slytherins agreed that they'd been a little too focused on destroying the man's reputation to bother with anything deeper. "And that threw me into a major accelerated puberty. It's likely I'll be fully grown before we finish third year."
"Is that what happened to...?" Hermione trailed off, chocolate eyes shifting slightly to her left at his Thunderbird mark. Ron had another question in mind.
"And why are you dressed up so bloody fancy?" Ron demanded, getting another 'language' from their bushy-haired friend. "You look like a posh Pure-blood."
"You guys remember how I burnt Quirrell? Apparently, Dumbledore did something funky with my mum's protection," he ignored Hermione's 'Professor Dumbledore' correction. "The maturity didn't like that. The healer thinks that's what caused all the magic around the Dursleys' place to collapse and kill them, and then that magic came back on me, and you see what happened."
"Oh, Harry..." Hermione gasped, a slender hand covering her mouth at the thought of his relatives dying.
"Not like we liked each other, or even saw each other as family. I'm sorry that Dudley got caught in the backlash, but the Headmaster shouldn't have messed with mum's magic," Harry shrugged, perfectly willing to throw Dumbledore under the bus for the deaths of his maternal relatives. Shock filled Hermione's gaze at his blase attitude, but he refused to even pretend to be sad about the deaths of his abusers. Harry turned to answer Ron's question rather than keep talking about it, eagerly taking the strawberry-raspberry-chocolate trifecta offering that Fortescue brought over. "And since I don't have to worry about them destroying my clothes, I finally had the chance to get a proper wardrobe. Besides, you're technically more of a Pure-blood than I am, Ron. Speaking of new things, did your folks get you a new wand like they said they would?"
"Oh, yeah!" The redhead beamed, pulling his a slender box out of his bag. "Fourteen inches, willow, and one unicorn hair."
"Nice one, mate." Harry was happy for his friend. Cassie had explained how some families used legacy wands either because of monetary issues, or some misguided focus on the past, and it always caused difficulties for the mages. And according to Patricia, the feeling of bonding with your first wand was even stronger than normal if the mage had been using one that hadn't chosen them first. "So, what are you guys doing in the Alley?"
"We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Dad arranged everything so that you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow. Hermione's there as well!"
"Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts stuff," Hermione added with a beaming smile.
"Yeah, we've got all our books," Ron jabbed his jaw downward to the bag under the table as he put his wand away. "What about those Monster books, eh? The assistant tied ours up right proper before letting us take them."
"That's because I let him know you could stun the buggers into behaving," Harry snorted, remembering how the man had almost wept with relief when Harry had stunned the entire brood. Pack? Cete? Swarm? What do you call a rampaging hoard of sentient cannibalistic books? He wondered."But what's all that you've got, Hermione?"
Harry waved his scoop at the three bulging bags in the chair next to his friend. He had a sinking suspicion he already knew the answer.
"Well, I'm taking more subjects than you, aren't I? Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies-"
"What are you doing taking Muggle Studies for?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes at Harry. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know everything!"
"But it's fascinating to study them from the Wizarding point of view."
"Hermione, you can do that without taking the class," Harry sighed, trying to talk sense into the girl. "Unless you're also wanting to study how the subject is taught, you're taking a class you absolutely don't need. And I honestly don't think Divination is the right subject for you."
"What do you mean by that?" She demanded, eyes narrowing like a cat.
"One of the people I've been staying with is a Seer, and I've even helped out in her shop a few times. Divination takes a bit of instinct and free thinking. You're more a mathematician or scientist who looks to know every single answer rather than someone doing craft using mostly their imagination."
"I have imagination," she mumbled, taken aback by his sensible argument. Harry spotted a spark of hurt pride in her eyes, but Ron interrupted him before he could continue nudging the girl into not burning herself out.
"It's true then? You've been living with...you know."
Harry stared at Ron, waiting for the boy to finish the sentence, and deliberately took a slow scope of his treat. The silence stretched while Ron shifted in his seat, determined not to finish the question. Harry sighed, breaking the silence only to fill in the blanks for Hermione on the very off chance she hadn't been told. "The Rakepicks? Yeah, I am, Ron. They were mum's best friends in Gryffindor."
It was a toss-up for Harry whether Arthur Weasley had found out through the Ministry's lack of keeping anything about his life a secret, or from Dumbledore. Sometimes, Harry wasn't sure if those two problems weren't more connected than it appeared. He pushed on when it seemed like Ron was trying to work up the courage to speak.
"Mate, they're family friends, alright? I know Patricia had a run in with the Headmaster and your brother when she was DADA Professor, but she's been great for me. And her sister Cassie has basically adopted me as a younger brother. They're good people."
He wasn't sure what caused Ron to pull the face the boy did. Perhaps the reference to the sisters being family, good people, or even both, but Harry wouldn't find out then. Hermione had started digging through her purse to avoid the talk on her subjects, and threw herself into the conversation by derailing the topic. "I've still got ten Galleons. My birthday is in September, and Mum and Dad gave me extra money to get myself an early birthday present."
"Books?" the boys automatically asked in stereo.
"I don't think so," she mused, missing their amused glances. "I'm thinking of getting myself a pet. Maybe an owl like you two have Hedwig and Errol."
"Errol's the family owl," Ron corrected, pulling out a feeble and bedraggled looking rat from his pocket. "I've only got Scabbers, and he's been poorly since we were in Egypt."
Harry mentally shook his head, knowing that the two were avoiding topics they didn't want to talk about. He drew out his money pouch to pay for the ice cream, while indicating a quiet area of Diagon with his free hand. "There's a magical-creature shop over there that'll work for us. I need to get some stuff for Cadwaladr before tomorrow."
The trio had barely started the walk over to the shop before Hermione asked the obvious question. "Harry, who is Cadwaladr?"
"My familiar. Well, second familiar. Hedwig would have killed me if I didn't make her the first."
"I didn't know you could have more than one familiar," Ron frowned, eyeing the rat in his hand as though wondering if it was worth making Scabbers his.
"And you know Hogwarts won't let you have more than one pet, Harry," Hermione warned him, only to get a shake of the head in return.
"Pet, not familiars. Hogwarts can't restrict us for familiars. And you can have as many as you like Ron, but the animals themselves can fight the bond. They can even stop the new familiar bond forming if they don't like the other animal enough. That's why I had to make sure Hedwig was okay with it. I think she would have thrown a fit if he was another bird, but she's fine with him being a snake."
"Why'd you bloody want to go and get a snake as a familiar for?"
"While I don't like how he asked, I agree with Ron. You know what everyone is going to say when they find out."
"And that's why I did it," Harry declared, pointing to the pair who had stumbled to a stop. "I refuse to let my parents' murderer make an entire species of animal and the magical gift associated with them out to be Evil. If people didn't automatically assume that it was a terrible thing just because he could do it, then I wouldn't have had all that crap to deal with last year."
Hermione chewed her lower lip, a sure sign of her struggling with her thoughts. Ron couldn't seem to decide whether he was stunned, outraged, or disgusted by Harry's thought processes. The teen rolled his eyes and continued walking to the animal shop. The pair hurried after him in silence.
"Hello there, Harry," the woman behind the counter called out with a bright smile. He'd spent a lot of time in the various animal shops up and down the alleys, getting to know those who worked in them and the various reptiles they sold. Harry had done more for the good publicity of Parselmouths in August through keeping the reptiles calm than he ever thought was possible. "Here for Cad's Hogwarts package?"
"That's right, Mrs Winters. I need to make sure he doesn't get bored."
The woman laughed as she brought up a shrunken parcel from beneath the counter, and Harry took it further along the top to let Ron get seen to as he checked everything over. His serpent familiar was sleeping back at his room above Sight UnSeen, but that didn't mean Harry could get away with not picking up his order. There was the habitat Harry would get charmed to create an illusion of Cadwaladr for when the snake wasn't inside, a variety of different prey animals in stasis for when he was hungry and didn't want to go outside to hunt, and even some general care products for Cadwaladr's scales or in case he got sick.
Mrs Winters' shout pulled Harry away from the package as an orange fuzzy ball of crazy attempted to attack Scabbers. The rat found a new lease on life to race out of the shop, followed by a shouting Ron. Harry sighed, and did his duty as a friend to go help the boy hunt down the rodent, but not before shrinking and pocketing his parcel first. They would spend ten minutes in a fruitless search, and Harry even tried a silent Summoning Charm when Ron wasn't looking. The result had him frowning as he felt the spell connect, but then slip as though Scabbers had thrown it off. It was a mystery that Harry quickly forgot about when they returned to the Magical Menagerie to find Hermione's arms full of an enormous cat. Or a somewhat small tiger.
"You bought that monster?" Ron bellowed, drawing the attention of those around them. "It just lost me Scabbers!"
"To be fair to Hermione," Harry started, immediately knowing it wouldn't help the other boy's temper. "It wasn't her fault that... whatever that is... did that. I've seen it walking around the Menagerie a lot and thought it was Mrs Winters."
"His name is Crookshanks," Hermione hissed at them with a fair impression of the squished-faced feline she was holding. "That witch said he'd been in there for ages. No one wanted him."
"I wonder why," Ron sarcastically snapped, storming towards the Leaky Cauldron. The crowd returned to their own business as soon as it became obvious no fight was about to take place.
There was once again a strained air between the trio as they headed to the pub to find Mr Weasley reading the Daily Prophet. The polite man did an actual double take when he saw Harry's new looks. "Harry! How are you, son? You look amazing."
"Thank you, Mr Weasley," Harry smiled back, shaking the offered hand. No matter what, the Lord of Magic didn't think he'd ever tire of the man's friendly nature. "Forced puberty through magical maturity."
The man's smile dimmed. Harry was waving his hand even before Arthur could apologise for any perceived slight. "Don't worry about it, sir. I'm healthier than I've ever been. That's all that matters."
"Absolutely, Harry, absolutely."
Thankfully for Arthur, Ron proved his ability to break a strained moment. "Hey dad, would we get a reward if we caught them? It'll be good to get some more money, and we could replace Scabbers now he's gone."
They looked to see Ron and Hermione had taken seats at the table, with two chairs between them, and both were looking at the front page of Arthur's newspaper. Familiar faces were staring up at the room.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Arthur's tone broke no arguments, and it was the closest to snapping at his son Harry had ever heard. "Black's not going to get caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard, and Lestrange is one of the worst Dark Witches out there. It'll be the Azkaban guards who'll get them back. You mark my words. Now, what's this about Scabbers?"
The arrival of the other Weasleys distracted Harry from Ron's explanation, and the only one who didn't gape at his new looks was Percy. The Head Boy approached him with his back straight, eyes forward, and a hand out as though they were two politicians meeting for the first time. Harry almost snorted at the pomposity, but hid his amusement to shake the young man's hand and speak to him as Salazar had taught. He noticed the teen was the same height as his father, meaning Harry needed his other boots to match them.
The overly serious discussion barely started before the twins pushed their elder brother aside and began joking about the boy's attitude. Harry could admit he enjoyed the pair's humour. For the most part. But knew they skirted and crossed the line in a far too similar way to the Marauders. The tightening of Percy's lips and stiffening of the older Weasley boy's posture didn't hide the flash of hurt Harry caught in his eyes. Despite this, the twins were the ones who got everyone past the 'my abusive childhood is forcing me through puberty and some funky magic affected my scar' explanations, and almost everyone carried on as they would have if Harry hadn't changed.
To no one's surprise, and frustratingly for Harry as neither Weasley parent stepped in, it was Ginny who couldn't to get past his looks. Or maybe it was the result of his saving her from the Chamber. That thought shocked Harry when he realised he hadn't thought of that moment until laying eyes on the girl. He hoped the family had got her checked over by a specialist to assess her soul and magic, if not an actual mind-healer, but he doubted they had. Given the girl's cheeks turned as red as her hair every time his eyes moved vaguely in her direction, while she also eyed him like a piece of meat when they didn't, Harry reminded himself of something Salazar had said even Godric accepted. No one could save everyone. He had gone above and beyond rescuing the girl from Riddle's Horcrux, and it wasn't his responsibility to fix her after the fact.
Tom the bartender had pushed tables together for the group to enjoy a hefty meal, and they were about to start on the fourth course in the five course menu when Percy and Mr Weasley began talking about having Ministry cars take everyone to King's Cross. Tom must have seen his frown. The toothless man appeared next to him before he spoke up. "Yer got a room already book upstairs, lad. Dumbledore set it up."
They shared a look, understanding passing between them, and Harry nodded. There was no way around it then, and it wouldn't have surprised him to learn Mr Weasley had sent Hermione and Ron out to find him. Fighting back a sigh, Harry reached into his expanded pocket and withdrew an object of lore that even Hermione's well-read parents would recognise. Although the non-magical stories had mutated the details somewhat.
Harry poured his magic into the first-sized marble and waited, ignoring the gasps from those watching as they took in what he held. The sphere's surface cleared to reveal the face of Cassie Rakepick. Before either had time to say hello, her light sapphire eyes clouded over, only to then clear. "Don't worry about it, Little Eagle. I'll make sure your stuff is sent over."
"It takes all the fun out of things when you do that," he sighed, pretending to be bothered by her Sight. "I'm sorry about this, Cassie."
"Don't be, luv. I've been a big girl since before you were born. I'll send your love to Trish and don't forget to keep in contact with us."
The look she gave at the 'us' was a reminder that the Malfoys and Tonkses would also expect letters. Harry gave her a crocked grin that had her clucking her teeth and shaking her head, and then they shut the orbs down. He glanced at Hermione as he was putting the Seeing-stone away, amazed at her impressive impression of a landed fish. "Is...is...is that a palantir?"
"You know what they are?" Ron asked, surprise lifting his red eyebrows. He got a glare in return.
"I've read Tolkien!"
"A good man from a good family of historians," Arthur Weasley spoke up, stunning the bookworm. "He was right that the Fae made the original palantiri. We eventually learned how to make our own limited versions."
"Expensive too," Ron grumbled low enough that only Harry's enhanced hearing caught it.
"Those have to be made by a Seer who is also an Enchanter," Harry added, not commenting on the nature of his. "Not many Seeing-stones running around. And then only someone with the Sight can use them."
"Little Harrikins has the Sight?" Fred asked, getting a snort from Harry.
"Not at all," he partly lied. "I've got enough to get those instincts that you just know are right without knowing why, you know?"
"It's still an impressive skill, Harry," Mr Weasley pointed out, getting a nod back from the teen. The father saw Hermione's burning questions about to explode out of the curious girl and went on a long explanation over the Tolkien family and their role in rooting out the lost histories of the Wizarding World while also making sure the Muggle world remained ignorant. The famous books were a mix of truth and fiction and considered the family's greatest gift to protecting the Statue of Secrecy. It distracted everyone from Harry's palantir and who he was talking to, although the Boy Who Lived didn't miss the envious glances Ron was sending to his pocket when he thought no one noticed.
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OoOoO
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1st September 1993
Cassie had indeed sent Harry's already packed, brand new trunk over by Dobby mail. Percy ended up being far too up his own arse because of his new position as Head Boy, and the twins were far too focused on knocking the boy down a peg or two because of it. Harry thought both sides needed to have an honest look at themselves, and an open talk with the other, but then he wasn't a Weasley. Instead, Harry spent part of his evening talking to his elf friend about their plans for the coming year.
The following morning was equally chaotic, in part because Harry had Cadwaladr wrapped within his clothes in specially made seams. The snake's vivid red head peaked out from Harry's travelling cloak to rest on his shoulder, scaring the Weasleys and even a few of the Leaky's morning patrons. He ignored all the complaints, being perfectly fine with the flicking tongue and vibrating hiss that brushed against his neck.
The trip from the Leaky Cauldron to King's Cross felt like a terrible spy thriller with how Arthur Weasley was constantly checking the streets as Harry made his way to one of the dark green ministry cars. Harry noticed the drivers were each wearing green velvet. With Fudge's suit and bowler hat being the same colour when Harry met the Minister, the true Slytherin heir wondered just how negative the non-Hogwarts magical country was to his ancestor's bloodline, given its apparent obsession with the man's favourite colour.
Harry was in the first car alongside Hermione, Ron, and Percy. The latter's presence upsetting his younger brother as much as Cadwaladr's did, and both Percy and Hermione had made noises hinting they'd be taking actions that would help him be called up to Dumbledore's office about his snake's presence.
"What was the joke Mrs Weasley told you about the love potion?" He innocently asked his female friend.
"What?" she squeaked, eyes widening at the question.
"I heard you and Ginny giggling over it when I came down for breakfast. Given they're highly regulated substances, and actually illegal at high enough strength, I guessed it was some type of embarrassing story she knew of to show how bad the things were. I wondered what it was."
"Oh," Hermione looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Harry could taste the trio's nerves in the air. "It was a private thing, sorry."
"No worries," he smiled, acting like he believed her. "It must have been a dozy. I don't think I've ever heard you giggle before."
"It was."
~~ She's lying, ~~ Cadwaladr hissed against his ear.
~~ I know, ~~ Harry replied, the Parseltongue getting shudders from everyone in the car, including the driver.
A modified Notice-Me-Not Charm kept anyone from noticing Cadwaladr on the non-Magical side of the King's Cross' magical barrier, and the group got to Platform 9¾s with twenty minutes to spare. Harry's new looks, height, and the fact he had a ruddy great big snake's head resting on his shoulder drew the attention of everyone still on the platform. A wave of stunned silence flowed out from the magical barrier all the way down the platform as people tried making sense of what they were seeing. It didn't help that he moved so differently to those around him. A predator amongst prey, even when compared to his companions.
Harry ignored the stares. The ride to Hogwarts would no doubt be a busy one, as those brave enough tried to get a look at the Boy Who Lived version 2.0. A surge of magic caused his trunk to shrink into his palm, and he slipped it into his pocket before helping everyone else get theirs on the Express. "You really should think about getting the feature added to yours."
"What about when you get changed? We're supposed to leave our trunks on the Express," Hermione pointed out while Ron grunted. Percy had stalked off to meet his not-so-secret girlfriend Penelope Clearwater, his chest out to draw as much attention to the Head Boy badge as the redhead could manage without putting his spine out, and the other Weasleys did their best to ignore his suggestion.
Harry knew the enchantments were expensive, but he felt no guilt in bringing the idea up to the family. He also knew the magic was part and parcel of a Curse-Breaker's foundational knowledge, allowing them to quickly pack any equipment at a moment's notice. An international Floo or Portkey, a weekend visiting the family, and William Weasley could have made his siblings' trunks the envy of all Hogwarts students bar the richest spenders.
"I'll reverse it then and leave it on the train," Harry replied, shrugging as though it was the most obvious answer. The trio moved through the train until they reached the back end with an empty compartment, save for a sleeping man. Given that the rest of the compartments were mostly full, and neither of Harry's friends liked mixing with others on the Express, the trio made to enter the compartment. Harry froze when his eyes caught sight of the man's suitcase and the name written there. R. J. Lupin.
He knew who the man was. From Lupin's 'furry little problem,' to the fact Harry was supposed to grow up calling him 'Uncle Moony,' Harry probably knew more about Remus John Lupin than anyone bar the actual Marauders. And the Express ride to Hogwarts was not the time for him to work out how he felt about being around the family friend he would never have heard of if not for his mother's journal.
"I'll be back later, guys, I need to stretch my legs," he told the pair, quickly closing the compartment door and leaving them be. Lupin's surprise presence came with a silver lining. It gave him a chance to do something he'd promised the Rakepicks.
Harry focused his mind and activated his blood runes. He'd partially lied when denying he was a Seer. He had pushed his Blood Magic to its limits without creating the knife made from his own body, and one of the last rituals was opening his 'instincts' to the world around him. His eyes flashed silver, and he felt the pull to Luna Lovegood's compartment despite never having met the girl.
The ability was an interesting one. The magic would lead him in the general direction of anyone or anything he was looking for, but not actually show him the way there. His Sight would never allow him to find a place hidden by magic, but it could and would lead him to the general area where his intelligence and magical skills would then have to take over. Regarding finding a person, it meant Harry didn't check any of the train's compartments until he stood outside one containing a dirty blonde he'd never seen before, and knew she was the girl Cassie saw as a niece.
He gave the door a casual knuckle-knock and entered, mentally frowning at seeing the soon-to-be second-year Luna alone. The girl looked up from her copy of the Quibbler and gasped. Before Harry could stop her, she had fallen to one knee and bowed her head low enough that her waist-length hair seemed to cover the entire floor. "My Lord, you honour me in-"
"Hey, hey, none of that, Little Moon," he hushed her, carefully kneeling to lift the girl's head. Her pale silver orbs were swirling, and Harry knew she was seeing his soul aura. "I spent the summer with Aunt Cassie and Patricia. We're basically family. You don't need to do any of this."
Harry saw the tears building and was grateful the Ravenclaw let him lift her back into her seat. He took the one opposite and a brush of his magic cleaned her hair of any dirt before he stretched out his arm for Cadwaladr to slide down. "Would you like to meet my familiar?"
"He's beautiful," she declared, showing no hesitation as the seven foot long reptile slithered around her. "Oohh, he's so warm, too."
"I've noticed that about him," Harry smiled. Salazar attributed it to his constant merging with magic, yet both mage and familiar felt there were other factors involved.
~~ She knows exactly how to snuggle with me! ~~
~~ I love ya, Cad, but I'm not the snuggling type, ~~ Harry snorted, amused as Luna seemed to turn his familiar into a living comfort blanket. Anyone looking through the windows would think the snake was setting her up for his next meal.
He translated their brief conversation and got a giggle in response. Luna acted like an affectionate feline by rubbing her cheek against Cadwaladr's scales, and the wizard wondered if he would get his familiar back before they reached school. Speaking of. "What's been your favourite class so far?"
The pair got to know each other, switching topics from Hogwarts to family and back again as the mood took them. Harry picked up on the fact Luna's fellow 'Claws had decided her odd way of describing the world was a reason to bully her, and made a mental promise to stop them. It was a mission he was almost immediately able to begin as students passed the compartment by, getting a clear view of a changed Harry being incredibly friendly with the girl. News of his place on the train spread like wildfire, and the door would often be opened as students of all Houses came to talk to him. The frustrating number of times he had to explain the fast maturity, the lie over why his scar had changed, and why he now had a snake familiar, was balanced out by his eager – and viscous to the Ravenclaws – introduction of Luna as his 'new little sister.'
Enough students were brave enough to join the pair instead of standing at the doorway that the compartment was almost overflowing. The Hufflepuffs Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbot were joined by the Slytherins Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis. Draco might be changing his attitude, but the Malfoy heir wasn't brave enough to face Cadwaladr in an enclosed space.
The trolley lady squeaked when she saw Cadwaladr, but shouldered on to take their orders, and the strange mix of students continued their various discussions as the weather turned vicious. Harry's gaze kept flickering to the darkening window enough to catch the attention of the others.
"You okay, Harry?" Susan asked. To no one's surprise, the Hufflepuffs had accepted his offer of being called by his name while the Slytherins continued to use last names.
"I don't like the look of the weather," he told her, putting his raging instincts mildly. His Thunderbird side was furious, as it could sense that the storm wasn't natural. The idea of a storm being created was anathema to a creature born from natural ones.
Luna snuggled deeper into Cadwaladr's coils, while Blaise Zabini smirked. "Afraid of a bit of rain, Potter?"
"I like rain just fine," he told the dark-skinned boy, getting a flinch at the inhuman gleam deep within Harry's eyes.
The train slowing down stopped anyone from commenting. The storm's noise grew in intensity as the pistons grew silent, and Harry was up and stepping out of the door. Other doors were open with curious heads peaking out, and those students had the chance to see just how different Harry had become.
Cold Ones! Cadwaladr cried out in Harry's mind heartbeats before he felt the memory of the Halloween attack started breaking loose out of its place in his mind palace. Harry barely noticed the train jerking to a stop, nor the lights shutting out. He was too busy snarling at realising what the problem was.
~~ Dementors! ~~ He hissed, eyes sparking in barely restrained fury. He flicked his wands free and silently double-cast the Patronus charm. Two puma Patroni bathed the carriage hallway in light when they appeared at Harry's sides, and the silver feline's eyes glowed with Slytherin green. Those able to see Harry gasped at the magic, while the positive emotions of the Patroni boosted the emotions of the whole carriage.
"Hunt," he snarled. The pumas bowed, and those close by actually felt the apparitions' rumbles in reply. Each cat raced in the opposite direction of the train, bringing joy and happiness to those they passed until they found their prey.
It didn't take long. A monstrous screeching of pain caused most of the students to cover their ears. Harry continued to stand there like an avenging guardian, his hair shifting as his magic created small air currents around him. The Patroni returned with black sludge where the fangs and claws were. One of Harry's pumas had a companion racing behind it.
Remus Lupin stared at the boy/man, the wolf inside shrinking further back into his mind at what he was looking out. Some might say the teen was James reborn, but Remus could easily see the differences. The eyes might have been the obvious one, but not the only detail. The lips were closer to Lily's full lips than James', and the cheekbones gave him an almost 'Sirius' look. Remus' heart clenched at that thought, and the werewolf pushed on in his assessment of his future student. The hair James had never tamed was grown out into a complicated high class braid tied back by a clasp, and even in the limited Patroni light, Remus could see subtle streaks of red running through the black locks. Right then, Harry looks liked an avenging angel mixture of his parents.
And he hadn't missed the form of the fading Patroni either. Lily's Animagus form.
The two stared at each other, neither willing to blink, and only when the lights returned did one speak. "You should check the other students, sir. Who knows how the Dementors affected them."
Harry didn't give his father's friend a chance to reply. He re-entered the compartment, closing the door behind him, and chuckled at the stunned looks he got from the others. Harry brushed his fingertips against Cadwaladr and Luna's foreheads as he was taking his seat, the youngest girl being the only one from the group who was smiling.
"That was a corporeal Patronus," Susan whispered in shock.
"It was."
"Auntie says half her Aurors can't cast it."
"I had one of the best teachers, and a great reason to learn."
"Potter," Daphne Greengrass' hushed tone cut drew his gaze. "You cast two Patroni. Silently."
"I think everyone is trying to ask you to teach us," Justin Finch-Fletchley pointed out. The first-generation wizard might not be as awed as those who knew what he did, but he was well aware it had been impressive magic.
Harry took a careful glance around the compartment to take in their hopeful gazes and considered the request. Either someone had ordered the Dementors onto the train, or they were proving their independence with the action, and neither option promised safety for the students. Harry knew he couldn't be everywhere at once, and that they needed the tools to protect themselves. And the spell's messenger ability was just as important to know once the Dementors were gone.
"Okay," he agreed, speaking slowly into the growing excitement. "It won't be easy, and your results will vary on a lot of factors, but I can get you to the point of producing a decent enough shield, if nothing else."
"If nothing else, he says," Tracey Davis scoffed. "Bones just said Aurors can't cast the spell."
"That's because the proper understanding of the spell has been lost," Harry cut that line of thought out with a shake of the head. "Your magic is really only used to form and keep the spell's physical form. It's the emotion behind the spell that matters."
"Emotions?" Justin asked, getting a nod from the Lord of Magic.
"Indeed. I'm afraid you heartless snakes will need to find those hearts and become Hufflepuffs for a while."
He said the words with such seriousness that it took the group a moment to realise he'd cracked a joke. It took Hannah's snort to kick-start the laughter, getting the Slytherin heir to give a crooked grin.
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OoOoO
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The train thankfully didn't take too long to reach Hogsmeade, and students of all years rushed to get off the train and into the perceived security of Hogwarts. Harry ignored the pouting Luna and his grinning year-mates as he demanded Cadwaladr back. The adorable blonde stole his green-tinted glasses in petulant protest over losing the snake, causing him to roll his eyes. Looks like the secret of me not needing those is going to be out sooner than I planned, he thought. Luna poked her tongue out at him as though knowing his thoughts, getting a round of chuckles from the group watching.
The icy rain lashed down, the wind swirled wildly, and the gloom of the Dementors hung as a malaise in the air. Harry's Thunderbird instincts screeched, and he had to keep himself from transforming to destroy the fake storm. One look at the shaking and fearful first years had Harry snarling. A rapid twist of the wrist had his wand drop into his palm long enough to cast the Patronus spell yet again, his puma instantly racing to protect the eleven-year-olds.
"You are so teaching me that," Daphne groused. Her Slytherin companion was the one who pointed out the obvious.
"I hope you weren't thinking of hiding this year," Blaise pointed out in a dry tone, getting a snort from Harry.
He towered above the others, his arm thrown over Luna's shoulder so she could snuggle against him, Cadwaladr's head was visible under his open robe, and he had just silently cast a spell the current world believed was NEWT-level for the third time in less than half an hour. No, there was no chance of him hiding under a bush.
"Harry!" Hermione's voice cut across the awed silence. All bar Luna instantly made their goodbyes before she and Ron reached him, telling Harry how his fellow students saw the pair. "Where were you? What spell was that? Was that the animal I saw on the train? When did you learn that?"
"Were those Slytherins?"
"I got caught up spending time with Luna here, and then others joined us. Luna Lovegood, meet Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, third year Gryffindors if the uniforms weren't clues. Yes, Ron, some of those were Slytherins. Like the others were Hufflepuffs. You know, half of the Houses of the School."
"Blimey, Harry! Look at you!" Hagrid's booming voice broke off anything Harry was going to say next. The half-giant was grinning at the young man he had introduced to the magical world. "What a Patronus! Yer parents would be proud!"
"Thanks, Hagrid. Look after the little ones, yeah?"
"Sure thing," the looming man promised. "All righ', you four?"
The quartet could only nod their heads before the crowd pushed them away. The shock of seeing Harry and his Patronus had worn off when the rain continued to lash down, and everyone rushed to get warm. Luna squeezed tight against his side when the crowd opened to give them a clear view of the Thestrals drawing the coaches. He didn't need to ask why. Cassie had warned him how the young girl had seen her mother die after a failed spell experiment, and how that badly it had affected the way she interacted with the world.
"Don't worry about them," he told her, guiding the Fae-like child into the coach before either Ron or Hermione entered the carriage. "They aren't as bad as they look."
"Oy!" Ron snapped, while Hermione blew out an "Honestly!"
"I was talking about the Thestrals," he explained with a grin as the coach began its winding journey to the castle. "They're pulling the coaches. You can only see them if you've 'seen and accepted death.' That was a Patronus spell. You can use it to drive off Dementors, and yes, I cast it on the train."
"Doesn't just drive them off, mate," Ron countered, distracted from asking who Luna had seen die. "There was this horrible thing in a cloak in the carriage. Your cat mauled it to pieces!"
"Were did you learn that spell?" Hermione demanded again, only to frown when she took in Harry and Luna, who continued to snuggle into his side. "And why is she wearing your glasses?"
"Luna is wearing them because she stole them," Harry emphasised, getting an embarrassed flush as Hermione realised how rude she was being. "Part of the whole healing thing means I don't need them anymore, but my eyes became sensitive to light as they were healing. And they look damn cool."
"He's got a point," Ron agreed. Luna did a giggling nod to show her view on the topic.
"After what happened with the Dursleys, I spoke to Madame Bones of the DMLE, the Minister, and Dumbledore-"
"Professor Dumbledore."
"And Fudge happily declared Hogwarts would be protected by the Dementors. The same things that usually guard Azkaban."
"Don't really see how that works," Ron frowned. "I mean, if Black and Lestrange really are after you, mate, then they've already shown they can get around the ruddy things. Don't see how using the things that let them escape as protection makes any sense."
"No one ever said Fudge wasn't an idiot," Harry pointed out, getting a grunt from the young blonde in agreement. "I decided to learn everything I could about the things and how to protect myself from them. The others have already asked me to teach them the Patronus. You can join us if you want."
"Yeah, I think I will," Ron agreed with a determined nod. "I felt like I was forgetting how to be happy when that thing was getting closer. I don't want to feel like that again."
"Hermione?"
"Huh?" the brunette blinked at Harry, causing him to mentally frown. She'd obviously been lost in her own thoughts, and he wondered what had caught her attention. "Oh, no thanks. I'll read up on the spell when I get a chance."
Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged at her dismissive attitude, and then down to Luna, who was sending a dark frown that the older girl didn't notice. The stagecoach arrived before they could say anything more, and they got out into the cold air. The crowd struggled to get into the school without crushing each other. Luna tried to phase into Harry to keep safe from the press of bodies, something that was made worse when Minerva McGonagall called out from down the corridor.
"Potter! Granger! Over here!"
Luna refused to let Harry go, and Ron was too bloody stubborn to let the crushing crowd keep him from their sides, meaning it was a quartet that made their way to stand in front. The woman stared at the silvery mark down his face, visibly shocked by the change in his scar's appearance. It took Cadwaladr shifting against Harry's neck to stop the woman staring.
"Is that a snake, Potter?"
"Cadwaladr is my familiar, ma'am," he told her with finality. They were equal in height, and Harry's body language held none of the automatic subservience being a student should have demanded.
"I believe Professor Dumbledore will want to talk to you about this."
"I'm sure," he drawled, getting double takes from everyone at how much he sounded like Snape.
"Yes, well. Professor Dumbledore told us about your condition, and Pomfrey has requested you visit her before next Monday. I've also heard that you performed a corporeal Patronus on the Express. Is that true?" Harry had long since mastered the draw-cast-holster flick for either hand, and only McGonagall's Animagus enhanced vision allowed her to catch the fact he hadn't created the glowing puma wandlessly. "Amazing. Smooth and silent. Take fifty points, for such impressive charms work."
"Thank you," he nodded, pleased at her recognising his hard work in perfecting the spell. Luna slipped out from under his arm, but his Head of House's next words kept him from finding why.
"Now, you three get into the Hall. I need to speak to Miss Granger in my office about her timetable."
"I get it, ma'am. You decided it was best to tell her in private rather than in a letter. I hope Hogwarts will compensate her for the books she's bought."
Minerva stared into the challenging eyes of the best of James and Lily. She was well familiar with the tilt of the jaw and the slight narrowing of the eyes. This was a young man who was calling her out on a topic he believed he was in the right over, and for a moment she considered it. The Gryffindor had just performed a perfect NEWT spell as easy as she performed first year lessons, blowing her view on his talent and work ethic out of the water.
The pair stared at the other. They both knew she could apologise for her summer letter. Minerva knew she could have Granger share the Time-Turner with him if Albus was unable or unwilling to requisition a new one. She knew she could even offer him another route to do all the subjects if neither were an option. But she did none of these. Minerva McGonagall made one of her greatest mistakes in falling back on her pride.
"That is not your concern, Potter."
"Preferential treatment," he nods, as though having expected her to deny him. "I understand. At least we know it isn't something only for Slytherins."
Her nostrils flared, lips narrowed, and for a moment she's tempted to take the rewarded points off her. "Come, Miss Granger."
The feline Animagus stormed off with a rushing Hermione chasing after her. The few watching the confrontation caught sight of Harry's lip curling back in disgust at the woman's back.
"What was that about, mate?" Ron demanded.
"McGonagall sent me a letter over the summer. I'd asked her if I could do all but 'Muggle' Studies and she denied me. We know she didn't send Hermione a similar letter."
"Bloody hell. She's going to be insufferable."
"I know," Harry sighed. Neither specified which she they were talking about. They turned to head into the Great Hall, only to freeze at the sight of what had drawn Luna away from Harry's arm. "What the...?"
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Last Edited - 30h June 2023
Word Count – 12,207
Previous Word Count - 12,321
