Key:

"Words."

Thoughts / "emphasis" / Title of Books or spells used

~~Parseltongue~~

¬¬Foreign Language¬¬

"Magical language."

A Patronus a Day Keeps the Dementor Away

2nd September 1993 (1 year, 293 days diluted)

Harry led the Gryffindor contingent to their first Divination lesson and Hermione spent the entire time alternating between chastising him for his actions against the toad-woman and wanting to know how he knew where to go. The rule-abiding girl only stopped once they climbed the ladder that led up to the Professor's tower. The similarity between the circular room and Cassie's workroom at the Sight UnSeen's was striking, with the heavy sweet scent and clutter being the obvious differences.

The parallels were magnified when Harry caught sight of Trelawney. She looked like she'd taken inspiration from Cassie's silk look and then dialled the entire thing up to eleven. It had him sighing. He'd heard all about the woman with actual skills who had fallen into showmanship and theatrics because of a suspected lack of faith in her own abilities.

"Sit, sit, my children, I welcome you to Divination. My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione took a seat around a small round table, and the others looked in surprise at Harry when he nodded along to the Professor's words. It was an issue that had plagued Cassie when she was at Hogwarts, her Sight constantly giving her flashes for everyone who crossed her path. He knew the problem also plagued Luna, just as it had her mother.

"So, you have chosen to Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field..."

Ron grinned at the shocked and horrified Hermione, who was looking like the very foundations of her world had fallen out from under. Harry again nodded his agreement, and the action caught the woman's attention.

"You! You have experienced piercing the veil," Trelawney was pointing at Harry, and he didn't bother denying it.

"I have," he reached into his magically expanded and protected pocket to withdraw a brightly coloured tarot deck and several rune dice.

The Professor pulled herself from her winged armchair to stand and look at the objects. She held her hand well over them and twitched her fingers. Harry knew what she wanted, and his respect for the woman rose from how she didn't touch his mother's tools. He rolled the dice, and only those able to see his eyes saw the grey glow that passed over them.

"Classes will be interesting this week," he announced. He scooped the dice up while spreading the cards out with his other hand to show the unique designs Lily had used for the Arcana.

"Yes, yes, a personalised deck, I see, I see," Trelawney declared in an airy voice. "I fear you may struggle with other means of using your Inner Eye."

"I was warned about that," he admitted, slipping his mother's tools back into his pocket. Hermione was gaping at him like a fish while the rest of the class had a range of calculating looks. "I'm here more to learn how to understand general signs."

She looked through him in the way Harry had grown used to; the silence lasting long enough to feel dragged out before she nodded. "Come to me when the signs permit and do a reading for me, and I shall pass you for the class."

"Yes, ma'am."

Trelawney gave him one last piercing look before shaking herself down and returning to her introductory spiel. But her interaction with Harry had broken the razzamatazz performance, and the class was now aware that the flamboyant speech and wild proclamations were hiding someone who knew what they were talking about.

The rest of class was a mixture of learning to read tea leaves and Harry trying to aid those who wanted to listen in how to open themselves to potentially picking up the signs. While Ron wasn't entirely on board with the subject, no one missed he was more willing to listen to Harry's suggestions and tips than the more studious Hermione. Nor did anyone miss Hermione's constant, sarcastic, dismissive remarks about their tea leaf interpretations.

The tension between Harry and Hermione grew all the way to their Transfiguration class. McGonagall went through a description of Animagus transformation that Harry mentally ripped apart for its lack of detail and incorrect information, and finished it by showing her own feline form. The Gryffindors gave her a half-hearted applause.

"Really, what has got into you all today? Not that it matters, but that's the weakest reaction my transformation has got from a class."

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class -"

"Ah, of course," McGonagall interrupted Hermione, a frown forming at the mention of the previous subject. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone bar Harry gave her a blank stare. Trish had warned him that Trelawney had a habit of only using the very basic understanding of signs. An omen of stress being put on the body? She declares the person is going to get ill rather than perhaps there being an oncoming social/life change that they're deeply uncomfortable with. An omen of 'death'? The woman reads it as actual death rather than the standard dramatic life change that could shift a person's entire path.

Harry had derailed the teacher's schtick by always describing to his classmates the darker omens' more loose interpretations first, and the dramatic or final ones second. Trelawney had caught on to what he was doing and gave none of the usual Doom and Gloom proclamations she usually did. Proving once and for all, the woman knew her stuff but was choosing to hide it behind a performance.

"Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school," McGonagall stated, her eyes straying in Harry's direction before looking away before they landed on him. It didn't go unnoticed by the class. "None of them have died yet. Seeing death omens is her favourite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues..."

The Professor trailed off, her nostrils flaring, and her lips had narrowed until they almost disappeared. Those watching Harry saw his fists clench hard enough to make his knuckles white and his shoulders tense. The Founder's heir was almost vibrating with how disgusted he was at the woman's attitude.

"Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney…" she stopped her rant again, and turned back to her subject, but the damage had been done.

While Harry's Occlumency would keep him from saying anything, the class only spiralled from there. McGonagall's unprofessional behaviour extended to ignoring Harry's presence. She said nothing when he got the spell right, and she even ignored him when he turned to aid those sitting close. She praised the ones he helped get the spell down without acknowledging his impact. It would have been funny if it wasn't so pitiful, and even the most anti-Harry Ravenclaws were shifting uncomfortably by the end of the class.

Unfortunately, for Harry's mood, Hermione's attempt to persuade everyone around her of the folly of divination continued after the class and all the way to lunch. They had just settled on the Gryffindor bench when he finally snapped.

"It's a woolly subject. You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

"Hermione, enough!" Harry's voice ricocheted across the Great Hall, killing every conversation it passed. "You go to a magical school to learn how to mix quasi-Latin and waving a stick around to alter the fabric of reality, and you're questioning whether being able to See things beyond what's right in front of us is possible? The Sight is real, and it's a skill only some people have. Just like being a Metamorphmagus, or being a Parselmouth, or having an affinity with a branch of magic. It's only woolly to those who don't understand its inner workings. I told you this over the summer. It's as much an art as it is a science, and someone with your rigid way of thinking is always going to struggle with it."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" The girl demanded, lips curling back like a cat.

"You're a scientist. Someone whose reality is all about rules and definitions. You live in a world that's an organised, highly defined box. Most people who lean towards Transfiguration are the same." You could almost hear the eyes of hundreds of listening students and adults shifting to look at the two prominent transfiguration Masters sitting at the staff table. "But divination is nothing like that. It's about inspiration, interpretation, and trusting your instincts, even if those things go against everything telling you to do something else. What's True today might not be True tomorrow, but that doesn't mean it never was True to begin with. It's okay if you don't get it. It's fine if you can't bring yourself to think the way the subject needs, but don't use that inability to adapt your perception of the world as an excuse to claim it's a load of bunk!"

Two things happened when Harry stopped his rant, his chest heaving with the intensity of his emotions. Luna got up and raced across the Great Hall to throw herself against his side, wrapping her waif-like body around him as much as possible. Everyone could hear her sniffling 'thank you, thank you, thank you' mantra. Harry saw the tears forming in Hermione's eyes before she got up and stormed out away. He and Ron locked gazes and sighed, both aware of what his rant had done.

Harry's insane first day back continued when they had their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson with Hagrid. Hermione stood well away from the two boys, mimicking her favourite teacher by deliberately looking anywhere but in their direction. The relationship issues had to take a backseat when Hagrid brought out the first animal of the year. A Hippogriff. Harry winced, his Thunderbird already screeching at the idea of having to bow to the other animal when the skies were his. His periphery vision caught sight of a nervous Hufflepuff shuffling back before Hagrid even started speaking, and Harry was moving before he had cemented his thought.

"Want to show everyone that Puffs can be as brave as Lions?" He whispered into Susan Bones' ear, getting a high-pitched squeak of surprise. She turned to look up at him. Their difference in height and body positions gave him a tantalising view of her quickly developing profile, but he had the willpower and control not to ogle. What he didn't notice was that Susan and the surrounding girls noticed his lack of wandering eyes. "Trust me?"

"Yes," she sighed, feeling like she was falling into his eyes. It didn't help when he gave her a dazzling smile at her answer.

Harry used a gentle push to lead her towards the waiting Hippogriff, the entire class silent as the pair approached the watching creature. Harry was glad the proud animal had the name of Buckbeak, and not something else, given what Hagrid had named his pet Cerberus. "They're proud animals because they know their worth. They know they're one of the masters of the air. You have to show them you respect them for it. Bow and don't take your eyes off him, and he'll let you know what to do next."

She listened to his every word and bowed when he told her. Harry avoided looking at the Hippogriff, not wanting to influence the animal with his Thunderbird, but that didn't stop him from feeling the hybrid animal's gaze resting on him before it turned its attention to the bowing girl. The following moments were heavy with anticipation, and then the majestic creature gave a slow bow back. Harry helped the shaking Susan stand straight and walk over to the waiting Buckbeak. "You did wonderfully. Now enjoy his company."

"Great job, 'arry, Susan!" Hagrid bellowed, the huge grin splitting his thick beard. The large man set about releasing the other Hippogriffs, and the class attempted to follow their example. With various levels of success and failure.

The lesson was getting near its end when Draco's attitude and mouth got ahead of him. The Slytherin had already got two of the animals to bow to him, including Buckbeak, whom he was back to stroking. And then his superiority complex rose. Harry's limited Sight screamed at him before the blond boy had even opened his mouth, and he was moving away from his failing attempts to inspire some confidence into Neville.

"I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you? Are you, you ugly great brut-?"

The boy's word cut off as Harry pulled him away hard from the furiously rising Hippogriff, the giant eagle claws slashing the air where Malfoy's arm had once been.

"No!" The single word rumbled around the clearing like a thunder god declaring his presence, and lightning flashed behind Harry's glowing green eyes. The Lord of Magic stood tall in front of the rearing equine hybrid, daring the animal to hit him. Buckbeak stumbled back in a wild, desperate attempt not to land a hit, and then shocked everyone by bowing low enough to the unblinking mage that the animal seemed to almost be laying down. "I know what he said, but no. Get back in the paddock."

Every Hippogriff obeyed. None wanted to disobey the Thunderbird that they could feel storming within Harry's mind. It was wide-eyes all around at Harry's commanding presence and the reaction it had caused. A reaction mirrored when a furious Harry turned on Draco. "What in Magic's name did you think you were doing? Or weren't you thinking at all?"

Draco didn't even attempt to match Harry's glare. The self-proclaimed Prince of Slytherin knew he had screwed up and screwed up big. For a moment, Harry's aura pressed down on his cousin, almost causing the blond's knees to buckle. The pressure vanished a heartbeat before Malfoy's legs were about to give out, and Harry appeared calm and collected once more.

"Brilliant class, Hagrid. Can't wait to see what's next."

The man numbly nodded, and he was just one of many that watched in awe as Harry scooped up his bag and headed towards the castle for his free period. It took Ron to sum up what everyone was thinking.

"Bloody hell!"

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Due to Sebastian using Harry's words to grant him the role of being in "House Hogwarts," it allowed the Lord of Magic a fluidity of classes. He had dropped Muggle Studies, knowing his summer of exploration across the British Isles had opened his knowledge to the non-magical world enough to pass the OWL with at least an Acceptable. Instead, he was using the free block of time to catch up on the homework for his classes, including Runes and Arithmancy, as well as work on his outside studies. Salazar had warned him that many people fell into a trap of knowing so much that they could actually fail an early knowledge assignment. And so, while the information was stuff he had long since passed by, writing a top-grade piece of homework was an exercise to prove he understood the basics.

Not that he was complaining about the swing schedule, as it made it easier for him to vanish if he needed to. While he knew he'd have to explain his absence from Muggle Studies to Ron and (eventually) Hermione, it allowed him to get to dinner early. Rather than sit with the other Lions and deal with Hermione's mood, he dropped himself at the Hufflepuff table. Something that caught the ever watching eye of Auror Moody.

"Change of seating, Potter?" the peg-legged warrior called out as he made his way over. Tonks struggling and failing not to pull a face as she followed.

"I'm a student of Hogwarts, Auror. I'm allowed to sit wherever I wish."

The pair stared each other down, neither willing to budge, and the unique sight of Moody's overly large prosthetic eyeball didn't phase Harry one bit.

"I heard what happened in your Care class."

"You're plugged into the Hogwarts rumour mill. Congratulations," Harry snarked, getting a snort from Tonks that only failed to become laughter by the glare of her mentor. The Hall was filling up by this point, and to their surprise – although neither showed it – Harry became surrounded by not only third-year Hufflepuffs but also third-year Slytherins and a second-year Ravenclaw.

"Quite a collection, Potter. Quite a collection."

"It's called having friends and allies. Try the concept out when you get a chance."

"Leave him alone, Uncle Alastor," Susan demanded, giving the grizzled old man a respectful glare.

"I haven't even started on the boy yet, Suzie-Q. Trust me, he'd know it if I did."

That caused Harry to snort, mercifully before he took a sip of his pumpkin juice. The man's eyes narrowed at the sound. "You think that's funny, Potter? Think you could take me because you stared down a Hippogriff?"

"No," Harry replied, carefully speaking to make sure there was no mistaking his words. "But I know the undefeated Duelling Master standing behind you would put you down before you could do anything."

Moody froze. The fake eye rolled back in its socket. Tonks' hair flashed white. The Auror and his trainee hadn't even noticed the half-goblin's approach.

"Leave my student alone, Moody."

The students stared at the Mexican Stand-off in awe, even if most wouldn't have understood the reference. No current student had ever heard Filius Flitwick sounds so serious, nor so deadly as he had with those five words. Harry saw the slight tilt of the fake eye as it moved from looking at Flitwick through Moody's skull to over to Dumbledore, and Harry was in the right position to catch the very subtle shift of the Headmaster's head in the negative. The attack dog was being called off.

The Auror grunted and stormed off, the man's false leg and staff making a chilling tapping rhythm on the stone floor. Tonks sent Harry a wink and smile before chasing after the grumpy man.

"Thank you, Sir," Harry said, respectfully, tilting his head towards the Head of Ravenclaw House.

"Always, Mister Potter," the word carried more meaning than what was being said, and the return head tilt was deeper, signifying where Flitwick saw them on the social ladder. "I wanted to thank you for your wonderful gift yesterday, and request an indulgence."

"Sir?"

"After your excellent examples yesterday and this morning, I've had quite a number of requests to teach the Patronus Charm."

"And you'd like me to be the one who teaches them," Harry guessed.

"Hey," came the voice of Daphne Greengrass. "We asked first."

"Wasn't it more a demand?" Harry questioned, getting amused looks in return.

"Tomato, Tomarto, Potter, you were going to tutor us."

"The trouble with dealing with Slytherins," he dramatically sighed, causing Flitwick to snort at the comment. Harry eyed the small man and got the impression he had already spoken to Snape. "I'll tell you what. Find out how many want to learn, and I'll do a workshop on Saturday. That'll give this lot and others the chance to see what I'm like as a teacher before they push me to teach them the secrets of the universe."

"I don't want to know the secrets of the universe, Potter," Blaise drawled with a smirk. "Just your secrets."

"Not a chance, Zabini," Harry drawled back, getting a chuckle from those around them.

"An excellent compromise, Mister Potter. I'll see it done. Thank you."

"No problem, Sir," Harry nodded, turning to his food as the professor walked away.

It didn't take long before someone asked the obvious question, with the only unknown being which of Harry's new group would do so. It turned out to be the Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott who did so. "Is one of those secrets the reason behind your change in uniform, Harry?"

Harry decided not to beat around the bush with this topic and was happy to throw the two players under the proverbial bus. "The reason Dumbledore called me to his office was to try taking Cadwaladr from me."

"Your familiar," Tracey said in a dangerously calm voice as eyes widened across the table, spreading to the obvious eavesdroppers. "The Headmaster tried to take away your familiar?"

"That's illegal!" Susan declared, sending a hazel glare up at the teacher's table. Harry wondered what would have happened if she'd given that one to Moody.

"As I told the man many times. And rather than have my back, McGonagall corrected how I was talking to him. I told her if she wasn't up to being the support that being a Head of House is supposed to be, then I'd ask for a re-Sorting. The Sorting Hat decided to make me a 'student of Hogwarts.'"

The group stared at his explanation. All bar Luna, who was stealing his baby carrots to create fractal patterns of food on a side plate.

"And what does that mean when it's at home?" Justin queried for everyone in earshot.

"That I can go to any of the other Heads for my problems, be in any of the classes that I want, and visit your lots' Common Rooms without getting into trouble. I'm equally a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin as I am a Gryffindor."

"Not all are equal in equality," Luna corrected. When Harry gave her the stink eye, she cheekily added a "my Lord."

"Minx," he grunted, fully aware the others wouldn't understand the girl's comment.

"You can enter our Common Room?"

"You didn't let them take Cad, did you?"

The questions came from Daphne and Susan. The surprise of the girls talking over each other amusing the group.

"I can, and he wanted to stay away from the crowds today," Harry said, letting them think he meant the snake was in his dorm. His familiar's mark warmed as Cadwaladr stirred within his magic, and Harry sent a pulse of love back through their bond.

While the conversation petered off to the general chit-chat of Hogwarts meal times, it allowed the cementing of the connections that had started on the Express. Connections that would lead the group into a future that changed the world.

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3rd September 1993 (1 yr, 301 days diluted)

The changes in Harry continued to ripple out. Despite him hating the concept of being famous for surviving an event his parents hadn't, the Dursleys had failed in beating out Harry's nature of standing out from the crowd. While he had originally only done so at Hogwarts through his skills as a Seeker and getting himself into trouble, now it was his sheer astounding mastery of magic and the ability to teach such skills to others.

Those with excellent memories would have felt like they had flashed back to a cracked mirror version of two years prior when Harry turned to his friend. Flitwick had introduced the Banishing Charm to the Gryffindor-Slytherin class and just released them to work on the spell.

"Ron, I don't want you to do anything for a minute," he told the ginger, getting a confused frown in return.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed from the other side of him. Although the girl hadn't yet forgiven him for her public dressing down over her attitude towards divination, she wasn't quite angry enough to keep avoiding him in class. "What are you doing? You need to do the spell first!"

"Depulso," the sheer lazy way he released his wand and banished his given cushion caused those watching to gap. And many to laugh when said cushion smacked Draco in the face. Harry would happily admit he targeted the blond over the Buckbeak incident.

"That's not your wand!"

"I know, Hermione," Harry sighed, still facing his male friend. The wand vanished into his hidden holster. "My holly one stopped working after all the craziness with my magic, and I had to get a replacement.

"Now, listen to me, mate. Yer a' wizard," the terrible Hagrid impression had the youngest male Weasley snorting. Harry had told the pair an edited version of his introduction to the Wizarding World, but here he was using it to calm his volatile friend before he could react to Harry also getting a new wand. "You're here at Hogwarts, which means you have the magic to do this spell and every other one we're taught. You've now got a wand that's suited to you and your magic. And this one won't be fighting you every step of the way like your brother's had. But you have to understand something before you do this."

"What?" Ron's tone told Harry he was treading a fine line with his actions. They were only distantly aware of everyone watching.

"You not only have to know you're going to perform the spell here," he said, tapping Ron on forehead, "but you also have to know it here." This time, the tap was against Ron's chest. "The reason Vernaculi can't pick up a wand and do spells isn't just because we have magic. It's because not only are we partly made of magic, but we also command magic. These words and wand waving mean nothing unless you, Ron Weasley, command your magic to make it happen and know it'll obey. You don't worry about if your hand is going to pick up your wand, and you don't worry that your fingers will drop that chess piece when you're making a move. Don't worry about your magic doing what you want. You and it are the same. You're Ronald Bloody Weasley, and you can make your magic do whatever you want if you only set your mind to it and believe. So, believe in yourself the way I believe in you, mate."

By the end of Harry's motivational speech, his hand was gripping Ron's shoulder, almost willing his belief in his friend to be passed across. Harry knew he was being cliché, but he also knew his friend was driven by his emotions more than anything else. The pair stared into each other's eyes. The class was silent as they watched the scene. And then Ron's body language shifted. His back straightened, his jaw got the familiar stubborn tilt that all Weasleys possessed, and he turned to his pillow with a focus most had never seen from him before.

"Depulso!"

The cushion shot across the room fast and furious, causing the Slytherins opposite to duck and cover from the missile.

"Wonderful! Delightful, Mister Weasley! Twenty points to Gryffindor for a marvellous first time casting."

Ron looked at his wand and then looked at Harry, giving the Lord of Magic a firm nod of understanding. He would remember this moment going forward. Harry smiled and gave his friend's shoulder another squeeze before sending a questioning look to Flitwick, who nodded his consent.

While Hermione sat gobsmacked at the result of Harry's speech, the Potter heir was up and aiding the other students, giving each one a personalised suggestion depending on what he knew of them or what he saw they were doing wrong.

"What are you up to, Potter?" Parkinson sneered, not noticing the side-eyes she was getting from her fellow Slytherins. The attitude of those in green towards Harry was changing, and only the most stubborn refused to see it.

"I'm aiding my fellow students, Parkinson. That way, they're ready to go out there and help our society grow."

Two important things came about from Harry's actions in Charms. He became a de facto teacher's assistant to Professor Flitwick, more often than not aiding the other third years in learning the material at an astonishing rate, and a quiet, often overlooked Neville Longbottom found the courage he didn't believe he possessed to change his life. He would visit Professor Sprout and confess he was using his father's wand. The witch would spirit him away to Ollivander's to get the wand he should have got two years prior. She would buy him two wand holsters and nothing about the trip or its results was ever said to the domineering Augusta Longbottom.

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It was the first DADA class of the year, and Remus Lupin was leading his students towards the Teacher's Lounge. Harry was familiar enough with the subject's curriculum that he had a sneaking suspicion what the Marauder's first topic would be. A suspicion confirmed when they entered the lounge and his senses picked out something in one wardrobe wanting to slip inside his mind.

"Leave it open, Lupin," can the familiar voice of Snape, causing Harry to curse himself for being too caught up to notice the man's presence in the room. "I'd rather not witness this."

"You should stay, sir," Harry spoke up, shocking everyone. The clash between the pair was notorious, and here was Potter speaking politely to the teacher that had tried making his time at Hogwarts a waking nightmare. The man in question raised an eyebrow at the comment, and everyone could see the sneering question about to be asked. "We're a mixed class of hormonal teenagers, in Houses that are practically brainwashed into hating each other, with half of us being overly foolish, loud-mouthed idiots, who express their opinions as though they're spoken by Godric Gryffindor himself, and the other half are barely trained, overly-sarcastic, ambitious loud-mouths who wouldn't know how to be politically clever if it slapped them around their heads. And we're about to face a Boggart. A thing that can take the form of our innermost fears. And from the looks of things, we're about to do so in front of the rest of the class. A class who doesn't have the impulse control, maturity, or the bloody sense to not immediately use whatever they see here as a social weapon. And those who do will no doubt store the information for later use. Either way, this class will probably live on in infamy for the rest of our days. Are you sure you don't want to stay and watch the absolute cluster-fuck it's going to turn into, sir? Of course, given the Hogwarts rumour mill, you'd probably hear about everything, anyway."

Maybe Lupin never trying to reach out to me bothered me more than I realised, Harry mused at the unplanned rant.

A mouse farting would have sounded like a thunderclap in the heavy silence that followed Harry's monologue. The only reason Severus didn't burst out laughing from just how much the teen sounded like Lily when she went off on one of her sarcastic put-downs was because of the emotional clenching of his heart, cutting off the humour before it escaped. "Five points for your language, Potter."

Harry nodded his acceptance of the punishment and turned to the other man equally torn with emotions. "Sorry for ruining your surprise, sir."

The dryness of the apology made it obvious that he wasn't sorry in the slightest. Lupin coughed and tried to get the lesson back on track while Snape left the room. "To correct you, Harry, each of you will face the Boggart alone."

No one believed it had been the man's original intention.

Although Harry's sarcastic rant had put down all of his classmates, near enough every one ended up thanking him after they faced their deepest fear in private. As for Harry, his command of the Mind Arts meant the Boggart had nothing to latch on to and it failed to form anything at all, much to Lupin's confusion.

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4th September 1993 (1 yr, 309 days diluted)

Harry wasn't sure why he was surprised.

He protected the students from the Dementors on the Express and then faced off against a Ministry official while using his Patroni to destroy the Dementors surrounding the school. The heavy gloom that had been settling over the castle was long gone, and the weather was back to its glorious Scottish best.

And yet, here he was, surprised at finding out his Patronus 'lesson' was to be held in the Great Hall. And not only had almost the entire student body attended, but so had Madame Bones.

"An impressive turn out, Heir Potter."

"You're telling me," he snarked, eyeing the two Aurors standing behind their boss. Their auras tingled his instincts, and frowned as he tried placing them.

"Senior Master Auror Gawain Robards and Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt," she explained, impressed when she realised what he was attempting to do. "They were my security detail when we met over the summer."

"Gentleman," he nodded, getting bland greetings in return. The pair were an interesting contrast. Shacklebolt was broad-shouldered, dark of skin, and so smoothly bald that Harry wasn't sure if the man shaved or had lost his hair. His single gold hoop earring glinted in Hogwarts' torchlight. Robards was slender and shorter than his partner, having the same athletic physique and long dark hair as Harry. The two sized each other up and knew they were in the presence of another predator. Neither would take the other lightly should conflict occur. The watching DMLE members caught the silent interaction, making their opinion of Harry shift once again. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"A Ministry apology for one. Madame Umbridge had no recourse to order your arrest. I arrived at Hogwarts while she was leaving and immediately put the Aurors with her on suspension pending an investigation over their conduct."

"I wondered at the lack of response to my message, but your niece reminded me you were most likely handling things at the Ministry."

"I was," Bones agreed, pleased at Susan's actions. "Umbridge unfortunately has the ear of the Minister and I'm afraid you've made a political enemy with that one. Incidentally, the Department of Mysteries thanks you for all the dead Dementors. They had a field day collecting the remains after your Patroni did their work. As do I, but for quite different reasons. You kept my niece safe from creatures the Ministry barely control."

"You're welcome. And the other reason?"

"Your lesson, of course."

"Of course," he replied dryly, causing the woman and her Aurors to chuckle.

"Although, I somehow feel you won't be teaching what was obviously an alternative Patronus spell." The penetrating look almost caused him to sigh.

"The one I use is a variation of a variation," he explained. He didn't need it getting out just why his version easily killed Dementors. "I can see about getting the other one to if, if you'd like. I have to speak with the person who taught me it first."

"That would be appreciated, Mister Potter."

"Well, I hope this class is everything you've been expecting, Ma'am. Excuse me, I think it's time I got it started."

Harry said goodbye to the trio and made his way to the stage at the front of the Hall, rubbing his right forearm. His time with Sal that day's Room sessions had seen him begin the creation of his blood knife. The process was simple, if horrific. Harry had used a set of medical spells to open up his right arm down to the bones, peeling away everything in the way so that he could remove his radius. The entire process was done with his arm stretched over a runic bowl to collect the disturbing amount of blood he lost. His bone – the same one that Slinky had bitten way back when he was an uneducated heroic second year – was then dropped into the crimson fluid where it would stay. How long the bone needed to soak in his blood was calculated by one of the most convoluted astrologically tied calculations in magic. It used far too many equations based on Harry's date of birth, the date of significant events that could impact the essence of the blade (like being bitten by a millennia-old basilisk), and the date the bone was removed. These calculations were more complicated than usual, as Harry wasn't using a normal lunar cycle to empower the object in question.

Harry had healed his arm up and took a dose of Skele-Gro, only for something that even Sal hadn't considered happening, surprising the two Slytherins. Slinky's fang had chipped off into Harry's radius, and his magic had seemingly accepted the foreign object as part of his body. The potion had regrown his removed bone, only this time with slivers of basilisk fang interlacing the calcium framework. This new component of his bone structure was now spreading out from the regrown radius. A process that Harry could feel as the tiniest of tingles working out from the source. Salazar had analysed the phenomenon and concluded that the slivers were producing minute traces of basilisk venom, matching what his Animagus form produced. Effectively, turning his skeleton poisonous.

And the entire process itched like crazy.

Pushing that aside, he jumped onto the teacher's platform and began chanting under his breath as he looked out at the crowd. The spell the Founders had created might be cheating, but he would not look a gift horse in the mouth when teaching such a spell as the Patronus.

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Three days into her third year, and Hermione already knew it would be a rough one. It all started with the dramatic changes to her best friend. She had privately asked Mr and Mrs Weasley about the reason he gave, only to be hushed and told that it wasn't anything she needed to know. Even when she got to Hogwarts, none of the books she read discussed such a dramatic physical change in a person. Surely, someone would have written about it if it was such a well-known phenomenon. Otherwise, why keep it a secret? She hadn't wanted to confront her friend in public, but none of the other Gryffindors would talk to her about it, and she didn't want to wait days for the mass support over his clash with Professor McGonagall to die down.

Something like what he was supposedly going through would have been spread far and wide for everyone to be aware of in the Muggle world.

And that was another thing. Not only had Harry changed his wardrobe and how he conducted himself, he had also changed his speech patterns. She had searched everywhere for referenced to the term 'Vernaculi' in magical texts and yet again found nothing. She's even asked an English-speaking book-store owner in France, only to get a blank look in return. So, how did Harry learn of it? Or was it something he had made up to sound smarter? It was why she hadn't stopped using the term Muggle. If 'Vernaculi' was the more polite word, then she should have found it somewhere. But she hadn't.

She hadn't even got around to bringing it up with Harry. Not after the shock of seeing him with a monstrous pet snake. Hogwarts' rules said students could only have one pet – and what was a 'familiar' but another name for a pet? - and yet he'd somehow kept from being in trouble with both Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. And then came out of the meeting being something called a 'Hogwarts student'. Hogwarts: A History said nothing about such a position, nor any of the other books about the school that she had read. Yet Harry now had the right to enter any Common Room and mix-and-match his timetable however he wanted.

She could see Harry was out of control. The once shy and adorable boy who she was friends with had been replaced by an all-action, highly vocal and dominating person who seemed to break the rules and make new ones to suit his whims. The one thing she had been told by the Weasleys was what type of woman he had moved into after the horrible deaths of his family. A dangerous Dark Witch that Professor Dumbledore and Auror Moody had chased out of Hogwarts before she caused the death of Bill Weasley.

She was sure that the terrible woman must have done something to her friend. She'd taken her concerns to Professor McGonagall and even Professor Dumbledore, and they'd both agreed Harry staying with the woman and her sister were things to worry about. Had they been teaching him Dark rituals that affected his mind? Had something happened in the Chamber that they were taking advantage of?

Something happened to her friend. His ease and ability with magic was something she had only seen the teachers possess. He had even got Ron to cast a perfect Banishing Charm first try! Even she hadn't managed that! She'd gone to Professor Flitwick to ask about the Patronus Charm, but the man had refused her questions and made her attend the Saturday morning lecture.

A lecture given by Harry Potter. The boy who hated his fame. About a spell that NEWT-level students sometimes couldn't cast, but that he could perform silently and multiple times. As her father would quote from Hamlet: 'there is something rotten in the state of Denmark.'

She chewed her lower lip. Two days of using her time-turner, and she was already behind in her homework and advanced reading. The lecture would no doubt be a waste of time and was going to massively eat into her time to catch up. She realised she was going to have to pull an all-nighter if she wanted to get back to where her personal learning schedule had her being at this point in the year.

Hermione's fears about her friend increased tenfold when he stepped in front of the teacher's table and began speaking.

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Fifth year Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory was conflicted. He was ashamed of himself for following the crowd the previous year in mistreating Harry Potter over the Heir of Slytherin attacks. Yet the boy had changed to such a degree over the summer that he couldn't help but be nervous about the time his third-year fellow Puffs were spending with the enigma that was the Boy Who Lived. Getting a feel for the astonishingly talented former Gryffindor was his main reason for coming to the lesson. The Hall was full, with almost every student having turned up to hear Potter talk. The staff, the two Aurors stationed at Hogwarts because of the Azkaban escape, and even Madame Bones and her Auror guards were all spread along the walls. Despite the large group, everyone hushed when the boy of the hour made his way in front of the empty staff table.

"Well, you lot can't blame me when your teachers decide to give you more work," Potter declared with a grin. "You're the ones who showed up for an optional lesson."

The comment caused a smattering of laughter and boos, and Cedric had to admit it was a solid way to break the ice.

"Now, boys, girls, and children of all ages, you're all here to learn about the fantastic Light spell known as the Patronus Charm defeating the terrible Dark creatures called Dementors," Potter paused, and Cedric felt the weight of his gaze as the teen shifted into a parade rest. Were it not for the uniform, Potter could be mistaken for a guest speaker rather than one of them. "But to do that, we need to discuss what is Light and Dark Magic, and what the difference between them is. And I can already see some teachers second-guessing their decision to let me do this, as they know exactly where I'm going. The difference is simple. Sacrifice."

The word hung heavy in the air, causing many to gasp at the near-taboo topic. Potter's gaze had hardened, and he was nodding along to their reactions as though he'd anticipated it.

"Let's make things simple. One of the most well know Light creatures in our world is the phoenix. Majestic birds, fabulous colouring – Gryffindors, the lot of them – and well known to be highly picky over who they bond to," the remark about the avians' red features eased some of the tension Cedric felt at what was being discussed. "But what exactly makes a phoenix a Light magical creature? Well, who can tell me one of the special properties a phoenix has?"

"Their tears can heal people," Ron Weasley shouted out near instantly, turning most heads towards where the redhead was standing with his siblings. The shout got a huge smile from Potter.

"You would get that one," was the reply, the pair sharing an obvious in-joke. Cedric had heard from Hannah and Susan of Potter's claim to have been bitten by Slytherin's monster – an actual basilisk! If that was true, a possibility given Potter had shown the girls the scar, then phoenix tears were the only way he survived. "And exactly right. When phoenixes sacrifice their tears to another living being, it will heal them of even the most lethal of wounds. The birds are giving up a part of themselves in order to heal another. What else about phoenixes that make them Light creatures? Anyone?"

"They rise from their ashes!" Came a shout from Potter's camera-mad stalker Colin Creevey.

"Correct, Colin," Potter nodded, pride shining in the teen's intense eyes that had Creevey standing straighter. "The phoenix is borderline truly immortal because it sacrifices its body to be reborn into a new one. Their life-cycle is on a constant loop. They grow old quickly, so that they can be reborn in their fires to start afresh. Without the sacrifice of giving up of their old body, the phoenix cannot be reborn. What about another creature that is considered Light? Unicorns? Anyone?"

"Their horns have amazing abilities to purify and cure poisons, and their freely given blood can hold someone on the brink of death," Cedric answered. His father worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and Cedric had learnt all about Amos Diggory's job for as long as the Hufflepuff Seeker could remember.

"Freely given blood. Did you all hear that?" Potter asked after sending a nod towards Cedric. "Now you know what Light creatures are, what about Dark ones?"

"Vampires!" Beatrice Haywood, a fellow Puff in the year above Cedric, shouted out.

"Dark Beings it is then," Potter pointed out. The slight emphasis in the boy's words making clear he wasn't willing to hear them think that Dark Beings and Dark creatures were the same. "But yes. Vampires are Dark because they require the blood of another to survive. They are not Evil because of this need. Vampires can and do survive on freely donated blood. Any others?"

"Basilisks," Ginny Weasley said, immediately getting pulled into a Weasley group hug.

"Their gazes kill and their venom is the most lethal in our world, but they don't require a sacrifice from another being to survive."

That had people blinking, and suddenly the idea of what was Light and Dark became murky. An issue that increased with the next suggestion.

"Werewolves," came the shout from the back of the Hall. Cedric blinked when a smirk he had only seen on the Weasley twins spread across Potter's lips.

"Oh really? And what is it about being a werewolf that's Dark?" Potter asked. At no time had the boy's voice changed. He said each statement or question in a light, friendly tone that provided no hint of what was going on behind those startling green eyes.

"They attack and infect people," the voice answered. Cedric felt he should have been able to place the voice, but its owner eluded him due to how caught up he was in Potter's lecture.

"They can, yes. But here's something to consider. What defines a werewolf is someone who suffers from a curse that forces them to undergo a maddening and painful change from human to a wolf form during a full moon. Like a phoenix sacrifices its old body to create a new one, the curse forces the infected person to painfully sacrifice their physical form to become the animal the curse created within them. It's thought by some that it is the pain of the transformation that causes them to lash out and want to attack others."

"Bullshit!" Seventh-year Slytherin Marcus Flint boomed out. "You're telling us that werewolves are Light?"

A loud cough drew the Hall's attention to Madame Bones, who Cedric saw looked uncomfortable with what she was about to say.

"By the true magical definition Mister Potter is using, that is indeed the case. Legally, werewolves are classified differently depending on which Ministry's authority they are living under."

"And five points for your language, Mister Flint," Professor Flitwick added on.

"Before we get on to Dementors, there is one Dark species that none of you have mentioned," Potter said, bringing the attention back to him. Cedric felt like his entire understanding of his world was being shattered. "One race that those born and raised in our society are fully aware of, and have interacted with daily. It's a race that cannot survive without feeding off the magic of others or the magic of a place. House-elves."

The crowd exploded into chatter. With Madame Bones declaring that Potter's definitions of Light and Dark creatures and beings were accurate, they couldn't deny his point. Pure-blood students gasped at the logical conclusion. Cedric had a moment of insight. Potter was teaching them that Dark did not mean bad. And maybe that Light wasn't always good, he thought. The Boy Who Lived let the chaos go for a moment before giving a cough that caused everyone's bones to vibrate. Cedric didn't even know such a thing was possible.

"I bring this up so that you can understand what the Dementors are and why they are Dark. Now, who here can tell me that answer?"

Silence followed. With the shocks Potter was giving out, everyone felt like this was a trick question. It took a Ravenclaw to answer. "They feed on happiness and consume souls."

"You're half-right Cho," Potter smirked, eyes flickering up and over to where her Head of House was standing on a chair. "Master Flitwick, what emotion powers a Patronus Charm?"

"Positive emotions, Mister Potter."

"And how can a spell powered by positive emotions repel a being that feeds on positive emotions?"

"It... can't," the Charms Master replied, eyes widening along with most of those following. Potter's grin widened at the man's answer.

"It's a misunderstanding that's printed in every textbook, and it's wrong. What Dementors do is naturally produce a field of misery and despair around themselves, forcing the mind to become swamped with their worst memories and their darkest emotions until the affected believes they will never be happy again. Dementors are Dark because they force you to sacrifice your despair and misery up to them to feast upon. Their aura turns you into a never-ending buffet of depression."

Shivers spread throughout the Great Hall as those who had experienced even a taste of a Dementor aura had those memories surface from Potter's words.

"And it takes a sacrifice to repel them," Potter declared, eyes moving across the crowd, yet everyone felt like he was looking only at them. "A spell of positive emotions that you feel with all your being. These emotions could come from the love of family and friends, of dreaming of seeing those who have passed, or even seeing future family who have not yet been born. They could even be of righteous fury that you feel at the thought of those you care for being hurt. Finding the right emotion or memory to produce the emotion isn't easy, but it is not the thing that makes everyone believe the spell is hard to cast."

Here Potter began pacing along the stage, and Cedric couldn't take his eyes off the boy. Like many, he had read all he could find about Dementors and how to repel them, and had blindly accepted the sparse information that he found. And yet, here was a third-year student upturning it all. And none of the teachers were stopping him!

"Because this is the truth of the Patronus Charm," the teen's voice became deadly serious, and there was a hardness to the shining green eyes as they turned to crowd. "You can raise your wand and shout Expecto Patronum all you want, but if you are not willing to sacrifice those positive emotions, then nothing will happen. That younger sister you love. The older brother you look up to. The children you might dream of having. The parents who you want to be proud of you, or just want to see again someday. Those people and those dreams are at risk of being snuffed out by the Dark creatures called Dementors. When you cast the spell, you are not doing it just to perform a piece of magic. You declare those monsters will go no further. That they will not get to those you love. That you are going to be the shield, that the Patronus Charm will be your sword, and your positive emotions will be the power that stands between that which you are defending and that which wants to destroy them."

The call to arms should have sounded ridiculous. Yet they caught Cedric up in the rhetoric and he knew others were, too. His younger brother had died from a rare magical aliment, and his parents had latched onto Cedric in their grief. The love Cedric had for his lost sibling rose, as did the desperation to keep Dementors away from his parents so that he never had to hear his father breaking at the loss of a child.

"Expecto Patronum!" Came the surprising cry from Ron Weasley, the determination carved on the boy's face echoed what was in Cedric's heart, and the Hufflepuff believed the Gryffindor would to it before the ghostly form of a Jack Russell burst out from the tip of his wand.

"Excellent, Mister Weasley!" Professor Flitwick called out. "Twenty points to Gryffindor!"

The two friends shared a look everyone in the crowd could tell contained personal and painful thoughts. Potter nodded and just said. "I knew you could do it."

"Expecto Patronum!" This time everyone turned in shock as the timid Neville Longbottom produced a giant mass of white that looked to a flabbergasted Cedric like a Venomous Tentacula!

"Well done, Nev. I never doubted you."

Cries of Expecto Patronum rose throughout the crowd. Some produced a Patronus, while those who didn't produced a solid barrier. The teachers were throwing points around like confetti, regardless of a caster's House.

"Adults, if you wouldn't mind helping those who can't get the last part?" Potter shouted out above the din, hopping off the stage to do exactly that with a first-year Slytherin who was struggling.

As Cedric stared at his badger Patronus, he knew one thing. He was going to every lesson Potter taught.

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Snape knew one thing. He hated every one of Dumbledore's impromptu meetings. He sighed from his chair and shared a knowing look with Filius. No, he knew one more thing. He knew they had just witnessed what it meant to learn at the feet of a true Lord of Magic.

"That was..." Dumbledore attempted to begin, only to fade off. The usually bright blue eyes were dim, and the old man closed them as though trying to find his thoughts.

"Amazing? Spectacular?" Filius offered, deliberately pushing the Headmaster's buttons.

"One of the most magical things I've ever seen!" Bathseda Babbling declared, her friend Septima Vector nodding like a puppy beside her.

"Worrying," Dumbledore declared, catching everyone's attention.

"What are you blathering on about now, Albus?" Pomona demanded to know. Her view of the Headmaster had plummeted since the ill-fated attempt to take away the brat's familiar.

"There was a reason the Patronus Charm became a NEWT-level spell, my dear."

"Indeed, Albus," came the annoying voice of Armando Dippet, Dumbledore's predecessor. "I made it that way to keep the idea of sacrificial magic out of the younger students' minds."

"You did what?" The other portraits shouted in one combined voice.

"How dare you restrict the teaching of Old Magic!" Vindictus Viridian snarled. Dumbledore's immediate wave of his wand put the portrait's vicious rant behind a cone of silence.

"I agree with them, Albus," Filius said, eyes narrowing in a dangerous glare at the older man. "As Mister Potter put it Wednesday, just because someone once fell into becoming a monster, it doesn't mean everyone studying the same magic will. Or is this just pride speaking? After all, Mister Potter's lecture just highlighted how both Potions and Transfiguration are Dark Magic."

"I am no Dark Witch!" Minerva shouted, her Scottish accent bleeding through. "You take that back, Filius!"

"Does Severus' subject not sacrifice ingredients for a desire result? Does your first first-year lesson not look to teach how to sacrifice a match to become a needle?"

The Transfiguration Mistress actually hissed at the half-goblin, and it took a commanding hand on the woman's arm to keep her from responding. Severus' imagery of Septima being Bathseda's loyal pet was replaced by the very startling potential of Minerva being the old man's attack dog.

"What would you have us do, Headmaster? Hm?" He asked before the Heads of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor House exchanged spells. "A citizen's arrest on Potter when he did everything in front of the Head of the DMLE, who then congratulated him on the performance? Despite my feelings about the brat, he just laid the logical foundations for those students smart enough to understand why evil Dark wizards and witches get consumed by their failed Patroni. He has told them exactly what type of mindset they need to have for such a spell to kill its caster."

"My concern is what next? What else are the Rakepicks teaching Harry that he will then spread to the other students?"

"How to develop his ability as a Runes Ignorant Savant, for starters," Bathseda announced, drawing even the still arguing portraits' attention to her. "I never in my life thought I would meet a Runes Savant, and he walks into my room and completes one of my fourth-year surprise tests in ten minutes flat."

"What did you do?" Severus was positive he could hear fear in the old man's voice.

"I gave him copies of all my NEWT and Mastery books, of course," was the reply. Bathseda stared at the Headmaster as though he was a first year dunderhead. Severus' opinions and respect for the woman shot up at the look. "I'm not going to limit a Savant!"

"I did the same," Septima told them with a shrug. "I don't think he's an Arithmancy Savant, but the boy had an OWL level discussion with me that only my top fifth-year students could have kept up with. He's admitted he's weak on the divination side of the subject, so I gave him the text to study. I would love having him in one of my classes, but the boy would obviously blow the other students away."

The meeting that had started out as one man's fears over a student's path in life turned into most of the Professors proclaiming their enjoyment of said brat. Severus barely kept from rolling his eyes. He hoped Lily's boy never came to learn about it.

It amazed him by how Filius restrained himself when Minerva gave her opinion on the boy. "He made it perfectly clear he wasn't interested in being one of my Lions."

The meeting petered out after that. The woman's attitude disgusted too many of his colleagues for them to stick around. It eventually became just Dumbledore and Severus.

"You're going to have problems with Minerva," he told his employer. "Should Patricia Rakepick hear of her attitude towards the boy..."

"I know, Severus," Dumbledore sighed, throwing his glasses onto the table and pinching the bridge of his nose. "But young Harry's request to be re-Sorted hurt her feelings."

"What was this meeting really about, Albus?"

"Harry is drifting ever more out of my control. The magic he is performing, his attitude with his peers, the way he carries himself. I need to stop him from going down this path."

"I thought that the idea was he was the Chosen One?" Severus pointed out, eyebrow raised and sneer in place to hide his real thoughts on the boy in question.

"He is."

"Then perhaps, Headmaster," Severus drawled, pulling himself to his feet. "You need to make a choice. Is it more important to have the brat under your control, or have him save us all from the Dark Lord? I know which one I would pick."

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Last Edited - 7th August 2023

Word Count – 10,354

Previous Word Count - 10,342