Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived

Chapter 2

Hogwarts Fall

The Morning After

Ravenclaw Common Room, (Sept. 2nd)...

"Hey, Potter, wake up."

Harry stirred slightly in his comfortable four-poster bed and opened his eyes. Standing just outside of the curtains was the figure of Terry Boot, his fellow year mate in Ravenclaw. A quick look at his watch told Harry that it was just past seven.

"Potter, Michael and I are going to breakfast, and Anthony and Stephen are already in the shower. You'd better hurry up or you're going to be late," Boot said before walking out of the first year dormitory.

Harry grunted his acknowledgment and slowly got up. After the welcoming feast, the fifth year Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater, had taken the first years up to Ravenclaw tower, which was located on the west side of Hogwarts. Once outside the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, the group of first years had to answer a riddle from a knocker to gain entrance. Prefect Clearwater hadn't bothered to help them, saying that it was better they learn to answer the riddles on their own merit. It had taken a while but eventually Harry and Su Li came to the answer at the same time, and everyone was given access to Ravenclaw tower.

The Ravenclaw common room was in the shape of a gigantic circle and had huge armchairs that looked big enough to seat at least three first-years. The ceiling of the common room was a gigantic dome and had moving constellations painted on it. A passing sixth year said that the constellations always matched the constellations that would be present above Hogwarts every night, and that the common room ceiling was an excellent study aide for Astronomy.

While the common room was truly mesmerizing, Harry thought that the most impressive thing was the replica statue of Rowena Ravenclaw wearing her signature diadem. The statue stood at the head of the common room between the two staircases leading up to the boys' and girls' dormitories, and its placement gave the impression that Lady Ravenclaw was always watching over her students as they studied.

After a very quick shower and change of clothes, Harry managed to find his way to the Great Hall from the Ravenclaw tower without getting lost. At half eight, the Great Hall didn't seem to have many guests, aside from a nearly full Ravenclaw table, and Harry quickly took a seat next to Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner.

"Where is everyone else?"

"Weren't you paying attention last night when Clearwater told us that most other Houses are lazy and don't come down to nearly half nine on the first day?" Stephen Cornfoot asked.

"No, I guess I missed that," Harry said sheepishly.

"Yeah, I was pretty tired from the feast as well, but you were out like a light the second we got to our dorm," Anthony Goldstein said while placing several pieces of sausage on his plate.

"Well you didn't have to be up at dawn to make sure your brother had his disguise in place and his alternate identity ready so that our family didn't get mobbed trying to get to platform 9 and three-quarters," Harry said jokingly.

The silence that descended around Harry made him pause halfway through eating a piece of ham and look up. He was slightly surprised to see every single one of his year mates gaping stupidly at him.

"So…what's it like, you know, living with the Boy-Who-Lived?" Terry Boot asked reverently.

Harry shook his head ruefully. "He's my brother –"

"I bet he knows tons of magic already of course," Michael Corner interjected.

"Yeah, he stopped You-Know-Who. Was he getting private training from the Headmaster for your entire life?" asked Goldstein.

"What? Private lessons?" Harry asked, completely flabbergasted. "No, we didn't get any training from Professor Dumbledo–"

"Well, maybe not you," Lisa Turpin said sympathetically, "but surely Nathan did, right?"

Harry started to get upset. Did these people honestly think his parents would raise Nathan as some kind of super wizard and throw him to side without a second thought?

"Maybe they didn't tell you," Corner said, "so you wouldn't get jealou –"

"No one gave Nathan any special training," Harry snapped. "It's not like Nathan is the second coming of Merlin or something."

Harry was less than pleased to see that he was now the target of several disbelieving looks from not only his year mates, but several older Ravenclaws, who had been eavesdropping. Slightly upset at the blatant idiocy of his peers, Harry stood up and quickly left the Great Hall. He'd find Professor Flitwick and get his schedule from his Head of House personally; he didn't want to be around a bunch of people who only wanted to talk about his brother anyway.

ooo0000ooo

An Opportunity Missed

Hogwarts Library, (Sept. 10th)...

A loud thump echoed slightly in the previously silent Hogwarts library. The result of the noise was a frustrated Harry Potter, who had just tossed his first year Transfiguration book off the large oak table at which he was seated. Harry never thought he'd say this, but he was bored. His first year books were nearly identical to the books his mother had when she was at Hogwarts, and he'd finished reading those well before his tenth birthday!

The only book that seemed to be different was his book on Potions, and as much as Harry had enjoyed his mother's lessons, he liked wand magic much more than brewing. That wasn't to say, however, that he wasn't good at Potions. He knew he impressed Professor Snape during his first Potions lesson. The Professor had asked him several challenging questions as soon as class started, and Harry correctly answered every singly one, earning ten points to Ravenclaw for knowing about Potions that weren't even mentioned in the first year curriculum.

While Professor Snape awarding him points seemed to increase the respect the upper-year Ravenclaws had for him, Harry didn't have any friends yet. In fact, Harry found that his stellar academic performance was pushing him further away from his dorm-mates, who now seemed to shift between jealousy and awe around him. Not that Harry wanted to be friends with a bunch of idiots who were obsessed with his brother anyway. He was confident he'd find some friends who actually looked passed his last name eventually.

After picking up his book, Harry made his way up to Madam Pince, the librarian. "Hello, ma'am," he said politely. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra copy of the second year Charms book would you?"

Madam Pince smiled at Harry; she'd taken a liking to him after he had asked her to explain the different sections of the library on his first full day at Hogwarts. "Yes Harry, I do. Are you sure you want to read a second year book though? It's only your first week."

"I'm sure, ma'am. I've already finished the first year book."

Madam Pince nodded her head. While it was generally frowned upon to teach children any magic before they go to Hogwarts, that hadn't stopped generations of purebloods from trying to give their children an edge before starting school. As such, it came to no surprise to Madam Pince that the young boy in front of her had already read a first year book.

"Very well, Harry," she said. "You can keep this book for one week just like the last one. Let me know if you need to check it out longer, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said seriously as he put the book into his bag and quickly went back to his secluded table in the back corner of the library. He never saw a bushy-haired Gryffindor muggleborn enter a few minutes later to ask Madam Pince about the library and where to find certain books.

ooo0000ooo

Please Sir, May I Have Some More?

Charms Classroom, (Sept. 22nd)...

"Professor Flitwick, can I talk to you in private, sir?"

Flitwick looked up and smiled broadly. "Of course, Harry." With a wave of his wand, the classroom door closed and locked behind the last first year student leaving the room. "Now what can I do for you?"

Harry shook his head at Professor Flitwick's casual, effortless display of silent magic. He had seen his Grandfather, Albus Dumbledore, and his mother use such magic, but he had only recently come to appreciate just how amazingly talented they really were. "Was that some kind of banishing charm to close the door?"

Flitiwick's smile seemed to grow. "No, not quite, Harry. Once you get older you'll find that actual spells are not as important as the intent behind your magic. I suppose you could say I used a subtle banishing charm to close the door, but, in reality, I didn't use any specific spell. I simply desired the door to close behind the last student, and I used magic to fulfill my intent."

"Sir, could you teach me how to do that?"

"Harry, you're progressing amazingly well, but you are far from that kind of magic," Flitwick chided with a smile. "Clearly you have inherited your mother's gift with charms, but, trust me, silent and intent-driven magic is still a few years away for you."

"No, well, sir, I didn't mean that kind of magic exactly. I meant, well…I know a lot of what we do in class already."

Flitwick seemed to appraise his young student for a moment. "I see. Your mother hinted in a letter that she had been teaching you and your brother some magical theory."

"Since I was eight, sir," Harry said quickly. "I've already read the entire first year book, and I've read an older edition of the second year Charms book as well. Do you think, you could, umm, maybe teach me some advanced charms?"

Flitwick shook his head sadly. "Harry, you've been at Hogwarts for less than a month. I know it all seems easy now, but trust me, it will get harder." When it appeared Harry was going to protest, Flitwick continued. "Harry, I've been teaching for a long time. You aren't the first student I've ever seen that has been taught at home and are a little ahead. While your marks are outstanding, so are your brother's and several other purebloods. As your Head of House, I, more than anyone, appreciate your desire to learn more, but believe me when I say that your lessons will get more difficult."

"That's what Professor McGonagall said," mumbled Harry.

"What's that, Harry?" Flitwick asked. "You approached Minerva as well?"

"Yes, sir, and Professor Snape."

"You asked Professor Snape," Flitwick said with surprise. "And what did Professor Snape have to say?"

"To talk to him next year if I continue to show improvement," Harry grumbled.

"Harry, that is quite a compliment, and you should feel proud. Professor Snape has not ever, to my knowledge, offered extra lessons," Flitwick said, surprised at his usually surly colleague's offer.

Harry did feel a little proud hearing that, but it still didn't help him much. "Thank you for your time, Professor Flitwick, I should be heading to History of Magic now."

"Yes, well, off you go then, best not to be late." Flitwick was about to unlock the door when Harry casually waved his wand and said, "Alohomora," before quickly walking out of the room.

"5 points to Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said to himself after Harry left. As Filius arranged his desk in preparation for his next class, he couldn't help but reflect on everything he'd seen so far from Harry Potter. The boy's work had been perfect. Not a point missed on a quiz, his essays were well written, and his practical work was flawless. Filius wasn't kidding when he said that he had seen several students breeze through the first part of his class, but even he couldn't remember a student who had never seemed to struggle on a single assignment. He'd have to keep a closer eye on Mr. Potter for the rest of the term.

ooo0000ooo

If At First You Don't Succeed

Empty Defense Classroom, (Oct 1st)...

"Engorgio," Harry said jabbing his wand at a nearby desk. A blueish-green spell shot out of his wand and made contact with the desk; however, instead of causing the desk to grow, the spell caused the back of the desk to explode, showering the back wall with splinters of broken wood.

"Damn," Harry cursed for what seemed like the tenth time. All around him were fragments of broken wood. Each and every deformed piece of furniture demonstrated the young man's failure at properly casting the growth charm.

Going back to his open charms book, Harry made sure he was doing everything right. A clockwise swirl of the wand followed by a solid thrust forward while incanting the spell as in-gore-gee-oh. He was doing everything right! Why wasn't the spell working?

Closing the book, Harry turned to face one of the few remaining desks. With a clockwise swirl, followed by a sharp jab forward, Harry angrily snapped out, "Engorgio."

This time the spell's color was a tad bit bluer, and when it made contact with the piece of furniture, the desk shook for a moment before violently exploding. Harry had to dive behind the teacher's desk to avoid several large pieces of flying debris from hitting him.

Muttering about doing everything the book said, Harry was prepared to give up for the day when he heard the sound of clapping coming from behind him. Reluctantly turning around, Harry found himself staring at Professor Quirinus Quirrell, the resident Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Harry hung his head. Not only did he completely fail at mastering the growth charm, but now he was likely to have his first detention for damaging school property and using magic in an unsupervised classroom.

"Q-q-qu-uite the explosion, Mr. P-P-Potter," Quirrell said with his usual stutter, "I am a little s-s-surprised t-t-t-t-to see all the damage you've d-done. S-s-surely you didn't do all this with one sp-sp-spell?"

"No, sir," Harry said realizing the futility in lying since he was caught red handed. "I had a silencing charm on the room, and I've been practicing for an hour or so."

Quirrell seemed slightly surprised. "I wa-wasn't aware that s-s-silencing charms were f-f-f-first year spells."

Harry shrugged. "I guess I'm a little ahead."

"And what caused all this?" Quirrell asked, gesturing to all the destroyed property.

"An engorgement charm," Harry said, embarrassed at his inability to properly cast the spell.

Quirrell paused for sometime, as if debating something within himself, before saying, "Show me." With a wave of his wand, all the broken desks quickly fixed themselves. Quirrell then levitated one desk away from all the others and gestured for Harry to cast the spell.

Stepping forward, Harry perfectly demonstrated the wand movement and incantation for the engorgement charm. The spell left Harry's wand and impacted the desk, causing it to shake momentarily before violently exploding.

Harry, once again, found refuge behind the teacher's desk, but Quirrell simply raised a shield and allowed the pieces of wood to impact it. "A g-good a-attempt, Mr. Potter," Quirrell admitted, "but do you know w-what y-you did wrong?"

Harry came out from behind the teacher's desk with a scowl on his face. "No. I did the wand movement right, and I know I'm saying the spell correctly."

"True."

"So what am I doing wrong?" Harry demanded. "It should work."

"W-what is th-the most important rule of m-m-m-magic?" Quirrell asked.

After a long pause, Harry reluctantly said, "I-I'm not sure."

"Intent," Quirrell said sharply. "You need to visualize the desk growing, becoming larger. Without intent, your magic is unfocused and chaotic."

"Intent," Harry muttered to himself as he recalled what Flitwick had told him about not needing a specific spell to close his door. "Alright, intent. I can do this."

Harry turned his attention on an isolated desk in the corner of the room. "Engorgio," he said focusing on the desk becoming larger. The spell impacted the desk and it began to shake, but this time the desk grew several feet until it was large enough to easily seat Hagrid.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said very proud at his achievement. "Um, sir, I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"No," Quirrell said after giving Harry an uncharacteristically piercing look.

"Sir," Harry called out as Quirrell made to leave the room, "sir, if you wouldn't mind, um, well, what I mean to say is...if you have the time, sir, do you think you could teach me?"

"I am already teaching you, Mr. P-P-Potter," Quirrell said somewhat sarcastically.

"No, well, yes sir," Harry said. "But I meant in private. Just the two of us. I asked Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Snape, and they all said I'm too young, but I –"

"Mr. Potter, you are a f-f-f-first year."

"I can do it," Harry said sharply. "That was a third year charm, and I managed to cast it."

"Only with my help," Quirrell said with a small grin.

"Well, I suppose that's true, but I still did it. Please, sir? I'll learn anything you want to teach me, please?" Harry practically begged.

Quirrell peered at Harry for sometime before he closed his eyes in deep thought. Slowly, he began to nod his head. "Very well, Mr. Potter, but you will do exactly as I say. Understood?"

Harry couldn't keep the large smile off his face as he nodded his head. Quirrell might not be the best teacher in the school, but he clearly knew a bit about magic. Besides if Quirrell turned out to be a bad teacher, he could always just go back to learning on his own.

ooo0000ooo

Do Your Homework...or Else!

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, (Oct. 10th)...

"Move, Potter," Quirrell demanded as he sent another jinx at the increasingly tired boy.

Harry once again felt himself regretting asking Quirrell for help. This was the second time he'd had a lesson with his Defense Professor, and it seemed like Quirrell took a perverse pleasure out of cursing him senseless.

As a puke yellow spell passed over his head, Harry again dove out of the way and momentarily took refuge behind a desk. During his first lesson, Quirrell said he would learn how to counter spells being cast at him.

Unfortunately for Harry, because of his professor's stutter, Quirrell almost always used silent magic. Since he couldn't tell from the incantation, Harry was forced to identify spells by the colour, the speed at which the spell traveled, and his professor's wand movement. Needless to say that was more than a little bit difficult when he was constantly dodging unfriendly spells.

"R-R-R-Reducto," Quirrell said.

Harry immediately fled from behind the desk. Quirrell rarely, if ever, used incantations, but when he did, it was too give Harry a heads up for when he was using a more dangerous curse. In this case, Harry recognized the spell as a blasting curse usually taught to fourth years.

Harry didn't know what the counter-curse to that specific spell was, but when the spell struck the desk he was just moments ago hiding behind, causing it to explode, Harry made a mental note to look it up as soon as possible.

Another comment Quirrell had made during their first lesson was that he wasn't there to teach Harry spells, incantations, or even to give him a hint as to the type of magic he should be learning. Rather, Quirrell would put Harry in situations where he would have to adapt and decide what would be best magic to help him.

By sending spell after spell at Harry in a crowded room, Quirrell was encouraging him to not only to learn jinxes, hexes, and curses, but also providing motivation for him to use Transfiguration and Charms in order to protect himself. This led to Harry spending many nights in the library, usually until it closed, reading books on Charms and Transfiguration.

"St-st-stupefy," Quirrell said a moment after Vanishing the desk Harry was hiding behind, knocking the boy unconscious.

After casually walking over and smiling victoriously at the fallen form of Harry Potter, Quirrell picked up the boy's wand and woke him up.

With a slight groan, Harry opened his eyes to see his Professor casually standing over him.

"What d-d-did you learn?" asked Quirrell.

"I need to learn the counter for the blasting curse," Harry said, "and what was that last spell?"

"St-st-stunning spell. Incantation is 'St-stupefy,'" Quirrell replied after returning the boy's wand.

"Stupefy," Harry repeated, committing the spell to memory.

ooo0000ooo

Brothers Stick Together?

Hogwarts Library, (Oct. 17th)...

Sitting in his familiar back table in the library, Harry glanced at the books on Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration that were spread out all around him. Had any of his professors walked by, they would have been slightly concerned at the intense look of concentration and the ever-growing list of incantations the young man was writing down.

"Hey Harry, long time no see."

Harry looked up and smiled as Nathan walked over. His smile faded slightly when he saw Ron Weasley following his brother like a lost puppy.

Harry hadn't seen much of his brother since coming to Hogwarts. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws didn't share any classes together, and it was generally frowned upon to sit with anyone other than one's housemates at meal times. Also, the fact that Nathan had somehow managed to do the impossible by getting placed onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a first year meant a lot of his time was now spent at practice. As such, Harry had only sporadically spoken to his brother, and whenever he had been able to talk to Nathan, Ron Weasley was always present at his brother's side.

Not that Harry had any major problem with Ron; he was a decent enough bloke. Still, Harry was getting slightly annoyed that every time he wanted to hang out with his brother or share some of the problems he had been having since coming to Hogwarts, Ron was always there tagging along.

"Nathan, I'm surprised to see you in a library," Harry quipped.

Nathan smiled. "I've come here to rescue you from yourself, Harry. Come on, Ron and I are going to go explore the castle. These books," he said, motioning to the massive stack surrounding his brother, "can wait."

"No Nathan. Maybe another time."

"Harry, come on. What is so important?" Nathan asked, grabbing the nearest book and looking at it. His eyes widened slightly as he read the title. "Why are you reading a third year Transfiguration book?"

"I am trying to figure out how to transfigure something, obviously," Harry said evasively. Quirrell had told him that he was not, under any circumstances, to tell anyone about his extra lessons. Harry assumed that the man didn't want it getting back to the other faculty that he was spending several hours a week cursing a student. Regardless of the fact that Harry had agreed to the lessons, and kept coming back for more, it wouldn't look good for Quirrell if this news got out.

"Geez, you're like a male Granger," Weasley said with a smirk.

"I'm sorry I actually enjoy learning magic, Weasley," Harry said defensively. He had seen Granger a few times in the library. He had even attempted to talk to her once. After the girl had snapped at him to leave her alone and that she wasn't going to help him with his homework, Harry was rather insulted and hadn't tried to approach her again.

"But Harry this is a third-year book, do you even understand this stuff?" Nathan asked, sounding a little bit impressed and taking a seat across from his brother.

"Some of it is over my head," Harry admitted, "but Madam Pince gave me a good book on theory that has helped a lot. Do you want to read it?"

"Maybe," Nathan said as he continued to flip through pages in the Transfiguration book.

"Nathan, not you too," Ron whined. "Come on, we were going to explore the castle!"

Nathan looked between his brother and Ron for a second. "Well I did promise Ron we'd go exploring."

"Go," Harry said, trying not to sound bitter. "I'll give you the book later."

"Alright, I'll see you later, Harry, don't study too hard." Nathan grinned. "I wouldn't want your brain to explode."

"Get out of here before you get me in trouble for being loud," Harry said, enjoying the familiar banter with his brother.

ooo0000ooo

An Effort in Futility

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, (Oct. 25th)...

Harry made a slashing motion across his body as he mumbled the counter curse to the hair loss hex Quirrell was about to send at him. The spell had just formed on the tip of Quirrell's wand when Harry's counter caused it to fizzle and disappear before it could be sent.

"Locomotor Mortis," Harry snapped.

Quirrell batted the spell away with practiced ease.

A nonverbal stunning spell from Quirrell sent Harry diving to the floor. He still hadn't mastered the counter-curse to stop the stunning spell, and he wasn't able to generate the Protego shield that would let him block it.

"Petrificus Totalus," Harry said from the floor, sending the spell at Quirrell's legs.

A silver shield popped into existence around Quirrell, and Harry growled in frustration. While Harry now knew a few decent offensive spells, he had yet to even make his instructor move an inch. The man was simply standing at the front of the room with a gigantic smirk on his face.

Before Quirrell could send another spell, Harry sent a ball of blue fire at Quirrell's robes. A casual flick from the professor's wand caused the flame to freeze before it even came close to approaching him. Harry recognized the effects of the freezing charm as the now frozen ball of fire fell to the ground and cracked into several pieces when it hit the floor.

Several large, twisting ropes flew out of Quirrell's wand, but after spending an entire lesson being tied up by the Incarcerusspell, Harry had made it a point to learn how to easily counter it. With a swish and flick of his wand, Harry levitated a nearby chair into the path of the ropes, causing them to harmlessly surround the chair. Harry then jabbed his wand at the chair and attempted to Banish it toward Quirrell.

The banishing charm, unfortunately, was slightly beyond Harry's capabilities. Instead of flying at Quirrell, the chair caught fire and fell to the floor. Surprised at the unexpected and colossal failure of his spell, Harry wasn't prepared to dodge a tripping jinx, and he fell to the floor. A moment later, he was Stunned.

A quick rennervate from Quirrell woke him up, and Harry was again aggravated at the stupid smirk that had yet to leave his professor's face.

"N-n-n-not bad, P-Potter."

Harry couldn't tell because of Quirrell's stutter, but he was fairly sure his teacher was being sarcastic.

"M-m-maybe next time you'll g-g-g-get me to move."

Yep. Quirrell was definitely being sarcastic.

"If that banishing charm worked, you would have had to move to avoid the chair," Harry countered, hoping to prove that his strategy was good, even if he wasn't quite capable of executing it.

Quirrell actually snorted as he twirled his wand and casually Vanished a nearby chair, demonstrating that he would not have been in nearly as much trouble as Harry claimed.

"What would you do if you were me then?" Harry challenged.

The only hint Harry had that Quirrell was about to cast a spell was the slight narrowing of his professor's eyes, followed by the jabbing of his wand. Harry was surprised to see the spell was sent not at him, but rather a few feet in front of him at a fallen desk. The spell struck the desk and blew it to pieces, sending splinters right at Harry, who only narrowly was able to avoid it by diving to his left.

"You could have used an in-indirect attack or d-d-d-damaged the floor below my feet," Quirrell commented as Harry picked himself up off the ground and prepared for yet another beating at the hands of his professor.

ooo0000ooo

YOU DID WHAT?

Great Hall, (Nov. 1st)...

"I heard he blasted it through a wall," said Lisa Turpin.

"No, he transfigured it and then conjured a cage for it," Su Li said adamantly.

Terry Boot shook his head. "My sister Michelle is a fourth year Gryffindor, and she said that it was actually a running battle through the corridors and that everyone in Gryffindor house could hear it."

"What is everyone talking about?" Harry asked as he took a seat at the Ravenclaw table for lunch.

"You don't know?" asked Padma Patil in shock.

"Know what?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Everyone's saying that your brother killed the mountain troll that broke into the castle last night! No one knows how exactly, but apparently there was a big fight and a bathroom got destroyed," Michael Corner explained.

"What?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "There is no way Nathan could kill a mountain troll."

Harry was once again frustrated at the pitying looks that his fellow Ravenclaws sent at him. The fact that he constantly rebutted their theories that Nathan was some kind of Merlin-incarnate seemed to make his fellow Ravenclaws feel that he was jealous of his brother.

"Well, explain the points Gryffindor house got last night then? Plus, everyone in Gryffindor is talking about it," Mandy Brocklehurst said haughtily.

Harry was about to argue the intelligence of Gryffindor house as a whole when most of the Great Hall grew quiet, and everyone's head seemed to turn towards the doors. Reluctantly, Harry turned his head and saw his brother walk into the hall with Ron Weasley and, surprisingly, Hermione Granger next to him. The fact that all three of them were blushing told Harry that something had happened.

Sighing, Harry stood up and walked over to where his brother was sitting at the Gryffindor table. He didn't believe the rumors at all, but his brother's reaction coupled with the fact that there were rumors told him he needed to figure out what was going on.

Crossing the hall in a matter of seconds, he came to stand directly behind his brother. "We need to talk."

Nathan slowly turned around and let a bit of a sheepish grin cross his face. Before he could talk though, Hermione said, "You know, it's very rude to interrupt conversations."

Harry fixed the girl with his impression of Professor Snape's stare after a Hufflepuff ruined a Potion. When Granger shut up immediately, Harry knew that he had at least marginally succeeded in mimicking Professor Snape.

"Now, Nathan," Harry commanded impatiently.

Nathan slowly stood up and the two brothers quickly made their way out of the Great Hall. Harry led Nathan into an unused Charms classroom, and he immediately cast a silencing charm on the door before turning to face his brother.

"Okay, Nathan, explain."

"Well...you see, Harry, Ron had said some mean things to Hermione after Charms yesterday," Nathan started, "and she ran into a bathroom to cry."

"So Weasley is a jerk," Harry said sounding unimpressed. "Get to the point where you are doing battle with a Troll."

Nathan looked slightly angry at Harry's description of Ron, but he ignored it and pressed on with the story. "Well after Quirrell warned everyone in the Great Hall last night, Ron and I remembered Hermione and we went to warn her."

"And I suppose this is when you ran into it in the hallway and had this running battle that everyone is talking about?"

"Um...no. We sort of, accidentally, locked the troll in the bathroom with Hermione," Nathan said sheepishly. "We immediately went back to help after we realized what we did, but Hermione was a little freaked out to find herself locked in a room with a Mountain Troll."

"Since Granger isn't dead or in the hospital wing, I assume you were able to save her?"

Nathan quickly nodded his head.

"How?" Harry asked more curious than angry now.

"Ron was able to knock it out with his own club using the levitation spell."

"That's...surprisingly smart of him. Maybe he isn't a total idiot after all," Harry said more to himself than to Nathan. "I'm surprised that you didn't think of something to do first."

"I did try to do something," Nathan admitted.

"Oh?" Harry asked. "Troll skin is resistant to most spells, so any jinx or hex probably wouldn't have had an effect on it."

"Yeah," Nathan said, laughing somewhat uncomfortably, "Hermione mentioned that."

"So what spell did you use?" Harry asked curiously.

"I didn't use a spell, I went with a...different approach."

"What kind of different approach?" Harry asked narrowing his eyes dangerously.

"Istuckmywandupitsnose."

"Excuse me," Harry said, "Care to repeat that?"

"I said, I stuck my wand up its nose," Nathan said before ducking, as if expecting Harry to hit or curse him.

Instead of hitting his brother, Harry had closed his eyes and was trying to eliminate the mental image of Nathan on the back of a Troll. Finally, he addressed his brother in an eerily calm voice. "You are, without a doubt in my mind, the luckiest person I have ever met. If you do anything that stupid again, you won't have to worry about detentions, losing house points, or the eventual Howler Mum would send because I'm telling you right now...I will kill you myself." Harry then shook his head one more time before walking out of the room, muttering about stupid brothers and needing a calming potion so that he wouldn't do something he might regret.

ooo0000ooo

The Dark Lord's Lesson

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, (Nov. 10th)...

Harry knew this was his chance. Quirrell was Vanishing the birds Harry had sent at him and was slightly distracted. With a vicious jab of his wand, Harry cast Incendio, sending a stream of fire at the feat of his professor. Quirrell continued Vanishing the birds, and, to Harry surprise, ignored the fire at his feat. The fire engulfed Quirrell's robes and shoes, but the professor just stood there, seemingly immune to the inferno that was surrounding him.

As Harry looked on in awe, Quirrell slashed his wand across his body and sent a very menacingly looking orange and red spell that seemed to burn the air as it flew towards Harry. Having no clue what the spell did, Harry levitated a nearby desk into the path of the spell. The desk was instantly blown into several pieces, and the shards fell to the ground in front of Harry.

"Duro," Quirrell said pointing his wand at Harry's feet.

Harry danced out of the way of the spell, which impacted the stone floor and seemed to have no effect.

"Petrificu-"

Harry's spell was immediately countered by Quirrell before he could finish the incantation. A moment later, Quirrell conjured a large net and Banished it toward Harry.

The sheer size of Quirrell's net made dodging impossible for Harry. With a slash of his wand, Harry sent a cutting curse at the net; however, the net was unaffected by the spell and soon Harry found himself tangled in the cords, completely helpless.

"Accio," said Quirrell, summoning Harry's wand into his hand.

With a sigh, Harry looked up through the net at his the victorious professor.

"I suppose you have questions?" Quirrell asked.

"Why didn't my flame spell effect you?" Harry practically demanded.

Quirrell snorted. "Fireproof charms on my clothes."

"Why didn't my cutting spell work?"

"Impervius charm on the net made it resistant to simple cutting spells," Quirrell said as he Vanished the net and returned Harry's wand.

"How was I supposed to know that, though?" Harry asked. "I didn't even see you cast the Impervius charm after the net was conjured."

"There are ways you could have sensed the extra spell, but you are far to young to notice the subtle traces magic leaves. It takes years, if not decades, to learn." Quirrell paused a moment before adding, "So you couldn't have known."

"But if I couldn't have known, there is no way I could have stopped it," Harry said angrily.

Quirrell seemed to appraise Harry for a while. "You could have used a more powerful spell."

"Burnt it?" Harry asked curiously.

"If you know a powerful fire spell that tactic could have worked; however, the incendio and blue ball flame spells would have been repelled."

"But incendio and diffindo are the only powerful fire and cutting spells that are mentioned in my book."

"That doesn't mean more powerful spells don't exist," Quirrell said ominously.

"But I don't know any, and I just learned those spells."

"Sit," Quirrell commanded with some authority.

Reluctantly, Harry took a seat in a fairly battered up looking desk.

"What is the purpose of the spell diffindo?" Quirrell asked.

"To cut or to cleave," Harry replied verbatim from his charms book.

"Cut what though?" asked Quirrell.

Harry thought back to his book. "The book mentioned several uses. Cutting pieces of parchment…"

"Yes, yes, yes," Quirrell said waving him off. "It cuts simple things. It isn't a spell that is particularly powerful or dangerous. It wouldn't be taught to second years if it was. The spell I sent at you was a dueling spell. To cut that net, you would have needed to utilize a spell that was created for the purpose of being used in a duel."

"Um, sir, can't dueling spells sometimes be considered…dark?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Quirrell again seemed to appraise Harry for some time. "What is dark magic, Potter?"

"Any spell, potion, artifact, or magical creation whose purpose is to maliciously harm another," Harry replied with another text book answer.

"Only half right, Mr. Potter," Quirrell stated. "While a lot dark magic is designed to hurt people, the idea that the intent behind all dark magic is inherently malicious is ludicrous."

"But my father said tha– "

Quirrell held up his hand stopping Harry from speaking. "I am not going to argue with whatever your father told you, Harry. I am simply going to tell you what I know."

"I don't understand. Don't dark spells need to be fueled by...evil?" Harry knew he sounded stupid the moment the word 'evil' left his mouth.

Quirrell laughed. "No, and I'll prove it to you. Tell me, when you used the cutting curse, what was your intent?"

"To cut," Harry said obviously.

"Exactly," Quirrell said. "If you were to use a dark cutting curse, the intent behind the spell would be the same, a desire to cut. The only difference would be the power of the spell. If it is evil to use a dark cutting curse, it must also be evil to use the spell diffindo since they share the same intent behind the spell. Do you understand what I'm saying Harry?"

"Sort of," Harry said slowly. "You're saying that while some curses are considered dark, they aren't really bad to use since other spells require you to have the same intent behind them in order to work?"

"Good, you do understand. There really is no good or evil in magic, only varying levels of power," Quirrell said with a smile on his face. "A lot of dark magic is considered wrong because it has tremendous potential to be more powerful and dangerous, not that the spell itself is bad."

"So, it's not wrong to use a dark spell in some cases?" Harry asked. "So if you sent that net at me again, I could have use a dark spell to avoid it, and it wouldn't be a bad thing to do?"

Quirrell nodded, pleased that Harry had come to that conclusion.

"What spell would you have used to cut through the ropes then?" Harry asked curiously.

A very sinister smile slowly spread across Quirrell's face at the question. "There are many powerful severing or slashing spells that would have been good. For example…"

ooo0000ooo

Manipulation of the Worst Kind

Hogwarts Library, (Nov. 21st)...

Five Ravenclaw first years sat around their table in the corner of the library.

"Can you believe the essay Professor Snape gave us?" Lisa Turpin complained. "Three feet on the dangers and uses of swelling solutions!"

"I know. All because that Hufflepuff spilled his Potion," Terry Boot said angrily. "I still need to do McGonagall's essay on Gamp's First Law of Elemental Transfiguration. I can't believe Snape gave us all that work."

"Not all of us," Su Li said smugly.

"Just because you were lucky enough to be paired with Potter during the first Potions class doesn't mean you are a decent brewer, Su," Mandy Brocklehurst said irritably.

"Yeah, does Potter even let you touch the cauldron? All I ever see is you chop stuff for him," Michael Corner mocked.

Su blushed. "It's not my fault! Potter doesn't follow the directions on the board. He knows some sort of trick to make the potion better, even Snape was impressed with out last potion."

"Don't you mean he was impressed with Potter," Michael said cuttingly. "I suppose I would be great in Potion's too if I didn't have any friends and spent all my time alone in the library."

"Michael, that's mean, don't say that," Lisa chided.

"Whatever, Turpin, you're the one who called him an antisocial loser last week," Terry said quickly.

"Well…it's not my fault he doesn't talk to anyone," Lisa said, defending her comment.

"Have you noticed that his brother doesn't even hang out with him? Nathan's always with Granger and Weasley," Mandy said as a smirk crossed her face. "Of course he's had to live with Harry for years, so you can't really blame Nathan for ignoring him."

"True. I bet Nathan can't stand Harry." Terry laughed. "Remember how he was so reluctant to talk to him after the troll thing? Harry practically had to drag Nathan out of the Great Hall."

As the Ravenclaw first years continued to make fun of their classmate, Harry had heard enough. He left his eavesdropping spot behind a nearby bookshelf, put the book he was reading into his bag, and slipped out of the library. Without really paying attention to where he was going, Harry found himself standing outside of Professor Quirrell's office. He'd spent a good deal of time with the Defense teacher, and he couldn't help but feel comfortable around him. Raising his hand, Harry knocked a few times on the door and waited.

A few moments passed before the door opened and Professor Quirrell stood in the doorway looking confused. "Mr. Potter? We don't have a lesson today, do we?"

"Uh, no, sir, I was actually just wondering if I could read in your office?" Harry asked, knowing he probably sounded pathetic.

"Alright," Quirrell said, stepping to the side and letting Harry enter the small office.

Harry quickly sat down in a very comfortable chair in the corner of the office next to a rattling box..

"Ignore the boggart, Harry. I just c-c-c-caught it and will be letting my third years have a go at it," Quirrell explained.

Nodding his head, Harry ignored the shaking trunk. Sirius had told him about a boggart that used to haunt the Black family estate in London. When Sirius and his brother were younger, his mother had refused to banish the creature because she felt being reminded of their greatest fear would help her children build character.

Taking out his book, Harry quietly began to read as Professor Quirrell sat behind his desk grading papers. After an hour of silence –broken occasionally by the shaking boggart locked in the trunk–Professor Quirrell put down his quill. "So, Harry, are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

Harry reluctantly looked up from his book and shrugged. "Nothing, sir."

"Harry," Quirrell said sounding insulted at the boldfaced lie.

"I just…" Harry said softly. "Well, sir, I've been excited about coming to Hogwarts my entire life. My dad told me and my brother all these great stories, and my mum would always say how much she loved it. My uncles said it was some of the most fun they ever had, and Professor Dumbledore, whenever he would come over, used to tell me about all the different ways my dad got in trouble. Everything everyone said just made it sound so wonderful."

Quirrell looked confused. "But?"

"I hate it here," Harry admitted sadly as a tear fell from his face. "I hate that I can't spend time with my brother as much anymore. I hate that everyone I meet is obsessed with asking questions about Nathan. I hate that everyone in Ravenclaw doesn't like me or thinks I'm some kind of genius who can't be approached. I thought I'd have friends, sir."

"Well, Harry, I think that the solution is obvious," Quirrell said calmly.

"What?" Harry asked, eagerly listening to his professor.

"Leave Hogwarts," Quirrell replied. "Hogwarts isn't the only school of magic in the world, Harry. Perhaps Beauxbatons or Durmstrang would suit you better. It would certainly get you out of the shadow of your brother."

While Harry's immediate reaction was to dismiss Quirrell's idea, the more he thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. While some people might initially bug him about Nathan, without his brother's presence they would eventually forget it and get to know him. But did he really want to leave Hogwarts?

"Beauxbatons is in the south of France on the Mediterranean," Quirrell continued, seemingly oblivious to Harry's concerns. "I've never been, but I've been told it's quite beautiful. Only a handful of people who don't go to Durmstrang know the school's location, but since it's required that the students all speak in German, the belief is that it is somewhere in Central Europe."

Harry frowned. "But I don't speak German or French."

"Are you a wizard, Potter?" Quirrell asked sarcastically. "A spell can easily be cast on you so that you absorb a language much quicker than normal. You could learn German or French within a week. Personally, I think you would fit in better at Durmstrang. The school structure of Durmstrang is much different than Hogwarts."

"Different how?" Harry asked. The only thing he knew about Durmstrang was that Sirius had mentioned his mother considered sending him there instead of Hogwarts, and that they supposedly taught the Dark Arts.

"Hogwarts, Harry, teaches a core set of classes to all its students for the first five years. The goal is to ensure that all students manage to achieve some level of competency with magic. It is very hard to fail out of Hogwarts. I believe the last student to have failed out was in the late 1890s," Quirrell commented. "Durmstrang, on the other hand, is a school designed to benefit the gifted and powerful. They would rather produce five truly talented wizards than train fifty wizards of average ability like Hogwarts does. Because Durmstrang is geared towards only the top percent of students, the classes are more demanding, and students even have the option of moving ahead in year levels. There are also very few tests, quizzes, papers, or essays."

"What?" Harry asked in confusion. "How do the teachers grade the students?"

"I don't mean to say there aren't any tests, there are a few. From what I understand, there are two easy ways to fail out of a class at Durmstrang. Students are given a list of spells or potions at the start of a term that they are expected to have mastered by the end of the year. Failure to demonstrate a command over the list can result in failing a class. The other, and much more likely, way to fail is during the student's end of the year project. Instead of final exams, each student is expected to demonstrate a final project for each of their classes. The project is supposed to demonstrate the student's competency over the magic taught in the class. If the instructor feels the student did not do a good job on the project, he has the option to make the student retake the class or fail him. Also, should you fail a class at Durmstrang, you are unable to advance in that specific course subject."

"But what if a teacher just doesn't like me?" Harry asked, horrified at the thought of being failed because a teacher didn't like him. "He could just say my project wasn't good enough or–"

"Harry, Durmstrang caters almost exclusively to purebloods. As such, there have been instances of feuds between the families of some students and some teachers. In the late 17th century, it became mandatory to have all teachers at Durmstrang swear an Unbreakable Vow upon being hired. The oath forces the professors to accurately judge the validity of a student's work." Quirrell said calmly.

"But I'm not a pureblood," Harry reminded his professor.

"Harry," Quirrell said condescendingly, "You are the oldest son, and thus the heir to the House of Potter, your blood is pure enough for Durmstrang."

"I-I'll think about it, sir," Harry said as he quickly stood up and left the room. Quirrell had given him a lot to think about, and he needed some time to figure out what he was going to do.

Inside Quirrell's office, Voldemort slowly removed himself from control of Quirrell's body, and he let the stuttering idiot retake command. As he rested in the back of Quirrell's head, the Dark Lord made his plans. The boy would go to Durmstrang. He would make sure of it!

While he had initially told Quirrell to give the Potter boy lessons to try to gain some intelligence about the Potter family, Voldemort eventually came to see the potential the boy had. Harry Potter was bright, had a yearning to prove himself, and was desperately looking for friendship. The result was that the boy was very pliable, and Voldemort had easily manipulated him into learning some basic dark magic. It was nothing dangerous or impressive, but it didn't have to be. Voldemort just needed to show young Harry Potter that practicing the Dark Arts wasn't a vile act. The boy's desire to learn would ensure that eventually he'd study more dangerous dark magic.

The opportunity to send Harry Potter to Durmstrang was also too good to pass up. If nothing else, it would drive a wedge between the boy and his family if the Potters refused to let him attend. If the mudblood and the blood-traitor did let Harry attend Durmstrang... well it would be a true test of the young man's commitment to becoming a great wizard. Durmstrang really was sink or swim for its students, but Voldemort was certain the boy could survive it.

While Harry Potter had ambition, there was a reason the boy was a Ravenclaw. More than anything else, Potter enjoyed learning and practicing magic. Voldemort had watched Potter improve dramatically from his first lesson, and Irma Pince had said in a staff meeting that the boy rarely left the library until it closed. Yes, Potter was a true Ravenclaw. If he went to Durmstrang, the boy would become firmly entrenched in the Dark Arts –if for no other reason than to pass his classes.

A light family like the Potters would never understand their son's need to learn the Dark Arts. They would misinterpret their son's desire to succeed academically, viewing it as him becoming a dark wizard. His family would turn on him eventually, and when they did, Voldemort would be there to offer the young man knowledge. Yes, knowing what he did about Harry Potter, Voldemort was certain that the boy would learn dark magic before failing at anything academically.

Slowly, a warped and twisted smirk appeared on the back of Professor Quirrell's head. The Dark Lord was pleased. Harry Potter would make a fine Death Eater someday.

ooo0000ooo

The Final Straw

History of Magic, (Dec. 3rd)...

Contrary to what most of Hogwarts believed, Ravenclaw house found History of Magic to be just as boring as the rest of the school did. The difference was that while the other houses complained about the class or slept through it, the Ravenclaws either read their history book or spent the time working on assignments for other classes.

Currently Professor Binns was rambling on about how Ulrick the Awful instigated the Goblin Rebellion of 1523, but Harry Potter was not paying him even the slightest bit of attention. The reason behind the normally studious boy's distraction was the piece of parchment that sat in front of him. Charmed by Professor Quirrell to ensure that no one but Harry could read it, the parchment's title read, "Hogwarts Durmstrang," and listed the pluses and minuses of both schools.

It had been over a week since Quirrell had suggested he transfer, and Harry was now very seriously considering it. He would miss his brother terribly if he left, but, as Quirrell had pointed out, he wasn't exactly able to spend a lot of time with Nathan at Hogwarts either, so what did it really matter if he went to Durmstrang.

The most attractive thing about Durmstang was that he would be able to move ahead in year levels, and that the school actually encouraged students of all ages to study rare and powerful magic. Hogwarts would never let him jump ahead to a more challenging class; it just wasn't done. Not even Professor Dumbledore had been allowed to move ahead when he was at Hogwarts, and he was considered one of the most brilliant student Hogwarts had ever seen. Not to mention the fact that any rare magic at Hogwarts was locked away in the Restricted section of the library, and Harry would not only need a note from a Professor, but also a really good reason to get anything out of there. Professor Quirrell had said that Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, and the other Professors wouldn't even entertain the notion of giving Harry a pass until after his fourth year.

"Hey Potter, what's a good reason to cast a cheering charm besides making someone feel better?" Anthony Goldstein asked.

"I don't know," Harry said, refusing to help the boy with the Charms essay that was due next period. Honestly, Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart. What was smart about ignoring an essay until the last minute?

"Come on, I know you know of some good ones," Goldstein demanded. "I saw you in the common room last night writing it."

"Well you're wrong," Harry said, and, technically, Goldstein was indeed wrong. Harry had finished that essay the day after Flitwick assigned it. Last night he had been working on an essay Professor Snape had given out the day before.

"What's wrong with you?" Goldstein snapped. "If I don't get this done, Professor Flitwick will take points away and that will hurt the entire house."

"Then you shouldn't have waited till the period before it was due to start it."

"Potter, I'm almost done, I just need one more idea," Goldstein pressed.

Harry simply ignored the boy and pretended not to hear Goldstein say, "No wonder you have no friends."

Durmstrang was beginning to look more appealing by the second. This latest episode with Goldstein was the final straw. Harry wasn't about to help his fellow Ravenclaws pass their classes out of some misguided notion of house unity, and he knew he would probably be hated by the others because of it. He could already see Corner muttering next to Goldstein and both boys turned to glare at him. No doubt by the end of the day, his fellow year mates in Ravenclaw would hate him even more. Well, enough was enough. As soon as he was done with his classes, Harry would go talk to professor Quirrell and see what was necessary to put the process of transferring in motion.

ooo0000ooo

Professor Quirrell's Office, (Dec. 7th)...

Dear Highmaster Karkaroff,

Sir, my name is Harry James Potter, heir to the House of Potter, and I am currently a first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After a great deal of personal reflection, I have decided that I no longer wish to remain at this fine institution, and would like to seek other educational opportunities.

Professor Quinias Quirrell, my Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, has told me a great deal about Durmstrang's curriculum, and I find myself greatly interested in your school. I understand that there is an established precedent for students transferring between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang, and I am interested in knowing if you would be amicable to receiving me as a potential transfer student.

If you would be willing to accept me as a candidate for transferring for the Spring 1992 term, please write back to Professor Quinias Quirrell with a positive response. Afterwards I shall consult my Head of House, Filius Flitwick, to have my first term grades sent to you so that you may make a fair decision in regard to my potential.

I thank you for your time, Highmaster.

Sincerely,

Harry J. Potter

House of Potter

"The letter looks good, Harry," Quirrell commented.

"Do you think the Highmaster will accept me?" asked Harry, nervously.

"I believe he will," Quirrell said. "I have also written a letter of recommendation for the Highmaster, and I will attach it to the same owl you send your letter with. Together, they should be enough to at least have Karkaroff accept you as a potential candidate. I'm sure that once he sees your first term scores he will have no choice but to let you attend Durmstrang."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, sir. Not only for writing the letter of recommendation, but, well, for everything."

"It was my pleasure, Harry," Quirrell replied with a disarming smile. "Now I must go to Diagon Alley and pick up some supplies for my fifth year classes. I can mail both letters with an express owl while I am there if you would like."

"That would be wonderful, sir."

ooo0000ooo

Goodbye Hogwarts?

Filius Flitwick's Office, (Dec. 16th)...

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing here? I thought you were leaving for the holiday! The train is set to leave soon, is it not?" Professor Flitwick asked curiously.

"I am, sir, I just needed to speak with you quickly before I go," Harry said frantically.

"Oh, what about? Judging from how well you performed on my end of term test, you shouldn't be worried about your grades," Flitwick said good naturedly

"Well, sir, I suppose it is about my grades in a way."

Filius shook his head tiredly. As head of Ravenclaw house, he was use to students asking him immediately about their scores following their exams. "Harry, from what Minerva has told me, you have nothing to worry about in Transfiguration, and Professor Snape also said you had done acceptable work on his exam. Coming from Professor Snape, I assumed that to mean you were probably the best in your year."

"I, well…I know I did excellent on all my exams," Harry said, trying not to sound cocky. "I wanted to ask you if you could send my transcript to someone."

Filius raised an eyebrow in surprise. Typically, transcripts were only sent out when a student was seeking an apprenticeship, and Harry was far too young to even be considering such an option. "Why? And to whom?"

"Please send it to Highmaster Igor Karkaroff at The Durmstrang Institute of Magic," Harry said honestly, "and as for why. Well, sir, I'm hoping to transfer there at the start of the spring term."

Flitwick nearly fell out of his chair. "What!?"

"Please, sir, I'm running late as it is, and I need to make it onto the express to head home for Christmas. I just got a response from Highmaster Karkeroff a few minutes ago saying that he has accepted me as a potential transfer candidate, but he wants to see my first term grades. So can you please send the transcript once it's ready?" Harry asked.

"Mr. Potter, just tell me why you want to leave Hogwarts," Filius said, horrified that one of his Ravens was even contemplating leaving.

"Sir...," Harry said really not wanting to have this conversation with his Head of House. "I really do need to be going. The express leaves at eleven and it's already half past ten, and I still need to get to the station in Hogsmeade. Please promise me you'll send the transcript."

"Harry," Filius said, using his young pupil's first name for the first time. "I...I will send the transcript. I am bound as your Head of House to honor the request, but this conversation is not, by any means, over. Go if you must, but I will be writing you and your parents to discuss this over the holidays. Transferring is not something that should ever be considered lightly, and I'm honestly stunned that you did not come to me to ask questions about such a drastic move."

"Thank you, sir, I'll look forward to your letter," Harry said as he quickly left Flitwick's office. Placing a levitation charm on his trunk, Harry began to sprint out of the castle.

Reaching the train with only minutes to spare, Harry turned around and wondered if this would be the last time he would ever see the impressive castle.

"Goodbye, Hogwarts."