Monday, 26th August

As promised, Rowle knocked on his door bright and early Monday morning with a stack of textbooks in his arms that weighed the same as Harry. He'd pestered the older boy with questions nonstop all day Friday and then again Saturday morning before Rowle had left to go home for two days.

Harry had felt like a bumblebee trapped in a glass jar all weekend, unable to concentrate on anything, all of his thoughts single-mindedly focused on magic and wizards and Hogwarts. He was still bitter about that; about the Dursleys preventing him from going to a proper school, to a place where he belonged, and he imagined he'd still be angry about it for years to come - but that didn't mean that he couldn't teach himself. Harry had always been resourceful, after all, and he'd never been this motivated to learn anything before, so he wasn't too worried about taking control of his own education.

And so, it was with no small amount of glee that he flung open his bedroom door and ushered Rowle inside before quickly shutting it again behind him. Technically, it was against the rules to have other students in his room, but Harry would prefer to risk getting caught for that than be seen with a pile of magic books that he couldn't explain at the library.

Rowle immediately dropped the stack on his bed, causing the younger boy to frown in annoyance - how could he treat something so wonderful so carelessly?

"I've brought you the most important ones" he announced, watching in amusement as Harry rushed to gently stack the pile once more, "There are a few others on the first-year Hogwarts list, but you can't exactly practise potions or herbology yet, so I didn't bother bringing them. And besides - this lot should keep you busy for a while".

Harry nodded absently, eyes already scanning the titles. There was Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, Easy Spells to Fool Muggles by Luca Caruso, and a Legislative Guide to the Proper Use of Magic by the Ministry of Magic.

"Wait; there's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

"'Course there is. There are a few dozen muggle ministries, aren't there? Why should we be any different?"

"So- So there's an entire magical government?!"

"Yep. For all the good they do. We've got a Minister for Magic, too. A guy called Cornelius Fudge. He's like the muggle Prime Minister, but he's an idiot if I've ever seen one". Rowle rolled his eyes and collapsed back on the bed, only barely missing the stack of books, which Harry quickly moved to his desk instead. "Alright kid, I brought you the books, so let's talk payment".

"I haven't got any money".

"Did I say I wanted your money?" He raised a pale eyebrow. "Money's not much use to us in here, is it? No, I want something else. How good are you in school?"

Harry blinked at the sudden change of topic and then frowned.

"I'm… alright, I guess? I'm not a genius or anything but I'm not stupid either. I know some things. I can, you know, do maths and stuff".

"Excellent". Rowle grinned. "Because I sure as fuck cannot".

"So… So you want me to… what? Do your maths homework?"

"Exactly".

"But- But I'm only in Year Seven! I technically haven't even started secondary school yet! I don't know anything about- about probability or- or algebra or-"

"Well then, you better learn, because I need to pass this class" he interrupted, "Rule number one, Evans; everything comes at a cost. And your cost for me loaning you these books is to do my maths homework this year".

"This year?!" he exclaimed, "You want me to do it for an entire year?!"

"If you want any more books about magic, then yeah".

Harry bit his lip and glanced over at the stack on his desk. He wasn't lying, he didn't know a thing about secondary school maths, not yet anyway… but he could learn, he supposed. If learning advanced maths a year or two early meant that he could learn magic too, then it'd be more than worth it.

And besides, he reasoned, mind already made up, it wasn't as if this extra work wouldn't help him too in the long run - by learning Year Nine maths now, he wouldn't have to learn it when he was in Year Nine himself, which meant he'd have even more time to teach himself magic.

"... Deal" he agreed, "I'll do your maths homework this year, but you have to keep bringing me books! And- And no promises that you'll pass your class, cause like I said, I don't know anything yet, but… but I'll try my best, alright? I promise".

"Fair enough". Rowle shrugged, before reaching over and pulling out the thickest book from the pile. "I've also been thinking about your little no-wand-no-magic issue, and I believe that I might just have come up with a solution for that".

"You have?!"

The blond tossed him the book and Harry only barely caught it in time.

It was wrapped in thick dark leather, but it didn't feel like any other leather he had ever touched. The four corners on the front of the book were embossed with swirling gold, and in the very middle of it was a circular badge. He had to slowly turn the book around in a circle to read it.

Ignorantia Juris Non Excusat.

"'Ignorance of the law is no excuse'" Rowle translated without being asked, "It's the motto for Wizengamot - that's our version of Parliament, by the way; where all the nobility hold court. Anyway, the point is, anything you want to know about wizarding laws and the correct use of magic and all that is in there. Including information about the Trace".

"The Trace?" Harry looked up at him. "What's that?"

"It's the charm that tracks underaged magic. If you or anyone around you casts a spell while you're outside of Hogwarts, then the Ministry is informed. I've always known that the Trace breaks automatically on the day of your seventeenth birthday - that's when a witch or wizard is considered an adult in the magical world - but up until now, I never knew when the charm was actually placed on someone". He nodded at the book in the younger boy's hands. "There's an entire fucking chapter dedicated to the Trace in that, and I only skimmed it so I might be wrong, but from what I can tell… the Trace isn't actually activated until you get your wand".

"And since I don't have a wand, the Ministry isn't able to track me" Harry realised, "But- I thought I needed a wand to do magic?

"Usually, yes" he agreed, "But here's the thing, kid; you're really fucking powerful. The way you shoved Greg and his gang back was pretty impressive, and then for you to throw me halfway across the kitchen only a few minutes later was insane! You seem to have at least some level of control, whether consciously or otherwise, and that's not exactly common for a kid your age".

He shrugged and then gestured at the Legislative Guide once more.

"I'd read up on the Trace and all that to be sure, but… the way I see it, you've got nothing to lose trying out a few spells with just your hands. Best case scenario, it works, which would be pretty brilliant. Worst case scenario, it doesn't work, which is exactly what I'd expect to happen anyway, so you'd come out even".

Harry frowned as he thought. Being able to do magic, to actually willfully choose to do magic, would of course be far more incredible than just reading the theory behind it… but what if Rowle was wrong and the Trace was on him? What if he got caught? Would he get in trouble? How much trouble? This rule had to be in place for a reason after all, and the last thing he wanted to do was break the law!

"Look, Evans, even if I did somehow find a way to sneak my wand in here without my mother noticing - and she'd notice alright - neither of us could use it without definitely activating the Trace, and it might not even work for you anyway" the blond said, "If you manage to control and direct your accidental magic, however, then no one else has to know but us".

Harry still felt nervous. "But what if the Ministry somehow finds out?"

"They're not going to. But even if they did - so what?" Rowle gave him a wry grin. "I mean, let's face it, it's not as if they can kick you out of Hogwarts, now is it? They couldn't even snap your wand because you don't have one!"

"They do that?!"

"If you get expelled from school or go to prison, yeah".

"But that's- that's ridiculous! Why does anyone use a wand then?! You're just setting yourself up for failure! What if someone accidentally snapped it? Or- Or even did it on purpose?! Then you'd be stuck without any way of doing magic and whoever snapped your wand could just- just hurt you! It's a weakness!"

Rowle was… staring at him with a very strange look in his dark eyes, and Harry found himself flushing under the scrutiny. Eventually, the older boy spoke.

"I like the way you think, Evans" he said simply, "You're right. When you say it like that, wands are a weakness… But that just gives you more motivation to learn magic without one, now doesn't it?"

He stretched to the side again but this time, he pulled two books from the stack instead of one.

"I'd start with this if I were you". Rowle held up a dark brown cover and turned it so Harry could read The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1 which was written along its spine. "This is what my mother started me with, and for the most part, it's understandable. The spells themselves are quite basic, but since you're just starting out, they're exactly what you need. This one, on the other hand-"

He held up a pale orange book that had an intricate design on the cover and Easy Spells to Fool Muggles written across it in thick black letters.

"This one is a bit more complicated, but I thought you might appreciate it if Greg or Lawrence start giving you trouble again. Just don't tell my mother I lent it to you".

"No problem there" he agreed, "And the other two?"

"Magical Theory explains how spells actually work, which is a handy thing to know before you start casting yourself. It explains the differences between intent and will pretty well, but don't worry if you end up fucking confused most of the time - Waffling wasn't exactly known for his simplicity. The other book, A History of Magic, is also on the Hogwarts curriculum. It covers the history of the wizarding world up until the end of the 19th century, so even though it's not the most exciting of reads, it is useful if you want to learn more about Wizengamot and witch trials and goblins and the like".

"Goblins are real?!"

"Oh yeah. As well as werewolves, vampires, ghosts, dragons, unicorns, mermaids, and a whole fucking bunch of other magical creatures too". Rowle stood up from the bed with a grin and clapped him on the shoulder. "You've got a hell of a lot to learn, kid".

Thursday, 29th August

Over the following week, Harry devoured each and every one of the books Rowle had lent him with unbridled enthusiasm.

Principal Hayward had a strict policy on students leaving their rooms during the day, which meant Harry was often locked out of his bedroom for hours at a time. So instead, he smuggled his reading out underneath his jumper and spent his days in the library, hiding himself - and his books - behind the rows of shelves that no one else ever visited.

He studied magic and wizards and the wizarding world in general - learning that there was an entire country's worth of people out there just like him. He found out the reasons behind his accidental magic; how he'd ended up on the roof of the school that one time and why his hair had kept growing back overnight no matter how often Aunt Petunia had cut it. He also learned why his injuries never seemed to take long to heal - the split lip and cuts and bruises that Greg and his gang had given him were long gone already.

He even learned how to protect himself against people like that in the future, how to defend himself and use magic to his advantage without breaking the Statute of Secrecy - something that he'd panicked about for an entire eight hours, worried that all of his previous occurrences of magic in front of Dudley were going to get him arrested until Rowle pointed out to him at dinner that night that accidental magic wasn't tracked by the Ministry in the same way that intentional magic was since, usually, children had no control over it.

Harry hadn't tried casting any actual spells yet - he hadn't dared, but he was absorbing as much theory as he could. He had this sort of half-planned idea that maybe if he learned enough, maybe if got powerful enough and good enough, then he'd be able to join the wizarding world himself someday, despite not having any formal education like Hogwarts or any witch or wizard to homeschool him like Rowle.

He couldn't ever imagine returning to Surrey once all was said and done. How could he, now that he knew magic existed? Now that he knew he had magic himself?! Quite frankly, Harry couldn't imagine returning to Surrey even if he didn't have magic. The Dursleys had made themselves perfectly clear when they'd left him here. They didn't want him, and he didn't want them, either.

No. Instead, he would just have to learn and study and read as many things as he could, as many books as Rowle owned. Maybe then, someday, he'd be able to get a job with other people like him, and he'd be able to buy a house and maybe a cat or a goldfish or even something magical like a- a talking horse or whatever wizards kept as pets, something that he could be friends with and look out for, something that would give him company and comfort while he tended to their small vegetable garden and walked through the magical streets of London and-

Harry didn't tell Rowle about the daydreams he often got lost in. Part of him was worried that the boy would say nothing at all, but another, bigger, part was worried that he'd laugh - or worse, that he'd tell him it was impossible and that he'd never be able to catch up enough to live in their - his - world.

But he'd cross that bridge when he came to it, he decided, because thinking like that would get him nowhere - but focusing on the history book in front of him just might.

Right now, he was halfway through a chapter about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, or, put more simply, the reason why muggles had no idea magic existed - the reason Harry had no idea magic existed until he'd met Rowle.

Upon the signature of the International Statute of Secrecy in 1689, wizards went into hiding for good. It was natural, perhaps, that they formed their own small communities within a community. Many small villages and hamlets attracted several magical families, who banded together for mutual support and protection. The villages of Tinworth in Cornwall, Upper Flagley in Yorkshire, and Ottery St Catchpole on the south coast of England were notable homes to knots of Wizarding families who lived alongside tolerant and sometimes Confunded Muggles. Most celebrated of these half-magical dwelling places is, perhaps, Godric's Hollow, the West Country village where the great wizard Godric Gryffindor was born, and where Bowman Wright, Wizarding smith, forged the first Golden Snitch. The graveyard is full of the names of ancient magical families, and this accounts, no doubt, for the stories of hauntings that have dogged the little church beside it for many centuries. Some of these families were partly responsible for the signing of the Statute in the first place. One notable example is the Right Honourable Ralston Potter, the Earl of Gloucester, a great champion of-

Harry froze.

Ralston Potter.

Was he- Was this- Was Ralston Potter one of his ancestors? Were they related? Did Harry still have family out there, somewhere, in the wizarding world that he could find and go to and live with and-

He wasn't sure why Uncle Vernon chose the name "Evans" out of all of the fake names he could have picked for him, but Harry vaguely remembered collecting the post and seeing a letter from the bank when he was six or seven that had been addressed to Petunia Evans, so maybe that had been her last name before she'd gotten married - and by extension, had been his mum's last name before she'd gotten married too.

Rowle had told him that he hadn't recognized it; that it likely wasn't a wizarding name, but if Evans really was his mum's maiden name, and she had been a muggle, then that made perfectly good sense. It was his dad who had the last name Potter, after all, and since he had to be a wizard, then there was a pretty high chance that his dad and this Ralston Potter guy were related.

That Harry and Ralston Potter were related.

He sneaked a sideways look at Rowle who had decided to join him in the library today - despite his apparent allergy to picking up a single book. Instead, he had his chair shoved back, his two feet kicked up on the table, and his eyes closed as he leaned back in his seat, apparently taking a midday nap.

Would he know, if Harry asked him? About Ralston Potter? About- About other Potters? The blond didn't know him as anything other than Harry Evans, but if it got out that that wasn't his real name, then there would be hell to pay. Principal Hayward would have to contact the Dursleys again at the very least - if he didn't immediately kick Harry out for attending St Brutus under "false pretences" of course - and who knew what Vernon would do if he thought Harry was causing trouble.

"If you mess this up for me, freak, then I'll leave you at the side of the road with a tyre iron in your skull!"

So no, he couldn't risk telling anyone, couldn't risk Vernon finding out, couldn't risk the truth getting out and being sent away from his only connection to the magical world… but maybe if he phrased his question just right?

"Hey, uh, Rowle?"

The older boy hummed. He wasn't asleep then.

"I've… I've come across this name a few times now and… well, I guess I just wanted to ask if you, uh… knew any more about this- this family?" he started, haltingly, "It's- I mean, they're- they're called the… the Potters?"

The legs of Rowle's chair hit the ground with a thud as his eyes flew open and he pinned Harry in place with a look of absolute incredulity.

"The Potters?" he asked, his voice high in disbelief, "You're asking me if I've ever heard of the Potters? The Potters?! Are you serious?!"

"Uh… yes?"

He stared at him for another moment before giving a baffled laugh and shaking his head.

"Merlin, I keep forgetting how much you don't know… Yes, Evans, I've heard about the fucking Potters. Everyone has! Or, at least, everyone who grew up in the wizarding world - which I didn't even do!"

He laughed again, before finally pulling his chair in and leaning closer, his voice a mere whisper as if he was telling him a grave, deadly secret.

"It was the Potters who defeated the Dark Lord".

Harry frowned and tried to sift through the absolute overload of information that he'd recently shoved into his brain. He'd come across the term Dark wizard once or twice - the title given to a magical person who primarily studied and practised the Dark Arts, which referred to any type of magic that could be used to harm or control others - but he'd yet to come across the term Dark Lord. Even Salazar Slytherin, whose name he'd read in A History of Magic a few times, was referred to as a Dark wizard; not a Lord.

"Who?" he finally asked, and Rowle threw his hands in the air. "The Dark Lord! You-Know-Who! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"... Why not?"

"Why not- Why not?! Because- He was- Because-"

The blond cut himself off and took a deep breath.

"Alright, so, about twenty years ago, the Dark Lord started to rise to power. He wanted to bring back some of the old ways - to teach kids about the Dark Arts as well as how to defend themselves against them, to bring in total separation between wizards and muggles, to have less strict regulations around certain potions and spells; things like that" he explained, "Anyway, he started gaining followers; pure-bloods, mostly, but a few half-bloods too, except the Ministry didn't agree with him, so eventually, a full-on war broke out. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, led the group that opposed him, and some of Dumbledore's strongest supporters were James and Lily Potter".

Harry could barely breathe, his lungs frozen in shock and anticipation and fear, because if this was going where he thought it was going…

"Then, about ten years ago, give or take, it all came to a head. The Dark Lord decided to attack the Potters. I don't know why; I doubt anyone does now, but by that stage, he was… well. Calling him insane would be putting it nicely". Rowle grimaced. "But for whatever reason, the Dark Lord went after them - and he found them, too. No one's quite sure what happened next. All we know is that he killed James and Lily Potter, but when he tried to kill their son, the spell just… backfired, somehow".

A car crash. The Dursleys had told him his parents had died in a car crash. Not like this. Not- Not in battle, in the middle of a wizarding war, in their own home while he-

"The Killing curse is what it's called" Rowle continued, completely oblivious to his internal turmoil, "It's quick, painless, just a flash of green light and- well, and that's it, really. Up until that night, no one had ever survived it… but that baby did. The curse rebounded and hit the Dark Lord instead, leaving the kid with nothing more than a lightning-shaped scar".

Harry barely resisted the urge to pat down the messy hair covering his forehead. Clearly, Rowle hadn't seen the scar yet or else he'd have figured out who he was by now. But- Could he really be the baby in that story? The dates matched up, and his parents' names were right too, but-

Him? The defeater of the Dark Lord? As a baby?!

It was- It was impossible!

"The kid's famous now, of course" Rowle finished, sitting back in his seat, "Known far and wide as the Boy Who Lived… I can't remember his actual name, though. Hadrian, I think. Or- Or maybe Henry or Hayden or… something like that, I dunno. My mother doesn't talk about it much, given that the Potter kid killed the Dark Lord and all. She's still pretty fucking bitter about that".

Harry's eyes grew wide. "She agreed with him?!"

"Oh, yeah, it was this entire big thing". He shrugged as if he hadn't just admitted that his mother supported the man who'd killed Harry's parents. "She didn't actively join him, didn't take his mark or anything - she'd had to have returned to the wizarding world to do that, and she refused to give her parents the satisfaction, but… yeah, she followed him. She didn't agree with all of his goals, and neither do I, for that matter, but still - the Dark Lord had some pretty good ideas".

"What?!" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You- She- That's- You- He murdered my- that kid's parents! And- And if it really was a war then- then he probably killed a whole bunch of other people too!"

"He did" Rowle said simply, "And so did the other side".

"But they- You- That's not- It's-"

He cut himself off. It wasn't as if he actually knew any of this to be true, and even if it was, he sure as hell didn't know enough about it to contradict Rowle's opinions. But he wasn't an idiot - there were always casualties in war, no matter whose side you were on.

He was just unlucky enough to have suffered from it directly.

"What happened to the- the Potter baby? After… everything?" he finally asked, wanting to know, needing to know if he was-

"Ah, well, you see, now that's where things get interesting" the blond replied with a smirk, leaning in, "Some people say he was sent away to some distant mountain chalet to get fancy training, but others say that he was sent to live anonymously in the muggle world. Which is absolute rubbish, if you ask me - I mean, can you imagine it? The saviour of the wizarding world not growing up in the fucking wizarding world?"

Yes, Harry thought rather bitterly, I can.

"So he wasn't sent to- to some other Potters then?" he asked instead, "Like- Like distant relatives or something?"

Rowle shook his head. "There are no other Potters. James Potter's parents thought the line would die out with them, but then their son was born when they were both quite old. Fleamont Potter was the only son of an only son of an only son - that sort of thing. They died before the Boy Who Lived was born, as far as I remember, and now, that kid is the only Potter left… Well, until he gets married and has an only son of his own, I suppose".

Although Harry knew, instinctively, that it was incredibly unlikely for any of his father's family to still be alive - if he was a wizard, then wouldn't Harry have been sent to them since he had magic too? - it still came as a blow, and he quickly glanced back down at the textbook to hide the tears in his eyes.

So.

He was the last of the Potters, then, which meant that he had no wizarding family left to take him in now - if they'd even want to in the first place, given how little he knew about magic. But that also meant that the Dursleys really were his only remaining living relatives, which was far too horrifying a thought to think about, especially since he knew from Petunia that all of his mother's family aside from her were dead as well.

"Nah, I think the so-called Saviour was sent to some good upstanding family in order to be raised right" Rowle continued, and the younger boy could practically hear the quotation marks around his words, "Either way, we don't have that long to wait before we find out the truth - the Potter kid will be starting Hogwarts this year".

Good for him.

"Do you have any books about this?" Harry said instead, "About the war and the Dark Lord and the- the Potters and the rest of it?"

"Sure, if you're interested. A History of Magic only covers up until the late 1800s, so you'll need a second book anyway to learn about everything that happened after that. I think Modern Magical History covers it… Or even The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. I was going to wait a while before loaning you that one though, but… well, getting it a few months early shouldn't do any fucking harm". Rowle shrugged, and then kicked his feet back up on the table in front of him. "Remind me again tomorrow alright? I'll get them for you over the weekend".

"... Yeah, I will" he replied, somewhat belatedly, "Thanks".

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As he slowly processed what Rowle had told him, he saw again the blinding flash of green light that he often saw in his dreams, only this time, he could see it more clearly than he had ever remembered it before - and with it, he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Was it true? Could it be true? Was he really responsible for- for the death of the Dark Lord? For the death of anyone?! Harry couldn't be the boy from the story, never mind that everything else lined up, he just- he just couldn't be!

Had he really killed the man who'd killed his parents, when he was nothing more than a baby? Had he really killed the man who Rowle's mother had followed or been friends with or whatever? The man who Rowle himself admitted to agreeing with, even if only partly?!

If he ever did tell the older boy the truth about who he was, would they still be friends?

Was Harry completely, and utterly, entirely on his own now?

He shook his head, feeling frustrated and confused and just- ugh!

He needed to do more research on this, on- on all of this before he decided anything. Even if he was the baby from the story, he couldn't have conceivably killed one of the most powerful wizards of all time! It just wasn't possible!

… Although, Rowle had said that he was powerful himself, but-

No.

Surely not.

Unless…

Harry shook his head again, angrily this time.

There was no point in wondering about any of this until he got some more answers, and he couldn't get those answers until Monday, so there was no point in wondering about ifs, buts, or maybes at all right now.

And besides, in the meantime, he still had his current books to get through - along with a hell of a lot to learn about magic and the wizarding world he was so desperate to become a part of.