2. Castles in the sky

16th of May 1992 - Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Harry walked the empty corridors. It was late at night. The nights, and the days as well, were already starting to get warmer, so Harry left his cloak in his dorm.

All the various items he brought back with him from his visit to the underworld were tucked in his locked trunk and unused. He even almost completely stopped using his invisibility cloak. There were various reasons for this. The wand, for a start, was quite recognisable as Dumbledore's. Harry didn't relish being asked about it. Truthfully? He didn't know what to say. That little stone - he didn't even know what it was for or did. He has yet to find the time to search for this answer.

Frankly, he now felt that using any of these would be an act of disrespect to the kind lady, certainly before he himself delivered on their kinda deal.

In regard to the Flamel's red-gem, Harry was surprised to find the answer handed to him on a silver plate, as soon as he was back.

"Flamel made the Philosopher's stone!" Hermione told him excitedly.

"We found it out off of a chocolate-frog card," Ron added, a little too chuffed about it. "It can turn anything to gold!" he enthused. "Flamels were flushed!"

"It also creates the elixir of life," Hermione remarked much more sombrely. "Rumour has it that Dumbledore got it out of the Flame's vault, without clear permission. He then went on and disappeared and the stone was never found. They were livid when they couldn't find it."

"Do you think he made off with it?" Harry asked and felt uncomfortable for asking.

Ron shook his head. "The Prophet said both the Ministry and Gringotts confirmed his death."

Harry didn't answer. The fact that Dumbledore was now paying for his many sins didn't help the Flamels at all. Their stone was tucked in his trunk with the other items, it being too late already to give it back to its creators. Harry was in no rush to discover how it worked.

Harry kept walking the corridors. He had a hard time sleeping ever since he came back. It wasn't nightmares or some such. He just felt like he could do with much less sleep time these days. Even a handful of sleep hours left him well rested, invigorated, and ready for a dayful of activities. Also, his mind was active - annoyingly so. Again, it wasn't like he turned into some genius, or gained Hermione-like abilities to inhale and retain knowledge. His mind now felt focused and was busy and alert all the time. It was much harder now for Harry to just relax and therefore - fall asleep.

These were the same corridors Harry walked that Christmas night, just before he was transferred to Hell. The mirror was no more - he looked for it in the empty classroom. Harry also wasn't interested in what's in the library tonight. He was told that the promise of a painful death, offered by the Headmaster at the opening feast, and which was supposedly lurking on the third-floor corridor, turned out to be a Cerberus. Its name was Fluffy, of all possible names. That Cerberus was removed from school after the body of Professor Quirrell was found not far from there. Apparently, this was the same night Headmaster Dumbledore disappeared as well.

Well, disappeared from school that is. Earth even…

Harry kept walking. He now turned to climb the long stairway which led up, and finally to the Gryffindor common-room. He might be tired enough by now to get a little sleep.

He kept swishing these two metal weights round his fingers as he walked. These were poor replacements for his knives, but people were avoiding him when he was swishing his actual knives round his fingers. Hermione herself told him he looked 'menacing' doing that. The weights helped him to keep in practice. Strangely enough, these mechanical swishing motions also helped keep his mind focused. Maybe this was the reason Mazikeen kept doing this all the time.

On the other hand, Maze was the Oxford definition of 'Menacing'...

"Meow!" a sound carried to him from the top of the stairway he was climbing. He raised his eyes to see two eyes reflecting what little light was around, at the edge of the landing above.

"Hello, Mrs Norris." Harry said calmly and kept climbing. "Good evening, Mr Filch," he added as the moggie's owner, or was he the cat's familiar? appeared at the end of the stairs too.

"Well, well, Mrs Norris. What do we have here?" the man asked coldly. "Sneaking around, on your own, long after curfew?"

"Had a hard time falling asleep, so I went out for a walk," Harry calmly answered with the truth.

"Detention, Mr Potter," Filch stated with some delight. "Right, off we go, Professor Snape's office is that way," he then ordered. "And don't think of running off, now. It'll be worse for you if you do." For a while they walked in silence.

"Are you certain Professor Snape will be happy for you to wake him up at this hour of the night?" Harry finally asked him conversationally.

It made Filch stop and reconsider. "It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out," he finally muttered to himself. "Hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed…"

Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "You are certainly an expert in punishing the guilty," he answered, hiding any hint of sarcasm from his tone of voice. "Do you reckon this punishment is the appropriate one for the current sin?"

For a long moment Mr Filch was silent. "Come Mrs Norris," he finally said, and turned away. "And I don't want to see you again wandering around after hours, Mr Potter," he added, as he walked away.

"Meow?!" The cat complained loudly, yet Mr Filch kept walking away from Harry.

Harry sighed and turned to head to the Gryffindor dorms - he was ready to finally go to bed.

His mind was still active, though. He just received handsome favours from both Death and Lucifer, for a service not yet given. A deal with the Devil, if you like, though Lucifer told him he seldom collected on his IOUs. Still, Harry had several tasks to accomplish and wasn't sure at all just how to go about completing a few of those.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked and crashed on the sofa next to him.

"Potions," Harry answered calmly.

"You're just like her," Ron complained loudly, pointing at you know who. "Ever since you came back, all you do is study."

She who wasn't named chose to sit with the other girls and far away from Ron. Turns out, their short and shaky friendship was more of an alliance and didn't survive Harry's disappearance.

"Right," Harry replied with a small smile, "Thanks for reminding me, mate!" He then stood up and went to Hermione. "I'm doing this week's Potions chapter. Mind helping me tomorrow morning to see if I can actually brew any of these?"

"Mate!" Ron complained again, for all in the common room to hear. "It's the weekend?!"

Harry ignored him for the moment. He took out his small weights and swished them as he waited for Hermione's answer. Hermione tried to both smile widely and frown at the same time. It didn't work so well but it clearly amused Harry, which was a bonus.

"Sure," she answered, blushing a little. "Anything else you need help with?" she asked a little hopefully. She then frowned, looking at the weights he was playing with.

"What?" he complained, but he was still clearly amused. "I can also use a little help checking that I can properly do all these charms too."

This was something Hermione was more than happy to help him with. She then frowned again. "What is it with you and these knives?" she asked, truly worried.

I got 'em from a friend…

But where Lucifer could get away with telling the truth only, Harry was a mere mortal. Sometimes a small harmless lie saves you from questions you aren't willing to lie about.

"They were in my dreams," he answered softly. "When I woke up, they were right beside me, so I reckon they're important. They also ground me," he ended with some truth.

"Did you manage to remember some more?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry looked around uncomfortably. Noise levels in the common-room fell noticeably. Harry having been lost, then found, with no explanations and apparently no recollection of the time passed, was the subject of many rumours and guesses. Especially since Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Quirrell's deaths followed closely.

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled in embarrassment.

Harry snorted in amusement at all the nosy parkers around. He smiled lightly at Hermione, then went back to his Potions books. He then frowned, finding all this work closed, thrown aside, and a chess board set in front of Ron.

"Did you mark the pages at the very least?"

Ron shrugged and Harry found himself swishing the small weight in his right hand more intensively. He then frowned more and stuffed it angrily into his pocket. "I've missed more than four months of school and only have a few weeks to make up for it - all by myself."

The sad fact that no Professor has offered any kind of help in this effort annoyed Harry quite a bit.

Ron huffed in anger. "You turned into a nightmare," he accused. "Just like she is!" Ron then collected his chess-set, not too gently, and went looking for some better company.

It made Harry snort again in amusement. He then sobered up a little.

"Nightmares… You don't even know what those are," he mumbled to himself, after his friend's parting back.

Looking around, Harry noticed many curious faces. He also noticed several frowns. His Gryffindor mates were happy for his return, but there was some grudge as well. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, for one.

With no other decent Seeker in their house, and a new and very decent one on the Hufflepuff team, the Hufflepuff took more than a hundred points over Gryffindor in their second match of the year. Hufflepuff then went on and pulled a narrow and rather unbelievable win over Slytherin. They were now in a comfortable lead for the cup. With only two last games left for the year - Gryffindor had to pull a blinder to even have a chance.

Wood was delighted to have his star-Seeker back for this crucial last game. He was less chuffed when Harry flat out refused to dedicate his time to training.

"Listen, mate," Harry answered, with the whole school listening, mind you - Wood chose to hold this conversation during breakfast. "I can come to one weekend session a week, but otherwise I have studies to do."

Clearly, Wood reckoned some people have their priorities all wrong.

There was also this little snag regarding Harry's broom. You see, that morning Harry went missing, Ron indeed took his broom for a spin. This was alright, since he had permission to do so. What he didn't have permission for was to lend that broom to others.

It's amazing just how hell lets one torture himself with the truth. Even a truth one isn't aware of…

It took Wood some effort, first to discover that the broom went missing, then to find out exactly who held on to it, then finally force that kid - Cormac something - to hand it back. George said something about threatening the berk with a beater's bat being involved.

Coming back to his table, Harry sighed and started finding once more the pages he was studying. A shadow pulled his eyes up to see Neville standing there uncomfortably.

"Hey mate, how's tricks?"

Neville smiled a little. "I can try and help you study," he said hesitantly. "If it's not a bother, that is," he hurried to add. "I can use the review myself…"

Harry answered with an easy smile. "I'm writing this work on Forgetfulness Potion, y'all handed a couple of months ago." He then chuckled lightly at Neville's grimace.

"Only got an 'Acceptable' for this one."

"I'm writing it now - we can do this together," Harry offered. "Then we can compare it to yours and see what you missed," and Neville nodded.

"Then," Harry added smiling, "I have Hermione's here, so we'll be able to go over that and see just how daft we both are."

In all reality, the Quidditch season was already lost by the time Griffindor's last game of the year arrived. The sour stares Wood was giving Harry, when he thought that Harry wasn't looking, clearly said so. Hufflepuff did nicely against Ravenclaw and had a clean swipe of this year's tournament.

"Just get the Snitch," was the only instruction Wood had for Harry.

Harry was hanging high above the other players, flying a lazy circle, and looking at the two teams below. He already noticed the Snitch several times, but Gryffindor needed to win with a two-hundred points advantage to get the second spot. Wood said nothing about it, but Harry reckoned second was better than third, so there you have it.

Below, the Gryffindor team was doing well. Ravenclaw were clearly competent, but the Gryffindor team was properly good. Harry noticed the Snitch once more but the point difference wasn't high enough yet. Truthfully, after a few years of struggling to keep his eyes on Mazikeen's knives - the Snitch was no challenge.

Harry wondered if he'll ever see her again.

Was she a friend?

The Gryffindor team almost reached that awaited fifty-points lead but a clean block, followed by a quick counter, surprised Wood to concede. Wood looked angrily towards Harry. Harry smiled and waved back, still keeping to his lazy circles above. He then noticed Wood calling the Chasers to him and telling them something. He might have figured what Harry was doing, since these instructions included pointing at the Ravenclaw hoops, at Harry, and at his watch. The girls took a glance at Harry and went to work, pulling back one goal in quick order.

Once more, the Quaffle was in possession of the Ravens, and the noise levels in the field rose considerably. The Ravenclaw Seeker dove into a point somewhere near Wood hoops and both the crowd and commentator went wild. Harry wasn't bothered. The Snitch was on the other side of the field from where the Seeker was heading and he could do nothing to help Wood. Not that he needed help any, Wood was truly a legend.

This game was getting long and Harry's thoughts drifted. This was a strange school-year, not even counting the couple and some years he stayed in Hell in the middle of it, till Mazikeen decided he was ready to head back.

The Hogwarts he came back to was a changed place. Under the control of Headmistress McGonagall it turned into a rather strict and study-focused place. Still, Dumbledore's shadow hadn't been lifted from the school yet. People were still asking themselves what the old Headmaster would have done in each situation. Hermione told him that bullying got much worse before it got better, any. On the other hand, house rivalry lessened somewhat and Harry imagined people hanging with friends from other houses more than they did before. Some faculty left - Hagrid for example. Harry was saddened by it.

"Do you even try?" he was surprised by the other Seeker asking. Harry was about to answer, but Katie-Bell and Alicia were just heading to the Raven's hoops. A tidy feint left Alicia free in front of the right hand hoop and Harry pushed his broom downwards. He slowed, for a fraction of a second, to let the Quaffle pass through the hoop, then, in a blink of an eye he was standing on the field, looking with a satisfied smile at the flattering Snitch in his hand.

Crowd was roaring. His team-mates landed round him to celebrate.

"Good game!" Angelina stated, ruffling his hair fondly.

"Just try not to miss any games next year?" Wood remarked, smiling.

Second place in my first year, Harry thought with some deserved satisfaction. Not bad. Not bad at all!

It was almost the end of the school year and Harry walked three times, back and forth, in front of the bare wall on the seventh floor. Hell was one of the best places to find out the truth about things. A door appeared in the middle of the formerly empty wall and Harry went through.

A whole room of hidden things.

"This room can become anything you ask it to be," said a voice right next to him. A ghost was walking beside him.

The Grey Lady?

Harry nodded politely and kept searching. Even knowing what he was looking for and its general location, it wasn't easy to find anything in this huge cluttered place. About half an hour later, Harry sat in front of a table, looking at the small silver tiara on its top.

"What will you do with it?" asked the ghost from across the table.

A grunt from behind made Harry turn to see the Bloody Baron standing there, in the shadow. The Grey Lady ignored him and stayed focused on the tiara in front of her.

"Send it on," Harry replied to her question. "A present of sorts," he added softly.

On the table top the tiara started shaking. As if afraid and trying to flee.

"Be caref…" The Grey Lady started to say, when it neared the edge of the table.

Quick as a snake, Harry's hand reached to stab it with a short curved knife.

The Grey Lady looked on with a well satisfied smile when the Diadem shook, then emitted a tortured wail, then finally a smoky shade of a man was expelled from it.

"Wait!" Harry ordered it, and the shade stopped to stare at him with malicious red eyes.

"Tell Mazikeen 'thanks'," Harry asked and the shade looked confused for a moment. "Also, if you meet Her, tell her I'm doing my best," he added, a little embarrassed.

"I will be back and torture you for days for this!" the shade tried his smokey hand in menacing, but Harry wasn't impressed. Well, Tom was a capable person, no doubt, but Harry was well familiar with beings that the word 'menacing' was coined after.

"You can go on now," he dismissed Tom's shade and it dissipated.

"I can move on now," the Grey Lady whispered to herself. The Bloody Baron grunted again and moved closer to them and the table now. He had clear grey tears in his eyes. "I stayed behind since I was afraid of what awaits, but only did more damage here," she went on. She then turned to the Baron. "I forgive you," she told him softly.

Harry felt uncomfortable. It wasn't his place, but…

"The only hold the afterlife has on you is your own guilt," he told both ghosts softly. "If you can find in your hearts to forgive each other now, you might have a much easier time forgiving yourselves later on."

Both ghosts said nothing in response and just looked at each other across the table. Harry left the room without another word and without looking back. Back inside, the two once-lovers set to talk with each other for the first time in almost a thousand years.

School is truly changing.

- "Granger residence?"

- "Mr Granger. I'm Harry Potter from Hermione's school. Is Hermione home?"

Harry felt uncomfortable calling. He never had a friend to ring. Wasn't sure what to say, really.

- "Harry!" Mr Granger enthused. "I'm Dan Granger - so happy to speak with you. Hermione told us much about you. Are you alright? I understand that you missed part of the school-year?"

Harry now felt even more uncomfortable. Just what did Hermione tell her parents?!

- "How-do-you-do?" he just answered, quite lamely.

- "Let me call Hermione to the phone," Mr Granger told him and left.

Harry waited patiently. He was using a phone box, but no one was waiting for his call to end.

- "Harry!" Hermione's excited voice came out of the handset. "So wonderful you called. Did you reach home easily? Are you settled? How is your family? Did you start on your summer work?"

Harry waited for the wash of questions to ebb.

- "Well," he answered hesitantly. "My relatives thing got a little out of hand," he mumbled.

- "What did you do?" she asked.

Harry took a deep breath.

- "It's not the time and place?" he practically begged. "I'm on a public phone. Can you please tell me your address? I'm gonna settle in a hotel and thought it would be nice to be not far from you?"

Hermione wanted to argue some more, but Harry cut her short.

- "Let's discuss it in a couple days, face to face?" he logically argued.

- "Call as soon," she relented.

It took a couple of days for Harry to settle. First he thought about staying at the Cauldron, but him being himself drew too much attention anywhere around wizards.

Setting up a hotel-room for an almost twelve years old child, all by his lonesome, required some assistance. Fortunately, this was something the annoying Goblins were able and willing, even delighted to help with - for a fee.

Visiting the bank with a proper appointment, some dedicated time, his wits about him, and not being 'handled' by Hagrid, made for a much more effective visit. Harry discovered that 'heaps of gold coins' did not turn him into the richest wizard in Europe, but were certainly enough for summer lodging. Especially if he'll keep humble and since his schooling have already been paid for. It might also be enough for a small flat for him to live in - as long as this flat would not be in the most upscale part of the city. This was something to plan towards for the next summer, though.

He discovered that there were some irregularities with his parents' wills. Apparently these were not filed right and were never executed.

Further inquiries brought few details and two names - Sirius Black and Alice Longbottom.

Longbottom? He would have to ask Neville - maybe he knows who she is?

It was the middle of August already and this turned into a strange summer for Harry. Liberating in many ways. Frustrating in many others. All his dues were done in advance. He even managed a little headway into the second-year curriculum.

Hermione was so proud!

He took long walks around London, looking at sights, tasting new food, experiencing art, music, cinema, and history. London offered all these in spades. He sat hours upon hours alone in his hotel room watching the telly. According to what he saw there - this was exactly what children his age were supposed to do during the summer holiday.

Certainly not painting the roses red…

Hermione had gone to France with her parents for a couple of weeks and just returned. He was invited to join them but felt awkward. Harry didn't want to intrude on her family time. He sent a few letters to his friends - mainly Neville, Dean, and Ron - Just as a curtsy. He never got an answer for any of these, but didn't mind much.

What frustrated him most was the fact that he didn't manage to make any headway into issues that were truly important for him.

Old Prophets told him that Sirius Black was a friend of his parents. Also, that he betrayed them to, well - you know who. Apparently, he also personally murdered another friend of theirs and many Muggle collaterals. He was now doing porridge in the most horrible of prisons. Harry has yet to find a way to visit him and ask his questions without the whole wizarding world finding out. What made things more complicated was the fact that he also had a massage to deliver to the prison guards. One they might not like to receive.

Harry still had Three-sevenths of Riddle to deliver too. One was hidden by Malfoy somewhere. The other - stored in the Lestrange Gringotts vault - both were out of his reach for the time being. The third was hidden in some cave by the sea. Harry didn't even know in which part of the country to look for it.

Sigh.

Neville never answered his letter regarding Alice Longbottom, but Harry wasn't stressed about it - he will ask him again at school. He might not even know her - he can't be the only Longbottom around, innit?

The last issue was his ancestors Ignotus or the Peverells - he couldn't find anything regarding.

He was now sitting in Hermione's back garden, both soaking the afternoon sun and the last of the summer holidays. Each with his own book.

"What do you dream of doing when you grow up?" Harry asked, quite out of the blue.

It took Hermione quite a while to answer. She was caught by surprise with this question."I want to learn?" she answered, quite obviously. "Maybe have a Mastery in Transfiguration like Professor McGonagall and the late Headmaster - He was a great wizard! An older girl told me there are more subjects to learn starting third-year too. Ancient Runes which is a combination of history and written magic. Also Arithmancy, which is a combination of divination and maths. Together, they can be used to create new magic!" she got herself a little worked up.

This was your typical Hermione. Harry waited patiently for her bout of excitement to ebb. He only slightly grimaced with her statement about Dumbledor's greatness.

"Alright," Harry finally agreed with a smile. "You want to learn a lot - I could have guessed that." Hermione wanted to say something, but Harry stopped her. "What I'm asking is what do you want to actually do?"

Hermione wanted to answer. For a moment she looked a little pissed off, but then her face turned introverted. For a while, both said nothing, not really reading their books.

"Want another fizzy?" Hermione finally asked. It was the end of the summer holiday - The time of the year her parents tended to be a tad lax on sugars.

"I wanted to be a Doctor, when I was younger," she softly replied, when back with two opened bottles. "Paediatrician," she added, "but then - I'd probably have changed my mind during studies. This was only me being a child, looking up to my parents, probably. Being a witch was a surprise - I want to explore magic. Very few get the chance."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Magic is intriguing. I get the notion that very few took the time to research it properly for a very long while."

Hermione nodded at that with some vindication

"But this secret world of theirs?"

"Ours!" Hermione stressed.

"Is it?" Harry wondered. "Have you noticed how tiny it is?" This wasn't something Harry thought of by himself. Lucifer told him that by the time most notice - it already requires a huge effort to correct and puts that person in years of disadvantage. Some deliver themselves to Hell for it.

"I'm planning to study ahead to be ready to graduate from the regular education system as well," he explained. "I want my options open for me."

For a while, Hermione said nothing. "What are you reading?" she finally asked, in a way of agreement.

"It's a comparative-history book on the battle-of-England!" Harry enthused a little. "It goes over several other history books, and other sources, and compares them, to try and find out what truly happened and why."

Hermione looked thoughtful at this description as well. "Wanna go to the bathing pond?" she then asked. They were children after all, and this was the summer bloody holidays.

1st of September 1992 - Hogwarts express.

Hermione's parents drove both of them to the Kings cross station rather early, to manage a last family breakfast and get ahead of the morning traffic. Luckily so, since there was some issue with the platform's portal. Quite a crowd gathered there, before a seventh-year Prefect arrived and called for someone to have it sorted.

By the time they managed to cross the portal, both the platform and the train were rather crowded. They said their goodbys, Hermione had her last hug and kisses,

So that's where these hugs come from…

And both kids were soon walking down the train, dragging their trunks behind them, and looking for a compartment to sit in.

"Mates!" came a voice from one of the compartments and so Harry and Hermione found themselves sitting with the Patil sisters. A floury of redheads rushing through the platform indicated that it was time for the train to depart. Soon enough, a whistle blew and the platform started drifting slowly backwards out the windows.

"Thanks for saving a place for me," Ron soon appeared at the door. "We almost missed the train," he said, lifting his trunk to the luggage rack. "Budge up," he then told Hermione, who was sitting beside Harry.

Both Harry and Hermione looked at him back without a word. Hermione then turned back to their former conversation. "India must be so fascinating! Where does your family live?"

Well, Calcutta mainly, nowadays known as Kolkata, but they also visited some family in the north.

"Did you enjoy it there?" Hermione follow-asked.

This pulled Ron's attention to the twin-sisters. "What are you doing in our compartment?"

Padma looked quite peeved at this, but Parvati did what Gryffindors usually did when Ron let his mouth run away from him and just ignored the berk.

"Not entirely," she answered Hermione's question. Apparently, the Patil family, as well as their many friends and relatives, are quite conservative. The free-spirited Londoner sisters felt rather restricted and confined for most of their month-long visit.

Hermione nodded with sympathy at her friends.

"Oi!" Ron complained loudly, when neither Hermione moved from 'his' seat, nor did the Patils vacated 'their' compartment. This wasn't an improvement on his part, so they all kept ignoring him.

"I went to France with my parents for a fortnight, but then mostly stayed around home, relaxed, and had fun," she replied. "Harry was in the neighbourhood and we hung out together."

This hurt Ron's sense of propriety. "You'd rather stay with her, than stay with us and have fun at the Burrow?!" he asked.

At that moment, a soft knock was heard from the door. Neville was standing there, looking both embarrassed and troubled.

"Neville!" Hermione was happy to see him. Harry as well.

"Why did you ask about my mother?" he asked in return, looking at Harry.

It took Harry a moment to make the connection. "Alice is your mother?" he asked in surprise.

Neville was now visibly uncomfortable. "I wrote you a letter, but you've never answered," he mumbled.

"You never answered my letters too," Ron added. "Two letters!"

"Didn't receive any letters this summer," Harry shrugged and Hermione nodded in affirmation. "Can you write to your mum and ask if I could meet with her. An Alice Longbottom is my godmother?" Harry said this with some excitement. One of his tasks seemed to be progressing at the least. Neville, on the other hand, looked chagrined.

"This is not the time and place to discuss it," Padma replied softly. "You might like to do so with some privacy," she then offered. Neville immediately looked relieved. Harry agreed easily, although he didn't understand the reason.

"Chess?" Ron offered hopefully.

"Exploding Snap?" Parvati counter-offered. Both Padma and Hermione grimaced a little, but Exploding Snaps it was since the game could involve all six of them.

"I'm so sorry!" Harry was miserable. "I didn't know - so so sorry?"

"I don't talk about it much. It isn't your fault," Neville answered softly. "I've asked Grandmother about it. She didn't know about mum being your godmother. She would like to meet with you - Godparents are a serious thing for wizards."

Harry chuckled darkly at that. "Apparently my godfather is more Sirius than most." He was surprised when Neville got his lame word game.

"SIrius Black is your godfather?" he was gobsmacked. "The betrayer?!"

"Brilliant," Harry answered with all the due enthusiasm. "I need to go and speak with him one day."

"He's in Azkaban," Neville deadpanned, like this was the whole answer needed for this issue.

Harry just shrugged helplessly.

"Ask grandmother, when you meet her. She might be able to help. Susan's Aunt as well - she heads Law Enforcement," Neville tried his best to be helpful.

By now, they left the unused classroom they were using for privacy and were entering the common room. Harry stopped for a moment just inside the portrait hole and looked around, finding nothing unusual. Ever since the year started something felt off for him here. Tainted.

"Do you feel something strange here?" he asked his friend, but Neville just shrugged.

They both made their way to the table, at the back of the study corner, which Hermione commandeered the year before. She was sitting there, surrounded by piles of books and notebooks, writing furiously on something.

"Hey there," Harry called softly.

For a moment, Hermione frowned for being interrupted. She then noticed Neville and Harry and smiled brightly.

"What are all these?" Neville asked, looking at all the strange books. These books were clearly not Hogwarts ones, being both colourful and in paperback. Before Hermione was able to answer, Harry interrupted her.

"Can you help me with some research?" he asked. "I'm looking for anything about some ancestors of mine. The Peverell family, and especially a man named Ignotus. Couldn't find anything."

There were few things which appealed to Hermione more than a good cause for research. "I need to go to the library," she said, glancing at her pocket watch. She was stopped on her tracks once more. This time it was Neville.

"What, like in the tale?!" he asked in surprise.

By the looks Hermione and Harry were giving him, they weren't familiar with the said tale.

"Which tale? What book is it in?" Hermione asked, intending to head to the library nevertheless. Neville motioned her to wait.

"Oi!" he called out-loud and drew most people's attention to him. "Anyone here have the Beedle tales?" he asked. It wasn't long before a third-year came back from his dorm and handed them a children's book to read.

Harry was sitting in class, not really waiting for the first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson of the year to begin. The Dark Arts were something he was initially truly interested in. Professor Quirell, at the beginning of the former year, was a huge disappointment for him. Then he missed most of the school-year and by the time he was back, Defence was already cancelled for the rest of the year.

Arguably, Professor Lockhart was very knowledgeable in the subject. At least, according to his books and awards he was. Harry then went on and read some of it and paid attention to what he was reading. He wasn't so certain about the said expertise anymore.

The professor, with his gaudy clothing and extravagant exposition, reminded Harry too much of the old Headmaster too - It made Harry feel uncomfortable.

There was also the way he behaved. By all accounts, Professor Lockhart was as much an expert at any and all subjects as he was in Defence. Harry already noticed him annoying Professors Sprout and Snape, as well as the Headmistress herself, with advice in their own field of expertise.

To top it all off nicely, Harry was annoyed by the way the Hogwarts population of the more capable gender was swooning about him. Well, slightly annoyed by the general population. Much more so, when Hermione joined that club as well - Harry couldn't understand why.

"Me," Professor Lockhart started the lesson, pointing at one of his pictures and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award — but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

"Wonder just how you did?" Harry mumbled to himself, to earn a scowl from Hermione.

The lesson moved forward with a quiz which had nothing to do with the Dark Arts and all to do with Lockhart himself. Hermione dived into it right away. Harry did nicely too - he did read a few of the books.

"What is your deepest desire?" he mumbled to himself at the sight of the last question. Sometimes Harry missed hell. Being able to make everyone spew their deepest darkest secrets was tempting.

Maybe that's the reason only select celestials can.

"Harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples," said a voice behind Harry's back. He turned to find Lockhart standing there. "It's clearly said in Wanderings with Werewolves - you should read it more carefully," the Professor added cheerfully. That sealed it for Harry. Only a liar, or someone utterly naive, would desire something so abstract and impossible.

"Let us move on with our lesson then," stated the Professor and smiled widely at the pupils in front of him. "I thought we should start with Werewolves," he lectured, "But for this, I will need some assistance. Harry, if you please?"

They soon discovered that 'teaching', in Professor Lockhart's class, involved quite a bit of theatrics. Harry was expected to play the feral Werewolf and attack the Professor so he could demonstrate the right way to sort out such a character and similar pests.

Harry smiled widely after receiving this explanation. At the table beside him, Hermione frowned - Harry's smile was a tad too wide.

"Now, Harry, when I tell you, make a show of attacking me. I'll handle the rest," Lockhart gave Harry some last minute directions.

"Wouldn't it be more realistic, if you'd amplify my voice?" Harry offered innocently.

"Great idea!" the Professor agreed. He waved his wand at the direction of Harry's neck. He then stood just in front of the teacher's bench, showing himself to be innocent and minding his own business. He then nodded slightly toward Harry.

Harry smirked minutely. Behind his back he dropped his small curved knives into his hands. Two steps saw him on top of the nearest desk. He then jumped at the Professor.

"Rrooaarrrr!" he shouted, although he knew well that lions were the roaring beasts. Frankly - he had no blooming idea what sound a Werewolf makes when turned. Nor did he care much. He then slashed both his now-clawed hands right in front of Lockhart's face.

The result was just as Harry expected it to be and just as hilarious. Lockhart's face paled. He let out a shriek of fear, backed up against his desk and over it, to fall down on the other side.

Harry followed. "Roar?" he added, now with some unmistakable amusement in his voice, holding his clawed fists in front of him.

The Professor shrieked again. He struggled up; Gathered himself and his elaborated robe; and ran up the stairs and out of the classroom.

Laughter soon washed over the class.

"Heart of a lion, that one!" Ron's voice was heard. It brought forth even more laughter.

"Can someone take this charm off me please?" Harry asked innocently, and brought about even more laughter.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione asked, when out of the classroom. She was scowling, but not truly at Harry.

She's prettier when smiling, Harry wasn't certain just where that thought came from.

"Do you remember the book I read over the summer about the Battle of Britain?"

"Comparative history," she nodded.

"You should re-read a few of Lockhart's books with this in mind," he softly offered. By the blank look on Hermione's face, she was already doing this in her mind. After just a short while, what she was finding out made her scowl even more.

"Also," he added, "When reading any of his great deeds, ask yourself 'how'? - These are supposed to be instruction books after all."

Hermione's scowl soon deepened.

"Well," Harry said out loud, "it seems like we have a free period. Ron, mate - a game of chess?"

Ron just looked at him speechless.

AN:

Feel free to review and tell me what you think - It's appreciated!
usually, I answer each and every review, but this system is down and replies to reviews won't even reach your inbox (checked).

So sorry...

Many many thanks to flyboy38 my beta, who invested time and effort to make this readable for you all.

Cheers!