I do not own Harry Potter nor World of Darkness

Great Hall, Hogwarts, 4th June 1992 (Wednesday)

As they feared, Ron and Hermione had snuck out of Gryffindor tower and made it all the way to Fluffy's room, where the Cerberus had been put to sleep with a bewitched harp.

The two Griffyndor had moved one of the dog's paws and were ready to open the trapdoor beneath when the harp stopped playing, waking up the creature.

Had Professor Snape not been there to step in front of the beast, blocking a jet of liquid silver with his own body while dragging the two out of the room, the Gryffindors would have probably died. Professor Snape was now stuck in the infirmary with a nasty scar on his back that will take half the summer to properly heal. Ron and Hermione themselves had gotten a couple of splashes and were now sporting silvery marks on their hands and forearms, but nothing even close to being dangerous or disfiguring.

Once the group had been moved to the infirmary by Mr Filch, Dumbledore had emerged from the trapdoor, refusing any comment as to what had happened down there.

During breakfast, he made an announcement as to how Professor Quirrell had an unfortunate accident and would not be returning for the next school year, with Professor Dumbledore taking up the role of DADA professor for the final exams. He also mentioned that, due to the events of the previous night, Gryffindor had lost five hundred house points for their recklessness, but also gained four hundred and seventy-five for their bravery.

With the chaos and confusion that followed Dumbledore's words, no one bothered to ask what had happened with Professor Quirrell, the speculation as to what exactly happened took over the school for days, and even if almost everyone could figure out the two Gryffindors were Ron and Hermione, no one seemed to be able to get the full story from them.

Coming back to class for their end of term exams felt surreal. They all blazed through the written tests, Ron and Sally with a bit more difficulty than the others, even with Hermione grumbling about how she could have done a lot better had she been able to write properly.

Harry was pleasantly surprised when he saw that Professor Binns added a whole extra page of optional questions about House Tremere for extra points, which granted him an easy O on the subject.

Potions had been… difficult. Snape was barely able to move and had been in the worst mood he'd ever been since any student could remember. Instead of the usual written test, he had been calling students to his hospital bed for an interrogation and was assigning Ps and Ds all around. For the practical test, he had enlisted a handful of seventh year students from the Advanced Potions class who had, apparently, also gotten a teaching certification and had given Mr. Filch the task to supervise and make sure the students would be unbiased.

After receiving his final score, with passing grades all around, and making sure he packed all his things (except the weights. Those would be waiting for him when he got back at Hogwarts in September), Harry was finally ready to embark on the Hogwarts Express, chatting with his new group of friends about what they were going to do for the summer holidays.

"I think mom and dad wanted to visit France. - commented Sally - after everything that happened this year with the Philosopher's Stone, I guess it makes sense to revisit our roots."

Theo snorted. "I thought you'd had enough of it for the year. Me… I think I'll stay at home. Mom is getting worse and dad doesn't think it's safe for her to travel around."

"Sorry to hear about your mom. - said Daphne, putting her hand on his shoulder to try and console her friend - I'm going to the States. Mom said she and dad have to talk with the Macusa about investing in some big muggle oil company, Elrond oil or something like that, and they said me and Astoria can go as well. I'll send you a postcard from Salem."

"Wicked. I bet I'll have to stay at the burrow. When that new shop will open in Diagon Alley, dad's office is going to get a lot bigger and with new staff to train he'll be too busy to travel around."

The Slytherin shared a knowing look at Harry, causing Hermione to frown.

"What do you four know that we don't?"

Harry smirked.

"You remember at the beginning of the year when I was getting all of that technology via owl?"

Hermione nodded, eyes widening as she put the pieces together. Harrys smirked.

"Sir Harold has finally worked out a system to make it all work. We're opening up a shop in Diagon Alley next month."

"Wait! The big shop that dad was talking about in his letter… Is that yours?!"

"'Power Potter's', if I remember correctly." said Daphne in a snicker.

"Don't laugh. It's marketable." teased Theo.

Harry shrugged, an evil smile spreading on his face.

"I guess you two won't be there for the inauguration, then?"

"Are you kidding!? Everyone who's anyone will be there! Your shop's been the talk of Wizarding Britain since they started the works. What kind of friends would we be if we missed it?"

"Wait a second… I thought You were going back to your boarding school."

"Not really. Edwin joined First Strike team four years ago and now he's working abroad. Samuel was accepted to some kind of special project in Mongolia and John… Well, he goes back to his family in… Dublin, I think."

"So where are you staying? If I ask mom I'm sure we can hook you up with an extra room at the Burrow."

Harry shook his head, but smiled at Ron's offer

"I'll be in Diagon Alley, the apartment above the shop. Sir Harold will introduce me to the shop's director in a couple of days, but he has already prepared my room."

"Wicked. I bet dad if I ask dad he'll take me there."

"They don't let you floo to Diagon Alley by yourself?"

"Naa, dad's got a portkey to the ministry, he can take me when he goes to work. I know it's only two sickles a scoop, but mom says it's a waste of money when we can just take dad's portkey."

The rest of the train ride was spent chatting and, before they knew it, they had reached King's Cross station and said their goodbyes.

Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts, 4th June 1992 (Wednesday)

Dumbledore sat tiredly at his desk. It had been quite a few years since he had last taught and had almost forgotten how taxing it could be. Now that the students were gone, he could finally think back to the events of the previous day. The wards had alerted him of Quirrell's intrusion the second the trapdoor had been lifted and the various traps had done a wonderful job in delaying him long enough for Albus to get to the Stone, swap it out with a fake one, drink the antidote of the many potions whose odorless and colorless fumes permeated the rooms where the various tests were located and hide with a Disillusionment Charm in the corner.

As expected, when Quirrel had reached the Mirror of Erised he lacked the mental fortitude to free himself from the mirror's entrancing charm.

What he had not expected, however, was seeing Tom Riddle's spirit forcefully taking over Quirrell's body and freeing himself from the mirror before finally noticing his presence.

Seeing that Tom was still hanging on and refusing to pass on had been a shock, but he had not had the time to dally on it. Their duel, thanks to the effect of the potions, had been almost a joke: Voldemort was barely able to hold his wand still, and a quick Expelliarmus followed by an Incarcerous had immobilized the possessed wizard. In hindsight, Albus should have probably used a stunner, but in all fairness how could he have expected Quirrell's body exploding into black sand to allow Tom's spirit to run away?

Seeing poor Quirinus meeting such a gruesome fate had filled him with guilt, but at the same it lit a fire inside Dumbledore: if Voldemort was still at large, even if severely weakened, he needed to figure out a way to permanently sever the Dark Lord's connection to this world and make sure he crossed over in the land of the dead and stayed there, this time for good. And that meant… the Philosopher's Stone had to go. He fished the red stone out of his pocket, observing it under the candlelight. It was a beautiful stone, but… what was he meant to do with it now?

Nicholas had asked him to guard it for a year, but now that the old man was gone… was the stone his? In their last conversation the alchemist had hinted at the fact that he would soon hand something over to him, but unfortunately for Albus, Nicholas had been a man who liked to keep his secrets close to his heart and revealed only the bare minimum, and most often only when pushed to the point he had no other choice.

He sighed, wondering what to do. The stone could be returned into the mirror. Both the Cerberus and the Troll would need to be replaced, but perhaps that wasn't enough to hide it from Tom… He already had an idea to use a Fidelius charm, but was that enough to dissuade Voldemort? Perhaps something more insidious, more cunning… should he start a rumor that the Philosopher's Stone had been destroyed? He honestly didn't even know if the stone could be destroyed, but perhaps he could say that he had followed some instructions that Nicholas left behind just for this eventuality? It sounded believable enough, and with a subtle whisper in the ear of the right journalist it'd probably make the front page of the Daily Prophet… was that too blatant? Perhaps he could be captured in a photo burying a fake stone in Nicholas' grave… Would the old man approve?

He got up, stone in hand, and walked over to the library where he had kept the other memento he had of dear Nicholas: a small booklet titled 'The Umbra: a travel guide'. He was tempted to start reading it. After yesterday, he really did need a vacation…

"Albus, are you finished with the DADA exams?"

Albus sighed, turning back to his desk as he looked at the portrait of Armando Dippet.

"Sorry, I was taking a small break. I'll get to it immediately."

He sat down, putting the stone back in his pocket. Maybe he'll get to read that booklet another time.

Leaky Cauldron, London, 5th June 1992 (Friday)

Instructor David had taken Harry to the Leaky Cauldron straight from the station. The two had sat on one of the tables, under Tom's harsh glare, and waited in silence.

After what felt like hours, a massively muscular humanoid creature, possibly larger than Hagrid, with gray skin, pointed ears and a bulbous nose that reminded Harry of a rhino's horn walked in, smiling at the two as he sat down at the table.

"G'day. This lil one's Harry, innit?"

Harry nodded, offering his hand.

"Harry Potter, sir."

"No sirs here, Harry. Name's Barnaby Jackson. Ya can call me Barnaby." said the man, violently shaking Harry's hand.

Instructor David got up, seemingly relieved to get away from the Leaky Cauldron, and slid a letter on the table towards Barnaby.

"Very well. I'll be off then. Have a nice day, Mr. Jackson. As for you, Mr. Potter… I don't think we'll meet again. - he entered a military salute. - It's been a pleasure."

Harry stood up, offering the same salute back to Instructor David. The man smiled with pride and, without another word, turned on his heels and marched out of the Leaky Cauldron, leaving behind a somewhat saddened Harry and an amused Barnaby.

"Nice fella. Military folks are weird, but he seemed nice."

He clapped his hands and gestured to Tom to come over, a wide smile on his lips.

"G'day Tom. Whatcha got fer dinner?"

Barnaby, as it turned out, was one the result of one of Sir Harold's many experiments to create supersoldiers against the Garou. The particular experiment that gave Barnaby his, according to the man himself, his 'statuesk physic, awesome powa and good look' didn't really achieve the desired results, forcing Barnaby and his vat-brothers to look for work elsewhere within Pentex.

He was a very friendly fella and was very happy to tell Harry all about the new shop he helped install, the numerous visits from Arthur Weasley, the difficulty they had searching for employees that had all but forced Zafrina Lessard, the Psychic sir Harold had put in charge, to hire exclusively muggleborn wizards.

Once they had finished their meal, Barbaby left a handful of money on the table and the two headed to a shop at the corner between Diagon and Knockturn Alley wrapped in some kind of synthetic fabric.

The shop itself was surprisingly small, its stone walls painted white were pushing against the many green displays for the various lamps, electric stoves, ovens, heaters, fridges and air conditioners under the almost blindingly bright neon lights attached to the ceiling. A small section of the shop housed a series of TVs, radios and a number of cellphones, all of which were wrapped in red tape with the note 'pending ministry approval' attached to them.

Barnaby's loud 'I'm home with Harry' echoed through the shop, forcing everyone in the surprisingly spacious backroom area to interrupt what they were doing and look at the man.

Zafrina Lessard, a woman in her late 40's with what looked like cybernetics implants and glowing tubes barely noticeable under her curly blonde hairs scolded Barnaby for interrupting her lecture on CCTV installation, but quickly introduced Glen Graytwig, Mansi Mole, Tierra Crooks, Ellie Butters and herself to Harry, before urging the two to get to their rooms and let her finish training the newbies.

Harry's room was pretty much what he had expected: the same white walls as the rest of the building, a bed, a small wardrobe of the same color as the walls and a table standing in front of the only window. The simplicity was something of a comfort, reminding him of his years at Park Royal. Now that he thought about it, no one ever told him what the name of the complex was, everyone there simply called it 'Park Royal' after the district of the city in which it was located. He shrugged, chasing the thought at the back of his mind, and started unpacking.

Notes

Bit of a weird chapter, without too much happening. Like I mentioned before, the first book is a bit weird, like it's only barely connected to the overarching plot, and I could have probably done a better job including it in. I don't expect this chapter to be anyone's favorite, but at least it should be passable. Some of my friends say I'm a bit too strict in judging my own stories, but ultimately the judgement falls onto you, my readers. The story was put here for you, after all.

Why take away five hundred point and give back all but twenty-five instead of just taking out twenty-five? Because Dumbledore, from my understanding of the character, has a thing for being needlessly drammatic. It felt in character. Also, it's a good distraction to keep students's mind away from Quirrell.

Oh yeah, the tests were only a distraction for the real trap (the potion fumes). Thinking about it logically, all tests (with the exception of Fluffy) would be laughable for any experienced wizard, so, logically, they must serve a different purpose. In my case, I choose them to be a red herring to hide the true purpose of the room: poisoning and weakening the intruder before their final confrontation with Dumbledore in front of the mirror of Erised. Not the most elegant of solution, but certainly an effective one.

The Philosopher's Stone... well, the stone is going to fade into the background for a while. Will it emerge in the future? Maybe, I haven't reached that part yet (I'm still writing Goblet of Fire). But don't you worry, if the situation calls for it, I'll remember it pull it out of Dumbledore's closet.

Harry meets Barnaby and Zaffrina. They will be support characters for a good chunk of the story, but I like them a lot. Especially Barnaby, he's one of my favourite type of creatures. Figuring out what he is isn't exactly difficult, even if he's a bit of an obscure one.

Don't worry, even if I introduce technology into the wizarding world it's not going to suddently turn into cyberpunk. The change will be gradual and mostly in the background, and it won't pay a major role until a... certain even that I have yet to write. If you have some ideas, however, I'll be glad to hear them. Just... keep in mind the year the story is set in before suggesting tech like AI, 3-D printers and drones