Dear Padfoot and Moony,

Well, I'm here. I've arrived safely in my mysterious location. I've just signed in at the registration desk and been shown to my tent – my tent, which is set up inside one of the buildings here for space-saving reasons or something, and which I will share with three other people. There's not much happening right now as people are flooing in on a very strict schedule, so I thought I'd snag this ten-minutes to write down my first impressions.

Obviously, I've signed my contract about using my wand and all, but the people who signed me in also told me very clearly not to attempt to communicate with the outside world, so what I can't put in this, I'll save up for when I see you at the end of the month or you'll just have to fill in the blanks yourself.

It's gorgeous here! The heat's so much better (sorry for your continued suffering), but the sky is blue-blue-blue, the air tastes sharp somehow, in a way I can't really describe, the place that we're in is really huge, and the quidditch pitches are so well set up! Terrible for audiences, I suppose, but the only watchers we're going to have are coaches and scouts, and they will also be on brooms it seems, so the set-up is perfect.

So far, and I have been one of the earlier arrivals so bear that in mind, I've noticed that there are tons of international languages spoken here. I haven't met any other British people yet, but it's still early in the day. I miss you two, and Crookshanks and Crow and Dobby already, but I'll head out now and start meeting others properly. Wish me luck!

I'm back! Feels a bit weird to be saving my letter rather than posting it, but I suppose that's just how it goes.

It's just after lunch on my first full day now, and we have an hour's quiet time to let lunch settle before we get back into things.

I slept okay last night, considering. This past day, I've met a bunch of other students and learned the general lay of the place. I've figured out more or less where they've taken me, but in the introductory meeting we all had last night, we were told very explicitly that if we try to get the details out beyond the wards (not nearly as complex and coloured as Hogwarts, but brand new and dazzlingly bright), then we'll wake up in the infirmary with no memory of the last month and will be summarily returned home.

One kid tried it last night anyway. I saw it happen, because he gave it a shot during the meet-and-greet activity, a team-building exercise, you know how they go. I guess he was hoping that all the chaos of people around him might keep his identity safe. Or maybe if he got in early enough the wards wouldn't be set up or something. (I could have told him…they were set up well before we arrived, not that anyone asked). Anyway, he grabbed this silver necklace thing he was wearing, and a beautiful blue light started building up, and then the wards struck like lightning and the blue light reversed straight back into the kid (kid, I say, but he was a good foot taller than me). He froze, his lips went bluish-purple straight away, and then he collapsed leaking blood from his eyes.

(On an unrelated note, sometimes I wish my memory wasn't as good as it is. I can still see the collapse of his body when I close my eyes.)

Three healers converged on him immediately, he was whisked out of sight and we haven't seen him since. Padfoot can rest assured that the healers are well trained, very efficient and the whole system seems well-oiled. I'll be fine while I'm here. As long as I stick to the rules. Which I will.

It put a bit of a damper on the night, but then the head admin wizard – not the head coach, they've divided the camp into quidditch and not-quidditch responsibilities it seems – told us about half an hour later that the player who collapsed had been carrying an enchanted object to reveal his location, and that he'd been bribed by…well. They implied it was a foreign quidditch league investor, but never actually came out and said it. I'm personally wondering if it was one of the countries that back a national team. Nothing explicit was made clear, but they did tell us all not to worry, we were safe from all attempts to identify us while we were here: no kidnappings would be successful no matter how much investment was put into it, there hasn't been a security leak for seventeen years; in fact, there are owl wards to keep us untrackable and unreachable, and all that's another reason why no wands are allowed in here. Over breakfast – apparently today started 'slow' – everyone had to sign a contract kind of similar to mine last night, but this one was to promise not to share anyone else's identity, strengths and weaknesses and so forth. They take quidditch and quidditch security here very seriously, apparently.

So what else can I tell you?

I'm sharing a room with three other boys. The rooms were allocated, so I didn't get to share with any other British kids as you recommended, but I suppose it's all for the point of making connections and improving teamwork. We don't know each other well at all, because none of them speaks English, and only one of them has about as much German as I have.

It's hilarious.

He – I obviously can't name him, but rest assured that about 60% of the camp are boys – he's from Austria, I think? And he's a huge fan of Viktor Krum. He put up three massive posters of Viktor first thing, as soon as he arrived, and the better I know this kid, the funnier it gets to me. I think he prays to Viktor every night before he goes to bed? He clasps his hands, does this bow thing, and closes his eyes while his lips move. I know I've only been here one night, but it looked like a habit to me. I am going to mention it to Viktor every time I write to him all year. There's also a girl I met from Monaco – not in my tent, obviously – whose French I can more or less understand. She's a repeat, she came last year as well, and is apparently aiming for as many captain positions as she can get in our mock games. I don't think I'm that keen on captaincy myself, I'm still taking my opportunities as I go, but I'm looking forward to the next month. It should get me fit, at any rate.

Anyway, since you probably don't want to hear about our extensive warm-up exercises, or how we run up and down the hills for fitness purposes, I'll finish up here for now. I'll have so much to share with you when I see you next in Les-Bains-sur-Montmonné.

Stay safe!

Harry

Dear Draco,

I hope you are well, and enjoying a relaxing holiday after the chaos of last term.

I'm good; off on the Youth Quidditch thing I told you about earlier, and I think that you should definitely do your best to practice and work on your parents in the meantime to let you come next year. It's only been three days and I absolutely want to come again if I'm invited. I have drawn a picture of the Nimbus brooms that we've all been made to use (to even the playing field and all), and while I thought it was just a minor model, it turns out that the whole system is kind of cool. It turns out that school brooms get sold with a couple of safety features turned on – does the term 'auto-correction' mean anything to you? Anyway, for the first couple of days, we've been focused on flying without these self-correcting charms to fall back on. It's hilarious: you can totally tell who the new students here are, and who hasn't flown on their own before.

I don't know what you fly with at home, but basically these charms work to stop their riders from over-correcting behaviours with instinctual muscle-twitches, mainly. And now that I've got to fly without them, it turns out that I need to work on my fine control waay more than I thought I did. Fortunately, I've got a pretty decent kind of sense for it and have picked the skill up pretty well. I'm still lacking my usual confidence, but my reflexes have got me covered. Some others though, they've literally ploughed into the ground. Running into other broomsticks is far more common, and currently I've got to work at mainly avoiding other people careening into me while, you know, I do the drills myself. It keeps me challenged.

I feel so alert, out here. You'd love it. Probably make some scathing comment about separating the wheat from the chaff or something. Did I mention? You should definitely come next year if you can convince your parents.

But what is the camp like itself?

Well, to start with, I'm the youngest player here. I got a few odd looks when I rocked up with my guide (a complicated floo thing, you can't really get into this place on your own because of the privacy), but while there seem to be three other students who are also starting fifth-year, I'm the only one who hasn't turned fifteen yet. (The bloody Potter effect. Strangers know these details about me.)

Then there's about thirty-ish players (I think) who seem to be sixth-year if we were at Hogwarts. As far as I've seen this week in practice and over meals, they seem pretty intense. The sixth-years seem desperate to stand out for the professional club scouts (who come and go apparently randomly during practices), because barely any of them were invited last year and none of us have guarantees about next year so far. The biggest group of players are what we would think of as seventh-years – seventeen-years-olds, half of whom have come back for a second time. One of the guys I've met says that a handful of them got (very) tentative offers from scouts last year, a 'keep up this standard and someone might pull you aside for a chat in a year' kind of thing, and there's a tiny handful of really arrogant players who might have got more than a tentative offer.

We play miniature games, on a thirty-minute limit on and off over the whole day, do broom drills for something like four hours a day, and the rest of the time we have here when we're not eating or sleeping is spent covering quidditch, or what the coaches here call 'calisthenics': stretches, jogging, push-ups, these weird jumping exercises etc. I thought I was match-fit before, but by Merlin I have been proved wrong. If you're actually interested in pro-league quidditch, I can suggest that running up and down the Grand Staircase will help to prepare you for next year's camp, if you can take the pain and indignity.

Anyway, hard work aside, I'm loving every minute and my short-term goal is to grab the eye of a scout or two if I can. Viktor Krum got scouted here as a fifteen-year-old a couple of years ago, did you know? And if he can do it, I can do it.

I may not write you again until camp ends, since I can only post this after they let me out of here and I imagine the next few weeks will all be more of the same. The Owl Post Office will be holding my letters though, so I'll catch up on your gossip when I get out and give you a proper response as soon as I can find the time. Worst comes to worst, I expect to hear all your good stories when I get back!

All the best

Harry J.J.A.C. Potter

P.S.: I don't know if you've ever looked into this or if it's common knowledge that I grew up without, but my runestones aren't liking the continent too much. Do you reckon it's because they're too far away from the quarry they came from? Some kind of generic British geographic magic thing? Crossing the channel – running water and all? Or something else? I'm getting readings, but everything seems a bit hazy and I'm missing that sense of 'connection' that I tend to get back in Hogwarts when I draw something and it feels right. Let me know when I get back if you know anything! Best, HP.

Dear Padfoot and Moony!

Guess who showed up? A mutual Crow friend of ours has obviously gotten bored of whatever you're doing to entertain yourselves back in wizarding society, and has come to pay me a visit.

Maybe because you didn't send him, maybe because he wasn't carrying any letters, or maybe because he still thinks of himself as wild, but Crow got through the wards and nobody seems to have noticed, so I'll be able to send a stack of letters out with him once I've double-checked I've kept everything clear of incriminating details and all.

Could you do me a favour please and forward the others on through the Owl Post?

I've attached the first letter I wrote you a week or so ago, back when I thought I'd have to save it for when I see you next. Don't bother responding though please; I don't want anyone to be alerted to this little hole in the wards and planning regular communication might be enough to trip the charms around here. Which, as mentioned earlier, looks like a really bad idea.

So far things are going very much as expected: tons of flying, strategy, broom drills and way more calisthenics than I was originally expecting, but I'm loving every minute of it. It turns out that running all over Hogwarts Castle is pretty good for your muscle quality, although now that I'm running up hills I've had to go on a potion regime for my knees. It seems I'm getting taller again, and the coaches don't want the growing pains to interfere with me pushing my limits.

I've had a couple of weird magic incidents: turned my bedcovers Chudley Cannon orange last night in my sleep – I must have had a weird dream about Ron Weasley or something, and a roommate of mine swears that I did something to his freckles when we had a face-off in drills yesterday, but he seems happy about it so no one is pursuing the matter. No bludgers have exploded yet, or ducks appeared as the two of you feared, but I'm feeling a bit 'fizzy' on the inside – like, my well of magic that normally ripples, you know, now seems to have bubbles or something. I've taken to checking in with the Healers every day and they've included meditation into the daily routine which has cut into my homework/letter writing time.

They're rotating us all around a variety of Quidditch positions, so I'm getting in practice as Keeper/ Chaser/ Beater and now I reckon I'll be a better Quidditch captain when/if Professor McGonagall ever gives me the option. A lot of classic strategies now make more sense. If Angie – our likely Gryffindor Quidditch Captain this year – is willing to read through the notes I've taken, Gryffindor will bulldoze everyone else in the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup this year. Or whatever magical metaphor wizards use instead: Remus, translate that one for Sirius, will you?

It's occurred to me that you'll need to let the local Owl Office know about my upcoming birthday and the anticipated influx of owls, since they are still receiving my mail redirect at the moment. I'm happy to pay for the extra staff and stuff for the day, but some advance warning might be necessary for the poor folks. If you could pass that on when you forward on my other letters, I'd be grateful.

Anway. Off to Runes homework for twenty minutes before the whistle calls us all out again! I hope you're having fun too and staying out of pubs and bars as you should!

Thinking of you all always

Harry

P.S.: Can house-elfs read? HJJACP

Dear Mischief and Mayhem,

Thanks for the smuggled chocolates, my clever classmate's notes, the newspapers, fudge, wind-up jumping spider and the peppermint bomb(!?) that you snuck in to me during my imprisonment at the end of last term. Was the peppermint thing supposed to explode in my face when I touched it, or is it a work in progress? After Madam Pomfrey stopped my eyes from watering and cleared the air a bit, everything smelled quite nice if intense…for the next three days. She, however, spent the following week right fuming and it got a lot harder to do/ persuade her to let me do anything: she confiscated my books for those first three days, for fear of my 'eyes' again. You might want to add something to the potion before it solidifies so that it's a bit less chalky, if the explosion wasn't intended. Have you considered Neem leaves?

I am well, and keeping busy at Quidditch Camp which I am contractually and logically bound from describing in any recognisable detail. Contractually, because they made me sign a bunch of papers to keep their secrets, and logically because I've seen what happens when you try to reach out anyway and I am not daft enough to run the risk myself.

Things are going well for me: Padfoot doesn't know how to feel about my absence – on one hand, Youth Quidditch would make my dad so proud; on the other, I'm apparently working too hard during my holidays – so feel free to post him some pranks that won't come back to bite me, just to keep him busy, if you get me. I've had a chance to spread my wings a bit, in secret, since Padfoot has also been trying to force me to relax. Hah! I'm sure you can imagine how that went.

Camp itself is far more than I was anticipating – it's a shame you couldn't come, because I think you'd love it. The secrecy is mad safe, the view is to die for, but most of all, the equipment and coaching is more than I could have imagined! There are three (three!) temporary quidditch pitches – they float, hence the temporary bit. We're all on sponsored brooms to keep the training as fair as possible and they're more challenging than I anticipated. The food is nice – not like your mum's or school's at all, much more international – but we have tailored diets to fit our weight and training, and we have to eat heaps!

Communication is another big surprise, although I should have seen it coming if I had thought about it. Barely any three players speak the same first language, and the second and third language masteries vary greatly between people. There's well over a hundred quidditch students here, but after them, the next biggest lot of people are the translators, who follow the coaches and organisers around for obvious reasons. I think there's almost twenty of them, and then there's seven minor coaches, or assistant coaches or whatever they're called, three more important coaches (specialists, maybe? I haven't been here long enough to know yet), and one head coach – she's an unassuming thing – mousy brown hair, average height, a little bit sparrow-like in my opinion – but then you give her a quidditch team to instruct and she's like the lovechild of Wood and Flint, minus their general apathy towards quidditch. If you are now visualising her as a literal force of nature, you'd be about halfway right. You can also safely assume that we don't get to sleep in around here at all.

I haven't recognised anyone here yet – from the Tournament last school year, I mean, and Viktor's either too old or too good to come now – but I'll be happily working towards my own international connections in the rare breaks we're given.

I'll cut it off here for now, but would also like to book in a request to perhaps catch up at the beginning of next term and explain away any last secrets that I may not have shared yet. Despite all your gifts, the contract, the food you've sent me…I've noticed no letters? No notes? No secret messages snuck into the hospital wing? I must admit I was expecting to be cornered and questioned before I got out of Britain these hols. What's up with that?

Please return any correspondence through Padfoot, who'll pass things along when I leave camp in a fortnight, and I'll catch up with you both (love to River) when I can.

All the best

Crowley

Dear Hermione!

I hope you enjoyed my attempt at sketching the view of the Gulf of Lion from my old bedroom window. It was charmed to turn into this letter once it reached your hands, but if you want to see the picture again just tap your wand to the parchment and say, 'switch over'. My godfather taught me this nifty little charm he used to use at Hogwarts that I've tweaked for this. I'll teach you when we get back to school if you want.

Sorry I've taken so long to reply to your letter. I'm at quidditch camp and getting here was a mission and a half! The secrecy and privacy, the layers of protection they've set up to keep us all safe mean that just arriving wherever we are (we haven't been told, although I could guess. Not that I will, I'm not daft) took what felt like a whole day. (A side note: multiple floo jumps should be done as slowly and relaxed as possible, preferably with long breaks in between. Rushing them is not recommended.)

But you're in Greece, you say. Sounds lovely, but what's the heat like where you are? It was horrid in France, even on the waterfront, so I hope that you are looking after yourself well and keeping hydrated and out of the sun.

The plans you mentioned sound lovely – now that you've mentioned it, Greece is a place I would like to travel to one day myself, so I'll add that to my to-do list for the future, and in the meantime if you have any notes to share, photos to take, or any nifty little brochures you could grab for me, I'd be very grateful.

I did note, however, that when you said you…hang on, I'll find the quote…you 'might spare a few days to meet up with any friends who happen to be nearby', you didn't mention names. An honest mistake on your part, I'm sure, but I was wondering if you meant our mutual friend, Viktor? He's not where I am this month, and his summer home is near the border of Macedonia and Greece, is it not? And what's that to you? An hour's drive or three floo jumps away from where you'll be? I'm pretty sure it's something like that. Do say 'hi' to him for me if you see him, won't you?

Anyway, I can't write long because we only get one hour's break time an afternoon for summer homework purposes and I've still got Muggle Studies, Runes and Arithmancy homework to work on.

Thanks again for your invitation to grab my school books, although I should be good to get them myself. I'll be back in the UK for a wedding near the end of the holidays and should have time to grab them for myself at that time.

Say hi to Nev or Ron for me if you write them.

Have a great summer,

Harry

P.S.: How do you think you went in your exams? Thank Merlin they happened before all that fuss with the Tournament or mine would have been shot, but I get the feeling I was a bit distracted anyway. Specifically, I have this horrible feeling you've got me well beat in Arithmancy, and I'm afraid Professor Vector is going to be disappointed in me. Even after sitting on the memory for couple of weeks, I still have the feeling my concentration lapsed for that one. Anyway, enjoy your break! HP.

Dear Mr Lloyd-Elliot,

I appreciate your correspondence &c., &c.

Thanks specifically for your letter with the updates, and for forwarding on the summary of those donations and how they've been divided. I would like to excuse my late response because I only picked up my most recent mail the evening before I left for Quidditch Camp, and I've only just gotten around to opening your letter now.

First: thank you, again. I'm really grateful that you've been willing to act for the Quidditch World Cup Muggle Victim Support Fund. I've been really struggling to understand how literally no one else thought to follow up with the healing for post-cruciatus tremors, or fix up the house that burnt down or anything until I suggested it, but your work has been fabulous and, as your donation summary shows, your support has been invaluable in helping these poor people recover. Being muggle-raised and all, it's been really important to me that we remember that muggles are people too and therefore should be treated with human decency. Your support is literally invaluable.

I have indeed been following Fudge's news in the papers, plus I have a line on Rita Skeeter who has been willing to keep me in the loop about some of the stuff that she knows that hasn't been published yet, and I am truly astonished at how the soon-to-be-ex-minister is still clinging on to power despite everything that's been going on. Thanks again for going to the ICW for me and Sirius: I have had a quick glance over the packet that you have forwarded on and it all looks very professional and effective so go ahead with that process. Is there anything specific support you need from me? I note you've included copies of previous letters I've written in Sirius' support – do you want me to write a new one?

I'll also pass your comments on to Remus, and I'm sure he would be delighted to sign on in Sirius' support, should it come to that.

I also saw the Weasleys' Wheezes contract come through, and I have read that in great detail down to the last of the small print. It's perfect thanks. Do I need to send it back to you, or is this copy mine to keep with the rest of my legal paperwork?

Finally, it's a bit embarrassing to say this but I completely forgot about that last bit of my inheritance coming together. I have actually been looking forward to this very much and adding the grimoires to my to-do list will be a delightful addition to my currently half-hearted goals this year. Have you found all the hard copies of everything that needs to be found? What are the rules of engagement...er...necessary steps to access them? I'll swing past your office and pick the collection up, along with any other household books/ledgers etc when I'm back in England: camp finishes exactly one week after my birthday and I'll be returning from France with Sirius and Remus five days after that. I'll drop you off that wine you mentioned last time as well, so look forward to it.

Best regards to Percy Weasley, Mr O'Moore and all the other lovely staff in your office.

I look forward to seeing you all in a few weeks; please hold any further correspondence until then.

Yours gratefully,

Harry James Justus Ambrose Corbin Potter

Dearest Fleur,

Thank you for much for your kindest questions. It is lovely to hear from you and I always enjoy your letters. Je suis désolé that I didn't reply to your last miss letter. I thought I had but I found it just now in a pile of parchemin on my desk so I will send them both in the same enveloppe when I am with this letter finished.

Sorry for the worrying of you in the meantime. I am doing surprisingly well after everything: Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts is a very sévère medi-witch who lets no patients in her hospital come to harm. There have been barely any remaining sequills... um... any issues are more amusing than concerning at the moment, and my healers – who are somehow having my complete medical history – don't know whether my odd happenings are from the two-month-old ritual, or from my birthday ritual of last year. Please worry not about me any further.

I hope that my Français is clear. I know that many mistakes in speaking are overlooked but writing is harder. Merci for your patience with me.

I write this from Quidditch camp and will sneak this letter out secretly, but will be not able to write again until the middle of next month due to their rules, but I wanted to say merci again for recommending to me that little resort, Le Chateau du Soleil, on the Gulf of Lion. It is beautiful. So relaxing! I enjoyed every minute. I have left my godfather and his friend to stay there for this month while I am busy, and will be meeting them at your place when Quidditch camp lets us out. I look forward to soon seeing your beautiful home that you have described so much.

Have you thought more about what we spoke before? For you to come and work in England shortly? I think that your English is already very beautiful, but since you say you want to improve, working in London in some Gringotts-place or the like would be very helpful, I am sure. I could introduce you to more friends I have who are not at Hogwarts too!

Say, "bonjour," to Gabrielle for me, and please tell me what gifts I should bring for your parents as a thanks for hosting us (really truly, I do not know wizarding l'étiquette? la étiquette? rules in England let alone here).

Other than that, be well for now, and I look forward to seeing you 7th Août.

All the best

Harry J.J.A.C Potter

Dear Luna,

I'm well thanks. France and Europe have been as beautiful and welcoming as expected, and I've managed to visit a couple of places that came highly recommended so I'm enjoying myself so far.

Obviously, I've now made it to the training camp I told you about, which means I won't be able to write to you for a month, and they've got some kind of postal system set up here that will stop any letters getting to me too – I'm only replying to you now because Crow snuck in and promptly decided the mountain life doesn't suit him after all. He'll be leaving as soon as I finish my last letter.

It's pretty interesting, actually, how they've set this place up. I thought that between Hogwarts' time and Mr Lloyd-Elliot's influence, I was managing my privacy as well as could be, but it seems that the wizarding world has entire sections of society ensconced away from the public eye when they feel it's appropriate. I mean, even the mysterious location we're based in for this camp is merely part of a rotation of Youth Quidditch League sites, to avoid reporters and gawkers sneaking in before the camp starts to get their

Wow. Sorry about that. I dropped off right to sleep in the middle of writing that and now I can't remember where I was going with the sentence. I've managed to eak out some of my designated study time to write a few letters, but most of what I've managed so far was written in my trunk in what should have been bedtime. I still have my arithmancy homework to finish – I want to do the extra option for extra credit and get a bit more confident before my OWLs this year: wish me luck!

In the meantime, my muscles ache in places I didn't know existed, but it's a good kind of tired that makes me sleep deeply, and I think the potion regime they've got me on is supposed to help with the fatigue or something too. It's funny. In the muggle world that would be cheating, but here I guess they're available to everyone equally so it's fair game? Or maybe only other types of potions are illegal.

Anyway, I probably shouldn't squeeze out any more of my free time so I'll leave it at that for now.

Look after yourself, love to your father, and I'll see you back in September.

Best

Harry J.J.A.C Potter

Dear Nev,

How are you doing? I hope you enjoyed my last letter of a fortnight or so ago, and my poor attempts at sketching that funny little bush that I found near the beach I was staying by. In case the enchantments on my picture don't hold, the little flowers opened and closed depending on how close the bees and/or insects behaved nearby to it, but I still haven't found the name of it in my school books and don't know if you've heard of it before. If you have told me about it in your most recent letter: apologies, but my mail is being held for me at the Owl Post Office until I get out of this Quidditch Camp.

I'm having a blast here. There's been a rather competitive thing happening between the pureblood players and half-blood and muggle-born quidditch folks here because a lot of the body-strengthening training we're going through is quite muggle in its…physicality. Running up and down hills, for example. No one likes that part of this camp, but the more sheltered of our players are really shocked at what goes into managing and maintaining a person's body when you're performing at sport at high levels. It's all in good fun though – any insults or jokes are mild, because Quidditch fanatics are almost all so obsessed with their sport that a witch or wizard's blood status/background fails to mean anything as long as they're good teammates. Just think of a whole camp of hundreds of Ollie Woods and you'll get what I mean.

On a completely unrelated note, what do you know about wizarding day schools? When I received my Hogwarts letter, and when talking to Hermione about getting her visit from McGonagall and all, we were told about 'Hogwarts, the best wizarding school in Britain' and it's been implied to both of us that it is the only magic school for us to consider. I thought all wizards went to boarding school, like Beauxbatons and Durmstrang do too. But I've recently learned in a manner that is utterly unrelated to the locations of my holiday this summer, that there are day schools that wizards and witches can go to. In which case…does Britain have day schools? Who goes there? What exactly does the Book of Names that everyone goes on about do? Why do wizarding families send their kids away to boarding school for ten months of the year if a local school is available? It seems that students can floo in from their homes daily, as far as I can tell? From the descriptions that other people have totally mentioned, I mean. I never really thought about it because I wanted to go away to boarding school no matter what, but surely families like the Weasleys would want to keep their children closer to home?

Is this another thing that purebloods all know so well that no one ever bothers to explain to the rest of us?

I look forward to a great chat and a good catch-up with you when I get back to England.

Look after yourself.

Harry J.J.A.C Potter

P.S.: I'll look a bit different when you see me next, I think. They gave us each something like a pair of track pants each when we arrived (nicely sponsored and everything) and just yesterday I had to go ask if I could swap my pair up for the next bigger size. Let me tell you that all this running up and down hills has done very odd things to my leg muscles. I'm starting to think I'll need my Hogwarts clothes tailored a bit for my different shoulder muscles now as well…Can you recommend a fast, confidential tailor who could squeeze me (and most of my wardrobe) in the week before Hogwarts goes back?

Cheers, Harry

Dear Sirius and Remus,

First things first. Crow came back this morning with no letters from you or anyone. I'm going to hope that you followed my instructions not to write, rather than any letters burning up on his journey through the wards. Although, it has just occurred to me that maybe my outward-bound letters burned up too and I've done all this writing for no reason. Bollocks. I hope we can clarify that I haven't wasted all my time when I get out of here in a week.

I'm writing because it's the day after my birthday – I'm sure you wished me well on the day, so thanks for that – and even if the healers/camp contacted you, I figured you've probably been worried about my magic and would like to hear from me.

For the past three weeks I was mostly working on the assumption that, 'bubbles' in my well of magic aside, things were going to stay pretty low-key. Turns out there is more to that 'year and a day' tradition/thing than I thought there was, or maybe there's a month and a week pattern that I need to look into the theory of also? Anway. Today has been interesting, but I thought you'd appreciate knowing that the healers have me well in hand.

One of my tent-mates had to go and ask an adult for help in getting me out of bed this morning: when something happened in my magic last night, the first side-effect was to turn my camp cot into a tangle of living plants that had me stuck in my blankets and half-smothered in very fast-growing vines. By the time I woke up, all the linen and wood and everything in my bed had turned into new plant growth and trussed me up like a caterpillar in a cocoon. There have been terrible jokes about my butterfly metamorphosis ever since. Turns out some jokes cross language barriers. Assuming that was a once-off, I got sent off to breakfast just a tad late and ended up accidentally summoning every table's breakfast food towards me first thing. I accidentally stole everybody's plates (and contents), tipped pitchers of milk and juice over, slapped myself in the face with toast/eggs and dollops of flying porridge. At the same time, I scored a few hits on stray quidditch players if they happened to be in the way of the flying food's path to me.

We all got a good laugh and another once-over from the healers and then they sent me back out to join training. Turns out, after half an hour of that they've taken me off my broom for at least a few days too. Working on the assumption that it's my inherited gifts and not the recent ritual backlash, I've also had a few unpredictable moments struggling with my broom control. Not the turning, as you'd expect, but the ups and downs of flying. My... I suppose if I say my 'buoyancy' has been changing on broomsticks you'll know what I mean? Sometimes my body goes 'up' faster and easier than I'm used to, and at other, completely unpredictable times it's so much easier to go 'down'. Dives have been particularly fun.

(We figured that out after my first attempt at flying for the day, when I took off into the sky and left the broom behind. They didn't let me keep trying on my own to figure that one out, for some reason.)

I've popped into Crowley's form a few times accidentally over the morning too, although I played that off as human transfiguration rather than the animagus thing. I don't know if this means my instincts will be closer to the surface of my me or not. I'll have to fly a bit to figure that out, I reckon, and as mentioned/implied earlier, they're not letting me off the ground for the foreseeable future.

Oh, and tiny British Oak trees have been growing on the floor wherever I walk. No one knows what that's about either.

Anyway, these things have been happening in (slowly lessening? varying?) scale all day so I've got special permission to sleep in my trunk, in the healers' tent, now, despite the usual rules. No one seems to think that my magic will accidentally reanimate the dragonskin while I'm sleeping. No problems happened during my afternoon nap in the healer's tent – after they had me bring my trunk with me to sleep in case I messed up with the expansion enchantments on the actual infirmary proper, but the pot plants in my room grew very well and will need a repotting sooner than they should. I might ask Nev for help. I always kill plants when I try to separate out their roots so if I can wait for Hogwarts the repotting will go better.

And another thing, I forgot to mention that somehow or other I have picked up three 'pet' rocks, all about fist-size. They follow behind me, rolling and bounding along wherever I walk. All six healers who've been dealing with me today fondly call them, "Voltear", "Golpear", and "Guijarro". Guijarro is everyone's favourite – probably because it's the smallest and has done the least damage to the potions cupboard so far.

The situation being what it is, they bent the rules for me and let me have one chance to (officially) contact the outside world. Since I can sneak this letter to you out, I used it to pull out the mirror to talk to Kreacher, who should have somehow passed a message on to Dobby in case they're feeling changes in my magic? The poor thing was already worried before he heard about the actual symptoms, and about to start desperately making his way to me – to supervise/oversee/have my back. He's now under strict instructions to stay at home, look after himself and trust in me, but if you can think of anything else that would help him, please let me know.

Did you ever hear of the Cartwrights or anyone having swimming magic? Floating magic? Air? The Voldemort angle is a complete unknown, but with regards to last birthday's gifts, the healers say they might be able to help more if they knew what they were working with.

Before they'll let me back into training, I've been told my magic must settle and to train my reflexes up like crazy. The good news is, I'm already much better than I used to be at making course corrections so I'm going to be crazy good once I'm used to these changes. The bad news is, the head coach tells me that I'm too volatile to sign to any team this camp. So, no new Viktor Krum for me, I guess. There go my hopes and dreams of fame and fortune. Hah!

What else is there to say? Being stuck in the healer's tent all day means I've finished my homework, although Hermione's made plans to memorise a few arithmancy tables and that's playing on my mind. It's OWL year though – can you remember when I need to stop memory potions so that I go into the exams without getting caught in the anti-cheating enchantments? Memorising those blasted tables without potions will be killer if I can't take them after we get back to England.

No pain or injuries, so locked up and grounded as I am, it looks like the next week will be pretty boring for me unless something new pops up.

Look after each other, don't panic about me, and I'll see you in Les-Bains-sur-Montmonné soon.

Thinking of you all.

Harry J.J.A.C. Potter.

P.S.: The mage-sight thing has also been changing in ways I can't express well. Like, if you're looking through a telescope and you need to focus it so the lights all bend and fuzz when you twist the dials? That's kind of what I'm getting when I look at things now. Fortunately, I can't turn that right down but it would be nice to know what all this means for me. HP

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I hope you are enjoying a very relaxing summer break and apologise for taking up your time with this correspondence, &c., &c.

You may have heard from my healers this week, but they thought that a letter from someone who knows you personally might make it through your mail system faster.

What do you know about sudden surges of uncontrollable magic? We've got my wand strapped to me pretty constantly at the moment, which is at least keeping the magic mostly external to my actual body, but the effects of all those rituals have finally hit and I'm offloading/exploding/shedding magic off me at a reliably constant rate, even if the manner is entirely unpredictable. Currently, I'm ruining my surroundings with uncontrolled transfigurations and charms.

My healers – all six of the healers at the U17 International Quidditch Camp are currently finding me fascinating – are fabulous, but have told me that they specialise in physical and sport injury rather than…this. They have contacted a number of specialists but did mention that you might have insights. And not so long ago, Percy Weasley reminded me that you have also picked up names from other families. I figure you may have gone through a similar process?

What do you recommend, sir? Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

Yours in anticipation and hope,

Harry James Justus Ambrose Corbin Potter