A few years before entering Hogwarts, Harry Potter meets a neighbour boy who happens to be a wizard. This is a story of the two friends who swore to never betray or abandon each other.

T/N: This is a translation of the series "Осень на двоих" by Рэйя_Гравис with her permission.

A/N: The first part of the series "Autumn For The Two" was written back in 2011. The series consists of 6 books, the final 6th part is in-progress.
The canon is completely redone under the changed circumstances, starting from the first year at Hogwarts.

Autumn in Little Whinging turned out to be warm and windless, trees dressed in red and yellow foliage froze along the road, as if showing off, and the endless blue sky covered the rows of identical neat city houses like a peaceful dome. Yellow leaves swirled smoothly in the air, falling to the ground and occasionally rising up when cars passed along the road. Everything was blissfully peaceful in the city. It should be said that 'peace' was the most important word in Little Whinging. Peace and quiet. Everything here was gentle and peaceful, one day was no different from the other, a smooth sequence of everyday worries naturally began with the planned sunrise and ended when the lights went out in the windows of the houses, only to start anew the next morning. The worst crisis here was a cat stuck in a tree, but even this didn't happen often enough to disturb the regular life of honest citizens.

The only anomaly in this sun-drenched place of autumn's grace was a small, skinny boy with jet-black hair that seemed to stick out in all directions, as if wanting to spite any comb. As he adjusted his glasses, he went out into the street, squinting his emerald-green eyes from the bright sun, and grabbed the garden shears, that he was holding under his arm, more comfortably. After taking a sad look at the neat lawn in front of the house and the low white fence, which seemed to exist only for someone to bend over it and look into other people's yards, the boy yawned and wandered towards the hedge. Somewhere out there, among the perfectly trimmed twigs, was the only one that stood out so disgustingly from the rest that Aunt Petunia spent the whole morning in a bad mood.

After carefully examining each bush, the boy came to the conclusion that nothing here disturbed the general harmony, but his strict aunt, with her usual exasperation, promised her nephew all the torments of hell if she'll find at least one flaw after he's finished.

"Remember this, Harry Potter," she snapped, "you're not so different from your freakish parents, so if you embarrass me in front of our neighbours, you'll spend the rest of your life in a cupboard!"

Harry didn't want to suffer such a fate so he wandered back and forth along the hedge again and again trying to find the mystical 'twisted' branch. In fact, he was glad to be outside, away from the Dursleys and their screams. They were always dissatisfied with something, and Harry seriously believed that they were dissatisfied solely with the fact that he existed. The boy frowned, scratching his head. If there were any wrong branches here, then, after seeing the garden shears, they prudently disappeared into the confines of their quite decent sisters.

'But she'll definitely find them,' the boy muttered and was about to continue searching, when suddenly something pricked him in the forehead.

Harry yelped, clutched the sore spot, and dropped the shears. The unpleasant sensation passed as suddenly as it appeared. "Was it a wasp?" the boy thought in confusion, rubbing his forehead. "But a wasp bite doesn't go away this fast." His fingers touched the thin line of the scar that was present on Potter's forehead for as long as he could remember. Harry often looked in the mirror at this strange zigzag shape, wondering where he could get such a scar. Aunt Petunia only petulantly waved off his questions, so young Potter had no choice but to invent a variety of incredible stories about alien attacks or insidious villains. Which was quite exciting but, unfortunately, had nothing to do with reality. Anyway, the scar was the only thing Harry liked about his thin, angular appearance so it never occurred to the boy to worry about its existence, but today for some reason it began to hurt. Although Potter wasn't entirely sure that it was the scar that hurt (after all, why would it hurt so many years later), it didn't look like an insect bite either, and besides, Harry could have sworn that he felt a slight ache exactly in the scar.

However, since the pain passed pretty quickly, the boy just shrugged and bent down to pick up the shears lying on the ground. At the very same moment, he felt rather than heard someone's presence. Harry straightened up abruptly and blinked in surprise. At first he was afraid that it was one of Dudley's friends or neighbours or, God forbid, Mrs. Figg, but opposite him stood a boy no older than himself and studied him curiously. He had the same black hair as Harry, but unlike Potter's wild hair, the stranger's hair was almost smooth though slightly curly. A second later, Harry found out that the boy opposite him was slightly taller, and another moment later he realised that the smile that appeared on his cute face could be anything but benevolent.

"So, he's Dudley's friend after all," thought Harry, although he had never seen this kind of boys among his cousin's gang.

Meanwhile, the boy opposite him narrowed his dark eyes and tilted his head slightly to one side.

'Hi,' he said quietly, 'do you live here?'

'Yes,' answered Harry, blinking in confusion. "No, he's not Dudley's friend," Potter decided, "or they just decided to prank me."

'And who are you?' he asked, just in case.

'My name is Thomas Archer,' the stranger introduced himself. 'We've just moved in,' he waved his hand somewhere to the side.

Harry nodded, not knowing what else to say, then caught himself. 'I'm Harry, Harry Potter, uh… happy house-warming?'

Tom winced. 'It's a terrible neighbourhood you've got here. By the way, how do you not confuse your house with others? They all look so monotonous,' the boy scoffed and rolled his eyes. In this very second Harry realised that he suddenly disliked his interlocutor, so he was almost happy when his aunt came out on the porch and ordered him to return to the house, casting a displeased look at Tom.

'Uh, sorry, but I have to go,' Potter began to step back.

'Is that your mother?' Tom asked instead of a polite farewell nod.

'No,' said Harry, shivering at the thought, 'this is my Aunt Petunia…'

'She's got a neck like a goose,' Archer chuckled, looking at Harry with a strange curiosity. Potter was completely disappointed in his new acquaintance – the Dursleys, of course, were not angels, but who did he think he was to insult strangers, moreover adults? 'Are you visiting them?' meanwhile, Tom asked.

'I live with them,' said Harry, more harshly than he had intended.

'Why?' Archer persisted.

Harry realised he was getting angry. He hated those who thought they were better than others and boasted of their superiority, and Tom literally radiated smugness and looked at Harry as if he was a simple weed in the ground.

'Because my parents are dead!' Harry snapped irritably, looking into the eyes of the uninvited guest. 'And I have nowhere else to live, are you satisfied?'

Tom looked surprised for a moment but then he pulled himself together.

'My parents died too,' he said calmly, 'I don't remember them at all.'

Harry suddenly calmed down and looked at his interlocutor more amicably.

"Then who do you live with?" he asked after a pause.

'With Kate and Bob, they're my guardians,' Archer winced as if from a toothache. 'They're complete morons.'

'Oh…' Potter chewed his lip thoughtfully, his opinion of the new acquaintance again reached the negative point. 'But they take care of you…'

'As if,' the other boy snorted. 'I'm taking care of myself,' he paused, giving Harry a critical look. 'And by the looks of it, so do you…'

'No, what makes you think so?' the boy protested.

'You look like an orphan from an orphanage… well, no, the clothes in the orphanage are better.'

Finally, Harry snapped.

'Oh, you talk so horribly about everyone, as if you're better yourself!' he glared at Tom, who looked a little surprised, as if Harry had said the most stupid thing.

'Of course I'm better,' Tom said confidently.

Potter blinked. 'What?'

'Well, yes,' he shrugged. 'I'm better than my guardians, better than your ugly aunt, and certainly better than you!'

'Why is that?' the boy asked passionately, wondering how to punch his new acquaintance. Even though Harry was only eight years old, he knew perfectly well when to use force… although he didn't often do it successfully.

'Because I can do what no one else can,' Archer announced arrogantly.

Harry stared at him with wide eyes, something in the boy's words suddenly stopped him from wanting to start a fight. 'Like what?'

'When I get angry, windows explode in the house,' Tom said smugly. 'And I can also set things on fire with my eyes if I really want to, no one is my equal, I just came over to tell you…'

'And you're proud of it?' Harry asked in surprise. 'Proud of being weird? That you're not like everyone else?'

'I'm stronger, and if I want to, everyone will fear me!'

'Big deal,' Potter shrugged. 'I can also do that, but I don't get anything but smacks after that, so you're unlikely to get anything different.'

His dislike grew more and more, although Harry was rather surprised that there was another freak besides him. Perhaps this was some kind of disease that only orphans suffer from?

'You… can?' Tom gasped, all his smugness evaporating in an instant. 'You can do miracles?'

'They're not miracles,' said Harry sullenly. 'They're freakishness, you can't do them,' the boy paused. 'But sometimes they happen by themselves, and then there's nothing I can do…'

'What can you do?' Archer asked enthusiastically, immediately turning into an ordinary eight-year-old boy, and not the arrogant moron he seemed before.

'Well…' Potter got embarrassed, Tom was the first person who didn't see anything disgusting in it, which was rather strange, 'one night I grew my hair back… and then I accidentally blew up a vase and somehow flew off the ground and onto the roof when I was being chased…'

'So you too…' Archer grinned and looked at Harry with genuine interest for the first time, then frowned. 'You aren't lying, are you?' he suddenly blurted out.

Genuine indignation flashed in the green eyes of his interlocutor. 'No, why would I lie?' he blurted out and only now realised that he had miscalculated. Perhaps Tom was just bragging and really can't do anything unusual, and Harry so stupidly and naïvely told him his most shameful secret! Now Archer will laugh at him, and if the Dursleys find out, they'll just kill him on the spot, they're already getting mad when he does all these freakish things. And now the neighbours will also find out about it. Potter bit his lip, almost fearfully waiting for his new acquaintance to laugh in his face. But he just continued to study him and finally smiled. Quite friendly.

'You know,' he said, 'I think we're going to be friends.'

And with that, he abruptly turned around and headed towards his house. Potter followed him with a grim look.

'Probably not,' he muttered softly and wandered home, where Aunt Petunia was obviously waiting to scold him again.

Harry put his hands behind his head and stared at the bottomless blue sky where fluffy white clouds were lazily crawling. The sun warmed his skin, and the boy squinted with pleasure as he listened to the tree leaves rustling in the wind. The end of July turned out to be unusually sunny and warm. Potter plucked a blade of grass from the ground, put it in his mouth, and stared at the sky again, allowing himself not to think about anything and feeling incredibly calm. He heard footsteps nearby, and a moment later someone sat down on the grass next to the boy. Harry smiled. He didn't have to turn around to see who had lain down on the grass next to him.

'Happy birthday,' a familiar voice announced cheerfully.

'Ha, my birthday hasn't come yet,' Potter stretched himself with pleasure, 'so you're congratulating me too early.'

'But I'll be the first one,' Tom chuckled in his usual smug manner.

'The first and only one,' the boy remarked, turning his head and meeting the dark eyes of his best friend, who simply shrugged.

'Well, after all, someone should celebrate the fact that such an impossible bore and whiner as you was born,' he said.

'And how are you going to celebrate it?' Potter asked curiously, turning his attention back to the sky.

'I'll catch a rabid dog and release it into the house of your relatives,' his friend chuckled.

Harry laughed. 'They'll shoot her… and then they'll shoot you and me… they don't like you anyway.'

'As if I want them to,' Tom snorted.

Both boys fell silent, each thinking their own thoughts. A sudden gust of wind tousled their dark hair and covered their clothes with fine dust. Tom cursed and sat down on the grass, listlessly brushing off his old T-shirt. Harry continued to lie motionless on the ground. He no longer remembered how and when exactly Tom turned from a smug, arrogant, pompous arse into his best friend. At first, Harry just tolerated him, tried to avoid him, and was terribly angry at all his arrogant statements. They fought, hurled insults at each other, but then somehow found themselves together again. And it was always on Tom's initiative, because if he wanted something, he was ready to do anything to get it. And for some unfathomable reason, Tom wanted to be friends with Harry, which was really strange since no one else had ever expressed such a desire.

As time went on, Harry noticed more and more that Tom's contemptuous attitude extended to anyone but him. The boy explained this to himself by saying that Archer is just as strange as he is, so he simply has no one else to communicate with, and because of that Tom restrains himself. Although there were instances when the boy behaved arrogantly and irritably even with Potter, argued with him over little things, ridiculed his stupidity or naïvety. At first, this infuriated Harry, but gradually Potter stopped paying attention to Tom's banter and sarcasm, blinded himself to his difficult character, and accepted Archer as he is, with all his flaws and virtues, realising that he simply doesn't know how to communicate in any other way.

Tom always seemed older than his age, and sometimes Harry even thought of him as an older brother, just as reliable, strong, and smart, scolding him for any foolishness, pretending to know everything in the world, and sometimes behaving as if Harry was five years old.

They spent so much time together that Potter began to feel as if they were able to read each other's thoughts and feel each other's mood even from a distance, and there was something so incredible and magical about it that Harry himself didn't notice how the annoying neighbour boy became like a family to him. The best and only friend.

Harry had never had such friends, and he was quite sure that he didn't need any other friends besides Tom, because who else would be the same? Who else would be able to talk to him like that, amuse him like that, and protect him like that? And the longer time went on, the more Harry became convinced that no one could ever, even partially, be like Tom or be better than him (which even sounded absurd), so no one could replace him, just as no one could replace a family.

'Tom…'

'Hmm?'

'Do you think it will always be like this?'

'What exactly?' Archer stopped pointlessly trying to brush off his already stained trousers and turned to the green-eyed boy.

'Well, all of this… day after day, the Dursleys, this town, our… abnormality…'

'No, of course not,' Tom said, horrified. 'Someday, everything will change.'

'How?' Harry glanced at his friend with sadness. 'It's been the same for ten years… the house, Aunt, Uncle, Dudley, cleaning, insults, school where everyone avoids me… will it always be like this? Maybe you and I are really some kind of…' he thought, remembering the word, 'freaks?'

'Don't be silly!' Tom exclaimed angrily. 'They are! They are freaks, they are inferior, stupid, boring, ordinary, and we are…' he smiled dreamily, 'we are special, Harry.'

'How so? Because of our odd abilities? We are despised because of them!'

'We're feared,' Archer calmly corrected, laying back down on the grass. 'They're just brainless cowards, they're like small dogs that constantly bark at people and big dogs because they're afraid of them. Just little mutts, that's what they are!'

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, hearing how much hatred there was in his friend's words. He turned to Tom in confusion. 'You know, you've never told me why you dislike them so much…'

'Who?'

'Well, Kate and Bob… I think they're okay…'

'They hate me,' the boy replied blankly, turning away from Potter.

'Why?' he asked cautiously.

Tom was silent and Harry was already beginning to think that his friend wouldn't answer when he finally spoke. 'When I was four, they took me from the orphanage. Kate wasn't able to have children, so they adopted me. And then… then these "abilities" appeared, and they began to fear me… they took me to several doctors, they thought that there was something wrong with my head, but I'm normal!' Archer looked at Harry angrily, but all his resentment was directed at his guardians. 'Then they had a son and I… they didn't need me any more. They hardly noticed me, they were busy entertaining that crybaby.'

'But he was so little,' said Harry cautiously, wondering what was so terrible about it, because it'd be great to have a little brother.

'I was little too,' Tom said resentfully. 'I also wanted to be…' he stopped abruptly and closed his eyes. 'They wouldn't let me near him, they were all afraid… and then Matthew died.'

'From what?' Potter gasped when the silence dragged on.

'I don't know,' Tom answered honestly. 'They said his heart just stopped. He was only two at the time.'

Harry suddenly sat up, hugging his knees with his hands, and stared at one point. 'They blame you for his death?'

'Yes.'

'But why?'

Archer smiled bitterly. 'Because I'm not normal. Who knows what I could have done with him?'

'But you didn't do it, did you?' Potter asked cautiously, turning to his friend.

'No, I didn't. After that, they wanted to return me to the orphanage but they didn't find a good enough reason, so they decided to just ignore me.'

'But they're not starving you or anything, are they?' Harry asked warily.

'No. They just don't want to see me… even if I die, they won't care…'

'That's terrible,' Harry shook his head. He knew that the Dursleys were unlikely to be upset if he died, but at least they didn't think of him as an empty place… it is probably even worse than the constant slaps and insults when someone pretends that you simply don't exist.

'It's nothing terrible,' Tom grimaced. 'It's just the way it is, it's the rule. If you stand out, you must be feared… or ignored. So no one will care even if I just disappear.'

'That's not true!' Harry said indignantly. 'I will care!'

'You will?' Archer propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the boy. 'Are you serious?'

'Of course, you're my best friend!' Potter declared with fervour.

'Yes,' Tom whispered, 'we're friends… we… You know, it probably makes sense…'

'What does?'

'We're special, we're not like anyone else. We will always be shunned and despised. No one wants to be around people like us. But we have each other, right?' Harry nodded firmly. 'And we'll never betray or abandon each other, right?'

'Right.'

'And we won't need anyone, because we'll always be friends?'

'Always,' Potter promised solemnly, his heart felt warm and calm. Tom was right, as long as they have each other, they will never be alone. As long as the two of them are together, they will be able to overcome any difficulties. Because they're best friends.

'You and I are like brothers,' Archer meanwhile decided and smiled radiantly. 'The very very true brothers!'

'It's decided then!' Harry jumped to his feet and pulled Tom with him until his friend stood up in front of him. 'I solemnly swear that we will be together for all eternity, and nothing will ever be able to separate us!'

Archer nodded and repeated his words, adding his own. 'I swear that we'll always be best friends!'

'I swear,' Harry confirmed, and both boys burst out laughing, feeling incredibly relieved; for the first time, each of them felt at ease.

Harry winced painfully as he touched a wide, bleeding scratch on his cheekbone. His mood was worse than ever, not only did the Dursleys punish him and restrict his food but they also began destroying his letters, it isn't fair! Especially since for the first time in his life he received his own letter, but he didn't even have time to read it. And Dudley, deciding that now his cousin was even more pathetic than usually, simply couldn't miss the opportunity to bully him or give him a good beating. Potter sighed, wondering when all of this would finally end. "I didn't mean for this stupid glass to disappear," the boy thought irritably. "It did it by itself… well, or almost by itself. But I didn't push Dudley in there! He for sure fell by himself! And it's not my fault the glass then reappeared, is it?" He had been asking these questions for several days, but as usual all this self-examination didn't result in anything life-affirming.

'Harry!' Tom, who was flushed and excited, hurried up to his house, waving his hand that was clutching an envelope.

'Harry, you won't believe what I got today!' Archer noticed his friend's dark mood and raised his eyebrows in concern. 'What happened?'

'Nothing,' Harry got up from the porch and walked over to Tom. 'What is it?' he asked somewhat irritably, secretly envious that his best friend could receive and read any letter.

'Who did that to you?' Archer asked not even considering answering the question as he simultaneously pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Harry who gratefully accepted it and applied it to the scratch.

'Dudley,' he grumbled, looking at the droplets of blood on the white cloth. 'He once again mistook me for a punching bag.'

'I've always said that your cousin is a complete idiot,' Tom said loudly, clearly hoping that he would be heard inside the house. 'Come on, I'll show you something amazing!'

'I can't… I'm punished,' Potter grimaced.

'What for?'

'I locked Dudley in a terrarium,' the boy confessed, 'accidentally…'

'Were there snakes in it?' Tom asked hopefully.

'No, the one that was there crawled away,' Harry sighed.

'A pity,' Archer paused, looking sternly at his friend. 'Yeah, you messed up, mate,' Harry nodded with sorrow. 'How could you have mixed it all up?' there was a mischievous fire in the boy's dark eyes. 'Your cousin should have been locked up in a cage with pigs, snakes are far too noble creatures to tolerate his presence,' Harry giggled, visibly relaxing, as Tom tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. 'Come on, forget about their stupid punishment.'

After taking one last look back at the Dursleys' house, where a disgruntled Aunt Petunia was watching them through the window, Harry followed his friend. Tom stopped at the playground and sat down on the swing, waving for Harry to join him.

'You'll never believe me,' he whispered, 'look what I got this morning.'

Harry picked up the envelope he was holding out to him and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Written neatly on yellowish thick paper in emerald ink was:

Mr. T. Archer,

The Bedroom on the Second Floor,

8, Privet Drive,

Little Whinging,

Surrey

Harry blinked, looking at the unusual address, almost the same thing was written on the envelope that Uncle Vernon tore.

'Read what's in the envelope,' Tom said impatiently, and Harry obediently took out a folded sheet of strange-looking paper and read it out loud:

'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr Archer,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress.'

Unwilling to believe his eyes, Harry took the aforementioned list out of the envelope and stared at it in shock.

'Robes? A pointed hat? A cauldron?' he reread the letter again. 'A wand?!' it was clear from his shocked green eyes that his brain simply refused to accept what he read. 'Students may also bring an owl, or a cat, or a toad,' he finished reading thoughtlessly and looked at Tom. 'What is it?'

'Huh,' Tom grinned, but then sank, 'wouldn't I like to know.'

'But how can that be?' Harry read the letter again. 'Is it… is it really true?'

'I don't know.'

'What if it's a joke? What if it's all just a prank? Maybe someone found out about our "strangeness" and decided to make fun of us?' Potter took a deep breath and quickly blurted out. 'We can't really be wizards!'

'And why not?' Archer asked, surprised.

'Then why didn't anyone come earlier?' Harry miserably looked at the envelope. 'And what is "we await your owl"? Doesn't that mean we have to catch an owl and somehow convince her to fly to this Hog… warts? No, Tom, it's just a joke…'

'What if it's true? What if we're not that abnormal? What if we really are wizards?'

'And where are you going to get an owl?' Potter asked sceptically.

'I don't know, but this McGonagall also wrote that she will come over to our house today to explain everything in detail,' Archer smiled uncertainly. 'So we'll see if this is a joke or not.' Tom suddenly looked grim. 'Wait, didn't you get a similar letter?'

'I'm not sure,' Harry tried to shrug indifferently. 'I got a strange letter, it looked like yours, but I didn't read it.'

'Why?'

'Well, it got kind of… er… torn,' Potter kicked a pebble beneath his feet in embarrassment.

'Your relatives infuriate me,' Tom informed him, clearly suspecting the reason for the mysterious destruction of the letter, and snorted loudly. 'All right, come with me, this Deputy Headmistress has to arrive at four o'clock, we'll wait for her together.'

'But your guardians…'

'Forget about them,' Archer smiled broadly, grabbed his friend by the hand, and dragged him along. 'Imagine how great it would be if there were others just like us!'

'Well… yes,' Harry muttered, although he could hardly believe that all of this was true… and even if Tom really was a wizard, no one said that Harry was also one, after all, he hadn't seen his letter, maybe it was something else. The boy desperately stifled his hope, convincing himself that he was not a wizard but just an ordinary Harry, and even if this McGonagall saw him, she would most likely tell him not to get in the way and that no one had sent him such a letter. Harry was ready to cry like a five-year-old, he was extremely upset that he hadn't read his letter and didn't know what was written there. He could almost hear the strict Deputy Headmistress (and she definitely will be very strict) scolding him for his stupidity and kicking him out of the room so that he wouldn't eavesdrop on other people's conversations.

Despite the fact that they had known each other for three years, Harry rarely visited Tom. However, there was nothing remarkable about the house 8 Privet Drive, and from the inside it looked almost as boring as the Dursleys'. Except that the furniture and the colour of the wallpaper were different, but everything else was the same as the living room of house number four.

Harry sat down on the sofa and shivered uncomfortably under Mrs. Hoover's gaze. Tom, as he explained to him earlier, used the surname that was given to him in the orphanage, maliciously claiming that only the name Dursley could be stupider than Hoover. Oddly enough, his guardians didn't mind at all.

Kate Hoover nervously tugged at the sleeve of her dress and looked at the green-eyed boy as if he were a wild animal. She paid attention to her ward only once when he introduced his friend to her, after which he simply ceased to exist for her. However, she couldn't ignore Harry since he was the first child in her memory that Tom had made friends with. He simply ignored the others. But what was so special about this thin, pale boy with a strange scar on his forehead, which he was embarrassingly trying to cover with a long fringe? And did it mean that this Potter was as dangerous and unpredictable as Tom was if her cold-blooded adopted son suddenly became interested in him?

Otherwise, the boy would have fled from him long ago, like from a fire. Everyone fled. Tom scared both children and adults alike, there was something demonic about that child, something that made people avoid him. He always seemed older, and in his dark eyes people thought they could see the mind of a man who had lived much longer and had done terrible things. And his terrible indifference towards people… Thomas simply didn't know what help and compassion were.

But, as far as Kate could tell, this skinny neighbour boy has been friends with him without showing any discomfort for the past three years. This forced the woman to keep a safe distance from the boy, however, decorum still told her to speak up. 'Tea?'

The potentially dangerous dishevelled child shuddered and turned surprised green eyes towards her. 'Excuse me?'

'I offered you some tea,' she repeated, biting her lip.

"Maybe he has hearing problems? Maybe he's not normal?" the woman thought, but when she saw the boy nod slightly, Kate hurried to the kitchen, away from these strange children.

When Mrs. Hoover left, Tom chuckled maliciously. 'She looked at you as if you were going to jump her,' he said.

'What's so good about that?' Harry gave his friend a disgruntled look.

'But isn't it great when people look at you like that? As if you are dangerous, as if you are stronger, more powerful,' he smiled thoughtfully. 'I'd like for everyone to look at me like that.'

'That's stupid,' the boy shrugged. 'Because then you won't have any friends at all.'

'Why would I need friends?' Tom said, surprised. 'I already have you.'

Potter shrugged uncertainly, although deep down he was insanely pleased that Tom preferred him to all other friends in the world.

When the hands of the clock pointed to exactly four o'clock, a melodious doorbell rang, and all of Harry's remaining calm evaporated. The boy glanced at Archer in panic – the other boy was agitated, but Potter didn't find fear in his eyes. Both friends froze in their seats as they listened to Mrs. Hoover approaching the door, the lock clicking, and muffled voices being heard. Finally, Tom's foster mother appeared in their sight, followed by a tall, thin woman in strange long loose-fitting clothes. "These must be the robes," Harry thought with a throbbing heart.

'Tom, there's someone here to see you,' since Kate was looking only at her adopted son, the woman in the robes ignored Harry, who was frozen in the next chair, completely concentrating on the young wizard. Mrs. Hoover sat down on a chair by the desk, preferring to be as far away from everything that was happening as possible. Tom stared at the Deputy Headmistress.

'Mr. Archer,' her thin lips twitched in a fleeting smile, 'my name is Minerva McGonagall, I teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts and am Headmaster Dumbledore's Deputy. As far as I know, you had no knowledge of magic until today?'

'Yes,' Tom nodded, cocking his head to one side. 'But I knew I could do various things.'

'That's why you were admitted to Hogwarts. Such talent must be developed, Mr. Archer, and I hope you will take your studies seriously.'

'Ma'am… excuse me, is this really true?' said Tom weakly. 'We really are wizards?'

'You are as much of a wizard as I am,' the woman nodded and, wanting to confirm her words, pulled out a long wooden object from her pocket, showing it to the boy. 'This is a wand, Mr. Archer, and wizards can do almost anything with it.'

'Anything?' Archer's eyes widened excitedly, even though he was trying to control himself. 'Any miracle?'

Minerva smiled faintly and waved her wand, at the exact same moment a striped grey cat was sitting in front of the stunned audience. Kate let out a half-strangled wheeze, clutching the back of the chair next to her, Tom's eyes lit with genuine admiration, Harry could only stupidly blink, wondering how to do such a trick. After meowing a couple of times, the animal once again transformed into a strict witch, plunging those present into a new bout of admiration and horror. McGonagall put her wand in her pocket and adjusted her pointed hat with a wide brim, waiting for the audience to calm down. Tom was the first to come to his senses.

'Will I also be able to do that?' he whispered.

'What I have just demonstrated is called Animagery – the ability to transform into an animal,' Minerva explained. 'This is a rather difficult area of Transfiguration, it requires patience and skill, but with proper diligence… yes, you will also be able to learn it.'

'Did you see it?' Tom exclaimed, looking at Harry. 'Did you see?! It's true!'

Not realising who he was addressing, the witch turned around and only now noticed that there was another person in the room besides her, Tom, and his mother. For a few seconds, the woman stared at the black-haired boy in silent shock.

'Mr. Potter?' she finally managed, and the boy stared at her with wide-open green eyes.

'You know my name?' he whispered in surprise.

'Almighty Merlin,' the professor's tenacious gaze slid over the boy's lean physique, pale face, terrible oversized clothes, a scratch on his cheekbone, and dishevelled hair. And the woman was horrified. The boy looked like a street urchin, an impoverished beggar but not like the son of Lily and James Potter. 'What are you…' she didn't know what to say, 'what are you doing here?' she finally managed to choke out, suppressing the anger flaring up in her chest. "What have these terrible Muggles done to the boy?!"

'I'm sorry… um… it's just that I also got a similar letter,' Harry said timidly, wondering what he had done to shock and apparently anger the elderly witch, 'and I wanted to… well, I couldn't believe… I didn't know I was a wizard either.'

'What?' the professor's thin eyebrows arched in surprise. 'You didn't know? Didn't your aunt and uncle tell you who your parents were?'

'Well,' Harry was embarrassed, 'they said Dad used to drink a lot… and Mum… well, she was a drug addict, and they died in a car crash…'

'Nonsense!' McGonagall hissed like an angry cat. 'What wild nonsense is this?!'

Harry shrank back into his chair. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you…' he muttered, realising that there must have been something terribly impolite in his words… but what exactly?

'What are you apologising for, Mr. Potter? It isn't your fault these Muggles…'

'Who?' interrupted Tom, who, like Harry, was completely confused by the strange reaction of the woman.

'Muggles,' the witch repeated, turning to Archer and instantly calming down, 'people who do not have magical abilities,' she paused, gathering her thoughts, then shrugged her shoulder in displeasure, as if she had come to a decision that she didn't like at all. 'Mr. Archer, do you have any questions?'

'Yes,' Tom nodded quickly. 'Where can I buy a wand?'

'Don't worry about that, I'll take you there as soon as I hear your mother's answer.'

Kate tensed when everyone present suddenly turned their attention to her, she didn't like the whole idea at all but…

'Does this mean that during the term Tom will live… there?' she clarified.

'Yes, but you don't have to worry, the students come home during the holidays. In addition, if it is the safety of your son that concerns you, you can be absolutely sure that no professor, let alone the Headmaster, will ever allow any student to be harmed,' Minerva smiled encouragingly, attributing the woman's nervousness to concern for her adopted son. 'If you want, I can visit you later and tell you more about Hogwarts so that you have better idea where Mr. Archer is going to study.'

'No,' Kate answered hastily and quietly, 'thank you, I… trust you… I suppose we must pay the tuition?'

'Of course, some expenses will be necessary, but if you…'

'No,' Tom's foster mother replied again, casting a wary glance at the boy, 'we'll pay for everything.'

'Oh, well,' McGonagall turned to Tom, 'I was glad to meet you, Mr. Archer, I'll ask you to be ready to go to London tomorrow at noon,' Tom nodded, a smile beaming on his face.

'And now,' the woman turned to the silent Harry, 'I think, Mr. Potter, I should also visit your relatives.'

'But…' the boy blinked, 'does this mean I can go to Hogwarts too?'

'Naturally,' the woman snorted. 'I don't see any reason why you couldn't do it.'

'So I'm a wizard?' he said happily.

'Just like your parents,' the woman said. The boy's eyes expressed an extreme degree of shock.

'My parents were wizards?!'

'And quite talented.'

'Wow,' Potter whispered, exchanging glances with Tom. 'They were wizards…' he looked questioningly at McGonagall, deciding to reinforce the idea that he wasn't as worthless as the Dursleys claimed. 'And can I be talented too?'

'I have no doubt you can,' Minerva said confidently but then, after a quick pause, sternly remarked. 'Of course, provided that you study well.'

'Oh, I'll do my best!' Harry jumped up from his chair, discovering that Tom was already standing next to him, looking at him expectantly.

'I'm coming with you,' he said, not allowing any objections.

McGonagall looked questioningly at Potter, but he didn't seem to mind at all.

'Have a nice day,' the witch nodded to Kate and left the house. Behind her, the enthusiastic children trotted as if in a dream.

"And now," said Minerva to herself with growing anger, "it's time to talk to These Muggles and clarify a couple of things, and I swear, Albus, if everything is at least half as bad as I think it is, I won't let you live."