AN: I do not own Harry Potter or the Wizarding World Universe.

Chapter 10

"Harry… you do realize you study as much as Granger, right?" Susan asked one afternoon in early December. It was a question he heard a lot from his Housemates.

He looked up from his book on potions and ingredients. "Do not," he argued before going back to his book.

Macmillan snorted. "Mate, you do. Not that it is a bad thing. I know I've got loads better marks. Speaking of which, did Professor McGonagall yell at you again?" he asked with a smirk.

Harry shrugged. She had, but it didn't bother him. The others all turned in Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding homework, while his remained the same. One of them ratted him out as the reason for their higher marks, and now all the teachers wanted… no expected, the same quality homework.

"Is anyone else going home for the winter break?" Abbott asked. "Mum wrote about my grandparents coming in. You're invited, of course," she said to Susan.

"Auntie is going to be busy. I'll probably just stay here. No offense, but your grandmother always says I need to eat more."

Hannah snorted. "She says it to me, too. Then, she complained when I finished the second helping of dinner."

Ernie grinned and patted his stomach. "I wouldn't miss Mum's cooking for the world. The house-elves here do just fine, but her cooking is great," he boasted. He looked at Harry. "You going home too?"

Harry didn't look up. "No."

He heard the others shift in their chairs and realized he should have just shook his head. "Well," Harper said to break the silence. "I'll be staying here with you. Dad is visiting relatives in America, and I would rather not go. Gran is… a little much," she snorted. "So, I guess we'll hang out in the Library."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "You mean you'll borrow the school brooms while no one is around," he challenged.

"Not every day," she shot back unapologetically.

"So, who's excited for the match tomorrow?" Finch-Fletchley said as he dropped into one of the remaining open seats. His curly hair, matted down on one side, looked like it needed a wash.

"Cedric is going to beat Chang. It's her first year as a Seeker, and Cedric was one last year," Green declared as he approached Susan from behind.

Harry couldn't help but notice how his yearmates had two distinct groups. The first was the one he was in. They were academically focused, but even then, not all of them were. Hopkins only did just enough to get a good mark and then went off to explore or visit older students. Macmillan was more like Harry, willing to study extra to stay ahead. Finch-Fletchley, Green, and Cauldwell only did the bare minimum, instead focusing on other things. Green and Finch-Fletchley wanted to try out for the Quidditch team next year. Cauldwell disappeared for hours after class and only came back near curfew.

Abbott, Bones, and Harper didn't mind studying. Lowe got bored quickly and went to the greenhouses often, but she still did her work. Jones, Longworth, and Gordon, the other first-year Hufflepuff girls, were outspoken and loud and spent much time with other students. Jones spent a lot of her time with Green and Finch-Fletchley, but he didn't think she wanted to try out for the team.

"No, I'm telling you, she will be a danger to us winning. Chang is scary on a broom. There's a reason they let her on the Ravenclaw team," Finch-Fletchley argued.

That devolved into a heated argument about the merits of experience over skill and the general strategies each group should use. Abbott, in particular, focused on Cedric, which was no surprise to anyone.

Harry didn't complain when it was time to head down to the stadium to watch the match. He didn't mind supporting his House. Again, Abbott sat on his left and Ernie on his right. They kept up a constant stream of commentary about the game. Lee Jordan did a good job, but he focused on where the Quaffle was or when someone spotted the Snitch.

This time, Harry focused on the four Beaters. Pete Jefferies, a fourth year, and Jacob Rivers, brother to Oliver Rivers and a fifth year, were the two Hufflepuff Beaters. They zipped around the pitch and tried to protect their Chasers from Samuels and Sterling. It was interesting to watch.

"Oh! Cedric is diving!" Abbott shouted as she stood and pointed.

Harry looked up and saw Cedric and Chang hurtling toward the ground. He looked around and thought he saw a golden glint near the scoreboard. Very briefly, it stood out against the white background. He lost it shortly after, but the two Seekers didn't.

A Bludger cut them off, hit by a Ravenclaw Beater. The match continued as both Seekers rose into the air once more to look.

"Aww, so close!" someone complained.

Harry nodded. It was cold, and his toes felt like ice. He made a mental note to learn a heating charm or something. One that wouldn't catch him on fire.

The match took almost two hours. "Diggory has the Snitch!" Jordan cried.

The Hufflepuffs around him exploded in celebration. They yelled, screamed, danced, jumped up and down, and generally made as much noise as possible. He caught Bones looking at him with a smirk. Harry stood and clapped with the others. It had been a good game, even if the Chasers got super tired and sloppy toward the end. He couldn't blame them. It was cold, and they were flying around. Plus, they'd worked hard to score the entire time.

The celebration in the Hufflepuff Common Room was about as loud as it had been in the stands. Harry got some of the food, and after a bit of standing around, he left for his dormitory's safety and relative quiet.

The days leading up to the Christmas Holiday Break went by slowly. Instead of giving less homework, the professors gave more. The Slytherins took Hufflepuff's win as a personal affront to their dignity. Malfoy and a few older Slytherins took to insulting Hufflepuff whenever a professor wasn't around. Harry overheard one of the older Hufflepuffs got jinxed in the back while going to class.

The Ravenclaws didn't take the defeat well either. In class, they didn't interact with the Hufflepuffs much. It might not have been that way for other years, but it was in Harry's classes at least. Mandy and Oliver hadn't liked Harry much anyway.

"You're doing it all wrong!" Granger said to Bones in Charms.

"Leave off, Granger," Abbott huffed. "We'll figure it out on our own, thank you."

Harry glanced across the room. Professor Flitwick had them working on the Locking and Unlocking Charm.

"Don't just think about locking the door. Imagine an unyielding barrier forming in the keyhole," the tiny professor said to Finnigan and Weasley. Somehow, the two of them hadn't blown up their small trunk.

Harry sat with Macmillan. They'd already locked and unlocked their trunk a few times. Macmillan got five points for Hufflepuff for being the first to do so. Granger had as well, but she'd already gained points for an earlier correct answer.

Harry pointed his wand at their trunk. "Colloportus," he whispered, thinking of a hard about an impossible-to-move barrier over the keyhole and lid of the chest.

Macmillan sighed. He stared at the lock for a moment and then said the counter-charm. "Alohomora."

His partner tried to lift the lid. After a moment, he tried again. When the same thing happened, he tried the Unlocking Charm once more. It didn't work.

"Okay… what did you do?" he whispered.

Harry grinned at him. Macmillan sighed heavily and pointed his wand at the trunk again.

Eventually, his partner got it and opened the trunk. Then, it was Harry's turn to unlock it. After going back and forth a few times, it was Harry's turn to get stuck. He unlocked the keyhole and the lid, but something else prevented the trunk from opening. After levitating the trunk and looking at it from all sides, he finally figured out what Macmillan had done. It only took ten minutes to do so.

"That's brilliant," he whispered, unlocking the locked hinges. The Charm had many potential uses.

Harry wished all the classes before the break were as easy. Professor McGonagall loaded them up with a reading assignment, three essays due after the holidays, and an assessment sheet on Harry's progress in her subject. Needless to say, it wasn't glowing. Professor Binns told them to read some obscure book Madam Pince said didn't exist anymore. Professor Snape gave them two essays to finish before the end of the holiday. Professor Sinistra told them to do at least one star chart, while Professor Sprout told them to enjoy their holiday and expect more work the following year. Professor Quirrell looked paler than usual, and his stuttering wasn't as bad. He gave them one essay and released them early for the day.

Harry didn't know exactly what it was, but the Defense Professor was just wrong. That feeling had only increased since Halloween. No one thing stood out about why Harry felt the way he did. Professor Quirrell just made him uncomfortable. His headaches weren't as bad in the class anymore, which should have been a good thing. It wasn't. Now that he could focus more, not only were the lessons pointless and taken straight from the coursebook, but he was also bored. When he was bored, he started looking for things to do. Like focusing on why he didn't like or trust Professor Quirrell.

Anger. Pride. Disappointment. Exhaustion. Sickness.

Harry never felt like he saw fear. The professor was angry with someone or something weeks after Halloween. Professor Quirrell was disappointed in several students who didn't do their assignments. He always looked exhausted, with big bags under his eyes and unnaturally pale skin. That was also sickness. There was more to the illness, though. Petunia once caught the flu and was sick for a week. She moved slowly, coughed, had a runny nose, and demanded soup every day. She'd shoo Harry out of the kitchen so she could eat and then expect him to clean it up after dinner. Quirrell was just sluggish and didn't focus on teaching the lesson.

The moment Harry saw Pride was strange. Professor Quirrell stood straight-backed, his hands locked behind his back, as he stuttered through the dark witches and wizards who worked together with evil beings called inferius, or zombies.

"I-it may not defeat an Inferius outright—oh no, they require f-fire—but it can b-buy you p-precious time. And imps, well, they c-can be quite... oh, w-wrathful, but this spell will s-stop them in their tracks. Imagine... the satisfaction of seeing such a creature... still and helpless... while you remain safe."

The professor had touched on the Full Body Bind Curse but didn't go into how to perform the spell, just that it was useful. That was the week of Halloween when someone talked about dressing up as a zombie.

Thankfully, all classes were done until January. He had a little over three weeks of freedom.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Hannah asked Susan, her lower lip stuck out.

"You'll be fine," Bones snorted. "We'll have all summer to visit."

"Fiiinnee," Abbott sighed dramatically and flopped onto the closest chair. "I just wanted to spend time with my beeestt friend."

"And she'll be here when you get back," Susan snorted. She rolled her eyes and shrugged to the rest of them.

Ernie laughed and poked Hannah's side. Her squeal might have shattered glass.

"Oi, stop whatever that is," someone yelled from the other side of the Common Room.

Hannah got up with a dangerous look.

"I would run," Susan warned without looking at them. She poked a box with her wand and frowned.

Ernie didn't heed her warning. "Titillando!" Hannah yelled as she brandished her wand. A purple jet of light hit Macmillan. Ghostly hands appeared and stated to tickle every inch of his stomach, chest, arms, and neck.

Harry ignored them and watched Susan try to undo his Locking Charm. It was the same trick Ernie used on him. Susan thought she'd already unlocked the small box twice only to find she couldn't open the lid.

"So, what did you ask for Christmas?" Lowe asked Susan. She snuggled down on the chair, a large blanket wrapped around her and a mug of hot chocolate in hand.

"Auntie got my list a few weeks ago," Bones answered as she stuck her tongue out at her friend.

"Soooooooo," Harper asked with a big grin. The gap in her teeth was more prominent when she smiled that big. So far, only Malfoy and a few older students had anything to say about it.

Susan huffed and rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said and looked at Harry. "I can't figure it out, and they won't let me."

He nodded and tapped the exposed hinges on the box with the end of his quill. She blinked at him and swore under her breath. The other girls laughed. "For your information," Susan huffed as she gave the box one last accusing glare, "I asked Auntie for tickets to the Weird Sisters next summer. They are performing at the Moonlit Masquerade right after term is over."

Both Harper and Lowe gasped. Even Abbott stopped tormenting Ernie to look at her.

"What?" Susan muttered, her face turning red.

"You like the Weird Sisters? That's… so brilliant!" Lowe laughed. The others nodded.

Harry debated moving away from the sudden influx of giggling and chattering girls. When the four of them got to talking over one another, he couldn't keep track of who said something and who finished it. It was all too confusing.

Ernie did the smartest thing and escaped to the dormitory while Hannah was distracted.

The day passed quickly. Early the next morning, he waved to the others as they headed for the Entrance Hall and off to their holidays at home. Susan and Harper went off to find an early breakfast while he went up to the Library.

When he entered, he looked around. Usually, Madam Pince was near her desk, but he didn't see her there. Harry found a book and passed by the back corner of the first floor. The doors to the Restricted Section were partially open. He frowned. Madam Pince must not have closed it behind her for some reason.

He took his book back to the main area and took a seat. About fifteen minutes later, the tall, raven-haired witch entered the Library with a frown. She spotted him and stalked to where he sat reading.

"Mr. Potter, did you see anyone?" the Librarian demanded.

He shook his head and pointed to the back corner. "You did leave the gates open to the Restricted Section," he said and returned to his book. After a moment, he realized she hadn't moved and continued to look at him.

"Did you enter?"

Harry shook his head. Wouldn't it be silly to sit around after going in there without permission? She eyed him and nodded once before she stalked off. Harry noticed that she'd drawn her wand.

That did make him curious. What would be in the Restricted Section? Hogwarts was a school with a lot of underage students. There wouldn't be super dangerous books in there, would there? If so, then wouldn't the professors have any books like that in their personal collections? Professor Quirrell seemed like the type to have dangerous books. Professor Snape, too.

That brought on another question. What made a book dangerous? It was a good question for Madam Pince… but maybe once she really believed it wasn't him who was in there.

"So, Potter, come to work with your girlfriend again?" a snarky voice mocked as Harry sat down beside Merriweather. The Head Girl now had bright pink long hair. She said it was a potion gone wrong.

"By Merlin," the older girl sighed and rubbed her temple with one hand. "I'd think you were jealous or envious by how much you tease Potter. If you wanted to ask me out, all you had to do was say so. However, now, the answer is no. Mr. Potter is quite the gentleman and never forces his presence on me," she stated flatly.

Harry winced. He had a feeling that he did, in fact, impose on her quite a bit. They didn't talk. He just worked near her and watched what she did to study. He hadn't worked up the courage to ask how many notebooks she had. His current theory was that she had a notebook for every spell, potion, and subject she'd ever encountered. It was like she was making her own spell books or something.

"Whatever," the dark-haired older student muttered and wandered off.

Merriweather turned to Harry. He shrunk back at her look and made to get up. "No, you don't need to leave," she said softly. "It isn't every day a witch gets her own celebrity who crushes on her," she smirked.

Harry felt his cheeks redden. He quickly shook his head.

"Aww, you don't like me? You're going to hurt my feelings."

Harry thought his face might catch fire. That wasn't what he meant! He opened his mouth to explain, but the older girl laughed.

"Easy, I'm teasing. You've been eyeing my notebooks for a while. Ever going to ask?" she stated with a smile.

Harry fought his desire to hide his face. He took a deep breath. "W-what," he managed to say before he took another deep breath. His face still felt like it was on fire. "What is your notebook?" he asked and realized he mangled the question. His brain wouldn't work properly.

The older witch snorted, but, if anything, her smile grew. "It's made of leather and parchment," she said with a wink. She snorted again, this time louder, and her face went a little pink. "What do you do with all your notes once you finish looking up information for your essays?" she asked, suddenly serious.

Harry frowned. He opened his messenger bag, pulled out a black, leather-bound book, and opened it. All the notes were there.

Merriweather had a strange look on her face. "Okay, you're smarter than I was at your age," she said and shook her head. "However, this is something that Professor Flitwick told me later. What good is all your notes like that?" she asked.

Harry frowned. He flipped through the loose pages. The first page was on trolls, the second on the Knockback Jinx, and the next few were on the Transfiguration Alphabet. He looked back up at her and shrugged.

"Exactly," she grinned. Reaching into her bag, Harry noticed that her entire arm disappeared. He blinked and watched as she seemed to look for something. With a frown, she pulled out her wand and pointed at the opening of her school bag. Without saying anything, a red-covered book jumped into her outstretched hand. "There it is," she laughed. "Here, look through this."

Harry took the offered book and realized it was relatively light. On the cover, in neat handwriting, was "Knitting Charm." Harry opened the cover carefully and frowned. The first parchment, bound to the book by thick leather spirals, had a general description of the Charm, what books were used to gather the information with little square numbers next to them, and a section called "Quick Look." It had the incantation, the wand movement, and the correct intention required to perform the spell.

He took care to flip through all fifteen pages. Some bits were exact quotes from the books mentioned on the first page and what Merriweather thought it meant written underneath. He frowned and read:

The Knitting Charm, Filo Textrum, is a practical spell widely used for crafting garments and fabrics. This Charm animates knitting needles, enabling them to knit autonomously according to the caster's mental design. It is particularly popular among witches and wizards who enjoy creating their own robes, scarves, or socks without the time-consuming manual effort.

While the charm is beginner-friendly, precise mental focus on the desired pattern is essential. Without proper concentration, the needles may produce unintended designs or tangle the yarn into unworkable knots. Advanced practitioners can use Filo Textrum to knit complex patterns, including enchantments for self-mending garments.

[3] Practical Household Spells: A Witch and Wizard's Guide to Domestic Magic by Agatha Purlweave

Underneath the quote and book title, Merriweather wrote her own description:

It's not as easy as it seems. It requires intermediate knowledge of knitting, specifically the method and pattern for knitting a specific object. Heavy focus, exact measurements, and a clear mental image of the final product must be maintained for at least fifteen minutes... make that thirty. More experimentation is required.

Attempts [v4] and [v5] unsuccessful after halfway.

[v6] shows promise. Go slowly and have measurements written down.

[v7] drawing the pattern not only solidifies the object in your mind, but also ensures measurements are clear

Harry looked up. "Blimey," he said and continued to look through the pages.

"It's a Knitting Charm, and The Boy-Who-Lives goes "blimey"? I don't know if I want to laugh or cry," she joked. "Seriously, do you understand what it's talking about?" she questioned, suddenly serious again.

Harry nodded and looked her in the eyes. "It's brilliant. Why do you write the same thing the description says?"

The older witch seemed to consider his question. "The top page in your notes. I think I read trolls at the top. What does your coursebook say about trolls?" she questioned. "The exact words."

Harry fought hard to remember. He knew about trolls now and how magically resistant they are. Their eyes and joints were weak points if someone ever had to defend themselves from an attack. Most trolls were slow of mind and body. He eventually shook his head.

"Yet you knew what a troll was and likely several facts about trolls, right?" she pressed.

Harry nodded.

"That's because those are your words. Not someone else's words. How I explain something is different than how you explain something. It will also stick with you if you rewrite things that you've read in your own words. Now, do you get why I did it?"

He nodded and looked down at her book. A feeling of… something… came over him. He didn't know what it was, but it was something he hadn't felt before. "Thank you," he said softly without looking at her.

"Hey, it's just a book I had lying around. I couldn't let you see all the ancient runes notes I've taken. Your head would spin. Tell you what, if you want it, take it as an early Christmas present."

Harry froze and looked from her to the book. He started to shake his head and give it back.

"No, seriously. I don't need it anymore. If you ever decide to use this system, and don't get me wrong, this isn't a perfect way to do things. The Library has an entire section on how to take notes to use later. Dead useful. Uh… are you crying?" she babbled.

Harry blinked and realized that he was crying. He furiously wiped his eyes with his sleeve and then tried to give the book back.

"Nope, it's your Christmas present. You've been sitting there for weeks watching me do this, and I don't need it anymore. See, I made my own jumper," she laughed. It sounded forced. A pink and white piece of clothing jumped out of her bag before disappearing inside the bottomless pit again.

Harry blinked harder, trying to fight back tears. He wasn't even sure how or why his eyes wanted to cry.

"Now, I need to get back to work. Go ahead and take the book back to your dorm and really study it. This is how Nymphadora and I passed all those dreadful potion classes with Snapie-poo. Dreadful professor, but she wanted to be an Auror, and I will be a Magizoologist. Still have to have N.E.W.T.s in Potions for that," she huffed.

Harry nodded. He had no idea what or who a Nymphadora was or what a Magizoologist was, but he would look them up. Professor Snape's nickname? Well, that was one he wouldn't ever repeat.

In his dorm, Harry closed the privacy curtains and sat on the uncomfortable bed. He stared down at the first Christmas present he'd ever received. It took him a little bit to realize why he'd started crying. Shame. He didn't need a mirror to know how he looked. He'd cried in front of someone who he looked up to. Not only was it embarrassing, but there were probably a bunch of other Hufflepuffs who saw him.

His fingers ran over the uneven surface of the red leather. He realized he didn't want anything to happen to it. What better time to try to make his own book? He had all break to do so.

Cauldwell was the only one of his dorm mates who'd stayed during the break. Wayne Harper got a last-minute letter and talked to Professor Sprout. He'd left the school some other way than the Hogwarts Express. When Harry saw Cauldwell, the dark-haired boy had shaved the sides of his head. It was a popular look with a famous European wizard, or so he'd claimed. His dorm mate didn't seem to mind that Harry had essentially taken over the table and chairs in the middle of their dormitory. If anything, he seemed amused by all the books.

"Mate… I know you've probably been told this a hundred times, but you really did belong in Ravenclaw. Are all of these books yours?" Owen asked with a snort. "These are like… never mind. Do whatever you want, Potter. You do anyway. I'll let Bones and Harper know that you're holed up in here for a while. They were looking for you most of yesterday."

Harry nodded and returned to comparing his new notes and Merriweather's book. He didn't have cool leather-bound books like she did to put his notes in.

"I'm telling you, he's possessed," Cauldwell said to another student at dinner that night. Harry didn't know their name, but he thought they might be a third or fourth year.

"I hear it's a crush," someone else laughed.

Harry ignored them and Bones and Harper's pointed, unhappy looks. He continued to read his checklist of ideas as he ate.

Christmas morning was another shock. Two presents lay on his trunk. The first was clearly a book in some brown paper, and the other was a lumpy package of some sort. He opened the book.

It was a red-covered leather book. At first, he got excited, hoping for more of Merriweather's notes. When he opened it, he saw photos of a couple. One was a pretty red-haired woman with the biggest smile. The man had messy dark hair and big glasses. He looked at the scribbled words under the photo:

Midsummer Ball - 1977

Lily Evans and James Potter

Harry gulped. These must be his parents. The pictures were mostly of them together, but one or two were taken while they had to have been at Hogwarts. James Potter had a dark-haired young man with him much of the time and a portly, short wizard. Sometimes, there would be a taller wizard with scars across his face. However, what drew Harry's attention the most was his mother.

Lily Evans was beautiful and had a brilliant smile. The picture of her wedding to his dad was… hard to look at. He closed the book and put it away. Tears burned his eyes. They'd been happy. So very happy.

Harry finally found the card that went with the package on the floor. Hagrid had sent it. He felt disappointed in himself for not going to see the groundskeepers now. It was something he would fix.

The second package was light and bulky at the same time. He couldn't find a card with it, so he looked all over to make sure it hadn't fallen on the floor or behind his trunk.

Harry's eyes went to the red book full of photos. He opened the package and frowned. It was a silvery cloth that both reflected and sucked in light. Harry held it up and looked at it. He could almost see through it. It was like looking through a mist. With a shrug, he put it over his shoulders.

It felt nice on his shoulders, not too heavy nor too light. He turned to look in the mirror beside his bed to see how it looked on him and froze. Only the reflection of his head was there. He looked down and realized that his body was gone. A surge of panic gripped him. Had he somehow gotten a cursed object? Professor Quirrell talked about the dangers of cursed things left out for the unsuspecting wizard.

He threw the cloak off and appeared in the mirror. Blinking, he looked down at his body. It was there. Turning around, he looked at the silvery fabric that seemed solid and, at the same time, liquid. Carefully, he picked it up again and held it up in front of him. He looked in the mirror. Everything below his chest was gone.

"Barmy," he breathed out.

Harry carefully took the fabric and put it over his body. As expected, he didn't show up in the mirror.

"This is so barmy," he said again.