Sunday, 1st September

By the end of August, Dumbledore was still no closer to finding the boy and it was worrying him greatly. By the first of September, with the Hogwarts Express on the way and dozens of new students to sort, he was left with no choice.

He sat alone in his office, gazing at the letter he had just finished drafting to The Daily Prophet. The quill lay still in his hand as he pondered the words he had chosen. He knew the importance of controlling the narrative, especially when it came to the Boy Who Lived. The last thing he needed was a public uproar - rumours spiralling out of control and causing unnecessary panic.

Taking a deep breath, he sealed the letter and politely asked Fawkes if he'd care to deliver it.

What he'd written was a… delicate balance between truth and lie, but in his mind, it was a necessary one. At the very least, the story he'd spun should buy him more time to find Harry before any other, more unsavoury, figures did.

With a thrill, the phoenix landed on his desk next to him, and Dumbledore gently attached the letter to the majestic bird's leg. Fawkes immediately soared out of the window, leaving the Headmaster to contemplate the choices he had made.

He had, of course, conferred with the Heads of Houses before making this decision, and they had reacted…

Well.

They had reacted just as he'd predicted, really, with Minerva being the most vocal in her disagreement, while Severus's scowl silently screamed just as loud about his own dissatisfaction with the, admittedly, only temporary solution.

If he wasn't careful, this entire disastrous situation with the young Mr Potter could turn the Potions Master away from him entirely. He'd always been somewhat sceptical of Dumbledore's choices in the past, but his levels of resentment and distrust had appeared to reach an all-time high.

Nevertheless, it had to be done.

Hopefully, no one would read too much into the inevitable Daily Prophet article, and after an initial outcry from the public, things would continue on as normal - or, at least, as normal as they could with the noticeable absence of a particular eleven-year-old boy that was.

As he sat on the dais and watched Minerva lead the new wide-eyed first years into the Great Hall, Dumbledore knew that the coming days would be challenging.

"Abbot, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line of children, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes - Merlin, they were so young - and sat down.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

He and the other professors could continue searching for Harry discreetly while the general populace remained none-the-wiser. Over time, their attention would ideally shift to other matters and the absence of the boy would soon become a topic of occasional speculation rather than constant scrutiny.

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

A sandy-haired boy sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

But Dumbledore wasn't a fool. The wizarding world may temporarily accept the narrative presented to them, but he knew that time was running out, and the truth would eventually come to light.

"Perks, Sally-Anne!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The bespectacled girl ran to her new seat.

"Pot-"

Minerva stopped and a palpable pause settled over the room. The younger years, of course, had no idea what the hold-up was, but Dumbledore could see some of the older students giving each other confused glances and whispered questions.

Professor McGonagall's lips were drawn in a thin line, and she briefly turned to face him, going so far as to give him the most disapproving look he felt that he had ever been on the receiving end of, her eyes narrowing and a fierce scowl on her face. Next to him, Snape snorted into his pumpkin juice at the audacity of the woman, no doubt remembering just why she was the only staff member he could tolerate, before quickly covering up his reaction with a dignified cough.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, as "Thomas, Dean!" was called out next, and order was restored once more.

For now, all the Headmaster could do was wait and hope that Fawkes delivered the message safely to The Daily Prophet - and that the fate of the Boy Who Lived would remain his to decide for the greater good.

Monday, 9th September

For the first time in his life, Harry James Potter could actually say that he was genuinely happy.

Not as happy as he would be if, say, he'd been brought up in the wizarding world like he should have been or had received his Hogwarts letter in time enough to accept his place at a literal magic school, but…

Well, this was the next best thing.

It was Monday evening, the start of his second week at secondary school in St Brutus, and so far, he had truly enjoyed it - but he enjoyed his extracurricular studies even more.

As promised, last week Rowle had brought him some new books; Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts being the most important, along with Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, and he had been devouring them ever since. He had also been in something of a perpetual state of embarrassment - seeing his own name regularly staring back at him from an official, proper, actually published and respected history book - and astonishment, both for that same reason but also because Rowle had been right.

He had defeated the greatest Dark Lord of all times… when he'd been a baby!

Harry wondered, briefly, if the wizarding world had different standards for what they considered great.

Either way, here he was, one week later, doing his history homework in the library while waiting for Rowle to show up with his new stack of books.

Harry had never even considered himself particularly studious before. It wasn't through lack of trying; it was just because the Dursleys barely ever gave him enough time to finish his homework in primary school before giving him a list of chores to do, let alone any extra time that he could've used to study beyond the bare minimum. He'd never really had the opportunity to care about his schoolwork before, but now that he did, and since there wasn't much else to do around here anyway, he found that he quite enjoyed reading ahead in the second-hand graffiti-covered textbooks that Principal Hayward had given him the Sunday before.

It only made him stand out even more from the other boys at the school - apparently, those sentenced to the soft equivalent of a juvenile detention centre weren't particularly academic or ambitious - but he didn't mind, since that only meant that they more or less left him alone, since Harry was one of the incredibly few students who bothered to use the library.

And besides, his new subjects were far more interesting than his primary school ones anyway. He'd even started French class last Tuesday, which was incredibly fascinating, and he often fell asleep each night with dreams of running away to Paris and starting his life anew if this whole joining-the-wizarding-world-super-late thing didn't work out.

"Hey ho! Look lively, Evans!"

Harry jumped, startled, and then automatically flinched as something was suddenly tossed down on the table in front of him, obscuring his muggle history textbook, which in turn had been obscuring his Modern Magical History textbook - a cover just in case anyone managed to sneak up on him.

Like Rowle just did.

"Don't scare me like that!" He scowled at the older boy fiercely even as his heartbeat started to slow at the lack of a threat.

"I said look lively" he countered, "And besides, how d'you expect to survive in a fucking place like this if anyone can get the drop on you?"

"I was studying!"

"And, what, you think that'll stop them?" Rowle dragged out the chair next to him and collapsed down in it. "Mark my words, Evans. As soon as the shock wears off Greg and his gang, they'll be out for blood. Your blood".

Harry continued to glare even though he knew that the blond had a point. As obsessed as he'd been over the past week delving into the history of the wizarding world and how his parents and the Dark Lord - Voldemort, his name was - and the war were all connected, he hadn't neglected that other book Rowle had given him about how to fool muggles in order to make a quick getaway.

He still hadn't tried any spells though.

Part of him was worried about what he'd do if they worked.

But a far far larger part of him was worried about what he'd do if they didn't.

"You not gonna look at your present?"

Harry blinked, confused, and then remembered the thud of pages hitting his textbooks. He glanced down to see what it was, secretly hoping for a book about the Potters specifically, or at least well-known wizarding families in general, only to find-

"The pictures are moving!"

Rowle snorted. "Yeah. They do that".

"But- But- But they're moving!"

"All magical photographs do".

Harry stared at him and then back down at the… newspaper, he guessed, given the large swirling letters at the top reading The Daily Prophet. So witches and wizards even had their own newspapers too?!

"It's a week old" Rowle continued, sounding far too casual given that the pictures were moving, "But since it came out last Monday and I only went home last Saturday, I'm surprised my mother still had it at all. I haven't read it myself - I don't much fancy reading in general really - but there's an article in it I think you'd like".

Harry stared at the moving pictures for another moment before slowly, reluctantly, turning to face him.

"It's about that Potter kid" the blond said, leaning back in his seat, "Apparently, he didn't show up at Hogwarts like he was meant to, and the Headmaster sent the Prophet a letter explaining it all… or, at least, explaining something".

He had barely finished speaking before Harry had grabbed the newspaper, flipped it open, and-

BOY WHO LIVED… TO DISAPPEAR?

He froze before forcing himself to breathe again even as his eyes darted down just enough to see the date - Monday, September 2, 1991- and the author - Rita Skeeter - and then bypass the article entirely as he fought desperately to control his emotions.

They knew he was missing. They knew it. And they obviously believed this Boy Who Lived rubbish because he'd made front page news! So just why the hell weren't they searching for him?!

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to focus his attention on the other, much smaller article squeezed in at the bottom of the page.

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

By Andy Smudley

It wouldn't have even caught his eye if it weren't for the date - the break-in at this "Gringotts" place had happened on his birthday. Curiosity bubbling over his anger, he read the opening paragraph.

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you" said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

So, Gringotts was a wizarding bank, then, and an important one too if this break-in was such a big deal. And there was that term again - Dark wizard. Not Dark Lord, like Rowle had described Voldemort as being, but a Dark wizard. But why were Dark wizards treated like they were a big deal? Were they different from other, non-Dark wizards? And what even made them Dark? He knew that they practised the Dark Arts, but surely that wasn't the only distinction?

Feeling somewhat calmer now after the brief distraction, he turned his attention back to the newspaper article that had been written about… well.

Him.

BOY WHO LIVED… TO DISAPPEAR?

By Ria Skeeter

In a shocking turn of events that has left the wizarding world reeling, the Boy Who Lived, Harry James Potter, has seemingly vanished into thin air. With the start of the new term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry fast approaching, one can't help but wonder: where is the saviour of the wizarding world?

We all know the story of that fateful Halloween night almost ten years ago - how You-Know-Who perished at the hands of a toddler, at the expense of James and Lily Potter. Since then, young Mr Potter's enrolment at Hogwarts has been anticipated with bated breath, with many believing that he would go on to achieve great things within the hallowed halls of the prestigious school.

Yet, as the Hogwarts Express chugged away from Platform 9¾ yesterday morning, Harry Potter was nowhere to be found. Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, the Viscount Warwick, reached out to the Daily Prophet to shed some light on the situation [see letter attachment below], however, his response to this unforeseen tragedy is cryptic, to say the least.

Dear Editor,

I hope this message finds you in good health. I write to you today with a sombre tale to share about one of our own, the young Harry Potter.

Regrettably, Harry will not be joining his peers at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this academic year. It is with a heavy heart that I must inform the wizarding community that Harry recently found himself in a situation that required him to distance himself from the magical world temporarily.

Lately, Harry has been experiencing unintentional outbursts of accidental magic that have, unfortunately, affected those closest to him. Fearful that he might unintentionally cause harm to his muggle relatives or future classmates, Harry has chosen to remove himself from the magical environment until he gains better control over his abilities. This decision, while undoubtedly a difficult one for him, reflects his deep concern for the well-being of those around him.

As we respect the privacy and safety of our students, it is paramount that we extend this courtesy to Harry and his family during this challenging time. I kindly ask for your understanding and support in not speculating or spreading unfounded rumours about this matter.

Rest assured, we are working diligently to ensure that Harry receives the assistance and guidance he needs to overcome this challenging period. The wizarding world is resilient, and with time, I believe Harry will return to us with newfound strength and control over his magical abilities.

In the meantime, let us keep Harry Potter and his family in our thoughts. Hogwarts will eagerly await his sorting when the time is right.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Viscount Warwick. Headmaster; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Order of Merlin; First Class. Grand Sorcerer. Chief Warlock. Supreme Mugwump; International Confederation of Wizards.

Could Dumbledore be hiding something? Is there more to Harry Potter's disappearance than meets the eye? Could darker forces be at play here? Where has the Headmaster moved the boy? Will he ever return to the wizarding world? Or does he think himself too important to be amongst us mere mortals?

As we await further developments, one thing remains clear: the absence of Harry Potter leaves a void that cannot easily be filled. Whether he has simply gone into hiding or fallen victim to a more sinister fate, only time will tell. But until the Boy Who Lived resurfaces, we shall all be left to wonder: has the light of hope been extinguished, or is it merely waiting to shine once more?

Hot, boiling, anger seared just below the surface of his skin and his hands trembled as he clutched the newspaper, his eyes burning with indignation and betrayal and hurt.

How dare they insinuate that he had chosen to distance himself from Hogwarts. How dare this Skeeter woman imply that he was staying away because he thought he was better than them. How dare Albus Dumbledore, Viscount Warwick, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and whatever lie and say that it had been his decision not to go to school, his decision to not accept his place, his decision to leave the Dursleys and cut himself off from his birthright-

That familiar tingling warmth coursed through his blood and he knew that if it didn't find some way of calming down now, that he would lash out - and that the Prophet, his textbooks, and quite possibly Rowle would get burned in the process.

He needed another distraction, but more than that, he needed some answers.

"Albus Dumbledore" he bit out, his voice tight and wavering ever-so-slightly, "Who is he again?"

Thankfully, Rowle didn't seem to notice, and he had his eyes shut as he leaned back in his chair, so fortunately he couldn't see Harry's stalled breakdown either.

"He's the guy who runs Hogwarts, like how Hayward runs this place" he replied, "He was also the leader of the opposition when the Dark Lord was rising to power, and I think he's some sort of bigshot in Wizengamot right now. Head Warlock or something? I don't know, and I don't fucking care".

What Harry wouldn't give to be able to simply not care.

"Is that why he's the one who wrote to the newspaper saying that I- I mean, saying that the- the Boy Who Lived wasn't at Hogwarts? Cause he's the principal or whatever?"

"Yeah, probably".

"But- But then what's all this about- about Potter's family? How would- How would Dumbledore know anything about that?"

Which he clearly didn't, given that the Headmaster apparently thought Harry and the Dursleys were the best of friends and that they, you know, actually cared if either of them lived or died.

"Well, I mean, I don't know the full story, but I do know that on the night the kid killed the Dark Lord, it was Dumbledore who gave him to his new guardians. The Potters were pretty high up the old man's rankings, so he probably felt he had a duty or some other shit to look after the kid".

Harry barely bit back a snort in time. There was no possible way in hell, with any meaning or interpretation, that Albus bloody Dumbledore could claim to have "looked after him".

"But didn't he tell anyone where he sent him?"

"Not that I know of". Rowle opened his dark eyes and gave the boy a somewhat annoyed look. "And what's with all the questions anyway? You've got a weird fucking fascination with this kid, Evans. I thought by bringing you the newspaper you'd finally shut up about it!"

"Sorry" he automatically replied, quickly turning away. The last thing he needed was for the blond to decide that he wasn't worth the hassle of carrying extra books every weekend.

Glancing back down at the copy of the Headmaster's letter, he silently mouthed the man's titles to himself once more.

Albus Dumbledore. Viscount Warwick. Headmaster; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Order of Merlin; First Class. Grand Sorcerer. Chief Warlock. Supreme Mugwump; International Confederation of Wizards.

Harry didn't understand what they all meant - he didn't even understand what half of them meant - but he did know enough to realise that Dumbledore was probably a very important person in the wizarding world. Important enough that people would listen to him. So then why was he telling everyone that Harry had run away from the Dursleys? That Dumbledore himself had found him, or at least was providing the "assistance" and "guidance" that he thought Harry supposedly needed? Why not tell people he was missing so that they could search for him? Find him?

Why lie?

He tried reading the article again, but the words blurred together, his mind struggling to comprehend the implications of what he was looking at. By telling everyone that Harry wasn't missing, that Dumbledore knew exactly where he was, then no one would be looking for him. But how could anyone think that he'd willingly abandon Hogwarts? His only chance of- of- of finding a place where he belonged?!

Harry knew that he couldn't afford to let his emotions get the better of him, not now. All thoughts and concerns about accidental magic aside, Rowle had already told him off for asking too many questions, and if the blond realised how upset he was over this then he might start piecing things together - and Harry couldn't risk that happening.

Okay.

So.

He had to be smart about this.

Logical - like that eagle or raven or whatever-bird-it-was house he'd come across in A History of Magic.

What could he do?

Well, if the wizarding world thought that he had disappeared, then he needed to prove them wrong. But how?

"Ah fuck, kid, enough with the puppy dog face!" Rowle suddenly exclaimed, causing him to startle, "You look like I just kicked your favourite teddy bear!"

"No, I don't-"

"Yeah, you fucking do". The front legs of his chair hit the ground with a thud. "Look… I get it, alright? Well, I mean, I don't get it get it but I get it, you know?"

Harry very much did not know.

"I just-" Rowle sighed and ran a hand through wavy platinum blond hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. You don't know any of this and… it just fucking frustrates me sometimes because I kind of know what that's like but at least I still have my mother whereas you were fucking brought up without magic completely, but… well, that wasn't your fucking fault".

His gaze drifted down to the newspaper still clutched in the younger boy's hands.

"I really don't know much about what Dumbledore did with the Potter kid; like I said, that night's not exactly my mother's favourite subject and I don't have contact with any other witches or wizards to ask them about it… but what I can tell you, is that even with all of those fucking ridiculous rumours going around, no one actually thought that Dumbledore would just… send the baby off to a bunch of fucking muggles". He shook his head in disgust, but Harry wasn't sure if he was disgusted by Dumbledore's actions or by muggles themselves. "Anyway, the point is, Dumbledore is facing a lot of fucking backlash now that it's all coming out".

Good.

Harry couldn't quell the surprisingly vicious thought, but then again, he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to, either, given that this was the same man who had left him on the Dursley's doorstep and never once checked up on him afterwards.

At the same time, however…

He could kind of understand the Headmaster's reasoning - not wanting him to grow up spoiled, thinking he was brilliant and better than everyone else because of what he supposedly did as a baby. He would've ended up like Dudley then, only worse, and Harry grimaced at the thought. He honestly wasn't sure if growing up with a wizarding family would have been worth the trade-off of everyone knowing his name and being hounded by reporters twenty-four-seven. At least now, this way, he could teach himself magic without all of that added stress.

Sure, he wanted to join the magical world eventually - there was no question whatsoever about that - but it wasn't because of his fame or fortune or whatever, it was because magic was bloody awesome and he never wanted to live a day without it ever again.

But now that he knew just how famous he was, he'd have to adjust that plan. Not by a lot, not now anyway, but he'd need to know enough magic before entering the wizarding world to protect himself with, at least. Harry couldn't imagine his return going unnoticed for long, after all, not if everyone was this obsessed with the Boy Who Lived persona before he'd even met them - Him? On front page news? Really?!

"-overdue some bad publicity, if you ask me" Rowle was still saying, "He's been up on that high horse of his for far too long".

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Dumbledore! Who the fuck else?" He huffed before leaning back in his chair once more. "Honestly, that meddlesome old fool has far too much power as it is - and you can bet your last knut that this disappearing Boy Who Lived clusterfuck is covering up something too! I bet the old man's just as panicked as the rest of the wizarding world and has no idea where Potter's gone".

Harry turned his gaze back to the newspaper thoughtfully.

He had considered somehow finding a way to contact Dumbledore, but if what Rowle said was true, then….

Well.

It was Albus Dumbledore who'd left him with Dursleys first day, so if Harry did contact him, then who's to say he wouldn't send him straight back there? He couldn't return to Surrey - not now, not ever! The overall unpleasantness of the Dursleys aside, if he was forced to return to them then he'd lose all contact with Rowle, and with him, the wizarding world and magic.

There was still a lot that Harry didn't know, but he did know one thing for sure.

He wouldn't give up magic for anything.

Saturday, 21st September

With his mind made up, Harry started to plan.

He knew he needed to take matters into his own hands - Dumbledore's letter to The Daily Prophet had painted a picture of him voluntarily distancing himself from the wizarding world, and also heavily implied that the Headmaster himself agreed with it too.

So no one was coming to find him, and until Harry learned more about Dumbledore, the war, Dark magic, and all the rest of it, he couldn't risk contacting him either. He couldn't trust Dumbledore yet. Not after what he had done to him. Leaving him with the Dursleys, ignorant of his true heritage, was a betrayal Harry couldn't easily forgive.

But he didn't have anyone else he could contact, even if he did have a way to do so which he didn't, because he didn't know anyone else in the wizarding world, now did he?

Rowle's mother wasn't even an option. Aside from not wanting to tell her who he really was, and the fact that she had cut herself off from the rest of society, Rowle had said that she'd supported the Dark Lord during the war, and since Harry had apparently killed the guy…

Well, he just wasn't entirely sure that she'd even want to help.

So no. Contacting someone wasn't an option right now, not until he'd learned as much as he could on his own. His hunger for knowledge burned brighter than ever, fueled not only by his curiosity but also now by the injustice of it all too. Harry made his decision. He would continue his studies, delve deeper into the books Rowle provided, and learn as much as he could about magic. He would carve his own path, seek his own answers, and reclaim his place in the wizarding world on his own terms.

He was already making progress - he'd finished both A History of Magic and Easy Spells to Fool Muggles during the week and was already halfway through Modern Magical History too. He'd decided to ignore the Ministry's Legislative Guide for now - the one and only time he'd flipped through it had left him somewhat traumatised, to say the least, seeing all those long fancy words and tiny print and official law terms. Instead, he'd finish Magical Theory, which was slow going but thankfully understandable, and that first-year charms book too, before he even attempted to pick the legislation up again.

By then, he hoped to have learned enough to start trying out spells, so he'd need to get through the Legislative Guide to make sure Rowle was correct about his magic not being detected.

The blond seemed… pleased by his interest in the Dark Arts, although Harry wasn't entirely sure why, but at least that meant that he'd been willing to bring him even more books on the matter last Monday, despite the not insignificant pile that was already on the boy's desk. Now, in addition to The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, he had Quentin Trimble's Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and The Dark Arts: A Legal Companion too - both of which his head was currently buried in.

The first one was especially fascinating, teaching him about hags, vampires, werewolves, and even zombies, not to mention a whole bunch of hexes and jinxes that he was just itching to try out. The latter, on the other hand, was another archaic-sounding Ministry text that made Harry scrunch his nose up in confusion, but at least it had answered some of his questions surrounding Dark magic.

Although many so-called Dark spells were frowned upon by much of society, they weren't actually illegal aside from the three Unforgivables. Harry had snorted when he'd read that - the wizarding world really didn't seem to try too hard when it came to naming things. The Killing Curse that Rowle had once mentioned was one of the three; Avada Kedavra.

He tried desperately to block out echoing screams and a flash of green light.

The other two, the Imperius - Imperio - and the Cruciatus - Crucio - were used to control and torture people, so Harry understood why they were banned. The rest of the Dark Arts, however, was fair game, and although Britain seemed to dislike it, other countries were far more accepting, with another wizarding school, Durmstrang, even teaching its students how to safely practise Dark magic as well as defend against it.

And-

Wasn't that cool? There was another wizarding school?! Many others, in fact, as Harry had come across at least five places aside from Hogwarts that taught magic, and he briefly wondered why he hadn't received letters from any of them. Rowle soon explained that it had to do with what country you were from, so since he was British, only Hogwarts would reach out. If he wanted to go to the other schools, he'd have to apply himself, but either way, the point was moot since school had already started and it wasn't as if his so-called guardians would sign the necessary documents either.

Anyway, use of the Unforgivables would land someone with a life sentence in Azkaban, which was apparently a magical prison guarded by these huge hulking creepy ghost-like things called Dementors - his Dark Forces book had called them "the foulest creatures that walk this earth" since they fed on human happiness and could even suck out a person's soul.

Harry was beyond grateful to not have learned about these creatures before now; he was going to be having nightmares for the next month!

Thankfully, Rowle also agreed to keep bringing him The Daily Prophet every Monday. His mother usually recycled or burned the newspaper when she was done reading it every day, but not always. Rowle didn't want his mother getting suspicious or asking questions since he wasn't, technically, allowed to be lending Harry anything, so he was usually glad to get even just one copy a week.

Some of it, admittedly, went straight over his head - either because he was too young to understand the article, he didn't know enough about magic or the wizarding world yet, or simply because he found some things just too boring to read - but a lot of it he understood, and he grateful to get any insight into the current affairs of wizards. A few of the articles even made him laugh out loud:

QUEEN'S CORGI TURNS INTO HAMSTER

OLDEST WIZARD IS 255; 10 MILLION PARTY GUESTS EXPECTED

UNFORTUNATE BROOM FLYER HIT BY MUGGLE HELICOPTER

Asides from the occasional opinion piece, there were no more stories about his disappearance, which was both irritating and relieving in equal measure. It allowed him to focus more on his textbooks, at least, which he was incredibly grateful for given that he not only had to do his schoolwork for St Brutus but Rowle's Year Nine maths homework too. Thankfully, the teachers were pleased with his grades so far, and the stern-faced librarian had even started to smile at him now since he spent almost every waking moment there studying something or other and didn't cause any trouble.

But aside from a weekly rotation of chores that all the boys had to take part in, Harry didn't have anything else to do. He'd never before realised just how much time the Dursleys' cooking and cleaning and gardening took up - if he didn't have magic to study, he was sure he'd have been driven mad by boredom weeks ago!

Except he did have magic to study, and a stack of eight textbooks he still had to get through, as well as all of his usual coursework plus some of Rowle's, so it was safe to say that right now, Harry was incredibly busy and more than a little bit stressed.

And he was loving every single second of it.

For the first time since arriving at St Brutus, his future looked bright.