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Chapter Text

Ned O’Reilly was nursing a slight headache as his beat-up pickup truck bumped and thumped down the dirt track. Bloody jet-lagged, he supposed, on top of having to navigate several big cities and their confusing airports over the past two weeks. He was a simple farm bloke after all. It had been hard enough flying to London, but returning with an ankle-biter in tow? At least Harry was a quiet, well-behaved tiddler.  

“How ya doing, Harry?”

A mumbled reply from the child in the passenger seat. The boy was fidgeting restlessly, crossing and uncrossing his legs. 

“Do ya need to go?’ A desperate nodding. Ned pulled up under a thicket of ghost gums.

“Watch out for snakes!” Ned warned as Harry leapt down from the vehicle. He engaged the handbrake before joining his ward at their trackside toilet. Number one done, Harry pulled up his pants and plodded back to the pickup. Somewhere a kookaburra laughed. Ned grinned as he hoisted the lad back into his truck. He barely weighed anything. Poor mite.

The phone call to the farmstead a month back had been a surprise. Some lawyer from London calling about his distant cousin killed in an accident and a child needing a home. Dreadful thing what happened to Cousin Petunia and her bloke, even if he barely knew them. He had last been in England more than twenty years back, to attend Aunt Mavis’ wedding. His mom had pointed out two little girls slightly younger than he was, daughters of her cousin Lydia. As he understood it, Harry was the younger girl Lily’s son and had been orphaned in a car accident when still a baby. It was sheer luck Petunia had left young Harry with a neighbour the day the Dursleys’ car broke down on the rail crossing. The Dursleys did not have the time to leave the car before the 9.10 came.

Missed the bloody funeral of course. The family home went to some unmarried sister, who had no desire to take in a little boy. They could have shuffled little Harry into foster care, but somehow, they had found that tenacious family link between the O’Reillys down under and one Harry Potter. He knew precious little about Harry’s parents, or even the family who had the care of him until a month ago. Ned did notice the watchful look in his eyes, the fading bruises and scars on his arms, and how any sudden moves made little Harry shrink away. Like Old Man Walters’ long-suffering mutt once did. No one in Cobbler Creek missed the mean old man when he finally passed. Old Buster lived out his days on the porch of the General Store, kindly treated by Ma Kelly. Up to the day he went to the Great Sheep Run in the sky.

Someone had not been treating the boy right, but that was past now. 

They were passing the billabong now, a flock of lories soaring overhead like a colourful flag in the setting sun. They passed the cattle pens and rumbled up to the gate before the farmhouse. Mathilda was just stepping out onto the veranda to ring the dinner bell. She waddled clumsily thanks to their latest child, expected within the next two months if not sooner.

Ned killed the engine and glanced over to the boy. He was fast asleep. Poor tiddler must be tuckered out. Gently, he lifted Harry into his arms. Bath and a hot meal could wait for now.  

Ned noticed the old man, gnarled as an ancient tree in the shade of the shed. Watchful, waiting and still.

“Good to have you back, Mister Ned,” old Albert Murray stepped out into the fading dusk.

“Good to see you too, Murray…” Ned called out as he carried the slumbering child into the farmhouse. The old Aboriginal’s milky blind eyes seemed to follow him and the child.  

In the Dreamtime, the Rainbow Serpent crawled across the night sky… The Song it left in its wake sank deep into the red earth becoming part of the land. Migrants seeking new homes, by canoe, sailing ships, steamships and more recently on manmade birds… The native song of the land was then overlaid by each new generation as they came into their own.

Albert Murray hummed softly. Raised with the strictures of the Mission Schools, Ned O’Reilly cannot see or feel the heartbeat of the land so readily. But he was a good man at heart, a worthy chieftain – strength tempered with kindness. He will be a good father to the boy. Someone else was needed to show him the Song-paths.

Mathilda O’Reilly tutted as she scrubbed little Harry. He was seven but could pass for a five-year-old. Too scrawny for her liking. And she had seen such children when she was still an outstation nurse, neglected by parents or relatives who simply could not cope. He had shivered as she filled the battered tin tub and took a flannel to him. Not from the cold, for she had put the kettle on for his bath. These were scars and bruises not from rough play as she had often seen on her children. Bruises in the shape of a large hand on his arm, healing welts and scars to his back and legs. Ned and her brothers had similar marks on their legs from being flogged in the Mission Schools before they did away with corporal punishment. But on a child as young as Harry? Her mother’s heart broke. Gently, she dried her new foundling off. They might have some clothes Perry had outgrown that might fit. They might not have much, but they had enough to go round.  

“F-for me?” Wearing one of Perry’s old shirts and pants, Harry stared at the bowl of stew before him in wonder. It smelled delicious. Surely it could not be for him.  

“Yes, it is for you… Eat up, mate,” Ned called out cheerfully. He met his wife’s eyes across the table. The rest of the household had already eaten as Harry slept and bathed. They could introduce him properly at breakfast. Mathilda had saved a bowl of beef stew in the oven to keep it warm for Harry. This she had served with a crust of damper. Harry hesitantly took a spoonful and almost cried. It tasted so good, far better than the leftovers he scrounged from the Dursleys, the greasy burgers or dry, bland airplane meals. And he was allowed to eat it all.

“Perry, Josh, this is Harry. He will be living with us…” Ned introduced him to his sons. The brothers were dark-haired and tanned as their father. Harry clung shyly to Uncle Ned. Aunt Mathilda had found a blanket and pillow for him.

“Hiya…” the younger boy smiled. “I’m Perry…”

“Josh… Nice to meet you…”

“Off to bed now… Harry, where’re you going?” Uncle Ned asked as Harry started walking to the closet with his blanket and pillow.  

“C-cupboard?” Harry gave a puzzled look. He had seen only one bunk bed. There was nowhere for him. Freaks did not deserve a room or bed…

“We share!” Perry insisted as he pulled Harry into the lower bunk. He moved his own pillow and blanket over a bit, so Harry had space to crawl in alongside him. Josh clambered up into the top bunk.

“We’re family now, Harry… Family watch out for each other,” the older boy whispered. “G’dnight, Dad!”

Ned switched the light off, thankful to have such kind, understanding boys.

Breakfast brought its own challenges and chaos. Farmhands nipping in for coffee or a bite. The Kelly girls bringing over some jam and tarts from their Gran. Someone shouting that old Bill has fallen into the mudhole, can someone help them pull him out? It was confusing for Harry watching so many different people come and go. A dozen happenings were going on at once in the small kitchen. He caught sight of his new cousins and smiled. They had not beaten him up like Dudley did. There were nine of them, Perry told him. The three oldest – Eddie, Alice, Benny - were away at boarding school in Darwin. Clara was to start next year. Now she was helping feed the twins. The rest of them took lessons by wireless, except the twins Steve and Irwin, the babies of the family until Mom gives them a new sister or brother.  

This was the beating heart of the farmstead. Harry felt the rhythmic flow and ebb of life. A girl his age was gesturing with her hands. Perry explained that she was their little sister Helen. She was asking him to pass the orange juice. Something went wrong when she was born. Helen was profoundly deaf. Alice had brought home a book on sign language when she came back for the hols and tried to teach her siblings. They had to teach her lessons separately.

What if he did the bad freaky stuff Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always punished him for? He must be grateful, behave, no freakiness. It was the least he could do for the family that had taken him in.

A leathery-skinned old man with snowy-white hair and milky eyes. He took a chair vacated by one of the young farmhands and thanked Aunt Mathilda when she ladled out his porridge. Blind, Josh whispered to Harry. Just watch out for old Albert and help him get around, will you? As Harry watched Albert spoon porridge into his mouth, he thought the old man nod at him. Then Uncle Ned was asking Harry and his sons if they would like to come with him to see the calves before they pick up the tractor parts from O’Rourke.

Life on the farmstead had its rhythm, and it was nothing like Little Whinging. Frenetic activity from dawn to dusk, with a lull in the midday heat. The quiet stillness in the hours of darkness after sunset, though these might be deceptive. Ned and the farmhands had been roused from their slumber before by alarms – dingos or wild dogs trying to break into the calving pens.

Harry worked hard alongside his cousins doing the chores. Fetching water, gathering eggs, sweeping up the porch. He must earn his keep… He would have offered to cook in the kitchen, but Aunt Mathilda was very firm about him being too young to work over the stove. Instead, she set him to peel potatoes when she was sure he could handle a peeler, and to knead dough for the oven. Clara and Helen helped in the house. When Harry’s stronger, he can join Perry and Josh in the cattle pens. Does he know how to ride? Maybe they could show him how.

Old Albert sat in the shade of the house most days as Harry busied himself in the yard or kitchen. Blind yet watchful. He would often hum a droning tune and Harry often found himself humming along as well.

It was odd sitting at the kitchen table in the mid-afternoon and taking his lessons over the wireless. Harry had only been in Little Whinging’s elementary school for about six months before he came here. Miss Wattle lived in Alice Springs, four hours away by truck. Harry heard her voice but never met her. She would teach them over the air. Aunt Mathilda or Mrs Kelly from the down the track would help tutor them and send out their homework when they were done.

Perry could not spell or read so well. Harry soon realized that. Uncle Vernon had hit Harry with a belt for doing better than Dudley, for making him look bad in class. So, Harry started spelling his words wrong too. When Aunt Mathilda saw Harry’s homework slipping, she took him aside.

“Harry, we know you know how to spell Kangaroo and Kookaburra. Why are you spelling it wrong?”

“B-because Perry can’t. I don’t want to make him unhappy if he did badly…”

He did not wish to lie to Aunt Mathilda.

“Harry dear, wouldn’t it be better if you help him with his spelling instead? Like Clara and Josh help Helen? That’s a good boy…” Aunt Mathilda gasped sharply as the contractions started suddenly. She motioned for Clara to take charge of the kitchen-classroom while she waddled out to where Uncle Ned was chopping wood. Ten minutes later, the old truck was speeding off in a cloud of dust.

Aunt Mathilda needed to go away for a bit. Mrs Kelly and Mrs O’Rourke came over to help Uncle Ned with the children until she came back with baby Myra. The bonfire burned in celebration. The men toasted Uncle Ned on becoming a father again. Aunt Mathilda sat on the veranda nursing her daughter, looking as serene as the Madonna. Other women came then - Mathilda’s great-aunts, dark like river mud or brown like honey, to bless the birth. Bright skirts flashing in the firelight as they sang and danced.

There was something inside their song that made Harry gasp. It was like a heady buzz. It was like the time Josh snuck them some porter beer even though they were too young for it. Women’s magic, old Albert explained to Harry, invoking protection for the baby in the old ways before they baptise the baby the next time the pastor came to Cobbler Creek. Harry flinched at the word ‘magic’.

Old Albert listened, felt the boy’s unease at his primal reaction to the magical protections the women were weaving over mother and child. The boy fears his magic, that it would set him apart from his kin. The old man hummed, singing calmness into Harry.

Chapter Text

Harry did not mean to do it. He had been polishing a pair of his uncle’s boots for church. It was the least he could do on top of his chores. Uncle Ned had to help the O’Rourkes with a cow and Aunt Mathilda was busy with Josh and Perry, who both had contracted chicken pox from the Kelly boy. Harry was to sleep in Eddie and Benny’s room until they got better so he would not catch it. Baby Myra was sent to an aunt in Grumpton since she was too young to risk catching the illness from her brothers. The twins were mucking about on the porch when Clara came up the steps with the laundry. The clean clothes were fresh off the line and needed folding and ironing. They were piled so high in her basket that she could not see that toy car on the top step. Harry did. Before he could call out a warning, poor Clara stepped on the car which went rolling. The laundry basket flew into the air and the girl looked set to go tumbling head over heels down the five steps that led to the porch. Harry’s magic just flared. Both Clara and the laundry basket seemed to float before settling back to earth. Each piece of laundry settled neatly back into basket without touching the dirt. A bewildered Clara sat wide-eyed on her rump in the dirt at the bottom of the steps. No doubt wondering how she had escaped a broken leg or worse.

The panic struck then. Harry dropped the boot he was polishing and fled. He all but threw himself into the chicken coop, surprising a startled Helen. Aunt Mathilda and Uncle Ned would be so disappointed. They would send a freak like him away. Harry did not want to be sent away from the farm he had grown to love. He dove into an empty nesting box, snuggled into the straw, trying to make himself small. He bit his fist to keep from crying when a nail scratched him. Crying always made things worse with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. He was a bad boy, a freak…

A small hand gently patting his back as he heaved with silent sobs. Helen peered at him with her soft green eyes. Get up, come… she gestured once she had his attention. He was handed the basket of eggs collected. She motioned for him to follow her out of the coop. Old Albert was leaning against the fence post of the chicken run. The sun was setting, casting shadows under the eaves and gum trees. Old Albert led both children to an ancient red gum tree under which there was a crude bench. He sat down with them. He handed Helen a flower which she stuck in her hair. Harry was sure there had been no flower there in the old man’s hand. Helen took her doll from her apron and started a silent conversation with her.

“You’re a shaman, Harry Potter… What is it you fear?” old Albert asked.

“I-I do strange things… un-unnatural things…” Harry stuttered. It seemed as though the blind man was looking into his very soul.

“You mean magic? When a caterpillar turns into a butterfly is it not magic in a way? What is natural or not is in the eye of the beholder…”

“U-Uncle Vernon says there is no such thing as magic…”

“More fool he. Magic is in the very fabric of life, the land, in your veins…” 

Harry fidgeted under the old man’s regard.

“Think on it, boy. Think on it the next time you look up at the stars or watch the golden wattle bloom… You gotta know what to look for…” Albert took an egg from Harry’s basket and cracked it. A butterfly of rainbow hues fluttered up from the eggshell to the children’s amazement before settling and sinking back into the eggshell. The egg was whole once more and old Albert returned it to the basket.

“Magic is very much real and a part of us. Sadly, most miss it.”

The dinner bell was being rung, its mellow tone echoing in the evening air. Helen took her doll and left Harry to carry the egg basket back to the kitchen. He had to nip out to put aside his uncle’s best boots and the tin of shoeblack. He would finish polishing them after dinner. Clara was putting away the last of the day’s laundry, except for those that needed ironing. Aunt Mathilda had made it clear none of the children were to be allowed to use the ancient iron until they were old enough to go to boarding school. Harry had used an electric iron before, but not one that needed hot charcoal put in. 

Magic is real… Harry felt a little light-headed.

Cheap tricks, Uncle Vernon had scoffed when a magician yanked a rabbit out of a hat on the telly. Old Albert Murray had made a butterfly appear from an egg, and they were not on the telly. There were no tellies at the O’Reillys’ or the Kellys'. The one in the O’Rourke’s barn no longer worked. Josh explained it had to do with the reception in the Outback. The Cobbler Creek Saloon had one for watching footie on, but the picture was more static.

He glanced at Clara during dinner. She did not show any discomfort about that inexplicable event that happened to her. She treated him as normal, offering him an additional bit of damper and asking him to pass the pepper. Steve and Irwin were flicking peas at each other until their dad warned them to stop. Aunt Mathilda left midway through to check if her little patients were eating. Mundane. Normal.

Stars. Harry sat out on the veranda working on Uncle Ned’s boots by lamplight. He looked up into sky. He could not see anything special about the stars. The boots were done. He put the boots and polish tin aside before snuffing the lamp. That was when he saw it.

The Milky Way spilling across the night sky like a giant serpent. Galaxies, stars in a swirling kaleidoscope of light. He stepped off the porch. The dirt was cool under his toes. The day’s heat gone. Tobacco. Old Murray was leaning against the house, smoking.

“See the Rainbow Serpent’s trail, Harry?” The old Aboriginal launched into a tale of the Dreamtime and the Rainbow Serpent.

Watching the stars with the earth underfoot, Harry pictured the Great Serpent slowing slithering across the land, rucking up the great mountains and ridges… He felt a sense, a glimpse of a time before… Sparks of light, stars, magic… life… He could feel the steady drumbeat of the land, its beating heart. The tiny animals scurrying or crawling in their burrows. The sleepy splash of something large in the billabong. Whispers of a bygone era, proud warriors with painted bodies. Wise men and women weaving tales of wonder by the tribal fires to the sound of the didgeridoos.  Farmhands tasked with guarding against rustlers and wild dogs. Sitting about the campfire with their dogs, sharing wild yarns and hot tea. Distant yips and barks of dingo packs testing the fences… Somewhere in the house, a sick child fretted.  

Uncle Ned was calling him to bed. Too soon the spell was broken. Harry obediently bade goodnight to the old farmhand. Old Murray declined Uncle Ned’s offer to walk him back to his shack, claiming he could manage as well at night as in the day. He only chuckled when Uncle Ned voiced concern about snakes and patted his walking stick. Old Albert knew he had nothing to fear from the legless ones.

The older children were back from boarding school  for the holidays. Alice cuddled the baby sister she had just met while the older boys watched in mock disinterest. Eddie was the eldest, he would leave school soon and work on the farm alongside his father. He was tall, broad-shouldered and his voice had broken. He could not hope to even try for college, not with the family finances as they were. He had a girl in Darwin, some Suzy his brother Benny kept teasing him about. Alice wanted to be a teacher. She was trying for a scholarship while earning her way from sewing and helping at the General Store during the holidays. She worked at a café in Darwin during term so she might be able to continue her studies.

Harry was a curiosity to them. A cousin from far-off England. The Kellys and O’Rourkes were cousins too, but they lived just down the track. Benny was curious and kept peppering Harry with questions about England, until Uncle Ned told him to eat his dinner before it got cold. Harry wished he could tell Benny more, but the Dursleys never took him out much. All he knew was their small neighbourhood and school in Little Whinging and Aunt Marge’s kennels and house. He had never been to London until after the accident. He flew on a plane for the first time with Uncle Ned.

England was different from the Outback – wetter and greener. The buildings were made of brick and stone, not wooden like most on the farm or in Cobbler Creek. Most days were dry, hot, baked by a blistering sun, until the rains came. The thunderstorms came with a vengeance when they did, pelting down on the farm, filling the creek and billabongs. Slaking the thirsty red earth. Then just as suddenly they petered out. The mud would dry into dust. They would need to rely on the wells, tanks or billabongs again, until the rains returned.

Just after the rains, there would be a profusion of wildflowers. The girls would gather them for the house, for scenting homemade soap, or drying for potpourri. The soaps and potpourri Aunt Mathilda sold to the General Store. Bugs also came in droves after the rains, but they soon vanished when the land started drying up. They went to church on Sundays when the pastor was in. If not, Uncle Ned would read from the family Bible after Sunday breakfast. They were a good Christian household after all.

There was another layer underneath. Harry had noticed how Aunt Mathilda would scatter yellow powder from a jute bag around the house – to keep snakes away. The powder came from her aunt who lived in the Outstation where the old ways still held sway. Then there was Old Murray. If an Aboriginal farmhand fell ill or was hurt, they would rather seek old Murray than Doc Matthews from Grumpton. Sometimes Aunt Mathilda brought her children to him where the White Men’s medicine failed. Josh and Perry would have scratched themselves raw from the chicken pox were it not for the ground herbs and minerals he bade her put into their bathwater to ease the itch.

The White Men were newcomers to the land. Old Albert’s people came there first, soon after the Rainbow Serpent created the land and beasts. The tribes accepted magic where the White Men shunned, ridiculed or feared it, treating it as a secret to be hidden. Why? Magic was all around in the beat of life. A child born from its mother, the love between family, the unspoken bonds of a tribe. Harry’s magic was White, different from Murray’s magic, but he would guide the child where he could, even if he knew little of the White Shamans' ways. At its core, magic was magic.

Chapter Text

When the student is ready, the master will come… Old Albert Murray chuckled when that phrase popped into his mind. In his case, he was waiting for the student to come to him. Little Helen was a dear girl of course, her disability ironically gave her a deeper connection to the land than any of her siblings. Just as his own blindness opened lesser Song-paths to him. She heard the Rainbow Serpent’s Song differently, that’s all. But she was not a shaman. Not like Harry. The boy was as skittish as a swamp wallaby when it came to magic. He could sense it permeating the land, but he could not give himself to the rhythm of it, like the local tribes and even the white settlers had been doing without being aware of it. The boy was almost nine now, a good time for a boy to leave his mother’s hearth and start learning the tribe’s ways.  

Ned was Muggle, as was his wife. However, they never questioned old Albert’s ways. Perhaps Ned felt it set the minds of his Aboriginal workers at ease, having old Albert go round the calving shed singing his tribal chants. It did no harm to the cows. On the contrary, had Ned been the slightest bit sensitive to the magic, he would have felt the old man weave Wards of protection for the cows and their calves as he walked. Harry did.

Robbie Taggart got bit by a death adder. Robbie Taggart was a young farmhand. New to the job, he had not spotted the camouflaged serpent when he stuck his hand into the alfalfa bin to grab a treat for old Bill the burro. Harry had been moving hay bales with Uncle Ned, Josh and Perry outside the barn when they heard him scream. Uncle Ned was at the young man’s side, trying to calm him down so that the venom would not spread through his bloodstream so fast. He tore off his hat-cord and wound it around the injured arm, pulling it tight. Josh ran back to the house to call for help. Perry ran for old Albert Murray. Harry stared at the death adder that was poking its head out of the bin of alfalfa. The old burro and the pregnant mare who were in the barn were disturbed by the commotion. Harry tried to calm them down as they reared and kicked at their stalls. Thankfully, they soon did. Old Bill was the first settle. Then the mare Fair Lady. He reached over to pat their noses before approaching the feed bins with caution.

“Ssstay away from me!” the snake was speaking. It sounded frightened and angry.   

“You bit him!” Harry retorted. He could see Perry leading old Albert over. Josh was sprinting back from the house, yelling that they were sending a rescue chopper. Robbie’s hand was swelling and turning an ugly purple-black colour.

“He grabbed my tail! It hurtsss!” the snake hissed. “Servess him right!”

The adder gave a smug hiss as he watched Robbie crying in pain from the venom. The young farmhand was soon puking from the venom or fear, Harry could not be sure. He was also turning blue in the face. Albert was trying to force some twig or root into his mouth, but Robbie was having none of that. Finally, the old man shook his head and fell back. The venom was coursing too fast for his bush medicine to catch it. Harry did see him touch the young man’s shoulder and feel the barest throb of magic. To relieve pain perhaps? Robbie’s thrashing seemed to lessen.

They could hear the thud-thud of the rotors. Uncle Ned took the young man in his arms and carried him out onto open ground. Josh took off his red bandana and was waving it like a flag to signal the pilot where to land. The paramedics were soon back in the air rushing poor Robbie to the nearest hospital.

“It wasss an accident… he didn’t mean to,” Harry rebuked. The adder’s reply was to hiss something rude at Harry. Perry and Josh were shaken by what they had witnessed. Uncle Ned was busy trying to comfort his sons. Harry was just feeling really annoyed with the death adder, and sorry for Robbie.

“A snake-speaker…” Albert murmured as he plodded his way over to Harry and the snake. “You speak the tongue of snakes, a rare gift.”

More freakiness… Harry flinched.

“Explain to him why it is not wise to hide in the feed bins…” Albert instructed. “He hunts rats, not human children…” Harry winced at the mental image of Helen or the twins grabbing a handful of feed for their pony or old Bill…

“Mister snake, it is not good for you to hide there…”

“But it isss nice here and there are juicy mice…” the snake whined petulantly.

“If you bite one of the little ones, Uncle Ned or another grown-up will kill you… There is an empty stall at the back you can use… They might still kill you if you’re in the bin when they get back…” Harry warned as the snake seemed to consider his predicament. With a disdainful hiss, he slithered out and in the direction of the back of the barn.

“Well done, Harry…”

“Can I ask the snakes not to bite people? They don’t hunt us, right.”

“Yes, young one. As a snake-speaker, you can negotiate with serpent-kind on your tribe’s behalf. Treat them with respect, and they will respect you back,” Albert replied. Harry smiled wanly. He was using his weirdness to help. Not destroy stuff.

“Being a shaman is not easy, but magic can be used to help as well as hurt… Help me back to my room…” Albert shook his head and laughed. There was much to teach the boy now that he could sense a shift in his song. Oh, there was still a note of discordance, but with the proper training, Harry Potter might yet overcome it.

Josh and Perry seemed to have calmed down and gone back to working on the hay. Uncle Ned had returned to the barn and was warily poking about the bins with a stick in one hand and nasty-looking machete in the other. Just as well the death adder had fled. Harry told his uncle he was walking Albert back. Uncle Ned informed him that they could finish up with the hay bales without him. He should go straight back for lunch once he had seen Albert back to his place.

“Why do I have this magic?” It was good that Harry was asking questions now.

“Why indeed? The ancients say it is a gift from the Rainbow Serpent, to be used responsibly. Magic helps us contact to the land, its song. Allows us to feel, influence our surroundings – hopefully for the better… Maybe in the Dreamtime, when the first humans were created, they needed protection from many dangers, so this gift to a select few who had the wisdom to use it wisely to protect their people.” It was soothing listening to the old man’s voice.

“B-But I break stuff. Do freakish things… like turning my teacher’s hair blue…”

“Because your magic is not trained. You must learn to use your gift… Fearing it only makes it unstable.”

“How do I start?” Harry sounded almost eager now. He had learned how to tie knots from Josh, help Uncle Ned fix a fence, bale hay… even ride Cherry-ripe the old pony all the farm children learned to ride on. When he was skilled enough, he could ride a horse and join Uncle Ned and the older boys on the cattle run. Surely, he could learn to stop his magic from going crazy like it often did at the Dursleys’.

“Tomorrow. I am not as young as I once was. We will Ward the cattle pens against predators and theft. I will teach you to sing to your magic and that of the land.”

Uncle Ned and Aunt Mathilda did not mind Harry or their children visiting old Albert once they were done with their chores and homework. The old man was full of entertaining tales of bunyips, dingos and other folklore. His shack was near the billabong, near where the long-time farmhands and their families lived. The single men and new hires occupied the cabins on the edge of the cattle pens, all the better to guard the herds.

Josh always claimed he went along to watch the little ones now that Clara was starting boarding school. That he was too old for fairy tales. Baby Myra was too young to leave her mother’s side. The twins Steve and Irwin often clamoured to be taken along but Aunt Mathilda would not allow it unless she went too. More often, it was Perry and Harry who would head over to old Albert’s on the pretext of bringing him supper or ointment for his joints. Helen would tag along with the twins as well. One of the older women would hand Helen some paint and paper while Albert started his storytelling. Harry thought it a shame Helen could not share in the storytelling.

“Oh, but have you looked at her painting yet?” Albert chuckled.

Helen had painted pictures like the rock paintings Uncle Ned had shown the children once taking shelter in a cave after being caught by the rains on the way back from Cobbler Creek. Almost childish daubs of hunters and prey.  Harry then realized that his little cousin had illustrated the story old Albert had been telling without even hearing a word of it.

“Her heart is connected to the land. I tell my stories from its song. Can you feel the song-paths? Close your eyes, block out the sounds… tell me what you see and feel…” Albert instructed. Perry and Helen were sharing some supper by the fire. Josh was starting to fret. They would need to walk home soon before Uncle Ned’s curfew. All children must be home by nine-thirty.

Harry Potter closed his eyes, he blocked out the sounds of the womenfolk washing up the dinner things in the cabins, the low murmur of the men as they chatted after a hard day’s work, the teasing banter of his cousins. The scampering of creatures big and small beyond the lights of human habitation. Then he felt it, a steady rhythm, as if the land itself was breathing. Song-paths… He was not sure what he was looking for. Then he saw it. A faint glowing stream leading off into the north. It seemed to be calling on him to follow. A Milky Way spilled onto the red earth of the Outback.

It was different from what he had felt when Albert sang the Wards in place along the perimeter of the cattle pens. The old man had explained to Harry the meanings of the chants used. Chants in his tribal tongue, but really it was the intent to protect that drove the spell. Harry was allowed to try it for himself, but it did not really take. What did happen was him apologizing to a harmless Woma Python when he accidentally knocked her out of her den under the fence post muffing the Wards against predators. The python was a predator, but his Wards should be directed to protect the cattle, not mice. Old Albert redid that portion of the Wards, reassuring Harry that he just needed practice and time to refine his magic. If Mister Ned allowed, Albert would like to take Harry out to the bush to train away from prying eyes.

Come to us… The glow seemed to whisper. He was almost touching the ribbon of light, a path of pure magic. But there was something else – a shadow in his dreamscape. Menacing.

He could hear Josh’s voice from a distance. Someone was shaking his shoulders none too gently. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

“Mate, wake up. We need to get you lot back to bed…” Josh grumbled and slapped him on the back. Harry yawned and stretched as his awareness returned to the here and now. Helen was rubbing her eyes and yawning too. It was late. They must think he had fallen asleep where he was sitting on the boulders with old Albert. Perry was insisting he needed the loo first. Lantern in hand, Josh went over to lead his little brother to the latrines. That allowed Harry to speak with the old man in private.

“I saw a glowing river, leading north. I wanted to follow it… like it was pulling… It’s like I am dreaming, but so real…” Harry frowned. He hoped he was making sense. Words were insufficient to describe what he had just experienced.

“Ah, so they deem you worthy of visiting the Place of Gathering… Wait first. Once your guardians give the go-ahead, we will head there as the Dreamtime spirits wish.”

Albert smiled. He could feel the boy’s strength growing, along with his confidence in using his gift. He had felt the muscle on his arms when he guided him around the cattle pens. The lengthening of his stride as he grew tall. A young warrior as well as a song-shaman. If the ancient ones had judged him fit to be further initiated in the ways of song-magic, who was he to gainsay them?

Chapter Text

The Place of Gathering was calling to them. Harry could feel it like a buzz in his veins, an itch beneath his skin. Uncle Ned had taken the older children to the train station in the truck. Myra was starting to toddle about and babble words. Soon… Albert mouthed. Harry knew the drill by now. Aunt Mathilda would head out for bush tucker, to supplement their table. Old Albert and Harry would go with her and the others to gather the bounty of the bush. Then they would slip away to the secret place where old Albert taught Harry magic.

Only those chosen by the Rainbow Serpent could access the hidden places of the land. It had been disconcerting for Harry the first time he was taken there. He had found himself facing a solid wall of red rock painted with figures of humans and animals after a trek through a narrow canyon and over rough bush. Then he saw it, the outline of a door that flickered in and out. Albert hummed as he walked though. Harry followed and found himself in a circular clearing ringed by tall walls of rock. The walls shimmered with drawings depicting stories of the Dreamtime – Wombat, Crow, Lizard, and the Rainbow Serpent. Here Harry’s first formal lesson in magic was held.

Knowledge of magical tradition and lore was important, old Albert explained. The songs and stories of the land held hidden truths, the foundation on which their magic was based. Sure, they could Ward the cattle pens against wild dogs and thieves without delving into lore, but a good shaman must understand the power that fuelled their Wards. This was a safe place for Harry to explore his magic and learn. One must be careful to keep in balance when drawing on magic. Too little and the spell fails. Too much, the practitioner risked damaging to himself or the land he was drawing on.

“But I’m from England. Do shamans there do things differently?” Harry had asked one night by the campfire.

“Maybe,” the old man smiled. “But you are here. This land accepts you. I am a stranger to England and the ways of the white shamans. So, I can only teach you what I know and hope it will serve you well. You respect the land and lore, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir… I love this land.”

“Good. You will go far, Harry… Now let’s try that healing chant…”

When the young men of the tribe approached adulthood in the old days, they were sent on a walkabout, to venture away from the safety of the tribe to find themselves, their purpose, to prove themselves as warriors or shamans. Master Ned had started taking Harry on the cattle drives over to Cordy Pedy where the cattle cars waited to take the beef cattle to the coastal cities, but old Albert sensed Harry had not gone far enough yet.

The farm was floundering. First, they had too much rain, then too little. He had tried singing the weather into some semblance of order, but he was not strong enough, even with Harry’s help. When it rained too much, the creek overflowed, damaging the fences and scattering the herd. The years following the times of rain brought rat-plagues that not even Harry’s call to his serpent friends could stem. The rodents got into the grain for the cattle and attacked the cows and their new calves. Old Albert taught Harry how to Vanish the rats or turn them into stones, but they just kept coming.

In recent years, the rains failed to come. The watering holes ran dry. Livestock perished of thirst while the land baked. Old Albert taught Harry to send out his magic to seek out hidden springs which still bubbled despite the heat. Dying. The O’Reilly farmstead was dying like so many others. They had to send Helen away to live with an aunt in Sydney, where they had a special school for children like her. Benny and Alice stayed away, working through the holidays and sending what they could back. Eddie returned from Darwin after leaving school to help his father. Several of the farmhands had to be let go as the farm could no longer keep them on.

Life was never easy in the Outback. The family did what they could. Increasingly, Aunt Mathilda was forced to turn to the bush instead of sending Uncle Ned to the general store. Clothes were patched, altered and passed down from child to child. Harry found himself wearing Benny’s old overalls and Uncle Ned’s old shirts altered to fit him. Otherwise, he wore his own khaki shorts and bush hat when out in the bush. He had gotten them from the church charity hamper at Christmas.

Darwin, Sydney… Distant places. London was now a distant memory to Harry Potter as he stretched out on his sleeping bag and watched the swirl of the Milky Way overhead. Beside him Josh muttered in his sleep. Perry rolled over and sneezed. The drive to Cordy Pedy took two days, perhaps longer if the herd was slowed by weather or scattered. They spent at least a night in the bush when the weather was good, sleeping under the open sky. Apart from two or three farmhands, it was just Uncle Ned, his older boy cousins and Harry. Benny was away in Darwin and the twins still too small to join them on the drive. Old Albert had long stopped driving cattle when his sight went.

Harry closed his eyes and calmed his breathing like old Albert taught him. He slipped into the dream-paths. A neat house with a green lawn and a white picket fence. A ghost from his past from half a world away. Nay, a lifetime away. He was no longer the scared little boy under the stairs. He was a farm boy, who could ride a horse and rope a calf.

What are you, Harry Potter? Who are you?

Shaman, snake-speaker, kinsman to the O’Reillys, son of this red dust land.

Something pulling, calling him from a distant place. Could this be the start of his warrior quest like the old myths went?

One must be careful in the in-between. Old Albert had warned him and the others about the ghost girl in the billabong. The billabong ran deep and dark even in the dryest season. On hot summer days, the farmhands and children would jump in to cool off. Nancy McDonald. They say her name was. Some claimed she was murdered. Others that it was mischance that saw her drowned in the pool. She was the daughter of a family who had long left those parts. Yet she lingered on in the water. Albert had first seen her in his youth, when he first started working for the O’Reillys. A pale, pigtailed girl in a white frock.

Harry had seen her himself, giggling in the brown water as she yanked Perry below the surface. Harry had been furious. Perry had been terrified out of his wits by the touch of an icy hand around his ankle. He refused to go back in and ran screaming home. Uncle Ned insisted it was just a fish or a bit of waterweed. The O’Reilly children had been warned not to swim in that billabong. Both boys were smacked lightly on the bottom for disobeying. Swimmers had drowned there before.

Harry had confronted the ghost later. She was a slip of a thing, no older than Helen was then. She had wept and wheedled, luring him into the depths. He had almost swum into the weeds before he recovered his senses and broke for the surface. Shaken, he had returned to the shore.

“She’s looking for someone to keep her company, but she does not understand that most souls don’t stay after death…” old Albert puffed on his pipe.

“What happens to them, sir? Why did she stay?”

“No one knows why she stayed, Harry. Souls visit the Dreamtime and other worlds as our bodies sleep. Necessary to renew one’s spirit. We journey in our dreams. Death is the longest journey of all, when the soul leaves this body and this world for another… Some fail to take the first step… Maybe she did not take it…”

Fearing for the safety of his little twin cousins, Harry had consulted with old Albert. Steve and Irwin were starting to explore beyond the safety of the farmyard. With their adventurous natures, Nancy’s pool would prove irresistible. At Albert’s advice, Harry slipped out at dusk to the billabong and called the ghost out. He explained to her that she was hurting others needlessly and that the little ones were terrified when she pulled them under.

She had wailed and wheedled, but Harry had wised up to her tricks. It was a pity he had to resort to trapping her in the gum tree overlooking the water. He might have let her be if she had only sworn by the waters that homed her not to harm another living being. The children were still warned to keep away from that billabong. A few still chose to disobey, like the twins. Harry could only pray that his little brothers remained safe. He had spoken to his snake-friends and woven Wards of protection for his family, but he could only do so much.

Old Albert was faltering, his steps no longer as sure. Harry saw his mentor weaken and sang wishes and blessings for his continued health. The old man only waved him to silence.

“I am old, child. The sun is setting for me. It is time for me to take the next journey… just as it is for yours…”

“So soon?”

“I hear the birds, little one. Flapping their wings across the wide water…”

“But… I still have much to learn!”

“Enough, boy. Help me there…” Harry nodded and took old Albert Murray’s gnarled hand. It would be his last visit to the Place of Gathering. The space had been waiting for them. A large red rock with a flat top had appeared in the centre of the clearing. A ceremonial altar in the fading dusk.

“Strip and lie down.” Harry lay still on the rock as his mentor daubed markings of protection on Harry’s bare skin with white clay. He had to roll over midway so he could do his back as well. Sometime into his work, old Albert had started a fire. The old shaman then sang of a journey, a warrior quest Harry would soon set out on. Harry watched the shapes move in the flames, transfixed until the moon rose well above the rock walls and the clay started flaking.

He had pulled his clothes back on over the white markings and led old Albert home. Harry had expected some punishment. He was out well after he should be. Uncle Ned was out guarding the new cows with Eddie. Harry returned to the farmhouse to find Aunt Mathilda sitting in the rocking chair on the porch. He mumbled his apologies for being out so late, but his aunt wearily waved them away.

“The torch has been passed on?” she stroked his cheek where flecks of white clay sloughed off. Whatever she wanted to say next was forestalled when little Myra came toddling out wailing about monsters under her bed.

The clay had all fallen off his skin by morning. Harry was eating his oatmeal when Frank Stubbins, old Albert Murray’s neighbour, came running into the kitchen with dire news. Old Albert had passed in his sleep. Harry felt the sharp pang of sorrow. The entire farmstead was plunged into mourning. Uncle Ned took charge. Old Murray had no family to see to his funeral. They would bury him in the Mission graveyard where the indigenous inhabitants had been buried since Christ came to this corner of the Outback. Harry thought the good Christian folk might protest at having a shaman share their plot for eternity. 

Doesn’t matter one whit. The body is like a cast-off snakeskin. Albert Murray has embarked on his next great journey on paths unseen.

The funeral was simplicity itself. Uncle Ned got the necessary papers from the town hall for the death certificate and burial. Four sturdy farm lads dug the grave under the supervision of Cobbler Creek’s undertaker and gravedigger. Uncle Ned read the eulogy and led the prayers before the coffin was lowered and the grave filled. It was a pity the family was not all present. Eddie was held up in Darwin where he had gone to seek work. Benny and Alice could not get a train ticket home. It was decided that the trip from Sydney would be too much for Helen, who had contracted a bad cold. It seemed like forever since Helen was last with them.

“Birdie!” Steve and Irwin screeched and clapped their hands when a beleaguered owl all but crashed onto the kitchen table among the plates being set for dinner.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Uncle Ned frowned at the admission letter in puzzlement. He shrugged it off as some prank, even as he nursed the poor owl back to health. A broken leg and a torn wing. A hawk might have had a go at the bird. Ned O’Reilly did recall something about Harry being a legacy student in some posh private school, but Wizardry? Aunt Mathilda seemed less sure.

Harry was going to Darwin with Perry, wasn’t he? Could they afford to send him to Britain even? Uncle Ned’s lawyers had written from Darwin. His sister called from Sydney the day after. The farm was mortgaged to the hilt. Poor Helen’s not recovering. Aunt Susan took her to the doctor. It was not good. They found something in her that needed operating on.

Harry’s admission letter languished under a growing pile of bills. Despite Harry’s efforts to sing Wards of Protection for Uncle Ned’s herd, there was a sickness in the dozen head of cattle Eddie had purchased in the next town. It spread through their herd – anthrax. The health officials came on Canberra’s orders, followed by the gas trailers. They had to contain the spread of the deadly illness. There was some compensation to help them start over, but it still hurt to see their cattle destroyed. On recovering, the owl flew away without a reply.

Then the dark-skinned lady arrived on their doorstep. Aurora Sinistra had not been the first choice to approach Harry’s guardians. Albus Dumbledore had wanted to send Hagrid, but the simple man got lost in France and needed to be retrieved by Kettleburn. McGonagall had baulked at the notion of travelling halfway across the globe at her age. Snape had dug his heels in and refused to budge. Likewise Sprout and Flitwick.

Harry sensed the alien swirl of magic in the air before he even opened the door. Helen’s operation had gone well, but she needed medicine – expensive medicine – to recover fully. Alice’s application for a teaching scholarship was granted, but she still needed money to go live in Perth where the college was. They might be able to scrape together enough for Clara to complete her final year. Uncle Ned and Aunt Mathilda were considering transferring Josh and sending the other children to Mission School where the fees were lower, though the classes might not be so comprehensive and the discipline harsh.

“Good afternoon, I am Professor Sinistra from Hogwarts…” her words died in her throat when she saw the lightning-shaped scar on the forehead of the boy who had answered the door.

Chapter Text

It had taken a few hours for Professor Sinistra to explain the entire concept of a school for shamans or wizards to his Uncle Ned and Aunt Mathilda. Uncle Ned was gobsmacked when she levitated the coffee mugs to demonstrate magic was real. Aunt Mathilda only shrugged and asked about the fees and how could they be expected to afford sending Harry so far away with so many little ones to feed and clothe. Local magic was not that showy, and Harry suspected his aunt scoffed at the loudness of this foreign magic more than anything. The witch reassured his guardians that the Potters had set aside a trust fund that was more than sufficient to cover Harry’s fees and living expenses for the entirety of his school years at Hogwarts.

Leaving their guest at the kitchen table, both Uncle Ned and Aunt Mathilda had called Harry out on the porch to discuss his future schooling. They wanted to know his feelings about leaving the farm, not just to Darwin, but to Hogwarts in Britain. Eddie came over to join them midway through the discussion, back from his trip to the Kellys about that tractor.

Harry had been feeling restless for some time, even before old Albert passed. If he could draw on that trust fund for the next seven years, perhaps he might be able to take some of the pressure off the farm. Maybe he could learn a bit more about his magic from the white shamans or wizards.

“Well, it is a long way for a walkabout, but I suppose I’d come back for the hols…” Harry grinned. He would miss everyone, but he must put a brave face on it.

“We’ll miss you, Harry…” Eddie enveloped Harry in a hug which lifted him off his feet. It was decided that Harry would leave for Hogwarts with Professor Sinistra.

The professor stayed for dinner and the night. Aunt Mathilda would not hear of her going back to town in the fading light. They could make up a bed in Alice’s room since she was in Perth. Harry spoke to the professor after dinner on the porch. They discussed the stars. The professor taught Astronomy at Hogwarts. The southern skies are slightly different from those in Britain. The constellations are named differently too.

Aurora Sinistra was not sure what to expect when she was dispatched to Australia, to what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. Minerva had warned her that Harry Potter was raised Muggle. Yet the boy seemed to be fully aware of and embraced his magic. A local shaman had mentored the child and taught him their ways. So far from civilization, the Australian ICW did not have any monitoring for magic. Moreover, they were known to be lax in maintaining the Statutes of Secrecy, just like in the Caribbean where she was born.

“Mister Albert has gone on his great journey… back to the Dreamtime…” Harry explained sadly when Sinistra asked about his mentor. He had no idea about his parents and magical Britain. The headmaster had kept him and his guardians in the dark. Harry Potter only knew that like the Dursleys, the Potters had been killed in a car crash. Only he survived, albeit with a scar on his forehead. Sinistra pondered how she might break the truth about his importance to Wizarding Britain to the child. He was only a simple farm boy.

“If you got something to say, best get it out…” Harry frowned when he sensed the hesitancy in her magical aura. “I know it’s troubling you…”

Looking at those green eyes, Sinistra felt the weight lift off her chest.

“Well, Harry… your folks may not know this, but your parents did not die in an accident…”

Harry took the truth a lot better than expected. Surely it was not every day one was told one’s parents were murdered by some dark wizard. To Sinistra’s regret, she could not tell him more about his parents when he asked. She had studied at Uagadou and the Potters had graduated from Hogwarts long before she started teaching there. Perhaps Minerva would be able to fill in the blanks.

Harry calmed his magic. The bite of disappointment cut deep. He had hoped to find out more about his parents. The land could not tell him that since neither had ever set foot here. However, the red earth did sing to him of the pioneering O’Reillys and their ilk, hardy men and women who had struggled and finally set down roots in this harsh land. It also sang of the brave warriors that preceded them, guarding the land with the blessings of their shamans. Back then they had fought monsters – terrible lizards that breathed poison and ate human flesh.

He now stood on the cusp of the start of a journey. His journey.

Returning to the land of his birth went very differently from Harry’s journey to Australia. Uncle Ned had given them a lift to Cobbler’s Creek where Professor Sinistra claimed someone would pick her and Harry up. A single trunk sufficed for the clothes Harry packed. Sinistra had clucked her tongue and stated that they might need to get him a new wardrobe first thing in Britain as none of his khakis could withstand a Scottish night.

After bidding goodbye to his uncle, Harry found himself being walked back out of town to an old crossroads. The professor held out her wand and a wagon came bumping along despite having no horse pulling it. The driver was a wizen little man who only stood as tall as Harry’s chest. Sinistra explained it was the Australian version of the Knight Bus – the Knight Wagon. It would take them to Sydney where an International Portkey would take them to London. Like the bus, the Knight Wagon was Disillusioned so Muggles would not see it, and its magic meant it could go places where normal Muggle traffic would not. Unlike the Bus, the Wagon had fixed stops for passengers even if it had no discernible timetable.

The inside of the wagon was larger than it seemed from the outside. A dozen passengers were already on board, seated on the benches. The smiling attendant, a  young dark-skinned witch, greeted them and offered them a sarnie and tea for three Sickles a set on top of the ten Sickle fare. Harry was thrilled to meet other shamans or wizards. The passengers were an eclectic mix, reflecting the cosmopolitan nature of the country. An elderly Indian witch offered him a bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Tonic for his hair on hearing he was going to school, swearing it did wonders for her grandson’s unruly curls. An hour in, Harry learned how to play Snapping Mahjong from the children of a Chinese wix couple from Perth visiting family in Sydney. There was a turbaned gent who spoke no English with a parrot familiar translating for him, and an Irish wizard who was apparently inflicted with a Singing Curse and liable to break into song at the drop of a hat. An Aussie wizard with a leg cast on kept trying to flirt with the attendant.

They need to make a detour to Melbourne to drop off the Indian grandmother and Irishman before skipping up the coast to Sydney where they disembarked close to three hours later with the Chinese family. The International Portkey Office was a convenient walk from where the Wagon had dropped them off. It looked nothing like the airport Harry recalled. Alas, they had arrived after hours. They needed wait until the next day when the office opened. Sinistra found a nearby hostel where they could stay the night.

The hostel was nothing like what Harry had recalled from his trip with Uncle Ned. It did not smell musty like the rooms they took at the cheap hotels back then. The rooms smelled like spices. Sinistra explained that it was on top of an Indian restaurant. They had bunk beds – six to a room and they shared with a group of backpackers which included a squib and a wizard. Being half-blood and raised by a Muggle grandma in Jamaica, Aurora Sinistra was fully capable of passing Muggle when necessary.

Professor Sinistra had given him a brief description of the common modes of magical transportation he was likely to encounter. Portkeys might be fast, but Harry decided he would avoid them if possible after he landed in London puking up his breakfast. It was a horribly uncomfortable feeling like he had been squeezed through a tube. His professor reassured him it just needed some getting used to and it was normal for children or first-time users to experience Portkey sickness. A vial of Stomach-Soothing potion purchased from a booth in the London Portkey Centre helped. When Harry asked what was in it, the Astronomy Professor only shrugged. Potions was not her forte. Moreover, the potions brewed in Britain likely differed in ingredients from what she had learned in Africa. Harry had asked why there were no recognized wizarding schools in Australia, but the professor was unable to explain why other than a preference for home-schooling and private tutoring among the local wix.

London was nothing like the Australian bush or even Sydney. It was colder, wetter, and greyish rather than red. Harry could not get a good feel of the land, smothered by the trappings of human civilization. They headed to Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron. The professor requested the services of a post owl from Tom at the Leaky to be sent to Hogwarts. She had to inform Minerva of Harry Potter’s arrival in London before taking Harry to Gringotts to access his trust fund. Nursing a soda, Harry wore his bush hat over his scar as he had no desire to be mobbed.

One of the first things Harry asked about was a strong, clever bird to send his letters to his Muggle folks down under. The Astronomy professor explained he could arrange with the Hogwarts elves to drop his mail into the Hogsmeade post office as Muggle mail. It would be surer than owl post given his home. They would also fetch his letters from home if any and give them to him with breakfast. They stopped by the Muggle post office nearest The Leaky Cauldron so Harry could buy some envelopes, stamps and writing paper.

Visiting Gringotts was an experience. Judging by the warning at the entrance, the bank took its security seriously. In Diagon Alley, the magic was too loud and too concentrated. It felt like molasses. In the bank, the magic was calmer, almost colder. Harry thought the goblins that ran the bank reminded him of the brownies and gnomes in Clara’s fairytale books, but the professor explained that gnomes were a different species entirely and the Muggles got them mixed up in the old days. He was advised to be polite to the goblins as they made good allies but fearful enemies. Moreover, they controlled the banking system of the magical world. Sinistra explained that he would be given the key to his trust fund, and that he should only withdraw enough money for his shopping. She would leave him with his accounts manager to answer any questions Harry might have over the use of his trust fund. As she was not his magical guardian, Gringotts’ rules did not allow her to present during the discussion. She would wait for him outside until he was done.

“Sorry, sir, I am rather new to all this…” Harry willed his magic to be still, to reflect the respectful stillness of his surroundings. The goblin looked annoyed. He did not wish to irk him further. He used the same trick he did with panicked calves and snakes. Friend, his magic projected. No harm.

“Name’s Griphook. You’re Muggle-raised, aren’t you? I’d recommend a Muggleborn starters’ kit to ease you in… for a price of fifteen Sickles…” Griphook looked disdainfully at Harry’s khaki shorts, dusty bush shirt and hat.

“The magic here is different from back on the farm…”

“Raised Down Under? The accent’s a giveaway… Surprised no one at the Sydney office reached out to you all this time. We have an entire vault of gifts and bequests addressed to you by a grateful public…”

“But it was all my parents’ doing – defeating that bad wizard… I was only a baby then…”

“Well, what can I say as a mere goblin? These British wizards are crazy…” Griphook sneered with a shrug. “So, may I recommend donating the toys to charity? After a de-Cursing of course. Harry Potter has as many foes as fans. We can Vanish the food items as they are likely inedible by now, if not poisoned to start with… Same for the fan mail.”

“C-could I send a bit in Muggle money to help my folks… My sister… well, she’s my cousin actually but like a sister to me, she needs expensive treatment for her illness…”

“Of course, the money in that vault is meant for your use. But I will recommend going about it quietly…  An inheritance? Lottery? Maybe some returns on an investment by your parents… Ah, the Potters are still receiving royalties for another thirty years on that Sleekeazy hair potion… but, you’d have to wait for your majority to access the rest of the Potter vaults. Unless your parents gave any instructions in…” the goblin Summoned a thick ledger from a cabinet and flipped through the contents. He frowned and then flipped the pages back, grumbling under his breath.

“Apologies, Mister Potter. It appears your parents’ wills were sealed and never read.”

“Oh,” Harry frowned. He had been trying to get a feeling of the building’s magic. Secrets, the stones whispered. “I’ll like to know if they left any words for me…”

“We’ll investigate this and contact you… Now, may I provide you with an estimate of projected expenses given the current cost of living?” With a snap of Griphook’s gnarled fingers, the ledger hopped back into the drawer.

“Oh, that would be helpful… Who’s my magical guardian if not Professor Sinistra?”

“For magical orphans or Muggleborn minors without any magical family to take them in, that would be the Chief Warlock in Britain – Albus Dumbledore.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Don’t expect you to. Old man probably has no idea how many children he is listed as magical guardian for. Now, the fees will be paid directly from your trust…”

Chapter Text

They next did his school shopping. Like most escorts for Muggle-raised students, Professor Sinistra had the books and other supplies pre-ordered beforehand once the student accepted the offer, ready to be picked up when introducing the student to the magical world. They only needed to spend time getting measured for robes and get his wand. However, Sinistra did allow Harry to spend few minutes exploring the stores on the understanding he would need to buy his books and supplies next year without her help. The boy was agog with wonder at the sights and sounds of Diagon Alley. Even on a weekday, it was quite busy as it was the only shopping area for the magical community in England.

They headed to Madam Malkin’s to refurbish Harry’s wardrobe. What worked in the Outback would do little against British weather. He could not run about in khaki shorts all year. Worried about the cost, Harry had asked for the lower cost garments. Sensing that the boy’s family was not well-off, Madam Malkin introduced both Harry and his guardian to the more moderately-priced items in her store.

“You can pick up a second-hand dress robe for three Sickles at Gladrags, but Merlin knows if they did a proper job cleaning it,” the witch warned. “If you must, Scroungify it twice, and pray that the fabric holds up.” For Muggle-wear, Harry asked about the Salvation Army store and was assured that they would have time to drop by one for Muggle clothes. He was glad he had asked Griphook to change some of his Galleons to British money for his use in Muggle England. Harry found the idea of jeans, sweaters and T-shirts appealed to him. But that would have to wait until after his wand.

The wand store literally oozed magic – taut and barely contained. Harry shivered. He had never felt this way around magic before. Not even back in the Place of Gathering. Wands quivered in Harry’s mind’s eye, waiting for a match. Woods gleamed. The cores within them thrummed. A mix of anticipation, hostility, warmth – a thousand emotions locked up in the shelves of a shabby-looking store. One was calling to him.

“The one in the back, in a box… Holly, and some feather…” Harry ventured when Ollivander started measuring his arm. Ollivander gaped like a fish. The perturbed wandmaker limped off and soon returned with the wand.

It felt right, as if it belonged in his hand. Harry grinned as he waved the wand – a glowing creature tumbled onto the dusty floor before vanishing. It looked like some kind of canine with a long tail and a gaping mouth. Aurora Sinistra gasped in bewilderment as Harry paid the stunned wandmaker. Was that a Patronus? Or some unknown wordless spell? It seemed too intentional to be an accident.

“Oh Potter, I’m sorry but we must get going if we are to reach your host family…” The sun was starting to set by the time they were done refurbishing Harry’s Muggle wardrobe from the charity store. Harry noticed how Professor Sinistra had shrunk down his purchases so they might carry them in their pockets.

“A host family? I thought I’d be staying at the school or with you until it opens…”

“Good gracious, Hogwarts opens in September. That is a week away. And you can’t possibly stay with me, not in a council flat and Aunt Lenora’s youngest getting married this weekend. The place is packed to the gills. Don’t you fret. The deputy headmistress has arranged for you to stay with the Weasleys. They have a boy your age. They have seven children in all, four of them schooling age…” Sinistra explained as she put her wand out for the Knight Bus to take them to Otterly St Catchpole.

The Burrow was haphazardly built – all odd angles and corners. Yet it stood proud when the Knight Bus dropped Harry and his escorting professor off. They were greeted at the gate by a smiling, plump witch with red hair who introduced herself as Molly Weasley. She gasped at the sight of Harry for some reason before inviting him in. She introduced him to her equally redhead brood, at least those present. Percy who was poring over a book. The twins Fred and George who were putting away brooms in the shed. Little Ginny peered shyly from behind her mother’s skirts. Finally, Ron, who came down the stairs chattering like a magpie. He stopped short when he saw the newcomer.

Professor Sinistra took her leave and then Disapparated away, likely home to help her family with her cousin’s wedding. Molly Weasley asked her son to help their guest with his trunks, but Ron did not seem keen on sharing his room with some stranger.

“Let him have Bill’s instead. It’s not like he’s coming home anytime soon!” Ron scowled ill-temperedly while Molly apologized for her son’s rudeness.

Percy offered to teach him about the magical world so he would not make a hash of things at school. Ginny asked if he like chocolate chip or jam cookies. She helped her mom with the jam ones. There was some sporting match on the wireless. Quidditch. The twins tried to explain the rules of the game to Harry the best they could.

Harry had grown tall for his age on the hearty farmstead fare and hard work. He could wrangle a yearling calf and was as tanned as any farmhand. He looked forward to his new life and school with a confident optimism. An adventure even though he still yearned for the feel of a horse under him, or swimming in the billabong with the boys, or staring at the Milky Way while waiting to fall asleep during a camp. Harry noticed the strong Wards about the house and praised them. Harry knew nothing of Quidditch, flying on brooms, or wands, but he knew his wards. Old Albert used to have Harry lead him out to the cattle pens during calving time so he could sing the wards protecting the calves into place. The Burrow’s wards were solidly raised and strengthened by the love of the family they protected.

“Bless you. That’s my eldest son’s doing. Renewed them before he left for Cairo. He’s working as a Gringotts Curse-breaker,” Molly beamed.

Dinner would be served once as her husband got back. He worked in the Ministry of Magic – Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Arthur’s crazy about all things Muggle. Being raised Muggle, Harry would know better about such stuff. Harry had just come down the stairs when there was a whoosh in the fireplace.

“Oh, that’s Arthur Floo-ing in now. Dinner will be up shortly,” Molly exclaimed.

“Shall I help set the table?” Harry offered.

“I’ll take care of that…” Molly waved her wand. The plates and cutlery hopped off the shelves and out of the drawers onto the table. “In the magical world, we have charms for housework.”

A redhead man strode into the kitchen and hugged Molly, asking her about her day. This must be the father of the family. A mild-mannered, soft-spoken man. A far cry from his more exuberant wife who had been bustling about the house cooking, preparing Harry’s room and wrangling wayward children like a force of nature. Everyone crowded around the dining table, including Harry for their meal. The twins swore they had de-gnomed the garden or whatever chores they were assigned. Ronald was making a fuss about having less dessert than usual. Percy was chattering about how he hoped to make Head Boy like Bill while his twin brothers pulled faces. Harry tried to find out more about Hogwarts from the older boys. Ginny shyly asked about what life was like Down Under. Dinner at the Weasleys was every bit as chaotic as dinner back home. Harry Potter found that he could easily sense the household’s rhythm. It was soothingly familiar to him.

Harry offered to help her wash up. All the children helped with the chores where they could back home on the farm. Young Ginny had already been sent up to bed for pranking her older brother. Ron had been left with a head of neon pink hair.

“Oh, thank you, Harry. Perhaps Ronald…”

“I have better things to do…” Ron was out the kitchen in a flash, leaving a disconcerted Molly Weasley behind.

“Leave your sister be, you hear!” Molly added as an afterthought.

“Harry, I have so many questions about Muggles and their stuff. You wouldn’t mind, will you?” Arthur offered. “How do they create that eketricity stuff? What’s a Dino-mo?”

Harry explained the best he could. Back home they had diesel-run generators to generate the electricity they needed. Benny had brought home a hand-cranked torch once. Alice had explained how they had big buildings that produced power to run a city like Darwin. Professor Sinistra had explained that electrical gadgets did not react well with magic and places with high magical populations tend to be off grid.  

Arthur Weasley had a shed he tinkered in, much like how Stubbins used to work on the old tractor back home. Harry would spend many hours there after dinner with Arthur describing the uses of the different Muggle plugs and fuses, until Molly came to demand he go take a bath and be ready for bed.

Harry was introduced to the family ghoul the next morning. Percy was not feeling well and lying in. He had taken ill after dinner. Molly blamed it on too much coffee. Ginny and Ron were sulking. The twins had been sent out to the orchard to put away the branches they sworn they had cleaned up the day before. Arthur had gone down to see if there were any summer apples and found the place in disarray. The twins blamed the gnomes.

“I’ve always taken coffee back home. It won’t upset my stomach…” Harry replied when Molly asked if he should be taking coffee at his age. He always started his day with a mug of the stuff ever since he was old enough to ride on the cattle drive. Black and strong, just as Uncle Ned brewed it.

“Milk?” Molly asked when they were interrupted by a loud banging overhead.

“Blast! It’s the ghoul again!” Ron groaned as he poked at his pancakes. Harry had sensed the ghoul the night before when mediating in his room, but he had let it be. All creatures had a right to exist so long as they did not cause harm. Molly winced at a particularly loud crash.

“Ma’am, do you need the ghoul to be exorcised?” Harry offered.

“Oh, no. He’s like a pet. Mostly harmless…  unless he feels it too quiet. You and Ronald can try soothing him, if this doesn’t work…” Molly switched on the wireless to a woman singing, then started levitating the dirty pans off the stove into the sink, making a mighty clatter. The ghoul seemed to quiet down.  

“Well, I better get going… We should have enough to do school shopping this Saturday.” Arthur declared as he wiped his mouth with napkin. He stopped by the kitchen stove to kiss his wife before hurrying out to the fireplace.

“Arthur! Your briefcase!” Molly reminded him. He must have Summoned it over. Harry deftly ducked as the briefcase came flying out the kitchen, narrowly missing Percy. His mother brought over a bowl of porridge when he sat down in the chair his father had vacated moments before.

“Do you need a Stomach-Soother?” She pointedly removed the coffee pot from the table.

“No thanks, Mom… Has Charlie owled yet?” Percy asked and reached for the teapot instead.

“Oh, the owl just came in. The letter’s with Fred and George. They’re out in the orchard. He’s settling in well and picking up the language. Then it is all about his dragons…”

“Dragons are real?” Harry perked up.  Old Albert had told Harry tales of giant snakes and lizards, some good, some bad. Clara had shown him children’s books that involved dragons, knights and princesses.

“Yes. they are. Charlie’s working on a dragon reserve in Romania. There’s a smaller one in Wales… We can’t have dragons flying around scaring Muggles like before the Statutes of Secrecy…” Percy explained. “The one in Romania’s the largest in the world…”

“I can show you the brooms… and the orchard to fly in,” Ginny ventured.

“No flying without a grown-up present, Ginny,” Molly chided.

“Aw, Mom…” the little girl whined.

“Heard from Mom you were from some Muggle farmyard…” Ron sniped. “Must be a bore living with Muggles…”

“Oh no, wouldn’t change it for the world,” Harry replied honestly. He missed Helen and hoped she was recovering. He prayed the goblins had come through and that the money he sent could be used to help not only her, but the farm. Were the Wards he placed strong enough?

“I’m going to take a walk in the orchard… get some air…” Harry declined a second helping of pancakes and finished his coffee.

He stopped to grab his bush hat on the way out. Harry was not yet comfortable with using his magic so openly, even in a magical household. Whistling Waltzing Mathilda, he headed out into the garden. Studying the Burrow from outside, he could sense the magical auras of the inhabitants more clearly. There were two faint signatures woven into the Wards, perhaps the sons who had left the nest. Magic always left a trace if one knew where to look. Sometimes for years. Perhaps being away from the magically packed and chaotic Diagon Alley helped too.

Chapter Text

De-gnoming was a chore Harry wondered why the Weasleys insisted on having the children carry out when a good Ward would solve the issue of gnomes in the garden. It seemed cruel at first, but Harry soon found that the gnomes were a hardy bunch. Persistent to the point of annoying too. Then there were their sharp teeth.

“Oh, don’t tell the boys…” Molly had chuckled quietly when Harry asked if he could help set up a Ward to repel them. “The twins would get into trouble otherwise without something to do…” The Burrow had Anti-Gnome Wards, but they were only activated when the older children were at school. Now the twins were making a game of gnome-tossing with their younger siblings.

Molly had taught Harry a few simple household charms he could use to carry out the chores. These little feats of magic by underage wixen were allowed in magical households. In the Americas, you could not have a wand until you graduated. In Africa, they did not use wands at all… Percy had explained the magical world to Harry the best he could. The nearest magical school to Australia was in Japan, and that only accepted Japanese wixen. The rest of Asia only had Koldovstoretz.

“Someone ought to start a school in Australia…”

“Well, are there enough magical students there? I suppose they need a certain number of students…”

Harry took a break from tossing gnomes. He watched young Ginny send a hapless gnome spinning into the air. In two days, he would be leaving for Hogwarts. The magic of the Burrow was warm and welcoming. A welcome stop on his journey and a chance to acclimatize to his new environment. He would miss it… As he sat down on the grass, he heard a warning hiss. It was a grass snake.

“Hullo there…”

“A Ssspeaker!” the snake uncoiled herself. “Ssso very rare…”

“Is the hunting good here?”

“Yesss, many frogs and worms…” the snake slithered over Harry’s knee. “My little onesss will eat well when they hatch…”  

“Congrats, little mother… a fine clutch…” Harry noticed the clutch of eggs hidden in the leaf litter, some of which were just starting to hatch.

“Watcha doing, Harry?” one of the twins came running over.

“Careful, Fred!” Harry called out a warning before Fred trod on the snake.

“Cripes! It’s a snake!’ George had come over to join his brother.

“Tell them to go away!” the mother snake fussed and hissed in warning.

“Easy, girl. They’re friends…” Harry soothed the snake and projected calmness into both her and the twins.

“Beautiful, isn’t she? Careful, she has babies there… I think they’re hatching…” Harry said quietly. The twins gaped like goldfishes.

“Harry, you never told us you’re a Parselmouth!” they said in unison.

“Don’t many wizards speak to snakes here?” Harry asked.

“No, it is a rare gift…”

“Those who do don’t show it off, at least not hereabouts…”

“Best keep it quiet like, because You-Know-Who was…”

“One himself…”

“Oh, are we speaking of Voldemort? My parents’ killer?” Harry looked straight at the twins. The twins both gave a glance back as if to make sure Ron and Ginny were not in earshot. The younger Weasleys were still merrily tossing gnomes.

“Yes, but we don’t say his name aloud…” Fred folded his arms.

“Some folks believe it’s bad luck…”

“Say his name aloud…”

“And he’d find and kill you…”

“Mom will get palpitations if she heard it…”

“Can’t blame her, seeing Uncles Fabian and Gideon…”

“Got killed in the last war…”

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Harry quietly shelved away both bits of information. Snake-speakers were revered back home for their healing skills. Albert Murray had told him tales of great tribal healers blessed with the Serpent-tongue by the Rainbow Serpent himself. Perhaps things were different here. A wail drew their attention, Ginny was accusing Ron of cheating at their game. Their older brothers hastened to head off a possible squabble. Harry stayed until the last of the little grass snakes have hatched.

“Do Dragon-keepers speak Snake or Parselmouth?” Harry asked Percy, who was reading a book on dragons. Percy reminded Harry of his cousins Alice and Clara. He was smart, serious, but prone to giving himself airs and getting ragged for it. Percy, like Alice, would make a good teacher if he had a mind for it.

“It’s called Parseltongue. I doubt they are capable of any intelligent speech or thought… Vicious beasts…” Percy muttered. They had just finished packing their trunks for school. Percy was a prefect, and the twins kept teasing him about it, Charming the badge to spell Pee Wee instead of Prefect.

“Your brother works with them. I was wondering if we can see one…”

“No, those reserves are restricted for a reason. Dragons are nigh untameable and known wizard-killers. We just need to breed them for their hide and potion ingredients…” Percy snorted. “Dragonhide’s great armour against spells and expensive stuff…”

“Oh…” Harry had been hoping to see a dragon. He had seen none back home. The closest Albert spoke of were the giant lizards from the Dreamtime, and the Rainbow Serpent. Were they kin to the dragons? Arthur came in asking if Harry would like to check out the new plugs he picked up, only to be admonished by his wife. The children would need to be in bed soon if they were to be up in time to catch the Hogwarts Express.

Harry dreamed that night of the Rainbow Serpent crawling across the land by the starlight of the Milky Way. He sang to the stars and the snake. This was the Dreamtime, the Song-paths. He was neither asleep in the Burrow nor standing on the red earth of the Outback. The ancient serpent flicked his tongue against his forehead, against his scar. 

Beware.

The figure of Albert Murray stood there under the ghost gums. He smiled at the boy. When Harry returned his greeting, his mentor pointed to the distant hills. A castle. Hogwarts. The Song-Paths thrummed. A young child, an infant, crying over the body of his mother. A crow cawing. The same child, now a skinny boy toiling in the garden of a picture-perfect house. Brow-beaten, timid. A red land in the south. The boy grown strong both in body and spirit, moving as one with his horse, driving the cattle to market.

What now?

“Harry! Wake up!”

Too soon, it was morning. Breakfast was more chaotic than usual. Ron was yelling at the twins for stealing bacon off his plate while they denied his accusations. Percy had somehow lost his precious prefect badge and was searching for it in the living room. Molly ordered Ron to go get properly dressed when she saw he was still wearing his pyjamas bottoms. Harry managed to snag a waffle, a sausage, and scrambled eggs onto his plate and snatch a cup of coffee. He wondered aloud if they would be able to catch the Knight Bus in time to get to London.

“Not to worry. We’ll take the family car,” Arthur explained.

“Will we fit?” Harry had seen the car. It seemed too small to seat the large Weasley family.

“Not to worry, it is magically Expanded,” Arthur explained. “It can seat up to ten, plus our trunks.”

Harry watched as Percy came trotting down the stairs with his trunk and Hermes. The owl gave a baleful stare at the chaos unfurling in the living room. Ron was stuffing something into his pocket. Molly was putting away the last of the breakfast things. The ghoul was acting up, forcing Arthur to break off his conversation and run up to soothe it.

“Mom! Fred’s hidden my shoe!” Ginny shouted as she hopped about on one stockinged foot.

“Not us!” both twins declared. The twins were like an older version of Steve and Irwin O’Reilly. Always up to mischief, but Harry sensed they were innocent this round. Harry closed his eyes and felt the Burrow’s rhythm. Where was Ginny’s shoe. Ah, there it was… under the armchair…

“Found it!” Harry snatched the wayward shoe and tossed it to Ginny. The little girl deftly caught it and put it on. Ginny was the baby of the family, and maybe a tad spoiled for that. Little Myra was the baby back home. The family was prone to make a fuss over her while she was little, but she would have to learn to do chores like everyone else when she was old enough. Even Helen and the twins had their own chores.

“In the car, now!” Molly ordered as she wiped her hands on her apron. Arthur was coming down the stairs, having settled their pet ghoul. The family was cutting it fine enough.

The family piled into the car and Harry found himself squished between Percy and Ron. He did not know what to make of Ron. Ron had taken a dislike to him. Part of Harry wished he could be friends since they were starting school together. There was something prickly about Ron. He minded having hand-me-downs and being the youngest son. He did not like having a guest in the house, especially since Molly and Arthur went out of their way to make Harry feel at home. Perry, Josh and the other O’Reilly children did not mind Harry coming to stay with them. Much like the rest of the Weasley kids, they had welcomed him like a brother.

There was a rat in the car. Harry glared at the wretched beast as it perched on Ron’s knee. He hated rats. They wreaked havoc on Uncle Ned’s feed stores back home. The rat gave a squeak as Harry mentally pictured squashing it out of existence. Or feeding it to Wanda, a python he had befriended back home. 

“I hate rats…” Harry explained when a concerned Percy frowned at his dark look. “They eat the animal feed and kill the chicks on the farm…”

“Oh, that’s just old Scabbers… He’s Ron’s rat, now that I have Hermes…” Percy replied.

“He’s just an old, fat, lazy rat…” Ron grabbed the rodent and crammed him down his pocket.

“Mom! George got ink all over my favourite dress!” Ginny shouted from behind them.

“It was an accident!”

“We’ll fix it!”

“Mom! They made it worse!” Ginny was sounding hysterical now.

Percy grumbled as he leaned over to clean up the mess his brother made. Harry heard the older boy make a choking sound.

“What happened to my owl?” Percy screeched in horror. The poor bird was a bright yellow like a canary. They had loaded Hermes in the back with the trunks. Harry started humming a tune to calm himself, wishing he was on horseback on a cattle drive. The Weasleys were good people, but oh, they were so loud and chaotic.

Chapter Text

They reached the station with barely any time to spare. A ruffled Hermes was back to his normal colouration by then and Ginny’s frock was clean. The older boys loaded their trunks onto the trolleys.

“Oh. Harry… This is your first time… The entryway is between Platform 9 and 10….” Molly volunteered as she shepherded her brood through King’s Cross.

“You might want to close your eyes and take it at a run,” Fred suggested.

“I’ve got this,” Harry grinned.

Access to Platform Nine and Three Quarters was much like the secret places old Albert spoke about. Like the rockface that hid the Place of Gathering back home. Percy strode through first with his trolley and Hermes. Harry did not flinch or slow his step as he walked through it with his trunk after Percy. Harry did not see the need for a trolley, once he had placed a Featherlight Charm on his trunk. He yanked the older boy out of the way as the twins came barrelling through with their trolley. They were quickly followed by Molly, who was scolding them for nearly running over their brother and house guest. Arthur picked up the rear with Ron and Ginny.

“First-years sit in Compartment D…” Percy was flipping through a notepad. Unnoticed, his polished prefect badge was flashing Pee Wee every other minute. Harry chuckled and nodded to the twins. Ron was squeaking as Molly Cast some form of Cleaning Spell on his neck and collar after his sister pointed out it was grimy. It sounded painful to Harry. Ron’s neck was left an angry red when she was done. Arthur was giving last minute admonishments to his twins to please behave.

“Would you like to meet some cool Gryffs or sit with wittle Ronnikins?” George asked with a wink.

“Hiya, Fred, George! Come see my tarantula!” a dreadlocked boy with a pointed cap called out and waved from one of the other carriages. Percy had already ushered Ron into the first-year carriage.

“Meet Lee Jordan, our bestest best friend!” George introduced. “This is Harry. He’s from the land of Oz.”

“You got a spider?” Harry beamed as he and the twins climbed up the carriage Lee Jordan was on. “Can I see it, please?”

“It’s under my hat,” Lee lifted his cap off to reveal a pink-kneed tarantula. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

“She’s lovely…” Harry cooed. Lee let the spider crawl down his arm.

“Let’s show her to Ronnikins,” Fred snickered. The twins exchanged looks that spoke volumes. Maybe little brother hated spiders. The whistle blew and the engine started its slow chug-chugging.

“Oops, looks like you are stuck with us big boys…” George shrugged as the train pulled out of the station.

“Argh! Wait up!” a young boy was running after the train, dragging a trunk behind him. He looked like a first-year student.

“Hurry up! You can make it! Accio late boy’s trunk!” George shouted a spell and Summon the trunk over to their still-open door. Still holding onto the trunk, the boy was yanked through the air as well.

“Gotcha, kiddo!” Fred and Harry helped George haul him to safety inside the carriage.  Lee had taken his spider, Lola, out of harm’s way within the compartment.

“Thanks, mate. Name’s Finnigan, Seamus Finnigan. Cousin Fergus sent me off to Platform 6,” the dishevelled newcomer panted. “The git… Mam got him to Side-Apparate me over from Dublin… Da’s too sloshed from the party… or maybe finding out I am going to Hogwarts and not St Andrews’ like he’s been hoping. Thanks for saving me- Er, is that a honking big spider on your hair?”

“Don’t mind Lola,” Lee grinned. Harry smiled as he helped tuck the newcomer’s trunk away under the seats. Their luggage was already in the baggage car. Introductions were made. Seamus’ eyes goggled when Harry introduced himself.

“Cor, you look nothing like the books…”

“What books?” Harry asked. Between chores, reading his textbooks and guides for Muggle-raised students, he had little time for leisure reading.

“Those Harry Potter adventure books. Kiddie stuff, really…” George explained.

“Gin’s gaga over them, but guess you weren’t a prince like they make you out to be,” Fred explained.

“Not with your patched shorts. Hanging out with Dad and his spark plugs…”

“Getting all covered with grease…”

“Washing dishes… Tossing gnomes…”

“Sucking up to Pee Wee Percy…”

“Well, he’s told me more about Hogwarts than the guidebooks… except for the Sorting bit,” Harry explained. 

“No biggie, you have to wrestle a troll…” Fred grinned wickedly.

“Cousin Seamus said it was outrunning a dragon!” Seamus added. “That’s why we’re not allowed brooms at school!”

“No, they just give you a potion and see what happens,” Lee corrected primly.

“That’s not true, right?” Harry frowned. He could sense the falsehood behind the grins. Only Seamus looked apprehensive. Percy had reassured Harry that the process was painless for the most part.

“It’s tradition. Don’t want to spoil the surprise for you firsties,” George laughed. 

“Lee, can we borrow Lola for a bit afterwards?” Fred asked.

“Let’s play Exploding Snap!” Seamus suggested. He fumbled with something in his pocket. A box of cards spilled out of his jeans and onto the floor.

“Oops!” There was a loud boom, sparks and smoke. George Cast an Aguamenti over a charred spot on the floor.

“Not to worry about it, I have a set,” Fred offered and extracted a set of cards from his pocket.

“First years! This way please!” Hours later, they arrived at their destination. Seamus and Harry were separated from the three older students by the prefects and a large man.

“Arry? I’m Hagrid. Knew yer folks… Ye look just like yer dad… Last saw ye when ye were just a wee babe, that terrible night…” the large man dabbed at his eyes. “All grown now… Guess Oz was good fer…”

The large man was distracted by a scream as a mousy-haired girl was shoved into the dirt by a trio of boys. The girl was small and two of the laughing boys were twice her size. The last one, a smirking blond, seemed to be the ringleader.  He held himself with an aura that spoke of wealth and privilege. Not one to dirty his hands, but all too willing to set his goons to do the dirty work.

“Knock it off! To the boats with ye!” Hagrid shooed the bullies towards the lakeshore.

“Poncy gits…” Seamus spat at the bullies’ retreating backs. The small brown-haired girl hiccoughed as she shakily got back to her feet. Her robes were muddied. She had scraped her knees. Her hair was sticking all out of her pigtails.

“Are you alright, miss?” Harry helped her up. He offered her his clean hanky.

“T-Thank you…”

“I’m Harry. Harry Potter from Australia… would you mind if I heal you?” Her knees were bleeding.

“Thanks, I’d like that. I’m Susan Bones… You’re not that Harry in the books, are you?” Susan asked. Harry had stooped down so he could place a hand over her knee. Instead of using a wand or an Episkey, he was humming with a look of immense concentration. She felt her knees warm, then the dirt and blood were gone with barely a scar. Harry looked up.

“I’ve not read those books, Miss Bones, so I would not know…”

“Oi, hurry up! Or the boats would leave us behind!” Seamus called and waved to them further down the track. Harry took Susan’s hand. It felt rough in hers. They hastened to catch up with the stragglers.

The lake was too cold for swimming in, alas, even in September. Harry dipped his hand in and found it too cold for his liking. He would have loved a swim otherwise. Perhaps he could try in daylight. There was something large that swam under his boat, unnoticed by his fellow passengers. Harry felt the beating of its heart, the curiosity in its trembling arms. Friends… Peace… The Giant Squid brushed lightly against the keel of the boat, making Seamus squawk in alarm, before plunging into the depths.

The castle reminded Harry of those in the storybook of ghost stories Josh got from the church charity hamper one Christmas. Lit from within, it loomed over the approaching boats. The very air thurmed with magic. Harry needed to take several deep breaths to ground himself. It was almost too much!

They were led through the courtyard and entry hall to the massive wooden doors where a stern-looking witch took charge of them from Mister Hagrid. Percy had already warned of the castle ghosts, especially Peeves the Poltergeist. He had also been warned about some of the staff. The cantankerous caretaker, and the nasty Potions Master.

Harry soon had the Sorting Ceremony worked out when they brought the Hat out. The thing was riddled with magic, though he would love to take his time and have a chat, it would not do to make everyone else wait.

“Well, well, a shaman on a walkabout? More like a warrior in training?”

“I suppose that sort of settles this Sorting, doesn’t it? Where do warriors go?”

“Could go far in Slytherin, with your other talents…”

“I prefer to keep those hidden, mate…”

Judging by the child’s confident stride, Professor McGonagall had no doubt where he would end up. She was not disappointed.

“Potter, Harry… Gryffindor!” There was barely a pause.

The twins welcomed him with claps on his shoulder while their little brother pouted. Seamus had also Sorted into Gryffindor. Ron would soon follow. No Weasleys had Sorted other than Gryffindor, Percy had explained. No one knew why exactly. Might be a family thing. That might also be why a timid-looking boy going by Neville Longbottom was at their table. Harry could sense the doubt rolling off Longbottom in waves.

Timid little Susan had Sorted into Hufflepuff, where she was welcomed by a friend Abbott who had Sorted in just ahead of her. A pair of twins were Sorted into separate House and now cast looks of uncertainty across the hall at each other. The pale-blond bully and his lackeys were in Slytherin. Harry let his magic reach out. A school. Learning. Knowledge, wisdom if he were lucky. A chance for them to grow, blossom. Harry looked at the Longbottom boy again. It was more than a lack of confidence. His magic was somehow stifled. Maybe like the old Harry, his family did not treat him well. Yes, he would reach out to him.

Harry glanced over to the dais where the teachers sat and winced. His head ached. Too much magic he supposed. That would need getting used to. Or he could go ask Madam Pomfrey for a Headache Soother. Percy had mentioned she could provide them with basic healing potions, so the students need not risk poisoning themselves trying to brew their own.  

Beware… The Rainbow Serpent of Dreamtime, undulating across the land, or was it sky? He touched his head where it ached. The headmaster – Dumbledore – was smiling at the students, a twinkle in his eye. He announced the feast open. The witch who had greeted them and overseen the Sorting was speaking with a turbaned wizard. Professor Sinistra was chatting with a very short wizard. He seemed almost a dwarf or part-goblin. That would be Professor Flitwick who taught Charms.

One professor regarded the assembly almost with disdain. He was clad in severe unadorned black. Professor Snape. Harry felt the man’s glare on him. He rose and looked back squarely. Nothing to hide. I am what I am. Roping calves, mending fences, digging wells… a boy raised on a farm in a red-dust land. I work hard. I respect and love Uncle Ned and Aunt Mathilda. I love my foster family, my siblings in all but blood. I honour and respect the mentor who has taught me till now in the magic of that land. Now I wish to learn more, how to use my magic to do good.  

Professor Snape looked away as if startled. He was not the only one.

“A stranger from a distant land…” a ghostly man with his head half-hanging off his neck murmured. “Greetings, young sir. I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Gryffindor House Ghost. That was quite a strong declaration, young man.”   

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Harry shivered. Other ghosts were gathered nearby, maybe a little too close to him. The chill was making his teeth chatter.  A scowling man in what could be a bloodied doublet and chains. A sad-looking young woman. A jolly-looking monk.

“Well, best get back to the feast,” the monk declared. Thankfully, the ghosts dispersed back to their respective tables. Harry rubbed his hands to warm them. The festive sounds resumed as everyone seemed to ignore the momentary lull. Professor Snape was speaking with Professor Sinistra now. The twins were speculating on what lay down the forbidden corridor. Harry shrugged and stifled a yawn as the feast drew to its close. He was not used to staying up so late unless Uncle Ned needed help with a cow.

This was another step on his journey. Adventure awaits.

Chapter Text

Magic in Hogwarts was heady, and almost intoxicating. It was like an ongoing buzz under his skin. As he lay in his comfy bed, sleep eluded Harry. With a sigh, he slipped out from behind the bed curtains. He padded over to the window and gazed out on the moonlit lake. The water shimmered, much like the billabong back home. Harry felt a pang of homesickness. Turning away from the window, he regarded his roommates. He could hear Ron Weasley’s snorting snore from behind his curtains. Seamus was mumbling in his sleep, having forgone drawing his curtains. Likewise, Dean Thomas was sprawled carelessly on top of his duvet, a Muggle comic by his side as he dozed. Harry padded over the gently eased the comic from under Thomas’ arm and a growing patch of drool. He then placed it on the nightstand. He was well-practised in this, having to retrieve toys or half-eaten cookies from the hands of Steve, Irwin, and more recently Myra. He had written to his family, but it would be some time before the letter reached them. There was also the pesky Statutes that prevented him from sharing too much.

Dean Thomas was Muggle-raised like him. He had brought a football to Hogwarts. A proper one, not the battered excuse Josh, Perry, and Harry made do with on the farm, salvaged from the creek one summer. He came from Birmingham, where he lived with his mom, stepdad and half-sisters. His real dad left before he was born, and Mister Thomas adopted him. Harry wondered if Uncle Ned would adopt him – Harry O’Reilly had an appealing ring to it. Weasley had screamed bloody murder when introduced to Lola in the common room. Lee Jordan had an exemption for his non-standard pet, so there was little Ron could do about it.

A stifled sob. Someone else in his dorm was awake.

“Longbottom?” Harry cautiously approached Longbottom’s bed like he would a skittish calf. Another sob. “Neville? You alright there, mate?”

“Uh-uh. I miss home… Can’t sleep…”

“Yeah. Me too…”

“I want to be in the greenhouse… The plants, they calm me… The house-elves… Mimsy, Flopsy… The moonflowers should be blooming now…”

“I miss the horses, Aunt Mathilda’s cooking, my cousins…”

“S-sorry… I’m scared I’ll mess up… D-disappoint Gran… I shouldn’t be crying…”

“Sometimes, it is alright to cry… May I?” Harry cautiously lifted a corner of the curtains. Neville was huddled miserably under his blankets. Harry hummed comfort to him. When Neville nodded, Harry sat on the edge of the bed. He tied back the curtains so Neville might see the moonlight shining through the windowpane.

“Stay with me, please?”

“Sure thing, mate…” Harry hugged Neville as he sobbed, rubbing small circles on his back. The same way Aunt Mathilda used to when the bad dreams came.

“Let me tell you the story of Wombat and Bandicoot…” Harry started. It was chilly in the tower, especially with the curtains tied back, so Harry snuggled close to the other boy under the covers before he started the story. The boys would spend the rest of the night in Longbottom’s bed before Harry returned to his slightly before dawn.

Transfiguration. There was a cat in the classroom. The grey-striped tabby sat on the teacher’s desk. The cat blinked her eyes slowly as the students filed in and took their places. Harry and Seamus filed into the classroom. Seamus took his seat, but Harry saw the cat and approached it.

“Aren’t you a beauty?” Harry cooed as he stepped up to the desk. There was something oddly familiar about the cat, but he could not quite place it. He reached out to stroke the cat. He froze when he felt the air around the cat shift. Then it was Professor McGonagall standing before the class. 

“Why, thank you, Mister Potter. If you would take your seat, we shall start the lesson shortly…” the grey-haired witch smiled at Harry amidst awed gasps and twitters of laughter from the class.

Matchstick to needle. McGonagall went from student to student, inspecting their attempts at transfiguring a matchstick into needle. Miss Granger’s match was looking rather metallic. Most were still struggling. She paused to cast an Aguamenti. Mister Finnigan had set his matchstick on fire. Her eyebrows raised when she saw that Harry was sitting at his table and just staring at the match.

“Mister Potter, what are you doing?”

“I am speaking with the matchstick. Asking if it would like to be a needle,” Harry explained calmly.

“Potter, please use your wand and cast…”

“Oh, I think I got it.” Harry fished out his wand and tapped the match. The match shivered and turned into a toothpick.

“Sorry, Professor… it doesn’t want to be a needle,” Harry shrugged. He tapped the toothpick. With a loud pop, it was a matchstick again. There had been something he felt earlier, back when he was with the Weasleys. Back in the car…

“Potter, try again!” Professor McGonagall admonished.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry snapped out of his musings. He resumed trying to convince the matchstick to be a needle. He did not want to force it to be a needle like Granger and his fellow classmates were doing.

Potions. Professor Snape reminded him of a travelling salesman with his pitch on his subject. Harry was almost impressed, until he spoiled the effect by deriding his students as dunderheads. He stifled a snort, but not enough to draw the Potions Master’s attention.

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” He pointedly ignored Hermione, who was waving her hand in the air.

“Draught of Living Death, sir.” Harry silently thanked Percy Weasley for warning him to prepare for Professor Snape’s lessons by reading the textbook beforehand.

“Where might I find a bezoar?” The Potion Master’s eyes narrowed.

“In the stomach of a goat, but I would check the medical cabinet in this classroom in event of an emergency, sir,” Harry replied.

“What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“They are the same plant, sir…” There was a slight twitch to Professor Snape’s lips. Was the man almost smiling? The black-clad professor turned to face the rest of the class.

“Well, why aren’t you writing this down? Oh, and five points to Gryffindor…” the last bit was delivered almost grudgingly.

Snape scanned the class. Longbottom was fumbling with his knife and making a hash of the flobberworms. Weasley had his fire on too high. He had ten minutes before that would be an issue. Crabbe and Goyle had taken the wrong ingredients – sea urchin spines instead of porcupine quills. He swooped over to correct them before they caused an explosion. He glanced over to Granger, who was managing swimmingly well much to the disgust of many of her Slytherin schoolmates. Her potion was the closest to the correct shade. Draco was a natural at Potions, but not above attempting some mischief at a possible rival. Snape Vanished the dung bomb he had been aiming at Granger’s cauldron.

“Five points from Slytherin, Mister Malfoy…” Snape hissed as his godson paled. He became aware of a burning smell. 

“Aguamenti,” Harry muttered as he directed a stream of water from his wand at Finnigan’s smouldering chopping board. Didn’t he tell them to put their wands away? There was a loud pop. The contents of Longbottom and Weasley’s cauldron exploded into the air. Darn, he had lost track of that pair! Snape lifted his wand to cast a Shield, but someone had beaten him to it.

The potion hovered in the air, contained within a bubble, before settling back into the cauldron and filling the air with choking fumes. Snape now waved his wand. A Ventus dispelled the fumes that were rising from the ruined potion and Evanesco vanished it. He then glanced about the room. Potter was panting as though he had run a marathon and looking decidedly pale.

“I-I might have overdone it…” he gave a lop-sided grin before he slid to the floor in heap. In all, it was an inauspicious start to his school year.

“Magical exhaustion,” Madam Pomfrey tutted. “Mister Potter needs to rest…”

“Granger will bring your notes later…” Neville smiled wanly. He had taken a tumble off his broomstick and fractured his wrist. Apparently, all it took to fix that was a spell from their mediwitch. The mediwitch shooed Neville out.

Harry groaned and shifted his weight. He still felt a little dizzy. All he had wanted to do was to use the castle’s magic to stop an accident from happening. He did not expect it to take so much out of him. The local magic was less forgiving. Back home, the magic of the land had seemed to leap into him when he chanted the blessings over the fences like Mister Murray taught him. He felt a soreness in his body as if the magic of this cold grey land had taken offense at his tugging at it. The magic was strong and maybe prouder than what he had encountered back home, more resistant to manipulation.

When he had come to, the Potions Master was berating him for his foolishness. One did not simply draw on the castle’s magic. Finnigan and Thomas were tasked with half-dragging him to the Hospital Wing for treatment. Weasley and Longbottom were slapped with detention to redo their potion. Detention would be arranged for Finnigan and Harry when he was better. He blacked out again on the way to the Hospital Wing.

“When can I go back to the dorm?” Harry asked the kindly mediwitch.

“Tomorrow… Channelling that much magic, it’s a wonder you aren’t in a coma… Now take this Core-Stabilizer,” the witch tsked and handed him a vial. Harry grimaced as he swallowed the thick, muddy concoction. It figured. Murray had explained that there were limits to using magic and a trade-off each time he went against the flow.

Flying on a broomstick sounded dangerous. What kept them from just falling out of the sky?  Then there was the professor who was also a cat. Or was it a cat who was a professor? Would she just walk out of class one day as a cat to do cat things? There was something about… Harry drifted off to sleep as exhaustion claimed him.

“What do you make of Harry Potter?” the headmaster peered over the top of his glasses, a twinkle in his blue eyes. It was a week into the term, and time for the staff meeting for the faculty to raise any concerns they might have about the new students. 

“Mister Potter has no understanding how to use a wand properly. It’s like he is reaching out with his magic to manipulate his surroundings instead of channelling it through his wand…” Prof Flitwick said as he helped himself to a biscuit. “When he does use his wand, it is more for show.” It had taken Harry almost half the lesson before he got his wand tip to light up. Before that, his entire wand was glowing.   

“His understanding of magic is very different…” Minerva frowned. “Understand he has already been to see Poppy…”

“Foolhardy, trying to tap into the castle’s magic…” Snape grumbled. “I’m surprised he managed it, but unnecessary given the Shielding on the workstations.” Outdated Shielding that needed him to activate in event of an impending accident.

“Weasley and Longbottom could have been hurt.” The Head of Gryffindor House rebutted. “Potter saved them from serious burns.”

“All the better for the lesson to sink in if they did get burned,” Snape snarked.

“Severus! The boy was trying to help. Potter and Longbottom seem to have a head for Herbology… Harry was singing lullabies to the baby mandrakes,” Sprout explained. “When I asked him, he said it just felt right. Smoothest repotting ever.”

“He’s keen on Astronomy. I had to send him off or he would have stayed on to join the third-year class…” Sinistra stifled a yawn. She had classes up to three in the morning and too little sleep before the morning staff meeting.

“He has picked up some bad habits that need breaking,” Snape scoffed. “Perhaps from his host family…”

“Come on, Severus, you possibly can’t fault the Weasleys…” Minerva murmured. Harry’s outlook on magic is very different from the Weasleys. But his Aussie kin were Muggles, weren’t they? Who could have been teaching Harry how to manipulate magic?

“He is reluctant to get on a broom. Something about keeping his feet on the ground to feel magic. Even when I do get him onto one, he doesn’t go too high or too fast…” Madam Hooch added.  Minerva looked disappointed that Potter did not inherit his father’s sporting talent.

“Anything to add, Quirrell?” The headmaster turned to the remaining professor who taught the First-year core subjects.

“N-nothing, headmaster… the boy is quiet. He left my class midway through. S-something about not feeling well…” the turbaned professor stuttered. Sprout made a sympathetic sound. The DADA lesson was two days after the accident. Maybe Potter was not well enough for class yet.

“Well, I do hope we can help Harry settle in… Now, I believe some of us have lessons to see to…” the headmaster ended the meeting.

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy yawned as a sense of lassitude flowed over him. Perhaps it was the warmth of the classroom. Potter was grinding the mandrake root. He thought that maybe he should drop something into Longbottom’s cauldron. But he could not rouse himself to the effort. There was something burning in the air which reminded him of Samhain bonfires…

“Morgana’s tits! Watch the potion!” his lab partner Nott jumped up from his stool and quickly lowered the heat. Their potion was on the verge of boiling over.

“Hm?” Draco murmured. A shadow passed over him and he looked up to see his scowling godfather.

“Mister Malfoy, what has gotten into you? Sleeping in my class?”

“S-Sorry, sir…” Draco stuttered. He still felt a little-headed. His godfather discreetly Cast a diagnostic spell over him and picked up the scroll that appeared.

“Hm, too many sweets and not enough exercise… Perhaps Flint will let you join the team’s morning run… and it will not be remiss of you to share sometimes.” There was nothing overly concerning about his godson’s health. No overt spells or signs of Compulsions. Snape glanced over where Potter was adding his mandrake root a second too late to his and Finnigan’s potion.

That was close, Harry thought as he stirred his potion anticlockwise. Malfoy was a snooty rich kid and a bully. He had hidden Neville’s Remembrall away up a tree after his broomstick accident. Harry had sought the help of an adder to recover the missing item for his friend. When in class, Harry often hummed a sense of dreaminess into Malfoy, so he did not feel obliged to cause mischief during their lessons. Same as he would a stubborn cow. Old Murray had warned him not to use it too often with the cattle or it might leave them in too much of a daze to care for themselves. He might lay off Malfoy for Herbology. He did not wish to render Malfoy comatose.

Of course, Harry Potter had to be Sorted into Gryffindor, Ron scowled as he shoved his bacon into his mouth. Perhaps if he had gone into Hufflepuff or another House… Now Harry was laughing and chatting with Fred, George, and Lee, while Lee’s tarantula crawled up his arm. Percy was going on about how Potter has been earning points for their House volunteering to help Professor Sprout or acing Astronomy.

He hated it when his parents needed to host students for Hogwarts over the summer to make ends meet. Not every child was fortunate enough to return home. It had started when he was six or seven, a friend of Bill’s. Next came a cousin of Charlie’s classmate. By the third summer, the Weasleys were the go-to host family for Gryffindor House and any first years coming to Britain early, for a fee. His mom had fussed over their guests. The girls played with little Ginny, braiding her hair and playing dolls with her. The boys gravitated towards Bill, Charlie, and the twins. If they were bookish, Percy was a natural companion. Ron stuck out like a sore thumb. He hated having to share his room with a guest. At their most packed, every child had a roommate, and Charlie was camping in the orchard for a week. Molly had promised that they would stop hosting after Arthur’s promotion. Then they received an urgent request to host a boy from Australia.

When he protested loudly about having another kid in the house, an annoyed Molly had smacked his backside with a Stinging Hex. It was only for a week or so. The poor boy had no one else in Britain he could stay with. Ron had disliked the stranger intruding on the Burrow with his polite manners and helpful ways. He felt Potter was showing him up the way he offered to help with the chores. Harry Potter was nothing like the mischievous adventurer from the books the young wixen of Britain grew up with. No, he seemed almost average. If one looked past his country manners and that Aussie accent. Ginny quickly saw Harry as another big brother. Harry was laid-back and friendly. His housemates liked him - Seamus, Dean, even Neville. The girls were curious, keeping their distance, except Muggleborn Granger. She was always peppering Potter with questions about life Down Under.

“Mate, you gotta give him a chance…” Seamus exclaimed when Ron whinged about how popular Harry was. “You’re not going all snobby like Malfoy, are you?”

Malfoy had turned his nose up at Potter’s well-patched clothes and Aussie accent, declaring he had likely been raised in a barn with his Muggle kin. Harry had only laughed and regaled his friends with a tale about Mister O’Rourke’s old barn and how it hosted Annie Kelly’s wedding reception. For his part, Malfoy seemed to lose any interest in needling Potter. 

Harry knew he was dream-walking again. He was under the ghost gums with old Albert watching the Milky Way swirl overhead.

“I don’t understand it. I get bad headaches sometimes… especially during Defence…” Harry touched his scar. Old Albert looked serious. In the dreamtime, his eyes were clear – deep pools of wisdom. The shaman hummed as he touched Harry’s brow.

“A rider,” the old man replied. “Your mother has sealed it once. Now you need to renew her seal. Beware.”

“How?”

Instead of old Albert, Harry was staring at the Rainbow Serpent. The Serpent yawned, jaws gaping wide as if to swallow him whole.

All too soon, Harry was back in his bed and morning breaking. The twins were whispering about the third-floor corridor at the breakfast table. Malfoy was holding court at the Slytherin table. His mother had sent a large care package from home via house elf. The young wizard was distributing his mother’s largess – Honeydukes’ Finest Collection. Harry thought about his dream-walk. What did old Murray or the Rainbow Serpent mean about a rider?

“Good morning, pass the coffee please…” Percy stifled a yawn as he sat next to Harry. The younger boy obliged.

“Ew, gross!” Lavender Brown squeaked as a rat stood between the syrup pitcher and the pancake stack.

“Ron! That’s unhygienic!” Granger exclaimed as she lifted her plate off the table.

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” Ron replied between mouthfuls of pancakes. “It’s just old Scabbers.”

He smirked at the girls. Harry shrugged. He could sense the underlying frustration from the youngest Weasley. He was trying to get a reaction from the girls with his pet. Their reaction was not what he expected. Harry really did not wish to interfere too much.

“I kept Scabbers in the dorm, Ron…” Percy interjected. “Human food might make him sick…”

“Maybe an owl would get him,” Harry murmured. The morning post was due. All around them, newspapers, small packages and letters were dropped before their recipients. Sometimes on their breakfast. There was a large owl with a heavy book-shaped parcel circling over their table. Harry kept his eyes on the post owl.

Drop it, NOW!

The owl shuddered and released its heavy load, right on top of the hapless rat.

“My book order came in!” Granger clapped her hands and grabbed her precious book off the slightly squashed rat. She ripped off the paper covering. Magical Traditions of Oceania.

“You’ve killed Scabbers!” Ron waved a fist at the retreating owl. Scabbers rolled over and waved his paws weakly in the air.

“I don’t know, Ron. Maybe you can give him the kiss of life or something?” Dean Thomas suggested. Ron grimaced and pulled out his wand to cast a Rennervate. Hiding a smile, Harry feigned interest in whatever passed for news in the Daily Prophet. He had recommended the title to Granger after her endless questions about why he did magic differently from how they were taught in Hogwarts. Professor Sinistra had recommended the text to him when he explained what he learned from his mentor was by oral tradition and he had no text to refer to. There was a copy in the library, but he had expected Granger would want one of her own.    

After the initial fuss at his arrival, everyone in Hogwarts seemed almost disappointed with the real Harry Potter. Well, except the twins and perhaps Hagrid. The boy spent most of his free time with the large man in his hut. Hagrid had known the Potters, after all. They had met by chance one fall day by the lake. Harry and Seamus were playing with the Giant Squid, tossing it smooth pebbles which the Squid juggled. A light rain had started. Hagrid invited both students to his hut for shelter and tea. Saturday tea soon because a weekly event, though Potter was wise enough not to risk the rock cakes. Those were discreetly dropped for Fang or tossed to the Squid to play with. 

“Yer look just like your da… a right wiz he was on a broomstick…”

“I don’t like broomsticks, Hagrid. They give me the willies, hovering off the ground like so…”

“Ah well, dey never founda broomstick dat could carry me, even as a lad,” Hagrid shrugged. “Doesn’t mean ah canna fly tho. I hav me a motorbike… flew ya from Godric’s Hollow in da sidecar… Dun use it much now…”

“Cool, can we see it?” Seamus exclaimed.

The motorbike was hidden under some tarp behind the hut. A bit dinged up, but it purred when Harry revved the engine.

Mister O’Rourke had allowed the O’Reilly boys to ride his motorbike. It became a secret rite of passage for the boys of three farmsteads in the middle of nowhere. Never knew when they might need to ride out in an emergency without a horse. He taught the boys how to ride once they were tall enough to sit comfortably on that rust-spotted Kawasaki. They practiced in the fallow pastures, away from the womenfolk. His wife gave him hell when she found out what he was doing on the sly. No safety helmets too.

“Wicked…” the two boys exchanged glances. A flying motorbike sounded more promising than a broom to Harry. It might need a bit of work…

They had a light aircraft for crop-dusting in Cordy Pedy. The pilot Eric Witherspoon had taken the O'Reilly boys up once to see the town from above. They had to crouch behind his chair and go one at a time. Josh claimed they had seen Miss Cordy Pedy Lucy Petty sunbathing on her deck when they flew over her place, in nothing but her knickers. Harry had seen a pack of dingos hunting a large roo. Perry sworn he had spotted a monster croc at the river crossing.

Two hours later, Hermione peered out the dorm window and did a double take as something whizzed by. Was that a flying motorbike being driven by Harry Potter with Seamus Finnigan in the sidecar? Maybe she was dreaming, or studying too hard…

Chapter Text

Harry Potter did not mean to be anywhere near the forbidden third floor corridor. Rules were there for a reason. The Weasley twins had a little misstep one evening and came back into the Gryffindor common room as pale as Clara’s freshly laundered sheets. A corner of Fred’s sleeve was ripped.

“M-monster dog on the third floor!” Fred spluttered.

“Three heads!”

“Barely made it out alive…”

“Are we even allowed to keep that hellhound here?” George squeaked.

“What were you doing on the third floor?” Percy had barked. “We’ve lost enough points already!” One of the older girls, Alicia or Angelina, was urging tea or a Calming draught on the pair. Another boy was declaring them liars. The first years had Astronomy class on at ten to midnight. Granger was grumbling that they better get a move on or lose more points for tardiness.

He had dreamed of the stars, especially the Milky Way as he learned his craft under old Albert Murray. The sight of the twinkling points of lights overhead had always reassured him. Professor Sinistra had promised them a treat this lesson. There was a meteor shower expected on top of their regular astronomic observations.

His mentor had mentioned sealing something anew. Or was it the Rainbow Serpent, the primal representation of creation and magic? He had tried to dream-walk again to no avail. Such could not be forced. A rider – some negative energy in his scar. Was that why he got headaches in DADA? Harry stifled a yawn.

“Potter! Tell me the names of the stars of Orion’s belt,” Professor Sinistra called out for the second time. Granger elbowed him in the ribs, jarring him back into wakefulness.

“S-sorry, Professor…” Harry recited the names of the stars. The weather that night was disappointingly fickle. Sporadic clouds only allowed the merest glimpses of the stars within ten minutes of their class starting. There were no meteor showers to be observed. Their professor had Cast Warming Charms on their cloaks but the wind atop the Astronomy Tower was still bitingly cold. Seamus had attempted to start an actual fire but that did not go well. He was now short a telescope. Ron had grumbled about the cold and late hour, before succumbing to sleep. An annoyed Professor Sinistra shook him awake when his snoring got too loud.

Susan Bones was also there, since the Gryffindors shared their class with the Hufflepuffs for Astronomy. She was horribly disappointed there were no shooting stars. Her Warming Charm had worn out. Harry offered her his cloak when he saw she was shivering under hers. He had long worked out how to use his magic to keep a warm cocoon of air around him to guard against the cold. The momentum of the class quickly petered out between the late hour and the inclement weather. Professor Sinistra wondered if she should move the entire class to the Astronomy Room two floors below, but the lesson was already half gone and it was meant to be a practical after all. Instead, she dismissed the class early with a homework assignment on the alignment of Venus and Mars.

The students filed down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. Susan thanked Harry for the loan of his cloak and returned it to him, lingering a while longer behind the rest of the students. Professor Sinistra had remained on the tower to prepare for her next class.

“It was too bad we did not get to see shooting stars…” Susan murmured.

“I can show you some… though it is only a memory…” Harry took Susan’s hand in his and hummed. Susan gasped as she found herself standing on an open plain. Overhead, a meteor shower streaked across the sky. Then they were alone on the stairs of the Astronomy Tower.

“It’s beautiful…”

“A memory of a meteor shower that my cousins and I saw on the cattle drive two years ago,” Harry explained. “There were so many Perry lost count how many wishes we ought to make.”

“Thank you… I guess we better go back to the dorms…” Susan blushed. There was something inherently charismatic about Potter.

“I’ll walk you back. Your dorm is near the kitchens, right?” Uncle Ned or Eddie had always walked Ma Kelly and the Kelly sisters back to their home after sunset even if it was a short walk away. It was the proper thing to do.

Unfortunately, they would not get to the Hufflepuff dorms that night. They were halfway down a staircase when a flustered Granger came running up towards them.

“I left my quills behind!” she exclaimed and almost fell when the staircase decided this was the time to start moving while she had one foot on the landing and the other on the last step. Harry grabbed her arm before she tumbled into the void. Her heavy bookbag was not so lucky. Parchment and notes fluttered in the air. The staircase shifted and linked them right to the third-floor corridor. The one the headmaster had warned them to keep away from.

“Maybe we should go back up…” Hermione stuttered. Her face was as pale as chalk. Harry clucked his tongue. Moving staircases indeed. Someone could have been killed. They tried to head up, but the staircase shifted again, ending against a brick wall. Maybe the old castle was acting up like Mister O’Rourke’s ancient tractor. Harry probed at the magic of the stairs. No, he should not risk it. They could wait for a professor to find them and fix the malfunctioning stairs, but that could be hours away. Hermione was bemoaning the loss of her books. The books had fallen too far for a Accio, and she see could not see them in the dim light.

“Well, we have no choice…” Harry led both girls down the stairs into the forbidden corridor. Maybe they could find another route back to the dorms.

“Alohomora,” Hermione cast the unlocking spell when they came to a promising-looking door. This section of the castle was oddly bare of portraits. They had only encountered one and the snobbish witch in it had been exceedingly rude to Granger, calling her a mudblood. Harry understood that was a terrible slur in the wizarding community, thought he could noy understand the basis for the prejudice. Magic was magic where he was concerned, no matter who one’s parents were.

The first two doors they encountered were a broom closet and a dusty classroom. Maybe third time lucky? When the door swung open, Harry sensed an overwhelming sense of loneliness and sorrow. He placed his hands on the shoulders of both girls, stopping them from going further. They were now standing just inside the room. The door swung shut silently behind them.

“Who’s there?” Harry asked quietly. Was it a ghost like Moaning Myrtle? “We mean you no harm…”

A clanking of chains. A scrabbling sound. Something large, and smelling… doggy? Harry frowned. He was reminded of the cattle dogs who guarded the herd. Loyal to their masters and the farm, but wary of strangers.

Friend… Harry channelled his magic into the room. He had bad experiences in the past with Aunt Marge’s dogs. He had been fearful of the many farm dogs when he first arrived on Uncle Ned’s ranch. Aunt Mathilda had shown him that there was nothing to fear from them. Albert Murray had thought him how to project his magic so they would know him as a friend who meant no harm. This was what he did now.

“Lumos,” Hermione whispered. Hermione and Susan screamed when they saw the three-headed dog. The Cerberus growled and launched itself at them. Cursing under his breath at the turn of events, Harry shoved both girls behind him. It was happening too fast.

Friend! No harm! He raised his hand before him. The large beast drew short. The middle head warily sniffed his outstretched hand as if deciding if he were friend or foe.

We are lost. Trying to find way back to den… Harry tried to picture the warm Gryffindor common room. The dog whimpered almost longingly. The door was stuck. Both girls were trying frantically to open it, but it would not give. The locking mechanism had jammed. They were locked in with the Cerberus. There was another door across the room that might lead to another part of the castle, but they would need to get past the guard dog first.

Something warm and wet and smelling of dog slapped Harry in the face. Reassured, Harry approached the Cerberus. He wiped his glasses and looked at the tag hanging from the dog’s collar. Fluffy.

“Hello, Fluffy. Nice to meet you… can we be friends?” Harry scratched the dog’s middle head behind the ears when he bowed down. The dog barked and his tail thumped against the floor. He was too large to be kept in such a small space away from the sun and open air. Was he being fed and watered properly? An almost forgotten memory. A small closet under the stairs. 

Harry blinked away a tear. The dog whined and shuffled, almost bowling him over with his bulk.

“Harry?” Hermione asked. The girls have stopped rattling the door. They were now watching the three-headed dog warily.

“It’s alright… He knows we’re friends…” Harry explained. “Fluffy, they are my friends…”

The dog sat down and flopped onto his side. Harry laughed and rubbed his belly. Hermione cautiously approached. Her curiosity winning out.

“Does he have three separate minds, one for each head?” she whispered. Susan Bones followed. The left head sniffed at her.

“Have you got something in your pocket?” Harry asked.

“J-just some oatmeal biscuits…” Susan murmured. “I was peckish before class…” She pulled out an oatmeal cookie that had a bite taken out of it. The cookie disappeared into Fluffy’s left mouth.

“You’re doing it, aren’t you? That sing-sing thing?” Hermione asked.

“Just a bit…” Harry tugged at the chains. “It’s plain wrong to keep him locked up like this…”

“Is that a trapdoor?” Susan pointed at the floor.

“He’s guarding something… The books say Cerberuses were bred as guard dogs,” Hermione stifled a yawn. It was long past curfew. “We ought to go back…”

“No. I’m staying with Fluffy…” Harry insisted. He sat down between the dog’s front paws.

“Then I’m staying too,” Susan said.  

“We could be expelled for missing curfew!” Still Hermione sat down next to Susan and Harry. The three children were soon fast asleep with the Cerberus watching over them.

He was outside watching himself and the girls sleep beside a giant three-headed dog. Dream-walking.

So you have made a friend… Old Albert smiled from where he stood by the door. The Cerberus had taken on another form in the Dreaming. A pack of three normal-sized dogs reminiscent of the cattle dogs on Uncle Ned’s farm playing at his feet. They were in the Outback, under the stars.

How do I seal this? Harry asked and lifted his bangs, revealing his scar, the apparent source of his headaches and the lingering taint the Rainbow Serpent had identified. The three dogs paused in their roughhousing to stare and growl at the evil they sensed. Old Albert raised his staff, holding them back.

Not yet. Time not ripe for sing-sing… Your friends here will watch, until they are old enough.

You mean they are not yet grown? Harry stared at the three dogs. Fluffy’s a puppy?

“Morning, Fluffy! Time for breakfast!” Hagrid announced as he unlocked the door to the room, having climbed the exterior steps to the upper storey of the castle. He dragged the pail of dog food and…

“What’re yer doing’ here with Fluffy?” the groundskeeper gawped at the sight of two girls and a boy snuggled into Fluffy’s fur, fast asleep. Harry yawned, stretched and rubbed his eyes. The girls soon woke alongside him.

“Morning, Hagrid. Sorry, we might have fallen asleep… Will you take Fluffy out for a walk? I think he needs it…” Harry asked as he straightened his rumpled robes. Hagrid dumped the pail of meat and kibble before one of Fluffy’s heads before going out and returning with another pail of food. The children saw that the other door seemed to open out into the courtyard, presumably to facilitate Hagrid caring for the Cerberus. He hoped their absence from the common rooms would not cause too much trouble for their housemates and Heads of House.

“Eh, no can do… Headmaster’s orders… ah feed and clean up afta ‘im…” Having fed all three heads, the groundskeeper then returned with a large washtub of water.

“That’s cruel, this room is too small for him…” Hermione pointed out. She gasped when she recalled the loss of her book bag. Mumbling a hasty apology, she dashed out, presumably to recover her lost books.

“Did we miss breakfast?” Susan asked. The sun had risen. She rose to her feet and almost tripped over the handle of the trapdoor. “What’s he guarding under there?”

“I canna tell yer. Only the headmaster and Mister Flamel… Lucky thing we got it out be’fer the break-in at Gringotts… Ye didn’t hear it from me…”

“Poor Fluffy… We’ll be back after class to keep him company…” Harry patted the Cerberus’ three heads in turn.

“Harry, I think we need a bath…” Susan sniffed her robes critically. They were all generously covered with dog hair and dried drool.

“Straight down da stairs and turn left. Door t‘ere will bring yer ta the kitchens. Elves can help from t’ere…” Hagrid suggested as he produced a large brush, presumably to give Fluffy a bath with. The children thanked Hagrid and hastened on their way.

Chapter Text

Halloween. News about Fluffy had spread to the annoyance of their professors and headmaster. With the proper treatment, the pup was a big softy. The third-floor corridor was no longer as forbidden as the headmaster would wish. Many students were too willing to risk detention to play with the Cerberus pup. Harry took charge of introducing interested students to the Cerberus as friends. It had started with the students in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff of course, then Parvati Patil told her sister in Ravenclaw. The Slytherins were still holding off, but Zabini told his Herbology partner Boot that Malfoy had written to his parents demanding a Cerberus puppy for Yule. Lord Malfoy had sensibly declined. The princeling had been intolerable since. Anthony Goldstein wrote to his Uncle Newt about improving the Cerberus’ living conditions. Surely the castle could do something with Wizarding Space. The too-short chain tethering the dog was another issue. They should have a qualified magizoologist to come look Fluffy over. The Scottish Highlands was a far cry from the Mediterranean islands Cerberuses were native to. Was the room warm enough?

A pity about the chain, but they managed to charm grass on the flagstones and the ceiling to reflect the sky outside. The Cerberus should be allowed to socialize with his own kind, since they were pack animals. Maybe they had missed that window entirely, and Fluffy might never be able to join a wild pack. If they had to keep him in Hogwarts, would it be better if he had a kennel of his own outside the castle and somewhere to roam free? Harry mused as he browsed through the tract on the Cerberus reserve in Greece Mister Scamander had left after adding his Charms to the room. He did say he will speak to the headmaster about the chain, but no changes had been made yet. 

Everyone else was making a fuss about the upcoming Halloween Feast. Harry did not see why. He lost his parents during the holiday, even if he could barely remember them. Halloween was not that big a fuss back home. Ma Kelly would light a candle in her window and say prayers about that time of the year for the souls of the departed, but that was it. They had more important things to attend to on the farm. If the pastor did come by Cobbler Creek to hold a service for All Souls, they attended church. He failed to see the appeal of candy loaded with too much sugar and artificial flavours and colouring. Chocolate dipped marshmallows and caramel apples were acceptable in moderation as a rare treat. It felt odd celebrating a holiday that was now about him defeating some dark wizard, though he was sure his late parents were the real heroes.

So, Harry chose to remain in Fluffy’s Field, as they had named the room after Mister Scamander’s improvements. His absence was soon noticed by his Housemates.

“Harry, there you are… The feast is starting soon!” Seamus exclaimed. With him was Neville Longbottom, who was looking warily at Fluffy. Most of his House had already come by to look at the Cerberus, even the Weasley twins who had overcome their initial scare. Now the pair were planning to summon up the courage to ride Fluffy. Harry dissuaded them of the notion as there was not enough chain for Fluffy to run far.  

“I-is he friendly?” Neville whispered as the three heads studied him.

“It’s alright, let him take a sniff,” Harry reassured the pudgy boy. Neville’s confidence had been rattled by his lack of magical ability in class compared to his fellow students. Especially after his broomstick mishap. Harry strongly suspected that his wand might have something to do with it. True, it did not have cracks or bits sticking out like Ron Weasley’s, but it just felt dead.

Harry had tried to encourage him, especially in Herbology and classes where wands were not needed. Some days he just felt like throwing Neville’s wand in the lake so he would get a new one. Then there was Ron Weasley’s rat. The rodent just gave Harry the creeps. Scabbers felt a little like Professor McGonagall when she was a cat. He had encountered her in her Animagus form a few times when returning from the Astronomy Tower at night. Could the rat be a Animagus? But the Weasleys had him since forever…

“Potter, it is compulsory for all students to attend the feast. It’s in the school rules.” A fifth-year student entered the room. Great, now even Percy Weasley was here to rouse him.

“Sorry, Fluffy… we’ll bring you a doggy bag…” Harry patted the whining dog on all three heads before Percy escorted Neville, Seamus and Harry towards the Halloween Feast. Little did the students know that at that very moment, the news of a troll in the dungeons was causing chaos in the Great Hall.

Hermione knew she should not have let Ronald Weasley get to her, but his words still smarted, just as the words of the popular girls back in her Muggle school did when she topped all her classes. Swot. Know-it-all. Hadn’t she held her head high back then? Well, she was not going to let some nasty boy ruin her Halloween. Having washed her face, she was about to return to the feast when the most awful stench hit her. Were the toilets backed up by Peeves again? Then something huge crashed through the doorway of the girls’ bathroom.

A mountain troll! She was going to killed. Hermione Granger screamed like she had never screamed before in her life.

The boys were halfway down a flight of stairs when they heard a girl’s scream, followed by the sound of smashing masonry, and a monstrous bellowing.

“Stay back!” The normally mild Percy ordered as he drew his wand and ran in the direction of the commotion. Naturally the younger boys had to follow. Someone needed saving.

There was a ragged hole in the wall where a door had once been.

“Troll!” Percy shouted a warning. “Go fetch a professor!” Still the younger boys clambered in after him, wands drawn. A bushy-haired girl was cowering by the wreckage of the sinks but still making a spirited attempt to hold the troll at bay with Stinging Hexes. A poor choice given the troll’s magically resistant hide. The beast roared and swatted her aside as if she were a bug. It then lifted its club.

“Hey, loser! Over here!” Seamus yelled and fired a Burning Hex at the troll’s backside. The creature yelled and turned round. Rage and pain burned in its beady eyes. Seamus’ spell must have smarted.

Help! Harry willed his magic into the castle. The troll still stood between them and a now-motionless Hermione. Harry prayed she was only stunned, and the troll would no longer go for her. Percy was now engaging the troll, but his spells were not slowing the creature. Instead, they were angering it further.  

It was risky, delving into his magic to use on an unknown like the troll. Do they dream? Could he reach it via the Dream-paths?

“Duck!” Neville barrelled into him, shoving him out of the way of a swinging club. Harry's wand flew out of his hand. There was a sickening crack as poor Percy flew bodily into the far wall. Harry saw out of the corner of his eye Hermione’s hand twitch. At least she was alive.

He needed to focus within the space between dreams and the now. He was looking on the ruined bathroom from above. He could sense the teachers coming towards the commotion. Two, three perhaps. But still a floor away in the dungeons. Scared. Fear. The troll was in pain, and afraid?

“Stop hurting him!” Harry shouted as Seamus tried a Cutting Hex that bounced off the troll. The Irish boy ducked as the club swung past where his head had been. Neville was fumbling with his wand.

“Er, what do you mean?” Neville asked. A gash on his head was bleeding into his eyes.

“We need him to calm down…” Harry shucked off his outer robe and grabbed Neville’s wand. “Go get a teacher once I have him under control.” Could he levitate the cloak that high? The troll was frightfully tall.

Harry willed his magic into the wand he took from Neville. An image of a warrior throwing a spear. An athlete pole-vaulting… The wood shifted in his hand, transforming… A pole it was.

Andy O’Rourke had made it look easy – setting up some old sporting equipment they found in the old barn for the youngsters to try their hand at Olympics. He claimed he was once on the national track team. It had been fun and games until a shot putt hit one of the steers and started a stampede through the Kellys’ fields. Harry had never pole-vaulted before then. Andy had instructed them on what to do before letting them loose.

“Distract him!” Harry shouted. Seamus nodded and fired a Burning Hex at the troll.

Holding his robe in his teeth, Harry backed up, sprinted and planted the pole in. Did he have enough momentum for a take-off? Somehow, he did. He flew into the air, releasing the pole to grab his robe. Now airborne, he sailed over the troll’s head, covering his eyes with the fabric and then holding on for dear life.

The suddenly blind troll roared and dropped his club, trying to shake the boy off. Harry pressed down lightly on the troll’s head while holding the makeshift blindfold in place.

It’s alright, mate… You need a rest, friend…

The troll fell clumsily on his bottom, right on top of Neville’s transfigured wand, which promptly snapped. The troll swayed sideways to Harry’s alarm. “Grab him!” Harry shouted to the two boys.

“Shite!” Seamus and Neville grabbed the still out-cold Percy by his arm and leg and dragged him clear seconds before the troll crashed against the wall where the prefect had been. Hermione groggily lifted her head.

“Mister Potter, what happened here?” Professor McGonagall’s Scottish brogue cut through the air. The calvary had arrived.

“It’s under control, Professor… but Percy and Hermione need medical help,” Harry said quietly as he gingerly climbed down from his perch on the troll’s head. “He’s just scared out of his mind. Someone grabbed him from his home and dumped him here… He should sleep it off before we send him back home.”

“Where did he come from?” Professor Flitwick asked as Madam Pomfrey was sent for.

“Not sure… somewhere with crags and forest. I never had to speak with a troll before. Are you alright, Hermione?”  

“M-my head hurts… T-thanks for saving me…” Hermione groaned as she tried to stand.

“Easy there, you might be concussed,” Harry replied. The troll let loose a snore. The deputy headmistress regarded the troll with a frown. She would ask her lions, except for Granger, why they were not at the Feast – later if she remembered to.

“Headmaster, you have a useless guard dog… Potter’s ruined him,” a slobber-drenched Snape growled as Dumbledore looked up from his desk in the headmaster’s office. The man’s wet hair stood up at odd angles. The Halloween Feast had been cancelled and the students returned to their common rooms apart from Mister Weasley and Miss Granger.

“Did anyone get to the trapdoor?” his blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon glasses.

“No, I believe not. Quirrell…”

“Everything is under control, my boy… Lemon drop?”

“I decline…” the Potions Master swept out of the office in a huff. Oh, the horror of having his face and hair thoroughly licked by a huge three-headed mutt.

Dumbledore frowned. He had checked the traps around the Stone as well. The second troll, a forest troll, was happily munching on his Halloween feast treat of a roasted boar when he checked on Quirrell’s trap. The DADA professor’s behaviour at the feast was suspicious to say the least. He had expected Quirrell to steal the Stone on Voldemort’s orders… It seemed he had been forestalled by Snape.

Minerva McGonagall stared at her newest student. The Slytherins were shooting suspicious glares at the other half of her class. Todd the Troll was washed, dressed in one of Hagrid’s old robes, and sitting next to Hermione Granger. Her lions had taken the troll under their wing while Professor Quirrell looked for a way to transport him safely home to the Black Forest. For now, he slept in the Entrance Hall and was fed by the Hogwarts elves. Hermione had found out that Todd understood basic German and was more than happy to act as his translator despite their rocky introduction. Harry had explained that Todd was lashing out in fear and confusion after a traumatic experience. Right now, she was trying to stop Todd from eating the beetles they were to transfigure into buttons.

Percy Weasley had received the mother of all Howlers from Mrs Weasley about risking his neck as he did. Then his father and older brothers Owled to say how proud they were of him. The prefect was now basking awkwardly in the limelight of his heroics. He had not intended to act as the hero, but he became one all the same. As did Neville, Harry, and Seamus. Longbottom was doing much better with his new wand than his old. Boy had inherited it from poor Frank. Maybe the wand did not suit him in the first place. Augusta had taken her grandson to Ollivander’s for a new wand the first available weekend. Neville was more confident now in his Casting.

“Hey, Granger. Is that your new boyfriend?” Draco Malfoy snickered. “With your teeth and hair, he probably thinks you’re pretty – for a troll…”

Hermione flushed crimson with embarrassment as the other Slytherins started laughing.

“No talking in class, Mister Malfoy – Ten points from Slytherin…” McGonagall admonished without looking up as she continued guiding Dean Thomas in transfiguring a beetle into a button. The class was interrupted by a high-pitched scream.   

 “Gargh! Put me down, you ugly brute!” McGonagall looked up to see Draco hanging from the chandelier by the collar of his robes. He was quickly joined by his two lackeys – Crabbe and Goyle.

“Todd thinks Mister Malfoy is being mean to Hermione,” Harry murmured as his beetle happily crawled down his arm before changing into a button in the palm of his hand. “If he and his friends apologize, he’ll let them down…” Harry held up his button to the light to inspect it – a silver button with an engraved kookaburra and a perfectly formed shank at the back. Todd had appointed himself as Granger’s protector. Ron Weasley had already learned the hard way to keep any sniping remarks about their housemate’s bookish ways to himself. Harry never thought they had to talk a troll out of squishing Scabbers. Harry might not mind, but Scabbers was once Percy Weasley’s.

“Potter, the chandelier is not meant to bear so much weight… If you please, Mister Todd?” the professor murmured. She would need a Headache Soother after this. Hermione translated her request into simple German while Todd grunted as if in discussion with Hermione and Harry. All this while, Malfoy and his cronies blubbered their apologies.

McGonagall prayed that Todd’s transport back home could be confirmed soon, and they would be shot of their unintended visiting ‘student’.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Todd was to stay until spring at least. Quirrell claimed he could not get transport to Germany any sooner with winter crawling in. As the days shortened and the temperature dropped, Todd grew more sluggish and would often be found snoring on the House tables in the Great Hall at breakfast to the House elves’ annoyance. Breakfast had to be sent to the common rooms of the affected Houses. For decency and general hygiene, the teachers decided to build a separate outbuilding for the troll, near to Hagrid’s shack. It was made of stone.

“Trolls, t’ey don’t care for fire much,” Hagrid explained when Hermione pointed out the lack of a fireplace or any means of heating. “If he’s bin out wintering in the Black Forest, he could manage a Scottish winter. Ah’d leave me door open in case he needs me…” Hagrid had taken Todd under his wing so to speak. Lessons did not appeal to Todd. Professor Snape forbade him from being anywhere near the Potions Lab. Now he spent much of his time helping Hagrid rather than guarding Hermione, to Hermione’s relief as well. Todd meant no harm, but he was too much like a toddler in class and prone to disrupting her lessons.

The homesickness hit Harry when the first Christmas decorations started appearing. They kept it simple back on the farm. An ancient, almost bald, Christmas tree with handcrafted ornaments. Cards on the walls and shelves to add a festive air. The highlight would be the Christmas cake Aunt Mathilda always baked, filled with dried fruits. If the year was good, they might get a Christmas turkey, ham or goose for dinner, then invite the neighbours over to share the bounty.

Harry wrote to his family and received news from them in turn. Helen was on the road to recovery and back in school after her treatment. Uncle Ned had come into an inheritance from some distant relative and had purchased a new herd of twenty cows, hoping to turn the farm’s fortunes round. Harry prayed his uncle would succeed. Without him there to maintain the Wards, would the springs still run? Would the rats keep away? Would the wild dogs that threatened the calves…

Christmas meant family. And his was on the other side of the world. Blinking away tears, Harry made his way to Fluffy’s Field. He could do with a cuddle up to the large pup. Todd had taken to snoring half the day away. Torpor, Hermione explained. In addition to the book on Australasian magic, Hermione had obtained a book on trolls and Cerberuses to ensure that both Fluffy and Todd’s welfare were taken care of. Most mountain trolls went into this state in the winter months when food was scarce. Todd might wake up every few days to feed among other things, but it was likely he would sleep through Christmas and New Year. Forcing him to stay awake would only make him cranky like any toddler. Hagrid found that out the hard way when he tried to rouse Todd for a bath after five days asleep. Harry and Hermione had to run out of Herbology to calm him down before Todd demolished his hut.

Maybe Todd was feeling just as homesick. The elves prepared a raw haunch of Black Forest boar, which he slung up in the rafters of his hut, taking the occasional chomp when he did awake. With the cold weather, it would keep through winter, so everyone hoped. Newt Scamander was called in again for his expertise in magical beasts. Here Hermione insisted on debating what was a beast or being as defined by the Ministry. An earlier classification listed trolls as beings, and where did werewolves fall? Hermione’s chatter was gone from the common room for the Christmas break. She was going to visit her Granny. Most of the lions had caught the Hogwarts Express back to London, to spend the holiday season with their families. Except for the Weasleys. Arthur and Molly were visiting their second son Charlie in Romania and had left their youngest with their Aunt Muriel, so Percy had explained. The four Weasley boys would stay in Hogwarts over the holidays.

Harry emerged from his dorm to find the twins playing Exploding Snap by the fire. Percy and Ron were engaged in a brutal game of Wizard’s Chess. Percy ordered his knight to stop beating his brother’s bishop when he saw Harry. He walked over to the table and picked up a present from the pile, checking the tag on it.

“Honorary Weasley, Mom’s thanking you for helping with that troll…” Percy grinned as he handed Harry the present. “Please unwrap it, I’m sure you’d find it warm…” He was wearing a bright yellow one with the letter P on it.

Harry’s dislike of the cold weather was well known. He had attended the last Quidditch game with his thickest cloak and multiple Warming Charms. He felt he ought to support the twins and his House team even in freezing rain. A buldger had taken poor Wood out midway in the game. They lost 70-250 to Slytherin. Madam Pomfrey had to give out Pepper-Ups to the student body afterwards.

Harry found a bright green sweater on unwrapping his present. Percy smiled. “Try it on,” he urged. “She made sweaters for Longbottom and Finnigan too. Except Fnnigan’s caught fire when he unwrapped it.”

“Gee, thanks…” He pulled it over his head. It was nice and fluffy…

“You look like a giant booger!” Ron taunted. Percy glared at his younger brother.

“Oi, play nice, Ronnikins…” George chided. Fred simply tackled his younger brother to the rug. Percy rolled his eyes as a grinning George joined in the roughhousing. Harry could have stayed in the common room with the brothers, but watching the brothers reminded him of Josh, Perry, and the rest of his cousins. He murmured his apologies before heading to Fluffy’s.

“Easy there, boy…” Fluffy whined as he nosed Harry. He rolled over for a belly rub. With a sigh, Harry put down the book he had been reading to oblige the pup.

“Oh, Harry… I wasn’t expecting you here…” Harry looked up to see Susan Bones.

“Auntie’s got work in Paris this week… She promised to get me something from France…” Susan held out the large ox leg bone she had been lugging in a sack behind her, to Fluffy’s delight. The dog leapt back onto his paws, tail wagging away in delight.

“Merry Christmas, Fluffy. It’s from the elves… Hold on, there’s more!” she emptied out the sack to dump two more bones. Soon all three heads were contentedly gnawing away.

“At least I have Hannah, Ernie and Zack staying over as well… It’s always been just Auntie Amelia, Pooky the elf and me,” Susan said wistfully. An orphan. Harry sensed the bittersweet tang of sorrow, a reminder of family gone… an emptiness yearning to be filled. Susan had been the only survivor from her immediate family in a massacre during the last war.

“I think we should join the rest for the Christmas dinner, don’t you think?” Harry suggested. The pair walked out into the corridor. They turned the corner and…

“This was not here earlier…” Harry frowned at the ornate standing mirror. Susan gasped and clutched at his arm.

“H-Harry… I see myself - Dad and Mom… Oh! My older brothers and sister…” Susan was crying beside him, overcome with emotion.

Harry looked at the glass. He could not see Susan’s family or even Susan. Instead, he saw his Uncle Ned, Aunt Mathilda, and all his cousins around the kitchen table in their little farmhouse. How baby Myra had grown… False! His sixth sense was screaming.

They were beckoning him over. The table was set for Christmas dinner – pies, hams, goose, cake... The Kellys and O’Rourkes were also there. Old Albert Murray leaning on his walking stick… His dark eyes were clear as he stared at Harry. False… His mentor’s lips mouthed. Don’t trust your eyes.

Lies, a mirage. Harry tore his eyes away from the mirror with great effort.

“Susan! Snap out of it, I think this is a trap!” Harry yelled. Should he break the mirror? What would it do to Susan Bones? Frost. Harry pictured the snow on the roof, the icy winds. He called the castle’s magic to himself, channelling it. Frost bloomed on the mirror, at the edges at first, then it spread like wildfire. Susan screeched and pounded at the glass. Until all they could see was an unbroken white. Only then did she sink to her knees crying.

“Sorry, Sue. I think this is some trap…” A very cruel one…

“Potter, what are you doing here?” the headmaster came waddling over. “The feast is about to start…” Dumbledore regarded the now frozen mirror.

“This mirror is dangerous, sir. It should not be here. I am taking Bones to the Hospital Wing…” Harry held a weeping Susan Bones in his arms.

“I agree… Off with you, I will see this is placed where it could do no harm…” the headmaster watched as the two first-years hurried off. I show not your face but your heart. The mirror of desire. He had been foolhardy, moving the mirror now. He had hoped that the students would all be at the Christmas party. It was ill-luck that the troll downstairs had broken one of the pipes and flooded the rooms after it. He had to take the mirror out for an hour or so while Hogwarts fixed the leak and cleaned up the mess.

Susan Bones needed a Calming Draught. Madam Pomfrey put her to bed. Harry stayed by her side as she spoke about her lost family, whom she only knew from Auntie Amelia’s photo album. The Puffs came to look for Bones when she did not show at the party. Percy and the twins came to the Hospital wing too when they heard Harry was there.

“What happened to Bones? Did Fluffy roll over on her?” George asked. Madam Pomfrey had shooed both lions and badgers out, insisting that Miss Bones needed her rest. The quartet of lions were now strolling back to their tower.

“No, I think we found a Cursed mirror. It showed me and Susan our dead family, and my folks back in Australia…”

“Wait, a cursed mirror? There should be no Dark artefacts allowed in Hogwarts,” Percy stood up straighter. Lagging behind, George gave a snort of laughter. Everyone turned to see him peering at a piece of parchment.

“Guys, I think we should take the long way back… Ronnikins has company.”

“What do you mean? And what’s that?” Percy asked.

“Nothing…” Fred and George replied as one. George hurriedly tapped the parchment with his wand and murmured something under his breath. Then he crammed it into his robe.

Ok, that is weird. And coming so soon after the mirror…

Come to me, Harry pulled at the parchment. It zipped out of George’s robe and into his hand. It felt warm, and almost familiar.

“Hey, give it back!” Fred yelped. Percy yanked his brother back before he could launch himself at Harry. George raised his wand in warning.

“No, Susan got hurt earlier thanks to some magic mirror and now you are mucking about with this piece of parchment… Tell me or…” Harry lifted his wand. A small flame appeared at the tip.

“Alright! It’s the Marauder’s Map! We found it in Filch’s office last year…” Fred relented. He coughed uncomfortably. “It shows where everyone is on the castle…”

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow, like Uncle Ned did when he suspected Steve and Irwin had snatched the cookies baked for the church fest.

“Just tap your wand to it. The password is ‘We solemnly swear we are up to no good’…”

Harry followed the instructions and ink flowed over the once-blank parchment. They could see a dot marked Severus Snape heading their way. It was ten minutes after curfew.

“Behind the witch!” George hissed and shoved his brothers and Harry into the nearest hiding place. A clueless Snape billowed past the statue of the humpbacked witch.

“That was close…” Percy murmured as they emerged from their hiding place. Harry stared at the map. They had a clear route back to the Tower, apart from Nearly Headless Nick floating on the fifth-floor landing…

“Wait…” Harry poked his finger at map of their dorms. A dot marked Ron Weasley was in proximity with another dot… It seemed like they were almost on top of each other.

“Er, sorry about your boyfriend, Perce…” Fred mumbled.

“What boyfriend?” Percy’s face turned red. “Who is Peter Pettigrew?”

“Wait, you mean…”

“You don’t have a boyfriend called Peter…”

“Who’s been hanging out in your bed since last February…”

Percy’s face turned from red to ashen as a tumult of emotions raced through him. His hands were shaking. Harry reached out to squeeze his arm in reassurance. Nearly Headless Nick chose this moment to drift down from the upper floor.

“Sir Nick, please fetch Professor McGonagall…”

“Alas, the lady is in Aberdeen…” McGonagall was away visiting family.

“Then Professor Flitwick, or any other professor available, hurry! We need them at the Gryffindor first-year boys’ dorm!” Harry shouted. He could feel Percy’s emotions threatening to run amok, a mix of shock, rage, horror and disgust.

“Percy!” The prefect sprinted up the stairs with the twins and Harry hot on his heels.

Chapter Text

With his longer legs, Percy quickly outstripped his brothers and Harry on the stairs. Suddenly, Harry found himself face-planted in black fabric reeking faintly of Murtlap and wormwood. The first professor they had to run into had to be…

“Ten points each for being out after curfew! And detent…” Snape started as he glared at the twins and Harry.

“Sir, there is an intruder in the Gryffindor Tower! Percy’s gone to stop him!” Harry pulled away from Snape. “We need help, sir, please!”

“What’s going on?” Professor Flitwick was hurrying over from the gallery that linked this part of the castle to the side sporting Ravenclaw Tower. The diminutive professor was still wearing a paper and foil crown from a Christmas cracker. Sir Nick flitted behind him.

“These boys are convinced someone has broken into their dorms,” Snape sneered.

“It is true! We saw it in the Map!” Fred blurted out.

“He’s Peter Pettigrew,” Harry added. The pieces of a puzzle clicked in his head. Professor McGonagall turning into a cat, the feeling he got about Ron’s rat…

“He’s been pretending to be a rat… What you call, an animagus?” Both professors turned pale.

“Impossible, he’s been dead ten years… Come back, you brat!” Harry made use of Snape’s lapse in attention to push past him and sprint up the stairs. Percy must have reached the common room by now. Whoever Peter Pettigrew was, he was not going to let Percy face him alone.

“Severus, Misters Weasleys… allow me…” Flitwick tapped his wand on a large tapestry nearby, which immediately ripped itself off the wall and laid down like a carpet. He muttered a spell over the brocade. The tapestry hovered six inches off the stones.

“Now, hang on… it’s going to be a ride,” Flitwick’s moustache quivered as he sat at the head of the newly created flying carpet. Snape looked on with suspicious hesitation. The twins had no such qualms and hopped on behind the half-goblin.

“Oh, come on, Snape… It’s really safe…” Flitwick called over his shoulder.

“If we do fall and get killed, you’re explaining to the headmaster…” Egged on, Snape clambered on board and held on tight as the carpet whooshed up the stairwell towards the Gryffindor Tower.

Ron Weasley yawned. His tummy was nice and warm from the Christmas dinner earlier. He had two large helpings of turkey with all the trimmings- candied yams, cranberry sauce, sausage stuffing… He was stuffed quite literally. His pants felt a little tight, so he had changed to his nightshirt sooner. He had grabbed some of the Christmas cookies from the Great Hall before leaving. Just for supper. There was always room for dessert. Cookie in hand, Ron smiled when he lay down on his bed and saw his tummy was sticking up like a small hill. Scabbers thought so too as he came nosing along. His little paws clutching at his young master’s nightshirt.

“Come on, Scabbers… If you’d get a cookie if you make it to the top of the mountain…” Ron urged his rat. The rat squeaked and scrambled for the cookie. That was when the door of the dorm burst open.

“Where’s he?” Percy panted. His wand was drawn.

Ron sat up suddenly and Scabbers fell onto the bed. Seeing the rat, Percy raised his wand. 

“Get away from him, Ron!”

Harry arrived to find the Fat Lady squawking in outrage. Percy had yelled the password and shoved past her. And he used to be such a polite young wizard too… Harry had to calm her down before she would accept his password.

The moment he stepped into the common room, he heard a shrill scream. He hastened to the stairs leading to his dorm. The portrait swung open and what could only be described as a very fancy magic carpet swooped in.

“Hurry, it came from the dorm!” Professor Flitwick hopped off. The carpet immediately went limp, spilling its remaining passengers onto the floor.

“How ghastly…” Snape growled as he took in the too-bright furnishings of the Gryffindor common room. Before he could remark further, more screams. Time to confront a ghost… He hastened after Flitwick.

“Is anyone else coming?” Harry asked the twins. Both shook their heads. Other than Flitwick and Snape, it seemed the rest of the faculty had turned in for the night. Harry stole a glance at the map. Sir Nick was bouncing about the second-floor gallery. He bumped into Professor Vector, who immediately hurried to the tower. Harry put aside the map and hurried to the stairs to the dorm. The screaming had stopped. Should he go help? Or will he be in the way of the professors? He picked up a discarded Beater’s Bat from the armchair. The twins were already pushing past him on the stairs. With a shrug, he followed them, bat in hand.

Percy’s spell had flown true, forcing the animagus out of his rat-form. However, Pettigrew was quicker. Before he had even finished changing back, he had grabbed Ron’s wand off the dresser and Ron before he could scramble out of reach.

“Silencio…” Pettigrew cast the spell on Ron. All the screaming was making his ears ring. Who would have thought that boy had such a high-pitched squeal?

“Come on, just let me go… We’re best friends, right?” Peter grinned. He looked almost rodent-like with his filthy hair, robes and gnarled hands. Percy shuddered visibly as his stomach twisted.

“Get away from the boy,” Flitwick growled. The two professors have arrived. They were closely followed by the three Gryffindor students.

A flash of surprised recognition washed over Snape’s face for a moment. Then it was replaced by a dark, barely contained rage. There was a watchfulness about him, though he was unarmed. Almost like a coiled death adder, posed to strike.

“One more step and I blow his head off…” Pettigrew snarled defiantly. He pointed the wand tip under Ron’s chin. He was trapped. Then the remaining Weasley brothers had to show up. Should he change into a rat and dash out between their legs?

The Weasley twins were yelling ineffectual threats at the stranger holding their brother hostage Snape snapped at them to shut up. Only Percy and Flitwick had their wands drawn. Harry narrowed his eyes. Ron’s wand was confused, and a little furious. He knew wands had some degree of sentience. Ron’s wand was not originally his to start with. It had only tolerated him. Now some upstart dared turn it against its master… Could it be persuaded? 

Burn, Harry pictured dry brush. Wildfire. Will you burn to defend your young master?

Everything seemed to happen almost at once. The wand’s handle seemed to glow, slightly at first. Then it burst into flame. Pettigrew yelped and dropped the now smouldering wand as it exploded. With viper-like quickness, Snape launched forward and pulled Ron away from Pettigrew, who was now waving his burned hand. His brothers rushed forward to comfort Ron. Percy Cast a Finite to undo the Silencio. Ron was hiccoughing and shaking like a leaf.

“Incarcerous!” Flitwick snapped and thick black ropes wrapped around Pettigrew. Wait, he was shrinking. The ropes slackened and fell to the floor. A rat was scampering towards the doorway.

“Stop him!” Flitwick Cast a spell that flew wide. The rodent was too quick. Now that the doorway was clear, Pettigrew made a mad dash for freedom past the diminutive Charms professor and Harry.

There was a loud crack as Harry nonchalantly smashed the Beater’s bat that he was holding down on the rat’s hindquarters hard. The rat squealed and writhed in agony. His pelvis was shattered.

“Oops, guess hauling haybales back home really built up the arm muscles…” Harry smirked as he stepped on the rat’s tail. Not that he was going anywhere. “Sir, should I whack him on the head this time or will we be locking him somewhere until the Aurors are called?”

“I-I am going to be sick…” Percy moaned as the adrenaline wore out. He was promptly ill, unfortunately all over Neville’s pot of Trumpeting Glories.

“I let him crawl into my lap!” Ron whimpered. Then he was joining Percy in spewing his dinner, but over the dorm carpet. The twins exchanged grim looks and glared at the wounded rat.

“Harry, please return me my bat…” Fred held up his hand. The twins were sure that rat had been in the same room as little Ginny and her girlfriends when they were playing at dress-up. Heck, they had caught the rat in their bedrooms before. Suddenly, a game of Whack-the-Rat sounded promising.

“Oh, for the sake of Merlin… Nippy!” Snape summoned his Hogwarts-assigned elf. A glowering elf sporting a tea cosy on its head and decked out in tinsel Popped into being. Clearly the elves had been partying as well. “My Unbreakable specimen cage and two vials each of Calming Draught and Stomach Soothers. And maybe Dreamless Sleep on standby…”

“No Pain Relief, Master Snape?” the elf gingerly prodded the semi-conscious rat. He casually Vanished the sick left by the brothers. 

“I think we are out of those. I will check with Poppy, tomorrow morning.” The elf bowed and Disapparrated to fetch the items requested.

“I-I better be calling the Aurors… And five points to Gryffindor for quick thinking,” Flitwick gasped. It had been a while since he last duelled. Maybe he needed to get back into practice. Someone was running up the stairs in high-heeled shoes. Septima Vector swirled into the dorm in a whirl of festive green and red robes.

“What’s happening? The Fat Lady’s in hysterics… and Sir Nick says there’s an emer…” she stepped forward. There was a loud squeal. She stopped and looked down at her feet. “Oh dear… do you think I might’ve broken its back?”

“If only,” Snape grumbled as Vector obligingly lifted her heel off the rat so he could magically Summon it into the cage. Flitwick excused himself to inform the Aurors. Snape agreed to host the captive in his office until they could take him off their hands, or they need to feed him to his snakes. Snape kept several snakes in his personal lab for their skin and venom. He then gave instructions to Percy about the Calming Draughts and Stomach Soothers. If they needed the Dreamless Sleep, they were to go to him or Madam Pomfrey and take the potion under their supervision.

Harry returned the bat to its owner. Poor Percy, poor Weasleys. It was disgusting – a grown wizard pretending to be the family’s pet rat in a houseful of children. Would the headmaster inform their parents? There was something else… Pettigrew was supposedly dead. Killed by Sirius Black. They even gave him an Order of Merlin posthumously. That was what he heard from Hagrid and Professor Sinistra. If they were wrong…

“Sirius Black is innocent!”

Getting hauled out on an urgent call to Hogwarts on Christmas eve was not how Aurors John Dawlish and Kingsley Shacklebolt expected to be spending their night. Then their supervisor Amelia Bones insisted she come along. Didn’t she have a niece at Hogwarts?

“Oh dear me, I am sure there is perfectly reasonable explanation…” a somewhat tipsy Dumbledore waffled. Members of the teaching staff staying over at the castle were in various stages of sobriety and dress, or undress. After ordering the students to remain in the Gryffindor tower, Snape had roused the headmaster and the other teachers.  

“Reasonable? We have a grown wizard masquerading as a child’s pet for at least ten years considering Mister Percy had him before his little brother…” Snape bellowed. The Potions Master was in a rage. He held up the cage with the injured rat in it, at an arm’s length.

“Behold, our very much alive Mister Peter Pettigrew…”

“The rat?” Amelia cautiously studied the half-dead rodent.

“Pettigrew’s dead. We only found a finger…” Auror Dawlish exclaimed.

“Kindly note the rat is missing a toe from his front paw. Pettigrew is likely an unregistered Animagus…” Snape continued.

“Oh, I am sure he has his reasons…” Dumbledore interjected.

“We’d like to hear what those are…” Snape snarked.

“Sirius Black is innocent!” Harry shouted from atop the Great Staircase.

“Potter, weren’t you ordered to stay in your common rooms? Ten points from Gryffindor!” Snape rebuked. Harry ignored him and continued down the stairs.

“Mister Black was accused of betraying my parents, and murdering Pettigrew and twelve innocent bystanders using a Blasting Curse. What if it was not Mister Black who cast that spell? If Pettigrew were innocent, why would he be hiding as a rat for so long?” Harry continued and listed his points with each step he took. “Well, there could be another reason he might want to be a young boy’s pet rat, but I think there are laws about that stuff in the Muggle world, and I hope the magical one.”

“We should force him to change back…” Madam Bones frowned.

“Not in the cage. It is Charmed Unbreakable,” Snape added.

“I don’t think he will be running away with a broken back… or pelvis… Still, you could question him to your hearts’ content in a nice secure cell. And maybe we can get an innocent man out of jail…” Harry continued. He sounded so reasonable about it. It was hard for Snape to be mad at him. Even if they were talking about freeing his childhood bully.

Dreamtime. He was sitting on the bench under the ghost gums with Old Albert beside him. The three cattle dogs gambolled at their feet.

“How did I do?” Harry asked. Albert rolled his shoulders but did not reply immediately.

“I should’ve guessed there was something off about the rat…” Harry twirled his wand. Ron’s wand had burned to ashes. Would he be able to get a new one?

“Unfamiliar magics. You’ll learn… Careful. He is getting close…” old Albert tapped Harry on the forehead, right on his scar…

“Close to what?” Harry then awoke to Ron screaming.

Once the Calming Draught wore off, both Percy and Ron had panic attacks in the middle of the night. The elf assigned to watch Gryffindor Tower had to fetch Madam Pomfrey. As their parents were out of the country, they could not be reached. The headmaster had contacted their Aunt Muriel instead, who on hearing the family’s pet was a criminal animagus, had launched into a tirade about their ignorant, penny-pinching parents taking in some undocumented stray instead of getting their pets properly registered from the Magical Menagerie. She had demanded all four brothers be referred to St Mungo’s for a thorough medical check and mind-healing. Who knew what that rat got up to?

“It might be prudent to arrange a mind-healer for all the first-year boys in that dorm,” Snape suggested as Dumbledore tried to mollify Aunt Muriel over the Floo on Christmas morning.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, there was a shaman who had three beautiful daughters. The chieftain of a neighbouring tribe heard of their beauty and desired to take them for his wives. However, he was a cruel man, and the sisters had no desire to be with him. Burning with their rejection, he sent his warriors to take them by force… The shaman turned his daughters to pillars of rock to protect them, then transformed himself to a lyrebird to flee his pursuers. However, in his hasty flight he dropped his staff… Without his staff, he was unable to change himself or his daughters back. That is why to this day there stands three pillars of rock in the mountains, and why the lyrebird scratches the earth seeking his lost staff…

“Careful now, Harry,” old Albert grinned.

“Why?” Harry Cast a Lumos with his wand, releasing a ball of light for the three cattle dogs to chase.

“Don’t go depend too much on that stick and forget what I taught you…”

“Magic is part of everything, a part of me… do not fight or force the magic… let it flow naturally…” Harry recited.

There was a present for him by his bedside, or rather, on the table in the Gryffindor common room. It shivered with magic as Harry regarded it curiously. There was something familiar about the magic that called to him…

After Ron’s nightmare and subsequent trip to the Hospital Wing, Harry had decided he would wait until morning in an armchair instead of returning to his bed, thinking he would not be falling asleep again that night. It had been almost five, and they had always risen early on the farm. He must have been more tired that he thought. Or perhaps old Albert or Magic was not yet finished with him in the Dreamtime.

He had ended up sleeping well past breakfast. It was almost ten. He was not the only one. The Weasley twins were tromping down from their dorm, yawning. They had been awoken by Percy and had to help him and Ron to the Hospital Wing.

“Hiya, Harry sleepyhead… come with us if you want a bite…”

“Luka Holt from Hufflepuff showed us how to get in the kitchens.”

“We can ask the house-elves to fix us a late breakfast if you wish.”

“Oh, I almost forgot… your map…” Harry reached into his robe before recalling he had left the Marauder’s Map on the bedside table in his dorm. Both twins paled.

“No, you keep it…”

“Make us sick thinking of that… rat…”

“To reset or close it, the password is…”

“Mischief managed…”

“Just watch out for the Marauders- Messrs Prongs, Padfoot, Wormtail and Moony...”

“Yup, they’re pranksters… Very droll, we don’t know who they are…”

“That don’t sound too smart, trusting a magical object…” Harry remarked. “Not knowing who created it or why…”

“Gee, you’re right, Potter…”

“Now how about that farmhouse breakfast?” The twins were still growing boys, and they were ravenously hungry.

“What’s that you got?” Fred noticed the gift-wrapped box Harry was holding.

“Dunno, I just found it when I woke up…” George made a choking sound in response to Harry’s reply.

“Seriously, we had someone come sneaking in last night to leave you a gift so soon after the rat?”

“It had better be Santa Claus or the elf… Or the Fat Lady needs replacing…” both twins shifted their gaze to the portrait hole.

“Feels safe…” Harry tore open the gift to yank out a silvery cloak. He held it up and was shocked to see his body had vanished.

“An Invisibility Cloak!” George exclaimed. “Who sent it?”

Harry picked up a note that had fallen from box when he yanked the cloak out. He read it and frowned.

“The note says it belonged to my father and to use it well…It is unsigned…”

“Wait, that means this cloak is at least ten years old…”

“Regular invisibility cloaks wear out in two years…”

“Well, it did say to use it well, so I am having this put somewhere safe,” Harry decided. He tossed the cloak into the air and pictured it folded and secured in his school trunk. There was a soft fluttering sound, then it was gone.

“Did you just Vanish a valuable Invisibility Cloak?” the twins goggled.

“It’s safe in my dorm. I just told it that it will be more comfortable there…” Harry grinned. “Now what about pancakes?”

Professor McGonagall had notified their parents of the unregistered animagus caught in the first-year boys’ dorm. It would be impossible to keep it quiet once the DMLE pressed charges against Pettigrew. The Weasleys had hosted so many children at their home and that rat would have access to the entire school in the five years Percy was attending Hogwarts. Howlers flew in for the bedraggled headmaster. How did the castle fail to detect a grown, unregistered animagus hiding among their children? There were Wards geared towards detecting animagi… The older students soon found themselves hounded by reporters on Hogsmeade weekends, especially when the ‘convicted’ murderer Sirius Black’s guilt was called into question after the reemergence of Peter Pettigrew.

The Weasleys had to be questioned when they returned from Romania. No charges were pursued as the only things Mr and Mrs Weasley were guilty of were kindness and a touch of naivety allowing their little boy to keep the injured rat found in their garden without checking if it were more than just an ordinary rat. Aunt Muriel had volunteered to take Ginny to the seaside until the hullabaloo died down.

Ted Tonks was the mind-healer St Mungo’s sent up to Hogwarts after the holidays. The younger Weasley children were taken to St Mungo’s. Thankfully, they had no indications of physical sexual abuse. Their older brothers were abroad and of age. They had the right to decide whether they needed mind-healing. The rat had stayed as a rat as far as they knew. The only complaint was that he had likely spied on the residents of the Burrow and the Gryffindor boys’ dorm. Percy Weasley was having the hardest time coming to terms with what happened. Pettigrew had confessed under Veritaserum to being the Potters’ Secret-keeper, betraying them and framing Sirius Black. There would be a trial for Black, finally.

The newspapers hinted that the heir apparent to the Black Lordship was unbalanced after a decade in prison exposed to…

“What is a Dementor?” Harry asked. They were in Fluffy’s Field on a lazy free afternoon.

“Is that some magical creature?” Hermione looked up from scratching Fluffy’s belly. Susan Bones and Seamus Finnegan shuddered and lost what colour they had in their faces. Hagrid dropped the flute he had been whittling and sliced his thumb. He bit back some angry words and sucked on his injured thumb.

“Dementors are magical beings that the Ministry uses to guard Azkaban. The Wizarding prison…” Susan Bones explained. “They suck away all the happy memories… until you don’t have any left.”

“Havin’ t’em about makes one feel summat awful…” Hagrid seemed more close-lipped than normal. Harry thought the half-giant looked scared. The groundskeeper mumbled an excuse about needing to water his thestrals before leaving.

“That’s not all… If they Kiss you, they suck away your soul,” Seamus added. “All that’s left is a shell. Alive, but not alive…”

“That’s awful!” Hermione exclaimed. Harry nodded in agreement. Fluffy whined, sensing the unhappiness in the air. Soul-sucking demon-things?

“Auntie says they are under the Ministry’s control. All of them are on Azkaban, which is somewhere in the North Sea and surrounded by Muggle-Repelling Wards to keep Muggles away…” Susan tried to sound reassuring.

“Harry, Seamus, don’t you have an appointment with Doctor Tonks?” Hermione abruptly changed the topic.

“It’s Healer Tonks, and Harry has the one before me.” Harry cast a Tempus before Seamus could. He was cutting it fine.

“I have DADA…” Susan stood up and shouldered her book bag. “Healer Tonks is nice, I’ve been to see him, after that mirror…”

“Turn right and take the first moving flight of steps up. It will get you there sooner than if you go round…” Harry suggested. Tonks’ office was in the opposite direction. Still, he stayed to watch Susan get on the stairs, which shifted obligingly to stop just before the DADA classroom. Harry frowned. Professor Quirrell was peering down at him. Harry did not like the wizard. Something about him felt wrong, but a different wrong from the rat. He winced as the professor turned his back to him and shooed Susan and a handful of stragglers into the classroom. His scar was burning again, His head always hurt whenever the wizard was nearby.

Beware…

Healer Tonks was a kindly-looking man with blond hair. He reminded Harry of Dr Grimes from Cordy Pedy. Healer Tonks was also Muggleborn and could understand Harry’s pain at not being able to share his school life freely with his family. He had learned to substitute football for Quidditch and Muggle subjects like Chemistry and Latin for Potions and Charms in his letters home.

“I just did what had to be done, sir… What really bothers me is that folks are still celebrating me instead of my parents for what they did ten years ago – saving me by destroying this Voldemort.”

“Please don’t say that name…” Healer Tonks winced. “Too many bad memories still…”

“Sorry, but I feel they need to face up to what happened instead of hiding… I am nothing special after all.”

“The headmaster is concerned that you might be feeling some misplaced guilt about the rat…”

“About crippling him for life? No so much as not dealing with him sooner. I absolutely hate rats, even if they are wizards masquerading as one.” Tonks made a quick note in his notebook. He always used a fountain pen for this as it was less messy than quills.

“Sorry, I do not want to sound like a wuss, but is it normal to get headaches in the presence of a certain person?” Harry fidgeted on the couch. He had bad feelings before about the rat which he had put down to his farm boy’s dislike of a known pest. What if there was something more?

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, there is one teacher I get weird headaches around… I have gone to the mediwitch when it is very bad, but she could not find anything physically wrong with me. Is it stress like she says?” Harry asked.

“It is possible… do you have difficulties in that class?”

“No, sir. I have more difficulties in Transfiguration and Potions, but I don’t get headaches that bad. I was wondering if someone was Ill-Wishing me.”

“Ill-Wishing?” Tonks frowned. He had not heard of that phrase before.

“It is an Aboriginal thing – that is when someone’s actively cursing you, but in secret. I was wondering…”

“So you have concerns about this teacher, that he might have unfriendly intentions towards you?” Ted Tonks frowned. If anyone on the staff meant the boy harm, it would be the reformed Death Eater turned Hogwarts Potions Master for mainly personal reasons. Yet the boy had ruled him out.

“DADA instructor Quirrell… I think something happened to him on his sabbatical before he came back to teach. I want to tell a grown-up and not leave it too late…” Like with the rat.

A small bell chimed. It was time for his next patient.

“Thank you, Mister Potter. We will end here for today. I will be bringing your concerns to the headmaster…” Ted Tonks Vanished the notebook he had been writing in into the cabinet. There was a meeting with the House heads and the headmaster later that Friday. He could bring Potter’s concerns up then.

He remembered Quirinus Quirrell from his school years, only a year behind him. A Ravenclaw if he was not wrong. Brilliant as far as book-learning went. They said he had gone into the Muggle world to write a book on the subject. It had tanked. Most wix were not interested in their Muggle neighbours. Then he had gone into teaching. Mostly harmless and inconsequential was the impression he gave. But the same had been true of Peter Pettigrew, former Order of Merlion recipient turned public enemy. It was a mercy his mother had not lived to see his ongoing trial, which would likely end with life in Azkaban or the Dementor’s Kiss.

Ted groaned as he recalled he had promised his wife he would go with her when they visited her cousin in St Mungo’s over the weekend. After ten years with Dementors, it would be a miracle if he would ever be sane enough to leave the Janus Thickey Ward.

Chapter Text

He had a godfather. Harry hummed softly, trying to calm his nerves. The headmaster had called him to his office and informed him of the news of Black’s innocence and release. With the arrest of Pettigrew, Black’s name was cleared, Unfortunately, he was not well. Being exposed to soul-sucking demons would do that to anyone. He was to go visit him in St Mungo’s with a scarred wizard introduced as Mister Lupin, a family friend.

“You look so much like James… your father…” Lupin had remarked when they first met in the headmaster’s office. “You’ve grown so tall… missed so much…” Tears glistened in the man’s brown eyes.

Part of him wanted to ask why he had been left with the Dursleys when there was a wizard willing to take him in. However, the man had given him such a sad look, Harry did not feel like pressing the matter. He did not look well. His magic felt worn down. Maybe the man was chronically sick and unable to take care of a young child. That like the headmaster claimed, family was always the best. No, Harry could not fault the O’Reillys, but he sometimes wished he had gone to them sooner rather than endure the Dursleys’ ill-treatment growing up.

The Janus Thickey Ward. Neville’s parents would be in there too. Poor Mr and Mrs Longbottom, driven mad by torture in the last war.

“Moony! Good to see you! James too!” Black was sitting up in bed and grinning from ear to ear. He was also bound in a crude strait jacket. The healers informed them that he was prone to going about disturbing the patients and trying to escape the premises otherwise. They had caught him on a good day. On bad days, they had to Silencio him as he would be screaming and cursing up a storm.

“So did we beat those slimy snakes?” Harry could sense his magic, and emotions were all over the place. He was barely kept in check by strong Charms and potions.

“Pads, it has been ten years since… I’m sorry I’ve not been to see you,” Lupin started. “Harry’s here to see you… Your godson, remember?”

Harry felt his magic twitch – a vague memory of hovering above the ground. Loved. His parents and someone else. Someone with wild black hair and an infectious laugh. Then a black dog patiently allowing him to wind his chubby hands into its thick fur.

“Animagus…” Harry breathed. The Ministry was not compensating Black for the years he had spent in prison apart from a token apology on grounds he was an unregistered Animagus. The penalty for that felony was far lower than what Sirius Black was subjected to. Harry had lingered on the stairs outside the headmaster’s office to eavesdrop. Lupin had been furious his friend had never been given a trial and that the Ministry sought to sweep the issue under the rug with a tiny apology notice in the papers and a quiet declaration of his innocence before shipping him to St Mungo’s as a lost cause.

“Did you see Snivellus piss his pants, Moony?”

“Pads…” a vein twitched in Lupin’s temple. The patient continued obliviously. Moony? Harry glanced at his companion.

“Serves him right for sticking his nose where it’s not wanted… And the little prev sniffing about Lils… Go hex his balls off, James.”

“Sirius, do shut up already… This is James’ son,” Lupin snapped.

“Er, nice to meet you, sir…” Harry started awkwardly.

“Oh, fine lad. Betcha play Quidditch like Prongs…” Sirius’ mad eyes flitted onto the boy as if noticing him for the first time. “Have you pranked any nasty snakes recently? Made them cry?” he gave a wicked grin. Harry felt a wave of malice emanating from the man, though not directed at him.

“No, sir. I do not care for bullies…” Harry replied and was gratified to see a look of confusion pass over the man’s face as if he were seriously considering the boy’s words.

“Quidditch?”

“Sorry, I don’t like brooms. Must feel the magic of the good earth…”

“Moony! What have they done to Harry? Prongs was going to train him to be a Quidditch star!” A nearby window shattered. The healers came running. Oh dear, that did not go well… Harry was firmly ushered away from the patient by Lupin.

As Harry walked down the ward, he glanced at a nearby bed. Longbottom, Alice. The scroll at the foot read. A woman was sitting up in bed and making soft cooing sounds. Had her cheeks been fuller and her hair not white, she would have resembled her son. Tentatively, Harry reached out with his magic. Frustration, sorrow, pain… The same was flowing off the man in the bed next to hers even though he seemed almost comatose as he stared at the ceiling.

“Are those Neville’s parents?” Harry asked Lupin.

“Yes, Harry,” the wizard replied wearily.

“Good afternoon, ma’am, sir… I’m Neville’s classmate from Hogwarts. I also partner him in Herbology. Professor Sprout says he is the best student she has ever taught in Herbology… Thought you might like to know…” At the same time, he gently pushed his thoughts and magic out to the pair.

Neville? Baby? Is he well? Miss him so much…

Good boy… So proud…

Harry felt the magic shift a little around the couple. They were there… If only they could recover from whatever damage was inflicted on them. Would a sing-sing work? Or was it too late?  

“Sorry, we better be going…” Lupin interrupted as he took Harry by the arm.

“I have your old map, Moony…” Harry whispered. “Are you a werewolf?”

Lupin blanched.

“Sorry, but I just figured it out… Is that why you never took custody of me, despite being a friend of my folks?”

“Yes, Harry. The Ministry does not allow werewolves to take custody of children because we are dangerous,” Lupin replied sadly.

“That’s hogwash. You are only affected once a month, and that can be helped with Wolfsbane Potion. You could leave me with the neighbours on those nights…” He had heard from Susan about some of the wizarding laws, which made little or no sense to him. Harry fought to contain his tears. If things had gone differently, he would never have ended up with the Dursleys – beaten, starved, unloved… Freak… The little boy under the stairs.

Easy there… that is in the past. Now is now… A voice warned.

“Was my godfather always that way? A bully?” There was a queue at the Floos which they joined.

“Unfortunately, yes…”

“Didn’t my dad or you try to stop him?” A stricken look passed over Lupin’s face.

“To my regret, no. I was afraid of losing the only friends I have, who knew my secret.”

“What of my dad?” They were almost at the fireplace now. Lupin simply took a handful of Floo powder and motioned for Harry to Floo-along with him. Harry complied. He would not be getting any answers, at least until they were back in Hogsmeade.

“What’s wrong, Todd?” Hermione asked. The troll was awake and seemed to be in distress. He kept grunting and thumping his club on the ground. Neville and Seamus were both with her and were watching with growing concern. The trio had been on their way to the lake when they saw the troll up and about in the paddock.

“D-do you think he is hungry?” Neville asked worriedly. “Or sick?”

“Maybe it is a mating dance…” Draco Malfoy snickered as his entourage passed the paddock. The troll roared at them, sending the Slytherin students scattering.

“Dache? Drachen? You mean there’s a dragon?” Hermoine gasped when Todd nodded and pointed his club at Hagrid’s shack. Suddenly Hagrid’s checking out a stack of books on dragons from the Hogwarts library made awful sense to her.

“We were young and foolish then…” Lupin had tried to explain. “Your father James… He was awfully jealous of Snape’s friendship with your mother. Maybe that was why he picked on him…”

Still did not excuse his actions, Harry had to hum to keep himself from lashing out at Lupin. He should be thankful Lupin had chosen to be honest with regards to his father. Hagrid had nothing but praise for his parents, how they were brave and heroes. Aunt Petunia had nothing good to say about them, so it was good to hear that his parents were not drunken good-for-nothings, However, the image of perfection grew strained after a while. His parents no longer seemed like real people, more like characters from a children’s book.

His father was flawed. A bully in his youth. The spoilt only son of parents in their autumn years. His mother’s magic set her apart from her Muggle sister, whose jealousy festered in time. Petunia had turned her animosity for all things magic on her nephew. Then there was the Marauder’s victim – his Potions Master. Now he understood the reasons for the man’s animosity towards him, misguided as it was. Lupin had walked him as far as the lake before Harry asked for some time alone, He needed to connect with the land to ground himself. He promised Lupin would be back in the castle by dinner.

When Harry sent his magic down into the earth, he was surprised to find the magic restless. Danger! The magic whispered harshly. Something had changed in the castle or its vicinity. There had been whispers of something attacking unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. Hunter and hunted. The natural order of things. If the unicorns had a predator in nature, it was not his part to interfere. He knew it bothered the groundskeeper. Hagrid no longer invited them for tea in his shack. He also spent less time tending to Fluffy. He had been slaughtering his chickens, perhaps using them for bait for whatever was feeding off the unicorn herds. The headmaster had warned the students to keep away from the forest at the start of the term. Out of curiosity, Harry tentatively reached his magic towards the forest. The strong ancient magic it exuded was overwhelming. Not yet. He was still acclimatizing to Hogwarts’ magic.

“Harry!’ It was Hermione, Neville and Seamus.

“We think Hagrid’s got a dragon in his… oh, too late…” Seamus started and then stopped when the roof of the groundskeeper’s shack started smoking.

“Do we call the fire brigade?” Hermione asked. Todd had stomped away from the burning shack after grabbing his stash of wild boar and his club from his shack next door. A slight-charred Hagrid staggered out of his burning home, dragging Fang by the scruff. He stopped to beat out some flames on his sleeve before continuing to safety.

The fire had attracted the attention of nearby students and staff. Several had the presence of mind to cast Aguamenti to control the blaze, Professors McGonagall and Snape among them.

“Come on, guys! Before it spreads!” Harry whipped out his wand and urged his friends. The groundskeeper’s shack was wooden and could go up like a bonfire given the recent dry weather. They were joined by the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team who had been training on the pitch. Professor Sprout and her NEWTs students also joined in fighting the fire.

Then the culprit, a soaked baby dragon, hopped out of the open door as the fire died out. It hiccupped and a puff of smoke emerged from its mouth. The size of a large dog, it made unhappy noises and hissed at the fire-fighters.

“Seriously, a dragon? What were you thinking, Hagrid?” Snape bellowed. The groundskeeper’s weakness for potentially dangerous pets was well-known among the staff.

“A-ah found him…” the large man started sheepishly. “Poor Nobert must be cold…” The dragon lashed out at the groundskeeper, sinking his teeth into the man’s hand.

“A likely story…” Snape huffed. The dimwit would need an antidote for that dragon-bite now. Several students were watching the dragon with a mix of curiosity and caution. Among them Potter. The beast swayed and swung its head from side to side defensively. If the beast were to bite a student… Potter was making some hissing sounds and bobbing his head in sync with the dragon. What on earth…

“Stop, you fool!” Snape snapped as Potter reached out his hand to scratch the dragon behind its cheek-frills. The creature seemed to purr and leaned into Potter’s hand. Calm down, good girl… Harry focused his magic on soothing the creature. Don’t mind everyone else…

“Atta girl…” Harry coaxed. He looked at Hagrid. “She’s a Norberta… I think whatever you fed her upset her tummy.”

“Ah just fed her chicken blood and brandy, like in the book…”

“I think she would like to move onto something solid, like Fang…” Harry smiled. Fang whimpered and dashed towards the forest. Todd had his club aloft and seemed to be considering whether to squash the dragon. Finally, the troll shrugged, lowered it with a few grunts, and headed for the forest after Fang.

“Where’re t’ey going?” Hagrid asked. His bitten hand was starting to swell, even with his giant-blood.

“Todd says he is taking his chances with the forest trolls in the Forbidden Forest until the dragon is gone,” Hermione explained. “I think Fang feels the same.”

“I thot the chicken blood would be enough for another year… I can tame her…”

“Hagrid, we are not allowing a dragon on the grounds…” Professor McGonagall groaned. She did not want to know how the groundskeeper came to be in possession of one.

“Harry, you can get her to behave, right?” Hagrid pleaded.

“I am channelling magic to calm her down,” Harry explained. “It’s exhausting.” The dragon let loose a puff of flame. She was still a baby. In time, she would be unmanageable.

“We could write to Charlie in Romania…” Fred and George exchanged looks.

“Biggest dragon reserve in the world…”

“Your dragon will be in good hands…” 

“Well, I am glad I am not dealing with the paperwork for this…” Snape stalked off.

“Hagrid, you better get Poppy to take a look at that bite…” Professor McGonagall coaxed. She would ask for a Headache Soother while at it, before starting on the paperwork to the reserve. Potter had coaxed the little dragon into a stupor, enough for Hagrid to tuck her into a large cauldron. It was a tight fit. Her tail stuck out one end.

“Best get some light Warming Charms on. It is still too cold for a baby dragon at night,” Harry suggested with a yawn. He was tuckered out. The sun was setting. He left the grownups to discuss how to contain the dragon until it could be safely moved and returned to the castle with his friends.

Chapter Text

They had the dragon removed from Hogwarts the following week. Many students came to have one last look at the dragon, and the team of dragon handlers come to take her to the reserve. They included students from all years and all four Houses. Harry heard Malfoy and his goons daring Longbottom to tug the dragon’s tail. With a roll of his eyes, Harry silently Sang the trio to develop a sudden tummy ache. Let them spend the rest of the evening in the boys’ room. With his arm still swathed in bandages, Hagrid blubbered as he bid Norberta goodbye. Professor McGonagall patted him on the back. One of the dragon handlers assigned to escort Norberta back to Romania was Charlie Weasley. Percy, the twins, and Ron chatted with him for a bit before he left with his colleagues. They would time their departure so that most of the flight would be at night over the more populated Western Europe. Dragons never took to Portkeys and could not fit in a Floo.

“Cripes… I never liked that creepy rat. Sorry, Perce.  It just felt like he was watching us all the time,” Charlie admitted.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from someone who tried to keep a jarvey under his bed…” Percy said. “Aunt Muriel and Mom thought you were growing a potty mouth and made you wash your mouth with soap.”

“I was hoping the jarvey would keep him out of my room. So, this is Potter?” Charlie beamed as he strolled over. “Nice to meet you, thanks for saving my brothers…”

“Nice to meet you too. Please call me Harry. And I didn’t do anything much, really. Professors Flitwick and Snape did most of it…” Harry returned Charlie’s firm handshake.

“Ron, this means you might owe Potter a life debt… might need to serve him until that’s paid…” Percy hinted half in jest. Ron blanched.

“I do not… If we give him Ginny, can we call it quits?”

“I think both Ginny and Mom would have something to say about that, wittle Ronnikins…” Fred teased.

“Bat bogeys for the rest of your life, maybe?” George added with a wink. 

“Nice chatting, but I need to fly,” Charlie grinned as he waved goodbye to his younger brothers and rejoined the dragon handlers. They had Norberta drugged and secured in a fire-resistant crate. Half the team would fly in tandem with their brooms tied to the guide-ropes. The rest would monitor the dragon and be on standby in case anything went wrong. They would have to change over midway through.

“It doesn’t sound very safe…” Healer Tonks was there in the crowd speaking to the unit leader.

“I have done close to seventy transfers over my career. I will be lying if I claim there were no casualties, but this is a wee one. Once they hit adolescence, it’d be bloody impossible to keep them under throughout,” the scarred greybeard shrugged. Harry noticed that half his beard seemed to be burned off. “We used to try riding the adults in the old days - or have them chase us. Simply because we could not get them under long enough…”

“Has anyone managed to tame a dragon?” Harry asked.

“Only in the legends. The Ministry tried raising a squadron of Ironbellies from the egg for use during the Great War. Even got the magizoologist Scamander involved. Did not end well for either wizards or dragons. Heard they had to put down the bloody lot – of dragons, I mean,” the grizzled wizard chuckled.

“Oh,” Harry felt sad for the poor dragons. The dragon handlers were assembling for take-off now that the sun was setting. Charlie waved jauntily to his brothers as he mounted his broom. He would be holding one of the guide-ropes for the first leg.

“Healer Tonks, has the headmaster said anything about Professor Quirrell?” Harry asked. Healer Tonks had taken a break due to family reasons and had only returned recently. Fang had been persuaded by Hagrid to return to the castle grounds with the help of a generous bowl of kibble. However, it was not until the dragon and handlers were mere specks in the darkening sky that Todd emerged from the treeline. Poor guy looked like he had been through a war. His nose was bloodied and one eye swollen shut. His clothes were all grimy and covered with cobwebs. An arrow shaft stuck out of his shoulder. However, he was toting his club as if in triumph. Tucked under his arm was a black, fuzzy spider the size of a soup tureen, which Harry hoped was dead.

Ron gave a squeak and hurried for the castle. Hermione strode up to a somewhat sheepish-looking Todd and had a brief conversation with him in German. Harry supposed his interactions with the denizens of the Forbidden Forest did not go well.

“Well, the headmaster said he would look into it and refer Quirrell to me for mind healing. However, Quirrell has yet to contact me for an appointment,” Healer Tonks replied.

“Oh,” Harry replied. That was disappointing. He expected the headmaster to at least have a chat with Quirrell, the same way he seemed to be so keen on inviting Harry to his office for tea and asking how he was settling in. Harry had reassured the old wizard that he was adjusting well, and that no, he was not bothered about what happened to the rat. He deserved it. Then the old man had to go blabbering on about second chances. He was also asked about any difficulties with the faculty. When he did remember to bring up the headaches he whenever Quirrell was near, the wizard simply asked if Harry if he would like to visit the Hospital Wing.

Ill-wishing. He had not Dreamwalked for a while. He felt he was losing touch with the magic of the red-dust land he had grown to love. Would he dream of the Rainbow Serpent or old Albert Murray tonight? When he did dream of his old mentor, he seemed more indistinct in his form. His words a faded echo.

My time is past. It is now your time, Harry…

But I do not want to give up this.

No one is asking you to. Your magic is tied to the land.

Which land?

The Rainbow Serpent coiled around a larger version of globe he had seen in the headmaster’s office. No, the Serpent was now slithering across the Milky Way as Professor Sinistra and her students watched. The snake seemed to have sprouted wings. Jormungand – the Midgard Serpent of Norse myth, Quetzalcoatl – the Winged Serpent of the Americas…

“Harry, wake up!” Someone was shaking him awake. Hermione.

“Whassat?” Harry yawned. Magic is one and same.

“You fell asleep during dinner…” Hermione pointed at the half-eaten cutlet and peas on his plate.

“Oh, did they serve dessert already?" Harry was sure he had taken a pudding cup like many of his fellow lions did. Sweets never lasted long at their table.

“Yes, they sent up the sweets, but I think Ron nicked your pudding.”

“I see… pass me an apple please?” Harry waved to Neville who was holding the fruit bowl. At the same time, he flicked a ball of magic at Ron’s pudding cup. Behind him, there was a scream as Ron Weasley dropped his pilfered pudding. A fuzzy black spider was crawling out of the cup. Who knew Transfiguration could be so much fun?

“How’s Todd?” Harry asked Hermione.

“A bit battered. He stayed with a female forest troll, but her mate came home early. Then the local centaurs accused him of killing a unicorn…”

“Did he?”

“Of course not. Trolls consider unicorns sacred as well. He found the poor thing with its throat slashed. There was a shadow-thing drinking the blood that fled when he approached. The next thing he knew, there were three angry centaurs after him. He fell into a spider web before he got out…” Hermione barrelled on.

“Wait, is there anything that feeds on unicorns in the forest? Did they say anything in Hogwarts - A History?”   

“Only the giant spiders – Acromantulas. They eat anything. Wait, are you saying there is some dangerous predator in the forest?”

“Or not in it…” Harry’s eyes darted to the high table where the staff were seated.

Three of his housemates – Thomas, Finnigan, and Longbottom – had given to their curiosity about that trapdoor Fluffy was guarding and lifted it to find Professor Sprout’s Devil’s Snare nursery. It made sense to grow the plant in a dark place with a guard dog for security. Devil’s Snare could be nasty for novices. No one told Neville, who brought a potted Devil’s Snare into the Gryffindor common room. It almost choked poor Percy to death when the prefect tried to remove it. The Weasley twins and Jordan then taught the plant to play table tennis, with gobstones, to the annoyance of all including the elves who had to clean up the mess left behind.

Did Dumbledore speak with Quirrell already? Harry winced as he sat in DADA. His head was throbbing. Quirrell’s chalk was scratching along the blackboard. Harry thought the professor’s gaze rested a bit longer and more intensely than before on him.

“P-potter, s-stay after class… I-I must speak with you…” the DADA instructor stuttered.

Not good… Alarms bells were jangling, like when the Kellys’ dairy shed caught fire, and they got the volunteer fire wagon out from Cobbler Creek.

He could not disobey a professor, could he? Another stab of pain as Quirrell turned to tidy his desk. The rest of the students dutifully filed out of the classroom when the bell chimed. Harry reached for the magic in the castle, seeking protection. Now that he and Quirrell were alone and in proximity, he could sense the Other. Quirrell’s magic was off because he was a dead man walking. The Other was the predator.

Now what?

“What do you wish to discuss, sir? I am sure my DADA knowledge is up to par for the coming exams…” With Hermione as his in-house study partner and Percy dropping pointers, he might even be ahead for most of his lessons.

“P-Potter, if you would come with me…” Quirrell only spoke when the last student, a somewhat hesitant Neville left, dragged out by Hermione.

“Why? And where are we going?” Harry tried to sound surprised and bewildered. Still, he followed the professor out and towards the third-floor corridor. It was the last class of the day. The Gryffindors were having History of Magic with Professor Binns. The ghost professor was not all there. Harry wondered how long it would take for his friends to notice he was not coming to class.

Snakes. The thought suddenly occurred to Harry. The death adder coiled and waiting. The Woma python with its explosive speed and power. Coil up and wait. The wild dingo howling, summoning his pack for the hunt. Drums, marshalling the tribe’s warriors from all over the land… Wait, watch, gather…  

There were voices coming from Fluffy’s Field. Someone was with Fluffy. Harry groaned inside.

Chapter Text

The third-floor corridor had long lost its forbidden status. Fluffy was sprawled on the grass contentedly. The Weasley twins and their dreadlocked, spider-owning friend Lee Jordan were taking turns rubbing Fluffy’s belly. Susan Bones and her friend Abbott were making daisy chains. There was also a final-year Ravenclaw boy prefect, a big-boned Slytherin girl from Harry’s year – Blustrode? And Theo Nott. The mixed group seemed to have been caught in the middle of a study session or picnic with Fluffy.

“Professor Quirrell?” the prefect queried when Quirrell and Harry entered the room. Fluffy leapt onto his feet, unseating Fred who was draped over his flank. The Cerberus let loose a growl at Quirrell’s entrance.

“Easy there, boy…” Harry soothed the creature. Fluffy had grown used to human company over the months, but it seemed he still mistrusted Quirrell. Animals know. Fluffy was reacting to the Other.

Be calm, protect them… Harry nodded slightly to the other students. Fluffy whimpered. His paws were still on the trapdoor.

“Oh, I am here to harvest some Devil’s Snare – with Professor Sprout’s permission,” Quirrell said. He spun out of the way as one of the three heads lunged at him.

“Is Fluffy-wuffy hungry?” Oblivious to the danger, the twins laughed and patted the Cerberus, gently easing the dog off the trapdoor. Susan and Abbott looked confused. Ah, they had noticed that the DADA instructor had lost his habitual stutter. Moreover, Sprout would harvest the plants herself if needed.  

“Class…” Theo Nott coughed and grabbed his classmate’s arm. Packing up their book bags, the pair moved towards the door. Nott had sensed something amiss. Perhaps they would raise the alarm. Quirrell hesitated. The Ravenclaw prefect stepped forward and was peppering him with questions about the NEWTs, distracting him from the pair.

Go with them, Harry sent his magic to the first-year girls. Quirrell had answered the Ravenclaw’s questions to his satisfaction and sent the guileless teenager on his way. He now turned his attention to the badgers. Harry’s heart sank.

“Bones, Abbott… Perhaps you can help me and Potter with the plants…” Quirrell waved his wand. The trapdoor opened.

“We can help you with that…” Fred piped up.

“Yeah,” his twin volunteered.

RUN! Harry wanted to shout, but Quirrell was faster.

His wand flashed. Both girls were in his grasp before anyone could stop them. One of the twins was hit by some spell that turned him all stiff before Quirrell leapt into the Devil’s Snare pit with his hostages. The other boys had rolled clear behind a low bund of earth that Harry had asked the room to produce. The castle had obliged. An enraged Fluffy was snarling and trying to cram his heads, all three of them, into the small opening. George and Lee Jordan were pulling Fred clear of the Cerberus’ madly scrabbling paws.

“Go fetch a grown-up!” Harry shouted as he shoved Fluffy firmly away from the trapdoor. Harry prayed that Fred would recover. He was still alive. Harry could sense the twin’s pulsing magic. Taking a deep breath, Harry leapt into the unknown.

He tumbled onto a mat of writhing vines and felt something small and furry land on his head.

“Uh, hello, Lola…”

 It was Lee Jordan’s spider. The commotion above told him that the two remaining boys were still trying to calm the furious pup. Perhaps the spider had been jostled off her owner or had leapt down to avoid being crushed. Harry allowed the spider to climb onto his robes and nestle on his shoulder.

“H-help…” a soft whimpering alerted him to Hannah Abbott. The poor girl was struggling against the vines. Something that had forced Quirrell to abandon her. A broken leg perhaps.

“Clam down, Hannah…” Harry coaxed. The girl was panicking and sobbing in pain. Harry Sang calmness not only into her, but also the vines. Asking them to not only release the girl but also lift her up to the trapdoor. 

“Merlin, careful with her leg…”

“I’m getting Madam Pomfrey…”

Abbott’s reappearance from the trapdoor seemed to mollify the Cerberus a little. Harry heard Fluffy’s slobbery whines as Geroge and Lee helped her out. Time for him to continue after that DADA professor gone bad. The vines unfurled and allowed him to slide through to the next room. He hesitated, remembering Lee’s pet.  

Young warrior, I go with you… It was Lola. She tapped one leg against his chin. 

Harry nodded and gently patted his shoulder where she was riding. He held his wand out while sending his magic probing. The castle was screaming in silent protest at the disturbance and sheer force of ill-will directed at her students.

Brute strength, no cunning… or it might be a trap. The frozen keys shivered in the air as Harry strode across to the gaping doorway. The door had been blown off its hinges. No one had gone past the Devil’s Snare before. Broomsticks. Should he? Harry Accio-ed one over. Time for him to try this flying thing seriously.

Hang in there, Susan. I am coming for you. Harry straddled the broomstick. Quirrell had blown his cover entirely. The rest of castle would be alerted soon. If he were after the Philosopher’s Stone… No, not Quirrell, the Other. Harry winced at a sharp pain in his scar. He really should try discussing with Albert how to get rid of that the next time he Dreamwalked.

He whizzed past a shattered giant chessboard and a dead troll that thankfully was not Todd. He was getting closer to his quarry now. He pulled up short of the flames. Shattered glass and spilled potions littered the ground. The flames were high, a wall of fire up to the ceiling.

Beware… His heart was beating too fast. Harry willed himself to be calm. He was looking down on himself, a boy on a worn-out school broom with a spider on his shoulder. Beyond was the last chamber, with the Cursed Mirror. Susan Bones was there, waiting to be rescued from a dying wizard and the Other. Voices, grownups, his fellow students had sought and found help, but they were too far away. The Other would need a new host soon…

Fire whirl… Harry pictured the flames twisting into a serpent, opening to allow him passage. Leaning close to the broom, he zipped through the hole that formed in the flames.

Please, help me… He charged his plea with magic and let it echo through the castle, and the earth beneath.

In the Dreamtime, the Rainbow Serpent was challenged by a Darkness. A creature of unspeakable evil. After a great battle that shattered the earth and created the mountains and gorges of the land, the evil creature was trapped. When the shamans proposed to destroy it, it cried out.

“You may destroy my form now, yet I shall return. For as there is day, there must be night. Where there is light, there is also shadow."

That set the ancestors into a fluster. What could they do? They could not let the evil loose, nor allow it to take another form to wreck mischief. The Rainbow Serpent called on the Spiders to bind it in their strongest webs. Then they cast it into the darkest and deepest chasms of the earth… In gratitude, the Spiders were gifted venom with which to hunt and to protect themselves.

“A-about time, Potter…”

A grey-faced Quirrell looked like a slight breeze would knock him over. The fool no longer deserved to be called their professor. Harry brought the broom down, so he was standing on the stone floor of the chamber. The flames had closed behind him, an impenetrable wall for now.

Susan was mouthing words silently. Quirrell had Cast a Silencio on her, but Harry could read her lips. She was telling him to run. She was fine apart from the red mark on her cheek where she had been struck and some light bruising and scratches from falling into the Devil’s Snare. Her arms were bound behind her back with black ropes. Quirrell was after the Stone, which was somehow contained in the Mirror. But he could not get it out.

“Snap your wand and come, before I slit her throat,” Quirrell’s voice sounded different, as if someone else was speaking through his lips.

With a shrug, Harry took hold of his wand. He murmured an apology to it before he broke it neatly in half. He caught a glimpse of red and gold from the phoenix feather core as he tossed it aside. Slowly, he walked towards Quirrell.

“Look into the Mirror, and tell me what you see…”

His wand still pressed against Susan’s throat, Quirrell stepped aside so Harry was looking into the polished mirror. The mirror reflected the room and the back of Quirrell’s bald head. The man had lost his turban somewhere in his flight to the Mirror Chamber. Harry gasped in horror. There was another face, foul and twisted growing from his head. The Other.

Harry felt Lola skitter down his arm under his sleeve. Spider-kin. Would she help him? There was a soft hissing, like wet wood in the stove. From the flames behind them, the Rainbow Serpent was slithering down, his scales glinted like the most precious of opals.

“I see my family…” Harry lied awkwardly. He had to delay, let the Rainbow Serpent reach them.

“Do you see the Stone?” Voldemort demanded. Quirrell was starting to go limp now. His magical core was exhausted by forcing his way through the obstacles, but not enough for Susan to be out of danger.

The Rainbow Serpent was beside him now. Its heavy head lifted off the ground and nuzzled against his right hand. There was a flash of dark red in the mirror as the snake disgorged something from its mouth. Harry felt something being spat into his right hand.

There was no Rainbow Serpent in chamber, but the weight in his hand was real. He closed his fingers around it. He cupped his other hand to cradle Lola, who crouched in readiness.

“Oh, do you mean this Stone?” Harry declared and lifted the stone up between his thumb and forefinger.

“Bring it to me!” Voldemort hissed. Quirrell clumsily shoved Susan Bones aside to grab at Harry, who leapt back and flung out his left arm, allowing Lola to pounce onto Quirrell’s face, blinding him with the painful hairs kicked off her abdomen. Quirrell screamed and flailed. Lola was now casting out her webbing, more web that one would have thought possible for a mere spider, fuelled by the magic Harry was feeding her. She skittered deftly avoiding slapping hands, wrapping both faces in a silky mask.

“Finite,” Harry grabbed the professor’s dropped wand and undid both the Silencing and Binding Spells on Susan. Her mission accomplished. Lola sprung clear.

“Go,” Harry pictured the flames parting, and they did. Beyond them he caught glimpses of the headmaster, Professor Snape among them. Harry urged Susan towards them and safety. Driven by some blind instinct, Quirrell stumbled after the girl.

“NO!” Harry roared and tackled the professor. Like he was roping an unruly calf, he wrestled the man to the ground. There was the horrid stench of burning and unearthly screaming. Harry’s hands were on Quirrell’s head where the web did not quite cover and his exposed wrist. The man was burning and turning into crumbling ash. Was this Harry’s magic?

Something was pouring out of the now-smouldering corpse. Black, oily and foul. Bad magic. Was Susan safe? Where was Lola? There was no sign of Susan. He hoped that meant she had made it past the flames. Harry glimpsed Lola trying her utmost to drag his broken wand over with the help of her web.

The headmaster was sweeping into the chamber, wand drawn - an old warrior past his prime but still deadly. The inky smoke snarled and rose up. Something else rose from the wall of flame. It formed the likeness of a huge serpent baring its fangs. It lunged at the wraith, who fled through the wall. Was it over?

“Harry, is this your doing?” Dumbledore gasped. He had never seen anyone do that before with a magical fire that was set by another.

Harry did not reply. He stooped down to scoop up both wand and tarantula. The fiery snake was looking at him in the eye. Harry bowed. Lola skittered back onto his shoulder. He thanked her for her aid. He held up his broken wand to the serpent. He felt the warmth as the snake’s tongue flicked over it. The snake burst into shimmering golden motes and the fire vanished.

His wand was fixed, the shattered wood patched together with shimmering opal-like joints like a spider’s web. Thank you. Harry tucked his wand away, along with Quirrell’s.

“Professor, is Fred safe? Are Susan and Hannah safe?” The headmaster stopped gaping like goldfish and stroked his beard.

“Fred Weasley was in a Full-Body Bind, he has come out of it. Miss Bones and her friend have been sent to the Hospital Wing…”

“That’s good to hear… Can you send Lola back to Jordan please? He must be so worried…” Harry let Lola skitter down his arm so she could hop over to the headmaster’s elbow. The headmaster grimaced as the tarantula skittered up to perch on his hat. He vaguely recalled the Stone he had been holding earlier and tucked away into his pocket while cancelling the Spells on Susan.

Harry felt his knees buckling as the magic supporting him so far leeched away with the departure of the fire snake. Everything then went black.

Chapter Text

Harry awoke in the Hospital Wing. Or at least he thought he did. Dreamwalking. Old Albert Murray was playing the digeridoo, the notes resonating in a calming drone. He could see the sleeping forms of the other patients as If through a haze. Harry sat up. A sharp pain near his hip. Who changed his robes into pyjamas? He dug his hand into the pocket. He was holding the Stone.

The droning stopped. Albert Murray looked at him with his milky eyes. Harry studied the Stone. It was deep red, like a ruby. There was a slight crack on one side.

“Did I break it?”

“Things change. Magic is always changing. Has a life of its own. The Stone has done much good in its time… Should never been used for bait…” the old man shrugged.

“I guess I better return it to the headmaster…” As Harry watched, the crack widened. A stream of glittery red dust fell onto the blanket.

“Not his… follow the dust… Now, while that is weak…” old Albert tapped his forehead.

Harry was dreamwalking further than he ever did even under his late mentor’s guidance. A little cottage in the countryside. An apartment in a French city. He was in someone else’s dream, layered by a lifetime of experiences, no, multiple lifetimes – for the dreamer was the ancient alchemist, Nicolas Flamel. The creator of the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry recalled reading about him from one of the twins’ Chocolate Frog cards. Inside was a room full of fantastical magical gadgets and bottles of swirling colours. Among the confusion sat an old couple on a settee. The old woman was resting her head against the man’s shoulder. The old man stroked the hair of the sleeping woman tenderly before looking up at his visitor.

“Who are you? My memories must be messed up now, for you’re not Albus…” Flamel spoke with a slight French accent.

“Harry Potter. I’m here to return the Stone…”

“How did you come to have this?” the old man started. Harry briefly described his encounter with Quirrell and what happened in Hogwarts.

“I’ve no more need of it… Enough Elixir to put our affairs in order before we go to our long overdue rest. I did it for her. Other than turning lead into gold or granting immortality, one could make a medicine from the Stone to cure all ills, so they say.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes and no. The medicine is the Elixir of Life, but once taken, it must be taken continuously. It did slow the progress of her illness, but it has reached a point where my dear wife cannot bear to continue. The Elixir does not rejuvenate. It only prolongs the inevitable. Five hundred years is a long time…”

“What should I do with it? Return it to Dumbledore?”

“Trusting him was a mistake. It should have been destroyed,” the old alchemist rubbed his eyes. “I will Floo-call him when we awake.”

Harry felt himself being tugged back to Hogwarts, whizzing over fields and houses. He opened his eyes to find the headmaster at his bedside.

“Good morning, Harry. How are you feeling?” the headmaster asked a little too cheerfully.

“Sore…” Harry yawned. He could see Susan and Hannah up and waving at him from their beds across the room before the headmaster waved the screening curtains shut to block them from view.

“Harry, do you know what became of the Stone?”

“I have it right here… but I think it’s broken somehow…” Harry lifted the stone from under his blanket. It was cracked and a dull dark brown. There was a trickle of black sand falling from it.

A shocked Dumbledore hastily encircled it in a floating sphere, just as Nicolas Flamel himself slowly strolled in through the door. The ancient alchemist winked at Harry before turning to the headmaster. He was still wearing the shapeless smock and grimy nightcap from Harry remembered from his dreamwalking. On his feet were same fox-headed bedroom slippers.

“Albus, as spoken over the Floo, I have come for the Stone…”

“Sir, I don’t know how to explain this…” Dumbledore waved at the floating sphere, which was now filled with a dark brownish powder.

“Ah, all things come to an end. Including the Stone…” the alchemist took out a vial and instructed Dumbledore to use it to contain the dust.

“But how…” Dumbledore turned to Harry. Harry only smiled back.

“Magical overload? Like what happened when Banjo tried to rig his new thingmajig to the mains…” Harry replied. Local eccentric Banjo McGluck had brought the Grumpton Fair to a screeching halt after blowing up the town’s power grid. His invention was left a pile of charred scrap and the inventor barred for life from Sweetgum Inn. They had to redo the entire lobby and the Kangaroo Bar. Harry guessed the wizards had no idea what he was talking about.

“Mm, it looks like the aftermath of a failed transmutation at Step 7…” Flamel mused. “I better call the goblins to help us make our arrangements… Time for the next journey I suppose. And may they have good champagne, fine cheese, and fresh oysters waiting on the other side…”

“A little souvenir of your adventure. Most likely just useless dust, but you never know…” Flamel handed the vial to Harry and shook his hand before spinning on his heel and leaving.

“Nicolas, I’m very sorry…” Dumbledore turned to go after the alchemist, but Harry was not having that.

“Professor, when I touched Quirrell, or Voldemort, he just burned up… Was that accidental magic?” Dumbledore hesitated. He had come in with a speech prepared, but his former mentor’s appearance had thrown him off entirely.

“Well, Harry… that was your mother’s love and protection on you. It is in your skin… When Voldemort killed your mother…”

“Ah, you say my mom gave her life to protect me. And her protection lives on?”

“Yes, that is about the gist of it.”

“I suppose there must be a use-by date as well…” Harry shrugged as he regarded the vial of shimmering dust. A thought niggled at the back of his mind.

“Why was I sent to the Dursleys and later the O’Reillys?”

“Blood wards… when you mother made her sacrifice, she invoked a powerful protective magic. However, you must live in a home with someone who carries her blood for the protection to hold.”

“Oh, I would have preferred being with Uncle Ned than Aunt Petunia any day. That was never a home to me, more a prison. Not that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would miss a freak like me if I just vanished. Lucky thing I didn’t up and join a circus. I could’ve become a magician’s assistant or an escape artiste… Harry Houdini Jr or something,” Harry grinned as the headmaster choked. 

“I better tell Poppy you’re up…” the headmaster made a hasty retreat. Harry browsed through the stack of gifts. There was a chocolate frog from the Weasley twins and a box of Bertie Bott’s All-Flavoured Beans from Lee Jordan. Lee assured Harry in his note that Lola was safe back in their dorm and stuffing herself with flies and roaches.

Harry was kept in the Hospital Wing for the next two days. Abbott and Bones were discharged that same morning. Fred did not even need to stay the night for observation. After their encounter with Quirrell, the twins had broken Fluffy’s chain and let the dog run loose by the lake after liberal use of Bombardos to the external wall to get him though. Harry watched his friends riding the over-sized pup from the window before Madam Pomfrey threatened to Stick him to the bed.

Hermione brought news that the forms for Todd to return home were finally in order, possibly the only good thing Quirrell did. After what happened, she was not going to refer to him as a professor. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick went through the papers with a fine-toothed comb to make sure that Todd was not going to be traded on the black market or meet some other unsavoury fate. They also had to apply to have Fluffy sent to a proper home in Greece for his species. Hogwarts could not possibly keep a Cerberus on the grounds despite Hagrid’s pleas that he was just a puppy.

Hermione also brought her class notes so Harry could keep up, in case he couldn’t get an excuse chit from Madam Pomfrey for the exams. It was mostly revision now. There were whispers that Professor Snape’s paper would be on the Boils Cure and Professor Sinistra’s was on the Leonid meteor shower or Orion’s Belt.

As it turned out, Harry was excused from the practical exams since Madam Pomfrey deemed his magic levels too low. He still had to take Potions practical and ended up with a Boils Cure that had to be Vanished by Professor Snape with the loss of ten points from Gryffindor for mucking up such a basic potion. Neville had patted him on the back sympathetically when he was tasked with taking Harry to the Hospital Wing for minor burns to the hand. When Harry insisted on trying Practical Charms with his repaired wand, his feather was Levitated all the wand to the ceiling and stuck there. Maybe he needed some more practice with his wand…

When the last day of term finally came, Gryffindor seized the House Cup from Slytherin through some odd mathematical calculations by the headmaster. Harry thought Professor Snape looked like he had swallowed a lemon while Professor McGonagall was beaming like a Cheshire Cat. Hermione and Harry exchanged puzzled looks while the rest of the House celebrated. Did he just earn points for almost getting killed by a possessed professor? What of the incident with the rat over Christmas break? Harry decided not to think too much and grabbed a banana from the table’s fruit basket for dessert. Maybe the headmaster had too much on his mind.

“Well, we have a Portkey waiting for you in London… Do you need someone to come along with you?” his Head of House asked. His godfather was in no state to accompany him. As for Lupin, Harry decided he could not possibly impose on the man. He was already living from pay-check to pay-check, He could not drop everything and go travelling halfway across the globe for Harry’s sake.

“Thank you, Professor, but I think I can manage this… I can catch the Knight Wagon out from Sydney…” After visiting Helen at Aunt Susan’s, perhaps. Or maybe a detour to Perth where Alice was doing her internship. Benny landed a scholarship to a medical college in Darwin. It’d be winter now in the Southern Hemisphere, so it should not be too hot.

In the end they insisted he let Professor Charity Burbage escort him to from King’s Cross to the International Portkey Office. Harry also wrote to Aunt Susan to inform her of when his ‘flight’ was expected to arrive and ask if he could stay over at her place. He was warned belatedly that unlike owls, it could take weeks for a reply to be received via regular mail. Harry only shrugged and said he would call his aunt when he got to Sydney. He was looking forward to meeting his cousin Helen again after so long away.

Professor Burbage rode separately with the prefects while Harry and his first-year friends crammed into one compartment. Ron sulked in a corner while the rest of the first-year Gryffindors discussed their summer plans. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott joined them an hour into the train ride. Hermione was going to France with her parents. Dean and Seamus would spend their summer with their families in Britain. Hannah was going to visit her aunt Eloise in Serville and started practising her French conversation with Hermione to much amusement from Susan. Poor Hannah had mixed up her Continental geography, Harry thought. Seville was in Spain, no? Neville quietly said his Gran would take him to visit his parents every other day now that school was out. A clueless Dean asked why he wasn’t staying with his parents before Hermione shushed him. She had read about what happened to the Longbottoms.

A tactless Ron blurted that it made no difference whether he visited or not since they weren’t going anywhere. Susan then Cast a Hex that zipped the redhead’s mouth up literally. Their chubby friend was close to tears. Harry hugged his friend.

“Speak to them. They can hear you. They know you are there and love them,” Harry said quietly.

“R-really?” Neville wiped tears from his eyes.

“Yup. They know.” Harry only wished he was more skilled in healing chants and rituals. In the Outback, they had never encountered the type of Curses that had reduced the Longbottoms to husks of their former selves. Thankfully, old Murray’s voice added. Between a worn-out old shaman and his boy apprentice, they would be hard-pressed to deal with anything of that sort.  

Chapter Text

Bloody time zones… Harry chuckled as he arrived in the Sydney International Portkey Office feeling a bit disoriented. Long-distance Portkeying could do that to a wizard. When he was escorted to London, they had arrived in the wee hours of the morning at a near-deserted reception point. He had spent the next few hours half-dozing in a snug in the Leaky with his professor as they waited for Gringotts’ to open. Now that he was doing it in the opposite direction, he had also arrived in the early morning with only a sleepy wizard to collect his used Portkey, Professor Sinistra had returned theirs by dropping it down a collection chute in London, if he recalled correctly. The clock outside the Muggle train station stated it was five a.m. There had to be a better way of travelling across time zones. Those airplanes perhaps? They might take longer but at least you could see interesting sights and meet fascinating people along the way. He had only been slightly ill on arrival. Nothing a vial of Stomach Soother could not fix. And the trains were just starting to run.

First stop was Aunt Susan’s, conveniently located a short walk from Old Market station, going by the address and directions Aunt Susan gave the O’Reillys. The cosy little apartment was located above the flower-shop Aunt Susan ran with her late husband. Helen spotted him coming down the still-empty streets and ran down to hug him while still in her pyjamas. Aunt Susan was at the door offering to take his trunk. She was a matronly woman with tight grey curls and an ever-present smile. He had arrived in time for breakfast.

“Those night flights are rough, hon. You’re welcome to snooze on the couch while I work the store…” His cousin was still a little too small and pale for her age, but she had grown taller. Her school term was not over yet, so Aunt Susan combed and braided Helen’s hair to ready her for school. Aunt Susan’s brood had long grown and flown the nest. The woman had readily taken on the task of caring for her young relation. Helen’s fingers danced through the air as she told Harry about her friends at school, and how she was going to take the bus with her best friend Min from the greengrocer to get there. Harry was glad that Helen was now both healthy and happy. He could sense the joy radiating off her.

Arriving in Sydney was a balm to his magic, which had been weak after the incident with the Stone. Now it was blooming like wildflowers after the spring rains. He was too hyped to properly sleep at first, so he offered to help Aunt Susan watering her plants. However, he was yawning by lunch, so he retired to the couch for a nap after a meal of Vietnamese-styled sandwiches.

Helen returned home at about three. Aunt Susan sent both Helen and Harry over to the greengrocer to pick up some tomatoes and onions as she just discovered they did not have enough for her pasta sauce. Min’s granny was at the store. She greeted Helen warmly and slipped both children some barley sweets from the counter. She told Helen in hand gestures that Min was busy with her homework upstairs and her parents would not let her out to play until she was done. Would she like to wait? She could watch cartoons on the TV at the back of the store. Harry apologized on Helen’s behalf as they should really get those tomatoes if Aunt Susan was to cook dinner. Granny Po laughed and showed Harry how to use the store’s weighing scale. Her old knees were aching, and she did not feel up to standing.

Magic. There was magic in the store. A different feel of magic. Harry closed his eyes and hummed softly. Wards. There were Wards deterring rats and other pests from the produce on display. Could it be? He met Granny Po’s eyes through her bottle-thick glasses. The old woman nodded at him with a wink. A witch. Granny Po probably learned her magic from her relatives and then taught it to her own children. How many other wizards and witches were there hiding in plain sight in the city?

Min had completed her homework and was coming into the store from the back. The girls chatted and compared notes on their homework in sign language while Harry spoke with Granny Po. There were shamans and witches among the waves of migrants who came. Granny Po among them. Sadly, her only surviving child was a squib, and his children had not shown any signs of magic yet. The African wix did their studies via correspondence with a ICW recognized school in Africa, while the South Asian wix had recently started a private school with a single teacher out of a dance studio. More were homeschooled in magic. Granny Po kept an eye out for magical children who might have slipped through the cracks. She was glad to know that Harry was already attending school for his magic. Bad things could happen to kids who did not understand their magic or how to control it.

He had phoned the farm and spoken with Aunt Mathilda. The farm was doing much better now. Aunt Susan had no objections if Harry stayed in Sydney for a few more days before returning to Cobbler Creek. Just make sure to call them when he was coming so Uncle Ned could pick him up from town. He was also reminded to buy a train or bus ticket instead of hitchhiking. Eddie tried that once from Darwin and almost got into trouble were it not for a fellow rancher passing by. Harry lingered for three days in Sydney, discussing magic with not only Granny Po, but Mister Shankar and a family of Nigerian wizards.

Deciding that he had imposed on Aunt Susan’s hospitality enough, Harry packed his trunk and bade Helen a fond farewell. He then caught the train to the nearest Knight Wagon pick-up point and waited for a good half-hour before it appeared. It was the same attendant who welcomed Harry on board. The driver was different from a year back - a lanky wizard with a stylishly waxed moustache and an eyepatch. The Wagon seemed to have picked up a school trip along the way. A group of uniformed teenaged girls spelled puffs of coloured smoke at each other while their harried teachers tried to maintain order. Harry learned from a girl slightly older than him that they were from a private Charms School in Kolkata on a field trip to Australia. Their headmistress had been trying to get ICW certification, but they kept having issues with the Statutes as the headmistress’ family also ran an ashram on the same site that accepted Muggles for meditative, traditional healing and astrological lessons. Space within the city was at a premium, even with Wizard-space. 

The Wagon ended up hugging the coast to Brisbane where they were joined by a troop of a dozen young Chinese wizards from Hong Kong and their teacher. Their school specialized in weather-magic. Like the India school, they had issues with ICW certification, but due to their stubborn refusal to include use the traditional European wand in their curriculum. Harry found himself drawn into a discussion about rain-spells. Both school-groups disembarked at Darwin to attend an Austra-Asian Charms Competition. Harry found himself caught up in the excitement of the two-day event. He had to stay. The group from the White Clouds Sage School kindly offered to share their lodgings with him – a reputedly haunted mill Just outside town if it was alright with his parents.

Harry felt bad about having to call Uncle Ned and lie to him that due to some mix-up with the tickets, he was going to be stuck in Darwin for the next two days. He could get a room at a local motel. Uncle Ned asked him to check in with Benny first if they could share his hostel room instead of staying in some dodgy motel. Benny was already in Darwin as his course would be starting the following week. After the first day of the competition, Harry went to visit Benny at his hostel. The ancient landlady of the hostel turned out to be a witch herself and glad to take care of a well-mannered young wizard like Harry for the duration of the Charms Competition. It was a good chance for a young man to learn. He could use her Warded parlour to practice his magic. Harry helped with the gardening and cast some anti-gnome Wards when he saw that the pests had taken residence in the old lady’s kitchen garden. Her poor turnips were starting to suffer from the pests.

The competitions were fierce and stunning in their display of creativity and prowess. There were teams from all over Asia and Oceania, including a team from Mahoutokoro. One team from the Pacific islands even made their war-canoes fly in the arena to reenact a legend. The White Clouds team got too carried away and caused a flash flood with their weather charms, which was a pity as it got them disqualified from that event. The Indian witches stunned everyone with their coordinated Casting to change the colours of a dancer’s skirts. Harry thought it reminded him of Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, except that the dance was more vigorous than a waltz and the spells included working moving patterns onto the sari.

He let Mrs Macquarie look at his transformed wand when he learned she had once been a wandmaker’s assistant before emigrating to Australia. The old lady clucked as she traced the silvery cracks. He also cast some simple spells with it at her instruction. He apologized for wetting her rug when his Aguamenti overfilled the water pitcher.

“A most unusual way of repairing a broken wand. The slivery bits are opal. They improve the conductivity. You will need to tone back your magic. Especially with a firebird feather core.” The wand felt a little like her brother Garrick’s work but different, as if touched somehow. She recommended that Harry practise using his wand. Somewhere quiet, mind. Trace was weak in the far flung reaches of the Outback, but one must be careful not to cause a flood or fire.

Harry made it back to Cobbler Creek by Muggle train rather than Knight Wagon. Benny had bought him a ticket after Harry ‘lost’ his. His older cousin insisted on seeing him off at the station and called Uncle Ned to make sure he did not get eaten by a dingo on the way home. It was a third-class ticket, and a far cry from the Hogwarts Express. The third-class car was sweltering despite the winter season. The seats were only hard benches. An Aboriginal father and daughter shared Harry’s car. The little girl had been in Darwin to see a doctor. The pair were headed back home to the Outstation. The little girl’s lungs were weak. She was coughing slightly. Harry quietly hummed wishes to clear her lungs and she seemed to settle a bit.

A middle-aged lady with two large baskets of live chickens joined them. She argued with the conductor over not leaving her hens in the livestock car, claiming they were hand luggage. Harry helped her with her carpet bag, which felt like it contained lead bars. There was also a tramp who snuck on illegally after the conductor left and the train pulled out. He claimed he was riding the train to Perth where he hoped to find some work.

Bob the tramp played his harmonica to entertain the children. They had lunch on board too. Bob produced a squashed sarnie and a hip flask from inside his grubby coat pockets. The lady, Ann, fished out a thermos of ice-tea and thinly sliced cucumber sandwiches from her carpetbag.

Harry shared his lunch – corned beef and egg sandwiches - with the father and his little girl when he learned they had not eaten since the night before. Mrs Macquarie had made enough for three, insisting Harry was a growing boy. The father, Willy, whittled bits of scrap wood from a badly broken bench into small animals with his pocketknife as a thank-you to Harry. The lady, Ann, brought out small apples to share from her carpet bag, which was crammed with fruits and preserves. She insisted she had more apples back on her cousin’s farm in Perth. Harry and the small family left the train at Grumpton. Ann had given both Willy and Harry a jar of mango chutney each.

Uncle Ned was waiting at the Grumpton Station with his pickup. He offered to take the father and his little girl as far as Roo Crossing where the road to the Outstation split off. The child’s grandmother lived at the Crossing; and they intended to spend the night there. The grown-ups discussed farmwork in the cab while Harry and little Lucie played in the back with among the bags of feed and other supplies Uncle Ned had been picking up from town. Ned had a new farmhand by the time they dropped the pair off. Mister Willy Samuels would be starting work on Tuesday. Willy had lost his job when the mine he worked at shut down and he had been worrying about how he could feed his five young children on their mother’s pay from cleaning work at the Outstation clinic.

Welcome home, Harry Potter. The land itself seemed to sing in the setting sun. Aunt Mathilda was waiting on the porch. Dinner was waiting. Eddie, Perry. And Josh moved forward to help their father unload the pickup. Harry half-expected to see old Albert under the gum trees on his favourite bench. They were expecting Helen to return two weeks later when her school term closed. Alice was leaving in a week to return to her classes at the teacher’s college in Perth. Clara was hoping to apply for a scholarship in two more years to a nursing college. It was a pity not all of them could be together as a family. Perry and Josh ribbed Harry about his fancy British school. Both boys had gone to the public school in Darwin and where home for the vacations as well. Only the twins remained at home, taking their lessons over the radio. Baby Myra was starting her radio school in few more months.

The three boys trooped into their room after a hearty farmhouse dinner. Harry had to pull out a sleeping bag to roll out on the floor. They had grown since they first met. Harry could not share a bunk with Perry anymore.

That night Harry dreamed of the Place of Gathering, of a huge tree whose branches soared into the sky and whose roots reached deep into the earth. The Rainbow Serpent coiled around the trunk, crawling upwards. Its scales glowed like opals. A scale flaked off and Harry stepped forward  to catch it in his hand. Dust. The vial of dust from the Stone. He had crushed the vial underfoot and the dust was sinking into the red earth. The land was calling him. Asking from him a gift of magic in turn.

Harry awoke to find his roommates still dozing. He was going to the Place of Gathering to practice his magic there. It was right. The Rainbow Serpent had aided him in obtaining the Stone. Now it was time for him to return the dregs of the Stone to magic.

Chapter Text

Waiting was hard, but he knew he had to wait for the time to be right. Today was the day. Harry sent off early, telling Aunt Mathilda he wished to harvest bush tucker. She nodded and did not say a word when he declined breakfast. He had gone to bed without supper, claiming a tummy ache. His aunt was no fool. She did not send any of her tummy-soothing tea to him last night. A fast from sunset was necessary before the rite he wished to carry out the Place of Gathering. He did accept a canteen of water from Mister Willy at the gate. His school-going cousins had all returned to their schools shortly after his results and booklist came in via owl. He managed to explain Potions as being like chemistry to an amused Clara. The calendar of their Muggle school system followed a different rhythm from Hogwarts. In a week’s time, it would be his turn to make the journey back to Britain. He could not put it off any longer. He had turned twelve two weeks ago, a quiet celebration on the farm with lamington cakes. The farmhands insisted on him joining them for beers as a big boy until Uncle Ned put a stop to that nonsense. Their beer gave him a buzzy feeling. He later learned it was a homebrew by one of the farmwives from local bottletree pods.

There was an ancient bottletree at the Place of Gathering. White as weathered bone, it looked dead. Harry took out the vial of dust he had been given by Flamel. With a digging stick, he dug a hole at the base of the tree, singing as he did. When it was deep enough, he emptied the vial into it. An Aguamenti filled it up with water, which was quickly drunk up by the earth. Harry had taken long hours practising with his changed wand out in the cattle shed, behind the protective Wards he had set up before leaving for Hogwarts. To his relief, his blatant disregard of laws governing wand use by minors seemed to have gone unnoticed by the powers that be. He brushed the dirt back over the hole and chanted. Good wishes for his family and friends, protection for his chosen tribe. May the land’s magic continue to flourish. And above all, a giving of thanks to the same magic for reaching out to protect him.

As a final gesture, Harry scored his palm with a sharp flint and allowed the blood to fall onto the earth. He could sense the magic thurming, accepting his sacrifice of blood and magic. When Harry looked up, he noticed fresh shoots budding on the ancient tree. Only then did he break his fast, drinking from the canteen and nibbling the dry biscuits from his knapsack. He would need to renew the Wards around the calving pens before he left again.

He was not alone. There was another who arrived at the Place of Gathering – a white-haired woman with dark eyes and skin like mahogany. Her wrinkles were deeply etched on her face. She asked him for water. He handed her the canteen so she might quench her thirst.

“Young shaman has questions of an old healer,” she grunted matter-of-factly. “Elders of your tribe perhaps, prisoners of a foul curse?”

“Yes, they suffered a curse. The Torture Curse… Cruciatus…”

“Under for long time. Strong to have survived as they did. But the damage… Will take more than a mere Sing-sing,” the old woman’s eyes glowed. “They have son, no? Boy needs to make same sacrifice as you did here to renew magic.”

“Do I need to bring Neville here? Is it allowed?” Neville had not been summoned like Harry was by the Place of Gathering.

“Fool, you be. Your friend and his parents have their own sacred place. Old family, old blood, old rites. He must make offering there. Then Sing-sing and brew medicine from their land. The land knows,” the old healer lightly smacked Harry on the head. When he looked up, she was gone. He only saw a large brindled goanna lumbering lazily away. Harry grimly committed the old healer’s words to memory. He knew he would have a hard time convincing his godbrother given the attitudes to foreign magic there.

Harry found some wild honey in a tree hollow and harvested some prickly wattle seeds to bring home to Aunt Mathilda to add to her bread and cakes. He also found a nest of honey ants and harvested a half dozen or so. He savoured the honeydew which coated his tongue when he bit into them. Like his mentor and Aunt Mathilda had taught him, he must leave always some behind for others. Someday his children or grandchildren might need the bounty of the land…

Cousin Eddie saw him off at the train station. After his little impromptu walkabout in Darwin, Uncle Ned was not risking Harry missing his flight out. The train would take him back to Darwin, where Benny promised to make sure he got on the regular train service to Sydney. Eddie or Uncle Ned must have pulled some strings. Harry was allowed to ride in the engineer’s cab alongside the driver instead of in the passenger cars between two of the smaller Outback stations. Aunt Mathilda had made him a generous lunch of soup and pie for his train ride. Harry also met a troupe of travelling acrobats on the way.

Benny was waiting for him when he arrived in Darwin. The connecting train to Sydney via Cairns was scheduled the following morning, so the cousins stayed with Mrs Macquarie for the night. Like his elder brother the day before, Benny saw Harry to the train station and onto the train. He joked about not letting his baby cousin vanish like some magician’s rabbit. Unbeknownst to Benny, his landlady had given Harry the pick-up point for the Knight Wagon in Cairns. Harry would not be catching the Eastern Express down to Sydney. He met a trainee shaman from Polynesia on the Wagon and they compared their techniques in Singing and chants all the way to Sydney. Harry dropped by Aunt Susan’s to say goodbye to Helen before taking the Portkey to London. After the rat debacle, the Weasleys were no longer hosting any more overseas students. Pettigrew had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. Though Mister Lupin doubted it would be for very long. Harry would be staying the week before term started with the Longbottoms. Neville’s Gran insisted on hearing of what happened at the end of term from her grandson.

Alice Longbottom has been a close friend of his mother, and If things had gone differently, Harry might have grown up with his godbrother Neville. The boys had gotten along in school, especially at Herbology. Madam Augusta Longbottom was there to pick him up on his arrival in London. His Portkey had been arranged for a more reasonable time of arrival. She clucked at his Muggle clothes before Side-along Apparating him to Longbottom Manor. She was gruff and rather imposing. Harry supposed it came from having to bring up her grandson, care for his incapacitated parents and fending off various relations with designs on the family estate. Neville did mention a Great Uncle who had dropped him out a window as a toddler. She was like the Mama Emu in the folktale, trying to protect her own. Madam Longbottom insisted that Harry be fitted for some casual robes to wear in the magical world instead of going Muggle all the time. Most magicals are horribly biased against Muggles and Muggleborns.

Longbottom Manor was different from the Burrow, yet familiar in a way to Harry. The magic was older and more layered. The family had lived there for generations, since the time of Queen Elizabeth I. It reeked of slight desperation, a family holding on just barely. Like Uncle Ned’s farm with the droughts and the rat-plagues. Neville pointed out the window he was dropped from by Uncle Algie. Harry winced. It was a miracle Neville was not killed outright. Uncle Algie had since moved to Marseilles for his health. Neville was the family’s only heir now.

Madam Longbottom grumbled about the crowds at Diagon Alley, but she still took both boys there for school-shopping instead of getting everything by owl-mail. As it was the last weekend before term started, many of their friends were also there. Susan, Hannah, Justin and Ernie were outside the ice-cream parlour, having completed their shopping with their guardians. Harry saw the Weasleys with Hermione and her parents. The older Grangers looked out of their depth. Harry did not fail to notice the dirty looks the Muggles got from some magiicals. There was a book-signing on. The boys tried to get on with their textbook shopping, but the author caught sight of Harry.

“Hello there! If it isn’t Harry Potter. How about a photo together with your DADA professor? I, Gildeory Lockhart, will be teaching Defence…”

“Gee, they must be desperate…” Lee Jordan smirked. Dean Thomas and Lee had noticed their Housemates being cornered by Lockhart. The Muggleborn and Muggle-raised student had grouped together for protection in the crowd and where now moving towards their Housemates. 

“I think not…” Harry yawned lazily and made a show of consulting his booklist. “Seriously? Seven of your books for a year of lessons? Waltzing with Werewolves in colour? How can we even afford that? Two Galleons a book? Especially if you have, like five children at school… Nev, are you any good at arithmancy? That will be like seventy Galleons already, right?”

A wide-eyed Neville nodded in agreement. There were some angry murmurings as various parents did the math, especially those with multiple children at Hogwarts. Harry was sure he heard Mrs Weasley’s voice booming from somewhere at the back of the crowd over the costs of the textbooks.

“Boys! Time to go…” A scowling Augusta Longbottom elbowed her way to the front of the crowd and took both her charges by the arm.

“But the photo…” Lockhart ventured. He wisely shut his mouth when Augusta fixed her gimlet glare on him and pointed her brolly at him. She levitated the boys’ books to the counter for payment, ignoring the decidedly angry crowd that was closing in on the luckless author. The following day’s edition of the Daily Prophet would be filled with the news about the riot and complaints to the Hogwarts board and publishers over textbook costs.

“I told Dumbledore the man was a woolly-headed ninny, but he was the only applicant…”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“The post of Defence instructor is jinxed. They say You-Know-Who jinxed it because the headmaster didn’t give him the job years back. Hogwarts has never been able to keep a DADA professor more than a year afterwards…” Neville explained. He ducked as a tomato flew past and landed on Lockhart’s face.

“That’s it, boys. We’re leaving now,” Madam Longbottom took her grandson and his friend by the arm and Disapparated out of the bookstore. The trio left before the bookstore erupted into mayhem.

“Bad elf!” The Longbottom’s head elf Mopsy was growling and showing a bit too much teeth. After fleeing a scene of impending chaos in Flourish and Blotts, they arrived home to find the sitting room trashed. Pinned down by two other house-elves was a miserable-looking elf in a ragged pillowcase. The Longbotttom elves took pride in keeping their pillowcases and tea towels clean and pressed. The intruding elf was a miserable looking thing with his ears bandaged and his pillowcase filthy.

“Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts. Great danger! Dobby cannot say more…” It was then that Harry saw that the Longbottom elves were restraining him to stop him from hitting his head on the floor.

“He’s Dobby. Works for the Malfoys,” Mopsy explained. “He was putting Devil Snare seeds and baby mandrakes in young master Potter’s bed!” There was an angry murmur of assent from the other Longbottom elves. The elves of the elite noble households recognized each other and could be fiercely protective of their wizards. Dobby was one step from being lynched.

“Only to stop Harry from going back to school…”

“Did your master put you up to this, Dobby?” Madam Longbottom asked quietly. The Malfoys had long been a pain in her side, and not just over what Lady Malfoy’s deranged sister did to her poor Frank.  

“N-no… Master Lucy not know. Dobby must iron ears…” the elf panicked and fought harder. There was a loud pop. The elf was gone.  

“W-what was that all about, Gran?” Neville asked uncertainly. Harry only scowled. He was furious inside. Dobby was terrified of his master. The poor creature had been sorely abused. The Hogwarts elves were treated well, if not with respect by his schoolmates. Neville had always been kind and polite to his family’s elves. Neville had explained to him the arrangement between wizards and House elves. It sounded too much like slavery for Harry’s liking, even if they needed to bond with a wizarding family or establishment to survive.

“Can’t we do anything for Dobby?” Harry blurted out. “He looks like someone’s been beating him up every day!”

“He is a Malfoy elf, Harry. We cannot interfere… Not unless the family gives him clothes…” Neville’s Gran pursed her lips. “I do wonder what all that was about…” Lucius Malfoy was probably involved somehow. With the recent bill passed concerning Disposal of dark artefacts… Mopsy Summoned a chair over for her mistress to sit down in. Flopsy brought tea. Augusta felt her years weighing down on her.

“Boys, I cannot keep you from Hogwarts but do be careful….”

“Yes, Gran.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Neville, why don’t you take Harry to see the Honking Daffodils?” Augusta suggested mildly. Once the boys were safely out of the sitting room, she would spike her tea with a dose of medicinal brandy. Merlin knows she needed it.

Frank had been gregarious even as a child. His son not so. Harry was good for Neville. In the few days he was with them, Augusta had watched her grandson come out of his shell. Maybe Neville just needed a friend his age. There were precious few magical children now after the ravages of the First Wizarding War. She had feared Neville was a squib once. Now she found herself wishing that Neville was indeed a squib. He would not need to go to Hogwarts then. Last fall her grandson had a run-in with a troll at Hogwarts. A flipping mountain troll in a castle full of children!

She laughed dryly and drank her brandy-tea. Foolish thoughts from a silly old lady. Neville was a wizard. There was no denying it. She did not wish to even think what could happen this year. 

Chapter Text

Old family, old blood, old rites. The last days of August slipped by. The boys were kept busy in the greenhouses and finishing any last-minute homework. No one thought about the strange house elf. It was on a muggy afternoon that the boys fell to discussing about magic, especially the different types of magic Harry encountered outside Britain. They had re-potted the Fanged Geraniums and Chomping Cabbages and were lounging in the orangery.

“Well, I suppose that's why it’s illegal in Britain,” Neville shrugged when Harry described the accidental flooding that ensued from overly strong Weather Charms during the Charm Conference. Harry had learned a good deal was what was normal for magic outside was considered unusual in Britain. Harry wondered if he should tell Neville of the ritual done under the bottletree in the Place of Gathering, but something held him back. It was not Harry’s secret to share as Neville was a stranger to that distant land. Neville’s magic lay closer to home. He could feel the weak thrumming of the magic in the grounds.

“Don’t you do any rites?”

“Gran says I’m too young… My magic isn't strong enough…”

“Is it, really?” Harry stretched lazily. The magic had been long neglected if no one had conducted any rites for nigh on ten years. “Don’t you follow your Gran to learn?”

“Nope, Gran doesn’t do the rites. Not since the Ministry said it was illegal.”

“Why?”

“Because it involves a blood sacrifice. The Death Eaters carried out blood rituals…”

“So young master refuses to go to the maze? Too scared to offer his blood?” Harry looked up at that voice. There was a snake coiled round a nearby pomegranate tree. The snake sounded old and weary. “Old fool tried. Maze kicked him out… Not heir or lord…”

“Tell us about the maze please, my friend?” Harry asked the snake. Neville paled.

“H-Harry… Are you a parselmouth?”

“Well, yes… but parselmouths are common outside Britain…” Harry tried to allay Neville’s fears.

“Silly wizards…” the old snake continued. “Great gift to be speaker of serpent tongue. Why fear?”

“Nev, Mister Snake here mentioned a maze on the grounds. I’d like to see it, please?”

“S-sorry, Gran says it is off-limits. Besides, it’s so overgrown now we probably can’t get into it. Uncle Algie got hurt walking there. Messed up his leg real bad. It’s dangerous…”

“Fool tried to steal what not his. Steal from little snakelet,” the snake hissed in disdain. “Path will open for true lord and heir.”

“Thank you for your help, sir… Perhaps the heir will enter the maze when the time is ripe…” Harry replied. “Nev, where is the maze? We can always look at it from outside, can’t we?”

“W-well, okay…” Neville shrugged.

The maze was located at the far corner of the estate, all but hidden by a grove of ancient oaks. It was formed by evergreen hedges which towered almost as tall as the oaks themselves. As they approached, Harry could sense the ancient magic it emanated. It was like a bear in hibernation. He could feel it pushing back against his magic hostilely. The maze was overgrown but the boys could make out an archway of weathered stone. Neville stepped forward and was surprised when the brambles parted before him.

“Harry… Come on… it’s letting us in!” Neville’s eyes were glowing with excitement. He no doubt sensed the embrace of his family’s ancient magic even if he did not realize it.

“No, the maze is open to you. It doesn’t welcome me…” Harry shook his head and stepped back, letting the awakening magic know his intentions. Neville hesitated, torn between staying with Harry and continuing alone into the maze. He felt all warm inside, as if he was being welcomed home. Yet there was something missing.

“No… It doesn’t feel right… I’m not ready…” Neville shook his head and stepped back from the entryway. The brambles closed into an impenetrable wall once he had turned away.

“Maybe the time is not yet right… Is there anyone you can speak to about the maze?” Harry asked. The sun was setting. They needed to head back to the manor.  

“Maybe Grandad… I know Gran talks to his portrait in the library at times…” Neville said thoughtfully. “I never knew him when he was alive… Do you think he would like me?” he stopped and looked at his shoes.

“Why don’t you try speaking to him? Maybe he has things to tell you…” Harry hoped he had steered Neville in the correct direction.

“Good lad! Thank you so much, Harry!”

Harry was dreaming and he knew it. He was in the Longbottom library. The portrait frame of the wizard who normally glared from the wall above the fireplace was empty. Instead, there stood before the fireplace a middle-aged wizard dressed in the fashion of decades ago. He was beaming ear to ear and shaking Harry’s hand.

“Never thought Nev would come speak to me… Though we’d prefer he be of age like Francis when he did ask about the maze. Feels odd skipping Francis, I suppose needs must… poor Francis and Alice - such a shame,” Neville’s grandfather shook his head sadly.

“The family magic could help them, right?” Harry watched as a bottle of whiskey and shot glass flew out of a cabinet and into the wizard’s hands.

“Will need time. Nev is young… Then wretched Cousin Algie – pah! Well, slow and steady I say. I have told the lad what he needs to do. Must come back at Yule for reawakening… Say, you’re a Potter, aren’t you? But your magic feels different from old Fleamont… Sure your mother was Muggleborn?”

“As far as I know, sir.”

“Hm, some other magic has adopted you for theirs then… Maybe Dorea… Thought I thought the Black magic only passed through the male line… Oh, how time is flying. You don’t want to be late now…”  

Harry blearily opened his eyes. It was the first of September, and he had slept in.

Gran was not taking any chances with her boys with a rogue Malfoy elf hanging about. Instead of going to King’s Cross to meet the Hogwarts Express, Augusta Longbottom made a Floo-call to the headmaster at breakfast. After much wrangling, both boys were told they would be Floo-ing over via the headmaster’s Floo into Hogwarts. Harry was a little disappointed he would not be catching up with his friends on the train, but he needed to think of his godbrother’s safety.

There were angry mumblings from the Longbottom elves, who had a lot to say about Dobby. Left to their own devices in the kitchen, the elves were like farmwives on market day. Harry stood in the shadow of the doorway listening to them as they went about their chores. Neville had gone to the library with his gran to speak with his Grandad.

“He’s not right in the head.”

“Disgrace to house elves. Endangering little ones… even if his master put him up to it…”

“He say it wasn’t…”

“You believe him? His old man was a bit touched too, right? That Black elf at Grimmauld Place?” 

“Kreacher? Is he still alive then?”

“Worked for the Potters I did. Master Fleamont, before I met my Otis. Poor Master Siri came by all beaten up by Kreacher on his mother’s orders…”

“Excuse me, may I have an apple please?” Harry asked, startling the elves.

“Ai, young master. Here’s your apple now…” the elderly house elf who had worked for the Potters grinned a gap-toothed grin and handed Harry the apple.

“I don’t understand why Dobby is out to hurt me.”

“Some elves go mad. Like Kreacher. Maybe their masters are bad masters. Make them do wrong things, so go mad. Maybe they no listen to masters, so go mad themselves… Old Maya has seen much…” the old elf chuckled. “Now master Harry must go to school. Hoggywarts elves will sort Dobby out if he tries anything.”

“If he has a bad master, can he leave?”

“Not unless master give clothes to free him. A free elf is a shamed elf. Free elves don’t know what to do with themselves. Make great trouble.”

“So if we can get Dobby’s master to give him clothes, maybe he get better?”

“Ai, no meddling with other family’s elves, Master Harry…” Maya admonished. “Master Jamie would’ve brought you up better…” Except both James and Lily Potter died when Harry was a mere toddler.

It was time for them to Floo to Hogwarts. Trevor hopped free of Neville’s grasp when they arrived in the headmaster’s study. The plump boy clambered after his wayward toad before Gran Summoned the creature back to her. Harry found himself staring at a most magnificent bird of red and orange that was dozing on a perch atop the headmaster’s cluttered desk. Was it an actual phoenix? The magical aura in the office was suffocating enough to give Harry a headache. Too many magical knick-knacks…  

“Albus, I am not impressed by what happened last year. A troll and Cerberus! I do hope that this year would prove more peaceful, dubious choice of DADA instructor aside…” Augusta sniffed as she took in the disarray.

“The boys would be glad to see their friends after the summer. I’ll have the elves bring their trunks to their dorms. Dinner will be served in the Great Hall shortly…” the headmaster gave a weak smile. The twinkle did not quite reach his eyes.

“A rogue elf? Figures there’d be a Malfoy involved,” Ron grumbled and glared at the Slytherin table. Neville had related to their housemates what happened for him and Harry not to take the Hogwarts Express. Young Ginny had Sorted in Gryffindor and was looking a little overwhelmed by the castle just as many of the first years were.

“That’s slavery, right? Making them work for nothing…” Hermione gave a gasp of horror. The girl had just learned that the elves who diligently cleaned their dorms were not paid.

“They are paid in magic, Hermione…” Alicia Spinnet explained. “They need a family or magical establishment to attach to. They were created to help wizards…”

“But their masters could punish them or…”

“The laws aren’t perfect… They were more about having the elves keep the families’ secrets…” Katie Bell explained. “It is considered crass if a family abuses their house elves.”

The girls digressed into a discussion of house elves. Some of the students had house elves in their families they were close to, since being a nanny to wizarding children was one of the many duties carried out by house elves. Harry recalled Susan had mentioned an elf called Pooky who took care of her when she was little. Just as the Longbottom elves took care of Neville. The Muggleborn and raised Gryffindors received an impromptu introduction to house elves, their purpose and the laws governing them and their masters.

Hermione squeaked about how barbaric it was when Percy mentioned that a distant aunt of the Weasleys was rumoured to have the habit of beheading her elves when they got too old to work. It was a scandal as old elves were expected to go curl up somewhere hidden to wither away. Only the really rich or elite old families had house elves.

“What really bothers me is not only that this elf seems set to cause me harm, but that he has been ill-treated…” Harry started. A hand clapped down on his shoulder. It was their Quidditch team captain, Oliver Wood.

“Heard from the twins you wield a good bat, Potter. Want to try for Beater or Seeker? We’ll need a reserve Beater the way Fred and George keep chalking up detentions…”

House elves were forgotten as Harry tried his best to dissuade Wood from trying to recruit him onto the house Quidditch team. From what he had seen of Quidditch matches, it was a pointless waste of energy. He would rather play football with his cousins thank you very much.

Chapter Text

By the end of their first DADA lesson, it was clear that DADA was going to be a washout. What did knowing your professor’s favourite colour have anything to do with the subject? There was that cowardly and ill-planned display with the Cornish Pixies that left everyone flabbergasted at their new instructor’s sheer incompetence. Hermione used a Freezing Spell on the critters before anyone else could join Neville hanging from the classroom chandelier. Harry had to use his magic to coax the castle into gently lowering a terrified Neville down. Unfortunately, that exhausted him enough to throw him off Charms which was the class after.

They returned the pixies to Lockhart’s office before lunch. Harry defrosted them before leaving them to their own devices outside the cage, gleefully suggesting that they give their former jailor hell. Hagrid would find Lockhart up a sturdy oak by the lake on his evening patrol. Lockhart’s tribulations were not quite done. Gran Longbottom’s Howler literally tore a strip off Lockhart the next morning over what happened to her precious grandson. Harry had borrowed Hermes to send a letter to her detailing Neville’s mishap with the pesky pixies during their lunch break.

Then let’s not forget the amateur dramatics. Harry decided to ham it up for maximum effect.

“Die already!” Lockhart groaned as his Hex bounced off Harry’s shield. He had been going at it for fifteen minutes and was tiring.

“Nope, I’m sure that spell does not work on a werewolf,” Harry replied nonchalantly as he sat on top of the teacher’s desk, holding up his shield wandlessly with one hand while flipping through one of their textbooks with the other. Defensive magic was second nature to him as one did not like being pelted with Hexes after all.

“But werewolves can’t do magic!” Ron pointed out. Harry only held up the book to the page he was reading.

“Only at a full moon. Aha, I thought so. No full moon. Your Wagga Wagga Werewolf would have been a wizard on the date you encountered him. Please check page 15 and cross reference with moon phases for that year in our Astronomy text,” Harry added to chortles from the class. There was the sound of a flurry of pages being flipped as Hermione cross referenced the said books.

“My, my, look at the time…” Harry dropped his Shield and flung a Cutting Hex at Lockhart’s pants. The bell chimed as the hapless instructor’s pants hit the floor.

“Detention, Potter!”

“Oh gee, I think you might need to check in with Professor Snape for that…” Snape had assigned two weeks of detentions to Harry after he was caught helping Neville with his potion after Malfoy tried sabotaging it. Ten points were also lost, and Malfoy’s eyebrows singed. Which almost made it worth it.  

“Well-played, mate,” Seamus chuckled as they filed out towards the Charms classroom. “Next time you can try lighting up his boxers.”  

“That idea has merit… gelding flawed stock,” Harry concurred aloud, making sure Lockhart heard him. Hopefully, that would deter him from making Harry participate in future dramatic reenactments. One could always hope.

Detention. Helping answering Lockhart’s fan mail. Reading the mail and copying the replies made him gag. There were a few with Love Charms attached, which burned up as soon as he touched them, much to Lockhart’s alarm. Those that came with Hexes, Harry used his magic to Vanish them into Lockhart’s closet, bedding and drawers. That he might encounter them in more private moments. With a Muggle marker pen, he bestowed an eyepatch and moustache on an autographed photo of Lockhart before stuffing it into an envelope and sealing it to drown out the cries of outrage. All this while, the real Lockhart waffled on about his adventures and how maybe they should do a joint photoshoot. There was a kid with a Muggle camera in the school who might do it for free.

Colin Creevey. Harry did not mind posing for a Muggle photo or two with his mates by the lake or in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. A little something he could send back to his folks without breaking any rules. He did not appreciate being woken up by a camera flash in his face. He had a firm talking to with young Creevey, channelling the same tone Uncle Ned used when explaining to Steve and Irwin why riding Mister O’Rourke’s tractor when he left the keys in the ignition was a bad idea. Colin quickly learned to lay off the candid shots when his film kept ending up overexposed. Harry worked out how to use a gust of magic to pop the back open to let that bit of light in when Colin was not looking. Harry had shrugged and put it down to accidental magic.

Harry and Dean gathered a group of Muggleborn and raised students to start a football team. Soon curious students raised in the magical world started watching and joining them. Colin took photos after the match, when they were all laughing and muddy. Not to be outdone, Hermione and Susan decided to form a girl’s football team as well. To their dismay, they found it harder than the boys to form a team as most girls thought it too rough a sport. Which was a surprise considering there were witches on all the house Quidditch teams. And the game was riskier since it was played at height.

“I think Ginny’s homesick…” It was Ron who blurted it out one day in between classes. “She’s been very quiet since class started… Hermione, can you, please check if she needs help…”

“Well, it might just be the spate of colds going around…” Hermione reasoned.

“Nah, Ginny hardly ever falls sick…”

“Maybe we can cheer her up!” the twins exclaimed. The pair were poking their heads out of one of the many disused classrooms. Harry raised an eyebrow. How curious… There was magic oozing from behind the twins. It felt a little like Peeves but more fluid. What could the pair be up to? Before he could get a better feel, there was a popping sound from the classroom. The twins exchanged a worried look and hurriedly shut the door.

Glittery firework unicorns pranced about the Great Hall to the delighted squeals of the younger girls. Ginny was trying to make herself as small as possible in her chair. Her cheeks were as flaming red as her hair with embarrassment. The house banners had been Charmed to read ‘Cheer Up, Gin-Gin’ in neon pink. Ron and Percy were groaning and trying to hide behind their soup bowls while the twins were high fiving each other.

“Detention for Misters Fred and George Weasley! Thirty points from Gryffindor!” Professor Snape bellowed to be heard over the calliope music and pops of fireworks. It had all started with a nondescript box marked ‘Open Me’ at Ginny’s place at the table.

“My, what impressive Charm work!” Beside him, Professor Flitwick’s whiskers quivered with interest. “Twenty points for ingenuity!” He coughed as his colleague shot him an icy stare.

“Indeed,” Professor Dumbledore stroked his beard as a unicorn exploded into bubbles before him. Pink bubbles floated about as the firework unicorns popped. Perhaps the pair might be pressed to help with the upcoming Halloween feast.

“I can do something like this for Valentine’s!” Lockhart clapped his hands. “My fans will be thrilled…”

“A bit over the top, don’t you think?” Harry waved away pink bubbles so he could find his bread roll.

“Well, I think we might have overdone it…” George shrugged.

“Let’s try ponies for Alicia’s birthday!” Fred added.

“I hate you!” Ginny snapped and kicked both Fred and George in the shins before stomping off.

“I’ll go after her…” Hermione volunteered. With a wave of her hand, she shrank and packed both her and Ginny’s bread rolls, fruit, and a chunk of hard cheddar into an oversized napkin.

“What did we do wrong?” the twins exchanged confused looks. Hermione only rolled her eyes as she passed them. Boys… Harry shook his head. The girls’ dorms were off-limits to the boys. It would not be polite to trespass even if he could convince the castle he meant no ill will. Best to leave Hermione to it.

“Makes no sense. All me chickens killed…” Harry overheard Hagrid complain to a wizard who resembled the headmaster, only drabber, as they hurried to Herbology.

“Think it’s a stoat or weasel? Maybe fox?”

“Well, t’at’s the problem…  ah Warded me coop against those vermin…t’eir necks were wrung…”  

Poor Hagrid. Maybe they ought to get him a new flock, after figuring out what was attacking his birds… Predators did not wring the necks of their prey. Could the groundskeeper have fallen afoul of a particularly malicious student? Losing livestock always hurt on some level. Clara had a gaggle of ducklings once, until Jimbo Malley’s cattle dogs got to them. The dogs were only doing what dogs do. But a human? It smacked of cruelty.

Halloween was soon on them. The castle ghosts were noticeably absent, having commitments elsewhere. Harry heard that it was the Deathday of their House ghost, Sir Nick. It seemed rather sad and pointless to him, fixating on one’s dying and not moving on.

There was something amiss in the air. The year before, they had encountered a troll. Harry hoped this year would be uneventful. The headmaster had dancing skeletons and floating Jack o ’lanterns conjured up for the Great Hall. Ginny was missing. The youngest Weasley had taken to sulking in her dorm and avoiding her brothers after the fireworks debacle a week ago. She had also complained of feeling tired. Hermione had recommended she speak with Healer Tonks, but no one knew if she had taken that advice yet.

All was well for now, until Filch came roaring in with his poor cat…

“I hear Mrs Norris is dead…”

“No, Petrified…”

“There was blood on the wall…”

“Not blood, ninny. Red paint from where Hagrid’s painting his fence.”

“You think Hagrid can spell even?”

“It’s a warning, right?”

“I saw it before the elves scrubbed it off. Enemies of the heir, beware…”

Harry heard snippets of the gossip and rumours that were floating about the castle. Everyone had a theory.  One prevailing thread was the Chamber of Secrets and Slytherin’s monster. A legend that dated from the time of Hogwarts’ earliest days. Was there any truth to the legend? Now, if the legend was true, Slytherin sounded like an unpleasant bloke – keeping some monster to set on Muggleborns. Macmillan heard from his grandpa that someone was killed the last time the Chamber was opened. The victim was a Muggleborn, and her ghost still haunts the bathroom where she died.

The legend had it the beast could only be controlled by an heir of Slytherin. Each generation of Slytherin students have attempted to find the Chamber with no success. Susan learned from discreet letters to her Aunt Amelia that Hagrid, who was a student then, was blamed for causing the death by keeping a dangerous beast and expelled. No one was surprised Hagrid had misjudged the danger of his unknown pet, but Heir of Slytherin? Even the Slytherins had laughed at the idea.  

What they did have was something or someone killing Hagrid’s chickens, a menacing message, a Petrified cat and… Poor Filch and Mrs Norris. They needed the mandrakes to mature before Professor Snape could brew the antidote. It had been a bad European season for the mandrakes and there were none to be had in the market. At least none they could justify spending the amount of gold needed for the sake of a mere cat.

“Has anyone seen Lola? I can’t find her anywhere!” a frantic Lee Jordan exclaimed as he checked under the common room cushions. Where did the tarantula go? She stuck close to her master. Where are you? He gently sent his magic to probe for the spider who had helped him in the last school year.

Danger! Beast awakes! Flee to forest! What he received was a general sense of panic and fear. Not just from a single tarantula, but dozens of spiders of all species. Most peculiar indeed.

Chapter Text

The weather was fair on the morning of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. They had the same staring match between Flint and Wood. Draco Malfoy was about to make his debut as Seeker, so there might be a chance of a Gryffindor victory since the Gryffindor Seeker Glinda Novak had a year to learn the tricks. The sun was warm enough to forego a Warming Charm on his cloak, or Harry might be getting used to the Scottish weather. He had to cheer for his team after all. He stuck out his hand to catch a bottle of fizzy lemon pop when Neville stumbled and dropped it almost on Seamus’ head. Professor McGonagall and Lee Jordan were giving commentary. Or rather, the professor was commenting as Lee was distracted by the shapely legs of the Gryffindor Seeker.

“I can see her garters…” Ron’s eyes were bugging out as their Seeker dove and circled low over the stands. She was closely pursued by an irate Malfoy, unaware that she was toying with him. Neither had seen the Snitch yet. Harry spotted it slyly hiding in Wood’s shadow by the hoops. No, it was zipping behind an oblivious Slytherin Beater. Their Chasers were working hard scoring points with the Quaffle and Sytherins were trying their best to disrupt the trio. Madam Hooch called out a foul when a Beater smacked Spinnet’s broom and sent it into a tailspin she barely managed to pull out of in time.

Ginny was looking a little pale as she sat two rows down. Harry frowned. She seemed distracted. The little girl he recalled from his brief stay with the Weasleys was as Quidditch-mad as her brothers Ron. Fred and George. Maybe she was having difficulties adjusting…

“Watch out!” Someone yelled as one of the Bludgers suddenly flew towards the stands. Harry leapt out of the way as the wayward sphere crashed into where he had been sitting.

“Sorry, mate!” he landed on Ron’s lap, squashing his chips and ketchup. 

“Foul!” Someone yelled.

“Don’t they have Wards against this?” the younger students and those nearest to the Bludger were starting to panic.

“Everyone, move away from the Bludger…” Percy’s voice called out as the prefects started an evacuation. He grabbed Colin by his robes before the boy fell onto the pitch. The first year was angling for a shot of the destruction as he leaned out of the stands with his camera.

Oh bother… Harry watched as the Bludger slowly and surely disentangled itself from the splintered wood. It seemed its destructive streak was not yet spent. And Harry had the feeling that malice was directed at him.

“What by Merlin are you up to, Flint?”

“It wasn’t us, Wood!”

“Bludger’s gone rogue!” Someone shouted.

Harry vaulted over several rows of seating and students as the Bludger smashed after him. He needed to get the Hexed Bludger away from the other spectators. Not all were quick or nimble enough to escape the carnage.

“Ginny!” the twins yelled as one when the Bludger clipped their sister hard on the shoulder and sent her tumbling down the steps. Something dropped out of her grasp. Harry swerved behind the stands to try hiding from it, but the heavy ball crashed through several supports, shaking the stands and eliciting screams from those above.

Harry tore off his school robes as he ran out from behind the stands onto the pitch. Madam Hooch shouted a spell, but the Bludger was not responding. Enough running. Time to catch the wayward pest. In the centre of the pitch, he whipped the robe around and dodged as the missile zipped past. He spun round as the Bludger flew back towards him. This time, he tackled it with the help of his robe.

He was not alone. Seamus and Dean had caught up to him and threw themselves on the fiercely bucking Bludger as well as if they were in a rugby scrum. They were followed by Neville and Ron. The ball bucked suddenly, smacking Harry in the nose before whatever Hex was on it burned out. Madam Hooch called the match off. The Weasley twins had abandoned the match entirely to see to their sister. The Slytherin Seeker was floating about with the head of a hog and a toilet seat round his neck. Glinda Novak pled accidental magic before an irate Snape. Flint had Wood in a headlock. One of the Gryffindor Chasers had grabbed a discarded Beater’s Bat and looked set to brain the Slytherin captain before the referee ordered everyone down and off their brooms. There were too many students on the pitch. The stands were looking shaky after the Bludger. No one was willing to staying on them until they were structurally stable once more. 

His second set of school robes were ruined. Harry regarded them ruefully as he wiped blood from his nose. Whatever malice had possessed the Bludger was long gone by now. Neville was grinning and sporting a bloody gap in his front teeth. Ron had earned himself a black eye. Hermione poked the rogue Bludger cautiously with the end of a broom before Madam Hooch whisked it off for inspection.

“Here,” Susan offered Harry her hanky to wipe his nose.

“Danks…” he wiped his face. What was the healing spell again? He tried to focus his magic, but it would not take. He could heal others, but never himself.

“Episkey…” Hermione had her wand out and was administering magical first aid. Harry felt a sharp pain as his broken nose was yanked back into place. Ron was yelping that he needed a real mediwitch. Dean and Seamus were thumping each other on the back. The Hospital Wing it was for them. They plodded back towards the castle.

“Give it back!” Ginny screeched.

“Cool it, sis! Just a joke- Ow!”

“Did she just bite you?”

“Gerroff, Gin!” Harry stopped in his tracks. George Weasley was being mauled by his kid sister. She was kicking and hitting him. Did she hurt her head in the tumble down the steps? Ron ran towards the twins and tried to pull Ginny off their brother. Percy had noticed the commotion and was running into the fray as well.

“Stupefy!” Hermione fired a spell at Ginny, which smacked into her back. The little girl slumped down, stunned.

“Ginny’s gone mad!” George cried out as he held his bleeding hand where he had been bitten.

“What did you two do?” Percy demanded.

“We were just teasing her a bit…”

“About her diary…”

“Hand it over…” Percy demanded. George dug into his Quidditch vest and pulled out the diary.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have threatened to feed it to the squid…” Fred tutted. Hermione rolled her eyes as she and Susan helped Ginny lie down. Boys are such idiots.

Ill-wishing. Harry felt a sudden wave of iciness that made him shudder. It was coming from that black journal which Percy was now holding. Could that have something to do with the rogue Bludger?

“I’ll give it to her when she wakes up,” Harry offered as he hummed calmness into the knot of students. Percy was holding the diary as if it were a dead ferret – at an arm’s length. Perhaps he sensed the bad vibes coming from it. Percy hesitated a moment before handing it to Harry, who immediately felt his scar throb. A familiar darkness. Not good. He willed protective Charms over the book before slipping it into his bookbag. Maybe he should take the odd diary to a professor, perhaps the headmaster.

Their Head of House was coming over to see what was wrong or maybe dispense points to Harry for stopping that Bludger. Harry later wished he had handed her the diary then, but Professor MacGonagall was so busy checking on Ginny… Harry forgot about the diary, until his bookbag went walkies during a football game with his mates. The lads thought it was a mean prank. They would find it in the floating in the lake and Harry’s books scattered about the grass, but the oily feeling of the diary was long gone by then.

He was dreamwalking in the castle. And he was not alone. Beside him was a little blond girl. They were walking barefoot through the dark corridors unseen by the ghosts that drifted past.

“Do you feel it?” she looked at him. Her eyes were silvery pools. “Her wrackspurts have gone all quiet.” She stooped down, then lay down flat on the cold stone floor so her ear was against the stones.

“Listen…”

Harry followed her example. A slithering of something huge. Hunger, hatred…

“She doesn’t know…” Silver pools stared back at him fearfully. The dream ended just then as Dean’s alarm sounded.

“Do you think it’s with Ginny again? I got loads of bad vibes from it…” Harry asked Hermione. Maybe they ought to speak with Susan’s aunt.

“I’m not sure, Harry. I haven’t seen her much in the common room or library… Oh, here she comes…”

Like a shadow, Ginny slipped in between her brothers Percy and Ron. It had been two days since the Quidditch match.

“Oi, Harry… I’ve written to Gran. Do you think that crazy elf is behind the Bludger?” Neville waved cheerily as he walked to them from the other end of the table. Hermione gasped.

“Nev, your teeth…” The gap in his front teeth was gone.

“Madam Pomfrey used a Tooth Regrowth Spell on me yesterday. Good as new…” Neville grinned. His teeth were still a little crooked but there were none missing now.

“I have not seen the elf…” Harry replied nonchalantly. At the other end of the table, Percy was fussing over his sister, but she was having none of that. Harry glanced over to the Ravenclaw table and was surprised to see a familiar face. His fellow dreamwalker.

The quiet day was not to last. In the middle of Charms, Professor Flitwick received a message from a glowing cat Seamus explained to Harry was a Patronus. Lessons were cancelled for the rest of the day. Everyone was to return to their common rooms until further notice. They were to later hear from Professor McGonagall that young Colin had been found Petrified in the second-floor corridor, like the caretaker’s cat was. Harry clenched his fists helplessly as Neville patted him on the back. The professors searched the castle from tower to dungeon but as with Halloween night, there was no sign of the attacker.

Colin Creevey was Muggleborn. It was not long before the whispers about the Heir of Slytherin started anew after having calmed down. Suspicions quickly fell on the Slytherin students. The snakes had always travelled in groups, but now they were more wary. They hardly lingered in the Great Hall for meals. Hermione reported that they were also absent from the library, including the NEWTs and OWLs students. Susan told Harry that one young Slytherin had somehow got separated from the pack and was cornered by a group of older Ravenclaws near the kitchens. A Hufflepuff prefect, Diggory, had intervened before any Hexes started flying. Still the poor girl was badly shaken and Susan had to invite her into the kitchen for a cup of tea before escorting her back to the dungeons. Fear quickly overtook the school.

Harry, Hermione and Neville had gone to visit their fellow Gryffindor in the Hospital Wing after they had confirmed whatever Petrified him was not contagious. He was still clutching his camera to his face. Hermione tried to work the camera loose, reasoning that Creevey might have caught a photo of his attacker. However, when she did get the camera open, they found the film within had melted.

“It’s him, isn’t? The Heir of Slytherin? And you know who he is! Your father’s likely behind this!” a man roared.

“I know nothing! I swear…” a young boy almost in tears.

“Moody, please… calm down…” the headmaster beseeched. “I have sent word to Andi…”

“And you expect us to believe you would just drop by for a friendly chat with Ted?”

They turned the corridor to find the headmaster, Professor Snape, and two Aurors towering over a terrified Draco Malfoy. Professor Snape’s gaze flitted onto them. He cleared his throat.

“Perhaps it will be wiser if we take this back inside…”

“No! I am not going back in there!” Malfoy shouted. Harry realized they were standing outside Healer Tonks’ office. Was Malfoy seeing the mind-healer? Did something happen to Ted Tonks?

“Harry!” Ignoring Hermione and Neville, he pushed past the one-legged Auror and his dark-skinned partner into Healer Tonks’ office. The window which faced the office door had cracked. Healer Tonks was sitting in his swivel-chair, still holding a mug of tea which had long gone cold. Petrified. Harry’s gaze darted to the schedule on his desk which lay open. Normally it would be Charmed shut. G.W. was the only entry for that day.

“Get back here, laddie!” Firm hands gripped Harry’s shoulders and steered him out.

“Malfoy, I believe you,” Harry gripped the blonde’s hand in passing as he passed him. “There is no shame seeking help when you need it.” Snape’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Are you kidding? Father’s going to kill me!” Draco groaned. “You are going to tell him, right?”

“Potter, don’t you and your friends have somewhere else to be?” Snape said with sarcasm dripping from his every word. The trio of lions scampered off to their next class, to Snape’s silent relief. He would take care of his own student and prevent the Aurors from taking Draco away. He would also need to write to a parent. Narcissa perhaps. Lucius would be more likely to fly into a rage than hear his son out. Still, it smarted that whatever issues his godson was facing, Draco had sought out a stranger over his godfather.

Chapter Text

“Seriously? Duelling club? Lockhart? I thought he would have learned not to muck about with the likes of proper wizards like our Harry by now,” Finnigan declared.

“Chap’s a glutton for punishment, what can I say?” Thomas shrugged. “He’d be a fool to get Harry to duel with him. Almost wish Creevey and his camera could be present.”

“Is he pairing up with Professor Flitwick, two-time world champion for the demo?” Harry asked.

“No, Professor Flitwick’s a twelve-time champ. The bloke’s pairing up with Professor Snape…” Neville corrected.

“Oh boy, does he know the dungeon bat’s a former Death Eater? I bet Snape’ll demolish him in the first three seconds…” Ron Weasley sounded surprisingly eager. “I’ve not seen a proper duelling match since Uncle Rufus sneaked us into the Mimbly…” he stopped to wave to his older brothers.

The Gryffindor boys were a loud bunch. Harry sometimes wished they could quiet down a bit to allow him to better sense the castle’s magic. Something was off. An undercurrent of danger, unseen threat in the walls… They arrived at the Great Hall immediately after History to secure the best seats for the inaugural Duelling Club session courtesy of Lockhart.

Lockhart still had his fan club of adoring witches, but most of the girls in Harry’s class has long gotten over that after Granger verified some of the feats in the textbooks were nigh impossible. Hermione had also secured a place near the front and was holding a notebook in her hand.

“I wonder if they will demonstrate any protective spells we can use against whatever monster is out there…” she explained. Harry realized that a good portion of audience were worried about the unexplained Petrifications. Many students bore looks on their faces every bit as serious as his Muggleborn classmate. The Weasley twins had their good friend Lee Jordan with them. There had been no sign of Lola and Lee was mourning her loss. The twins were thinking of owling for a Niffler for their pal, if they could scrape up the gold needed. Harry glanced over to the Slytherins where a pale Draco was sitting slightly apart from the others. Even his henchmen seemed to have abandoned him.

After Ted Tonks was Petrified, Aurors had questioned Hagrid. It was about what happened fifty years ago. Hagrid narrowly escaped being taken away, but he was ordered not to acquire any new animals – that included livestock. Poor bloke would have to make do with eggs from the Hogwarts kitchen instead of his own coop. Security was tightened. The older students heartily protested the cancellation of their weekend visits to Hogsmeade, arguing that all the Petrifications occurred within the castle walls, not outside. The Aurors and professors have searched the building from tower to dungeon after Tonks was Petrified to no avail. If he could dreamwalk…

“Harry, they are starting…” Hermione nudged him, returning his attention to the here and now. Lockhart was giving an animated narration of the protocols and rules for formal duelling. Professor Snape just looked bored. Ronald Weasley’s prediction was fulfilled when Snape disarmed his opponent in the first two seconds of their duel by knocking him clean across the stage. An embarrassed Lockhart managed to cover up his slip and asked for volunteers to duel each other. When none were forthcoming, he ordered Malfoy on stage. Harry noticed a dark look pass over Snape’s face.

“Perhaps Longbottom would like to assist?” Lockhart smiled.

“M-me?” Neville balked. Draco likely was trained in duelling once he was out of short-robes by his father, and by Snape, who had already proven himself a competent duellist.

“I’ll help Malfoy with the demonstration, professor…” Harry clambered onto the duelling platform. Draco smirked unpleasantly, ignoring the pointed look his Head of House was giving him. Interesting. Professor Snape suspects his student would attempt some mischief.

Harry went through the necessary ritual greeting. He sensed Draco readying for an attack even before he finished his bow. He cast the Shield Charm up with a flick of his hand as he rose from his bow. Draco’s spell bounced harmlessly off it into the ceiling.

“This is called a Portego or Shield Charm,” Harry lectured languidly using a Sonorous Charm so the latecomers at the back of the hall could hear as well. The older Weasleys and Grandpa Longbottom had given him some pointers over the holidays.  

“Not fair, Potter! You didn’t use your wand!” Draco protested.

“Actually, wandless and silent casting is allowed and scores more points in competitions…” Ronald Weasley corrected.

“For the purpose of this demonstration, please cast your spells aloud. A reminder - only harmless jinxes allowed,” Professor Snape warned. A sly move to tilt the duel in his godson’s favour since Potter was an instinctual silent caster.

“Serpensortia!” Draco Summoned a black snake. Several students shrieked in alarm. Harry only grinned and channelled calmness into the snake.

“Hello there, what a fine-looking snake…” Harry coaxed the snake over. It happily slithered over to him tame as a puppy allowing him to scratch it under the chin. The atmosphere in the hall changed. The cheers and shouts turned into a deathly hush. Draco gaped like a goldfish, his wand idle in his hand as he watched the snake he had conjured slither up Harry’s proffered arm.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“This duel is over!” Professor Snape seemed to snap out of whatever spell the entire hall had fallen under. There was a slight tremor in his voice. He flicked his wand at the snake. It Vanished in a puff of smoke. He then ordered both boys to bow to each other and formally end the duel.

“That was a good duel, Malfoy,” Harry offered his hand to shake but Malfoy ignored him. The blonde did not have a chance to throw whatever insult was on his tongue. The Head of House seized him by the collar and marched him off the stage. Whistling Waltzing Mathilda, Harry hopped off the platform. A pity about the snake. It looked rather lifelike. Was it real?

“H-Harry… were you speaking to the snake?” Finnigan asked.

“Yup, it’s Parseltongue and I’ve been speaking it since before I started school,” Harry shrugged. Lockhart was speaking now about his alleged exploits, but everyone seemed to have lost interest and was leaving the hall by now.

“Don’t you know it’s a dark wizard trait hereabouts?” Ron added.

“So your brothers tell me. But not true where I am from. Down Under Snake-Speakers are revered…” Harry rebuked mildly. “I ask the snakes not to bite the farmhands and tell them where the rodents are… I help them. They help me.”

“Do you know whenever you are hissing?” Hermione asked.

“Sounds like plain old English to me. Took a while to work it out. I do it only when conversing with a snake… This heir of Slytherin business is getting tedious. Do you think this could be the danger Dobby is referring to?” Harry turned to Neville. They had a free hour before the next class. Enough time to catch up with some homework. Harry wondered idly if he should try extending the hand of friendship to the snake pit again. He might want to discreetly ask Malfoy about Dobby even though things had had quietened down on that front. Susan Bones was waiting for them in the hallway outside.

“Harry, Auntie sent someone to raid the Malfoy’s home. They found nothing…” the badger joined Harry and Hermione. The rest of the lions had gone on ahead, chattering about a friendly mixed Quidditch match Madam Hooch had arranged to take everyone’s minds off Hogsmeade. First years would also be allowed to try out.  

“It makes sense they would have hidden or gotten rid of anything incriminating by now,” Hermione conceded. “The bill had been in the making for years and passed in spring. Any dark family would have acted to hide their more dubious heirlooms… Could the danger that elf was referring to be a misplaced artefact?”

“The Weasleys get most of their school stationery from the second-hand store. I think it might be Ginny’s journal…” Harry frowned. “I cannot go to Professor McGonagall without proof and ask her to confiscate a girl’s diary…”

Clara had kept a diary in which she had scribbled her feelings for Artie Broome, who helped at the feedstore. Perry and Josh had gotten their hands on it and read her musing aloud to their friends, including Harry. Clara had been so upset and locked herself inside her room and her roommate Helen out. Harry did not see what the fuss was about until Aunt Mathilda sat her boys down and explained why they should not have done that. A diary was a private thing. Like Clara, Ginny had probably written her innermost thoughts in her diary, which may or may not be a dark artefact. Harry regretted not handing it over to a teacher when he first had it.

“I can try taking it from her room… What does it look like?” Hermione volunteered.

“No, Hermione. That would be stealing.” Harry replied. He did not want his friends to get into trouble. It could hurt Hermione if it was indeed Dark.

“You cannot get into the girls… oops!” Neville stumbled. Harry grabbed his arm before he tumbled into the gaping chasm that opened before them. 

“Oh bother. The castle is doing it again!” Susan exclaimed as she clung to the balustrades like a koala. The stairs they were on were moving. They would have to wait it out to see where it led them.

“Rip… Tear… Kill…” Harry froze at the malice in that voice.

“Do you hear that?” he asked his friends.

“What? We hear nothing…” Hermione replied.

“I hear hissing, like from the walls…” Neville closed his eyes and concentrated on trying to find the sound again.

“Slytherin’s monster’s a snake. I think there is going to be another attack…” Harry paled.

“Please say you are joking…” Neville blanched. Harry shook his head. The staircase came to a rest against the walkway leading to the Ravenclaw Tower.

“I think it is gone for now. I can’t hear it… Let’s get outta here…” Harry said. His friends did not need telling.

“We oughta do something about the monster… Slytherin’s heir or hidden chambers…” Neville grumbled. “Could it be a Gorgon, not a snake?”

“Are Gorgons real like the centaurs?” Hermione asked. “Could there be a Gorgon in the Chamber?”

“We’d have to ask a Slytherin, wouldn’t we?” Harry smiled. “Percy told me there’s a bunyip in the lake… And their common room looks out into the lake…”

“I’m sure he meant a kelpie…” Hermione corrected. “There are no bunyips in Scotland.”

“Er, didn’t Lockhart say kelpies are found in wells?” Neville asked.

“He must mean Nixes. I’d rather trust Hagrid than Lockhart when it comes to creatures…” Susan replied.

“What are you planning, Harry?” Neville asked. “To grab a Slytherin and interrogate them? Can we do this after Christmas break, please? I need to be home for Yule and don’t want Gran to kill me before then.”

“Can I brew the Veritaserum?” Hermione’ eyes lit up. Susan gave her a shocked look.

“Granger, it takes a full month to brew that and it’s a NEWTs level potion! Not to mention it’s probably illegal on some level…”

“Well, no harm trying…” Hermione shrugged as they turned the corner. She froze.

“Oh no!” There were three Ravenclaw girls at the end of the corridor. Two were lying on the floor with their eyes staring at the rafters. The last one was standing before a glass fronted display cabinet, facing them. Both glass doors had cracked. Her eyes were scrunched shut. Harry stooped down to check on the stricken girls. They were alive but Petrified. Like the other victims, their magic was frozen.

“Can I open my eyes now?” the tiny blond girl whispered. It was his fellow dreamwalker.

Chapter Text

“I hear they will close Hogwarts down. That’s why the headmaster’s called to London…” Pansy whispered. The mood in the Slytherin common room was sombre. 

“No, they wouldn’t!” Tracey Davis gasped. 

“Come on, Davis. Think about it! Some monster on the loose in the castle. Of course they’ll send us home…” Pansy fluffed her hair. “Maybe we’ll not be coming back after Christmas.”

“It’ll have to be a pureblood Petrified before anyone does anything so drastic. Maybe Malfoy can oblige…” Zabini glanced over to his housemate, who was pretending to be engrossed in the lake outside the common room window. Father had not been pleased about his run-in with the Aurors. Never mind why he would be lingering outside a mudblood mind-healer’s office. Uncle Sev, well, his godfather had warned him of his attitude when he started at Hogwarts. Draco never saw the need to be nice to anyone. Father took care of everything, until he could not.

Father sent some stuff to Crabbe and Golye to hold for a while. Stuff he did not or could not offload in Knockturn thanks to that riot at the book signing. He did mean to get them back, but the Aurors raided the Goyles and Crabbes first. Of course, Father claimed he had nothing to do with it. The Malfoys were also raided after all. It was Misters Crabbe and Goyle who were called in for questioning and heavily fined. Father would pay them back, right? Greg and Vince did not think so. It was not that fun when Draco was the one being shoved about and having his shoes filled with slugs. 

“So, are you going to go crying to your Daddy now?” Zabini had taunted in return for the many times Draco had taunted the Italian wizard about his many stepfathers. He would hate for Uncle Sev to think him weak. That was why he had sought out the mind-healer. Except he never got a chance…

Draco rubbed his eyes. There was something in the lake, no, someone. It wasn’t a merperson. He was riding a kelpie, likely the one who lived at the far end of the Black Lake away from the Giant Squid and the castle. The kelpie came nearer to the window.

“Potter?” Draco blinked and rubbed his eyes. Harry wore some sort of skin-tight outfit and was waving to him. He then swam over and tapped on the window, which started to crack.

“What the hell?” Draco leapt back as the water started trickling into the common room. Harry’s eyes widened as if in surprise. Another tap and the glass seemed to melt as if liquified. Draco only had time to take in a single breath of air before a hand reached through the glass and yanked him out into the freezing lake waters. All that was left was a damp spot on the carpet before the window which was now intact.

On the surface of the Black Lake, a pair of rowboats bobbed. In one was Hagrid whose bulk meant his boat was already low in the water. In the other boat were two girls and a boy.

“Harry’s been down there a while…” Granger peered into the dark waters of the lake. The sun was setting and the wind picking up. “Are you sure Harry is safe? Don’t kelpies eat people?”

“Nah, Ned Kelly’s friendly. Used ta live in one of the school clubhouses before they closed due to lack of fundin. A pity t’at…” the half-giant cast his line. “Ah feel like some poached trout for supper…”

“Sorry about the chickens, Hagrid. I could write to my auntie…” Susan reached out to pat Hagrid on the hand.

“Nah, the Ministry folks would’na listen to likes of me… Same thing with Aragog those years…”

“Er, Aragog’s a Acromantula…”

“So, doesn’t mean he killed anyone…”

“Look, there’s Harry!” Neville pointed as Ned the Kelpie breached the surface of the lake with a mighty splash. Harry grinned broadly as they glided over to the boats. He clambered into the boat with Neville’s and Susan’s help.

“The Warming Charms worked, Hermione.”

“You could’ve drowned me, Potter!” Draco spluttered. “I’m freezing!” he whined and shivered before stumbling into the boat, ignoring Hermione’s outstretched hand. Ned the Kelpie had enough playtime and was preparing to dive.

“Are you a wizard or not, Malfoy?” Susan clucked as she Cast a Drying Charm over both boys.

“Coo-ee, that bunyip was friendly,” Harry waved goodbye as Ned Kelly dove into the depths.

“It’s a kelpie, Harry… Bunyips are not real…” Hermione corrected.

“Maybe it’s a Scottish bunyip,” Harry laughed. “Now, Malfoy, what do you know about this Heir of Slytherin business?”

“Nothing, you bumpkin!” Draco blustered.

“I think he’s right… He’s scared…” Harry replied as transfigured his wetsuit back into robes.

“Did you see anything before you found Healer Tonks?” Susan asked.

“Nothing! I just walked in the door and saw him there…” Draco replied.

“Before you entered the office, Malfoy?” Harry asked quietly, willing Draco to talk.

“Well, there was a little girl turning the corner, away from the office… red hair. After I found the healer, I thought he was dead. I was trying to get out before… Then that crazy Auror turned up and accused me of doing it…”

“So you are not the Heir of Slytherin?” Neville asked.

“Me? You’re nuts to think that! Everyone knows the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin in Britain are the Gaunts and the entire lot died out years back,” Draco retorted. “Now can we get back to shore?”   

“I wonder if anyone emigrated abroad and returned…” Granger asked aloud. Harry and Neville had taken up an oar each and were rowing for shore. Hagrid was still trying to land his dinner.

“Boot heard that one of the Ilvermorny founders was a direct descendant, but the line died out with her daughter…” Susan added. “But if there are squibs…”

“A squib? Please, the magical bloodline of Slytherin would never accept a squib…” Draco scoffed.

“But if the squibs intermarried Muggles unaware of their heritage… could the magic reemerge in the family generations later?” Hermione mused.

“That’s why Father says we should kill squibs as soon as… Ow!” Draco yelped as both Neville and Harry swung their oars and clipped him in the face.

“Oh dear, let me fix that nosebleed…” Hermione whipped out her wand.

“I’m not letting a mudblood cast any… Ow!” The oars smacked the blond in the face again. Neville and Harry hid their smiles.

“Fine, as you wish, milord,” Hermione scowled.

“Are you going to start swimming rather than share a boat with us, Malfoy?” Susan asked mildly. “I know a good Knockback Jinx even if my Episkey is not up to scratch.” Spluttering and nursing a nosebleed, Malfoy held his tongue until they reached the boathouse and disembarked. 

“I’m telling Father, and Uncle Sev!” Draco stormed past a small wooden door that opened out to the kitchens. The little-used door opened suddenly and hit him, knocking him into the water. Behind the door was the tiny blond Ravenclaw dreamwalker.

“Oh dear, you‘ve a bad infestation of Wrackspurts, dear cousin,” Luna smiled sweetly as she nonchalantly tossed a float to Draco. Harry Cast a Drying Charm on him once he was out of the water. They waited until the blonde Slytherin stormed up into the castle.

“You think it’s Ginny Weasley behind the Petrifications, isn’t it?” Hermione asked.

“It is her and not her…” Luna murmured. “Luna Lovegood, I think we missed out the introductions the last round.”

“Harry Potter. I think she is possessed,” Harry replied grimly. “By her diary that is likely a Dark Artefact.”

“That’s it. I’m going to get that blasted book from Ginny’s dorm,” Hermione grumbled.

“I-I’ll owl my Auntie for help…” Susan balked. “You can’t just steal something from a fellow student!”

“Can this wait until after Christmas break?” Neville pleaded.

“Maybe we can ask Hogwarts,” Luna murmured dreamily. Harry closed his eyes, sending his magic probing, The house-elves were already serving dinner. They should head to the Great Hall if they wish to have soup tonight. He flinched as his magic brushed against something foul beneath the castle. There was another patch of foulness somewhere above them. The magic felt wrong. It was layered as if previous magical wards were simply added to by succeeding generations without regard for their purpose and design. There were smaller stains from past Hexes scattered about. Maybe if he could work out…  

“Harry?” Neville was calling him back. Harry opened his eyes. His stomach rumbled.

“Let’s go get dinner!” Harry declared. His friends murmured their agreement. Harry and Luna brought up the rear of the party.

“I heard hissing, you know. When my housemates were Petrified. A PIimply-dink warned me to close my eyes. Maybe you can speak with Myrtle in her bathroom…”

“You mean go into a girls’ bathroom?” Harry blanched. That was not proper. Georgie Polkins made that mistake at the church Christmas fest and was chased out by a screeching Sister Florence. The Grumpton Girls’ Home Choir had commandeered the restroom to change into their costumes for their carolling. Mister Polkins had spanked his son on grounds that he ought to know better at the age of twelve, especially when the good sister had stuck a large sign stating Do Not Enter with the lock broken.

“Yes, no one uses it because it’s always flooded,” Luna replied. “Myrtle could be a bit dramatic thanks to her Wrackspurts…”

Harry wondered if he could convince the castle’s protective wards to burn up Ginny’s diary. He had managed to wrangle his magic and that of the castle to at least pass his Transfiguration classes. Active destruction of another student’s property might be pushing it. They had now entered the Great Hall. Harry could see a fuming Malfoy gesticulating before his House head, no doubt complaining about his unplanned dip in the lake. Professor Snape did not look too convinced, so Harry hoped. Detention over the Christmas break would really suck.

Luna skipped over to her table while Harry joined the Gryffindors. Ron was obliviously chattering about his favourite Quidditch team while his little sister pushed her peas around her plate. Ginny looked awful. Were the Weasleys staying over the break? Harry could ask Ron or the twins later. Percy was looking a little frazzled over his NEWTs subjects. Poor bloke. One supposed the N.E.W.T.s are called Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for a reason.  

Chapter Text

Christmas break rolled by with heavy snow. Only a handful of students stayed behind, including Harry. Neville had gone home for the break. Gran Longbottom had plans in London. Harry could sense the excited anticipation rolling off his godbrother. The turning of the seasons is a time of power. He recalled the charged atmosphere back home as they waited for the rains. The gathering of clouds on the horizon… Some things were not meant to be shared. Neville Longbottom would have to walk this path alone. The Weasley siblings were gone for the holidays too. Their older brothers would be visiting. Harry thought Ginny seemed strangely dismayed at having to leave the school. Hermione Granger remained. Her parents had a conference in Italy to attend.

Susan’s Aunt Amelia was busy with work. Pooky the elf sent a hamper of Christmas goodies and a present instead. Luna Lovegood murmured something about her father being in Iceland. She would be staying too. Harry never really cared for snow. He spent much of his time in the warmth of the kitchens with Susan, chatting with the Hogwarts elves. Luna and Hermione spent time in the library, looking for any information about the legendary Chamber or what creature could be responsible for the Petrifications.

Healer Tonks’ family came to visit him. Harry wondered what excuse they gave poor Colin’s family or those of the Ravenclaw girls for them remaining in Hogwarts. His wife was a regal-looking witch. A confident woman like Susan’s aunt or Professor McGonagall. His daughter was, well, interesting for want of a better word. She wore her magic like armour. Harry was certain she did not look exactly how she appeared to them – purple hair and eyes.

“Mandrakes. They are not ready yet… The northern harvest was bad last spring, and the southern hemisphere sphere only has a handful of farms producing them commercially… Too pricey for the board to consider,” Neville had explained after they repotted the mandrakes before the break. Mandrakes were a key ingredient in many common potions. Even though Hogwarts had a respectable crop last year, the plants had all gone into a variety of healing potions for the Hospital Wing. Hermione suggested that they come up with a lesson plan to help poor Colin Creevey catch up in time for the exams when they got him unpetrified. Susan suggested that it was likely Professor McGonagall would appeal for an exemption in his case seeing he would miss most of the school year.

Warmly bundled against the cold, Harry stood outside the greenhouse where the mandrakes were sleeping. Could he force them to grow faster? Or would that weaken the magical properties needed for the potion? Uncle Ned had complained bitterly about other farmers who used powders and stuff to make their calves grow faster and larger for the market. It made the animals weak and their meat tasteless. One could not rush things.

“Wotcha, waiting for the mandrakes too, huh?” It was Healer Tonks’ daughter. Harry winced as she tripped and almost crashed face-first into a stack of dragon dung fertilizer. Only an instinctive gust of magic from Harry averted disaster.

“Sorry, about your dad. I like him…”

“Mom’s sitting up with him a bit. How about we go for hot cocoa in the… Wait a mo… You’re the Harry Potter!” Her hair turned fire engine red, then pink.

“Yup, Miss Tonks. I guess that’s my name…”

“Just plain old Tonks will do, mate… Professor Sprout’s greenhouse hasn’t changed a bit… Do you see that wonky pane over there? Charlie Weasley put a Bludger through it in third year. We fixed it up, but the frame’s been crooked since.”

Tonks had graduated from Hogwarts and was now training to be an Auror. She was friendly and funny. Harry liked her. He found his friends Luna and Hermione in the kitchen, trying to keep out of the way of the elves bustling about preparing for the Christmas feast. There was a surprise waiting on the kitchen table, resting on a hot-water bottle. Lola the tarantula.

“I found her out while looking for Snow Sprites,” Luna explained. “Half-frozen. I’d have brought her to Hagrid, but he’s away…”

Too cold… Blasted mutt dug me out… Harry sensed the tarantula’s unhappy grumbles when he reached out with his magic. He asked the elves for a plate of fried flobberworm slices for her to feed on. She would be grouchy and hungry after being turned out of the burrow where she was hibernating. Jordan would be pleased to see his pet when he returned from the holiday break.  

What are the spiders running from, Lola? Harry whispered.  

The King of Serpents. To meet his eyes is death. Must flee. The large spider waved her forelegs in the air before hunger won out and she started tearing into the sliced flobberworms.

A silvery bird flew into the kitchen. A Patronus. When it opened its beak, a woman’s voice spoke.

“Nymphadora, time to leave!”

“Coming, mom…” the young witch scowled at the mention of her name. “Just call me Tonks or Dora, not Nymphadora…”

Hermione stifled her laughter until after the older witch left the kitchen. “I thought my name was bad…”

“Blacks,” Luna shrugged. “They use fancy names, just ask Malfoy. His mother’s one.”

“What is the King of Serpents? A python?” Harry asked Hermione.

“No, that’s the Basilisk…” Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Harry… do you think whatever has been Petrifying people – Slytherin’s monster - is a Basilisk? Their gaze is fatal, but no one has looked at it directly, right? There was flooding in the corridor when Mrs Norris… The camera, the window, the display case…”

“Calm down, Hermione…” Harry coaxed. The girl was getting increasingly excited. He was finding it hard to channel his magic to calm her and keep Lola from running off when she was done eating. Luna only hummed serenely.

“If there is a Basilisk loose, we must owl my aunt…” Susan declared. They had not seen her entering the kitchen. Lola attempted to escape but was scooped up by a waiting Luna, who cooed and dropped a tiny hat over her head, covering her eyes. The large arachnid seemed to calm down, allowing Luna to stroke her back. The spider seemed to shiver with delight.

“The headmaster should be informed. Do you think he would put some traps out like for rats?” Harry added. They should be leaving the kitchen elves to their work. He finished the last of his cocoa.  

“Snakes never stop growing. It must be huge by now if it’s been around since the castle was built,” Hermione frowned. “How could it go about unseen?” Hermione grabbed her book bag. It had been seen, and the victims were unable to speak out.

“Maybe it has been sleeping all this while inside the Chamber…” Susan murmured as she grabbed a glass of milk and a gingerbread cookie.

“Until awoken by a voice,” Luna added dreamily. Lola was now tucked into her robe pocket.

“We need to find the Chamber… which could be anywhere in the castle…” Harry said grimly. He must inform the headmaster of their suspicions.

“A Basilisk, you say? Moony, this would be like old times hunting critters!” Harry rolled his eyes at his godfather’s tone. The man was still thin, but a sight better than when he saw him in St Mungo’s.

“Those were jarveys…” Remus Lupin did not sound as confident as his companion. Basilisks were dangerous. Hermione had talked Harry’s ear off about the creature until they parted ways at the fifth-floor gallery.

Sirius Black had been discharged and the headmaster thought it a good idea for Harry to meet his godfather over Christmas. Thankfully with Lupin as his caregiver. There was a sense of steadiness about the werewolf. Barely enough to rein in Black’s manic energy. Harry had literally walked in on the pair exchanging holiday greetings with the headmaster when he went to the headmaster’s office to report their suspicions about the Basilisk. The headmaster seemed uncertain. They had already searched the castle once to no avail. He had murmured something about needing to discuss things with the other headmasters before dismissing the trio.

Susan and Hermione were likely catching up with homework in the common room or library. Hermione was pushing for additional credits in Charms while Susan had Potions homework to finish. Luna had drifted off somewhere unnoticed. He hoped she was still in the castle as the snow seemed to be getting heavier. It was unlikely any school owls would be leaving until the weather cleared. Moreover, the headmaster could Floo-call Ms Bones if needed from his office.

“Oh, looky! A snakey!” Black barked when they entered the Great Hall to find Theo Nott tuning his violin. Harry had not known Nott was a part of the Hogwarts’ student orchestra. The Slytherin took one look at the still crazed-looking Black before turning on his heel to leave with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Not staying to play?” Black smirked and made a grab at the boy before Lupin could stop him. Oh boy… Harry quietly threw up a Shield between his godfather and Nott, but Nott had beat him to it. Their eyes met and Theo gave a curt nod of acknowledgement.

“Lupin, if you will control your patient, please…” Professor Snape swooped over from where he had been sitting in the shadows. “As much as I love to see him back in Azkaban for assaulting a child…”

“Sirius, please behave…” Lupin warned as he dragged a livid Black away from the Potions Master. Black and Professor Snape were staring daggers at each other. Nott had seized his chance to make a speedy exit.

“I bet he’s the Heir and he’s hiding the Basilisk in his room!” Black spat.

“Seriously? A pity you have lost whatever brain cells you had to start with in Azkaban…” Professor Snape gave a look of mock sympathy. The Potions Master was not taking the accusation well. “Lupin, I trust you are on top of your Wolfsbane. Don’t want your wolf to get loose…”

“Of course…” Lupin replied tersely. Harry tried to direct calmness into his godfather, but his magic was too chaotic – wounded. Then there was the magic of the two other wizards interfering. His professor’s magic was simmering with resentment directed at the visitors. Lupin’s magic was jittery, almost frantic.

“Oh, it’s a new moon this week, sir. Mister Lupin should be quite safe to be around,” Harry grinned.

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. “So it is… Still, I believe your fellow students will appreciate being left to enjoy their Christmas feast in peace.”

“Of course, sir…” Harry’s eyes flicked over to his godfather, who was mouthing something rude silently after a Silencing by Lupin. He was also tied securely to a heavy bench. “Professor Dumbledore thinks it would be good for me to catch up with my godfather… if he is up to polite conversation.”

“Very well, Potter… I’ve essays to grade…” With a billowing of his cape, the professor left the hall. I am leaving you to deal with your… guests.

“Is he on any pills or potions?” Harry asked Lupin quietly. When Mr Bonnet ran the milk truck into a tree, they had to give poor Mrs Bonnet something to keep her from going to pieces during the funeral. She left Cobbler Creek to go live in Darwin with a cousin. How he wished Healer Tonks was awake to deal with his godfather.

“The usual nutritional potions, Calming Draughts and Dreamless Sleep…” There were dark circles beneath Lupin’s eyes. He looked utterly exhausted. “I gave him a dose of Calming Draught earlier, but it did not take… perhaps another dose…” Lupin pulled out a vial from his pocket and uncorked it.

He frowned and took a sniff. Harry sensed the wrongness in the liquid before Lupin turned to Black, glaring. He whipped out this wand and cancelled the Silencing Spell.

“Sirius! Did you replace the Calming Draughts with plain water?” Lupin growled as Black chortled.

“Fooled ya! That stuff makes me sleepy! Wanna play Quidditch with Harry…”

“I don’t play Quidditch…”

“Sorry about that, Harry… Is Madam Pomfrey around?” Had he not been so exhausted caring for his friend, Lupin might have caught onto the switch before he took Sirius out. Andi had kindly allowed them to use the Tonks’ holiday cottage in Cornwall, since Sirius was threatening to burn the Black townhouse to the ground if they sent him there. It had been a rough week for both him and Padfoot. Andi promised to cover his duties during the full moon. 

“Er, I believe she is away visiting her sister,” Harry replied. They now have a hyper Black to deal with, even if he was tied down. Black was belting out some Christmas carols with rude lyrics attacking the character of a certain dour Potions Master.

“Can we just Silence or Stun him?” Harry rubbed his temples with a groan. He could not imagine attending Christmas dinner in the Great Hall with his godfather going off on Professor Snape or any of his fellow students. The headmaster might just regret extending an invite to Black for Christmas dinner.  

“Too many Wrackspurts,” Luna murmured from where she was half hidden under the large Christmas tree. “You could stick some mistletoe in his hair, but that would bring the Nargles…”

“He didn’t replace the Dreamless Sleep…” There was a mischievous gleam in Lupin’s eye as he waved a potion vial in the air.

“You wouldn’t!” Black gasped.

“Then behave. One uncivil word out of your mouth and we dose you…” Harry added firmly. Seemingly chastised, Black did not say a word to Lupin’s relief.

As he chatted with Lupin about his schoolwork, Harry could not help feeling he had forgotten something. It was a safe topic, discussing Charms and Defence… Lupin also acknowledged that he found Lockhart’s books dodgy. They discussed Transfiguration while Black asked Harry if he would like to be an Animagus. He would make a neat stag like his father. Harry thought he might prefer a serpentine form to his godfather’s disgust.

Professor Flitwick and his much-diminished frog choir filed in, followed by Nott with his violin and an older Ravenclaw student with a French horn. Hagrid joined them, shedding snow off his robes and leading a hippogriff. Various students trickled in and took their places at the table in the centre of the hall. There were not enough of them to use the larger House tables. They were followed by Professors Babbling, Sprout, Dumbledore and unfortunately the jackass Lockhart. A scowling Snape was the last to appear, seemingly shooed in by Professor Sinistra.

Dinner was going to start. Platters of Christmas delights appeared on the staff and student tables, with carafes of mulled wine for the grown-ups. Professor Flitwick waved his baton and the choir and musicians started up a rendition of God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs. As with years past, there would be a small Christmassy dinner in the Great Hall followed by a staff party in the staff lounge. There would be mingling between the staff and students… as well as guests. Black and Lupin were chatting with Sprout, reminiscing about their schooldays.

Lola! Harry’s eyes widened when he saw the tarantula in her little hat waving her forelegs in tune with the music from where she was perched on the Christmas tree.  A slightly tipsy Lockhart was trying to start a conversation with the girl with the French horn. She looked a tad uncomfortable. Professor Flitwick was trying to gently steer his colleague away from his student.

Lola, get back! Harry tried to reach out to the wayward spider. That was when Lola did a jump down the back of Lockhart’s robes, making him squeal and run about the hall. He did not see that Lola had dropped out from under his robes and sought the safety of Hermione’s book bag.

“Well-played, Harry,” Black clapped him on the back, to Harry’s dismay. He had nothing to do with Lola scaring the pants off Lockhart literally. The DADA professor was now hopping out of his trousers convinced an Acromantula was in them. Lupin only shook his head as the Charm Professor levitated a spare tablecloth between the students and Lockhart for decency’s sake.

Chapter Text

After the students had returned to their dorms. The staff adjourned to the staff lounge for their own late-night supper party. They included the headmaster’s two guests. A tipsy Black had been making a fool of Lockhart by questioning some of his exploits. Under the headmaster’s watchful eye, the man dared not retaliate. Lupin had been certain they left his friend at the refreshment table. That was before he had a most engrossing conversation with the Astronomy Professor about southern constellations, and Harry’s home Down Under. When he excused himself, he found that Sirius was nowhere in sight. Minerva was exchanging toasts with Flitwick. The headmaster seemed to have fallen asleep in his chair. Lockhart was trying to engage an irate Snape in conversation over the latter’s fashion… Oh, Snape has Stunned Lockhart. The victim was now lying under the refreshment table with only his fancy boots sticking out just a little. Snape had been surprisingly mindful of the increasingly inebriated state of the attendees.

Where was Sirius? Lupin frowned. Had he decided to pay a late-night visit to their old dorm? The Fat Lady would keep him out without a password. Or had he remembered the Basilisk hunt? Lupin excused himself to Minerva and exited the staff lounge. Sir Nick was floating by. The Gryffindor ghost had not seen Black. Lupin sighed. Perhaps accepting Dumbledore’s invitation to join the staff party was a mistake. Black could be anywhere. At least with the children safe in their dorms… Little did the Lupin know…

It was odd being the only boy in the dorm. Unable to sleep after the festivities, Harry had gone to the common room to sit before the fire. Lola was perched on the mantelpiece, still wearing her hat. The tarantula had disembarked from Hermione’s bag once they reached the common room. Hermione, the only other Gryffindor from his year who had remained for the break, was no doubt safely asleep in her bed. There was an older girl from the choir whose name Harry never caught. Was it Dundee or Dunbar?

Harry peeked at the Map. All the students were where they should be after curfew. He frowned when he saw his godfather outside the common room. Should he pretend to be asleep? The man was shouting at the Fat Lady. Lupin was outside the staff lounge with their House ghost. Oh bother, Black was making an awful racket. He better deal with his godfather before he woke the rest of his housemates up. With a weary sigh, Harry stood up and strode over to the portrait hole.

“Please keep it down, we’re trying to sleep here…” Harry said as the portrait swung open.

“Sleep? What about adventure? Or exploring the castle?” Black exclaimed as he swayed on his feet. His eyes caught sight of the Map sticking out of Harry’s dressing gown. “Moony gave you the map! Oh, what fun we had sneaking to Hogsmeade, I could show you…”

“In the middle of a blizzard?” Harry asked pointedly. Snowflakes were whirling around the Gryffindor Tower like dervishes.

“Well, maybe another time…” Sirius conceded. He flopped into the nearest armchair. “As comfy as ever…”

He kicked off his boots carelessly to Harry’s annoyance as one of the pair narrowly missed hitting Neville’s pot of Cheering Poinsettia. Lola peeked out from behind the pot before seeking shelter in the evergreen leaves.

Sirius’ grey eyes softened when they met Harry’s green ones. “Damn, you’re so like your mother… A stickler for rules…”

“There are good reasons for most rules… I do not think it wise or safe to be out after curfew,” Harry replied.     

“I was thinking, well, since I am your godfather…. You could come live with me… instead of on some farm…”

“I like it on the farm…” Harry replied.

“Er, I have a big townhouse in London… Just need to get it cleaned up… Somehow my parents never got round to striking me off officially… Lad, I know I do not look like it, but I am Lord Black… Or will be as soon as we get things sorted out with the goblins. Just sent them an owl…”

“Well, good for you…” His godfather seemed calmer after the manic episode in the Great Hall. Maybe Lupin had obtained a Calming Draught to dose him with from another source in the castle. Like from Professor Snape.

“Er, maybe I am going about this wrong… I would like to make you my heir since there is no one else left of the Blacks…”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that… but I do not think I am cut out for this lordship stuff…”

“Well, since I got Sorted into Gryffindor, it was Reggie who got the training for this Lord Black business. First Black not to be sorted into the Snake’s Den, you’re looking at him…”

“Is that why you don’t like Slytherins? They’re just like any other kids…”

“Well, I bet half of them have parents who are Death Eaters and pureblood supremacists. Well, I dunno…”

“Mister Black, I suppose every house has their own bullies… Shouldn’t you be going back to the party? I think Mister Lupin would be worried.”

“No need to be so formal… It’s Padfoot and Moony…” Sirius yawned. His eyelids drooped. Soon he was snoring softly in the armchair.

Harry checked the map. Lupin was wandering about the third floor and stopping before each classroom. Harry ought to inform him that his friend was safe. It should take him a couple of minutes to reach Lupin and tell him before returning. Perhaps Lupin could see Black home. The caretaker Filch was safely ensconced in his little office as the supper party had broken up. Harry never cared much for sneaky Mrs Norris, but it gave him a jolt seeing the cat was in the man’s office instead of wandering about the castle. The caretaker had been almost insufferable after she was Petrified, yelling at students for apparently just breathing too loudly. Other staff members were also tottering back to their quarters. First, his father’s cloak. Harry Summoned it from the bottom of his trunk. He donned it and sipped out of the common room, map in hand. He had not reckoned on Peeves.

“STUDENT OUT AFTER CURFEW!”

Harry dodged a water balloon as he ran. Perhaps his shoes were showing, or the Invisibility Cloak did not work on poltergeists. Snape. Harry skidded to a halt just in time to avoid a head-on collision with the patrolling professor. He dodged down a hallway.

“Desist your racket immediately!” Snape snapped.

“That’s Peeves for you…” Lupin. Maybe he ought to go back, but Harry was breaking curfew. Snape sounded furious. Harry could hear someone crying. It was coming from behind a door. Who else could be out so late?

“Er, hullo? Is everything alright?” Harry knocked on the door. When the sobbing increased in volume, he pushed open the door to find himself in a bathroom. A ghostly girl was hovering above the sinks, sobbing. Moaning Myrtle.

“Sorry, are you alright?” Harry asked as he slipped his cloak off.

“Of course not, I’m dead, if you haven’t noticed…” the ghost stopped her tears long enough to scowl at him. “And this is the girls’ bathroom!”

“Sorry, I heard crying and…”

“Well, was I too noisy? Sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep… The Baron says I’m to stay in the bathroom instead of going to the Perfects’ baths… And you boys think you can just come waltzing into a girls’ bathroom just like that! I went all the way to London once with Olive Hornby, but the Ministry says I’m to stay put here in Hogwarts. Don’t you think I miss my home too?”

“Oh, sorry to hear about that… How long have you been here?” Harry noticed that Myrtle’s robes were of a different cut from what Hermione and Susan were wearing.

“Ages!” she sniffled.

“Do you wish to cross over?”

“Is it possible? Someone ought to do that for Binns… History is so boring.”

“Well, I have never tried it before,” Harry admitted.

“What if I get splinched or worse?” At least she had stopped crying.

“I’m Harry Potter… Nice to meet you…”

“Pull the other one… Oh, is that scar real? I’m Myrtle Warren… I have been dead for well… What year is it? I used to worry about my parents in London. My dad’s too old to enlist, but he has a practice. He’s a doctor…”

“I could go ask about… It has been fifty years since the war…”

“His name’s Benedict. My mom’s Amelia. They had me rather late…” Her lip seemed to wobble. “They might not be around, will they? Are you cold? Maybe you should go back before you catch your death of cold.”

Harry nodded. He was chafing his hands and blowing on them. His Warming Charms did not seem to work much in the bathroom. He still had to find Lupin.

“Nice to meet you, miss…”

“Just call me Myrtle, everyone does. And Harry, you’re alright for a boy… unlike some others…” the ghost somersaulted into the air and dove down the toilet with a gurgled Merry Christmas.  

Harry found Lupin at the portrait hole. He did not seem too surprised when Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak to give the Fat Lady the password. Lupin apologised on Black’s behalf for disturbing Harry. A grumpy Black was roused from his slumber and steered out of the common room. Due to the nationwide blizzard, the headmaster had granted them guestrooms for the night. They would leave come morning if the snow cleared. Harry asked if the school kept the addresses for the families of Muggleborn students from fifty years back. Lupin shrugged and murmured something about records lost to both time and the war. He could ask the Heads of Houses. Myrtle had been a Ravenclaw.

“A ghost in the girls’ bathroom? You have met Myrtle then?” Luna smiled sweetly as they sat barefoot on the edge of the Astronomy Tower. Galaxies and constellations swirled around them. They were dreamwalking. Harry nodded.

“Do you think she has family out there still in London?” Harry asked.

“No,” Luna said solemnly with her eyes veiled. “I think they have moved on… Hard to find the right thread…”

A silvery spider ran down her arm and launched itself into space spinning a web as it fell. A kaleidoscope of images flashed across the growing web beneath their bare feet.

Hermione slumbered soundly in her dreams of mathematical formulae and Muggle science. Susan tossed and turned in the badger’s den. Was it a nightmare? Ginny Weasley. An older boy in old-fashioned Hogwarts robes. They were arguing. Ginny was crying. He looked angry. An old wizard standing before a large snake. A Basilisk chained… Could that be?

Agony. Harry winced as his scar throbbed. A woman, no two women, mother and daughter. The daughter looked familiar. A treasure heirloom. Rockets falling from the sky, raining death on London. Neville stepping out from his family Maze, changed from the boy who had gone in. He stood taller now. St Mungo – a couple dreamed of their son. An armoured warrior stood guard by the castle gate, sword in hand.

“Time to awake…”

Harry awoke to watery winter sunlight pouring into through his dorm window. He had slept with the curtains tied back. He had slept in. He hastened down for breakfast, just in time to bid goodbye to his godfather and Uncle Moony.

Chapter Text

Neville was a changed boy when he returned after the holidays. He stood straighter, more assured. The change did not go unnoticed. Almost all the girls and even some of the boys stole sly looks of admiration at him. Harry nodded and clasped the hand offered to him when Neville sat down next to him for dinner. The once shy lion now exuded an air of quiet confidence.

“I cannot believe it myself. Gran took me to Gringotts’ to confirm it. I’m Heir Longbottom now instead of Dad… We got a Floo-call from St Mungo’s. Mom woke up for a bit and said my name… She was back asleep when we rushed over though… Do you think they’d be alright?”

“Yes, Neville. Your parents are in good hands,” Harry thumped his godbrother on the back. Neville piled his plate with a generous helping of roast vegetables, potato mash and a chicken steak. He was soon tucking in heartily. Harry glanced over to where a jubilant Lee and the twin Weasleys were celebrating the return of Lola. Percy was ordering them to sit back down. His orders were largely ignored. Ron seemed to be in a weird competition with himself to see how high he could pile food onto his plate, egged on by Seamus and Dean. The competition came to a messy end when the food tower toppled across the table, covering Hermione and her textbooks with gravy, syrup and sauces. Then it was a mad dash by the lads to avoid her Jinxes. Harry finished off the last of his mash just as the wayward trio were Hexed with boils.

Where was Ginny? Harry realised that the youngest Weasley was missing. He strode over to Percy.

“Didn’t your sis come back with you?”

“Ginny? Of course she did, she’s…” Percy frowned as he cast his eyes around the table and then the hall. There was no sign of his sister. “She was there a moment ago…”

“She went out that way… Didn’t look too good…” Luna said quietly from behind Harry. There was a worried look on her pale face. Percy rubbed his Prefect badge. He was going to go after his sister. Ginny had been awfully quiet over the holidays, a far cry from her usual boisterous self.

“I’ll go with you…” Harry volunteered. The Aurors had tried and failed to find Slytherin’s monster for the second time during the break. The prefects still escorted the younger students to and from class, but their vigilance was running thin. The older students chafed at their enforced restriction. Harry was sure he just spotted the twins and several older lions sneaking out to the village through one of the many secret passages. They should be safe, since no attack had happened outside the castle. Professor Sprout had slyly obtained several roosters and secured them in the badger’s den and kitchens. Susan whispered that Filch has been seen with one under his arm on his rounds. Should they grab a rooster from the kitchen? There had been no announcement to the students about the nature of the monster yet for fear of causing panic.

“Wait for me,” Neville declared.

“No, you two stay…”

“We faced down a troll together, didn’t we?” Neville reminded. Failing to dissuade them, Percy reluctantly allowed them to follow him. Harry discreetly fished out his map. He had taken to carrying it in his pocket after Hermione had identified the monster as a Basilisk. Would the creature even show on the map? Professor McGonagall did even as a cat. Mrs Norris did. Lola and the owls did not. How curious. Was Mrs Norris more than a cat?

Ginny was heading towards the disused girl’s bathroom where Myrtle was loitering. Were they friends? No, the ghost was zipping out with surprising speed. What did Ginny do?

“Wait,” Harry said and held out an arm to stop his companions. He held a finger to his lips and cupped his hand to his ear. Percy and Neville heard a soft hissing.

“Kill… tear…. Hate…” Harry shivered at the malice dripping from those words only he heard. A scraping of scales on stone. Danger! The very stones of the castle were protesting. A clank of steel. The scrape of a wand drawn. Mouse-soft footsteps. Protect the children.

Not now! Harry protested to no avail. He was in the Dreamtime again, watching himself and his companions from there. He was not alone. Two women and a large man, a warrior with fiery red hair. Pale shadows of a time past. Then he saw it. The Basilisk, slithering out of the bathroom, just around the corner.

“Basilisk! Run! And don’t look back!” Harry snapped back to himself. He grabbed both his companions and turned them round.

The rooster’s crow is deadly to the King of Serpents, but where could he get one now? Neville plunged a hand into his pocket and threw something over his shoulder. Harry felt the surge of magic. His brother was calling on his family magic. The Basilisk screamed as vines burst forth from the handful of seeds thrown. Not enough to stop it, only to buy time for them to escape, to warn the others…

Pain, madness… There was no reasoning with it. Harry winced as his magic recoiled at the contact with the beast. Chained. Bound to the stones themselves. Discord in the magical fabric, a rent.

 The gaze is death… Harry smacked his palms onto the stones as he fell forward. If only he could contain the beast…  The magic of the castle fought back. Slytherin had been one of the Founders who set the foundations. His will was not so easily overcome.

“Get up!” Percy was pulling him back to his feet, thinking Harry had tripped. The floor bucked reluctantly, rising to form a wall between them and the monster. Not enough. Neville had stopped too and seized a sword from a nearby suit of armour, ready to defend his friends. They could see the top of the Basilisk’s crest.

“Don’t look it in the eye!” Harry warned. His magic was all but spent. He did not even have the strength to stand unaided.

Flaming feathers. The headmaster’s pet soared up over the wall and ripped into the Basilisk’s eyes, blinding it. Enraged by pain, the monster threw its bulk against the hastily erected wall. It crumbled as if made from sand. Neville dashed forward, attempting to hold the creature at bay. Venom dripped from its fangs, sizzling where the drops fell on the stone. Neville panted as he swung the sword while dodging the creature’s jaws. Not good.

His eyes were blurry with exhaustion. Harry thought he saw two women from the Dreamtime. A Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff. No, they were students. The smaller of the pair tossed something into the air.  

A rooster. Luna and Susan. The Basilisk screamed as the rooster crowed. It writhed as if in agony. Think this is the first time it encountered a rooster? Find the thread… Harry closed his eyes and forced himself to see past the chaos. Percy dragging him away amidst flying debris. Neville holding a Portego shield one-handed before Luna and Susan.

The chain that tied the creature to the castle. To its long-dead master’s will… He saw it now, an inky rope in the Dreamtime. Cut it, break it, destroy it… He could not do it alone… The monotonous droning of the digeridoo. The Rainbow Serpent languidly crawling across the starry sky. Come down, Lord of Magic. Please, we need your aid. The serpent responded to his plea.

Be at rest, brother… The Rainbow Serpent bent its massive head and almost delicately snapped the inky thread. The Basilisk gave one last shudder and was still.

“Is it over?” It was Percy’s voice that roused Harry from the trance he had fallen into. The commotion had drawn the attention of both professors and students. Harry watched as Myrtle dragged a somewhat blackened Blood Baron and Sir Nick past. Both ghosts were floating horizontally. The corpse of the Basilisk and Harry’s shattered wall all but filled the hallway. Headmaster Dumbledore ordered the students to return to the Great Hall and stay there.

“This boy needs to be in St Mungo’s, immediately!” Madam Pomfrey was yelling. Who’s hurt? Nev? Harry then blacked out.

There was a student who should not be there. Draco frowned. A strange boy with robes that seemed a little off, but no one else seemed to notice. He had stepped into their common room as if he owned it. Everyone was in shock after the discovery of the Basilisk. The new student sat unobtrusively just outside the firelight, seemingly content to let the likes of Pucey and Flint talk. There were Aurors about, called by the old man. A monster in the halls, some whispered. Draco shivered. He did not linger but hastened to his own dorm and warm bed.

In the headmaster’s office, the mood was sombre. Percy stood stoic, a young wizard now grown. Molly had collapsed upon receiving the grim news. Her youngest son and husband were now by her bedside in the Hospital Wing. Little Ginny had not survived the Basilisk’s deadly gaze. That was the tale he had. put about. The headmaster knew better once he saw the diary of Tom Riddle lying beside the girl’s body. The Aurors had been called in. The poor girl’s parents too. Snape had been dispatched to Hogsmeade to round up the missing students after Aberforth informed his brother of a students’ holiday party in the Three Broomsticks. A Horcrux. Riddle had drained the unsuspecting girl’s life and magic to leave the diary. The foolish boy had put enough of his soul into the diary for a Horcrux to revive as a separate entity. If the wraith was out there, he would seek to join forces with young Tom.

“It was that blasted diary, wasn’t it?” Percy asked.

“So you noticed?”

“It just felt wrong when I touched it, but I cannot seem to recall it once it leaves my hands…”

“Ah, a Notice-me-not Charm…”

“Should have chucked it in the fire…”

“Unless it’s dragonfire, I doubt it would make a difference… Be on the lookout for any strange students. Perhaps your year or older… Come inform me. Do not confront them on your own…” He would also need to ensure that young Percy’s mental defences were up to par. A little chat with Snape perhaps?

“Harry noticed it too.”

“Harry Potter?” Dumbledore frowned. Harry had not told him about the diary. Was it because he did not trust the headmaster? Or was the diary’s power at hiding itself stronger than he expected? Harry was an ordinary boy, easily distracted as youngsters his age are. Now he was in St Mungo’s, in a healing coma. Any questions must wait.

Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, sighed as he gazed at his hand. It wavered if underwater. Not enough. The little redhead girl was strong for her age, but her magical power was not enough to sustain him for long. He needed more. Perhaps the whole Horcrux business had been a miscalculation. His memories stopped at sixteen, when he was locked away. The other part of him continued moving through the world at large, learning, growing in strength. He had gleaned enough of that had happened in the last fifty years. Defeated by a baby. Then there were the pesky little girl’s memories that refused to just melt away. A jolly father with warm arms and smiling mother’s kisses. Things as alien to him as…

Would the Ministry close Hogwarts? He had not meant to lose control of the monster. Where could he go? Did he had enough power to fool one of his Housemates into offering him sanctuary on their estate? Malfoy, Rosier, Lestrange… Perhaps he had been too hasty in discarding the girl’s body. A warm home. There was a Malfoy still, wasn’t there?

“What are you doing in my bed?” a seventh year demanded. Tom frowned. The boy’s face went slack as he toppled over onto the mattress beside Tom, who deftly drew the curtains. He could take his time, be more careful. It would not do for another corpse to turn up so soon.

Chapter Text

Dreamtime. He failed. Someone had died…

A funeral, a grave in the rust-red earth. A hand on his shoulder as the clods of earth rained down.

“Not your fault, Harry…. Albert was old…” Uncle Ned’s voice, just on the verge of breaking. His mentor was fine the night before when they had parted ways. Harry had not known it would the last time he would see the old man alive.

Another funeral. He was younger. The O’Reilly family sat in the church. A little girl had fallen into the creek and drowned. Harry did not know her, but his cousins did. Helen was crying softly. He reached over to squeeze her hand. What was her name?

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust… The pastor’s voice droned.

“Her name is Ginny Weasley,” a blond girl sitting in the pew before him announced. “You must wake up, Harry!”

Try as he might, he could not move from the pew. A woman was coming towards him. A rosy-cheeked woman in a green dress. She took his hand. So real. He ought to know them, the woman and girl.

Harry groaned as the last chains of his dream fled from him. He was lying in a familiar-looking hospital ward. Good grief! Had they given up on him so soon? He was in the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo’s Hospital. They had placed him beside Neville’s parents. Mrs Longbottom was sitting on the edge of her bed and nodding at him, a wan version of the woman in his dream.

“Merlin’s blessings! You’re awake!” Then he was engulfed in the arms of Augusta Longbottom. “They were about to write to your folks…”

“How’s Neville?”

“Oh Neville! I must Owl him. He was so worried…”

“H-how long was I out?” Harry asked. It had been just after the new year that they encountered the Basilisk. He tried to get out of bed, but his legs felt weak.

“Steady, you were out for a month and some. They had to close the castle for a week to fix the damage… And that poor girl… Nev came every day when Hogwarts was out.”

“Was anyone else hurt?” Besides Ginny…

“Percy and Neville escaped with minor scrapes and bruises… Never thought our Neville had it in him! A worthy heir to Gryffindor,” the old witch puffed up with pride. “And Percy, that poor lad… losing his sister…”

Harry allowed the dowager to call for a healer to look him over. He felt exhausted.

Severus Snape frowned as he read the letter from Lord Claudius Warrington. Cassius Warrington had taken ill during the unplanned break and was still recuperating at home. Magical exhaustion. There had been a spate of that running through the student population after the Basilisk incident. Madam Pomfrey blamed it on magical shock. She had to stay behind to care for the Petrified patients in the Hospital Wing which was mercifully spared. The Warrington family was particularly badly affected. Not only Cassius, but his older cousins visiting from France, three younger siblings and even his Lordship. The babies of the family, a set of nine-year-old twin girls, were admitted to St Mungo with fears that they might be squibbed. How peculiar. He could have sworn all his snakes were accounted for when Hogwarts reopened, Including Cassius. Perhaps Fawley had messed up the roll call. As Head of House, he ought to make sure his snakes are coping.

The Slytherin common room felt different when he returned to it to speak with the students. Something was off, but he could not place his finger on it. He had been so busy – harvesting Basilisk parts, fending off questions from both the press, and being questioned by Aurors. Minnie had been busy with the Weasleys, and there was no one else their headmaster could trust than his pet Potion Master. The old man had vanished for an entire week while the castle was being fixed.

Granger had been her annoying self, asking questions and taking notes – for Harry when he wakes up. Her chattering was enough to cause a migraine. At least Longbottom had the common sense to pull her aside with a question on his ingredients before he cast something regrettable on a student. To their credit, the Weasley-Longbottom duo did not blow up their cauldron this round. January had been rough. February did not seem to promise improvement.

They were down a DADA professor again. Professor Lockhart had been eager to take the credit for the Basilisk with the students whisked away by a concerned Madam Pomfrey, until the Aurors noted some discrepancies in his statement. Fool had tried to cast an Oblivate on Director Bones of the DMLE in the presence of an Unspeakable. Now the glory-hound is cooling his heels in a Ministry holding cell for attacking a ministry representative. Miss Bones had also raised concerns about the degree of creative license taken by the author in their textbooks. Her aunt was now also investigating Lockhart as a possible fraud.

“Good news, Severus my boy…”

Snape winced at that too cheerful tone that greeted him upon entering the headmaster’s office. He took a seat in the usual chair.

“Harry is awake…”

“Oh joy,” Snape snarked.

“I wish that is all the news I have… Tom might have delved into some forbidden magic…”

“I doubt there is anything forbidden where the Dark Lord is concerned…”

“Horcruxes. And more than one… Tea, my boy?” Dumbledore paused as Snape blanched and choked on whatever barb he was preparing to launch. He waved a cup of tea over, no sugar, only lemon.  

“Since Herpo the Foul, all records should have been destroyed!”

“So we hoped. It seemed enough knowledge remained…”

“Herpo only created one and regretted it sorely, so the legend said… To create more…”

“Is it any wonder he was mad at the end of it?”

“How many, Albus?”

“I cannot tell… but the one that was housed in this diary was strong enough to possess a child, awake a Basilisk…”

“Shall I cast fiendfyre?” Snape glared at the innocuous-looking diary with disgust.

“Too late for that… He is no longer within. He would be weak and need to feed on the magic and life-force of others… a vampire-like wraith if you will…”

“What are we looking for?”

“A boy, in his late teens… possibly wearing the robes of Slytherin as I doubt his pride will allow otherwise.”

“So this viper is in my House, possibly feeding off my students?” Snape pushed back his chair with a scrape. The dainty teacup in his hand shattered in his outrage.

“He might not be aware of you, or fully aware of what has transpired since his creation. Be watchful…”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” Snape knew his students well enough. Surely an intruder would not go unremarked by his serpents. Or could the Horcrux have resorted to possession of an unwitting host?

Tom Riddle smiled as he regarded his hapless prey milling below him. A little from Master Goyle, a little from Miss Fawley… He drained them enough to make them feel tired, but not enough to run for the Hospital Wing. The Parkinson girl was looking pale and dazed. She stumbled and needed to be helped along by her friend. They would live but their magic would be diminished. Some children were protected by amulets or family rings. These he gave a wide breadth lest he exposed himself. The girls were especially taken by his good looks and charm, flocking to him like sheep to the slaughter. It was too easy to plant the seed of suggestion. An exchange student from Durmstrang, a distant cousin… Riddle always had a gift for the mind arts.

The House of Head was new, after his time. It had been old Slug back then. Yet his fellows had spoken of the professor with a mix of respect and fear. There were rumours about the man being a Death Eater – a servant to the other part of him. Some claimed he was spying for Dumbledore all along. It rankled that the old man now lorded it over Hogwarts. Well, the other Voldemort must have majorly messed up to be public enemy number one. There was always unicorn blood, but he would not risk that yet. He could expand his hunt to the other Houses, now that he was confident enough to leave the common room. Perhaps he ought to call on Professor Snape…

Then there was his nemesis. Harry Potter. He would love to see the boy for himself. The boy was in St Mungo’s. Some claimed he was dying or squibbed after fighting the Basilisk. There were two other boys with him. A prefect and Heir Longbottom. The prefect was a non-entity. Heir Longbottom? A possible threat like Potter. The boy had direct link to his family magic despite his tender years.

Now Tom Riddle had his eye on the young Ravenclaw who was walking across the courtyard with Heir Longbottom.

The mandrakes were maturing nicely. Soon they could be harvested… Luna paused mid-step and turned round. Her grey eyes betrayed nothing when they rested momentarily on the handsome boy was peering at them from the east walkway. She looked away as if distracted.

Harry, come back soon. Luna Lovegood prayed. He took Neville by the hand and urged him to the gate.

“Gran says Harry is up, but they want to observe him for a few more days… They thought he would be… well, damaged…” Neville prattled as they hastened to the greenhouses. They would need to wear their earmuffs for the repotting - and wrangling wayward teenage mandrakes.

“Harry is a fighter, like you…” Luna replied. She sniffed as a wave of sadness washed over her.

“Luna, I’m sorry about your friend…” Neville shyly gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance. Death was final. Unlike his parents and Harry, there was no hope of Ginny returning.

“She’s stuck, Nev…”

“What do you mean, Luna?” Neville frowned. “If she is haunting…”

“No, not like Myrtle… We need Harry to free her from…”

Professor Sprout was bustling over with the rest of her volunteers. She ordered them to put on their earmuffs before entering Greenhouse 3.

“Uncle Sev…” Draco was waiting for him outside the potions lab, outside his usual class.

“Not now, Malfoy…” Snape snapped as he entered the lab. They had agreed to set boundaries when Draco started at Hogwarts. To his credit, Draco did try not to come running to his godfather at every single perceived slight. Reigning in his propensity to create havoc with the lions was another matter, and one which drove Snape to distraction. Perhaps he should have been firmer. Or had he been too strict?

“Wait… come here after dinner. If anyone asks, you have detention.”  Was it possible that his self-absorbed godson had noticed something? Unlike first year, he noticed that his godson was more subdued. The Slytherin Prince had lost his shine, possibly due to his father’s difficulties with the new Dark Artefacts Bill. Just as well, Draco could not rely on his family name for shield forever.  

His godson nodded before slinking off. Something off… An imposter in the nest.

Draco was too young to take on the Heirship formally, but as his parents’ precious only child, he would have been given protective amulets or jewellery. Greengrass wore Charmed earrings from her grandmother. Nott had a protective rune tattooed on his wrist as an infant by his late mother.

Snape groaned as a migraine threatened. He could hear the fourth-year lions approaching for their Potions class. He took a sip of his Headache Soother. The twins had apparently recovered form their grief and were back to their pranking ways. With luck, those two redhead terrors would drop his class after their OWLs, and he would only need to put up with them till then.