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Chapter Text

Wakefulness comes to everyone in the room unnaturally.  

It isn’t simply the slow drift of a normal morning, but a violent jolt. One moment James is in his dorm, the next, he’s standing in the Great Hall. Sirius lands beside him with a shout, Remus blinking wildly, muttering nonsense. Peter curls in on himself, whispering. “What in the bloody–”   

The Hall is impossibly crowded. The candles suddenly lit up, swaying, though no wind moved them, and the ceiling churned with a stormy sky. Dozens of confused voices started to echo as students and professors blink awake, eyes darting to their surroundings, wands half-raised.   

Regulus sits at the Slytherin table, his pale fingers drumming the wood, keeping a stony face of a false control. His worried gaze searches and finds James’ across the chaos. A single, charged heartbeat of recognition is formed between them before Walburga’s shriek tears through the noise. 

More figures flicker into being. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter appear hand in hand, bewildered but composed. Walburga and Orion Black are there in a flash of indignation, her wand already raised in a defensive stance. McGonagall and Dumbledore stand at the front, surveying the madness and trying to make a sense out of it. Snape scowls near the end of the table, while Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier linger in the shadows, sharp eyed and silent.   

Then, gasps. A sudden warmth ripples through the Hall, making everyone feel the strange surge of energy passing through them.

It starts as a hum, then swells into a wind that sweeps through every aisle, ruffling cloaks, tugging at sleeves and making even Dumbledore’s beard flutter. The air turns electric.  

Sirius grips James’ arm, looking wildly around them. “What in the bloody…” 

But his voice is swallowed by the wind. Everyone turns toward the far wall as the candles dim, their flames sinking until the Hall drowns in pure shadow.  

McGonagall’s whisper trembles through the silence. “Albus…”
 
Dumbledore says nothing. His eyes gleam in the dark.  

Fire burns and crawls up the stone, bursting into light, shifting and reshaping itself. For a heartbeat, it’s only a vivid mass of color and movement. Then, shapes emerge start to emerge, slowly but surely.

A street. A door. The sound of a baby’s cry. 

Walburga shrieks, indignant. But the sound barely carries over the low, resonant hum filling the Hall. Slowly, the light sharpens into a vast, glowing rectangle. 

The Great Hall of Hogwarts had become a theater. 

And on that light, bold and certain as a prophecy, words started to burn into existence: 

Sit. Watch. Learn. 

The command sank into every mind like a spell, heavy and inescapable. 

“What is this madness?!” Walburga makes herself known through the suddenly silent hall. “How can I be in Hogwarts? Impossible!” 

“You’re here, though.” Sirius shot back immediately, glaring, with his arms crossed. “Tragic for all of us, really.” 

“Watch your tongue, boy!” She hissed, feeling her anger rise towards her ungrateful son.  

“He’s right, you’re kind of ruining the aesthetic.” James muttered under his breath, earning a muffled laugh from Remus. 

“What is this?!” Walburga spat. “You think this is some sort of– of joke?” 

“Could be.” Sirius said with a shrug. “Maybe Lady Magic herself finally decided she was sick of you and spat you here for us to deal with.” 

Walburga’s face turned a dangerous shade of red. Orion tried to grab her arm, but she yanked it free, glaring daggers across the Hall. 

“Let’s calm down!” McGonagall’s sharp voice cracked through the argument, though her own composure was wearing thin. “Mr. Black, that’s enough.” 

“Yes, let’s all just ignore the fact that reality is unraveling.” Lily said loudly, her voice cutting through the noise. “Anyone else suddenly feel like we’re vibrating with a strange energy?” 

Pandora nodded furiously, frowning softly. “I felt a pull. Like… like something wanted us here.”  

“You don’t say.” Dorcas muttered, ironically. “Very comforting, thank you.” 

“What is that?” Fleamont asked, pointing politely toward the far glowing wall. The light was pulsing faintly now, steady, as if it was a breathing thing, full of life. 

“Some sort of enchantment.” McGonagall said cautiously, lowering her wand a fraction. “Though I’ve never seen magic quite like it.” 

“Could it be a trap?” Regulus’ voice came cool and measured from the Slytherin table, calm in contrast to the noise around him. His gaze flicked toward the professors, then back to James, though he didn’t linger long enough to be noticed. 

“It feels too… complicated. Old.” Remus said quietly, eyes scanning the glow. “Too strong for a single caster.” 

“Oh, brilliant.” Sirius groaned, keeping himself close to Remus, James and Peter, just in case things go sideways. “Ancient, inexplicable magic. Fantastic. We’re doomed.” 

“Could we really be?.” Peter mumbled, with a scared expression to his face.

“Enough.” Dumbledore’s voice rose deep and commanding, a sound that silenced without force. The entire Hall stilled, dozens of eyes turning toward him. He stood near the front, framed by the last flickers of candlelight, his face unreadable but his eyes still bright. 

“It appears.” He began slowly, observing the different people in the room. “That we have been gathered for a purpose not of our own design. Whatever power has called us here wishes for us to see something.” 

He glanced at the glowing words on the wall. Sit. Watch. Learn. And then back at the crowd. 

“For now.” He said, voice calm but edged with gravity. “I advise that we do as instructed.” 

Walburga sputtered. “You can’t be serious.” 

“No, he’s Sirius.” James muttered softly, unable to help himself. Sirius, by his side, let out a loud laugh.

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. 

Dumbledore continued as though none of them had spoken. “Whatever this is, it is not random. The castle itself may be involved. Until we know more, we will proceed with caution, and with unity.” 

He raised his hand, and the chairs began to slide smoothly into place again, aligning themselves in neat rows facing the wall of light.  

“Please.” He said softly, though his voice carried to every corner of the Hall. “Get comfortable.” 

No one moved for a heartbeat. It was a bizarre concept to be dragged from their previous doings to sit in Hogwarts’ Great Hall, not even knowing for what reason. Then, slowly, chairs scraped, fabric rustled, and the Great Hall filled with hesitant motion as everyone obeyed. Even Walburga, after one last glare at her sons, sat stiffly, muttering under her breath.  

The glow on the wall flared once and then the film began.

Chapter Text

[The image slowly zooms towards a scar in the forehead of a baby which glows brightly and immediately flashes, transitioning to a stormy cloud sky. The film's title in metallic gold zooms out around the image, and lightning flashes to brighten it up.] 

“Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.” 

Gasps. 

“What?” A student shouts. 

“Potter?” A ravenclaw questions, confused. 

James is suddenly very interested in watching the projection, as well as Euphemia and Fleamont. The confused faces have gained a new  focus, seen as their family name is in evidence.   

“Prongs, who is Harry?” Sirius asks in a false whisper, already looking excited by the images playing ahead. “A cousin or something?” 

“No. I don’t know any Harry.” James replies, almost scared to speak too much and disturb the projection. “Mum, who is this?” 

Euphemia and Fleamont exchange a look, but she responds with honesty. “Well… We had a Henry, but… Not a Harry, no.” 

Just as Remus is about to voice his theory, the projection starts to change again. 

The image drifts toward a small cupboard under the stairs, where a ten year old boy sleeps soundly. A harsh light flickers outside the door. The voice of a woman cuts through the quiet. 

“Up! Get up!” 

She knocks hard on the door. Once, then twice. 

“Now!” 

Her footsteps fade as she walks away toward the living room. The boy stirs awake, blinking very green eyes against the dim light. He reaches for his glasses, the bridge patched clumsily with tape, and slips them on. 

“Aw how cute!” A hufflepuff coos at the tiny boy. 

“Ah, the glasses.” Severus’ voice sounds ironic. “And the hair, of course. Typical Potter spawn.” 

“Shut up, snivellus!” Sirius shouts back. 

Above the boy in the projection, the stairs creak with heavy footsteps pounding down before stopping halfway. Dust drifts from the cracks in the wood. 

The voice of a boy, loud and smug, sounds from above. “Wake up, cousin! We’re going to the zoo!” 

The tiny boy glances up just in time to see the blur of the other’s laughter before the boy bounds down the last steps and dashes toward the kitchen. 

The Potter pushes open the cupboard door, but his cousin shoves it closed again with a snicker, trapping him inside as the sound of clattering dishes and the woman’s voice fills the air from the kitchen beyond. 

“Damn, that was rude.” A student murmurs. 

“We’re not going to acknowledge the fact that he is sleeping under the stairs? In a small cupboard?” Remus' observation is now cemented over the entire Hall. Parents and professors murmur with each other in low voices, about such cruelty with the kid. 

“Oh, here he comes. The birthday boy!” 

The older boy waddles in, grinning, as an older man lowers his newspaper with a proud smile. 

“Happy birthday, son.” 

The couple share a giggle, the kind that feels rehearsed. The Potter slips quietly into the room, swallowed by hand me down clothes two sizes too big. The woman turns to him, her tone clipped and cold. 

“Why don’t you just cook the breakfast and try not to burn anything.” 

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” 

Gasps. 

“What?” Lily’s voice is loud amongst the crowd. “This is Petunia? But this is impossible. She’s my sister, and not that old!” 

“The birthday boy called the Potter one his cousin, and he referred to Petunia by ‘aunt’.” Remus' voice, again, sobers the commotion.  

“But that would mean…” Sirius trails off. 

“That those images we are seeing are… the future.” Remus concludes, grave. 

“No way.” James babbles, the only words he could form in the moment of shock. 

“Finally. Lily says yes to Potter eventually!” A student laughs. 

Meanwhile, James is utterly confused. He risks a glance to Regulus by the Slythering table, desperate to make a sense out of it. But unfortunately, just as he suspected, Regulus don’t meet his gaze. He keeps his poised stance, attention focused on the projection. 

“I want everything to be perfect for my Dudley’s special day.” 

The man folds his newspaper, glancing at Harry, who’s carefully setting bacon onto plates. “Hurry up! Bring my coffee, boy!” 

Harry is by the kitchen, serving the coffee. “Yes, Uncle Vernon.” 

Harry moves quickly, nearly spilling the cup as Petunia sweeps Dudley into the family room. There, a mountain of brightly wrapped presents waits, towers of shiny paper and ribbons stacked almost to the fireplace. 

Petunia’s voice echoes. “Aren’t they wonderful, darling?” 

Dudley’s eyes go wide. “How many are there?” 

Vernon responds excitedly. “Thirty six. Counted them myself.” 

Dudley’s face twists. “Thirty six?! But last year– last year I had thirty seven!” 

“Er, yes, well, some of them are quite a bit bigger than last year.” 

Dudley is still angry. “I don’t care how big they are!” 

“Oh my Merlin, this child is horrible.” A ravenclaw murmurs. 

Dudley’s shout echoes through the room, and Harry glances over the counter, quietly sipping his own frustration.  

Petunia leans down, her tone sugary sweet and practiced. “Oh, now, now, now. This is what we’re going to do, when we go out, we’ll buy you two new presents! How’s that, pumpkin?” 

Dudley pauses, his pout softening into a smug little grin. Satisfied, Petunia beams and smooths his hair while Vernon chuckles proudly, adjusting his tie. 

“I don’t undurstand…” James starts. “If this is really the future, and if this is my kid, then why would he live with his aunt? And in such conditions?” 

Lily’s voice trembles. “Petunia… she would never–“ She cuts herself off, her expression collapsing between disbelief and guilt. 

Walburga’s shrill voice slices through the murmurs. “That’s what happens when you mix with Muggles! They lock your child in a box like an animal!” 

“Shut up, Mother.” Sirius snaps before he can stop himself, his jaw tight. 

James runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide. “No, this– this doesn’t make sense. Why isn’t he with me? Or with us?” 

And then, faintly, Dumbledore’s calm voice breaks through the rising panic. “Perhaps.” He says softly. “That is precisely what we are here to find out.” 

The projection shows Harry moving toward a muggle car, shoulders hunched, when Vernon steps in front of him and jabs a ring of keys toward his chest. 

“I’m warning you now, boy! Any funny business, any at all, and you are not going to have any meals for a week! Get in!” 

“What?” James murmurs, shocked. 

On the screen, Harry swallows, voice small. “Yes, Uncle Vernon.” He climbs into the back seat, folding himself into the tight space as Dudley laughs and Petunia smiles with that practiced sweetness. 

At the London Zoo, the Dursleys herd Harry along as they finish their lunch at the zoo restaurant. Soon, they find themselves in the reptile house, the air thick and warm, filled with the scent of damp stone and glass. Harry’s eyes drift over the exhibits until they settle on a massive Boa constrictor, coiled lazily in its cage. 

Dudley suddenly says. “Make it move.” 

Vernon steps forward, tapping the glass nervously. “Move!” 

Dudley slams his hand against the glass. Vernon flinches. “MOVE!” 

Harry leans closer to the glass, voice quiet. “He’s asleep!” 

Dudley makes a face. “He’s boring.” 

“So help me Merlin…” A student says in irritation, looking at Dudley as he makes a scene. The crowd shifts, uncomfortable. 

Dudley and his parents move on to another enclosure, leaving Harry alone with the massive, coiled snake.  

“Sorry about him. He… he doesn’t understand what it’s like, lying there day after day, having people press their ugly faces in on you.” 

The snake lifts its head and blinks slowly, watching him. 

“Can you… hear me?” 

The snake nods once. 

Gasps echo in the Hall. 

“Impossible!” A professor says. 

“Is this parselmouth?” Peter tweaks in his seat. 

“We don’t have any connections to Salazar Slythering in our line.” Fleamont states, looking curiously at the projection. “It shouldn’t be possible.” 

“You’re from Burma, aren’t you? Was it nice there? Do you miss your family?” 

The snake turns its head toward a sign reading Bred in Captivity. 

“I see… That’s me as well. I never knew my parents, either.” 

“Oh no.” Euphemia covers her mouth with her hands, looking distressed. 

“That explains why he lives with his aunt.” Sirius says, his mouth hanging open.  

“I’m dead.” James states, sobering to the new information. “I’m dead and this is definitely the future.” 

The now-awake snake in the projection had caught Dudley’s attention. He stomped over to the glass, shoving past Harry and sending him sprawling to the floor. 

“Mummy! Dad! Come here! You won’t believe what this snake is doing!” 

Dudley puts his hands on the glass wall. With his back turned, Harry glares at him. Suddenly, the glass disappears, causing Dudley to wretch forward, losing his balance.  

“Whoa! Ahh! Ahh!!” 

“Accidental magic.” Euphemia whispers, in awe of the raw energy. 

“Well done, pup. That prat deserved it.” Sirius nods along in agreement with the scene. 

“Sirius…” Remus shakes his head softly, reprimanding his boyfriend. “That could end very badly.” 

“Who cares.” A Slythering student says while laughing along with his friends. 

In the projection, Dudley landed with a splash in the snake enclosure, sputtering and kicking in a shallow pool of water. Harry scrambled to his feet, snickering at the scene. 

The snake slithered smoothly out of its exhibit, stopping right in front of Harry. “Thanksss.” 

Harry couldn’t help grinning, feeling a strange camaraderie with the creature as Dudley splashed helplessly behind him. “Anytime.” 

Regulus frowns as the image continues to play. If this is James’ and Lily’s child, he assumed he’d be more… Well… Gryffindor. But as the mischief progresses with the help of parseltongue and develops as potentially harming his cousin, Regulus becomes more interested in Harry. He still hated it, though. 

It was not a surprise for Regulus that James didn’t end up with him. It made sense, really. He knew he was in too deep with the Black legacy and, as the days passed, he truly saw that he had no chance of getting out of it safely. 

It still bothered him, though. Greatly.  

The snake in the projection slithered smoothly toward the exit, unnoticed by the crowd, until a man’s panicked shout pierced the air. “SNAKE!” 

Screams erupted throughout the reptile house as visitors scrambled in every direction. Dudley scrambled to get out, but the glass had snapped back into place over the enclosure. Trapped, he pounded on it in sheer panic. 

“Mum! Mummy! Help! Help me!” 

Petunia’s eyes caught him immediately. She screamed, rushing toward the glass. “My darling boy! How did you get in there?! How did you get in there!? Is there a snake?!” 

Harry couldn’t help it, he grinned, snickering at Dudley’s plight. 

“Oh yeah, the Marauders’ legacy lives on!” Sirius puts his hands up and celebrates the moment in a shout. 

But, in the projection, Vernon’s eyes locked onto him, blazing. Harry’s grin vanished in an instant, the weight of certain punishment settling heavily on his shoulders. 

“Hm… He’s just a kid, he’ll learn how to not get caught.” Sirius continues, nodding to himself.

Chapter Text

The projection cuts back to the Dursley household. The front door bursts open as Aunt Petunia rushes in, clutching a shivering Dudley wrapped in a towel. He’s red-faced, dripping wet, and sobbing. 

Petunia is soft and frantic. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of those terrible clothes.” She ushers him toward the living room, fussing over him as Vernon storms in behind them, dragging Harry by the shoulder. The door slams shut with a bang. 

Harry shouts. “Ow!” 

Vernon spins him around and slams him against the wall, his face flushed with rage. He grabs a handful of Harry’s messy hair, yanking his head up. “WHAT HAPPENED?!” 

“What the hell?!” James shouts along with the tense gasps from the others around.  

“I swear, I don’t know!” Harry stammers, eyes wide. “One minute the glass was there and then it was gone! It was like– like magic!” 

Vernon’s expression hardens. With a furious scoff, he throws Harry into the cupboard under the stairs and slams the door. 

“There’s no such thing as magic!” He growls, sliding the lock and darkening the vent. 

“Filthy muggles.” Walburga murmurs quietly. 

Euphemia’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh… my word…” She whispered, horrified with the treatment. 

Fleamont scowled, leaning forward. “How… how can anyone say that to a child like that?” 

James was practically bouncing in his seat. “Did you hear that? He’s literally screaming at a wizard that magic doesn’t exist! I can’t even…” 

Sirius groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I think I just lost a year of my life listening to that nonsense.” 

Remus frowned. “It’s… cruel. And completely unnecessary.” 

An owl swooped into view, landing gracefully on a TV aerial atop one of the neighboring houses. Harry slipped out of the living room and into the hallway, gathering the letters that had arrived. One of them was addressed to him, the neat handwriting spelling out his name and the cupboard under the stairs as his “home.” 

“This has to be-!” A student whispered exitedly. 

“The Hogwarts letter!” Another one completed the phrase. 

“See!” Sirius shouts. “Magic does exist, you idiots!” 

In the projection, Vernon and Dudley sat at the table, Dudley still fussing with his breakfast, while Petunia leaned over a basin, busy dyeing Harry’s clothes. Harry carried the pile of mail back to the kitchen, placing it carefully in front of Vernon before retreating to his usual seat, clutching the letter meant for him. 

“This was supposed to be such a sweet family moment…” Euphemia laments, with a saddened expression.  

On the projection, Dudley’s eyes landed on Harry’s letter, and before Harry could react, he snatched it from his hands. “Dad! Look! Harry’s got a letter!” 

Annoyed, Harry tries to get it back. “Hey, give it back! It’s mine!” 

Vernon leaned forward, frowning at the envelope. “Yours? Who’d be writing to you?” 

The family clustered around, eyes fixed on the neat handwriting and the broken seal. Harry swallowed hard, feeling every second stretch. A little later, another owl swooped by, dropping a fresh letter through the mail slot. Vernon grabbed it midair, ripping several into pieces without a second thought. 

“Why is he doing that?” Barty asked, with a confused face. 

“Petunia, she… Don’t like magic.” Lily’s voice was soft, but turning sour at the edges. 

Sirius let out a low scoff. “Doesn’t like it? That’s one way to put it. They’re acting like it’s the plague.” 

“Maybe she’s scared.” Remus said quietly, though his brow was furrowed. “Fear makes people cruel.” 

James’ jaw tightened as he watched Harry’s small shadow retreat back toward the cupboard. “Still doesn’t make it right.” 

In the image, Vernon was mid-rant, face red and jowls quivering, when a single letter shot straight out of the fireplace and sliced across his nose like a paper comet. He froze. Then came the rumble. The next second, chaos. 

Dozens, no, hundreds, of letters blasted from the fireplace in a roaring storm of parchment. They flew through the air like golden snow, pelting the Dursleys from every angle. Petunia screamed, clutching her pearls. Dudley dove onto her lap with a shriek that rattled the windows. 

Gasps tore through the Hall. 

“AHH! Make it stop! Please make it stop!” Dudley wailed, kicking his legs like a panicked seal. 

Harry, eyes wide with something dangerously close to joy, stood frozen for half a heartbeat before leaping onto the coffee table. His hair whipped around him as the letters whirled like a tornado. He snatched one mid-air, grinning. 

Across the Great Hall, students started to clap and laugh at the scene. 

“Let’s go mini Prongs, get it!” Sirius cheered in synchrony with the other students. 

Vernon, however, howled like a man possessed. “Go away! Give me that! Give me that letter!” 

He lunged, wrestling Harry near the cupboard door as envelopes kept firing past them in a flurry of magic and muffled screams. The plank nailed over the letterbox splintered and exploded, sending a fresh wave of letters pouring into the room like a flood. 

“They’re my letters!” Harry shouted, twisting in Vernon’s grip. “Let go of me!” 

“Let go of my grandchild!” Euphemia frowned angrily at Vernon’s face in the projection, as if trying to mother him into kindness. 

“That’s it!” Vernon bellowed, wild-eyed and sweating. “We’re going away! Far away! Where they can’t find us!” 

Dudley, still clinging to Petunia, blinked at his father. “Daddy’s gone mad, hasn’t he?” 

“First smart thing Dudley said.” James muttered, crossing his arms, while Sirius laughed loudly at it. 

As the image faded in, a storm raged, wind howling against an old, crooked house perched on the rock like some lonely skeleton. The sea crashed below, wild and relentless, spraying salt against the windows. Inside, the world was still. The Dursleys slept in a heap of blankets on the sagging bed upstairs, and Harry lay alone on the cold, dirt floor. 

Fleamont reached for Euphemia’s hand, his usual calm gone, face set in disbelief. “They let him sleep on the floor.” He muttered, jaw tight. “While their son took the sofa.” 

In the house, each creak of the wind felt like the house itself sighing. Harry laid on the floor, the thin pajama barely covering his shivering form. Beside him, on the dirty floor, was his birthday cake. A drawn birthday cake. The letters were uneven, scrawled in the dust: Happy Birthday Harry. 

He smiled faintly, tracing the outline of the makeshift cake with a fingertip. There were no candles, only little circles he’d drawn, pretending each one flickered softly just for him. From the couch, Dudley’s snores echoed like a dull thunder. His broken wristwatch beeped quietly, the sound oddly sharp in the silence. 

Harry looked at it. Midnight. 

A small breath left his chest, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. “Make a wish, Harry.” He whispered to himself. He leaned forward, eyes fluttering shut, and blew softly over the paper cake. 

The screen faded to black for a moment, just the sound of wind and crashing waves.  

No one in the room spoke. Not at first. 

Euphemia’s hand was trembling where it rested on her knee, her eyes glassy and wide. “He– He drew himself a cake.” She whispered, voice cracking halfway through. “He drew it.” 

James sat frozen, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles went white. He wasn’t breathing right, too shallow, like he didn’t know whether to cry or break something. “That’s–” His voice broke before the sentence could finish. “That’s my son. Laying on the dirty ground and drawing himself a cake, alone.” 

Remus lowered his eyes, jaw working. “He’s… trying to make it special.” He said quietly. 

Euphemia wiped at her eyes, voice trembling. “He’s still trying to believe in something good.” She said softly. “Even after all that.” 

In the projection, the storm continued to rage outside, thunder rattling the walls. A loud thump echoed through the cabin, then another. Harry jumped, Dudley squealed, and Vernon burst in clutching a shotgun. 

“Who’s there?!” He barked. 

The door crashed down with a final bang, revealing a giant silhouette framed by lightning. “Sorry about that.” Hagrid said gruffly, setting the door back up. 

“THAT’S ME!” Hagrid’s loud voice echoed through the Hall, making several people jump. His cheeks went red as a few chuckles rippled through the room. 

James grinned wide. “Blimey, Hagrid, you look exactly the same!” 

“Bit less beard, maybe.” Sirius teased, smirking. 

Remus elbowed him lightly. “Don’t tease the man who could crush you with one hand, Pads.” 

“Good job, Hagrid.” Dumbledore says, his eyes twinkling. “Always the purest soul.” 

“Aye Mr. Dumbledore, it’s my pleasure.” Hagrid bowed down a little, showing his unwavering respect for the headmaster. 

The scene continued. 

Vernon raised the gun with shaking hands, his voice cracking. “I demand that you leave at once, sir! You’re breaking and entering!” 

A collective murmur swept through the Great Hall, half disbelief, half outrage, just as Hagrid calmly reached out, grabbed the barrel, and bent it upwards like taffy. 

“Dry up, Dursley, you great prune.” The gun went off with a deafening bang, sending smoke curling through the ceiling of the little hut. Petunia screamed, Dudley nearly fell backward off the sofa. 

In the Hall, laughter broke out. Sirius nearly doubled over. “Merlin, remind me never to make him angry.” 

“Honestly, well deserved.” Marlene said between laughs. 

On the screen, Hagrid’s gaze softened as he squinted at Dudley. “Man, I haven’t seen you since you was a baby, Harry. But yer a bit more along than I’d have expected. Particularly ’round the middle.” 

Dudley’s terrified voice squeaked. “I-I-I’m not Harry.” 

And from behind him came that small, uncertain voice. “I-I am.” 

The laughter in the Hall died down. Lily’s eyes shone. “He’s so polite… even now.” 

“Well, of course you are!” Hagrid said warmly, his booming voice filling the tiny room. “Got somethin’ for yeh. ’Fraid I might’ve sat on it at some point, but I imagine it’ll taste fine just the same.” He rummaged through his pockets and proudly handed over a slightly squashed cake. “Baked it meself, words and all.” 

Harry blinked down at the lumpy frosting: Happee Birthdae Harry. For a moment, he just stared, like he couldn’t quite believe something in the world could be for him. 

“Thank you.” He said softly. 

In the Great Hall, Lily’s breath hitched. “Oh, Harry…” 

James smiled faintly, though his eyes were wet. “Thank you, Hagrid.” 

“It’s not every day that a young man turns eleven, now is it?” Hagrid said, settling onto the couch like he owned the place. 

With a flick of his pink umbrella, sparks flew, then a warm blaze filled the fireplace. The Dursleys gasped, clutching each other. 

“Excuse me…” Harry asked, hesitant but curious. “Who are you?” 

Sirius smirked. “Now that’s a question with one hell of an answer.” 

“Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. O’ course, yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts.” Hagrid leaned forward, his massive frame filling the tiny space, eyes twinkling behind wild hair.  

Harry shook his head slowly, voice barely a whisper. “Sorry… no.” 

Gasps echoed through the Great Hall, even from the professors. James’s jaw dropped. “Wait… he doesn’t know?” 

“Blimey, Harry.” Hagrid said, voice a mixture of shock and amusement. “Didn’t yeh ever wonder where yer mum and dad learned it all?” 

Harry frowned. “Learnt… what?” 

Sirius whistled low, nudging James. “He has no clue. How can this be?” 

“Yer a wizard, Harry.” Hagrid straightened, tone dropping to a serious rumble.  

Harry froze, eyes wide, hands trembling. “I-I’m a… what?” 

Dorcas muttered under her breath, “Poor boy… no wonder he’s been treated like this.” 

Mary’s lips pressed together, holding back a mix of anger and awe. “Finally, someone telling him the truth…” 

James shook his head slowly, voice soft. “All this time… and he never knew. I don’t understand.”  

“A wizard. And a thumping good one, I’d wager, once yer trained up a little.” Hagrid’s eyes softened as he crouched down to Harry’s level.  

Harry shook his head frantically. “No… you’ve made a mistake. I mean, I can’t be a– a wizard. I mean, I’m just Harry. Just Harry.”  

“Well, Just Harry.” Hagrid said gently, voice steady but firm. “Did yeh ever make anything happen? Anything yeh couldn’t explain when yeh were angry or scared?” 

Harry’s frown softened, his eyes tracing Hagrid’s kind face. Dudley whimpered somewhere behind them, the memory of the chaos fresh and frightening. Hagrid reached into his coat and pulled out the stack of letters that had caused so much chaos. He handed one to Harry with a quiet smile. 

Harry tore it open, fingers trembling, and began to read aloud. “Dear Mr. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” 

Cheers exploded. 

Sirius whooped, tossing back his head with laughter. “The boy’s going to be unstoppable!” 

Lily gasped, eyes sparkling. “Oh, Harry… it’s perfect!” 

Peter bounced a little, grinning nervously. “Yeah! That’s great.” 

The projection flickered, showing the Dursleys’ chaos. Every eye in the Great Hall was glued to the scene. 

Vernon looked angrily at Hagrid. “He will not be going, I tell you! We swore when we took him in, we’d put a stop to all this rubbish!” 

“You knew? You knew all along and you never told me?” Harry said, with a shocked expression. 

Petunia looked at him, with a bitter and angry expression as she explained. “Of course we knew. How could you not be? My perfect sister being who she was. Oh, my mother and father were so proud the day she got her letter. “We have a witch in the family. Isn’t it wonderful?” I was the only one to see her for what she was. A freak! And then she met that Potter. And then she had you, and I knew you would be the same. Just as strange, just as abnormal. And then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up! And we got landed with you.” 

Shocked gasps. 

“What…” Lily’s voice trembled as she watched her sister. “Petunia… How could you? I can’t believe that she–“  

“That confirms it, though.” A ravenclaw murmured. “It’s Lily’s kid.” 

“He’s a little child! How can that woman talk like that to a pup?!” Sirius' angered voice cuts through the chaos of the room. 

“This is… unbelievable.” James muttered, fists clenched on the table. 

“Someone, anyone, give him a hug already!” A Hufflepuff snapped, throwing their hands in the air. 

The argument erupted in the Dursleys’ living room. Harry’s voice rang out, full of anger and hurt, as he confronted his aunt. “Blown up? You told me my parents died in a car crash!” 

Gasps. 

“A car crash? A car crash killed Lily and James Potter?!” Hagrid’s jaw dropped, disbelief turning to outrage. 

Petunia’s voice remained cold and defensive. “We had to say something.” 

Hagrid’s fists clenched. “It’s an outrage! It’s a scandal!” 

Some of the younger students gasped, clutched their robes, or whispered to each other, while the older ones shook their heads, utterly appalled. 

“She's been lying to him his whole life.” Remus muttered, voice tight, eyes glued to the screen. 

Mary muttered. “How could they keep this from him?” 

“He’ll not be going!” The room crackled with tension as Vernon’s face reddened, the gun still trembling slightly in his hand. 

Hagrid’s laugh rolled like distant thunder, booming and impossible to ignore. “Oh-ho-ho, and I suppose a great muggle like yerself’s goin’ to stop him, are yeh?” 

Harry blinked, confused. “Muggle?” 

Hagrid’s eyes softened as he turned toward him. “Non-magic folk.” He said gently, teaching, before snapping his attention back to Vernon and Petunia, full of fiery determination. “This boy’s had his name down ever since he were born!” 

As he spoke, Dudley quietly helped himself to the last bits of Harry’s cake, blissfully unaware of the storm around him. Hagrid didn’t flinch. “He’s going to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, and he’ll be under the finest headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen: Albus Dumbledore.” 

“Oh, Hagrid… Thank you.” Dumbledore smiles softly. 

Euphemia gasped softly. “Monty, can you imagine? A child kept from magic his whole life…” 

“Hagrid, thank you so much.” Lily’s embargoed voice reaches the big man.  

“It is no problem, miss Evans! Mr. James!” He replies, confidently. “Although… It only ‘appened in the future.” 

In the projection, the moment Harry heard Dumbledore’s name, a small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips. Vernon, however, was having none of it. His face turned crimson, veins standing out on his temple. “I will not pay to have some crackpot old fool teach him magic tricks!” 

Hagrid’s eyes narrowed. He whipped his umbrella from his coat and leveled it at Vernon, his voice low but deadly, shaking the room. “NEVER. INSULT. ALBUS DUMBLEDORE. IN FRONT OF ME.” Sparks crackled faintly from the tip of the umbrella, and the Marauders leaned forward, whispering in excitement. 

Then Hagrid’s gaze fell upon Dudley, blissfully munching on Harry’s cake. His eyes twinkled with mischief. With a swift jab of the umbrella, a single spark shot toward Dudley’s rear. 

Dudley shrieked as a curly pink tail sprouted instantly. “Ahh!” 

Gasps and laughter erupted in the Great Hall. 

James whistled. “Oh, yes! About time someone gave him a taste of his own wickedness.” 

Sirius doubled over, covering his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Hah! A pig’s tail!” 

Remus raised an eyebrow, smirking at Dudley’s horror. “Honestly, he deserves this for being such a spoiled brat.” 

Lily clasped her hands, biting her lip to stop herself from giggling. 

Euphemia shook her head, laughing softly, “Good heavens, Hagrid never loses his touch.” 

Fleamont chuckled, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. “That boy will remember this moment for a lifetime.” 

Peter whispered to Mary, barely containing his grin. “I think the muggle side of the family just got a very… magical lesson.” 

Harry’s smile grew, small but bright, as Dudley ran around, waving his new tail in panic. The Hall buzzed with laughter, excitement, and a sense of magic finally seeping through the walls. 

The Dursleys shrieked, fleeing out of sight in sheer fright and horror. Harry laughed, a sound so bright it filled the small, tense room, and Hagrid joined in, shaking his head in amusement. Sparks of magic lingered briefly in the air from the umbrella trick. 

In the Great Hall, chaos erupted. 

Sirius bellowed, slapping his knee. “I swear, that’s brilliant! Look at the look on Vernon’s face!” 

“Oh, um, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone at Hogwarts about that.” Hagrid said with a sheepish grin, patting the large umbrella at his side. “Strictly speaking, I’m not allowed to do magic.” 

Harry nodded, still grinning. “Okay.” 

Hagrid glanced at his pocket watch, frowning slightly. “Ooh, we’re a bit behind schedule. Best be off.” He headed to the door, yanking it down into place with a satisfied thud before pausing to look back at Harry. “Unless you’d rather stay, of course. Hmm?” 

Sirius nudged James, still laughing. “That’s it. That’s the proper start to a real adventure.” 

James grinned, eyes sparkling. “Finally, a bit of magic done right.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, London sprawled out around them in a rush of noise and color. Harry walked beside Hagrid, trying to take everything in. The towering buildings, the clatter of carts, the swirl of people hurrying in all directions. 

“All students must be equipped with… one standard size 2 pewter cauldron, and may bring, if they desire, either an owl, a cat, or a toad.” Harry reads, glancing around nervously. “Could we find all this in London?” 

Hagrid chuckled, his huge frame brushing against the bustle of the streets. “If you know where to go.” He said, a knowing glint in his eyes, as they turned down a narrow, winding alley that promised magic just around the corner. 

“Ooh this is exciting!” Sirius beams at the projection. 

“First time buying Hogwarts stuff, I’m getting emotional.” James says, sniffing a little. 

The projection Hagrid and Harry approached a narrow corner, and as they neared, the sign above the door shimmered into view: The Leaky Cauldron. Inside, soft music played, mingling with the quiet hum of conversation. 

“Ah, Hagrid! The usual, I presume?” Called Tom from behind the bar. 

“No thanks, Tom. I’m on official Hogwarts business today. Just helpin’ young Harry here buy his school supplies.” Hagrid replied with a grin. 

Tom’s eyes widened. “Bless my soul. It’s Harry Potter!” 

The pub fell silent. Every head turned toward them. A man stepped forward, shaking Harry’s hand warmly. “Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back.” 

“Uh… Why do they sound…?” Barty said, crossing his arms in attention. 

A few moments later, a kind faced witch stepped forward, extending her hand to Harry. “Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter. I can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.” She said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 

Before Harry could reply, a man in robes and a slightly crooked turban approached, his nervous energy barely contained. “Harry P-potter. C-can’t tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.” Stammered Professor Quirrell, bowing slightly. 

“Why are they acting like Harry is a celebrity?” Euphemia questions, frowning at the adults shaking hands with her confused grandchild. 

“I… don’t know.” Lily’s voice sounds worried. 

“Hello, Professor. I didn’t see you there. Harry, this is Professor Quirrell. He’ll be yer Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.” Hagrid smiled warmly at the man in the turban. 

Harry nodded politely, extending his hand. “Oh, nice to meet you.” 

Quirrell hesitated, eyes flicking toward the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead, and politely refused the handshake. 

“F-fearfully f-fascinating subject. N-not that you need it, e-eh, Potter? Heheh.” Quirrell stammered, adjusting his turban nervously. 

Hagrid chuckled and clapped Harry gently on the shoulder. “Yes, well, mus’ be goin’ now. Lots to buy. Heh-heh-heh.” 

“Goodbye.” Harry said, giving a small wave as Hagrid guided him toward the bustle of the shop. 

“He’s so cute.” A ravenclaw girl sighed.  

“So… polite! Even with those horrible people raising him.” A Slythering sneered, shaking his head. 

The projection Hagrid led Harry through a narrow doorway into a back room, the brick walls rough under their hands, the cozy warmth of the small space contrasting the bustling crowd they’d just left. 

“See, Harry? You’re famous!” Hagrid said, a proud grin spreading across his face. 

“Famous? What does he mean?” James says. 

“But why am I famous, Hagrid? All those people back there… how is it they know who I am?” Harry’s brow furrowed as he glanced around, still trying to process.  

Hagrid scratched the back of his head, a sheepish look crossing his features. “I’m not sure I’m exactly the right person to tell you that, Harry.” 

Students looked at each other in a tense way, sensing an undertone to Hagrid’s voice. 

Hagrid tapped the brick wall clockwise with his umbrella, and with a rumble, the blocks magically shifted aside to reveal a bustling hidden street. “Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley.” Hagrid said, gesturing broadly. Harry’s eyes went wide, a grin spreading across his face as they stepped into the street. An owl screeched overhead, wings slicing through the crisp air. 

“Here’s where yeh’ll get yer quills and yer ink, and over there all yer bits and bobs fer doing yer wizardry.” Hagrid added. 

Harry walked slowly, taking in the sights. Shops with windows piled high with mysterious objects, owls perched along the roofs, bats flitting overhead. His attention paused at a broom store, where a group of boys crowded around a shiny new broom, chattering excitedly. 

The Hall cooed at the sight of wonder in Harry’s eyes. 

Sirius whooped, slapping the table. “Blimey, look at him! He’s actually stepping into Diagon Alley!” 

Euphemia clapped her hands softly. “Oh, he looks so… small and overwhelmed.” 

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement, laughter, and speculation, everyone utterly caught up in the magic of Harry’s first steps into the wizarding world. 

In the projection, Harry followed Hagrid through the bustling Diagon Alley, eyes darting from shop to shop. “But, Hagrid, how am I to pay for all this? I haven’t any money.” 

Hagrid chuckled, pointing to a tall, white marble building looming ahead. “Well, there’s yer money, Harry. Gringotts, the Wizard Bank. T’ain’t no safer place, not one. ’Cept perhaps Hogwarts.” 

Inside the bank, the pair walked down a gleaming aisle, watching tiny goblin tellers scurry about behind their desks, counting coins and scribbling numbers with uncanny precision. Harry’s jaw dropped, and even Hagrid had to pause a moment, eyes twinkling. 

“That’s right, you won’t worry about a thing even again, Harry.” Euphemia says fondly, resting her head on Fleamont’s shoulder. “It’s yours to use now.” 

Harry’s image followed Hagrid cautiously, eyes wide as he took in the bustling bank. Tiny creatures scurried across polished floors, whispering to one another and tapping away at ledgers. 

“Uh, Hagrid, what exactly are these things?” Harry asked, nodding toward the goblins behind the counters. 

“They’re goblins, Harry.” Hagrid explained, keeping a protective hand on his shoulder. “Clever as they come, but not the friendliest of beasts. Bes’ stay close.” 

Harry clung to Hagrid as they approached a counter, where a goblin wearing spectacles and a waistcoat peered over the edge. 

“Mr. Harry Potter wishes to make a withdrawal.” Hagrid said, setting Harry’s words in motion. 

The goblin looked up sharply. “And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?” He asked. 

Hagrid fumbled in his pockets. “Oh, wait a minute. Got it here somewhere. Ha! There’s the little devil.” He leaned closer, whispering to Harry. “Oh, and there’s something else as well.”

From his coat, he pulled a letter tied with string and handed it to the goblin. “Professor Dumbledore gave me this. It’s about You-Know-What in vault You-Know-Which.” 

At this, Dumbledore inclined his head to the projection, paying close attention to what Hagrid said. “Interesting…” 

The goblin examined the letter carefully. “Very well.” He said finally, voice clipped and businesslike. 

Moments later, Harry found himself hurtling down long, shadowed caverns in a cart that seemed to float along unseen rails. The walls blurred past, echoes of their whooshing passage bouncing off the stone. The cart screeched to a stop, and a goblin clambered out, adjusting his spectacles. 

“Vault 687. Lamp, please.” Griphook said. Hagrid handed him a small lamp, and the goblin strode purposefully to the vault. 

“Key, please.” 

Hagrid produced it, and with precise movements, Griphook unlocked the heavy door. The room beyond glittered with coins piled almost to the ceiling. Harry’s jaw dropped. 

Hagrid chuckled, leaning close. “Didn’t think yer mum and dad’d leave you with nothing now, did yeh?” 

At this, murmurs of the students arose in awe of the piles of gold. 

“Hmph. The Black fortune continues to be the greatest one.” Walburga states in a very proud voice. 

“No one cares, dear mother.” Sirius shouts back, trying his best to ignore her presence. 

In Gringotts, the cart rumbled deeper into the caverns, the walls narrowing and shadows flickering across their faces. “Vault 713.” Griphook announced, stopping the cart once more. 

Harry’s curiosity bubbled over. “What’s in there, Hagrid?” 

Hagrid shook his head, a serious look settling over him. “Can’t tell yeh, Harry. Hogwarts business. Very secret.” 

Murmurs rise again around the Hall, with Dumbledore staring even more intently into the projection. 

Griphook’s long fingers traced the edge of the vault door. “Stand back.” 

With a faint hiss, the door swung open to reveal a small, shiny stone nestled inside a simple package, glowing faintly. Hagrid stepped forward carefully, lifting it into his hands. The eerie light vanished as soon as it left the vault. 

“Bes’ not to mention this to anyone, Harry.” Hagrid whispered, tucking the stone safely under his coat. Harry nodded solemnly, feeling the weight of the secret settle in his chest. 

“Weird…” Evan murmurs quietly to Barty, as they observe the stone. “Have you seen something like that before, Regulus?” 

“No.” He responded, also murmuring quietly, with a guarded expression. “But the name that appeared in the beginning involved a Philosopher's stone. It may be it.” 

“You’re so smart, really.” Barty nodded, while Regulus huffed and rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even remember that title anymore.”  

The bustling streets of Diagon Alley swirled around Harry and Hagrid, wizards and witches moving from shop to shop, owls hooting in cages above, and the smell of magical confections drifting from nearby stalls. Harry clutched his list, ticking off what he had managed to buy so far. 

“I still need… A wand.” He said, glancing around eagerly. 

Hagrid nodded, pointing to a narrow, old fashioned shop tucked between two taller buildings. “A wand? Well, yeh’ll want Ollivanders. There ain’t no place better. Why don’t you run along there and wait? I just got one more thing I’ve got to do. Won’t be long.” 

“Wait, what?” James says loudly, with a confused expression. “You’ll leave him alone to get his first wand?! Hagrid!” 

“Yeah mate, that’s not very cool.” Sirius agreed. 

“Uh… Well, yes. I apologize for… the future me.” Hagrid nodded along, still kind of confused about the timeline of events, seeing as he was doing a lot of things that never happened still. 

The shop was dim and quiet, filled with the faint scent of polished wood and a hint of magic in the air. Shelves stretched high, crammed with narrow boxes, each holding a wand of some kind. Harry stepped inside cautiously, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. 

“Hello? Hello?” He whispered, his voice trembling slightly. 

“So cute!” Another whisper of a hufflepuff. 

From somewhere in the back of the shop, a soft creak announced movement. A man appeared on a ladder, peering down at Harry with sharp, curious eyes. Then a small smile spread across his face. 

“I wondered when I’d be seeing you, Mr. Potter.” The man said, his voice calm but carrying a quiet excitement. “It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands.” 

“He remembers every single wand he sells, doesn’t he?” Remus mutters to himself. 

Ollivander reached for a wand on a nearby shelf, lifting it carefully. “Ah. Here we are.” 

“At least we're able to see these moments, right?” Lily’s voice sounded soft and warm. “We weren’t there so… that’s the closest thing.” 

“True.” James replied, even if still feeling gloomy. 

James understood Lily’s words, but still, he was already so emotionally attached to the boy and he didn’t even know his future self had a son until recently. He can’t imagine how much his future self loved Harry. And to know that he couldn’t be there for the majority of his life was… torturous. 

On the projection, Harry held the wand carefully in his hand, unsure what to do. 

“Well, give it a wave.” Ollivander prompted, his eyes glinting with amusement. 

Hesitant, Harry lifted the wand and waved it just once. Instantly, a cascade of boxes flew off the shelves, crashing loudly onto the floor. Harry jumped back, eyes wide, and hurriedly set the wand down on the counter. 

“Apparently not.” Ollivander murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

“Happens, pup.” Sirius said as he propped a foot up the table. “I had to test five until I found the right one.” 

“Always being a disappointment, of course.” Walburga’s voice echoed through the crowd. “Thought you’d be a squib.” 

At this point, Sirius gave up on discussing with his mother. 

Ollivander carefully pulled another wand from a box. “Perhaps this.” he said, handing it to Harry. 

Harry hesitated, then gave it a tentative wave at a nearby vase. The vase shattered instantly, startling him. 

“No, no, definitely not! No matter.” Ollivander murmured, retrieving another wand and pausing thoughtfully. 

“I wonder…” He mused, then handed the wand to Harry. 

The moment Harry touched it, a warm glow spread over him, lifting his hair and scattering several papers in the background. He looked stunned, staring at the wand, lost in thought. 

“There you go!” James cheered. 

“Curious. Very curious.” Ollivander whispered, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. 

“Sorry, but what’s curious?” Harry frowned, tilting his head. 

Ollivander adjusted his spectacles, examining the wand he had just given Harry. 

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather, just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.” He gently pointed to the lightning shaped mark on Harry’s forehead. 

“You know… I was wondering about that.” James says, frowning. “That scar doesn’t look like a simple accident.” 

“Someone did it to him.” Euphemia continued, serious. “I wonder who.” 

“And who owned that wand?” Harry asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

Ollivander’s expression darkened slightly. “We do not speak his name. The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It’s not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great.” 

Gasps. 

“What?” Students start to whisper. 

“He means…” Ravenclaws start to theorize while the professors share a troubled look. 

“You-Know-Who is still alive in the future?” Dorcas questions, looking more pale. 

A soft tap at the window caught Harry’s attention. He turned just in time to see Hagrid grinning from the other side, holding a cage with a snowy owl inside. “Harry! Harry! Happy birthday!” Hagrid called, his voice full of excitement. The owl hooted once, looking straight at Harry. 

Harry’s eyes went wide, a smile spreading across his face. “Wow.” He breathed, completely enchanted. 

“Awwn!” Some girls cooed at the snowy pet. 

“Yer see! Future me is kind too.” Hagrid nods rapidly as he approves of the scene. 

But just as the moment was getting happier and softer, the scene changed. 

The two sat at a long wooden table in the Leaky Cauldron, the steam from their soup curling into the air. The usual chatter of the pub seemed muted, and Harry poked at his food without really tasting it. Hagrid frowned, noticing the silence and the faraway look in Harry’s eyes. 

“You all right, Harry? You seem very quiet.” He asked gently, leaning a bit closer. 

Harry’s fork paused midair. His voice was low, trembling slightly as he finally spoke. “He killed my parents, didn’t he? The one who gave me this… You know, Hagrid. I know you do.” 

“Oh no.” Euphemia clutched Fleamont’s hand as her eyes started to water. Monty raised an arm around her and comforted her the best he could. 

Hagrid pushed his bowl aside with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. “First, and understand this, Harry, ’cause it’s very important.” He began, voice low and steady. “Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad. A few years ago, there was one wizard who went as bad as you can go. And his name was V– his name was V–…” 

Harry, blinking up at him, suggested quietly. “Maybe if you wrote it down?” 

Hagrid shook his head, his expression grim. “No, I can’t spell it. All right… (he whispered) Voldemort.” 

Shocked gasps all around the Hall could be heard. 

“He said it!” A Slythering grinned. 

“Voldemort?” Harry’s eyes went wide, his voice barely a whisper.  

“Shhh!” A lot of students, and even professors, shushed him. 

Hagrid held up a finger quickly, his own voice urgent and low. “Shh!!” 

Harry’s eyes darted around, heart hammering, as he made sure no one else had heard the name. 

Hagrid’s voice softened, almost mournful, as he continued. “It was dark times, Harry, dark times.” 

The memory seemed to unfurl before them, a shadowed vision of Godric’s Hollow that only Hagrid could show. A cloaked figure moved silently through the night, breaking into a quiet home with a flick of his wand. Hagrid’s narration painted every cruel stroke. “Voldemort started to gather some followers, brought ’em over to the dark side. Anyone that stood up to him ended up dead. Your parents fought against him, but nobody lived once he decided to kill ’em.” 

“I’m going to be sick.” James whispered, with face getting paler and paler by the second. 

A scream pierced the vision. Lily’s, full of pain, and green flashes cut across the night. Hagrid’s voice trembled as he recounted the moment of horror. “Nobody, not one. ’Cept you.” 

“That was me.” Lily choked a half sob, quickly getting hugged by Marlene. “That was me. Dying.” 

“He survived a killing curse?” Dumbledore’s impressed voice ringed around the Hall. “Interesting.” 

“That’s why he has the scar, then.” Sirius whispered faintly. 

The vision faded, leaving Harry blinking in the quiet of the Leaky Cauldron. He pressed a hand to his forehead, still aching with the memory of green light. 

“Me? Voldemort tried to kill me?” He asked, voice trembling, disbelief and fear mingling. 

Hagrid leaned closer, his large hand resting gently on Harry’s shoulder. “Yes. That ain’t no ordinary cut on your forehead, Harry. A mark like that only comes from being touched by a curse, and an evil curse at that.” 

Harry’s eyes widened, the weight of the truth settling in as Hagrid’s words sank like stones. “What happened to V, to You-Know-Who?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

Everyone in the Hall seemed to hold their breaths, this was the moment of truth. 

Hagrid shook his head, his expression grim yet tinged with wonder. “Well, some say he died. In my opinion? Nope, I reckon he’s out there still, too tired to carry on. But one thing’s absolutely certain… something about you stumped him that night. That’s why yer famous. That’s why everybody knows yer name. You’re the boy who lived.”

Chapter Text

Harry and Hagrid climbed the crossing bridge at King’s Cross, Harry struggling slightly with the cart piled high with his trunks, cauldron, Hedwig’s cage, and every piece of school equipment. The bustling crowd paid little attention, except for a curious couple who gave Hagrid a wary glance, their brows raised at the towering figure beside Harry. 

Harry adjusted the strap of Hedwig’s cage, trying to ignore the stares, but couldn’t help sneaking a glance at a couple as he followed Hagrid through the station. 

“Blimey, is that the time?” Hagrid straightened, looking suddenly flustered. “Sorry, Harry, I’m gonna have to leave you. Dumbledore will be wanting his, uh– well, he’ll be wanting to see me.” 

Harry blinked, panic flickering in his chest. Hagrid was already reaching into his coat. 

“Now, uh, your train leaves in ten minutes. Here’s your ticket.” He handed Harry a slightly crumpled slip of parchment. “Stick to it, Harry, that’s very important. Stick to your ticket.” 

“Leaving the kid alone again, Hagrid…” This time it was Fleamont who accused the half giant, with a frown on his forehead. 

“Uhm well…” Hagrid murmured, feeling a little embarrassed by the callout. 

Harry turned the ticket over in his hands, squinting at the elegant handwriting as if the numbers might rearrange themselves into something that made sense. 

“Platform nine and three-quarters?” He muttered aloud, brow furrowing. “But… Hagrid, there must be a mistake. This says Platform nine and three-quarters. There’s no such thing, is there?” 

He looked up from the parchment, searching for the large, familiar shape of Hagrid somewhere in the crowd. But the giant man was gone. 

“Oh, he didn’t explained it to him.” Sirius dragged a hand down his face. 

Harry maneuvered his trolley carefully down the narrow lane between two trains, the wheels clattering unevenly against the platform tiles. Steam hissed from a nearby engine, curling around his ankles. 

A man brushed past him in a hurry, muttering, “sorry,” over his shoulder before vanishing into the crowd. 

Harry clutched his ticket a little tighter and spotted a station guard standing near a pillar. Gathering his courage, he hurried over, weaving through the crowd. 

“Excuse me– excuse me.” He called, trying to be heard over the roar of the trains. 

“He’s always so kind and polite.” Euphemia coos at the tiny boy. “So gentle.” 

The guard was busy helping a woman with her luggage when Harry approached, ticket clutched nervously in his hand. 

“Right on your left, madam.” The guard said briskly before turning to Harry. 

“Excuse me, sir.” Harry began, trying to sound polite despite the confusion rising in his chest. “Can you tell me where I might find Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?” 

“Mini prongs, this muggle will think you’re crazy.” Sirius tutted quietly. 

The guard blinked, staring at him as if he’d spoken nonsense. “Nine and three-quarters?” He repeated, eyebrows lifting. “Think you’re being funny, do ya?” 

Without waiting for an answer, the man shook his head and walked off, muttering under his breath. “Nine and three-quarters… Kids these days.” 

“Told you.” Sirius said, sighing. 

Harry stood there, unsure of where to go next, when a warm, bustling voice drifted through the crowd. 

A plump woman with kind eyes and bright red hair strode past, pushing a cart piled high with trunks. Beside her trailed a girl and four boys, each with the same shock of flaming hair and an air of lively chaos. 

“It’s the same year after year.” The woman sighed fondly. “Always packed with Muggles, of course.” 

“That’s definitely the Weasleys spawns.” Snape’s voice retorted.  

“Could this be… Molly?” Euphemia whispered, interested. 

“Filthy blood traitors, that’s what they are.” Walburga shrieked. 

In the projection, Harry blinked, catching on the unfamiliar word. “Muggles?” He repeated quietly, curiosity tugging at his voice as he fell into step just behind them. 

Harry’s eyes widened as the red-haired family stopped between Platforms 9 and 10. The mother, who had the same patient energy as someone used to managing chaos, waved one of her sons forward. 

“Come on. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, this way! All right, Percy, you first.” 

The tall boy nodded and broke into a run straight toward the solid brick wall, and vanished. Completely. Not a trace left. 

Harry froze where he stood, his mouth slightly open. Magic. Real, impossible, dazzling magic. 

“Fred, you next.” The woman instructed. 

One of the identical twins puffed his chest out, smirking. “He’s not Fred, I am!” The other chimed in immediately. 

“Honestly, woman.” Fred added with mock offense. “You call yourself our mother.” 

“They look exactly like Fabian and Gideon.” James exclaimed, impressed. “This is so weird.” 

“Oh, that’s brilliant. She actually had twins. We live on!” Fabian laughs by the back of the Great Hall, loving the chaos. 

“Yeah, and look at them! Causing trouble, mocking everyone… she’s probably tearing her hair out, poor thing.” Gideon completes, looking smug.  

Sirius grins wildly at their voices. “Cheers to chaos through the generations, yeah?” 

Mrs. Weasley gasped softly, flustered. “Oh, I’m sorry, George.” 

The twins only grinned wider at each other, their mischief nearly identical. 

“I’m only joking.” One said, his eyes bright with laughter. “I am Fred.” 

“See!” Fabian shouts, excited. “That’s what we’re talking about!” 

Before Harry could even blink, Fred took off at a run and disappeared cleanly into the wall, followed an instant later by his brother. 

Harry fumbled with his scarf, eyes wide and voice barely steady. “Excuse me! C-could you tell me how to…?” 

Molly Weasley smiled warmly, her hands busy straightening a stray strand of her daughter’s hair. “How to get on the platform? Yes, not to worry, dear. It’s Ron’s first time to Hogwarts as well.” 

The image, or rather, Harry’s eyes, panned to a red-haired boy, Ron, grinning nervously beside her. “Now, all you’ve got to do is walk straight at the wall between platforms 9 and 10. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous.” 

A tiny red-haired girl piped up with a cheerful wave. “Good luck!” 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Harry sprinted toward the barrier. His eyes squeezed shut and the solid brick seemed to melt around him. When he opened them again, he was met with a breathtaking sight. A bustling, magical station brimming with wizards and witches, students and trunks, and the gleaming red steam locomotive of the Hogwarts Express hissing and whistling. A grin spread across Harry’s face as the train’s whistle pierced the crisp morning air, announcing the start of something extraordinary. 

“The first time seeing the train…” James smiles softly. “It’s unforgettable.” 

Later on, the Hogwarts Express was traveling through the countryside. Harry was sitting alone in a train compartment when Ron appeared in the doorway. 

“Excuse me, do you mind? Everywhere else is full.” 

“Oh my, first friend?” Lily’s hopeful voice sounds sweet with warmth. 

Harry smiled. “Not at all.” He said. 

The red-haired boy slid the door shut and settled across from him. “I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.” 

Harry nodded. “I’m Harry. Harry Potter.” 

Ron’s eyes went wide, jaw practically dropping. “So– so it’s true! I mean, do you really have the… the–?” 

Harry blinked, confused. “The what?” 

Ron leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “The scar?” 

A few students laughed around the Hall, grinning at the young boys. 

Harry lifted his bangs, revealing the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. 

Ron’s eyes lit up. “Wicked!” 

Just then, a trolley rattled past the compartment, laden with every kind of sweet imaginable. “Anything off the trolley, dears?” Called a cheerful woman. 

Ron waved his half-eaten sandwiches. “No, thanks. I’m all set.” He smacked his lips. 

Harry’s eyes gleamed as he pulled out coins. “We’ll take the lot!” 

Ron’s jaw dropped. “Whoa!” 

“Okay, okay, now that’s showing off!” James laughed warmly as Lily shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. 

“No, no! That’s perfect! Bribing people into being your friends is the best approach, Prongs.” Sirius crossed his arms while nodding with a serious expression on his face, trying to keep a laugh locked in. 

Harry and Ron lounged in the compartment, munching through piles of sweets. Ron’s rat, Scabbers, perched lazily on his knee, a small box tipped over his head like a hat. 

“Huh. That kinda looks like you, Pete.” James said, with humor. 

“Very funny, Prongs.” Peter responded, rolling his eyes. 

“Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“They mean every flavor!” Ron explained eagerly. “There’s chocolate and peppermint, and there’s also spinach, liver, and tripe. George swore he got a bogey-flavoured one once!” 

Harry yelped, quickly spitting out the bean he’d been chewing.  

Picking up a shiny blue and gold package, he eyed it warily. “These aren’t real frogs, are they?”

“Kid’s wonder is always so sweet.” Euphemia sighed softly. “I remember when you were just this tiny, James. You were just as adorable.”  

“Hmm yes.” Fleamont added, a far away look in his eyes. “He asked so many questions, couldn’t stop still.” 

In the projection, Ron leaned back, grinning as he watched Harry fumble with the chocolate frog. “It’s just a spell. Besides, it’s the cards you want. Each pack’s got a famous witch or wizard. I’ve got about 500 myself.” 

Harry carefully opened the package, and the frog sprang onto the window sill, scrambling up the frame. “Watch it!” Ron warned. The frog leapt through the open gap in the window. “Oh, that’s rotten luck. They’ve only got one good jump in them to begin with.” 

Harry stared at the card that had popped out. “I’ve got Dumbledore!” 

Ron shrugged. “I’ve got about six of him.” 

Harry blinked, and when he looked again, Dumbledore’s image had vanished. “Hey, he’s gone!” 

“Well.” Ron said, tossing a glance at Scabbers, who let out a pitiful squeak. “You can’t expect him to hang around all day, can you? This is Scabbers, by the way. Pathetic, isn’t he?” 

“Kid’s honesty is also something, isn’t it?” Sirius snorted loudly, loving the scenes. 

Harry watched curiously as Ron fiddled with Scabbers. “Just a little bit.” He admitted. 

Ron grinned. “Fred gave me a spell to turn him yellow. Want to see?” 

“Yeah!” Harry said eagerly. 

Ron cleared his throat, trying to look serious. “Ahem. Sun–” 

The compartment door creaked open, and a girl with bushy brown hair stepped in, peering around with an anxious expression. 

“Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.” She asked, scanning the compartment. 

“No.” Ron replied quickly, shaking his head. 

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see then.” She added, eyes bright with curiosity, leaning a little closer to watch. 

“Uh oh, now he’s gonna have to do something good.” Sirius said, smiling. “She seems bossy.” 

Ron cleared his throat again, pointing his wand at Scabbers. “Sunshine, daises, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!” He chanted. 

He flicked the wand, but the rat didn’t budge. Ron just shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. 

“That’s definitely not a spell.” Barty laughed. 

“You see, that’s what happens when you mix with muggles.” Walburga started again. “Your kids turn into incompetents!” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Are you sure that’s a real spell? Well, it’s not very good, is it? Of course, I’ve only tried a few simple ones myself, but they’ve all worked for me.” 

With that, she pulled out her wand, walking across the compartment and sitting down opposite Harry. She pointed the tip carefully at his glasses, and Harry tensed. 

“Oculus Reparo.” 

The tape on his noseband vanished, and the glasses snapped back into perfect shape. Harry blinked, amazed. 

“Okay, she’s the Moony of the group.” Sirius joked, teasing Remus. “The brain!” 

“You’re so silly.” Remus whispered back, fond. 

“That’s better, isn’t it? Holy cricket, you’re Harry Potter! I’m Hermione Granger. And you are…?” 

Ron, his mouth still full of sweets, mumbled. “I’m Ron Weasley.” 

Hermione smiled faintly, shaking her head. “Pleasure. You two better change into your robes. I expect we’ll be arriving soon.” 

She got up and moved toward the door, then paused and turned back, squinting at Ron. “Oh, and you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know? Just there.” She pointed at the smudge. 

Ron scratched at his nose, cheeks heating in embarrassment, muttering something about how he didn’t even notice. 

“Oh, this is going to be so good.” James mutters with an excited gleam in his eyes. 

Night had fallen over Hogsmeade Station, and the Hogwarts Express let out a long, echoing whistle as it pulled to a stop. Lanterns glimmered along the platform, and the train doors opened, spilling students in their robes onto the cobblestones. 

Hagrid’s booming voice rang out, carrying above the chatter and excitement. “Right, then! First years! This way, please! Come on, now, don’t be shy! Come on now, hurry up!” 

The younger students shuffled along, some wide eyed with wonder, some clinging nervously to their new robes or trunks, following Hagrid’s enthusiastic lead. 

Harry and Ron, now dressed in their black robes, hurried along the platform to catch up with Hagrid. The excitement in the air made every step feel lighter, though Ron couldn’t hide his amazement. 

“Harry looks so cute in the uniform.” Lily smiles. 

“Hello, Harry.” Hagrid grinned at them. 

“Hey, Hagrid.” Harry replied, trying to match the giant’s cheerful tone. 

“Whoaa!” Ron whispered, eyes wide as he took in the scene around them. 

“Right then. This way to the boats! Come on, now, follow me.” Hagrid called, striding ahead with his usual confident energy, and the boys fell into step behind him. 

The first years climbed into the small black boats, each guided by an older student or Hagrid himself. As they pushed off, the cool night air brushed against their faces and the lake shimmered beneath the moonlight. Up ahead, rising majestically from the water’s edge, the towering spires and turrets of Hogwarts Castle came into view, illuminated and magical against the night sky. 

Ron let out a low whistle, his eyes wide with awe. “Wicked.” 

“Their awe is invigorating, isn’t it?” Remus mutters, reflecting. “We’re here everyday without even noticing the beauties in it anymore.” 

“I’m noticing beauties well enough, Moony.” Sirius replies, biting his lip in a humorous way. 

“Don’t even start this, you two.” James begs, reprimanding them. “The whole Great Hall doesn’t need to hear it.” 

Sirius makes a face to James, as Remus laughs lightly. 

In the projection, the first year students stepped cautiously into the castle, the flickering torches casting warm glows along the ancient stone walls. Their footsteps echoed softly as they climbed the winding staircase, eyes darting around in awe at the vast corridors and enchanted ceilings above. 

On a higher level, Professor McGonagall waited, her fingers tapping lightly on the stone railing. She descended gracefully to the top of the stairs, her gaze sweeping across the nervous, excited faces below. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” She said, her voice firm but kind. “Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now, while you’re here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup.” 

“Looking good, Minnie.” Sirius doesn’t lose the chance of making the comment. 

Neville’s eyes widened as he spotted his toad hopping nervously near Professor McGonagall. With a small cry of relief, he lunged forward. “Trevor!” He shouted, scooping the toad up into his hands. 

A few students giggled at the sight, while McGonagall fixed him with a stern stare. 

“Sorry.” Neville muttered quickly, shrinking back, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he clutched Trevor tightly. 

Professor McGonagall’s voice echoed through the corridors as she announced, “The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily.” She turned and swept gracefully toward the Great Hall, leaving the first-years murmuring among themselves. 

“I’m so excited for the sorting!” James says, practically jumping from his seat. “Gryffindor, please.”  

From the back of the group, a pale boy with slick, platinum blonde hair spoke up, his tone sharp and confident. 

“Oh no. That’s definitely a Malfoy.” Sirius murmurs, crossing his arms. 

The boy’s pale eyes gleamed as he leaned slightly forward, his voice carrying just enough for the nearby students to hear. “It’s true then, what they’re saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” 

Whispers spread instantly through the crowd– “Harry Potter?” –as Draco’s attention shifted to the two bulky boys flanking him. 

“This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” 

Ron snickered under his breath, which did not go unnoticed. Draco’s expression sharpened. 

“Think my name’s funny, do you? I’ve no need to ask yours. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley. You’ll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” 

“Damn.” A student whispers. 

“That’s a real heir. Learn, insolent childs.” Walburga seems pleased by the Malfoy boy’s discourse. 

In the images, Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw firm as he met Draco’s outstretched hand. “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.” 

James nudges Sirius, smirking. “Did you see that? That’s… that’s my boy! Not a single ounce of fear.” 

The Hall buzzes with whispered commentary for a solid few minutes, some sneaky giggles, and a lot of stunned admiration. 

“He’s a Potter alright.” Severus says, looking bitter. “No manners.” 

Draco’s glare lingered on Harry as he reluctantly stepped aside, the paper in McGonagall’s hand momentarily catching the flickering torchlight. He shot Harry one last look, sharp, cold, and full of warning, before moving off with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind. 

McGonagall’s voice cut through the tension, calm and commanding. “We’re ready for you now. Follow me.” 

“I’m curious about the sorting.” Peters’s voice shakes with energy, eager to know which house Harry will be joining.  

In the projection, the massive doors swung open, revealing the Great Hall in all its splendor. Four long tables stretched before them, brimming with students, while thousands of floating candles cast a warm, flickering glow across the room. Above, the enchanted ceiling mirrored the night sky, stars twinkling as though the heavens themselves were watching. 

Hermione’s eyes widened with awe, but she quickly turned to Harry and Ron, whispering earnestly. “It’s not real, the ceiling. It’s just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.” 

“Ugh, a know-it-all…” A Slythering boy rolled his eyes. 

The first years shuffled nervously to the front, their eyes widening as they spotted the old, patched Sorting Hat perched atop a worn stool. The room hushed as Professor McGonagall guided them into a line. 

“All right, will you wait along here, please? Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.” She announced, her voice steady but kind. 

All heads turned as Dumbledore rose from the main table, his half-moon spectacles catching the candlelight. His eyes twinkled as he addressed the students. 

“Curious to see myself in the future.” In the Great Hall, Dumbledore commented on it, wearing a worried face. 

“I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce.” He began, his tone gentle but commanding attention. “The first years, please note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch.” He said, gesturing toward a ragged old man with a watchful, scowling cat by his side. “Has asked me to remind you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you.” 

“Interesting.” Dumbledore said, while watching his future self giving a speech. 

“Why would he say it like that?” Evan questioned, serious. “That’s suspicious.” 

The first years stiffened as McGonagall’s calm, commanding voice rang out. “When I call your name, you will come forth. I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses.” 

“Hermione Granger.” She announced. 

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she muttered under her breath. “Oh, no. Okay, relax.” She straightened her robes, took a deep breath, and stepped forward, her hands slightly trembling but her chin held high.  

From the back of the line, Ron leaned toward Harry, whispering with a mix of awe and exasperation. “Mental, that one, I’m telling you.” 

“Yeah mate, I know just the type.” Sirius nodded along, glancing rapidly at Remus. 

Harry nodded, watching closely as Hermione stepped onto the stool. McGonagall carefully lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head, and the enchanted voice filled her mind. 

“Ah, right then, hmm, right… okay.” the Sorting Hat murmured thoughtfully. “Gryffindor!” 

The hat lifted, and Hermione’s face lit up with delight. She jumped off the stool, a wide smile spreading across her face, as the first-years and upper years alike erupted into cheers and applause. 

In parallel, the current Great Hall also burst out with cheers from the Gryffindors. A new member of the house would always be cheered on. 

Draco strutted forward with all the confidence he could muster, chin high and robes flowing, as McGonagall called his name. The Sorting Hat hovered nervously for a moment before settling onto his head, its brim brushing down over his eyes. 

“Ah… ambitious, cunning… clever.” The Sorting Hat whispered, its voice curling in his mind. “Yes… Slytherin!” 

“Obviously.” Peter snorted. “The hat barely touched his head.” 

Ron shook his head, still staring at the Slytherin table where Draco now sat, a smug expression on his face. “There isn’t a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.” He muttered, his voice low but sharp with conviction. 

“What?!” A Slythering student shouted. 

“Uh… not a very nice comment.” James muttered, frowning at it. 

“That’s definitely not true.” Lily defended them. “Look at Severus, as you can see.” 

Sirius cracked loudly. 

In the projection, Susan Bones, a small redhead, stepped forward nervously as McGonagall called her name. She moved to the Sorting Hat, trying to stand tall despite the sea of curious eyes watching her. 

Harry’s attention flicked around the Great Hall, and his gaze landed on a pale, black-haired man leaning slightly forward, Severus Snape. Those dark eyes bore into him with an unsettling intensity. 

Gasps. 

“Speaking of the devil.” Remus said, shaking his head. 

“No way!” Students whispered with shocked expressions. 

“He’s a professor?!” Sirius shrikes, looking incredulous at the images. “He’s going to be Harry’s professor?!!!?” 

“Oh, hell nah.” James covers his mouth with a hand, looking fixed to an older Severus Snape in the projection. 

“That’s…” Severus murmurs, very confused and just as shocked as everyone. 

On the projection, a sharp pain shot through Harry’s forehead, making him wince. “Ahh!” He muttered, clutching the lightning shaped scar, feeling the old, familiar burn that made him flinch involuntarily. 

Ron’s eyes widened as he noticed Harry clutching his forehead, concern written all over his freckled face. “Harry, what is it?” He asked, leaning closer. 

Harry shook his head quickly, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Nothing, I’m fine.” He said, though the ache in his scar lingered. 

The Sorting Hat chuckled faintly. “Let’s see… I know! Hufflepuff!” 

Meanwhile, McGonagall called. “Ronald Weasley.” 

Ron gulped audibly, trying to steady his nerves as he made his way to the stool. He sat down, and the Sorting Hat was gently lowered onto his head. 

“Ha! Another Weasley.” The hat murmured in Ron’s mind. “I know just what to do with you… Gryffindor!” 

McGonagall’s voice rang out clearly. “Harry Potter.” 

The Great Hall fell into a hushed silence, the only sound the soft shuffle of robes and the faint crackle of floating candles. Students leaned forward, craning their necks to watch. 

Harry reached the stool and sat down, the wood cold beneath him. The Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head, plunging him into darkness and an overwhelming rush of thoughts. 

“Now’s the time.” James cheered excitedly. “Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor…” 

The Sorting Hat’s voice started, strong and steady. “Ah, I see. Ambition as well, yes… a thirst for greatness. You could do well in Slytherin, yes, very well. But your heart… your heart is full of another sort of fire.” 

Harry pressed his hands against the sides of the stool, whispering desperately. “Not Slytherin, not Slytherin!” 

“Ah… strong feelings, very strong. I see your courage, yes… and your loyalty… yes, loyalty pulls you elsewhere. You could be brave, daring, clever even, but you want more than cunning. You want… goodness, friendship, a place where your heart belongs.” 

Harry clenched his fists. “Please… not Slytherin… anything but Slytherin…” He whispered, his voice tight with hope and fear. 

The Sorting Hat hummed thoughtfully, feeling the tug of his will, the pull of his desire. It considered the pull of power versus the pull of heart, ambition versus belonging. 

“I’m going to die with so much tension." Sirius said, biting his lip. 

“Well, if you’re sure… better be… GRYFFINDOR!” 

The Great Hall cheered. 

“Yes! That’s our boy!” James yelled, nearly tipping over. “Welcome to the madhouse!” 

Sirius leaned over, grinning so wide it was almost mischievous. “I knew it.” He said. “Someone with sense, and a little bit of trouble, on our side.” 

The Marauders’ table buzzed with a kind of chaotic pride. Harry had joined Gryffindor, and somehow, already, it felt like he’d joined them too. 

On the projection, the Great Hall exploded with cheering as Harry made his way to the Gryffindor table, his heart pounding from the Sorting Hat’s final shout. Fred and George couldn’t contain themselves, high-fiving and hollering. “We got Potter! We got Potter!” 

Harry slid into his seat, still grinning from ear to ear. His eyes caught Dumbledore’s across the hall, and the headmaster lifted his goblet with a small, knowing wave, as if silently congratulating him. 

Then came a sharp ding, ding. Professor McGonagall tapping gently on her goblet. The noise settled into a hush almost instantly. 

“Your attention, please.” She said, her voice crisp but not unkind. 

At the head table, Dumbledore rose to his feet, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. “Let the feast… begin.”

Chapter Text

The Great Hall shimmered with candlelight and movement, a sea of robes and gleaming plates stretching from wall to wall. In an instant, the empty dishes filled themselves with roasted meats, heaping piles of potatoes, glistening vegetables, and glimmering golden gravies. Gasps and laughter rippled through the room like a wave of wonder. 

“Wow.” Harry breathed, staring at the feast before him, his eyes wide with disbelief. 

Across the hall, Draco arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by the spectacle but already reaching for a plate, serving himself with practiced ease. Ron, meanwhile, had wasted no time. Cheeks puffed out, mouth full, and a grin spreading ear to ear as he stuffed another handful of food between bites. 

“This is so cute, look at them.” James whispers with a soft smile on his lips. “I remember how amazing everything felt on our first day.” 

“Yeah. I felt… Free. For the first time.” Sirius whispered emotionally, a grin starting to slowly creep in his lips. 

James started to feel a strange warmth while seeing Harry on the magic projection. One he had never felt before, not like this. The news that this was his son was finally settling inside of him, and he couldn’t help but wish only the best for his boy. Even if everything felt so far removed from his own reality. Harry was James’ son, and James would own that. Proudly. 

“I’m half and half.” Seamus leaned forward eagerly, a grin spreading across his freckled face as he spoke over the clatter of dishes. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mam’s a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out.” 

Neville burst into a nervous laugh beside him, nearly spilling his pumpkin juice. The chatter around them swelled again, warm and buzzing with excitement. Harry, seated next to Percy, leaned over slightly, curiosity flickering in his green eyes as he listened in. Harry glanced toward the staff table, where the professors sat bathed in the flickering light of a hundred floating candles. He nudged Percy lightly, nodding toward a pale man with greasy black hair who was speaking quietly to the nervous looking Professor Quirrell. 

“Say, Percy.” Harry asked. “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” 

Percy followed his gaze and straightened slightly, his tone taking on that air of practiced authority he so often wore. “Oh, that’s Professor Snape.” He said. “Head of Slytherin House.” 

“Merlin, Snape as Head of House to Slytherin…” Peter’s face was twisted in nausea. 

“What’s he teach?” Harry kept watching the two professors, curiosity flickering in his eyes. 

“Potions.” Percy replied, lowering his voice just a touch. “But everyone knows it’s the Dark Arts he fancies. He’s been after Quirrell’s job for years.” 

“Potions, of course.” Sirius murmured, grumpy. 

Ron, who had just polished off a chicken wing, reached casually into the bowl when, suddenly, a ghost burst up through the platter. Ron yelped, nearly dropping his food. “Ahh!” 

“Ah! Classic Nearly Headless Nick.” Fleamont chuckled fondly. 

Nick floats closer, smiling brightly. “Hello! How are you? Welcome to Gryffindor!” 

Dozens of other ghosts drift through the walls, filling the Great Hall with soft, silvery laughter. “Whoo-hoo-hoo!” Howls the Bloody Baron as a few first years gasp. 

“Look, it’s the Bloody Baron!” A girl whispers. 

Percy greets politely. “Hello, Sir Nicholas. Have a nice summer?” 

Nick sighs dramatically. “Dismal. Once again, my request to join the Headless Hunt has been denied.” 

As he starts to glide away, Ron blurts. “I know you! You’re Nearly Headless Nick!” 

“I prefer Sir Nicholas, if you don’t mind.” The ghost corrects, straightening his ruffled collar. 

Hermione frowns in curiosity. “‘Nearly’ headless? How can you be nearly headless?” 

“Huh. Is he going to show them?” Sirius mumbles softly, with a pensive face. “He did when I asked.” 

Nick gives a dramatic little bow. “Like this.” 

He takes hold of his own head and pulls it sharply to the side. It flops over, hanging by a thin, ghostly thread of sinew. 

“Ahh!” Ron yelps, jumping back in horror. 

“Oh yes, he did.” Sirius chuckles. 

Hermione groans, wrinkling her nose in disgust, while Harry just sighs and rolls his eyes at the spectacle. With a satisfied little hum, Nick snaps his head neatly back into place and floats away as if nothing had happened. 

“Gryffindors, follow me, please. Keep up. Thank you.” Percy calls over the crowd of chattering first years as they spill out of the Great Hall. 

Across the corridor, another student shouts. “Ravenclaws, follow me! This way!” 

Percy leads the Gryffindors through the torchlit hallways, his tone brisk and authoritative. “This is the most direct path to the dormitories.” He explains, turning a corner. “Oh, and keep an eye on the staircases. They like to change.” 

As he speaks, the view opens upward. An astonishing maze of staircases crisscrossing the vast space above them. Some glide smoothly into new positions while students step from one to another midair, as though the castle itself were alive and shifting. 

“I was so excited about the stairs, it looked fun.” Mary laughed softly. 

They start up the staircase, and the walls seem to come alive around them, portraits shifting, whispering, waving. A plump monk raises his goblet in greeting, a woman in a silken gown fans herself lazily as her frame swings open like a door and shuts again. 

Neville gasps, clutching the railing. “Seamus, that picture’s moving!” 

Ron laughs, pointing across the stairwell. “Look at that one, Harry!” 

Harry glances toward a portrait of a young lady who’s smiling rather coyly at Ron. “I think she fancies you.” He murmurs, amused. 

A short while later, the group reaches the seventh floor, breathless from climbing. The corridor narrows into a cozy stretch of stone wall, lined with torches and portraits that watch curiously as the first years pass. At the end stands a large painting of a plump woman in a pink silk gown, pearls glinting at her throat. 

The Fat Lady tilts her head, eyeing them with theatrical importance. “Password?” She demands. 

“Caput Draconis.” Percy replies clearly. 

Her expression softens into a satisfied smile, and with a gracious nod, the portrait swings open like a door, revealing a warm, circular room beyond the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. 

“Follow me, everyone.” Percy calls over his shoulder. “Keep up. Quickly, come on.” 

A girl near the back gasps, eyes wide as she peers into the cozy glow of the common room. “Oh, wow.” 

“Look at their faces.” Euphemia cheers as the kids take in the Gryffindor common room. 

“So this is what it looks like.” Evan says, while looking at the projection with intensity. “We’re totally invading it someday.” 

Percy stood just inside the warm, firelit common room, gesturing for the first years to gather around. “Gather around here. Welcome to the Gryffindor Common Room. Boys’ dormitory is upstairs and down to your left. Girls, the same on your right. You’ll find that your belongings have already been brought up.” 

The chatter of excited students echoed around the room as they explored the cozy space, fireplaces crackling, armchairs inviting, and the soft red and gold banners hanging proudly on the walls. 

Later, long after the room had quieted and the castle had settled into nighttime hush, Harry sat by a window in his pajamas. Hedwig perched contentedly nearby as he gently stroked her feathers, eyes tracing the dark silhouette of the grounds beyond. A soft sigh escaped him, full of wonder and contentment, as he realized just how much he would come to love life at Hogwarts. 

“I hope it’ll be your home as much as it is mine, Harry.” James whispers wetly as he sees his son staring longingly out the window James saw everyday in the dorm. In the beds that he shared with his best friends. 

The morning light filtered through the tall windows of Hogwarts as Harry and Ron sprinted down the stone corridors, skirts of their robes flapping behind them. Their breath came in quick pants as they dodged slower students and the occasional tapestry swinging gently above. 

Bursting into the Transfiguration classroom, the tabby cat sitting lazily on a desk barely stirred. Harry and Ron skidded to a stop, their faces flushed, while Hermione, already seated and neatly folded in her robes, shot them a sharp, exasperated look. 

Ron wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve and grinned. “Whew! Made it! Can you imagine the look on McGonagall’s face if we were late?” 

“Wait… isn’t that cat–?” Remus started, but was interrupted by the projection. 

The tabby cat arched its back, stretched, and in a shimmer of magic transformed before their eyes into Professor McGonagall, standing tall and severe at the front of the classroom. Harry and Ron’s jaws dropped, their amazement plain as they gawked at the sight. 

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, still wide eyed. 

McGonagall arched an eyebrow at him. “Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps it’d be more useful if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter and yourself into a pocketwatch. That way, one of you might be on time.” 

Harry held up his hands defensively. “We got lost.” 

Sirius snorted. 

“Well… Hogwarts really is a maze if you think about it.” Lily murmurs while stiffening a laugh. 

McGonagall’s gaze sharpened, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “Then perhaps a map? I trust you don’t need one to find your seats.” 

“Map?” James whispers to the other marauders, all four of them sharing mischievous looks. 

“I wonder what happens to it.” Remus whispers back. 

Later on, inside Snape's potions classroom, the students are chattering, sitting near steaming cauldrons. The door slams open and Snape comes rushing in. Snape swept in, robes billowing, eyes scanning the room with a sharp, calculating glare. Steam rose from the cauldrons, curling around the startled faces of the students, and an uneasy silence settled over the room. 

“Now THAT'S something I want to see.” Peter says, rather loudly, and some students start to laugh. 

“What’s about all of this dramatic entrance, though?” Sirius cracks up, mocking the movements Snape did with the cape.  

“Now, c'mon guys.” Lily reprehends the marauders, while looking excited to see Severus in his classroom. “I think he’ll be an amazing teacher, just you watch.”  

“I doubt it.” Regulus rolls his eyes. 

“There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few–” His gaze flicked to Draco, who sat smirking, emboldened. “–who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper–” Draco raised his eyebrows, leaning slightly forward, intrigued. “–in death.” 

Snape’s gaze sharpened, locking onto Harry as he scribbled notes furiously. “Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough, to not pay attention.” 

“Oh.” Lily whispers, still hanging onto her hope. 

“Oh please! Harry is just taking notes, he’s an eager learner!” James argues loudly, crossing his arms in irritation. 

Hermione nudged Harry sharply, forcing his eyes up from the notebook he had been scribbling in. The glare from Professor Snape cut across the room, zeroing in on Harry as he glided toward him, each step deliberate, the long cloak brushing the stone floor. 

“Mr. Potter. Our new celebrity.” Snape began, his voice cold and deliberate, filling the corners of the room with an edge of menace. “Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” 

Hermione’s hand shot up, but Harry could only shrug, feeling the weight of all eyes on him. Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know? Well, let’s try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?” 

“That’s not fair!” Sirius shouts, looking angry. 

“Sev… why would you do that?” Lily’s hope seems to be shattering little by little, she holds a frown in her forehead. 

“Ask Hermione the answer, though.” Fleamont comments quietly. “She has her hand raised.” 

“He called Harry a celebrity.” James’ face is reddening by the second. 

Harry swallowed, his throat tight, and forced out the words. “I… I don’t know, sir.” 

Snape’s dark eyes bore into him, unrelenting. “And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfbane?” 

Harry’s voice trembled slightly as he replied. “I… I don’t know, sir.” The room seemed to hold its breath, the hiss of bubbling cauldrons and the scratch of quills fading under the weight of Snape’s piercing gaze. 

“Snape I swear to Merlin.” James is fuming, bouncing his leg up and down. “If you continue to bully my child you’ll never become a professor, ever. I won’t allow it.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” Snape’s voice retorts. 

Snape’s cold voice cut through the murmur of the classroom. “Pity. Clearly, fame isn’t everything.” His gaze lingered on Harry, sharp and accusing, while Draco’s smirk grew, the boy relishing the tension. Harry met Snape’s stare, sensing the palpable dislike radiating from the professor. 

“Severus, this is really unlike you.” Lily shakes her head in disbelief, a look of deception is deep in her eyes. “He’s just a boy, why would you do this to him in front of his friends?”  

Midday sunlight spilled across the Great Hall, illuminating rows of students bent over their homework. Seamus, perched at his table, focused intently on a simple glass of water. 

“Eye of rabbit, harp string hum. Turn this water, into rum.” He chanted, peering into the cup and shaking his head in frustration. “Eye of rabbit, harp string hum…” 

Harry leaned toward Ron, curiosity piqued. “What’s Seamus trying to do to that glass of water?” 

Ron smirked. “Turn it into rum. He actually managed a weak tea yesterday, before–” He cut off abruptly as a sudden, mighty flash erupted from Seamus’s cup. The water exploded in a puff of smoke, leaving Seamus looking slightly charred and wide eyed. Laughter rippled across the hall, while Hermione frantically fanned the smoke away with her hand. 

Before anyone could react further, a sudden flurry of wings filled the air as a flock of owls swooped down from the rafters above. 

“Ah. Mail’s here!” Ron exclaimed, eyes wide as the owls began dropping letters and parcels across the tables. 

The owls swooped gracefully through the Great Hall, weaving between floating candles and chattering students, each dropping parcels and letters onto eager desks. Harry’s eyes scanned the flurry, but no owl seemed to have anything for him. 

Spotting the newspaper Ron had set aside, Harry leaned over. “Can I borrow this?” 

Ron glanced up from his own pile of letters and parcels and gave a quick nod. 

“Thanks.” Harry said, picking up the newspaper and settling in to read. 

“Where am I?” Sirius suddenly asks, troubled. “Or Remus? Or Pete? Where are we? Because I find it hard to believe that we would just leave Harry so alone like this. Not even a letter…” 

“I’ve been thinking about this too.” Remus' pensive look turns into a theorizing one. “It is very weird.” 

Neville carefully unwrapped his gift, revealing a clear glass ball encircled by a delicate gold banner. “Hey, look! Neville’s got a Remembrall!” Dean exclaimed, peering over curiously. 

Hermione leaned in, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ve read about those. When the smoke turns red–” The smoke inside the ball flared crimson, confirming her explanation. “It means you’ve forgotten something.” 

Neville frowned, holding the Remembrall tightly. “The only problem is, I can’t remember what I’ve forgotten.” 

Harry, distracted, pointed to a newspaper Ron had set down. “Hey, Ron! Somebody broke into Gringotts. Listen.” He read aloud: “‘Believed to be the work of dark witches or wizards unknown, Gringotts goblins, while acknowledging the breach, insist that nothing was taken. The vault in question, number 713, had in fact been emptied earlier that same day.’” 

He looked up, his brow furrowing. “That’s odd. That’s the vault Hagrid and I went to.”

Chapter Text

That afternoon, outside the castle, the students were lined up in two long rows, brooms standing upright beside them. The Gryffindors and Slytherins eyed each other warily as Madam Hooch strode down the line. Her short hair framed sharp features, and her piercing, hawk-like yellow eyes swept over the group with practiced precision. 

“Good afternoon, class.” She called. 

“Good afternoon, Madam Hooch.” The students replied in unison, voices echoing across the open courtyard. 

“Oh Merlin! Now’s the time!” James began to bounce on his seat, a huge smile taking over his face. 

“C’mon mini Prongs, you show them!” Sirius bounced at his seat in harmony, already preparing his cheering moves. 

Hooch’s sharp voice cut through the crisp air. “Good afternoon, Amanda, good afternoon. Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of their broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand over the broom and say, ‘Up.’” 

“Up!” the class chorused. 

Harry, a little unsure, echoed the command. As soon as the word left his lips, the broom sprang to life, lifting into his hand with a sudden, thrilling jolt. Harry’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in awe. “Wow!” he breathed, gripping the broom as it steadied beneath him, a rush of excitement coursing through him. 

“YEESSSSSS!” James started to clap loudly, making other students cringe. 

“I KNEW IT!” Sirius clapped just as hard while whistling loudly with his fingers. 

“James, dear.” Euphemia was laughing hard at the boy’s cheering party. 

In the projection, Hermione stared at Harry as the class continued. 

“Up!” Draco shouted, and his broomstick shot into the air. He grinned smugly, clearly pleased with himself. 

“Up. Up!” Ron struggled, trying to lift his own broom. 

“With feeling!” Hooch called out, urging them to put more effort into it. 

Hermione’s broomstick rose slowly, inch by inch. “Up. Up. Up. Up.” She muttered, concentrating. 

“Up!!” Ron yelled, and his broom suddenly shot up, smacking him right on the nose. “Ooh!” He yelped. 

Harry laughed. 

“Shut up, Harry.” Ron snapped, though a few seconds later he couldn’t help but start chuckling himself.  

“This is such a cute memory.” Lily sighs, watching the boys laugh together. 

Hooch’s voice cut through the murmur of the class. “Now, once you’ve got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. And grip it tight, you don’t want to be sliding off the end.” 

One by one, the students swung onto their broomsticks, hands clutching the smooth wood. 

“When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On my whistle. 3, 2…” 

The sharp blast of Hooch’s whistle echoed across the pitch. 

Neville’s broom, however, had other ideas. It lurched beneath him, lifting him high into the air before he even had a chance to push off properly. He hung there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, staring at the ground that was suddenly too far away. 

“Oh…” He whispered, his voice trembling. 

“Uh oh, that’s not good.” Barty murmured, laughing lightly at the poor boy’s face. 

Neville’s broom lurched violently beneath him, and panic flashed across his face. 

“Mr. Longbottom!” Hooch shouted, striding forward, but her voice barely reached him over the rush of wind. 

A girl near him cried. “Neville, what are you doing?” And the rest of the class erupted in alarmed shouts. “Neville! Neville!” 

A boy’s voice cut through the chaos: “We’re not supposed to take off yet!” 

Neville’s hands trembled as he clutched the broom. “M-M-M-Mr. Longb–!” He stammered, his legs kicking in desperation. 

“AHH!” he screamed as the broom jerked upward, faster than he could comprehend. 

Hooch’s voice rang again, sharp and commanding. “Mr. Longbottom!” 

“Down! Down! Ahhhh!” Neville shouted, flailing as the ground seemed to vanish beneath him.  

“Mr. Longbottom, exactly where do you think you’re going?” Hooch demanded, trying to mask her panic, though it was obvious Neville had other plans entirely. 

“Help!!!” Neville’s voice tore through the air as the broom shot upward, carrying him higher and higher, a tiny, terrified figure against the bright blue sky, leaving the rest of the class frozen and wide eyed, mouths agape. 

“This will hurt.” A ravenclaw student whispered to his classmate, both wincing. 

“Oh… ah, help!” Neville’s voice wavered as he flailed, his broom, or whatever had been keeping him aloft, giving way. His cloak caught on a torch for a brief, impossible moment, but the grip didn’t last. He slipped, then tumbled to the ground with a painful thud. 

“Ow!” He cried, curling up instinctively. 

“Everyone out of the way!” Hooch shouted, pushing through the panicked group as they scattered in all directions. She knelt beside him. “Come on, get up.” 

Hermione’s eyes were wide with concern. “Is he alright?” She asked, rushing forward. 

Neville groaned, clutching his arm. “Ow, ow, ow, ow.” 

Hooch’s brow furrowed as she examined him. “Oh… oh, oh, oh dear.” She murmured, shaking her head. “It’s a broken wrist. Tch, tch, tch. Poor boy. Come on now, up you get.” 

“Yeah… Accidents happen.” James winced. 

Draco stooped and snatched up Neville’s Remembrall from the ground, his pale fingers curling around the glass orb. He couldn’t help but snicker, eyes glinting with cruel amusement. 

“Did you see his face?” He drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, he’d have remembered to fall on his fat arse.” 

His cronies erupted in laughter, echoing as Neville groaned on the floor, clutching his wrist. 

Harry stepped forward, his jaw tight, eyes blazing. “Give it here, Malfoy.” 

“Harry…” Lily shakes her head. 

“The boy is fast, we can’t lie.” Sirius chuckles, loving the drama. “Not even a week in and he’s already making some enemies.” 

Draco held the Remembrall up for a moment, letting it catch the sunlight, and smirked. “No.” He said finally, voice dripping with malice. “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find.” 

With a graceful hop, he vaulted onto his broom, soaring effortlessly around the group. The orb glinted as he weaved through the scattered students. 

“How about on the roof?” He suggested, eyes glinting as he hovered several feet above the grounds, the Remembrall clutched in one hand like a prize. 

“What’s the matter, Potter?” He taunted, his voice carrying over the wind. “Bit beyond your reach?” 

“Harry, don’t even think–“ James started, worried. 

Harry’s patience snapped. He swung onto his broom, determination flashing in his eyes, ready to take matters into his own hands. 

“Harry, wait!” Hermione cried, grabbing his arm before he could push off. “Harry, no way!” She said, panic lacing her voice. “You heard what Madam Hooch said. Besides, you don’t even know how to fly.” 

“Listen to Hermione, she’s a rational person!” James continued. 

Harry kicked off the ground, broom surging beneath him, ignoring Hermione’s frantic protests. He shot forward, eyes locked on Draco and the gleaming Remembrall in his hand. 

“What an idiot.” Hermione muttered under her breath, exasperation and worry twisting together as she watched him streak across the pitch. 

“Well…” Sirius trailed off, looking intrigued. “Now you better pull this off, little Prongs.” 

Lily face palmed. 

Harry soared into the air, broom trembling beneath him, coming up level with Draco, who hovered effortlessly with the Remembrall in his hand. 

“Give it here, Malfoy, or I’ll knock you off your broom!” Harry shouted, fists tight, determination blazing in his eyes. 

Draco tilted his head, smirking. “Is that so?” He drawled. As Harry made a dash for him, Draco spun in a perfect 360 on his broom, effortless and mocking. “Have it your way, then.” 

With a swift flick, Draco sent the Remembrall hurtling through the air like a baseball. Harry lunged after it, streaking across the sky, his broom leaning forward, wind whipping past his face. The orb shot straight toward a tower, and Harry felt his stomach drop as he aimed for the window where Professor McGonagall was busy with her work. 

With a final surge of speed and precise timing, he caught the Remembrall, gripping it tight as he steadied his broom, heart pounding from the rush. 

The Great Hall exploded in cheers. 

“HE’S BRILLIANT!” Sirius screamed while climbing onto the table to get ahold of James and shake him nonstop. 

“HE REALLY IS.” James screamed back, with just as much intensity as Sirius. 

Remus and Peter clapped and hopped alongside other students, cheering for the impressive catch of a boy that had never mounted a broom before. Pride swelled in James’ chest until he thought it might burst. 

Professor McGonagall looked up from her work, her eyes widening in surprise as she watched Harry soar through the air with the Remembrall clutched tightly in his hands. He guided his broom steadily back down to the grounds, landing with ease and drawing a cheer from the entire class. Students ran toward him, faces lit with excitement. 

“Nice going, Harry!” One boy shouted. 

“Oh, that was wicked, Harry!” Another added, clapping him on the back. 

McGonagall’s sharp gaze soon followed him to the ground. “Harry Potter!” She called, her tone leaving no room for argument. Harry’s stomach sank as he noticed her approach. 

“Follow me.” She instructed. Reluctantly, he walked behind her, broom in hand, while Draco and his cronies snickered and exchanged triumphant glances at the sight. 

“Nooo, c’mon Minnie!” James cries out, looking at the professor. “I bet you’ve never seen an eleven years old pulling that.” 

“I can’t believe you’d punish that talent!” Sirius spreads his hands around, gesticulating wildly. 

Harry followed McGonagall down the corridor, broom in hand, his stomach still buzzing from the chaos on the pitch. They stopped outside Professor Quirrell’s classroom, and Harry peeked inside. Quirrell stood there, nervously holding a wriggling iguana. 

“An iguana s-such as this is…” Quirrell began, voice trembling. 

“You wait here.” McGonagall said firmly, giving Harry a sharp glance. 

Quirrell continued, his words hurried. “…an essential ingredient.” 

“Professor Quirrell, excuse me, excuse me.” McGonagall interjected, stepping forward. “Could I borrow Wood for a moment, please?” 

Quirrell blinked rapidly, then stammered. “Oh, y-yes, of course.” 

“This dude is super weird.” Sirius murmured, uncomfortable. 

Oliver Wood, the boy in question, rose from his desk and hurried toward McGonagall. Quirrell turned back to his lesson, mumbling. “And the vampire b-bat…” 

McGonagall turned to Harry, her sharp eyes softening just a fraction. “Potter, this is Oliver Wood.” 

Harry looked at the boy, broom still in hand, his chest still pounding from the earlier chaos. 

“And Wood.” McGonagall continued, her tone carrying that unmistakable authority. “I have found you a Seeker.” 

Gasps. 

“HOLY SHIT!” Sirius jumps on top of the table. “Minnie I love you!” 

“They grow up so fast.” James was, without exaggeration, weeping hard into his hands while muttering incomprehensible words of encouragement and pride. 

“Oh, that’s great news!” Lily clapped with a huge smile on her face, proud of her boy. 

The Great Hall was exploding into claps, hoops and loud cheering.  

“That’s so cool!” A Slytherin laughed in awe. 

“But he’s a first year! Frist years can’t play on the team.” A ravenclaw pointed out. 

“Who cares?!” A Hufflepuff responded, grinning wildly. “Look at what the boy did with so little experience!" 

In the projection, Harry and Ron weaved through the crowded halls, students bustling around them in a blur of chatter and robes. 

Sir Nicholas drifted past, his transparent figure gliding effortlessly beside a lady ghost. “Have you heard?” He asked, voice echoing slightly. “Harry Potter’s the new Gryffindor Seeker. I always knew he’d do well.” 

Ron blinked, incredulous. “Seeker? But first years never make their house teams! You must be the youngest Quidditch player in–” 

“A century, according to McGonagall.” Harry interrupted, echoing McGonagall’s words. 

“Coming in with a bang, that’s how you do it!” Remus cheered. 

“Did you hear that?! Youngest quidditch player in a CERTURY!” James laughed and banged his hand on the table. 

“Who would’ve thought?” Regulus murmured, pensive. “A seeker.”  

Fred and George fell in step beside Harry and Ron as they made their way down the bustling corridor. 

“Hey, well done, Harry.” Fred said with a wide grin. “Wood’s just told us!” 

Ron’s eyes lit up as he added, “Fred and George are on the team, too. Beaters.” 

“You know what, Seeker is really good.” James couldn’t stop rambling about it. “It’s the most important position if you think about it, he’s the one that ends the game. Very important!”  

George grinned as he fell into step alongside Fred. “Our job is to make sure that you don’t get bloodied up too badly. Can’t make any promises, of course. Rough game, Quidditch.” 

Fred chuckled. “Brutal. But no one’s died in years. Someone will vanish occasionally.” They laughed, then veered off, leaving Harry and Ron to continue across the courtyard. 

George called after them, still smiling. “But they’ll turn up in a month or two!” 

Ron nudged Harry, enthusiasm shining in his eyes. “Oh, go on, Harry. Quidditch is great. Best game there is! And you’ll be great, too!” 

Hermione, realizing what Harry was thinking about, jumped up from her work and hurried to join them. “But I’ve never even played Quidditch.” Harry admitted, worry creasing his brow. “What if I make a fool of myself?” 

“Oh yeah, this self doubt is none of James.” Sirius nods, analyzing the conversation. “That could only be Miss Evans overthinking.” 

“Hey!” Lily protested. 

Hermione stepped closer, her eyes steady on Harry. “You won’t make a fool of yourself.” She said softly, but with conviction. “It’s in your blood.” 

“That it is!” James gestured wildly, a big smile on his face. “You know what? I like this girl. She’s a good influence.” 

Later, the three of them wandered down a quieter corridor, stopping in front of a polished trophy case. Hermione leaned forward, pointing at a plaque listing past Quidditch players. Harry’s eyes widened as he recognized a familiar name, his father, listed as a Chaser. 

“Whoa.” Ron breathed, his eyes round. “Harry, you never told me your father was a Chaser.” 

Harry shook his head, staring at the plaque. “I didn’t know.” He admitted softly, a mix of awe and curiosity stirring inside him. 

“Yep, yes, that’s me.” James nodded, showing himself off. 

“The best we ever got!” Peter cheered on. 

“Now’s Harry’s turn.” James completed in a fond voice, full of warmth, from the emotion that suddenly swelled in his throat.

Chapter Text

The three made their way up the staircase in the Grand Staircase tower, the rail shifting inward with a groaning scrape that made Hermione glance over her shoulder before deciding not to stop for it. Ron leaned closer as they climbed, lowering his voice as though the castle itself might be listening. 

“I’m telling you, it’s spooky.” He muttered. “She knows more about you than you do.” 

Harry let out a short breath. “Who doesn’t?” He said, keeping his eyes forward as the steps carried them higher. 

“That’s… kinda sad.” Sirius murmurs quietly. 

The staircase shuddered beneath their feet, tilting slightly as if it had a mind of its own. The three grabbed the railings instinctively, Ron letting out a startled. “Ahh!” Hermione gasped, eyes wide, while Harry’s voice trembled with uncertainty. “What’s happening?” 

Hermione shot him a quick glance, her tone a mix of reassurance and awe. “The staircases change, remember?” 

The staircase finally came to a halt, opening onto a quiet corridor. Harry nudged Ron and whispered. “Let’s go this way.” 

Ron nodded quickly, glancing around nervously. “Before the staircase moves again.” 

They pushed open a door and stepped into a dark, deserted corridor, shadows stretching along the walls. Harry’s stomach tightened as he whispered. “Does anyone feel like we shouldn’t be here?” 

“Boys, just go back to the common room…” Lily says in distress, shaking her head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.” 

“Isn’t this the third floor?” Remus asks, trying to connect the dots. 

“The one Dumbledore said was strictly prohibited?” Sirius frowns. “Actually, I want to see what’s there. Go on, mini Prongs, show us!”  

“Sirius.” James runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t encourage this.” 

“Chill out mate, we can’t do anything about it anyway.” Sirius shrugs, looking eagerly at the projection. 

Hermione’s eyes widened as she hissed. “We’re not supposed to be here. This is the third floor. It’s forbidden.” 

Suddenly, a flicker of flame ignited on a tall stone support, casting eerie shadows across the corridor. At that same moment, a sharp meow pierced the air, Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, streaked past them. The three jumped back instinctively, hearts hammering. 

“Oh no, you better run.” Remus mutters softly. 

Harry grabbed his courage and urged. “Let’s go.” 

Mrs. Norris’s sharp meow echoed behind them, and Hermione whispered urgently. “It’s Filch’s cat!” 

Without another word, Harry yelled “Run!” and the trio sprinted down the corridor. One by one, flames blazed to life on the tall stone supports as they passed, casting long, flickering shadows that danced along the walls. 

At the far end of the corridor, a door appeared. “Quick! Let’s hide through that door!” Harry shouted, lunging for the handle, only to find it wouldn’t budge. 

“It’s locked!” Harry exclaimed, pounding on it. 

Ron’s face turned pale, panic overtaking him. “That’s it! We’re done for!” 

“Well… they made it in less than a week.” Sirius nodded proudly. “The next generation of the Marauders lives on.” 

“To be a real Marauder you have to get out of trouble, though.” Peter retorts, judging. 

“Yeah but they’re juniors, they’ll learn.” Sirius waves a hand, not too worried about it. 

Hermione shoved forward, pushing past them with determination. “Oh, move over!” She snapped, brandishing her wand and pointing it at the lock. “Alohomora.” 

With a soft click, the lock sprang open, and the door swung wide. “Get in.” She urged, ushering Harry and Ron inside. 

Ron blinked, confused. “Alohomora?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, tucking her wand back. “Standard Book of Spells, Chapter 7.” 

“Wow. She’s good.” James crossed his arms while nodding softly. 

“Oh, I really like her.” Lily smiled at the little girl on the projection. “I like Harry’s friends.” 

A beam of light swept down the corridor as Filch appeared, Mrs. Norris padding silently at his side. “Anyone here, my sweet?” He called, his voice low and wary. The cat meowed in response, then, as if satisfied, Filch muttered. “Come on.” And they retreated, leaving the hallway empty once more. 

Hermione let out a quiet sigh. “Filch is gone.” 

“See!” Sirius gesticulated wildly at the kid’s images. “They got out of it. They’re officially Marauders, I don’t care what you have to say.” 

Ron exhaled, relief washing over his face. “Probably thinks this door’s locked.” 

Hermione gave him a pointed look. “It was locked.” 

Harry’s gaze shifted past them, sharp and uneasy. “And for good reason.” 

They turned fully, and froze. Before them lay a massive, three headed dog, its enormous bodies sprawled across the corridor. Each head lifted lazily, yawning and growling, the eyes of all three locking on the intruders. The growls deepened, a rumble that shook the stone floor. 

Gasps tore through the Great Hall. 

“WHAT?” James shouts, alarmed. 

“A three headed dog in Hogwarts?!” A student says loudly, incredulous. 

“Why would this beast be there?” A hufflepuff whispers to a friend. 

A sudden, deafening roar split the air, and all three screamed in unison. “AHHHHHH!” Panic surged through them as they bolted down the corridor, hearts pounding in their chests. The three headed dog lunged, snapping and growling, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione fought with every ounce of strength to slam the door shut against the beast. The lock clicked into place, and they collapsed against it for a moment, chests heaving. 

Gasping for breath, they stumbled back through the corridors, finally reaching the safety of the Gryffindor Common Room. 

Ron sank onto a chair, still panting, and shook his head in disbelief. “What do they think they’re doing? Keeping a thing like that locked up in a school.” 

Hermione, brushing a strand of hair from her face, shot him a sharp look. “You don’t use your eyes, do you? Didn’t you see what it was standing on?” 

“Uh… no.” Sirius mumbled, trying to remember. “I wasn’t looking at the ground, to be honest. The heads got my attention.” 

Ron scrambled to his feet, still wide eyed, and gestured wildly. “I wasn’t looking at its feet! I was a bit preoccupied with its heads. Or maybe you didn’t notice, there were three!” 

“Just like I said.” Sirius nods in agreement. 

James snorts. 

The three of them began climbing the stairs to the dorms, their hearts still hammering from the encounter, each step echoing in the quiet tower. 

Hermione shook her head, exasperated. “It was standing on a trapdoor. Which means it wasn’t there by accident. It’s guarding something.” 

Harry frowned, trying to keep up. “Guarding something?” 

“That’s right.” Hermione replied firmly, straightening her robes. “Now, if you two don’t mind, I’m going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled.” With that, she turned and disappeared into her dormitory, the door clicking shut behind her. 

Ron let out a low whistle and muttered. “She needs to sort out her priorities.” 

Harry simply nodded in agreement. 

“Interesting…” Dumbledore pets his beard in a pensive manner, eyes twinkling. 

In the projection, the sun glinted off the courtyard as Oliver and Harry trudged along, each carrying a heavy trunk. With a sigh of relief, they set the burdens down, the wooden lids thudding softly against the stone ground. Dust rose around their feet, and Harry paused for a moment, brushing his hands on his robes, catching his breath as he looked around the bustling courtyard. 

“Oh, look!” James pointed excitedly to the image. “Is this going to be Quidditch training?” 

Oliver set the red ball carefully on his palm, his eyes bright with enthusiasm as he began explaining. “Quidditch is easy enough to understand.” He said, gesturing toward the distant pitch. “Each team has seven players. Three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper and a Seeker. That’s you.” He held up the Quaffle, its leather gleaming in the sunlight. “This one’s called the Quaffle. Now, the Chasers handle the Quaffle and try to put it through one of those three hoops.” He pointed toward the tall hoops swaying slightly in the distance. “The Keeper, that’s me.” He added with a grin, tossing the ball gently toward Harry. “Defends the hoops. With me so far?” 

“His didactic is good.” James said, almost bouncing in his seat. 

Harry squinted at the two chained balls wriggling on the ground. “I think so. What are those?” He asked, pointing toward them. 

“You better take this.” Oliver said, handing Harry a small bat. He bent down and released one of the balls, which let out an angry growl before shooting into the air. The two boys watched as it hovered menacingly above them. “Careful now, it’s coming back.” 

The ball whizzed toward Harry, who swung the bat with precision. It cracked against the ball, sending it soaring through a nearby statue, astonishingly, without damaging it. 

“Not bad, Potter.” Oliver said, catching his breath. “You’d make a fair Beater. Uh-oh.” The ball hurtled downward again, and Oliver lunged, wrestling it back into the box. He panted heavily as he finally secured it. 

“Yeah Harry, join the Beaters, we’re the coolest people.” Sirius flashed a grin. 

“Please no, it’s too violent.” Lily whispered to herself, still feeling nervous about the three headed dog moment. 

Harry stumbled back a little, staring at the ball in Oliver’s hand. “What was that?!” He asked, eyes wide. 

“Bludger.” Oliver replied calmly. “Nasty little buggers. But you are a Seeker. And the only thing I want you to worry about is this.” He held out a small, walnut-sized golden ball. “The Golden Snitch.” 

Harry turned it over in his hands, his eyes lighting up. “I like this ball.” 

“Ah, you like it now.” Oliver said with a grin. “Just wait. It’s wicked fast and damn near impossible to see.” 

Harry tilted his head, curiosity mixed with a hint of worry. “What do I do with it?” 

“You catch it. Before the other team’s Seeker. You catch this, the game is over. You catch this, Potter, and we win.” 

The golden ball shimmered, fluttering two delicate wings as it leapt into the air. Harry’s jaw dropped, and he followed it with his eyes. “Whoa!” 

“I can’t wait to see him play.” James whispered wistfully. 

The projection seemed to jump in time, as Professor Flitwick balanced precariously atop a small stack of books, his tiny frame barely reaching above the classroom desks. “One of a wizard’s most rudimentary skills is levitation, or the ability to make objects fly.” He began, peering over his spectacles. “Uh, do you have your feathers?” 

Hermione raised hers promptly, the quill glinting under the classroom lights. 

“Good.” Flitwick nodded, his voice brimming with enthusiasm despite his size. “Now, uh, don’t forget the nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing. Hmm? The swish and flick. Everyone.” 

The students, eager and attentive, echoed in unison, their voices mingling with Flitwick’s high pitched cheer: “The swish and flick.” 

“Let’s see how he does.” Lily shuffles in her seat, excited. 

Professor Flitwick perched on his stack of books, eyes bright behind his spectacles. “Good. Oh, and enunciate. Wingardium Leviosa. Off you go, then.” 

The classroom breathed together, feathers poised between fingers. “Wingardium Leviosa.” They repeated, each wrist making the practiced swish and flick. 

Draco, with a little affected flourish, dragged the ending out. “Wingardium Levio‑saaa.” 

The rest of the class answered in tidy unison. “Wingardium Leviosa.” 

Ron, impatient and sure he’d already failed, jabbed the wand in frantic little bursts and blurted, “Wingardrium Leviosar!” He waved the stick half a dozen times, eyes wide. 

Hermione snapped, exasperated, stepping between his misses and the nearest classmate. “No, stop, stop, stop! You’re going to take someone’s eye out. Besides, you’re saying it wrong. It’s Levi‑o‑sa, not Leviosar.” 

Ron scowled, tossing the challenge back at her. “You do it, then, if you’re so clever. Go on, go on.” 

“Oh, I love this.” Sirius cracks up loudly. 

Hermione took a deep breath, straightening her posture, and swished her wand with precise elegance. “Wingardium Leviosa.” The feather shimmered and floated gracefully into the air, spinning lightly. 

Professor Flitwick clapped his tiny hands together, his face lighting up. “Oh, well done! See here, everyone, Miss Granger’s done it! Oh, splendid!” 

Ron groaned and buried his head in his books, dejected, while Seamus leaned forward eagerly, waving his wand with renewed determination at his own feather. 

“Very good execution.” Remus nods slowly.  

Seamus waved his wand with determination. “Wingard Leviosa. Wingar–” 

Before he could finish, an almighty explosion erupted, a flash of light filling the room. Flitwick’s eyes went wide as he gasped. “Whooaaa! Ooh.” 

Ron’s jaw dropped and Hermione spun around toward the source, smoke curling into the air. Seamus stood there, charred and singed, his feather reduced to smoldering ashes in his hand. 

Harry leaned toward Flitwick, trying to sound helpful despite the chaos. “I think we’re going to need another feather over here, Professor.” 

At this, the Great Hall cracks up with laughter.  

As they strolled through the bustling courtyard, Ron couldn’t resist mimicking Hermione, his voice high and exaggerated. “It’s Levioooosa, not Leviosaaaar.” He let out a normal laugh afterward. “She’s a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she hasn’t got any friends!” 

“That’s… not a cool thing to say.” James shakes his head faintly. 

“It’s very rude.” Lily frowns deeply. “She was just trying to help him, showing the right way to do it.” 

Hermione bolted past Ron, clutching her books tightly to her chest, her small shoulders shaking as quiet sniffles escaped her.  

“Oh no.” Lily gasped. “She heard him.”  

Harry’s eyes widened as he watched her retreating form, his voice low but edged with concern. “I think she heard you.” He said. 

“Kids…” Fleamont said quietly, observing the projection. 

That Halloween night, the Great Hall was bathed in a warm, flickering glow, the usual floating candles replaced by grinning Jack O’Lanterns that bobbed gently above the students’ heads. Harry scanned the benches, frowning as he noticed an empty spot beside him. “Where’s Hermione?” He asked, concern tightening his chest. 

Neville leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Parvati Patil said that she wouldn’t come out of the girls’ bathroom. She’s been in there all afternoon… crying.” 

“Poor girl.” Remus sighed profoundly. 

Harry shot a sharp glance at Ron, his eyes filled with disapproval, but Ron just gave a sheepish shrug, clearly unbothered. 

Suddenly, the doors of the Great Hall burst open and Professor Quirrell came running in, panic written all over his face. “TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON! T-TROOLLL IN THE DUNGEON!” He stammered, his voice shaking. 

Dumbledore rose from his seat, concern etched on his face. Everyone turned to look, and the hall fell completely silent as Quirrell’s words sank in. “Thought you ought to know.” He added, before collapsing in fear. 

The silence shattered instantly. Screams erupted as students bolted from their benches, chairs clattering, and the Great Hall descended into chaos as everyone fled in terror. 

Mirroring the projection, chaos descended among the students in the Hall. 

“What?!” A Slythering girl shouted. 

“Troll? What do you mean?!” Someone said in the back. “How did it enter the school?” 

Dumbledore’s voice cut through the chaos, booming and commanding. “SILLLLLEEENNNNCEEEEE!” Instantly, the screaming and running students froze, and the Great Hall slowly calmed. “Everyone will please not panic! Now, prefects will lead their house back to the dormitories. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons.” 

A Hufflepuff girl called out. “Hufflepuff, this way!” While a boy shouted. “Stay together!” 

Snape looked aghast at the commotion, his expression darkening, and he strode off through a doorway, his cloak billowing behind him. 

A little later, Percy Weasley led the Gryffindors down a dim, twisting corridor. “Gryffindors, keep up, please, and stay alert!” He instructed, his tone sharp with authority. 

Harry glanced around, worry flickering across his face. “How could a troll get in?” He muttered, the question lingering in the chilly corridor air. 

“Our exact question, sweetheart.” Euphemia pressed a hand to her chest, looking worried about the situation. 

Ron shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Not on its own. Trolls are really stupid. Probably people playing jokes.” 

Suddenly, Harry grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side. “What?” Ron asked, eyes wide. 

“Hermione! She doesn’t know!” Harry whispered urgently, panic threading his voice. 

“Oh Merlin, the girl!” A ravenclaw cried out. 

“Harry Potter, don’t you dare–“ Lily started, but was interrupted by the projection. 

Harry and Ron darted away from the panicked crowd, weaving through dimly lit corridors. Their footsteps echoed as they ran, hearts pounding in their chests. They skidded to a halt when a low, guttural grunting reached their ears, the sound rumbling from a massive shadow stretching across the wall. Both froze, eyes wide, staring at the looming, ominous shape ahead. 

“Of course they would.” Regulus murmured, shaking his head. 

“Just call a professor or responsible adult!” Lily groaned in disbelief. 

Ron’s eyes went wide as he whispered. “I think the troll’s left the dungeon!” 

Harry grabbed Ron and pulled him into the shadowed safety of a doorway. Peering out, they caught sight of a massive, ugly troll lurching past, its heavy footsteps thudding against the stone floor. 

“It’s going into the girl’s bathroom!” Harry hissed. 

Inside, Hermione stumbled out of a stall, her cheeks streaked with tears as she wiped her eyes. She froze at the sight before her. The enormous troll, its club raised menacingly, towering over the room. She stumbled backward, pressing herself against the stall as the troll swung, smashing the top of the partitions with a deafening crack. 

Hermione let out a piercing scream, her fear echoing off the tiles. Harry and Ron barreled into the bathroom without hesitation. “Hermione, move!” Harry shouted. 

The troll swung its massive club again, smashing the remaining stalls into splinters. 

“Help! Help!” Hermione shrieked, her voice trembling as she scrambled for cover. 

Harry and Ron reacted instantly, grabbing chunks of wood from the wreckage and hurling them at the creature. 

“Hey, pea brain!” Ron yelled, launching another piece that thudded against the troll’s head. 

Hermione darted from the ruined stalls, diving beneath a sink for safety. The troll’s eyes locked onto her, and it lumbered forward, smashing the sink with a deafening crack. The edge of the debris barely missed Hermione, sending splinters flying. Harry cringed. 

“Uh oh.” Sirius cringed in unison. 

“I’m going to have a heart attack.” James wheezed as he watched the kids in the life threatening situation. 

Hermione’s scream pierced the chaos. “Help!” 

Harry lunged forward, wand at the ready, and seized the troll’s massive club. The creature lurched, and before he could react, he was hoisted into the air, balancing atop the troll’s broad shoulders. 

“Whoa!” Harry shouted, gripping desperately as the troll thrashed. He was tossed back and forth, teetering perilously with each staggering step of the hulking monster. 

Gasps. 

“I don’t want to see!” James cried out, pressing a hand over his eyes. 

Harry’s wand jabbed straight up the troll’s enormous nostril, eliciting a loud, guttural groan of disgust from the creature. 

“Ew!” Ron exclaimed, grimacing in horror. 

Both he and Hermione recoiled, horrified at the sight. The troll snorted violently, its head whipping around, sending Harry swaying precariously on its shoulders. 

“That’s gross.” A student said, in a nauseated tone.

Harry flailed wildly as the troll hoisted him by one leg, dangling him upside down. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Do something!” He shouted, panic sharp in his voice. 

The troll raised its massive club, aiming to smash him, and Harry wriggled just in time, pulling himself up and then down to avoid the blow. 

“What?” Ron stammered, wide eyed. 

“Anything!” Harry yelled, as the troll swung again. “Hurry up!” 

Under the sink, Hermione frantically waved her wand. “Swish and flick!” 

Ron steadied his hands, repeating carefully. “Wingardium Leviosa!” He flicked his wand, and magically, the troll’s club lifted from its massive hand and hovered above its head. The troll blinked at its hand, opening and closing it in confusion, before the club came crashing back down with a thunderous crack. 

Harry hit the ground, crawling to safety, and the troll wavered, dazed, before collapsing in a heap, unconscious. 

Cheers erupted in the Great Hall. 

“That. Was. So…” Sirius started, with an emotioned expression. “SO COOL!” 

“That’s my son!” James cheered, clapping with the crowd. 

“Please never do this again.” Lily cried out, looking stressed. 

Hermione’s eyes widened as she peered down at the fallen troll. “Is it dead?” 

Harry shook his head, grabbing his wand, now slimy with troll bogies. “I don’t think so. Just knocked out.” He wiped the wand on his robes, grimacing at the goo. “Ugh! Troll bogies.” 

Before anyone could react further, a flurry of robes and hurried footsteps announced the arrival of McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell. They all gasped at the sight of the massive, unconscious troll sprawled across the floor. 

“Oh! Oh, my goodness! Explain yourselves, both of you!” McGonagall demanded, her eyes sharp with concern. 

Ron and Harry began to stammer. “Well, what it is–” 

Remus snorted. 

Hermione stepped forward, her voice steady despite the adrenaline. “It’s my fault, Professor McGonagall.” 

“Miss Granger?” McGonagall’s brow arched in surprise. 

Hermione swallowed and continued. “I went looking for the troll. I’d read about them and thought I could handle it. But I was wrong. If Harry and Ron hadn’t come and found me, I’d probably be dead.” 

“Oh, my dear…” Euphemia cooed at the girl. 

McGonagall’s gaze softened for a moment, but her voice remained firm. “Be that as it may, it was an extremely foolish thing to do.” Harry noticed Snape’s trouser leg torn and a deep cut visible beneath. Snape quickly adjusted it, glancing at Harry with a piercing glare. 

“That’s suspicious.” Peter said, raising a brow. 

“I would’ve expected more rational behavior on your part and am very disappointed in you, Miss Granger. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgment.” She turned to Harry and Ron, her tone shifting slightly. “As for you two gentlemen, I just hope you realize how fortunate you are. Not many first year students could take on a fully grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. Five points will be awarded to each of you.” 

Harry and Ron grinned at each other, the tension finally breaking into shared relief. 

As Snape and McGonagall exited the bathroom, Quirrell lingered, wringing his hands nervously. “Perhaps you ought to go. It m-might wake up. Heh.” 

The trio hurried out of the bathroom, casting cautious glances back at the still-unconscious troll. The creature growled softly, a hint that it might stir soon, and Quirrell let out a nervous “Ahh! Hehe….”.

Chapter Text

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Great Hall, glinting off the polished tables and filling the room with a warm glow. Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, absently twirling his food on his fork, lost in thought. 

“Take a bit of toast, mate, go on.” Ron urged, nudging the plate toward him. 

Hermione leaned over, her voice gentle but firm. “Ron’s right, Harry. You’re gonna need your strength today.” 

“Strength? For what?” James asked, confused and already getting worried. 

Harry poked at his toast, muttering. “I’m not hungry.” 

From across the hall, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. Snape appeared at the edge of the table, his dark eyes locking on Harry. “Good luck today, Potter. Then again, now that you’ve proven yourself against a troll, a little game of Quidditch should be easy work for you. Even if it is against Slytherin.” 

“Wait what?!” James suddenly peaks up. “It’ll be his first match already? And against Slytherin?”  

“Merlin, this will be epic.” Sirius bounced in his seat. 

With that, Snape limped away, his robe brushing the floor. Harry watched him go, noticing the subtle hitch in his step, a fleeting reminder of the man’s own vulnerabilities hidden beneath his stern exterior. Harry frowned, poking at the edge of his plate. “That explains the blood.” 

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Blood?” 

Harry leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Listen, last night… I’m guessing Snape let the troll in as a diversion so he could try and get past that three headed dog. But he got himself bitten. That’s why he’s limping.” 

Hermione’s eyes widened. “But why would anyone go near that dog?” 

Harry shook his head, thinking back to his day at Gringotts. “The day I was there, Hagrid took something out of one of the vaults. He said it was Hogwarts’ business. Very secret.” 

Hermione’s gaze sharpened, realization dawning. “So you’re saying–” 

Harry cut in, his tone grim. “That’s what the dog’s guarding. That’s what Snape wants.” 

“That’s actually a very good theory.” Remus says, staring with a pensive frown. 

“I can’t believe I’m hearing Snape’s name from my kid’s mouth.” James mumbles quietly. 

A sudden screech echoed through the Great Hall as Hedwig swooped in, wings beating fiercely, carrying a long, bulky parcel. With a graceful thud, she dropped it onto the table in front of them. 

Hermione tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “Bit early for mail, isn’t it?” 

Harry’s eyes went wide as he stared at the package. “But I… I never get mail.” 

“Oh?” Sirius's excited voice echoed loudly. “Maybe that’s from one of us?” 

“I hope so.” Peter replied with just as much enthusiasm. 

Ron practically bounced in his seat, eyes gleaming. “Let’s open it.” 

Carefully, they lifted the wrappings to reveal a sleek, polished broomstick resting inside. 

Harry’s jaw dropped. “It’s a broomstick!” 

Ron’s grin widened as he ran a hand along the smooth wood. “That’s not just any broomstick, Harry. It’s a Nimbus 2000!” 

“Wow!” James beamed with energy. “That’s really cool.” 

“Tell me it was one of us!” Sirius held his hands together, pleading. 

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “But who…?” 

Then he noticed Professor McGonagall at the head table, gently stroking Hedwig. She looked up and gave him a small, approving smile. Harry nodded, a mix of gratitude and awe washing over him. 

“Oh…” Sirius visually deflated. 

Later, inside the towering Quidditch stands, the Gryffindor team marched steadily toward the starting gate. The clatter of boots echoed against the wooden floor as they reached the closed double doors, pausing just behind them, hearts racing with anticipation. 

“HOLY SHIT, IT’S HAPPENING!” James shouts loudly and jumps up from his seat, pushing his hands through his hair in a nervous manner. 

“James!” Euphemia calls him out. “Language.” 

Oliver nudged Harry with a grin. “Scared, Harry?” 

Harry swallowed and nodded slightly. “A little.” 

“That’s all right.” Oliver said, his tone casual. “I felt the same way before my first game.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. “What happened?” 

Oliver shrugged, trying to make it sound like nothing. “Er, I don’t really remember. I took a Bludger to the head two minutes in. Woke up in the hospital a week later.” 

“Yeah, very encouraging, mate.” Peter shook his head. 

The team mounted their brooms, hearts pounding, and shot out onto the enormous Quidditch pitch. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sound echoing across the stands and bouncing off the castle walls. High above, in a small tower, Lee Jordan’s voice boomed with excitement. 

“Hello! And welcome to Hogwarts’ first Quidditch game of the season! Today’s game, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor!” 

“I’m having a stroke.” James breathed fast, panicked. 

The camera cut to a close up of the Gryffindor students, their faces alight with excitement as they cheered and waved their arms. 

“Gryffindor!” Neville shouted, his voice barely carrying over the roar of the crowd. 

“Neville is Alice’s kid, right?” Lily asked Mary. “Looks like it. He’s super cute too.” 

High above the pitch, the players took their positions, forming a tense circle in the air. Harry wove through them, rising higher than anyone else, his stomach fluttering as he glanced down at the cheering students below. 

Lee Jordan’s voice crackled from the commentary tower. “The players take their positions as Madam Hooch steps out onto the field to begin the game!” 

Madam Hooch raised her arm, her eyes sharp as she addressed the players. “Now, I want a nice, clean game from all of you!” Her gaze swept over the Slytherin team. With a precise kick, she sent the Bludgers shooting across the pitch, buzzing menacingly toward the unsuspecting players. 

The Great Hall exploded in cheers for each team. 

“C’mon Slythering, we can do it!” A Slytherin girl shouted with her friends. 

“No way! Gryffindor is going to win!” A younger Gryffindor boy shouted back. 

“LET’S GO MINI PRONGS!!!!!” Sirius was jumping up and down into his seat, looking completely focused on the game. 

The Bludgers shot into the air, their dark shapes zigzagging with threatening speed, while the Golden Snitch flitted teasingly around each Seeker’s head before vanishing into the distance. 

“The Bludgers are up, followed by the Golden Snitch. Remember, the Snitch is worth 150 points. The Seeker who catches the Snitch ends the game.” Lee Jordan announced, his voice crackling with excitement from the commentary tower. 

Hooch snatched the Quaffle from her hands and sent it flying. Gryffindor immediately seized possession. Angelina Johnson streaked past the Slytherins, weaving expertly through their defense, before launching the Quaffle toward the goal. The ball sailed cleanly through the hoop with a satisfying ding. 

“Angelina Johnson scores! Ten points for Gryffindor!” Lee called, pressing a button that lit up a glowing ten beside Gryffindor’s name on the scoreboard. 

Harry hovered in the air, clapping enthusiastically. “Yes!” A sudden blur caught his attention, a Bludger zoomed straight past him, barely missing his shoulder. “Whoa!” He yelled, heart pounding. 

“Please, don’t get hurt.” Lily repeated like a prayer, excited about the game but also weary. 

The Gryffindor stands erupted in cheers, their voices carrying across the vast Quidditch pitch. 

“Well done!” Hagrid bellowed from the sidelines, his huge frame bouncing with excitement. 

Lee Jordan’s voice crackled over the commentator’s tower. “Slytherin takes possession of the Quaffle. Bletchley passes to Captain Marcus Flint.”  

Flint weaved skillfully through the air, dodging Gryffindor players as he hurled the Quaffle toward their hoops. But Oliver quickly intercepted, swiping the ball away with a precise flick of his broom, smirking at Flint who seethed in response. 

Meanwhile, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell passed the Quaffle back and forth, strategizing their next move. Johnson seized her chance, lofting the ball cleanly through the hoops again. 

“Yay!” Ron and Seamus shouted in unison. 

“Yes!” Harry yelled, pumping his fist in the air. 

“Another ten points to Gryffindor!” Lee added, pressing the button that added the glowing numbers to the scoreboard with a sharp ding. 

The Gryffindor supporters roared in triumph. 

But the Slytherins weren’t done. They lunged, dodged, and aimed for the goal, determined to get messy. Oliver blocked every attempt, until Flint grabbed a Beater’s bat from a teammate, swinging a Bludger straight at him. It struck Oliver hard in the stomach. He let out a cry and plummeted from his broom, hitting the ground with a thud, knocked out cold. 

“What?!” A Gryffindor student protested. 

“That’s definitely not fair play.” James waved his hand at it. 

The hit drew gasps and boos from the entire audience, the sound echoing across the stadium. Harry’s fists clenched, his jaw tight as the Slytherins laughed at Oliver’s misfortune. The Slytherin players pressed their advantage. One of them leapt over George, soaring past his defenses, and scored. Lee’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “Ten points to Slytherin!” The scoreboard updated instantly, and Slytherin erupted in triumphant cheers. 

Flint barked orders to his teammates. “Take that side!” 

They closed in on Angelina Johnson, boxing her in expertly. She collided with the capes covering one of the towers, tumbling out of play. The crowd groaned loudly, and Slytherin’s points climbed again. Harry’s frustration deepened, his eyes following the Slytherins as they pressed their advantage. 

“That’s not looking good.” Sirius bit his nails. “We need to end it now.” 

Suddenly, Harry’s eyes caught a glimmer of gold darting through the air, the Snitch. Without hesitation, he spurred his broom forward, leaning into the chase. But almost immediately, the broom lurched violently beneath him, bucking and twisting unpredictably.  

“Whoa! Whooa!” Harry shouted, gripping the handles desperately as the wind whipped past his face and the pitch spun around him. 

Gasps. 

Hagrid’s eyes widened as he craned his neck toward the pitch. “What’s going on with Harry’s broomstick?” 

Hermione lifted a pair of binoculars, scanning the chaotic scene. Her gaze shifted sharply to Professor Snape, who was muttering under his breath, eyes narrowed. “It’s Snape! He’s jinxing the broom!” She exclaimed, urgency lacing her voice. 

Ron’s jaw dropped, panic evident. “Jinxing the broom? What do we do?” 

“What the fuck?!” Sirius shouts at Snape, who is sitting calmly by the back of the Hall. 

“Sirius, language please.” Euphemia asks again. 

“Sorry mum.” Sirius whispers at her, a little embarrassed but definitely not regretful. 

Hermione’s expression hardened as she turned to Ron. “Leave it to me.” She handed over her binoculars and bolted from the stands, determination in every step. 

Below, Harry was being thrown violently around, barely holding on as he dangled by one arm from his broom. Ron’s worry was palpable. “Come on, Hermione!” He called out, his voice tight with fear. 

Hermione raced up through the tower structures, weaving between spectators until she positioned herself directly beneath Snape. With a precise flick of her wand, she muttered under her breath. “Lacarnum Inflamarae.” 

A sudden spark leapt from the tip of her wand, igniting Snape’s cloak. The professor yelped as flames licked the fabric, and Hermione was already retreating, disappearing into the labyrinthine height of the stands before anyone could react. 

“That’s smart.” Sirius nodded, approving completely of the girl’s antics. 

“But very dangerous!” Lily protested, frowning at the projection. “Why would Severus want to make Harry fall from his broom?” 

Chaos erupted in the stands as a man shouted. “Fire! You’re on fire!” 

Snape’s eyes widened. “What? Oh!” In a flurry, he knocked the man back, sending him crashing into Quirrell, who stumbled and fell as well. Snape batted out the flames from his cloak and smoothed his robes, pretending as though nothing had happened. 

Below, the broomstick ceased its violent bucking, and Harry scrambled back into position. The Slytherin Seeker had his eyes fixed on the Golden Snitch, and Harry shot forward, racing after it. 

“Go!” Ron yelled, and Hagrid’s voice boomed over the field. “Go, go, go!” 

Harry rammed the Slytherin Seeker mid air, sending him spinning, only to be knocked aside himself. He bounced back, colliding again with the Seeker as the Snitch darted teasingly through the air. The chase hurtled toward the ground, the boys swooping low in pursuit. The Slytherin Seeker swerved at the last moment, giving Harry a chance to pull up just in time. 

Feet dangling above the grass, Harry leaned forward, reaching desperately for the Snitch. He overextended, lost his balance, and tumbled from the broom with a startled yelp, rolling on the ground. The crowd collectively gasped as he scrambled to his feet, wobbling. From her vantage point beside a tower, Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm, fixated on him. 

“Oh, Merlin above.” James said faintly, bringing his hands up to his hair. 

Hagrid’s voice cut through the chaos, filled with concern. “Looks like he’s gonna be sick!” 

Harry lurched forward, and to everyone’s astonishment, the Golden Snitch popped right out of his mouth, landing neatly in his hands. 

“He’s got the Snitch! Harry Potter receives 150 points for catching the Snitch!” Lee Jordan’s voice rang out, excitement crackling in every word. 

“He caught it in his mouth?” A Slytherin student whispered-shouted. 

“You know what, if it works then it’s good enough for me.” James nodded proudly at Harry’s antics. 

“Well said, mate.” Sirius nodded in agreement, looking anxiously at the scene unfurling at the projection. 

Madam Hooch blew her whistle while soaring above on her broomstick. “Gryffindor wins!” She announced, her voice triumphant, as the Gryffindor team and supporters erupted into cheers. 

The Great Hall was practically vibrating with excitement. 

As soon as the final result came in, Sirius jumped onto the nearest table, fists punching the air. “YES! He did it!” His grin was wild, almost manic, and he couldn’t stop yelling, hopping from foot to foot like he might combust. 

James’ chest swelled with a pride so fierce it hurt. Tears pricked his eyes as he grabbed his head and murmured, almost in disbelief. “That’s my boy… that’s Harry.” 

Peter bounced in place, wringing his hands as a stream of panicked questions tumbled out of him. “Is– is he okay? Did he– he didn’t choke, did he?” 

The Slytherin side of the Hall fell into a stunned, bitter silence, with a few groans, a scoff and someone dropping their head into their hands in disbelief. 

Meanwhile the Gryffindors erupted. Chairs scraping back, people leaping to their feet, cheers and whistles filling the hall like a wave of heat and fire. 

In the projection, the crowd erupted into joyous cheers, the air alive with excitement as Gryffindor’s victory sank in. 

Draco’s face twisted with dismay. “No!” 

Hagrid grinned broadly, fists pumping. “Yes!” 

Hermione threw her hands into the air, letting out a triumphant “Whoo-hoo!” 

Even Professor McGonagall couldn’t hide her amusement, giggling happily at the scene. Harry lifted the Snitch high above his head, and the cheers grew even louder, rolling across the pitch. 

“Go, go, Gryffindor! Go, go, Gryffindor! Go, go, Gryffindor! Go, go, Gryffindor!” The crowd chanted, a wave of pure celebration sweeping over the victorious house.

Chapter Text

Harry, Hermione, and Ron made their way along the path beside Hagrid, leaves crunching lightly beneath their feet as they walked.  

Hagrid snorted. “Nonsense! Why would Snape put a curse on Harry’s broom?” 

Harry looked up at him, frowning. “Who knows? Why was he trying to get past that three headed dog on Halloween?” 

“Ohh, they’re investigating Harry’s theory.” Sirius fixes a focused gaze at the projection, trying to follow the kid’s lead. 

“I don’t think it was Severus…” Lily says, troubled. “Why would he be doing this?” 

In the projection, Hagrid stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face them, eyes narrowing suspiciously beneath his shaggy brows. “Who told yeh about Fluffy?” 

“Fluffy?” Ron echoed, incredulous. 

Hermione stared at Hagrid. “That thing has a name?” 

Hagrid huffed, folding his arms as though bracing for a fight. “Well, o’ course he’s got a name.” He grumbled. “He’s mine. I bought him off an Irish feller I met down at the pub last year. Then I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the–” 

“Yes?” Harry pressed, leaning forward. 

Hagrid froze. His expression shifted instantly, realization, then panic. “–Shouldn’t have said that.” He muttered, turning away with a shake of his head. “No more questions! Don’t ask any more questions. That’s top secret, that is.” 

“Hagrid…” Dumbledore murmures, caressing his beard. 

“Uh… Sorry, Headmaster.” Hagrid apologizes, unsure if it was the right call. 

In the Slytherin table, Regulus whispers silently to Barty and Evan. “It is the Philosopher’s Stone the dog is guarding. I’m certain of it.” 

“Makes sense.” Evan nods, suspicious. “But guarding it from who?”  

“Could it really be from Snape?” Barty asks, doubtful. 

Harry leaned in, voice firm. “But, Hagrid, whatever Fluffy’s guarding, Snape is trying to steal it.” 

“Codswallop.” Hagrid said immediately, waving a hand as if to swat the idea out of the air. “Professor Snape is a Hogwarts teacher.” 

“Hogwarts teacher or not.” Hermione cut in sharply. “I know a spell when I see one. I’ve read all about them. You have to maintain eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking.” 

Harry nodded once, decisive. “Exactly.” 

Hagrid let out a long, worried sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Now, you listen to me, all three of yeh. Yer meddling in things that ought not to be meddled in. It’s dangerous. What that dog is guarding is strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel.” 

Harry’s brow furrowed with curiosity. He glanced at Ron, then back at Hagrid. “Nicholas Flamel?” 

Hagrid mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. I should not have said that.” 

“Nicholas Flamel invented the Philosopher's Stone.” Remus stated, sure of his facts. “I just wonder why it would be at Hogwarts of all places…” 

“That’s shady.” Sirius murmurs, a worried look crossing his eyes. 

Hagrid trudged off down the path, muttering to himself. “I should not have said that.” 

Harry stood frozen for a moment, repeating the name under his breath. “Nicholas Flamel.” He turned to Hermione, eyes wide with curiosity. “Who’s Nicholas Flamel?” 

Hermione shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know.” 

“First time she doesn’t know something.” A Slytherin cracked mischievously with his colleagues. 

In the projection, snowflakes drifted lazily around Hogwarts, blanketing the grounds in white as Hagrid struggled to drag a massive Christmas tree toward the castle. The ghosts floated nearby, their ethereal voices carrying through the chilly air. 

“Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Ring the Hogwarts bell. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas…” They sang, weaving their melodies around the crisp winter air. 

“How I love Christmas.” James looks fondly at the decorations and cold climate. 

Hermione adjusted her scarf and carried her luggage toward the Great Hall, pausing briefly to admire the enormous tree. Flitwick flitted near the tree, using his wand to delicately attach another sparkling ornament. 

Inside, Harry and Ron were hunched over a chessboard, their concentration intense. “Knight to E5.” Harry announced, moving his piece with precision. Hermione stepped closer, watching over his shoulder. 

A smug grin spread across Ron’s face as he countered. “Queen to E5.” His queen swooped over Harry’s knight, whacking it decisively with her chair. 

Hermione’s eyes widened, her shock evident. “That’s totally barbaric!” She exclaimed, aghast at the ruthless efficiency of Ron’s move.  
 
Ron leaned back in his chair, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “That’s wizard’s chess.” He said casually, glancing at Hermione. “I see you’ve packed.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “I see you haven’t.” 

Ron shrugged, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Change of plans. My parents decided to go to Romania to visit my brother, Charlie. He’s studying dragons there.” 

Hermione’s expression softened slightly, but her eyes were sharp. “Good. You can help Harry, then. He’s going to go and look in the library for information on Nicholas Flamel.” 

Ron groaned. “We’ve looked a hundred times!” 

Leaning closer over the chessboard, Hermione’s voice was quiet but firm. “Not in the restricted section. Happy Christmas.” 

“Haven’t I told you that I like this girl?” Sirius pointed at the image of the kids while nodding with approval. 

“Why don’t they just leave it to the professors?” Lily sighs deeply, shaking her head. 

“Well, to be honest, I know myself.” James began to say, looking sheepish. “I would like to discover this mystery as well, in their place.”  

Ron leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing at Harry with a sheepish expression. “I think we’ve had a bad influence on her.” 

Some chuckles could be heard around the Great Hall at this, students commenting on the chaotic trio. 

In the projection, it is now Christmas’ morning.  Ron’s voice echoed from downstairs, eager and insistent. “Harry, wake up! Come on, Harry, wake up!” 

Groaning, Harry scrambled out of bed, fumbling for his glasses before running to the stairs. At the bottom, Ron grinned up at him, his bright eyes sparkling. “Happy Christmas, Harry.” 

“Happy Christmas, Ron.” Harry replied, noticing the bright, slightly garish sweater Ron was wearing. “What are you wearing?” 

Ron looked down at his sweater sheepishly, then back up at Harry. “Oh. My mum made it. Looks like you’ve got one too.” 

Harry blinked, his heart skipping a beat at the thought. “I– I’ve got presents?” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Euphemia whispers softly. 

“His surprised expression… I hate this.” James’ face fell, saddened. 

“Where am I in this?” Sirius says, disappointed in himself. “I’m supposed to be the cool uncle, aren’t I?” 

In the projection, Ron nodded eagerly. “Yeah!” 

Harry practically flew down the staircase, eyes wide as he reached the pile of presents waiting for him. His gaze landed on a particular package with a note attached. He tore it open carefully, scanning the handwriting. “‘Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.’” 

“What?” James’ brows rise up in surprise. “What is it?” 

Harry carefully unfolded the remaining present, revealing a fabric that shimmered slightly as he pulled it out. It was soft and smooth, almost like a blanket. 

Ron leaned in, curiosity written all over his face. “What is it?” 

Harry looked down at the object in his hands, turning it over slowly. “It’s some kind of cloak.” He said, a mixture of awe and puzzlement in his voice. 

“No way!” James bounces in his seat, understatement coming to his face. 

“Ah, yes.” Fleamont nods with a laugh. 

“That’s crazy.” Peter exclaims in excitement, a grin taking over his face. 

“It’s weird seeing it in Harry’s hands, isn’t it?” Remus muses, smiling softly. “When we were just handling it yesterday.” 

“What are you idiots talking about?” Severus’ attention is completely focused on the projection, trying to discover the Marauder’s secrets. 

Ron’s eyes widened as he leaned closer, excitement bubbling in his voice. “Well, let’s see, then. Put it on.” 

Harry draped the cloak over his shoulders, and almost instantly, his body vanished from view. He glanced down, astonishment breaking across his face. “Whoa! My body’s gone!” 

Ron grinned, recognition lighting up his features. “I know what that is. That’s an invisibility cloak!” 

Gasps tore through the Great Hall. 

“What?!” Hufflepuff students whisper. 

“Unbelievable.” Professor McGonagall shakes her head slowly. “That’s your little secret, boys?” 

At this, the Marauders freeze.  

“Uh, Minnie…” Sirius gives a weak laugh. “Actually, I’ve never seen this before. Have you seen this, Peter?” 

“No.” Peter shakes his head. “Never.” 

“Great, now our cover is gone.” Remus whispers quietly, keeping it just between them. 

“Worth it, though. To see Harry like this, using it.” James whispers back, a soft look in his eyes. “I don’t really care if more secrets are exposed. I think it’s for the best, really.” 

“I don’t see how.” Peter looks at James with a confused expression. 

“Well, Pete, just think like this.” James shuffles closer to them. “If magic is showing this to us, it means something. And if it chooses to reveal whoever secrets it is, then I think it’s necessary, somehow.” 

“Even about…” Sirius looks rapidly at Remus, a knowing expression taking the Marauders' faces. “That furry problem?” 

“I think…” James breathes deeply. “If it gets to this point, then maybe, yes.” 

Remus drums his fingers onto the table, looking grim. “I see what you’re saying, James. If it’s meant to be… Then it’ll be.” 

Sirius looks at his boyfriend worryingly, but shakes himself into trusting magic to judge the necessity for it. 

“I’m invisible?” Harry twirled in place, staring at the empty space where his body should have been.  

Ron peered over at him, eyes wide with awe. “They’re really rare.” He glanced down at the note in Harry’s hand. “I wonder who gave it to you.” 

Harry looked down at the parchment, curiosity mixed with wonder. There was no signature, no hint of a sender, just the words, “Use it well.” 

Late that night, a faint lantern bobbed through the shadowed stacks of the library, its light dancing across towering shelves. A hand reached forward, pulling back the heavy folds of a cloak, and from beneath it, Harry emerged, stepping carefully into the Restricted Section. He crouched between the shelves, scanning the rows of ancient, leather bound tomes, his eyes glinting with determination as he began his secret search. 

“Hell yeah!” James cheered excitedly, seeing his son using the cloak. 

“Oh, this is going to be so good.” Sirius chucked a little at the image being displayed. 

“Restricted section, Mister Potter?!” Minerva could be heard, already in her professor's voice. “Seeing this, now things make much more sense.” 

Harry’s eyes darted across the spines of the Forbidden tomes, muttering under his breath. “Famous fire eaters… 15th-Century Fiends… Flamel… Nicholas Flamel… Where are you?” He pulled a thick, dusty book from the shelf and opened it, only for a face to spring from the pages, screaming in a mad, ear-splitting wail. Harry yelped, slamming the book shut and shoving it back into place. 

“Who’s there?!” Filch’s gruff voice cut through the shadows. Harry whipped around, yanking the cloak around his shoulders, and the lantern slipped from his hands, shattering with a crash. “I know you’re in there! You can’t hide! Who is it? Show yourself!” 

“Oh no, pup.” Sirius cringes. “Hide.” 

Harry bolted from the library, chest heaving and breaths coming in sharp gasps. He skidded into the hallway, only to hear the soft meow of Mrs. Norris as she slinked behind him, eyes glowing in the dim light. Harry swerved around a corner– and froze. Snape and Quirrell blocked his path, the air thick with tension. 

Quirrell stammered, barely able to catch his breath. “Severus, I– I thought…” 

Snape’s eyes narrowed, and with a swift shove, he slammed Quirrell against the stone wall. “You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell.” 

Gasps. 

“Snape?” Students start to whisper, attentive to the scene. 

“I knew it.” James points at it, showing the obviousness of the situation. “Harry’s been right all along.” 

Quirrell’s eyes widened, trembling as he tried to form words. “I don’t know w-what you m-mean.” 

Snape’s gaze bore into him, sharp and unrelenting. “You know perfectly well what I mean.” He paused, sensing something that made Harry freeze mid-breath, his chest tightening. Snape’s hand twitched as if to seize it, then retracted. With a swift, deliberate motion, he whipped his finger back in front of Quirrell’s face. 

“We’ll have another chat soon.” Snape said, his voice cold and measured. “When you’ve had time to decide where your loyalties lie.” 

“Could this mean…” Whispers overtake the Slytherin table. 

“Snape just can’t help being an idiot, can he?” Sirius huffs in disgust. 

Filch stomped into the hall, dragging the shattered remnants of the lantern behind him. “Oh, Professors. I found this in the Restricted Section. It’s still hot. That means there’s a student out of bed.” 

The words hit like a bell. Snape and Quirrell exchanged a glance, and without a second thought, they vanished down the corridor, their footsteps fading into the shadows. Filch muttered to himself, shaking his head at the chaos, while Harry pressed himself against the wall, heart hammering. 

“At least Harry wasn’t caught.” Lily murmurs so softly that no one around her listens, her mind reeling with information. 

In the projection, a door creaked open and then silently swung shut behind him. Beyond it lay a vast, empty chamber, the air still and heavy, dominated by a single, imposing mirror at its center. Harry stepped forward cautiously, drawn by an invisible pull. As he came closer, his reflection shimmered, and then changed. 

Before him, in the glass, two figures appeared. James and Lily Potter, smiling warmly, their eyes full of love and pride. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening with a mixture of awe, joy, and longing. For the first time, he felt the echo of the family he had lost, standing before him, impossible yet achingly real. 

Gasps took over the Great Hall. 

“How is this possible?” A ravenclaw asked, in awe. 

“Are they inside the mirror?” Another student questioned. 

Chaos started to slowly erupt between the students and parents, eager to understand what was happening. 

“The Mirror of Erised.” Dumbledore began, shushing the majority of whispers. “Shows us what our heart most desperately desires.” 

“Oh, Harry.” Lily pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling emotion crash over her. 

“That’s… horrible.” James mumbles, too shocked to speak clearly. 

“Isn’t this dangerous, somehow?” Sirius asks, afflicted by the morbid and, at the same time, lovely image. 

Harry’s voice trembled as he whispered. “Mum?” Lily’s reflection nodded, her smile soft and radiant, filling the cold room with warmth. “Dad?” He asked next, his gaze shifting to James, who nodded in return, his grin both familiar and comforting. 

Harry reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing only the smooth, cold surface of the mirror. A pang of disappointment struck him, but then Lily’s hand appeared, resting gently on his shoulder. Harry mirrored the gesture on himself, fingertips pressing against his own shoulders, as if trying to feel the warmth of her presence through the glass.  

“I can’t watch this.” Lily gasped, her voice thick and wet, burying her face in her hands. Mary wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. 

James just looks, transfixed by the image. The little boy, Harry, standing there in awe, looking at a version of James and Lily beside him. A vision of what it could’ve been. This doesn’t affect just Harry, but James too. Greatly. To see the three of them together like that, almost in a picture pose, made him realize that what they were seeing was the future. This happens, some years from now, and James will die. And Lily will die. And their son will be alone in the world, without their support. 

It breaks his heart. 

In the projection, Harry came whipping into the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, still invisible, his voice urgent and breathless. “Ron, you’ve really got to see this! Ron, you’ve got to see this!” He yanked back the covers, startling Ron awake. “Ron, Ron, come on, get out of bed!” 

Ron, rubbing his eyes and clearly half asleep, muttered. “Why?” 

“There’s something you’ve got to see. Now, come on!” Harry insisted, impatience edging his words. 

Moments later, the two boys appeared in the room as if by magic, Harry darting toward the Mirror of Erised with excitement. “Come on! Come! Come look, it’s my parents!” 

Ron squinted at the reflection. “I only see us.” 

“Look in properly. Go on, stand there. There. You see them, don’t you? That’s my dad.” Harry’s voice wavered with awe. 

Ron’s eyes widened as he took in his own reflection. “That’s me! Only I’m Head Boy. And I’m holding the Quidditch Cup. And bloody hell! I’m Quidditch Captain too! I look good. Harry, do you think this mirror shows the future?” 

“Sweetheart...” Euphemia’s voice sounds so soft and so sad, it makes it even harder to continue to watch it. 

The Great Hall is silent. Not one whisper or laugh, just sad contemplation. 

Harry’s voice trembled with quiet sorrow as he stared into the Mirror of Erised. “How can it? Both my parents are dead.” A small, sad smile flickered across his face, fleeting and fragile. 

The next night, he returned to the same empty room, drawn by a longing he couldn’t shake. He stood before the mirror once more, gazing at the reflection where his parents smiled at him, their presence warm and impossible. Far behind him, Dumbledore’s figure emerged silently, watching over the boy with a mixture of curiosity and gentle concern. 

Harry turned around, startled, as Dumbledore’s calm voice filled the room. “Back again, Harry?” The boy straightened, trying to appear composed. 

“I see that you, like so many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.” Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. “I trust by now you realize what it does. Let me give you a clue. The happiest man on earth would look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is.” 

Harry’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the words. “So then, it shows us what we want. Whatever we want.” 

“Yes. And no.” Dumbledore said softly, turning his gaze back to the mirror. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. Now, you, Harry, who have never known your family, you see them standing beside you. But remember this, Harry. This mirror gives us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away in front of it… even gone mad. That is why tomorrow it will be moved to a new home. And I must ask you not to go looking for it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live.”

Chapter Text

Harry jumped as Hermione thumped a massive book onto the table, the impact reverberating through the quiet library. 

“I had you looking in the wrong section.” Hermione said, exasperated, flipping open the book. “How could I be so stupid? I checked this out a few weeks ago for a bit of light reading.” 

Ron raised an incredulous eyebrow. “This is light?” 

“Of course!” Hermione replied, her finger tracing a line on the page. “Here it is!” She read aloud, her voice firm and certain. “Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone.” 

“Now, that’s something.” Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “They actually found it.” 

Harry and Ron blinked in unison, staring at Hermione in disbelief. “The what?” They asked, voices echoing together. 

Hermione huffed, exasperation flickering across her face. “Honestly, don’t you two read?” She leaned over the table, flipping the pages with precise urgency. “The Philosopher’s Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It’ll transform any metal into pure gold and produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.” 

Ron’s jaw dropped. “Immortal?” 

“It means you’ll never die.” Hermione said, her tone matter-of-fact. 

Ron waved a hand. “I know what it means!” 

Harry pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh!” 

Sirius snorted, covering his mouth, but the laugh leaked out anyway. 

Hermione’s eyes sparkled with the intensity of revelation as she pointed to the lines on the page. “The only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist who last year celebrated his 665th birthday.” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. “That’s what Fluffy’s guarding on the third floor. That’s what’s under the trapdoor. The Philosopher’s Stone.” 

“They’re actually pretty good at this.” Someone whispered to his friend. “I would’ve given up on it already.” 

Night had fallen over the castle grounds, shadows stretching across the frost-kissed grass as Hermione, Ron, and Harry sprinted through the chilly air. Their breaths came in hurried puffs with urgency, until at last they reached Hagrid’s hut. They knocked firmly on the door, and it creaked open to reveal Hagrid, wearing a flour-dusted apron and oversized oven mitts, a frown creasing his face. 

“Hagrid!” Harry said, eager. 

“Oh, hello.” Hagrid added quickly, raising a hand as if to ward them off. “Sorry, don’t wish to be rude, but I’m in no fit state to entertain today.” 

“That's very unlike Hagrid.” Pandora said dreamily, frowning at the sight of the kind man being so dismissive. 

Hagrid’s hand moved toward the door, beginning to close it, but before it could shut completely, all three shouted in unison. “We know about the Philosopher’s Stone!” 

The door swung back open, and Hagrid’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.” 

They hurried inside Hagrid’s hut, the warmth of the fireplace washing over them as they caught their breath. Harry stepped forward, urgency in his voice. “We think Snape’s trying to steal it.” 

Hagrid’s face scrunched in disbelief. “Snape? Blimey, yer not still on about him, are yeh?” 

“Of course we are!” James said, loudly, with a confident look on his face. “It’s the logical conclusion.” 

Severus huffed, a bitter laugh tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Harry leaned forward, urgency written across his face. “Hagrid, we know he’s after the Stone. We just don’t know why.” 

Hagrid shook his head firmly. “Snape is one of the teachers protecting the Stone. He’s not about to steal it.” 

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What?” 

“What?” James echoed. 

“You heard. Right. Come on, now, I’m a bit preoccupied today.” Hagrid turned to move away, but Harry pressed further. 

“Wait a minute.” Ron’s eyes widened as Hagrid’s boar-hound, Fang, leaned forward, sniffing him curiously. “One of the teachers?” 

Hermione, perched in a large chair, nodded knowingly. “Of course! There are other things defending the Stone, aren’t there? Spells, enchantments.” 

“That’s right.” Hagrid said with a dismissive wave. “Waste of bloody time, if yeh ask me.” He glanced at Ron, still being sniffed in the face by Fang. Ron shuffled back, uneasy. “Ain’t no one gonna get past Fluffy. Hehe. Ain’t a soul knows how, except for me and Dumbledore. I shouldn’t have told you that. I should not have told you that.” 

A sudden clatter from a cauldron over the fire drew their attention. “Oh!” Hagrid hurried over, grabbing something from it. “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” He placed it carefully on the table. It was an egg. Immediately, the group crowded around, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“What is this, now?” Lily murmurs, leaning forward, interested in the strange egg. 

Harry leaned closer, eyes wide. “Uh, Hagrid, what exactly is that?” 

Hagrid shuffled nervously. “That? It’s a… it’s, um…” 

Ron’s face lit up. “I know what that is! But, Hagrid, how did you get one?” 

Hagrid chuckled. “I won it. Off a stranger I met down at a pub. Seemed quite glad to be rid of it, as a matter of fact.” 

The egg on the table rattled violently, cracking open with a series of sharp pops. Pieces of shell flew across the table as a tiny baby dragon emerged, squeaking loudly and slipping on a shard of eggshell. 

Gasps rippled through the Great Hall. 

“A dragon?!” A Ravenclaw boy shouted in surprise. 

“Awwn, so cute!” A girl from Hufflepuff says, cooing at the little winged creature. 

Hermione gasped. “Is that… a dragon?” 

Ron’s eyes went wide. “That’s not just a dragon. That’s a Norwegian Ridgeback. My brother Charlie works with these in Romania.” 

Hagrid beamed, reaching toward the little creature. “Isn’t he beautiful? Oh, bless him. Look, he knows his mummy. Hehehe. Hallo, Norbert.” 

“Hagrid, my dear friend, I do believe I have asked you before to keep your… pets… out of Hogwarts, have I not?” Dumbledore regarded Hagrid with mild amusement, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. 

“Yes, Headmaster, of course… I am ‘orry.” Hagrid mumbles, face burning as red as a ripe tomato.  

In the projection, Norbert squeaked, tilting his tiny head toward Hagrid. 

“Norbert?” Harry asked cautiously. 

Hagrid chuckled, brushing a hand across the baby dragon’s snout. “Yeah, well, he’s gotta have a name, don’t he?” Ron laughed at the sight. “Don’t you, Norbert?” Hagrid waved his fingers back and forth across Norbert’s chin, making a soft, playful “Dededede” sound. 

Norbert backed away cautiously… and then hiccupped, blasting a tiny fireball straight into Hagrid’s beard. 

“Ohh!” Hagrid yelped, patting out the smoldering patches. “Oooh, ooh, ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo! Ooh, well… he’ll have to be trained up a bit, of course. Heh.” 

Norbert hiccupped again, and Hagrid’s eyes widened as he noticed someone peeking in through the window. “Who’s that?” 

Harry squinted. “Malfoy.” 

“Narcisa’s son.” Regulus mutters under his breath, a sudden clarity striking him like lightning. Only now realizing the similarities between the two. “Hers and Lucious’ son.” 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged down the dimly lit corridor, the distant screech of an owl echoing through the castle. “Hagrid always wanted a dragon.” Harry said, shaking his head with a small smile. “He told me so the first time I ever met him.” 

“It’s crazy.” Ron muttered, frowning. “And worse… Malfoy knows.” 

Harry frowned. “I don’t understand. Is that bad?” 

Ron’s expression darkened. “It’s bad.” 

The trio froze as a stern voice cut through the quiet. McGonagall appeared before them, her nightgown brushing the floor, eyes sharp and unamused. “Good evening.”

In the Great Hall, Minerva makes a small hmph sound, slowly shaking her head. 

“Ow, c’mon Minnie.” Sirius called out, loud and teasing. “They were already heading back to the dorms!” 

Suddenly, Malfoy appeared beside McGonagall, his smug expression making Harry bristle. 

“Oh.” Sirius' face fell rapidly, his eyes narrowing at the blond boy’s smug grin. 

Moments later, they found themselves inside McGonagall’s classroom. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood nervously in front of her desk, while Malfoy lingered a few feet away, smirking triumphantly as if he owned the moment. 

“Look at this little shit.” Barty laughs loudly at Malfoy's expression. 

McGonagall’s gaze was sharp and unyielding as she spoke. “Nothing, I repeat, nothing gives a student the right to walk about the school at night. Therefore, as punishment for your actions, 50 points will be taken.” 

Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief. “50?!” 

“Each.” McGonagall said firmly. Harry’s jaw dropped. “And to ensure it doesn’t happen again, all four of you will receive detention.” 

“That’s insane, Minnie!” James gasps, a betrayed look in his eyes. 

“Fifty points?! EACH?” A Slytherin boy shouts in the background, incredulous with the punishment. 

Draco’s confident smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of concern. “Excuse me, Professor, perhaps I heard you wrong. I thought you said the four of us.” 

McGonagall’s expression remained stern. “No, you heard me correctly, Mr. Malfoy. You see, honorable as your intentions were, you too were out of bed after hours. You will join your classmates in detention.” 

The Hall buzzed with whispers and stifled laughs at the sheer devastation painted across Draco’s face. 

“Okay, at least the Malfoy prat’s gonna pay for it too.” Sirius murmured, nodding faintly, though he couldn’t quite shake the irritation.   

Moments later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco were being herded across the grounds toward Hagrid’s hut by Mr. Filch. 

“A pity they let the old punishments die.” Filch muttered, glancing at the students. “There was a time detention would find you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeons. God, I miss the screaming.” Draco swallowed hard, and Hermione hurried past him. “You’ll be serving detention with Hagrid tonight. He’s got a little job to do inside the Dark Forest.” 

“Filch and his creepy stories…” Marlene mock-shuddered, laughing at his antics. 

Hagrid emerged from his hut, clutching a crossbow, sniffing as he looked at the group. “A sorry lot, this, Hagrid. Oh, good God, man, you’re not still on about that bloody dragon, are ye?” 

Hagrid sighed, a trace of sadness in his voice. “Norbert’s gone. Dumbledore sent him off to Romania to live in a colony.” 

Hermione’s face brightened. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? He’ll be with his own kind.” 

Hagrid’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, but what if he don’t like Romania?” Filch rolled his eyes. “What if the other dragons are mean to him? He’s only a baby, after all.” 

“Oh, for God’s sake, pull yourself together, man.” Filch snapped. “You’re going into the Forest, after all. Got to have your wits about you.” 

“Wait.” James stuttered, looking surprised. “They’re going into the forest?” 

“No, it can’t be.” Remus shakes his head firmly. “It’s forbidden for the students, they can’t do that.” 

A tense silence settled over the Great Hall after their words. 

Draco’s eyes widened. “The Forest? I thought that was a joke! We can’t go in there. Students aren’t allowed. And there are…” A howl cut through the air, freezing him in place. “…werewolves!” 

The Marauders shared a knowing, sideways look. 

Filch’s expression darkened. “There’s more than werewolves in those trees, lad. You can be sure of that.” He gave Draco one last glance. “Nighty-night.” A turned back toward the castle. 

Hagrid exhaled, lowering his crossbow slightly. “Right. Let’s go.” 

“What? No!” Lily protested, an angered frown in her face. “That’s absurd! They can’t go into the forest.”  

Students start to whisper, worried glances flicking toward Dumbledore and Hagrid. 

In the shadowed depths of the Forbidden Forest, the group moved carefully along a narrow path, the moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above. Hagrid suddenly halted, bending low to dip his fingers into a silvery puddle shimmering on the forest floor. He lifted them, rubbing them together as a thin trail of silver smeared across his fingers. 

“Hagrid, what is that?” Harry asked, eyes wide with curiosity. 

Hagrid’s expression was solemn. “What we’re here for. See that? That’s unicorn’s blood, that is. I found one dead a few weeks ago. Now, this one’s been hurt bad by something.” 

Gasps echoes though the Great Hall. 

“Get those kids out of there, immediately!” Euphemia’s angered voice rang sharp and commanding, as if the projected future Hagrid could hear her. 

Harry’s gaze darted to the shadows between the trees, where a large, cloaked figure moved silently. He turned back to Hagrid, uncertainty etched on his face. 

“What was that?” Sirius asked, tensing. “James?”  

“So.” Hagrid continued, voice firm. “It’s our job to go and find the poor beast. Ron, Hermione, you’ll come with me.” 

“Okay.” Ron said, stepping closer to Hermione.  

Hagrid looked at Harry. “And Harry, you’ll go with Malfoy.” 

“No!” James shouted indignantly, gesticulating rapidly. “No, no, no! You’re all going to stick together, do you hear me?” 

“That’s fucking insane.” Sirius mutters, with a hand up his mouth, a shocked expression on display. 

“Dumbledore! What’s the meaning of this?” Walburga’s voice shrieks at the Headmaster. “Leading kids into the woods? Isn’t Hogwarts supposed to be the safest place in the world?!” 

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with that hag.” Fleamont whispers very quietly onto Euphemia’s ear, making her snort a laugh and nod in quiet amusement. 

In the projection, Draco’s lips pressed into a thin line, and Harry gave a small, resigned nod. 

“Okay.” Draco muttered, his voice tight. “Then I get Fang.” 

“Fine.” Hagrid said, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Just so you know, he’s a bloody coward.” Fang let out a soft, plaintive whine, as if in agreement. 

Harry and Draco moved cautiously through a denser part of the forest, the dog padding ahead of them. Draco gripped the lamp tightly, its light casting flickering shadows on the gnarled tree trunks. 

“You wait till my father hears about this.” Draco complained, his tone a mix of indignation and fear. “This is servant’s stuff.” 

“If I didn’t know better, Draco.” Harry said quietly, keeping his eyes on the dark shapes ahead. “I’d say you were scared.” 

“Ooh.” Sirius wiggled in his seat, sharing a look with James. “Go on… rile him up, pup.” 

“Scared, Potter?” Draco scoffed, his pride bristling. But then a low, eerie howl pierced the forest, freezing him in place. He stiffened and hissed. “Did you hear that? Come on, Fang. Scared!” Fang’s ears perked up, and the dog hesitated, letting out a nervous growl. 

Harry and Draco crept cautiously onto a patch of uneven, root-strewn ground. Fang halted abruptly, low growls rumbling in his throat. 

“What is it, Fang?” Harry whispered, his voice barely carrying over the tense silence. 

Up ahead, a cloaked figure was crouched beside a lifeless unicorn, its silver blood gleaming in the dim forest light as the figure drank deeply from the wound. Slowly, the figure lifted its head, blood still dripping from its mouth, and Harry’s stomach dropped. He gasped sharply, clutching his forehead as his scar throbbed violently. 

Gasps echoed through the Great Hall, and students hugged themselves, wide eyed with fear. 

Draco, eyes wide with pure terror, let out a scream that split the night. “HELP!!!!!” 

“Oh my goodness.” Lily’s voice echoes with distress. “Run, kids, run!”  

“What is that thing?” A Slytherin boy shouts in horror. 

Harry stumbled backwards, the forest floor rough and tangled beneath him, as the cloaked figure slid smoothly over the unicorn’s body and rose to full height. Its presence loomed over him, and panic surged through Harry as he tried to back away, only to trip over a gnarled root. He scrambled on his hands and knees, desperate to put distance between himself and the figure. 

“Please, please, please, run away!” Lily continues to plead. 

“Mini Prongs, you need to go.” Sirius bites his nails in distress, tension on his shoulders. “Like, now!” 

Suddenly, the sharp sound of pounding hoofbeats cut through the forest stillness. A blur of silver leapt over Harry, landing with grace and power beside the cloaked figure. Harry’s eyes widened as he took in the magnificent form of a centaur, shimmering like moonlight. 

“Thank Merlin.” Euphemia sighed in relief. 

“That’s it, this kid will kill me.” James said faintly, breathing shaking.  

The centaur, Firenze, reared high, muscles taut and glowing under the forest canopy, and with a snort of defiance, the cloaked figure recoiled and retreated, disappearing into the shadows. Harry blinked, chest heaving, relief and awe coursing through him as he realized he was safe, for the moment. 

“The centaurs…” Remus murmurs, pensive. “They’re usually very loyal, unless someone mistreats the forest or betrays their trust.” 

“Harry Potter, you must leave.” Firenze said, voice firm and commanding. “You are known to many creatures here. The Forest is not safe at this time. Especially for you.” 

“Interesting.” Remus looks surprised by the statement. “Creatures don’t usually go beyond themselves to interfere like this.”  

Harry’s eyes darted around nervously. “But… what was that thing you saved me from?” 

Firenze’s expression darkened. “A monstrous creature. It is a terrible crime to slay a unicorn. Drinking the blood of a unicorn will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death. But at a terrible price. You have slain something so pure that from the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have a half-life. A cursed life.” 

Harry’s stomach churned. “But who would choose such a life?” 

The centaur’s gaze sharpened. “Can you think of no one?” 

Harry’s heart sank as realization dawned. “Do you mean to say that thing that killed the unicorn… that was drinking its blood… that was Voldemort?” 

Gasps tore from the Great Hall. 

“You-Know-Who?” A student whispered. “He’s… Still alive?”  

Firenze’s voice was low, almost mournful. “Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment, Mr. Potter?” 

Harry’s eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. “The Philosopher’s Stone.” He whispered, a mix of dread and determination flooding through him. 

“Oh no.” James whispered in realization. “That makes so much sense.” 

“He’s after the stone, of course.” Sirius said quickly, astonishment written all over his face. 

Harry jumped slightly as Fang’s bark echoed through the trees. He looked up to see Hagrid, Hermione, Ron, and Draco emerging from the shadows, Hagrid holding his crossbow at the ready. The moment his eyes met Firenze’s, he lowered it cautiously. 

“Guys!” Harry exclaimed, relief flooding his voice. 

“Hello there, Firenze.” Hagrid greeted, his tone calm as he approached the centaur. “I see you’ve met our young Mr. Potter. You all right there, Harry?” 

Harry gave a quick nod, still shaken. 

“Harry Potter, this is where I leave you.” Firenze said, his voice firm but kind. “You’re safe now. Good luck.” 

With a powerful leap, the silver centaur melted back into the shadows, leaving the group staring in solemn silence at the lifeless unicorn before them. 

Later that day, Hermione paced the common room, her brow furrowed as Harry and Ron listened intently. “You mean You-Know-Who’s out there right now in the Forest?” 

Harry shook his head, urgency in his voice. “But he’s weak. He’s living off the unicorns. Don’t you see? We had it wrong. Snape doesn’t want the Stone for himself. He wants the Stone for Voldemort. With the Elixir of Life, Voldemort will be strong again. He’ll… he’ll come back.” 

Ron swallowed hard, his usual bravado faltering. “But if he comes back, you don’t think he’ll try to kill you, do you?” 

Harry’s jaw tightened. “I think if he’d had the chance, he might have tried to kill me tonight.” 

“I’m going to throw up.” James looked sick, holding a hand to his mouth. 

Ron gulped audibly. “And to think, I’ve been worrying about my Potions final.” 

Hermione held up a hand, stopping them both. “Hang on a minute.” 

They both turned to her, curiosity and concern etched across their faces. “We’re forgetting one thing.” She continued, her voice firm yet gentle. “Who’s the one wizard Voldemort always feared? Dumbledore. As long as Dumbledore is around, Harry, you’re safe. As long as Dumbledore is around, you can’t be touched.” She gave him a reassuring smile, and Harry nodded, a small spark of relief in his eyes. 

“Well… that’s a theory.” Remus cringes a little, shuffling in his seat. “But I wouldn’t bet on it.” 

In the projection, the students poured out of the castle in a chaotic rush, laughter and chatter mingling with the clatter of footsteps. Hermione adjusted her robes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’d always heard Hogwarts’ end of the year exams were frightful.” She said. “But I’ve found that rather enjoyable.” 

Ron groaned beside her, shaking his head. “Speak for yourself. All right there, Harry?” 

Harry walked between them, rubbing his forehead where his scar burned painfully. “My scar… it keeps burning.” 

“This worries me a lot.” James says, furrowing his brow. “This has been happening for some time. I don’t know what it means, but I don’t like it.”  

“His scar is cursed.” Regulus’ voice echoes in the Hall, drawing the attention of most students. “That’s why it still hurts, I imagine. It never healed.” 

“But cursed by what, exactly?” James asks back, anxiety creeping into his tone. 

“I don’t know.” Regulus admitted, shaking his head gently. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see. Could be anything, really.” 

Sirius eyes flicked between Regulus and James, a weird glint in them, and a frown in his face.  

Hermione glanced at him, concern flickering across her face. “It’s happened before.” 

Harry shook his head. “Not like this.” 

Ron frowned. “Perhaps you should see the nurse.” 

Harry’s eyes widened with sudden realization. “I think it’s a warning. It means danger’s coming. Ah… oh! Of course!” 

He broke into a faster pace, Hermione and Ron hurrying to keep up. “What is it?” Hermione called, breathless. 

Harry’s eyes darted around as he spoke, urgency lacing his words. “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have one? I mean, how many people wander around with dragon eggs in their pocket? Why didn’t I see it before?” 

“He’s got your brains, Lily. I don’t have a clue about what’s going on.” James shakes his head at the projection. 

Lily scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Did you still had any doubt about that?” 

Ahead, Hagrid’s hut came into view, the warm glow of lantern light spilling out as the sound of a flute drifted through the evening air. 

“Hagrid.” Harry called, and the music abruptly stopped. The giant lowered the instrument, eyes curious. “Who gave you the dragon egg? What did he look like?” 

Hagrid scratched his beard, his expression troubled. “I dunno. I never saw his face. Kept his hood up all the way.” 

Harry pressed on, urgency threading his tone. “This stranger, though… you and he must have talked.” 

Hagrid nodded slowly, remembering. “Well, he wanted to know what sort of creatures I looked after. I told ’im. I said, ‘After Fluffy, a dragon’s gonna be no problem.’” 

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Did he seem interested in Fluffy?” 

Hagrid chuckled, shrugging. “Well, o’ course he was interested in Fluffy. How often do yeh come across a three-headed dog, even if yer in the trade? But I told ’im. I said… I said, ‘The trick with any beast is to know how to calm ’im. Take Fluffy, for example. Jus’ play him a bit o’ music and he falls straight to sleep.’” 

“Oh no.” Sirius face-palms himself, shaking his head in disbelief. 

The Trio, caught in the urgency of the revelation, suddenly bolted. Hagrid’s voice boomed after them. “I shouldn’t have told you that… Where’re you goin’? Wait?” 

“Where do you think, Hagrid?” Fleamont’s deep voice sounded exasperated. 

Harry, Hermione, and Ron burst into the Transfiguration classroom, their footsteps echoing sharply off the high ceilings. Harry’s voice rang urgent. “We have to see Professor Dumbledore, immediately!” 

McGonagall looked up from her desk, her eyes widening in surprise. “I’m afraid Professor Dumbledore is not here. He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left immediately for London.” 

“Holy fuck.” Sirius curses, bobbing his leg up and down in anxiety. 

Harry’s face fell, disbelief mixing with frustration. “He’s gone? Now? But this is important! This is about the Philosopher’s Stone!” 

Shock flickered across McGonagall’s features. “How do you know…?” 

Harry’s tone sharpened. “Someone’s going to try to steal it!” 

McGonagall straightened, her voice calm but firm. “I don’t know how you three found out about the Stone, but I assure you it is perfectly well protected. Now would you go back to your dormitories? Quietly.” 

“Exactly!” Lily breathed deeply and nodded at the projection. “Let the adults take care of this.”  

Reluctantly, the trio backed toward the door, voices low but intense as they whispered to each other. 

“That was no stranger Hagrid met in the village.” Harry said, glancing over his shoulder. “It was Snape. Which means he knows how to get past Fluffy.” 

“I really don’t think it was Severus.” Lilys mutters softly. 

A shadow moved behind them. Hermione stiffened. “And with Dumbledore gone…” 

Snape stepped from the shadows, his expression unreadable. “Good afternoon. Now, what would three young Gryffindors such as yourselves be doing inside on a day like this?” 

“Me, again.” Severus twisted his mouth in disgust, seeing himself in the projection. 

The three of them jumped, spinning around at the sound of Snape’s voice, hearts hammering in their chests. 

Hermione stammered, flustered. “Uh, w-w-w… we-we were just–” 

Snape’s gaze bored into them for a moment, sharp and chilling. “You ought to be careful. People will think you’re… up to something.” Without another word, he turned and walked away, his cloak swishing behind him. 

Hermione blinked after him, panic and worry flickering across her face. “Now what do we do?” 

Harry’s eyes hardened with determination, his jaw set. “We go down the trapdoor. Tonight.”

Chapter Text

The Gryffindor Common Room was quiet under the cloak of night as the three friends crept down the stairs, their footsteps muffled against the worn carpet. They paused abruptly when a croaking noise echoed softly through the room. 

“Please, just stay in the dorms.” Lily murmured, fingers twisting through her hair in a restless, nervous gesture. 

Harry whispered, eyes narrowing toward the sound. “Trevor.” 

Ron stooped slightly, wagging a finger at the small toad. “Trevor, shh, go! You shouldn’t be here!” 

From behind a chair, Neville appeared, his face a mixture of surprise and exasperation. “Neither should you. You’re sneaking out again, aren’t you?” 

“Neville, please, stop those three gremlins from getting themselves killed.” James said, his voice tense with concern. 

I’m the projection, they froze. The common room’s silence pressing around them like a held breath. Neville stood his ground, face flushed with a fierce, frightened bravery that didn’t suit him at all. 

“Now, Neville, listen. We were–” 

“No! I won’t let you!” He planted his feet and squared his small fists. “You’ll get Gryffindor into trouble again! I‑I’ll fight you.” 

“Thank you so much, Neville.” Euphemia breathed out, relief washing over her as she rubbed her chest. “Such a sweet boy.” 

Hermione moved before anyone could think to stop her. Her voice was low and steady as she raised her wand. “Neville, I’m really, really sorry about this.” She jabbed the tip and added the words cleanly. “Petrificus Totalus.” 

In the Great Hall, students started to whisper wildly at each other, growing into a buzz of commotion. 

“How can a first year already know this?” A Hufflepuff asks, incredulous. 

“She’s a reading machine, that’s mad!” Another student shouted, voice carrying across the hall. 

Neville went rigid, then toppled backward onto the floor, briefly helpless and silent. Hermione tucked her wand away as if embarrassed by how easily it had worked. 

Ron swallowed audibly, eyes wide. “You’re a little scary sometimes, you know that? Brilliant, but scary.” 

Harry stepped lightly past Neville, murmuring. “Let’s go. Sorry.” 

Hermione followed, echoing. “Sorry.” 

Ron added with a small shrug. “It’s for your own good, you know.” 

“I can’t even complain, honestly.” James murmurs to himself, bitterness in his tone. “Just look at his father as an example.” 

Under the Invisibility Cloak, the three kids crept along the corridor, their footsteps muffled against the stone floor. 

“Ow! You stood on my foot!” Hermione hissed sharply. 

Ron muttered, “sorry,” just as a flicker of flame illuminated the far end of the hall. They had reached the door guarding Fluffy’s chamber. Hermione drew her wand and leveled it at the lock. 

“Alohomora.” She whispered. The lock clicked and the door swung open. 

“If the Philosopher’s Stone is really in there, guarded by so many wards, why would this door open with a simple Alohomora?” Remus muses aloud, earning a few curious glances and nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it’s so weird, right?” Sirius leans his head onto Remus’ shoulder, getting comfortable. 

“Boy! Stop this blasphemy this instant!” Walburga’s voice cut through the Hall from the back. “You’re a disgrace to the family name!” 

“Blah, blah, blah…” Sirius mimicked her mouth with his hand. “Couldn’t care less.”  

Harry froze, eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute. He’s…” A sudden gust of air made the Invisibility Cloak flutter off them. “…snoring. Snape’s already been here. He’s put a spell on the harp.” 

They crept closer to the massive, slumbering dog. 

Ron recoiled, grimacing. “Ugh! It’s got horrible breath.” 

Harry whispered urgently. “We have to move its paw.” 

“What?!” Ron stammered. 

“Please don’t.” Lily’s face was ashen. 

“Come on!” Harry grabbed the paw that blocked the doorway. “Okay. Push!” They strained together, muscles tense, and finally shifted the paw aside. 

Harry pressed a finger to his lips. “I’ll go first. Don’t follow until I give you a sign.” 

Fluffy’s eye cracked open, glinting ominously in the dim light. Harry continued, voice low but firm. “If something bad happens, get yourselves out.” He paused, noticing the stillness around them, a shadow stretching above. “Does it seem a bit quiet to you?” 

“Stupid Gryffindor courage.” Regulus muttered, worry etched in his eyes as he watched the scene unfold. 

Hermione’s gaze darted to the now-silent harp. “The harp.” 

Drool dripped from one of Fluffy’s heads, landing squarely on Ron’s shoulder. Ron froze, grimacing, while Harry and Hermione edged closer to the open door. 

Ron recoiled, gagging. “Ew! Yuck! Ugh.” 

All three froze as their eyes tracked upward. Fluffy loomed over them, massive heads thrashing, barking and growling in a terrifying display. 

“Jump! Go!” Harry yelled, vaulting through the trapdoor. Hermione followed swiftly behind him. 

Fluffy’s massive paw caught the trapdoor mid-fall. With a powerful heave, it flung the door against the wall, splintering it. 

Ron leapt just in time, landing on a mass of black, rope-like vines. “Ahh!” He gasped, steadying himself. “Whoa. Lucky this plant-thing’s here, really.” 

Harry stumbled onto the same writhing mass. “Whoa!” He cried as the vines slithered, coiling around them like living ropes. “Oh. Ahh!” 

Hermione’s voice cut through the panic, sharp and commanding. “Stop moving, both of you! This is Devil’s Snare. You have to relax. If you don’t, it will only kill you faster.” 

“Oh great. Now I’m feeling better.” Sirius rolls his eyes in exasperation. 

Ron’s eyes went wide. “Kill us faster?! Oh, now I can relax!” 

“See!” Sirius points wildly at the projection. “Ron gets me, he’s a real one.” 

Hermione managed a small, strained smile just as the vines yanked her downward. 

“Hermione!” Harry and Ron shouted in unison. 

Ron panicked. “Now what are we gonna do?!” 

“Just relax!” Hermione’s voice came faintly from below. 

“Hermione, where are you?” Harry called. 

“Do what I say! Trust me.” She instructed firmly. 

Harry took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, and the Devil’s Snare released him, sucking him downward. 

“Harry!” Ron screamed, flailing. 

Harry hit the hard ground with a thud. Hermione quickly came to him, helping him steady himself. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Harry replied, brushing himself off. 

Ron’s voice trembled. “Help!” 

Hermione gave him a pointed look. “He’s not relaxing, is he?” 

“Apparently not.” Harry said, glancing at Ron. 

“Help! Help me!” Ron shrieked, as the vines twisted around him with a life of their own. 

“He’s dramatic just like you, love.” Remus laughed under his breath, looking pointedly at Sirius’ frown. 

Hermione’s eyes widened. “We’ve gotta do something!” 

“What?” Harry asked, glancing at the writhing vines. 

“Uh! I remember reading something in Herbology. Um…” 

Ron struggled against the Snare, which had wrapped over his mouth. “Help!” 

“Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Scare, it’s deadly fun… but will sulk in the sun! That’s it! Devil’s Snare hates sunlight!” Hermione exclaimed, drawing her wand and pointing it upwards. 

“Lumus Solem!” A beam of bright light shot from her wand. The Snare shrieked and recoiled violently, and Ron tumbled to the ground with a thud. 

“Ahhh!” Ron exclaimed. 

“Ron, are you okay?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah.” Ron panted, brushing himself off. 

“Okay.” Harry nodded. 

Ron straightened up, sighing in relief. “Whew! Lucky we didn’t panic.” 

“Lucky Hermione pays attention in Herbology.” Harry said, earning a stern glance from Hermione. 

“If it wasn’t for her, they’d all be dead.” Snape states with a flat voice. 

A sudden sound made them all freeze. 

“What is that?” Hermione whispered. 

“I don’t know.” Harry replied, his eyes narrowing. “Sounds like wings.” 

The trio stepped into a vast room, sunlight glinting off hundreds of golden shapes suspended in the air. 

“Curious.” Hermione murmured, tilting her head. “I’ve never seen birds like these.” 

“They’re not birds.” Harry said, scanning the room. “They’re keys. And I’ll bet one of them fits that door.” His gaze fell on a broomstick hovering in midair. 

“What’s this all about?” Hermione asked, stepping closer. 

“I don’t know.” Harry admitted. Ron drew his wand and edged toward the locked door, Hermione following close behind. “Strange.” 

Ron rattled the lock and muttered, “Alohomora!” He turned to Hermione and shrugged. “Well, it was worth a try.” 

Hermione groaned, her frustration clear. “What’re we going to do? There must be a thousand keys up there!” 

“We’re looking for a big old-fashioned one.” Harry said, scanning the fluttering shapes. “Probably rusty, like the handle.” 

“There!” Harry pointed. “The one with the broken wing.” His eyes flicked to the broomstick. 

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s too simple.” He muttered. 

“Oh, go on, Harry!” Ron encouraged. “If Snape can catch it on that old broomstick, you can! You’re the youngest Seeker in a century!” 

“If it’s that easy, how about you go yourself then, buddy?” James mutters worriedly, bouncing his leg up and down, hating to be this helpless. 

Harry swung a hand over the broomstick, gripping it tightly as the keys suddenly surged toward him, a glittering wave of gold. He kicked off the floor, swiping and dodging as they came at him. 

“This complicates things a bit.” Ron muttered from below, eyes wide. 

Pushing higher into the air, Harry zoomed after the key, the wind whipping past his face. With a well-aimed toss, he sent the key spinning toward Hermione. 

“Catch the key!” He called. 

Hermione snatched it midair, sprinting toward the lock while Harry kept the other keys distracted. She jammed it in, twisting urgently. 

“Hurry up!” Ron shouted. 

The door clicked open, and the trio barreled through, Harry right behind. With a final crash, the keys slammed against the door, unable to follow. 

Inside, shadows stretched across a dark room littered with broken pieces. Two rows of giant statues flanked the walls. 

Hermione’s face tightened with unease. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” 

Harry scanned the eerie scene, his stomach tightening. “Where are we? A graveyard?” 

Ron exhaled sharply, stepping forward to inspect the towering statues. “This is no graveyard.” He said, shaking his head. Flames ignited around the room, casting long shadows and illuminating the figures. “It’s a chessboard.” 

Harry and Hermione followed closely, their eyes scanning the giant pieces. 

A hush fell over the Great Hall as everyone leaned forward, straining to follow the next trial. 

“There’s the door.” Harry whispered, spotting their goal across the vast board. 

They advanced cautiously, moving toward a line of pawns. As soon as they stepped forward, the pawns raised their swords, a gleaming wall of danger. The three leapt back instinctively. 

Hermione’s voice trembled. “Now what do we do?” 

Ron’s eyes sparkled with determination. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? We’ve got to play our way across the room. Alright, Harry, you take the empty Bishop’s square. Hermione, you’ll be the Queen-side castle. As for me, I’ll be a knight.” 

They moved into position, hearts pounding. 

Hermione glanced around nervously. “What happens now?” 

Ron mounted his statue-horse, gripping its reins. “Well… white moves first. And then… we play.” He squinted at the opposing pieces. A pawn on the far side advanced. Ron’s brow furrowed as he studied the board, plotting their next moves. 

“What are those challenges, though?” Remus says with a frown, confusion all over his face. “This is far from professional work, how could anyone do this to protect such a valuable object?” 

“Right?” Lily’s voice has a frustrated tone to it, an ironic laugh bubbling. “Three kids are able to pass through them easily, imagine You-Know-Who doing it.”  

“That’s actually true…” A student whispers to another, frowning at the warding antics. 

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she whispered. “Ron… you don’t suppose this is going to be like… real wizard’s chess, do you?” 

Ron didn’t hesitate. “You there, D5!” He commanded. A black pawn lunged diagonally toward a white pawn, only to be struck down as the white pawn swung its swords with a metallic crash. The three of them jumped back in unison. 

“Yes, Hermione.” Ron said grimly, his eyes following the chaotic battle. “I think this is going to be exactly like wizard’s chess.” 

The game erupted around them. Pieces smashed into one another with thunderous crashes. “Castle to E4!” Ron shouted. Smash! Another pawn lunged. “Pawn to C3!” Smash! Boom! The Queen pivoted sharply, her strike sending another piece flying. Harry, Ron, and Hermione flinched at every impact, hearts hammering as they navigated the moving battlefield. 

Harry’s eyes widened as he studied the board. “Wait a minute.” 

Ron’s jaw tightened. “You understand, right, Harry? Once I make my move, the Queen will take me. Then you’re free to check the King.” 

Gasps ripple through the Great Hall. 

“No. Ron, no!” Harry shouted, panic rising. 

Hermione’s voice trembled. “What is it?” 

“He’s going to sacrifice himself.” Harry said grimly. 

“No, you can’t!” Hermione protested, watching Ron close his eyes. “There must be another way!” 

Ron turned toward her, resolute. “Do you want to stop Snape from getting that Stone or not? Harry, it’s you that has to go on. I know it. Not me. Not Hermione. You!” 

Harry nodded, understanding the gravity of the moment. Ron drew a deep breath and gripped the reins tightly. “Knight to H3.” 

His horse surged forward, sliding to the left and stopping just a few feet from the King. “Check.” Ron said, his voice tense. 

Hermione and Harry both turned to watch the Queen. She loomed closer to Ron, inches from him, her sword glinting in the torchlight. Ron’s breathing quickened, his hands gripping the steel reins desperately. 

The Queen raised her sword, and stabbed. Ron screamed as he fell from the horse, landing hard on the floor, unconscious. The horse collapsed beside him with a heavy thud. Harry and Hermione froze, hearts pounding, as the Queen loomed over the fallen knight. 

Harry’s voice cracked with panic. “RON!” 

“Oh my!” Pandora gasped softly, eyes wide with worry. 

Hermione darted forward on instinct, but Harry threw out an arm. “No, don’t move! Don’t forget, we’re still playing.” 

She froze, swallowing hard, and stepped back. Harry moved diagonally across the board. Hermione stared helplessly at Ron’s unconscious body while Harry stopped in front of the King. 

“Checkmate.” 

With a metallic clang, the King dropped its sword in surrender. Harry exhaled sharply, and he and Hermione ran to Ron’s side, kneeling beside him. 

“Take care of Ron. Then go to the Owlery. Send a message to Dumbledore.” Harry ordered, urgency cutting through his voice. “Ron’s right. I have to go on.” 

“He’s a natural leader, look at him.” Sirius grinned at the projection, nudging Remus. 

Hermione looked at Harry, eyes shining with fear and conviction. “You’ll be okay, Harry. You’re a great wizard. You really are.” 

In the Great Hall, several “Awwn’s” could be heard from the students. 

Harry gave a faint, almost embarrassed smile. “Not as good as you.” 

She let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Me? Books and cleverness… there are more important things. Friendship and bravery.” Her smile softened. “And Harry, just be careful.” 

“Beautiful words and all…” Sirius says while biting his nails excessively. “But you could just go back to bed and sleep, like the normal students would.” 

Harry nodded once, firm. He rose and turned away, disappearing toward whatever waited ahead.

Chapter Text

Harry descended the stone steps one at a time, each footfall echoing in the cavernous chamber. Halfway down, a hot spike of pain shot through his scar, making him hiss through his teeth. He lifted his gaze– and froze. 

Quirrell stood before the Mirror of Erised. 

Gasps tore through the Great Hall. 

“What?!” A Hufflepuff said, surprised. 

“You?” Harry breathed, voice barely more than air. Quirrell turned slowly to face him. Harry shook his head in disbelief. “No– it can’t be. Snape, h-he was the one–” 

Quirrell’s stutter vanished like a mask dropped to the floor. “Yes, he does seem the type, doesn’t he?” His mouth curled into a cold, knowing smile. “Next to him, who would suspect p-p-p-poor, st-stuttering Professor Quirrell?” 

“I’m always flagged by the Marauders, aren’t I?” Severus sneered, anger flashing in his eyes. “Forever the villain in your eyes.” 

“But– that day during the Quidditch match, Snape tried to kill me.” Harry insisted, the memory of wind and falling and panic flashing behind his eyes. 

Quirrell’s expression sharpened into something almost delighted. “No, dear boy.” He took a step closer. “I tried to kill you.” Harry stared, stunned. “And trust me, if Snape’s cloak hadn’t caught fire and broken my eye contact, I would have succeeded. Even with Snape muttering his little counter-curse.” 

“How dare he!” Lily shouts in anger, looking very red. “Professors are meant to protect the children, not the contrary!”  

“Snape… was trying to save me?” Harry whispered, the truth rearranging itself in his mind like falling glass. 

“I knew you were a danger to me right from the off.” Quirrell said, voice slick with contempt. “Especially after Halloween.” 

Harry’s breath caught. “Then– then you let the troll in!” 

Gasps tore through the Hall. 

“Very good, Potter, yes.” He paced slowly, hands folded behind his back. “Snape, unfortunately, wasn’t fooled. While everyone else was running about the dungeon, he went to the third floor to head me off. He, of course, never trusted me again.” 

He turned back to the mirror. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as his scar flared, pulsing under his skin like a live ember. 

“He rarely left me alone.” Quirrell murmured. “But he doesn’t understand.” His tone dropped, reverent, almost feverish. “I’m never alone. Never.” 

“Huh? What’s that mean?” Sirius frowned, tilting his head a little and leaning forward in tension. 

His eyes locked on his own reflection. “Now… what does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the Stone.” His jaw clenched. “But how do I get it?” 

From the air itself, from nowhere and everywhere, came a voice not meant for human throats. “Use the boy.” 

Gasps. 

“Who was that?” A Hufflepuff said, loudly. 

“That’s so creepy!” A Gryffindor girl shuddered.  

Harry’s head snapped around, searching for the source, heart slamming. 

Quirrell turned, eyes sharp and hungry. “Come here, Potter. Now.” 

“Don’t go, son.” James whispered quietly while shaking his head in disbelief. 

Harry hesitated only a second before forcing himself forward, down the last remaining steps, until the cold face of the mirror loomed before him. 

“Tell me.” Quirrell said, voice low. “What do you see?” 

Harry looked. For a moment, only their reflections, himself beside Quirrell. Then his reflection moved without him, reached into its pocket, and drew out a gleaming red stone. The Philosopher’s Stone. His reflection smiled, knowingly, and slipped it back into its pocket. Harry’s hand flew to his own robe. He felt the hard weight there and almost gasped. 

“How does this… work?” Remus mused, squinting his eyes. 

Quirrell’s voice cut across the silence. “What is it?” His gaze never left Harry’s face. “What do you see?” 

“Lie, for the love of Merlin!” McGonagall said in distress, holding her hands into a begging stance. 

Harry forced his face into a calm he didn’t feel and tore his gaze from his pocket back to the mirror. “I–I’m shaking hands with Dumbledore.” He said, voice thin but steady. “I’ve won the House Cup.” 

“He lies.” The disembodied voice slithered through the chamber like cold smoke. 

Quirrell snapped. “Tell the truth! What do you see?” 

“Let me speak to him.” 

Quirrell flinched as though struck. “Master, you are not strong enough–” 

“What is going on?!” Euphemia’s distressed voice trembles in nervousness. 

“I have strength enough for this.” 

Quirrell’s expression hardened. With rigid obedience, he raised trembling fingers to the edge of his turban and began to unwind. The fabric fell in slow coils to the floor as he turned away from the mirror, presenting his back to Harry. 

Harry instinctively took one step toward the stairs, to escape, then froze, torn between terror and a dread fascination. He turned back just as the last strip of cloth fell. 

There, on the back of Quirrell’s skull, where flesh should have been, was a face, chalk-white, lipless, inhuman. Eyes like coals in snow snapped open, burning into Harry. 

Voldemort looked at him. 

Shocked gasps echoed through the Great Hall. 

“This can’t be!” a Slytherin shouted. 

“No!” Peter exclaimed, trembling at the vision. 

“I’m going to pass out… I can’t feel the tips of my fingers.” Sirius gasped, breathless. 

“How… curious.” Dumbledore murmured, his voice laced with both wonder and horror. 

“Harry Potter.” the voice hissed from the back of Quirrell’s skull, smooth and cold. “We meet again.” 

Harry’s breath caught. “Voldemort.” 

Lily dropped her head into her hands, her expression twisted in torment. 

A thin, mirthless smile curled on the inhuman face. “Yes. You see what I have become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another… a mere parasite.” His voice dripped with loathing, not toward Harry, but toward his own state. “Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own.” 

He paused, as if savoring what came next. “But there is something that can.” A beat. A venomous whisper. “Something that, conveniently enough, lies in your pocket.” 

Harry’s stomach lurched. He didn’t think, he moved. He spun on his heel and bolted up the stairs, heartbeat thundering in his ears as the stolen Stone burned like a secret against his ribs. 

“Oh, my boy.” Lily’s wet voice rang softly in the crowd. 

“Stop him!” 

Quirrell snapped his fingers, fire roared up in an instant, sealing every exit. Harry was trapped. 

“Don’t be a fool.” Voldemort breathed. “Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me and live?” 

Harry shook his head. “Never.” 

A soft, delighted laugh. “Bravery. Your parents had it too. Tell me, Harry, would you like to see your mother and father again? Together, we can bring them back.” 

“How could you?!” James gasped, his face twisted in angry disbelief. 

In the mirror, James and Lily swam into view, achingly real. 

“All I ask for is something in return.” 

“This is so twisted, so horrible.” Lily silently weeped into her sleeve, Mary holding her in a comforting embrace. 

Harry’s hand closed around the Stone in his pocket. 

“That’s it, Harry. There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together, we’ll do extraordinary things. Just give me the Stone.” 

“No, don’t do it, pup.” Sirius whispered fervently.  

In the glass, his parents dissolved into nothing. 

“You liar.” Harry breathed. 

“Kill him.” 

Quirrell lunged, seizing Harry midair, a hand clamped tightly around his throat. They slammed down onto the stone steps; the Philosopher’s Stone slipped from Harry’s grasp, rolling just out of reach. Harry gasped, struggling, a sharp squeak escaping his lips. 

Instinctively, he pressed his hand against Quirrell’s, fingers trembling. Smoke hissed and fumed where they touched. Quirrell recoiled, a strangled cry escaping him. 

Gasps. 

“How…?” Students started to whisper. 

“Ahh! Ahh!” He screamed, stumbling back. His hand crumbled, disintegrating into ash and dust. “What is this magic?” 

A cold, venomous voice hissed from above. “Fool, get the Stone!” 

Quirrell advanced, staggering forward despite his crumbling form. Instinctively, Harry pressed his hands to Quirrell’s face. A high-pitched scream tore from Quirrell’s lips, and even Voldemort flinched. Harry watched in horror as Quirrell recoiled, his face horrendously burned, skin smoking and cracking. 

Step by step, Quirrell disintegrated, turning entirely to ash and dust, leaving only his tattered clothing in a heap on the floor. Harry gasped, staring at his own hands, then scrambled to the Philosopher’s Stone. He grasped it tightly, letting out a shaky sigh of relief. 

Suddenly, a swirl of dust erupted behind him, coalescing into the horrifying semblance of Voldemort’s face. The spectral form lunged, screaming, and passed through Harry, who let out a terrified yell. The apparition of Voldemort shot away into the darkness, and Harry collapsed to the ground, unconscious, clutching the Stone in an outstretched hand. 

“Is he…” James swallowed hard. “Is he okay?” 

“Such a brave boy.” Euphemia whispered, emotion thick in her voice as she looked at the projection. 

As Lily watched her boy on the ground, scraped, shaking and hurt, she couldn’t hold back her tears. To see the same child who had once stared at magic in pure wonder now lying there after defeating Voldemort, even if only for a while, was its own kind of torture for a mother. She ached to step through the projection, gather him into her arms, and soothe him. 

The sunlight filtering through the hospital wing fell across Harry as he blinked awake. Bandages swathed his arm, and he pushed up his glasses before sitting. Cards and candy were scattered across the bed and nearby tables, colorful tokens of concern. 

“Thank Merlin.” Remus sighed deeply, in relief. “He’s fine.” 

Dumbledore appeared beside him, smiling warmly. “Good afternoon, Harry. Ah. Tokens from your admirers?” 

Harry blinked. “Admirers?” 

“What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret. So, naturally, the whole school knows.” He chuckled softly. “Ah, I see your friend Ronald has saved you the trouble of opening your Chocolate Frogs.” 

Gentle laughter drifted through the Great Hall, a rare moment of warmth in the calm after the storm. 

“Ron was here? Is he all right? What about Hermione?” Harry asked, eyes wide. 

“So gentle with his friends.” James whispered to himself, feeling warm all over. “Always worried about them.” 

“Fine. They’re both just fine.” 

Harry’s gaze fell to the bedside table. “But what happened to the Stone?” 

At Harry’s question, everyone in the Great Hall held their breath and leaned forward in curiosity. 

Dumbledore waved a hand gently. “Relax, dear boy. The Stone has been destroyed. My friend Nicholas and I had a little chat and agreed it was best all around.” 

“Destroyed?” McGonagall repeated, surprise in her voice as she lifted a brow. 

Harry frowned. “But then… Flamel, he’ll die, won’t he?” 

The Headmaster sat on the edge of the bed. “He has enough Elixir to set his affairs in order. But yes, he will die.” 

“How is it I got the Stone, sir?” Harry asked, still amazed. “One minute I was staring in the mirror, and the next…” 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Ah. You see, only a person who wanted to find the Stone, find it, but not use it, would be able to get it. That is one of my more brilliant ideas. And between you and me… that is saying something.” 

Awe swept the Great Hall in quiet whispers, students murmuring in admiration of the professor. 

Harry shifted slightly in his bed, brow furrowed. “Does that mean, with the Stone gone… that Voldemort can never come back?” 

Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully. “Ah, I’m afraid there are ways in which he can return. Harry, do you know why Professor Quirrell couldn’t bear to have you touch him?” 

“Now this is something I want to understand too.” James murmured, a serious look in his eyes. 

Harry shook his head. 

“It was because of your mother. She sacrificed herself for you. And that kind of act leaves a mark.” Dumbledore’s hand rested lightly on Harry’s scar. “No, no, this kind of mark cannot be seen. It lives in your very skin.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. “What is it?” 

“Love, Harry. Love.” Dumbledore patted Harry’s head gently, then rose from the bedside. 

“That’s… wow.” Sirius exhaled, disbelief and awe mingling in his voice. 

“Is this…” Fleamont whispered, emotion threading through every word. “Even possible?” 

Lily felt a gentle warmth spread through her, a quiet joy in knowing she could help Harry, even from afar. 

He picked up a small bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. “Ah… I was most unfortunate in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one. And since then, I’m afraid I’ve lost my liking for them. But I think I could be safe with a nice toffee.” He popped a brown bean into his mouth. “Mm. Alas! Earwax.” 

The projection started to show a different scene, when Harry stepped into the corridor, arm still in a sling. Up on the stairwell balcony, Hermione and Ron were deep in conversation, but they froze as they spotted him, leaning over the railing. 

“All right there, Ron?” Harry asked. 

“All right. You?” Ron replied. 

Harry shrugged. “All right. Hermione?” 

“Never better.” She said, smiling. 

“This is friendship for life, I’m telling you.” Sirius said, nodding excitedly at the kids. “Nothing bonds you like a near-death experience!” 

In the projection, down in the Great Hall, students were finishing their meals, chatter filling the air. Green and silver Slytherin banners hung prominently above the hall, already hinting at which house led the points. Dumbledore gave McGonagall a subtle nod. She tapped her spoon against her glass, calling the hall to attention. Silence fell instantly. 

Dumbledore’s voice boomed magically across the room. “Another year gone. And now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding. And the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor with 312 points.” 

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Peter muttered quietly. 

A smattering of applause rose. 

“Third place, Hufflepuff with 352 points.” 

The applause grew slightly louder. 

“And in second place, Ravenclaw with 426 points.” 

A few cheers punctuated the claps. 

“And in first place, with 472 points, Slytherin House.” 

“No way, they never win.” James shook his head, amused, laughing a little. 

A roar erupted from the Slytherin table as students leapt to their feet, clapping and cheering. Hermione pressed a hand to her cheek, scowling, while Snape allowed himself a small nod of approval. 

“Nice one, mate.” Draco sneered at Ron, his expression smug. 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he addressed the hall. “Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin. Well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account. And I have a few last-minute points to award.” 

“Oh?” Sirius’s eyes lit up, hope flickering across his features. 

In the projection, faces at the Gryffindor table perked up hopefully. 

“To Miss Hermione Granger, for the cool use of intellect while others were in grave peril, 50 points.” 

Hermione blinked in surprise, and the Gryffindor table erupted in applause. Harry gave her a reassuring pat on the back. 

The Marauders broke into loud cheers at once, the sound rolling across the Great Hall. They always lit up at a bit of competition, immediate, like muscle memory. 

“Good job.” Harry said quietly to Hermione. 

Across the hall, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle scowled. Hermione glanced at Hagrid, who returned a proud smile. 

“Second, to Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best played game of chess that Hogwarts has seen these many years, 50 points.” 

Ron’s jaw dropped. The Gryffindor table cheered even louder than before. 

“That’s it, go on!” Sirius shouted over the noise, grinning wide. “If anyone deserves it, it’s them.” 

“Alright, Harry’s turn.” James said, leaning forward with a grin. “Come on, this is it.”   

“And third, to Mr. Harry Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House 60 points.” 

The Great Hall broke into an easy uproar. Applause, scattered shouts, chairs scraping as people leaned toward one another, grinning. The mood lifted instantly with the Marauders, professors and parents smiling at the projection. 

In the projection, the hall exploded with cheering. Malfoy’s face cringed, while Harry caught Professor McGonagall’s proud smile from the teacher’s table. Hermione whispered quickly to her fellow students. 

“We’re tied with Slytherin!” 

Dumbledore’s gaze swept the hall. “And finally, it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends. I award 10 points to Neville Longbottom.” 

“Wait. So that means–?” a Slytherin all but shouted, fury cutting through his voice. 

Neville stared, unable to believe it. Gryffindors who’d heard Hermione’s whisper cheered the loudest. Malfoy looked uneasy. 

“Assuming my calculations are correct, I believe that a change of decoration is in order.” 

With a flourish, Dumbledore clapped, and the Slytherin banners above the hall shifted, heavy green and silver giving way to red and gold, emblazoned with the Gryffindor symbol. 

“Gryffindor wins the House Cup.” 

A wave of cheers rolled through the Great Hall, who watched the kids on the projection, clapping, whoops, a few people even pounding their fists on the table, the kind of joy that rises fast and catches. 

In the projection, The Great Hall erupted, cheers, applause, and hat-throwing filled the air. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined in, glad that for the first time in seven years, Slytherin had been dethroned. 

Hagrid let out a delighted roar. “Yes!” 

Malfoy tossed his hat onto the table in defeat, while Gryffindors surrounded Harry, cheering and congratulating him. Harry grinned at Hagrid, who beamed back proudly. 

“He’s so cute.” James laughed at the boy’s smiley face. “The Potter genes are in check, of course.” 

“Oh, shut it.” Sirius rolled his eyes, grinning. 

In a second, the image changed. The platform buzzed with the last-minute clamor of students hustling toward the Hogwarts Express. 

“Come on, now. Hurry up, you’ll be late. Train’s leaving. Go on. Go on. Come on, hurry up.” Hagrid called, his voice booming over the crowd. 

Harry handed Hedwig to a train attendant and walked toward an open door of the train, Hermione at his side. She waved to Hagrid, who waved back, before stepping aboard. 

“Come on, Harry.” Hermione urged. 

“One minute.” Harry said, strolling back to Hagrid. 

“Thought you were leaving without saying goodbye, did you?” Hagrid said, producing a red album from his coat pocket and handing it to Harry. 

Harry opened it, eyes widening at the picture inside, a baby Harry with his parents, all of them smiling and waving. His lips curved into a warm, small smile. 

“Oh, Hagrid.” Lily exhaled softly, her chest tight with emotion. 

“That’s… me.” James murmured, frowning as he studied it. “From the future.” 

“Thanks, Hagrid.” He said, shaking Hagrid’s hand before pulling him into a firm hug. 

“Oh. Go on. On with you. On with you now.” Hagrid chuckled. “Oh, listen, Harry. If that dolt of a cousin of yours, Dudley, gives you any grief, you could always, um, threaten him with a nice pair of ears to go with that tail of his.” 

Harry shook his head, laughing. “But Hagrid, we’re not allowed to do magic away from Hogwarts. You know that.” 

“I do. But your cousin don’t, do he? Eh?” Hagrid chuckled again. “Off you go.” 

Harry returned to the train door, where Hermione and Ron were waiting. 

“Feels strange to be going home, doesn’t it?” Hermione said softly. 

“I’m not going home. Not really.” Harry murmured, looking out the window. 

The train’s whistle shrieked as they climbed aboard. Harry pressed his hand to the window, waving to Hagrid. Hagrid waved back, then waved to other students as the train chugged forward. The camera pulled back, the smoke of the engine curling into the sky, and the projection slowly began to fade to black. 

The Great Hall hummed quietly after the projection faded, candles flickering and casting warm light across the long tables. James leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes fixed on the empty space where the boy had stood. 

“He… actually did it.” James murmured. “I can’t believe it. A child facing… that.” 

Sirius snorted, shaking his head but grinning faintly. “Small, yeah, but mad fearless. Reckless, too.” 

Dumbledore’s voice cut through gently, calm but carrying weight. “Courage often appears in the most unexpected places, even in those we know nothing of. That boy… shows an extraordinary strength.” 

Lily, hands clasped together, leaned closer to James. “It’s strange.” She whispered. “I don’t know him… and yet, I feel for him. Like I should protect him, somehow.” 

James gave a small, tight nod, running a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s… hard, seeing someone so young thrown into all of that.” 

Sirius leaned back, letting out a low whistle. “Well, if that’s any indication, the kid’s got guts. And brains. A little insane, but gutsy all the same.” 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled faintly, and he murmured, almost to himself. “And sometimes, the smallest spark can illuminate even the darkest paths.” 

McGonagall’s gaze was steady, but her voice carried a tremor of worry as she spoke. “And yet, Albus… look at him. He’s facing something we couldn’t defeat. Something we… failed to destroy ourselves. And he’s alone in that moment. A child, confronting what we could not.” 

Dumbledore’s expression softened, a shadow of sadness passing over his features. “Yes, Minerva. It is a burden far too heavy for one so young. But perhaps… It is also a burden that will teach us how to change that future. Show us where we failed, and how to fix it.”  

The Great Hall remained quiet, a hush settling over everyone. The students shifted, glancing at one another, sensing the weight of the moment, the strange feeling of watching a boy they did not know face a darkness that had always loomed over them. 

And then, slowly, the soft glow of the projection flickered again, promising another glimpse into what was yet to come.

Chapter Text

Golden letters. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, rush toward the screen, gilded and ominous, before dissolving into a quiet summer evening in Surrey. 

“The chamber of secrets?” A student whispers, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Will we continue to watch Harry?” James asked, a mix of excitement and worry in his voice. “The Chamber of Secrets…” 

“Please, don’t let it be anything dangerous." Lily murmured, her voice tired but wary, a quiet sense telling her it might not end well. 

Inside the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive, Harry sits on his bed with the red photo album Hagrid once pressed into his hands. He turns the pages slowly.  

“At least now he has a room!” Sirius shouted, throwing his hands into the air like a celebration. “Hey, Dumbledore, can’t you put some sweets on the tables? We should enjoy this while watching!” 

“Sirius–?” Remus muttered, blinking in confusion at the sudden change of topic. 

Dumbledore’s wand swished, and a warm smile spread across his face as the tables of the Great Hall filled with sweets and treats. “Enjoy.” He said simply. 

In the projection, the moving photograph of Harry as a baby between his parents, both waving, both alive. Then another, Ron and Hermione on either side of him, laughing in the Hogwarts courtyard. 

“This is so cute.” Euphemia coos at the photos. “I love keeping family pictures… I hope he does too.” 

“He’s… bigger, isn’t he?” James leaned forward in his seat, eyes narrowing. “Still very small but I can tell a difference." 

“That’s usually how kids work, Prongs.” Sirius said, picking up a sugar quill with a hum. 

In the projection, a soft rustling breaks the stillness. From the corner, Hedwig shifts restlessly in her cage, chirping and hooting with growing irritation. Her wings flutter against the bars, the noise sharp against the silence of the room, and of the entire house that refuses to acknowledge Harry’s world at all. 

“The owl is pretty beautiful, isn’t she?” Barty mused, admiring Harry’s pet. “I’ve never had one of those, so close to me.” 

“Well, yeah, our parents like to roast them like chickens sometimes.” Evans replies, serious. “It is better to not get attached." 

Harry leaned toward the cage, voice low and apologetic. “I can’t let you out, Hedwig. I’m not allowed to use magic outside of school.” 

Hedwig bit insistently at the lock, wings rustling, her hoots growing louder. “Besides, if Uncle Vernon–” 

“HARRY POTTER!” Vernon’s roar exploded from downstairs. 

“Fuck this guy.” Sirius said quietly, with an angry look to his face, while munching on his sugar quill. 

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose, snapping the photo album shut. “Now you’ve done it.” He murmured to the bird before heading for the door. 

He descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Petunia stood at the counter, focused and stiff, smoothing icing over an ornate cake as the smell of sugar and sponge filled the room. 

“He’s in there, Vernon.” Petunia called without looking away from her cake. 

Harry stepped into the living room. Vernon was bent over Dudley, tugging a bow tie tight around his thick neck. 

“I’m warning you.” Vernon said, not bothering to turn fully. “If you can’t control that bloody bird, it’ll have to go.” 

“But she’s bored.” Harry argued. “If I could only let her out for… an hour or two–” 

Vernon gave a short, cruel laugh. “So you can send secret messages to your freaky little friends? No, sir.” 

Harry swallowed. “But I haven’t had any messages from any of my friends. Not one. All summer.” 

“Huh? That’s odd.” Remus frowned. He knew how first-years’ friendships worked, messaging back and forth nonstop. He’d been there himself. 

Dudley snorted. “Who would want to be friends with you?” He shoulder-checked Harry as he passed, the blow deliberate. 

“Who wouldn’t want to be Harry’s friend?!” Lily crossed her arms in anger, her face getting red.  

“I should think you’d be a little more grateful.” Vernon said, puffing himself up importantly. “We’ve raised you since you were a baby, given you the food off our table, even let you have Dudley’s second bedroom, purely out of the goodness of our hearts.” 

“So much goodness, that is.” Fleamont muttered softly, ironically, with a sigh. 

Harry said nothing. 

Petunia, fussing with a platter, murmured to Dudley. “Not now, bumpkins. It’s for when the Masons arrive.” 

“Which should be any minute.” Vernon said briskly, ushering them toward the sitting room. “Now, let’s go over our schedule once again, shall we? Petunia, when the Masons arrive, you will be…?” 

“In the lounge.” Petunia replied promptly. “Waiting to welcome them graciously into our home.” 

“Good. And Dudley, you will be…?” 

“I’ll be waiting to open the door.” Dudley recited, cheeks dimpling with smugness. 

“Excellent.” Vernon said with satisfaction. The three of them turned to Harry with equal parts disdain and warning. “And you…?” 

“I’ll be in my bedroom.” Harry replied flatly. “Making no noise and pretending I don’t exist.” 

“This is insane.” James shook his head, disbelief written all over his face. 

“Too right you will.” Vernon snapped. “With any luck, this could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career, and you will not mess it up.” 

“Harry, please, make sure to mess it up.” Sirius shouted, pressing his hands together in a dramatic begging gesture. 

As the doorbell rang downstairs, Harry trudged up the steps. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Mason! Do come in!” Vernon’s booming voice floated up from below. 

Halfway down the hall, Harry froze. There was laughter, high, frantic, inside his room. He pushed the door open. A small creature with great bat-like ears and large green eyes was bouncing on his bed, hands clasped with manic joy. 

“A… House elf?” Regulus murmured, tilting his head with a confused expression. 

“Harry Potter!” The creature squeaked, exhilarated. “Such an honor it is!” 

Harry immediately shut the door behind him. “Who are you?” 

“Why would a random elf be in Harry’s room?” James mumbled, extremely confused. 

“I’m Dobby, sir.” The small creature squeaked, bowing low. “Dobby the house-elf.” 

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Not to be rude or anything, but this isn’t really a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom.” 

“Amazing to see that, at this point, Harry is just accepting the absurdity of his life.” Sirius said, nodding in approval. “Gotta embrace it, you know?” 

“Oh! Oh, yes, sir! Dobby understands!” The elf cried, his ears drooping. “It’s just that… Dobby has come to tell you– oh, it is so difficult, sir– Dobby wonders where to begin?” 

Harry gestured toward a chair. “Why don’t you sit down?” 

“S-sit down? S-sit– sit down?” Dobby stammered, eyes welling up. Tears soon spilled down his cheeks. 

“Oh no.” Regulus sighs deeply. 

“Dobby, ssh! I’m sorry!” Harry exclaimed, holding his hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend you, or anything.” 

Dobby froze mid-sob, ears twitching. “Offend Dobby? Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but never has he been asked to sit down by a wizard, like… an equal.” 

Harry shook his head with a small smile. “You can’t have met many decent wizards then.” 

“No, I haven’t.” Dobby admitted, his voice trembling. “That was an awful thing to say.” 

“Who’s family is he from?” Euphemia mused, trying to pierce it. “I don’t recognize his name.”  

Before Harry could react, Dobby began banging his head against the dresser drawer repeatedly. “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!” 

“Oh yeah, they tend to do that.” Sirius nodded, acting as if everything is perfectly normal. 

“Stop, Dobby! Dobby, shh! Dobby, please stop!” Harry shouted, stepping forward to intervene. 

Downstairs, the clinking of glasses and low murmurs of the Dursleys and the Masons filled the living room, entirely unaware of the chaos erupting above. 

In the Great Hall, some students started to laugh, already feeling what the outcome of this might be. 

Vernon’s nervous laugh floated faintly up from the living room. “Oh, don’t mind that. It’s just the… cat!” He said to the Masons, trying to keep his voice light. Mr. and Mrs. Mason exchanged wary, puzzled looks. 

Upstairs, Dobby was still slamming his head against the drawer. “Bad Dobby!” 

“Dobby, stop! Please be quiet. Are you all right?” Harry pleaded. 

Dobby froze, breathing hard. “Dobby had to punish himself, sir.” He dragged a small stool over and pushed it toward Harry before climbing onto it himself. “Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir.” 

“Your family?” Harry asked. 

“The wizard family Dobby serves, sir.” Dobby said, sitting stiffly. “Dobby is bound to serve one family forever. If they knew Dobby was here…” He shivered. “But Dobby had to come. Dobby has to protect Harry Potter. To warn him. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year.” 

“What?” James says, alarmed. 

Harry just stared at him, stunned. 

“There is a plot.” Dobby whispered, voice trembling. “A plot to make most terrible things happen.” 

“No, not again.” Lily mutters, passing her hand through her hair in anxiousness. 

“A plot?” A ravenclaw whispers to a colleague. 

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What terrible things? Who’s plotting them?” 

Dobby stiffened, as if fighting his own tongue. “Oh, he! Can’t say!” 

“Okay, I understand. You can’t say.” Harry soothed. 

“Don’t make me talk. L–” Dobby choked on the word, scrambling onto Harry’s desk in panic. He snatched the lamp and began striking himself with it. “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!” 

“Dobby? Dobby, put the lamp down.” Harry urged, trying to grab it away without making more noise. 

Downstairs, Vernon continued speaking to the Masons with an exaggerated calm. “So, when they arrive at the ninth hole–” 

A sharp yelp from upstairs cut through his words. He froze, eyes flicking toward the ceiling, suspicion sharpening his face as the Masons stared. 

“He had it coming.” A Slytherin whispers to his friend, laughing. 

Harry lunged forward, trying to wrestle the lamp from him. “Give me the lamp!” 

Dobby only struggled harder, until Harry heard the heavy thud of Vernon’s footsteps on the stairs. 

“Dobby, stop!” Harry hissed. 

He finally managed to wrench the lamp free, clutching Dobby by his rags and shoving him into the closet. He slammed the door. “Get in there and keep quiet.” 

The bedroom door burst open a second later. Vernon stormed in, face purple. 

“What the devil are you doing up here?!” 

“I was just–” Harry started, but behind him the closet door creaked as Dobby pushed it open a crack. Harry shoved it shut again with his heel. 

“You’ve just ruined the punchline of my Japanese golfer joke.” Vernon growled. 

“Oh please, man.” Peter snickered as he shook his head. 

“Sorry.” Harry muttered, pressing the closet door back into place once more. 

Vernon cast a brief, suspicious glance at the closet door, not truly seeing, then jabbed a finger toward Harry. “One more sound, and you’ll wish you’d never been born, boy.” He noticed the door shift again and snapped. “And fix that door.” 

Harry pushed it closed. “Yes, sir.” 

Vernon gave him one last poisonous glare before turning and yanking the bedroom door shut. The moment his footsteps faded, Harry opened the closet door again, letting Dobby out. 

“See why I’ve got to go back?” He muttered. “I don’t belong here. I belong in your world, at Hogwarts.” 

“That’s right, son.” James nodded softly, worried about the situation he’s in. 

Dobby pulled a sock from his ear, sniffed it, tossed it aside, then faced Harry. 

“It’s the only place I’ve got friends.” 

“Friends who don’t even write to Harry Potter?” Dobby asked quietly. 

“Hold on now.” Sirius exclaimed, gesticulating a lot. “Why is this elf gilt tripping Harry like this? That’s rude.” 

“Well, I expect they’ve been–” Harry stopped mid-sentence, frowning. “Hang on. How do you know my friends haven’t been writing me?” 

“Oh yeah, that too.” Sirius agreed, nodding slowly. 

“Harry Potter mustn’t be angry with Dobby.” The elf pleaded. “Dobby hoped if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him, Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir…” 

“I would normally defend elfs, but this one–!” Lily frowned her brows, upset. 

Harry’s voice hardened. “Give me those. Now.” 

“No!” Dobby squeaked. 

Harry lunged for him, but Dobby slipped away with surprising speed, darting out the door and into the hall. Harry chased him, hissing under his breath. The elf skidded to a stop at the kitchen doorway, staring up at Petunia’s pristine, towering cake, Vernon’s voice still droning on in the background as he entertained the Masons. 

Dobby turned his head just enough to look back at Harry, and the expression on his face was almost wicked. 

“Dobby, get back here!” Harry hissed. 

The elf only smiled, a sharp, mischievous little smile, and shook his head. He snapped his fingers. Petunia’s perfect cake lifted cleanly into the air. 

Gasps tore through the Great Hall, everyone held their breaths. 

“Dobby…” Harry’s voice dropped, pleading. “Please. No.” 

“Harry Potter must say he is not going back to school.” Dobby insisted. 

“I can’t.” Harry said, breathless. “Hogwarts is my home.” 

“Then Dobby must do it, sir. For Harry Potter’s own good.” 

With that smug, determined look still fixed to his face, Dobby snapped his fingers again. The cake drifted out of the kitchen. Harry shoved past him and stepped into the living room just in time to see the dessert gliding toward the Masons and the Dursleys like a silent missile. 

Vernon was mid-punchline, grinning at his guests. “One plumber says, ‘Look at all that water,’ and the second plumber says, ‘Yes, and that’s just the top of it.’” 

“That’s how he wants to win a promotion?” Remus sighed in exasperation. 

Vernon never finished the laugh. All four heads turned at once. 

The cake was gliding through the air, silently, impossibly, and Harry was underneath it with both hands raised as if trying to catch a ghost. His face was tight with panic as the towering dessert drifted straight toward Mrs. Mason’s head. 

Hidden just out of sight, Dobby’s fingers twitched once more, and the cake wobbled in midair before plummeting straight onto Mrs. Mason, splattering frosting across her dress. 

“Congratulations, now Harry’s going to be in trouble for it.” James says, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Vernon, flustered and crimson, stammered through a strained, mortified smile. “I’m so sorry. It’s my nephew. He’s very disturbed.” 

Harry spun around, eyes blazing at Dobby, who retreated a few steps, his expression a mix of fear and mischievous triumph. 

Vernon, desperate to explain the chaos, muttered hurriedly. “Meeting strangers upsets him, that’s why I kept him upstairs.” 

Harry’s glare hardened, every muscle in his face screaming ‘Thanks a lot, Dobby. I’m going to be in huge trouble now because of you.’ Before he could act, Dobby snapped his fingers and vanished, leaving only a faint trace of displaced air behind. 

Petunia and Dudley stood frozen, eyes wide, as Vernon hammered iron bars tightly into Harry’s bedroom window, each clang echoing ominously through the hall. 

Gasps could be heard echoing in the Great Hall. 

“Bars?!” James shouted, enraged. 

“This is plain out abuse, there’s no other word for it.” Remus said, with a saddened look to his eyes. 

“How dare they– How dare Petunia just sit and watch him doing this to my son?!” Lily’s voice shakes with anger, disbelief covering her face. 

Vernon stepped back for a moment, wiping sweat from his brow, his face twisted with fury as he glared at Harry through the newly fortified barrier. His voice dropped low and venomous, “You’re never going back to that school. You’re never going to see those freaky friends of yours again. Never!” 

In the middle of the night, Harry stirred in his bed, roused by a distant, persistent hum that sounded almost like a car engine. Blinking through the grogginess, he fumbled for his glasses and slid out from under the blankets, padding quietly to the window. 

Outside, the night sky shimmered oddly. At first, it looked like a shooting star streaking across the darkness, then split into two sharp beams of turquoise light. Harry’s eyes widened as a strange, turquoise Ford Anglia swooped toward his window, hovering for a moment before banking smoothly to the right. Hedwig ruffled her feathers nervously beside him. 

“Is that-?” Sirius leaned forward in his seat, trying to make sense of it. 

Peering through the bars, Harry caught sight of familiar faces in the car: Ron, along with his older twins, Fred and George. 

“Hiya, Harry.” Ron called cheerfully, leaning slightly out of the window, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. 

“HELL YES!” Sirius cheered, getting up from his seat and clapping loudly. 

“Thank Merlin!” James laughed at the redheaded boy. 

Harry’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his friends in the hovering car. “Ron, Fred, George, what are you all doing here?” He asked, incredulous. 

“Rescuing you, of course.” Ron replied with a grin. “Now, come on. Get your trunk!” 

“That’s friendship, for you.” Mary grinned. 

“He’s twelve and already sneaking out.” Fleamont said with a lifted brow, a mischievous smile slowly crept over his face. 

A flurry of hurried activity followed. Harry scrambled to get dressed, tossed clothes, books, pajamas, and uniforms into his Hogwarts trunk, then slammed the lid shut and locked it with a satisfying click. 

Ron leaned out of the car, hooking the bars on Harry’s window. “You’d better stand back.” Harry took a cautious step away as Ron turned to the twin in the driver’s seat. “Let’s go!” 

The Ford Anglia lunged toward Harry’s window, tearing the bars free with a loud crash. SMASH! The noise jolted Petunia and Vernon from their beds. 

“Oh!” Petunia yelped, clutching her nightgown. 

“Now, what the hell’s he doing?” Vernon bellowed, stumbling toward the window. 

Harry hoisted his trunk, moving swiftly toward the open car trunk. 

“Fast, fast!” A Hufflepuff student vibrated in excitement. 

“Potter!” Vernon shouted, outraged.  

“Dad! What’s going on!?” Dudley called from the landing, rubbing his eyes in confusion. 

“Go, go, go, go!” George urged, leaning out from the car as Harry slid the trunk inside. 

Dudley’s voice rang out from the landing, panicked. “Dad, hurry up!” 

The image cut to Vernon fumbling with the locks on Harry’s bedroom door. Harry grabbed Hedwig’s cage, clutching it tightly as he prepared to climb out the window. 

“Come on.” Ron urged from below. 

“Come on!” Fred echoed. 

“Come on, Harry! Hurry up!” Ron shouted, his voice tight with urgency. 

Vernon finally yanked the door open just as Harry began to swing out toward the car. 

“Petunia, he’s escaping!” Vernon bellowed, lunging and grabbing Harry by the ankle. 

“No!” James shouted, as if he was in a quidditch match. 

“Aah!” Harry yelped, flailing. 

“Get him, Dad!” Dudley yelled, scrambling closer. 

“Aah!” Harry shrieked again, twisting to break free. 

“I’ve got you, Harry!” Ron called, seizing Harry around the waist to pull him toward safety. 

“Come here!” Vernon shouted, straining to hold onto him. 

“Let go of me!” Harry yelled, struggling violently. 

“Oh no, boy! You and that bloody pigeon aren’t going anywhere!” Vernon roared. 

“Get off!” Harry shouted, kicking. 

“Drive!” Ron barked. 

“Right!” Fred and George said, at the same time. 

Vernon lunged after the car one last time, fingers brushing the sill– 

“No! No! No! No! Aaaah!” He howled, losing his grip and plummeting out the window, landing with a heavy thud in the garden below. 

“Dad!” Dudley cried from inside. 

“Oh… damn.” Vernon groaned, staggering upright and tripping over Petunia’s petunias as he lurched out of the flowerbed. 

Above him, the flying Ford Anglia peeled away into the night, gaining height. 

In the front seat, Ron twisted around with a grin. “By the way, Harry, happy birthday!” 

They soared across rooftops and fields, leaving Privet Drive shrinking behind them. 

Cheers erupted across the Great Hall, hands clapping and voices rising as the car pulled away, getting smaller and smaller in the sky.

Chapter Text

Morning light began to bleed across the sky as they descended into the ramshackle yard of the Burrow. The car dropped, wheels hitting dirt, and they rolled forward, straight toward a pig pen where two pigs grunted lazily, before skidding to a ragged, dusty stop. 

Fred padded to the window first, easing it open with practiced quiet and reaching in to unhook the door from the inside. 

“Come on. Okay, come on. Shhh! Shhh!” He whispered urgently over his shoulder, scanning the dark kitchen for witnesses before waving them in. “Okay, come on.” 

“Oh, what a lovely house.” Euphemia said warmly, observing the cramped space. 

They slipped across the floorboards. Ron, already eyeing the counter, pointed. “Do you think it’d be all right if we had some of this?” 

George’s mouth curled in a conspiratorial half–smile. “Yeah, Mum would never know.” 

Ron lifted his chin, taking in the cluttered, warm disorder of his house with pride. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” 

Harry turned in a slow circle, wide eyed, his voice soft with something like wonder. “I think it’s… brilliant.” 

“I mean, the boy doesn't have a real home, so…” A Slytherin student whispered to his friend. 

Ron looked at him then, really looked, and the pride turned into a shy, surprised smile. 

A beat of peace, then– 

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?” Mrs. Weasley’s voice detonated through the kitchen like a spell. 

“MOLLY!” Fabian and Gideon shouted loudly, loving to see their sister in the projection again. 

The boys nearly leapt out of their skin. Mrs. Weasley stood framed in the doorway, wild eyed, furious, and all three of her sons, guilty to the bone, instinctively tucked the stolen rolls behind their backs. Then, with a snap-quick change of tone, she turned a radiant smile toward Harry. 

“Harry, how wonderful to see you, dear.” Her head whipped back to Fred, George, and Ron. “Beds empty! No note! Car gone! You could’ve died! You could’ve been seen!” And back to Harry again, warm as tea. “Of course, I don’t blame you, Harry, dear.” 

“The contrast is something.” Sirius cracked up, loving the woman. 

James busted out laughing. 

“They were starving him, Mum!” Ron blurted, desperate. “There were bars on his window!” 

“Well, you’d best hope that I don’t put bars on your window, Ronald Weasley!” She snapped, though the hard edge in her voice was already beginning to melt. She exhaled, then softened completely as she turned back to Harry. “Come on, Harry. Time for a spot of breakfast.” 

Ginny came flying down the stairs just then, red-faced and startled by the sight of him. Mrs. Weasley ushered Harry toward the table. “Here we are, Harry. Now tuck in. That’s it. There we go.” 

“That’s quite a lot of kids.” Walburga grumbled, a disgusted look to her face. “Blood traitors can’t help but multiplicate.” 

Ginny burst into the kitchen, hair everywhere and cheeks flushed. “Mum. Mummy, have you seen my jumper?” 

“Awwn!” A Hufflepuff cooed at the little girl. “She’s so cute.” 

“Yes, dear. It was on the cat.” Molly replied, not looking up from the stove. 

Ginny’s eyes went huge when she spotted Harry at the table. 

“Hello.” Harry said awkwardly. 

Ginny squeaked and bolted from the room. 

Harry blinked after her. “W-what did I do?” 

Ron just shrugged, buttering a roll. “Ginny. She’s been talking about you all summer. Bit annoying, really.” 

“Famous already with the ladies.” Sirius snickered. 

“Shut the fuck up, you git.” James murmured, annoyed. “He’s twelve.” 

“When I was twelve–!” Sirius started, lifting a finger into the air. 

“We really don’t want to know, Padfoot.” Peter made a disgusted face, faking a gag. 

Before Harry could answer, the back door opened and Arthur Weasley stepped in, tired but cheerful. “Morning, Weasleys.” 

“Morning, dad.” Chorused Fred, George, and Ron. 

“Morning, Arthur!” Molly called. 

Arthur rubbed his face with both hands, weary but still amused. “What a night. Nine raids. Nine!” 

“Raids?” Harry whispered to Ron, bewildered. 

Ron leaned closer, speaking under his breath as if narrating for Harry’s sake. “Dad works in the Ministry of Magic. In the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Dad loves Muggles. Thinks they’re fascinating.” 

Arthur lowered himself into a chair with a sigh of relief. “Well now. Ah.” He glanced toward the unfamiliar boy at the table, brows lifting. “And who are you?” 

Harry straightened, flustered. “Oh. Sorry, sir. I’m Harry, sir, Harry Potter.” 

Arthur lit up with genuine fascination. “Good Lord, are you really? Ron’s told us all about you, of course. When did he get here?” 

Before Harry could speak, Molly cut in, voice dark and heavy with accusation. “This morning. Your sons flew that enchanted car of yours to Surrey and back last night.” 

In the Great Hall, students laughed at Molly's irritated face. 

Arthur lit up like a boy caught up in a good story instead of a crime. “Did you really! How’d it go?!” He was halfway leaning forward, eager for details, until Molly’s eyes cut to him like a knife. He froze mid-grin. 

Fred, George, Ron, and Harry all bit back laughter, shoulders shaking as they tried to answer in unison through suppressed grins. “Oh, it…” 

“Arthur!” Molly snapped, scandalized. 

Every single person in the Great Hall was struggling not to burst out laughing. 

Arthur cleared his throat, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be the responsible adult. “I mean… that was very wrong, indeed, boys. Very wrong of you.” 

Then, without missing a beat, he turned to Harry with genuine curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “Now, Harry, you must know all about Muggles. Tell me, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?” 

Harry blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, umm…” 

“What a chaotic family, I swear.” Lily laughed in delight. 

“I think that’s exactly what Harry needs.” Euphemia smiled at the little boy in such a warm house. “A full house, warm and comfortable.” 

Before Harry could attempt an answer, an owl screeched somewhere outside. 

Molly sighed like she already knew what was coming. “Well, that’ll be Errol with the post.” 

A blur of feathers crashed against the kitchen window with a dull thud and slid out of sight. “Oh, fetch it, will you, Percy, please?” 

Percy rose with a long-suffering dignity, crossed to the window, and peered down. “Errol…” He muttered, reaching to collect the poor bird. 

Ron watched Errol sag in Percy’s hand and shook his head. “He’s always doing that.” 

Percy pulled the damp, crumpled envelopes free and examined them with importance. “Oh look, it’s our Hogwarts letters. And they’ve sent us Harry’s as well.” 

Arthur smiled faintly, unsurprised. “Dumbledore must know you’re here, Harry. Doesn’t miss a trick, that man.” 

“That’s kinda creepy.” Sirius shuddered dramatically, eyeing the Headmaster. 

Molly’s face changed the moment she saw the stack of envelopes. “Oh, no.” 

Fred eyed the pile with grim practicality. “This lot won’t come cheap, Mum. The spell books alone are very expensive.” 

“We’ll manage.” Molly said, determined and brisk, already shifting into problem-solving mode. She dusted her hands against her apron. “Right then. There’s only one place we’re going to get all of this: Diagon Alley.” 

“Such poor people with that many kids!” Walburga wailed, shaking her head rapidly in disbelief. “That’s absurd! All filthy blood traitors!” 

“Oi, you hag.” Fabian shouted back, not willing to let her talk like this about their family. “Maybe we’re poor but you know what we have? Love! That’s right. Something you’ll never get to know in your life.” 

Walburga shrieks back at him, but the words are nonsensical. 

“He’s right.” Regulus breathed quietly, delighted by the exchange. 

Molly swept a flowerpot off the mantel and held it out to Harry like something completely ordinary. “You first, Harry dear.” 

Inside, instead of flowers, was a soft layer of glittering dust. Harry frowned, baffled. 

“But Harry’s never traveled by Floo powder before, Mum.” Ron cut in. 

“Floo powder?” Harry echoed. 

“Oh, my dear.” Euphemia murmured, sadly. 

“Oh, well then…” Molly redirected without hesitation. “You go first Ron, so Harry can see how it’s done. Yes. In you go, that’s it.” 

Ron stepped confidently into the fireplace, grabbed a pinch from the pot, and announced, clear and loud. “Diagon Alley!” 

He flung the powder at his feet, green fire roared up around him, and Ron vanished. Molly clapped her hands gently, encouraging. 

“You see? It’s quite easy, dear. Don’t be afraid. Come on, come on. In you go. That’s it. Mind your head. That’s right. Now, take your Floo powder. That’s it, very good. Now, don’t forget to speak very, very clearly.” 

Harry hesitated a moment, then threw in the words. “Diagonally.”