All of it Happening Again All at Once
Harry limped across the atrium, avoiding the debris and bodies scattered across the floor. The elder wand rested unnaturally comfortable in his hand as he whispered “repairo”. His faithful phoenix wand mended unceremoniously, but he felt joy in the reunion, if only for a moment. He sat looking across the battlefield; friend and foe lay strewn across the rubble. Harry lamented the fact the power of Trelawney's prognostication only went so far as Voldemort and Harry’s mortal struggle, and not the cost of others' lives along the way. Ginny, Ron, Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, Luna, and too many more had given themselves to his cause. His scar burnt, he knew it couldn’t be him anymore, but it felt like the old tissue was tearing asunder, like his emotions trying to escape all at once. Without realizing it Harry found himself at the bottom of the old headmaster’s office, staring at the partially destroyed effigy. “Tapioca pudding” he mumbled as the stairs slowly rose up the tower.
As Harry came level with the door, his legs became lead, his heart a blazing fire; his mind submerged in ice. He could do nothing to quell the feelings inside him, the pain maddening. He reached into his pocket finding a small obsidian stone, turning it quickly in his hands. *woosh* The air was disturbed by the appearance of Ginny’s shadow. It layed its hands on Harry and he felt calm, her ghostly hands absorbed the pain inside him. “What do I do Ginny? We won but at the cost of all that I was fighting for?” Tears formed in his eyes as he began to quietly sob. Her voice was light, but distant “I am always a part of you Harry, you know why you’ve come to his office”.
Harry stepped into the office finally, the pensive sat where he’d left it, the sound of applause began to fill the room. A knot filled his chest. “STOP IT! ALL OF YOU, THIS IS NO TIME TO CHEER” The portraits fell silent immediately except for one who continued clapping quietly. “Harry, cost without recognition is only suffering.”
Temporal Extortion
Harry turned sharply to the portrait, breathing in deeply and exhaling harshly. “The cost was too high, is there victory in decimation headmaster?” The portrait darkened and sat quietly for longer than Harry could stand. “Tell me...Tell me it’s worth it!” Finally, the portrait spoke "Yes Harry, it was worth it.” The room began to spin around Harry, his legs gave underneath him. Looking up weakly, Harry pleaded “please headmaster there must be something, this is too much for a soul to bear”.
The portrait sighed deeply “Harry, although it does not do to dwell on desire, there is a way. Call for Fawkes and remove my portrait.” Harry did as the portrait instructed, there in a small carved out hollow, sat a mechanical pendant. “Revertere Adme Fawkes” Harry said aloud. A thin silvery thread formed from the tip of his wand, the thread seemed to retract into the wand until a fiery red bird appeared in the window of the office. Harry hung the headmaster’s portrait back in its place “what now professor?” The portrait sat for a moment “Harry what you ask is tricky magic, but it will allow your soul to return to before all of this. ‘Tempus Repetundarum’ will begin the ritual. You must ask for Fawkes life and your own, only then will the time turner be your catalyst.”
Harry nodded curtly at the portrait before turning to Fawkes “I have to go back, I need to fix this, please let me return...” Fawkes looked at Harry for a moment before squawking low at him and sitting atop the pendant like it was an egg. Harry got the feeling he was given the bird’s blessing before invoking “Tempus Repentundarum!”. Harry yelled the incantation louder than expected but as he did the room swirled around a formed barrier that he and Fawkes stood in. The bird burst into flames over and over again. Harry felt his mind condensed, like a star dying into singularity. Dumbledore’s words broke through for just a moment “you must mean it Harry.”
“Anima Retatum!!”
Again, Once More
Harry felt himself tear apart atom by atom. Once his mortal shell had been stripped bare, his soul moved forward toward the reigniting flame of Fawkes. He tentatively reached his hand into the blaze and was pulled within. Memories blurred past Harry – happy, painful, silly, and devastating ones all played simultaneously. Seven years of Harry’s life played in an eternal moment, and then, darkness.
“Wake up Potter, it’s time to go!” Vernon’s voice cut through the thin door of the cupboard. Harry’s mind still swirled, reeling from his magic entering his younger self suddenly. “Hurry up boy! Breakfast needs making!” He attempted to sit up and get his bearings but his body refused to obey. Vernon growled loudly as his heavy steps approached the cupboard. The door flew open slamming against the wall. “I SAID UP BOY, YOU HAVE DUTIES”. “I...I’m sorry Mr.Dursley...I don't feel well at all.” was all harry could muster. “Nonsense, get up.” Mr.Dursley lifted Harry into the hallway and put him square on his feet before Harry crumpled like a paper doll to the floor. “Err..well I guess you’re not lying then, fine.” Awkwardly, Vernon lifted Harry and half tossed him on his cot. He called out to Petunia and Dudley “Oi, Potter’s actually ill, leave him here while we go and celebrate our little Dudders birthday.
Harry to Harry
Once Vernon had closed the door on Harry, he heard them hurry out the door to the zoo. Harry’s mind was now grappling over his memories that hadn’t happened anymore and the realization of where he was now. Voices swirled in his head, all mingling over the other speaking incoherently at him. The pressure in his scar was causing a blinding headache until finally Harry, the older version, broke through the voices. “I haven’t much time Harry and I don’t know how all of this works either, but you have what I was able to send back, use it all, protect everyone, live well, Fight!” The voices all stopped at once. Harry felt like a two-headed creature. He knew he was Harry, lived in London, and was 11 years old. This other “Harry” had fantastic tales of things they had done, was 18, and was from a time that hadn’t come quite yet.
Even after the Dursleys had returned from the zoo Harry was unable to move more than his arms weakly. Vernon stormed in from the car to catch him faking. He was taken aback seeing that he hadn’t moved much; he sputtered something disapprovingly and moved on. He was grateful that his uncle was being “kind” to him. No doubt the absence of a ruckus at the zoo and trapping Dudley in the snake enclosure helped his case.
The day passed without incident. It wasn’t until night came, and Harry succumbed to sleep before intense images of flying spells and battles flooded his dreams. The students fell at the hands of multiple hooded people, Voldemort cast spell after spell with reckless abandon, and through it all Harry persisted. Harry saw himself resisting the invading forces, trying his hardest to protect his friends. The scene changed and Harry was sitting in a common room, laughing and playing with fun contraptions two older boys had provided. Finally, the scene was that of the cupboard he slept in. There another Harry sat with a sad smile on his face. “What’s going on? I know you’re me, but what is all of this?” The other Harry opened his mouth to speak but nothing audible came forward.
Getting ready
A sharp knock woke Harry suddenly “Alright boy, enough lounging around, I’ve been patient with you, but I will stand for this idleness any longer.” Harry struggled to sit up but eventually managed to get his legs over the edge of the bed. “Yes uncle, I’ll be out in a minute.” Harry tried his best to move normally but his uncle was watching him like a hawk. “Boy, I allowed you to rest yesterday, you should be more than energized to do your tasks” Harry did have to concede his uncle was being uncharacteristically even-headed towards him. Other than more barking from Uncle Vernon the day passed like any other, until 12 O’clock. As if on cue the mail was slid in from the slit on the front door, Harry knew there was something important about it and hurried to grab it. “Now that’s more like it boy.” Vernon jeered. Harry looked through the stack and found a large parcel addressed to him. He hid it in his cupboard before bringing the rest to Vernon.
As Harry reentered the sitting room, his uncle eyed him suspiciously. “What was that boy? Bring it here.” He hesitated a moment before obliging to retrieve the parcel. Vernon took it and looked it over.
To: Harry James Potter
Number 4, Under the Stairs cupboard
Private Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey
From: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
“Poppycock, no one in their right minds would ever send you anything boy” Vernon huffed before flinging the parcel into the fireplace where it caught quickly. Harry stiffened, fighting the urge to rescue the package and simply said “Sir.” He was dismissed with a wave of his uncle’s hands and sat thoughtfully in his room. The instinct to conceal the letter bothered him, he’d never felt such an impulse before.
As the week passed Harry was able to regain full function. At times he saw echoes of similar actions taken by his predecessor, but he did his best to contain his reactions. Vernon never relented his surveillance of Harry. His Aunt Petunia was doing similar but did not seem to care as much as Vernon. Once again at 12 o’clock the post arrived through the front door, and the drive to grab it stirred again. Harry knew it would do no good to rush. He forced himself outside to do chores in the garden. He hoped his uncle would lower his guard soon.
Bending the shape of things
As the sun began to dip behind the other houses, Harry looked into the sitting room and saw it was empty. “Maybe they’re having a nap after afternoon tea?” Harry mused. He attempted to quickly retrieve the package, avoiding the squeaky floorboards and taking quiet, shallow breaths. There before him lay another parcel.
To: Harry James Potter
Number 4, Under the Stairs cupboard
Private Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey
Sent with sound mind from: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Harry picked the package up gingerly, looking it over. “AHA!” Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice cut the silence “Vernon warned me those freaks had sent you a letter. Hand it over boy, you’ve no business with it.” Harry’s body shook with frustration as he acquiesced to his aunt. She walked briskly to the fireplace before tossing the new parcel upon it, watching it catch fire the same as the first.
Harry found himself staring at his aunt and uncle, both looking at him with a mix of anger and disgust. “You listen here boy-uh! There will be no funny business in this household.” Vernon began “and we will not tolerate associating with freaks. Is that clear?” asked Petunia. Harry gave a stoic “Yes sir, yes mum” he knew this was different from his previous life, he had never been sat at the table. He was confined to his room again, this time with the promise of no supper for two days. He felt a pit of anger in his stomach. A maddening gnaw chewed at his thoughts. Something inside him demanded to open those letters. Harry had no energy to scheme on how to get the letter. The lack of supper to his already undernourished body hurt more than he’d thought. For now, all he could do was curry some space by playing along with their demands.
The Clock Tolls for All
At 12 o’clock Vernon stood vigilant at the door, as before the letters slid inside. His uncle didn’t even glance at them, he took the largest one and flung it into the fire. It burned quickly before Harry’s eyes. He quickly closed the door to his room and shrunk into his cot and blankets. Around midnight, he tried his door. It had been left unlocked. He moved silently on all fours, laying low in case someone was up. His body moved unnaturally fluid, a small flash of the previous him doing similar when sneaking out of his dormitories. Feeling the stone edge of the fireplace, Harry felt around for scraps of the letter. To his surprise, he felt a large intact envelope amongst the ash and debris. It crinkled slightly as he lifted it, causing him to hold his breath tightly and listen out for any movement. When he detected none, he slunk his way back across the sitting room to his own.
Harry’s heart beat wildly in his chest, sweat beaded his forehead. His hands moved painstakingly slow, every little rip making him perk his ears up. After an eternity, he slid the letter from the envelope.
Dear Mr.Potter,
We are pleased to let you know that you have been accepted into the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Encased in this letter are the list of required school materials, acceptable pets, and directions on how to reach the magical shopping district “Diagon Alley”. We look forward to seeing you at this year's entrance ceremony.
With warm regards,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
A knot formed in his chest. There was no way the headmaster knew what the other Harry had done, but he’d half expected him to show he knew in some subtle way. Previously it felt no matter what route he and his friends had taken, the professor had been three steps ahead of them. Harry leaned against his back against the wall of his room. He sat in quiet contemplation, rereading the letter and looking over the school lists. Nothing in his extra memories helped at all.
Does not do to dwell
Morning came quickly. Harry had fallen asleep clutching the letter but luckily the Dursleys had yet to wake. He stuffed the letter in his pillowcase and rose to begin preparing Sunday breakfast. While he fried the meats, he contemplated what he could afford to risk. Should he confront his guardians, though they seemed vehemently against the school already. “Wait, they're already against it? They know but haven’t told me anything but threats.” His scar prickled itchily. Before he could spiral into further thoughts, he heard the thuds of Vernon’s heavy footsteps and Petunia’s pitter-pater footfalls. Dudley didn’t stir until Petunia roused him; his steps sounded near identical to his father’s if not as heavy.
Breakfast came and went normally, other than some low-grade insults from Vernon; it was uneventful. *Knock knock knock* Quick, small knocks sounded from the front door. His uncle huffed at being bothered so early but answered it himself. “Probably thinks it's a postman delivering me a letter personally.” he thought wryly. Harry heard Vernon talking far more than he’d expected to them. Maybe he was telling them to reject any letters directed to him. “Boy, come here.” Vernon’s voice barked, cutting Harry’s thoughts once more. “Here’s the boy, work him as hard as you care to. Boy, Miss Figg has requested you assist her with errands today. Make yourself presentable and meet her across the way there.” Harry nodded and quickly made his way to his room to change. He grabbed his envelope, stuffed it into his pants, and hurried to Miss Figg’s home.
*Knock knock* Harry stood awkwardly waiting for Miss Figg. He knew she’d played a small role in exonerating him from charges of using spells outside of school. But he had no idea how she fit into his life now. Finally, the door swung open to the small frame of an elderly woman. “Well don’t dawdle, come in, come in boy.” She said, beckoning him to follow. Harry walked in cautiously. “Come on boy, we haven't all day now do we?”
New faces, Familiar Places
"Time, mum?” She nodded with a sigh “Yes, we need to hurry along before your guardians come around asking for you. Now let’s go.” Harry followed her to the nearby fireplace; it made him uneasy, but he unwittingly stepped inside before Miss Figg had said anything. She looked at him curiously but shrugged as she grabbed a handful of ash “Leaky Couldron” she half yelled before they were engulfed in green flames.
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Harry’s body squeezed and contorted uncomfortably for a minute before he found himself in a much darker room. It hummed with quiet chatter and the clinking of utensils. “Here, put this on.” Harry took the piece of cloth offered and examined it. It was a gray hooded cloak, he swung it on as instructed, and they pressed onward. Harry could hear voices he couldn’t quiet place. They stepped into the walled area behind the tavern. Miss Figg tapped her cane on four precise bricks that began to fold in on themselves. “Hand me the letters. Keep your conversations and visits short.” She led them to a building that leaned dangerously on its foundation with a simple marble sign mounted in front.
“Gringotts Wizarding Bank”
“I haven’t any money mum” Harry said low. “Ah” was all Miss Figg said with a dismissive wave. They entered the building, its golden interior and high vaulted ceilings made Harry feel smaller than Miss Figg. He kept his eyes down, tracking the cane in front of him. She stopped at the far end of the room. A gravelly voice asked, “Mr. Potter’s vault key?” Harry quickly patted himself down vainly, he hadn’t any pockets anyway. “I have this from the headmaster.” She presented the envelope to the creature before her.
The creature looked over the envelope indifferently “This is insufficient.” Miss Figg clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Well it’s all I’ve got.” The creature huffed impatiently, “Follow me Mr. Potter.” Miss Figg simply nodded, and he followed them into a private office. He sat in front of the ornate desk, Miss Figg and their escort left the room once they had him situated. “Mr. Potter...” Harry looked up to face the source of the voice “...I am Korvald – a goblin of Gringotts Wizarding bank and the executor of your estate. I see you recently turned eleven years of age and are now entitled to a minor portion of your wealth. You have no identification and with that, no access.” Harry’s face warmed with embarrassment “h - how am I...what...what am I supposed to do?” The goblin resigned himself with a sigh “Normally we would require a key, wand, or guardian. In this instance you have a unique identifier that will suffice just this once, and we shall issue you a new key.” The look of confusion must have been on full display “your scar Mr. Potter, please lift your hair over your forehead.”
Harry found himself trailing Mr. Korvald to a set of tracks. The small golden key hung tightly on a leather cord round his neck. Suddenly they were rushing on the tracks deep into the chasm. Fear simmered in his core; he could sense the dangers that lay in wait below. The cart grinded to a halt before they disembarked “vault 687” the goblin announced. “Key please.” Harry obliged, hastily handing it to them. As the large, stone door opened a small satchel lay in the center. “As previously stated, Mr. Potter, you are entitled to a small portion of your estate, and in addition an allowance that will be paid monthly. This satchel contains all necessary funds for your required materials and first allowance.” Harry grabbed the satchel and placed his key inside it before tying it around his neck once more.
All Things Necessary
Once they had returned to the surface level of Gringotts, Miss Figg shuffled forward to retrieve him. “Right, well that took longer than I’d allotted. We’ll need to double time to make sure we get everything before your guardians notice you’re still gone.” Miss Figg led Harry to each shop, telling him which of his supplies he’d find inside. It wasn’t until they stood before “Ollivander’s Wand Shoppe” that he felt some sense of anxiety.
Harry entered the small, cluttered shop. Its walls were still lined with rows of wands, lit dimly by oil lamps. He chimed the small bell on the clerk’s desk. An aged gentleman stepped out from around the corner, gasping softly as he saw the figure before him. “Why, Mr. Potter. I knew I would be seeing you soon. It feels like just yesterday I was assisting your mother and father discover their first wands.” Harry’s words caught in his throat upon hearing about his mom and dad. “Yes, yes...your mother’s - willow, 8 ?", unicorn hair, rigid. Your father’s - mahogany, 12 ?”, dragon heartstring, unnaturally springy.” Ollivander sighed contentedly “But that has long passed, we must now look to what remains.”
Ollivander began grabbing boxes from the shelves, seemingly random. He would comment on the wands builds as he presented them – willow, teak, maple, dragon heart, unicorn hair. Ollivander’s enthusiasm puzzled Harry; every wand he handled seemed to reject him over and over again. The old shopkeeper mumbled to himself something he could not make out. “Try this one Mr. Potter; holly, phoenix feather, 11”, nice and supple.” Harry took the wand, it felt familiar but cold. As he went to aim the wand, Ollivander’s eyes hardened as he took it. “It seems my intuition was wrong.” he mumbled. As the shopkeeper replaced the wand, a whisper snuck its way through Harry’s mind. His limbs guided him to a small end table with a small assortment of differently packaged wands. He took one in his hands and felt warmth race through his blood; without a word the lights swelled briefly, then dimmed. “How curious...” Ollivander appeared behind him “...honey locust, 12 ?", thunderbird tail, rigid with some give...” Harry took the wand and laid his payment into Mr. Ollivander’s hand. “...curious...” was all he heard as he stepped outside once more.
All that’s Left
Once he was outside, Miss Figg directed him back towards the tavern. The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time they had returned to Figg’s residence. “Leave your things here, except the wand, keep it hidden.” They hurriedly walked back to Harry’s residence; Vernon answered the door again after the woman knocked. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble Miss Figg, I know how useless he can be.” Harry saw the woman shift uncomfortably “oh no trouble at all, he was a fine chimney sweep, so I hope you’ll forgive me for returning him so filthy” His uncle laughed deep and condescendingly “Chimney Sweep! Hah! I will have to increase my discipline on the boy to match yours Miss Figg, his filth is no matter. Good day madame.”
Harry was pushed inside and was told to clean himself up before making supper. He could hear Vernon telling Petunia about his exchange with the neighbor “CHIMNEY SWEEP!” The evening was normal, mostly cut by his uncle chuckling to himself about chimney sweep like it was the greatest joke mankind had created. Harry’s sleep ended with small rasps against the front door; he raised himself from the bed and answered it. There again stood Miss Figg, his uncle had awoken and was yelling about “visitors this bloody early!” Upon seeing the old woman, he straightened his voice “and to what do we owe the pleasure madame.” She dug in her purse “yes well, you mentioned discipline yesterday and it got me to thinking about this advertisement I heard on the radio.” she pulled out a folder page and handed it to his uncle. “It’s a boarding school for the undisciplined, overly lax, and disobedient children in the country.”
Getting to Start
Harry couldn’t recall a single moment in this life or the other, that he had ever seen his uncle skip about the house. “Can you believe Petunia dear? Seven years the boy will be gone. No longer will we be obligated to this parasite.” They both cheered, opening a bottle of champagne. Dudley wasn’t sure what to make of it all but cheered all the same. The week flew by. Vernon practically threw all of Harry’s meager belongings into a small trunk and drove wildly to King’s Cross Station. Once they arrived, Vernon unloaded his trunk and stuck his hand out “Er...I can’t say it was a pleasure boy, but we part ways here.” Harry awkwardly shook his uncle’s hand and turned to the platforms. He shook his head in disbelief but pressed on.
His legs moved for him; the shadow of instinct flowed through his muscles. He weaved between the thicket of people and luggage. He became shrouded in darkness for a quarter of a moment. As he emerged on the other side, the sounds of goodbyes and “I’ll write you soons” met his ear. A needle stuck itself in his chest, this time around he had no one; the giant man wasn’t here to greet him, and he was so possessed he hadn’t seen the family of redheads. He awkwardly approached the attendants who loaded his small trunk into the cargo, before stepping onto the train. He wasn’t sure where to sit. All the compartments were half full of upper year students who didn’t linger with their families. He eventually found a compartment in the middle where only a lone student sat; she looked like a first year, but Harry didn’t quite recognize her. “You’re welcome to sit here, my name is Daphne, Daphne Greengrass. Who’re you?” She seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t fully place who she was. “Oh, uh, I’m Harry Potter.” Daphne’s eyes grew wide as she realized who he was. “G..go ahead and take a seat.”
The Longest Track
Harry couldn’t find a reason to refuse, so he sat across from Daphne. The departure whistle of the train began to sound. A rush of students filed into the train. The two students stared at each other, unsure of what to say, and no other students had attempted to join their cabin yet. It wasn’t until they felt the train shudder forward a sheepish boy and bushy brown-haired girl knocked. “Excuse us but every other compartment is full, is it okay if we sit you?” Harry and Daphne looked at each other and shrugged. The two new students entered and sat with them. “My name’s Hermoine, Hermoine Granger.” said the girl’ “And I’m Neville Longbottom.” Daphne introduced herself first. Once Harry had stated his last name the other two gasped slightly. “I’ve read about you in the newest edition of A History of Magic you’re the only known survivor of the unforgivable killing curse.” Harry couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “What do you mean I survived being killed? My aunt and uncle never mentioned that to me.” Hermoine proceeded to tell him how the events were described in the book.
The three of them listened to Hermoine as she gave an impromptu lecture about the story of Harry’s survival. She even described the collateral damage of other members that had repelled Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was at this time that Neville began to fidget. “Is everything alright Neville?” The boy stiffly nodded “I didn’t realize my parents were also mentioned in our textbook. Frank and Alice, their last name is Longbottom. I suppose they omitted their full names as they survived.” Daphne said something so quiet, none of them heard it. Neville being the closest, asked her to repeat what she’d said. “I’m sorry Neville. I didn’t know my Great Aunt Bellatrix had done that.” The train rattled noisily, filling the silence between all four of them. “It’s okay Daphne, it wasn’t your fault, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
The Stone Castle
The train began to slow, before the soft squeals of the brakes could be heard. As the train came to a halt, the four students gave each other a small smile and walked out onto the platform. “FIRST YEARS COME WITH ME.” A soft, but booming, voice cuts across the chatter easily. A giant man called out and waved, gathering all the first years near the docks by the train. As Harry approached the man’s face, beamed brightly. “HARRY! You made it did’ja?” “U..uh..yeah I’m here okay sir.” The giant seemed taken aback by the formality “Well I sur’pose you were just a babe when you last saw me, anyways let's go onto the boats everyone!” The boat trip over the black lake was mesmerizing, he could he hear small gasps and exclamations of awe. A small feeling of warmth radiated from his chest. The realization that he was free to be himself clicked.
The boats hit the wood of the dock with a quiet thunk. The ropes lifted themselves from the bow and tied themselves seamlessly to the anchors. The giant directed everyone from their seats, helping stabilize the rafts as they disembarked. “A’right now all of yeh, follow the path through the main gate, a professor ‘ll be there to getcha.” The quiet procession of first years began to move forward. Before Harry could follow, the giant stopped him. “Er Harry, I didn’t get ta’ meet ya’ earlier but I’m Hagrid, I carried you as a baby to yer home with the Dursleys. I kno they didn’ treat ya well but yer gonna do grea’.” Harry thanked him politely and said he appreciated kind words, that they could talk again sometime after he got settled in. Hagrid smiled and nodded kindly before waving him forward with the rest of the students. He caught up as the doors opened to an older, kindly witch standing with a sheet of parchment in her hands. “Follow me quickly we’re nearly ready for you to join the ceremony in the Grand Hall”. The excitement amongst everyone grew more, even Harry felt the tingle in his legs. The witch left them for a moment, leaving them to talk with barely contained merriment.
Cloth and Banner
One boy stepped back, he had slicked back, blonde hair and spoke to him “I’m Draco Malfoy, word along the train is you’re Harry Potter.” Harry’s stomach turned slightly, but he swallowed hard and steeled himself, shaking Draco’s hand. “Yeah, that’s me, I hope we have a good year together.” Somewhere near the front of the group, a boy snorted loudly. Draco’s head snapped to where the sound originated “Somebody hear anything hilarious?” The group parted, leaving a lone redheaded, freckled boy in the open. It was the blonde boys time to chortle. “Well, that poor coming from a Weasley” Harry felt a pang of guilt finding Draco’s remark funny. “You see Harry, there all kinds of magical families and some are a cut above others.” The redhead’s face darkened with embarrassment, but the exchange was cut as the witch returned and ushered them through another set of large doors where students sat under their house crest and colors.
The witch that had led them in held her wand to her throat. “We will now begin the house sorting ceremony I will call you name, and you will sit on the chair, which upon the sorting hat will be placed on your head and it will sort you accordingly.” The hall filled with excited murmurs as the first student Susan bones, was called. “Slytherin!” The hat announced loudly. The Slytherin table cheered loudly while the others clapped politely. This continued until Harry heard Hermoine’s name be called. The hat rested on her head for a moment longer than it had for others before declaring “Ravenclaw!”. Her house excitedly welcomed her to the table. Next was Neville, he sat as the hat deliberated with itself declaring finally “Hufflepuff!” Daphne was called after Draco and the redheaded boy, whose name was Ron Harry learned, had been sorted into Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively. The hat seemed to take its time for Daphne. He could see her whispering to the hat presumably. After a good while the hat boomed “Hufflepuff!” this earned some chatter across the hall, each house looked at each other questioningly.
Finally, Harry was called forward; the room held its breath in baited speculation. Even the teachers and headmaster up front seemed to sit straighter as they waited. The hat immediately hemmed and hawed while it sat on his head. “Interesting, interesting, so many qualities, power, courage, intellect, humanity. Your head is an amalgam of every house, how interesting. But what’s this, this feeling of knowing...hmm.” The hat seemed truly stumped as it weighed his every quality. “Ah I see it now, not only in your mind, but your body, these sinews of instinct ingrained in you. Ravenclaw!” The table exploded in applause and gloating “We got Harry Potter!” one student yelled.
Foundations of Spells and Craft
On the first morning of classes, Harry made the descent from Ravenclaw tower to the Great Hall. He picked at his breakfast, he felt like a stranger among the blue robed students. Hermoine broke his contemplation as she sat next to him. She looked him over for a moment. “Are you doing alright Harry?” He nodded wordlessly back. “Well let’s not dillydally we must hurry if we want to make it to McGonagall’s class on time.” The mention of the witch’s name perked Harry up a bit, something in the name gave a feeling of familiarity. The walk with Hermoine felt better than from the common room to the Great Hall. She talked to him about what she read, specifically in regard to transfiguration. He listened to her closely, watching her demonstrate some wand movements. They rounded the corner into the classroom where students were sat sparsely. Hermoine took a seat near the front of the class while he looked for something further away. Sitting alone on the far left was Daphne. Harry felt it was as good a place as any and sat with her.
Daphne greeted him warmly, seemingly relieved someone familiar had sat next to her. They both stared for a half second, recognizing the discomfort the other felt. “It feels weird doesn’t it? Like we’re furniture placed off-center.” Harry felt a small wave of relief. “Yeah, doesn’t feel wrong but it’s just odd.” Daphne mirrored him looking a little lighter after talking. McGonagall strode into the classroom shortly after their exchange. “Transfiguration is a subtle art. One that requires practice, patience, and precision. You may find it difficult at first, but it will lay the groundwork for your other spellwork.” She continued, beginning her lecture with the basis of transfiguration, how it assisted in other courses like runes, spell crafting, and even in taming magical creatures. For their first lesson, she demonstrated a basic wand movement, deliberately lifting her wand and making a J-figure and cast Den Saro which decreased the size of the loaf of bread considerably. McGonagall told the class that although transfiguration could alter food, it could not create it, which was a principal exception of Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Hermoine raised her hand, before Professor McGonagall called on her. She asked if we would be going over the other four exceptions in today’s class, but the professor shook her head no, saying they would explore them throughout the year.
The professor then distributed rolls to each student, telling them to do their best to try and replicate what she had done. As she did, she continued her lecture “Now, some of you may be wondering what Den Saro does.” She wordlessly summoned the roll on her desk to her and dropped it on the ground. The loaf no bigger than a di hit the floor with a disproportionate Thud. “This spell changes the physical space an object occupies but does not change its mass. You may now try until the end of class.” With that, all the students began attempting to transfigure their roll. The professor walked around giving tips and encouragement to them. Harry straightened himself before inhaling deeply as his arm moved in a measured and quick motion. The spell leaving his lips barely audible as the bread quickly shrank before him. “Ten points to Ravenclaw. I daresay Mr. Potter I was not expecting anyone to be successful today.” The bell tolled loudly. Everyone began packing their supplies and filing out to their next lesson. The professor stopped Harry before he could leave. “Your form was perfect. Have you been practicing your wand work before the term?” she asked neutrally. “No professor, it just felt natural as I cast it” Harry returned. She gave a warm smile, looking proudly at her student “well, I hope to see more of your skill Mr. Potter, off you go, I don’t want you to be late for your next lesson.”
The Potions Master
Daphne and Hermoine were both waiting for him in the hallway. They started walking to their next lesson, which was potions. Harry felt himself getting more anxious with each step. Luckily, Hermoine didn’t notice and began to ask him about how he managed to perform so well in transfiguration. All he could offer was an unsure shrug, saying that his body just felt right as he did it. Daphne just said it was impressive how quickly he executed it, made her feel inadequate; which she laughed off jokingly.
The potions class was further down near the dungeons. The three of them made it with time to spare all sitting in the middle of the class, waiting for it to begin. About five minutes passed before the classroom was filled and the professor walked in. “I do not expect all of you to appreciate the quiet art of potions, but to those of you who display the aptitude will be able to brew luck, enhance abilities, and even forebear the grim reaper. He slowly scanned the room, spotting Harry watching him attentively. “Ah Mr. Potter, our person of historical importance, tell me, where would I find a bezoar.”
Harry’s mind raced, not because he didn’t know, but because he did, and he didn’t want to show his hand yet. “Uhm..it would be in the belly of a..a creature, livestock I think.” Snape’s eyes narrowed “That is only half-correct Potter, which in this class is dangerously insufficient. A bezoar would be found in the belly of a goat and is poly-classed antivenom. Who can tell me what brew I would concoct by mixing wrenore root with purified water and snakes grass?” Hermoine’s hand shot up immediately, quivering with excitement. Professor snape nodded curtly at the girl. “Sir, it would give you a holy potion, one of a handful of protective measures from dementors and legillimens. It...” Snape cut her mid-sentence “It works by focusing your magical potential into temporary mental barriers, the greater your magic capabilities the better it works. In terms of “casting power” it is equal to shielding patronus and for mental fortitude equal to being inebriated. Thank you, Miss Granger.” The remainder of the class was spent explaining how ingredient timing, quality, and technique affected potion quality. Before the bell rang, Snape dismissed the students saying the lesson had been exhausted.
