So… are all of your family wizards, then?" Harry asked Ron, sincerely wondering while at the same time finding Ron incredibly familiar.
"Er — yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."
Harry sniggered. "Ha… well, okay. Must be nice to be from an entirely magical family."
"Mmm, well I guess I don't really know," Ron said. "But I'm the youngest brother out of five, with a little sister after me. I've kind of got a lot to live up to… at Hogwarts, I mean."
Harry nodded, feeling that he could understand where Ron was coming from, even as he could not rationalize this understanding when he had never known anyone in that kind of situation. "Yeah, I can see that," he told Ron. "I guess… you can just find a way to stand out on your own, you know? So all the professors will be like, 'Oh. Well none of the other Weasley brothers ever did that!'"
Ron seemed to appreciate Harry's advice, up until the end, when he groaned. "My eldest brother, Bill, was Head Boy. Charlie was a Quidditch star, Percy is at the top of his class, and Fred and George are, as Mum puts is, 'The worst thing to happen to Hogwarts in the past 50 years.' They like a laugh almost as much as they like to make trouble, so I can't think of much that's left that I can stand out for."
Harry looked at him, thinking, and nearly passed out right there in the compartment, so fast and forceful were the unprompted visions that flew through Harry's head, too quickly for even Harry's mind to decipher in real-time, flipping in front of his senses like a deck of cards being shuffled.
"You okay?"
Ron's voice helped Harry pull himself back to awareness, having nearly succumbed to blacking out. He sat up, taking deep breaths, feeling better physically almost immediately, but taking time anyway to get a hold of himself so that he could review the images in his mind while also recovering mentally. Finally, he looked back at Ron.
"All right, listen. I'm going to tell you something that you have to keep secret. I feel like I can trust you, but… can I trust you?"
Ron leaned forward, mirroring Harry's own posture. "Yeah, mate. You can trust me."
Harry had to work hard to compartmentalize his attention, keeping half of it with Ron, and the other half replaying the visions that had presented themselves. Knowing that his memory normally allowed him to review past memories at any time, he was worried that whatever had caused these forceful visions would somehow take them away, and wanted to secure them in his memories. The realization that this was the Ron from some of his previous visions nearly made Harry start to cry, but he hid it before responding.
"This," Harry said, gesturing briefly to his scar. "Is connected to V—to You-Know-Who. Not in a bad way!" Harry interjected immediately, sensing Ron's sudden fear. "What I mean is, I can kind of… spy on him."
"But he's dead!" Ron shouted, then covered his mouth and looked at the door in panic as if worried that someone had overheard him. Right then, as it turned out, the door did slam open, and someone walked in. It was a round-headed boy, looking tearful.
"Sorry," he said, "But have you seen a toad at all?"
Ron shook his head, but Harry became thoughtful, gazing at the boy who had walked in. As before, a flutter of visions flashed in front of him. Having sensed it coming, Harry was more ready for it this time, and controlled his comprehension more easily.
"Wait…" Harry began, then tilted his head, focusing. "Your Toad's name is Trevor," he said, forming it as a half-question towards the boy.
"Yeah!" he gasped.
Harry stood up, waving his hands dismissively in front of him. "Okay, so listen. I know it sounds weird, but I have a connection to animals which, by the way…" Harry looked back and forth between the boy—whom Harry knew to be named Neville Longbottom—and Ron. "…is a secret. And I am one-hundred percent sure that Trevor is happy, safe, and will reunite with you before we get to Hogwarts."
For a while, Neville looked upset, but after a couple of seconds of looking at Harry, he nodded, and visibly relaxed. "Well… I guess if you really think so. I'm Neville Longbottom," he said. "What's—" His question was stifled by his recognition of Harry's scar.
"Yeah. I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, acknowledging Neville's understanding.
Neville gawked for a few seconds longer before composing himself. "Sorry. I didn't mean to stare or anything."
Harry waved him off. "No worries. Everyone does it. I'm getting used to it!"
"I was like, 'Blimey! Are you really Harry Potter?'" Ron chimed in, scooting over on the bench even as Harry was sitting down and gesturing for Neville to do the same.
"I don't know why I'm so surprised," Neville said, sitting next to Ron. "Gran said you would be starting Hogwarts this year, and I knew you were the same age as me."
Harry stared at Neville for a few moments, his eyes starting to glaze over, before he was able to pull himself back to the moment. "I didn't even know I was famous, or whatever, until two years ago," he managed to say.
"Wait. Are you serious?" Ron asked.
Harry shrugged. "I was raised by my mother's Muggle relatives. They didn't tell me about any of this." He waved his hand in the air, feeling silly immediately, and then relieved when the looks on the other boys' faces indicated that they had understood his meaning.
"Oh wow," Neville said, while Ron's mouth hung open in blatant shock.
"You didn't know you were a wizard?" Ron asked incredulously.
"I didn't even know that wizards existed," Harry said plainly. "As far as I knew, they were imaginary—a fairy tale made up by Muggles to amuse their children."
"Jesus Christ!" Ron exclaimed, which made Harry laugh hard, finding the exclamation so incredibly incongruent.
"Had you not, you know—performed accidental magic, then? As a kid?" Neville asked.
Harry shook his head. "Yeah, I did. Only… I dunno… I didn't realize what it was. If you haven't been raised by Muggles, it might be hard to understand, but they don't put much stock in the reality of magic."
Before they could question him about that, the compartment door slid open again, revealing a girl who was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes, looking the same age as the rest of them.
"Has anyone seen—oh. Neville… did you find him?" the girl asked, all-business at first and then apparently flustered by seeing Neville in the compartment.
"Erm, no, but Harry says he's going to show up before we get to Hogwarts," Neville answered, pointing to Harry across the car. Harry smiled at the girl.
"Harry… Harry Potter?" the girl asked.
The tunnel vision returned, ten times the strength as before, requiring Harry to exercise every ounce of his mental and magic strength to fight it off as visions of Hermione from the future cascaded through his mind.
"I… yes, that's what they tell me, but don't believe everything you've read about the mysterious Harry Potter. I'm just a kid, like you." He stood up, not knowing why, exactly, but wanting somehow to secure this encounter with this girl, whom he knew to be his Hermione. "Do you want to come in?" he asked, gesturing to his bench.
"Erm… all right," Hermione said, a slight blush appearing at her cheeks. "How do you know Neville's toad is going to come back?"
Harry attempted and failed to stifle a smile at her inquisitiveness. "I'm good with animals, but I'd appreciate you keeping that a secret. Neville and Ron have already agreed to do as much." He waved his hand at the boys, and Hermione looked them over.
"All right," she said. "But why do you want it to be secret?"
Again, Harry had to keep his enjoyment of her wonder in check. "I… don't have an easy life ahead of me. The less others know about me, the better it will be for everyone. But you three…" he pointed to each of them, in turn. "For whatever reason, you three leave me with no doubt that you can be trusted, so that's what I'm going to do—to trust you."
Everyone was silent for a few moments, and Harry could sense some form of magic flowing throughout the cabin, even as he could not identify what it was.
"That… I bet you'll be in Gryffindor," Hermione said. "From what I've read, Gryffindor would be right. I'm… I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she said, offering her hand as she sat down as Harry did on the bench next to him. The feeling of her hand was warm and… fabulous.
"It's very nice to meet you," Harry said. "This is Ron Weasley, by the way. His whole family's been in Gryffindor."
"How did you know that?" Ron asked after a beat.
Harry threw up his arms. "I dunno—magic? Who knows. Anyway, I hope we're all in the same House so we can get to know each other."
For a long time, the conversation moved to the attributes of the four Hogwarts Houses, and which of them they felt they might get sorted into. Ron, more than anyone, was worried that he would get Slytherin House, considering how concerned he was about living up to expectations.
"Just be you," Hermione said almost angrily. "The accomplishments of your brothers have nothing to do with your value as a person. Just be Ronald."
Ron did not respond to that verbally, but Harry could not help but notice the internal consideration he gave Hermione's advice.
As the train continued to Hogwarts, Harry excused himself to visit the loo, making a point along the way back to find the trolley witch and buy a great supply of treats and drinks to bring to the car, along the way meeting a couple of other first years who seemed a bit lost amongst the journey.
"Hey guys," Harry said merrily upon returning to the cabin with his arms full of food. "This is Susan Bones and Dean Thomas. They're also first years!"
Ron, Neville, and Hermione greeted the new inclusions with smiles and welcomes. Harry threw his pile of goods on the floor of the compartment, letting everyone decide for themselves what they might enjoy, leading to a great deal of laughter as they fought lightheartedly over the treasures.
Later on, Harry settled into the mood of the cabin, each of the first years seeming to feel much more tranquil and comfortable now that they had found each other. Hermione, especially, seemed different, having started out sounding almost judgmental, then backing way off amidst the lighthearted tone being established by everyone else. Ron had just started talking about Quidditch when Harry sensed the door of their compartment begin to slide open. With a fierce glare, Harry turned to the door, another lightning-quick vision flashing through his mind. Grasping the Elder wand in his pocket, Harry whispered an incantation, and the door reversed course to close and secure itself with a clanging lock.
"You were saying?" Harry prompted Ron to continue after he had paused at the sound. As Ron went on, Harry could not help but notice the look of comprehension Hermione was giving Harry, looking back and forth from him to the door. She went as far as to open her mouth to clearly ask him about it, then seemed to change her mind, instead just listening thoughtfully for a while.
Having learned later that Ron, ridiculously, supported the Chudley Cannons, Harry was almost sorry that he had stopped the boy from Madam Malkin's, Draco Malfoy, from barging into their compartment just then… almost. Considering himself something of an expert on the Quidditch League, Harry could find no excuse for such loyalty, but had also Seen, at the last moment, his second encounter with Malfoy, and felt that postponing it was the best choice considering how pleasant things were in the cabin right now.
Before Harry knew it, the train had arrived at Hogsmeade Station. He and Ron scrambled to pull on their Hogwarts robes as the others ran back to their original compartments to do the same.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads once they had departed the train onto Hogsmeade Station.
"Hi Hagrid!" Harry said excitedly, glad to see him. "Erm, these are my new friends!" Harry gestured to the others from the trip.
Hagrid waved an enormous hand at the others, whose eyes Harry found to be amusingly wide at the impressive sight of Hagrid. "C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville slipped once, but caught himself just before crashing into the group in front of him.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Oooooh!"
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Harry had to stop walking at the sight. He had Seen it in some of his visions, but those visions were not as crisp as what he was looking at now. It was astonishing. Immediately, he pushed back against the wave of visions he could feel were about to present themselves. He just wanted to enjoy this moment as it was—his first time seeing Hogwarts. Only when Susan Bones slammed full into him from behind did he regroup himself.
"Erp! Sorry!" Susan said, grabbing Harry's shoulders to steady them both. Harry turned around.
"My fault," he apologized, smiling at her and noticing the slight blush to her cheeks. They kept walking until they got to a small dock lined with several boats on the inky-black lake.
"You lot can take this one, then" Hagrid said to Harry, pointing to one of the boats. "Not supposed to fit more than four in a boat, but for you, Harry—I'll make an exception." Hagrid winked, then moved along to settle-in other first years attempting to manage their way.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Susan, and Dean figured out a seating pattern that seemed to keep their boat from capsizing, each of them settling in.
"There's actually more room than I thought there would be," Hermione said thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on Harry as he tried to casually remove his hand from his robe pocket.
Without any prompt, all of the boats began to move off towards Hogwarts, sailing seemingly effortlessly across the black lake under them. For a while, they all just sat in quiet awe at the whole experience. Eventually, Dean and Ron began whispering in the back of the boat, pointing at various things they could see in the dark. Sitting next to Susan in the middle, Harry concentrated to turn-up all of his senses, something he had noticed he had been able to do ever since the ritual. At first, he had needed to put forth a good amount of effort to turn them down, as he had found them amped up to an overwhelming extreme as a default. By now, his control was the norm and he was able to bring them back at will. When he did now, in the boat, he realized that the little ping he had felt that had prompted the release of his senses had signaled him of what was about to happen. A half-smile spilling onto his face, Harry sat quietly and let it happen.
"GAAAAAA!" Susan screamed, panicking at the giant tentacle which had just erupted suddenly out of the dark waters right next to her. She grabbed onto Harry, nearly climbing on top of him. He lifted her in his arms while he also stood up quickly (which unfortunately doubled her screams), then put her back down on his opposite side as gently as he could as he moved swiftly to the edge of the boat. With both hands, he reached out and grabbed the tentacle mid-air, immediately starting to scratch with vigor one of its suckers. At once, he felt the tentacle relax. Harry smiled at the feeling of comfort the action prompted between him and what he knew to be the giant squid under the surface of the lake.
"It's all right!" he yelled to the others, even as kids from neighboring boats pointed and shouted. "She's friendly!" Harry continued his ministrations along the circumference of the sucker he had grabbed hold of, demonstrating to the others that the giant squid of the Black Lake was nothing to be afraid of. "She's been here for hundreds of years. She protects the school!" he added, having just understood as much from the squid whose tentacle he held in his hands. He let go, knowing the squid was enjoying his scratches, but also wanting to respect the creature's sovereignty.
A turmoil of froth bubbled on the surface of the lake as the squid disappeared. The boat Harry and his friends were on continued forward as shouts of wonder continued from the boats around them. Harry sat back down heavily, letting out a contented breath. He looked over to Susan, his own face screwing up in concern at the sheer terror still present on hers.
"Erm… No—she's actually really nice, I swear. Big and scary at first, yeah, but so's Hagrid and he's probably the nicest person I know."
Susan blinked a few times, each swipe of her eyelids seeming to bring her further out of shock. Even so, she did not seem entirely convinced. Harry looked sideways at a corner of the boat, concentrating.
"Here," he said, reaching his hand out for Susan, who took a moment before extending her own hand, which Harry clasped gently. Looking into her eyes, he gestured to his side of the boat with his other hand. "Now just watch." As he turned that hand over, the tip of a tentacle reappeared over the side of the boat, much more calmly than before. Susan clamped down hard onto Harry's hand and with surprising strength, pulling him towards her. Stifling a laugh, Harry turned to the tentacle, rotating his hand so it was palm-up, and letting the tentacle reach towards him, where it lazily swiped and slapped at his hand.
"Wicked!" Ron said from behind them, while Hermione gaped, and Neville looked nearly as terrified as Susan.
Harry turned back to Susan, his face hopeful. "See? You try it!" She shook her head so tumultuously that Harry was concerned she would hurt herself. Harry gave her a playful little frown, trying to keep the mood light. "Are you sure? Think about a week from now when all this seems normal, the regret you'll have if you can't say you shook hands with the giant squid on your first day at Hogwarts."
That seemed to make something of an impact on Susan, as she broke her eye contact with the tentacle to look into Harry's eyes, but it was Hermione who really got things moving.
"M-may I?" she asked with an attempt at bravado. "I… I mean, if she wants to," Hermione added, gesturing into the lake.
Harry turned that way, concentrating on his connection with the giant squid. He searched for any indication of a preferred name, finding that she had heard kids try them over the years, but it was always something different that eventually faded away from use. There was an eagerness there to have an established name, rather than constantly being referred to by her species. While continuing to communicate about that, Harry addressed Hermione's request, which turned out to be welcome.
"She'd love to, yeah," he said to Hermione, who took a breath and reached her hand out. The tentacle seemed to know where the hand was in the air, gently curling around and playfully poking Hermione's hand as if afraid it would try to grab her. Hermione laughed, even as she seemed amazed at herself for doing so, and spent a few moments trying out different interactions before the giant squid decided to pull back.
This time, when it approached Susan, the girl reached out her hand without any prompting from Harry—slowly, but on her own. The tentacle moved in a mirror of Susan's, stopping each time Susan stopped, trembling when Susan trembled, and giving paranoid starts in unison with Susan's, the last of which caused Susan to burst into a fit of giggles. Somehow, the tentacle communicated to everyone on the boat the same idea of it laughing, which of course made everyone else laugh as well. With a nod of agreement from Harry, the squid took that opportunity to wind its way all around Susan's arm and up to her face, where it poked her on the nose. It looked at first as if Susan was going to scream, but the nose poke seemed to have done the trick, and she instead laughed in wonder. Everyone else on the boat got to say there hellos in their own way, until finally the tentacle waved lazily and disappeared back under the water.
"She wants us to have some time just enjoying our ride into school," Harry said, still gazing happily at the surface of the lake. He turned to look at everyone else, only then realizing that he was about to add Dean and Susan to the list of people who knew that particular secret. "Don't you think?" he amended rather lamely.
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Ron said with total believability.
"Probably," Hermione said with a careless shrug, and Harry suspected that she did not even realize that she was covering for Harry.
As intended, they enjoyed the rest of the ride, taking in the nighttime sights, sounds, and smells… or… Harry assumed everyone else could smell all of… No, he realized, he was utilizing his heightened senses without realizing it, so excited was he by everything in the surrounding area. After taking one last dynamic whiff, he dialled-down his senses and enjoyed the moment like everyone else.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid later, after they had disembarked and crowded around the huge, oak front door.
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall welcomed them into Hogwarts and explained the raw basics of the Sorting Ceremony. After learning of it from references in his parents' journals what felt like a lifetime ago, Harry had put it on his list of things to research, and had been thorough when he did. An incredible amount of other students, it seemed, did not. All of the whispered conversations centered around the likely suffering that awaited them. Harry decided not to interfere, finding it just a teeny bit amusing. Turning to his left, he saw Draco Malfoy staring at the door ahead of them, his face in a mild panic. Harry made a point to catch his eye, which seemed to pop him out of his thoughts.
"There you are," Draco said, stepping towards Harry. "I went all up and down the train wanting to say hello. These are—" He turned to gesture to someone or something behind him, only to look as if he'd lost something, jumping up to get a look over other kids' heads. "Well, anyway… hello."
Harry grinned. "Hello again. Erm… this is Ron, and Hermione, and Neville, and Susan, and Dean," he went on. "This is Draco Malfoy."
The others either nodded or said hello. Harry caught the look on Draco's face that he had seen in his vision. He opened his mouth to end the conversation that was about to happen before it happened, then jumped about a foot in the air, while several people behind him screamed. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years, who eventually came to learn that these ghosts were permanent residents of Hogwarts, introducing themselves congenially, until Professor McGonagall returned.
Harry barely managed a sincere, "I hope you get into Slytherin!" to Malfoy before Professor McGonagall called for quiet, and led them into the Great Hall to be Sorted.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry later, after the worn-looking magical hat had sung a song to introduce the ceremony. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Harry smiled weakly. He had known about the ceremony, but from books, not visions. He had no idea what was going to happen when he put on the hat. He was fairly certain that he was going to be sorted into Gryffindor, but who knew if he had done something that would change the hat's mind about him. It seemed to Harry that he had indeed already used any means to achieve his ends, as the hat had just now sung about those inclined to belong in Slytherin.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool, to be sorted," Professor McGonagall said, stepping forward holding a long roll of parchment. Harry could feel the anxiety radiating off of the first years around him… or maybe that was just him.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause —
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table, one of the four different student tables set for the four different Houses.
"Bones, Susan!"
Harry turned to smile at Susan and give her arm an encouraging squeeze. He was already pretty sure where she would end up…
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Sure enough, Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah. Ah well, Harry thought. We can still be friends even if we're not in the same house… unless I get Sorted into Hufflepuff too?"
Harry worried about this for the next several minutes, taking the time to try to match the hat's yells against the Houses he knew certain people were destined to be sorted into, according to his visions. So far, everyone seemed to be where they were supposed to be. Neville and Hermione were already seated at the Gryffindor table, looking incredibly relaxed even if nervously excited. Harry would not have worried as much as he was if it was not for the fact that he had intentionally altered what he had Seen in a vision—erasing the confrontation with Draco that he had Seen happen on the train. If he could change that, then it stood to reason that he could change anything, intentionally or not. He had read about this having happened with other Seers throughout history, and the end results were not always positive.
"Potter, Harrison!"
As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
Harry chastised himself for having not realizing what a spectacle he was bound to make. It did not take a Seer to predict that. It was a distraction, at least, as he sat on the stool and watched Professor McGonagall drop the hat on his head, which dropped over his eyes. For a long while, there was dark silence, until he could hear the hat speaking.
"Professor—a word, if you will," it said, instead of calling out a House. Harry felt it being pulled off of his head, and watched in shock along with everyone else as Professor McGonagall placed the hat atop her one head, clearly having a silent conversation with it for a few moments, at one point her head whipping around to look at Harry in shock.
"Very well," Professor McGonagall said aloud, then moved to stand in front of Harry, facing him with the hat in her hands. "Mr. Potter, I will have to ask you to relax," she said quietly. "The Sorting Hat requires a commune with the incoming student to help them be Sorted into the correct House. You are prohibiting him from being able to do so. Are you aware that you are doing this?"
Harry felt certain that the play of emotions across his face prompted her to ask that part at the end. He cleared his throat. "Now that you mention it, yeah. Sorry, Professor. But I hadn't realized—it wasn't on purpose. I think I can relax now."
Professor McGonagall nodded, even as she continued searching Harry's eyes. She placed the hat back over his head, and Harry closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths until he could feel the Occlumency barriers he had not realized he had initiated begin to ebb.
"That's better. Thank you," said a small voice in his ear. "Haven't had that happen in a long time. Hmm. Difficult, Very Difficult."
Harry gripped the edges of the stool, willing himself to put aside the swell of desperation that he get Sorted into Gryffindor, lest it block out the hat again.
"Nearly did, yes—thanks for avoiding it," the hat said.
Under it, Harry opened his eyes. So, you can hear me, then? he thought.
"I can. My my, so much to work with…" The hat stayed silent for a while. If Harry concentrated hard enough, he felt like he could almost see what it was in his mind that the hat was looking at as he continued to make vague little comments in Harry's ear. Eventually, Harry heard what he thought was a little gasp. "There's more here than I think you know…"
You'd be surprised, the things I know. This time, Harry purposefully slammed his mind shut. There was silence for a while longer, until the hat said in barely a whisper, so that only Harry would be able to hear it, "There's more than you realize," then shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
While the cheers erupted, Harry took the hat off of his head before McGonagall got a chance to, turning around and placing it back on the stool. It looked up at him. "I reside in the Headmaster's office," it told him loudly enough for just Harry to be able to hear it over the yells. "You and I need to talk again, soon."
Harry nodded, then allowed himself to enjoy the moment, grinning widely and heading to the Gryffindor table.
Later that night, Harry lay in the four-poster bed which had been assigned to him just like all of the others in his dormitory. Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville each had their beds in the exact same places Harry had Seen. The boys had talked for a little while before climbing into their beds, all of them exhausted… well nearly all of them. Since the ritual, Harry did not require much sleep. He had never bothered to quantify how much he got per week or per month, but he knew he could go days without sleeping and not suffer any ill-effects. He did notice, however that there were positive effects to getting in a couple of hours of sleep here and there, so that is what he usually did. At Potter Manor, he had been able to take a nap whenever it suited him. Here, he was going to have to conform to a routine. He sighed and closed his eyes. Oh well. That still left a good portion of the night to explore the castle.
Two hours later, that was exactly what Harry did. One of the many benefits of Potter Manor was the variety of magical species throughout the grounds, allowing Harry to fully exercise his connection with magical creatures—which included plants and fungi, to a varied degree. Harry had always loved animals. Now, he understood that his connection to magical creatures was a specific trait which he held because he was a Beast-speaker, able to communicate with magical creatures as a natural ability. He had researched it at length, eventually finding several ancestors in his family line with the same ability, after Toory had brought him an old book from the attic which held such pieces of information about his family, at least for the couple of hundred years during which anyone wrote in it.
This led to a conversation about what else was in the attic, which is how Harry came to learn that his father had been an Animagus. Toory had helped Harry find a cache of journals from his father which seemed to have been purposefully hidden away, a small pile of them wrapped in parchment, upon which had been scrawled, "The Marauder's Guide to Mischief." The stack of journals was something of a black hole for Harry, who got pulled into their gravity and had a hard time escaping.
His father and his friends at Hogwarts had gotten up to some interesting things during their time at the school. Some pages, Harry flipped past as quickly as possible once he realized what was being reported to him about his father. Other pages held fascinating information. There were a number of secret passageways at Hogwarts, leading in and out of the castle; there was a trick to allow students to get into the kitchens; and Dumbledore had let a werewolf in as a student. Harry's father had befriended him, leading to a close-knit group of students who achieved passable grades but put their real efforts into discovering secrets, pulling pranks, and achieving advanced magic at a young age. One of their feats had been to master the incredibly complicated magic necessary to become an Animagus—someone who could transform into an animal form at will, assuming they completed the ritual correctly and did not instead just die, as many had. Regardless, James and his friends had indeed been successful, and had documented everything they had done to manage it.
Harry had put their hard work to the test, completing his own ritual last winter and transforming into the very same animal that now sat on Harry's bed at Hogwarts—a Golden Snidget. Round, fat, covered in golden feathers, with a long thin beak, Harry just hopped around for a moment, getting a feel again for this miniscule form—less than an inch tall. It was the first form Harry had taken at the end of the ritual, but the moment he had turned back into just a boy, he had felt it—there were others…
Now, though, the form that suited him best was this tiny one. His rotational wings let him move in any direction with remarkable agility and speed, making it perfect for sneaking around a castle at night. After a couple of more spinning hops on his soft duvet, Harry targeted his bright red eyes on what he knew had moments before been a tiny gap in his bed hangings, but now looked like a grand doorway. Harry hopped into the air, his wings flapping with blurring speed, and pointed himself at the gap. With as much acceleration as there was a lack of sound, Harry flew through the little space and almost immediately out of the window next to Ron's bed.
It took Harry only a few seconds to realize that the Golden Snidget was not going to do. He wanted to fly above and around the castle to get the lay of the land, but there was something much better equipped for that. Harry changed directions in an instant, now flying straight up. He waited until it began to become almost unbearably cold to this animal form, then stopped flying. The wind at this altitude whipped his Snidget form around, if anything flying it higher rather that allowing gravity to do its job. In response to that setback, Harry moved the plan forward by transforming back into a human.
As with any other Human who might find themselves in this predicament, Harry immediately began falling. Unlike the average person, he did not feel cold, out of breath, or concerned. He had done this many times. It was one thing to fly around in bird form, feeling the exhilaration of the wind on his wings. It was quite another to freefall in human form. Besides, it gave him the perfect situation to continue practicing the art of flying without a broomstick—an intensely complicated magic he had only come across by accident when looking up an unrelated, dark topic. At the current time, Harry felt as if he could control very slightly the direction in which he fell. He was pretty sure it was magic more than it was his natural tendency to maneuver his hands through the wind to change course, as he had done so many times in his bird forms. Speaking of which… Harry did a somersault in mid-air, whirling around to reveal a bald eagle, in which form Harry began immediately to swoop in a controlled, diving arc, getting below a patch of clouds until he could see Hogwarts.
The view from up here was even better than it had been from the lake. Harry had not noticed from there that some of the torches were just slightly different colours, four different sections of the castle coloured in flame to match the colours of the four Houses. Blinking his eagle eyes, Harry wondered if he would be able to see the colour difference with his human ones. He flapped his great wings a few times, then found out—his human body folding into existence, spinning around to look at the castle.
"Nope!" Harry said to the wind, and changed back to the eagle. He spent some time flying over the castle and the surrounding area. He stayed in the air until he was certain that he had a detailed map of the grounds in his mind, then flew towards an open window he saw, changing back to his human form again, then into the Snidget before getting too near the castle, humming through the window and landing upon the banister of the Grand Staircase. He was on the fifth floor, and peered up towards Gryffindor Tower, then back down. His senses in this form told him that he had some time before the sun would rise, so there was little reason to head back to his bed quite yet. What Professor Dumbledore had said during the Welcoming Feast told him there was much reason to continue exploring the castle from the inside.
"I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death," the headmaster had told the student population, and Harry had been able to feel the sincerity behind the words, even as a couple of kids laughed at the warning. He was grateful for the prolonged chaos that was the singing of the school song, which Dumbledore had next prompted the entire assembly to begin singing to whatever tune they wished. Harry was able to allocate a small amount of his awareness to just moving his mouth in a perplexed fashion, blending in perfectly with the other first years, while the majority of his attention was focused upon the visions which were channelling through his mind, all of them centered around the third-floor corridor and the reasons behind its isolation from the population this year.
Now, as harry flitted towards said forbidden corridor, he pondered briefly if there was a word that was the opposite of "regret." However to label the feeling, that was what he felt now regarding the Ritual of the Rising Phoenix, and all of the learning Harry had pushed himself into during these past two years. He was so very glad that he could say he had done everything to protect himself, and therefore the magical community as a whole, before he had come to Hogwarts, as the danger he had anticipated had arrived more quickly than even Harry had foreseen. Flying along the third-floor corridor, Harry had to spin around mid-air, having initially passed the door by. The visions had come quickly and in multiple layers simultaneously, and he was still working out their chronological order in his head. Passing the door reminded him to slow down, lest he make a stupid mistake. His feet hitting the floor with no sound, Harry the Snidget cocked his head this way and that, looking to be certain the coast was clear, and then changed back into his human form. He pulled the hood of his robes onto his head, somehow wanting that extra layer of anonymity, and held firm to the Elder wand, the holly wand tucked away in his pocket watch as a backup. He had been experimenting with wandless magic, but for what he was about to attempt, he wanted to be ready. Regardless, he waved an empty hand at the locked door in front of him, and felt a spike of satisfaction when he heard it unlock.
He walked in, keeping his head down and turning to close and relock the door behind him. He heard the growls before he turned back around, and readied himself for what he knew he was about to see. Turning back, the scene in front of him played out exactly as he had Seen, which was actually something of a shock. He was looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in Harry's direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs. It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at him, and Harry knew that the only reason he wasn't already dead was that his sudden appearance had taken the dog by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. All three heads began to lower, the body coiling, getting ready to strike. Harry threw back his hood and put up a hand, palm facing the dog.
"Sit!" he said, sounding like an owner who was getting just the slightest bit frustrated by their mischievous puppy. The three heads each pulled their ears back a bit, their growls ceasing, and the body sat. Harry stowed his wand and walked towards the dog, knowing he was no longer in any danger… unless you counted death by drool. All three heads leaned down to sniff, lick, and playfully nudge Harry, the giant tail thwapping heavily against the floor, walls, and ceiling.
Harry could not help but to laugh, sensing the dog—Fluffy's—good-natured excitement at having Harry as a visitor. He spent some time with him, having to calibrate in order to communicate with the three-headed dog, who was definitely one dog who happened to have three heads. Finally, with a promise to not only visit Fluffy but to get him out of this horrible confinement, Harry pulled open the trapdoor in the floor, looking into the abyss under it. He sent a wave of calm towards Fluffy, who had whined a little nervously, concerned about Harry's safety. Fluffy stopped whining and wagged his tail again, at which point Harry smiled, and jumped.
Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and—
FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.
"Lumos!" he called, holding his wand aloft. Evaluating quickly the observations from his vision, as well as his extensive mental catalogue of magical plants, he understood at once that this was Devil's Snare—a solid choice for a barrier, in Harry's opinion, unless an intruder were able to keep their wits about them as the tendrils began to snake their way along their body, pulling them to their inevitable death. Harry benefitted from just such an ability, and waved his wand in a wide arc. From its tip emanated flames, like a vast lasso, encircling the chamber with its warmth. At once, the Devil's Snare pulled incredibly quickly away from Harry, causing him to fall several feet until landing on a bare metal grate through which the plant had disappeared, catching his balance in a crouch. He jerked his head up quickly, his face stony as he searched for any remaining danger. Seeing none, Harry cancelled the flame spell, and continued forward, down a stone passageway.
It was not long before he began to hear a familiar sound, one he had heard in his vision. At the end of the passageway was a brilliantly lit chamber, with a ceiling that arched high above him as he entered. It was full of what looked like small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the highest areas of the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door. Harry paused, again reviewing everything in his mind from this room that he had already Seen. These were not birds flying haphazardly above, but Charmed keys, only one of which fit the door across the room, which could be unlocked by no other means, magic or otherwise. It was the right key, or nothing. Harry smiled as he allowed himself to relive the vision, which was not a complete recording of the events of this room, but only bits and pieces that clued him in as to what had to be done.
He walked across the chamber to the door, then turned back to look at the keys. He considered changing to his bald eagle form in order to use the bird's natural eyesight to pinpoint the key he was looking for, then thought better of it, instead concentrating on his glasses. Learning to utilize the more elaborate magical features of the glasses had proven to be more difficult than Harry had anticipated, to the point where he even considered returning them, until a breakthrough one day when he had found the right… flavour was the best word he could come up with for it—the right flavour of magic to concentrate on to control the enhanced fidelity feature of the glasses. They were not exactly like Omnioculars, which magnified the wearer's field-of-view, essentially acting as a zoom lens. Harry could still see in as wide an angle as he normally could, but the details had increased a-thousand-fold so that even the smallest detail of each key high above him was crystal clear from his vantage point on the ground. It did not take him long to pinpoint the key he was looking for.
Accio! Harry thought, and the key was pulled into his outstretched hand. He quickly turned and unlocked the door, the key immediately flying back out of his hand. Harry opened the door and proceeded through, closing it behind him.
The next chamber was so dark he couldn't see anything at all, but as he stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.
He was standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than Harry and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry peered into the scene, both here and in his mind's eye, recalling what he knew about this. It was a giant chess game, meant to keep him from reaching the other side of the board unless he could play, and win, his way across. Harry was… not the greatest at chess, having been beaten regularly by a more talented Zeely, who apologized each time she beat him, as it caused her to burst into uncontrollable giggles each time she did. She could not explain the reaction, but Harry was secretly glad for it, as it was the only thing that kept him from sinking into a foul mood on those occasions.
Harry considered trying anyway, thinking maybe the adrenaline, or the new perspective of being on the board, would offer him some kind of advantage. Eventually, a white pawn across the board moved forward two spaces, and Harry knew it was now his turn. Options flipped rapidly through Harry's mind, being considered and weighed against each other until what he felt was the best, quickest, and most likely to succeed was the only one that remained. He frowned at the chessmen, knowing they had likely been the expert, elaborate work of Professor McGonagall.
"Sorry, Professor," Harry muttered, and then all hell broke loose inside the chamber. Where Harry and the black chessmen had previously stood, the form of a large, black dragon now took shape, its head cracking into the ceiling and its wings pressing against the walls, causing stress fractures to build rapidly. Harry's dragon form was one of his favorites to assume at Potter Manor, as it allowed him to feel closer to the manor's own dragons. He had once stayed in this form for two days, wanting to really get a feel for what life was like for them, and had come out of the experience elated that they really seemed to enjoy their lives at the manor.
Now, Harry felt only slightly guilty as he drew in a deep breath, watching the cheese pieces try to scramble over each other to safety, of which there was none. With a deafening roar, Harry breathed a jet of green and purple fire across the floor of the chamber, enveloping the chessboard and its occupants in their entirety. It went on for ages, until Harry had exhausted all power from his lungs. Breathing heavily to catch his breath, he jerked and bobbed his head around in the smoking ruins, looking for any sign of movement. When he saw none, he transformed back to his human form and pulled his wand, siphoning the smoke rapidly into its tip until the room was once again clear… which was something of an understatement. The room was entirely baron. The torches on the wall, which still spit green and gold sparks with some of the dragon-fire that remained mixed-in to their own magical flames, were the only things left. The floor, walls, and ceiling had been reduced to bare, impeccably clean marble.
Satisfied with the result, Harry walked smartly across the marble floor, opening the door at the end of the chamber. The stench coming out of the next room was palpable. Harry had Seen what was coming, and while his visions were multi-sensory, his mind seemed to have filtered out the smell, for which he was now grateful. Wand held in front of him, Harry entered the smaller room, expecting to see a fully aware troll blocking his way to the next door, as opposed to the unconscious one from his original vision, which would have taken place months from now. Instead, the troll in question was flattened into a corner of the room, pressing himself against the walls and looking absolutely terrified. Harry kept his wand on it as he continued to walk sideways towards the door. Looking into its eyes, Harry understood. The troll had heard the roar of the dragon, and was scared out of its mind. Feeling bad for having caused that to a creature who was just doing its job, Harry locked the troll's mind onto his, and convinced it that everything was fine, and that it was incredibly exhausted. The troll relaxed, both visibly and across Harry's connection, and lowered itself onto the ground, curling up and falling asleep almost immediately. Keeping an eye on it, Harry made his way through the next door.
As soon as it shut behind him, purple flames sprang up in the doorway. On the other side of the room, black fire erupted. Harry knew he was resilient to fire of several types, but something told him that he would not survive a pass through either of these flames. He looked ahead to what he knew were a line of potions and a string of clues on the table in the centre of the room. Harry specifically refused the visions that attempted to present themselves regarding this challenge, wanting to figure it out for himself, and quickly deducing exactly which of the potions would allow him access through each doorway, and which would kill him. He confidently picked up the smallest of the seven bottles, about to take a swig from it, when he stopped, realizing that he was being conceited.
Disappointed in himself, he closed his eyes and at last allowed his visions to flow through his mind. Smiling at how dramatic Hermione had been in this moment and at the fact that his deduction had matched hers, he weighed the potion bottle in his hand, contemplating how much he would really have to take to get through the black fire twice. While he felt that the average person would need to drink the whole thing, he felt confident that half the potion would do for him, considering the physical protections the ritual had provided him. Walking to stand directly in front of the black flames, which were hot in a unique way Harry could not pin down, he drank half the bottle, popping it closed and putting it in his pocket. It felt as if ice was flooding his body. Steeling himself, be walked quickly through the flames, which were thicker than he had thought they would be, Harry needing to take several steps before coming out the other side.
Taking only a moment to feel relief at having done so unscathed, Harry looked around now. The events of this last chamber had been a vivid vision. Nothing new came to him now, as he had already Seen it all. In the centre of this chamber stood a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Harry walked up to it, knowing already what he would see when he gazed into this magical mirror, which showed the viewer only that which he most desired. Harry would see his parents and his family standing with him, reunited. When he stood directly in front of the mirror and peered in, he nearly fell over in shock.
He had been certain of what he would see, having Seen it for himself in his vision, and knowing—feeling, that it was definitely his greatest desire at the time. Now, though, Harry saw a much older version of himself, perhaps in his twenties. As he looked back at younger Harry, more people appeared around him. An equally older Hermione and Ron stood on either side of him, Ron older than Harry had ever Seen in his visions, alive and content. More joined the reflection, filling the room behind Harry, who reached his hand up to see if he could feel any of the fingers which had placed themselves on his shoulders, arms, and back in the reflection. The emptiness of reality hit him hard as he looked across at the faces, so many of which he knew would be dead in seven years' time if Harry did not take the correct steps to avoid that fate. Determined, and knowing that it was his greatest desire that Voldemort be thwarted so that these people may live their lives, the Harry in the reflection nodded almost proudly at him, then tapped the breast pocket of his robes. At once, Harry felt a weight in his own robe pocket. Reaching into it, mirrored by his reflection, he pulled out a blood-red stone. Harry knew that this was the Philosopher's Stone, which would allow the owner to create the Elixir of Life, something Voldemort desperately wanted in order to return to human form and live forever. Harry put it back in his pocket and looked up again at the mirror. Everyone there looked back at him.
"No worries! I got this!" he said loudly to the lot of them, then looked away… after taking one more look at this version of Hermione, who wiggled her eyebrows at him.
Glad to see that the flames on both sides of the previous chamber had now extinguished themselves, Harry replaced the potion bottle on the table, making sure everything was just the way it had been, other than the missing half of the potion. Ready to meet a less-frightened troll, Harry used the Elder wand to cast a disillusionment Charm on himself before proceeding to the next chamber, glad he did so when seeing that the troll, more sneakily than Harry would have guessed, was pressed up against the wall just outside the door, club in hand, clearly waiting to catch Harry by surprise. It seemed mildly confused at the visible haze that passed by in front of it, as Harry had not yet mastered perfect invisibility, but did not attack. Before Harry got to the entrance, the door he had come through burst once gain and slammed shut, causing the troll to scream like a little girl, which made Harry laugh so hard that he accidentally dropped his Disillusionment Charm and had to scramble to escape the troll, slamming the door behind him. Harry spent the next several minutes reversing his way through all of the obstacles he had beaten, taking great care to leave them as he had initially found them so that, at least on a cursory inspection, no one would realize he had ever been there.
Scratching Fluffy's middle head and wondering how long it would take someone to realize that the chess pieces he had made only knew how to play checkers (Transfiguration was hard), Harry bade Fluffy goodnight and exited the room into the third floor. He changed to his Snidget form and flew not back to bed, but once again out of the castle, repeating his transition to bald eagle and soaring towards the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, over the Black Lake. When he got to the other side, Harry landed on the shoreline and changed back to human form, scanning around with all of his senses. Once he was sure he was alone, he called crisply into the darkness.
"Zeely!"
Almost immediately, the little house elf cracked into existence in front of Harry, looking desperately worried. She rushed towards him.
"Master! Is you all right?" she wailed.
Harry gave her an empathetic smile, and pulled her in for a hug. "Oh, I'm all right. I'm great, Zeely! I just wanted to give you something to keep safe."
Looking immensely relieved, Zeely pulled back, her hands at her chest where Harry was sure she was feeling her own rapid heartbeat return to normal. "What is Master needing protected?" she inquired professionally. Harry took the stone out of his pocket.
"Just this," he said as if it were not a big deal. "I'd like you to keep this in the workshop, in the third drawer down on the right."
"Oooo. The third drawer!" Zeely said. That particular drawer had what Harry knew were ridiculously excessive protections on it, just in case he ever needed such a space. Only he, Zeely, and Toory could even see it, let alone open it. "I will put it there immediately," Zeely promised, and then disappeared with another crack. Harry waited a few seconds, and another crack burst through the air, except this time it was Toory who appeared. He, too, got a hug from Harry, even as he explained himself.
"Forgive me, Master Harry, but Zeely is saying that Toory can come to see Master to tell him 'Mission Accomplished.'"
Harry smiled. "That's great, Toory, and very nice of Zeely. I'm glad I got to see you both. Everything still in one piece after one whole day?" he asked jokingly.
"Still four and a half hours until one whole day, Master," Toory responded seriously. "But Toory can come back later to let Master know if things is still in once piece?"
Harry almost wanted to say yes simply for the eagerness in Toory's voice. "Nah, better not," he said instead. "But don't worry, I'll see you again soon, but I'll likely write a letter first. Hedwig likes her exercise!"
"Yes, Master Harry," Toory said glumly.
They said their goodbyes, with Zeely popping back in the moment Toory had left to do the same, then Harry flew back to the castle. Considering what he had accomplished tonight, he decided to reward himself with another nap.