Chapter Text
As they walked up the stone path that led to the front door of Thistle Cottage, Harry wished he had several more pairs of eyes, so that he could gawp at everything at once. The cottage was a two-storey building made out of old grey stonework. Strands of ivy snaked up some of the walls, giving it a cosy, old-worldly feel. There was a sturdy chimney atop the slate roof; the cottage must have a large fireplace to keep the home warm during the cold Scottish winters.
The front door was made out of old, heavy oak – but, strangely, it did not seem to have a doorknob. At Professor McGonagall’s touch, however, a black metal door handle appeared as if by magic, swinging open easily when she twisted it. They crossed over the threshold into a small, cosy entrance hall, with shoes piled up on racks and coats and cloaks hanging from hooks on the wall. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey started taking off their shoes, so Harry followed suit, still staring with interest at everything around him.
“If you touch the front door, Harry, I’ll perform a spell that’ll make sure the front door recognises you as a member of our family, so it’ll open at your touch,” said Professor McGonagall.
Harry placed his hand tentatively on the oak front door. Professor McGonagall touched the tip of her wand gently against his hand and muttered several complicated-sounding words. A strange feeling rushed through Harry’s arm a moment later, the oak suddenly feeling warm, welcoming and almost alive at his touch.
“Would you like a house tour?” asked Madam Pomfrey.
“Oh, er, yes, please,” said Harry.
From the entrance hall, there were two doors leading off to either side, as well as a flight of stairs that went straight ahead before twisting off at a right angle and out of sight. Madam Pomfrey led Harry through the door to the right, leading him into a stone-floored kitchen with wooden countertops and brass cookware and crockery crammed into cupboards that lined the walls. There was a large stove and oven for cooking, as well as a large fireplace that was centrally placed in such a way as to heat the whole house.
“This is the kitchen,” said Madam Pomfrey. “I know at your aunt and uncle’s house they forced you to do the majority of the cooking. Here, Minerva and I will be the primary cooks, although if you’d like to help us, then of course you’re very welcome.”
“OK,” said Harry, blushing slightly at the mention of his bad treatment at the hands of the Dursleys.
They walked through the kitchen, before reaching a large walk-in cupboard in the corner. Madam Pomfrey opened the door to reveal a well-stocked and well-organised potions cupboard. From the labels on the glass vials, Harry could see many raw ingredients, as well as a multitude of pre-prepared potions covering almost every aspect of Healing imaginable. Madam Pomfrey closed the potions cupboard and continued through the kitchen, leading him around a corner and through a door, which led into a large room that seemed to be a dining room, a lounge and a library all rolled into one.
“This is where we’ll eat, where we can relax, and where you can do a spot of reading, if you like,” said Madam Pomfrey, gesturing around at everything as she spoke.
Harry walked past an old wooden dining table, several squishy armchairs, and multiple bookshelves that lined the walls, gawping at everything. Tom was particularly interested in the bookshelves, eyes roving hungrily over the huge collection of books. Harry spotted some board games on some of the lower shelves and felt a little spurt of hope and excitement. The Dursleys had had board games at 4 Privet Drive, but they had never let him play. He wondered if his new foster family would let him join in.
They walked through another door, which led them back to the entrance hall where they had started. Professor McGonagall was there. She had levitated their luggage and was now floating it ahead of her, holding her wand before her like a conductor’s baton. As Harry watched, she began floating the luggage up the stairs, gesturing for Harry to follow with her other hand.
Harry followed Professor McGonagall up the stairs, Tom sticking by his side, Madam Pomfrey bringing up the rear. Halfway up, the stairs turned at a right angle, before finally opening up into a hallway, with three doors leading off it. Directly ahead of them from the top of the stairs was a door, which Professor McGonagall opened, leading them all inside. It was a decent-sized bedroom with blue walls, a cosy-looking bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, but not much else.
“This is your bedroom, Harry,” said Professor McGonagall warmly. “Once you’ve unpacked, you can have a think about if there’s anything else you’d like to have in here: any plants or ornaments or furniture or the like. We wanted to let you decide those things, so that it feels like your room.”
“OK,” said Harry, feeling rather overwhelmed.
Professor McGonagall floated Harry’s trunk onto his bed, before leading the party out of Harry’s room and back into the hallway. They walked a short distance along the hallway to the second door. Professor McGonagall pushed it open, revealing a bathroom with a black and white checkerboard-patterned floor, complete with a bath, toilet and sink.
“This is the bathroom,” said Professor McGonagall. “We’ll decide on a cleaning rota later.”
They exited the bathroom, before coming to a halt in front of the final door at the end of the hallway. Professor McGonagall opened this door to reveal a slightly larger bedroom with forest green walls, a double bed, a large wardrobe and an assortment of interesting-looking nicknacks.
“This is mine and Poppy’s bedroom,” said Professor McGonagall. “You can come to see us at any time, but if the door is closed, please knock and wait for us to call you in before entering.”
“Alright,” said Harry, not understanding why Madam Pomfrey had gone a little pink at Professor McGonagall’s words.
“Any questions?” asked Professor McGonagall.
“Oh… Er… No, I don’t think so,” said Harry.
He was feeling a strange mixture of shocked, overwhelmed and shy. It was as if he were half-expecting someone to jump out at any moment and announce that this was all a big practical joke; that the letter from the Ministry of Magic was a fake and that he was to go back to the Dursleys after all. Madam Pomfrey looked down at him sympathetically.
“This must be a lot to take in,” she said kindly. “Why don’t you get unpacked and settled in and we can reconvene for dinner at six o’clock.”
“OK,” said Harry, feeling relieved.
Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall went back downstairs. Harry went to his bedroom and closed the door, feeling a little calmer in the peace and quiet. He walked over to the bed, where his trunk was lying on top of the duvet, and flopped down beside it. Tom explored their new bedroom, walking into the cupboard and through the walls, before coming back to Harry.
“I’m going to do a sweep of the cottage,” said Tom, poking Harry’s tummy where his t-shirt had ridden up to expose the pale skin there. “I want to make sure they haven’t got anything evil hidden away somewhere.”
Harry raised his eyebrows.
“Why would they have anything evil?!” he asked.
“Well, they seem nice,” said Tom. “But so did Professor Quirrell, until he tried to kill you. I just want to make sure they can be trusted.”
“OK…” said Harry, feeling a little anxious. “Be safe.”
“Nothing can hurt me,” scoffed Tom, but he seemed pleased by Harry’s concern, nonetheless, giving him a smile before marching through the wall and out of sight.
Tom was gone for a while. To keep himself occupied, Harry busied himself with emptying the contents of his trunk onto his bed, before carrying his clothes over to his new wardrobe and chest of drawers and trying to organise them. He was just lining up his books on the windowsill when Tom finally returned, about quarter of an hour later.
“Did you find anything evil?” asked Harry.
Tom shook his head, crossing the room to hug Harry around the middle.
“No, everything looks normal,” he said. “I think we’re safe here.”
And through his arms wrapped around Harry’s waist, Harry could feel Tom finally relax.
That evening, after Harry had unpacked and settled into his new bedroom, he and his new foster mothers had their first family meal together.
He walked into the dining room to the delicious smell of a roast chicken dinner, his mouth watering as he took his seat at the dining table. Professor McGonagall set down three plates piled high with roast chicken, roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, roast carrot, roast parsnip and cabbage, all smothered with rich brown gravy.
“Wow!” said Harry, staring in shock at the hearty meal in front of him.
The Dursleys had never totally starved him, but they had frequently denied him meals, and when they had fed him, it had never been with anything as delicious, filling or nutritious as this. The pangs of hunger had become a memory when he had arrived at Hogwarts, but some silly part of him had assumed this was only a luxury he would be granted during school time; that when he went back home, he must go back to being hungry.
“This looks delicious, Minerva!” said Madam Pomfrey. “Our compliments to the chef.”
“Well, let’s see how it tastes, first,” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes twinkling.
As they began eating, Harry closed his eyes, savouring the delicious taste of chicken and gravy on his tongue. It was hard to believe that someone would cook something as nice as this for him.
“Do you like your room, Harry?” asked Professor McGonagall, breaking him out of his reverie. “Are you settling in OK?”
“The room’s amazing!” said Harry, thinking how his new room compared to the dark, cramped cupboard under the stairs at 4 Privet Drive. “And this meal is incredible. Thanks, Professor McGonagall.”
Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey exchanged a smile.
“Outside of term time, if you’re comfortable doing so, you’re welcome to call us Poppy and Minerva,” Poppy said kindly. “Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey sounds very formal, to me.”
“Exactly,” said Minerva. “We’re not your teacher and matron here; we’re your family.”
“Although, you have just reminded me of something!” said Poppy, jumping up and disappearing into the kitchen momentarily.
Harry heard her open and close the door to the potions cupboard in the other room, before she returned a moment later, placing a vial of purple liquid in front of Harry.
“You’re to have a vial of this potion every night,” said Poppy. “I picked up on some malnutrition whilst you were under my care in the Hospital Wing after your run-in with Professor Quirrell and You-Know-Who. I suspect as a result of your poor nutrition growing up with the Dursleys. It’s nothing too serious – one vial of potion per night over the summer holidays should be enough to put it right. I brewed it specifically to address your malnutrition needs.”
Harry stared, touched and a little incredulous that someone would care so much about him as to brew Healing potions for him. He brought the vial to his lips and drained it in two large gulps. It did not taste as bad as Harry had feared – sort of like a mixture of honey and something spicy.
“Thank you, Madam Pom– I mean… Poppy,” he said, catching himself just in time.
Calling them by their first names was going to take some getting used to.
Poppy beamed.
As they ate the rest of their meal, the conversation started to flow more naturally. Harry was particularly interested to learn what types of things Healing could and could not fix.
“Could you heal my eyesight, too?” he asked hopefully.
“Ah, that’s a very good question, but the answer is no,” said Poppy.
“But why not?” said Harry, puzzled.
“Healing can cure diseases and fix injuries, but poor eyesight, in your case, isn’t a result of either of those,” explained Poppy. “You’re short-sighted, which is a genetic condition. It’s just part of who you are, like the fact you have dark hair or the fact you’re a boy. Now, if your eyes were injured in an attack, that would be Healable, but just being short-sighted is neither a disease nor an injury, I’m afraid.”
Harry accepted it, albeit reluctantly. He wished that everything could be treated by Healing magic, but he supposed it just did not work that way.
“If you like, though, I can cast a spell on your glasses so that they’ll always be the right prescription and never shatter,” offered Poppy.
“You can do that?” said Harry, amazed.
“Of course!” said Poppy.
She did a complicated-looking spell with her wand, gently tapping Harry’s head and glasses several times. His glasses glowed golden for a moment, before going back to their normal colour. Harry blinked in amazement. Suddenly, everything looked much sharper than it had done a moment before. His glasses previously must not have been quite the right prescription.
They continued their meal, the conversation turning to an interesting news article Minerva had read recently about a man who claimed to have glimpsed a parallel universe which was ruled by goats, which led to a lively discussion about what they thought life would be like if different animals were in charge.
By the time they had all finished their dinner, Harry was full, happy and sleepy, his eyelids drooping of their own accord.
“Time for an early night?” said Poppy. “You’ve had a busy day, Harry.”
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth, please, before you go to bed,” said Minerva.
Harry nodded, yawning as he got up from his chair, already thinking longingly about his new, comfortable bed upstairs.
“Goodnight, Harry,” said Minerva, standing up to wrap him in a hug.
“Sweet dreams,” said Poppy, getting up to envelop him in a hug too.
“Goodnight,” said Harry, a warm, fuzzy feeling slowly spreading through his chest as he felt their arms around him.
That night, as he drifted off to sleep, he thought to himself that Thistle Cottage already felt more like home than 4 Privet Drive ever had.
Over the next couple of days, they got into the swing of living together. They created a rota for chores such as cleaning, doing the laundry and doing the washing up. They learnt how to coordinate their bath times. Harry and Tom had fun exploring the house and garden – and one day, Harry asked if he could explore the rest of the island. Minerva said yes, explaining that the entire island was covered by the Fidelius Charm, meaning that no one could be there without being told the location by herself, the Secret Keeper.
Harry made himself some sandwiches for lunch and then stuck these in his backpack, before waving goodbye to his foster mothers and walking down the garden path, heading uphill across coarse grass in the direction of some woodland he could see in the distance. Tom was in an excellent mood, trotting alongside Harry and looking around with interest at their surroundings.
“It’s cool we get an entire island to ourselves,” said Tom. “I know Draco kept going on about his manor, but I can’t imagine it being nicer than this.”
Harry agreed. Teaghlach Island was large enough that he and Tom were excited for their “expedition”, but small enough that Minerva and Poppy were confident he was in no danger of getting lost or in need of adult supervision. It was a hilly, roughly-circular, grass-covered island in the Outer Hebrides, off the northwest coast of Scotland, surrounded by dark blue seas topped by strong, foamy, white waves. The one instruction Harry’s foster mothers had given him was not to get too close to the edges of the sheer cliffs, something that Harry had not been planning on doing anyway, given Tom’s fear of heights.
Presently, the boys reached the small patch of woodland they had been hiking towards, disappearing beneath the canopy of the trees for some respite from the hot summer sun that was beating down on them. Harry spotted a large log on the ground and went to sit down on it, taking a bottle of water from his backpack and taking a swig from it. Then, he spotted a squirrel just a few feet away from them, nibbling at something clutched in its tiny paws. Harry pointed it out with delight to Tom, cooing at its big puffy tail and adorable face. The squirrel ran away when Harry offered it a drink from his water bottle, much to Harry’s disappointment and Tom’s amusement.
“It’s a wild animal, Harry,” said Tom, as they continued their walk through the woodland. “Some things can’t be tamed.”
The sunshine through the leaves cast them in a dappled green light, before they finally emerged from the trees on the other side of the wood, Thistle Cottage no longer in sight. Harry spotted a bubbling stream a short distance away and walked over to it, leaning over to see his own rippling reflection in the crystal clear water. There was a brief moment of peaceful silence, before Tom jumped on his back, almost causing Harry to fall into the water. Harry staggered in shock, before whirling around to shout at Tom, whilst Tom simply roared with laughter. Harry could not find it in himself to be too annoyed at Tom, though; not when he had not seen Tom so happy and carefree in so long – not since the last time they had spent prolonged time alone together, over the Christmas holidays.
After their brief tussle by the stream, they continued their exploration of the island, deciding to follow the stream, which was flowing in the direction of the sea. As they walked, the ground began to gently slope downwards, the salty sea air whipping through Harry’s hair and making it even messier as they got closer and closer to the coast. Finally, the stream rounded a corner, and Harry and Tom both gasped in unison.
They had stumbled upon a beautiful sandy cove, the stream cutting a shallow channel through the sand and finally reaching the ocean. Without hesitation, Harry took off his shoes and socks, stuffing them in his bag, before stepping out onto the beach, wriggling his toes with delight in the fine sand. Tom was looking around in wonder, observing the way grassy slopes on all sides of the cove sheltered them from the elements and provided them with some privacy, like a little cocoon away from the world.
They explored the beach with great enthusiasm. Harry frolicked happily along the sand and paddled in the shallow waters of the sea, although he was careful not to go too far out into the water, since he was not a strong swimmer. By the time Harry realised he was hungry, the sun had travelled a fair distance in the sky, leading the boys to deduce it must be around 3pm. Harry flopped down on the beach beside Tom and dug his ham and cucumber sandwiches out of his bag, wolfing them down happily as they looked out from the cove at the endless blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
They stayed there for a long while, simply enjoying one another’s company and the sounds of the water lapping on the shore and crashing on some rocks further out, listening to the cries of the seagulls and the whispers of the wind. As afternoon drifted into evening, the breeze got a little crisper, and Harry stuffed his feet back into his socks and shoes. The boys made their way back home, re-tracing their steps along the stream, through the little patch of woodland, and back down the grassy hill to Thistle Cottage.
“Today was the best day out ever!” gushed Harry, as they made their way up the garden path to the front door. “What was your favourite bit, Tom?”
Harry was so engrossed in listening to Tom’s reply, that he did not see Poppy watching him through the kitchen window, her head cocked curiously to the side.
At the end of the first week, Minerva announced that she had to leave for the day to hand-deliver Hogwarts acceptance letters to several Muggle-born students who would be joining the school as first-years come September. After hugging Harry and Poppy goodbye, she Disapparated with a loud crack, leaving the two of them alone together.
“I was thinking of doing some gardening today,” said Poppy. “Do you want to help?”
Harry’s face lit up with excitement.
“Yes, please!” he said.
Poppy looked pleased, grabbing a bucket full of gardening supplies and leading the way outside. She began by giving him a tour of the garden, pointing to various plants as she went.
“Over here is where we have our normal decorative plants, like flowers,” she said. “And over here is our vegetable patch. We grow all our own carrots and potatoes, to save money. And this part of the garden is all magical plants, mostly plants used in Healing, but also plants that are just useful potions ingredients to have in general.”
“This is so cool,” Harry said excitedly, peering at one magical plant that had dozens of trembling flowers that looked and sounded like miniature maracas.
“Do you like gardening?” said Poppy.
“I love it!” said Harry. “Looking after the garden at 4 Privet Drive was one of the few nice things about living there. I was pumped when I learnt Herbology was a subject at Hogwarts. I’ve joined Professor Sprout’s Herbology Club, too. We meet up every Friday afternoon to take care of all sorts of plants.”
“Excellent!” said Poppy. “You can help me deadhead some flowers, then. And afterwards, we can harvest some carrots for tonight’s dinner.”
With that, she passed him a spare pair of secateurs, and the two of them began carefully removing the dead flowers from various plants and bushes. They soon settled into a peaceful rhythm, throwing the dead flowers into a bucket that would eventually be dumped in the composter. They had been doing this and chatting away happily for about half an hour, when Poppy brought up something that made Harry’s stomach turn to ice.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Poppy said casually. “I heard you talking to yourself the other day. Are you still seeing your imaginary friend? What’s his name again – Tom?”
Harry almost dropped his secateurs. He exchanged a nervous glance with Tom, his heart suddenly pounding. He did not want Poppy to think he was mad. What if she decided to send him away to live in a mental institution? Still, he could not exactly lie – she had seen him talking to Tom, apparently.
“Yes, Tom’s still here,” said Harry, trying to keep the anxious quiver out of his voice.
“I’m surprised,” said Poppy, looking at him curiously. “I assumed Tom would disappear, once you started making friends with real children at Hogwarts.”
Tom went very still. His eyes darted to Harry, watching closely to see how he would react.
“Tom’s really good,” Harry said hurriedly, feeling the need to defend Tom, seeing as Tom could not do it for himself. “He looks after me and helped me with my exam revision. He doesn’t have to go away, does he?”
“Oh, of course not!” said Poppy, giving him a kind smile. “I admit it’s… unusual for a child your age to still have an imaginary friend, but there’s nothing wrong with it, especially as you have real friends, too. Tom must have been a good helper with your revision, I heard you came top of your year in your exams. I’m impressed, Harry!”
Harry almost corrected her and said that Tom was merely invisible, not imaginary – but caught himself just in time. He did not want to look mad. So, instead, he simply smiled sweetly and offered to help harvest the carrots.
A week later, Tom dragged Harry to look at the large book collection downstairs. The books mostly belonged to Minerva, who loved to read, and she was there in one of the comfy armchairs, her nose in a novel, when Harry entered the room.
“Hello dear,” she said, giving him a smile. “Come to join me for a spot of reading?”
“If that’s OK,” said Harry. “What good books do you have?”
“Well, that depends on what kind of books you like to read,” chuckled Minerva. “Me, I like romance novels and books on advanced magical theory. What do you like to read?”
“All sorts really,” said Harry, shrugging.
Minerva got up from her armchair and went over to the bookshelves, flicking through her collection. Tom was already there, reading the titles on the spines of the books with fascination.
“Ah, this I enjoyed a lot when I was a child!” said Minerva, pulling out an old book from the bottom shelf and showing Harry the cover. “The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Have you read it?”
“No,” said Harry, shaking his head.
Minerva gave it to him. Harry turned over the book in his hands. Tom was instantly by his side, looking curiously over his shoulder.
“It’s a collection of classic wizarding children’s fairy tales,” explained Minerva. “Most of the stories are still popular, even today.”
Harry sat down in one of the larger armchairs, surreptitiously sitting to the side so that Tom could squish in next to him. Minerva took the armchair opposite, settling in with her own book, as Harry flipped through the pages of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It was obviously an old edition, with faded but beautiful illustrations drawn in magical ink that shimmered ethereally on the page.
Harry’s eye was caught by one of the illustrations that seemed to depict a large mysterious rune made up of a triangle, a circle and a line. It glinted temptingly on the page. He read the title out loud:
“The Tale of the Three Brothers,” said Harry.
“Oh, that’s a good one!” said Minerva. “Why don’t you read it aloud? It’s been a while since I’ve heard it.”
She set her book to the side and grabbed a mug of tea from the table next to her, listening with a bright, interested expression on her face. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Tom had the exact same look on his face. Harry had to suppress a smile. Minerva and Tom were both such nerds. Harry cleared his throat and began to read.
“There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.
“And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.
“So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.
“Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.
“And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.
“Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death’s gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination.
“The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible.
“That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand, and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother’s throat.
“And so, Death took the first brother for his own.
“Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry before her untimely death, appeared at once before him.
“Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her.
“And so, Death took the second brother for his own.
“But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.”
“That’s creepy!” said Harry, at the exact same moment as Tom said: “That’s cool!”
Minerva laughed good-naturedly at the expression of distaste on Harry’s face, reaching over to tousle his hair.
“You can keep the book, if you like,” she said. “I’m sure there’ll be other stories in there that are more to your liking. Besides, you’re more the target demographic than myself or Poppy.”
“Oh, thanks!” Harry said brightly, running upstairs to place the book by his bed, before returning downstairs, where Tom was back at the bookshelf, perusing the titles.
“What about this one?” said Tom, pointing to one titled The Ultimate Fun Who’s Who of Gods, Myths and Legends!
Harry pulled it out from the bookshelf and sprawled on the floor by Minerva’s slippered feet, flicking through the pages and giggling with Tom at some of the names and characteristics of various mythological beings. They were particularly amused by Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love and Sex; Persephone, Goddess of Death and Queen of the Underworld; Momus, the Personification of Mockery; Cloacina, the Goddess of Sewers; and Anansi, the Trickster God.
Whenever Harry would come across a particularly funny one, he would read it out loud to Minerva, who, it turned out, had a cracking sense of humour. Together, they read and read, until the sky turned pink and golden in its evening splendour, their cheeks sore from smiling and their bellies aching from laughing.
About once every couple of weeks, Poppy and Minerva would take it in turns to Apparate away from Teaghlach Island to do grocery shopping and bring in any essential supplies. Unfortunately, Harry was not allowed to go with them on these trips, since the Fidelius Charm only covered Teaghlach Island and would not protect him in other locations.
By way of an apology, and to allow him to still feel connected to the outside world, they would always bring him back a copy of The Daily Prophet, as well as a sweet treat from a shop called Honeydukes. Minerva also revealed she was working on a way that would allow Harry to communicate with his friends, although she would not say exactly what it was, saying she wanted it to be a surprise.
Presently, Harry and Tom were lying on their tummies in bed, going through the latest edition of The Daily Prophet. Splashed across the front page was a scandal revolving around the Captain of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team and several Veela, which seemed to involve several leaked photographs which apparently showed them getting hot and sweaty in a way that had nothing to do with Quidditch.
“They should publish the pictures,” said Tom. “I want to see them.”
“What?! Why?” said Harry, his cheeks going red at the thought.
“Well, they’re obviously having really weird sex in them,” said Tom. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be newsworthy!”
“You’re so nosy,” laughed Harry, shaking his head as he turned the page.
They both gasped when they saw two familiar faces on pages 2 and 3.
On page 2 was a still photograph of a beaming Hermione Granger wearing her Hogwarts uniform in a Muggle living room. It must have been taken just before she had gone off to school, her proud parents wanting to capture the moment on camera.
Tragic Hogwarts Schoolgirl’s Inquest Concludes
Written by Andy Smudgley, Reporter
The inquest into the tragic death of 12-year-old Hogwarts schoolgirl Hermione Granger finally concluded yesterday. The coroner concluded that the first-year student was unlawfully killed as a result of a troll being deliberately let into the school by Professor Quirinus Quirrell, after Aurors uncovered evidence of prior planning of this incident in the recently-deceased Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher’s office.
Professor Quirrell is said to have deliberately let the troll into the castle on 31 October 1991, Halloween night, to cause a distraction in an attempt to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, which was explosively revealed to have been hidden at Hogwarts last academic year during Professor Albus Dumbledore’s testimony last month. Professor Quirrell has since died in a subsequent attempt to steal the Stone, although Aurors confirmed that, if he were alive today, he would have been charged with Miss Granger’s murder.
Miss Granger suffered multiple blunt force injuries that were described as “unsurvivable” by Healers and sadly died very shortly after the attack. Since her tragic death, powerful new wards have been added to Hogwarts, designed to repel trolls to ensure such a tragedy never happens again.
In a statement, Mr and Mrs Granger paid tribute to their daughter, saying: “We will always remember our wonderful Hermione as a bright, curious and intelligent girl. She had a strong thirst for knowledge and had been delighted to discover that magic was real. She had such incredible potential, and although nothing can ease the pain of her passing, we are relieved and grateful to hear that spells have been performed to ensure no troll can come near Hogwarts School again. We ask for privacy as we come to terms with the loss of our daughter at this difficult time.”
The coroner thanked the Granger family for their dignity throughout the proceedings.
On page 3 was a mugshot of Hagrid, clutching a sign saying “Azkaban Prison” in his giant hands. He was wearing striped prisoner’s clothing and his eyes looked wild behind his huge bushy beard.
Hogwarts Gamekeeper Sentenced to 1 Year in Azkaban for Dragon Incident
Written by Alphonse Fenetre, Reporter
Rubeus Hagrid has been sentenced to one year in Azkaban Prison for a near-deadly incident involving a dragon in May this year.
Mr Hagrid, who has worked as gamekeeper at Hogwarts for the past 50 years, illegally kept a dangerous Norwegian Ridgeback dragon in his hut on the grounds of the school. On 30 May 1992, the dragon escaped his hut, where it flew around the school grounds and attempted to attack multiple students.
It took a dozen witches and wizards from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to bring the dragon under control, which has since been sent to live in a colony in Romania.
Aurors investigating the incident describe it as “a miracle” that no students were killed or seriously injured, with first-years being amongst those the dragon attempted to attack. They praised the quick response from older students and teachers, as well as those who attended from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, saying that without their actions, the outcome could have been much more serious.
Mr Hagrid, who has expressed remorse that students were put in danger but still insists that dragons are “seriously misunderstood creatures”, was found guilty of illegally keeping a dragon under the Warlocks’ Convention of 1709 and of having a magical beast dangerously out of control under the Beasts Act of 1949.
His sentence of one year in Azkaban Prison has started with immediate effect.
“Wow, one year in prison,” said Harry, unable to take his eyes off the wild look on Hagrid’s face in his mugshot. “That’s ages.”
“And rightly so!” Tom said severely. “That dragon could have killed you! We’re all safer with Hagrid locked up.”
Harry remembered the way the dragon had swooped down on them in the school grounds, drawing air deep into its lungs, seconds away from frying them to death. It was only thanks to a group of sixth- and seventh-years who had come running to their aid that they had survived. Harry let out a shaky breath. Perhaps Tom was right. Perhaps it was better that Hagrid was in prison.
Without Hagrid, their next year at Hogwarts should be safe…
Before they knew it, it was the end of July.
As Harry descended the stairs on the morning of 31 July, he heard excited whispers coming from inside the dining room, followed by abrupt silence. Harry paused before entering the room, exchanging a confused glance with Tom. What were Minerva and Poppy whispering about? They were not secretive by nature. In fact, during his time at Thistle Cottage, he had seen rather more of them than he had anticipated – he was still trying very hard to forget the sight of frilly women’s knickers on the washing line.
He pushed open the door, not sure what to expect. For a moment, Harry stood there in bewildered silence in a seemingly empty room, staring at a floating set of bagpipes. Then, the bagpipes inflated and began to play the tune to Happy Birthday at a deafening volume, at the exact same moment as Minerva and Poppy jumped out from behind a couple of armchairs, singing loudly in unison as they rushed forwards to hug Harry and usher him further into the room.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Harry, happy birthday to you!”
The bagpipes fell silent and nestled themselves into the corner of the room, Harry’s ears still ringing from the sheer loudness of them. He gaped in shock and amazement as Minerva and Poppy guided him over to the dining table, where several presents wrapped in blue wrapping paper lay waiting for him. Harry could see they were all labelled: Dear Harry. Happy 12th birthday! Love Minerva and Poppy xxx
“These are for me?” said Harry, in disbelief.
“Well, I’m not aware of any other Harrys living here whose 12th birthday is today,” Minerva said drily.
“But I… I…”
Harry did not know what to say. He had never received a birthday present before; had never expected such generosity. Poppy guided him to sit down, nudging one of the presents towards him. He unwrapped the present carefully, not wanting to mangle the wrapping paper, eyes still wide in astonishment that he had presents.
It was a book titled 100 Coolest and Rarest Magical Plants in Britain (Illustrated Edition). Harry flicked through it in delight, unable to tear his eyes away from the brightly coloured drawings of fascinating and bizarre magical plants.
“This is amazing, thank you!” he gushed.
Minerva and Poppy gave him warm smiles.
The rest of the presents were soft and squishy. After feeling them experimentally with his hands, Harry tore them open, feeling more excited now, unwrapping a new pair of jeans and several t-shirts.
“I noticed that you’re growing out of your current clothes,” said Poppy. “These should fit you better.”
It was a very thoughtful and practical gift. The clothes were not exactly the height of fashion, but Harry did not care. They were the right size, with some room to grow, and felt good quality – that was what mattered.
“Thank you,” he said, the words feeling inadequate for the weight of his gratitude.
“One final present,” said Minerva, leading Harry to a table at the edge of the room, which had a strange contraption on it that Harry had not seen before.
It looked like a set of golden weighing scales engraved with mysterious runes, covered by a shimmering glass dome.
“What’s this?” said Harry.
“This is a Magical Letter Transporter – or a Transporter, for short,” explained Minerva. “It’ll allow us to send and receive mail whilst our location’s hidden by the Fidelius Charm. I’ve been working on it for about a month. Very complex magic, but I ran some tests last night and it finally seems to be working.”
“You invented this?” said Harry, amazed.
“Yes,” smiled Minerva. “I’ve created Transporters for Mr Finch-Fletchley and Mr Longbottom too. Each Transporter will know the name of its owner. When a letter is placed on the scales and covered by the glass dome, the Transporter will read the addressee’s name and magically send it to that person’s Transporter.”
“So, if I write Justin’s name on the envelope, it’ll magically send it to Justin’s Transporter?” said Harry.
“Exactly! If you give me Mr Finch-Fletchley and Mr Longbottom’s addresses, I can hand-deliver and calibrate their Transporters for them,” said Minerva. “I’ve already set one up at Hogwarts, so we’ll be able to receive any letters from the school. In fact, I’m expecting some mail this morning…”
At that moment, there was a quiet ding like a bell, and a letter suddenly materialised on the golden scales. Minerva lifted up the glass dome to retrieve the letter, looking extremely pleased that her device worked. She handed the letter to Harry, who saw it was addressed to him.
Mr H. Potter,
Location Unknowable.
On the back of the envelope was the Hogwarts crest. Harry tore it open, reading the letter inside.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr Potter,
We are writing to inform you that term begins on 1 September 1992.
Please find enclosed your ticket for the Hogwarts Express, which will be leaving platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross Station, London on the aforementioned date at 11am.
Second-year students will require:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster
“Well, that proves that the Transporter works,” said Poppy, beaming. “You’ll be able to send letters to your friends now – how lovely!”
It was all so incredibly kind. Harry suddenly felt his throat become very tight as his eyes became embarrassingly wet. He ducked his head in an attempt to hide his tears before anyone noticed, but Poppy was too quick, peering at his tearful face with concern.
“Is everything OK, Harry?” she asked gently.
Throat still too tight to reply, he nodded, reaching out and hugging them both tightly, burying his face in their clothes as he let out a happy sob. For the very first time in his life (that he could remember), he had a family who loved him. And it was that, more than any physical birthday present, that Harry was thankful for above all else.
Over the rest of the summer, Harry sent and received numerous letters with Justin and Neville, thanks to Minerva’s ingenious Transporter. It quickly became Harry’s favourite part of the day – running downstairs in the morning to peer into the glass dome of the Transporter to see if a letter was waiting for him on the golden scales. The boys usually exchanged letters about once a week or so, swapping stories about their summer holidays and sharing any gossip.
One morning in late August, Harry came downstairs to find two letters waiting for him in the Transporter. He lifted the glass dome and grabbed the letters eagerly, settling down in a nearby armchair to read them. He opened Justin’s letter first, Tom leaning over his shoulder to read it too.
Dear Harry,
Italy was sooo good! For the first half of our holiday we stayed in a 5-star hotel in the old town of Sirmione which is next to Lake Garda. It was really fun! We went on boat trips around the lake and had ice cream every day – did you know in Italy they call it gelato? I’m not sure what the difference is but it was really yummy. There were some old ruins to explore too, but the most exciting bit was the second half of our holiday!
We went to a wizarding village in the Italian Alps! Mum and dad were allowed in, even though they’re Muggles, because they were with me and obviously already know about the magical world. Italy had some magical things that I’ve never seen in the UK. For example, in Italy, they really like weaving magic into fabrics! I saw flying carpets (yes, they’re real!), and scarves dipped in potions to bring the wearer good luck, and a cloak that created like 7 different shadows. I’m not sure what the point of the cloak was but it looked cool haha. We took loads of photos, so I’ll show you when we’re back at Hogwarts!
Speaking of Hogwarts, have you heard who our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to be? Gilderoy Lockhart! I’d never heard of him before, but apparently, he’s really famous in the wizarding world. I met up with Neville in Diagon Alley earlier this week and when we were at Flourish and Blotts, Lockhart was there doing a book signing and he announced he had accepted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts.
I guess that explains why all of Lockhart’s books are on the school textbook list this year. Have you read any of them yet? He sounds really impressive! He’s got first-hand experience fighting loads of dark creatures. I bet Defence Against the Dark Arts will be really interesting this year! I even showed the textbooks to mum and dad. After reading a few of them, I think they’re starting to see how useful it is to have a wizard in the family.
Oh! Something else VERY interesting happened at Flourish and Blotts, but I’m sure Neville will tell you about it in his letter. I’m running out of room on this sheet of paper and I’m not sure how many sheets the Transporter can handle so I’ll finish this letter now!
Take care and see you soon!
With love,
Justin
Harry was just finishing Justin’s letter, a happy grin on his face, when Tom suddenly let out a furious screech in his ear. Harry jerked in shock, almost dropping Justin’s letter, looking around wildly to try to see what had elicited such a strong reaction from Tom. Tom’s eyes were narrowed into slits, his finger white and rigid as he poked the end of Justin’s letter aggressively.
“What does he mean by that?!” said Tom, incensed.
“What?” Harry said blankly.
“With love,” quoted Tom, as if Justin had written the most disgusting thing in the world. “Why’s he written that?!”
“It’s just a thing people write at the end of letters,” said Harry, bewildered at Tom’s reaction.
“Not boys!” Tom said immediately. “Look at Neville’s letters! He always ends them with ‘Cheers’ or ‘Talk soon’ or ‘Best’. Justin’s acting… suspiciously.”
Harry burst into laughter. He could not understand why Tom was overreacting about something so trivial.
“Maybe it’s how posh people end their letters,” Harry said reasonably. “Justin’s quite upper class, isn’t he? They do things a bit differently.”
At this, Tom finally began to relax, the tension in his shoulders easing as he considered this hypothesis. He nodded slowly to himself, the irate look of anger melting away as he accepted Harry’s theory.
“Yes… Yes, that must be it…” said Tom, sounding (for some reason Harry could not fathom) relieved. “Well, open Neville’s letter, then. I want to know what happened at Flourish and Blotts.”
Shaking his head with a bemused smile, Harry opened the second letter, unfolding the parchment to read Neville’s messy handwriting.
Hi Harry,
Thanks for your last letter. No, I’ve never read 100 Coolest and Rarest Magical Plants in Britain (Illustrated Edition) before. If you’re bringing it to Hogwarts, I’d love to read it with you!
Gran and I went to visit mum and dad at St Mungo’s yesterday. We had a nice time. The Healers have just installed a magical window in the ward that looks as though it’s looking out onto a meadow, and they really like sitting there and enjoying the view. Gran and I talked to them and they sometimes smiled and nodded at some of the things we said, although I don’t think they really understood who we were. Still, they seemed happy to see us, so that was nice.
I met up with Justin earlier in the week in Diagon Alley which was really great! I met his parents too – they were really friendly and were amazed at all the casual magic happening around us (they’re Muggles). Maybe next year, you could join us for a meet up, if Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey say it’s OK? (I’m glad you’ve settled in with them by the way, I’d find it weird to live with teachers personally!)
But anyway, something mad happened at Flourish and Blotts! You know Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley from our year at school? They were both there with their dads – and their dads got into a MASSIVE FIGHT, punching one another and knocking over books and everything! I’m not sure what it was about, but they had to be pulled apart so that they wouldn’t seriously injure one another. I share a dormitory with Ron, so maybe I’ll get more details out of him when school starts again in September.
Not long to go now! See you soon.
Best,
Neville
“I wonder what the fight was about?” said Harry, intensely curious.
“Yes, that’s very interesting,” said Tom, as nosy as ever. “Why would Ron and Draco’s dads get into a fight?”
Bursting with questions, Harry grabbed a quill and a roll of parchment, and began to pen his replies.
It was several nights later, when the entire house had gone to bed, and Harry was just drifting off to sleep, that Tom suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, straining his ears in the darkness, before urgently shaking Harry back to full consciousness. Harry blinked awake blearily, rubbing his eyes and squinting in the darkness.
“What?” groaned Harry.
“Shh!” hissed Tom. “I think someone’s in the house.”
Harry was suddenly wide awake, panic and adrenaline causing his heart to pound and his senses to sharpen. Now that he was listening, he could hear a strange thudding noise coming from somewhere inside the cottage.
“But we’re hidden by the Fidelius Charm,” whispered Harry. “No one can find us unless Minerva tells them our location.”
“Maybe the Charm’s not working properly,” said Tom. “Someone’s here. Listen.”
The boys held their breath, listening intently in the darkness. The thudding noise could still be heard. It sounded vaguely rhythmical, like someone heavy-footed walking slowly around the cottage – or perhaps the beat of some dark ritual.
“We need to get to Minerva and Poppy,” whispered Harry. “They’ll be able to protect us and fight whoever it is.”
“OK,” said Tom. “Be quiet. Bring your wand, just in case.”
Hand sweaty, Harry grabbed his wand off the bedside table and held it tightly in his hand. Walking slowly on his tiptoes, trying to make as little noise as possible, he moved across the room like a shadow, Tom sticking by his side like a bodyguard. Finally, he reached his bedroom door, twisting the doorknob and wincing as it squeaked, the sound loud and grating in the darkness.
The rhythmical thudding noise seemed to pause, before starting up again, louder now that Harry had his bedroom door open. To his horror, he realised that the sinister sound seemed to be coming from Minerva and Poppy’s bedroom. A faint glow of light was visible from underneath their door. Harry gripped Tom’s hand in fright, terrible thoughts flashing through his mind of a dark wizard attacking his foster mothers in what should be the sanctuary of their bedroom.
“He’s in their room!” whispered Harry.
Tom looked as panicked as Harry felt. The thudding noise continued, like the beat of a terrible, fearful drum.
“It sounds like a ritual,” said Tom. “Maybe we should–”
But before he could finish, there came a muffled groan from behind Minerva and Poppy’s bedroom door.
“He’s hurting them!” shouted Harry.
He ran forwards recklessly, all thoughts of stealth going out of the window as the fierce instinct to protect coursed through him. He did not know who or what was behind that bedroom door. All he knew was that his foster mothers were in danger, and he would never let anyone harm his new, perfect family. Tom rushed forwards at the same moment, his longer legs carrying him faster, meaning that Harry saw him vanish through the wall ahead of him.
No sooner had Tom disappeared through the wall, however, than he reappeared, a look of ashen horror on his face. He grabbed Harry around the midriff, forcing him to a halt, before dragging him with all his might in the opposite direction, away from Minerva and Poppy’s bedroom, back towards his own room.
“What are you doing?” hissed Harry, fighting against him. “We have to go in and save them!”
“No!” Tom said desperately.
And that was when Harry finally heard it; another noise, one that was only audible now that he was standing very close to his foster mothers’ bedroom door: the sound of a mattress squeaking, in perfect synchronisation with the thudding noise, which Harry now realised was the sound of their headboard slamming into the wall.
Shock, horror and embarrassment all flooded through Harry in an instant. For a moment, both he and Tom stood rooted to the spot, the sounds of squeaking and thudding filling the hallway, before Harry finally returned to his senses, sprinting back to his own room and slamming the door shut behind him, before diving into bed and pulling the covers over his head, trying to block out the noise.
“Oh my God,” whispered Harry, horrified. “Oh my God!”
It was a good several minutes before Tom was able to speak. When he did, his voice was strangled and raw.
“We need to look in the potions cupboard tomorrow morning,” said Tom. “See if any of them can erase memories.”
Harry was not sure if he was joking.
Aside from that one horrifying night, it was – without a doubt – the best summer holiday Harry had ever had in his life. It was the first time a house had ever felt like a home. It was the first time he had ever felt part of a family.
He looked after the garden with Poppy. He read books with Minerva. They played board games as a family and prepared meals together. They made picnics and ate them at various spots around the island. Harry explored every inch of the island with Tom. The days melted into one happy, halcyon blur.
It seemed to go by in a flash, and before Harry knew it, suddenly it was 1 September and they were preparing to go to King’s Cross station in London to catch the Hogwarts Express. Harry was beyond excited at the prospect of seeing Justin and Neville again, bouncing around the cottage and getting in everyone’s way as Minerva and Poppy cast Feather-Light Charms on their luggage and went through checklists to make sure they had packed everything.
“Right, that’s everything,” said Minerva, putting her hand on Harry’s elbow in an attempt to keep him still. “Let’s go through the plan one last time.”
“We Apparate to an alleyway just around the corner from King’s Cross, where Muggle-Repelling Charms have been put in place temporarily to allow witches and wizards to arrive without drawing attention,” said Poppy. “We stay vigilant. In the case of any attack, I’ll look after Harry, whilst you fight off the attacker.”
“Indeed, very good,” said Minerva, sounding pleased. “The Hogwarts Express has had its protective runes boosted over the summer, so once we’re on the train, it’ll be as safe as Hogwarts. We just need to get there in one piece.”
“We should come up with a codeword, in case we notice something suspicious and think we might be under attack,” piped up Harry.
“In my experience, attacks from Death Eaters usually aren’t so subtle,” Minerva said drily.
“It’s a good idea, though,” smiled Poppy. “Did you have a specific codeword in mind, Harry?”
“It has to be something you’d never say in normal conversation,” said Tom, as Harry chewed his lip thoughtfully.
“How about jellyfish?” said Harry.
Minerva and Poppy smiled with amusement.
“Very well. At any sign of trouble, say the codeword jellyfish, and we’ll jump into action,” said Minerva. “Are you ready?”
Harry noticed they had suddenly gripped their luggage very tightly and Minerva had grabbed Harry’s arm with an iron grip. Realising what was about to happen, Harry grabbed his own luggage and nodded, closing his eyes as Minerva turned on the spot and the unpleasant sensation of Apparition closed in on him from all sides. It compressed him until he felt his head might pop, pressure like an ocean pressing in on every square inch of his body. Just when it was starting to feel unbearable, it stopped, and Harry opened his eyes to see that they were standing in an alleyway, the sounds of a nearby busy London street a sudden contrast to the peaceful tranquillity of the cottage.
They hurried out of the alleyway, making their way down the road towards King’s Cross station. Cars were honking, engines were rumbling, and there was the constant chatter of thousands of Londoners around them, going about their daily lives. Harry was getting more and more excited with every step, practically skipping as he carried his magically feather-light luggage, Tom hurrying along beside him.
As they walked into King’s Cross station, Harry spotted several children who he recognised from Hogwarts, including a boy who he recognised as Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and a seventh-year Ravenclaw girl who he knew from Herbology Club. They made their way to platforms 9 and 10. Harry watched as the Gryffindor boy and the Ravenclaw girl disappeared with their parents into the wall that hid the entrance to platform 9 ¾ – and then it was their turn.
Harry tried to quell his nerves as he, Minerva and Poppy began walking casually towards the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10. He knew it was perfectly safe. He had done it before, after all, the year before when he had first started at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, he could not deny how wrong it felt to walk straight at a seemingly solid wall, even though he knew it was merely a very convincing illusion. They were three metres away… two metres… one metre…
Smack!
Harry let out a cry of pain as he walked into an extremely solid, extremely painful brick wall. Pain shot through his nose and blood spurted down his face. The slick, coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Stunned, he looked around to see Minerva and Poppy looking equally battered and shocked.
“Jellyfish!” blurted out Harry.
The codeword.
They were under attack.