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Chapter Text

With These Hands

'It shouldn't have happened, especially not to a child; but the vagaries of Chance and Fate make no distinction towards those they affect. Hermione Granger started off as normal as normal could be. If it wasn't for an unwitting carrier of a debilitating disease at her daycare, young Hermione's life would've been completely different.'

Chapter 1: A Change in Destiny, Part 1 (Hermione's Story)

March 2008; Excerpt of an interview between Emma Granger and a reporter from Meningitis Now magazine

"It all started in the middle of the night when she started whimpering in her cot. She had a slightly raised temperature and I put it down to teething so I gave her some medicine. Hermione went back to sleep but started whimpering again about half an hour later. This time, Hermione was sick so I changed her and brought her into bed with me so that I could keep a closer eye on her." Emma's voice hitched as the memories of that horrible night threatened to overwhelm her.

"As my husband was getting ready for work the following morning I noticed that Hermione's breathing was very erratic so I brought her downstairs with me and phoned the doctors straight away to which they told me to bring her straight down. We went to the doctor’s surgery to be told that Hermione had an ear infection, and just to give her some ibuprofen for children. At this point Hermione could not lift her head off my chest, and she barely interacted with her environment which she would normally do. The doctor could see this but I trusted his judgment. We went to my parents’ house so that I had support looking after Hermione. It wasn’t until we were changing Hermione’s nappy we noticed some very scary looking dark bruise-like marks all over her nappy area. I was terrified. I have never been that scared in all my life. I knew at that point something was horrendously wrong."

Hermione's earliest recollection of what happened on that fateful day was only what she remembered from her mother's stories. She'd been dropped off at her daycare where everything seemed to be going as normal. What no one knew at the time was that one of the workers had somehow contracted bacterial meningitis but wasn't showing any symptoms other than some moderate coughing and the occasional sneeze as they handed out toys for the children to play with which, at the age of about fifteen months, Hermione did what all children do and put the toy in her mouth.

Monday 3 September, 2012

Children are amazingly resilient, as 7-year-old Hermione proved when she bravely went about her day. She woke up like normal, got dressed by herself before pulling out her bionic arms she'd received from the NHS. She unplugged the charger cord and slipped her forearm into the socket. The internal circuits reacted almost immediately as she flexed her muscles which triggered sensors that in turn actuated the tiny motors and opened and closed the fingers. Smiling, she grabbed her book bag and bounced down the stairs, taking them two at a time before making the turn at the hallway that led into the kitchen.

"Morning, mummy!" she called out cheerfully as she entered and took her seat at the kitchen table.

"Morning, baby. Are you ready for your first day of Year three?" Emma kissed her daughter on the top of her head and set down a bowl of cereal and milk before returning to the kitchen.

"Uh-huh! I can't wait to learn something new." Hermione eagerly dug in and smiled toothily around the mouthful of food, her cheeks puffing up like a squirrel.

Emma sent her daughter an exasperated look, "Hermione. Don't do that, if you choke on your food you won't be able to go learn."

Hermione quickly swallowed, looking sheepish. "Sorry, mummy."

Dan Granger appeared not too long afterward, awkwardly trying to get his tie to lie flat. "Good morning, Granger Gals!" Emma rolled her eyes at the salutation while Hermione giggled. Dan pouted, "So much for being one for all and all for one." He gave his wife a peck on the lips and his daughter a kiss on the cheek. "So what's everyone's plans for today?"

Hermione immediately launched into a litany of things she wanted to learn when she got to school. Dan's eyes widened playfully, "School? Who said you could go to school?"

Hermione got a look on her face so reminiscent of her mum whenever she was being teased, it gave Dan the shivers and prompted him to immediately raise his hands in surrender. Emma snorted lightly at her husband's submission and answered his earlier question that she was going to run some errands.

Hermione entered her first class for her Year Three (7-8 year old) form and took a seat, looking around the classroom with eager anticipation. "Miss Granger?" Hermione turned at the sound of an adult addressing her and smiled up at the teacher. "Good. I see here according to your registration that you have prosthetic arms, but I think this must be in error because I don't see them anywhere." The teacher's twinkling eyes and small grin clued Hermione in that the teacher was just teasing her.

Hermione crinkled her nose cutely and held up both arms, "Here they are!"

The teacher gasped in 'surprise.' "Well, I'll be! You're correct, those are prosthetic arms! Wow, they look so real. Now, just so you know, I'll be starting you off slowly to make sure you can keep up with the other students. Remember to try your best and not get discouraged if the assignment doesn't turn out the way you expected." She laid out a practice vocabulary worksheet and gave the excited girl the go-ahead to begin.

At break time, the students were wheeled out, walked out under their own power, or were gently escorted by their caregivers to the playground. Hermione skipped out and reveled in the feeling she got from the sun as it warmed her skin. A couple of the other kids surrounded her, curious about her 'robot arms.' The most common question was, "Why do you have them?"

Hermione patiently explained the oft-told story about how she'd gotten sick and lost her arms. "I don't really think I lost my arms but instead got an upgrade." She struck a heroic pose, "I'm Battle Angel Hermione!" She held that pose for a moment before dissolving into raucous giggles. "Sorry, it's a Japanese comic that my daddy shared with me while I was getting fitted with my new arms. She's a being known as a 'cyborg' which is a human brain inside of a robot's body..." Hermione trailed off when she realized she was losing their interest. "Sorry, I get carried away sometimes. So what do you like to do when not in class?"

The others' moods changed from information overload to one of happiness as they shared stories about what interested them.

In another lifetime, a more driven Hermione Granger would've considered social interaction with other children her age to be a waste of time in the face of learning something new. This drive would've alienated her to everyone around her to the point where she never really learned how to make friends. However, in this universe, Hermione was a bubbly, out-going little social butterfly who recognized the importance of reaching out to others around her and drawing them in. If she stopped to think about the differences, she most likely would've chalked it up to the support staff and engineers at the prosthetics company where they talked with her, drawing her out, making sure that she didn't retreat into her shell. On top of that was the support she received from her parents and listening to them tell her story to everyone who was interested.

Now, despite her outgoing personality, Hermione Granger did have one thing that never changed. She loved to read. From the very first story that was read to her as a toddler, to when she was able to prop up a picture book and carefully sounded out the short words on the page; Hermione was hooked. Everything and anything to be read was fair game in her opinion.

It was that love of reading which led to her discovering new and exciting adventures with every turn of a page.

Tuesday 24 September 2013; A year later, In the school's library...

"So what are you in the mood for today, Miss Granger?" The librarian politely asked her.

The recently turned 9-year-old Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully, "Do you have anything on magic?"

"Anything in particular about magic? Did you want to learn how to perform magic tricks?"

Shaking her head no, Hermione held up her arms, "I was hoping for something where the hero or heroine was able to cast magic that didn't require the use of her hands."

Nodding sympathetically, the librarian led her to the fantasy section and hunted around for a bit before pulling out a book, "I think this might fit the bill. It's called the 'Chanters of Tremaris.' In this story, the heroine, Calwyn has never been beyond the high ice-wall that guards the sisters of Antaris from the world of Tremaris. She knows only the rounds of her life as a novice ice priestess, tending her bees, singing her ice chantments, and dreaming of the future."

Hermione's eyes grew wide with awe as she took hold of the book. "Wow, thank you!" She headed over to the tables and settled in to read, getting thoroughly, and happily, lost within the tale.

Back at home, after school...

Looking back, Hermione would never really be able to discern what came over her to try and sing a spell that caused her backyard to suddenly explode in a massive bloom of flowers. She laid back against the shade tree in her backyard to finish reading the book she'd gotten from the library. After she closed the cover, she stared off into the distance wondering what her life could be like if magic was really real. "I'd love to be a witch. I think I'd be a good witch too. I'd have a cute little black kitten to ride on the bristles of my broom, make potions in a large cauldron while singing about toadstools and black hats..."

Hermione sighed in contentment before a slight breeze tickled her nose. Crinkling the bridge of her nose, she let out a loud sneeze and shivered from the action. Her gaze slid over to the cover of the book the librarian had recommended and wondered what it would be like to sing magic into reality. She idly plucked a dandelion flower bud from the grass and subconsciously sang a little song:

"Sing a song of flowers, flowers all around.
Flowers that are growing, growing in the ground
Flowers of each color make a pretty view.
Red and orange and yellow.
And blue and purple, too."

As expected, nothing happened except the odd whisper in her mind hinting to her that it might work if she tried again and sang it to the tempo and rhythm of the nursery rhyme 'Sing a Song of Sixpence.'

The second time, she got a response...

Emma stepped out to see where her daughter had disappeared to only to be confronted with the astonishing sight of their once-grassy backyard completely filled in with a colorful bounty of flowers. "Hermione?"

A robotic hand rose above a group of blue flowers by the shade tree, "Here."

"What happened?"

Hermione's voice was more confused than scared, "I'm not sure."

"Well, come on in; your homework is waiting for you." Emma shook her head at the impossibility of what she was seeing and headed back in.

After finishing her homework, Hermione returned to the backyard to ponder what had happened that caused so many flowers, none of which she recalled her mother planting, to suddenly bloom. A stray thought crossed her mind that they only appeared after she'd sung that silly song. "Did I do this?" She carefully picked her way back to her spot under the tree, gently running her fingers through the various blossoms. "But magic can't be real, can it?"

Figuring that there was only one way to prove or disprove the existence of magic, she retraced her steps. She tried singing the song, but as before, nothing happened until she matched the song tempo and rhythm again.

Still nothing happened...

She tried different songs from her favorite artists.

Again, nothing happened. A frog croaked somewhere amongst the flowers near the wall. Frowning, she her attention was drawn to the gently waving flowers and snorted in realization, "Duh, there's no more room here for more flowers to grow! Okay, how could I...which song would I need to sing...hmm."

It took her several tries, mostly trying to match a known song beat to the words she'd was attempting to sing before she landed on a children's song called 'Did you ever see a Lassie?' her mum had sung to her during bath time when she was little:

"I'm always picking flowers,
I'm always picking flowers,
And petunias are my favorite;
Let's pick some flowers, and put them in a vase to brighten up my room.

I'm always picking flowers,
I'm always picking flowers,
And marigolds are my favorite, they smell so good;
Let's pick some flowers, and put them in a vase to brighten up my room.

Flowers red and flowers blue,
Some for me, some for you.
Put them all together in a bunch,
Flowers yеllow and purple too;
Some for me, somе for you!"

"HERMIONE!" Hermione flinched when she heard her mother screech before the back door burst open. Emma Granger stood there with flower petals falling off her hair and a wild-eyed look on her face. "What was that?! The whole house is stuffed to the rafters with flowers!"

"That was magic, Missus Granger." Both Grangers whirled around at the sound of a new voice coming from the bushes.

"Who's there?" Emma gathered Hermione up in her arms protectively.

"My name is Harley, and I was attracted to your daughter because she sang such beautiful magic. I've not heard anyone Sing the Songs so well in such a long time."

Emma bobbed her head trying to suss out where the person was and debating whether or not to call the police, "Would you please show yourself?" Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the...creature that emerged. "What...who are you?"

The creature, wearing what appeared to be a flower-print pillow case like a tunic, curtsied politely, "My name is Harley. I am a magical creature known as an elf."

"Like Santa?" Hermione piped up hopefully.

Harley smiled softly but shook her head, "I'm sorry, but not really; at least not the way you're probably hoping." She gestured at what flowers remained in the garden, "Elves are a member of the Fae race and we're attracted to people who can cast magic. We serve them in return for the ability to siphon off their excess magic to survive."

"Serve them?"

Harley bobbed her head, her large ears flapped. "Yes, Mrs. Granger. If I have her permission to bond with her, I would assist in anything she needs to do like cooking, cleaning, helping with day-to-day activities, even bathing if necessary."

Hermione had managed to extricate herself from Emma's grip and slowly approached the elf, "So, I did magic?"

Harley smiled her confirmation, "Yes, you are what's known as a witch."

Emma gasped as she latched onto her daughter's shoulders and dragged her back. "But...witches are evil!"

Harley sighed, "Not always, Mrs. Granger. Just like in this world, there are good and bad people of all types. Your daughter is, I hope, a good witch. (Hermione bobbed her head up and down energetically) Like I said, I was attracted to her because she Sang magic in a way that we elves haven't heard since millennia past. I heard her Singing a welcome home song and I just had to investigate."

Hermione puckered her lips in consternation, "But I was singing a song to clear the yard of the flowers!"

Harley shrugged, "It amounts to the same thing. You were welcoming the flowers into your home."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I did."

Emma's teeth were worrying her lower lip, "Well, why don't you come in and we'll discuss things." She took a step back to let Hermione and Harley pass by before yelling up the stairs for Dan to come join her in the living room.

"What's wro....ng." Dan trailed off at the sight of Harley sitting on the couch next to his daughter. "Oh, boy...hello. Elf, right?"

Harley wasn't the only one to look surprised at his knowledge. "Dan?" Emma questioned him.

Dan's shoulders slumped as he got a sheepish look on his face. "I was hoping we could've avoided this when Hermione got sick. Emma, I'm sorry I never mentioned this before but I know about elves, witches, wizards, and magic. My family used to have a connection to the magical world a long time ago before that ability was lost around the time when my great-grandfather was born. He and his wife were only able to have Squibs, which was right about the time when the Dagworths broke off from the Grangers."

Emma stared wide-eyed at her husband for seemingly the longest moment before she responded in the most unlikely way. She laughed, and hard. Coughing and wheezing, she managed to croak out, "You too?"

Dan cocked his head confused, "You know?"

Emma giggled, "I vaguely remember my grandmother telling me stories about a famous man known as Hector Dagworth-Granger who'd formed some kind of society during the late 18th century. Are you saying you're from that family?"

"Yeah...?" he drawled uncertainly. "You're a Squib too?"

Emma replied that she didn't know but it made sense to assume that she might be given her grandmother's stories about learning magic in a faraway castle, a strange game played on broomsticks, dragons, elves, and Goblins who ran a bank. "The bulk of her stories included one tale of a particularly nasty witch who took great pleasure in making sure that my grandmother's parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins never prospered. It's why they died so poor and why my parents made sure I studied as hard as I could."

"What's a Squib?" Hermione chirped from where she was still sitting.

Harley patiently explained that a Squib was a non-magical child born to a magical family. "As opposed to a muggleborn which is the exact opposite. Then you have a half-blood which has one magical parent and one non-magical parent. The final distinction is a pureblood, which is a child who is born to two magical parents."

Hermione puzzled that out, "So what would this make me? Am I a...a muggleborn?"

Dan waggled his hand, "I'm not entirely sure how that would work out, but all you need to be concerned with is that we still love you no matter what." He turned back to Harley, "So how did you come about?"

Harley explained her story again about how she'd been attracted to Hermione's singing magic to clear the backyard of the flowers and her offer about becoming the family elf in exchange for Hermione's excess magic. Dan shared a look with his wife who subtly nodded her agreement, "We're okay with it as long as you accept that you'll be a part of the family rather than the traditional servant role. This means you'll eat at the table with us, share in doing the chores, wearing clothes, and everything else that goes into being a family."

It was Harley's turn to be surprised at this sudden turn; eyes tearing up from the overwhelming emotions that threatened to become a reality, she wholeheartedly accepted. The now-four Grangers joined hands as Harley led them in the Bonding ritual which would tie them together. A flash of gold light filled the room just as the warmth of family filled their hearts sealing the bond forever.

Time skip:

With Harley's help over the intervening years, Hermione (and her parents) learned the intricacies of musical magic. She took singing lessons and developed her voice into a mezzo-soprano range known for its rich, warm tone with power in the mid-range and capable of high notes. Hermione's voice had a distinctive husky, soulful quality that she was able to carry into the higher ranges. Her vocal teacher praised the determined pre-teen, "Your strength lies in your emotional delivery and control rather than sheer technical range, which in itself is substantial. I expect great things from you, my dear."

Harley would sometimes disappear into the Fae realm to bring back scrolls and ingredients to teach Hermione in the 'Old Ways' through ritual chants, specific times of the year that corresponded to key moments in the alignment of energies, the stars and planets, as well as how to read and understand the world around her. The family of four would take nature walks with Harley acting as a sort of guide, pointing out important facts, letting Hermione feel how magic interconnected with plants and animals, to breathe in the fog and expel the air to produce moments of incredible clarity.

They would sometimes just sit quietly within a fairy circle and listen to the buzzing of insects, the birds in the trees and the animals that called the woods home. Those were the moments that Hermione cherished the most. "I really appreciate what you've shown me, Harley. I realize now that magic is more than just reciting spells out of a dry, dusty old book. Magic is all around us if you just know where to look."

In addition to learning musical magic, Harley also assisted with Hermione's regular magical education as well. The elf introduced the small family to the wonders of Diagon Alley, both through the hidden entrance to the Leaky Cauldron as well as the optional entrance through Beeman's Books located just around the corner. "Beeman's is actually the non-magical entrance favored by the muggleborn patrons who don't want to be...hassled, for a lack of a better term, by the magical people who frequent the tavern."

After one such trip through the pub, both Dan and Emma had to agree with her. Tom the barkeeper was friendly enough to point them in the right direction towards the hidden entrance, but the underlying feeling of suspicion, if not outright contempt, they picked up from the other patrons wasn't as nice.

The owner of the magical bookshop, Mr. Flourish of Flourish and Blott's, was a kindly old man who delighted in showing the Grangers around. He easily recognized kindred spirits in the written word and directed them to the children's section that catered to new-found magic users and their families. "These books were written with children in mind to teach them the basics of navigating their new world. Inside you'll find simple concepts like how to properly greet someone depending on their social class, pureblood versus half-blood and et cetera. You'll also find a primer on how to identify the different families from their crests that are worn on their robes for formal events. Finally, there's a general overview of the types of different creatures, toys, wands, and other things that can be found within the magical community."

He then led the adults over to another shelf, "These books are geared for the parents of said child. They contain the various laws and regulations for people such as yourselves. I'm guessing muggleborn?"

Dan waggled his hand, "Not really sure. My last name is Granger, and there's some talk about whether or not we're part of the Dagworth-Granger lineage." A little white lie, but a necessary one.

Mr. Flourish gaped, "Wow, that's a...well, I still recommend you read through this one even if it turns out not to be true. Laws are laws regardless of which family you're from. If you're interested in determining with any certainty which family you belong to, I recommend you stop at Gringotts and get a lineage test done."

Their next stop was Gringotts where after 'donating' a drop of blood; the Goblins confirmed that Hermione was indeed the first witch of the Dagworth-Granger line and therefore eligible to inherit the vaults and heiress-ship status. There was even a ring for her to wear to allow others to identify her as belonging to an established family.

Hermione frowned and held up her bionic arms, "I don't think a ring will work on these."

Her new account manager, Daggerclaw blinked in surprise as he examined her prosthetics. "That's different. Okay...well...hmmm. Let me call in some help to determine how we can go forward from here." He pressed a button on his desk and sat back to wait.

In the meantime, Dan and Emma had a slew of questions about the vaults, the remaining investments, and if the Dagworth-Granger manor still stood. "If it does, and it's no longer in a livable condition; I think the house itself should be torn down. I'm not looking to move my family from our comfortable home into a place that held such bad memories for my ancestors."

Daggerclaw could understand that and made a note to investigate. "If the house is no longer viable, what do you want to do with the land?"

Dan glanced over to where Hermione was in quiet conversation with Harley, "Could you set it up so it becomes a refuge for displaced elves? Did my family have any elves that survived?"

Harley overheard and moved over to join in the conversation. "That's a nice offer, but displaced elves usually just return to the Fae realm."

"Oh, okay. In that case, just let the land remain as it is so it can return to its natural state. I'm sure that at some point, it'll become useful in the future."

Daggerclaw heaved open the ledger and ran a clawed finger down the listings. "According to this, your family did indeed at one point have a few elves but they either died of natural causes or returned to their home realm not long after the family split up."

The consultant arrived fifteen minutes later. After speaking briefly with Daggerclaw, the new person scanned Hermione's arms checking for any connections to her magic. Finding none, the consultant frowned, "The ring interacts with the witch or wizard through skin contact. Merely holding the ring against her arm or even toes should suffice."

Given that Hermione didn't have any toes thanks to the meningitis; she opted to press the ring against her arm. There was a swirl of sparkly energy as it connected to her magic, a song of joy and family rushed through her ears and in her head welcoming the wayward witch home. Her eyes teary, she sniffled happily. "That was beautiful."

Emma promised to hold onto the ring until they got home where Hermione could put it on a necklace she had in her jewelry box.

Ministry for Magic

Dan had the brilliant idea after leaving the bank to swing by the magical Ministry to register their house as a magical domicile. "I vaguely remember a cousin who just enough magic to trigger their sensors. From the stories told, he used to drive them crazy so I figured that we could get around that by letting them know ahead of time."

Harley showed them the visitor's entrance (a red telephone box to Emma's amusement.) "Dial 62442 then tell the automated voice where you need to go."

Dan had Hermione do it so she could get used to it. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Hermione Granger. I need to go to the department to register my house as a magical home."

"Please state the names and business of the others in the booth with you."

"Oh! Daniel Granger, Emma Granger, and Harley Granger; my parents and sister who will be going with me," she replied sheepishly.

"Thank you. All visitors, please take your name badge and remember to sign-in with the Welcome Desk. Welcome and have a pleasant day."

The interior of the kiosk began descending into the ground.

Eyes and heads on a swivel, the Grangers took in the expansive ceiling of the Ministry before following the signs to the Welcome Desk where they repeated their destination to the witch. "Very well, I need your wands for identification purposes."

Dan replied that he and his wife were Squibs. Hermione held up her bionic arms, "I'm only ten and I don't think I'd be able to use a wand."

Harley cutely answered that as an elf, she wouldn't be legally able to hold a wand.

The Welcome Witch coughed a laugh at the grinning elf, "Silly elf. Okay, it's not a problem. Just fill out this form and press your thumbs...wait, that won't work either. Hmmm, oh! I know...." She pulled her wand out and cast a diagnostic charm over the human Grangers. "There, that's an identification charm normally used to track adventurous children. I'll record the signatures for each of you in our records."

Emma chuckled and gestured back towards the kiosk which was currently returning to its original position. "You know, if you ever wanted to mess with your visitors; you should change the entrance to a blue police box."

A slow knowing smile crept across the Welcome Witch's face, "Only if it's bigger on the inside. Maybe we could borrow one from The Doctor; I'll have to ask."

Level Three - Muggle Liaison Office

"Hello, I wasn't sure if I needed to head here or to the department that deals with underage magic, but I need to register my home as a magical dwelling," Dan explained after greeting the clerk.

"It's all interconnected so either department would've been fine. Here's the forms you'll need to fill out. There are chairs and a table over in the corner. Which one of you is magical?" Hermione raised her hand. "Have you received a wand yet?" She shook her head and replied that she was only ten. "That's fine. I'll make a notation of that here." He filled out a special box that was explained it would allow them greater leeway in the event when Hermione started practicing casting magic either as part of her homework during the summer or just general day-to-day magical casting. "The enchantments need to be renewed at the end of each school year, so be sure to schedule a visit with this department no later than May in case we get busy."

Once the forms were filled out, the clerk commented how appreciative he was at their proactive stance to guard against breaking the Statute of Secrecy. "I wish more muggleborns were as considerate."

"It could be that no one ever took the time to suggest it to them. It's not like a tour of this new world is part of the initial contact visit," Emma answered calmly.

On their way back up, the group came across a heavily scarred man limping along on a primitive-looking replacement leg. "Hello, may we help you?" Hermione politely asked him.

The man gruffly smirked, "Thank ye kindly, lassie but I'm doing just fine. Master Auror Alastor Moody." He held his hand out to her and was surprised when she shook it without hesitation. He noticed her bionic arms, "When did Saint Mungo's improve their limb replacements?"

"Saint Mungo's?" Questioned Hermione as she tilted her head curiously.

"It's the magical hospital. Ah, you must be muggleborn?"

At Hermione's nod, she introduced her parents and sister. "Well, Harley's an elf but I think of her as my sister."

As they rode the elevator back up to the Atrium, Dan and Emma filled Moody in with a general overview of advanced bionics and Hermione's tragic story. Dan fished out a business card from the company they went to and handed it over. "They do good work. I daresay that your current leg isn't doing its job properly if you've been limping that badly."

Moody bobbed his head in agreement, "I was in a firefight against a baddie who won't be bothering anyone anymore. One of the bastard's spells clipped me in the leg, instantly killing it. Healers say it was a Dark curse that prevented them from regrowing the muscles and nerves." He patted the fake leg, "It's not perfect, but it does keep me out of a damned chair. Judging how comfortable your daughter is with her arms, I think I should take a look into this company."

When the lift doors opened, he gave them all a nod and limped off.

Under the cover of some well-placed elf enchantments designed to hide their backyard from prying eyes, Hermione practiced singing her spells; sometimes to hilarious results. There was one time where Harley had instructed her to try making a water barrel twice as deep, only for the barrel to shrink twice as small leaving behind a sopping mess as the water inside the barrel squirted everywhere.

There was another experiment when Hermione tried singing a bathing spell only to flood the bathroom with thick walls of sudsy bubbles. Another experiment on her father's car suddenly left it stranded on the side of the road bereft of an engine. Hermione blushed brightly when it was towed to the auto mechanic, "Oops."

During this time, Hermione and her parents partnered with a new prosthetics company that provided her with a pair 3D printed bionic arms. These new arms were lightweight, easy-to-use, and had a greater flexibility and control than she'd ever had with the NHS limbs or the previous company she'd paired with. When asked what color she wanted her new arms to be, Hermione immediately declared, "Periwinkle Blue, and I want the tops of the hands to sparkle with diamonds!" The techs snickered at her enthusiasm and talked her down to 'mere' rhinestones in the meantime.

Hermione's friends, both in the neighborhood and at school, all congratulated her on the new arms and declared them 'wicked cool.' One boy even went so far as to wonder if she could rig them to fire tiny missiles or shoot laser beams from a hidden cannon. Hermione giggled, "Silly, there's just enough room for the electronics. However, I will pass along your suggestion. Maybe someone will create a special model for Halloween."

Saturday 17 September, 2016; Granger Residence

That Saturday, the Grangers received a visit from an unlikely person. Professor Minerva McGonagall was dressed in a somewhat old-fashioned dress that wouldn't have looked out of place back in the thirties, as in the 1830s. She had a stern face that hinted at a strong will and determination. She glanced at the parchment in her hand and frowned at the odd sensation of being watched. "Is someone there?" There was no response so she just chalked up the feeling to the usual sort of being alone in the muggle world and approached the front door. She sucked in a short intake of breath at the feeling of elvish wards the moment she crossed the property line. "Something...is different."

The moment she reached out to knock, the door swung open to a bushy-haired girl curiously peering out, "Hi, who are you?"

Minerva smiled warmly down at the girl, "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall. Are you Hermione Granger?"

Hermione nodded, "I am. Professor, huh? What do you teach?"

Before Minerva could respond, the girl's mother appeared in a huff. "Hermione, you left your arm hanging off the couch. I nearly tripped over it. Go on..." she shooed off her daughter and let out a huff of amusement, taking in Minerva's appearance. "Sorry about that. I'm guessing you're here to invite Hermione to attend Hogwarts?"

"How did you know?"

Emma couldn't help it and waved her hand mystically, "Magic."

Minerva let out a light snort of amusement, "Indeed. How long have you been waiting to trot that out?"

"Quite a while. Ever since my husband and I figured out some of the things that Hermione did could only be explained as magic." Emma chuckled and waved her in, "Come on in. I guess you could classify us as a sort-of 'Squib-born' family rather than the traditional muggleborn." She directed Minerva to an open chair and whispered something in Hermione's ear. She nodded and scampered off into the kitchen. "My husband was born to the Granger half of the Dagworth-Granger family (Minerva's eyes widened in recognition), and as you clearly know; that makes him a Squib. I only recently determined that my family came from a Squib born to the Fawley line."

"That doesn't explain the elvish magic I felt as I approached the house or the odd comment about Miss Granger's arm," Minerva remarked as Hermione came back in carefully carrying a tray of tea cookies before dashing back out to retrieve the kettle. She returned a moment later, being trailed by Harley who was giving the girl a look of exasperation and gentle admonishment about the last time she tried to magic the kettle to float behind her.

Emma gestured towards Harley who bowed her head respectfully to Minerva. "Professor, this is Harley Granger. Born an elf, bonded to Hermione as family. As far as we're concerned, that's what she is. Family."

"I dinna ken..." Minerva was amazed by the turn of events. She reached into her bag and pulled out the Letter of Acceptance. "Then I suppose you won't need the whole 'magic is real' speech. I'll also assume that you don't need an escort to find Diagon Alley to purchase your supplies, should you decide to attend?"

Emma shook her head. She gently laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder (the girl had been humming something under her breath causing the tea in her cup to swirl without the aid of a spoon.) "There's just one issue I hope Hogwarts will be able to accommodate Hermione with. When she was fifteen months old, she contracted a rare strain of meningitis which resulted in her lower arms and hands needing to be amputated. She wears these prosthetics but I'm worried that the magic-heavy environment of the castle will prevent them from operating properly. Now, we've been inside your Ministry and they've worked fine there, but I've been told that Hogwarts is far more steeped in magic than they are. On top of that, because she has no 'human' hands, I fear that she won't be able to cast magic the traditional way through a wand."

Minerva looked genuinely concerned, "The poor lass. I thought those were merely gloves. You mention the 'traditional' way. Does she know another method?"

Here, Emma gave Hermione permission to cast a simple spell to make the tea cookie plate float. Hermione scrunched her face up and set her pace to the Peter Pan's song 'You can fly.'

"Think of a wonderful thought
Any merry little thought
Think of Christmas, think of snow
Think of sleigh bells, off you go!
Like reindeer in the sky
You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!"

Without even the rudest wave of a hand or wand, the tray of cookies smoothly rose off the table and hovered without even a slight wobble to the utter amazement from Minerva. She slumped back into the chair and stared open-mouthed at the triumphant pre-teen.

"I'll need to speak with my colleagues, but I daresay that we can accommodate your request. Oh, Filius is going to practically dance with joy when he meets you!"

Hermione concentrated and slowly retracted the spell, lowering the tray back onto the table. She perked up at the mention of the new person. "Who's Filius?"

Minerva coughed at being caught out, "That would be Professor Flitwick to you. He teaches Charms and is the Head of Ravenclaw House. I'm certain he'd be absolutely giddy with the prospect of meeting someone who has such a firm grasp of alternative methods of casting magic. Myself, I teach Transfiguration and the Head of Gryffindor House. Do you have a copy of Hogwarts, A History yet?"

Hermione nodded, "Yeah, it's one of my favorite books to read! I love the parts that talk about the Founders and the beginning of the school. My other favorite magic book I picked up last time we went to the Alley is on ritual-based magic. That's where I found the spell to stir tea without needing a spoon. It's actually pretty simple, you just need to alter the pitch of your voice on the third stanza to control how fast the water swirls."

One of Minerva's eyebrows rose, "Ritual magic is dangerous to try on your own, young lady."

Hermione thumbed in Harley's direction, "I've got Harley to keep me from doing anything...difficult. Mostly what I do is simple stuff like growing flowers during spring, cleaning the house, or keeping pests away from the house."

"Incredible. Your control is impressive, my dear."

Hermione beamed at the praise. "Thanks! Will I be able to start school now or do I have to wait?"

Minerva sympathized with the eager child, "I'm afraid you'll have to wait until next September. The cut-off date is August 31st to attend the same year at Hogwarts. Well, I think that's everything I ought to cover which is a lot less than what I'm used to going over with prospective families."

With that said, Minerva gave her farewell and left the house. She couldn't wait to tell Filius about this upcoming first year, Hermione Granger. "She's a shoo-in for Ravenclaw."

Time Skip:

Because Hermione's birthday fell past the normal cutoff date to attend Hogwarts, she had to wait until the following year before boarding the Hogwarts Express. This gave her plenty of time to perfect her spell casting skills, come up with new songs, and read her books. The Grangers eventually got their address hooked up to the Floo Network, and visited Saint Mungo's for any required inoculations. It was while they were waiting for the Healer when Hermione spotted Auror Moody speaking with a Healer. "Mr. Moody! Hi, how are you?"

The Healer was stunned when Alastor responded gently to the excited child. "Hello, Miss Granger. I'm doing much better since the last time we met." He raised his trouser leg to show off the new bionic leg. "It no longer hurts and you'd never know it was there if I hadn't revealed it."

Hermione grinned happily, "That's wonderful, I'm glad it worked out." She turned at the sound of her mum calling her name. "Be right there! I've got to go. I'm getting my shots before starting at Hogwarts."

Moody nodded approvingly, "Good idea. Run off with you, lass."

As they followed the attending Healer, the group passed by the Children's Ward where Hermione saw other kids awaiting their own limb replacements. While her parents were filling in the Healer about her previous medical information, she wandered over to a table with some kids. "Hi, I'm Hermione. Are you waiting for new limbs too?"

One little boy glumly nodded and held up what remained of his left arm. "Yeah, I found out what happens if you play around with muggle fireworks." Another child revealed they'd experimented with some strange metal muggle wand that made a loud noise after pulling a lever and got their hand blown off.

Over with the Grangers, the Healer chuckled at the sight of Hermione demonstrating her bionics to the awed kids. "I ought to give you the forms for her to fill out to become a Healer here. I have a feeling she'll be working here before long. Your daughter's a natural at drawing others in and easing their fears about getting healed. She's got the makings of a future Hufflepuff."

Friday 1 September, 2017; King's Cross Station, platform 9 3/4

Uncharacteristically nervous, Hermione put on a brave face as she and her parents stepped onto the magical train platform. Harley looped her hand into her sister's elbow, "Relax, you'll do just fine. Remember, I'll join you at the school when you arrive."

Hermione pouted cutely, "But why couldn't you ride with me on the train?"

Harley winked, "Because it's tradition and this is one tradition that you need to do on your own. You'll meet a bunch of new people and maybe even make new friends. You can't just hang around your boring older sister all the time, you know."

"You're only older by a month!" Hermione protested.

Harley snickered, "It still counts. Now, go on with you." She shooed her sister towards an empty carriage only to cringe when the bushy-haired girl tripped in a tangle of limbs with a black-haired boy. "Oh, this is going to be an interesting year...."

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: A Change in Destiny, Part 2: (Harry's Story)

Wednesday 31 October 2007; Godric's Hollow, Somerset, UK

Flashback...

Green flashes of light mixed with loud noise still flickered in young Harry's mind. He was only fifteen months old so it's not like he had much experience to explain what it all meant. To him, the evening started much like the others. His mummy had finished giving him his dinner then settled him in his playpen with a bottle to nurse from while she and daddy cleaned up for the night.

What made this night different was the arrival of someone who his mummy and daddy didn't like. This new person yelled and screamed at them, casting bright green lights, and making things fly about (but not in the funny way that daddy normally did to make him laugh.) Mummy had grabbed him, screaming for daddy. Harry remembered daddy yelling to take him and run but mummy headed up to his bedroom instead and slammed the door shut.

"Mummy loves you so much, Harry. Daddy loves you so much. You be good. Be brave."

The door exploded open as the bad man entered. Harry remembered him demanding something over and over again but mummy wouldn't give in. There was one more green light that hit mummy which caused her to fall to the floor and not move. Harry remembered crying for mummy to get up, but she didn't listen. He looked up defiantly at the bad man with a stubborn lip and pointed at him like daddy did.

The bad man laughed, said something Harry didn't understand, and pointed his stick at him. A green light rushed out of the stick, enveloping him but it was different this time. Instead of Harry falling down like mummy did; the light changed to a beautiful gold color and raced back to the bad man. His body lit up like the pretty lights Harry vaguely remembered seeing on the trees a long time ago. The light was getting brighter causing the bad man to start screaming. Harry flinched from the noise and light, turning his head just as the bad man exploded.

The last thing Harry remembered was the excruciating pain in his ears and head before he was blown head over padded feet back against the wall of his crib.

Present...

Harry awoke and stared at the ceiling, confused as to what had happened. His whole body hurt from being thrown against the bars of his crib. Pouting and whimpering from the bruises, he pulled himself upright, staring uncomprehendingly at the carnage that filled his room. The room's atmosphere seemed muffled, as if he was trying to listen through his pillow. His mummy still lay on the floor, not responding to his calls and cries to be picked up. His attention was drawn to the sight of the bad man, now practically embedded into the far wall where an animated teddy bear once waved to him.

"Mama?" Still, there was no answer.

Harry tried once more, "Mama!" He turned towards what remained of the door when he felt the floor creak. "Dada! Pa'foo!"

Heavy feet thundered up the stairs before his Unca Pa'foo burst into the room. Harry grinned toothily and reached out to be picked up. "Pa'foo! Mama..." He pointed a chubby finger over to where she lay.

Sirius crumpled and wailed, "No, Lily..." He woodenly crossed the room and knelt by her side, gently caressing her hair and cheek. "I'm so sorry, Evans. We were betrayed..." He raised his eyes up to see Harry tightly gripping the railing of his crib. Sirius rose back to his feet and picked Harry up. "Hey, Prongslet. Did you get an owie?" He gingerly touched the strange lightning bolt shaped scar on the tyke's forehead.

Harry just stared at him, confusion marring his face as to why Pa'foo sounded so quiet. "Pa'foo. Ky-et. Hungry."

Sirius understood only half of what Harry was mumbling, "Okay, little man. I'll find you some food." A heavy creak of wood caused him to freeze and draw his wand. "Who's there?"

A huge shaggy head peeked into the room, "Sirius?"

Sirius' shoulders slumped with relief. "Hagrid. They're both gone..."

Tears fell from Hagrid's eyes, "Damn, but how did Harry survive?"

Sirius shook his head, "No idea, but you can be sure that Lily had something to do with it. Judging by the mess, she put up one hell of a fight." He glanced up at the large man with suspicion. "What are you doing here? How did you even know to come?"

Hagrid thumbed behind him, "Dumbledore sent me. He said I was to bring Harry to Hogwarts."

"But I'm his godfather, Hagrid. Harry is to go with me in the event that something happened to James and Lily; Albus knows this."

Hagrid shrugged, "I'm just following Dumbledore's orders. I need to take him."

Sirius' wand was suddenly in Hagrid's face, his own features hard. "You're not taking Harry anywhere without me, Hagrid. I'll kill you right where you stand if you dare to try."

Hagrid slowly relaxed and held up his large hands in submission. "I'll let Albus know."

Hagrid turned at the sound of Sirius descending down the stairs a few minutes later. "I just sent word. You sure about this?"

Instead of answering, Sirius asked one of his own, "Hagrid, call Harry's name but do it quietly."

"Harry," Hagrid rumbled. There was no response from the tyke.

"Try clapping your hands," Sirius instructed.

Hagrid clapped his hands and called again. "Harry?"

Still no response. Harry normally answered to his name even if the boy was busy playing with his toys.

Hagrid moved around until Harry could see him, "Harry?" That did it, Harry looked up and smiled at the big man. "What do you think this means?"

Sirius made a non-committal noise, "Not sure. I'm going to call in Poppy." He pulled his wand and sent off a Patronus messenger. "Go to Poppy Pomfrey at Hogwarts. James and Lily are dead. Harry is injured, bring medical help."

Hagrid was tickling Harry under the tyke's chin causing the boy to giggle, "You know, if you'd just..."

Sirius was adamant, "I don't give a hang what Dumbledore wants! I was the one chosen by James and Lily to care for Harry in the event of their deaths and I'll be damned if I don't do what they asked. Harry takes priority, even over finding the rat who sold them out to You-Know-Who." He growled and forcibly tamped down on his growing rage. Harry picked up on the sudden mood change and started whimpering. Sirius noticed and turned the angry growl into one of teasing, "Grrr...I'm going to eat you up! Harry sandwich! Num, num, num!" He started peppering Harry's face with little kisses which swiftly turned those whimpers into giggles as Harry valiantly tried to push his godfather's face away.

A pair of double cracks of air heralded the arrival of not only Hogwarts Healer Poppy Pomfrey, but also and surprisingly, Albus Dumbledore. "Poppy, I'm glad you're here." He led her away from the headmaster. Albus tried to follow but was stopped by a wand pointed at his face, "You're not invited. Back off. I'll deal with you in a minute."

Seeing the murderous look on his face, Albus wisely backed off to go speak with Hagrid.

Sirius glared for a moment longer before joining Poppy in her examination of Harry. "Aside from the scar on his forehead, and some light bruising; I don't see much of an issue. What were your concerns?"

"Poppy, I think Harry's gone deaf. He doesn't respond to his name being called unless you're standing right in front of him. That's never happened before."

Frowning, she waved her wand over Harry's head. Judging by the tilt of her head, she wasn't sure of the results. "I do see some irritation of the auditory nerves, but that might just be from all of the loud noises. Just keep him in a quiet room for a couple of days and limit his exposure to any more loud noises like the Wireless or people shouting."

Bobbing his head in understanding, Sirius thanked her and headed back to where Albus and Hagrid were standing. "Now, for you. Where the bloody hell were you, Albus? You promised to be here at a moment's notice to help but instead you sent Hagrid?! No offense to you Hagrid, but you don't even have a wand!" It didn't escape his notice the way Hagrid tried to hide his ubiquitous pink umbrella behind his back. "And what's with your orders to Hagrid demanding that he bring Harry up to Hogwarts? As we've clearly seen, you were able to make the trip down here without any problem."

Albus put on his best grandfatherly smile (not that it actually worked on many people, in fact it tended to aggravate them more), "My boy, Hagrid's a far more intimidating presence than I could ever be. Besides, Poppy would've been able to treat Harry up there far better than bringing a sampling of her supplies here. I merely did what I thought was best for young Harry by requesting he be brought up to the castle." He motioned towards Hagrid, "Why don't you go ahead and take Harry to his relatives while I sort things out up here."

Sirius' wand came up again. "Relatives? I'm Harry's godfather. I'm not letting him out of my sight, no matter how much you wish it otherwise, you sanctimonious old goat."

Albus sighed internally; his plans would be in jeopardy if Sirius continued to defy him. "I would've thought you'd want to track down the traitor and let me take care of Harry by delivering him into the care of his relatives."

Sirius let out a pained bark of laughter, "Yeah, I know who you had in mind, Albus and you're barmy if you think I'm going to let Harry go there. Lily was onto your plans from the get-go. Her sister and husband are wholly out of the question. Neither one knows the first thing about raising a magical child. He'd be more likely to be abused than loved living out in the muggle world. No, Harry's coming with me."

Albus let out an audible sigh of frustration. "Then you leave me no choice. For the Greater Good." The room filled with a blinding white light, rendering everyone unconscious.

The next morning, on the streets of Manchester

Sirius groaned as his eyes snapped open and the blinding rays of sunlight stabbed its way into his optic nerves. "What the..." Confused, he automatically dug around into his pockets, pausing when he felt a hard lump sewn into a hidden pocket of his robes. Ripping the seams, he removed a small square box and clicked it open. Engraved on the inside cover were the words, "Padfoot, do you swear?"

Recognition flooded into his jumbled mind as he jammed his thumb into the container and spoke the password, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Upon reciting the passphrase, his mind felt like someone had taken a blazing hot knife to it as a slew of compulsions, potions, and Merlin-knew what else came crashing down. Panting hard, he shook his head to dispel the remaining cobwebs. "Albus Dumbledore, you bloody bastard!" The plan set down by James and Lily returned in a surging rush. "Damn, I've got to get to Peter before anything else happens."

Peter Pettigrew stepped out of his doorway with the intent on finding another bolthole to lay low in. He'd sold out his friends to the Dark Lord because...because...well, he wasn't entirely sure. He froze in his tracks when he spotted Sirius storming up the street. "Peter!"

Peter frantically started shouting, "James and Lily! Sirius how could you betray them?!"

Sirius shushed him, "Peter, stop! Check your pockets!"

Anything else Peter was going to say died on his lips. "P...pockets?" Recognition dawned on his face as he patted himself down. He soon found the same sewn-in hidden pocket and went through the same brain cleaning. When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in his house lying on the couch. "Sirius?"

"Albus played us all for fools. Remember Lily telling us about some so-called prophecy that might've involved Harry and the Longbottom kid?" Peter numbly nodded. "And remember how she said that the identification tag had two sets of initials; one of which could only belong to Albus because of how many letters there were."

Peter rubbed his forehead in hopes of staving off the impending headache, "Yeah, I remember. So what do we do now? Where's Harry?"

Sirius growled, "Bastard stunned and put a compulsion on me to come confront you knowing that you would've defended yourself. Anyway, call Moony and get him started tracking down Harry. I suspect that Albus stashed him away with Petunia."

Peter looked up confused, "Petunia? Lily's muggle sister?"

"Squib actually, but otherwise yes. Lily said she'd floated the idea once while Albus was within earshot that she and her sister had a falling out and if the worst came to pass, sending Harry there would've been a bad idea because they were more likely to abuse her son than care for him."

Now Peter was catching on, "Because in the headmaster's mind, family takes care of family no matter what. Idiot, if that was the case; you'd still be living at home."

Sirius let out a heavy sigh, "Yeah. In the meantime while you're contacting Moony; I'm going to head down to the Ministry to speak with Amelia. Make sure she and everyone with any sort of authority knows that I wasn't the Secret Keeper."

"How're you going to spin that?"

"I plan on telling them the truth that I was just the decoy because of my obvious relationship with the Potters and that the real Secret Keeper was Snivellus."

Peter chuckled, "I don't think they'll believe that."

Shrugging, Sirius promised to come up with something. "You going to be alright?"

"Yeah, my head's stopped spinning and there's only one of you now," Pete stretched and stood up. "Hopefully Moony hasn't gone underground. Merlin knows that neither of us know the first thing about finding anything or anyone in the muggle world."

Three days later; Number 7 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

Remus 'Moony' Lupin stood waiting on the stoop to his new home in the suburbs of Little Whinging, Surrey and waited for his guests to arrive. After receiving his instructions from Peter, he'd gone through the same brain scrubbing the other two had done then immediately set off to the last known location where Petunia and her husband, Vernon were supposed to be living. Rather than making himself known, he'd scouted out the neighborhood and located a house down the street from Number 4 that was up for sale. A quick call to the realtor had him filling out paperwork and depositing the down payment using the emergency muggle money Lily had stashed away within a matter of a couple of hours. Keys in hand, he apparated back to the house and started laying down the preliminary boundaries to ward the house and property from prying eyes.

A double crack of apparition announced the arrival of his guests. "They're right where Lily said they'd be living," Remus said without preamble as he led them inside. "The boundary wards are in place, but I decided to wait for the two of you before I installed anything else."

Peter agreed with his friend's assessment. "Nice looking house. Are we going to have enough room to fit the four of us in here? I remember what Mary said about toddlers needing more room than you'd think."

Sirius poked his head into a couple of rooms. "I think we'll be fine. If anything, we can always enlarge the interior with space-expansion charms. It's not like we'll be inviting muggles here any time soon."

Remus bobbed his head in agreement as he handed out copies of the keys. "Just for appearance sake, like you said. Oh, I wanted to ask; how did your sojourn to the Ministry go?"

Sirius growled, "Crouch being the bastard he is, wanted to arrest me just for being a Black. I got Amelia on board with my innocence after I showed her the pensieve memories of the Godfather and the Secret Keeper rituals. She had them confirmed and certified by an Unspeakable."

Peter scoffed, "Maybe someone ought to investigate him for Death Eater activities. Junior was one so it stands to reason that his father would lean that direction too." He scratched his left arm uncomfortably. "I need to stop by the DoM as soon as I can to see if my uncle can get this removed. It's driving me crazy."

"Crazier than normal, you mean?" Sirius teased him.

"Yeah, or as you would understand it, Tuesday."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Alright, let's go finish the wards then go meet the Dursleys."

4 Privet Drive

"Is it normal for muggle houses to all look the same?" Peter wondered as they trekked down from their new home.

His gaze still surveying the neighborhood, Remus commented about how it was done to decrease building costs since everything could be manufactured quickly. "It's something I wish our world had embraced. I can't tell you the number of times I've broken a part only to find out it was one of a kind and the original maker is no longer living."

Sirius knocked on the door and waited. He could hear a man's voice grumbling about being interrupted. The door opened to a large, heavyset man with a walrus-like mustache. "Who are... Sirius?"

"Hello, Vernon."

Vernon Dursley waved them in, "Peter, Remus; I'm glad you're all here." He closed the door behind them and led them into the living room where his son Dudley and Harry were playing with some blocks.

"I see you got your head cleared," Remus observed as he took in the sight of Harry babbling something to his cousin.

Vernon huffed, "Stupid bearded bastard. He's clearly not as smart as he thinks he is. It took Petunia and me all of two minutes to realize something was wrong when we wanted to lock Harry away in the cupboard under the stairs instead of a crib in Dudley's room. Who does that to a toddler?"

Peter sympathized with the man, "Someone born in a world when that sort of thing was common it seems. Fortunately, Lily happened."

"So where are you living now?" Vernon asked; Petunia was coming down the stairs to greet their guests.

"Just up the road at Number 7. We just stopped by to let you know and to get an update about Harry. If you're free, we'd like to tie you into the recognition ward." Remus replied as he greeted Petunia.

Petunia frowned as she gave a welcoming hug to Peter. "Are you aware that Harry has trouble hearing?"

Sirius nodded, "I noticed that right away. Poppy checked him over and suggested that it's temporary but we'll keep an eye on his ears."

"Oh, before I forget; you're not the only new magical people to move in. Someone named Figg...something, moved in across the street yesterday. Strange too because I didn't see a moving van or anything."

All three Marauders scowled at hearing that. Peter excused himself to go check it out. When he returned, he reported that the new neighbor was Arabella Figg. "Remember her? Batty old Squib who breeds Kneazles. She's not even been there a full day and the place already stinks to high heaven of cabbage."

"Did you do anything or speak to her?" Petunia asked. Vernon had gone to get his keys and shoes for the upcoming trek.

"Nothing yet, I just peeked in through an open window. The three of us will go back later after we get you keyed in and see what's going on."

Vernon appeared a moment later, "Ready?"

Once the Dursleys were added to the wards, Petunia sat the three men down. "Now, what're your plans to raise Harry?"

Sirius' eyes crinkled, "I was thinking we'd just stuff him full of chocolate and let him sort it out on his own."

Remus cuffed him on the back of his head, "Prat. Petunia, to be honest we haven't gotten that far yet. We've just been trying to keep from falling apart in our grief, get the burial process going, and staying away from Albus."

She nodded her acceptance. "Fair enough. Let me know when that happens. Anyhow, Harry's going to need special care for the time being. Anyone, especially a toddler, is going to need therapy to help sort out what they'd experienced. On top of that, with Harry's hearing loss, he'll need specialized classes so he can learn how to communicate and express himself until either it clears up or a better option presents itself."

Sirius spread his hands, "For that, I'll defer to whatever suggestions you have. Like I said, Poppy's already examined him and suggested that the hearing might clear up, but you're correct about the therapy stuff. Magical medicine is great when it comes to repairing the body but Merlin knows we're pants when it comes to healing the mind." His lips pursed, "I'm worried about the possibility if he's permanently deaf though. How is he going to be able to cast magic if he can't hear the words?"

"One step at a time, Padfoot. Harry's next milestone ought to be potty training instead of spell casting," Remus soothed his friend.

Peter turned to Vernon, "I noticed right away that Harry's got some monitoring enchantments on him. I suspect Albus put them on to keep tabs on Harry without bothering to actually come see the boy in person."

"Sounds like him. Where are you going with this?" Vernon grumbled.

"What if we were to transfer those enchantments onto your own son? Albus won't know the difference and it'll be one more layer of protection against detection."

"They won't hurt Dudley, will they?"

Peter shook his head, "Not in the slightest. They're just monitoring things like his general health and location."

Vernon and Petunia shared a silent conversation before agreeing to Pete's suggestion. "Good, the less Albus knows; the better it is for everyone."

Time Skip:

The first couple of weeks were a trying time for both the Marauders, the Dursleys, and Harry. With the adults, they had to cope with the loss of their friends and sister, respectively. The burial service was swiftly held, as was the memorial afterwards. Sirius had to contend with a stubborn Ministry, specifically Barty Crouch Sr who was adamant that Sirius was the guilty party and deserved to be tossed into Azkaban without delay (or a trial.) Then on top of that, he had to deal with Albus trying to stick his broken nose into everyone's business for reasons no one was quite sure about. With Harry, he had to cope with trying to understand where his parents went and why they weren't coming back as well as why the world seemed so quiet and muffled.

Crouch Sr was easy to deal with. A few dropped hints about his son's status as a Death Eater along with the locations of certain infidelity 'trysts' the man would've preferred to keep out of the public eye; Barty soon had bigger problems on his hands.

Sirius tested the old man a couple of times in hopes that Albus would let slip some critical information about why it was so damned important that Harry be sequestered away without any contact despite Sirius being the boy's godfather. "Sirius, my boy you must trust me. It'll be far better that young Harry be raised away from the magical world so the fame and adulation doesn't do more harm than good."

Sirius huffed, "You're just afraid of being supplanted as the 'new rising star of Magical Britain.' You're afraid that you're no longer relevant in the minds of the public. I'm keeping my eye on you, Dumbledore." He turned and stomped off.

The trio of Marauders stopped by Arabella Figg's place to install some monitoring charms and to 'interrogate' the woman about whatever her mission was. Apparently, she was there as a favor to Albus to keep an eye on whoever might stop by in case they were wizards trying to kidnap Harry and if they were, to alert Albus as soon as she could, as well as sending in monthly reports of what she'd observed or overheard.

"Just like Albus to fob off his responsibility to do the dirty work onto someone else while he locked himself away in that ivory tower of his," Peter groused after they'd obliviated Arabella of her memories of their presence and the conversation that had taken place. "When was the last time you know of when he actually did anything other than taking credit from someone else's hard work?"

Both Sirius and Remus quietly agreed with their griping friend. Remus moved to add in another enchantment to the secret warding they were installing, "I'm going to put in a compulsion that all reports destined for Albus go to us first so we can keep tabs on what he knows."

"Don't forget to have it wipe her memory of doing that."

"I've got it. What about a compulsion to stop stinking up the place with cat piss and cabbage?"

Pete laughed, "I doubt that's even possible. I vaguely remember a combination that forced a person to dislike the taste of something. Do either of you remember which array that was?"

Sirius dusted off his hands as he stood up, "No, but I'll check our notes when we get home."

Harry, age 2

Harry's hearing condition didn't improve as all had hoped. If anything, it got worse. Sirius finally decided to have Petunia take them all to see a muggle pediatrician in the hopes that a non-magical solution could be found. "I don't care about the cost," he had told the doctor. "My family is well off, as is Harry's, so I want the best for him."

With the doctor's referral, Harry was also taken to a child behavioral/development therapist for an evaluation to determine what was going on in his head. "His parents were killed by a terrorist bomb blast in their home. I found him bruised and bleeding in his crib the next morning," Sirius explained, giving the muggle-safe version of events. "At the time, he was quiet and withdrawn but perked up within a couple of hours so I thought he was fine, but recently he's started having nightmares and gets anxious whenever I or my friends leaves the room where he can't see us."

Remus was there as well and added in that Harry was found bleeding from his ears and as it turned out, was hard of hearing on both sides. "The preliminary test showed that Harry has no hearing whatsoever on his left side and roughly 80% on his right side."

Peter was busy with his uncle to get his Dark Mark removed but Petunia was there to add in her observations. "Whenever he's visiting at my house, he'll play with my son but it's strained. He can't communicate very well beyond grunting and pointing as if he's regressed or something. He actively avoids anything shiny and green, especially flickering lights."

"Anything else you've noticed about his behavior? Has he had any temper tantrums?"

Sirius coughed, "Oh yeah, he's definitely inherited his mum's temper when something doesn't go his way. He gets this hooded look on his face and makes the cutest growling noise then he'll throw whatever's within reach; usually with amazing accuracy." He laughed fondly, "Kid's going to be a heck of a bowler someday."

The psychologist smiled and wrote that down. "Alright, let me have some time with Harry and I'll let you know what will happen from that point forward."

In addition to Harry undergoing therapy; Sirius too, took the opportunity to speak with someone about his own demons. He obviously couldn't mention magic, but terrorism is terrorism no matter which side of the socio-political divide you're on. "My biggest fear is that I'll fail my best friend and cousin's son. I'm barely able to hold myself together and now I have a disabled toddler to raise. I do get some assistance from his aunt and my other two best friends but there are times when I feel like I'm just barely keeping my head above the proverbial water."

His therapist approved of this, "I'm glad you're able to recognize that you needed help. That's the first step in achieving your goals, Mr. Black."

Sirius grimaced, "Sirius, please. Every time some calls me Mr. Black I feel like I'm either back in school or talking about my dad."

"Sirius then. What can you tell me about this terrorist who you fought against?"

Sighing, Sirius gave the muggle-safe version of Voldemort and his masked band of homicidal minions who'd rampaged up and down the British Isle attacking anyone who didn't fit their mold of what was 'proper.' "They'd kill anyone, it didn't matter who you were or how young the child was. If you weren't what they referred to as 'pureblood,' you were automatically marked for death. Their leader claimed to be the direct descendant of some ancestor from a thousand years ago who once proclaimed that 'those of dirty blood' were the ones responsible for the downturn of their once-great civilization and needed to be rooted out and exterminated for the Greater Good."

The psychologist snorted, "Sounds a lot like what the Nazis were proposing back in the thirties."

Sirius held his hands out expansively, "That's what I said! Unfortunately, the person leading the fight on our side believed that everyone, no matter what atrocities they'd committed, should be given a chance to repent and become productive members of society again. It didn't matter to him that our friends and families were being slaughtered; he got it into his mind to 'save' everyone no matter the cost."

"And there was no one else you could turn to?"

Sirius shook his head in derision, "No, I know a few of us tried to contact the Queen and her government, but you know how long it takes to get a response from that arena."

Harry, age 3

Harry had been outfitted with a behind-the-ear hearing aid and was attending a nursery school for children with developmental and psychological damages. According to his teachers, Harry was a bright and eager student who only had the occasional temper tantrum at which point, odd things tended to happen like pencils or crayons suddenly embedding themselves in the ceiling or books flying about the room. "I'd swear it's almost like magic but that's just silly. The more likely answer is that he's throwing them and we're just not catching him doing so."

In addition to his regular classes, Harry (and the Marauders) took lessons on how to 'speak' through sign language. Some of their early attempts were hilarious in hindsight.

Sirius was attempting to copy the hand gestures for 'Are you happy?' and ended up poking himself in the eye.

Another instance was with Peter who tried to sign 'Twinkle, twinkle little star' but ended up using the sign for female genitalia (their instructor caught him before he could go much further.)

Petunia and Dudley had decided to take part. Dudley thought the hand gestures for 'bullshit' was utterly hilarious and kept signing it over and over whenever someone looked in his direction.

Harry managed to complete his first sentence by asking the instructor for a cup of water. "Please cup water." He held up his cup in triumph to the applause of his family.

The nightmares, mood swings, and temper tantrums had dissipated for the most part, only surfacing if they were out and about for long periods of time and he started to get tired. When that happened, Sirius would hold Harry until the boy calmed down and/or fell asleep.

A big breakthrough in treating Harry's nightmares came from a brilliant idea of Pete's just after James' and Lily's burial. He disappeared into one of the rooms they'd designated as storage of their clothes and personal belongings that hadn't been shunted off to Gringotts before returning with life-sized human 'teddy bears' wearing their clothes, bearing likenesses of their faces, and most importantly, their scents which still lingered on the clothes.

Petunia was in awe as they watched Harry slip off into sleep without the usual tossing and turning, calling out for his mama and daddy. "That's brilliant, I never would've thought of that!"

Pete blushed, "Thanks. Maybe someday we ought to write a parenting guide for single parents, godfathers, and those who have no clue about what to do."

Vernon snickered, "You can call it the ''Marauder's Guide to Parental Mayhem."

Harry, age 4

The adults beyond the core group (Petunia, Peter, Sirius, and Remus) had learnt at least some sign language by the time Harry turned four. Vernon, and later some of the parents of children Harry would later become friends with, learnt the basics, but decided that he really didn't need to know any more. "I'm not training to become an interpreter. Harry understands me clearly enough so I'm fine with what I've learned."

It was an early spring morning, Harry padded into the kitchen and climbed up into a chair to watch Padfoot make breakfast. Judging by the way he was swaying about, music must've been playing. Sirius spun around, spotted Harry grinning at him, stuck his tongue playfully at the boy then continued manning the stove. "Ready for breakfast?"

Harry nodded, waggling his fist up and down in the appropriate manner, "Yes, please. Hungry."

A teasing smirk appeared on Sirius' face. "Huggy? You want a huggy?"

Harry frowned at his hands and tried the sign again slower, "I'm hun-gry."

"Oh! You're a monkey! I get it."

By now, Harry realized Padfoot was just teasing him so he scoffed, rolled his eyes, and pointed to his mouth. "Food." Sirius just laughed as he slid a couple of pancakes onto Harry's plate and ruffled the boy's hair good-naturedly. "We go play today?"

Sirius signed back, "Later. Soon Aunt Minnie will be stopping by. We'll go to the park after."

Harry understood and went back to his breakfast, the pancakes were only half-burnt today. Sirius finished cleaning up then joined his godson at the table. Minerva had her own brain scrub a year after the Potter's memorial service. Pete had scouted her out, Remus had performed the cleansing, then all three had to wait until she was done cursing up a storm before filling her in on their plans to raise Harry away from Albus' notice. She too, had joined in for the sign language lessons; finding them to be a welcome challenge to her otherwise normal days of grading essays and teaching Transfiguration.

He was dragged out of his introspection by a tugging on his sleeve. "Why she come?"

"Several reasons. She wants to see you, but she and I have some adult things to go over."

"Okay. Will Dudley be at the park too?" Harry signed.

"Yes, that's the plan. If you're done, go wash up and put your shoes on."

Harry slid out of his seat and dashed off towards his bedroom. Sirius wordlessly banished the plate into the sink where it automatically got washed and stacked to dry.

Minerva showed up around eleven am where she was nearly bowled over by an energetic four-year-old. "How are you, Harry?"

Harry finger stuttered a response in his eagerness to tell her that he was going to the park to play. She tapped him on the nose to make him look up. "Slow down, I'm an old woman and can't read your signs very well." He scrunched his face up in his denial that she was that old. "You're a good boy, Harry Potter. Let me speak to Sirius then we can go to the park."

She found Sirius packing up Harry's day bag, "Mr. Black."

Sirius froze then glanced over his shoulder with an exasperated look. "Do you have to do that all the time? I'm no longer your student but every time you use that tone, I feel like I did something wrong."

Minerva's lips ticked upwards a tiny bit, "Just like old times. You have to allow me the fun of tweaking your nose every now and then. So, what's the latest? Harry seems to be settling in better now that he's taking those sign language classes."

"Oh boy, is he ever; he's a veritable silent chatterbox. I miss his voice though. He had the cutest squeak when he was a baby." Harry appeared a moment later holding out his hearing aid, asking Sirius to check the battery. A quick check revealed that it was indeed in need of a replacement so Sirius swapped it out with a fresh one and helped him put it in place. "Good?"

Harry gave him a thumbs-up then scampered from the room.

"And the therapy?"

Sirius sighed with evident relief, "If there's one thing the muggles are far and above better at than we are... it's a wonder how we magically-raised survived this long. Oh, how are Frank and Alice?"

"Almost done with their own therapy, thank Merlin. The Healers say that Frank's leg will always have a bit of a limp to it from now on, and Alice's hand tremors should even out eventually." The Longbottoms had been attacked a week after Halloween by Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband and brother-in-law, plus Barty Crouch Jr. They'd spent nearly a year in Saint Mungo's followed by a year of out-patient physical therapy with regular Healer visits to monitor their progress.

"Shame about Augusta though I heard that she went down swinging." Frank's mum had apparently put up a fight to the death that would've made their Viking ancestors proud with Rastaban Lestrange (the brother-in-law) ending up dead with his head being turned into essentially a grisly hamburger, and Bellatrix getting her left arm blown off thereby denying the madwoman her connection to their fallen leader, which only served to drive her even further around the bend. Last he'd heard, she had been sentenced to life in maximum security within Azkaban along with the rest of the captured Death Eaters. "I ought to swing by sometime."

Minerva nodded as she sat down, "Did you hear about Poppy's latest proposal for improving the school's healthcare program?" At his denial, she told him about the sabbatical the school matron had taken to attend various child development courses through the University of Oxford. "She wants to revolutionize how magical children are treated after traumatic situations."

"Let me guess, Albus wants to deny her."

"Surprisingly, he's onboard with it or the very least hasn't outright said no."

Sirius hummed his surprise. "That's suspicious. Any time someone suggests something that he didn't think of first, he gets cranky because they're getting the recognition instead of him."

Minerva waved a hand desultorily, "Time will tell, I suppose. Oh, I should mention that Severus took up the position as Head of Slytherin House in addition to becoming the Potions professor."

Sirius scowled, "Wonderful, that's really what the school needs. A sourpuss like Snivellus berating the kids for the tiniest mistake. No doubt he'll favor his own House over the others. You know, I still have contacts who can just make him disappear if you give the okay."

Other than to give him a disappointed look, Minerva ignored the offer of assassination. "I've already noticed a distinct lack of enthusiasm from the students since he took up both posts. Sirius, I was hoping you'd take up your seat on the Wizengamot. With you in place, you'd be able to institute some regulations or limitations to prevent him from going overboard."

"Isn't that something for the Board of Directors to do?"

Minerva growled something, "Those fools are in Albus' pockets. They only care about skimming off the funds leftover after Albus is done with them."

Sirius scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Well, it would do me some good to get out of the house and interact with more people than psychologists and doctors. I should drop a call with Grandfather and see what he suggests. Last I heard, he was still registered as the seat holder."

Harry, age 5

Remus returned home from his shift as the local bank supervisor to the smell of something spicy wafting from the kitchen. Of the three Marauders, Peter was the only one who knew how to cook worth a damn, so it usually befell him to handle the groceries and kitchen duties. "Hey, what smells so good?"

Pete was stirring something that looked like vegetables in a pan, "I'm making stir-fry tonight."

Remus sniffed deeply, "I look forward to it. Anything I ought to know about?"

Pete scowled and jabbed the spatula towards the bedrooms, "Harry's in his room. He got in a fight with another boy at his school."

Shaking his head disappointedly, Remus made his way up the stairs and tapped the button which would flash the room's light to get Harry's attention then stepped inside. The boy in question was sitting stiffly on the window bench staring outside with his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He signed. Harry shook his head and curled up a bit tighter. "Was someone being a prat?"

"Tommy Pierson called me a freak because I can't talk like everyone else."

Remus sighed inwardly, "If I recall, Tommy Pierson can't walk like everyone else so he has no room to talk about being a freak." He was loathe to address someone else's infirmity like that, but he had to get Harry out of his funk. "I need your help with something."

Curious despite his bad mood, Harry looked expectantly at his uncle. "I need your help finding a good boy. He has messy black hair and green eyes. Do you know anyone like that?"

A slow smile crept across Harry's face, "Me. I'm the good boy."

"That's true normally, but this particular good boy stays away from a mean old bully and ignores the lies that comes from his mouth."

Harry's smile vanished as his jaw set defiantly, "I hate him. He's always saying that about me."

"Does anyone else agree with him?" Harry just shrugged indifferently. "You want to know what I think? I think this Tommy Pierson is a poopy-head who is angry at himself and taking it out on others."

Again with the small smile. "He's the biggest poopy-head!"

"I thought so, and you're right; you are a good boy. Now, let's go see if we can find Padfoot and prank him."

The smile was in full force, "Let's turn his hair neon!"

"Orange, maybe? Or how about a blinding blue? Bubblegum pink, toxic green, or a heart-stopping red?"

"All of them?" Harry asked hopefully.

Remus snickered and held out his hand. "Let's go find out."

Two days later, the occupants of Number 7 were startled to hear ambulance sirens racing into their quiet neighborhood. Peter called Petunia on the phone, "What's going on?"

"I'm flattered that you think I know everything that happens around here," she drawled lightly. "But in this case, it looks like they're trying to resuscitate Arabella. I'll call you back once I find out more."

The call came fifteen minutes later. "Poor woman. She died of a heart attack according to the police constable I spoke with. No word on what caused it, but I suspect it had something to do with those damned animals. Poor dear must've died earlier this morning because she bore the signs of being bitten repeatedly by her cats. They're calling in animal control now to collect them."

Pete nearly gagged at the thought, "Yuck, alright. Thanks, Petunia." He hung up and went to tell the others.

"So what do we do about this? Albus is going to find out soon enough and interfere."

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, "Blindman's Bluff?"

Remus stroked his chin, "I like it, at least for a short term. Anything longer than three months and the enchantments on the quills start to wear off."

"We have time then to figure something else out," Peter temporized. "Maybe my uncle has an idea, if you don't mind me looping him in. I know he hates Albus with an unholy passion."

Remus laughed, "So does half of the Mot, but go ahead and see what he has to offer."

A week later, and the group found out something else to add to the list of 'things to get used to.'

Harry Potter was a Parselmouth.

Surprisingly, Petunia was the most unaffected by the discovery. "It's likely a trait he inherited from Lily."

"How do you figure that?" Sirius asked. "She was muggleborn."

"So? After a thousand years since that Founder lived, and What's-His-Face roaming around; did you really think that there were only two snake speakers on the island?"

Jaws dropped, Sirius managed to croak out, "So Lily was a parselmouth? Why didn't she ever say anything?"

Petunia shrugged indifferently, "No idea, but I'm not surprised given the fear and resentment towards people who do. Don't worry about it. I'll keep an ear out just in case he starts using bad language." All three Marauders stared in disbelief at her, causing her to grin. "What?"

"I'll entertain the idea that Lily was a parselmouth, but you? I didn't know that Squibs could do that."

Petunia snickered at his expression incredulity and hissed, //"Just because I can't wave a wand and say a funny word, doesn't mean that I can't Speak. I may be a Squib but that doesn't mean that I'm entirely helpless."//

"That's eerie," Peter shivered at hearing Petunia's hissing speech. "I haven't heard stuff like that since before the war got hot."

Petunia smirked smugly, "I remember the summer after her first year, Lily had asked to stop into Gringotts to get some sort of test done to determine who she was related to. It turns out that our family was actually a line of Squibs on our mum's side from the Wilkes' youngest daughter about a hundred years ago and that they were a distant descendant of Salazar Slytherin."

Sirius let out a groan of despair, "Bloody hell!"

"Does it really matter though?" Vernon asked curiously. "Petunia said that this Slytherin guy lived a thousand years ago, who knows how many children he fathered out of wedlock."

Remus bobbed his head, "That's a good point. A thousand years of getting frisky, there're probably dozens of other families who inherited the traits from him and just never paid attention to it, both muggle and magical. I think we ought to just take it one day at a time like everything else."

Pete nudged Sirius, "Does your family have any books on how to cast spells in Parseltongue?"

Sirius pursed his lips, "Probably. Why?"

"If he can speak the language despite his hearing issue, it's likely he'd be able to cast spells too."

Sirius looked intrigued. "Okay, I'll have to swing by Grandfather's place then. He ought to know if there's anything on the topic, even if it's too advanced for Harry right now."

Harry, age 9; summertime

Sirius barely looked up at the sound of the door banging open and closed then the thudding noise on the stairs. He glanced at his watch and noted the time. "Sounds like the three pm Harry train is on time."

Opposite of him, Peter joined in with the deadpanned humor, "Judging by the thunder on the stairs, he had a good day."

A few minutes went by before both men heard Harry clomping down the stairs. "I'm home. What's for dinner?"

Sirius' eyes slid over to Peter who signed that they would be going to joining the Longbottoms for dinner. "Go wash and put on nice clothes."

Harry threw his hands up and gave a warbled cheer. "Yay! I can't wait to see Neville." He thundered once more up the stairs, slamming his door shut.

"Just once, I'd love to see him enter the house like a civilized person," Peter muttered.

Longbottom Manor, Kent

"Nev! How are you?" Harry greeted his godbrother as soon as they stepped out of the floo.

Neville waved hello and hesitantly signed back, "Good to see you, two...no, too."

Harry waved off Neville's mistake, "Everyone makes mistakes at first. Come on, I've got something to show you." The two boys raced off deeper into the house.

Alice snorted with laughter. "There're times when I wish I had had a daughter. Girls are so much more refined than boys. How are you Sirius? Peter? Where's Remus?"

Peter thumbed back to the floo, "He'll be along in a minute. The wards pinged an intrusion so he went to go check it out."

Frank frowned, "What if it's Albus? Remus won't be able to hold him off alone."

Peter shook his head, "Different ward system. With that one, Albus' magical signature is on record so it knows to immediately boot him to the middle of the North Sea."

The floo flared green again, Remus stepped out of the fire and greeted his friends. "Sorry about that, the creature wards alerted me to one of Arabella's cats sniffing around. Thing must've slipped off before the animal catchers rounded up the rest."

Alice sniffed, "I remember that. That poor woman, horrible way to go." She gestured towards the interior of the manor, "Anyhow, shall we?" She turned and led the adults into the parlor for some conversation and tea.

Upstairs in Neville's room...

"Here, I got you this from my backyard. It's a shed snake skin." Harry presented his gift to the other boy who gingerly took it. Neville signed that it was weird that Harry was able to speak Parseltongue normally, but couldn't make the sounds of regular words. "Normal is overrated. I don't want to be normal. Normal is boring. So what's new with you?"

Neville gestured towards the parlor, "Mum and dad are doing good. Mum's talking about going back to work again because staying at home is boring." He idly examined the snake skin again, "Dad's going to take me up to Hogwarts next week. He says that because I'm so good with plants, he wants to see how the really cool stuff will react to me."

Harry scrunched his face up, pouting slightly. "Lucky. I have to wait until we're eleven before I can go to Hogwarts. Padfoot says it's too dangerous right now because of Dumbledore."

"How is that going to work? Don't you need to be able to hear the spells?"

Harry shook his head. "Aunt Minnie promised that she'd have it set up that I can Speak to cast magic."

Neville let a small grin appear, "You know you're going to get tagged as being the Heir of Slytherin the first time you do that, right?"

"I already am the Heir of Slytherin according to Moony. If anyone really complains, I can do silent casting fairly well instead." To prove his point, he pulled out his practice wand and silently cast a lumos charm. The tip of the wand lit up with a soft yellow glow.

"Neat! I can get mine to twinkle. I'd show you but I know how much you hate sparkly lights."

Harry waggled his hand. "I can handle it if I'm aware that they're going to be there. It's when the sparkly lights surprise me that I have a problem. My therapist says I'm getting better at ignoring them."

Neville noticed something different about Harry's appearance. He gasped and pointed at the boy's forehead. "Your scar!" At Harry's tilted head, he switched back to sign language. "Your scar! What happened?"

Understanding showed on Harry's face. "Ah, Padfoot and I had to go into Gringotts to do some adulting stuff. Daggerclaw said that when we got into his office, he started detecting something Dark, like really Dark and traced it back to my scar. A quick trip to their hospital and they found something leftover from that night hidden underneath. Padfoot said I was knocked out and whatever was in the scar was drained out and the scar itself was cut away. The Healer said I shouldn't have anymore problems and no one would be able to say I even had a scar unless I get a really deep tan."

Deciding to change the subject, Neville brought up the age-old topic of who Harry thought was going to win the next Quidditch Cup in June.

Tuesday 25 July, 2017; a week before Harry's 11th birthday

Harry stumbled down the stairs and flopped into his chair, still barely awake. He grunted his morning greeting to Peter who was serving up some waffles. His bleary eyes picked up the general shape of an envelope lying innocently on the table.

"You got a letter, Harry."

Grunt.

"It looks important."

Harry continued to slowly chew on his waffle, oblivious to the amusement from his uncle.

"Earth to Harry. Come in, Harry."

Harry swung his head over to where Peter sat and blushed sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't sleep well."

"Why not?"

Harry's eyes fell a bit. "Nightmare again."

"The usual ones or something new?"

"Remember the movie that came out a couple of months ago? The one with the killer clown that lives in the sewers?"

Peter nodded sagely, "I knew it was a mistake for Sirius to let you watch it. I'll have a word with him later. In the meantime, open your letter."

Harry picked up the envelope, its return address finally permeating his sleep-deprived brain as his mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged out. One handed, he practically squealed in sign language. "My Hogwarts letter?! I've been accepted...they await my owl...Yay! I'm going to Hogwarts!"

Remus and Sirius arrived while Harry was dancing a jig right there in the kitchen. "Letter came?"

Peter nodded, "This morning. I already sent Minerva Harry's acceptance reply since I figured he'd be too distracted to remember. Oh, by the way Padfoot; you caused your godson to have nightmares again because of that stupid clown movie you let him watch."

Remus scowled at Sirius who immediately apologized. "Sorry, I didn't realize it was going to be that scary. I'll talk with him later about it and see what I can do to help him get past it." The doorbell rang (and the kitchen light flashed) prompting Sirius to go see who it was. He returned with Petunia and Dudley in tow. Dudley got Harry's attention, "You get in?" He pointed to the letter.

"Yeah, I did! I've been waiting for this since forever."

Dudley shifted uncomfortably, "I'm going to miss you when I go onto secondary school. It just won't be the same without you."

Harry's joy sobered. "I thought you were going to Smeltings."

Dudley shrugged, "I am, but still. I liked that we were able to talk to each other without anyone else knowing what we were saying. It was like we were acting like Her Majesty's Spies, Double-O-Potter."

Harry snickered, "At your service, Agent D. Come on, we can go hang out in my room." He tugged on his cousin's arm, dragging the preteen from the kitchen.

Friday 1 September, 2017; King's Cross Station, platform 9 3/4

Harry practically flew out of the fireplace, not because he was thrown from the Network like his dad had the misfortune of experiencing according to Padfoot, but because he was so excited to be able to finally get on the legendary Hogwarts Express which would take him up to the castle. He turned to see his uncles and godfather sedately exit the fire. "Will you hurry up?"

"Relax Harry, the train won't be leaving for another hour yet," Remus admonished him.

Harry clearly ignored him in favor for frantically searching for Neville who'd promised that if they arrived early, he would find a compartment and keep an eye out for him. "Does anyone see the Longbottoms?" He pointed off towards the front of the train to where Neville was half out of the window frantically waving to get Harry's attention. "There!"

He took maybe one step before colliding with a bushy-haired girl and went down in a tangle of limbs. Remus let out a long sigh inadvertently matching the sentiments of a nearby elf, "Oh, this is going to be an interesting year...."

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Auspicious Beginnings

Friday 1 September, 2017; King's Cross Station, platform 9 3/4

Hermione shrieked as she fell unceremoniously on top of someone who'd tried to occupy the same space as her. She rolled off to sit up and profusely apologized to a messy black-haired boy with the most gorgeous green eyes. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you. Are you hurt?"

The boy just sat there goggle-eyed and open-mouthed. A slight gurgling sound bubbled out of his mouth while a trio of adults behind them started laughing at the scene causing her blush to grow even bigger. "Um, yes...well, I hope to see you on the train." She climbed to her feet and scampered off.

Emma Granger shook her head and shared a commiserating look with Harley, "Good luck with her."

Harley sighed, "Thanks." She trotted off after her sister.

Harry stared dumbly at the disappearing form of who had to be the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Her warm eyes reminded him of cinnamon and her bushy brown hair seemed to sparkle in the light. He was dimly aware of his godfather and uncles either talking about him or to him but in his mesmerized state, he could barely think straight.

Peter finally took pity on the boy and helped him to his feet. "You alright?"

"Who...who was that?"

Peter's face took on an nostalgic expression instead of answering. "You know, your father had the same reaction when he first laid eyes on your mum. They didn't collide like you did, but the sentiment was the same."

Harry shot him a dirty look, "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."

Peter laughed again, "Uh-huh. Go on, find Neville and have a good year." Harry gave his uncle a hug, a scowl and a wave at the other two who were still laughing then grabbed his trunk handle and hurried off.

Sirius was still wheezing, "Potter Luck?"

Remus coughed, "I think so. It fits the trend; James met Lily on the train. Fleamont did as well with Euphemia, and Charlus with Dorea."

Peter let out a mock-swooning sigh. "Poor girl's in for seven long years of Harry debasing himself in the vain hope that she even deigns to look his way."

Frank and Alice wandered over to greet them. Thumbing back towards where Harry had disappeared to, Frank asked the all-important question. "Did I just see this generation's rendition of Potter Luck?" He cracked up at their wide grins. "I'm so glad that Neville isn't afflicted like that."

Alice whapped him on the arm, "Be nice, I think it's cute how he's inadvertently following tradition."

Hogwarts Express, third carriage from the locomotive...

Hermione handed her trunk off to the conductor who was overseeing the loading of cargo into the baggage car then picked the first open door available only to stop when she saw that it was full of older students. "Oh, sorry."

One of them waved her down, "It's not a problem. First year? Hi, my name is Penelope Clearwater and I'm the fifth year prefect for Ravenclaw House. Just so you know, this carriage is for the prefects and Head Boy or Girl. Every carriage after that is for the rank and file students."

"Hi, I'm Hermione Granger; yes, I'm a first year, and thank you for the information."

One of the other prefects gestured to her arms, "What's with the gloves?"

Hermione grinned slightly, "They're not gloves. I lost my hands to meningitis when I was three and had to get bionic replacement limbs. This is the latest design from the company I partnered with." She demonstrated by 'popping the seals' of the neoprene sleeve in the custom-formed socket and slid off her left arm, handing it over to the awed sixth year.

"Wicked! Can you make it work even if it's not attached?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, at least not this model. I've heard of something being designed for a future release, but I don't know the specifics." She turned slightly at Harley's gentle touch. "Did you find somewhere to sit?"

Harley nodded, "Yeah, it's three compartments down from here. There's a couple of other firsties already in there."

Taking back her arm, she reattached it, waved good-bye and thanks to the prefects then followed Harley out of the compartment.

The train's whistle blew signaling the start of their journey up to the magical castle in Scotland. The carriage shuddered as it was pulled by the locomotive out of the station. "Are you okay from your auspicious beginning?" Harley asked her as they squeezed past a couple of third years.

Hermione snorted, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just hope whoever I collided with doesn't take it personally."

Harley led her to the compartment which was already occupied by four other girls, all of them first years if the plain black robes were any indication. She pushed open the door and stepped aside. The girls looked up to see who'd come in; a strawberry blonde with her hair in a long braid draped over her shoulder and a regular blonde in pigtails smiled brightly. The other two were a mixture of wariness that warred with wanting to be pleasant. The strawberry-blonde greeted the pair, "Hi, welcome! I'm guessing first year too?"

Hermione's eyes twinkled as she shook her head, "No, I'm actually a seventh year who ran afoul of a time machine. I'm being forced to redo everything until I can get back to my starting point."

All four girls' jaws dropped and for the longest moment looked like they fully believed her before Harley let out a snort of laughter which broke the spell. "Hermione, that's not nice. Don't tease the people who you'll share the castle with for the next seven years."

Hermione cracked up, "I'm sorry, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. Hi, my name is Hermione Granger and this is my sister, Harley." She held out her hand to which the others hesitated in shaking.

"Why do your gloves look...so..."

Hermione patiently explained for the umpteenth time about her prosthetics. One girl gently touched the arm then started when Hermione waggled her fingers. "That's incredible. They make you look dangerous."

Hermione shushed Harley before the elf could even finish her short chuckle of laughter. The blonde in pigtails tilted her head curiously but Hermione shook her head, "Family joke at my expense. Maybe some other time I'll explain it."

One of the girls, a black-haired beauty with enviable porcelain skin and strikingly sharp blue eyes shook herself from her shock and returned the greeting. "Hello, Miss Granger. My name is Daphne Greengrass, Heiress of the Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass."

The strawberry blonde introduced herself as Susan Bones, Heiress of the Ancient House of Bones. Her blonde friend introduced herself as Hannah Abbott, likewise the Elder House of Abbott. The fourth girl merely waved silently and made the motion that she was suffering from a sore throat.

"So Hermione, are you a muggleborn?" Daphne inquired politely.

Hermione shook her head as her face pinked slightly, "No, and I apologize as I should've remembered to give the full introduction. I'm the Heiress of the Noble House of Dagworth-Granger." Their eyes widened as soon as they heard the famous family name. Harley nudged her sister again prompting her to finish. "Oh, and you may call me Hermione. All these silly rules, I swear we sound like stuffy adults."

The silent girl slid over a pad of paper with a message scrawled on it, 'My name is Sally-Anne Perks. Sorry for not speaking, I went to a concert last week and well...I had a lot of fun.'

Hermione wasn't the only one to sympathize. Harley patted the girl on the hand consolingly, "It happens to the best of us. Don't feel bad for enjoying yourself."

The four girls tilted their heads curiously. "Why does your elf speak like a person?" Hannah asked quietly.

"Probably because she is a person," Hermione replied evenly.

Hannah held up her hands in submission, "I don't mean anything. It's just a surprise because all of the ones I've ever heard or met, always speak like they're toddlers."

Harley let out a long sigh before explaining, "It's not your fault; many elves speak like that because it's expected of them by their magically-raised employers. For the rare few who get bonded to a muggleborn, or in Hermione's case, a Squib-born; we tend to talk like they do."

"How did you two meet?" Susan asked.

Hermione draped her arm proudly over Harley's shoulders. "She actually found me. I was in my backyard singing and I guess it was a bit of accidental magic, but the whole yard suddenly filled with flowers. Anyways, the second spell I tried ended up sending those flowers inside where my mum came out screeching in shock. Harley showed up to tell us that what I did was magic and one thing led to another where I discovered that my parents are actually Squibs and that I was clearly a witch. After a short conversation with my mum and dad, we bonded as a family. Harley is as much as my sister as if she'd been born into my family."

Intrigued, the girls crowded in closer to hear more about bonding with an elf.

The compartment lapsed into a brief silence in which the quiet girl, Sally-Anne whispered something Hermione couldn't catch. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Sally-Anne's shoulders slumped at being caught out. She wrote on the pad of paper, 'You weren't supposed to hear that. I just said that I wish I could bond with an elf if only so I could have someone to talk to and to translate my hisses into regular English.'

"Hisses?"

Sally-Anne finally spoke in a normal voice to hopefully explain. //"I don't know what else to call it. For as long as I can remember, I've only been able to speak like this. I can read, write, and understand English; I just can't speak it and no one in my family knows why. I can't tell you the number of times I was taken to a doctor or even a priest because of it."//

//"You're speaking parseltongue."// A boy's hissing voice startled all of them. It was the boy Hermione had collided with, much to her embarrassment. //"It's not a problem if you can't speak regular English. Aunt Minnie's promised to set it up with the other teachers."//

"Harry Potter?" Susan squeaked in surprise. When the boy didn't respond, she frowned and tapped him on the arm. "Why didn't you answer?"

Harry gave her a confused look before noticing the pad that Sally-Anne used and motioned to borrow it. "I'm deaf. Let me go get my godbrother to interpret." He disappeared for a few moments before returning with Neville in tow. Neville greeted everyone then rolled his hand at Harry who signed, "Hi, I'm Harry Potter."

Susan wasn't the only one to stare at Harry in shock. "Harry Potter is deaf?!"

Hermione shared a confused look with Sally-Anne. "I'm sorry, but could someone help out us poor confused non-magically-raised?"

Susan picked up the explanation, "On Halloween night, back in 2007; Harry Potter managed to defeat the Darkest Dark Lord in recent memory. No one knows how, but You-Know-Who found out where the Potters were living. He killed both parents but for some reason, couldn't kill Harry."

Harry had an odd look on his face, an expression somewhere between amusement and frustration. "That's not what happened. I don't have any mystical ability to destroy evil people like that. I was barely fifteen months old and could just string three words together. The truth of the matter is that whatever defeated the Dark Tosser was the work of my parents. My godfather, Sirius Black found my mum's journals in the aftermath detailing the protection ritual that was undertaken in order to destroy him. The first death powering the ritual was my father, protecting his 'castle' and its inhabitants. The second death was my mother, protecting those they cared and loved the most. I was merely the anchor point, a sort of 3-point protection. That's the real story, not whatever owl droppings the Prophet or Dumbledore spews out anytime someone asks about that night."

He paused to collect his thoughts. "In all honesty, my only 'mystical' power is the parseltongue ability and because of my deafness, the ability to cast silently. That's it; oh...I can make a mean cheese toastie too."

Neville eagerly nodded his head in agreement with the cheese toastie comment. "It's true. I don't know what he adds, but it's heaven." "Tell them about how you became deaf. I'm sure they're curious."

Harry nodded once he remembered. "Right, so when What's-His-Face attacked me and the spell rebounded back to him, the resulting explosion from the feedback threw me back against the rear of my crib. From what Padfoot's said, I must've turned my face to the side which allowed the magical energy to rip through my auditory nerves, frying the left side and leaving only twenty percent in my right ear."

Jaws dropped at the information dump he'd just unloaded upon them. Sally-Anne tremulously raised her hand, //"Who's Padfoot?"//

"Padfoot is the nickname of his godfather, Sirius Black. He's a dog Animagus," Neville answered before Harry could.

//"What's an Animagus?"//

This one Daphne fielded after hearing Neville interpret, "An Animagus is a witch or wizard who learns how to transfigure themselves into an animal. It can be any sort of animal, I've heard of some people who could turn into dragons! But my dad's said that in order to find out what kind of animal you get to turn into; you need to meditate for a long time and that the whole process is very involved. Not many take the time to become one. I know that the Deputy Headmistress is an Animagus though I don't know what kind of animal."

"Aunt Minnie's a cat." Harry supplied.

"You keep saying Aunt Minnie; are you related to her?" Hannah asked him.

Harry shook his head, "No, but I've known her since I was really little and it just sort of stuck since I kept seeing...hearing? Anyway, Padfoot kept calling her that and I just tacked on Aunt somewhere along the line."

Hermione tapped Neville on the shoulder, "How did you know what these two were saying in that hissing language?"

Neville smiled understandingly, "Many, many hours of listening to Harry speak it; I sort of picked up a few words. I know what some of the most commonly used names sound like and since Sally-Anne had a questioning expression, I figured out what she was asking about."

"So you don't normally speak it?"

Neville shook his head, "I don't speak it at all. According to Harry the last time I tried, it sounded like a 'hot mess.' (He saw the look of intrigue growing on her face) Before you ask I'm told that because it's a magical language, you have to be born with the ability otherwise it can't be taught. I just understand the basics so don't worry, if you hang around us for any length of time, you'll pick up a few things eventually. So what about you? What's your special talent?" She pouted at hearing that causing Harry to tense slightly to which Neville nudged him with his elbow.

Harley snickered quietly. "Besides making a mess in the kitchen?"

Hermione scrunched up her nose, "Quiet you. That was one time and you know it."

Harley thumbed over to her blushing sister, "Little Miss 'I Can Do It With Magic' tried to make biscuits only to drop the container of flour she was levitating onto the floor." She pantomimed a titanic explosion to the light laughter of the others. "Fortunately for her, elf magic makes cleaning easy so in the end, our parents merely banned her from stepping foot in there unless it's to get a glass of water."

Hermione primly ignored her chuckling sister, "To answer your question, Neville; I sing to cast spells since I can't use my hands to hold a wand." Harry tilted his head and signed the obvious question. "Because skin contact is required to channel magic from ourselves into the wand, my prosthetics don't have anything like that in their construction; I was unable to cast anything. Fortunately, I found out that when I sing, I can get the same results as you would with a wand. Here, let me borrow your book."

She demonstrated levitating it by singing what her mum had started calling the 'Peter Pan' song. Without anything touching it, the book steadily rose off the bench and hovered rock solid a good meter off the floor. Sally-Anne's awed hiss had Harry bobbing his head in agreement. He signed for the benefit of the others. "That's awesome."

The group conversation ebbed and flowed, sometimes breaking off into smaller ones depending on the subject. Sally-Anne was in deep conversation with Harry about her options for learning magic using parseltongue and how it affected spellcasting. She noticed he kept glancing over at Hermione and playfully teased him. //"Are you so attracted to her that you're ignoring me, Harry?"//

Harry started at being caught out like that and went bright pink. //"Sorry, it's just that since our first...um, meeting on the platform...well, I can't really explain it better than to just say it's probably a case of Potter Luck."//

//"What's Potter Luck?"//

Neville snickered at the embarrassment on Harry's face and signed, "Explaining Potter Luck? Have fun."

Harry let out a low sigh and answered her question. //"Potter Luck is a phenomenon when a Potter meets their future spouse on the Hogwarts Express. This...talent for lack of a better word, has been in effect since the train started service back in the 1800s. It's how my parents met, my grandparents, et cetera. No one's really able to explain it, it just...is."//

Sally-Anne cooed at hearing that, //"Aww, that's so sweet! I'm guessing you haven't told her that?"//

His face was one of incredulity, //"Are you kidding? I don't want to repeat history of how my dad finally got my mum's attention. For six years until he finally figured it out, he would constantly embarrass himself and her by either asking her out or proposing marriage. I swore to myself I would never do that! I think his behavior was because my dad grew up as an only child and didn't really have any girls in his friends group growing up to teach him how to properly approach someone."//

//"That's a very mature way of looking at it."//

Blush back in full force, Harry rubbed the back of his neck. //"Benefits of having an aunt who was able to explain the weird things my dad and my uncles did when they were younger."//

//"You are aware that I just might tell Hermione about what was said here, right? I think she ought to know just in case you break out into a song and dance to profess your love."// She let out a sort-of quiet braying laugh at the sight of Harry's eyes going wide.

Hogsmeade Station, several hours later

Hermione was halfway down the stairs when her hand locked up, halting her in place gripping onto the railing. She turned and frowned at her unresponsive limb. "What the... Harley?"

Harley appeared and peered at the misbehaving hand. "I'm not detecting anything like an adhesive."

Hermione shook her head, "No, it's not that. My hand refuses to open."

"Odd, okay let me..." she cast an elf detection spell and let out a sort of 'uh-huh' noise. "Okay, your bionics are not reacting because of the increase of magic in the area. It's just a bit more than what you experienced in the Ministry. I'll cast a null field so you can at least let go." She waved her hand causing the glove to glow a faint pink and the fingers to let go of the railing.

"You alright?" Harry asked as he and Neville joined them.

Hermione smiled shyly, "Yes, thank you. My prosthetic failed to work because of the increase of magic. This is worrying; what if I can't use them at all in the castle? I mean, I can still do things with just my stumps but it'd look weird." She noticed his hearing aids, "What about you? Do your hearing aids work?"

"Yeah, they're working...sort of. There's a slight amount of static which'll probably get worse the closer we get."

Harley was still puzzling over what could be done, "What if I contact Mr. Moody and ask him what he did to shield his leg from magic?" Hermione liked that idea and gave her permission. "Alright, I'll do that in the morning after you get sorted."

"After we get sorted," Hermione resolutely stated to her sister's hum of appreciation.

Hagrid was calling out for the first years to follow him when he spotted little Harry Potter, "Bless me soul, Harry? I haven't seen you since you were a little tyke. How've you been?"

Harry glanced over at Neville who translated for him. He perked up and signed back his greeting. Hagrid was puzzled by the hand waving, "Why were you waving your hands, Harry? Did those muggles do something to your voice?"

Neville interjected, "Um, Hagrid? Harry's deaf."

Something tickled in the deepest reaches of Hagrid's memory; someone once had told him that but he just couldn't quite remember where or who'd said it. Waving it off as inconsequential, he hollered for the assemblage to follow him to the boats that would take them to the castle.

On the boat ride over...

"Hey Nev, why do I get the urge to sign 'Santa Lucia'?"

Neville snorted, "Please don't. As bad as your voice is, your mangling of Italian sign language is even worse."

"You're just jealous that I even know how to sign in Italian." Harry gave him a cheesy grin.

"That's not Italian. I don't know what it is, but it's not Italian. I've seen better signing from spastic rats."

Harry mimed being mortally wounded. "Better not let Wormtail find out you signed that."

Castle entrance antechamber

After leading the firsties up an impossibly steep and long flight of stairs that left most of them wheezing for breath, Hagrid pounded on the door which opened to the stern visage of the Deputy Headmistress. "All present and accounted for, Professor."

She bowed her head, "Thank you, Hagrid. Everyone follow me." She'd already spotted Harry so she signed the same simultaneously. Leading them to a side room not far from the Great Hall, she began to explain the basics that was expected of every student.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule-breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup." "Any questions?"

Harry pointed to his hearing aids, "They're not working. All I'm getting is solid static. Could you contact Uncle Vernon and see if he has that necklace ready?"

Minerva agreed to do so once she had a free moment. Their silent conversation wasn't missed by the others who were growing more curious. A blond boy with a pale pointed face slipped up to the front. When Minerva left to go check on the progress of the rest of the school, he tried to speak to Harry. When Harry didn't respond, he nudged Neville. "Longbottom? Why isn't Potter answering?"

Neville tensed slightly, "Malfoy. Harry's deaf; if you want to get his attention, you need to tap him on the shoulder or stand in front of him."

Draco Malfoy frowned, "The Boy-Who-Lived is deaf?" By now, Harry had realized that the other boy was standing next to him and turned to say hello. "How. Did. You. Become. Deaf?" This was said excessively slow and pronounced.

Harry snorted with amusement and signed equally slow. "I've been deaf since that night."

Draco must've realized he was being made fun of and just rolled his eyes, "Okay, I deserved that. Longbottom knows that hand waving thing, right?"

Neville answered instead, "Correct. I interpret whatever is said or signed so if you need to speak with him, you'll need to find me unless you want to go the slow route of using his whiteboard which is a pain in the arse."

Draco grew confused, "Whiteboard? Why is it a pain?"

"A whiteboard is just a slick surface he uses to write messages on that can be erased easily. Why is it a pain? Because Harry's writing looks like chicken scratch." Harry shot him a stink-eye which was easily ignored.

Draco slowly bobbed his head in understanding. "Alright, well I wanted to introduce myself and offer my services to introduce him to interested parties."

"I appreciate the offer, Draco but at this point and until I'm comfortable being in the castle and our classes; I'm just going to lay low until I get a better lay of the land. I hope you understand."

Draco did and shook Harry's hand, "I do, and thank you."

Draco was suddenly shoved out of the way by a redheaded boy with a smudge of dirt on his nose and a scowl on his face. "Move it, Death Eater wannabe. Harry! What happened to you, mate? You were supposed to meet us on the platform. Lucky that you managed to find your way."

Harry stared at the rude boy before taking a disdainful sniff and pointedly turning away. The boy whined, "Harry, what gives?"

Neville scowled at the idiot, "Weasley, maybe that dirt on your nose is affecting more than just your looks, but you had to have heard that Harry's deaf and doesn't take kindly to people who are rude to others."

The redhead gave him a dirty look, "Get lost, Squib. I'm trying to talk to my best friend."

Neville broke out laughing, "Best friend? Since when? I've known Harry since we were both in nappies and not once were you ever present! Be gone, little worm. You're not wanted here." He dismissively waved the twit off and turned his back on him.

Before anything else could be said or done, Minerva returned. "We're ready for you."

As they were being led in, Hermione asked Neville who that rude redhead was. "That was Ronald Weasley, youngest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. He's spoiled and coddled by his mother. He's dismissive of anything that's from the muggle world much like his mother. He's obsessed with Quidditch, our primary sport to the point of being obnoxious and he eats like there's no tomorrow without any regard to everyone else at the table. If I were you, I'd steer clear; he's an accident waiting to happen."

Hogwarts Great Hall

Hermione stared in awe at the sweeping, impossibly tall ceiling that rose above them and seemingly disappeared into the night sky. "It's not real, you know. It's enchanted to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." She heard Harley giggle at her recitation. "Oh, shut it, Harley."

"I can't help it, you sound like one of those automated service kiosks at the shopping center."

Hermione shifted positions to stand next to Harry and nudged Neville. "Harry, I recognized the sign for necklace. What was that all about?"

"Uncle Vernon has a theory about the 'reason' why Magic doesn't play well with electronics. He says that an active electromagnetic or EM field and an active magical energy field or MEF are out of phase with each other and are on different waveforms on top of that. EM fields are sinosoidal in form, but magical fields are triangular or 'triadic.' The combination of these two vastly different energy fields are terribly misaligned and dissonant which is why he's working with my other uncles to develop a necklace-mounted rune array that acts like a rectifier thereby allowing my hearing aids, or any electronic device to work normally."

Hermione's brain blanked at his technical explanation. Neville sympathized with her, "Don't feel too bad. I was there for the original conversation and when Mr. Dursley and the others started talking about all that heavy electrical engineering stuff, I felt like my head was going to explode."

"So, it's yet another thing I should learn to get used to when around Harry Potter?"

Neville grinned, "Now you're getting it."

Minerva stood next to the Sorting Hat and signed as it 'sang' its annual welcome song. When it had finished, she began calling names out alphabetically. "Abbott, Hannah?"

Hannah pushed forward and took a seat on the stool set up for this event. Minerva plopped the Hat on her head while everyone waited. "Better be...Hufflepuff!" The third table on the right erupted into cheers and applause.

"Bones, Susan?" Hufflepuff!

Down the list went until they reached Hermione's name. "Dagworth-Granger, Hermione?" Knowledgeable heads craned forward to see who'd managed to claim the heirship of that legendary family. Hermione smiled shyly at Minerva who gave her a small smile in return. She sat down on the stool and gasped when the Hat was dropped on top of her head. The time started to stretch. A minute, two, three... Minerva was growing worried that the Hat would sort her somewhere...problematic. Finally, it yelled out, "If you're sure? Better be...Hufflepuff!"

Neville's name was called. He hitched up his trousers and sent Harry a wink, "See you in Hufflepuff!"

Surprisingly, that's not what the Hat yelled out, "Better be...Gryffindor!"

Harry's jaw dropped as Neville stumbled off the platform only to return a moment later after remembering he'd ended up forgetting to give the Hat back. Harry caught Neville's attention and signed, "What happened?"

"I don't know! We'll talk later."

Sally-Anne's name was called but before she could make her way up to the front, Harry took her hand. //"No matter where you end up, I will always be your friend."// She gave him a worried smile and continued to walk forward. The Hat settled onto her head only to blurt out a second later, "Merlin's Ghost!" Time passed until it announced, "Better be...Gryffindor!"

Harry raised his hands and waggled them in mute applause before Neville let fly with a loud whistle and applause of his own. "We got Perks! We got Perks! Go Sally-Anne!"

The madly blushing girl scampered off to her new Housemates, hiding her face behind her hair as another first year named Lavender Brown comforted and commiserated with her.

"Potter, Harry?" Minerva called out and signed at the same time. Whispers of excitement spread out from the crowd as they all tried to get their first look at the rumored 'Boy-Who-Lived.' Harry ignored the pointing and sat down on the stool. Inside his head, he could hear the Hat rummage through his mind. "Hmm, difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh, yes. And a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?"

"Neat! I can actually hear you! Woah, I can hear myself, this is wicked! Testing, testing...me, me, me!"

"Stop that, Mr. Potter. I need to sort you."

"I know that but this is the first time since I was a toddler that I've heard my own voice as it was meant to sound. Anyway, as far as where I want to go; I really want to go into Hufflepuff. Aunt Minnie's great and all, but I'm afraid that if I go into Gryffindor, I won't get a moment's peace. People will constantly bombard me with demands to know more about that night then they'll switch over to why am I deaf and could I make the sign for whatever. I just want to go to a House where I can make friends, learn magic, and stay out of trouble despite who raised me and yes, I know you know who that is."

"Well said, Mr. Potter and you're correct; Hufflepuff will be the best place I can put you. I see that you've enlisted the aid of Mr. Longbottom to help interpret your signs into English. I wish to apologize; had I realized that, I would've put him there instead."

Harry smiled under the Hat, "It's not a problem. Nev's still in the castle if I need him and it wouldn't hurt to make new friends and teach them how to sign even if it'll take a little bit longer than normal to get my point across."

"That right there is why you should be in...Hufflepuff!"

Teacher's Table

There were several who were surprised by the announcement of which House Harry Potter was sorted into. Albus was the most worried. So many of his plans were based around the idea that the boy would seek out to be a part of the same House that his parents were in. It annoyed him greatly when his sycophant...er, 'friend' Molly Weasley had reported after the Express had left that she'd not seen hide nor hair of the Potter boy anywhere on the muggle side of King's Cross. 

Albus desperately wanted to argue with the Hat over Harry's placement but refrained, knowing that it would be an exercise in futility. The enchantments put upon the Sorting Hat were far stronger and older than even the legendary Elder Wand he owned was capable of dealing with. 'I still have options. Maybe I can compel Minerva into granting the boy emergency sanctuary. At the very least, I should request his presence to my office for a little chat. I need to know what he knows... For the Greater Good of course.'

Sitting at the far right end of the table sat a sallow-faced man with long, lanky black hair. His face was impassive but to those who knew him best, Severus Snape was normally a simmering cauldron of barely suppressed hostility towards the children of those he perceived as his childhood tormentors. Tonight however, that emotion took a backseat to one of bewilderment. 'A Potter in Hufflepuff? That arrogant family always gets sorted into Gryffindor. What's with all the hand-waving? This bears continued scrutiny, the boy doesn't seem to react to all of the applause. It's almost like he can't hear it.'

Minerva was unsurprised by Harry's sorting. She'd long known of the lad's tendencies to gather people to work together to accomplish whatever task was set before them. She approved of his placement though she worried what idiocy Albus would no doubt have planned going forward. 'I should alert Sirius so he can get prepared.'

Before Harry left the platform, she tapped him and sent him a quick one-handed sign, "Proud of you."

The third person who was watching with great interest was Professor Quirnius Quirrell, or more likely, his 'passenger.' 'Harry Potter in Hufflepuff? The so-called 'Boy-Who-Lived' is in the House of the Leftovers? This makes my plans all that much easier. There'll be no one who can interfere now.'

Quirnius leant over to quietly speak with the Head of Hufflepuff, Pomona Sprout. "I...I...I'm sur...surprised the P...P...Potter boy ended up in your House, P...P....Pomona. I would've th...thought he'd follow in his parents' footsteps."

Pomona nodded happily, "True, I thought that too, but Minerva said that he was a special case that would need the warmth and nurturing care that my Badgers are known for."

"A...Anything that I should be aware of? I will have...have to have the lad in my class soon."

Pomona shook her head, "Nay, it's nothing dangerous. I learnt from Minerva that the poor boy's deaf."

Both Quirrell and his passenger were stunned to hear that. "D...Deaf?" 'This is even better than I'd hoped! If the boy's deaf, not only will he not hear me coming, he will not be able to alert anyone in time.'

Albus got up after the Sorting was completed. "Welcome to all of our new students and welcome back to our returning students! A couple of important reminders for the coming year. First off, our caretaker wishes to remind me to let you all know that the list of banned items can be found on the bulletin board located next to his office door. If I recall correctly, the number is something like 500 odd products; mostly from Zonko's and Gambol and Japes. Please consult it if you have any questions. Next, the Forbidden Forest is just that. Forbidden to everyone not being accompanied by a professor, something that a few of our older students should do well to remember (He shot a knowing glance off towards the Weasley Twins who sat there with 'innocent' expressions on their faces.) Finally, I wish to inform you all that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is off-limits to all those who do not wish to die a most painful death. Now without further ado, let the feast begin!" He clapped his hands, sending the signal to the kitchen elves to begin serving the food. The House tables groaned from the sudden weight increase as platters of every kind of food appeared and everyone dug in.

The next morning

Hermione rolled out of bed and sat there waiting for the gears in her brain to grind back into operation. "Hermione?" She swung her still-sleepy eyes over to where Harley sat at her new desk. "We've got a problem. I spoke with Mr. Moody and he said that the enchantments he used to null out the effect that magic has on his leg won't work for you because of how the matrices are tied into his own magical signature or some such thing. I got the impression that it was a custom job, and therefore expensive."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip in thought. "Could you bring me the old ones I got from the NHS? The purely mechanical ones?"

Harley's head tilted, "I could, but those don't fit you anymore, do they? I thought you'd outgrown them two years ago."

Slowly shrugging, Hermione didn't know what else to say. "I could go a couple of days without the bionics but if I need to stir anything in potions, it's going to get troublesome really quick."

Harley bobbed her head, "I'll keep thinking. Oh hey, what about asking what's-his-name? The boy you ran into on the platform? He's got hearing aids yet they still work here."

Hermione entered the common room and looked about. She spotted Harry examining one of the many portraits that lined the walls and bounced over to greet him. "Hi, Harry." Harry took note that she was missing her arms and signed something she didn't understand. "I'm sorry, I don't understand sign language yet."

Harry pursed his lips then hunted around in his bag, pulling out a whiteboard and a marker. He scribbled out a message to show her: "What happened to your hands?"

She took the board and replied, "Oh, they still don't work because of all the magic. I was hoping someone I know had a way to magically enchant them, but the process is apparently custom and expensive."

"My uncle is working on a necklace that should be able to rectify the phase problem. Aunt Minnie said she'd contact him last night. I'm hoping it'll arrive before class starts."

She bobbed her head understandingly, "So, any idea what we're supposed to do now?"

"Breakfast?" She giggled at the hopeful expression on his face.

Harry had gone ahead to look for Neville while Hermione hung around until Susan and Hannah had finished getting ready. Hannah noticed her lack of arms, "They don't work?"

Hermione shook her head to the negative. "I'm hoping Harley will be able to find a solution soon. I don't like going into a new world like this."

Susan looped her arm around Hermione's elbow with Hannah doing the same on the other side. "Stick with us, my dear and we'll never lead you astray. Hufflepuffs together, Hufflepuffs forever!"

The trio skipped and giggled their way back to the Great Hall where they spotted Sally-Anne sitting morosely by herself at the Gryffindor table. Hermione wandered over, "Hey, Sally-Anne. What's wrong?"

Sally-Anne dug out a pad of paper and wrote, 'The other girls in my dorm found out that I'm only able to speak Parseltongue and stopped being friendly. I got the impression that they're not happy that I can't speak English.'

Hermione scowled, "That's not right! Alright, tell you what; today, you're an honorary member of Hufflepuff. You grab your stuff and come join us."

A relieved smile formed on Sally-Anne's face, 'Thank you, Hermione.'

Over at the other end of the Gryffindor table...

"What happened to you, Nev? I thought you were going to try to get into Hufflepuff?"

Neville held his hands up in submission, "Hey, it's not my fault! I told the Hat where I wanted to go. I told it about my love of plants and how I'd already met Professor Sprout who said she was hoping I'd end up in her House, but the stupid headwear stuck me in with the Lions."

"I wonder if you could get a re-sort. I'll need your interpreting skills until I can find someone else who knows how to sign. (He put on his best over-the-top pouting look) I need my bestest buddy in the whole wide world!"

Neville rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Prat. Where's Professor McGonagall? Have you seen her yet?"

Harry glanced up at the teacher's table where, to his relief, the woman in question was making her way over. "Yeah, she just came in. Come on, let's go."

Minerva sensed the approach of the two boys and looked up from her morning paper. "Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Potter? What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping that you might be able to convince the Hat to re-sort Neville into Hufflepuff. Aside from you, he's the only other interpreter I know of or trust."

Minerva leant back in her chair and pondered the situation. "Off-hand, I'm not sure there is anything that can be done about a re-sort. The last time that happened, it was because a student's life was in mortal danger. However, here's what Professor Sprout and I discussed last night. Mr. Longbottom will be given permission to enter the Sett without the need of an escort, but ONLY for the purposes to render aid when you need to speak with someone. When he's not available, you will just need to use that whiteboard of yours."

Neville bobbed his head in acceptance. "I can live with that. Thank you, professor."

Minerva turned back to Harry, "Now, regarding your necklace. I did in fact contact Vernon who promised that it would be arriving during the morning mail rush on Tuesday."

Harry nodded his understanding and thanked her for the help. The two boys gave their farewell and headed back to eat their breakfasts.

Back at the Hufflepuff table...

"So Hermione, what're your plans for this weekend?" Daphne asked as she dipped her French toast sticks into her yogurt.

"I want to explore the castle. I've read so much about it. I even heard that at one point, there used to be a sound room for those who could sing to cast magic like they did back in the old days."

"Miss Dagworth-Granger?" The girls' attention swung over to where Professor Filius Flitwick stood expectantly.

"Yes, professor?"

"I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. Professor McGonagall spoke highly of your singing ability."

Hermione's eyes lit up, "Oh! She mentioned you too. She said that you'd be practically giddy to see what I'm capable of. Would you like a demonstration?"

Flitwick smiled, "I would love one. Are you done with your breakfast or would you like to show me here?"

Hermione gestured around her, "Here's fine. Pick something and let's see what I can come up with."

Pleased, Filius selected a bowl of fruit and asked her to make it grow legs and walk around. "Now, I realize that you haven't been taught the 'official' spell, but I'm curious if you have the talent to be creative as it were."

Hermione cackled eagerly, "You just wait. Alright, let me set the mood..." She began slowly banging on the table with a rolling beat, a rising croon with a sharp drop off at the fifth beat... "Come, let's Stroll...Stroll across the floor. Come, let's Stroll...Stroll across the floor. Now, turn around, baby...Let's Stroll once more."

To Filius' amazement, the bowl of fruit grew a quartet of legs and began walking around the table. When the song ended, the legs disappeared; the bowl settled back onto the table with barely a thump. "That...was astounding! Your control over your magic through song is incredible. Min...um, Professor McGonagall is correct; I cannot wait to get you in my class. I want to see what else you're able to do." He was practically floating with eager anticipation after giving his farewells, heading up to the teacher's table to share the news.

Sally-Anne tapped Hermione's shoulder and slid over her pad of paper, 'You'll never guess what I learned about Harry Potter.'

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Anything But Ordinary

Saturday 2 September, 2017; Hogwarts Great Hall, just after the end of the previous chapter

"What? Anything good?" Hannah, Susan, and a couple other girls crowded in.

Hermione sniffed primly and tried to scoot the pad away from them, "Ladies, please! This is between Sally-Anne and myself." She held that pose for a moment, her face starting to crack under the pressure before she dissolved into a torrent of giggles at their pleading expressions. "Alright, I tortured you long enough. Spill it, Sally-Anne, whatcha got?"

'Harry Potter is in love with you.'

Hermione's mouth fell open to the squeals and laughter of the others. "But...but why?"

'He calls it 'Potter Luck' and it's a tradition in his family that when it happens, usually in the form of physically colliding or tripping over the other; that particular Potter has found their future spouse. It happened to his parents, his grandparents, and all the way back to the start of service for the Hogwarts Express.' Sally-Anne wrote down with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"That's so romantic!" Susan gushed.

Hermione sputtered in denial, "No, it's not! I barely even know him and now he's proclaiming we're going to get married??"

"That's not what it means, Miss Granger." An adult's voice answered her instead. They all looked up to see the amused face of Professor Pomona Sprout, their Head of House. "It's just a family superstition. I've known a couple Potters who found love in other ways."

Hermione felt herself slump in relief. "Thank you, professor. That's a relief. I'm too young to be thinking about marriage or strange boys yet." She waggled her finger reprovingly at a clearly unrepentantly smirking Sally-Anne.

The other girls agreed with her, boys were definitely strange creatures. Case in point was the boy in question who was currently in the process of trying to balance a tomato on his nose. Harry had just gotten it stable when Neville reached up and smashed it down, squirting tomato juice all over the former's face to the raucous applause and cheers from the others at their table.

"Anyhow, here is your class schedule for this coming Monday. This'll give you enough time to get a rough idea as to where your classes are located. Please keep in mind that the staircases like to change so a route that takes you ten minutes one day will likely change the next. Oh, and Miss Dagworth-Granger, do you care which last name I use? (Hermione shook her head no.) Very well, and finally Professor McGonagall would like you to stop by her office sometime before classes start to give you a special quill for you to use until you get the situation with your prosthetics squared away." She passed out the slips of paper to each girl then headed off to track down someone else.

Thanking her professor once more, Hermione turned her attention to her class schedule.

Hogwarts Year 1 Class Schedule (Hufflepuff)

(Every day) 6:30 - 8:00am Breakfast Great Hall

Monday - Friday

Subject

Shared with

9:00 - 9:40A                       

Charms

Room 210 - East Wing

Ravenclaw

10:00 - 10:40A

DADA

Room 125 - West Wing

Gryffindor

11:00 - 11:40A

Transfiguration

Room 412 - West Wing

Gryffindor

12:00 - 12:40A

Potions

Room 035 - Dungeons

Slytherin

1:00 - 1:50P

Lunch

Great Hall

All Houses

2:00 - 2:40P

Astronomy*

Astronomy Tower

Ravenclaw

3:00 - 3:40P

Herbology

Greenhouse 1

Slytherin

4:00 - 4:40P                       

History of Magic               

Room 255 - East Wing                         

Ravenclaw

5:00 - 5:40P                       

Study Hall**                     

Library                                                     

All Houses

6:00 - 8:00P                       

Dinner                               

Great Hall                                                 

All Houses

8:30P - 7:00A                         

Curfew for those Fourth year and under

* Evening Astronomy lessons will be held at the top of the Astronomy Tower every Friday from 9:00P to 11:00P.

** Flying class (first 2 weeks only)

"Ooh, I can't wait to get started!" The other girls eagerly agreed with her.

Sally-Anne scribbled on her pad and nudged her friend teasingly, 'You going to sit next to your boyfriend?'

Hermione disdainfully 'glared' at her friend, "As if. He's just a stinky boy who'll just get in my way. Come on, I want to go explore the castle."

Grand Staircase

"Wow, they weren't kidding when the Founders called this the Grand Staircase!" Daphne exclaimed as they stared up the well at the sheer number of portraits, landscapes, the occasional suit of armor that marched past. Then there were the stairs themselves that swung about, randomly changing the route to the top. "What happens if there's an emergency that requires the students to be evacuated from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?"

"That is a very astute question, Miss Greengrass." The girls dropped their heads to see a specter floating in front of them. The ghost gave a courtly bow while keeping one hand on his head. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, the Gryffindor House ghost."

All the girls returned the gesture with a group curtsy. Susan gasped, "I heard about you! You poor man, to be insulted like this by that careless executioner."

Sir Nicholas smiled appreciatively, "Thank you, my dear. As it was later reported, his sharpening wheel had mysteriously been misplaced. Frankly, I've always been curious as to why the blade wasn't always kept as sharp as can be, but such is life...or death in this case. So, to answer your question about the stairs, if Hogwarts determines that the emergency is a valid one, she will immediately swing them into the most direct route to the ground floor."

Hermione wished she had something to write with. "If only I had my hands and my notebook; I bet this could be used in our History class."

Sir Nicholas noticed her missing limbs and sympathized, "Were you caught stealing? That was the usual punishment in my day."

Hermione shook her head, "No, I lost my hands due to a rare strain of a disease. If you stop by Hufflepuff House later this afternoon, I would be happy to share my tale with you or anyone else."

Sir Nicholas bowed once more, "Then I and the others shall see you anon. Goodbye, young ladies." With that said and done, he floated off down the halls.

Albus' office...

While the girls were busily exploring the ancient castle, Albus was holed up in his office trying to sort out the mystery that was Harry Potter. The lad was nothing like he'd hoped for. Harry Potter was supposed to arrive at the school starved for attention, meek mannered, and eager to please. He was supposed to be sorted into Gryffindor after the youngest Weasley boy filled his head of stories about how only the best and bravest went to the Lions, the evil ones went into Slytherin, the antisocial brainiacs went into Ravenclaw with the leftovers ending up in Hufflepuff. Even Hagrid was supposed to pick the boy up to take him shopping and if it wasn't for that emergency in the Forbidden Forest; Albus would've sent Hagrid to pick up Harry from the Dursleys.

"At least the Alternate went where he was supposed to go." He muttered to himself as he pondered the glowing surface of his pensieve. Within the ancient stone bowl with its strange writing on the outside and the not-liquid, not-gas substance that rolled and sloshed about yet never spilling over the rim, random swirls of ghostly images floated within; each image hinting of past memories of events gone by, all ready to be immersed in once again to recall ideas that escaped him at the moment. "As of yet, all is proceeding according to my plan as it must."

Seventh floor

Sally-Anne was once again frustrated by her inability to speak in English, at the very least she wished she could yell the word 'Hey!' If only to get her friends' attention to the room she'd discovered up on the seventh floor opposite to a gigantic tapestry of some idiot trying to teach trolls how to dance. She'd stared at the tapestry trying to divine some understanding as to why anyone would want to, and even backed up to the opposite wall as if distance meant anything. She'd shifted on her feet in a sort of pacing motion a few times but nope, nothing was springing to mind. Behind her, she picked up the curious sensation of something moving.

When she glanced behind her, the previously barren wall was now presenting a heavy oaken door complete with heavy hinges and a huge iron lock. Sally-Anne reached for the doorknob, surprised when it opened easily and nearly silently then poked her head inside. What she found was nothing short of incredibly mind-blowing.

Towering stacks of...stuff filled the room as far as the eye could see. The closest piles were ordinary items like empty portrait frames, a couple of boxes of cleaning supplies, and a brand-new mop but the farther back she looked, the greater the treasure waiting to be discovered.

"Sally-Anne?" She spun to see fellow first year Pansy Parkinson looking at her curiously. "What did you find?"

Sally-Anne scrambled to grab her notepad. 'Oh, Pansy; I'm glad you're here! It's a room that appeared and it's got the most incredible amount of treasures! Call the others, they should see this too.'

Pansy did as instructed; the rest of the girls hurried over, taking turns to peek inside.

"Wow, should we go in? I don't want to get in trouble poking around."

"Who should we ask?"

"Meowrr." They all turned around at the sound of a cat then looked down. A fluffy, brindle-colored cat stared suspiciously at the group.

Hermione knelt down and extended her arm, "Hello, kitty. Are you lost?"

"Mrs. Norris is never lost, unlike you it would seem." A man's voice had Hermione shooting to her feet. "What are you all doing up here?"

"Exploring, sir. Sally-Anne found this room and we were wondering if it was alright to go inside. May we know your name?"

The gruff-looking man stared at her oddly for a moment, "Name's Argus Filch. I'm the caretaker of the castle. I suppose you could take a quick look inside just don't go farther than you can see the door."

The girls filed in, gasping and whispering in awe at the myriad of things they laid their eyes on. Hannah dipped a hand into a barrel full of gemstones, her eyes glittering in the reflective rainbow of light. Daphne discovered a wardrobe of exquisitely decorated ladies' robes and finery, gently tracing her fingers through the ultra-lightweight fabric.

"Hey! Check this out!"

They all hurried over to where Pansy's friend Millicent Bulstrode stood pointing at a pair of intricately detailed fake arms. "Hermione? Are these something you could use?"

Hermione shook her head after examining them, "Unfortunately, no. These are designed for full-arm replacement. They're so beautiful though; I wonder if I could borrow them to show off to the company I partner with to see if they could adapt it to just the lower forearms and hands. Where's Mr. Filch? He might know."

Someone scampered off to find him, returning a couple of minutes later. He picked up one of the arms, curiously examining it. "I can't say one way or the other." He glanced up at the ceiling, "Hogwarts, do these arms belong to anyone still living?"

A scrap of paper appeared with a puff of smoke. Written on the surface was a single word: No.

"Well, there you go. The usual rules that ownership ends when the person dies applies so you're allowed to take what you find. That goes for everything else in here. Just ask Hogwarts if it currently belongs to anyone. If she says yes, leave it be." He returned the arm to its box and stepped back to allow Hermione to reverently pick up her newfound treasure.

Ground Floor

Pansy wasn't the only one tired after their adventure. "I'm going to be sore in the morning. I'm glad that Slytherin House is located just one floor below. Imagine having to hike up and down all these stairs just to get a book from your trunk!"

Millicent, or Millie as she preferred, sighed her agreement while rubbing her feet. "Right? You'd think that the Lions and Eagles would have some sort of magical dumbwaiter or something."

A fourth year Slytherin boy sauntered by, "Hey, Pancakes; what're you doing in this area?" Pansy's face turned pink at the nickname and stammered that they were exploring. The boy smiled knowingly and dipped his head, continuing on leaving the flustered girl behind.

"Pancakes?" Susan turned on Pansy, the former's eyes alight with amusement. "There's got to be one heck of a story behind that."

Daphne laughed, "Oh, there is. Little Miss Parkinson was about six when at a Ministry party, she started demanding that the elves serve pancakes because her family had arrived late to breakfast. For the rest of the time, whenever someone asked her what she wanted to eat, that's what she always demanded...pancakes."

The others giggled and cooed at the thoroughly embarrassed girl.

Hufflepuff Common Room

Hermione burst into the Sett, protectively clutching her new prize possession. Neville glancing up prompted Harry to do the same thing. "Hey, Hermione. What've you got there?"

"Sally-Anne found this incredible lost and found room up on the seventh floor. Mr. Filch was kind enough to let us take whatever we wanted as long as Hogwarts confirmed that it didn't belong to anyone still living. Millie found these arms and alerted me to them. I plan on taking them home and showing my support team. They're positively gorgeous and I'm hoping that they'll be able to either adapt them for my use or maybe print out something similar." This was said all in a such a rush that Neville had to ask her to slow down several times so he could sign it for Harry.

"This is incredible!" Harry signed. "I can picture you wearing these for some sort of Ministry Yule Ball or something fancy."

Hermione's eyes grew wide, "That's perfect! Oh, I need to get these secured before anything happens. I nearly tripped on the stairs twice. Who designs moving stairs to trip people that high up? Someone could get hurt or worse!" She took the box of arms and disappeared into her room. When she returned, she flopped down next to Harry. "So what're you working on?"

"I found this game in the cabinet. Neither of us have ever played it before but the picture on the box looked interesting." Neville answered instead.

She grinned at the sight of the box. "You've never played Pictionary before?"

"No, is it tough?" Neville asked her.

"It can be, especially if you're lousy at drawing like me. I tried playing over last year's holidays but got frustrated no one could figure out that I was trying to draw a cat."

Harry dug around in the stack of games before holding aloft a stack of colorful cards. "What about this one?"

"Oh, you'll like that one. It's a lot easier than Pictionary. It's called 'Uno' where each player is dealt seven cards. The remaining pile is placed between them and a single card is dealt. The play is usually directed to your left and if you have a card that matches either in color or number counts as a move. To change things up, if you have a card that matches the number but is in a different color, then the next player has to match the new color and number. The tough and sometimes frustrating part is when you get close to the end and only have one or two cards left, your opponent might drop a Draw Two or a Draw Four which throws you off. Then there's the Reverse cards which changes the direction of play, potentially excluding someone who might be able to go out on that turn."

She demonstrated by shuffling the deck, dealing out the seven cards for each of them. "Lay your cards out facing up for this hand. So, the starting card is a yellow five. Harry, you have a matching card so you can drop that one on top and that counts as your turn. Neville, you don't have anything yellow but you do have a red five so you can drop that onto the pile."

The game continued until Neville won after surprising Harry with a Draw Four. Harry scowled at him, "I thought we were friends."

Hermione giggled after hearing Neville's interpretation. "If you think this is bad, wait until you play Monopoly."

Monday 4 September, 2017; Professor McGonagall's office, before the start of classes

Knock, knock, knock

"Come in!"

Knock, knock, knock

Minerva's face went from annoyed at whoever had kept knocking to being annoyed with herself when she opened the door to see Hermione standing there with an apologetic expression on her face, "Och, sorry about that, Miss Granger. I completely forgot that you wouldn't have been able to open the door. I'll figure something out in the meantime." She led the curious preteen inside and pointed at a package lying on her desk. "At any rate, I have a special quill for you to use in class. It's called a 'dicta-quill' and it's charmed to write down only what you or your teachers say. It won't pick up any stray conversations from the other students so please don't try to spy on the others."

Hermione scrunched her face up in consternation, "I take it that sort of thing happens?"

Minerva waggled her hand, "Enough times that it behooves me to mention it. To activate it, just touch it with your wand, your hand, or in your case, your stump. It will then stand upright as if you were holding it and continue to write until you tap it again. It doesn't require any ink, so if it stops working; come see me and I'll give you a replacement."

"Are they expensive? Should I look into buying a couple for myself? Oh, how will I be able to work in potions?"

A slight smile ghosted Minerva's face, "Aye, that is a wise idea and no, they're not terribly expensive. This came in a pack of six for a Galleon, 12 Sickles and can be found at pretty much any stationery shop." She sucked on the inside of her cheek, "Your first potions class is at noon, correct? (Hermione nodded) Then I shall endeavor to come up with a viable solution. Do you mind if the 'hand' is nothing more than a simple pincer grip?"

Shaking her head, Hermione replied that a couple of her earliest prosthetics were that type. "They were a basic mechanical linkage to open and close the grip."

"Do you remember how they were operated?"

"I extended my arm which pulls on a cable and opens or closes the grip. There's a return spring which provides tension to keep it all working without the need for electronics. The problem is that it doesn't allow for much flexibility in design and sometimes the springs get caught on clothes, hair, or things around me." She motioned with her arms as she described their operation.

Minerva jotted down this information. "Maybe if...Filius could probably...okay, I have the basic idea and we'll get together before your class to see if it works. At the very least, I'm sure I could transfigure a simple fake hand you could slip a stirring spoon into. Ingredient preparation will be tricky unless you partner with someone willing to do it for you."

Hermione packed away the quill in her bag, thanking her professor. "Thank you. I look forward to trying it out. I was worried about how I'd be able to take notes given that my prosthetics stopped working."

"Aye, about that. Do you have any idea as to how you were going to get that resolved?"

Hermione shook her head, "Harley said she's looking into it."

Harley popped in with an expectant look. "I heard my name being called. What's up?"

"Nothing, I was just telling the professor that you were looking into options to get my arms to work in a magic-heavy environment."

Harley bobbed her head in understanding. "Right, well it's slow going. The magical world doesn't have the 'usual' problems of trying to integrate advanced muggle technology into magical construction. Usually what happens is that someone will get a limb replacement directly from Saint Mungo's who does their own enchantments to keep the limb working." She turned to her sister, "What do you plan on doing in class while I sort this out?"

"Professor McGonagall got me a dicta-quill to use in class in the meantime," Hermione revealed.

Harley nodded approvingly, "I like them. My only complaint is that the magical world is resistant to change and insists on using feather quills instead of joining the modern world."

Minerva cocked her head, "If not feathers, what would they use?"

"A regular fountain pen, for one." Harley suggested. "They still use a nib like feathers do, but they're not as obtrusive in the muggle world. Even better for the future is if some enterprising wizard or witch to mass produce them using disposable biros."

Hermione grinned, "Wouldn't that be a revolutionary business in a society that seems determined to stay in the past."

Despite growing intrigued by the way the conversation was headed, Minerva had to dismiss the two so she could get her first class started. Hermione skipped out of the office towards her Charms class while Harley popped away back to whatever she'd been doing.

9:00 - 9:40A; Charms, Room 210 - East Wing (Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw)

"Good morning, Miss Granger." Professor Flitwick greeted her as soon as she entered the classroom. "Or do you prefer Dagworth-Granger?" Hermione shrugged and said that either was fine. "Since you do not have a wand, I will be handling your education differently from the others. While I get them settled, I would like you to come up with at least three different songs to make a feather fly using one song from a different genre such as but not limited to, Rock and Roll, Pop, and Blues."

Hermione nodded her agreement and settled in to think. She started humming under her breath as the other students filed in. Once they were seated, the tiny professor began taking the roll call then transitioned into laying out his course aims. Her dicta-quill quietly scratching away, Hermione couldn't help but marvel at the magic that went into charming it. On the other side of the room, she noted that Harry too, had a dicta-quill going though his feather looked to be from a different species of bird.

A little while later...

The others were taking notes so Filius escorted Hermione into an adjoining room. "This room will be yours so let's see what you've come up with."

Hermione cleared her throat, "Okay, would you like to know which songs I decided to use or just get right into it?"

"The latter, we can work on song selection another time," he replied as he dropped a feather onto a table.

She nodded and rolled her head to loosen up, "Alright, here goes nothing." Getting the song and tempo in her mind's eye, she began to croon:

"Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away
If you can use some exotic booze, there's a bar in far Bombay
Come on and fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

Come fly with me, let's float down to Peru
In llama land, there's a one man band
And he'll toot his flute for you
Come on fly with me, let's take off in the blue

Once I get you up there, where the air is rarefied
We'll just glide, starry-eyed..."

The feather immediately rose and began zipping and zagging through the air like the bird it once belonged to. Smirking slightly, she had it 'buzz the tower' past Flitwick's ear and spun around his head before soaring back up. When she finished singing, it gently floated down and landed back on the table with the gentlest touch.

Filius was quite honestly, in awe at his student's ability. When the feather finally touched down, he let loose with an appreciative round of applause. "Stunning, simply stunning. I have a feeling you'll soon outstrip my ability to effectively teach you anything if this is the level of work I can expect. I wonder...I have a couple of friends within the Goblin Nation who are accomplished magic singers. I'll have to reach out to them to see if they'd be amenable to come see and hear you in action." He shook himself out of his mental planning, "Alright, let's see those other two genres, please."

Grinning happily at his praise, Hermione launched the feather back into the air with her rendition of Kenny Logan's 'Danger Zone' for Hard Rock, and Fly Away' by Lenny Kravitz for Funk Rock; both of which had Filius' mind swirling very much like that feather. "Just wait until I can figure out how to include music to back up the songs."

10:00 - 10:40A; DADA, Room 125 - West Wing (Hufflepuff/Gryffindor)

Upon entering their DADA class, Hermione could tell this class wasn't going to be as exciting as Charms was primarily because Professor Quirrell looked like a gentle breeze could knock him over. The slightest extraneous sound tended to make the timid man jump, there was an overwhelming stench of something like garlic emanating from his turban, and worst of all was that horrendous stutter of his which made taking notes all but impossible. 'I'm not looking forward to reading what my dicta-quill's written down.'

Once the lecture on how to cast a shield charm plus the accompanying color change spell had been finished, Quirrell had the students line either side of the room. One half of the students would attempt to cast a simple shield while the other half shot a color charm at them. If the charm managed to get through, they would turn a ghastly shade of pink. Hermione was paired with Neville who nervously took his stance. She sent him a reassuring smile, "Relax, Neville. It's just me and it's not like we're slinging anything dangerous."

Neville's shoulders relaxed a bit, "I know, but still. First spell casting and all that. I suspect that you're going to be rather colorful in no time. Are you fast enough to shield against anything sent your way?"

She shrugged unconcernedly, "We'll find out." Getting a tempo started in her mind, she raised her arm stumps defensively. "Show me what you've got, Longbottom!" In her head, she began to sing:

"Aahh, Aahh
We come from the land of the ice and snow
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands
To fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I am coming!"

Neville's pale pink spell shot out of his wand and to those standing nearby and watching, it hit Hermione's shield which rang like a metal on metal gong. Hermione immediately retaliated by taking his spell, slinging it above her head like a stone in a sling and launching it at the stupefied boy. The spell hit him dead in the center of his chest turning his entire body a bright, embarrassing shade of pink.

Neville wasn't the only one with his jaw scraping the ground after that demonstration. Harry's eyes were practically falling out of his head in awe and admiration. "Bloody Hell, Hermione! That was the most incredible thing I've ever seen!"

Neville added his agreement as Quirrell walked over to dispel the charm. The professor gave her a small appreciative noise, "That was quite impressive, Miss Dagworth-Granger. Family spell?"

Hermione shook her head, "Inspiration from the song I was singing."

Quirrell cocked his head for a moment before brightening, "Ah, right. Professor Flitwick mentioned you would be doing that. Still, mighty impressive. If I may, which song did you choose?"

"Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin, professor."

A thin eyebrow rose, "I'm not familiar with their work. Magical group or muggle?"

"Muggle, sir. They're a heavy metal group and released that song back in 1970. My dad loves them."

"Unconventional, but nevertheless effective. I look forward to seeing what else you come up with."

11:00 - 11:40A; Transfiguration, Room 412 - West Wing (Hufflepuff/Gryffindor)

Hermione and the other Puffs entered their Transfiguration class where the only other occupant was a solitary cat which sat on the desk observing the students as they entered and took their seats. Harry signed a simple greeting at the cat before choosing his seat closest to the front where he'd be able to see the teacher without much trouble. When the bell rang, the cat sprang into the air seamlessly transforming into Professor McGonagall to the impressed applause of her students. "Thank you. Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She spared a questioning glance over at Harry who bobbed his fist in agreement. "Now, before we begin I must beg for a moment of your patience. Miss Granger, before I forget to ask again; do you prefer your full last name or just the partial?"

"Either one is fine, professor," Hermione admitted.

"Very well, second I have your temporary replacement limb ready if you'd like to go put it on." She motioned to a box on her desk. Hermione thanked her and took the box into the adjoining room. When she returned, the others had already begun taking notes so she quietly slipped back into her seat and tried to pick up her regular pencil. She sent Minerva small appreciative smile, showing that the arm worked as promised. Her writing was a bit wobbly, but she knew that it would even out by the time she got used to the limb and grip.

Their notes finally finished, the students moved onto attempting to transfigure a matchstick into a needle. Hermione pursed her lips in thought of which song would be best for this situation. A toothy grin stole across her face, something Minerva immediately picked up on. "Which song did you pick, Miss Granger?"

Eyes alight, Hermione asked her a question instead, "Ever hear of Queen, professor?"

Minerva fought to keep down a smirk, "Of course. Which song?"

"I've got one paired to 'We Will Rock You'. I'll need some help with the intro beat though until I get my regular hands to work."

Minerva's face looked a touch eager as she waved the girl on, "Show me."

Hermione turned to see all of the muggleborns with wide grins began:

[Stomp stomp clap]

[Stomp stomp clap]

"From match to needle, from spark into steel;

It changes till the truth is real.

From tinder to needle, sharp as a deal,

one little flame—now I cut and heal."

[Stomp stomp clap]

[Stomp stomp clap]

Her singing trailed to an end; Hermione held up a perfectly formed steel needle lying on the desk. Minerva (and everyone else) was suitably impressed. "Five points, Miss Granger. Excellent work."

12:00 - 12:40A; Potions, Room 035 - Dungeons (Hufflepuff/Slytherin)

Hermione leaned up against the cool stone wall and listened to the conversations that flowed around her. Off to one side, Draco Malfoy was holding court with several kids he clearly knew. She could hear him making snide comments about sharing some of their classes with the brainless Gryffindors. Shaking her head at his complaints, she turned back to see Harry teaching a couple of interested kids how to sign 'Hello' 'Good morning' 'Good afternoon' and 'Good evening.' Harry caught her eye but she pouted and held up her non-working claws. He sent back a commiserating nod then tapped his watch and signed 'Later.'

Harley popped in, "Good news on the prosthetics front. It turns out that Ava from Testing is a muggleborn. She'll look into finding an enchantment that won't interfere with the electronics."

Hermione was pleased, if not a bit surprised. "I never knew that about her."

"Why does your elf talk funny?" Both Hermione and Harley turned to see Theo Nott looking at them curiously.

"Harley talks like a person," Hermione replied evenly.

"Harley has no wish to sound like a two-year-old human baby, just so Harley does not make small-minded wizards feel uncomfortable in Harley's presence or to translate: The Grangers want me to use the pronoun I, and only their wishes matter to me," Harley defiantly crossed her arms over her chest and resolutely stated with a bit of heat behind her words. Theo held his hands up in mock surrender but shot a disgusted sneer off to another boy who shook his head and dismissed the whole thing.

In the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed Draco peel off from the other Slytherins and sauntered over to where Harry was.

Draco took Harry's whiteboard and began to scribble something: 'Where's Longbottom?' At Harry's shrug of his shoulders, Draco added: 'Fine, I challenge you to a duel.'

A confused crease crinkled Harry's forehead as he took the whiteboard and wrote: 'Why? What did I do?'

'Nothing. I'm bored and want to see what the so-called 'Boy-Who-Lived' is capable of.'

Harry let out a snort of laughter: 'That's no reason to hold a duel. If you want to just mess around, that's fine but an actual duel? Pass.'

Draco bobbed his head, 'That's fine. Wands only, midnight in the trophy room.'

Again with a snort, Harry shook his head. 'Forget it. We'd be out way past curfew and the trophy room is a terrible place to hold anything other than a guided tour. How about the Great Hall during dinner tonight?'

Draco mimed checking his schedule and pompously agreed: 'Fine by me, I think I can squeeze you in. I'll just have to drop the eight pm donkey race. For stakes, I suggest that the loser has to go up to the Headmaster and call him a dim-witted monkey bum to his face.'

This had Harry start choking on his laughter; he shot Draco a thumbs up in approval while he attempted to get himself under control. Severus opened the door to this scene and merely raised an eyebrow in silent question. "Inside."

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses...bottle fame, brew glory, and even stop death..." The only sound was Hermione's dicta-quill quiet scratching on her notepad (which he easily ignored.) He strode over to where Harry was sitting and held his hand out for the whiteboard. Speaking along with his writing, he demanded to know what would he get if he 'added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'

Harry pursed his lips in thought before taking the board and writing: 'You would get the Draught of Living Death, sir.'

Severus nodded his approval. 'Next, where would I find a bezoar?'

'Stomach of a magically-raised goat or an apothecary.'

'Final question, what is the difference monkshood and wolfsbane?'

Harry shook his head and wrote: 'Same plant, different name.'

'Clearly you've inherited your mother's talent for potions and not your lazy father's.'

'Thank my aunt for that. She likes to brew as well. Aunt Petunia said that it's a trait passed down through all of the Evans' women.'

Severus rocked back at reading that, his eyes darkening. 'You were sent to live with Petunia Evans?!'

'Petunia Dursley now, but yes. Why?'

Severus visibly reined himself in and refused to answer. Instead, he assigned them all to begin working towards successfully brewing the Boil cure paste. He stormed back to his desk, ignoring the commotion around him. He silently watched Harry as the boy finished setting up his station then headed over to the ingredients cabinet before returning and lighting the burner under his cauldron. 'Blasted Albus, he lied to me and said that the Potter spawn was being raised in a loving home surrounded by family and elves. To force any child to live with that miserable shrew is beyond the pale.'

After he had them start brewing, Severus grew curious as to how Hermione would be able to work with her prosthetics. He hovered nearby to observe the girl's elf prepare the ingredients then hand them over to be added to the cauldron while the girl read off the instructions. He started when she began singing an odd song which produced a better result than was ordinarily expected. "What did you just do?"

Without even looking up from her stirring, Hermione replied, "I sang a combining spell because some of the harder ingredients like the porcupine quills don't start to react until long after the rest begins to burn. It's why the instructions say to remove the cauldron from the heat before adding them."

Severus blinked, this was the sort of intuitive reasoning that came from past experience. "When did you discover this?"

"My birthday is past the cutoff date so I had an entire year in which to read my books and practice both the spells and the recipes in my potion's text."

Impressed, but loathe to show it; Severus asked her, "How far ahead have you gotten in this subject?"

She ladled up a spoonful of the paste to examine it. "I managed to brew up a reasonable Strengthening potion except that mine turned out to be closer to a reddish-orange tangerine than the expected solid orange. I suspect that one of snake fangs wasn't entirely ground to a powder."

Astounded by her astute knowledge and reasoning, Severus left her to continue while he went to make his rounds. He paused briefly to watch the Potter boy hold up one of the ingredients closer for inspection before discarding it with a scowl and sending a sneer over towards his Snakes. Severus tapped the table to get the boy's attention and wrote on the whiteboard. 'Problem?'

'Someone tried to slip a string of seaweed into the Flobberworm mucus.'

'And what would've happened if it had made it into the potion?'

"I don't want to know. I suspect it would've ruined it.'

'Make sure you include what you found and suspect into your homework essay.' Severus returned to his desk to write some notes about this year's crop of students who showed potential and to think about how to handle Albus lying to him.

Friday 8 September, 2017; Flying lessons

Friday morning saw all of the first years assembled on the grass for their first broom flying lesson. Hermione nervously toed one of the brooms, "I'm not sure about this."

Ron overheard and scoffed, "What kind of witch are you then?"

She frowned at him, "I'll have you know that not every witch needs to fly. The earliest known visual depiction of a witch on a broomstick is in a 1451 manuscript illustration of Martin Le Franc's French poem, "Le Champion des Dames". The concept of witches flying on broomsticks also appeared in the early 1400s in writings by various church and secular authorities, with real-life confessions of broomstick flight occurring shortly after, such as that of priest Guillaume Edelin in 1453."

Judging by the blank look on the redhead's face, Hermione had clearly outpaced his thought processing speed. Harry shared a snicker with Neville and signed something that suggested that someone ought to smack the boy to reboot his brain. Draco noticed and nudged Neville, "What did he just sign?" Neville's answer caused the blond to start wheezing with laughter. "Oh, I'd pay money to see that happen. Weasleys are notorious for acting without thought. Father's often wondered if they're just transfigured weasels."

Draco's taunts redirected Ron's ire, "Piss off, Malfoy."

"Ooh, scary words Weasel," Draco mock-shivered in fear before ignoring Ron and heading back to his starting point when they noticed the teacher approaching.

Susan leant over to whisper to Hermione, "Um, Hermione; those dates don't match the recorded history of broom flying. According to history, broom use got started in the eleventh century."

Hermione nodded subtly as she kept one ear on the teacher's lecture on how to grip the broom shaft, "That may be true but what I referenced was the earliest muggle depiction that survived until now. For all we know, there might've been other records but they were lost or destroyed by the Church during their purges."

Understanding dawned in the girl's face. "Ah, gotcha."

Hermione quickly realized that she really did not like heights. Every time she tried to fly just a little bit higher, her nerves took hold, forcing her to drop back down to just above where her toes could just barely touch the tips of the grass. Susan flew alongside her, "I'm guessing that you didn't have much experience with brooms out there in the muggle world?"

Shaking her head, Hermione added, "Not much call for it out there, but mostly I'm scared of being up high and potentially falling."

Susan reached out and laid a comforting hand on her friend's. "Alright, pay attention to what I'm doing. Don't look down, focus on the horizon or in this case my broom. See how I keep ahold of the shaft like I'm riding a horse? Gentle pressure with my knees will turn me left or right. A slight pull or push will raise or lower my height. Don't think, just feel the way the broom rides and you'll be flying around in no time."

Between Susan's calm voice and gentle guidance, Hermione soon found herself enjoying the experience of flying without wings.

That evening, Hermione pulled out some stationery and a pen then slipped on her borrowed arm.

Dear Mum and Dad;

Well, one week into my education at Hogwarts and already it's anything but ordinary. The very first night when the train arrived at the station, my prosthetics stopped working because of the amount of magic around me. If she hasn't mentioned it yet, Harley's working with Jason and the others to try and solve this issue. She said that Ava from Testing is a muggleborn which ought to help so here's to hoping they get the electronics shielded somehow. In the meantime, I'm using an arm transfigured from something else thanks to Professor McGonagall and my charms teacher, Professor Flitwick.

I'm sure you remember me tripping over someone on the magical platform, right? Well, I found out that it was none other than Harry Potter! I apologized to him, but he said it didn't matter. He's nice for a boy but he's still weird. Mum, do boys act like weirdos for very long or is it just me? Oh, I also found out that the so-called 'Boy-Who-Lived' aka Harry Potter is deaf! That's right, he's completely deaf in his right ear and only has twenty percent in his left. According to him, it's the result of that Halloween back in 2007. He's able to 'speak' using sign language and has to rely on the interpretation skills of his friend, Neville Longbottom.

I've made a few friends already. I met them on the train and one of the girls named Sally-Anne Perks is only able to hiss-speak in Parseltongue which is the magical language of snakes! She's able to hear, read, write, and understand English but for whatever reason; she's unable to speak it. It doesn't matter to me, I like her anyway. She carries around a notepad so she can communicate with everyone.

Classes are going well. I really like Charms and Transfiguration but I'm starting to dislike Defense and History. Defense is taught by a timid man who wears a smelly turban and has a tremendous stutter that makes it difficult to focus or take notes. Our history class is taught by a ghost. You'd think, 'hey, I'm being taught by someone who might've been around during the subject materials!' but you'd be wrong. Professor Binns is so boring he could put insomniacs to sleep. All he does is drone on and on about Goblin Rebellions or legislative minutia from long ago. The rest of my classes are okay. Herbology is just magical gardening, in my opinion. Potions is pretty cool; we brewed up a batch of the Cure for Boils and I'm pretty sure I impressed the teacher. Astronomy has the potential to be pretty awesome if only the school had a planetarium. Instead, we're forced to stand outside freezing our bums off to peer through our telescopes! I can only imagine how bad it'll be when winter sets in.

Today was my first-ever broom flying class and if it wasn't for one of my other friends, Susan Bones; I probably would've quit the class just so I could keep my feet on the ground where they belong. With her help, I was able to fly up to ten feet of altitude and perform a lazy figure-8 pattern in the air which was the minimum our flying instructor required. Now that it's over, I can hang up 'my' broom and never go near it again.

Oh, before I forget! My friends and I discovered this storeroom up on the seventh floor where a pair of exquisite and incredibly beautiful pair of prosthetic arms were found. They're non-functional, merely designed to be attached using a set of straps to give the illusion of having arms, but I'm sending them over to our partners to see if they can replicate it for my next Hero arms.

Anyways, not much is happening right now. Dinner just finished about fifteen minutes ago (the food is good but heavy. I really miss the spicy orange chicken from that Chinese take-away that Daddy brings home.)

I miss you both. Love,

Hermione

"Harley?" The elf popped in. "Could you take this to Mum and Dad, please?"

"Sure, your first letter home?" Harley inquired then smiled when she received confirmation. "No problem. You want me to bring anything back? I think mum's binging on Raspberry Ripple ice cream again."

Hermione's eyes lit up, "If she has that, Daddy got the Pistachio, right? I'll have some of his, if you can get a bowl away from him."

Harley tipped her a jaunty salute, "I'll see what I can do." She popped away. A minute later, a bowl of pistachio ice cream topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings and a spoon silently appeared on her desk. Hermione gave a cheer for her sister's thoughtfulness and dug in.

Teacher's Lounge, same time

Severus stalked into the room and served himself a strong cup of coffee while glaring at anyone who dared to look in his direction. Minerva recognized his mood immediately as she entered five minutes later. "Who's gotten you in such a mood? Let me guess, having a Potter in your class is ruining the fine art of potion brewing?"

Severus scowled, "Surprisingly, not. The boy's been doing just fine. His knifework could be a little more precise but he's able to produce reasonably acceptable results. No, my issue is with Albus."

Eyebrows rose in surprise. "What did the old coot do this time?"

Severus let out a heavy sigh of frustration. "He lied to me. Albus said he was being raised by a loving family but when I asked Potter who he'd learned how to brew from, he said it was from Petunia Dursley formerly Evans. That woman is a miserable shrew who thought that all magic users should've been burnt at the stake..." He trailed off when he noticed the look of amusement on Minerva's face. "What?"

"Petunia Dursley did teach Harry how to brew, but they don't live together," Minerva revealed.

Severus put down his coffee mug on the side table. "Then who did raise the boy?"

Minerva's amusement grew to the point where she was fighting back the grin that was threatening to appear. "Harry Potter was raised by Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew."

Silence.

"Who raised the boy?" Severus all but growled darkly.

"You heard me," Minerva calmly replied. "And before you start to think that they raised him to be a prankster or bully like they were; I'll have you know that I've stopped by on a regular basis over the years and I can attest that he is nothing like his father. Sure, Harry likes to pull the occasional prank on his godfather and uncles but he knows his limits and holds to them. I would put his temperament closer to Lily than James in that regard."

Severus dipped his chin to ponder that. "I'll keep it in mind.

The next morning...

Draco walked into the Great Hall and made a beeline over to where Harry and Neville were sitting. "Longbottom, Potter. You feel like having that duel now?"

Harry grinned, "Feel like embarrassing yourself in front of the whole school?"

"Hardly. I'm going to wipe the floor with you."

A slow grin grew on Harry's face. "I think that'd be funny. Let's do that, see how long it takes people to get the joke."

Draco frowned, "What joke?"

"The one where you hold onto my arms and waggle me around the floor like a mop. See how long it takes for everyone to realize that you're 'wiping the floor with me'."

Draco groaned at the realized innuendo. "That's a terrible joke; let's do it."

Harry got up and signed, "Sure, let's head up front."

Albus looked up at the approach of the two boys and frowned when he saw it was Harry and the Malfoy boy. 'This can't be good. Why is young Harry being so friendly with the son of a Death Eater? Could it have something to do with the Horcrux within his scar? Could it be influencing him somehow?' "Harry, my boy; what brings you up here? Are you lodging a complaint against Mr. Malfoy?" Neville began his interpretation only to stop when Albus raised his hand. "Mr. Longbottom, please allow Harry to speak for himself."

"That's the thing, sir. Harry can't speak for himself. Well, I suppose he could speak but you really wouldn't understand him," Neville tried to explain while signing.

Albus' eyes narrowed, "I'm afraid I don't understand. If Harry is suffering from a sore throat, why didn't he just stop in to see Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry hung his head and let out an annoyed sigh after seeing the translation. "Stupid old man. Padfoot warned me about him. Forget it, let's just get this over with so I can enjoy my breakfast."

Albus was confused by the hand waving. A slight niggle in the back of his mind suggested he'd seen communication like this before. "Harry?" There was no reaction from the raven-haired boy. "Mr. Potter! Look at me when I'm speaking to you." Still no reaction. "Mr. Longbottom?" Neville glanced in his direction. "Why does Harry insist on ignoring me?"

"He's not. Harry's deaf; I tried to tell you that, sir."

Albus' mouth fell open. "Deaf?? But..." His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to assimilate this new information. "If you'll excuse me?" He jumped up out of his seat and hurried out of the Hall.

'If the boy's deaf, how will he be able to confront Voldemort? Why didn't Arabella inform me of this development?' He strode into his office and headed over to his fireplace. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, he tossed it into the flames then when they turned green, he called out, "Figg Treehouse!"

Albus was expecting Arabella Figg, or at the very least one of her multitude of cats when he stuck his head into the flames. What he got instead was someone completely unfamiliar screaming like they were being attacked by demons and smacking at his head with a fireplace poker. "OW! Stop that! Where is Arabella Figg? Ow! Quit it! Alright, I'm going!" He yanked his head out of the flames and fell back upon his bum, gingerly touching his bruised face. "Where the bloody Hell is that woman?!"

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: A Fluffy Mystery

Saturday 9 September, 2017; moments after Albus left and ended up getting smacked for his efforts

Draco turned a confused look towards Harry and Neville, "Was it something we said?"

Harry shrugged, "Who knows with Dumbledore? Padfoot says that the old man has been barmy from the get go."

"Messers Potter, Longbottom, and Malfoy? Is there a problem here?" Professor Flitwick asked the trio as he walked up to them.

Draco gestured towards the door where the headmaster had disappeared through. "We were all set to have a duel here in the Great Hall where the winner would wipe the floor with the loser who then had to call the headmaster a dim-witted monkey bum but then he up and left without an explanation."

Flitwick blinked slowly as he tried to parse out what Draco had said. "Okay, first off; why are you dueling?"

Neville smirked, "Draco's bored and Harry's a sucker for doing stupid things." He signed this as well then laughed when Harry mock-threateningly waggled his fist at his friend. "I think instead of calling the headmaster a dim-witted monkey bum, they ought to strut down the hallway in the ponciest, most absurd way possible."

Harry coughed his laughter, "No fair, Draco would win that by a mile!"

Draco scowled slightly, "He pointed at me and started laughing. What gives?"

Filius interjected, "How about doing the reverse? Instead of the winner being lauded their success over the other, they teach the loser something new?"

The trio of boys eyed each other before erupting into laughter at the idea. Instead, Draco suggested that if he won, Harry would have to eat the most disgusting thing in the kitchens. Harry countered with, "And if I win, you have to give a muggleborn girl a kiss on the lips for at least ten seconds." Draco gave a disgusted expression but agreed nevertheless.

"You're determined to continue with this display?" At their confirmation, Filius rolled his eyes and motioned for the two boys to step back to the opposite ends of the space in front of the Teacher's table. He set up boundary wards to keep any stray spells from impacting the spectators. "Are the duelers ready?" Both boys held up their wands as their signal. "The winner will be determined when their opponent can no longer hold their wand or is incapacitated in any way. Nothing harmful is permitted; this includes Family spells. If I call for a halt, you are to immediately cease fire and hold your wands up. Is this understood?" He waited for Neville to complete his interpretation to Harry then for the Potter boy to signal his acceptance. "Duelers, on your mark...cast!"

The pair eyed each other for a moment before Draco let loose with a color-changing charm. Harry merely sidestepped it and let it fly past then countered with a hair-raising charm which managed to tag the blond on the arm as he tried to dodge. The only result of that was Draco's hair getting a bit bushier.

Draco smirked and patted his hair, "Nice, but try this on for size!" He twirled his wand over his head like a lasso then flicked it at Harry. A shiny green spell burst out and filled the space between them with sparkly lights, intent on dazzling the eye.

Neville flinched at the sight of the illusion and was all set to intervene when Harry simply conjured up a mirror, reflecting the light back towards Draco. Draco blindly wavered on his feet for a moment before impulsively casting, "Serpentortia!" A medium-sized grass snake burst from his wand and landed on the floor with a heavy thump and a loud hiss.

//"Who summoned me in the middle of an important hunt!"//

Harry held up his hand to signal Professor Flitwick so he could call a halt in order to stay Draco's wand and motioned to Neville to interpret for the others. //"Sorry about that. My nestmate and I were having a mock-battle and he got a bit carried away."//

The snake disdainfully eyed a now-terrified Draco and made a hissing noise that sounded more like a huff of annoyance. //"Weedy looking thing. Will you send me back?"//

//"I will, but after I get you something for your troubles."// He signed to Neville who called for an elf to bring a nice-sized dead rat for their serpent friend. The rat appeared in front of it, pleasing the snake who immediately began swallowing it. While it was doing so, the entire Hall was dead silent aside from some frantic whispers from the Slytherin table.

At the Hufflepuff table...

Unbidden and strangely compelled to do so, Sally-Anne rose to her feet and made her way up to the front where the snake had appeared. She gently laid a hand on Harry's shoulder then knelt down in front of the snake. //"Hi, would you like to stay with me while these two misbehaving boys act out their aggression in the most ludicrous way possible?"//

Despite its mouth being full, the snake bobbed its head and allowed Sally-Anne to gently lift it up and carry it back to her spot. //"Honestly, those boys. It's a wonder they ever got out of the nest the way they behave."//

The snake finished swallowing the rat and wiped its mouth with the tip of its tail. //"I know, right? It must be the same no matter which species they're from. Males are all alike; they should be locked away for the betterment of the world."//

Sally-Anne transcribed the conversation onto her notepad for the others to read. Amused grins blossomed on their faces as they read the snake's sympathies. Pansy reached out and gently brushed her finger along the snake's back, "I love how shiny her scales are." Once Sally-Anne translated, the snake stretched out a bit more and swayed its head side to side, hissing something. 'She says thank you. She just shed not too long ago.'

Hermione turned back when she heard laughter erupt from those nearest the front. "What are those two reprobates doing now?" She stood up on the bench to see better and scoffed when she spotted Harry holding Draco by the arms and waggle him about the floor. All three boys were laughing which made her wonder how this was supposed to be part of a duel. It wasn't until she overheard a couple of groans from an older student who got the innuendo. "Oh, god...now I get it too. Harry's claiming victory by literally 'wiping the floor with Draco'."

Sally-Anne thumped her head on the table then translated for the snake who'd covered its eyes with its tail. //"That has to be the worst joke in the history of jokes! Someone please send me back so I don't have to suffer any longer!"//

Quirrell froze when he heard the Potter boy speaking in Parseltongue. "Master?" He whispered to his rider.

'I heard it but it's not possible! I am the only Parselmouth on the island; for the boy to also be able to speak it is troubling.'

Things took an even more bizarre turn for the parasite and his host when Sally-Anne started Speaking as well. 'Two children are able to Speak??'

Pomona noticed Quirrell's distress and patted his hand consolingly, "Relax, Quirnius. Those two are the least likely to turn Dark just because they're able to speak the snake language. First of all, it's Mr. Potter we're talking about. There has never been a Potter who went Dark in their entire family history. Grey sure, but never truly Dark. Then there's Sally-Anne Perks; she's just your run-of-the-mill muggleborn whose greatest desire, at this moment I'm told, is to figure out the mystery of why boys are so stupid." Quirnius let out an involuntary snort of laughter at hearing that. She chuckled along with him, "So don't go thinking that either are planning on staging some kind of evil take-over of the school."

Quirnius (and his rider) slumped with relief. Voldemort even cracked an oily smile as a new plan formed in his mind. 'I could offer insights into the operation of the male mind if she doesn't balk at the idea of learning a couple of 'diagnostic' spells...like the Cruciatus.'

In her next Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall had Hermione literally 'whistle up' a quick song to turn a block of wood into a rubber ball then back again. Once she'd accomplished that, Hermione was tasked to come up with a song that would allow her to transfigure a blanket into a sheet of steel. "Any particular grade of steel or should I just wing it?" She asked her professor cheekily.

Minerva just crinkled her nose and tapped the blanket with her finger, "Get to it, silly girl."

Hermione pursed her lips and quietly ran through a litany of potential songs she could use to achieve her goal. In the end she went with something she'd heard in passing during one of her father's seemingly endless searches for something to listen to on their drives through the French countryside. She started whistling the staccato beat, watching as the blanket stretched and flattened out. It turned a silvery color before slipping off her table with a resounding clank of metal on stone.

Minerva tapped the sheet of steel and smiled her approval. "Impressive, Miss Dagworth-Granger. Most impressive."

Later in Potions, Hermione and the other Puffs were directed to brew up a batch of a headache reliever. "Merlin knows I could use some after dealing with you dunderheads all day long," Severus growled before continuing on. "I have recently been instructed by the Board of Governors that you will need to use modern safety equipment so pay attention while I describe their usage."

Once released to get started, Harley handed Hermione her goggles and a pair of nitrile gloves then bent over to read the instructions.

“Place 2 grams of salicylic acid in a 125-mL Erlenmeyer flask."

“Done.”

“Next, add 5 mL of acetic anhydride, followed by 5 drops of concentrated sulfuric acid using an eye dropper and swirl the flask gently until the salicylic acid dissolves,” Harley read off the instructions then watched as her sister followed the steps.

Hermione sniffed the concoction then reared back in disgust. “Done. Whew, this stinks!”

Harley yanked her head back too and fanned the fumes away from the beaker, “Um, heat the flask gently on the steam bath for at least 10 minutes. Allow the flask to cool to room temperature. If acetylsalicylic acid does not begin to crystallize out, scratch the walls of the flask with a glass rod. Cool the mixture slightly in an ice bath until crystallization is completed. The product will appear as a solid mass when crystallization is completed.”

While the beaker was heating, the chemical inside slowly turned to a yellow-ish brown color. Severus was making his rounds and nodded his approval as he passed by. "How're things proceeding here?"

"This stuff stinks!" Hermione exclaimed. "You know, it's amazing how something so disgusting ends up being such a relief. I wish we could talk to the original chemists who figured out what to do and get their insights as to why they used what they did and how they knew what would or wouldn't work."

Severus gave Hermione a rare small smile of understanding. "Pity, that but yes, I agree. If only there was a time machine we could use to visit all the great moments of history."

Harley sniggered, "Would you want it to look like a blue police box that makes a weird pulsating noise or built into a slick-looking DeLorean?"

Severus cocked his head slightly before replying, "I think from a standpoint of 'coolness' I'd go for the DeLorean. Those gull-wing doors, the futuristic look of the stainless steel body paneling, not to mention all those light-up add-ons used in the movies and stomping on the throttle to get it up to 88mph?"

Hermione grinned at the odd sight of their usually dour potions professor acting all goofy over a car. Off to the side, she spotted the even odder sight of Draco Malfoy having been paired up with Harry Potter. Draco had just lunged to keep Harry from adding something at the wrong time. "Good save, Draco!"

The blond bobbed his head then reached for Harry's whiteboard to admonish his lab partner, "Thanks, he was about to add four times the amount of the acid into the flask. I didn't want to find out what that would've done with the anhydride afterwards."

Severus hurried over to take a look at what Harry had almost done."Mixing and diluting strong acids is an exothermic reaction. You would've produced a lot of heat which would boil the liquids, resulting in an explosion. Then I would've exploded; neither reaction either of you would have appreciated."

Harley turned back to their brewing. “Okay focus Hermione, cool the mixture in an ice bath then add 50 mL of water. Do not add the water until crystal formation is complete.”

“Done. What’s next?”

“Vacuum filter the product using a Buchner funnel… Where is that? Oh, there it is.” She pointed to it, “You can use some of the filtrate to rinse the Erlenmeyer flask if necessary.” Harley watched as Hermione did so.

It took another twenty minutes or so but after a bunch of filtering and carefully reading the instructions, they had achieved a result 400mg of aspirin, or two tablets worth. They wrote up their notes then cleaned up their station. Severus critically examined their efforts and pronounced it to be 'Exceeds Expectations' before assigning them a foot long essay on the properties and uses of aspirin.

Tuesday 19 September, 2017; Hufflepuff Common Room, morning before breakfast

Hermione giggled as she bounced off the back of one of the couches and Susan's admonishment, "That's a couch, Hermione."

"Well, it's not my fault you're the one covering my eyes."

Hannah took her bushy-haired friend by the arm and led her over to the table. "Well, we wanted to surprise you for your birthday."

Hermione mock-whined, "Oh, no what did you do? I hope it's nothing embarrassing." She heard Harley's quiet giggle, "Shush, you. If I recall, your birthday was equally if not more embarrassing when your friend Lonnie took you out to some elf bar and got you drunk."

Susan halted and exclaimed, "What??! I thought you two were roughly the same age."

Harley shook her head, "Not by a long shot. We elves age much slower than humans. In human years, I'm almost in my forties."

Hermione managed to pull Susan's hands away from her face and waggled her finger reprovingly at her sister, "Which makes what you did even more embarrassing. You're old enough to know better."

By now, Harry and Neville (down for the day to celebrate Hermione's birthday) had wandered over, "What's going on?"

"Harley was just about to tell us about what happened when her elf friend Lonnie took her out for her birthday where she ended up getting drunk and doing something embarrassing," fellow Puff firstie Ernie MacMillan supplied.

Harley scrunched her face up, "I was not! Besides, today is all about Hermione so let's give her the presents!" She grabbed her sister by the elbow and practically dragged her over to where a veritable mountain of wrapped gifts were stacked.

Included in the pile were the presents from her parents (some clothes, a couple of books, and a funny attachment that looked like a ray gun from the 1960s for her prosthetics), simple gifts from her friends (mostly handmade cards), and a rather expensive looking jewelry box from Harry. "Harry? Is this some sort of family tradition to go along with that superstition you have about picking future spouses?" Hermione nervously asked as she tapped the box.

Harry tilted his head in confusion and looked to Neville to help him out. Neville quirked up an eyebrow before brightening and signing, "She must be talking about the Potter Luck." To Hermione he replied, "Nah, this has nothing to do with that and you're correct in understanding that it's just a superstition that's fun for friends to poke fun at."

Hermione sighed with relief as she opened the box. Her eyes grew wide as her mouth dropped open at the sight of an expensive-looking fine gold filigree necklace within. "Harry?"

"Happy birthday, Hermione. This is the second of two necklaces my Uncle Vernon made to counteract the interference generated by the MEF against muggle technology, preventing them from working within a heavy magical environment. As long as you wear this, your bionic arms and any other electronic device within a 3 meter radius will work without issue." He was forced to stop signing after Hermione grapple-hugged the stuffing out of him. Her arms appeared on the table courtesy of a happily sniffling Harley. Neville helped Harry out by putting the necklace on the tearfully happy birthday girl. She in turn fitted her prosthetics on and gave a cheer when they booted up properly. "I remembered you said that Harley and that company you partner with was having a tough time trying to find a solution so I just asked and...well...here you go." He faltered and just gestured lamely.

Flexing her fingers, she gave Harry a tiny chaste kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Harry James. This was the best present a boy has ever given me." She and the other girls gathered up the cards and her parents' gifts then disappeared back into her dorm room.

Harry slumped onto the back of the couch with a dopey grin on his face, "Hehehe....She likes me." He flipped Neville a two-fingered salute when the latter boy started signing, 'Harry and Hermione sitting in a tree...'

When the girls emerged from their 'Den of Mystery' as so named by general consensus of the boys; she teasingly demonstrated to the magically-raised what her bionic arms could do. Hermione twinkled her fingers and spoke mystically, "With these arms, I'm able to do so many wondrous things like...pick up a wand, a fork, or even use it to wave bye-bye!"

The others groaned at her teasing. Hannah playfully pushed her, "Silly duck."

Hermione's face lit up, "Oh! Speaking of ducks, you wanna learn a new dance from a video reel I saw on YouTube?"

It was clear who was magically-raised versus muggleborn based on the confused looks she received. Susan hesitated, "What's...a you tube?"

Hermione's smartphone appeared in her hand, courtesy of a smug Harley. "Thanks, Harley. Alright, this is a device that allows me to connect to other people anywhere in the world, to watch videos on, and play games. It does a bunch of other things, but that's the basics." She powered it on but frowned when she couldn't get a signal. "Oh bother, I forgot. Hogwarts' magic is probably blocking me."

Harley got a considering look on her face, "Hogwarts, would you mind lowering the wards that affect muggle electronic devices for demonstration purposes?" There was a moment of hesitation before Hermione's phone suddenly lit up.

Hermione beamed, "Thanks Hogwarts, you're the greatest! Thank you. Okay, so let's see..." She tapped on the icon for the YouTube app and scrolled too fast for anyone to comprehend what she was doing. Clicking on the link to the fixed version for the Subaru Dancing Duck video, she turned the phone around to let the others see the screen. Between the loud music, the cartoonish graphics, and the sheer silliness of the contents; it wasn't long before the others started mimicking the dance moves. Pretty soon, the girls had lined up and were bouncing left and right in time to the video, bumping their hands up and down like they were climbing a rope, and laughing up a storm. Even the boys got into it by waddling around like the adorable duck with its hat on backwards.

Once they got tired of acting silly, the magically-raised crowded around Hermione to witness the latest object of wonder as she demonstrated her phone's ability to connect with the outside world. "Okay, in simplest terms; everyone is given an address much like the Floo Network when they sign up with the provider to receive and send digital letters known as 'email.' To compose the letter, you need to go here (she pointed to the email icon), when it opens you type your letter and format it using these tools (here she typed a short message to her parents telling them what she was doing and why.) She modified a few words into a bold font, italicized others, and underlined a sentence then once she was satisfied, she pointed to the address bar at the top. "I already have my parents' email address so all I have to do is type in a couple of letters of their name and it pops up. If you don't have a person's address, you have to send them a letter by the non-digital method and ask for it but that takes time. Most people these days automatically ask or provide their addresses as a matter of conversation. Then once it's all been proofread and ready, you tap the button that says 'Send' and away it goes."

"How long does it take before the other person receives it?" Ernie MacMillan asked.

Hermione shrugged and waggled her hand, "It depends if they're paying attention. Their email Inbox will receive it within a matter of seconds to minutes but you've got to be expecting the message in the first place in order to see it and respond quickly. Then it takes them however long to write their own message and send back a reply. Her phone dinged causing her to smile. "And here we go. My mum says hello to you all and she wished me a happy birthday."

From there, she closed the email then moved onto a couple of others like the YouTube app to show off a couple of music videos as well an instructional video showing how to mix up glue, corn flour, and borax to create a super bouncy ball, a couple of games she liked, and her Instagram page. "It's been a while since I added anything to my page. I wonder if took some pictures and posted them, that they fell under the restrictions of the Statute of Secrecy or could I claim that I went to a fantasy-themed amusement park?"

Needless to say, all of the magically-raised kids were in awe, if not feeling a tad overwhelmed at the ease and speed in which she was able to connect with the wider world. Harley noticed the looks on their faces, "It's alright to feel overwhelmed. Hermione and her parents plus I'm assuming the other muggleborns and their families, must've felt similar feelings the first time they were exposed to the wonders of casual magic use in places like the Ministry, Diagon Alley, and elsewhere. Like with anything new, it takes time to get used to it."

A fourth year gestured at the phone, "Where else can we learn about this device? Our Muggle Studies class doesn't even go into anything that happened past the 1970s."

Hermione shared a look with Harley who sucked on the inside of her cheek. "How Things Work?"

"The Marshall Brain's version?"

"Of course, it's the definitive guide and the one based on the website. Full color and easy to understand descriptions."

Harley bobbed her head, "Alright, I'll be right back." She popped out of the room.

In the meantime, Hermione turned off her phone and put it away. "Hogwarts, thank you. I'm done with my demonstration." She felt a gentle caress on her face as Hogwarts responded.

By the time that Harley returned with a large box of books, the kids had been joined by the senior staff who had arrived to find out who or what had caused the anti-muggle technology wards to drop without explanation.

Filius picked up a copy of the book, "Marshall Brain's How Stuff Works?" He thumbed through the pages, his eyes growing wider with every moment. "Ooh..."

Pomona peeked at the book in his hands, "Someone ought to go find Charity and show her these books. I think she'd appreciate them."

Severus turned to Hermione, "I don't understand how you as a student were able to get the castle to drop the wards."

Hermione pointed to Harley, "She asked, Hogwarts answered." Harley in turn explained the reason why she asked.

Professor McGonagall wasn't surprised though, "I'd wager that Hogwarts took a look at what was being planned and saw that it wasn't anything harmful. Did you show them the email ability?" At their looks of astonishment, the corners of her mouth twitched up. "I'm not entirely unfamiliar with muggle technology."

"I did. They were blown away."

Minerva bobbed her head sagely, "More than once, I've wished we could have the same ability. My knees and joints are getting too old to be comfortable for very long when placing a floo call."

"So why don't you permanently disable the anti-muggle technology ward and get yourselves some computers?" Harley asked the Deputy Headmistress.

Minerva snorted with derision and mimed stroking her chin, "Who's in charge of the school with a ridiculously long beard and thinks that the old ways are just fine and dandy?" Several of the others scowled at the thought that the headmaster was purposely blocking their education for his outdated ideals.

The next day on their way down to Herbology, Hermione heard someone sneering, "Hey look at the stupid elf thinking it's a human! Hey elf, get me a cup of tea like a good little slave!"

Sputtering, she whirled on the older teens; third years by the looks of them and all in Slytherin. "How dare you! Harley is not only an elf, but she's a valued member of my family!" She was stayed from saying anything further by a calm hand from her sister who sent the teens a calculating smirk and an unholy glint in her eye. Recognizing the look, she waved Harley on. "Enjoy."

Harley turned on her potential tormentors. "It's pathetic how you can't seem to grasp the reality practically smacking you in the face. I stand before you wearing the House colors and crest of the Dagworth-Granger Family. A family with more honor and nobility than you could ever possibly comprehend." She stalked over to the now wary boy and gave him a predatory show of sharp teeth, teeth that suddenly seemed much more dangerous close up. Her voice was quiet, not much more than a whisper, but it carried nonetheless. It was rather frightening how it sort of floated in the air, hanging with an ominious tone. "Such a frightful little creature, skittering from shadow to shadow. It must be quite exhausting, being so terrified of the world you inhabit. I suppose it is easy to find danger everywhere when your entire existence is a series of quiet, insignificant scuttlings. Oh wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie; that is the tragedy of a life lived in the skirting boards—all the commotion of the great wide world, yet experienced only as a great, rattling terror. One must not blame the mouse for its timidity. It is simply built for fear, a machine with but one function: to startle and flee, especially when faced with the presence of a top-tier predator such as myself. You want a cup of tea? I pray that you know and are proficient at casting poison detection charms otherwise, Madam Pomfrey will be sending what's left of your sorry carcass home in a snuffbox." She mock-lunged at the now-fearful teen sending him to the floor, scuttling and scraping as fast as he could to put some distance between them. Harley merely held her ground, daring the others to have a go at her. "I thought so. Be gone worm, you're not worth my effort."

When the Puffs arrived in their Herbology classroom, Pomona immediately noticed that something had changed. The group of her first years were acting like they were in the presence of Merlin, himself. "Dare I ask?"

Hermione puffed up proudly and draped an arm over her sister's shoulders, "Harley just put a third year Slytherin in his place using the most epic take-down possible. I just wish there was a way to show you what I saw."

Pomona bobbled her head, "Well, there is a way but it would require a special device in order to review it and I don't have access to one."

Harley waggled her hand, "That's not entirely true. You could always use the Enchanted Ceiling in the Great Hall to see her memory."

Pomona stopped to stare, "How... I...really? How do you set that up?"

"You use the podium that the headmaster stands behind during his announcements," Harley explained. "There's a built-in cup in which you drop the memories in. The enchantments within the podium automatically connect with the ceiling. You then control it with the runes on the exterior of the cup."

Pomona marveled at this new knowledge, "To think of all those times when I could've used it to show off my discoveries I've found on my summer travels that couldn't be brought back for one reason or another. Thank you, Harley; I wish I could award you points, but I don't think you're an official student here."

Harley waved it off, "It's not a problem, professor."

That evening...

"I would like to address something I was informed of earlier today. Harassment in any form is not tolerated here at Hogwarts, despite what you may think or have heard from other...sources" (she glared in Albus' direction.) Today I learned that one of you were caught bullying the sister to one of my first years. The fact that this sister is an elf makes no difference. Bullying is bullying and I won't stand for it. You might think that 'oh, it's just a house-elf; who cares?' Well, let me show you that elves are not the defenseless creatures many like to think they are. I have here the collected memory of Hermione Granger, witness to her sister, Harley's take-down of her detractor."

She removed a vial from her pocket and held it up for everyone to see before uncorking it and dropping its contents into the cup built into the podium. The Hall plunged into darkness before the Enchanted Ceiling lit up. A voice from the crowd laughingly commented that it was a shame the ceiling didn't go through the THX 'the audience is listening' ramp-up intro audio track. Someone else was heard replying that it would've been funny for the ceiling to go through the Microsoft Windows start-up chime. Both hecklers were shushed, but not after a brief murmur of confusion swept through the magically-raised about what the heck they'd been talking about.

The ceiling flickered to life as everyone saw the scene of the incident and heard first-hand Harley's words to her would-be tormentor. Most of the students, especially the muggleborns cheered at her speech then again as she loomed over the idiot. When the playback ended and the lights returned to normal, every single one stood and applauded the blushing elf.

"I've already seen the memory and since then, have consulted with both the Deputy Headmistress and the Sorting Hat; we have come to the conclusion that Harley Dagworth-Granger is as much a student as any human here. Hogwarts, if you will?"

Gasps of surprise were heard not only from the elf in question but those around her as the robes she'd been wearing, changed into the black and yellow trimmed school uniform. "For your determination in the face of adversity, standing up for justice, and without resorting to actual violence in your confrontation; I am pleased to award Harley Dagworth-Granger, first year student of Hufflepuff House twenty-five points."

Everyone at their table started cheering, pounding on the table as they chanted her name. Hermione gave her sister a strong hug, "Just wait until Mum and Dad hear about this!" Harley sat there, eyes tearing up at the honor being bestowed upon her.

For the rest of the week, the biggest topic of discussion was about Harley Dagworth-Granger and her (rapidly passing into Hogwartian legend) story of how she stood up to a bigot and shot him down using calm determination and powerful words. Even the headmaster was mildly impressed by the elf's temerity, "Not that it'll change their status in the long term. Eventually, the students will move onto other topics and the elves will calm down and get back to work just like they always have."

His meal that evening was stone-cold frozen much to the amusement of the other teachers. "I think the elves heard you, Albus. I'd be careful if I were you, who knows what other sorts of retribution they might enact if given the chance," Severus drawled to everyone's titters of laughter.

Even Quirrell and his 'passenger' were amused by the elves' reaction to Albus' blithe disregard. 'Maybe those little creatures aren't such vermin after all.'

Saturday 23 September, 2017; Hagrid's Hut

Harry had invited Hermione to join him and Neville when they went to visit Hagrid after the boy had received an invitation to come and chat. When the trio arrived, Hagrid welcomed them in with a cheerful wave. Hermione was nearly bowled over by Hagrid's enthusiastic dog named Fang; she only just managed to grab onto a nearby chair to keep from toppling to the ground. She grabbed Fang by the scruff and pulled him into a headlock, "Oh, you want to play, eh? Take that, and that!" She smushed up his nose then grabbed a nearby pillow and playfully batted him about the face. "Good puppy! Come, lay down and I'll give you the tummy tickles of a lifetime." She put action to words as she scratched and rubbed his tummy. Fang rolled over with a long whining whumpf, kicking his feet up and letting his tongue drool out with delight.

"You have a way with animals, Hermione." Hagrid commented as he served them a cup of tea and a plate of rock-hard biscuits. Fang was kicking his back foot when she hit a ticklish spot.

Hermione grinned as she booped Fang playfully on the nose, "I love most animals. I draw the line at spiders though, something about the way they walk creeps me out."

Hagrid laughed, "Then you'd best stay away from the East side of the forest. That's where Aragog and his kin live."

Neville's hands slowed as he interpreted that as he stared in horror at Hagrid's words. Both boys' face grew pale cluing Hermione in that something was dangerous. "What sort of spiders are they?"

"Acromantulas," Neville held his hands out wide then answered, signing simultaneously. "Monstrous tarantulas; the biggest in the world and they're known man-eaters who are capable of complex thought and human speech."

"How do you know about them?" She asked.

"Stories from his godfather, uncles, and my parents."

"Aw, they ain't that bad," Hagrid disagreed then paused as he reconsidered. "Well, I shouldn't say that. They are that bad, except to me since I was the one who raised Aragog since he was a tiny little thing no bigger than a Pekingese. Aragog's the one who tells his children not to harm me because of our friendship."

They lapsed into a brief silence before Hermione ventured a question. "Hagrid, do you know what kind of creature is being hidden on the third floor? I only ask because I keep hearing growling and barking coming from behind a locked door on my way up to class or to visit my friends in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."

Hagrid smiled and waggled a finger, "Don't you be worrying about Fluffy now. He's fine, I check on him twice a day."

"Fluffy?"

Hagrid froze before muttering, "I shouldn't have said that. Listen, just stay away from that corridor. What Fluffy is guarding is strictly between the headmaster and Nicholas Flamel." It took a few minutes of silence before his face grew ashen, "I shouldn't have said that!"

The kids were giggling at his repeated mistake. "But what kind of creature is Fluffy?" Hermione pressed.

Hagrid stared at her for a long moment before he sighed heavily, "He's a Cerberus. I got him off a Greek chappie I met down at the Hogshead before the start of term."

"So a magical three-headed dog? Can I meet him...or is it them? I could bring some toys for it to play with." Hermione grew excited at the prospect of meeting such a creature, so much so that Hagrid, Harry, and Neville chuckled at her enthusiasm.

Rubbing his chin, Hagrid temporized that it might be okay. "Just remember to bring your Head of House, okay? I would like to have my bases covered just in case one of you gets injured even if by mistake."

"Just think of the size of the rope she'd need to bring to make Fluffy a tug of war toy," Harry joked.

As the trio were heading back to the castle, Harley popped in with a look of consternation on her face. "Hermione, we need to talk. It's about that corridor the Cerberus is guarding."

Pausing, she sat down on a bench. Harry and Neville hovered nearby, clearly trying not to eavesdrop (but failing miserably.) "What's wrong?"

"After hearing Hagrid talk about the third floor corridor; I was curious about what was being guarded by that animal. Head elf Bippy's warned me to stay away if I didn't want to die; apparently three other elves met their fate there. One to the Cerberus after they tried to care for it; the other two fell prey to an infestation of Devil's Snare and the room that holds a rack of vials filled with some kind of poison and wine. I poked around afterwards and overheard a conversation between the headmaster and one of the portraits. The object that's being protected is some kind of magical stone created by the legendary alchemist Nicholas Flamel. According to legend, if you drink a tonic made with it, it's supposed to give you astonishing long-life powers. The headmaster is holding onto it for his friend because someone named Voldemort is trying to steal it and use it bring himself back to life or some such thing."

One of Hermione's eyebrows quirked up, "Long-life powers?"

"It's supposed to render you immortal to the ravages of time."

"Voldemort, I've heard that name before..." Her gaze fell upon Harry who'd given up the pretense of not being interested in what the two were saying and joined Hermione on the bench. "Oh, right. He's the guy who tried to kill you as a baby but ended up getting his bum handed to him because of what Mr. and Mrs. Potter did." The girl huffed, "Right, like that's all a villain needs; immortality. So does this Flamel guy know what sorts of traps are being used to protect his property?"

Harley shook her head, "Doubtful."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip while thinking. In the corner of her eye she saw Harry glance at her while signing something to Neville who chuckled at whatever it was. She poked the black-haired boy in the cheek then waggled that finger reprovingly. "I may not know what you signed, but I get the sense that it was about me. Tread carefully, Potter."

Harry's eyes went wide with trepidation as he held his hands up in surrender.

Turning back to Harley, Hermione pondered what to do, if anything. "What if we wrote to the Flamels to let them know just what precautions the headmaster is taking to keep their property safe?"

Harley slowly nodded her head in agreement, "I can do that. I can even provide a memory of what each room contains as way of a trap. I know that there are two rooms currently empty like they're awaiting whatever is supposed to be installed."

Neville spoke up, "Harry suggested poking around in the headmaster's office. Dumbledore loves his convoluted plans, but even he is known to write stuff down to keep track of them. What really bugs me about this is why this stone is being kept here instead of somewhere like Gringotts. The Goblins know how to keep things secret and secure. Everyone knows this place leaks secrets like a sieve."

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Flamel;

My name is Hermione Granger and I am writing this letter with my friends, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. (Hello.) We are writing to make sure that you are aware of the so-called 'traps' the Headmaster has installed to protect your property.

In order:

• A simple locked door.

• A Cerberus named Fluffy, owned by our groundskeeper Hagrid.

• Down a trapdoor, you'll fall into an infestation of Devil's Snare.

• After that, you need to capture a key from a swarm of others using a slow, rickety broom. This key will open a heavy lock to the next room.

• In this room, is a gigantic game of Wizard's Chess in which you need to play your way across.

• Past that, you'll encounter a room with something as yet unknown. We think whatever it is will be alive because of the magically filled food and water basins.

• The next room has cursed fire at both ends that prevent you from going forward or retreating. In order to pass this trap, you need to solve a riddle then drink from one of several bottles filled with either the appropriate potion, nettle wine, or some kind of poison.

• The final room is again, empty for unknown reasons but we're convinced that it's where your Stone will be placed.

We're not sure what the Headmaster was thinking when he installed these traps. None of them are all that difficult when you take the time to think about what you need to do to solve them. The only one that really presents a challenge is the Key room only because I'm terrified of heights.

(I'm not, but at the same time; I'm deaf so if something was attacking me, I'd never hear it coming until it was too late - HP.)

(I'm not afraid of flying either, but going through all that is just the height of stupidity as my mum would say. I may have been sorted into Gryffindor, but I'm not reckless. - NL)

You see, at the Welcoming Feast in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, Headmaster Dumbledore said to ‘stay away from the Third Floor corridor on the right hand side unless we wished to die a most painful death.’

Long story short, my elf sister (she's adopted) popped in to investigate and discovered the contents of what was on the third floor corridor. She then told me and the boys; we're concerned that whatever the Headmaster has planned, he didn't tell you in advance. We'd hate for you to suffer just because of one old fool with delusions of...something.

We hope that you are doing well and look forward to continuing our correspondence,

Yours truly,

Hermione J. Granger

Harry J. Potter

Neville F. Longbottom

"So how are we going to get this letter to them?" Hermione wondered. Her hearing picked up at the sound of tapping on glass. She poked her head above the lamp to see a beautiful Snowy Owl looking expectantly at her. "What in the world?"

Neville saw what she was looking at and snickered, "That's Hedwig. She belongs to Harry."

Hermione opened the window to let the owl swoop in and land lightly on the desktop. Hedwig lightly gripped the letter with her claws then barked quietly as if to say, "Is this ready to go?"

"I don't know about that, Hed. The Flamels are notoriously difficult to find; wouldn't you just rather stay in and let me pamper you until you pass out?" Harry signed teasingly, giving his owl a kiss on her feathered head.

Hedwig glared at her human and barked again, this time a bit more insistently. Harry snickered and relented by rolling up the letter and tying it to her leg. "Be safe and swift, Milady. Honestly, take your time getting there and back. Stay away from the muggle airports. I know how much you love to show off." Hedwig cuffed him on the head with a wing before taking flight.

Harry grinned as she disappeared into the sky, "I love that bird."

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Like I Was Saying

Wednesday 4 October, 2017; Great Hall, morning mail rush

Smirking at the sight of her sister sitting next to her with her nose buried in her History textbook, no doubt trying to catch up on the homework now that she was an official student; Hermione slurped up the leftover milk in her bowl of cereal when Hedwig fluttered down in front of her, sticking her leg out to present a letter for the girl. She beamed at the tired owl as she untied the envelope. "I know you've probably heard this before, Hedwig but you're the best owl in the business." A tired bark was Hedwig's response. Hermione frowned slightly, "I'm just wondering why you didn't travel at night though. Isn't that when owls are most active? (She waved off that tangential thought) Anyway, I saved some of my sausage for you. Once you've finished eating, I'll take you back up to the owlery so you can rest unless you'd like somewhere quiet and warm, in which case I'll take you back to my dorm room where you can camp out on my bed."

Hedwig tilted her head as if thinking about her options then tapped Hermione's hand with her claw twice. Hermione bobbed her head in agreement, "My dorm room it is then. Take your time, we'll go when you're ready."

In the meantime, Susan had slid over having overheard the conversation. "Whatcha got there?"

Grinning teasingly, Hermione held up the envelope and mimed sending it from one point to another. "Well, you see...when two people wish to communicate despite great distances between themselves..."

Susan scoffed, "I know what a letter is, you twit." Both girls giggled at each other's reaction. "No, I was wondering who'd send you a letter when you've got that email thing on your telephone."

"Email only works when you know the address of someone. In this case, I didn't and likely suspect neither does the person who wrote to me. Given how old they are rumored to be, I wouldn't be surprised if they've never heard of email before."

Susan cocked her head, "Who'd you write to, if you don't mind me asking?"

Hermione dropped her voice down to a whisper, "I wrote to Nicolas Flamel."

The other girl's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Who?"

Surprised, Hermione replied, "Seriously? I thought all the magically-raised knew of each other no matter how far back in time."

Susan snickered at Hermione's incredulous look, "No, that only works when you're at some stuffy Ministry party and need to remember who's married to whom or who's kid you're talking to. For the other times, it gets murkier."

"Oh. Well, Nicolas Flamel is a noted alchemist famous for his contributions to potioneering, transfiguration, and a whole host of other topics. He's most well-known for the creation of a philosopher's stone."

"And that's what now?"

"It's a substance with astonishing powers. It's supposed to be able to turn lead into gold, and when added to something like a healing potion is rumored to give the drinker immortality."

Susan's mouth dropped open in silent surprise. "No kidding?" She squeaked.

Hermione bobbed her head sagely, "I know, right? Just think of the good you could do if you had immortal life and all the gold you could ever want to spend. I wouldn't go that route however, there is such a thing as too much of something and besides, you could lose said stone or have it stolen from you by someone with darker intentions. Anyway Harry, Neville, and I wrote to the Flamels to ask them if they knew what the headmaster had intended to do for their stone. You remember the headmaster's warning about going near the third floor corridor?"

"Yeahhh?" Susan hesitantly answered.

"Well, Harley (the elf in question barely reacted to her name so involved she was with her reading) took a look and discovered that the headmaster intended for a series of rooms to test whoever managed to enter and we suspect, he intended for the stone to be used as bait and the ultimate reward at the end. If I'm correct, the Flamels were never told what Dumbledore was going to do with their property." She slit open the envelope flap and pulled out the letter.

"Dear Miss Granger....thank you for writing...oh, here we go: The Stone Albus is holding onto is a fake. Albus may be old in your eyes, but to us, he's naught but a child and for as long as we've lived; we know a few things about proper safety and security of our research and its results. Whatever 'traps' he might be using, don't worry yourself about them... Well, that's a relief! I had this worry that a student might've been forced to confront the traps and either get injured or killed all over a rock."

Neville and Harry wandered over just then. Harry silently gestured, "What's up? I saw Hedwig fly in but she headed in this direction."

"She brought me the response from the Flamels," Hermione answered as she handed it over for Harry to read. "Long story short, we don't need to worry about whatever's being hidden up on the third floor. I'm still going to introduce myself to Fluffy because how often do you come across a three-headed magical dog?"

Neville coughed, "Not very, even if you're in the trade. I'm surprised that Hagrid managed to secure one."

Susan was goggle-eyed, "Hagrid did what now?" The trio filled the mystified girl in on what Hagrid had revealed to them two weeks ago. She slowly shook her head in disbelief, "I feel like I should tell my aunt about this. Illegal animal trading is a big problem in this country."

"As long as your aunt doesn't arrest Hagrid, I'm alright with it," Neville replied evenly. "He's a simple kind of guy who was probably just mistaken about what he was supposed to do to guard the stone."

"How do you figure that?" She asked him curiously.

Neville gestured over to the teacher's table where the headmaster was busy reading the morning paper, "Can you not picture the headmaster making a seemingly innocent observation about needing some sort of creature to scare away potential thieves and wondering out loud about which creatures would be the best fit for an enclosed space such as a room up on the third floor? Hagrid probably took that as an order and hurried to follow it without giving it any serious thought."

Pouting slightly, Susan allowed that it was a possibility. "Still, Hagrid's an adult! He should've known better, especially since this stone was to be locked in the castle with all of us kids."

"Like Dumbledore would care about that. This is the man who thought nothing of dropping me off at my mother's sister's house in the middle of the night without even talking to them in the first place to see if they'd be willing to raise me."

"What?!" Susan near-shrieked before tamping down on her rising shock and anger at what Neville had interpreted.

Harry bobbed his head, "It's a long story, not one to be shared here in public. When we get back to the Sett, I can call Padfoot and see if I can get his permission to tell you."

"How...I thought Hogwarts only let my phone work for that one-time demonstration," Hermione commented in confusion.

Neville thumbed over in Harry's direction, "Harry's got a special mirror enchanted by his parents that allows him to talk directly with whoever's on the other end. There's two mirrors really. One Harry has, the other is with his godfather."

Hermione pursed her lips together as her brows furrowed, "That's...a novel solution. Here I thought the magical society was truly backwards and had never heard of instant communication like we muggle-raised have with telephones and computers."

Neville sniggered, "We're just full of surprises, aren't we? I'd imagine that you'd be equally surprised to learn that not only are many magical families capable of intelligent thought, but we also are aware of places in the non-magical world like Costco and Tesco. Mum loves shopping at Costco; Dad says he only goes along to make sure she stays within budget. In all honesty, I think the mirror combination shared between Harry and his godfather is probably the only one in existence. I know I've heard my parents repeatedly lament that they could use another set for Longbottom Manor."

"Well, it is modern times so I shouldn't be too surprised. It's just that whenever I look around the magical shopping district like Diagon Alley, I get the impression that this society is stuck in the past. Are the mirrors difficult to make?" Hermione asked, splitting her question to both boys.

"Well to be fair, Harry's godfather and uncles live a couple houses up from his aunt so it's not terribly surprising that he would know of such places and my parents picked up on things by simple association with Lord Black and his friends." Neville shrugged, "No idea about the mirrors, but my guess is yes? If enchanting was easy, we'd have a colony on the Moon as my Uncle Algie likes to say."

"According to my Uncle Vernon, the mirrors might've been difficult to make back in the old days by hand but he says that nowadays; all he has to do is take an image of the enchantments engraved on the back of the mirror, transcribe them into a CAD program, load it into one of the big CNC machines at work and he can churn out at least a couple hundred in a matter of a few hours."

Despite not really understanding what some of the terms Harry referenced meant, Susan was still impressed. "That's incredible, Harry. It does beg the question as to why your godfather never thought to do that, I can only imagine how much they'd cost."

Harry shrugged unconcernedly and signed back theorizing that the subject probably just never came up. "It's not like they're hurting for money, you know. Anyhow, now that we don't have the stone to worry about; I could use your help to figure out Aunt Minnie's assignment for transfiguring water into glass."

Hermione rose to her feet, scooping up a sleepy Hedwig into her arms. "I promised Hedwig she could camp out on my bed as thanks for delivering the letter. I'll meet you in Charms in a few minutes."

Susan giggled, "Stealing someone else's owl, Hermione?"

Hermione gave her a haughty sniff, "It's not stealing, it's creatively acquiring. Besides, I promised and you can't go back on your promises to an owl, especially one as regal as Lady Hedwig."

Harry made some sort of coughing snort of laughter, "Hedwig's no lady. (All three females turned to glare at him when he dropped the punchline.) She's a goddess." Neville snickered something about how if owls could roll their eyes, Hedwig would be doing just that after that lame comment. "You're just jealous that I was gifted such a queen of all birds. All you have to snuggle up to are your squishy plants." Harry teased him back, playfully swatting his friend on the arm.

After classes, back in Harry's dorm...

Upon entering his room with Neville and the girls trailing behind, Harry made a beeline for his trunk and popped open the lid. It took him a few minutes to rummage around before he found the leather-wrapped mirror. "Here it is. Okay, let's see; where can I put this?" He scanned about the room before settling on mounting the mirror to the far wall in between his bed and his dorm mate, Justin Finch-Fletchley. Once he had it on straight, he tapped the connect button and stepped back to wait.

The reflective surface of the mirror turned opaque for a moment before resolving itself into the face of Peter Pettigrew who smiled at his nephew. "What's up?"

"Two weeks ago, Hagrid let slip that the headmaster and someone named Nicolas Flamel were hiding something important in the castle. To verify this information, we wrote to the Flamels and this morning, Hermione received a letter from them letting us know that it's something called a 'philosopher's stone.' We also felt the need to let you know about what the headmaster's trying to do up on the third floor here in the castle. It's our suspicion that the stone is being used as bait to lure in potential thieves. Behind a simple locked door is a Cerberus named 'Fluffy.' Beyond that, according to Harley; there is a series of 'traps' either designed to slow down or stop altogether those who manage to get inside from stealing Flamel's Stone. We're not entirely sure how he's planning on presenting the stone, just that the Head elf revealed to Harley that three elves died from their injuries down in that gauntlet trying to do their jobs of maintaining the castle."

Peter froze at learning this. He was still for so long, Harry worried that the connection had been broken. "Uncle Pete?"

"I'm here. I'm just trying to process the utter stupidity that prompted Albus into doing that in a castle filled with the heirs and heiresses of so many families." He let out a heavy sigh of annoyance. "I was having a nice quiet morning too. Alright, don't worry about it. I'll let Padfoot know so he can inform the Mot and quite possibly the DMLE, if not the DoM about these plans. Do you know how far from completion this lunacy is?" In the background, Sirius could be heard entering the house.

Hermione answered him, "According to my sister, he's only missing the contents of two rooms. In one room, we suspect he'll use some sort of creature and the final room in which we can't hazard a guess as to what he's going to use."

One of Pete's eyebrows rose, "Sister? Oh, yeah; I remember you now. You're the one who Harry tripped over on the platform thanks to Potter Luck."

Hermione's face went pink as she stammered, "Y-yes, sir."

Pete's eyes twinkled with amusement and gestured over at Harry who crinkled his nose at where this conversation was heading. "Has he proposed to you yet? His father was notorious for proposing every time he laid eyes on Harry's mother, sometimes loudly and most assuredly embarrassing for her. James, on the other hand, had no shame." He teasingly waggled a finger at Harry who'd just signed something rude. "I saw that. Don't make me come up there or you'll wake up the next morning finding yourself in one of my special pranks for your impudence."

Harry grunted defiantly, "I think you should. In fact, bring Moony and Padfoot along while you're at it."

"Oh? Why?"

"We've got a set of twins boys in Gryffindor who like to call themselves the 'Disciples of Chaos' and the 'Heirs of the Marauders'. Their names are Fred and George Weasley, and they're always pulling stuff on the school. I figured that it was high time for the originals to put them in their place."

Pete smirked, "They got you, didn't they?"

Harry revealed that they hadn't targeted him specifically but got all of Hufflepuff. "I like a good prank as much as you do but this went far beyond what could even be considered remotely funny. I'm not sure why they targeted us, but it could've been dangerous if Justin and a couple of the others hadn't been able to get into the medical ward quickly enough."

Pete frowned at seeing that. He noticed Hermione who was clearly trying to split her attention between Harry's signing and Neville's interpretations and filled her in what they were talking about. "He said that these Weasley twins pranked the Sett and that you had a number of students forced to go to the hospital?"

Susan growled angrily, "Those two idiots never bothered to figure out if any of us might've been allergic to the ingredients in their prank potion! Justin and Wayne were nearly barfing their guts out on top of their embarrassing diarrhea! It's strange that no one from the Ministry has stopped by to question them, I know I wrote to my aunt about what happened."

Neville shook his head, "With Dumbledore as our headmaster? I'd bet he did something so that the letters never left. I think the other reason why this never received the attention it deserved is because Justin's a muggleborn while Wayne's not from an influential family."

Padfoot's face entered the scene. His features looked like they had been carved from stone, given his clear anger at what he'd overheard. "How long ago did this happen?"

Hermione sniffed, "First of this month. Both Justin and Wayne are fine now; Madam Pomfrey fixed them up quick enough."

Sirius nodded his understanding, "That's good to hear, but troubling all the same. Susan, I'll stop by your aunt's office on my way in tomorrow and let her know about what you've said as well about the missing letter. I'd hazard a guess that the castle will be visited forthwith shortly by an angry mob."

"What should we do in the meantime about the Twins? Their actions caused a lot of hurt, but because they're Gryffindors, the headmaster refuses to do anything about it. I overheard some of the older students say that he thinks they're funny and just acting like children normally do."

Sirius spoke as well as signed his answer, "Leave that to us, Harry. That goes for the rest of you as well. So what's this I hear about the third floor corridor? Something about a stone?"

Their answer put Sirius into an even fouler mood.

"How did you learn about the existence of this stone, by the way?" Sirius brought up after a moment of conference with Peter.

"Hagrid let it slip when we went to visit him for tea a couple of weeks ago. He mentioned that whatever Fluffy was guarding was between the headmaster and Nicholas Flamel. From there, it was a simple matter of doing a bit of research." Neville answered for Harry.

"I was going to ask who the hell named a Cerberus 'Fluffy' but then again, it's Hagrid." Peter quipped as he fondly remembered the giant man's penchant for odd names.

"Would you like me to read you the letter that the Flamels sent me?" Hermione asked Sirius who nodded his agreement. "Okay, here goes:

Dear Miss Granger, Messers Longbottom and Potter;

Thank you for your kind letter informing us of what your headmaster had in store for our stone, had we actually given it to him. In reality, the stone Albus is holding onto is a fake. Albus may be old in your eyes, but to us, he's naught but a child and for as long as we've lived; we know a few things about proper safety and security of our research and its results. Whatever 'traps' he might be using, you need not worry yourself about them.

It saddens us that Albus had decided to move the decoy Stone from its vault in Gringotts without discussing it with us first. While it was stored in Gringotts, it was as safe as it could be. The Goblins would not have taken their security lightly. At any rate, we would like to continue this correspondence with you. You three seem like intelligent and inquisitive children and the world could always use more people like you. Which classes have you discovered that you like/dislike? Is there a particular subject that you were interested in that the school does or doesn’t offer? Which House did you both get sorted into? Do you have any questions about us that you wished to know?

Yours sincerely,

Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel"

Both men whistled in awe at what she'd read. "Do you know how extraordinarily rare it is to be in correspondence with those two people? They're like the most reclusive people in the world as far as I know. If I were you, I'd keep writing to both of them. You never know what might come of it," Peter suggested, awe still tinged his voice. "Heck, save everything you have with their writing. You can use it as proof that you're in correspondence with them."

Sirius was still working on the topic with Albus and the stone, "Still, it begs the question as to why Albus felt the need to remove the stone, fake or not, and hide it within the castle behind a series of ineffective traps. Merlin knows that based on what you described, none of them would have the barest chance of slowing down an adult. Who is he really trying to hide it from?"

No one had a ready answer for that. "What if...no, that's silly." Hermione began but stopped short of finishing that line of thought.

"Keep going, what did you think of?" Sirius prompted her.

"What if the headmaster laid a trap for what's his name? The guy who tried to kill Harry when he was a baby?"

Both adults shared an undecipherable look between them. Sirius shook his head, "It's a scary thought but I doubt it's true. Voldemort died that Halloween in 2007. I saw the body, or what was left of it."

"Harley said she overheard the headmaster talking to some portrait that he's holding onto it for his friend because someone named Voldemort is trying to steal it and use it bring himself back to life or some such thing." Susan shuddered at hearing the forbidden name.

Sirius grew pensive, "How...This doesn't make sense. How could he still be alive?"

Peter stared off-screen at something, scratching his cheek as he too, thought about the question. "I could check with my uncle about that. He ought to know because of where he works."

Sirius agreed with his friend, "You do that. As for you kids, forget trying to solve this mystery. Leave that to us. You should be more worried about any upcoming tests or classwork. Speaking of, how's Snape treating you, Harry?" He signed as well as spoke.

"Surprisingly well. I answer his questions correctly and have been brewing like Aunt Petunia taught me. So far, I haven't had any issues with him."

"What about that time you nearly burnt down the lab because you added too much acid to the aspirin recipe?" Neville interjected and nudged him playfully.

Harry scoffed and waved that away. "Draco stopped me before I could get more than a half of it combined."

"You were paired up with a Malfoy??!" Sirius all but bellowed as he signed.

Harry nodded and grinned, "He's not nearly as annoying as I thought he'd be. He's certainly a lot more fun than Ron Weasley is. That boy needs to be introduced to a brick wall. Oh, before I forget; I would like your permission to tell Susan and Hermione about how Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon came to find me on their doorstep the night after that Halloween."

Sirius huffed in amazement at what Harry had signed. "A Malfoy acting like a human being? I ought to share this with Lucius just to rattle his cage the next time he tries to do something stupid." At Harry's request, both men shared another silent conversation before giving their permission. "Just keep it within these two. The last thing we need is for Dumbledore to figure out that Harry's not living where he left him," Sirius warned them. "What else's been going on up there?"

"Did anyone tell you about the duel that Harry and Draco had a couple of weeks ago before the start of Potions?" Neville asked him.

Sirius slowly shook his head, shooting Harry a curious glance. "Tell me." Harry rolled his eyes and waggled a mock-threatening fist at his best friend.

"I wasn't there but from what I heard, Draco approached Harry and challenged him to a duel. Harry naturally asked why and when it was revealed that Draco was just bored, he was turned down and I quote, "If you want to just mess around that's fine, but I'll wipe the floor with you."

Sirius' head started tilting like his canine alter ego when presented with confusing information. "Draco was bored and wanted to duel? Of all the cockamamie reasons..."

Neville held up a hand, "Wait, it gets better. So the next morning at breakfast, Draco approaches Harry again, this time Harry accepts. Professor Flitwick got involved..."

"Hold on, tell it right, Nev. The three of us had approached Dumbledore first to inform him that we planned on holding this duel to see which of us would be the winner and wipe the floor with the loser who would also be the one to call him a dim-witted monkey bum to his face. For some reason, the headmaster bolted out of the Hall. It was after that when Professor Flitwick got involved."

"Right, what Harry said. Anyhow, the two of them faced off and shot some fun spells at each other. Nothing harmful, just some sparkly lights and a hair-raising charm, but then Draco cast a serpent summoning charm."

Sirius' jaw dropped open, Peter was shaking his head and dryly commented about how that must've looked. "Let me guess, Harry spoke to it?"

Neville bobbed his head in confirmation. "Not only that, but Sally-Anne did as well when she took the snake away back to the Puff's table so it wouldn't get stepped on."

Sirius scrubbed his face with his hands, "Go on."

Neville chuckled, "Well Harry declared himself the winner by that point. Draco got on the floor and let Harry grab his arms and literally started wiping the floor with him."

Peter let out an involuntary snort of laughter; even Sirius' mouth was starting to creep upwards when he heard the punchline. "Cute, Harry. Wiping the floor with the loser? I'll give you points for originality."

Harry theatrically took a bow and thanked everyone for attending.

After a brief description about how the rest of their classes were going (and a quick teasing to Harry about the dangers of repeatedly proposing to Hermione in the Potter tradition); Sirius and Peter signed off, returning the mirror to its normal reflections.

Hermione glared at Harry and waggled her finger, "Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?"

"You know what."

"I really don't."

"Don't even think about repeatedly proposing to me," she warned him.

Harry huffed, "Please. I'm not stupid. If you remember, I said that I didn't want to go down the route my dad did. I happen to like you, Hermione but we're still young and frankly, you're kinda gross. Definitely weird too."

Susan looked affronted at her friend being called gross and weird until she spotted the growing smirk on Hermione's face, her nose crinkling like she was aware she was only being playfully teased. The girl in question crossed her arms over her chest, "Just so we're clear. Now, how about we write that letter to the Flamels?"

4 October, 2017

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Flamel;

We weren't all that shocked to learn that the headmaster wasn’t forthright with you about your own property. (My guardians certainly weren’t. They don’t trust anyone that holds three offices and is my supposed magical guardian yet never visits to check in on me. - HP.)

To answer your questions, both Harry and I were sorted into Hufflepuff House (I was sorted into Gryffindor despite my plea with the Sorting Hat to put me into Hufflepuff. - NL.) I like most of my classes though the History professor is a ghost and he just drones on and on about Goblin Wars or Wizengamot minutia. (For the first time in my life, I'm glad I'm deaf. - HP.) Most of my classmates either use the time to take a nap or work on other things. The other class that could use improvement is our Defense class. For some reason the professor, Quirnius Quirrell, refuses to take off the turban he wears despite the fact that it stinks to high heaven of what he says is garlic to ward off a particularly persistent vampire he'd run across during his travels.

The Defense class supposedly has a curse on it that prevents a teacher from lasting longer than a year without some sort of calamity from occurring. - HP.

We did have a few questions we’d like to ask you about things that might have occurred over the centuries:

• What did you do if you end up tearing your favorite article of clothing and discovering that it’s irreplaceable because the technique of its manufacture has been lost to the ages? What do you do if that happens? Do you try to figure it out on your own? 

• Did you ever have a favorite subject in school that you wished was still taught? What were schools like back in your day? - NL (Chasing dinosaurs for fun, most likely. -HP.)

• What were the Founders really like? Did you ever meet them? - HP.

• Did you ever have a flower or crop that you used to buy in quantities that are no longer feasible because of how rare and expensive it's become or worse, it's gone extinct? - NL.

• Have you ever had to give up eating your favorite dish anymore because the source of some critical ingredient has gone extinct? (I think I would be in agony if pizza was no longer able to exist! - HP.)

• Did you have a favorite sport or game that you had to give up?

• You ever get a song stuck in your head and being unable to get it out because you don’t remember how it ends and you’re the only person left on Earth who knows it? (Did they have music back then? The earliest song/group I’m aware of is Satisfaction from the Rolling Stones. -NL.)

• Did you ever have that perfect pun you’ve been waiting forever for a chance to use stop working due to linguistic drift. (Linguistic? Is that a type of pasta? - NL.)

• Rumor has it that you’re both far older than 665 years old. Can you confirm this? Can you give us a hint as how old you really are? - NL.

Yours truly,

Hermione J. Granger

Harry J. Potter

Neville F. Longbottom

Friday 6 October, 2017; Headmaster's Office

By all accounts, Albus should've been having a splendid morning. He'd woken up and got dressed in a festive maroon and lime green robe with dancing unicorns before stepping out into his office and settled into his chair. A serving tray of coffee and pastries appeared within reach along with the morning mail and a couple of packages from his contacts around the world. "Um, Albus?" He looked up to where one of the multitude of former headmaster portraits hung.

"Yes, Everhard?"

"I would recommend you not bother with eating or drinking anything this morning. You're about to be overrun by an angry mob in a few minutes. I think it's something about what you're doing on the third floor."

Albus didn't ask how Everhard knew this. The painting had another frame within the Minister's office. He just sighed heavily and nodded his resigned acceptance. "What fresh Hell are those idiots bringing today? Why can't they just accept that I know what I'm doing?"

Sirius was in the lead of the Ministry contingent as they 'stormed' the castle. Minister Fudge was sweating heavily by the time they reached the castle. "Why couldn't we have flooed to Albus' office instead of walking?" He whined to no one in particular.

"Minister, I've already told you. Albus would've been able to deny us all entry had we gone that route," Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones sighed in frustration at her limp noodle of a boss. "At least this way, the headmaster would not be able to stop all of us; not without being seen making a fool of himself in public no less."

"I'm afraid I must concur with Director Bones, Minister." 'Special Advisor to the Minister for Magic' Lucius Malfoy spoke with a supercilious sneer on his face. "It would lessen the impact we wish to impart on the headmaster and the students if we arrived quietly."

"I just wish I could've brought Dolores along with us. I could've used her assistance as well," Fudge fretted, completely missing the shared looks of contempt on both his advisor's and Amelia's faces. 'Enemy of my enemy and all that.'

When they reached the front doors, Peter and Remus quietly separated themselves from the group to hunt down the Weasley twins. Amelia ordered her team of Aurors to go secure the entrance to the third floor. "Don't let anyone in there, that includes the staff." A quartet of mysterious grey-cloaked Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries silently followed the Aurors while another two headed down to where the castle's ward control room was located.

The contingent had just turned a corner when they pulled up short at the sight of nearly a dozen or so students standing ready, each armed with a bizarre array of 'weapons' from large overstuffed pillows to what appeared to be water balloons. Amelia was clearly fighting back laughter as she addressed the defenders. "Pray tell what is the meaning of this?"

Draco swaggered forward; he was dressed in the most ridiculous outfit he could find from the Room the boys had recently discovered after hearing from the girls about its location and what it stored within. "We're not going to let you stuffy adults ruin our fun. We're in charge of this school and if you're here, it must mean that you're planning on making this castle as dreary as the Ministry."

Lucius stared incredulously at his son and heir, "Draco? What has gotten into you? Why are you behaving like this?"

Hermione sauntered up to Draco and practically draped herself across his shoulders, "We muggleborns have corrupted your dear sweet Draco. Under our control, he has sworn his allegiance and house monies to our cause to force the magically-raised to bow down to our every whim and forever ban what we consider to be barbaric practices."

By this point, even Fudge realized that they were being pranked. The rotund man was heard chuckling at the rapidly changing colors his friend's face was turning. He sent a knowing look over to Amelia and Sirius. "As funny as this is, I suggest we get things moving."

The now snickering adults, plus a glowering Lucius, filed past the kids. Sirius tapped his knuckles on Draco's shoulder, "Bravo, Draco. I see hanging around my godson has done wonders for you."

Draco grinned broadly, "I aim to please, Lord Black but this little show was brought to you by Hermione. She's the brains of this operation. Now, I must go find said godson and challenge him to another duel so I can get him back for wiping the floor with me." He swooshed his robes around him like a cheesy version of a certain dungeon bat and flounced off, the other kids laughing at the spectacle before breaking up and heading back to whatever they had been doing.

Albus' office, a few minutes later...

Albus sighed internally, once more wishing his visitors would just shut up and let him get back to his important work. "Is there any way I could convince you to let me continue on with my day? I informed the students at the start of the school year that if they just followed my instructions and stayed away from the third floor corridor, they'd be fine. There's no need for an inspection or whatever this is."

Sirius was shaking his head, "Not going to work, Albus. We need to see with our own eyes just what sort of lunacy you've got in place. Storing something that potentially dangerous in a castle full of our children? I'm starting to wonder if this job is just too much for you. Ladies and gentlemen, perhaps it's time that Albus be forced to retire from this position or at the very least, give up his other two roles so he can focus on whichever one is most important to him."

Albus growled at Sirius, "I earned those positions, you impertinent whelp!"

"Yet you're doing a terrible job at all three of them," Amelia countered. "I agree with Lord Black; perhaps you need to take some time away from all of this to decide what's most important to you. Teaching or legislating? On top of that, what's this I'm just learning about you not instilling some discipline into the Weasley twins for their malicious attack on several students requiring them to spend time recovering in the hospital?"

Deliberately ignoring the question about the injured students, Albus was adamant about keeping his jobs. "I need to be there for every step so I can guide our great civilization to the crowning glory I know it can be! You cannot take that away from me!"

It wasn't lost on anyone that Albus deftly sidestepped the medical question. Several scowls of disapproval started appearing on their faces as whispers were heard and notes were being taken.

Sirius' eyes were hard even though there was a smirk ghosting across his face at the sight of Albus digging a deeper hole for himself, "Remember what I said to you all those years ago, Albus? You're afraid of no longer being relevant. You're scared that someone might come along and do a better job than you. (He jabbed his finger onto the desk) Now, take us through that corridor!"

Gryffindor Tower, while Albus was getting roasted...

The Portrait of the Fat Lady glared Remus and Peter, her jaw set determinedly. "I will not let either of you in. First off, neither of you are students, and I'm still reeling from the last time I gave you two idiots access to the tower."

Remus bowed his head respectfully, "I understand, dear lady however we're not here as representatives of mayhem. We're here to set down some ground rules and if necessary, punish a certain pair of redheads who've misappropriated our status and reputations for their own brand of chaos."

The Fat Lady blinked slowly as she processed that. "You're here to discipline the Weasley Twins? The both of you? Good luck, I fear it would take the return of Merlin to accomplish that unenviable task." She unlocked her frame and swung open to admit them in.

Stepping through the portal, Peter glanced about but didn't see their targets. The students who were in there looked up at the sight of two strange adults. "Excuse us, we're looking for Fred and George Weasley. It's important that they get here quickly."

The twins appeared after someone dashed up to their dorm room. "Has someone requested our presence?" Fred casually remarked with a sly grin slowly spreading across his face as he sauntered down the stairs. His grin quickly faded when Remus loomed over him, a scowl marring his scarred features. "Sir?"

Peter joined his friend, crossing his arms imperiously over his chest. "We are but two of the Marauders. You, Twins of House Weasley have a lot to answer for."

George's face instantly paled as he gulped audibly, "Freddie, I think we're in deep shit."

On their way down from the tower, Remus and Peter were met by one of the Unspeakables who'd gone to investigate the ward control room. They were asked about certain enchantment inclusions that had their magical signature embedded within. Peter figured it out first, "Oh, you must be talking about the map we made of the castle and the surrounding area."

"Map? Which map?"

Remus pulled out the Marauder's Map they'd confiscated from the twins and activated it. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Lines began forming on the old parchment, quickly filling out the perimeters of each room and marking where each student was located as indicated by the swarm of footprints and name tags, the ghosts as they drifted about, Peeves doing something clearly he shouldn't on the sixth floor, and Dumbledore leading the Ministry party through the third floor gauntlet.

The Unspeakable, despite having their face covered, were clearly awed by this impressive work of magic. "Would we be able to borrow this for study?"

Remus shook his head, "I wouldn't bother. It's an older copy and faulty. We checked it over after we took it away from the twins and spotted one of the professors walking around with two name tags hovering over him. We'll take it home with us and open up the internal programming to see what got crossed up."

Peter agreed with him, "I can bring along one of our working copies the next time I visit my uncle."

The Unspeakable slowly bobbed their head in reluctant acceptance, "That is fair. We look forward to seeing it later." They turned and hurried back to the control room to inform their partner about the new development.

Sirius joined up with the pair as they stepped out of the castle; the remaining Marauders slowed to a halt at the sight of Severus apparently waiting for them. The dour man seemed to be struggling for words. "Gentlemen...I wish to say something about Mr. Potter. I was led to believe from the headmaster that he'd grown up surrounded by a loving family and a multitude of elves. I can now see this was only partially true. Since Mr. Potter's arrival and first time in my class, he's since informed me that he learned the art of potion brewing from Petunia Evans. It was my understanding that she hated our kind."

Remus shook his head, "No, that was a ruse to distract Albus from whatever idiocy he'd been planning at the time. Lily wanted him to think that she would be hard on Harry."

Severus took that in and sucked on the inside of his cheek. "I...see. For Lily's sake, I feel I should let you know that Potter the younger is more like her in temperament and brewing skills. I grow more impressed with his restraint against targeting the other students in this school solely based on which House colors they wear. In fact, I've not had a single negative report on him from my students, even those whose parents were on the other side during the war. They've stated that he's said, 'the sins of the parents should not be held against the children no matter what they say to me as it's clear that they're merely parroting their parents' views and haven't yet taken the time to get to know me and not just because of my alleged fame.' I should also warn you that Albus has recently discovered that Mr. Potter no longer has his famous scar and is currently trying to discern why that is and how long ago it was removed; additionally, he's curious about how the boy is deaf when all of his sensors indicate that he's in good health."

Sirius barked a laugh, "That was a genius move by Peter here (Pete took a bow and gave a jaunty salute.) He swapped the enchantments put upon Harry with Petunia's own son leaving Albus none the wiser. Of course, Albus could've learned all of this sooner had he bothered to stop in and not relied on his spy he put in place on the street we live on. Remember Arabella Figg?" Severus waggled his hand vaguely. "Well, she was installed by Albus a few days after Harry arrived at Petunia's home but she died back when Harry was still young. After we learnt of her presence, we stopped by her place, added a few enhancements to her orders of our own then occasionally fed her phony intel to lure Albus into a false sense of security."

"Clever." Severus remarked. He then noted Peter's left arm devoid of where the Dark Mark had been. "You've had the Mark removed? How did you accomplish that?"

"My uncle works in the Department of Mysteries. I'm not sure what he did but I'm not complaining. The damned thing was making me itch once the Dark Wanker bit the dust."

Severus drew his left arm slightly closer to his body, "I wish I'd known. Many times, I've begged Albus to allow me to research on how to get rid of it. Each time, he refuses...'For the Greater Good,' he has repeatedly claimed."

That evening...

Harry called Padfoot on his mirror to find out what had resulted from their visit earlier.

"Well, a long story cut short; the so-called 'traps' on the third floor are going to be repurposed. Instead of using the stone as bait, the corridor will be used as a training tool for the students at the end of each year to see how much they've retained. The difficulty of each room will be adjusted by student year so the conditions Harley described will be used for Year One while the seventh years will face something much harder."

Harry bobbed his head in agreement, "Cool. That should make things a lot more interesting and safer. What about the stone? What was the headmaster's reaction when he found out it was a fake?"

Sirius grinned broadly, "Much yelling and swearing was heard from the old goat. I'm surprised he didn't keel over from the shock."

"And the Weasley twins? Did Uncles Remus and Peter deal with them?"

Sirius nodded, "Yep. Both boys had all of their supplies confiscated, including Peter's copy of the Marauder's Map. I'm still fuzzy on how they managed to find it. Anyway, the twins are on probation as far as we're concerned. To regain their rights as pranksters, they're going to have to follow our rules. First and foremost, they're to bring their grades up, tutor struggling students, and refrain from anymore pranking until the end of the school year in June. Remus reminded them that even though the Marauders were pranksters, we were also fighting a civil war at the same time. More to the point, while we were using those pranks to target the Death Eaters and their spawn, we also took the time to help those who needed it the most. We didn't prank anyone just to be malicious despite what Snape might complain about."

With Sirius' permission once their conversation was over, Harry left to go tell Hermione and Susan what had happened. When she heard what Padfoot had revealed; Hermione shook her head, "It's like I've been saying. They got nothing less than what both deserved. The twins were bullies and the headmaster should've known better." She got up and headed for the room that had been set aside within the Sett to practice her singing. "Come on, I've learned a couple of new songs and want to see how they react to magic."

The following Wednesday

DADA class: Gryffindor/Hufflepuff

Professor Quirrell was in a foul mood. Truth be told, it was his rider that was in a foul mood and those emotions bled over to him.

"M-Mr. P-P-Potter, come up to the fr-fr-front of the class."

It took him a moment to remember that Harry couldn't hear him. Annoyed, he strode over to where the boy was sitting and tapped the desk. Harry's head came up from the worksheet he'd been filling out. "I wa-wan-want to test you on your spe-ell casting abilities," Quirrell forced out. 'Master, may I please drop this infernal fake stuttering?'

'Fine, I grow weary of hearing it anyways. Pretend to take a potion that masks it.'

Quirrell reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of something slightly muddy looking before popping the cork and downing it in one swallow. He grimaced at the horrid taste. "Bloody disgusting things but it's needed if I'm ever to speak normally without that blasted stutter. Mr. Potter, I wish to test you on your spellcasting abilities."

Harry allowed himself to be led up to the platform after seeing Neville's interpretations. He glanced about for his opponent but no one else stepped forward. "Just me?"

Quirrell replied, "I witnessed your duel with Mr. Malfoy, especially that part with the snake and I was wondering if you're just as quick in Parseltongue as you are silently."

Harry paused while Neville interpreted then shrugged, //"I suppose I am. Never really had anyone to go up against me before. My guardians are usually too weirded out whenever I do speak it."//

It took the translation a bit longer because what Harry said had to be transcribed by Sally-Anne then read aloud by Neville. Quirrell hummed his agreement, "That's why I want your opponent to be Miss Perks. You both will square off against each other. Nothing fancy or harmful to start off with, you will be required to cast the basic set of spells as listed in your textbook."

Sally-Anne squeaked and quickly scribbled down in her pad, 'I'm not ready to face-off against anyone. I especially don't want to fight Harry Potter! What if I make a fool of myself? This is Harry Potter we're talking about!'

//"It's not a real duel, Sally-Anne. I get what the professor wants. We're the only two students in the entire school who has to have special preparations made. Me because I'm deaf, you because you can't speak English. Come on, I promise to go easy on you."//

That lit a fire in her eyes as she gave him a hard look, //"Take it 'easy' on me? Do you really think I'm that much of a wallflower, Potter?"//

Harry indifferently shrugged and silently gestured to the platform as if to say, 'Well? Prove to me you aren't.' Sally-Anne got up and strode confidently up to the front, shedding her jacket as she went. The two duelers took their positions (all of the girls were cheering for her), Sally-Anne dropped into a low crouch to present the smallest possible target while Harry stood with his arms loosely at his side.

Quirrell checked both, then stepped back and dropped his hand, signaling both to begin. At first, neither moved before...

Sally-Anne shot off a combination of //"Wingardium Leviosa! Flippendo! Aurnamento!"// Harry was suddenly lifted into the air, shoved backwards and when he landed, his mouth was spewing colorful bubbles. The crowd laughed or gasped at what had just transpired. Professor Quirrell politely applauded.

Harry got to his feet and canceled the bubble spell with a wave of his wand. //"Not bad. You've been reading ahead. One would think you should've gotten sorted into Ravenclaw for that."//

She grinned cutely, //"Anything would've been better than being stuck in Gryffindor with Weasley."//

Harry frowned and shot a dark glare over to where the redhead was sitting, //"What has he done to you?"//

//"Nothing so far. He just teases me for speaking Parsel. He's more annoying than anything else. It's almost like the teachers are afraid to punish him because his family has a link to Dumbledore, at least according to him. He loves to boast about it whenever he gets the chance."//

Harry shot off a silent stinging hex at the loudmouth and was pleased to see the brat jump and glower at him, rubbing his shoulder angrily. //"I'll deal with him later. In the meantime, I owe you for that little stunt. A bubble-producing charm? That's an original move. Try this on...Rictusempra! Levicorpus!"//

Sally-Anne dodged at the last moment, the spells flew past her and splashed up against the back wall. //"Too slow, Potter! Fumos! Vellarius! Plurapigmentum!"// A smokescreen enveloped him preventing him from seeing before the twitchy-ears hex hit him fully in the face quickly followed by the flashing paint spell. She then ended the round by sneaking in while he was distracted and physically yanking his wand from his hand and holding it aloft for the class to see. Quirrell cleared the smoke and pronounced Sally-Anne as the winner to the raucous cheers of the girls (and some of the boys.) Harry stood there looking like an artist's nightmare as his clothes flashed in color across the spectrum (and sometimes in hideous tones that defied explanation), a sheepish grin ghosting his face as he waggled his finger at her appreciatively. //"Next time."//

After the class let out, Quirrell and his Master quietly conferred over what had taken place. "Master, are you sure?"

'Do you doubt me, Quirnius? The girl shows much more promise than Potter does. The fact that everyone already knows that she's unable to speak English is a mark in my favor. She's young and clearly powerful. It wouldn't be too much of an effort to subsume her soul and permanently possess her.'

"I'm just worried what you leaving will mean for me, my Lord. I have done some research on what happens to the host after a possession is lifted and well...it's not pretty."

'That is the result of a forceful ejection from a possession. When I willingly give you up, it will be more like a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders instead of a violent ripping feeling. I think we should do this on Halloween. It is fitting that my initial downfall and rebirth shall take place on the same date.'

"Yes, Master."

Hermione was in her Herbology class wishing she was anywhere else. Despite loving flowers and just being surrounded by nature, Professor Sprout had them turning compost piles and mixing dragon dung into them for 'enrichment exercises.' "Why are we doing this by hand? Isn't this something that magic could do a lot better...and less stinkier?" She whined to no one in particular.

Millie commiserated with her friend, "I know, right? I don't plan on going anywhere near a greenhouse after I graduate so why do I need to get dirty?"

"Oh, quit complaining. At least you're not getting teased by the other boys who keep asking if I've been getting enough fiber in my diet," Draco groused as he forked a load of compost into the next bin.

"Huh?"

Draco speared her a contemptuous sneer and said simply, "What's my first name?"

Silence pervaded the group until someone was heard quietly giggling. That was all it took before laughter spread throughout the rest of them. Hermione took the opportunity to sing a combining spell on her section of the pile and was rewarded by a sudden explosion of dirt, compost, and poop all over her uniform. Exclamations of disgust from the others were joined by the amused sound from their professor. "That's the reason why dragon dung needs to be worked by hand. All magical creatures impart a portion of their defenses to prevent themselves from being manipulated by the magic cast by a witch or wizard. As Miss Dagworth-Granger has just discovered, this applies to their excrement as well."

Hermione scowled as she valiantly tried to wipe as much of the mess off her clothes before accepting a towel and directions to the greenhouse showers.

Later, as she passed by a troupe of Gryffindors, Hermione was reminded yet again that disgusting excrement didn't just come in the form of animal byproducts; sometimes they came in the form of a particularly annoying human. "Hey, Stumps! How're they hanging?" Ron Weasley sneered at her before pushing his way past her rather brusquely, causing Hermione to stumble and fall against the wall. "I'd offer to give you a hand, but unlike you; they're permanently attached." He held up his hands and laughed at the hurt look she was giving.

"Weasley, do remember what happened to that third year Slytherin who insulted Harley?" Judging by the grin rapidly disappearing from Ron's face, he did indeed remember. "Don't forget that she's rather protective of me and would have absolutely no issue with dumping you on your arse."

Harley appeared with a predatory smirk splitting her face; her sharp teeth glinting in the light. "I've been looking forward to this day for the longest time. I wonder what boy guts look like hanging from the rafters of the Great Hall."

The last either of the two girls saw of Ron was his already pasty white face rapidly turning a distinct shade of green before the boy turned tail and ran like the Hounds of Hell were chasing him.

Friday 13 October, 2017; Great Hall, morning mail rush

11 October, 2017

Dear Hermione, Harry, and Neville;

Oh, heavens; such interesting questions and observations! Nicolas had a merry time traipsing through memory lane after reading your letter (once he finished laughing himself silly!) Let’s see, I suppose we should take them in order.

• Yes, we have ripped or destroyed clothing that can no longer be made anymore. In the beginning it would annoy us greatly and usually resulted in Nicolas swearing up a storm (you did too, my dear.) Since then, we’ve attempted to reverse engineer how the item might’ve been made. It doesn’t always work though; if it doesn’t then the clothes usually end up in the rag bin if they’re too damaged to bother with storing.

• We have met the Founders of your school. Of the four, Helga was the nicest. Salazar and Godric were like brothers no matter what history claims about them. There's an old story that the two of them are not allowed to be together unsupervised lest they start some shenanigans. I believe that's how most of the secret passageways, hidden rooms, and the Grand Staircase got made. Rowena had the tendency to 'space out' at random moments. Perenelle believes that she might've been an untrained Seer and only learned how to deal with her abilities later on in life. (It's true. I kept up a correspondence with the poor dear until her passing. Half of the prophecies stored within the Department of Mysteries were spoken by her.)

• I never attended a formal school like you do at Hogwarts. In those days, children were taught the basics by their parents, then were apprenticed to a Master depending on which topic the child showed the most aptitude towards. My particular talent was in potioneering so I apprenticed with a Potions Master at the ripe old age of thirteen. (My education was geared towards taking care of the home and a family. It was rare that fathers permitted their daughters to learn much beyond how to perform basic reading and mathematics in those days. I didn't learn what I know now until well after Nicholas started his Stone project and needed my assistance.)

• As for the plants and food, I know I’m not particularly attached to a one recipe or another. Most anything could be substituted if you look carefully enough. (I also didn’t have a recipe I was attached to either though recently, I’ve gotten rather hooked on the Black Pastrami Rueben sandwich on Jewish rye bread with thick steak chips on the side from a deli in Southern California. Good stuff!)

• Neither one of us were interested in sports or games, preferring instead to stick to intellectual pursuits. (Unless you count wooing your future wife as a sport and a game!)

• Music back in our time wasn’t like the sort of genres you have these days. Back then it primarily consisted of liturgical music for the Church and secular music. Not exactly the sort of thing to ‘groove out’ to. (I’m more of a BB King fan, myself.)

• Linguistic Drift is the change in the way we as people speak to one another over time, either short duration or long. There have been several papers written about this phenomenon that you could probably find in any decent university. To answer your question, no I’ve not had a pun that was affected by the drift. (Neither have I.)

• To answer your last question, yes we are a lot older than 665 years. (Let’s put it this way, I remember when Rome was just a collection of rude huts on a flatland adjacent to the river. Also, our names are not the ones we were born with.)

It’s a shame that those classes aren’t going well for you. I would recommend that you hire some tutors to assist you (last I heard that option was still available if you can afford them.) Both are important subjects that if left to rot will harm your future career choices. (I’m going to contact some people I know to see if they can light a fire under the bums of the British Wizarding Examination Authority and get those classes audited. Poor teaching of core subjects should be a capital crime.)

Best of luck for the coming term!

Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel

P.S. We've taken up a magical mailbox with Gringotts to make life easier for your owl. How she was able to find us the first time is a mystery I'm still puzzling out. - PF.

Room of Requirement

"Now this is how astronomy should be taught!" Daphne sighed with contentment as she reclined in her seat looking up at the ceiling the Room had provided for their enjoyment and education. Lavender had gotten the brilliant idea after hearing from a couple of the other muggleborns talk about the concept of a planetarium and wondered if the Room could put up something close. Hermione just didn't have the heart to tell them that she'd already made a similar comment weeks ago.

As it turned out, it could and do so exceedingly well. Today they were learning about the night sky and how the ancients used it to mark the passage of time and its usage for planting crops, follow the herds of wild beasts, and for the early magical rituals.

"Do you suppose why Professor Sinastra never came here is because she just didn't know?" Parvati Patil wondered out loud. Behind them, the door quietly opened as a silhouette of a person stepped inside.

"Indeed I did not, Miss Patil," The girls gasped from surprise by Professor Aurora Sinastra's sudden answer. Their teacher stood behind them and gazed about the room in open-mouthed wonder. "How...when...damn, I should've been told about this. I've always wanted to have a planetarium like the one down in London but the headmaster always said there wasn't enough money in the budget. I didn't even know there was a room up here."

Hermione spread her arms sheepishly, "Um...Welcome to the Room of Requirement, professor. This configuration is but one of many that the castle is able to produce to suit your needs. As far as we've been able to figure out, the only things it can't do is create food for some reason."

Aurora nodded absentmindedly as she took stock of what was on display, "Yeah, that's something you don't learn until you reach Year Six in Transfiguration. So what were you watching?"

Daphne held out a list and pointed to the top one, "We asked the room if it had a playlist for the first year astronomy class and it provided this to us. We picked which topic we wanted to watch and settled in. You can join us if you want."

Their professor accepted and sank into one of the padded chairs. Tears came to her eyes the moment that a comet graced the skies over ancient Scotland in such clarity, she felt the overwhelming urge to reach out and try to touch it.

Tuesday 31 October, 2017; Gryffindor Tower

The weekends were the worst in Sally-Anne's opinion. During the week, there were classes they needed to get to quickly so her tormentors were usually distracted from teasing her and making her life miserable for not being able to speak English like everyone else. //"It's not my fault!"// She hissed to herself yet again as she descended the stairs from the girls' side of the tower into their common room. Fortunately, the space was sparsely populated given how early it was. She'd just about reached the portal when the owner of the most annoying voice broke the morning calm.

"Where you headed, Scalie?"

Sally-Anne's shoulders slumped, she had been so close. She turned to face Ron Weasley where he sat in one of the better chairs in the common room like he was some ruling overlord. He grinned oily, knowing that no matter what he called her, she was unable to respond in kind. Calling her a 'Scalie' was clearly his idea of a dig at her snake-speaking. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

Zap! Ron suddenly lit up like a Christmas light as an electric blue spell hit him. When the light faded, the redhead had been transformed into a goat. A scowling seventh year stepped off the boy's side stairs. "That's enough out of you, Weasley. My apologies, Miss Perks. I sincerely hope you won't hold his actions against the rest of us. There are some who have more class than this one, apparently."

'Thank you, and no, I don't hold him against you. I'm just surprised is all. I thought everyone here hated me because of my inability to speak English,' she wrote in her pad.

"Hardly. I speak four languages aside from English," he informed her. "Don't let small minds influence you. As you've no doubt gathered, Ronald Weasley isn't the brightest bulb in the box. I normally wouldn't suggest violence but if you were to hit him with a stinging hex while I wasn't looking, I won't say anything." He winked conspiratorially and waggled his wand.

'But isn't it cruelty against animals?'

"If he truly was a goat, yes. In his state, he's nothing more than a transfigured human. I guess you could call it a grey area legally. Anyhow, I wish you a good day and don't worry about him staying like that. The spell will wear off in about an hour." He tipped her a jaunty salute and walked out.

When she caught up with her friends, Sally-Anne filled them in with what happened up in the Lion's Den. Hermione was indignant, "We ought to inform Professor McGonagall since she's the Head of Gryffindor House! She should be able to lay down the law about him."

Pansy sniffed haughtily, "It's a shame that Weasley wasn't turned into a pig. We could've shipped him off to one of the farms."

Padma shivered, "No, because he'd most likely get put up for slaughter then we'd be eating roast Ronald for dinner."

"Ewww!" The girls all squealed in disgust. Hermione nearly gagged at the thought of a Ronald and cheese sandwich.

Sally-Anne immediately moved to change the subject. 'I propose that we go up to the Room to see what else we can find.'

Girlish cheers rang out like a war cry as the group stampeded for the stairs.

Later that evening after their classes let out but before the start of the Halloween Feast...

To give Sally-Anne a break from the stares, whispers, and the occasional cold shoulders from the others in her House; Hermione spoke with Pomona who agreed (after consulting with Minerva) to let Sally-Anne bunk with the other Badgers for a couple of nights during the weekend. This invitation soon spread to the others in their cohort.

Severus watched seemingly dispassionately as several first year girls from his House bounced past him eagerly chattering in that high-pitched squeak they called a voice; each were burdened with an overnight bag, their pillows, and some other 'necessities.' "Severus? Whatever is going on?" Albus' voice broke through his observation.

"Girls only sleepover in Hufflepuff, apparently," he drawled disinterestedly. "I believe it's another one of their incessant bonding rituals."

Albus chuckled, "Ah, to be young again. I do hope they won't be late for the feast tonight. Severus, I wish to speak with you about one of the students in your class."

Severus sent him a sideways glance, "Which one?"

"Harry Potter. I'm...concerned about his performance."

Severus turned to fully face his boss, his face impassive. "How so? I have no complaints."

Albus spread his hands, "That's just it, my boy. His talent in the laboratory suggests outside training."

Severus sniffed desultorily, "I'm aware of who trained the boy, Albus. I will say again that I have no complaints."

Albus raised a bushy eyebrow curiously. Normally, the mere mention of the name Potter was enough to send Severus into a towering rage. His calm acceptance was troubling indeed. Trying a different tack, "He seems to be channeling James Potter's talent in his other classes as well."

Severus was growing tired of the roundabout way Albus spoke. "Speak plainly, sir. If you have nothing constructive to say, I have papers to grade." He stepped back to let Millie Bulstrode to rush past back into Slytherin House exclaiming that she forgot her make-up bag.

Flustered at the way Severus was dismissing him, Albus shook his head and casually mentioned that the traps on the third floor were almost complete. "I have only the final room to configure. The troll has been delivered on schedule." With his trademarked grandfatherly smile, he wished Severus a pleasant evening then strolled back to his office.

Severus watched him disappear around a corner and let out a frustrated sigh, "Wanker." After a moment, it dawned on him that the third floor gauntlet should've already been dismantled after the parents led by Sirius Black et al, had taken their ire out on the aged headmaster for installing something potentially dangerous in a school full of children and not informing them beforehand. He turned back with suspicious look creasing his face. "Something's not right here. I could've sworn Black and the others told him to tear it all down."

A portrait on the wall spoke up, "Indeed they did, professor but I heard through the portrait grapevine that the 'gauntlet' as it's being called will be repurposed as an end-of-year test for each year level. If I remember correctly, he'll be starting with the firsties."

Severus cocked his head at hearing that. "Still, it's suspicious that Albus would still be bringing in a troll of all creatures for the first years. A beast like that is usually reserved for the older years." Pursing his lips, he stalked away intent on speaking with Minerva about this troublesome information as soon as he could.

Halloween Feast

Harry entered the Great Hall and flopped heavily into his seat. He really didn't want to be here, but the word was that the headmaster made attendance mandatory. "Bastard. It's the tenth anniversary of my parents' murder and he wants us to celebrate like it's New Year."

Neville laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Do what I'm planning on doing. Stay for an hour, make yourself visible during that time then slip out like you're going to the loo and find somewhere quiet to hole up."

Harry grunted in amusement, "You know, sometimes you're smarter than you look, Longbottom."

Hermione had followed her friends and gasped at the sight of all the gaudy decorations that filled the Hall. "This is what amounts to Halloween for Hogwarts?"

Tracey Davis scowled at the sight of the floating pumpkins, "Yeah, disgusting isn't it? It's bad enough having all of those candles floating overhead for a normal night, but to then add all of this? I'm not going to be able to enjoy my dinner."

Millie frowned at the sight of the platters of sweets and other 'goodies.' "I'm gonna gain a ton of weight from all this, I just know it."

Harley appeared and redirected the girls to a side chamber where they found a smaller table laden with healthier foods. "If that culinary monstrosity is not to your liking, ladies; the kitchen elves have thoughtfully provided you with something more appropriate."

Pansy hugged Harley in appreciation then spoke to the open air, "Thank you, Hogwarts elves. You're the best, hands down!" She found a seat and primly began serving herself a helping of salad.

Up at the teacher's table...

Albus noticed right off that several students were missing from the evening's festivities. The Dagworth-Granger girl and her friends were nowhere in sight. 'Inconsequential students from unimportant families, no one to worry about.' His gaze continued to sweep across the room. He spotted Harry rising from his seat and sign something to the Longbottom boy. Albus nudged Minerva, "Can you tell what young Harry is signing?"

Minerva spared a glance and shrugged it off, "Something about needing the loo."

Bobbing his head in understanding, Albus let the matter drop. His attention was then drawn to the curious sight of Ronald Weasley chewing on something that looked suspiciously like a sweets wrapper. "I heard that Mr. Weasley the youngest had an altercation earlier today. Could that be the reason why he's eating a sweets wrapper?"

Severus overheard and snorted. "No doubt he's the victim of yet another one of his twin brothers' pranks. I implore you to let me assign them a reasonable punishment, say a permanent ban from playing Quidditch?"

Minerva scoffed, "You're just upset that my Lions trounced your Snakes in the final match of last year."

Severus was about to respond when Quirrell came running in bellowing something about a troll loose in the dungeon...

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: It's a Monster (Mash) of a Party

Tuesday 31 October, 2017; while Quirrell was bellowing about the Troll in the Great Hall

Harry wandered aimlessly through the empty halls of the castle. It annoyed him that he couldn't bring himself to partake in the enforced merriment that the headmaster insisted on. The smells of the food floating through the air made his stomach growl. 'Well, I'm not annoyed at myself really. I more annoyed at that bearded bastard who either doesn't or refuses to understand what this date might mean to everyone who lost family to that madman.'

A couple of the paintings tried to engage him in conversation, but he just wasn't in the mood to chat. He started when a small hand touched his shoulder. He turned to see the only other Parselmouth in the school looking at him with worry clear in her eyes. //"Sally-Anne? What're you doing here?"//

//"I have to use the loo but I saw you out here alone and just had to check up on you, first."//

Harry bobbed his head and snorted, //"Thanks. I'm just having a moment to myself. I think everyone's forgotten what this date really means. It's not a date in which to gorge ourselves on sweets but to remember those family members who died or were murdered."// He walked alongside her as she led the way to the bathrooms. //"You go do your thing. I'll wait out here for you."//

Smiling her thanks, Sally-Anne disappeared inside. Harry leant up against the wall and sank until his bum hit the floor, staring sightlessly at the opposite wall until he became aware of another presence. //"That was fast."//

Hermione knelt down in his field of view with a bemused expression on her face, motioning for his whiteboard. 'Who were you talking to?'

He thumbed to the door behind him. "Oh, Sally-Anne is inside. I promised I'd wait for her."

'Do you mind if I join you?'

"Wouldn't you rather join in with the feast?"

Hermione shook her head and wrote, 'My parents are dentists. I grew up without a lot of sweets in the house, and let's face it; this feast feels...forced, somehow. I can't explain it better than that.'

While they were chatting about everything and nothing, an overwhelming horrific stench reminiscent of a cesspool assaulted their noses. A heavy thump, thump was felt as if something large was moving towards them. Both kids immediately leapt to their feet, Harry pulling his wand even though he didn't relish the idea of facing something down with just some prank spells. Hearts pounding, the creature finally appeared from around the corner.

A Mountain Troll, and a fully-grown one at that.

Hermione's mouth dropped open and to Harry, it looked like she was about to scream so he slapped his hand over her mouth and gestured for her to stay silent. Stowing his wand then signed slowly (she'd been learning basic sign language for the past couple of weeks), "Stay quiet. We need to get help."

The troll started when he spotted the young male making signs with his hands. It grunted and pointed at Harry's hands.

Harry paused then held up his hands. The troll grunted something and tried to copy what he'd just signed. Hermione grabbed his whiteboard and scribbled, 'I think it's asking for the last sign. I think it wants help.'

Harry's brain locked up. The troll looked eager and waved its hands again. "Okay...help you? Help me?"

The troll grinned a gap-toothed smile, tapped its chest, and signed (very slowly), 'Help me.'

This was the scene Sally-Anne walked into as she left the bathroom. Gagging from the nasal-stomping stench, she hissed, //"What the..."// She then tapped Hermione on the shoulder and gave the universal gesture of 'what happened?'

"Troll showed up. Turns out that it knows some sign language. Harry's trying to figure out how to speak to it."

//"Sally-Anne, go find a teacher. Take Hermione with you."//

Sally-Anne nodded her head and transcribed what Harry said onto the whiteboard so Hermione could understand as well. The bushy-haired girl shook her head and refused to leave Harry's side. "He might need my help if this troll decides to attack us."

//"The troll's not going to attack you or anyone unless we give it a reason. It's lost and doesn't know how to get out nor who brought it here. Please, go get help."// Harry responded after hearing Sally-Anne translate. She took Hermione by the hand and had to drag her friend away.

Just outside the Great Hall...

It was pandemonium when the two girls arrived. Teachers were chivying students to their respective Houses, the prefects doing the same if not giving countermanding orders (Percy Weasley's nasally voice being the loudest of them all) Trying to locate someone in charge, Sally-Anne pushed her way to a staircase so she could look out over everyone's heads. In the meantime, Hermione spotted Professor McGonagall and shouted over the din, "There's the Deputy!" She dashed over and tried to get Minerva's attention, but the older Scotswoman didn't have time to deal with her.

"Miss Granger, I'm sorry but I don't have time for whatever's the problem. I'm trying to get everyone moving back to their Houses while we search for the Troll."

Getting angry at not being listened to, Hermione stomped on Minerva's foot bringing the Deputy's full and undivided attention onto her. "We know where the troll is! It's over by the first floor girls' loo with Harry Potter!"

Minerva's face paled as she gasped then motioned for Hermione to lead the way.

Sally-Anne had also located a teacher; Professor Quirrell. She rushed over forgetting that he didn't speak Parsel and began babbling about locating the troll. Quirrell grabbed her by the shoulder, //"That's enough. Where is the troll now?"//

//"It's over by the first floor girls' loo with Harry Potter!"//

An odd light seemed to gleam in Quirrell's eyes, //"Then we'll have plenty of time. Imperio."//

A wave of magic swept over Sally-Anne, calming her mind. The unknown spell left her completely at peace with the orders now filling her senses. In the distant corner of her awareness, a stray thought rose up for the briefest moment, 'When did Professor Quirrell learn Parseltongue?'

Empty room off the secondary hallway adjacent to the Main hallway...

It took Quirrell nearly ten minutes to lead Sally-Anne away from the tumult going on around them. It wasn't that he suspected they were being followed, but just because of the sheer number of students frantically milling about while the older years tried to wrangle them into going where they needed to. //"In here."//

Sketched out on the floor of the otherwise empty room was a ritual circle. To Sally-Anne's Imperius-dimmed eyes, it looked rather pretty with its white chalk lines and crystals laid out at the intersections. Quirrell led her into the center of the circle then stunned her before he rearranged her limbs, straightening her out then began sealing off the inner rings. He worked his way backwards, aligning the necessary aspects, pushing his magic into them. The aspects began pulsating with a low hum and a faint amber light.

Quirrell checked his Master's notes once more, "Is this..."

'Yes, that's correct. Do it!'

In a dry, dusty voice that cracked with anticipated power, Quirrell began the incantation, "Ἐν δυνάμει τῶν ἀρχαίων, ἐξορκίζω τὴν ψυχὴν τοῦ πρωτοτύπου. Ἐμοὶ ἐπιτρέπεσθω ἐνοικεῖν ἐν τούτῳ τῷ σκεύει! ("By the Power of the Ancients, I cast out the soul of the original. Let mine inhabit this vessel!)

The aspects suddenly flared to life; Sally-Anne's body began glowing an eldritch green before a wispy ball of energy rose up out of her chest, hovering about a foot in the air. Meanwhile, Voldemort spoke his own incantation releasing his hold onto Quirrell's soul and body. His spectral form rose and separated himself from his host and moved over the still form of his intended target.

Quirrell watched with feverish eyes at the awesome power he was given to witness. A mere hairsbreadth before the transfer was completed, the door to the room exploded inwards sending shrapnel everywhere. A heavy piece of the lock glanced off Quirrell's head, spinning him around and breaking his concentration.

Voldemort's transfer was abruptly halted when that happened. He was so close! He sent out gossamer traces of his magic to try and latch onto the girl's last remaining tendril of magic that connected her core to her body so he could draw himself in. He froze when the troll roared loud followed by a sickening thwack of wood hitting flesh then the sound of something hitting the stone walls. Turning about, his eyes widened at the sight of Quirrell's obviously dead body slumping to the floor, a bloody smear of brain and bone sloughing off the wall where he'd impacted after getting swatted by the troll. On top of that, Harry bloody Potter was signing instructions to the troll. //"It matters not what you did to Quirrell, boy. In a moment the transfer will be complete and you will kneel before me!"//

Unthinking of anything other than to get his friend out of danger, Harry rushed into the circle, knocking the aspects out of alignment and grabbed Sally-Anne under her arms so he could try to drag her out. Somehow along the way, he nicked his arm on one of the aspects, drawing blood. The now misaligned aspects of the ritual circle changed to an almost pitch-black color and began emitting a piercing wail.

It was at this moment, Voldemort realized he was in trouble...

The room rocked as lightning flashed in a whirlwind of noise, screams, and something...else. The troll surprisingly stood its ground, ready to defend its newfound friend. Harry caught its attention and motioned for it to not enter the circle, "Stay there until the wind stops!" A crack of lightning seared an afterimage into Harry's eyes. When it faded, the troll lay slumped on the floor. Only the fact that he could see it was still breathing gave any relief that the troll would be alright.

An opaque cloud that flashed a dizzying array of colors formed around Harry, almost like it was separating him and Sally-Anne from whatever lay outside. After a moment or two, the cloud dissipated leaving two adults standing between the children and Voldemort. One of the adults, a woman with auburn hair, distinctively shaped green eyes, and a snarl on her face glared at where Voldemort hovered. "You fool! Did you not once stop to think about what this date would mean to the magical world? Were you so caught up in your delusions of grandeur that it never crossed your mind that Halloween is the time when the veil between the living and the dead is thought to be at its thinnest, allowing spirits to cross over. More important, it's the time when Death is at his most vigilant to guide, willingly or not, those who should've crossed over but didn't."

Voldemort's features twisted in rage, "It matters not what you want! I will be reborn into a new body and resume my work to purge this world of its taint!"

The other adult, a man with the same messy hair as Harry shook his head in amusement, "My wife is right, Riddle. You are a fool. A fool who's had his head stuffed up his arse for so long, you'll never breathe fresh air again. Death, in all his personas and names, the one who was there at the beginning and will be at the end; he takes a very dim view towards those who would cheat him and pervert the natural laws over life and death."

All sounds within the room suddenly cut off. So complete was the lack of any noise that Harry would swear he could hear the synapses in his head firing as another...being appeared in the room. Padfoot had told him once about Dementors, foul creatures that looked like tattered cloaks, had scabby hands, and a head that only had a pair of empty eye sockets and a gaping hole where its mouth would be. This thing...it looked like the archetype of all Dementors.

Voldemort screamed in fear and tried to scramble away from the newcomer but it was to no avail. The being lashed out and snatched the wraith out of the air, bringing it close to its face. A snarl unlike anything Harry'd ever heard rumbled out of its mouth. It sounded like all the voices in the world speaking in stereo. ["To cheat me on this night of nights was your undoing, Thomas Marvolo Riddle. I almost had you ten years ago when you attacked the Potters in their home, but for the briefest interruption, I was thwarted yet again. No more, and before you start spouting off that I can never take you because you created ways to avoid me; I know about your attempts to deny me what is my due, and I am not pleased that you dared to think yourself better than anyone else, let alone me. Now that I have you, I will be able to collect your other pieces forthwith thanks to your connection with each. There will be no need to send someone on a fool's errand to locate and destroy those objects."]

Still twisting about trying to get free, Voldemort began pleading and begging. "Release me and I'll bring you others who've evaded your wrath! I know where they reside!"

Death laughed hollowly, ["You think you're the only who has that ability? There are others who willingly do this work you're promising with no other requirements than to serve Justice. I, Thanatos, the Entity responsible for the transfer of souls to the underworld; have been granted the Right as per the Ancient Treaties, by the command of Hades, and by the order of the Fates' decree that you Thomas Marvolo Riddle shall be handed over to the Minotaurs where you will spend your eternity in the boiling river of blood, Phlegethon."]

The stone floor beneath them cracked open releasing sulfuric clouds of acrid smoke, tremendous amounts of heat, a red glare, and the sounds of screaming anguish. Thanatos dragged the still-pleading wraith of Voldemort into that maelstrom. The disrupted circle finally exploded in a titanic clap of thaumic energy sending chunks of debris flying everywhere. When the dust settled, the room they were in looked as if there'd never been anything amiss.

Harry stood there wide-eyed at what he'd just witnessed, //"Whoa!"//

James and Lily both turned at the sound of Harry's amazed hissing noise. James walked over and gently touched his son's head. "There, now you'll be able to speak in English without us needing a translator."

Harry's jaw was scraping the proverbial floor. "Mum? Dad?" He gasped and touched his mouth. "Whoa, I can hear myself talk!" His eyes then fell upon Sally-Anne's still form. "Is there nothing we can do?"

Lily saw where he was looking and let out a huff of annoyance towards the ceiling. "I swear those angels are taking their sweet arse time! (Her gaze softened as it returned to her son's face.) Don't worry about her, Harry; she'll be fine once the crash team shows up." Just as she finished saying that a beam of light appeared from one of the windows, falling upon Sally-Anne's body. A quartet of presences arrived not too long afterwards. Lily crossed her arms impatiently, "'bout time you got here."

The first three presences ignored her scathing comments. The fourth pulled out what looked like a clipboard. "James and Lily Potter? We're from..."

"I know where you're from. What took you so long? The child needs her soul back in place!" Lily pointed at the child.

The presence gave a sigh of forbearance, "We were unavoidably detained. There was a large hurricane which hit Puerto Rico last week. It's taken us until a short while ago to sort out who went where. At any rate, the child does seem to be in good physical and mental condition so reconnecting her soul should be straightforward."

Harry held up his hand, "Could you do something so she's able to speak English? All she's able to do right now is speak in Parseltongue."

The presence tilted its head curiously as it consulted its clipboard, "Is that so? Huh, I wonder why...hmm...well, I can certainly put in the requisition for a soul re-inspection." It eyed Harry for a moment, "What about you, young man? Would you like to have the same thing done to ascertain why you're deaf?"

Harry glanced at his parents before answering the presence, "You think I should? I was injured when Voldemort attacked me as a baby. When he exploded, his magic burned my hearing nerves."

"Ah, then that's a different department entirely. I'm afraid that we cannot reverse injured bodies after a set length of time. If this requisition had been applied for within six months of the event, that'd be another thing."

Harry waved it off, "It's alright. I've gotten used to being deaf and even had some fun with it."

James was snickering, "I can well imagine. How many of those times were you fully aware of what Padfoot and the others were saying when you only pretended to not be paying attention?"

There was a gasp from Sally-Anne as her eyes snapped open. She looked around wildly for a moment before slumping back down again. The presence spoke to its co-workers in a language no one else understood before addressing the trio of humans again. "Alright, she's good to go. Miss Perks will wake up tomorrow in your infirmary. Her re-evaluation will take place within the next three months or so and be during the period of time in which she'll be asleep. Have a good day." With that, the four presences returned to their non-corporeal shapes, joined the beam of light, then vanished.

"Lils, we're on the clock here," James warned his wife.

She nodded forlornly, "Harry my sweet angel, I'm sorry we won't be able to spend more time with you, but time is of the essence here," Lily was apologetic as she gently brushed Harry's hair out of his face. "So much like your father, though I've noticed that your sense of humor is closer to mine. That's a good thing, by the way."

Harry sniffled, "I'm going to miss you even more now."

James wrapped his baby boy up in his arms, "Hey, it's not forever. It's just until you live to be a hundred and fifty years old, marry someone worthy of you, and produce enough kids that there'll be no chance that our bloodline ever thinks of dying out."

Harry stuck out his tongue, "Gross, dad. I'm too young to be thinking about such stuff."

James laughed, "I know, but I've got to get the jokes in while I can. It's a shame that we don't have any way of contacting you from the other side."

"Why?"

James' eyes twinkled, "Because then I'd be able to share with you all of my 'dad jokes' I'd been saving for when you got old enough."

Harry grinned and went to open his mouth when Lily interjected, "Don't start, you two. I can already feel the other side calling us back and there's important information you need to know about. First and foremost, I'm so proud of what you've done so far in everything. Keep making friends and do well in your studies. Second, stay away from Albus Dumbledore and the Weasleys. That family is deeply indebted to Albus and believes his every utterance without question; the matriarch especially. Do not drink or eat anything any of them give you."

Harry scrunched his nose up, "I already stay clear of them. The Twins are menaces and Ron is a whiny little brat."

Lily beamed, "That's my good boy."

James cleared his throat, "My turn, don't worry about the troll. The castle will transport it out to the forest and guide it back to the mountains. As for Quirrell, just seeing him as is everyone will think he was killed trying to lure the troll away. You need to get yourself back to the Sett and pretend to fall asleep in the conservatory. Sally-Anne will be transported to an area not far from the main hallway where she'll be discovered and assumed she'd been trampled by the crowds. She'll be transferred to the infirmary to be cared for by the school healer."

Harry bobbed his head in understanding. "No one's going to believe me when I tell them about this."

James nodded solemnly, "We understand, but it has to be done this way if only to keep Albus from sticking his broken beak into places it doesn't belong. If he gets wind that you faced off against Voldemort and won, it'll send him into a frenzy. That man has 'plans' and while I don't want you anywhere near that idiocy; the other side prevents us from interfering and meting out the punishment he so richly deserves."

"So what should I do instead?" Harry asked hurriedly, his parents were starting to fade away.

"Talk to Pete and have his uncle extract your memories. The Director of the DoM has permission from the afterlife to see them. Goodbye, Harry. We love you..."

Right before they faded away, Harry yelled out, "Dad! What's the difference between a crocodile and an alligator?"

James' smile practically reached his ears as he replied, "One will see you in a while and the other will see you later."

Wednesday 1 November, 2017; Hufflepuff Conservatory, the next morning

Harry was violently shook up out of a dead sleep by a frantic Hermione. "Wake up! I know you can't hear me, but wake up!" Still thinking he was dreaming, he tried to say something but it only came out as a garbled mess. It took him a few moments of blearily staring at a blurry shape until his brain kicked into gear. "What happened?" His vision cleared a moment later resolving that blurry shape into a worried-looking Hermione who was still fretting and nervously picking at the hem of her skirt.

"No one knew you what happened to you." Neville appeared on Hermione's right and signed back. "Hermione wanted to search all night for you and only just now discovered that Hufflepuff has been hiding more than just a student." He looked around the room with undisguised awe.

Harry wobbled to his feet and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "Sorry I worried you both, Hermione, Nev. I guess I fell asleep to the sound of the fountain."

"But what happened? The last I saw you, you were talking with a troll."

Neville's mouth dropped open at hearing that so it took him a moment to remember to sign the question. Harry's face turned sheepish, "I was under orders by my mum and dad to head here and pretend that I was nowhere near where I actually was."

Hermione wasn't the only one to give him a disbelieving stare. "Try again, Potter."

Harry held his hand up, "I swear, Hermione. I'm not allowed to tell you what happened from on high. I was told that if a certain idiot (he mimed stroking a long beard) ever got wind of what actually happened, my life would be even more messed up than it is now."

Hermione huffed but let the matter drop. "Fine, go get changed so we can go visit Sally-Anne in the infirmary. Someone found her after everything that happened. I heard from a nearby portrait that she'd been trampled by the panicking crowd."

As they re-entered the Puff common room, Neville followed Harry while Hermione tracked down Professor Sprout to let her know that Harry had been located. "Did you know that Hufflepuff has a conservatory? Neville just about had his brain meltdown."

Pomona was relieved to hear about her wayward student and chuckled at hearing about Mr. Longbottom's reaction. "Yes, I did know and I'm not surprised he had that reaction. I did too, the first time I laid eyes on it."

"So why doesn't everyone know about it?" Hermione asked.

Pomona shrugged, "No idea. It's not like it's a national secret or anything. The door's marked so anyone with an ounce of curiosity should've been able to locate it. Where is Mr. Potter now?"

"He and Neville went back to Harry's room so he can get changed. We're planning on visiting Sally-Anne as soon as they're done."

Pomona thanked her for the information then dismissed the girl before activating her floo. She contacted Minerva, "All present and finally accounted for. Mr. Potter was found this morning in the conservatory by Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom."

Minerva let out a sigh of relief, "Okay, thank you. I'll contact his godfather and let him know."

7 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

"Hufflepuff has a conservatory?" Sirius repeated in confusion. "Since when?"

Minerva sipped on a cup of tea he'd provided her, "Apparently so, and I have no idea. I'm concerned that there might be other places within the castle that might have secrets squirreled away that an unsuspecting student might wander into and find themselves trapped."

Peter rubbed his chin in a particular manner which Sirius picked up on. He shook his head, "Forget it."

"Padfoot, seriously after all this time? It's not like we need it anymore."

Remus agreed with Peter, "While I sympathize with you, Sirius; I agree with Pete. It's time to hand it over. I've already fixed the issue with the overlapping name tags."

Minerva's eyes flicked from one man to the other before clearing her throat, "What are you three talking about?"

Sirius stared at his friends before sighing his release and waved Remus on. "Go ahead." Remus got up and disappeared into the house. When he returned, he laid a pile of folded parchment onto the coffee table. "Minerva, what you have to understand...well, (the three of them pulled their wands and tapped the parchment) I solemnly swear I am up to no good!"

Minerva's eyes widened to the size of saucers as the Marauder's biggest secret revealed itself for all to see. Lines began spreading outwards, intersecting each other, as words began appearing all before a multitude of named footsteps began making their way through the hallways and classrooms. "Is that...?"

Remus saw where she was pointing, "Yup. Dumbledore, in his office pacing. He does that a lot. Sometimes I wonder if it's another glitch but according to Gwendolyn, it's not."

Minerva couldn't believe what she was seeing. A highly detailed and revealing map of Hogwarts! Never in her life would she have ever expected such a thing to exist. "How? When?"

Peter snickered at their former Head of House's reaction. "The how is quite intricate and better left to Remus here to explain. I was the one who laid out the enchanted crystals that would allow us to scan a room automatically without having to lay down the charms manually as well as scouting out the rooms to make sure no one was around. Remus and James were the ones who put together the initial framework. When Lily joined us in seventh year; she helped with the finalization of the enchanting as well as fill in some missing locations like the girls' dorms and loos."

"And you, Mr. Black? What was your contribution?"

Sirius beamed proudly and fondly, "I was the one who could get the book from the Black Library that told us how to create the map in the first place. I still have it by the way."

"When did you manage to accomplish this?"

Remus stretched, "We finalized the design in...what? Early fourth year? Then it took us another eight to ten months to fine-tune it. There were a lot of contradictory issues we had to deal with. The biggest problem was solving the convoluted mess in the wardstone control room. Centuries of headmasters thinking they knew better than the Founders adding all of their own personal touches. Sirius was the one to commune with Hogwarts herself so we could navigate that morass to lay down our own taps into the system."

Pete slid the map over to Minerva, "We're giving it to you for a number of reasons. One, Harry doesn't really need it. He's a Puff and they're unlikely to go exploring like we did and besides, he has enough to keep him occupied. Second, we no longer need to avoid the professors; more likely than not, Sirius would rather cause a scene just to distract you all."

"That brings up another point, Minerva." Sirius replied evenly. "Make sure you don't let Albus know you have this. We all know that he's got some sort of convoluted idiocy regarding my godson. I don't want him having this and getting any other 'grand ideas'."

Minerva agreed with him. "When I first saw this, I had thought about showing it to Filius, Bathsheda, and Septima but you're correct. The fewer people that know about it, the less likely Albus will find out about it."

Pete swallowed a mouthful of tea, "Besides, Hogwarts knows where everyone is. All you have to do is ask her."

Hogwarts Infirmary

Sally-Anne woke up in a state of confusion. 'This isn't my room. Where am I?' She struggled to sit up and felt her mouth drop open. //"How did I end up here?"//

The school healer, Madam Pomfrey must've either sensed or heard the girl's hissing exclamation for she bustled over to check on her charge. "How are you feeling, Miss Perks?"

Grabbing a nearby whiteboard, Sally-Anne scribbled on it. "What happened?"

"You were trampled by the crowds last night in the confusion over the intrusion by a troll but don't worry, I fixed you up right quick. All you had were some minor bruises and a contusion."

"What about Harry and the troll? Is Harry alright?"

Madam Pomfrey snickered, "Mr. Potter is alright. It seems he fell asleep in the Hufflepuff conservatory and was rudely woken up by Miss Dagworth-Granger. I treated him for a stubbed toe after he was jostled awake and stumbled into a bookcase."

The doors to the ward opened to admit the very same Harry Potter followed closely by Hermione and Neville. Hermione brushed past the boys and practically tackled Sally-Anne in a strong hug. "I was so worried about you when I heard! How are you feeling? Are you hungry? Is there anything I can get for you?"

Neville barked out a laugh, "Ease up there, Hermione. Let the poor girl get a word in edgewise."

Hermione immediately blushed but stood her ground, "She's my friend and this is what friends do."

Harry shot Sally-Anne a wink and hissed, //"Isn't she funny when she gets all worked up like this?"//

Sally-Anne shared a giggle, //"She is but at the same time it's wonderful. It makes me wish that damned hat had sorted me into Hufflepuff too. (Her face grew somber) Something happened last night that no one's telling me. I can see it on Madam Pomfrey's face so what gives?"//

//"Well, the long and short of it is that you almost died last night. Quirrell used you as part of some crazy ritual to try and bring back his Master but it failed...explosively. I really can't get into greater detail than that with you here. When my Uncle Peter comes to get me, and I know he will; I'll ask if you can join us so his uncle can give you some idea of what you were drawn into. It's the right thing to do in my opinion. You just have to keep it a secret from anyone else, especially the headmaster."//

Sally-Anne's mouth turned down in a rather cute moue, //"Why him?"//

//"He's got this crazy idea that he needs to know everyone else's secrets while revealing none of his own. The headmaster's also got this idiotic 'Grand Plan' that involves me somehow and I don't want him getting any hints that it's been thwarted by someone WAY more powerful than he could ever hope to be."//

"Are you two quite done? You're scaring the children." When Sally-Anne turned, Harry followed her attention to where Minerva stood with a mysterious smirk on her face. "What was all that about?"

Harry blushed, "Nothing. I was just reassuring her that she'd be fine and...well..."

"Silly boy. Okay, I spoke with your godfather and he's relieved that you were found and safe. Your uncle Peter will be by later to take you to visit your therapist. Please, for all that is holy, leave a note for your Head of House to find where you'll be next time." Judging by the scrunched up look on his face, Harry hoped there wouldn't be a next time. "Okay, once Madam Pomfrey gives Miss Perks the all-clear, I expect you all to head off to your classes."

Harry grabbed Neville's arm and started leading him out. As they were leaving, Minerva spotted him signing, "Let's go find Draco. I have the urge to challenge him to another duel." "Oh Lord, now what?"

Headmaster's office, same time...

Albus was still pacing his office even after Minerva had returned to the castle. He'd seen the carnage that had been left in place after Quirrell foolishly tried to lure the troll away from the castle and gotten himself killed in the process. 'I never would've expect that timid boy to do something so heroic.' He tried many times since the previous night communing with Hogwarts to find out what exactly happened, but all he got was static like she was ignoring him. "What are you hiding from me?" He muttered to the room at large.

As expected, no one and nothing responded. It frustrated him that there were secrets and knowledge about what transpired in that lonely former classroom being kept from him. "I am still the Headmaster of the school, you know. It's my right to know what happened!"

The Sorting Hat shifted on its shelf. "You may believe that it is your right, but you don't deserve to know what went on in that room, Albus. Accept that and move on."

Albus stormed up to the Hat, flaring his magic. "Tell me! Tell me or I'll burn you to a cinder right this moment!"

The Hat chuckled, "You think you're the first person to throw out that threat? Ha! Even Godric tried that on me and he soon realized that it was an empty one. Rowena made sure of that."

Albus glared briefly before backing up, "Can you at least give me a hint?"

The Hat shook its 'head,' "Nope. A hint would give it away. Leave it alone, Albus. For the Greater Good, leave it alone." It settled back into inactivity.

Friday 3 November, 2017; end of classes

Harry received word via elf that he was to report to the front doors of the castle as soon as he was done with his last class. When he arrived, he easily spotted Peter chatting with Argus Filch and hurried over. "Hi, Uncle Pete!"

Peter finished his conversation and greeted Harry, "We figured that rather than interrupting your routine, I'd wait until the weekend to come get you. You'll come home for the weekend before you come back in time for first class on Monday."

"Sweet. I've got loads to tell you."

Peter nodded perfunctorily and guided Harry away from the castle. Once they were clear of the gates, he pulled a loop of rope out of his pocket and held it out. Harry knew what to do and took hold of one end. Peter spoke the activation phrase before the magic of a portkey swept them away.

Department of Mysteries reception room...

Their portkey deposited them in a nondescript room with only one door in or out. Pete handed Harry a robe to wear. "Usual rules apply." He donned his own robe as well.

Together, the two cloaked people walked through the hallways, occasionally greeting the other Unspeakables as they passed, unaware of whom it might've been. This was one thing that always unnerved Harry; it had been explained that one of the many things studied here was the concept of time travel and to prevent any unnecessary interruptions in the flow of time and inadvertent mishandling of future information, everyone had to wear identity concealing cloaks.

"I think everyone would know it's me under this thing."

"How do you figure that?"

Despite the hood, Peter could sense his nephew grinning. "I'm the only one who is way shorter than everyone else."

Peter couldn't help the snort of laughter, "You're probably right. Come on, Uncle Al is waiting for us."

Chief Unspeakable's office...

Upon entering the office, Pete removed his hood and greeted his uncle. "Uncle Al. Good to see you." He nudged Harry to remove his hood. "I present the one and only Harry 'Rugrat' Potter." Harry scowled at Pete, he might not be the best at reading lips but he could tell when he was being teased.

Algernon Kroyker aka Director Croaker of the Department of Mysteries chuckled lightly and signed, "How are you, Harry? I heard you had quite the encounter on Halloween."

Harry shrugged, "I've been better. I was more worried for Sally-Anne; she was the one at the center of all that stupidity and got her soul yanked out before the angels put it back in." Pete looked startled at that and sent a worried glance to his uncle.

Director Croaker nodded his understanding, "Still, you're both alive and well. If you're ready? I have a pensieve set up and ready for viewing." Harry agreed and thought back to the beginning of the night starting with the moment he left the Great Hall. Croaker placed his wand against Harry's temple and extracted a copy of the memory. The glowing white gossamer strands of light wound and twisted around his wand before he dropped the collection into the stone bowl with the strange inscriptions carved around the outside. He gave Peter an apologetic look, "Stay here with Harry. If there's anything that doesn't pertain to my remit, I'll come back and let you see it."

Without further ado, he dipped his face into the bowl and disappeared in a flash.

When he returned, Harry was busy practicing his magic while Pete was overseeing his efforts. "Pete, you can go see if you wish. I've marked out the sections that you're not cleared to see." Peter thanked him and disappeared into the memory. "So what are you working on, Harry?"

"Just practicing some spells I learned in Charms class. I was having trouble with the spell to get an object to sing a melody." Croaker motioned for Harry to show him. He adjusted the boy's grip and positioning of his wand then suggested he stress the fourth syllable instead of the second to get the best results. They'd just completed Harry's list when Peter returned.

"You saw?"

Peter nodded glumly, "I did. They were so young. I forgot Lily used to wear her hair like that. It makes me miss them all that much more. It hurts to think that I got all that time growing up with them when Harry only vaguely remembers."

Algernon could sympathize, "If you ever need to share more memories with the lad, the pensieve is here whenever you need."

"Thanks, Uncle Al." Peter nudged Harry to don his cloak again then led him back to the portkey room.

Thursday 9 November, 2017; Paddocks behind Hagrid's home, during lunch break

Ever since Sirius and the Ministry 'stormed' the castle and laid down the law with Albus and forced the aged headmaster to rethink his plans for the third floor corridor; Fluffy the Cerberus had been moved out of the castle and into a specially constructed area behind Hagrid's house. Anyone could go see the three-headed dog as long as they were accompanied by an adult, the operative word was 'adult.' Hermione managed to con one of the seventh years to tag along by stating, "You're seventeen! That makes you an adult in the eyes of Magical Britain. Please! I wanna see the puppy!"

Unable to resist those big brown eyes and her utterly adorable pleading, the seventh year relented and escorted a happily skipping Hermione down to the paddock. Hagrid was waiting outside for them. "Hermione? Oh, hello...um?"

"Olivia Templeton, seventh year and unwitting patsy for Miss Dagworth-Granger's plot to see a hellhound," the escort revealed to Hagrid's amusement.

"Right, right. She's a spunky little tyke, ain't she?"

Hermione hitched her stumps on her hips and cutely growled, "I'm right here, you know."

Olivia patronizingly patted the indignant firstie on top of her head, "That's nice dear."

Huffing with annoyance, Hermione left the two behind and approached the fence where she came face to faces with the dog in question. "Oh my god, you're so cute!" She squealed excitedly. She was about to reach in to let them sniff her stump when Hagrid's large hand stopped her.

"Easy now, Hermione. They're not used to people just yet, especially excitable children."

Pouting, she let Hagrid lead her over to the gate and introduce her properly to the Cerberus. All three heads approached carefully, sniffing the air then her before its tail slowly started wagging. The leftmost head licked her stump and whined as if to say, 'What happened?' The other two picked up on what the other had discovered and joined in with the whimpering.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm fine now. I had an injury when I was a baby," Hermione soothed them by giving each a gentle rub on their cheeks. She reached into her bag and pulled out her arms. "See? The healers gave me these new arms and hands so I can give you proper scratches too." She popped them in place and moved her fingers once they had activated. Fluffy moved in carefully after observing this, sniffing the new object and came to the conclusion that the odd girl was now a friend and allowed her to give them proper scratches. Hagrid wasn't the only one to laugh at the sight of the large hellhound roll over onto its back to demand that it be given tummy tickles.

"Hagrid, I don't think Fluffy is a baby," Hermione observed after they'd left the dog back in his enclosure with the toys that she'd brought along. They could see Fluffy chasing after a large knobby ball from his window.

"But he's so small," Hagrid countered. "Hellhounds normally grow to three times his size."

Her face grew pensive, "Are you sure? I can run a Google search if Hogwarts drops the wards again."

Hagrid tilted his head in confusion, "What's a google?"

Harley appeared a split second later. "Hey, Hogwarts just contacted me and said that the wards concerning blocking muggle technology only applies to the space within her walls. Anything out here is fair game. What's going on?"

Hermione gestured over to where Fluffy was now gripping the ball between two heads while the third was barking at them. "Hagrid said that Fluffy was only a baby. I suggested that we run a Google search but I didn't know if the anti-technology wards worked out here." She dug into her bag, pulled out her phone, and clicked it on.

Hagrid leant over and marveled at the device. "Wow, I had no idea the muggles were so advanced. Does everyone have one of these?"

Harley replied while Hermione was busy searching. "For the most part, they do although there are many different styles of phones available on the market. Some are more advanced than this one and some that are more primitive. Then you also have the parents of children who think that they don't need such devices until they're old enough to pay for the services. It's just a matter of preference, to be honest."

"Here we go," Hermione suddenly announced. Hagrid turned to her as she revealed what she'd learned. "In Greek mythology, Cerberus is often referred to as the hound of Hades. It's a multi-headed dog that guards the gates of the underworld to prevent the dead from leaving."

"That much I already knew," Hagrid murmured. "What about its growth?"

She waved her hand impatiently, "I'm getting there...uh, oh it seems that there are varying descriptions or possibly different breeds of Cerberuses...Cerberi? Anyhow, there's supposedly a two-headed variety that guarded the Cattle of Geryon, one that had fifty heads, and a version that had a serpent for a tail, and snakes protruding from its body. That sounds more like a Chimera...anyhow, according to this; a Cerberus grows to the equivalent height of a fully grown Great Dane with the weight of a fully grown male Rottweiler. That would mean Fluffy is just about an adult. Great Danes can reach anywhere between eighty to ninety centimeters (31-35 inches) at the shoulders, and weigh in between forty-three to sixty-one kilos."

Hagrid sat back to ponder this, "Huh. I guess I learned something new today. But why would he act like a puppy if he wasn't?"

Harley was clutching her sides laughing at the sight of Fluffy sticking one head into the bag of toys and emerging with a squeaky stuffed animal in the rough shape of a snake while the other two were sniffing it, intent on discovering where the noise was coming from. "Because no matter how old they are, all animals love to play."

Monday 13 November, 2017; DADA class

With the loss of Quirrell, Albus was forced yet again to look for a new Defense teacher. In the interim, he reached out to some of his contacts to see if they'd be willing to 'pop in for a spell.' For the most part, he came up empty until Alastor Moody responded with a gruff agreement. "Yeah, I can do it so long as I'm recovering from my last mission. Don't bother asking, I ain't telling you, Albus."

Albus shut his mouth, the question dying on his tongue since he knew better than to press for details from Alastor. Instead, he asked when his friend could start. "I'll be there on Monday. Those kids had better have their butts in their seats ready to get started."

Hermione bounced into her DADA class, took one look at who would be teaching and let out a squeal of surprise. "Mr. Moody!" The rest of the Puff contingent looked at her oddly.

Alastor smiled calmly at the exuberant girl, "Hello, Miss Granger. Take your seat, please. We're still waiting for the rest of the class to bother showing up."

Susan leant over and whispered, "I forgot that you knew him. He's supposed to be the toughest instructor at the academy."

Sure enough, once the last student took their seat; Alastor magically slammed the door shut then began his lecture. "There will not be any book work done in this classroom. I expect you to learn the theory on your own time. In here, I intend to push you to your limits and beyond." He suddenly cast a stinging charm at Hermione who deftly dodged it with a knowing smirk on her face. "I also refuse to play favorites." He too, dodged her return spell and waggled an approving finger at her. "Good one. I was hoping you'd play along. Now! All of you split along gender lines and we'll see how far behind you all are. Move!"

There was a mad scramble to split up. Their desks flew to the opposite side of the classroom leaving the center space open. One by one, Alastor had each of them face him as he sent spell after spell to see who would be left standing. When it was Hermione's turn, she didn't wait for him to start and sung up a wind spell that caused his robe front to fly up into his face. When he managed to free himself, Alastor had a gleeful look stretched across his scarred features. "Now, that's what I'm looking for! Initiative! Where are you, lass?" In the time it took to free himself, Hermione had disappeared.

"Where do you think I am?" Hermione's voice floated from somewhere near the stacked desks. Alastor's magical eye rotated and spun but he couldn't see one trace of her. "You're getting close, Mr. Moody." She suddenly appeared right in front of him, her bionic finger poking him in the nose. "Boo."

Alastor roared with laughter, "Oh, I think I'm going to enjoy teaching you, Miss Granger. Potter! You're up next." He noticed someone had to nudge the Potter boy to get his attention. "Potter, you're going to lose more than your hearing if your attention keeps wandering."

Harry stared at him for the longest time before hissing, //"What did he say? I only caught part of it."// Sally-Anne filled in the rest of Alastor's admonishment. //"Thanks, and you're right. My apologies, professor."//

Alastor glanced over at Sally-Anne who'd written down what Harry'd said onto her pad. Neville in turn read off the pad to finish the relay. He shook his head, "I'm going to look into seeing if there's a translation charm you can use while you're in my class, Potter. This is taking too long. Alright, in the meantime let's see what you've got." He motioned for Harry to defend himself and shot off a couple of stinging hexes.

Harry stepped to the side and let the spells pass by him before launching his own defense, all in Parseltongue. Alastor's one normal eye widened comically at the sight of the sheer mass of spells aimed in his direction and threw up a hasty shield. A mishmash of colors splashed onto the shield, dissipating harmlessly before the rug was quite literally pulled out from underneath him. Famed Master Auror Alastor Moody flipped head over feet and landed with a heavy thump on the ground.

Harry watched warily, he knew how crafty the old Auror could be. Alastor roared with laughter at being caught out so easily by someone who wasn't even old enough to shave. "That was wonderful, lad! To think I was all set to turn down Albus' invitation to come teach you snot-nosed kids. Alright lad, I'm wagering you've got more to show me. Let's see what you've got!"

No matter how many times Alastor squared off against Harry, the eleven year old Marauder-raised boy smacked the Master Auror on his bum all while grinning victoriously. Neville was cracking up laughing from some of the spells he heard Harry hissing. Hermione whispered, "What's so funny?"

Whispering equally quietly, Neville revealed that Harry was shooting nothing but prank spells. "Every single one of them could be easily defeated by even a five year old, but since Moody doesn't understand Parsel, he's defenseless."

Alastor overheard their conversation however, "You think you could do better, Longbottom? Granger? I'm setting the two of you against Potter next, and don't go easy on each other." He signaled to Harry to end their round and motioned the other two into his place.

Hermione scowled at Neville who appeared unfazed by it. "Don't go easy on her, Harry."

"What do you suggest?"

Neville thought carefully, "Well, don't get nasty but give her a Marauder's Welcome." Harry nodded his agreement and lined up his opening salvo. What he got instead was a bolt of dazzling light and a titanic clap of thunder which slammed into him, knocking him over onto his bum. Harry looked up to see a triumphant Hermione grinning down at him. "Oh, it's on Granger!"

Unheard by Harry, Hermione began to sing:

"Ooh oh oh oh, ooh oh oh oh
Be careful making wishes in the dark
Can't be sure when they've hit their mark
And besides in the mean-meantime I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart
I'm in the de-details with the devil
So now the world can never get me on my level
I just got to get you out of the cage
I'm a young lovers rage
Gonna need a spark to ignite
My songs know what you did in the dark

So light em up up up, light em up up up
Light em up up up, I'm on fire
So light em up up up, light em up up up
Light em up up up, I'm on fire!"

Harry was forced to dodge and duck as practically everything not nailed down rose up into the air and launched itself at him. He retaliated by erecting a Parsel shield charm, casting a spell which would flood the floor with molasses, and a hex which clogged her nose altering her voice and making it difficult to sing. In the end, both collapsed from their exertions, neither one a clear winner.

Alastor, and the rest of the class, applauded and cheered for their chosen champion. Neville rushed to Harry's side while the girls hurried over to Hermione. Neville signed, "You alright?"

Harry gave him a silly grin, "I think I'm in love..." He finally gave in to his exhaustion and passed out.

Teacher's lounge, after classes...

Alastor entered the room and immediately took up a chair facing the center, but up against the wall so he could keep an eye on everyone. He smiled perfunctorily at Flitwick when the smaller man greeted him. "How was your first class, Alastor?"

Unable to keep the smirk off his face, Alastor replied, "I had Potter and Granger in my class and damned if those two aren't going to be absolute powerhouses by the time they graduate! Between Potter's Parsel spellcasting and Granger's musical spellcasting; I'm starting to wonder if I ought to push them into becoming Aurors."

Filius chuckled at his colleague's enthusiasm. "You'd have to get in line. Nearly everyone who's ever witnessed either of them in action has had similar thoughts. I've got a few friends of mine coming in from Gringotts to witness Miss Dagworth-Granger's lyrical talents this Friday."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot she's got that hyphenated last name," Alastor huffed.

Filius waved it off, "She says she doesn't care which last name anyone uses. I wager it's still all new to her, being muggleborn and all."

Minerva had entered by then and overheard Filius' comment about Hermione's blood status. "She's actually Squib-born, if such a thing actually exists."

"Really? How did they find that out?"

"Family histories came out when they adopted Harley," she answered while calling for some tea. The elf that delivered it paused, an ear cocked slightly as if hearing something before letting out an undignified snort of amusement. Minerva caught it however, "What did you hear?"

The elf squeaked, "Sorry, but Harley is acting like a child and leading the other first year Puff girls in a pillow fight against the boys."

Both Alastor and Filius barked out laughing. Minerva dismissed the elf and sniffed disapprovingly, "Pillow fights." She gasped loudly when something soft smacked her in the face.

Filius' grin was smug as he lifted another pillow defensively, "Bring it on, Minnie."

Wednesday 22 November, 2017; Ministry for Magic

Sirius entered the conference room adjacent to the DMLE, greeting Amelia when he spotted her. "Glad you're here. What would you say about storming the castle again?" Amelia's only response was a single eyebrow quirking up. He chuckled at the lack of excitement. "Really? I would've figured you'd jump at the chance to go rattle Albus' cage again."

"I've got way too much to do, Sirius as you can plainly see," she gestured at the pile of paperwork surrounding her. "I only came in here because the table's big enough to handle it. But just out of morbid curiosity, why do you want to go up there?"

Sirius tossed a file folder onto the desk where it landed with a hefty thud. "Results came back from the investigation into that teacher's death on Halloween. It was as we suspected, impact with the wall at high speeds caused his skull to burst open, leaving a gory smearing of brains and blood. What wasn't reported, officially that is, is what prompted the encounter. It seems that our unlamented departed Quirnius Quirrell was playing host to the parasitical wraith of Voldemort."

Amelia's jaw swung open in shock. "What??!"

Sirius nodded solemnly, "I know, it was a shock for me too. Somewhere in Quirrell's travels, he ran across the wraith and became possessed. The two traveled back to Hogwarts where he became the defense professor, hired by Albus himself. On Halloween, Quirrellmort, and that's the term used by the Unspeakables, decided to hold a necromantic ritual to forcibly remove the soul of a first year student and replace it with Voldemort's thereby allowing him to return to life. Problems arose when Harry arrived with a mountain troll in tow and disrupted the ritual. I'm still fuzzy on how that happened but the Unspeakable told me that Voldemort will never again bother the mortal plane, whatever that means."

Amelia stared unblinkingly at him for so long, he feared she might've suffered an aneurysm. "Amelia?" She shook herself out of her stupor, closed her eyes, and let her head thunk onto the table. Sirius commiserated, "I felt the same way after I heard all that."

"So what happens now? Why...oh, you want to drag Albus in for an evaluation or something to find out how he willingly hired Voldemort to teach the kids, most importantly get within spitting distance of my Susan?"

Sirius bobbed his head, "Exactly. I, and a couple others I've already spoken to, are in agreement that perhaps it's time that Albus be brought in and get that brain of his scrubbed."

"Who else will be joining us?"

"I was thinking we could use the help of the DoM. I've already spoken with Director Croaker and he's onboard with the idea. He mentioned something about doing a full sweep of the Ministry as well, or at least all the departments nominally connected with the WEA since they'd be the ones most responsible for overseeing the educational side of things."

Amelia reached for her wand and cast a messenger Patronus, "Go to Rufus Scrimgeour. Tell him to come here with the heads of all departments." Her Patronus, a ghostly cheetah rushed out of the room. In the meantime, she began clearing up the work she'd been putting off for so long. She shot him a long-suffering sigh, "You've handed me one hell of a task, Black. I don't know how I'm going to get you back for this."

Sirius shrugged indifferently, "I look forward to whatever it is."

After the Heads arrived, Amelia began giving them their marching orders. "This department will be cleaning house as of right now. I want each of you to go to Saint Mungo's and request a full brain scrub for all of the usual suspects and then some. Once you're done, you will send in each member of your department to receive the same treatment."

A hand went up in the back. "Ma'am? Is there something you suspect?"

"I was informed a short while ago that the defense professor was possessed by the wraith of You-Know-Who. This individual was then knowingly hired by Albus Dumbledore to teach our children. Before you start growling, I'm having him brought in to undergo an evaluation. That being said, I want to make sure everyone under my command isn't suffering from similar...issues." She dismissed them to head over to the hospital.

Once the last left, Director Croaker arrived. "Amelia. I have the preliminary report on the WEA. To my surprise, their laxness over the past couple of decades wasn't Albus' doing but instead was the work of his predecessor, Armando Dippet."

Surprise showed on Amelia's face. "Really? This sounds like his sort of thing."

Croaker dipped his chin, "I know, right? Our investigation revealed that the enchantments were too old to be from Albus who would've been a mere teacher at the time of their application. We suspect that Dippet applied them as 'favors' to wealthy and influential parents so their children would score higher than the muggleborn who as usual, were smashing records left, right, and center."

"And Albus' role in this?"

Croaker shrugged, "He was probably told about the scam when he became Headmaster and just looked the other way."

Growling, Amelia thanked the man then jotted that tidbit of information down in her ever-growing journal to be used when it came time to drag the old bastard into court. She sagged in her chair and looked skyward for Divine Intervention. "I hope you have an appropriate punishment for him when the time comes."

Saturday 25 November, 2017; Hogwarts, unused classroom turned into an all-House common room

By general consensus, the room officially known as '312' had been transformed into a sort-of 'All are welcome, just leave your House animosity at the door' common room where it wasn't unusual to see a Gryffindor discussing Quidditch stats with a Slytherin or a Hufflepuff sweeping the floor with a Ravenclaw in a spirited round of poker. There was a row of pegs on the wall where it was expected for you to hang your House color robes and walk in unencumbered by outside expectations.

Hermione wandered in with Harley in tow; the two Granger girls stopped to take stock of what was on offer. Harley pointed to a group of fifth years gathered around a Monopoly board, "I'm headed over there."

Hermione nodded her understanding. "I'm going to head over there." She pointed to where a cluster of boys were gathered, most notably where Harry was signing something that made Neville and few others crack up laughing. She nudged Parvati on the shoulder, "Hey, Padma."

Parvati glared at her, "I'm Parvati!"

Hermione giggled, "I know."

Parvati huffed, "If you know, then why'd you call me Padma?"

"Because it's funny to see you arc up every time. Besides, it's easy to know which one you are anyhow."

A sculpted eyebrow rose challengingly, "Is that so?"

"Yeah, Padma's usually digging for a book when she enters a room, whether it be in her pocket or scanning the room for a bookshelf."

Parvati scoffed in derision, "Yeah, that's Padma alright. I ought to do that just to throw you off."

"You? Read? I didn't know you could read," Hermione teased her.

Parvati held her glare at an unrepentantly smirking Hermione before letting out another huff, "You're just jealous that I'm so good-looking that I don't need to be sticking my nose in a book all the time."

Hermione mimed being mortally wounded, "Oh, it burns! In another world, that might've been true but this girl's got a life this time around." She fluffed up her hair and looked proud for a moment before both girls broke down laughing. She gestured to what Harry and Draco were doing, "What are those two idiots up to now?"

Parvati giggled, "Harry challenged Draco to another duel."

"Again? What is it with them and dueling?"

"I don't know but it's hilarious. The rules are simple. They each have to tell something called a 'dad joke' and the loser is the one who breaks down laughing or groaning. So far, Harry's been the winner in the past five rounds. Draco's just the latest person to accept the challenge."

They looked over in time to hear Draco's joke. "Why do ghosts speak Latin?" He waited for a moment before responding, "Because it's a dead language!"

Harry fought to keep his face impassive but his eyes were starting to water. "I got lost in some hedges... it was a-MAZE-ing!" The others weren't impressed with that if the scowls on their faces were any evidence. Draco took another shot, winding up with a long lead in. Harry impatiently waited for his turn. Finally, the blond dropped his punchline which only served to make Harry roll his eyes once Neville interpreted it. "What do you call a frail old wizard with poor hygiene and bad breath?"

Silence filled the void after Neville finished. Draco and the other magically-raised were puzzled until naturally, it took a muggleborn to explain it. "Oh god, Harry! Ugh, think Mary Poppins," was their cryptic answer.

It wasn't long before the other muggleborns started groaning and moaning about how 'dad' that joke was. Draco was at a loss, "I don't get it. Who's Mary Poppins?"

The muggleborn, a third year by the looks of him, shook his head. "We need to hold a movie night sometime. At any rate, Draco the answer to Potter's lame-arse joke (Harry stuck his tongue out in response) is a 'super-grungy fragile mystic plagued with halitosis' and is spoken to the tune of Mary Poppin's song 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocius. When you see the movie, you'll get it. Potter, I don't think you ought to win this round. Go sit down before you hurt yourself."

The others agreed vehemently with him, forcing Harry to good-naturedly capitulate and take a seat. Hermione stomped over, glaring at the still laughing boy, "Where's Neville?" When he appeared, she pointed to Harry, "Translate this. If I ever catch you anywhere near my father and you reveal that you like to dish out dad jokes, I will end you Harry Potter!" For a moment, Neville worried about the vehemence in her voice, but then he saw the glint in her eyes and realized she was just teasing his friend.

Harry dropped to his knees after seeing Neville's interpretations and begged, "Please, my lady! This unworthy knave knew not what he'd done! Please don't forsake this child for his stupidity and...and...I'm not sure where else to go with this. A little help, Nev?"

Neville, Hermione, and Parvati were howling their laughter at his over-the-top 'performance.' Hermione grabbed onto his hand and hauled him to his feet before cuffing him on the shoulder, "You're such a daft ha'porth, Potter but I like you anyways." She turned and led Parvati off to find something else to do.

Harry slumped back down onto the couch and gazed up at Neville, "She likes me."

Neville shook his head sadly, "I'm gonna have to write to mum and dad to let them know that Potter Luck has officially struck down Harry. Alright you idiot, let's get you somewhere safe so you don't hurt yourself." He had to physically drag a dopey Harry from the room so he wouldn't hurt his chances by doing something amazingly stupid.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: A Christmas Mystery

Saturday 25 November, 2017; Headmaster's office, while the kids were having their dad joke competition

Albus had to face the facts. After poor Quirrell had that run-in with the troll, Voldemort had clearly abandoned his servant and fled back into the wilds. "That has to be the answer as to why no one's heard anything from him." All of his sensors came up empty and it would most likely be a long while until either Tom found another host or decided to settle in one spot long enough for Albus' special Trace located him.

Albus had suspected since the start of the new term back in September that the late professor had been playing host to the wraith of Voldemort. All of the usual signs of spectral possession had been in evidence: the whispers from the man like he'd been speaking to someone even if he was the only one in the room, the stench of sulfur emanating from under that hideous turban he wore, the stutter (though Albus was unsure of that one); not to mention the poaching of the school's herd of unicorns for their blood. 'Granted that was just the once before his untimely demise.' Then there was the magical residue he'd discovered interwoven with Quirrell's own. Albus had long known Tom's signature ever since he'd found the boy in that wretched orphanage all those years ago so he knew what to look for.

"Where have you gotten to now, Tom? Why couldn't you have just followed the script as you and I discussed all those years ago? It was so simple in its efficacy too. Terrorize the populace, eliminate those who would stand in the way for the betterment of our society, then when it was all over; give yourself up and spend a measly five years in Azkaban publicly repenting of your evilness then when you got out, take your place as a productive member of our reborn society. What was so difficult about that?"

He stared sightlessly at the map of the known Dark centers of the world he'd devised. It'd been tied into a number of trinkets on his side table which tracked Tom's movements to the forests of Albania where he'd sent Quirnius under the guise of 'gaining real world experience' before taking up the post of defense professor. Now however, until Tom settled in a new place or host; Albus was at loss on how to locate his wayward weapon.

"I blame Black for interfering with my plans. How he found out about what I had planned for the third floor, I cannot wager a guess but it nevertheless destroyed everything I had set in place. Even the damned troll refused to play to the role I'd devised for it."

Albus idly caressed his left arm where a certain skull and snake design lay tattooed into his flesh. Similar to the ones branded into the arms of Tom's minions; Albus' version was gold instead of the usual black indicating his status as the creator of the Mark and therefore separate of the punishments inflicted upon those who failed their tasks. "Such a nice design. To think that Tom still believed that it was he who came up with the symbolism." It still amused him to think of all of the other Death Eaters bowing and scraping to their 'master' wrongfully thinking that the man whom they'd sworn allegiance to was in fact a follower as well. Tom and his minions owed their very existence to Albus, nothing happened within their society without him knowing and giving his permission. "I now regret not insisting that you bear your Mark as well so I could recall you from wherever you disappeared to..."

Unbeknownst to Albus, another was watching, listening, and taking notes to be passed along to someone who had the power to stop this madness...

Director of the Department of Mysteries' office...

"I don't know what's broken inside of that head of his, Director but I'd wager it's a scary place to be right about now. He's been rubbing that tattoo on his left arm more often than late. It makes me wonder if it's still tied to Voldemort somehow," the portrait of Sir Francis Walsingham, famed British spy for Her Majesty Elizabeth I, observed while consulting his notes.

Croaker sat up with alarm, "Albus has a Dark Mark?? Since when?"

The portrait shrugged, "For as long as I've been in place, sir. It's different than the others though; gold in color rather than the usual black. Hogwarts tells me that it's non-functioning; merely window dressing as it were."

"Another phony? Like that stone the Flamels tricked him into protecting? Ha! Wait, why would he knowingly and willingly allow himself to be tattooed with a phony Dark Mark?"

Sir Francis glanced out of frame for a moment before allowing a satisfied smile to creep across his face. "Hogwarts informed me that it was she who deactivated the original Mark's enchantments and gave him that shiny one nearly twenty years ago; Albus clearly never noticed."

Algernon laughed at hearing that, "Clever castle. I knew there was something I liked about her. What else have you got?"

"He's got a map of the world that tracks the location of every concentration of Dark activity on it, and even laid out his 'Grand Plan' for what should've happened."

Croaker was impressed; they had something similar and would explain the occasional odd readings they got. It was almost like there was some sort of tap on the enchantments forcing them to delay a few seconds or a sensor echo that made items look like they were in two places at the same time before updating. He made a note of the information for his enchantment techs to investigate later. "Really now? We've been hoping that he'd let slip that plan for the longest time. What did the esteemed lunatic reveal?"

Sir Francis went over the 'Grand Plan' causing Croaker to scowl, "Lunatic is right. Okay, any ideas on how to derail his plots?"

The portrait tilted his head for a moment to think before he noticed a deactivated orb gathering dust on a shelf nearby and thumbed over to it, "What if you were to jury-rig a 'prophecy' specifically for dear, old Albus? Let him focus on that while giving yourself time to regroup and figure out your next step."

Algernon's eyes tracked over to the indicated orb, a small smile teased the corners of his lips, "I like that idea. Now the question begs, what sort of message should we include?"

The following Monday, Hermione caused something of a scene still dripping puddles of mud from her clothes after tripping on an exposed tree root and face-planting into a pile of mush; even Argus Filch had nothing to say when she stepped into the castle. She'd gone out to say hi to Fluffy once more and to investigate the loud chirping noises coming from another paddock when nature decided that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. Sitting up, drenched in the foul odor of who-knew-what and nursing a sprained ankle, Hermione's eyes comically widened at the sight of an otherworldly beautiful horse easing its way out of the underbrush. What made this horse special was a bony spire sticking up out of its forehead.

A unicorn. Every little girl's dream of meeting one was coming true right before her eyes. Tongue-tied, she hesitantly reached out to let the creature snuffle her hand. "Oh, my..."

The combined noise of several hundred children and staff dropped off to near absolute silence as Hermione stepped inside accompanied by the unicorn. However, Hogwarts much like nature, abhors a vacuum so within a heartbeat the whispers began. Sally-Anne and the others stood slack-jawed at the sight of the unlikely pair. //"Is there nothing you do that is ordinary, Hermione?"//

Judging by the grin on the girl's face and her hands hitched on her hips pose, Hermione suspected Sally-Anne was just teasing her and primly replied, "You're just jealous."

Sally-Anne pulled out her brand-new whiteboard sent to her by her parents to answer, 'You're damned right I am! A unicorn? Why is it following you?'

"No idea, but I'm grateful anyways," Hermione commented as she gently stroked the horse's neck. The unicorn headbutted her to urge her forwards. "What? Where are you...fine, lead the way." She and the others followed the unicorn until it deposited them outside of the infirmary where Madam Pomfrey awaited with curiosity and surprise clear on her face. Harley popped in and patted the unicorn, "Thank you, Fiona. I can take her from here."

Fiona tossed her head and whickered something causing Harley to smile broadly, "You got it. I'll talk to you later." With that, the unicorn turned and trotted off out of the castle, back into the forest. Harley turned to see everyone staring at her. "What? Unicorns and Elves are Fae, we share a common language much like English speakers from the United States, Australia, and elsewhere. They may have weird accents sometimes, but it's still understandable."

Madam Pomfrey shook herself from the incongruity of having a unicorn escort a student to her ward and interjected, "Miss Dagworth-Granger? Let's get you onto a bed so I can determine why you were brought to me."

Wednesday 6 December, 2017; outside of Herbology class

"How's it going, Mrs. Potter?" A fourth year Ravenclaw teased Hermione as she made her way out of Herbology. She shot him a confused look before turning to her friends, "What was that all about?"

Susan shook her head and shrugged a shoulder, "No idea, but I suspect that Harry's being a bad boy if you're being labeled as Mrs. Potter."

Hannah Abbott, Susan's best friend bobbed her head in agreement, "Let's go 'politely' ask him aka pin him to the wall and threaten to give him a make-over until he talks. Boys hate getting make-overs."

"Mrs. Potter! How was the wedding?"

"Where are you two going to honeymoon? I've heard that Hawaii is absolutely gorgeous this time of year."

"Did you have your collection of plushy toys witness the ceremony? I hope you took pictures."

Three more times Hermione was addressed as 'Mrs. Potter' by random students they passed in the hallways. Each time, it got on her nerves trying to figure out who was the perpetrator. They found Harry chatting with some of his friends as they headed down the hallway on their way up to the ground floor. Hermione got in his way, giving him a hard glare; stopping him with a hand on his chest. "Okay, spill it Potter. Why is everyone calling me Mrs. Potter? If you lie to me, I'll have no problem tying you to a chair and giving you an embarrassing make-over."

Harry slowly blinked at the threat before signing, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She turned that hard glare onto Neville and the other boys who all swore alongside Harry that they had no involvement with this new social development. "Then who would think it'd be funny... I would've thought it'd be Fred and George but they're under orders from Harry's family to behave themselves. Ronald's too stupid to think of doing something this elaborate. I even would've thought it might've been Harley but it's not her style..."

Harley popped in with a dismayed shake of her head, "I heard what you said and you're right, it's not my style. I would've made the suggestion to your face rather than spread rumors about the school."

"What about Draco?" Harry signed. "Or Blaise? It wouldn't be Theo, he's more interested in Padma than spreading rumors about you and me." His reveal about Theo and Padma raised a few female eyebrows.

"What about Greg and Vince?" Neville suggested though Harry shook his head. Daphne agreed with Harry and said that the pair hadn't been in the castle for the past couple of days which was when the rumor got started. "Really? Is it something serious?" He asked and signed for Harry's benefit.

She shrugged unconcernedly, "Nothing as far as I know. I suspect it's some Family business."

Harley tilted her head to consider Harry's first suggestion, "Why Draco though? What would he gain by spreading such a rumor that Harry and Hermione are married?"

Hermione waved her arms to return to the root problem, "Regardless, this has got to stop. I'm not getting married to anyone any time soon. I like you, Harry; but this thing about you ending up getting married to me because of some cockeyed tradition is ludicrous!"

Justin Finch-Fletchley was hit by a coughing fit of laughter, "What if you were to publicly divorce him? Harry, I mean."

Sally-Anne came bouncing up, //"Good afternoon everyone. Mr. and Mrs. Potter, how are we on this lovely winter's eve?"//

Harry and Hermione shared a knowing look; Hermione let out an aggrieved sigh and hung her head before spearing her friend with a stink-eye. "At least now we know who started this. Sally-Anne? Run."

Sally-Anne grinned widely for a brief moment, not believing that Hermione would follow through on her threat before squealing and dashing off when her friend sang up a ball of blue-green magic and bounced it menacingly in her hand.

The next day, DADA class...

Harry entered the classroom with a broad smirk on his face. Neville eyed him oddly, "What lunacy is rolling around in that sludge you call a brain?"

Harry continued to grin and signed back, "I've got a couple of good dad jokes for tonight."

"Oh, joy. I can only imagine."

"In the meantime, I've got a question for Professor Moody." He motioned for Neville to follow him.

Alastor looked up at their approach, "Longbottom, Potter? What do ye lads need?"

Harry started signing but slowed to a stop when he noticed Neville wasn't responding but instead looking at something above his head. He nudged the boy, "What's wrong with you?"

{"I'd wager he's reading the message in the bubble above your head,"} Moody gruffly replied, gesturing above his own head.

{"Bubble?"} Harry glanced up to see a pinkish translucent bubble floating over his head. {"Wicked! So wait a minute, it's showing you what I'm thinking? Why can't I see it?"}

{"Why do you need to see what you're already thinking, Potter? Remember how I said a better way needed to be found to communicate with you more effectively? This is what someone I know came up with."} Moody answered through his own bubble. {"You don't need to know the mechanics behind it, but suffice to say; I think we're onto something good here."}

{"Hermione's gonna go spare when she sees this. Anyway, I've got a question about a vampire's requirement about needing permission to enter a person's house. What if that vampire was an Auror with a search warrant?"}

Moody stared blankly at the two boys for the longest time before he let out a coughing laugh, {"Clever work around. I have no idea; I don't think a question like that has ever been raised and I don't know any vampires personally to ask. Go take your seats, I'll be starting the class as soon as everyone else arrives."} He chuckled to himself the longer he thought about the lad's question. "Vampire Aurors, now I've heard everything."

Hermione did indeed go 'spare' when she saw the bubble above Professor Moody's head. In fact, he wasn't the only one to have such a bubble over their head. {"Everyone has one? I hope they can't read about my private thoughts."}

{"If you don't think it, no one can know, Miss Dagworth-Granger."} Moody commented through his bubble, amused by the twelve-year-old's reaction. Stray bits of text continued to pop up every now and then as the kids fought to keep their attention on their teacher and not this new way to communicate. {"Now, to continue on about yesterday's promise; I will be casting a Langlock on each of you to see how well you can cast a defensive and offensive spell when you can't speak properly. Weasley! You're up first."} Alastor had the boy down and out within the first two minutes after applying the hex and that was including leaving up his thought bubble so it was patently clear which spells he was going to use. "Come on, boy! I knew your grandmother from when we were both your age and she could defend against me even with laryngitis and a bag over her head!" He shook his head in disgust. "You better pray that there'll be someone with a lick of intelligence in your vicinity if the worst should happen otherwise your mother's going to get what's left of you in a snuffbox."

Teacher's lounge, later...

"Alastor? What's this I heard about a new translation charm that projects a person's thoughts above their head in a bubble?" Filius inquired as soon as the former entered the room.

"Aye, I needed a better way to talk to the Potter lad and the Perks girl. I've got a contact within the DoM who spent time in the muggle world studying their field of psychology and memory theories. The way she explained it, the new charm is a variant of Legilimency but instead of diving into the target's mind, it's projected in a cartoon bubble above the target's head. The target can see the bubble, but not the words since it's their own thoughts."

Filius scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Fascinating, does the new variant include imagery or is just text-based?"

"As far as I understood her explanation, just text."

Filius bobbed his head slowly, "So it doesn't matter that someone speaks a different language? What about non-humans or beasts? I can only imagine what the parents are going to say if they think we're reading their children's most private moments."

"I haven't tried it on anyone else yet, but my contact said that her tests indicated that it didn't matter. As I reminded a couple of my students, if they don't think about whatever they want to keep private; I'll not be able to read about them."

"Would you mind if I tried it? What's the incantation and wand movement?"

Moody shrugged, "It's not all that difficult. It's a left-hand spiral with a jab towards your target while casting, 'Vera cognitations revelare'." He allowed Flitwick to perform the charm on him. {"Just think of the benefits if this was cast on an unsuspecting student or criminal. Lying to an Auror or teacher would be a thing of the past."}

Filius' jaw dropped open before squeaking his surprise, "It worked!" He canceled the charm and noticed an odd bump to his magic. "What was that?"

"You felt a jolt to your magic? Yeah, she mentioned the same thing. I don't know why it does that but I've found that if you ease off the connection instead of just dropping it; it's less noticeable. Anyhow, I have it set up in my classroom so it's always 'on' whenever someone comes in. You should see some of the kids' reactions, especially the older ones."

Filius harrumphed, "I can imagine. Fred and George Weasley must be salivating at the idea of getting their wands onto something like this." A slow grin spread across his face and motioned for Moody to cast the charm on him. {"I wonder...what sort of chaos we could create if this was installed in all public areas like the Great Hall? Imagine what we might learn if this charm could be applied to a necklace or something and gifted to Albus to wear. We might finally get an answer to why the school always seems to be running short of funds when it comes to replacing worn or broken equipment, but he always has money to burn on his pet projects."}

Alastor's facial scars stretched as he too joined Filius with a calculating grin of his own. "Filius, I like how you think."

History of Magic

In all the years since his death, Professor Cuthbert Binns still hadn't realized he was a ghost so it fell to Professor McGonagall to coordinate with Professor Flitwick to set up a localized silencing field around Hermione's desk using a cat figurine as a portable anchor so the girl could write her notes using the Dicta-quill without disturbing anyone else. While she'd had some practice writing and typing with her prosthetics, they were far from the natural intuitiveness she would've had with the hands she'd been born with. 'Thank the heavens for the miracle of the Dicta-quill.' All she had to do was speak and it wrote down her words verbatim.

"The Wizards' Council was the long-standing governing body for the wizarding world in Britain before the Ministry of Magic, eventually being disbanded in 1707 to make way for the Ministry. It predated the International Statute of Secrecy in 1692 which the Council helped implement, and its history is marked by both administrative and landmark decisions like those concerning magical creatures and Quidditch. The Council's functions, along with its own complicated history with magical creature classification, were ultimately absorbed by the new Ministry of Magic."

A piece of paper was slid onto her desk. 'Did something happen to your figurine? We can all hear you.' Hermione looked up in confusion to see everyone staring at her. She picked up the figurine and tapped the appropriate spot on its back with her finger. It glowed green which should've indicated that the field was in place. "Can you hear me now?" Their heads bobbed in synchronization. She popped off one of her arms and tried tapping the spot with her stump. Again, they were still able to hear her speak. Her brows furrowed in consternation, "Okay, that's weird. Harley?"

Harley took the figurine and tried tapping it, gaining the same results. "I guess it's broken. Don't worry, we'll stop by Professor Flitwick's office after class and get it sorted. In the meantime, you can borrow my notes."

As it turned out, the charm involved did indeed wear off and merely had to be reapplied. "Casting charms is always a temporary measure, Miss Dagworth-Granger," Flitwick explained as he reapplied it then handed it back. "If you want something with a bit more permanence, I recommend you take that to the Runes teacher, Professor Babbling. She should be able to come up with something appropriate."

Hermione smiled her acknowledgment, "I appreciate it, professor. Thanks."

When she met up with her friends at dinner, Sally-Anne was nowhere to be found. Hermione peered up and down the table but to no avail, "Where's Sally-Anne?"

Pansy paused in taking a bite of her grilled chicken salad to look around, "I heard she was in the loo crying again."

Daphne snorted, "You sure that wasn't Moaning Myrtle instead?" Pansy shrugged her shoulders in response.

Rising to her feet, Hermione was about to go look for her friend when Sally-Anne appeared; the girl's face was splotchy from the tears still dripping down her face. "What happened?!"

"Do you think I'm a Dark witch?" The girl tearfully wrote on her whiteboard.

"Hardly, you're too pale," Hermione tried to joke, but it fell flat. "What happened?"

"Ronald Weasley was teasing me again after class today. He thinks I ought to disappear into the Chamber of Secrets along with the rest of the 'slimy snakes' in this school and well I didn't hear the rest because I think I killed him..."

The others stared in mute horror before Padma laid a gentle hand on Sally-Anne's shoulder, "Start from the beginning."

"He's been making rude comments about how untrustworthy wannabe snakes like me ought to be rounded up and obliviated then dumped out into the muggle world. I don't think he remembers that I'm from the muggle world. Anyhow, I was getting angrier by the second and I leveled my wand in his face in the hope that it would scare him off. I don't remember which spell it was but it smacked him across the room and into a wall. He fell to the floor and didn't move."

Harley was staring skyward and let out a huff, "Hogwarts was just telling me that the redheaded mouth-breather was merely knocked unconscious and was never in any serious harm. She's already transferred him to the infirmary and let Madam Pomfrey know."

Sally-Anne slumped with relief, "That's good. Thank you, Hogwarts."

"Now that that's settled, have some dinner and we can plan on how to exact revenge against the brat," Lavender stated. "I wish I was as brave as you, Sally-Anne to do what you did. He's disgusting and is forever staring at my chest."

Hermione glanced down at herself and muttered, "At least you have something worth staring at." Harley snickered and nudged her sister's arm.

Monday 11 December, 2017; Hufflepuff Common Room, after classes

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Flamel;

I was wondering if it'd be alright if some of my friends wrote to you as well. Given all that you've learned, we have a bet that you'd be way better than our current history teacher, Cuthbert Binns. He puts the 'dead' in dead boring. (He's a ghost, by the way.) Learning about the origins of our society is one thing but to drone on about the minutia is just aggravating! He'll spend entire classes going over the 'importance' of the development of a governmental form rather than going into more fascinating stuff like the Lost Colony of Roanoke, the Nazca Lines in Peru, or even the Voynich Manuscripts!

(Did you know that there's a spell that can make your thoughts visible? Our Defense professor worked with someone and now I can communicate with the rest of my class without having to wait for Neville to interpret or for Sally-Anne to transcribe what I say onto a whiteboard then for someone else to read what she wrote.)

(I should also point out that Sally-Anne Perks, the girl in question, is only able to speak in Parsel like Harry. She's able to read, write, and understand English; she just can't speak it for some reason. The spell creates a bubble above the person's head like you'd see in the comics. I haven't noticed it anywhere other than the defense class so maybe it's limited to just Professor Moody.)

Things are going relatively smoothly here. Classes are proving to be challenging but I like that. Oh, did I ever tell you that my sister, Harley was inducted into the rolls as an official Hogwarts student? I found out later that she's the first elf in history to be counted as one of the rest of the student population. This means she'll be in the same classes as me and even have to do the homework. It's funny to see her hunched over a stack of books trying to answer why it's important to stir seven times one way then seven times another for our recent potions class. (I've never understood that either and I learned how to brew potions before coming to Hogwarts from my aunt who is way better at explaining things than Professor Snape.)

Hoping you're doing alright and Mr. Flamel is staying out of trouble.

Sincerely,

Hermione Dagworth-Granger

Harry Potter

Neville Longbottom

"Do you really think that Mr. Flamel would go about getting into trouble just for the fun of it?" Neville asked Hermione as she packed up the letter to be mailed. Hedwig had fluttered in and let her chick fuss over her while she waited.

Giggling, she replied, "Why not? Just because he's older than dirt doesn't mean he wouldn't know how to have a good time. Just look at what happened with the stone that the headmaster was supposed to be guarding! Remember what Harry said about it being a fake?"

Harry smirked and bobbed his head while gently rubbing Hedwig's cheeks with one hand and signed with the other (the bird's eyes were closed as she made quiet purring noises.) "It's true, Sirius said he was ranting up a storm."

Finished stuffing the letter into the envelope, Hermione tied it around Hedwig's leg. "This goes to the post office where I think the Flamels have a box set up." Hedwig shook herself out of her stupor and gave the girl a gentle nibble before flying off. Hermione dusted off her hands and stated she was going up to the Room of Requirement to see what else she could discover.

Room of Requirement...

After pacing the requisite number of times thinking clearly about what she wanted, Hermione entered the Room of Lost Things and took a moment to just absorb the sheer amount of stuff potentially squirreled away inside. Already she'd liquidated a number of fist-sized gems and a bunch of jewelry; sending them off to be either stored or sold off by the Goblins. She glided amongst the piles of artifacts from who-knew how long ago, occasionally stopping to wonder about the person who might've been the one that originally owned or created the various pieces.

She was examining an awards plaque for something that had the words melted off. The only thing remaining that was semi-recognizable was the name 'Ravenclaw' at the top and the year 1213AD. "Hogwarts, is it possible to create a clone of the Founders and animate them to mimic how they would've sounded and moved while they were still alive?"

A puff of smoke and a fluttering note with the single word: Yes. Why?

"I'd love to be able to pick the incredible brains of Rowena Ravenclaw. Can you tie their memories if you have them stored away somewhere into the clone?"

There was a slight whisper of magic in the air before a human female dressed in 10th century clothes appeared. Rowena Ravenclaw was a beautiful, intelligent woman with long, dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. She was tall and carried herself with a dignified and contemplative posture, though somewhat intimidating. Her robes looked elegant, with wide-sleeved robes in various shades of blues, accented with grays and whites and a hand-sewn Ravenclaw crest on her right breast. Most importantly, she wore a tiara upon her head and a signature signet ring on her left pinkie finger.  

Rowena smiled down at the awed pre-teen. "Hello my dear. You wished to speak with me?"

Teacher's lounge, same time

As part of her duties as Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall was tied into the magic of the school. As such, when Hermione asked Hogwarts to recreate a facsimile of Rowena Ravenclaw and tie the Founder's memories into the golem, Minerva felt something shift within the wards. "What the..."

Alastor's head rose from the card game he was playing against Filius and Severus, "You say something?"

"I just had the oddest feeling sweep through my connection to the castle."

The card game on hold, all three men turned to face her. Severus ventured, "A student? The Weasley twins perhaps?"

She shook her head, "No, the wards are telling me that they're currently holed up in an old classroom tutoring a group of second years. This feels...older somehow. It's almost like..." Her eyes snapped open wide as she gasped from surprise, "It cannae be!" She immediately bolted for the door with the others in the room following a heartbeat later.

Hermione's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before her brain ground back into gear and she let out a snort of laughter, "Silly me, you're just a creation of mine. I don't know why I thought you'd be the actual Rowena Ravenclaw."

Rowena's eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement as she waggled a finger, "But were you not the one who asked Hogwarts to tie my memories into said creation? I'm about as real as real can get without delving into the nasty business of necromancy."

Hermione giggled, "I guess so. Wow, okay. Anyways, I created you because I was curious about the history of the school and some of the rooms within it."

Rowena frowned slightly, "Is this not something you could ask your history teacher?"

"He's a ghost who only goes on about Goblin rebellions and the minutia of governmental bureaucracy," Hermione grumped. "I was hoping that in all of your stored memories, you'd have some insights as to why and how this room was created."

"Oh that's easy. One evening, I had a dream about a room that when not in use had strange glowing gridlines on the walls, floor, and ceiling. It was able to take the form and operation of just about any scenario including the creation of people or animals based on the requirement of the person using it."

Hermione tilted her head curiously, "Would it be possible to see what you saw in that dream?"

Rowena thought for a moment before sadly shaking her head, "No, unfortunately not."

The pair turned at the sound of the door opening and a Scottish accented voice calling out, "Miss Dagworth-Granger?"

The rumor that a form of Rowena Ravenclaw was currently answering questions up in a previously unknown room up on the seventh floor caused something of a stampede amongst the students and staff. Even Albus managed to wrest himself away from his usual pacing and plotting (aka daydreaming) to come investigate the rumors. By the time he entered the room, it had been changed to resemble a classroom complete with tables, chairs, and a podium.

Albus stared at the woman who calmly returned the observation with a slightly amused uptick of her lips. "You cannot be Rowena Ravenclaw," he declared after a moment of contemplation.

"I never said I was."

His eyebrows furrowed, "Then who are you?"

"I believe the proper questions is, what are you? The body you see before you is merely a construct created by Hogwarts."

Albus' face relaxed, "Ah, then you're nothing more than a golem?"

Rowena waggled her hand, "Of a sort. My memories however, they're the real deal as the saying goes. Miss Dagworth-Granger requested a...clone? (Hermione nodded her acknowledgment) A clone of my original self embued with the memories I had stored away for this very reason, and before you inquire; yes, the others did the same for the moment when the right question was asked."

A hand went up amongst the Slytherins, "So if we request Salazar Slytherin to appear, he would?"

"Is that how you would address the Founder of your House?"

The owner of the hand stood and formally requested the presence of Lord Salazar Slytherin, "We have questions, my Lord. If you would attend to us?"

Rowena glanced away for a moment, seemingly to stare off into the distance. There was another shift in the magic of the room before three more people appeared. One was a medium-sized burly man with red hair and a lopsided grin, the other was a portly woman who gave off the air of being someone who'd bake you biscuits after a long day of study. The third was a man with a slender appearance standing about two meters tall, had dirty blonde muttonchops sideburns and a goatee who waved his hand questioningly. "Row?"

"Sal, a child has finally asked the right question." She motioned to a clearly overwhelmed Hermione. "Go easy on her, please."

Sal took note of the color of Hermione's robes, "Not one of mine."

Hermione shook her head, "No, sir. I'm a Hufflepuff."

The portly woman smiled proudly. "I knew it. Pay up." She nudged the man at her side.

The red-haired man turned around to show that he had a wicked looking scar over his left eye and groaned at her nudging, "Fine, you were right." He dug into his pocket and handed her a small bag of coins. "I don't know how you're doing it though, Helga. It's my hat that was enchanted!"

The now-identified Helga Hufflepuff sniffed cutely, "I will never reveal my secrets, Godric. It's much too fun to watch you squirm."

Sally-Anne hissed something to Harry who replied in kind. Salazar overheard and replied, //"It's part of the magic of the school. It's not real money within that bag."//

Sally-Anne's eyes bugged out before she blushed at being caught out. He smiled perfunctorily and motioned to her robes before speaking in English for the benefit of the others. "You are not one of mine, either."

Hermione tapped him on the arm, "Harry's a Hufflepuff like me, while Sally-Anne is a Gryffindor."

"Do the children not have family names?" Godric inquired.

"Oh, he's a Potter and she's from the Perks family."

One of Godric's eyebrows rose, "Sal? Didn't you have a granddaughter or someone who took up with a Potter? I could've sworn your family was tied with them."

Sal disagreed, "No, none of mine did even after my family merged with the Gaunts under Corvinus who if you remember were about as prolific as a burrow of Nifflers. I believe it was a solitary Weasley cadet line heir who married, drunkenly I'd wager, a daughter of no importance. It was one of his whelps who started that abhorrent trend of marrying their own siblings to keep the line 'pure.' In this lad's case, I suspect you're thinking of Hardwin Potter who married Iolanthe Peverell. She came from the main line descending from Geoffrey Peverell, son of William Pevereal."

"What about the Dark Lord?" a gravelly voice called out, interrupting Salazar's reminiscing of the past.

Sal turned to glare at being interrupted, "Who's asking?"

Albus cleared his throat, "I do not believe this is a suitable topic of discussion for the children. Perhaps the Founders and I should retreat to my office to explore this further?"

Rowena shook her head sadly, "Can't. Anything created in this room has to stay in this room. I wish it wasn't the case; I miss being able to take a walk around the grounds, and frankly I'm curious as to where my wayward daughter has disappeared to."

Marcus Flint was urged to step forward, "I'm Marcus Flint and I was wondering if it's true that the Dark Lord is your heir."

Sal waved the teen on, "What is the name of this Dark Lord?"

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, "Well..."

"The name you are searching for is Tom Marvolo Riddle, or as he was publicly known as 'Lord Voldemort'." The statue form of Hogwarts appeared before them to answer the question.

"STOP! I FORBID ANY MORE QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS TOPIC!" Albus bellowed and raised his wand. A flash of light surrounded him and he slumped to the floor.

Unseen by anyone, Alastor stowed his wand with a smug look on his face.

Godric toed the unconscious headmaster, "That's enough out of him. Thank you to whomever it was that did this. Now, where were we?"

Albus awoke later strapped to a bed in the infirmary. "Poppy? Why have I been restrained?"

Poppy sniffed derisively, "Safety. You kept trying to roll out of bed. Seriously, in all the years I've known you, not once have I suspected that you're an active sleeper. No wonder why your brother never wants to be near you. I suspect you've kicked him a number of times growing up."

Albus laughed lightly but thought to himself (as far as he knew, he never did see the bubble floating serenely above him), {I may have, but his anger towards me is likely the result of his memory of me killing our sister when she dared to get between me and Gellert."}

Unseen by Albus or Poppy, Algernon shook his head and continued to take notes from the safety of a specialized room within the Department of Mysteries. The Observation Orb he was using provided a unique insight thanks to the incredible blend of magic and muggle technology. The Orb was able to move about its target environment undetected by normal magic thanks to some unique cloaking enchantments based on the famed Peverell cloak which had been loaned to his researchers by Sirius Black some six years ago. It used a modified hover charm capable of being directed by the operator using a specialized floor mat that allowed a person to walk or run in any direction. It would record and transmit all of the sights and sounds in real-time around it sending it back to the helmet Algernon wore. There was no discernible lag time between the transmission or the receiver. One of his researchers likened it to the virtual reality headsets the muggles had been working on since the late sixties.

"Sir?" Algernon held up a hand and guided the Orb to a safe spot near the corner and lifted the visor. "Report on project XCV-330 as you requested." The agent handed off the file then left. Flipping down the visor again, he resumed his observation of Albus' thoughts. "Ingenious spellwork, Agent 22."

Off to the side, and monitoring the Orb's connection to the room they were standing in, Agent 22 smiled thinly, "Thank you, sir."

Saturday 16 December, 2017; Hogwarts All-Houses Common Room

It had been a week yet many amongst the students were still wandering about the castle in a sort of information overload after the representations of the Founders answered their questions with Salazar revealing a number of secrets about the history of the so-called 'Heir of Slytherin.'

Flashback...

Sal gestured over to where Harry sat. "The law of genetic dispersion being what it is, I'm likely related in some measure to everyone in this room. That being said, there are a number of traits that I can see in this young man which would suggest that he and I share a closer bond. Tell me, what was the name of your mother's family?"

Harry replied after Neville finished his interpretation. "She was born Lily Evans."

Sal paused and frowned, "I don't understand the hand waving."

Neville answered instead, "Harry's deaf. I'm his interpreter."

Nonplussed, Salazar continued (whilst occasionally sending curious looks at Harry), "Okay where was I? Oh, right; the Evans family...No, they're not descended from me. Was your mother adopted by any chance?"

Harry shook his head no. "Her journals did mention that her family was started after a Squib ancestor was booted from the Gaunt family and eventually married a muggle named Harold Evans."

"Ah, that would do it. Records of Squibs were never kept, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, too much shame to admit they birthed rejects!" Someone crowed from the Slytherin side of the room. Salazar glared and retorted that such attitudes were unbecoming of someone from his House.

"Look folks, I have never had issues with the newbloods that come into our community to learn how to control their magic. My issues have always been with their families or the leaders of their church who would always try to use the children for their own gains and never for the betterment of the entire world. I know that history likes to claim that I was for keeping magic within magical families but that is just not true! For starters, I'm what the modern wizard calls a muggleborn! That's right, my mother and father held no magic within their blood unlike the other three Founders. Even Helga has a greater magical heritage than I do and she's only a half-blood by current standards!" He held his stare for a moment before continuing, "My idea that I failed to find the proper words for was to not purge the school of the unworthy and to eliminate those who couldn't trace their ancestry back to the shrouded mists of time, but instead was to match the children born to our families who could not access their talents and swap them for the children born to the muggles who had the exact but opposite issue."

Jaws dropped at hearing that. More than one student was heard muttering that it was impossible that the famed Salazar Slytherin was a mudblood or that his stance on muggleborns was to swap them out for Squibs.

Present...

Draco sat amongst his friends half-listening to what they were chattering about while penning a letter to his parents. Over in the 'Dad Joke Jousting Corner,' Potter had just signed the question, "What do you call a group of enlightened lunatics?" The answer turned out to be the 'Illumi-nutty' to the groans and facepalming by the others.

Dear Mother and Father;

You're never going to believe what happened up here at Hogwarts a week ago. You may recall my earlier mentions of Hermione Dagworth-Granger? Well she discovered a hidden feature within the legendary Room of Requirement and must've asked the right questions because a quartet of golems taking the form of Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, and Salazar Slytherin appeared. Most shocking of all, each one had the memories of the real Founders! I don't know how the school managed to accomplish this, but each one was able to access stored memories about their lives up to the date of their deaths, or in the case of the Lord Slytherin, when he left the school.

Did you know that the Slytherin who left the school wasn't the one of the legends after their rumored fight with Godric Gryffindor? No, these two were closer than brothers much like how the Weasley twins are like. Rowena Ravenclaw even confirmed that the two men are not allowed to remain in the same room unsupervised because of the inevitable shenanigans that'll arise if one of them utters the phrase, 'hey you know what would be funny?' According to Lord Slytherin, the one who the story was attributed to was his firstborn son, Salastine. Lord Slytherin left the school many years afterwards to seek out some sort of relic from the wilds of Eastern Europe and just never returned.

Mother, Father; I feel I must alert you to some information that Lord Slytherin revealed about You-Know-Who. According to him and the records provided by the school; the Dark Lord's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. Born in an orphanage to an impoverished Squib of the Gaunt family and the son of a local muggle landowner; Tom was raised in the muggle world until his discovery by Albus Dumbledore who gave him a place within the school. This means that the Dark Lord is at least a half-blood if not worse!

I suspect that this information will be hard to take without verification, so Hogwarts presented his school records from the moment of his Sorting to his graduation. It's all there and it's unbelievable...I am not sure how to handle this. Beyond that, classes are going well. I've learned that I've placed second for my year in Potions and fifth overall for my year in the school. Also, do either of you know what happened to Rhedd's Book of Pleasant Red-Pheasant? The library records indicate it was Father who last checked it out and I need it to settle a bet between myself and Theo.

I await your input on how to proceed further,

Draco

Tuesday 19 December, 2017; Great Hall

Wide-eyed and slightly manic, Hermione plopped down opposite Marcus Flint and several other older students in Slytherin, grinning at their growing displeasure of her presence. Normally the inclusion of a Hufflepuff wasn't too much of a concern for them, but this one was responsible for the creation of the Salazar Slytherin golem which revealed the truth behind so many beliefs they clung to were nothing more than mere fantasy. One of the group sneered at her, "Is there someone here who can rid us of this meddlesome mudblood?"

Recognizing at least the attitude being thrown at her, Hermione giggled and twinkled her fingers. "I am a Hufflepuff with ultimate Puff powers of cuteness you are incapable of resisting! I'm ordering you to stop being such a sourpuss...oooh!"

Millie and Pansy interceded before the others could get a word in (or draw their wands.) "Sorry, she's just discovered where the elves hide the chocolate covered coffee beans." They dragged the hyperactive pre-teen girl away and over to the Gryffindor table where even then the Slytherins could hear her exuberantly singing something about someone named 'Lady Gaga' and to 'Just Dance.'

Albus sat upon his golden throne gazing down amongst the sea of students as they partook in their breakfasts. In his mind, he was busy running through his list of 'chores' he still needed to accomplish before he could begin testing the Potter boy. The doors to the Hall opened to let a gray-cloaked Unspeakable enter; the room falling into an awed hush as the person headed up to the Teacher's table. "Unspeakable? Is there a problem?"

Agent 22 shook their head, "No, Headmaster. I come with the request of my director that you be brought to the DoM post haste."

Albus frowned, "Why would I be required to go there?"

Agent 22 leant in closer to whisper, "Sir, we've just received word that you're the subject of a Prophecy."

His jaw dropped open, Albus stared at the agent in stupefied shock before Minerva nudged him back into awareness, "Right, right. Uh...let's use my floo. This way, please." He practically leapt out of his seat and ran for the door.

A few minutes later, in Director Croaker's office...

"Sir? I have Headmaster Dumbledore with me," Agent 22 said after knocking on the door.

Croaker looked up and waved them in, "Albus. I just heard. Congratulations on the impending birth of a gigantic headache."

Albus let out an involuntary huff of amusement, "I hope not. Well? Where is it?" He was directed to the other table in the room where a nearly translucent sheet covered a glowing sphere. The light from the sphere was a sort of mesmerizing pale blue whose contents swirled and twisted. He pulled the sheet off and stared at what could be the single most perplexing item in his life. "Do you know who spoke it?"

Agent 22 consulted the attached file, "A muggle child in Brisbane, Australia. We were alerted by the Aussies after they checked their records of any likely subjects in their realm and came up empty."

Albus looked disappointed for some reason. "Were they expecting to find another Albus Dumbledore or someone?"

Algernon gestured at the sphere, "When you hear it, I think you'll understand their confusion."

Albus pulled his wand and tapped the surface of the sphere. It began to speak in a raspy child's voice:

"Perpetually Bound and Arctic Abandoned,

The bumblebee stalks under the old goat.

Rainless Timberland, A delightful biscuit roars at the old flower."

Silence pervaded the room. Someone cleared their throat, causing Albus to start. "Well, that was…intriguing. I'll need to investigate this further. This is for me to keep?"

Croaker bowed his head, "Yes, we have the original stored here as per regulations."

"You can do that? I thought the subjects of prophecy were given the originals," Albus pouted.

Algernon sighed and shook his head, "Are you kidding? After the 1546 incident that left half of the Hall of Prophecy's sphere contents shattered and unusable?"

Albus blinked, "I daresay I'm a bit curious about the circumstances but I'll have to leave it for another time. I'm eager to find out how this message from Magic pertains to me." Without further ado, he picked up the sphere, slipped it into his pocket and left.

As soon as the door clicked closed, Algernon slumped back into his chair. "Wanker. At least now he's got something else besides his idiocy to test the boy to keep him occupied."

"Was it confirmed that he'd intended to use the Mirror of Erised as the final test for the phony stone?" Agent 22 inquired, his boss' growl confirmed their suspicion. "Like you said, what a wanker. After Black and Bones basically cleared out the third floor gauntlet, he's still trying to push through with installing 'traps' to stop someone who no longer exists? Do you have any plans on how to remove him from society for the real Greater Good?"

Algernon sighed, "Short of having him disappear into one of our experiment rooms, I'm fresh out of ideas. If you've got any, feel free to let me know."

A week later, in Albus' office...

The Sorting Hat (and Hogwarts) watched on in silent amusement as Albus fretted and whined that he was no closer to solving the mysterious message that Magic had left for him in the form of that frustrating prophecy.

"What the heck does it mean?!" Albus raged to the room at large even though he was the only living occupant at the moment. He got up and paced before dropping heavily back in his chair before bounding up and pacing in the opposite direction.

"A biscuit? Something about a bumblebee stalking under an old goat? I don't understand!" He popped a lemon drop into his mouth and sucked on it while resuming his pacing and growling.

Giving it up as a bad job, at least to give himself a break from trying to divine meaning; Albus noticed the sign-up sheet for those students who would be returning home for the upcoming Yule holidays. One name stuck out: Harry Potter. "Harry's going home? I thought the Dursleys couldn't stand him; why would he return to the home of his tormentors?" His gaze fell upon the sphere again, drawing him back to the desk where he picked it up and stared into the swirling abyss hoping that by doing so he could be inspired by the light.

"I've been given a Christmas mystery and one I hope to solve before too long," he muttered to himself.