1st of August
Since yesterday, he was officially eleven again. It was a short, private celebration involving a generous amount of treacle tart. Now though, he was back to his routine.
Harry finished his control exercises and sprawled on the wooden floor panting for breath as his new pet lazily watched him from the desk near the window as she basked under the sun. These exercises did not only push his magic but his intent and visualisation as well. It was tiring but effective. In less than five days, he had managed to see quite an improvement. His magic still felt unruly and odd, but he was still getting used to it. Silent casting and the more complex magic continued to evade him, no matter the attempts.
When he pushed himself, he began to become physically tired as well. Harry always took care to stop immediately as soon as he felt sluggish, as completely emptying yourself from magic supposedly caused magical exhaustion, as opposed to the old world when you used too much too fast. The result was similar; if you overdid it, you would be out of commission for a few days, if not weeks.
It took him a minute to get his breathing under control. Harry got up from the floor and dragged himself to the small bathroom for a quick shower.
Twenty minutes later, he was sitting on the desk feeling refreshed and browsing through his new collection of books.
Most wizards never bother training their bodies. But while you can do almost everything with magic, I've found that having a trained body is essential for a hit-wizard. Not only does training your body improve your control of magic to a lesser degree, but it could be a decisive factor when fighting an opponent of a similar calibre. While duelling has etiquette and rules to follow, that is not the case for fighting. There is no such thing as honour or rules in combat; anything goes, and the most ruthless wizard wins!
To truly rise as a capable hit-wizard, you must hone not only your magic but your body and mind to the utmost limit.
Did his spellwork improve after joining the Quidditch team in his first year? Harry vaguely remembered struggling hard with magic at the start, but it was no longer such an issue after a certain period. Nyx slithered into view and nudged his hand. He quickly placed 'Hardwin's Hitwizard Guide to Practical Combat' on the small table.
"Food!"
He gave her a few flies he had caught in a jar. Letting her out to hunt for herself in the middle of the city was too risky, so Harry had to find her food. Luckily, she was small and easy to feed. He watched as his new…pet happily gobbled up her meal.
Yeah, it was a she. Harry had attempted a few male names, only to get angry hisses in response. Of all the feminine names, his new companion liked Nyx the most.
Having a snake was odd. Harry was well aware of their terrible reputation, but Nyx was just a sweet little hatchling. Harry had bought the glass container for her, but she didn't like it too much, despite it being enchanted to always stay warm. Since Nyx always seemed to listen to him, he gingerly allowed her free rein around the room.
That last passage made him think hard. He was already working hard on his magic; maybe it was time to work on his body and mind. There was a public park close enough. Harry could jog there but had to get sporty clothes instead of Dudley's oversized rags.
But how could one hone their mind?
After a few minutes of contemplating, Harry scowled when he reached a realisation. The only thing he knew could be classified as mind magic was Obliviation, Occlumency, and Legilimency, and he seriously didn't want to dabble with something like obliviation, lest he ended up like that fraud Lockhart.
Harry didn't like practising Occlumency, especially after the torture that Snape had the gall to call lessons. Still, he had to admit it was a helpful skill, especially against powerful Legilimens like Voldemort. And most of all, Harry hated the idea that certain people like Snape could read his mind.
With his mind made up, he quickly stood up and headed for the door.
"Take," a panicked hiss quickly made him turn around and present his sleeve. Nyx slithered in and coiled around his forearm again. Harry finally left his room, locked his door, and headed towards Gringotts.
He couldn't help but wonder how big Nyx would get. What if she grew to the size of that boa constrictor from the zoo? He would no longer be able to stealthily carry her around on his arm. The image of a giant snake hanging over his body while he tried to go to the store made him chuckle softly. Only time could tell how big Nyx would get since she seemed unique. He would deal with problems like this when they came; there were more important things to worry about now.
Harry entered the bank and warily looked around. Thankfully, there were few customers, and less than a third of the desks were taken. He quickly walked over to one of the desks in one of the corners, away from the other wizards.
"Can I exchange galleons for muggle currency here?" He quietly inquired the teller.
"Yes, one Galleon for forty Pounds," the goblin nodded, and his eyes gleamed with interest.
Wait, didn't that mean he had much more money than he thought?
"I'd like to exchange fifty galleons," Harry replied after thinking for half a minute and counting the gold coins on the counter.
Two thousand pounds would be more than enough to buy himself decent muggle clothes for the next few years.
The goblin counted the Galleons again and handed over forty banknotes of fifty pounds each.
"Anything else I can help you with?" The teller asked with a toothy smile, far friendlier than before.
"I would like to withdraw from my vault," Harry hesitantly requested.
He had spent a lot of money in the last week, so refilling his pouch would be prudent. He was already in Gringotts and had no intention of returning anytime soon if he could help it.
"Name?"
"Harry Potter," he replied quietly and looked around warily. Nobody else seemed to have heard.
"And does Mr Potter have his key?" The goblin asked curiously as his eyes inspected his forehead.
Harry wordlessly handed the little golden key. The teller grunted and beckoned to follow him into a side hallway.
A wild cart ride later, he was again faced with vault 687, where all his wealth stayed.
"Err, is it possible for Gringotts to tell me how much money I have here?" he couldn't help but ask.
"It will cost you two galleons, Mr Potter," the goblin unhelpfully replied. Harry swore inwardly at the greedy little buggers and tossed the creature two gold coins from the pile. The goblin deftly grabbed it and vanished somewhere in the darkness for a moment before returning. "There are 33,789 Galleons, 13,651 sickles, and 7,893 knuts inside, Mr Potter."
Harry returned another book to the shelf and ran a hand through his unruly hair. It had been a few hours, and the most he had found was the barest mention of Occlumency. It seemed that it was indeed a very obscure study. He looked around at the endless rows of shelves stacked to the ceiling and finally conceded defeat with a tired sigh.
Having no choice, Harry approached the proprietor, who was intently reading a book.
"Excuse me, sir, where can I find books on Occlumency?
He finally saw the book's name and could barely suppress his snort.
"Occlumency? You'll find no books on the Mind Arts here, young man," the wizard quietly replied, placing 'Felix Fawley's Fabulous Adventures' down on the counter.
"Do you know if any other shops sell them?"
"It is rare to see someone so young be interested in something like this," the man muttered thoughtfully, scratched his chin, and curiously looked at Harry. "But I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you; the Ministry has banned the sale of books on the subject. If you truly wish to learn, you'll have to find someone willing to teach you."
Harry thanked the man while trying to cover his grimace and left the shop. It looked like the Ministry was as useless a nuisance in this world as it was in his own. His stomach rumbled in hunger again, forcing him to head back to the Leaky and order a serving of bacon, meat pie, and a small slice of treacle tart. Ever since he returned, his appetite had been quite large.
The only practitioners of Occlumency he knew of were Dumbledore, Snape, and Voldemort, and it would be a cold day in hell before he gave any of them access to his mind. The problem was that the only thing he knew about the art was 'clear your mind', and a certain miserable potion professor never bothered to teach him anything beyond while brutally battering his mind.
'What a load of bloody bollocks!'
Harry wished he didn't have to bother at that moment, but leaving his mind unprotected with his memories was too dangerous.
What would he do now? Avoid the eyes of certain people, try to clear his mind, and hope for the best?
Just as he finished devouring the last pieces of his meal, an… idea appeared in his mind.
Harry left three sickles on the table to pay for the food and returned to the Alley. Before approaching the corner where Knockturn Alley's entrance was, he pulled the hood to cover his face so only his mouth was visible and walked inside, trying to look confident. A pity that his short stature would probably give him away.
He was already getting curious looks from a few hags around the corner of a shop selling ominous-looking junk. His hand twitched, and he had to restrain himself from not pulling the yew wand out. The only real offensive spell he could cast right now was the severing charm. But it was weak and shaky and probably would not truly do anything beyond break the skin. The dilapidated Alley was too dangerous for an eleven-year-old wizard, but Harry had no choice. Every advantage mattered, and doing things like the last time would produce poor results. This is the only place where he could hope to find anything on Occlumency.
Borgin and Burkes looked just as creepy on the outside as on the inside, with its dark, weathered facade adorned with windows through which you could not see anything but darkness. He steeled himself and pushed the dilapidated door open, making a bell ring ominously. His skin tingled as soon as Harry stepped inside the dimly lit shop, but he paid it no heed and headed directly towards the counter. There was no point in browsing through the severed limbs, human bones, or the assortment of cursed items in the store.
"Do you have any books on Occlumency?" Harry inquired quietly.
Borgin leaned over to take a better look at him and gave an oily smile. The man was missing a tooth, and his breath stank worse than a troll, making Harry gag.
"My boy, selling books about the Mind Arts is illegal," the proprietor's voice was as greasy as his sparse hair. "This is a reputable establishment I run here!"
Harry barely managed to cover his snort with a cough as he glanced at a few human-like skulls in a jar filled with sickly-yellow fluid.
"Surely, you have something, if not a book," he took ten galleons from his pouch and placed them on the counter next to a bloodstained bone. "I'm willing to pay."
The man's beady eyes shone with greed, and the gold coins were pocketed in the blink of an eye.
"Now that you mention it, maybe I can find something." Borgin gave him a wide, sleazy smile and disappeared behind an inconspicuous dark door next to a rafter full of malignant-looking daggers.
Harry's gaze wandered around while waiting. There was a myriad of creepy or… wrongly-looking items, such as preserved eyeballs, red fleshy strings, ominous books bound in black leather, and iron instruments that one could easily imagine in a medieval torture room. But the Vanishing Cabinet allowed Draco to smuggle the Death Eaters inside Hogwarts at the end of the Sixth Year was not here. Or maybe he just couldn't find it?
At that moment, the proprietor returned with a rather small book bound in creepy pale leather under his elbow and slammed it on the counter.
'Illegal, my arse!'
"How much?" Harry asked warily.
"A thousand galleons," Borgin declared.
A small fortune for a book? Did he look like a bloody fool?!
"Do you think me mad?! Fifty," Harry countered.
"Boy, there's more than Mind Magic in this diary," the man's oily expression was replaced with caution. "Nine hundred."
Borgin was too damn insistent, but he couldn't say if the man was trying to swindle him or if the value of the so-called diary was truly that high.
"Let me see what's inside first."
"That won't do," the proprietor shook his head vigorously. "If you open the diary, you'd have to buy it!"
Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance. For some reason, he couldn't shake away the feeling that he was being tricked. And it was bloody annoying. Worst-case scenario, he'd sneak around the Forbidden Section and hope to find something on Occlumency there.
"A hundred galleons, or I'm leaving!" He gave his final offer.
"Eight hundred and fifty! Surely you understand I'm taking a big risk here-"The regretful expression on Borgin's face froze. The man's eyes widened in horror, and he took a shaky step back.
"Ugly," an annoyed hiss came from his sleeve, and he saw Nyx poking her small, pitch-black head out and glaring at Borgin.
Harry groaned inwardly. He wanted to chide her, but doing so would expose him as a Parseltongue. He tried to place her back into the sleeve, but the snake slid out of his fingers and coiled around the fabric while continuing to glare at the rapidly paling proprietor.
"Nyx," the warning slipped out of his mouth, and she finally turned to look at him. A moment later, Harry realised that he had spoken in Parseltongue, and dread filled him.
"Ah… errr," the proprietor coughed a few times as his face was as white as chalk now, and Harry could feel the terror in his voice. "A-A h-hundred galleons will do just f-fine."
Unsure what to do, he stood still like a statue while his heart beat like a drum, and Borgin whimpered in fear. It seemed that he couldn't help but hiss in the language of the snakes when looking at one. Maybe he could get this under control with practice? His free hand checked if his hood was still in place. Relief flooded him when he found the fabric obscuring most of his face.
"Back into the sleeve," Harry ordered, and Nyx finally slithered back and coiled around his forearm.
He wanted to be mad at the snake but couldn't. The serpent was barely a hatchling and… just helped him save a few hundred galleons. Borgin, however, looked like death had walked over not once but twice.
Screw it!
Harry quickly counted the gold coins, and once he had placed enough, he grabbed the book, shoved it in his inner pocket, and left the store, unwilling to stay even a second longer.
It took a whole minute for his erratic heart to calm down while his legs slowly led him out of Knockturn. Bloody hell, that was too close for comfort. He really needed to get that Parseltongue under control. Although it looked like it could be very useful for intimidation if nothing else.
He cautiously looked around in case someone dodgy decided to make trouble with him. A street vendor selling poisonously-looking candles gave him a creepy toothless smile and made Harry hasten his step. He had seen far worse during the war but had no desire to test his luck.
Red letters above a dingy door grabbed his attention and halted him mid-stride. 'Mallone's Malicious Monsters'. Harry hesitantly approached a fogged window that had not been cleaned in at least half a decade and carefully looked inside the dark interior.
Cages of various shapes and sizes were chaotically spread all over the place with no sign of order. A small three-headed dog was munching on a bloody piece of raw meat in each maw, and next to it was a small ghoul throwing bones at the wooden wall. There was also a pot with what suspiciously looked like a devil's snare. But Harry's eyes were instantly glued to a rusty cage that housed a familiar snowy owl.1st of September
Harry's shirt was soaked, beads of sweat ran down his brow, and if someone looked at him, they would have thought that he had swum with his clothes on. His mouth stayed shut, the yew wand in his hand swished and flicked, and he tried to push all his intent and focus into levitating the book before him.
It did not work.
He tried again and again until he was gasping for breath as if he had run a marathon. In all honesty, it was not far off since he had gone for a long and exhausting jog at the crack of dawn and has been relentlessly trying to get a grasp on his chantless casting since.
Sadly, it was even harder than before. First and Second-year magic came easily enough to him, but most of the Third-year curriculum was beyond him now, and the spells he could do were finicky and often failed, but less so with more practice. He had never had problems like this before, but then again, he did not get to focus heavily on study and practice until the Second Year.
His magic was too unruly, and, according to On Magic, it would take time and extensive practice for it to settle down. After perusing Hitwizard's Guide to Practical Combat and some other books he had bought, Harry came to the conclusion that to entirely discard incantations and wand motions, you had to have a nearly perfect grasp on will, intent, and control, coupled with a mind-numbing amount of practice, similar to what he knew before. So, once he hit a bottleneck in the spells he could cast, he focused on control, increasing his magical reserves and the mind-numbing amount of exercise. While retraining his mastery of silent casting seemed to be a titanic endeavour because of his young age and growing magic, it was simply an advantage Harry could not afford to discard.
A beeping sound disrupted his focus, making him stop and glance at his watch atop the table. He had bought a water-proof one this time, lest it stopped working again after a dip in the great lake. A tired sigh tore from his mouth; it was half past eight, and it was time to get ready.
He went to the small bathroom, placed his wand and holster to the side, discarded his damp and sweaty clothes in the basket, and entered the small tub. The warm water soothed his sore body and left him feeling invigorated. The first days of his routine were hell and always left him tired and sluggish, but the results finally started to show halfway into August. The feeling of weakness was gone, and he was no longer as quickly tired, both in body and magic, despite pushing himself harder and harder.
There was little time to dally, so Harry quickly scrubbed himself squeaky clean. As he left the tub, his eyes settled on the foggy mirror. While his body was still thin, it was no longer skinny but wiry and tough. He had filled in some - Harry could no longer count his ribs as easily. The daily jogging and walks outside had given his formerly pasty skin a light bronze hue on his arms and face.
"Looking hot, boy!" his reflection in the mirror threw him a wink, making Harry groan.
Once he dried his hands on the towel, he grabbed his wand and dried his body before washing, cleaning, and drying his dirty clothes with a few nifty household charms. In one of his walks through the Alley, he bought 'Helicent's Household Charms' to expand his repertoire, which had proved invaluable, especially since he could freely use magic to deal with the usually annoying daily chores.
Despite the initial harshness of the self-imposed routine, Harry couldn't remember ever feeling so calm and peaceful. While many issues were looming on the horizon, he freely walked in Diagon Alley and muggle London without being gawked at or recognised, much to his relief. Without the glasses and the scar, his appearance did not garner more than a few wayward glances. It felt liberating to be just another face in the crowd.
As he returned to his room, Hedwig flew in through the open window, a sizeable rat in her claws. Its carcass was red with blood, and a significant chunk was missing from its neck. His snowy owl hooted in a challenge at Nyx, who ignored her and continued lazily basking in the morning sun without a care.
Harry sighed at those two. Hedwig was still the same as before, albeit more savage and proud. Far more vicious, making him… suspect how she had ended in Malone's Malicious Monsters in Knockturn. While still friendly with him, her pecks would draw blood when the snowy owl got angry. Whenever she went hunting, she would bring back her heavily mauled prey to show off as a trophy. To Harry's chagrin, he had to stop Hedwig from eating Nyx when they first met until he somehow explained that the snake was not food but a companion. Suffice it to say, the black snake still held a grudge and had decided to pretend the feathery predator did not exist, but he could at least leave them alone in the room and be confident that he'll find both alive and well later.
He finished packing and looked at the watch. It was just passing nine o'clock, and Harry still had time to get a generous breakfast.
Hedwig had just finished devouring her bloody catch, so he waved his wand and muttered a scourgify to clean up the fresh blood, painting the bottom of her perch red. She flapped her wings, and Harry felt claws sinking into his flesh as Hedwig landed on his right shoulder.
Great, another shirt ruined.
"Sstupid white feathersss," Nyx hissed from the side, eliciting a challenging hoot from Hedwig.
"Don't bicker!" Harry warned sharply, then turned to the snake. "No fighting." Thankfully they returned to ignoring each other again, so he looked at Hedwig. "Girl, do you want to fly to Hogwarts now or take the train with me?"
The owl stared at him with her yellow eyes, hooted, and flew out the window. Harry removed his ruined shirt and stared into the torn places with his yew wand in his grasp.
"Reparo."
It mended well enough, but he knew that using the repairing charm repeatedly would quickly wear down the fabric, and it was less effective with each subsequent use. Harry then looked to inspect his right shoulder and only saw a few deep marks where Hedwig's claws had landed. Thankfully, she had not drawn blood this time.
Suddenly remembering that there was no time to dally, he put his shirt back on, tossed a dark-blue sweater over his shoulder and turned to Nyx, looking at him attentively with her pitch-black eyes. His snake had barely grown an inch and a half last month.
He gently scratched the soft scales underneath her jaw, and she contentedly closed her eyes.
"Do you want to stay in the vivarium or sleep in the sleeve?"
"Ssssleeve!" Was the immediate reply, as the vivarium simply couldn't compare, despite being enchanted to be perfect for snakes.
"Is there anything wrong with the vivarium? Is it not warm enough?" He couldn't help but worry. According to 'How to raise your snake', a book from Flourish and Blotts, human skin was not warm enough to provide enough heat to snakes, yet Nyx's favourite resting place was his forearm.
"Warmth good," she hissed as she coiled around his wrist. "But box tiny and your magic better!"
Nyx's reply left him stunned for a moment. But in hindsight, he should have expected this, as his new familiar was not a regular snake at all. He had to either buy a bigger vivarium or research into expansion charms, which were, unfortunately, heavily regulated if he remembered correctly. Not that he could cast something so complex while his magic was still unstable. A sigh tore out from his lips, and he looked at the watch before placing the vivarium into the expanded trunk. Almost half past nine, so there was still time for breakfast.
"Not a sound, or I'll leave you in the box," he warned Nyx, who lightly squeezed his forearm in acknowledgement.
With a flick of his wrist, he murmured the featherweight charm on his two trunks. He shrunk his Hogwarts trunk and placed it in his pocket. On the other hand, his library trunk had an undetectable extension charm that greatly expanded the insides and could not be shrunken. Reducing the size of an object with extended space simply did not work for some reason. Harry locked the door after leaving the room and headed downstairs towards the pub proper, dragging his trunk behind.
"Hello, Tom," he greeted as he reached the counter and placed the key to his room on the polished, darkened bar. He had already paid for his stay long ago.
"It's time for ya to leave, eh, lad?" The old man sighed while he pocketed the key. "Want something solid to fill yer belly before departing for Hogwarts? I got some beef stew ready this mornin'."
His stomach greedily groaned when he recalled that you could only buy desserts on the Hogwarts Express.
"I'll take a double portion," Harry ordered before looking at the board on the wall behind the counter, where all the prices were written with white chalk.
He left two sickles on the counter as Tom disappeared behind a red door, where Harry suspected the kitchen was.
The pub was now rather bustling compared to the earlier morning, and half the tables seemed to be taken, so, after looking around, Harry headed towards the nearest empty table.
There were a few familiar faces in the crowd, regulars at the Leaky that Harry had seen before but did not know their names, aside from Mungundus Fletcher, the dodgy thief quietly speaking with a mangy-looking wizard at the darkest corner.
Shortly after he sat down, Tom brought two generous servings on a polished oaken platter. The hearty scent of beef and spices alluringly wafted out of the steaming bowls, making his stomach grumble with anticipation. But there were two round packages wrapped in brown paper above a simple bag and the stew.
"Here ya go, lad," the old man responded with his toothless smile.
"What's the package, Tom?" Harry asked warily.
"Made you some chicken and cheese sandwich for the train."
"Thank you," Harry smiled. "How much do I owe you for it?"
"Oh no, no, Mr Creevy. There's no need to pay; this one's on me," the old proprietor energetically waved away his concerns. "Ya've been a very good patron for nearly a month here, and it was a pleasure to have ya. Can't let a good strapping lad like ya stay hungry or stuff yourself with those sweets on the Express. 'Tis the least an old man like me can do."
Harry stood there, stunned, as the old man hunched away with a smile. Words eluded him at that moment, but gratitude swelled in his heart. The gesture was so simple, yet it felt so warm. Truth be told, nobody had helped him before out of the goodness of their heart. It had always been friends or close acquaintances. It was a foreign feeling, one that did not feel bad, and Harry would not forget.
His stomach grumbled hungrily at the alluring smell from the platter before him, tearing Harry away from his daze. The stew was thick and heavy, with a generous amount of meat and vegetables. After taking a small sip with his spoon to check if it was too hot to eat, he hungrily began to gobble it all down. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips at the taste, and his mind slowly wandered as he ate.
The last month had been intense. While Harry made significant progress in his personal training, nothing else of interest happened. At least the diary on Occlumency had proven useful, and for the first time in his life, he had made actual improvement in defending his mind without the need for pain as a catalyst.
He had missed the yearly Weasley shopping for school supplies long the chance to nab Pettigrew. After some contemplation, he realised that the Express would not be a good place to get the rat either, so he was content to wait for Hogwarts. His Godfather survived in Azkaban for nearly ten years; a few months more wouldn't hurt him. If he wanted to stay out of the accursed prison, he should have restrained himself instead of rushing headlong into vengeance with no plan.
Although Harry felt foolish criticising Sirius. He himself wasn't much better about rushing blindly into danger with little to no plans. This time would be different. He would be running into trouble, prepared with a plan or two!
Aside from that, he did see a handful of familiar but far too young faces. All of them were filled with youthful exuberance, wonder, hope, and excitement, a stark contrast to the doom and gloom he had last seen on the expressions of his fellow students after Voldemort's return.
That only strengthened his resolve to deal with things alone this time. Let his friends stay happy and innocent; he did not need to burden them with his woes, risking their lives and families in the process.
Once his spoon reached the bottom of the second bowl, he looked at his wristwatch. An hour was left before the Hogwarts Express would depart, and King Cross Station was about twenty minutes by cab. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be early and have a wide range of compartments to pick from instead of the last free one for once.
He nodded gratefully at Tom and walked out of the Leaky, entering the bustling Charing Cross Road. The sun was shyly peeking through a handful of white clouds. As he neared the cab stand, Harry felt jittery inside at attending Hogwarts, as if he was a young and wide-eyed First Year all over again.
Diana Rosemary Taylor groaned with embarrassment as her mother pulled her into a tight embrace and started ruffling her carefully combed hair.
"Mum, we're in the middle of the station!" She whined pitifully, and her mother finally released her from her grasp. Now her hair was probably a bird's nest, and her face was as red as a shrimp from all the embarrassment.
Although, even without that show of affection, they would have garnered plenty anyway. Diana's mother, Emilia, who always refused to look anything but lavish, wore a silver satin gown lined with sapphires on the rims that would not be out of place in a fashion show. Despite being rather short, Emilia was also beautiful enough with her dark eyes and flowing long hair reminiscent of burnished copper to shame most of the models in question. Her father, Henry, was wearing the most expensive black Armani suit money could buy and cut an imposing figure at 6'4 feet, especially with his sharp face and burly frame.
He crouched down to look directly at the eyes.
"Don't be mad at your mother, kitten," Henry sighed before planting a kiss on her forehead. "We can still send you to Roedean instead of that hocus-pocus frog school."
"It's Hogwarts, Dad," she sighed and looked around carefully. Thankfully, the onlookers weren't close enough to hear anything and were content to gawk from a distance, but she lowered her voice to nary a whisper, despite her excitement. "Who wouldn't want to learn magic?"
"Fine, Diana," he surrendered with a sigh as his amber eyes were filled with resignation for a moment before hardening. "But remember our promise. You will continue your normal school studies and attend exams in the summer. I will not have my daughter's education ruined for some childish fantasy. If your results are less than stellar, you can kiss goodbye to that Warts school!"
"Yes, yes, Father," she agreed dutifully, not bothering to correct him this time.
Challenging her father never ended well for her when he got serious. Regular school was laughably easy and boring; Diana had already covered half of the following year's curriculum in the past month with little effort. She had looked through her magical school books, which all looked exciting. Just the idea of doing magic felt thrilling.
Henry Taylor's stern expression finally softened, and he stood up. Emilia was two heads shorter than her husband, creating a rather comical sight when they were beside each other. Diana just hoped that she would inherit some of her father's height because remaining a midget seemed like a lame prospect.
"Did you have to wear those… clothes, Ana?" Her mother asked, distaste heavy in her voice as she motioned towards Diana's plain, ordinary jeans and blue shirt.
"Witches and wizards wear different clothes, Mom," she deflected.
Diana was done wearing posh clothes. The last time she thought she had made a friend, it turned out that the traitor Liz had just befriended her cause she fancied the clothes. Not that she'd ever tell her parents; they would worry too much!
"Plain robes and pointy hats," her mother scoffed with disdain. "You should have let me design you a fashionable robe to wear. Or at least wear something better than those rags you have on."
"Stop fretting, sweetheart; our kitten would look perfect in a burlap sack," her father chimed in and grabbed her mother's hand. "She has entered her rebellious years. If she's half as stubborn as you are, the more you push, the more she'll go the other way."
Diana's cheeks reddened again as her mother thoughtfully nodded.
"Hey, don't talk as if I'm not here!" Her father ignored her protests and instead pulled her mother into a deep, loud kiss, attracting even more attention from the surrounding crowd and making Diana cover her face with a palm. "You two are totally gross. Can't you do this in your own room?"
"You'll understand when you grow up, kitten," her father finally separated from her dazed mother and gave Diana an annoyingly patronising smile.
"I'll be going now," she declared, unwilling to stay with her disgustingly mushy parents any longer and turned to the solid brick barrier dividing platforms Nine and Ten, where Professor McGonagall had explained the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to be.
"There's still half an hour, Ana," her red-cheeked mother finally gathered her bearings and motioned towards the large clock on one of the pillars. "Why don't you stay with us some more?"
"Nuh-uh, I'll go get a good seat on the train," she declined. Diana definitely had enough of her parents' shenanigans. She could swear to god that they simply loved embarrassing her in public as much as possible.
"Diana, are you sure your teacher was not pulling your leg?" Her father asked hesitantly as he rubbed his dark stubble. "That's a solid brick wall if I've ever seen one."
"I'm sure," she lied, trying to cover her hesitation as she looked at the imposing piece of firm-looking masonry. At that moment, a young boy with a messy mop of black hair and casual clothes, even shorter than she was, dragging a large trunk made of polished oak, simply walked into the wall and disappeared.
"Oh my," her mother gaped at the sight, and Diana simply stared.
Oddly enough, nobody else seemed to have paid any attention to the boy, nor did anyone question how a child disappeared into a solid wall as if they had seen nothing. She shook her head and decided it was time to go. This time, she would make real friends. Others won't pretend to get close to her because she wore fancy clothes and had rich parents!
"Bye Mum, bye Dad!" She evaded her mother's attempt at a hug, cheekily waved at her parents, and dashed towards the wall, grabbing her fancy magical school trunk.
She held her breath and uttered a silent prayer as bricks rapidly approached. Just as she was about to crash into the solid barrier, her eyes instinctively closed, but thankfully, no collision followed. Diana gingerly opened her eyes, only to be met with a fantastic sight.
A scarlet steam locomotive that would perfectly fit the Victorian era stood imposingly. The platform was spacious and wide but less crowded than the rest of King Cross. The scarce crowd consisted of children of various ages and their parents, all dressed in the same queer manner she had encountered in Diagon Alley. Her eyes drank in the colourful array of robes, pointy hats, owls, cats, and even brooms.
The idea of flying on a broom excited and terrified her in equal measure. Everything was so new and exciting!
There was a problem, though.
She carefully looked around and realised she was the shortest person on the platform. Diana suppressed her rising annoyance and made her way through all the hubbub, which included hoots and mewls. Cats were great pets, but the wizard's obsession with owls was just odd. Surely there was a better way to deliver letters? They had magic!
A giant fireplace near the wall abruptly flared up with green flames making Diana jump, and a pair of older twin girls dressed in green and silver walked out of the fire, followed by greying old woman. It took her a few moments to stop staring, but nobody else on the platform seemed perturbed about the phenomena. Another fireplace flared up in green, and again, a family walked out of it.
Could she learn this flame-teleport thingy too?! This would be so cool!
"Hey, Wood! Did you make Quidditch Captain?" A loud cry sounded nearby, startling Diana out of her musing. She turned around only to gawp at an older black-skinned girl wearing an eye-catching bright red robe.
"That I did, Johnson!" A burly older student wearing dark, sporty clothing returned the yell from afar.
She finally reached the train. This time, Diana would not be the shortest kid in the year! That honour would go to the boy she had seen brave the wall. Maybe he'd want to be her friend?
Unfortunately, she was too short to see who was inside the train cars through the windows, so she had to enter the first car. Fortunately, her super expensive trunk was charmed featherlight and was effortless to lift up the stairs or drag around.
"-Puddlemere will win-"
"-My dad said Felix Fawley will retire-"
"-How was your trip to-"
She tuned out the conversations and quickly peered in every compartment to check.
The first few were almost full, the older students boarding the train and flocking towards them. The more she moved towards the back, the emptier it got.
The minutes ticked by, and there was no trace of the short, dark-haired boy, no matter how many compartments she checked. Doubt slowly began to gnaw at her. Were her eyes faulty? Did she miss him somehow? Or had she remembered wrongly?
She even contemplated joining some of the others who appeared to be her age. But there were few of those, and they didn't look particularly welcoming. An arrogant-looking blonde boy with two fat goons looked like too much trouble, so she skipped that compartment. Two doors later, a blonde girl with sky-blue eyes gave her a frosty glare before she even attempted to enter, dissuading Diana from joining the group of girls already wearing their black school robes.
Wizards and witches seemed to be far more prickly than even ordinary people!
Maybe she could try to go into one of the empty compartments and hope someone nice joined her?
At the very end of the train, Diana finally saw him, sitting peacefully alone whilst perusing an open book. She hesitated for a moment before decisively knocking softly and pushing the door open.
The tome instantly snapped closed, and she saw that his right hand twitched before freezing, and she found herself looking at a pair of bright yet haunted green eyes. His gaze held such an intensity that she couldn't help but gulp.
She stood there, hesitant under his intense scrutiny, earlier courage completely forgotten.
The silence stretched as the boy did not say a word either, and it felt like they stood there for ages until Diana finally managed to find her voice again.
"Sorry for intruding! Do you mind… if I sit here?"
Hesitation and apprehension were plainly written on his face, but just as Diana thought he would tell her off, he sighed.
"Be my guest," he said evenly, opened his book again, and resumed reading.
"Thank you. I'm Diana, Diana Taylor," she introduced herself before placing her trunk on the luggage rack above and sitting near the window, just across from the boy.
That seemed to grab his attention for a short moment, and she found herself on the receiving end of his intense gaze again.
"Name's Harry," he curtly replied before sighing and putting the book away. "There should still be plenty of empty compartments. Why choose mine?"
Diana froze for a moment. What to do? Does she lie or tell the truth? The option of lying was quickly discarded, as Harry seemed to be very sharp.
"Saw you on King's Cross and decided to find you. You seemed to be a muggle-born like me, wearing normal clothes. Hoped you wouldn't mind," the truth tumbled out of her mouth, making her feel bad for imposing on the boy's peace. What if he was waiting for other friends? "I can move elsewhere if you want?"
Thankfully she managed not to mention anything about height; that would just be rude!
He mulled for a few seconds, and just as her heart sank, his expression finally softened.
"No need. And I'm not exactly a muggle-born, only raised by my muggle aunt in the muggle world," he provided evenly, but she caught the sour note in his tone.
"What happened to your parents?" Diana found herself asking.
"Killed by a dark wizard when I was a baby," Harry replied with a shrug.
"Oh, I'm so sorry-"
"Don't be," he interrupted. "It's not like you killed them."
She felt terrible for her insensitive question. Ugh, damn her and her curiosity… The boy was now gazing through the window at the bustling platform. A pity only a part could be seen from the final compartment.
Thankfully, Harry did not seem very bothered, but she decided not to further inquire about that. Her gaze moved towards the book placed on the side. Ancient Runes Made Easy were the large black letters gracing the front leather-bound cover. She didn't remember seeing that book on her school list.
Was the boy in front of her an older year? No, he was too short…
"Errr, what's the book about?" Diana timidly inquired.
"Introduction to the 'Ancient Runes'," he supplied. "The train ride is around nine hours, and it was either sleeping or reading."
"Nine hours!?" God, she had never travelled more than three hours before. This was going to be one long journey. "Ancient Runes? I don't think I saw such a subject in our list."
"Indeed. It's an elective started in the Third Year. I got curious and decided to buy it."
"You seem pretty knowledgeable about the magical world. Do you know when they'll come to check the tickets?"
"No need to worry much. The ticks are just so the new students know where the platform is, and when the train departs, nobody actually checks for them on the train."
She sighed in relief; that was definitely one worry less.
Suddenly, Harry leaned forward, face almost glued to the window. She curiously traced his gaze towards a round-faced plump boy with a mop of sandy hair. An old woman with… a stuffed vulture upon her hat, probably his grandmother, was fretting all over the boy in question before handing him a caged owl. A large group of redheads also invaded the platform at that moment. They all looked nearly the same, the plump mother, along with four boys and a younger girl. The sound of the steam whistle tore through the air, and the remaining students on the platform hurriedly boarded the train.
A few moments later, the Hogwarts Express began to move, and she couldn't help but feel excited. She was going to learn magic and become a witch!
Diana looked at her friend-to-be, who was forlornly gazing through the window. Maybe he missed his home? She decided that Harry could definitely use a distraction and, if possible, answer some of her questions in the process. The short jaunt with Professor McGonagall through the magical Alley was far from enough to satiate her curiosity.
"Hey, which subject do you think will be the most interesting?"
By Merlin, he was bored, and the Hogwarts Express had not even left the muggle city yet. The nine-hour ride was already shaping up to be a mind-numbing experience.
Neither Crabbe nor Goyle made for a particularly engaging or exciting conversation partner. In fact, Crabbe was already asleep, and his annoying snores filled the compartment, while Goyle could be mistaken as a statute as he was blankly staring at the window while standing unnaturally still.
He almost regretted not seeking out Pansy, but she was just as annoying and probably in the company of the even more annoying Greengrass twins. He definitely regretted not taking his father's advice about picking up the morning copy of the Daily Prophet.
Maybe he could play some explosive snap with Goyle, but while winning was always enjoyable, the boy was a dull and boring opponent.
As he contemplated his options, the compartment door opened, and he scowled when he saw who was in the hallway.
"Hello, cousin," Juno Lestrange said with her melodic yet cold voice and gestured to the identical-looking girls beside her. "These are Hestia and Flora Carrow, my dear friends. I hope you don't mind sharing your compartment with my companions and me."
Merlin's beard, what did he do to deserve this?!
Tall, long, raven curls framed her pale skin, perfect nose, sharp cheekbones, and pale blue eyes. Juno Lestrange always dressed and acted impeccably in public, making her well-liked despite her parents.
Draco Malfoy looked at the smiling expression on her face and was not fooled one bit. Her icy blue eyes were like daggers, stabbing into his skin, making him feel like his cousin could read him like an open book. And the worst part was, he knew that despite Juno's outwardly peaceful appearance, she would love to hex him at the first opportunity like she always did before. Somehow, his cousin had procured herself a wand long before Hogwarts and was not afraid to use it. And, no matter how he complained about it to his parents, it always somehow turned out that he was in the wrong because Juno could charm them with a simple smile. And no matter how he asked for a wand of his own, they said it was too early!
It was not fair! A Malfoy was supposed to be the best, but his mother and father acted subserviently like ordinary lackeys in front of Arcturus Black and indulged Juno as if she were their prized daughter! Not only that, but Juno was the Black heiress despite being a girl because her mother was born first. It was supposed to be him!
Yet there was little Draco could do but keep the indignity to himself and avoid Juno like dragon pox. He had done that successfully for over a year and had begun to forget how tyrannical she could be. He would wait, bid his time, and expose Juno for who she truly was! But for now, he would lie low. It did not help that the Carrow twins were third-year if his memory was correct. Crabbe and Goyle stood no chance!
At that moment, he realised that he had given no reply. Juno's smile had gone dangerously thin, and she had her wand in her hand, making him pale.
"Oh no, it would be a pleasure," he said with a forced smile, but his face felt so stiff that it probably came out like a grimace.
Juno took the middle of the tapered seat, and the twins sat on her sides, giving Draco an opportunity to inspect them. Despite being third-year students, they were barely taller than Juno, sporting blank expressions, and they both had long, brown hair and one green and one blue eye.
Something about them made him shudder on the inside.
A Malfoy fears no one!
His father's words of wisdom gave him strength, and he finally gathered his bearing and straightened his posture. Draco Malfoy definitely did not fear his cousin. Juno Bellatrix Lestrange was not scarier than before, not at all!
He gulped and gave a cursory glance to Crabbe and Goyle, who barely seemed to register the new people in the compartment with more than a glance, and in fact, Crabbe did not even deign to open his eyes. He compared his followers to his cousin's minions. It was clear that they were lacking. Maybe it was time to write to his father and ask for better ones?
At that moment, his calf was painfully stung, and he jumped in surprise. While rubbing his throbbing calf, he saw Juno looking at him with profound disappointment while her wand disappeared into her sleeve.
"Ah, cousin. How could you?" She clicked her tongue while shaking her head. "I see Aunt Narcissa's endless hours of trying to force simple manners into your thick head have been in vain. How could you forget to introduce your companions?"
He glared at Juno, but the dark wand that reappeared in her hand quickly made him reconsider his response. Draco had no desire to find out if she had learned more than the stinging hex in the last three years while he had been forbidden to cast before school. Maybe she did have a point…
"This is Gregory Goyle," he pointed at the sleeping boy to his left with gritted teeth and then motioned to his other underling, who was still blankly staring at the window. "And this is Vincent Crabbe."
His cousin finally gave a satisfied nod, grabbed a book from her trunk, and began reading. Draco couldn't help but lament about the length of the train ride. He would rather feel bored than spend so much time in one compartment with his cousin…
A few minutes ticked by, and the silence became stifling. The idea of reading one of the schoolbooks was promptly dismissed; it was too dull.
"Where do you think you'll be sorted?" He idly asked.
She closed her book and gave him an annoyed glare.
"I haven't decided yet."
"What, are you considering going to Hufflepuff?" Draco was incredulous. "The only good House is Slytherin!"
"Not Hufflepuff. But Ravenclaw is also… adequate," Juno hummed and glanced at Crabbe and Goyle. "Even trolls like Marcus Flint can get sorted in Slytherin nowadays."
"Maybe," he shrugged and fell into an uneasy silence.
At that moment, the compartment door was slammed open again, and an older girl entered. She looked like an older version of Juno, albeit with dark grey eyes and brown hair, making Draco blanch. One Juno was more than enough!
"Hello, cousins! Name's Tonks," she introduced herself with a flourish.
Oh god, it was the blood traitor's daughter; he opened his mouth to tell her off-
Draco yelped with pain as he felt a brutal sting upon his hand, eliciting a concerned glance from Tonks.
"Andromeda's daughter?" Juno politely asked while sending him a warning glance that made him swallow his remark.
"Yeah, that's me," the older girl beamed.
"You must excuse my cousin Draco. He often tends to forget his manners," Juno's cold eyes were like a pair of daggers as she gazed at him.
"Not a problem; I just wanted to see the other side of my family," Tonks wistfully said. "Anyway, I need to finish my patrol. If you ever have trouble in Hogwarts or need help, feel free to look for me!"
Before Draco could blink, his blood-traitor cousin was gone, and the compartment door was closed.
Neither Crabbe nor Goyle nor the Carrow twins looked to have even reacted as if nobody had entered the compartment.
For a short moment, he contemplated trying to retaliate against his smug cousin, but at that moment, her smile grew predatory as if she could read his mind, and he suddenly remembered that he had not learned any spells yet…
"Why are you being so friendly with a blood traitor?" He finally grumbled at Juno.
His words elicited an amused snort.
"Were you dropped on your head as a baby, Draco?"
"What are you talking about? She's just the daughter of an exiled muggle-loving blood traitor!"
"Foolish cousin of mine, you of all people should be glad that Andromeda shirked away from her betrothal since if she hadn't, you would not be born as Aunt Narcissa would have never married Lucius."
Her words gave him pause for a short moment as he had not known that, but he shook his head.
"Not a reason to associate with the rabble," Draco deflected contemptuously.
"Use your brain, little dragon," Juno chided as if speaking to a small child, making him scowl. "While she might be a half-blood, according to my sources, she is a metamorph like her elder brother. And she must be capable enough to become prefect - Nymphadora did come to us offering help, so we lose nothing by being polite. Did your father teach you nothing? There's no need to look for enemies when there are none."
"Have you become a blood traitor like our disowned Aunt, Juno?" He sneered, only for Juno to quietly mutter something while pointing her wand at his leg. Draco yelped in pain again and glared at her. "Stop this!"
"Make me," She taunted before laughing coldly as he looked for support from Crabbe and Goyle, who were trying to disappear in their seats. "Blood traitor? What good does blood do for you when you're not only spoiled but pathetic and useless, Draco?"
"My father will hear of this," the threat left his lips before he knew it, and he paled.
Juno Bellatrix Lestrange smiled, and Draco felt ants crawl up his spine. His cousin always viciously retaliated against his threats and got away with it.
"Good, ickle cousin. Tell him how useless you are," she grinned widely and threateningly pointed her wand in his direction. "I think I'll keep this compartment for myself. Take your goons and get lost!"
Occlumency is an essential tool for any self-respecting warlock. Not only can you protect your mind with sufficient experience and practice, but you can also control your emotions and thus exert greater control over your magic. At the higher levels, you can even manipulate your own mind.
Many people make the mistake of stopping after a simple rudimentary proficiency, barely enough to protect their minds. Having the ability to feel an intrusion is only the first step to being able to force it out.
As with any other discipline taken to the extreme, Occlumency has further benefits. It helps you unveil the ability to control your mind and emotions, which would be a boon for any sorcerer. A mastered mind is hard to erase and even harder to control. But, as with anything else worthwhile, there are no shortcuts, and it requires extreme dedication.
For any practitioner of Dark Magic, excellent control of your magic is a must, lest you lose yourself in the alluring throes of temptation and be under the thrall of magic instead of its master.
The first step to protecting your mind is clearing it of all clutter; there are many ways to go about it. Here are the various methods that I've found effective-
Harry snapped the dairy closed after reading through the methods for the fiftieth time. At moments like these, he wanted to put his hands on the throat of a certain potions professor and throttle him to death. He had suspected, but now Harry had a clear confirmation that Snape had been highly unhelpful and simply took a sick pleasure in messing with him during the Occlumency lessons.
How hard was it to give useful instructions?
You're to rid your mind of all emotions every night before you sleep, Potter!
Mighty helpful advice, especially without any direction on how to go about it. At least in potions, Snape had deigned to provide instructions on the board.
Eight, just this diary had listed eight different bloody exercises for clearing one's mind, and more than half worked quite well for Harry. He did some every day he awoke and before he went to sleep. Simply forcing someone out of his mind with pain was no longer a viable tactic because his scar no longer hurt.
If nothing else, he had struck gold - the diary was a trove of information on Occlumency, and it worked. Harry had never felt as calm before, and he could feel that his emotions were not as overwhelming anymore. The owner had been very thorough in his observations and research. But Borgin had been right - there was far more than Occlumency in the diary. Rituals and Legilimency, for which he lacked talent. Harry had taken a glance at the information on the former and had quickly given up at the mention of blood and sacrifice. Following in Voldemort's footsteps was definitely not what he wanted to do. The twisted visage of the bloodthirsty Dark Lord was not an image he could ever forget.
For a short moment, Harry idly wondered what Ron and Hermione were doing right now. Neither Ron had shown up at the door to look for a compartment to sit in, nor had Neville or Hermione passed by, looking for a toad. In fact, he had spotted Neville carrying an owl earlier…
He shook his head, returned the diary to the trunk, and took out the packed sandwiches Tom had graciously given him. Both Ron and Hermione would be perfectly fine on their own.
"Want one?" Harry offered.
"Thanks, but I've got my own lunch, and I'm not hungry," Diana shook her head, and her amber eyes returned to reading the 'Introduction to Ancient Runes', the book he had lent her.
His stomach grumbled in hunger, and Harry hastily unwrapped the sandwich and began devouring it. As he was eating, his gaze moved to the young girl.
The muggle-born girl was short and thin like a leaf, and her long hair reminded him of burnished copper in colour. Coupled with her rather unique eyes, it made for a striking combination that was nearly impossible to forget. While Harry did not know everyone in Hogwarts, he knew all the muggle-borns in his year and was pretty sure there had not been any Diana Taylor before.
His new companion reminded Harry of himself, albeit more curious. Alone, completely new to the wizarding world and unsure what she was getting into. That was probably the main reason she was still in his compartment. He just couldn't muster the energy to chase her away, and Diana did her very best to be unfailingly polite, even in her curiosity.
As the sandwich had disappeared, Harry attacked the second one.
In fact, he found Diana's questions a pleasant distraction from his usual drudgery and found himself indulging her curiosity.
His gaze wandered towards the window where the roiling fields of cows and sheep sped past them as the remainder of his sandwich quickly disappeared. The lush landscape was so serene and peaceful that it made him wistful.
A great clattering slowly approached from the hallway, heralding the arrival of the trolley lady. A few moments later, the door slid open, revealing the familiar dimpled witch.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
Diana put down the book and hesitated for a few moments as her eyes roamed over the assortments of magical candies.
"I'll take two of each," she finally decided.
Harry ended up with a handful of chocolate frogs, and he quickly opened one as Diana looked at the sweets-covered seat next to her, undecided about which to try first.
"Hey-" the muggle-born girl froze while Harry bit off the head of the twitching chocolate frog. "Wait, why is it moving?!"
"Oh, they're animated by magic," he provided after swallowing. "Each of them comes with a card of a famous witch or wizard."
"Really?"
"Yes," he grabbed the card that had remained with the discarded wrapping and showed it to her.
"Ptolemy?" Diana scrunched up her eyebrows. "His picture is moving too!"
"Wizarding pictures and portraits do that, and some can even talk," Harry explained as the girl gaped in wonder. "Mirrors are often charmed to have your reflection speak too."
"That's weird," she concluded with a huff. "But wasn't Ptolemy an astronomer and a mathematician?"
"Well, he was," Harry agreed with a chuckle as he looked at the moving picture of an ancient Greek wizard, and his eyes roamed over the description. "That's what the muggles know him for. But as a wizard, he was also one of the pioneers of Arithmancy and a famed master of Astronomy."
Diana grabbed one of her chocolate frogs and unwrapped it.
"I got Morgana," she looked curiously at the card. "What do people do with these anyway?"
"They collect and trade them. There's like a few hundred different cards, and some are quite rare."
The Morgana card went into her jeans pocket, and she made short work of the chocolate frog in seconds, making him snort internally. Not hungry, indeed!
"Tastes like normal chocolate," she noted with a tinge of disappointment and curiously opened a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
"Hey, have you tried these before?" The girl fished out a turquoise candy and threw it in her mouth.
"Yes, but-"
"Blergh!" Diana spat the half-chewed bean out and began coughing hard. She hastily pulled over a small leather bag, fished out a bottle of water, opened it and took greedy gulps. "Disgusting! Who in their right mind would put spinach-flavoured candy!"
"They're called Every Flavour Beans for a reason," Harry dryly replied. "I've heard there's every taste from toothpaste to vomit."
Diana quickly tossed the bag of Berti Beans as if they were on fire and took a few more generous gulps from her bottle of water.
"Wizards are odd," she stated and grimaced when she took a bite of the pumpkin pasty. "I think I'll stick to the chocolate."
"The licorice wands and cauldron cakes are not bad," he offered with a shrug. Harry was not the biggest fan of pumpkin, but he had gotten used to the taste after drinking the juice for years.
The pumpkin pasty was returned to its wrapper and, together with most of the other sweets, was shoved into Diana's bag as she unwrapped her second chocolate frog and stared at the card.
"I thought these cards only have famous witches and wizards?"
"Well, yeah, they do."
"Who's Voldemort, and what's a Killing Curse?" Diana asked curiously, and Harry had a bad premonition.
"Voldemort's a dark wizard, and the Killing Curse is an illegal spell that kills without a trace," the words tumbled out of his mouth slowly, heavy with apprehension. He did not like where this was going.
"Harry James Potter, also known as the Boy Who Lived, a monicker earned as the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse as a young baby, also vanquished the Dark Lord Voldemort after he had slain his parents on All Hallows' Eve of 1981," she read out loud, and Harry found his blood run cold. "But there seems to be no picture, just an empty silhouette with glasses and a lightning bolt scar on his face."
"May I see the card?" Harry politely requested as his heart was beating like a drum. Diana handed it to him, and there it was.
Something that had not happened in his previous world.
A chocolate frog card of Harry James Potter, whose greatest achievement was that his mother sacrificed herself so her son could live. He stared blankly at the empty place where the portrait was supposed to be with mixed feelings. It was a small mercy that his visage was not plastered there for all to gawk at. He found his anger beginning to bubble, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to do a breathing exercise from the diary.
Surely enough, a few moments later, he felt his fury slowly beginning to ebb away.
"Hey, are you fine?" He opened his eyes to see Diana looking at him with concern.
"Oh, yes, sorry," Harry mumbled, quickly returning the card to the muggle-born girl. "Just bad memories."
"Do you know what this dark lord-wizard business is?" She asked with worry as the card went into her pocket. "Professor McGonagall never mentioned any of this."
"Well," he paused for a short moment, unsure what to say. "Witches and wizards are not different from muggles. There are some good and some bad. Voldemort's one of the worst."
"Then it's a relief he's gone," she noted, and Harry couldn't help but grimace. "There's wizard police to deal with things like this, right?"
"Well, they're called Aurors, but I heard they're not very good."Diana watched as the sun slowly crawled towards the western horizon, and the clouds gained an orange hue. The wizarding world was shaping into an interesting, albeit quite odd, place. From what she had read about magic, it defied all logic and physics and operated entirely on its own rules. And it was as if that fact was imprinted on the wizards and witches. Who in their right mind would make a candy taste like spinach, let alone eat it?!
Then there was her new friend. Harry was not only knowledgeable but patiently answered all of her questions, no matter how silly, and she now had a better idea about both the magical world and Hogwarts. She admired his patience - Diana had half expected him to snap at her or ignore her at some point, but he did not. At times, it felt that she was talking to an adult, not a boy her age.
But then again, she had never met someone who had lost their parents. If anything could force someone to grow up faster, that would definitely be near the top of the list.
Not only that, but her new friend seemed to be a bit too… wound up. Diana noticed how he would sometimes twitch at a sudden noise or that his eyes darted around the compartment. It did not escape her attention that he never offered his family name, but she did not want to ask either, especially after discovering that his parents were dead. Diana was not going to stick her nose where it did not belong!
As the train ride progressed, she noted that the tension slowly had left his body.
In fact, Harry was now quietly napping, dressed in that plain black sweater of his. His sharp face was peaceful, and he almost looked adorable with his cold demeanour gone. Diana would think him dead if it was not for the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest.
At that moment, a movement near his arm drew her attention, and she froze when she saw a small, pitch-black triangular head poke out of his sleeve curiously. Diana barely resisted the urge to scream for her life at the sight of what looked like a little snake. It was not doing anything other than looking around curiously with its onyx eyes.
Maybe this was… normal for wizards?!
Diana doubted that Harry had somehow missed a snake lounging around his sleeve, but if he did, he had not seemed bothered one bit. She carefully approached under the wary gaze of the serpent, reached out with her hand, and nudged her companion on his knee before quickly retreating. Harry instantly shuffled and blearily opened his eyes.
"We there yet?"
She would have chuckled at his drowsy manner if not for the situation.
"Err, did you know you have a snake in your sleeve?"
Any trace of sleepiness quickly evaporated from his face, and Harry's green eyes squinted in displeasure as he carefully raised his arm and gazed at the black snakelet dangling from his wrist.
"Yeah, I know," he muttered unhappily before sighing heavily and nodding towards the small serpent. "This is Nyx."
Under her disbelieving gaze, he unceremoniously shoved the snake back into his sleeve as it hissed in protest.
"What if it bites you? Is it venomous?" Diana cautiously prodded.
"Well, Nyx is a she and is completely harmless, besides being a tad too curious for her own good." Diana decided to chalk off the oddity as something normal for wizards. "Though, please keep her a secret - snakes aren't well-liked in the wizarding world."
"Sure," she promised with a solemn nod. Keeping secrets was her forte! "But I thought the school list said you can only bring a frog, cat, or an owl?"
"Other pets are allowed with the permission of your Head of House," Harry absentmindedly replied. "As long as it's not too dangerous or outrageous, it'd probably be allowed."
That was neat; she would totally bring Snowball with her next time.
"You never mentioned how we choose in which House to go," Diana curiously noted, but then she couldn't help but fidget uneasily. "Is it some test? Oh my gosh, I haven't studied at all!"
Nor could she do any magic…
"No, nothing like that," Harry snorted with amusement. "The sorting is supposedly a secret, but nothing hard. I still haven't heard of any student being turned away, so there's nothing to fear."
A sigh of relief left her mouth. And indeed, her new friend did not look concerned one bit, but he was quite brilliant.
"Which House do you think is best, then?"
For the first time, Harry was not quick to answer her question. The minutes passed as he sat there, brow furrowed in deep thought.
"No House is good or bad, but I'd avoid Slytherin and Gryffindor if I were you," he cautiously replied.
"Well, what's wrong with those two houses?"
"There's a fierce rivalry between them. I heard it's very annoying if you get dragged into it," Harry grimaced for a moment. "Especially if you're serious about your studies, you'd be better off choosing Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Gryffindor is a noisy, boisterous house, while Slytherin is full of pureblood wizards, and any muggle-borns would be ostracised. The eagles have their own library, and I heard that in the Ravenclaw dorms, you'd room alone instead of sharing with others."
Before she could reply, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogsmeade station in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to school separately."
"We should put on our robes," Harry said, removing the school robe from the trunk and pulling it over his sweater.
Diana could feel her insides twist uncomfortably with apprehension, and she felt too nervous to speak. She followed Harry's example, donned the robe, and silently gazed into the now-dark landscape outside as the train slowed.