Fanfic #108 Ascension: The Silver Spears by Define Anachronistic(HarryPotter)

This fanfic is an au of Harry Potter following Harry. I really like this fic because it has amazing world building with a lot of elements created by the author and really stays away from the stations of canon. I also really like the Harry in this fic because he's not all powerful from the start, but we can see his skill developing as the story goes on. Although this story is definitely a slow burn it has a lot of interesting story elements that are really fun to read, just check it out.

Synopsis: (AU) Harry Potter is different. No one is more aware of this than him. His relatives acknowledge his existence only when necessary and despite growing up surrounded by creature comforts, everything he has ever owned is either a hand me down, stolen, scavenged or lent to him out of pity. He has no one to rely on. He tells himself that he prefers it that way. But no man is an island.

Rated: T

words: 220k

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13886549/1/Ascension-The-Silver-Spears

Here's the first chapter:

Harry awoke slowly, his dreams falling through his fingers like water. A woman's desperate screams, a flash of blinding green light, and a scorching branding sensation on his forehead. Now doesn't that sound familiar, he thought, his usual irritation slipping into his mind where the memories of his recurring nightmare had recently escaped.

From outside his safe haven, he could hear the sound of the television in the kitchen, Dudley's excited gasps and laughter at whatever inane children's programming had his attention this morning, and Vernon telling Petunia the same work story he had told the previous evening at dinner. Now a little worried, Harry reached above his head for his new digital watch. The time from the lit-up screen told him it was almost half-past seven. He relaxed. He hadn't overslept.

In his mind's eye, he could see them in the kitchen, exactly as they were. Dudley, fat, grey-eyed, and looking older than his eleven years, would be spooning whatever had been put in front of him into his mouth, sitting too close to the television with no concern for his eyesight. His blonde hair would already have been neatly combed by his mother and he'd be wearing a green blazer and red tie, despite the oppressive July heat. Cherry Grove Academy made no exceptions, not even for the boy who had everything.

Petunia, by the stove, would have finished preparing breakfast and would be craning her long neck trying to get a glimpse into the goings-on in their neighbour's homes, especially Mrs. Brooks in Number Six who was simultaneously her best friend and worst enemy. Despite the early hour, she would be wearing a dress and heels, blonde hair and makeup done to perfection, not willing to let the neighbours see her as less than flawless on the school run.

Vernon, would be at the head of the kitchen table, have his newspaper open, but he would be far too busy telling his fascinating work story to read it. Like the other inhabitants of Number Four Privet Drive, Harry had learned to tune out Vernon's voice when he began to drone on. If he ever noticed, he never let on. Vernon had dark brown hair streaked with grey, a well-trimmed walrus moustache and the muscles he had once been so proud of had now faded like the memories of his rugby days at school, leaving a portly man in its place. As the Director of Grunnings, a drill-making company, Vernon didn't have to wear a suit and suffer like his employees, but much like his wife, he hated standing out of the crowd.

Harry sat up and pulled the cord by the door. A dim naked light bulb flickered to life above his head. He climbed out of bed, making sure he didn't bang his head on the low ceiling, and knelt on the floor reaching for the boxes underneath his bed. His boxes were clear plastic containers; Box One held all his clothes. Box Two, the largest, held all his reading books and school stationery, and Box Three, the smallest, contained everything else. Harry liked to keep things orderly, and it wasn't very hard. He didn't own much.

Removing his school uniform from Box One, and his towel and toiletry bag from Box Three, Harry opened the door and stepped out of the cupboard under the stairs. Harry had known for years that sleeping in a cupboard was not normal, but the Dursley's fear of contamination had overcome their burning need for the mundane. Harry knew he slept in a cupboard for the same reason Petunia had presented him with his boxes, towel, toiletry bag, as well as his own plates, bowls, and cutlery. The Dursleys were afraid of catching whatever it was that made Harry so different, and Harry was painfully aware of just how different he was.

Switching off the light and closing the door behind him, Harry began to make his way upstairs. He could hear Vernon more clearly now, he was laughing, "He has no idea! I think I might even sack him with my office door still open. Remind the others I'm in charge!" and Petunia replied distractedly, "That's right dear, you're in charge". Dudley was now singing along to the theme song of another inane children's show, and Harry was wondering how he had even slept through such a racket.

Along the hallway and up the stairs there were framed photographs lovingly placed on the walls. Most, but not all, contained Dudley at various milestones, first birthday, first steps, first day at school. Other pictures were more varied but the one thing that they all had in common was that each one contained a member of the Dursley family. Vernon, his deceased parents, his unfortunately undeceased sister Marge and a picture of him and Petunia on their wedding day. Not a single photograph contained a member of Petunia's side of the family. Not her parents, not her sister, not even a famous distant cousin.

Harry's earliest memory was the questions he had asked Petunia about his own parents. Petunia's jaw had tightened, as it always did when Harry didn't remain unseen and unheard as he was often told, but he had been too young then to consider the consequences of misbehaving. "You're my sister's son. No, I never met your father. They died in a car crash. A friend of theirs left you on our doorstep. Stop asking questions!", she snapped when Harry moved to speak again, "That's all I know!" Unthinkingly, Harry had opened his mouth to pepper her with more questions and was rewarded for his curiosity with a sharp slap to his face. He tried to speak again, defiant, but Petunia slapped him twice more for good measure. Tears stinging his eyes he kept his lips firmly pressed together and pretended not to notice his aunt washing her hands thoroughly, as though his skin was diseased.

His aunt. His uncle. His cousin.

Harry knew that he was related to the Dursleys, but he tried to never acknowledge that. Even in his own mind, he referred to them individually by their given names and (on the rare occasions when someone spoke directly to him) he called them the Dursleys, or when pressed, he reluctantly clarified "They're my relatives". He preferred that. Relatives sounded distant, like people you were forced to see once or twice a year at family events. Not the only people that would notice if he ran away as he had often considered when he was younger. They would probably celebrate if the day ever came, but at least they would notice he was gone. He hadn't run away though, because you couldn't run from something if no one wanted you around in the first place.

Shaking his head at the grim (but not unusual) trajectory his thoughts had taken, Harry stepped onto the upstairs landing and made his way into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Number Four Privet Drive was a large house, afforded only by Vernon's large salary (as he was so fond of mentioning), with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. The master bedroom, Dudley's bedroom, Dudley's playroom, and the guest bedroom. The largest room, Vernon and Petunia's had its own bathroom, leaving the second to Dudley, Harry, and Marge when she visited.

Feeling refreshed after his morning ablutions, Harry stepped onto the stepping stool in front of the mirror, toothbrush in hand and with his towel around his waist. Not for the first time, he wondered how he could look so different to everyone else in the house.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a cupboard, but he was pale, thin, and long-limbed, like a plant grown in darkness, desperately trying to reach the sun. His frame was like Petunia's, in how he appeared taller than he really was, but where she carried herself with grace and dressed to the nines, Harry was, and always had been, an awkward-looking child, especially with his knobbly knees and pointy elbows. He shared the same almond-shaped eyes as his so-called aunt, but where hers were a pale grey, his were bright green. Everything else, from his sharp, angular face to his thick curling jet black hair, was entirely his own. But if there was one thing he truly disliked about his own appearance it was the strange lightning bolt scar above his right eyebrow. His hair was always a little too long for his relatives liking but Harry preferred it that way. It was better to hide the odd scar.

Once he was dried and dressed, he began to clean the bathroom after his use. Perhaps it was because Petunia instilled this behaviour in him when he had been too young to remember, or perhaps he was simply a neat person, but Harry always made sure to clean up after himself, even if the Dursleys weren't around. Despite this, whenever Dudley faked a sudden illness to get out of going to school, Vernon and Petunia would always send him suspicious looks, as though he had infected their precious son. Which was an absurd notion in Harry's mind, as he had never even been sick himself.

He went downstairs to find the Dursleys had already departed, Vernon to work in London, and Petunia and Dudley to Cherry Grove Academy. Ducking into his cupboard to retrieve his school bag (already packed) as well as his shoes, socks, and watch, Harry entered the kitchen, switched the television back on, and began preparing his own breakfast.

Sitting down in Vernon's seat, he glanced at his watch again. It was five minutes to eight. He had plenty of time. Feeling as though he deserved a treat, (it was the second to last day of the school year) he switched the television from news and weather to the children's channel (It was only inane when Dudley watched it). It had been a difficult term, but he had worked hard so he could afford to relax a little. Sitting back at the head of the table, Harry began mindlessly spooning Dudley's sugary cereal into his mouth.

Once the cartoon had ended and his breakfast was finished, Harry made his way out of the house through the backdoor. He walked along the winding garden path avoiding the well-kept grass and carefully maintained flowers that Petunia spent a fortune on, tying his blue school jumper around his waist. It was too hot to wear it, but Headmistress Roemmele would take any excuse to make his life more difficult. She had never liked him after the wig incident.

In the tiny space between the garden shed and the back fence there was a tarp and underneath that was Harry's pride and joy, Hugo, his red junior racing bicycle. Why did he call his bike Hugo? For the same reason he once owned a teddy bear named Eugene. He was sorely lacking in real friends, so he had to make some up.

Hugo had initially belonged to Dudley, given to him on his eighth birthday, but he had somehow bent the brakes rendering the front wheel immovable (Harry suspected that little Reggie Gates' broken leg had something to do with it). He had discarded it, correctly assuming that if he asked, he would simply receive another one for Christmas. Harry had saved the bike when it had been thrown away and fixed it in secret, hiding it away behind the shed where Dudley and Vernon were too large to fit, and Petunia would never tread for fear of dirtying her clothes. Proud of his achievement, Harry had carefully maintained the bike for almost three years. Even though he was beginning to outgrow it, he didn't want to get rid of his most prized possession.

The bike was not the only thing of Dudley's that Harry had taken. His new watch had been given to Dudley at Christmas and was in Harry's possession by Easter. As were the sketch pad and watercolour set some deluded parent of a classmate had given him for his birthday two weeks ago. Dudley had tossed that aside and hadn't noticed when Harry had taken it from his playroom that very same night. He wore Dudley's hand-me-down clothes, so why wouldn't he assume he was entitled to hand-me-down toys? At least that's how he justified it in his own mind.

Where Harry knew that he crossed the line was the resale. Whatever Harry didn't want (or was too obtrusive to hide from the Dursleys) he sold. He sold comics and sweets to kids at school and more expensive items like computer games (and even an entire gaming console once) to pawnbrokers. Books, toys, clothes even a couple of alarm clocks, he repaired what he could and sold it on. There were three pawnbrokers and two thrift shops in Little Whinging and Harry knew them all by name. He didn't mind the risk; Vernon and Dudley never shopped for themselves, and Petunia wouldn't be caught dead in such places.

Harry knew he had to sell Hugo soon (it would be one of his largest sales), but he could afford to wait until back-to-school shopping at the end of summer. He had enough money hidden away under a loose floorboard in his cupboard. That would pay for school supplies and once he was older it would support him until he found a part-time job. Hopefully.

Wheeling his bike through the back gate and onto the footpath behind the house, Harry closed and locked the gate behind him, climbed onto Hugo, and took off. The footpath was enclosed with trees from above and shrubbery and fences on the side, so when he zoomed out of the footpath and onto the road his eyes stung from the sudden sunlight, but he didn't mind. It was a clear and warm day with a lazy summer on the horizon. Harry grinned as he stood atop the pedals and zipped down the empty road. Today is going to be a great day, he thought happily.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Today was a horrible day, Harry thought as he tried to drift off in bed. It began to go downhill as he rode his bike into the teacher's car park of St. Gregory's Primary School. His stomach dropped as he spotted Headmistress Roemmele standing on the stone steps of the reception with her arms folded as though she had expected him, which he realised much too slowly, she clearly had.

"Potter! I believe I've already warned you against entering the teacher's car park!" Roemmele's voice echoed across the tarmac as he promptly got off Hugo and wheeled it towards her.

You told me off once for it three years ago, Harry thought but he knew better than to say it out loud. He could feel his cheeks burning, not because he was being told off, not even because he knew that everyone could hear him being told off. What embarrassed him was his own carelessness. Normally he was a little less blatant when he broke school rules, but his pleasant post-exam mood had made him sloppy. This was the third time this week he had taken this shortcut through the teacher's car park, so of course Roemmele had caught him!

"I'm sorry miss. That was silly of me. Would you like me to go around?" Harry put on a contrite expression he did not actually feel. With any other teacher, he would have tried for a joke or a plea about the end of the school year, but Roemmele had hated him since he had turned her wig blue when he was six. Harry would never do such a thing intentionally, both because the effort for such an endeavour would not be worth the feeble payoff but more importantly because she was a cancer survivor whose hair had just started to grow again.

He had been in trouble for fighting again, his uniform in those days had been second-hand, frayed, and "large enough for you to grow into". When you added his orphan status, his unusual scar, and his severe lack of friends, he made a desirable target. Except, even back then, Harry had too much pride to take any kind of insult lying down. This meant he was a regular in the Headmistress' office.

Roemmele had been patient with him first, but her goodwill slowly eroded with each incident, and during his fifth visit to her office in a single term, she finally snapped at him. After a stern telling off, she sent him away with a muttered remark about his lack of parents causing him to turn feral. Harry had been used to kids making fun of his orphanhood, but no adult, not even the Dursleys, had ever brought up his parents to his face. He knew logically he hadn't meant to hear it, that he merely possessed sharp ears, but logic didn't stop his anger. Something in his stomach had twisted and the next thing he heard was the sharp gasp from Aaron, the side of his face still bruised from where Harry had slammed his lunch tray into it repeatedly. The boy was staring over Harry's head at Roemmele and her blue wig.

"Yes Potter, I'd like you to go around. I'd also like it if you would clean the classrooms after school today. I'd like things to be orderly for September and I know you're the right man for the job." The Headmistress said sweetly.

Harry repressed a groan. He had done this punishment before, and no matter how good of a job he did, she would find something to criticise and ask him to do it all over again. What made it worse was that tomorrow was the end of year party, every class would eat their fill of sweets, chocolate, and crisps, while playing party games instead of lessons. If she really wanted the classrooms to be orderly for September, she probably going to ask him to clean that up as well.

"Of course, Ms. Roemmele", Harry smiled pleasantly. He wheeled Hugo around and towards the gate that he just came through.

"Do hurry! The bell rings in five minutes!" Roemmele called after him. Muttering a foul word under his breath, Harry jumped on Hugo the second he was outside the gate and peddled as fast as he could. Going around the school only took a minute or two on a bike, but the real problem was that once he came through the student's gate he had to climb off Hugo and wheel him across the playground to the bike shed. Which happened to be right beside the teacher's car park.

Locking Hugo with his bike chain, Harry sprinted across the playground where some of the other students were lining up. Joining his classmates, Harry smiled slightly, which was a mistake. Roemmele looked annoyed as she approached, school bell in hand, and his smile seemed to be the cause.

"Do you think breaking school rules is funny, Potter?" Harry blinked, wondering what she was going on about now. "You're not wearing the full uniform", she clarified. Harry took a deliberate glance around him. Most of the other students hadn't lined up yet and the ones that had were chatting amongst themselves. He could see most weren't wearing their school jumpers, some had them tied around waists like his or hidden in bags or even left at home.

Harry went to pull his jumper on, but she stopped him. "Oh, don't bother now", Roemmele was the one smiling now, she seemed to sense how desperate he was not to get in trouble today. "All students must wear the school jumper on school trips, what would happen if you were lost?" she sighed rather dramatically in Harry's opinion "If you can't be trusted to wear a simple jumper then you'll have to stay behind." Harry was about to protest this before a large reassuring hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Headmistress! What seems to be the problem?" Said Mr. Lupin jovially. Roemmele's expression soured.

"Mr. Lupin, your student isn't wearing his school jumper. This is the second rule he's broken today, and the bell hasn't even rung yet." Roemmele said eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps that's because you haven't rung it yet? You should get to that. Year Six is already five minutes behind schedule." Lupin said pleasantly. Harry repressed a smile because he knew Lupin never bothered with a schedule, he was just too disorganised.

Roemmele held his gaze for a moment. Harry wondered if they were going to argue again. He hoped not. Roemmele got along well with her Deputy Headmaster most of the time unless Harry was involved, as neither could agree with how the other treated him. Finally, Roemmele swiftly turned on her heel and began ringing the school bell calling "Line up! Line up!"

As the last stragglers ran to line up, Lupin let out an amused sound and let go of his shoulder. With a smile, he left to stand at the head of the line, walking slower than he usually did and Harry stared after him worriedly.

Lupin was a tall man, thin in a way that showed he was once muscular, with tawny brown hair prematurely threaded with silver. He often wore crumpled tweed suits and had a thin moustache, which together made him appear ancient to Harry; "It's a timeless look", Lupin replied when he mentioned it to him once. He appeared sicklier today than Harry had ever seen him, and if it weren't for his bright brown eyes and the friendly smile that seemed permanently fixed on his face, he would have the look of a dying man.

Lupin wasn't just Harry's favourite teacher; he was his neighbour. He had lived on Mongolia crescent, the house opposite the Dursley's home, since before he could remember. His health had also been quite poor for as long as Harry could remember too, so he hoped his surprise would take his mind off it, even momentarily.

In no time at all the students were ushered into the school in a semi-orderly fashion, the youngest students in reception first and the oldest students, the Year Six classes last. As students were taking their seats, Lupin called out "We'll be leaving in 20 minutes! Anyone that needs the bathroom had better go now!", there was a scramble for the door and some of the boys were laughing "Can't you hold it for an hour? You're such a baby!" Amid the chaos, Harry made his way to the teacher's desk.

"Mr. Lupin? May I speak with you?" Harry asked quietly. Lupin glanced up from the class register, a wary expression on his face.

He cleared his throat, "Can it wait until the end of the day?" Harry was beginning to feel nervous. If it were good news, Lupin wouldn't have waited to tell him. Harry merely shook his head, both as an answer to Lupin's question and to remove the possibility of failure from his head. Lupin sighed, "My office then." He stood and led the way out of the room.

On his way to the door, a girl smiled at him, "Honestly, can't you stay out of trouble for five minutes, Harry?" Harry didn't glance at her; he didn't even break his stride.

"Why? So, I can be as boring as you?"

"I'm not boring!"

"I don't even know who you are." She opened her mouth probably to remind him who she was, but he cut her off, "And I don't care." He stepped out into the corridor and hurried after Lupin to his office next door.

Lupin's office was a cluttered mess. Four large books cases had somehow been squeezed into the small room and all of them were so full of a wide variety of subjects that Lupin was forced to stack what wouldn't fit in haphazard piles on the floor. Book avalanches were not uncommon in Harry's experience. There was a comfortable armchair that he often made use of when it grew too cold or wet outside. He had spent a hundred break times enjoying a good book, with the sound of pouring rain in his ears as it hammered the building. On the walls were framed teaching certifications and posters of old school jazz and rock musicians, with a vintage record player and a stand underneath filled to the brim with vinyl records that always seemed to be playing in the background. But there was no music being played today.

Another bad sign.

"I didn't get in did I?" Harry asked, despite knowing the answer.

"It wasn't because of your S. results. They made a point of remarking that you are an excellent student," Lupin hurried to finish before Harry could interrupt, "It's because of your financial background."

Harry couldn't understand. "The only reason I applied for the scholarship was that I can't afford their tuition. Why would they reject me for that?"

Lupin was shaking his head even before Harry was done talking. "You have to think about it from their perspective. You're from a good home with a good income. This scholarship is meant to give kids from lower-income houses a chance."

Harry clenched his jaw. "That's the Dursleys' money. They wouldn't give Smeltings a penny for my sake." He couldn't believe how naive he'd been. He had thought that by applying through St. Gregory's (and with Lupin's help) he could avoid disclosing his guardian's financial background. Smeltings had sent over ninety percent of its students to Russell Group Universities. If he had been accepted his life would have been as firmly set as a railway; all he would have to do was follow the tracks. Vernon would never have pulled him out as to do so would have meant losing face with his alma mater. He could have even dealt with going to school with Dudley for the first time.

Of course, the school carried out background checks. I was stupid to think they wouldn't.

Realising that he was beginning to spiral, Harry asked Lupin quickly, "What about Highsmith's'?"

Lupin, who had been observing Harry with concern, smiled and passed along an open envelope. "You passed the 11+ with flying colours." Harry took the envelope with shaking figures and laughed as he confirmed it was true. It wasn't that he didn't believe Lupin, but he believed that Smeltings had been a certainty and he had been proven false.

"Highsmith's might not be a fancy boarding school but their exam results are almost as good!"

"Then why so disappointed about Smeltings?"

Harry shrugged. "Highsmith's is local. I just wanted to get out of Privet Drive."

Lupin nodded slowly. While Harry was too proud to admit what went on at Privet Drive, he often felt like Lupin knew more than he let on. For as long as he could remember he had offered Harry a comforting ear, a place to read and do his homework in peace when things at Privet Drive became too much, and he always took Harry's side against Ms. Roemmele. He appreciated his support more than he could admit.

That reminds me. Harry reached into his bag. "I've got something for you." He handed over a package wrapped in brown paper.

Lupin seemed to regress thirty years as he reached over the desk, eyes wide with excitement. "Excellent, I love presents. Give it here." The sudden silly behaviour from his usually well-mannered and eloquent teacher shocked the laughter right out of him. From the little smile that danced momentarily around Lupin's lips, Harry guessed that was the idea.

Lupin opened the package and pulled out a mug with World's Best Teacher written on one side and a shiny red apple painted on the other. A homemade card with designs off books, vinyl records, and steaming goblets (Harry had walked into his office with him drinking from such a goblet on more than one occasion and joked that Lupin had a medieval style drinking problem) and on the front were the words Sorry for giving you so much grief and Thanks for everything!

Lupin said nothing for a long moment, and Harry began to feel worried. "There's a gift card inside", he said hastily "well it's not a real gift card. I just promised Mr. Danvers that I'd pay for your next book. Just one mind you, I'm not made of money –"

"You didn't have to go to so much trouble," Lupin said quietly.

Harry rolled his eyes. Lupin had taught him how to tie his shoelaces, had paid for his school trips and swimming lessons, and had encouraged his love of reading (even though he disapproved of Harry's fondness for adventure books). He had even told him when his birthday was and made sure to get him a new book and a cake every year. He hadn't even scolded him when he stole Dudley's bike but instead helped him learn to ride it. "I've never ridden a bike before", Lupin admitted as they wheeled the newly christened Hugo to the park, "but I'm sure we'll figure it out together". And they had.

After all that Harry wasn't going to let him kick up such a fuss over a simple gift. "It's just a mug, no reason to cry over it." If the world were a fairer place, Lupin would have been his uncle instead of Vernon. If the world were a fairer place, Mum and Dad would still be alive. Stop whining. Harry scolded himself. The world had been unfair to him for longer than he could remember, there was no reason to expect it to change now.

Lupin, however, looked genuinely upset. No, more than that. He looked guilty. "Harry, when September arrives, a lot of things will change for you." Harry had never seen him so serious.

Harry nodded, straight-faced. "Yeah, I know. Grammar school is no joke, and I won't be the big fish in the little pond anymore. But you don't have to be worried about me. I'll remember everything you've ever taught me."

Lupin looked awkward now. "I'm glad, but that's not what I meant-" there was a knock on the door before it promptly swung open. It was the girl from earlier and she looked annoyed.

"Mr. Lupin, it's almost time to get on the coach and we haven't even taken the register yet!"

Lupin stood up gathering his things for the trip. "Right you are Sara! I'll be there in a moment."

Sara left the office but not before giving Harry a lofty look. "That girl has the most forgettable face in the world," Harry noted dryly. "I've already forgotten her name."

"You just heard me say it. It's Sara."

"It's strange how you say that, like I'll ever remember."

"You know, you're not half as funny as you seem to think you are."

Harry grinned cheekily, "That's still twice funnier than you." Lupin was about to retort but Harry ducked out of the office and ran down the corridor wanting to get the last word for once.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The morning hadn't been all that bad. Sure, he had somehow managed to get detention before the bell rang on the second to last day of the year and he had been rejected from his first choice of school, but he still got into Highsmith's. That alone was reason to celebrate.

Along with the rest of the Year Six group, Harry boarded the coach and chose a seat at the very back where he wouldn't be bothered. There were barely sixty students in his year group that were split between two coaches, Class 6A with Lupin and Class 6B with Ms. Hills. This meant he got the entire back row to himself. He took the opportunity to listen to Dudley's old Walkman, to drown out his noisy classmates and watch the world go by outside the window as the coach barrelled its way to London. He hadn't gotten around to selling the Walkman yet and was reluctant to do so. Harry didn't know all that much about music, but he could tell that the youngest Dursley had surprisingly good taste.

By the time the coach had come to a stop in the car park of the London Zoo, Harry was in an even better mood than he had been when he left the Privet Drive this morning. Putting away his Walkman, he practically swaggered off the coach and strutted over to Lupin who was doing a headcount. He should have known then and there that he was practically asking for trouble.

Lupin paused for a moment, and the only sound in the car park was Ms. Hills telling off two boys for making fart noises while she was speaking. Lupin caught his eye and smirked. "With Philip off 'sick' today'', there were snickers amongst the students as Philip was infamous for always feigning one illness or another, "there are only thirty-one of you. I'm going to need one group of three."

Harry knew where he was going with this and thrust his hand into the air, speaking without being called on, "It's fine. I'll just work on my own."

"Oh no, I couldn't make you do that! Why don't you work with Sara and Jade today? That way you don't have to be alone. You'll be together all day." There were snickers from the other boys, but it wasn't the fact that he was grouped with girls which bothered Harry. It was that he was grouped with Sara. He couldn't really blame Lupin for his little joke because Harry had never told him about his real problem with her.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

September 1990

"What are you doing?"

Harry whirled around. He knew from the voice that it hadn't been a teacher, but a student. If it were the wrong student, he could be in a lot of trouble.

The girl behind him was unfamiliar. Despite sometimes joking with Lupin that he was terrible with faces and names; Harry had an excellent memory. The unfamiliar girl wasn't wearing the school uniform, so she must be new.

"Are you new?" Harry asked with as much authority as he could muster. "Do you need directions?"

"Err... yes?", she sounded confused and had framed her answer like a question.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked with a frown and scrunched eyebrows, the way Roemmele looked at him even when he was telling the truth. "You don't sound very sure."

"I am sure! My parents came to register me, we just moved here you see, and I went to the loo and now I'm lost!" All of this came out in a single hurried breath.

"Oh, is that all?", Harry was enjoying himself now, "Why should I believe your story?"

"It's not a story!" She snapped "My parents are waiting for me, and I've been gone ages- wait what are you doing here?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "All the other kids are playing outside."

So, she isn't completely stupid, Harry thought still amused. "Keep a lookout, will you? I'll only be a minute." He turned back to the door.

The still unfamiliar girl gasped. "That's the Headmistress' office!"

"You can read. Well done."

"You can't go in there."

"Watch me."

Harry stood by the doorknob, blocking her view of it with his body. Closing his eyes and slowing his breathing he could imagine the lock, the mechanism, the entire door. It wanted what he wanted. To do what it was designed to do. To open. To Open! OPEN!

The door creaked open. That was a new trick he learned over the summer. It had left him exhausted and dizzy before, but now he could manage it in just a minute.

"How did you do that?" Harry started. He had focused so intensely on the door he hadn't heard the girl appear by his shoulder.

"How do you keep sneaking up on me?" Harry retorted, wishing to distract her.

"My Mum makes me take ballet. It makes me light on my feet. I sneak up on my sister all the time," she said smiling proudly.

"I didn't know ballet could do that." Harry pretended to sound impressed as he entered the office. If Roemmele's clock was accurate, he only had four minutes until break was over. Fortune was on his side as his prize was right on the shelf. A lovely, illustrated copy of The Iliad.

Harry picked it up and tucked the book underarm. As he exited the office, he was surprised to find the still unfamiliar girl keeping watch, just like he had asked. Closing the door, but not bothering to lock it, Harry made his way past her and down the corridor towards the staircase.

"Wait!" She hissed, hurrying after him, "Show me to the reception!" Harry ignored her. "I kept watch for you. You owe me."

Harry kept walking and didn't even bother to look at her. "I would have been fine whether or not you were there."

Unfamiliar girl hurried to keep up with him, her long blonde hair bouncing along behind her. "I still did it. Besides, I could just tell someone what I saw."

Harry pretended to be scandalised as he began to walk down the stairs. "You would snitch? On your first day? That's a great way to make friends." Despite his words, he knew that the snitches get stitches rule didn't extend to kids no one liked. Any kid in this school would have turned him if it were convenient for them, or even just for a laugh.

"If you had friends, they would have kept watch for you instead of someone whose name you don't yet know." Harry didn't acknowledge her deliberate use of the word "yet" as they reached the first-floor landing and turned the corner, walking down another staircase.

"Look, just show me the reception and I'll never-" Harry cut her off.

"It's right there." Harry said, pointing at the bottom of the staircase and then jerking it to his left. "I don't know how you ended up on the second floor." Harry took off to the right where the doors would lead him behind the school canteen, and he could circle around to the playground with Roemmele none the wiser.

"Thanks!" She called after him. He ignored her. "What's your name anyway? I'm Sara."

"I'm not going to remember it anyway." He replied, ignoring her question. She started to say something but stopped as he turned a corner.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Your name is Harry Potter."

Harry glanced up from his book. Sara Bridger had returned. She had been introduced this morning to the class by Lupin. Harry had ignored her then and fortunately, she had enough sense to do the same. Apparently, not for long though.

"How did you find me here?" He asked irritated. The spot by the river was his hideaway, he was surprised she found it on her first day, especially as it was not technically on school grounds. He had to go through a bush and climb a fence to get here.

"I followed you." She said smugly. Harry groaned.

"I need to put a bell around your neck or something." He muttered. Sara chuckled as she made herself comfortable on the grass beside him.

"Isn't that the same book you stole yesterday?"

"I didn't steal it! It belongs to Mr. Lupin! He lent it to me."

"Then why was it confiscated?" Harry sighed, closing the book, he wasn't going to get any reading done this break.

"Aaron in 6B heard from someone that it had naked pictures. It doesn't", he added hastily "but he and his mates nicked it out of my bag when I was in PE, one of them blabbed and Roemmele confiscated it. You know the rest."

"What I know is that he and his friends got suspended for your theft." Harry smirked. He was surprised she heard about that already. "But why would he think it has naked pictures in the first place?" Harry hesitated before he cracked open the book and turned pages until he found the right one.

"Here, that's what all the fuss was about; Helen of Troy, isn't she pretty?" Harry put on an amused expression, hoping that the shade of the tree he was sitting under was hiding his blush.

"That's nothing," Harry looked at her shocked. "What? She's hiding all her bits! My brother has a lot worse in his room and he doesn't even bother to hide it." Harry burst out laughing. It seems sneaking up on him wasn't the only way Sara Bridger kept surprising him.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

October 1990

"You still haven't told me how you unlocked Roemmele's door."

It had been over a month since Sara had first followed Harry to his spot by the river and every day since she followed him again. Every time class was dismissed, he overheard one of the girls inviting Sara to play with them, and every day she declined their offer. This was despite the fact that Harry had never explicitly invited her to join him or even waited for her to walk with him. However, he had long since stopped telling her to go away.

Sara was good company. She was bright and liked to read as well. Not as much as he did, as she had "other interests", but no one was perfect. She would give him recommendations of what she enjoyed reading and Harry did so in return. He didn't even mind when she steered their conversations in a different direction, just happy to enjoy her company.

Harry glanced up from his new book, The Quest for the Golden Fleece. Like the others that Lupin had lent him, the myth of Perseus and Gorgon, the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, the Twelve Labours of Hercules, the perils of Theseus and the Minotaur, and his absolute favourite, The Odyssey, Jason and the Argonauts' perilous quest was beautifully illustrated. Sometimes it even seemed as if the pictures were moving at the corner of his eye. Despite searching the books back to front he could not find any details of the illustrator nor the publisher. It seemed as if these copies of the ancient myths were handmade and one of a kind.

"Don't ignore me."

This idea made Harry treat these books with extra care even when copying the illustrations late at night in his cupboard. But while Harry enjoyed drawing, he had little talent for it. Lupin recommended it to him years ago, as a method to control his 'impulses' and Harry had taken to it quickly. It gave him a sense of control over a life he had no control over.

While Harry was looking forward to the myths Lupin had promised him, Roman, Egyptian, and Norse, he would miss these tales of intuitive Greek Heroes who thought on their feet. Perhaps that was what Lupin was trying to teach him; That he was a wise mentor like Chiron and Harry was a hero-in-training like Perseus before his quest-

"Ow!" Harry snapped his head towards Sara. "Did you just punch me?" Sara lowered her fist now that she had his attention.

"You still haven't told me how you unlocked Roemmele's door." She stated, ignoring his question entirely.

"What are you talking about? You were there. I picked the lock."

Sara was unimpressed. "I was standing right over your shoulder. You just put your hand on the doorknob and a minute later the door popped open!"

Harry sighed, "Alright! Alright! I stole an electromagnet from Mr. Lupin's desk, you know how he gets about science stuff. I used it to open the lock." Harry hoped she didn't ask questions, as he wasn't sure if that's how electromagnets even worked. In fact, he wasn't sure what an electromagnet even was. He just hoped if he threw a familiar-sounding science word Sara would buy it.

She didn't buy it.

Sara got to her feet. "I saw the door open by itself, without you even turning the knob. The knob may have moved but your hand didn't. The door might have moved, but you didn't push it. I've waited ages for you to tell me, even after I kept your secret, you still don't trust me." She started to walk back to school in a huff.

"Wait!"

Sara paused. Even Harry paused. Clearly, neither of them had expected him to sound so desperate. But he was. At some point, when he hadn't even been paying attention, he had found a friend. Every day when the girls asked her to play, he waited for her to agree and leave him alone again. But when she refused them each time, he felt a small measure of relief, that someone his own age could treasure his company as much as he treasured theirs- well it was an idea that he had long given up on.

Pushing his doubts deep down, he beckoned her closer until she knelt across from him. Then he slowly raised his right hand, palm side up, left hand gripping his wrist. "Promise me you won't get scared and run away," Harry said firmly. Sara looked him in the eyes, her blue ones were so wide he could see his own reflection in them. She nodded solemnly.

With a deep breath, Harry began to focus on a series of images within his mind. The incense candles Petunia often lit. The electric fireplace in the living room. The blue flames from the stove. With each image, a familiar warm feeling in his chest grew. He thought of the flames warm, but not hot, harmless even. He pushed the warm feeling from his chest, through his shoulder, and down his right arm. This was what he wanted. For the flames to ignite on his palm. Ignite on his palm. Ignite! IGNITE!

A sharp gasp was what broke his concentration. Sara was staring down at his hand. Emerald flames were dancing merrily on the palm of his right hand. Harry had chosen the colour specifically for her. He had noticed her bag, pencil case, even the clips she used to tie her hair back were all various shades of green. He hoped that by connecting to something she liked, she would transfer that goodwill to his powers.

He was wrong. After waving her hand above his palm above and underneath his hands, as though he had somehow connected invisible gas pipes to his skin, she slowly drew her fingers closer and closer to the dancing green flames. The moment a lick of flame touched her hand she began to hiss in pain, but then she stopped.

"It doesn't feel like anything." She breathed.

"I removed the heat," Harry explained. He couldn't remove the pride from his voice. It had taken months to teach himself this particular trick and he had been dying to share his experiments with someone for years. "I know you need fuel, oxygen, and heat to create fire, so I don't think this is a real fire, just what I imagine it to be without heat."

She was staring at him again "You actually made this?" Much too late, Harry noticed how pale she had become. Harry closed his right hand and the flames died, leaving them in the tree's shadow. "What are you?"

Harry took a slow breath. He wasn't offended by the question because he had always known he was different. He felt like he had been waiting his entire life for someone to ask him that question. His years of intensive research had led to only one conclusion.

"I'm a mutant," Harry said stoically. Sara only stared. Expecting a more awed reaction, Harry continued regardless, "I think my power is something to do with telekinesis. It all makes sense that way. The wide range of my powers. How I've never been sick-"

"When you say mutant are you talking about X-Men or Ninja Turtles?"

Harry was annoyed that his big moment was interrupted. "Do I look like a giant walking talking turtle to you?"

"X-Men makes more sense to you then?"

Harry nodded, too excited that she was finally getting it to recognise her sarcasm. "It is what all my research points to."

"Research?"

"I've read all of X-Men. Well, Claremont's run anyway." Sara was looking increasingly doubtful. "Alright, I've only read some of it! There must be ten different titles and I'm not made of money-!"

"Are you an actual idiot?"

Harry was surprised by the question. Sara seemed to be searching for something on his face. When she didn't find it, she leaned back, the way the Dursleys did, as though she were afraid of catching his disease. "You really are that stupid." Somewhere inside him, he felt something begin to fracture.

He needed to fix this. "I can show you some other stuff-" He was cut off as somewhere on the distant playground the bell was being rung. Lunchtime was over. Sara shot to her feet and ran away from him like a bat out of hell. Once again, Roemmele had found a way to make him miserable, but this time it was unintentional. After a long moment, Harry slowly got to his feet and made his way back to school.

When lessons were done for the day, Harry collected his things much more slowly than he usually did. Sara had asked him to walk home with her every day for weeks. Her family had just moved to Wisteria Walk which was right by Privet Drive. Harry had complained and pretended that she was being bothersome, but after the second day, he had stopped bringing Hugo to school and began knocking on her door in the mornings so they could walk together.

Today, however, Sara left the classroom without a glance in his direction. Whatever it was that had fractured in him earlier, had now completely shattered.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Is there a problem, Harry?" Lupin's voice snapped him out of it. Harry glanced around and saw most of the class (that wasn't chatting amongst themselves) were staring at him. He glanced at Sara, to see her with her arms folded looking away from him resolutely. It was that more than anything that got him to agree. He wasn't going to run away from her. He nodded firmly and saw Sara do the same.

"Jade?" Lupin asked. Said girl was looking worriedly between Harry and Sara. Their falling out was well known amongst the class.

"Err- can I have a different group?"

"No."

Jade began to wring her hands as Lupin began putting students into pairs. Harry felt bad about making her worry. Everybody liked Jade, she was the nicest person in school. So, he felt guilty that today was probably going to be a nightmare for her. Not guilty enough to stop, however.

As Lupin handed out individual worksheets attached to clipboards to the class (where had he pulled those out from?) he warned, "Any group with a single incomplete worksheet will have to help Miss Underwood organise the library tomorrow, while the rest of us have fun. Understood? Good. Your clipboards have maps of the zoo, but if you're lost, ask the nearest member of staff for directions, or follow the signs for the head office. Alright? Now go have fun!"

This wasn't the first time he had been forced to work with Sara in the past year, but it was the first time without adult supervision. He had half expected a fight to break out the second Lupin was out of sight, but cooler heads prevailed. Namely, Jade's. She had placed herself squarely between them and began shepherding them from enclosure to enclosure, but only after ensuring that they had completed the relevant section of the worksheet and were having "the appropriate level of fun". Harry didn't know which school Jade was going to after tomorrow, but he hoped she stayed the same. Sara caught his eye, grinning, and Harry returned it before remembering they were fighting, quickly turning his head away to observe the penguins.

Once they were done with the penguins, Jade reached over and checked Harry's watch, "I think it's time for lunch. We should head over to the restaurant and join the others.

Harry protested, "The restaurant is probably packed by now. We're not even the only school here," he jerked his head to two burly teenage boys in scruffy uniforms, "Let's just complete the worksheet and go to the restaurant after. We have until three." He just didn't want to share an awkward meal with his former friend at the same table. Later, there would be more room so he wouldn't have to deal with her.

Jade bit her lip and glanced at Sara who just shrugged. "Let's just get this over with."

Harry snorted, "That's the spirit!" She scoffed while Jade merely sighed, "Come on then."

They made their way through the rest of the zoo in a little over an hour, but Harry was beginning to regret his earlier decision to power through.

Breakfast seemed so long ago, and with every step, he became hungrier and more irritable. The scorching midday sun wasn't helping either. When the final enclosure, the reptile house, came into view Harry felt a wave of relief. Sara looked as bad as he felt. However, despite being the one to suggest a break in the first place, Jade looked as fresh as she had when she stepped off the coach, with nary a glossy brown hair out of place.

Sara heaved a sigh, "OK, let's get this over- Harry get back here!" Harry ignored her making his way over to the bench against the walls. He collapsed onto it, wishing for nothing more than a cool refreshing drink. Even Jade looked annoyed with his behaviour. "Harry it was your idea to power through! We're almost done."

"We'll be done in ten minutes once those lot leave."

From behind the girls, a stampede of reception kids came charging through the doors, being chased by two harried-looking teachers. From behind were a group of more relaxed mums and dads casually chatting amongst themselves as their children ran all over the place pressing their noses against the enclosures, making noises of awe and disgust while others were slapping hands against the glass trying to wake the reptiles up.

Sara looked appalled. "Yeah, we had better wait." She made her way over to Harry and practically crash landed beside him.

Jade, the true hero that she was, remained undeterred. "Give me your worksheets and I'll complete them."

Harry shrugged, "Better you than me." He removed the worksheet from his clipboard and handed it over.

Sara gave him a filthy look, before turning back to Jade with a much more pleasant expression. "It isn't fair to ask you to do our work for us."

Jade attached Harry's worksheet to her clipboard. "No one asked me to do anything. I volunteered. Besides this is nothing. I've got four younger brothers and sisters and six cousins who come round on the weekends. I spend two days a week trapped in a house with those little monsters, so ten minutes with these angels is child's play." She walked off looking determined.

Harry smiled after her, "No wonder she's so patient with us." He turned his head to see that Sara had slid closer to him while he hadn't been looking and was now staring right at him. "I really haven't missed you sneaking up on me." He muttered, clutching his heart after his embarrassing jump.

Sara smiled briefly before a more serious expression slid onto her face. "Did you sense them coming with your powers?"

Harry scowled, "I don't need powers to hear thirty screaming brats charging in our direction."

Sara raised her hands defensively, "Just making sure."

"Making sure of what? That I don't contaminate anyone?" Harry got to his feet and stomped over to the other side of the enclosure, ignoring Sara's spluttered response. Even the reception kids seemed to discern that he was not to be messed around with in that moment as they hurried out of his way to clear a path for him. One boy, carrying a large pink milkshake, seemed so intimidated he turned on his heel and ran away, dropping his drink in the process.

Harry found himself by the Boa constrictor tank. He placed both hands on the railing and sighed, annoyed with both himself and Sara. Harry stared into the enclosure, impressed in spite himself, with how well the Boa could blend into its surroundings. While the snake was trapped in a box and had people staring at it all day, it wasn't intelligent enough to recognise how terrible its life was. Harry wondered if he would be happier if he too were as stupid as Dudley. After a moment he shook his head "Is this my life now? Being jealous of animals?" Harry tutted.

Suddenly, the snake seemed to rise and look directly at him, as though it had heard Harry speak through the thick glass.

Harry reared back, shocked, before getting control over himself. This was not the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. Actually, that was a lie; It was definitely the most bizarre thing to ever happen to him, but it also wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Glancing around surreptitiously, Harry leaned slightly towards the glass and asked, "Can you understand me?"

The snake nodded once. Harry grinned, not wanting to refer to it as snake or Boa constrictor he asked, "Do you have a name?" This time the Boa constrictor shook its head and jabbed its tail at the sign Bred in captivity.

"You as well? I don't where I'm from either. We should start a club for lost mutants and genius snakes." The Boa constrictor cocked its head quizzically. Of course, not even genius snakes could appreciate his brand of humour. "I'm going to call you Gregg, after my school. Is that alright with you?" Gregg the Boa constrictor agreed with a bob of his head.

"Are you talking to that snake?" Sara had suddenly appeared by his shoulder, scaring him half to death.

"Stop sneaking up on me!", Harry hissed harshly. Gregg seemed to sense his agitation because he began coil himself upward as though he were preparing himself to strike her. Harry quickly waved him down before anyone saw.

"I'm only looking out for you. You're here hissing at it where anyone can see you." Sara explained with the air of forced patience.

Harry raised his eyebrows. Turning back to Gregg he asked, "Was I hissing?" and again Gregg nodded.

"I thought you were just messing with me, but you're actually talking to that snake, aren't you?" Sara sounded unsettled.

Harry regarded her coldly, "Are you still here?"

Sara huffed, "Why are you so mean these days? You used to be nice."

"I'm nice to people who keep their promises."

"What?"

"You promised you wouldn't get scared and run away."

Sara appeared shocked. "That's why you've been ignoring me all year? For a stupid promise?" Growing weary, Harry ignored her and stared resolutely at Gregg.

"I ran away because I was scared an idiot like you can control fire and unlock doors. You said you had other powers. I thought that you were going to..." she trailed off.

"Hurt somebody." He finished the sentence for her.

Sara nodded rapidly. "Can you blame me? You were breaking into the Headmistress' office, playing with fire, talking about research and all I could think was "Oh God, this idiot is going to blow up the school." That's why I avoided you for a while. I was scared." She said all of this quickly, as though she was anxious for Harry to understand.

Harry nodded, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Or rather, he wouldn't let himself care. Sara wasn't the first temporary friendship he had formed, and she wouldn't be the last. Even when he couldn't afford to pay for his own school uniform, he had always been Mr. Popular during PE where his surprising speed and dexterity were highly valued. Or during group projects, when camaraderie was formed in the face of a pointless assigned task, but as soon as PE came to an end or the group project was handed in, the status quo was restored with Harry firmly on the outside.

Harry had grown used to that and even when he was young and naive, an hour or two wasn't enough time to get attached to someone. Not really.

What happened with Sara was different. Nearly two months were spent almost entirely in each other's company, walking to and from school, working together in class, sharing lunches, and spending every break together, and all of it while talking, sharing, and laughing. Harry had deluded himself into thinking he had finally found an actual friend.

It wasn't the fact that she broke her promise that bothered him. It wasn't even the fact that he felt tricked. It was the fact that he had been desperate enough to give his secret away. That she, in just a couple of months, had managed to do what the Dursleys hadn't in almost ten years. She had made him shed what little pride he possessed. The only thing he had that wasn't a hand me down, or stolen, or scavenged or lent to him out of pity. He had been surprised by how hurt he felt when she had stopped being his friend and he had only known her for a relatively short amount of time. He had sworn to himself then that he would never let someone have so much power over him again. He didn't need anyone. Even Lupin was temporary, as he would be changing schools and eventually move far away from Little Whinging. Sara would be forgotten much sooner than that.

A sudden, firm grip on Harry's shoulder forced him out of his thoughts and made him turn around. One of the mums from the reception group was glowering down at him. "Did you knock my son's milkshake out of his hands?"

Harry scowled at her, "What?" He saw behind the rude woman, was the boy who had dropped his drink earlier. He was crying, red-faced, and clutching the back of her long shirt. The boy's mother must have seen his eyes light up in recognition because her grip on his shoulder tightened further.

"What school are you from?" Her eyes flickered over him and came to rest on the jumper tied around his waist. She began to reach for it, but Harry knocked her hand off his shoulder and stepped out of her reach.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry demanded to know.

"I need to know what school you're from to complain to your teacher," she levelled a finger at Harry's face, "and just so you know you'll be buying my son another milkshake."

Harry scoffed, drawing himself up, and tried to answer as Lupin would, "I will do no such thing!" he said with as much gravitas as he could muster. It wasn't much. Which wasn't good for him, as he could see that the other mums and dads were paying close attention to them. Two of the dads stood out to him as athletic looking and were watching him carefully, probably to stop him from getting past them if tried to run for it. They probably wouldn't beat up a ten-year-old in front of CCTV and witnesses, but Harry's luck had been so bad today, he wasn't willing to risk it.

Just as he had decided to calm down and reason with the boy's mother, Jade reappeared and to Harry's dismay, she was wearing her blue school jumper, with their school's name written clear as day over her heart.

"What's going on?" Jade asked.

"Harry's causing trouble again." Sara's voice was muffled. She was so embarrassed to be associated with him that she was hiding her face in her hands.

The mum's eyes lit up. "What's going is that your friend here made my son cry! But thanks to you, I've now got your school's name. St Gregory's!" She called out to the parents behind her. One of the athletic dads nodded once and ran right out of the reptile house, towards the head office, at a speed that justified Harry's decision to not make a run for the exit.

Jade, the nicest person in school, a girl he had known since they were two years old at the local daycare, turned to him and said, "Harry! You beat up a five-year-old?!"

Harry put his head in his hands and groaned in frustration. Distantly, he could hear a repeated thudding sound and Sara warning him to calm down. But it was too late. All Harry heard next was the sound of shattering glass.

Then came the screams.

By the time Harry became conscious of his surroundings, he found himself lying face down in the corner of the reptile house. Dazed, he dragged himself to the nearest wall and propped himself up against it.

The lights were off, and the only illumination came through the large double doors and the bright summer sun outside. However, the sunlight outside left the inside in deeper darkness so it took a minute for his eyes to adjust.

Perhaps it was a sign of a concussion or shock, but Harry noticed five things in quick succession, and they were in the reverse order of immediate relevance. The first was that on the other side of the building he could see the broken glass in front of Gregg's now-empty display. It was almost as if he had broken out.

The second was that he was now alone. The reptile house had held almost a hundred people before, but it was completely empty. Whatever had happened, Sara, Jade, and the adults who had been harassing him had all just disappeared. Or they had left him behind.

The third was the strangest. He could not remember taking a single step, but somehow, he was on the opposite side of the reptile house. It was as if he was standing in front of Gregg's display case one second and then here, alone in the darkness the next. It was bizarre, even by his standards.

The fourth, but most expected thing, was his lack of energy and sudden hunger. Every single time he pushed himself and tested his powers, Harry became more tired and hungry than usual. What surprised him was the intensity this time around. He had never experienced such crippling hunger or bone-deep exhaustion before. He could barely keep his eyes focused. Which was probably a bad thing, when you considered the fifth and final thing he noticed.

Gregg the Boa constrictor was sat coiled by his side like an obedient pet. Once he saw Harry's eyes try to focus on him, Gregg lifted his head to maintain eye contact. "You are awake." Harry didn't even have the energy to question how a talking snake worked.

"You stayed with me?" Harry breathed.

Gregg nodded. "Yes, fleeing two legs would crush the speaker. Speaker free Gregg. Gregg protects the speaker until he wakes."

Harry swallowed, disturbed by how close he came to being trampled. He had been saved only by the goodwill of a snake. People really were the worst.

Despite that, he had to know. "Were any of the two legs hurt?" Gregg seemed confused, "No, fleeing two legs fled," he repeated himself slowly as though Harry was a simpleton. He wouldn't have thought it possible for an animal to sound so condescending.

"Thank you."

Gregg hesitated, before lowering his head submissively to Harry, "Speaker, I ask that you place a blessing of protection over me. It is a long way home."

Harry smiled weakly. He hated being in debt to anyone, even a snake. While Harry had given Gregg freedom, it had been accidental, but this would be intentional. "At least one of us should find their way home."

Harry raised his right hand and placed it against the smooth skin of Greggs' head. Harry would only wonder later how he knew what to do and what to say, but at that moment, he was light-headed, hungry, and disoriented, so he didn't think twice about it. "Protect this creature until he finds sanctuary amongst his own kind. Protect this creature from man and beast alike. Protect this creature from the elements and show him the way home."

As Harry was finishing the blessing, he could dimly see flashing blue lights and hear the growing sound of sirens. Once he finished the blessing, he felt a wave of dread wash over him. He somehow knew, even in his delirious state, that he had just done something very stupid. He could feel his intense hunger and exhaustion increase even further, spiking into outright pain. His brain struggled for a moment trying to stay awake in an unfamiliar and dangerous place, but he quickly lost that fight, and he fell unconscious. The last thing he saw was the three firefighters running in through the open doors, pausing to survey the scene, and Gregg winding his way through their legs snapping playfully at their ankles, but going entirely unnoticed. When his vision went dark the last thing he heard was the Boa's hissing voice call out, "Brazil here I come! Thanks amigo!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"You were in a coma."

These were the first words Lupin said to him after he had woken up in a hospital bed and asked for water.

"What?!" Harry yelped, then winced. His throat felt drier than his sense of humour.

Lupin hastened to explain as he handed him a plastic cup, "It was only for eight hours!" Harry stared at him for a moment before chugging the cool water. Nothing had ever tasted more refreshing.

"That is not a coma," Harry said with forced calm in his voice, "that is a good night's sleep." Harry's voice was still hoarse, and his throat felt disgusting; Half moist, half dry. "What actually happened?"

As Lupin passed Harry a refilled cup, he explained what he had missed. Apparently, there had been an electrical malfunction in the Reptile House. All the lights and cameras had been knocked out for five minutes and wouldn't turn back on, regardless of what the staff had tried to do. What was really concerning was the now-missing Boa constrictor.

Gregg, Harry almost corrected Lupin, but he held himself back at the last second. "What about it?" Harry asked, drinking from his fourth cup of water. His mouth and throat almost felt back to normal.

"Well, everyone in the Reptile House gave confusing statements to the Police. They couldn't quite agree on what had happened prior to the blackout. But the one thing they could all agree on was that it was you who freed the Boa constrictor." Harry began to protest. Even though it was the truth, they didn't know that! It seemed unfair to him that they would all unanimously agree to pin the blame on the only unconscious person present.

"Of course, cooler heads prevailed. Namely my own," Lupin smiled, "It seemed obvious to me that the glass was on the outside and thus could not have been shattered by you."

Harry did not relax. "Did the Police believe it too?" He asked. Harry truly hoped they did; He was not built for prison life.

"It was obvious once the CCTV system came back on. In the recording, you had your back to the Boa's display and didn't even seem to notice as it was battering its head against the glass." Lupin leaned back in his chair and sighed. For the first time since he had woken up, Harry noticed how awful Lupin looked, which was somehow even worse than this morning.

Lupin continued, unaware of Harry's sudden worry. "I managed to speak to all the witnesses individually. Outside of their group mentality, they all seemed far less certain that you were responsible. When the recording came to light, they couldn't apologise fast enough."

Harry finally relaxed against his pillow before tensing again. "You said all the witnesses agreed that I was responsible. Does that include Jade and Sara?" He tried to be casual in how he said Sara's name, not wanting to tip Lupin off, just in case he already suspected she might know more than the other witnesses. Did she finally snitch on him?

Lupin looked as tense as Harry felt, "Both girls seemed angry with you at first, but Jade apologised when realised she was wrong about something, a boy and his milkshake?" Lupin shrugged, pausing briefly before continuing, "Sara, however, seemed adamant that you were responsible. She even told me a wild tale of locked doors and green fire. She even said she heard you talking to the Boa."

Harry shook his head ruefully, "You know that the two of us don't get along. That's why you grouped us together in the first place," he carefully reminded him. He hoped Lupin would feel guilty about that just enough to doubt Sara's story.

However, Lupin was not to be distracted. He leaned forward in his seat and spoke gently, "I know that I'm neither your parent nor your guardian, but I've always considered you to be more than just a student or a neighbour. I've had the privilege to watch you grow from a shy little boy into the bright young man I see before me today. There is absolutely nothing you could have done that would make me think any less of you."

Harry didn't consider himself vulnerable to the feelings of others, especially in how those feelings regarded him. But he believed Lupin, or at least he did until that last sentence. It sounded like something a teacher would say to fool students into admitting their wrongdoing, but Harry was no one's fool.

"Do you have something you need to tell me?" He countered. "You said that you spoke to the witnesses individually and managed to change their minds. How? And why would the police even let you?"

Lupin leaned back and took a lengthy pause. He seemed to be considering what to say next. Just as he seemed to come to a resolution, there was a brisk knock on the door and a doctor bustled into the room.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" The doctor asked with the air of someone who clearly knew they were interrupting. She was a young woman with shoulder-length, pin-straight, black hair and bright rosy cheeks. Despite Harry being the patient, she directed her question at Lupin.

Lupin's left hand, hidden from the doctor's line of sight but visible in Harry's peripheral, clenched tightly. "Not at all." He said casually.

The air was thick with tension and Harry had no patience for it, "Do you two know each other?"

They both turned to him in surprise and Lupin quickly explained "This is Hestia Jones. We know each other from school."

Hestia Jones smiled at Harry and said, "You can call me Hestia." It was only much later Harry would realise that neither Lupin nor Hestia had ever referred to her as a doctor.

Harry looked at Lupin with his greying hair and back at Hestia who looked like she could fit in at a university campus.

"Were you her teacher as well?" Harry asked innocently. Hestia laughed, and Lupin might have scowled but Harry noticed his hand unclench.

"I just wanted to come in and check in on you now that you're awake," Hestia explained. She began examining him with her hands squeezing and prodding his limbs with her fingers. Harry had never been to see a doctor before, but he still thought this was very strange.

Harry frowned. "I didn't notice Mr. Lupin signalling anyone." Hestia froze momentarily, but Lupin stepped in "I signalled her when I noticed you begin to move." Harry was about to ask what took her so long then, but Hestia cut him off.

"You just exhausted yourself. A good night's rest and a full meal and you should feel right as rain." Hestia said cheerfully.

Harry was shocked. In the Reptile House, he could feel himself slipping away and now after a nap and a few glasses of water he was fine? That was crazy! He said as much to Hestia.

Fortunately, she didn't take any offence, in fact, she seemed pleased with Harry's shock, as though he was praising her skill as a physician. "I gave you a few different kinds of medicine while you were asleep." Harry levelled an unimpressed look at Lupin when she said asleep and not coma. Lupin twiddled his thumbs innocently. "It helps that you're in such good shape of course. Not too much junk food and plenty of exercise, I take it?" Harry nodded, "I eat a lot of fruit and vegetables at home, and I ride Hu-err my bike everywhere." It's not as if the Dursleys leave me with much choice.

Hestia began gathering the equipment from the bedside table, that Harry had initially assumed belonged to the hospital, and placed the empty vials and strange instruments into her carry bag and zipped it all up. "It's a good thing that this happened to you so young. It's so much easier to bounce back from because you're still developing. The number of Pros I've got coming in that don't know the meaning of the words "personal maintenance" would shock you."

"Pros?"

Lupin cut in, "Hestia, works with Professional Footballers. I called her in here to help you as a favour to me." Lupin added, correctly guessing Harry's next question.

Harry didn't ask any more questions even though he wanted to. He recognised Lupin's closed-off expression. He wouldn't get answers no matter how hard he pressed.

"Remus, you've seen he's alright now. Isn't it time you got going?" Hestia said sharply, glancing at the clock. It took Harry an embarrassingly long time to remember who Remus was. Perhaps he really was bad with names.

Lupin shot to his feet startling Harry with his unusual abruptness. "We're leaving already?"

Lupin shook his head, "No, I'm leaving."

Harry frowned, "How am I supposed to get home then? I don't even know where I am." He hated how whiny he sounded.

Lupin headed towards the door without looking at Harry even once. He paused with his hand on the door handle. "Hestia will handle it. Oh, and you've been expelled by the way. Today was the last excuse Roemmele needed."

When Harry appeared unconcerned with that bit of news, he added quickly before darting out the door, "She contacted Highsmith's as well. Your place was rescinded. The letter is on the table." Harry turned to see if the said letter was really there, before turning back to the door which was already swinging closed.

Harry snatched up the letter written in Highsmith's familiar letterhead. Hestia was saying something, but Harry could not hear her as he read the same five dreaded words over and over:

We regret to inform you.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Despite Hestia's recommendation that he spend the night, Harry had to get back to his safe haven. He was nearing the end of his tether. As he dressed, he wondered how he even got to this point; Left with a stranger in a hospital, with no idea how he had even got there, expelled from school and rejected by two more for reasons outside of his control. How had Lupin even signed him in? He had seen enough hospital dramas to know you needed a parent or guardian for that. Was being his teacher enough? If he had the energy he would ask, but as it was, he barely could summon the willpower to dress and put one foot in front of the other.

As they made their way toward the exit, he noticed that none of the hospital staff so much as glanced at them as they passed. In fact, a few almost bumped into him, but Hestia's guiding hand on his shoulder helped him avoid any accidents. They reached the exit and stepped out into the cool evening, only to find a black cab waiting for them in a spot clearly markedAmbulances Only. Hestia grinned and greeted the driver like an old friend, "Alright, Dedalus?"

The driver, Dedalus apparently, climbed out and beamed up at Hestia. "Hello, Hestia! Oh, It's been an age! And this must be the young Potter! What an honour to finally meet you!" Dedalus was a tiny man, hardly a few inches taller than Harry was, who wore a blinding purple tailcoat and had a shock of white hair that peeked out under his, also blinding, purple top hat. Well, at least his outfit matches.

"How do you know who I am?" He asked the excitable man warily.

"The two of us and Remus meet for drinks every once in a while." Hestia explained, and then continued as though she could not hear Dedalus chuckle at "every once in a while". "Remus has told us all about his favourite student."

"Now, then Dedalus will drive you straight home. Won't he?" She added warningly. Dedalus raised his hands in a placating manner.

"Not a single detour, I promised," he said. Not promise, Harry caught, promised. But who? Lupin?

Hestia reached down and clasped both of Harry's hands with her own. "Dedalus was right. It is an honour to finally meet you." Before he could ask why it was such an honour, he felt her slip something off his left wrist. He caught sight of a brown leather band with a series of black symbols etched onto it. When was that put on him? Why hadn't he noticed earlier?

Before he could ask, she shepherded both him and Dedalus into the black cab, shoved Harry's school bag into his arms and closed the door for him. Seriously, how could I not notice that she was carrying my bag? Maybe, I should stay overnight just to be safe. But before he could verbalise this thought Dedalus took off. Harry hadn't even told him his address. Hestia had probably done it. She had handled everything else this evening.

As he drove out of the hospital grounds, Dedalus turned the radio to a conversational station and turned it up. If he were any more subtle, Harry might not have picked up on the fact that clearly didn't want to talk to him. That was fine because he didn't think he was capable of having a conversation with a strange taxi driver right now.

Harry began sifting through his bag to ensure everything was there. Of course, it was. What reason would anyone have to steal his scraps from him? But what would he even do if something were missing? Turn around back to the hospital and accuse Hestia? What would that solve? Everything bad that had happened to him today happened because of his own stupidity. No wonder Lupin had fled from him. Harry would have gladly fled from himself. Because he couldn't control his impulses. He couldn't control his emotions. He certainly couldn't control his powers and he had been deluding himself to think that he ever could.

I was scared. That was what Sara had said earlier. Harry hadn't understood why until now.

He slipped his headphones on to drown out both the radio and his thoughts. The city lights zoomed past the window and blended together in a bright orange and yellow blur. Soon that blur dimmed and faded as they left London behind for the less densely populated Surrey, and in no time at all, they were in Little Whinging. Dedalus seemed to know where he was going, but Harry called out to him anyway.

"Can you drop me off at St. Gregory's? I need to pick up my bike."

Dedalus made a noise of assent and changed his indicator from right to left. Once the cab made a stop outside the school, Harry stepped out onto the pavement, and he realised his error.

"I don't have enough money to pay you, but-" Dedalus cut him off with a wink and a wave. "It's already been covered."

"Oh. Okay then."

Dedalus' smile slipped off his face, as he finally seemed to pick up on Harry's dark mood. "You've had a bad day, boyo. It's happened to all of us around your age. It's going to get better, so you just hold on. Alright?" Harry wasn't sure how he was supposed to take this advice from a near stranger, so instead, he simply nodded and watched the cab's glowing red taillights disappear into the night.

Harry slipped his bag onto his shoulders and walked to the school gate. According to his watch, it was almost ten at night. No school in the world would have its gates open at this hour, so it was a good thing locks didn't matter to him. After a minute of intense focus, the gate gently swung open. Harry strode through the teacher's car park, to the bike shed. Normally, after a long, lonely, day at school, he would greet his bike as though it were a person, such as "Hello Hugo!" or "Did you miss me, Hugo? I hope so because I missed you!"

Now he said nothing. It was just a stupid bike.

Unlocking the chain, he swung the bike around towards the gate. He stopped walking once he reached the street. Normally, he would have left the gate open, either uncaring of the consequences or hoping it would be the catalyst for something amusing, like when Aaron and his gang got suspended last autumn. But because he hadn't considered the consequences of his actions, almost everything that could have backfired on him today, did so. The only thing that hadn't fallen apart on him today was anything Dursley-related.

With any luck that house of cards will collapse in on me too. With that cheerful thought, Harry turned to the gate to lock it, using the same incredible power of imagination and desire that turned his very will into reality. The same power he used for disgustingly mundane tasks like locking the Dursley's back gate every morning. What a waste of this gift.

After a minute, the gate snapped shut and Harry heard the metallic locks clicking into place. With that done, he climbed on his bike and rode back to Privet Drive.

Along the way, he considered his next metamorphosis. His first change had occurred when he was too young to realise what he was actually doing. He vaguely remembered the desperate need to change from whatever happy little boy his parents had been raising, into a child who was neither seen nor heard, if only to escape the shouting, sharp slaps, and lonely hours spent in the cupboard hungry. He had learned then because he had wanted to feel safe.

Then that wasn't enough for him. He had been almost seven when he first noticed that the strange events that happened around him coincided with his feelings and desires. It had taken a long time for him to learn to activate it deliberately and longer still for him to make it useful. He had wanted to feel unafraid of consequences for a change and to have fun like everyone else, not to just be happy with remaining unharmed. So, again, he had learned.

The third change would be the most important. If he had failed the first two times, only his body and spirit would have been harmed, but not permanently. The Dursleys were neglectful, if not outright abusive, but they wouldn't have killed him. Today his powers almost had. Which would have been bad enough, but Harry could have killed those reception kids today. Or Jade. Or Sara.

The darkest thought came to him then. What if I killed someone else's mum or dad? What if I made someone else an orphan?Any one of those parents could have died today and Harry would have made someone else feel what he felt every day. There were times when his rage was enough to frighten even him, but never, not even in his darkest, loneliest moments, would he ever wish orphanhood on someone else. Not even when Dudley had shoved him headfirst down the stairs. Not even when Aaron had called his dead mother every foul name under the sun, to the laughter of the entire school canteen. Not ever.

Sara was right to be afraid of him. He was dangerous. He owed her a sincere apology.

He picked up his speed. He was almost there. Almost to his safe haven. He drove his bike through the dimly lit footpath and stopped at Number Four's back gate. Unlocking the gate he crept into the garden, storing his bike behind the shed, and made his way to the back door. As he entered the house, he saw the light to the living room was on. Of course, it was. They would be watching the News at Ten.

"Who's that?!" Vernon came charging into the kitchen, dressed for bed, but ready to fight a home intruder. He stopped when he saw it was only Harry. "I thought you were here already." He muttered and wandered back into the living room. Petunia came out from wherever she was hiding and jabbed her finger at him.

"You are not dragging that filth into my house!" She gestured to his still dirty clothes, which had been given back to him when he had decided to depart from the hospital. They looked as though they had been dragged through dirty chalk, but really it was just the dust from the Reptile House floor.

"I'll clean it after I wash up. School ended today so I can afford to stay up late." He wasn't sure why he bothered finishing his lie, as she had walked away as soon as she heard "I'll clean it." He wasn't even sure why he had bothered making such a racket when he entered the house. No that wasn't true. He knew exactly why. It was the same reason why he had followed them into the living room.

"I'm back so late because I was at the hospital. The school took us to London Zoo today and there was an accident."

"Oh? I think I saw that on the news." Vernon said distractedly, his eyes focused on the regional weather report. Emboldened by an actual response, Harry continued.

"I was told I was in a coma. A very short coma. But I'm alright now. You don't have to worry." The words came out in a rush, afraid that their unusual interest in him would wane quickly. Still, there was something about coming home and telling someone even a little about his day that made him feel warm.

That feeling turned cold when Petunia said "Make sure you vacuum the carpet thoroughly. We're having Mr. and Mrs. Brooks over for dinner tomorrow and I'll be out all day so I can't do it." Harry nodded slowly.

Petunia hadn't told him about dinner because he was invited. She told him because it would be awkward for her to explain if either of the Brooks' spotted their poor orphan nephew entering or exiting his cupboard. Whenever the Dursleys had company, Harry was to hide away in the attic like a madwoman in one of Lupin's gothic novels.

He hated it up there and Petunia must have known why because she never went into the attic herself. It was a poorly insulated room, too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. The attic was windowless, dusty, and filled with spiders of varying sizes. The less said about the mice the better.

Harry left the room hoping his expression remained bland. He heard Vernon ask, "What's for dinner tomorrow?"

"What would you like, dear? I'll be doing the shopping tomorrow so I can get it then."

They were speaking to each other as if the last two minutes hadn't happened. He began silently scolding himself as he climbed the stairs and entered the bathroom. Soft, he thought harshly, as he stepped into the shower. The previous warmth in his chest replaced itself with self-loathing. You're too damn soft. What did you think? That they waited up for you? That they would scold you for worrying them? Tell you that they were glad you're alright? Stop looking for something you're never going to find! He turned up the heat of the water, a part of him hoping to burn these dark, but terribly familiar feelings, away.

After a long hot shower, he changed into his pyjamas and used the last of his powers to clean up after himself (Vernon had taught him the hard way to never wake him). Whatever energy gave him his power had run out for today, after Hestia's brief care given him a boost.

Before bed, he took a brief detour outside, as he needed to throw his dirty uniform into the bin. He would never wear it again. He knew he should eat something, and get his energy back up, but his appetite was non-existent.

Finally returning to his safe haven at midnight, he climbed into bed, locking the cupboard door behind him the normal way. He tried to drift off, but memories of the day entered his mind unbidden. It took a long time for his body to relax and longer still for sleep to find him.