lomonaaeren

Thank you again for all the reviews! For now, this is the end of the story, but I may write a sequel to it someday.

Part Two

Nott was fine with Corner learning alongside them once Corner had made the same promise on his wand. But Corner just stood aside for the first lesson while Harry and Nott hit each other with increasingly complicated jinxes, including ones that knocked them into walls and made them feel slightly dizzy for a few moments.

Harry hated the one that slammed him into a wall. It felt like something Dudley would have done. But on the other hand, he knew that he could survive that minor pain, and it was worth going ahead and feeling it.

He could learn how to defend against it, that way. He could suffer some minor pain in pursuit of a greater goal.

They had been practicing together for a few weeks, and it was almost Halloween, when Corner gave a loud sigh just as Harry was about to cast the Disarming Charm on Nott again and said, “I wish you would call me Michael.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

Corner stared at him in disbelief, then narrowed his striking blue eyes. “You really don’t know.”

“No,” Harry said, and ignored the feeling that Nott was sniggering at him. He didn’t care if Nott laughed at him, as long as he didn’t do it because he was bullying Harry.

Corner sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Because that’s what people who are friends do, and if I can’t call people I’m practicing secret spells with and made a bonded promise to my friends, who can I call that?”

It didn’t matter to Harry if Corner thought they were friends or not. But this seemed like something that would keep him quiet and a good ally, and Harry could accept that. Besides, maybe someday they would become real friends. “All right, Michael. Call me Harry.”

“Theo, as I already told you.” Nott cocked his head. “Why did you never ask permission to use my first name before, Harry?”

“You never offered it. And you seemed like you were perfectly content to go by last names. I didn’t want to mess that up.”

Corner and Nott stared at him in silence for a long moment. Then Nott said, “Wow, the Muggles did a number on you.”

Harry stiffened his shoulders for a moment, then reminded himself that most of the magical world already knew about his childhood anyway. He shrugged. “There were magical people I saw sometimes, who knew I was, but I never knew any of them. I learned about magic just a few months ago, on my birthday. There was nothing I could look for, nothing I could hope for, except to get old enough to escape them.”

“And now,” Nott said, his head tilting further as he was carrying a heavy load on top of it that he wanted to slide off, “you’ve escaped.”

“Yes. And I won’t let anything jeopardize it.”

Corner and Nott traded another long look, and then changed the subject.

*

“WHO LET IT IN?”

Harry hadn’t truly realized how loud Madam Marchbanks could be when she wanted to. She had marched into the middle of the Great Hall and raised her voice the day after Halloween, the evening a troll had killed the girl, Hermione Granger, who had tried to study with Harry once. Harry watched with his chin on his hand, smothering a grin.

All he had had to do was write her a letter explaining how unsafe he felt with a troll getting into the school, and she had come right away.

It was a marked difference from the other adults in his life, and one reason that Harry was going to fight to stay with her as long as possible.

“I want to know who let the troll in!” Madam Marchbanks waved her cane in the air and stumped towards the professors’ table. She had a shimmer around her ears that looked like shells, which Harry knew meant she’d cast the charms that would let her everything with crystal clarity. She had told Harry she didn’t bother with them most of the time anymore, because people should shut up and listen to her instead of the other way around.

But now, she wanted to hear. Harry leaned back and let his smile bloom openly across his face.

“Madam Marchbanks,” Headmaster Dumbledore said, standing up and extending his hands. “If you will calm down—”

“I want to know who let it in!”

“That is something we are currently trying to determine. I am afraid we have no answers as of yet.”

“You must have suspicions! TELL ME!”

“My dear Madam—”

“TELL ME! Or tell me why I should let Harry stay here instead of pulling him out of Hogwarts immediately!”

Harry clasped his hands in front of him and didn’t bother hiding his smile this time, either, even when Corner and a few of the other Ravenclaws glanced at him. Madam Marchbanks had offered to hire tutors for Harry or send him to Beauxbatons, if it would make it easier for Harry to deal with his unreasonable fame. Harry had said that he wanted to attend Hogwarts to make friends and be at a place where everyone spoke English.

But he could go back to learning from tutors if it would be safer. He would find some other way to make the connections and practice the defensive spells that would keep him healthy.

He was beyond pleased to see that Madam Marchbanks had kept her promise.

“I am afraid that I am telling the truth,” Dumbledore said, standing very straight and shooting the Ravenclaw table a narrow-eyed look, as if he expected Harry to stand up and start protesting his words. “We really have no idea who let the troll in. It seems to be a weakness of the wards. We are checking on them and strengthening them, of course—”

“Let me see them, Albus! Right now!” Madam Marchbanks aimed her cane at the Headmaster. “We’re friends, but that won’t keep me from shooting a curse at you to make your bollocks turn purple! Not like you use them at this age, anyway.”

There was a breathless moment, and then a ring of laughter from some of the students. Slytherin seemed to have the most students laughing, Harry noticed, but even the red-haired twins and some of the others at the Gryffindor table were snickering. Dumbledore gave a rueful smile through a bright red mask of embarrassment and stepped down from the high table, leading Madam Marchbanks towards the door.

As they passed the Ravenclaw table, Madam Marchbanks glanced at Harry and nodded. “Say the word, Harry, and we can leave.”

“Not right now, Madam,” Harry said, and smiled at her. “Only if Hogwarts keeps letting more trolls or other threats like that in.”

Madam Marchbanks snorted. “Well, we’ll see if we get some satisfactory answers,” she said, and aimed her scowl at Dumbledore’s back before she kept following him.

There was a second of silence after they had left, then chatter louder than the laughter had been. Boot leaned towards Harry, and Harry braced himself. This was going to be another torrent of words that made little sense and weren’t worth the time it took to listen to them.

“Wow. She’s something. I would be scared to live with her.”

It was the shortest speech Boot had ever given him. Harry rewarded him with a thin smile and the words, “Not scary if you’re not on the receiving end,” then pointedly changed the subject.

Some people looked at him, but no one asked more questions. Harry smiled into his eggs, glad that Hedwig had managed to fly so fast with the letter that Madam Marchbanks had arrived at breakfast.

I think we’ll get satisfactory answers, or else.

*

In the end, it did seem to be decaying wards, Madam Marchbanks told Harry with a scowl when she found him after lunch. Dumbledore had promised that the wards would be fixed, and Madam Marchbanks had told him she would fund it herself.

“He tried to refuse that,” she said grimly, stabbing her cane into the dirt and scowling towards the Forbidden Forest. “He said that Hogwarts had plenty of money. I asked him why the wards hadn’t already been repaired, then, along with those awful brooms that you wrote to me about. He didn’t know what to say.”

“Did you turn his bollocks purple?” Harry asked.

“No, but I cast another curse on him,” Madam Marchbanks said, and leaned forwards to grin at Harry. “Don’t expect to see him at dinner this evening. Or breakfast tomorrow morning. That’s how long his stomach will take to recover.”

Harry laughed, and Madam Marchbanks nodded and pointed at him with her cane. “Knew we’d get along fine,” she said. “And I will be keeping an eye on this. If Dumbledore doesn’t fix the wards, I’ll be presenting my case to pay for them to the Board of Governors myself, see if I don’t.”

Harry was sure she would. And he stepped forwards and hugged her, because she seemed like she would like that, and part of him wanted to.

Madam Marchbanks grumbled and patted his back and told him not to let Ravenclaw make him soft. Harry waved her on her way with lightness in his heart.

*

There were no more threats for the rest of term, although Harry did write to Madam Marchbanks about how he would need a tutor for History during the holidays and that Professor Quirrell was worse than useless. She came to Hogwarts to yell at Quirrell about that. Quirrell shook harder than ever, but he did teach them some more interesting spells in the last couple weeks before Christmas.

Other than that, the most entertaining thing that happened was hearing both Corner and Nott go silent one morning, and glanced up from their library table to find another boy Harry only knew vaguely standing there, waiting to be noticed.

“Zacharias Smith,” he said shortly. “I want to study with you. All anyone can talk about is your marks in Defense, and about Nott’s.”

“I’m doing better, too,” Corner muttered.

“Be more interesting, and I’m sure there’ll be gossip about you,” Smith said dismissively, and looked at Harry.

Harry felt a smile pull at his lips. He didn’t know much about Smith, other than his House and that he tended to keep to himself in Charms and Potions and the other classes that Ravenclaw shared with Hufflepuff. But at least that seemed to mean he didn’t chatter like Boot or brag like Cornfoot, and if he could make jokes and make Harry laugh, that would be a valuable service.

Harry leaned back a little, watching Smith. “Tell me why we should let you into the group.”

“I can help you with Potions,” Smith said. “I’m the best in our shared class, and there are all sorts of little tricks that make things easier, like buying and preparing your own ingredients ahead of time, that Snape doesn’t bother to teach.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. Snape hadn’t snapped at Harry too much, perhaps afraid that Madam Marchbanks would come back and yell at him. But he hadn’t given Harry a mark above an Acceptable on his essays or potions, either, and he had a habit of just looking into Harry’s cauldron with a sneer and sweeping on his way.

Harry wouldn’t call it bullying, exactly, but he wanted people to respect him. If that meant he had to force them to respect him, then he would.

“All right, that’s enough for me,” Harry said, although he did glance at Nott. Ultimately, Harry would be the one deciding whether Smith got accepted, but Nott was good in Potions and a Slytherin and didn’t need his help.

Nott snorted when he saw Harry looking at him. “I have no problems with someone who knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

A subtle hint that Smith would probably be all right with the promises they were making on their wands, too. Harry relaxed and waved Smith over to sit at the table. Smith had a sharp smile as he sat down that sort of reminded Harry of himself.

Good. Maybe friends really aren’t as far away as I thought.

*

Snape had a sour scowl on his face as he handed Harry his latest essay back. Harry unfolded it and smiled at the Exceeds Expectations at the top.

Smith had managed to give them some tips on neat handwriting and incorporating research, too. Nott hadn’t needed them, but they’d been useful for both Harry and Corner.

Harry put the essay away and gave Snape a polite smile when he saw the professor looking at him. Snape snorted and turned away.

*

“I got rid of all the cursed ones.”

Harry eyed the tottering stack of gifts in front of him and managed to smile a little at Madam Marchbanks. “Thanks. This is still…a lot.”’

“No more than you deserve, after those years you spent with Muggles.” Madam Marchbanks had the glittering shell-like charms cast around her ears again, although she’d warned Harry that she wouldn’t do it every day he was at her house. It was special for Christmas. “Some of them are probably guilt gifts.”

“Guilt gifts?” Harry knew what she probably meant, but he liked to encourage her to protect him and explain things.

“Gifts from people who feel badly about leaving you to rot in that Muggle house and think they can make up for it now.” Madam Marchbanks dubiously prodded a package that was broom-shaped but too small for an actual broom with her cane. “And some of them seem to think that you need children’s toys.”

Harry just smiled. He would keep the ones that appealed to him and give away the ones that didn’t. He would look good doing that, and earn approval from more people than just the ones who personally knew him.

He’d never had toys when he was little except a few stolen from Dudley. If he wanted them now, he would have them.

He ended up keeping about half the gifts, toys and books and cloaks and robes that, in some cases, would have to be adjusted to his size. There were also Potions brewing kits and cauldrons that would be useful, including a set of rare ingredients under Stasis Charms from Smith. Corner had got Harry a set of rune carving tools and wax tablets, probably because he’d seen Harry watching him practice. Nott had got Harry a book that practically leaked Dark magic, but Harry had no hesitation opening it in front of Madam Marchbanks since he knew that she’d already scanned the gifts.

In fact, she nodded approvingly when she saw the book and its title, which was about curses. “Glad to see that someone sent you something sensible.”

Harry expected the gift from Madam Marchbanks to be something sensible, too, and it sort of was. It was a glittering crystal ball that began to buzz and warble when Harry moved it towards the book from Nott.

“Sneakoscope,” Madam Marchbanks explained, sitting back in her chair and looking pleased with herself. “It reacts like that to Dark objects or someone doing something untrustworthy nearby. More expensive one, that is. Some of the cheaper ones don’t react at all to objects. But why go cheap when you have the Galleons to melt, I say.”

Harry smiled at her, and didn’t have to feign his gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Bah! Least I can do to make it up to you.” Madam Marchbanks hesitated, and then reached behind her chair and dragged out another gift. “There’s also this, but I couldn’t find a name for the sender. Makes me nervous.”

Harry frowned and picked up the package. It was light, and he almost would have thought it was empty if he couldn’t hear cloth slithering over cloth inside it. He dropped it on the floor and aimed his wand at it. “Aperio!”

The cloth folded back from the contents, while Madam Marchbanks laughed and clapped her hands together with a ringing sound. “Where did you learn the Opening Charm, Harry?”

“Is it all right that I know it?”

“Of course! Just not the kind of thing I expect a first-year to have the sense to look up. Most stick with the Unlocking Charm.”

Harry looked down with a modest smile. He shook his head a little. “I wanted to make sure that I could get through doors or bed curtains without touching them, if I had to. Even if they’re not locked.”

“Are any of those little swots in Ravenclaw putting prank spells on your curtains? Because if they are—”

“No, Madam Marchbanks. I just want to be prepared in case they do, someday.”

Madam Marchbanks settled back with a snort. “Quite right. I think that—Merlin’s bloated bollocks!”

Harry swung around when he realized that she was staring at the package he had opened and then almost forgotten about in the ensuing conversation. He blinked at the silvery piece of cloth lying on the floor. It was—a cloak?

“That’s an Invisibility Cloak!” Madam Marchbanks leaned over to the side and stared as if she expected the garment to float up and introduce itself. “One I saw your father wearing more than once, if I’m not mistaken. That’s unusual. Invisibility Cloaks don’t usually last through generations like that…”

Harry eased closer to the package. He didn’t have a lot that came from his parents, if he didn’t count the books and Galleons in his trust vault, and he wanted this if it came from his father.

But the fact that Madam Marchbanks couldn’t identify the sender and that it was different from typical Invisibility Cloaks made Harry cautious. He sat back. “Could you cast some spells on it that will find curses on it, Madam Marchbanks?”

She peered at him. “Some of them might damage the cloak.”

“If it’s cursed, then I can’t have it anyway.”

“Wish all children were as sensible as you,” Madam Marchbanks said, and aimed her wand. The cloak began to sparkle with all the charms and, probably, countercurses she was casting at it. She wore a scowl of fierce concentration, so Harry sat back and began to read the book Theo had got him. She didn’t like to be disturbed when she was doing things like this.

About twenty minutes later, Madam Marchbanks sat back, shaking her head. “That’s an Invisibility Cloak, without curses,” she said. “But it does have a kind of aura.”

“What kind of aura, Madam Marchbanks?”

“A powerful one. A cold one. I can’t say that I’ve seen anything like it.” Madam Marchbanks shook her head again. “But it might explain why this cloak was able to survive for so many years when most would have worn away. In fact, I think I remember hearing that your grandfather and great-grandfather wore it as well.”

Harry edged closer again. Yes, he wanted it. And Madam Marchbanks thought it was safe, or she would have thrown it away.

Harry grabbed the cloak and swished it around his shoulders.

The world disappeared behind a mesh of what looked like woven starlight. Harry gasped. The cloak was too big for him, but he could grow into it. And the thought of what he could do with it, how he could sneak around Hogwarts and learn secrets and keep himself safe…

It was amazing.

“Yes, it certainly works,” Madam Marchbanks was saying. “Can’t see a thing of you. Other cloaks that wear away show patches of the robes and skin of whoever’s under them, but this is much sturdier than they are.”

Harry laughed and flung the cloak’s hood back from his head, settling it so that he was more wearing it than standing under it. “Thank you, Madam Marchbanks!”

“I didn’t give it to you, remember. And whoever did is pretty bloody late. You should have had it at least by your eleventh birthday, if not sooner.”

“I meant thanks for checking it for curses,” Harry said, and went up to hold a hand out to her. She respected that he didn’t like to hug people often. “This is awesome. It’s great to have a thing of my dad’s. Thank you.”

Madam Marchbanks nodded to him, a sharp smile to match her sharp eyes swelling across her face. “You’re very welcome, Harry.”

*

“Is this the table where we sit if we actually want to study Defense?”

Harry glanced up and blinked. He knew this girl, since after adding Smith to their group, he had made a little more effort to pay attention to his yearmates. She was brown-skinned and dark-haired and frowning. “Parvati Patil, right?”

“Right.” Patil sat down at the table exactly as if she had been invited, ignoring the cold looks from Nott and Smith. “Yes, I’m the Gryffindor, supposedly not the smart twin, supposedly not as pretty, blah blah blah. But I want to be a great duelist someday, and that means learning Defense, and Quirrell is useless.”

“And you saw that Zacharias’s marks went up?”

Patil nodded. “It still took me a little while to try and track down the cause. You’ve done a good job of disappearing for someone as famous as you are, Potter.” Her eyes were sharp and assessing, a little like Madam Marchbanks’s could get.

Harry half-shrugged. “A lot more people forget about me in Ravenclaw than they would if I’d been Sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin. Some of it is natural.”

“What part isn’t?”

Harry smiled at her, and Patil sat back with a small grumble. Harry wasn’t going to tell her about the Invisibility Cloak. Nott was the only one who knew, because he had started drifting to the outside of their group when Harry and Corner worked with Smith on Potions, and Harry needed something to bring him back.

It was kind of funny, how Nott got so excited to have a secret shared between just him and Harry (and Madam Marchbanks), and not just because he got to hold something over Corner’s and Smith’s heads. He was just excited to have a sign that Harry trusted him.

It was touching, too, but Harry was still analyzing that new thought.

“All right, I can take a hint.” Patil tapped lacquered nails on the table. “And are you going to let me study with you?”

“As long as you can convince us that you have something to contribute.” Harry saw the others exchanging looks from the corner of his eye. He ignored them. He wasn’t going to surround himself with people he didn’t trust just because they might want something. He was smarter than that.

Patil sighed slowly and shook her head. “All right. I can trade you information for lessons.”

“Because you know a lot of gossip?” asked Corner, leaning forwards.

Patil grinned, and Harry could see the way that her smile transformed her face into something unexpected. “Yeah. That’s one of the stereotypes about me that’s actually true. But people try so hard to guard the little things from me that they let some of the larger ones slip.”

Harry smiled at Patil again. He thought he would like her. “All right. You’re in.”

*

“…three-headed dog.”

Harry leaned cautiously around the corner. He’d been on the way to the place in the dungeons where he studied with his group, but he had heard voices he recognized, and whipped the Invisibility Cloak over his head. He had no desire to be pranked by the Weasley twins.

He might simply have gone on his way, but then he’d heard what they were saying, and he wanted to hear it in more detail. Were three-headed dogs a source of Potions ingredients? A symbol for something?

He discovered that the twins were huddled together with a hovering square of parchment in front of them. It was covered with what looked like a scribbled list, although Harry was too far away to make out the actual words.

“Someone has to feed it. So someone—”

“Has to know it’s there. But what’s it doing in a school full of children?”

Harry swallowed. He thought he might know the location of the three-headed dog, even if he didn’t know what it was, exactly. The third-floor corridor, where the Headmaster had warned them not go on pain of death.

It was exactly the kind of place that a pair of Gryffindor pranksters would want to sneak into.

“It must be guarding something. You know what that book said—”

“Guardian of the gates of Hell, yeah. Only I don’t think we have the gates of Hell in the school, Fred.”

“You never know, George. Maybe down in the Slytherin common room!”

They laughed. Harry listened to a little more of the conversation, but didn’t hear anything else that sounded interesting, so he turned and slipped away down a different route to his meeting.

In his head, he was already composing a letter to Madam Marchbanks.

*

“THREE-HEADED DOGS? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?”

Harry shook his head. It seemed the Headmaster had a bunch of bad ideas when it came to the school this year. His face was turning red again, but once again, he was trying to reason with Madam Marchbanks.

Harry didn’t see the point. She couldn’t be reasoned with. She’d proven that already. So why didn’t Dumbledore just give up and accept that he would have to repair the wards and buy new brooms and take his three-headed dog out of the school? Harry didn’t know what it was doing in the school anyway. Surely it could fend for itself just fine in the Forbidden Forest.

“Griselda, my dear—”

“I am nobody’s dear, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore agreed, and then sighed. “I would ask how you discovered the existence of Fluffy, but—”

“That’s not what’s important here. I’m glad to see that you recognize that.”

Once again, Dumbledore glared briefly at the Ravenclaw table. Harry just shrugged. Just because the Weasley twins had been the ones to talk about the dog in front of him didn’t mean they were the only ones who had discovered it. Anyone could have done that and written a letter to their parents or guardians.

He just has to get rid of his pet. It’s not the end of the world.

“If you only knew why it was important, Griselda.”

“Then why don’t you explain it to me? I’m waiting.” Madam Marchbanks folded her hands on top of her cane and stood straight and proud, or as straight as she could stand when most of her body seemed to droop.

Everyone in the school was avidly watching. Dumbledore peered at Harry again, then around at some of the other students, then at the professors. Professor McGonagall had her head pointedly turned away, Harry saw. He wondered if she had known about the dog and protested against Dumbledore keeping dangerous pets in the school.

Finally, the Headmaster nodded and sighed and said, “I was using it to help guard a treasure that one of my oldest friends entrusted to me. I was hopeful that by warning the children to stay away, the place where the treasure is would remain inviolate.”

“WELL, APPARENTLY NOT!”

Harry shook his head. He felt a little sorry for the Headmaster’s friend if this was the best plan Dumbledore could come up with to guard their treasure. On the other hand, maybe they didn’t have a better one.

What mattered, at the end of the conversation, was that the Cerberus (Harry made a note to look it up) would be removed from the school.

*

“What do you think happened to Professor Quirrell?”

Harry leaned back against the side of the train compartment and shrugged. “I don’t know, really,” he said, idly watching the countryside rushing by. “Maybe he decided that it was too hard to remain in a teaching position when so many of the students didn’t like or respect him, and so he just left. But I don’t really know.”

“Maybe the curse on the Defense post got him,” Nott said, with a faint smile.

“What curse on the Defense post?”

“No professor has lasted more than a year for decades,” Corner said with relish, and then he and Smith and Patil all started telling stories, some of which contradicted each other and some of which they argued with each other about as to dates.

“But at least everyone agrees on one thing,” Nott interrupted, probably because he’d got tired of listening to them argue. “The curse was cast by the Dark Lord.”

“You-Know-Who?”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes as Corner and Nott scowled at each other. It was one argument they’d never managed to resolve, their differing names for Voldemort. He didn’t see that it mattered much. “All right. Well, it seems that there’s another thing I’ll need to tell Madam Marchbanks about for next year.”

Nott laughed. “You think she could manage to dispel the curse?”

“Why not? She’s worked well on other things.”

“True enough,” Nott said, and then leaned forwards. “I meant to ask you, Harry—would you like to visit me during the holidays? I understand why you didn’t want to visit during Christmas, since you were still settling in with your new guardian, but obviously you get along well now, and my father would like to meet you.”

“And you’d like me to visit?”

Nott flushed, a faint pink someone else would have to be close to him to see. “Yes. I’ve—never had a friend visiting before.”

“Because your dad was a Death Eater, right?”

That had been something Harry had put together from gossip, hints that Nott had let drop, and histories of the war. Nott straightened and said, “Yes, he was. But he was under the Imperius Curse.”

Harry looked closely at Nott. Nott’s eyes were wide, but his face was set and determined. This was something he had said before, many times, and he might not believe it, but that wouldn’t stop him from saying it. At the same time, Nott didn’t believe that his father would harm the Boy-Who-Lived, or he wouldn’t have asked Harry to visit.

(That might be friendship. It might not, though. Maybe Nott just knew his father would be under suspicion if something happened to the Boy-Who-Lived in his house, so he didn’t think his dad would be stupid enough to try anything).

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. Nott made a face; he hated the Muggle word and the way Harry had ignored Nott’s attempts to train him out of saying it. Harry smiled now and said, “I’d like to visit.”

“Visit me, too,” said Patil, leaning forwards on her seat and away from the game of Gobstones she’d been playing with Smith. “I know that Padma will have friends coming over, and Lavender will visit, but almost no one else for me.”

“You must be a guest of my grandmother, Harry,” said Smith, in his stuffy, pompous way. “She’ll give me no rest otherwise.”

“My dad’s a Muggle,” Corner said. “Hope you don’t mind when you come over.”

Harry wondered if he should bristle. Everybody asking him to visit was nice, but just assuming he would—

No. Wait.

He wanted to.

And Harry had learned not to deny himself things he wanted.

Harry smiled and said, “I’d love to.” And he thought that, maybe, they were friends after all.

*

“Over here, Harry!”

Madam Marchbanks was waving at him from the far side of the platform. A tall man was waiting for Theo—Harry tested out the name in his mind and decided it was okay¬—and a man and a woman for Parvati, and a harassed-looking witch in a pointy hat for Michael, and a tall, stately one for Zacharias. Harry’s friends waved to him and then went off with their parents.

Harry watched them and sort of envied them, but he turned back to Madam Marchbanks, who gave him a Cerberus’s smile and said, “I have that History tutor you wanted lined up. Not to mention someone from Durmstrang who takes a more expansive view of permissible spells.”

Harry grinned. He might not have a parent the way the others did, but he wouldn’t trade Madam Marchbanks and the summer he would spend learning for anything.

“Great. Thank you.”

For the first time in his life, he looked forward to a summer.

The End.