Magic is Awesome - Chapter 1

He sat on a bench watching as crowds of people walked though the train station. No one paid attention to the eleven-year-old sitting with a large trunk on a trolley. Not even with the cage containing a pure white owl sitting on top of it all. His emerald green eyes moved through the crowd, not really seeing it, as he contemplated the mess of information in his head.

Not too long ago he was a normal boy. A little underfed, and treated like a slave by his relatives, sure, but still fairly normal. Now? Now he was a wizard. Not just a normal wizard though, no because he couldn't have any mercies like that. Instead, he was a world famous wizard. Famous for something that he couldn't remember and was certain he'd done nothing to achieve.

As if that wasn't bad enough, the evening of his birthday shattered his understanding of life. Memories of another life had flowed into his mind. Memories of another him. Or, at least, of a man with the same name and a similar appearance. If he didn't know better he would have sworn the man in his memories was his father.

The other man lived a mundane life, had a normal job at a tech company developing 'apps' for various purposes. He got married, had kids, a mortgage, and just lived a long fulfilling life filled with love and family. All perfectly normal.

Well, except for one thing. His favorite book series, one that happened to have his own name plastered all over the covers. At first, it got him a lot of grief from his family and friends, all in good fun of course. But it ended up pushing him into embracing it. He'd even gone so far as to replace his horn-rimmed glasses with round spectacles just to match. It always made him smile when he introduced himself and got to see the look on peoples faces.

Yes, he always got a small laugh about introducing himself as Harry Potter while wearing those glasses.

It was weird knowing that out there in the multiverse there was an entire book series about the life he was about to start. If not for the memories of his older self, he'd have broken down and had a massive existential crisis. It was the belief that in the infinity of everything that there was a story about everyone written and read. It meant everything he'd ever read while hiding from Dudley in the library was real somewhere.

It was comforting to know that somewhere, out there in the infinity of the universe there were more Harry Potters. Some similar, some different, some good, some evil, but all Harry Potters. It... it was honestly freeing in a way. A weight he'd never known he was carrying had lifted off of his shoulders at the knowledge that there were infinite versions of himself out there fighting the good fight.

Just thinking about it brought a smile to his face.

Today was the day that he, Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived, would be heading to Hogwarts to begin his magical education. It was thrilling to both halves of himself. His older self would have given almost anything, paid any amount of money, gone through any quest, just for the chance to use real magic. That excitement and craving fed into his own excitement. He knew how his counterpart in the books had gone through school and he was determined to do so much better.

The book Harry had wasted his education. He'd slacked off and relied far too heavily on Hermione to get through everything. He'd survived through sheer luck alone. He had no interest in repeating that mistake and hoping for the best. He would learn as much about magic as he possibly could. It was MAGIC! How could the book version of himself be so... blasé about MAGIC?!

Maybe it was the influence of his older self, but he just couldn't comprehend it. Magic was the answer to all of his problems! The Durleys? MAGIC! Moldyshorts wanting to kill him? MAGIC! Or a good hand gun. Whatever. The point was, who see's magic, goes to a magical school, and then doesn't do everything in their power to learn every scrap of magic they possibly could?!

Hell, he planned to go even further beyond what Hogwarts would teach him. His older self had been a huge fan of the fantasy genre and a big ass nerd playing D&D with friends regularly. He now had so many magic systems in his mind and he wanted to know if any of them would work! He wanted it all! He refused, flat out, to believe that anything was impossible. If someone said it couldn't be done, then they would be a liar in his mind! It might be hard, it might take time, but it was NOT IMPOSSIBLE!

Case in point, wandless magic. He had nothing but doubts about it and he believed he understood why. Wandless magic was said to be hard, borderline impossible, requiring tons of power and years of practice to get even a few spells down.

LIES! Nothing but propaganda and lies!

His proof? Every child performed wandless magic at some point when growing up! Every. Last. One. As CHILDREN! Sure, it was unfocused, erratic, and unpredictable, but it HAPPENED! Sometimes it happened a lot, sometimes only once. That was irrelevant though. The point stood. Children could do wandless magic.

Then there were things like Apparition. A strictly wandless spell! It was taught to all students and no one seemed to question why such a powerful and helpful spell required no wand, yet something as simple as making a light does. It was ridiculous! But, he had a theory of why it was talked about as being so hard as to be nearly impossible.

The Ministry.

Those power hungry idiots didn't want people to be capable of casting spells without a wand. They could track magic fired from wands. All you had to do was look at the trace put on students wands to know that. It also, conveniently, made wizards and witches easier to arrest. Just take away their wands and suddenly they were no better than a mundane person. But if everyone knew how to use wandless magic? Well suddenly those cuffs don't mean a whole lot and it's suddenly a lot harder to arrest folks.

There were other theories in his head, but this one made the most sense to him. He had no intention of letting the lies of the Minstry limit his potential. Especially since he knew Uagadou existed and they only taught wandless casting. If a whole school could do it then why the hell couldn't he?

He also believed magic was a matter of faith. Faith that he could cast the spell. The belief that it would do what he wanted. For others, their lack of faith meant having to cast the spells repeatedly to improve on them. He didn't blame them though. It was all in how they were taught. They were told they had to do it a specific way so that was where their faith lay.

“Muggles. Muggles everywhere.”

He was brought out of his thoughts by the somewhat shrill voice of a woman. His gaze sharpened as he focused on the older red-headed woman and the gaggle of children around her. He'd sat at the bench waiting for just this moment. He had no intention of going over and conversing with them. In fact, he planned to avoid the red-heads all together. No. He sat and waited to see even more proof of the memories of his older self.

He watched Molly Weasley walk further into the station with her children, no longer able to hear her speaking, and nodded to himself. It was proof enough for him. He hopped to his feet and got behind his trolley to push it toward platform nine and three quarters. He quietly watched as Molly and Ginny walked through the pillar last, following the rest of her kids. He waited another minute or so to make sure they'd gotten far enough away before calming walking toward the pillar.

He had no fear, no worries, and no trepidation as he walked into and through the solid-looking pillar. In moments he stepped through and found himself staring at the famous Hogwarts Express. The crimson train puffed smoke from its smokestack and looked ready to leave at any moment. Not surprising considering the perpetual lateness of the Weasley family. He spotted other families talking to their children through the trains windows.

He ignored all of that and instead opened the cage containing his beautiful white owl, “Alright Hedwig, I'll meet you at Howarts, yeah?”

Of course he'd named her Hedwig, what else would he name his lovely familiar? As if sensing his pride and certainty in her, she ruffled her feathers and looked proud. With a sharp bark, he took to the air and began winging her way to the school.

Harry, no longer needing the cage, opened his trunk and casually tossed it into the black pit that was revealed. What kind of Potter-head would settle for anything less than a massive trunk with multiple compartments? Hell, he'd put down a massive deposit on a trunk that would be similar to Newt Scamander's suitcase. It wiped out a huge portion of his trust vault, but it would be worth it. Besides, earning money as a wizard was beyond easy.

With the cage disposed of in the massive expanse of his trunk, he closed the lid and taped it with his finger. The trunk instantly shrank to the size of a matchbox allowing to easily pick it up and pocket it. With a grin and a jaunty pep in his step, he climbed onto the Hogwarts Express just as the horn began screaming to announce its eminent departure.

As he walked down the middle of the train car he peeked inside of the windows of the cabins to see who was inside. He was looking for two specific people, neither of whom had red hair. He spotted a couple of people that seemed familiar from written descriptions, but he wasn't sure and wouldn't presume until he learned for certain. Though, one specific head of hair caught his attention. That, combined with the two larger boy sitting with the boy was enough to identify the trio. After all, they were the most well known trio after the 'Golden Trio.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. He assumed the girl sitting with them was Pansy but he wasn't certain. Not that it mattered to him as he walked past and ignored the white haired child. He had no interest in dealing with Malfoy on a regular basis.

It wasn't until he'd entered the last car that he saw what he was looking for, a cabin holding only two people. The first was a chubby young boy with dark hair and a round face. The second was a young girl with wildly bushy hair with her nose stuck in a book. His lips curled into a wide grin. He'd found the two people he was truly interested in making friends with.

To set the proper mood, he politely knocked on the door. Both of them jerked and looked at the door surprised. Their surprise turned to confusion so he gently opened the door a little, “Hi there. I was wondering if you would be opposed to me joining you two?”

Being the polite child she was, Hermione instantly began shaking her head, “No, please, come in.”

Smiling widely he did just as asked. He happily plopped down on the bench next to Neville. The two looked at them curiously before Hermione asked the obvious, “Where is your trunk?”

“Hm? Oh! My trunk?” He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his shrunken trunk, “Right here. It's enchanted to shrink to its easier to carry.”

Hermione's eyes widened, “They can do that?”

He nodded, “They can. You can also learn the shrinking charm and do it yourself as well. Though having the enchantment is more convenient since its permanent versus the temporary nature of the charm.”

Harry had read every single word of his books. Vernon and Petunia had been too terrified of what might happen if they touched any of his stuff. That might have had something to do with Harry 'innocently' telling them he'd asked the kindly giant Hagrid to enchant his stuff to do horrible things to people touching it. This gave him a solid foundation in what he was expecting to 'learn' in school. He also had memories of such things so he knew they were possible even if he didn't know the specific spells, yet.

Hermione's eyes widened a bit, “Really? That's amazing! I'm so looking forward to learning more about magic. Ah! Where are my manners? I'm Hermione Granger. I was ever so surprised to learn I was a witch, the first in my family.”

Harry smiled at her and looked to Neville. The shy boy looked down and spoke in a small, quiet voice, “N-neville Longbottom.”

He grinned widely at Neville and Hermione, “Nice to meet you Hermione, Neville. I'm Harry Potter.”

Both looked at him in shock. It only lasted a moment before Neville asked, “Really?” While Hermione attempted to go into a small rant, “Are you really? I've know all about you!”

He turned his gaze to Hermione and cut her off, “I believe you meant to say you read all about me. I'm sorry to say, but whatever you've read is likely all speculation or outright lies.”

Hermione looked offended, “But, I read all about it. How you survived the killing curse and defeated he-who-must-not-be-named. Everyone knows all about it!”

He cocked an eyebrow, “Tell me this then. How many living witnesses were there when this event supposedly happened?”

Hermione frowned, “Well... Um...”

Harry nodded, “Exactly. The only living witness to the events that happened that Hallowe'en was myself. Now, I've never, not once, been interviewed about what transpired that night. No one witnessed the killing curse being fired or me surviving it, that's all pure speculation. Or worse, assumption. Any magical scans to look for the killing curse having been fired would return positive because it was used on my mother, Lily Potter.”

Seeing he had their full attention, he continued, “Now, from what I understand, no one has ever survived the killing curse before I supposedly did. So, we have tons of records of those hit with it. None of whom were left with a mark. They simply fell over dead. Correct?”

Getting nods from both enthralled children, he resumed his impromptu lecture, “So explain to me my scar.” He lifted the fringes of his hair to show it, “No one can. I have a theory though. It makes sense to use the killing curse against a well trained witch. It's known to be unblockable, after all. Who would use a cannon to kill a mosquito though?”

Seeing the look of comprehension on Hermione's face but only confusion on Neville's, he explained, “A cannon is a mundane weapon that fires a ball of metal the size of a bludger at high speeds.”

That wasn't entirely accurate, but the look of understanding on Neville's face was enough for him to continue, “In this case, I am the mosquito. I think it's far more likely that you-know-who fired a cutting curse instead. Perhaps it was a super dark or evil one, but still just meant to cut. That makes far more sense for leaving behind a scar, don't you think?”

Both nodded, but Hermione posed the question, “Then what happened to you-know-who? He hasn't been seen since that night.”

Harry shrugged, “No idea. Perhaps a trap set by my mother got him? I honestly don't know. I don't think he's dead though. After all, they never found the body. Even if, somehow, the killing curse bounced off of my forehead and returned right back to him, wouldn't his body have been found? After all, it's not like the killing curse is know for disintegrating bodies.”

Silence filled the cabin for a while after that. Once it started to get boring, Harry decided he needed something entertaining. He set his trunk, still in his hand, down on the floor and tapped it with his finger. It grew back to full size. After flipping the lid open, he stepped over the lip and started walking down the stairs built into it. Hermione gaped in shock as he walked out of sight. Though it wasn't nearly as surprising to Neville who'd grown up around magic.

Hermione climbed to her feet and moved toward the trunk to peek down into it. An obscuring spell make the interior look pitch black from the outside. Inside it was a whole different story. The place was lit with smokeless torches that provided plenty of light for Harry to see by. The main area was mostly empty, only Hedwig's discarded cage visible. On the walls sat seven doors, each leading into a different compartment of the trunk. He opened the one leading to his library.

The library wasn't too full just yet. He'd not managed to get himself back to Diagon Alley after his trip with Hagrid so he only had his course books and a few extras he'd managed to slip by the half-giant. He picked up his copy of Magical Drafts and Potions, intent on re-reading the whole book before his first potions class. He hadn't even had his first class and he already hated Snape. Still, he was looking forward to the first class because he fully intended for it to be his last class with the greasy man.

Soon he walked back up the stairs and out to the cabin where Hermione and Neville waited. As soon as she spotted him Hermione bombarded him with questions. He explained about his trunk to her, feeding her the information she craved. Though he was the same age as her, his memories of the other Harry Potter made his outlook on life more mature. So, rather than finding her curiosity annoying, he found it endearing.

The rest of the ride wasn't much different. The trio chatted the time away, with Hermione or Harry constantly dragging Neville into their dialogue. He really started to come out of his shell when the subject of Herbology came up. Trevor, Neville's toad, tried to make a break for it, but was caught quickly by Harry. A little advice to keep the toad wet had Trevor settling down rather quickly.

The two boys left the cabin to allow Hermione to change into her robes, then she left while they changed into theirs. After which, Harry shrank his trunk and stuffed it back into his pocket. He wasn't going to let it out of his sight, ever. If he could conveniently carry everything he owned with himself at all times, why would he not do so? Though, perhaps it would be best to turn the trunk into a necklace for ease of use.

As they stepped off the train and followed the crowd, they heard a loud booming voice calling out, “Firs' years o'er here! Firs' years o'er here!”

Following the voice they found Hagrid standing near a dock holding a lantern up high. Upon spotting Harry the behemoth smiled, “Alrigh' 'arry?”

Harry grinned at the big guy. Whoever didn't like Hagrid was evil, “Alright, Hagrid.”

He turned to the two stunned kids standing beside him, “Hagrid, these are my new friends, Hermione and Neville.”

Hagrid looked at the pair with his beetle black eyes and gave a wide smile that moved his huge bushy beard, “Nice ta meet ya. Go on now, down to the boats. No more'n four to a boat now.”

Harry, Hermione, and Neville, all stepped onto a boat together. As they sat, Hermione looked at Harry pensively as she asked, “Did you mean what you said?”

He looked at her mildly confused, “About what?”

She looked even more nervous, “About us being friends.”

“Oh! That! Of course. It might have been a bit presumptuous, but I would like to consider the three of us friends. Is that alright with the two of you?”

Neville, still unbearably shy, only nodded his head, though he was sporting a smile so Harry considered that a win. Hermione, on the other hand, looked a little shocked. It seemed she couldn't help herself as she asked, “Just like that?”

Harry laughed lightly, “Yes, just like that.”

Seeing Hermione's shocked look slowly morphing into something more emotional, he decided to head it off at the pass, “By the way, what house do you think you will be sorted into?”

Ever ready to dispense information, Hermione straightened up and smiled brightly, “I think it would be wonderful to be sorted into Gryffindor, it's where Headmaster Dumbledore went, after all.”

Neville muttered a simple, “Griffindor.” while looking mildly depressed.

Harry focused on Hermione, “What does where Dumbledore went have to do with anything?”

Hermione frowned, “Professor Dumbledore, and it matters because he is a great wizard.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, “So? What's one thing got to do with the other? All of the houses have produced excellent and exceptional wizards and witches. Honestly, I believe you would do much better in Ravenclaw with how much you wish to learn of magic. Do you really want to spend the next seven YEARS in what is, essentially, the house of the jocks? Or would you rather spend your time among others who value knowledge as much as yourself?”

That brought Hermione up short. She looked contemplative and mildly conflicted as she thought about what Harry had said. He then turned to Neville, “Nev, buddy, pal, I think you'd do infinitely better in Hufflepuff. You'd be able to make lots more friends there, but more importantly the head of house for Hufflepuff is Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher.”

Neville was meant to be a herbologist, this was a universal fact. Harry could easily admit that Neville had courage, one only needed to see his actions in his later teenage years to know he had steel in his spine when necessary. However, he didn't need to explicitly be in Griffindor for that steel to be there. He would also likely find it much sooner while among people who would treat him better than Griffindor ever would.

Neville looked down at his feet and muttered, “Gran would kill me.”

Harry snorted, “If she wants to try she'll have to go through me.”

They didn't get to say much else as their little boat gave a small jerk and began moving across the surface of the lake. Harry looked up and let out a small gasp when he saw the castle in the dark for the first time. It was back dropped perfectly by the moon making it stand out all the more. The few windows lit up in the night made it look glorious. It really drove home that he was stepping into a whole new world.

Far too soon they arrived at the Hogwarts docks and disembarked their little boats. Hagrid led them all up to the door and knocked a few times. The door was answered by a severe looking woman that Hagrid gave a small nod to, “The firs' years Professor McGonagall.”

The witch, complete with tall pointed witches hat, looked at the crowd of children through her glasses, “So I see. Thank you Hagrid.”

The big man nodded and made his way out of the area while McGonagall addressed the students, “In a few moments you will be joining us inside for the sorting ceremony.” Her gaze fell on Ron, “Take this time to make yourselves presentable.” She shifted away from him and just let her gaze move from student to student, “You will be sorted into one of four houses. They are Griffindon, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. This will be your home, your fellow students your family. I will be back shortly to lead you inside.”

With her piece said, McGonagall turned on her heel and stepped back into the building. Shortly after she left a snide voice rose among the murmurs of the crowd, “So, Harry Potter has finally come to Hogwarts.”

Everyone turned to look at a boy with long slicked back hair so blonde it almost looked white. He strut through the crowd like a peacock with his nose stuck in the air, “So, which of you is it?”

Harry considered just ignoring the stuck up prat, but thought better of it after a moment, “That'd be me.”

All eyes turned toward him. Malfoy's gaze drifted up and down, likely taking in his standard robes, nowhere near as expensive as the custom set Malfoy was wearing. Malfoy walked closer and stuck his hand out, “I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

There was a snort from the side causing both Harry and Malfoy to turn and look at the source, Ronald Weasley. Malfoy sneered, “Think my names funny do you? There's no need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand me down robe? You must be a Weasley.”

Rons face burned with a mixture of anger and shame while Malfoy turned back to Harry with his hand still out, “You'll find, Potter, that some families are better than others. You wouldn't want to make friends with the wrong sort. I could teach you.”

A less mature version of himself had snubbed Malfoy and even refused to shake his hand. He could see what that version of himself was thinking but the more mature viewpoint he held didn't allow him to be so rude. He calmly reached out and clasped Malfoy's hand within his own, “While I appreciate the offer, I will have to decline. I prefer to make my own judgments on a case by case basis rather than let someone make decisions for me.”

Malfoy looked mildly disappointed yet a little intrigued, “I see. I'm sure you will see the truth of our world soon enough.”

Their handshake came to an abrupt end when screams came from several of the other students. Harry turned and chuckled when he saw the source of their fear, the Hogwarts ghosts. He found the sight of actual ghosts to be extremely interesting. There was some chatter with the ghosts but it ended swiftly with McGonagall's return, “Follow me.”

They all moved into the hall where several gasped in awe. Harry was one of them himself. Seeing the ceiling in person was an amazing experience. He heard Hermione informing anyone who would listen about how she'd read on it in Hogwarts, A History. Soon, they all stood before the teachers table and the small three legged stool topped with an ancient and worn hat.

Harry listened as the hat sang its song and chuckled. When it finished, McGonagall held up a scroll and spoke, “When I call your name you will come up, sit on the stool, and don the hat. It will sort you into your house.”

Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones went to Hufflepuff as expected so Harry tuned out and, instead, let his gaze move across the people sitting at the four house tables. He spotted people he thought he knew and had spotted on the train. Sadly, the one person he was hoping to see sitting at Hufflepuff wasn't there. He'd hoped she would be in her seventh year and thus still in school but it looked like she'd already graduated. It was a shame, it would have been fun spending a year getting to know Nymphadora -call me that and I will hex you- Tonks.

No, he didn't want to snag her as a girlfriend or anything like many people had in tons of fanfictions. He just wanted to get to know the kick ass Metamorphmagus because he was fairly certain he was one himself. Memories of his childhood suggested he just might be. It would have been nice to work with a known one to see if he was. Ah well, he'd meet her in a few years he was certain.

His attention was pulled back to the sorting when Hermione's name was called. He watched, curious about where she would end up. It took a minute but the hat soon shouted, “Ravenclaw!”

The Ravenclaw table politely clapped and cheered for her. He caught her eyes and gave her a bright smile and a thumbs up while she took a seat.

The next name to get his attention was Neville. He watched quietly and soon the hat shouted once more, “Hufflepuff!”

While walking to the cheering table, Neville looked both happy and terrified. How that worked, Harry wasn't certain, but he understood where it was coming from. Augusta Longbottom was supposed to be a... well a battle axe. One obsessed with turning Neville into a new copy of his father despite Neville not having much in common with the man.

That reminded him. He'd have to arrange for an accident to befall Neville's wand. It might seem cruel to brake something that belonged to the boys father, but he couldn't think of an easier way to get the boy a proper wand. The sooner the better too as being able to properly cast would definitely help boost the boys confidence.

Next it took a lot of effort for Harry not to laugh when Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin before the hat could even fully be seated on his head. He didn't blame the hat. Given how much product was likely in Malfoy's hair, he wouldn't want to touch it either!

His mind wandered once more until, shortly after Malfoy, his name was called. The Great Hall fell silent as everyone watched him march up to the stool. He sat and soon felt the hat drape over his head and block his vision.

“Oh my, how interesting. You have quite a diffferent mind young man.”

Harry chuckled and thought back, 'What can I say? I'm Harry Potter. Weird is apparently what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life.'

The hat snorted playfully, “True enough Mr. Potter, True enough. Now where to sort you. Plenty of courage, of course. My other self said much the same. I suppose I don't need to say much else. Though I can see where you differentiate from your alternative self. A curious mind and a drive for new knowledge. The desire to explore all the mysteries of magic, maybe even forge entirely new paths. Yes, it's clear. While you would do great in any house, you would do the best in...”

“RAVENCLAW!”

A hush fell over the crowd before the bronze and blue table erupted into riotous cheers. He did here some complaints and a comment of 'We didn't get potter?' from the red and gold table. While walking toward where Hermione was sitting, he was stopped often to shake hands or given a friendly pat on the back in welcome.

Soon he sat next to his new friend and grinned brightly. The sorting finished when Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin. Dumbledore stood, for who else could wear such robes and have a beard long enough to make Merlin jealous? He spread his arms and spoke with a powerful voice, “Welcome students to yet another year! I am sure you all are hungry so I shall keep this short and to the point. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Dig in!”

Food appeared across all of the tables and instantly filled the room with delicious smells. Harry didn't hesitate and quickly began piling food on his plate. He was going to need to eat a lot for what he planned to do to his body over the next few years. For now he was skin and bones, malnourished because of the Dursley's. He fully planned to change that. The first step was eating proper meals, the next would be exercise. He was too young still for weight lifting, but running and calisthenics would work just fine to keep him in shape and help him begin building muscle.

The food was excellent. He even tried a sip of pumpkin juice. It wasn't horrible, but it also wasn't all that good. He stuck with water after that. He'd have to see about smuggling some mundane drinks into the school since he only had three choices at present. Water, pumpkin juice, and tea. Nowhere near a good enough selection. Though, perhaps he could get his hands on some sugar and make some sweet iced tea. A simple ice charm shouldn't be too hard to pull off. Lather though.

Before much longer, dinner was over and everyone was pleasantly stuffed. Dumbledore stood once more to make his announcements. Harry paid attention and heard nothing unexpected. He even smirked a little at the warning of death for entering the third floor corridor on the left hand side. He was tempted to see if he could get down there and steal the philosophers stone, just for the giggles. Maybe he'd give it a go, after Christmas.

A prefect, whose name Harry missed, led them through the halls to the Ravenclaw Tower. They soon arrived at the famous Raveclaw Raven knocker. The prefect faced everyone as he stated, “To enter the common room you will need to answer a riddle.”

To prove his point he stepped up to the knocker. It's beak opened and a feminine voice issued the riddle challenge, “What has an eye, but cannot see?”

The prefect turned to the group, “Anyone?”

Hermione lifted her hand prompting the prefect to point at her. She answered quickly, “A needle.”

“Correct.” stated the knocker as the door lock clicked and the door swung open.

The prefect gave her a smile, “Very good.”

Once they all marched into the common room the Prefect pointed to two staircases, “Boys on the right, girls on the left. Boys, don't bother trying to use the women's stairs, they will eject you and set off an alarm that summons our head of house, Professor Flitwick. You will all receive your class schedules tomorrow morning, now, head on to bed.”

Harry and three other boys made their way to the stairs. It didn't take them long to find the door with all their names written on it. Stepping inside they found four huge poster bed, all but one sporting a trunk at the foot of the bed. The one all the way on the right was the odd one out. The three boys with Harry quickly found their beds thanks to their trunks.

Harry walked over to his bed and pulled his trunk out of his pocket, set it on the ground, and returned it to normal size.

“Oh, so that's where your trunk was.”

Harry turned to look at the boy who spoke. The boy walked over and held out his hand, “Sorry, we didn't get to introduce ourselves sooner. I'm Terry Boot.”

After shaking Terry's hand the next boy stepped up and held out his hand, “Michael Corner.”

Then the last came up, “Anthony Goldstein.”

After shaking all their hands, Harry smiled, “I probably don't need to say it, but I'm Harry Potter. It's nice to meet all of you.”

The boys grinned at the playful tone Harry used to not come off as pompous of conceited. They chatted a little as they got ready for bed. All of them were tired after their long day and soon they all turned in for the night.

-----Line Break-----

Harry walked next to Hermione as they made their way to the transfiguration classroom. Their first class had, unfortunately, been History of Magic. The books didn't do Binns droning voice justice. Harry decided, then and there, that he wasn't setting foot in that classroom ever again. The ghost wouldn't even notice and he'd only get in trouble if he was reported for it by a fellow student. Since he didn't have many classes with Slytherin, and History wasn't one of them, then he felt it would be fine.

This would be their first real class on magic and he was looking forward to it. They stepped inside and both took seats at the front. His gaze moved to the tabby cat sitting on top of McGonagall's desk while Hermione looked around confused and asked, “Where's the professor?”

Harry, still staring at the cat grinned broadly, “I'm sure she'll show up in time to teach.”

The cat was staring back at him so he gave it a playful wink. He also silently added Animagus Transoformation's as yet another example of a wandless magic that just about anyone could learn. Sure, it wasn't easy, but, yet again, it was a massively popular thing to learn at Uagadou. He half wished he was going to that school just to see how they did their teaching.

Before long the class was filled as all the students had arrived. A murmur began to build as they didn't spot McGonagall until the cat on the desk leaped into the air and transformed into the professor, “Good afternoon, students.”

Harry spotted the small smile McGonagall had at the exclamations of surprise from the other students. Her sharp gaze moved to him, “Mr. Potter, how did you know the cat was me?”

“Well, Professor, cat's aren't known for sitting around like that. On top of which, the markings around the eyes looked like spectacles. Animagi are known to have unique markers that relate to their human form. Lastly, there's no way you wouldn't be in the classroom and ready before we ever arrived.”

McGonagall chuckled a little, “Well thought out, five points to Ravenclaw.” She focued back on the majority of the class and took on a serious mien, “The art of Transfiguration is a varied and potentially dangerous one. There will be no fooling around in my class and anyone caught doing so will be removed and invited to never return.”

She waved her wand at her desk causing it to transform into a living breathing pig, “The art of Transfiguration is the ability to change one object into another.” With another wave of her wand the pig transformed back into her desk, “In this class you will learn all you need to know to do that and more.”

She picked up a box of matches and began walking around the room to pass out a match to each student, “We'll begin with a simple one, transforming a matchstick into a needle.”

She proceeded to demonstrating the incantation and wand movement for the class, “Now, when you cast the spell be sure to picture the results in your mind. You may begin.”

Harry sat in silence for a moment while Hermione began immediately trying to cast the spell, failing to get the matchstick to change at all. He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured a sewing needle in his mind until he could see every detail of it. Once it was firmly locked into his thoughts, he tapped the matchstick with his wand without uttering a word.

The wood swiftly changed to metal and reshaped until there was a perfect sewing needle sitting in front of him. Hermione paused in her casting to stare at him. He could see a hint of jealousy in her demeanor as she asked in a slightly waspish voice, “How did you do that? You didn't even do the spell right!”

Harry smiled warmly at her, “It's magic. It does what I want it to do.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, “That's not how it works!”

Her voice got a little high at that last statement drawing some attention to them. While McGonagall began making her way over, Harry responded to Hermione's statement by merely arching an eyebrow and looking at his perfectly formed needle. Hermione huffed in annoyance as McGonagall arrived. The professor picked up his needle and examined it before saying, “Well done Mr. Potter. Take five points to Ravenclaw for finishing first.”

Hermione, still too young to control herself, had to interject, “But professor! He didn't do it right!”

McGonagall arched an eyebrow in question so Hermione explained, “He didn't say the spell of do the wand movement.”

“Really?” Mcgonagall waved her wand to turn the needle back into a matchstick and set it in front of Harry, “Show me.”

Harry shrugged and tapped the matchstick with the tip of his wand once more and transformed it back into a needle. McGonagall's eyebrows rose in surprise, “Very impressive Mr. Potter. It's not usually until sixth year that silent and motionless casting are taught to students. May I ask why you attempted to do so on your first lesson?”

Harry looked at McGonagall and shrugged, “Because you've been doing it since class started. If you could do it why couldn't I?”

McGonagall gave him a nonplussed look, “Mr. Potter, I trained and practiced for years to get to where I am in casting Transfiguration spells.”

Harry just shrugged, “I don't know what to tell you, professor. I just decided to do it and did it. It's magic! In fact...”

He tapped the needle with his wand to turn it back into a matchstick. Then he tucked his wand away in the holster on his wrist and reached out to touch the matchstick with his fingertip. He focused on turning the matchstick into a needle. It was definitely harder and took a lot more focus, but it was his magic, it would do what he said. Slowly, the matchstick turned into a needle once again. The effort and expenditure of magic left Harry panting, but he'd done it!

McGonagall's eyes widened, her glasses even dropped down to the tip of her nose, “Mr. Potter! That's... That's...” She was clearly at a loss for words.

After taking a moment to compose herself, she pushed her glasses back up and spoke, “Twenty points to Ravenclaw for a brilliant use of wandless magic.” She focused on the exhausted looking Harry, “Though perhaps you shouldn't push yourself so hard in the future, young man.”

Harry nodded and wiped the some sweat from his brow. He felt tired and hungry after his stunt. But, it was valuable data. He understood that the use of a wand allowed him to focus his magic and not waste it. Casting the transfiguration spell with his wand barely even registered to him. Casting it wandlessly left him feeling drained. He suspected that, like with most things, practice would make perfect.

On the bright side, it was a good start on another theory he had. He believed that magic was like a muscle, the more you used and strained it, the stronger it would get. To him it looked like a wandless spell every now and then would be a great way to strain his magic and make it stronger. It would also let him grow his skill with the ability at the same time. A win all around.

From there the class continued. Harry gave Hermione some advice on her visualization leading to her being the second in the class to get the full transformation. It earned them another three points from McGonagall. When class ended, most of the students had either managed nothing, or just minor changes in the color or shape of the matchstick.

As they left the classroom, Harry and Hermione walked in silence. Hermione looked... not angry, but she was definitely grumpy and simply refused to look at Harry. He realized it was jealousy but wasn't entirely certain how to handle the situation. He'd let her calm down, then explain his thought process on magic and see if it would help. Though, he highly doubted it. Hermione had a very analytical and literal mind. He doubted she would be able to do it until she believed she was old enough. In short, not until there was a proper class on it. Because that was what she lacked, belief in magic. She believed in books and authority figures without question. That would hinder his ability to teach her anything.

Not that he had much to teach. He was a novice too. But he had faith in himself and knew he'd grow stronger with time and experience.

-----Line Break-----

Harry closed his book and set down his fountain pen. He refused to use a quill if he didn't have to. If it wouldn't have screwed him over, he'd have bought an old non-electric typewriter to do all his homework on. Unfortunately, homework was assigned by length, not word count, so using a typewriter would mean far more work.

There was also the fact that the parchment was probably too thick to fit into the typewriter, but that was neither here nor there.

He gave Hermione a smile across the table as he began to pack his stuff, “I'm done.”

She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes, “So soon? Are you sure you did enough?”

He gave her own homework a bland look, “Well, if you could follow directions properly, you would be done as well.”

Hermione looked highly offended and nearly shrieked, “What do you mean 'if I could follow directions properly'? I am!”

Harry arched an imperious eyebrow at her, “Are you? Tell me then. What was the length of the homework assignment?”

Hermione huffed and stared at him like he was stupid, “Eight inches.”

“And how many are you at now?”

Hermione looked down at her homework and bit her lip, “About thirteen inches.”

Harry nodded while trying to look wise, “I see, I see. And tell me, is thirteen the same as eight?”

She gave him a nonplussed look, “Of course it's not. I'm just trying to show that I understood the assignment.”

He tilted his head, “But did you? The homework was for eight inches. Not eight or more. Not eight or less. So, clearly, you cannot follow directions. I wrote exactly eight inches on the subject to show I not only understood it, but that I was capable of following the directions as they were given.”

He made a point of looking at her homework and its extra length, “If I was your teacher, I would mark you down for not following directions. Additionally, I wouldn't even read past the length I assigned. At this point all you are doing is wasting not only your time, but the professors time.”

Hermione actually looked angry when he finished. She hissed out, “Just because you're only willing to do the bare minimum doesn't mean the rest of us should follow suit!”

Harry sighed and shrugged his shoulders, “Do what you like. I'm going to go explore the castle.”

Without another word, he climbed to his feet and practically skipped out of the common room and into his dorm room. After placing his homework in his chest, he shrank the chest and tucked it into his pocket. With a knowing smirk, he left the Ravenclaw tower and made his way through the school. He was looking for a very specific section of the seventh floor.

It took him almost an hour of looking to find the tapestry of Banibus the Barmy. He chuckled as he watched the wizard try to teach trolls ballet only to get clubbed. This was the spot of the greatest, most famous part of Hogwarts castle. A place very few even knew existed. In fact, he was willing to bet he could count the number of people who knew on one hand and have fingers left over.

He quickly walked back and forth in front of the bare section of wall while thinking about what he needed. After the third pass the door appeared just as he'd expected. His grin nearly broke his face as he opened the door and saw a massive collection of junk filling up a room so big he couldn't see the other side.

This room, the Room of Lost Things, was a collection of everything accidentally, or deliberately, lost within Hogwarts castle over the last thousand years. There was no telling what was inside of the room. He planned to abuse this room for all it was worth. As far as he was concerned, he now owned everything within the room.

Why?

Because he knew that in the story of his life, everything in here was destroyed by Fiendfyre. If it was all destined to be destroyed, and no body bothered claiming it in the next few years, then why shouldn't he profit off of it and put that money to better use?

He looked around a bit longer before he stepped out of the room. The door vanished behind him. He paced the hall three times once more causing a slightly different door to appear. He stepped into the room once more and smirked widely at what he saw.

The room was filled with galleons, sickles, knuts, jewels, and jewelry. He'd requested a room filled with all these items from the Room of Lost Things. Minus one specific diadem. He wasn't messing with that anytime soon. With a wave of his wand, the impressive pile of valuables floated into the air. It wasn't long before they were deposited directly into one of the rooms in his trunk.

Those items alone had to be worth quite a lot of money. He'd have to take his time and slowly sell it all piece by piece so he wasn't ripped off. Though, obviously, the cash was of use instantly.

Next, he focused his mind on having the room produce all the books it contained, limited to one copy of each book. The room rumbled and shifted as it produced a large pile of books. Many of the books were badly damaged with pages torn out or covers missing. He didn't care. He waved his wand to lift up all of the books and took them into the library potion of his trunk.

It took him over two hours to sort all of the books by subject and title. Personal things like diaries were all sorted on a different shelf. It might be rude to read through them, but they might also contain things like spells, enchantments, or who knew what else. He wouldn't risk losing any potentially useful information.

After that he decided to push his luck and focused on what he wanted. The room rumbled once more before three tiny items appeared on small pillars. He stepped up to the first pillar and sighed at the sight of the broken little hourglass on a necklace.

“Damn.”

He moved to the second pillar and found a similar sight. This was was in even worse condition as the bronze colored metal that encased the glass was also destroyed. It was only after walking up to the third pillar that his lips curled into a wicked grin.

Sitting on that pillar was a pocket watch, but opening it revealed it was a very special one. Sitting in the bottom half of the watch, below the central hub holding the hands, was a tiny hourglass filled with sparkling sand. Naturally it wasn't actually sand, or maybe it was? Sand of time or something? Bah! It didn't matter. What mattered is that it wasn't broken.

He closed the watch and slipped it into his pocket. The Time Turner would come in exceedingly handy over the next few years. Now it was time to really put the room to good use. With a thought the room began to really change. It grew larger, wider, and took on an outdoor appearance. Grass grew, though it stayed short, trees appeared, and the background noise of bugs and birds filled the air. Below Harry's feet the ground had shifted into black tarmac marking out a giant oval running track.

Harry knew that he was too young to begin to work out with weight lifting to put on muscle. Not to mention he lacked the testosterone and other hormones that would help with the process. At his current age he might as well be a eunuch. It would be a few years before he truly became sexually active. Until then, there was something fun and healthy he could work on to his hearts content.

With a laugh only a child could have, he took off running on the track.

-----Line Break-----

Harry hummed to himself as he walked up the steps to the owlry, a letter in his hand. He had no intention of sitting around and letting things happen as they would in the stories his other self read. Not when his new perspective gave him the necessary ideas and maturity to see things through in a different manner.

He stepped into the owlry and grinned when he spotted Hedwig nearly instantly. She stood out among all the other owls thanks to her brilliant coloring. With a hoot, she glided off of the perch she'd been resting on and settled herself on his shoulder. With a giggle, he reached up and stroked her breast feathers while she attempted to fix his unruly hair with her beak.

“Heya girl. Are you settling in nicely?”

She gave a light back and ruffled her feathers.

“That's good. I hope you showed all these other guys the pecking order.”

The bad pun earn his ear a slight sting from a nibble. He chuckled and held up his letter, “Well, I need the best owl here to deliver this to the offices of the Daily Prophet for me.”

Hedwig instantly stuck her leg out while other owls hooted down at him for the slight. He smirked and called out to the others, “That's right, I said she's the best!”

He tied the letter to her leg with a mischievous grin, “Thank you girl. Come by in the morning and I'll give you some bacon, alright?”

That earned him an excited hoot. Without further ado, Hedwig took off and began rapidly winging her way to her destination. Once she flew out of sight, he turned and made his way back into the school. It was a bit of a walk, but he soon found himself down in the dungeons for his first every potions class. It would also be his last. He fought to keep the smirk off of his face as he stepped into the room and took his seat.

-----Line Break-----

Harry walked through the halls making his way to the great hall for breakfast, a small smile on his face. His first potions class the previous day had gone exactly like he'd expected it to. He supposed it didn't matter what version of his story it was, Severus Snape would always be Severus Snape. He'd asked the three expected questions, which Harry had happily claimed he didn't know the answers to and been a complete jackass the entire time.

More importantly, he'd not done his job properly. Between that and everything else Harry knew, well... He expected the man's life was about to become quite difficult.

He sat down, dished himself up some food, and began eating his breakfast while waiting eagerly for the morning mail. He was forced to wait until he was halfway through his breakfast before the sound of a great many feather wings filled the hall. A torrent of owls flew in to deliver mail to students, but more importantly the Daily Prophet.

Among the flock of brown, black, and tawny fathers, a vision of stark white came through. Hedwig landed on his shoulder and held her leg out, a copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her talons. Studiously ignoring the several light brown feathers stuck to the paper, he accepted it and offered a rasher of bacon in exchange.

With an appreciative bark, Hedwig snagged the bacon in her beak and dug into her treat. Harry, meanwhile, unrolled the paper and looked at the title with a massive grin.

Hogwarts Potion Professor Severus Snape, The Worst Potion Professor in History?

By Barabas Cuffe

Yesterday in the early afternoon I received an anonymous letter suggesting I look into a matter close to the writers heart, the potions curriculum within Hogwarts. The letter didn't go into much detail but suggested I look into the number of students graduating with Potions N.E.W.T.s over the last two decades. Intrigued, I did so.

I must say, I was greatly surprised by what I found. Between the years of 1970 and 1980 and average of 65% of students who took the N.E.W.T. for potions passed with an Acceptable or higher each year. Starting in 1981 that number began to decline. Last year, the number of students to pass their potions N.E.W.T. with an Acceptable or higher had dropped to just 15%!

You read that right my dear readers. There were only seven students who passed their N.E.W.T.s last year. This is, frankly, unacceptable! A passing score in potions is required for many important jobs in our world, not the least of which are Mediwitches and Wizards, but Aurors as well. Not to mention the apothecaries where the rest of us purchase our potions.

Worse, this drop in graduates has led to a similar drop in the number of Potions Master's to come out of Hogwarts. This is a massive blow to the schools prestige.

Naturally, once I learned all of this, I was determined to find out what had changed. It seemed highly doubtful that our children had suddenly become less intelligent or less interested in the subject. So, I searched out the cause.

Shockingly, I didn't have to search far, I didn't even need to leave the offices of the Daily Profit to search the records the Ministry. Several of my younger employees all pointed to the same cause for their loss of interest in potions.

Severus Snape, the current Potions Master and Professor at Hogwarts.

A quick discussion with the members of my staff led to a shocking conclusion. Severus Snape was not a teacher. Rather, according to my employee's, the man does his absolute best to discourage anyone outside of the Slytherin House students to give up the art of potion brewing. This was confirmed not just by previous members of the other three houses, but several members of Slytherin house. One of whom complained that Professor Snape's bias toward judging Slytherin members lightly led to him losing his apprenticeship due to his lack of proper skill.

According to all of them, 'Severus Snape does NOT teach. He throws the instructions on the board. Tells you to brew the potion. Then stalks around the room like a child predator looking for his next victim. Anyone not in Slytherin who makes the slightest mistake has their entire potion vanished and is given a T for the day. If an accident does happen, his first response it not to ensure the safety of the students, but to berate them, call them names, and deduct points from their house.'

This led me to asking further questions and digging deeper into the situation. What I found was shocking and I will give you all a summary of my discoveries.

Severus Snape is the youngest Potion Master in England's history. That is, of course, and impressive achievement. Yet, it does not automatically make him a qualified teacher. The results speak for themselves. His teaching method, and blatant bias do our children a disservice. I dug into his past, and I believe I have found why the man is doing what he is doing.

Severus Snape, was, and perhaps is, a Death Eater.

You read that right. Our children are being taught by a man with unknown allegiances. Unlike other members of our society who testified to being held under the Imperius Curse, Severus Snape never had a trial. From everything I could find, he was not prosecuted on the word of a single man, Albus Dumbledore.

While Albus Dumbledore is a great wizard and a good man, it seems that in this case he has made a grave error in judgment and our children's education is suffering for it. I encourage all parents with children currently in Hogwarts to write the board of governors and demand a change be made.

How much longer will we allow our students to be robbed of a proper education in a subject so instrumental to our way of life?

Harry hummed as he finished the article. Not quite what he was hoping to see, but not bad either. It looked like Cuffe decided to walk a careful line when it came to Dumbledore, but he definitely didn't hold back against Snape.

That point was proven when the man got up in a huff and stormed out of the Great Hall like a child throwing a tantrum. It brought a smile to Harry's face.

-----Line Break-----

Okay, so, I know this is out of my usual wheelhouse, but I've wanted to write something in the Potterverse for a while now. I finally decided on a version of Harry Potter with memories of a man from another world with the same name.

He had a lot of meta-knowledge, but not all of it will be accurate to keep the story interesting. Let me know what you think of this story.

And yes, I know a lot of you want me to go back to Fabricator. I do plan to. Right now though, I'm focusing on just writing whatever comes to me to feed my muse and push it toward what I really want to write.

Anyway, I just hope you enjoy whatever it is I manage to write.

Until next time!

Conjure a ball of perfectly clear ice at the tip of a wand to stop the killing curse.