> A Hogwarts Harmony
>  by computerneek
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1:  The Dark Lord
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lord Voldemort heaved a sigh.  Yes, the Dark Lord Voldemort.
He hadn’t originally wanted to be a Dark Lord- or Dork Lord, as he now called himself in his mind.  No; he’d been forced.  Possessed, really, by a Horcrux of Grindelwald’s.  An old diary, it had been.
Not any more.  After Grindelwald had forced him to make the seventh joint Horcrux…  the diary had lost too much strength, and been unable to overcome his will.
The Killing Curse had then made quick work of the Diary, freeing him forever from the true Dark Lord’s grip.  Not his own horcruxes, though- they were still horcruxes for both him and Grindelwald, and possessed the power to possess him.
So he had immediately destroyed that same seventh horcrux as well- another quick Killing Curse.  It was excruciatingly painful…  but it meant that the six he had left were scattered far and wide, and he didn’t have to worry about the Dork- as he called Grindelwald- using his own soul fragment in the horcrux to bypass his defenses and control him.
He couldn’t hunt them himself…  so instead, he began laying meticulous breadcrumbs for the side of the Light to follow.
As near as he could tell, the leader of the light- Albus Dumbledore, a man who wore so many hats Voldemort was surprised he could do so- followed those crumbs…  then just sat on the information.  Why?  Why wasn’t he destroying the Horcruxes?
It wasn’t long before he found out.  Severus Snape, one of his most loyal Death Eaters, overheard a certain prophecy, given directly to Dumbledore, and left the listening charm intact, so he overheard when Dumbledore later talked to himself about the implications of the prophecy.
The man had been able to tell, by magical examination, how many horcruxes he had.  He knew Voldemort would feel the destruction of his horcruxes, so he wanted to find all of them…  then destroy them, all, on the eve of the battle in which Voldemort would fall once and for all, so he couldn’t replace any of them.
And Dumbledore had only found four of the six.
It seemed he could tell that they were also Grindelwald’s horcruxes, though that confused the man greatly- and also that Grindelwald had two more than Voldemort, all that he had never known about.
It had been three, before the Diary had been destroyed, but Voldemort wasn’t concerned.  Grindelwald had been stripped of his wand and trapped in his own prison, and couldn’t create more horcruxes for himself.
The prophecy, though…  Dumbledore seemed ambivalent to it, but Voldemort was excited by it.  If he could create the Hero it spoke of, and guide that Hero in the destruction of his Horcruxes-!
Then he could be his own end.
He wasn’t sure about what the Prophecy meant by ‘mark him as his equal’, though.
He ordered Snape to be a turncoat for him, to present himself to Dumbledore as having seen the error in his ways.  Exactly what he had to tell the man to get him to believe it was up to him.  His mission was to be a spy- and let Dumbledore think he was a spy for the Light.
Which he would be, whether Snape wanted to be or not.  Voldemort would make sure of that.
So he set about to create his Hero.  He estimated how long a pregnancy would take, and picked a time to cast an extremely complex spell that would cause him to reincarnate without dying, stretching his soul between the two bodies.
He was off.  He was off by a long shot; his new self was born almost two full months after the end of July.
So it took longer than seven months.  That was good to know.
It was also…  very disorienting to be in two places at once:  The Dark Lord Voldemort…  and a tiny baby girl.
He tried again.
He gained a third self- also a tiny baby girl- but again, he was off.  Only a few weeks this time, though.
It was really too bad that this reincarnation ritual required a death to power it, even though it didn’t split his soul.  The ‘recommended’ death to use was the caster’s own, but he couldn’t offer that one.





“My lord, it has happened!”
Voldemort raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?” he demanded.  This was Peter Pettigrew, better known as Wormtail, one of the idiots that decided to spy for him of their own volition.  He’d just run into the room like he had something important.
“The Potters- The Potters have made me their secret keeper,” the man informed him.
“Excellent,” he intoned, while simultaneously reaching out to Snape- who happened to be in the room at the time- with the legilimency-based telepathic link he’d taught the man almost a year before.  It had been a huge surprise when Snape had revealed that he would be happy to quit the Dark Side if Voldemort did, so they were working together to see to the Dork Lord’s end.  “Is this a ploy by Dumbledore?” he asked.
“Possible,” Snape answered promptly.  “From what I heard, Sirius was the Potter’s secret keeper, not Peter.”
The silence drew on for a few more seconds before Peter figured out what was expected of him.  “T-They can be found in their cottage in Godric’s Hollow!”
“That is correct,” Snape observed darkly.
“I’m going to have to attack them,” Voldemort grumbled.  “Just in case it’s a ploy.”
A moment later, he decided he’d cast a third reincarnation ritual during the attack, as a third attempt to create his hero.





The ritual was successful…  as near as he could tell.  It certainly didn’t go down the way he’d expected; he’d cast the ritual to use the murder of the Potters’ child as its power source.  He’d completely missed the protective ritual the baby’s mother had executed while he dueled the father, so the Killing Curse had rebounded, and his own death had powered his reincarnation through the back of the spell matrix.
That was bound to have side effects.
For example, for as much as he could tell the ritual was successful…  his own body lay dead on the floor- hopefully, it’d stay that way- yet he was also still there before the baby, floating in the air as a phantom.
A phantom that Dumbledore would no doubt track, so Voldemort evidently wasn’t truly dead.  Nevermind that Dumbledore would know that at least one of his Horcruxes remained.
Oh well.  He had three reincarnations that could all help guide him to the last two Horcruxes…  indirectly, of course.  He didn’t want to die by Dumbledore’s hand any more times than he had to.





Albus Dumbledore…  was a man who wore too many hats.  Even he thought so, even though it was those same many hats that allowed him to hatch- and execute- his plan to see the end of Voldemort’s reign.  He had even factored in Voldemort’s legacy, and all his death eaters- but then, the Prophecy had appeared.  The Prophecy was, in a word, dubious.  It spoke of a single Hero that could defeat the Dark Lord, and specified conditions.  Later, two children were born that met those conditions- Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom.  He just had to get Voldemort to mark one of them as his equal, then raise them into a gallant hero…  but how?
Sure, he would have liked to be known as the man that killed two Dark Lords, but that was secondary to making sure the second one actually died.  Then he could get back to figuring out how to kill the first one in peace.





Dumbledore nearly jumped for joy.  His ploy had worked flawlessly.  By getting the Potters to make Pettigrew- who he knew was a death eater- their secret keeper, he got Voldemort to attack the Potters and mark their son as his equal.  Now he just needed to take young Harry to the Longbottoms, in accordance with his parents’ Will, and they’d cheerfully raise him into an extremely formidable warrior.
He stepped over Voldemort’s dead body.  It’d be a pain to locate the phantom, but he could worry about that later- he needed to see to the boy’s-!
No.
No, it couldn’t be.
He pointed the Elder Wand at the baby to make sure.
No!
Harry Potter…  had become Lord Voldemort’s seventh horcrux.
And the only known way to destroy a Horcrux in a living vessel was to kill the vessel.
Yet…  the Prophecy would mean that only Voldemort could kill Harry.  Anyone else would suffer a case of fatal bad luck, until the Prophecy was fulfilled.
Which meant he had no choice but to violate his parents’ Will.  He had to take the boy to a much less welcoming home, to raise him to a much lower level of luxury, to raise him up to sacrifice himself for the greater good.  He was sure he could keep it from coming to head until after he’d located Voldemort’s final horcrux, then destroy all of the rest of them as soon as Harry sacrificed himself, then pounce on Voldemort himself and kill him quickly.
He took the boy to Hogwarts for Madam Pomfrey to take care of for the day, then headed to his cousins, the Dursleys.  They would be the only choice; the protection the boy had from his mother, which Dumbledore had felt as he had approached the ruined front door, would need close proximity to a blood relative to be maintained- and that same protection would be the best way to keep him safe until the time came!
He hoped the Dursleys were decent people.





Dumbledore was sorely disappointed.
The Dursley adults both had horns now, like they were demons; the transfiguration he’d used would wear off during the night.
The thing was…  they really were demons, as near as he could tell.  Not quite like they’d come from Hell or wherever, but they were the worst kind of people he could imagine.  He’d have to set numerous spells to ensure that Harry was accepted…  then treated in at least an acceptable way.
He wished he could just take the boy to the Longbottoms, but there would be too much risk of him being kidnapped and raised by Death Eaters if that happened.
The problem with him being raised by death eaters would be that Dumbledore would be unable to predict or control the time of sacrifice- and there was also the possibility he’d be raised into the next Dark Lord.
And if Harry allied himself with Voldemort…  the Prophecy meant that neither could be killed except by the other, so that would be nothing short of a nightmare.
He would deliver Harry to the Dursleys the following morning, after spending the whole night casting the enchantments and wards he would need.
Unfortunately, he would also need to cause Sirius to be imprisoned, so he wouldn’t be able to remove Harry from this home- but that would be easy.  A quick spell to aggravate his anger at his old friend Pettigrew, then some legal maneuvering to get him illegally imprisoned, which would have him automatically declared innocent when it was discovered- and he would make sure it was discovered, as soon as he could be sure the man wouldn’t destroy the world by accident.
He’d have to take a different- and less ethical, however that was possible- approach with Lupin, the fourth Marauder.  The man was a werewolf, so he legally couldn’t be imprisoned- he would simply be thrown through the Veil…  and he wasn’t going to see an innocent man killed for such a reason.
Instead, he’d have to do some alchemy-based mind control, and ready an antidote for the moment he judged it safe.
> Chapter 2:  Dumbledore Got A Letter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The very next summer…  he got a letter.  He always did; politicians liked trying to sound him out on issues or to bribe him to their views, and a couple had tried to blackmail him.  As if that would work- Rita Skeeter did that more effectively than any politician, and he found her articles about him amusing rather than worrying!  Speaking of journalists, he had those always trying to sound him out or get opinions from him.  He had parents asking him about the details of the Hogwarts education; he had Mugwumps from the International Confederation of Wizards asking him how to reach the records department.  They should seriously already know that without asking him!  He had missives from other national governments, trying to gain sway with him and earn the help of Britain or Hogwarts in something or another.
And every once in a while, he’d have a letter from a government that had a problem they thought he should know about, in case it crossed Britain’s borders.  He’d sent messages like that to basically everywhere in Europe once Voldemort got started as a Dark Lord.
This letter fell into that category, it seemed.  It was handwritten on a heavy but definitely plant-based paper that was watermarked in a very regal manner.  It looked like a special kind of stationary, probably a standard used by royalty or something…  and the self-unsealing envelope flap was something he had to admit he’d never seen before.  Usually, when the flap was fused to the body of the envelope, he had to use a special charm to unfuse it- but this one, as soon as he removed the wax seal (on which he’d noticed a pretty powerful something that even the Elder Wand couldn’t scan) unfused itself.
His first guess had been that someone was trying to impress him.  The stationary had a cartoonish sun emblazoned across it in the watermark, and was also heavily impregnated with magic that he couldn’t read.  On top of that, when he first looked at the text, it had been all incomprehensible squiggles- but less than a second later, before his very eyes, it had transformed into perfectly legible English text.
And it did that every time he looked at it, like it was a translation spell hidden inside the paper itself.  If that wasn’t showing off, he wasn’t sure what was.
But then he’d begun to read the message…  and been surprised by how it greeted him.
Despite the…  ostentatious medium, it was addressed to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, without even mentioning any of his other titles or names- things that the ones trying to curry favor always presented in triplicate.
Next, it launched straight into the situation, no preamble at all- something that never happened on official, government-to-government communications; those were always bloated with so much fluff it was hard to discern the true meaning.  Not this letter.
It was signed by Princess Celestia Solaris of the Kingdom of Equestria, so perhaps that was who wrote it too?  In either case, this Princess Celestia quickly and clearly explained that she, and the entirety of the Kingdom of Equestria (which was ruled by Princess Celestia and her sister, with no king or queen involved)…  were in another universe.
Specifically, another universe that was going to collapse in a couple hundred years.
So, nearly three hundred years ago, they had started opening portals to as many different universes as they could find and sending scouts to them.  Determining if they could move there, or not, making contact with the inhabitants because they didn’t want to perform a forceful invasion…
They had found homes for most of the sentient races on their world- a planet called ‘Equus’- but had yet to find one that they liked.
Part of the problem was that, in the few worlds they’d found that were suitable, they’d contacted the local government…  which had decided to fight them before they understood anything, causing them to lose agents.
And Earth…  Earth was the most suitable world they’d found yet- despite having ambient magic densities too low for their native magic to function.  She specified the date that the portal had been opened, nearly five years before- he checked his records, three days after the fateful prophecy, which wouldn’t have survived a blow from another universe like that!  But, four of her scouts had just successfully completed the first year of their Hogwarts educations and demonstrated wand magic for her back in Equestria.
Those scouts were aged anywhere from thirty to a hundred and thirty years old.  Apparently, these ‘Equestrians’ had a lifespan of about three hundred years…  but upon crossing the portal, were transformed into eleven-year-old children, regardless of prior age.  As such, they would all get invited to Hogwarts…  and Princess Celestia’s expectation was that a majority of the population would accept such an offer.  While every last one of her people were magical, only about a third could produce ‘active magic’ like that producible with a wand- yet wands ignored the difference and worked for everyone.
Thus, as Hogwarts would likely be the first to feel the impact of any mass exodus onto Earth, she figured he would be the best point of contact, and that perhaps he could explain it to the ‘politicos’ in such a manner that they didn’t go off half-cocked.
He took a deep breath, let it out, and read the letter again.
Then he set it on his desk, and headed for the Ministry.





Dumbledore stopped in front of one of the shelves in the Hall of Prophecy, buried deep in the Department of Mysteries under the Ministry of Magic.  “Rainbow powder,” he observed.
Saul Croaker, the generic name used by the Unspeakable that had guided him in, looked at it.  “That one too, huh?” he muttered.
Dumbledore looked questioningly at him.
“Some five years ago now, a vast majority of active prophecies suddenly broke, like that.  We haven’t been able to discern what caused it.”  He drew his wand and tapped it…  then named the exact date that Princess Celestia’s letter said the portal was opened.  “That would’ve been one of them.  We must’ve missed it.”
He facepalmed.  “Three Days,” he grumbled.  “That prophecy was valid for just three days before they broke it!”
“They ?” Croaker asked, turning to look at him.
He nodded.  “A country from another world,” he muttered.  “That was the date they opened their interdimensional portal.  Apparently, their world will collapse in a couple hundred years, so they’re looking for a new one to move into.”  He sighed.  “And if I’d known…  If I’d known, I wouldn’t have guided Voldemort into Marking the hero of my choice.”
“Harry Potter,” Croaker observed.  “It seems a good thing he was Marked, though.”
He sighed.  “Without the prophecy, there was no guarantee that it would be a marking rather than simple murder, even with the steps I took to prevent Harry’s death.  And on top of that…  Harry has become a horcrux of Voldemort’s.”
There was a pause.
“Oh,” Croaker sighed darkly.  “You…  have a plan?”
He nodded.  “I’m going to have to raise him up to martyr himself against Voldemort.  In the meantime, I have yet to locate his final Horcrux; I intend to destroy them all at once and pounce on him before he has a chance to make another.”
Croaker rubbed his chin.  “How many has he made?”
“Seven total.  Harry, the Locket of Helga Hufflepuff, held in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts-!”
“That’s a violation of the Treaty.”
He nodded.  “It is- I’m not sure how I’m going to reach it yet.  Then there’s Slytherin’s locket, protected by inferi and a particularly troublesome potion in a cave off the coast; the Gaunt ring, containing the Resurrection Stone from the Deathly Hallows, protected by a truly ridiculous set of curses that I’m considering hiring a cursebreaker for.  The Diadem of Ravenclaw, within the walls of Hogwarts somewhere; I’ve yet to determine exactly which room it’s hidden in, but it’s got basically no protections.
“The last two are Voldemort’s pet snake, a Maledictus named Nagini, who I am using to track Voldemort’s phantom…  and a diary from his days at Hogwarts, though its location is still a mystery.”
“Hmm.  Unless he’s done some pretty serious soul reinforcement magics, destroying just…  three of them in short order, or two if it’s simultaneous, ought to trigger a soul collapse.”
He scowled.  “I wouldn’t put that past him.  There were signs of a sacrifice-based reinforcement ritual having been executed at Harry’s attempted murder.”
“Damn,” Croaker cussed.  “If he’s been using sacrifice-powered reinforcement magics, we could probably nuke all of his horcruxes all at once and it wouldn’t really bother him.”
“Exactly.”  He paused.  “Nuke?”
“Muggle expression,” Croaker answered.  “A ‘nuke’, or nuclear weapon, is among the most powerful of muggle weapons, capable of leveling entire cities with a single bomb.”
He shuddered.  “They really have left wizardkind in the dust, haven’t they?”
He nodded.  “The way I hear it, it’s only thanks to active cooperation by Muggle governments around the world- and the unverifiable nature of various magic sightings- that the Statute of Secrecy hasn’t collapsed already.”
“And it is by that mercy that we still live,” he muttered softly.





It took Dumbledore a good three hours to decide exactly how he was going to write his response to Princess Celestia’s letter, then another two to write it.  He hadn’t been able to confirm her claims about her universe- but he had been able to confirm the portal date and time.
So he started with the Dark Lord Voldemort.  He informed her that he wasn’t truly dead, merely delayed, and of what steps were being taken- in a general sense- to see him defeated, once and for all.  He made passing mention of his ‘politico’ titles, mentioned the laws around magic in general and underage magic in particular that might be important, and asked after the total population that would need to transit.  He made sure he never once even implied that he was giving permission for what he dubbed their ‘apologetic invasion’- but he also never implied that he was refusing or dismissing it.  He simply wanted to know more about it before making a decision.
He then went on to discuss the various options for magical education, including other schools, and the near-certainty that any of their people that crossed would receive a magically-generated Hogwarts letter if they remained in Britain.  He also discussed the likelihood of citizens still in Equestria to receive such a letter, provided the portal was synchronized with the scan magic and was located in Britain.  He implied that the portal synchronization could be keyed to limit the number of invitations that would cross the gateway, and that such invitations could be used to control the rate of population flow in the event that the Apologetic Invasion was executed.
He mentioned currencies, and how they might convert, as a side note- then discussed the issues with high magical densities.  The people of Equestria- or ‘Equestrians’, he dubbed them- seemed to be well-adapted to high ambient magic levels, but humans would actually be killed by too high of the same.  Magic Poisoning, it was called; Hogwarts had one of the highest ambient levels on the planet, for populated areas, and also had extensive warding to protect its occupants from any negative effects from the same.  He also indicated that wizards could use ‘wandless’ magic as well; it was believed to come directly from their soul rather than from their wand, as wand magic did.  He asked if that might be similar to how the Equestrian magic worked, and if so, if it was perhaps a technique difference or the like.
He did not, after all, want to strip the people of the magics they were used to unless he absolutely had to.
He made sure to ask about the age situation; considering they had a lifespan of three hundred years, if a two-hundred-ninety-year-old crossed the portal, would they have a full human lifespan ahead of them, or something different?  And if one crossed at a younger age than eleven, would they cross as an eleven-year-old, or as their true age- and what lifespan would they be able to expect?
Speaking of lifespan, was it possible that their three-hundred-year lifespan relied on their ambient magic densities?
Finally, he closed it, sealed it, addressed it…  and sent it back the way Princess Celestia’s letter had come:  By owl, to what was presumably one of her scouts.
> Chapter 3:  Nine Years
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next nine years were busy, Dumbledore would have to admit.  Princess Celestia was intrigued by his willingness to actually consider her people’s needs and, while she wasn’t completely married to his world yet, she cheerfully worked with him to prepare for the transfer on a ‘contingent’ basis…  for the first seven years of it, at least.  The last two- Dumbledore had the incongruous thought that they were also the last two years before Harry would come to Hogwarts- they had agreed to finalize the movement, and began the attunement of the portal.
Throughout the entire time, the Princess sent a few more scouts each year, resulting in a slow but steady stream of her Equestrians flowing through Hogwarts, just four or five a year.  These same Equestrians would be entering the workforce post-graduation, and were going to be their keys to a smooth quadrupling of the worldwide magical population.
After all, there were a total of approximately one million witches and wizards on Earth, with about eleven thousand of them located in Britain.
Equestria, on the other hand, had over three million citizens, every single one magical.  On top of that, judging by a poll Celestia sent out to her people in 2019, some eighty percent of them would be entering British society through Hogwarts!
Throughout those nine years, Dumbledore silently pushed various new laws through in preparation of their appearance…  often well-camouflaged as something completely different.
Some of them didn’t need camouflaging.  There were multiple anti-discriminatory laws on the books, thanks to decades of posturing and compromises- so anything he put forwards that the pure-blooded nobles saw as anti-muggleborn, they would rubber-stamp.
As an excellent example that had actually been Celestia’s idea, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery had been struck from the books as preventing aspiring pure-blooded students from keeping up their skills at home.  After all, without practicing, they would forget much of what they learned, forcing teachers to spend an excessive amount of time on review each year.  So were the various laws that, together, required any given student to achieve passing scores on at least three of their OWLs to retain wand rights outside of active schooling.  That had been a slam-dunk after he had proved that it was possible to pass three OWLS without even owning a wand, with any three of History of Magic, Astronomy, Herbology, and Potions.
In their place stood the new Statute of Wand-Use Privileges.  No longer would students be reminded they couldn’t do magic at home; instead, they would be allowed to do magic at home, provided they stayed within the Statute of Secrecy.  That way, pure-blooded families would no longer have to pretend their children weren’t practicing magic over the summer.
And of course, the part that had let him paint it as anti-muggleborn:  Wands were much more tightly controlled because of that Statute.  New students were allowed to acquire them and take them home, as usual…  but in order to keep them, they would need to pass annual testing to verify that they could use the wand safely.  Thus, even though muggleborn had a better safety record than pure-bloods (a fact he carefully hadn’t pointed out), the ‘smart pure-blooded children’ would all take their wands home to study while the ‘dangerous muggle-born’ would be forced to surrender their wands for the summer.  Students studying at a registered school- such as Hogwarts- would be able to use their wands for school purposes while at the school; students studying at unregistered schools, or being home-schooled, would have to visit the Ministry of Magic itself and pay a ‘study fee’ for the privilege of using their wand in a Ministry-approved testing and practice area for a day.
Normal take-it-home rights could, of course, be reinstated by passing the test the following year- and once they came of age and passed that test while of age, further testing would become optional.
Unless, of course, they were caught doing something dangerous (to others, they were allowed to endanger themselves) or (highly) illegal with their wand (Dumbledore carefully didn’t mention that muggleborn rarely ever did anything bad, yet hundreds of purebloods had turned Death Eater).  If they did, their wand rights would immediately be revoked and their wand- or wands- confiscated and, depending on the severity of the offense, destroyed.  Such revocation would require much, much stricter testing to lift, depending on the offense that caused it.
All the way up at the International Confederation of Wizards, The Statute of Secrecy was reworded so it was clear that doing magic in front of muggles that already knew about magic, and those related to or living with a witch or wizard, was perfectly fine.
A part of Dumbledore’s mind wanted to insist that these changes were only going to benefit the Equestrians, who were- mostly, at least- grown adults in children’s bodies, yet when he inspected them himself, the changes were long overdue.
Why hadn’t he thought of them long before?
A jungle of other laws, some sneaky and some not, helped to boost magical industry to a point that products were starting to come down in price- and the pure-bloods were ecstatic, as they were now able to hold onto more of their family wealth, though the craftsmen in question were…  understandably less so.
He made sure not to pass the most impactful of those laws until after mass Equestrian attendance was guaranteed- but they really needed to be passed as soon as possible in the face of such attendance.  They were designed to help alleviate the nightmare that would be the Hogwarts Shopping Season of 2021, the first year with a large number of Equestrians in it- and, incidentally, Harry Potter’s first year.
During the prior schooling year, he visited the portal and- mindful of how lethal it would be for him to cross- helped them to finish attuning it to Hogwarts’ attendance search magic…  and limit the number of new students it could send invitations to.
The first year, the 2021 school year, would have an estimated eight hundred Equestrian first-years in it, or about twenty times as many as usual- nearly three times the normal total student population of the Castle!
The Elves were warned, Hogwarts’ supply lines were warned, and even the craftsmen in Diagon Alley were warned- and since he warned them with official proclamations from Hogwarts, several of those craftsmen pushed themselves to the very brink of bankruptcy in an effort to make sure they had enough stock for the massive surge of students.
They still didn’t have enough stock, with two notable exceptions- Ollivanders’ Wands and Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions- but at least they’d have enough to where students would be able to place backorders at the shops and expect to receive their needed items before getting on the Hogwarts Express.
He sent a few less-official letters to some of his favorite craftsmen- which included both Ollivander’s and Madam Malkin’s- advising them that he was expecting an unconfirmed doubled number of first-years for the following year, and if he was right, they’d need double- or, in some cases, triple- the stock the following year.  He made sure to mention in those letters, in an ‘off-hand’ sort of way, that building such a stock might be difficult with the current, reduced prices.





Those nine years weren’t idle for the…  entity that had used to be Lord Voldemort, either.  As a matter of fact, they were also quite interesting.  For one thing, even though the spell she’d used was supposed to preserve her sex, all three of her reincarnated…  selves were girls.
For another, she found she enjoyed being those girls…  even if she sometimes wished she hadn’t made so many.  All three of her were viewed as at least a little bit strange by their families and peers; while she did have three brains to work with, she still only had one mind, which had the peculiar effect of allowing her to react to things- particularly surprise- with the wrong body.
Of course, she didn’t dare tell any of her three sets of parents that she was actually three people with one mind.  Not even the muggle set.
There were, of course, a few interesting factoids she’d uncovered over the years before the first of her would go to Hogwarts in 2021.  For example, while the first and third of her were nearly three years apart by a margin of a month and a half, they would be only two Hogwarts years apart.  Why?  The first of her was born on September 19th, 2009, meaning she’d turn twelve a mere eighteen days, a hair over two and a half weeks, into her first year at Hogwarts.  She was also a muggleborn with loving parents, a completely new experience for her despite having grown up in a muggle orphanage in her first life.  She’d carefully suppressed her magic in that self, preventing any accidental magic from showing, in an effort to live out that entire life in the muggle world; unfortunately, her Hogwarts letter arrived a couple months before her twelfth birthday.  She had to be very careful to avoid looking disappointed at being offered an opportunity to learn magic, especially as she’d spent so much of her time learning anything and everything she could.  It’d look weird if the only thing she didn’t want to learn about was magic!
That said, she figured her parents were right to be doubtful when the letter showed up.  They’d never seen her do anything that could be considered ‘magic’, after all- and she hadn’t done any when they weren’t around, either!
The suppressed Accidental Magic had to go somewhere if she didn’t want to turn herself into an Obscurial, though- and fortunately, she had just the place:  Her other two selves.  Primarily the second of her, born August 11th, 2011- twelve days after her targeted birthdate.  She would incidentally be one of the youngest first-years at Hogwarts when she went there in 2022, whereas the first of her would be one of the oldest.  As the youngest of a family of seven children (she couldn’t help but laugh whenever she thought about that), and the only girl in the family besides her mother, she’d developed an ‘older-than-she-looks’ type of personality and become the terror of the house.
She’d practically whipped her brothers into shape- though she hadn’t even tried to restrain the Twins enthusiasm for pranks, merely direct it in a more constructive direction.  Perhaps they would be the end to her family’s financial woes?
She tried to keep the third of her as ‘ordinary’ as possible, especially as she had been born to one of the oldest pureblood families there were- and a ‘Grey’ one at that, one that had refused both to turn Death Eater…  and to fight against them.  One of the neutral families that simply wanted to sit back and keep the world functioning while they let people like Voldemortis and Dumbledork- that’s what they called them- figure out who was going to rule it.
She’d had to laugh- all three of her- when she’d found out that ‘Voldemort’ was actually French, and meant something like ‘flees from death’.
Unfortunately, though, for one person living in three bodies, ‘ordinary’ is a thing of the past.  Not that she’d ever been an ordinary child, even the first time around; she’d always had abnormally active Accidental Magic, and she’d always been highly intelligent, too.
On top of that, the third of her- born July Thirty-First, 2012, exactly on her target birthdate, and even an hour before midnight- was her main source of information on the magical political landscape.  After all, the second of her lived in a family that didn’t talk politics much, beyond ‘this is what Dumbledore says’ and ‘Dumbledore’s restructuring the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office’- and the first of her had no contact with the magical world until her Hogwarts letter arrived.
She had to wonder, on many occasions, what Dumbledore was thinking.  Her father supported many of Dumbledore’s measures, but she wasn’t sure that she would have, without first finding out what he was doing with them.  By reading between the lines, she figured out that he was either trying to cause the magical economy to collapse…  or trying to prepare for some massive influx of new members.  Why?
Then there were the various laws that decoupled age from so many restrictions, tying them to ability instead.
Why?
It was like he was preparing for a massive influx of adults in childrens’ bodies!  It was like he’d completely forgotten about Voldemort!
Was he, perhaps, preparing a mass-resurrection ritual to bring back the people Voldemort had killed?  Or something else of…  dubious goodwill?
Because he was definitely planning something, and she could only guess at what.
She heaved a collective sigh as Minerva McGonagall, the latest Deputy Headmistress and Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, visited the first of her to make her parents stare by demonstrating magic…  and decided to act like it was old news to her, like she’d learned to control her Accidental Magic early.
She technically had, after all.
> Chapter 4:  Owls
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Does anyone know where all the owls went?”
All the Professors in the room blinked, and Dumbledore suppressed a wince.  He’d been so busy with the logistics of the numbers that he’d forgotten to tell his teachers how many students were going to be coming this year!  As it was, today was the day that the first wave of letters would have been sent…  and Hogwarts only had six hundred or so owls.  “Ahh,” he began.  “I believe the new student invitations went out today.”
Everyone looked at him.
“We have over five hundred owls,” Professor McGonagall observed bluntly.
“Six hundred,” Dumbledore corrected, “and eight.”
She rolled her eyes.  “And the record was a hundred and eighty-three invitations in one year almost thirty years ago.”
He shrugged.  “We have one thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight invitations this year.”
“Thousand,” McGonagall echoed.
He nodded.  “A bunch of foreign students from another universe, believe it or not.  Saw the portal myself.”
“Have you, perchance, hired additional Professors to teach them?” Professor Sprout asked faintly.
“Ahh-!”  He paused.  “Good point, I must’ve been too busy making sure they wouldn’t break the economy.”
She facepalmed.  “A class of five hundred won’t fit in any classroom in this School, let alone the greenhouses.”
He rubbed his chin.  “Well, basically all of the foreign students- Equestrians- are actually grown adults in childrens’ bodies,” he mused.  “We’ve actually already got a few in the school- those few funny-haired students each year.”
It was Snape’s turn to rub his chin.  “Perhaps we could find the best of them, and have them pass on what they learned?  I do not fancy working disaster-control for a couple hundred students at once.  Do you, Mr. Filch?”  He looked, but Filch had already ducked silently back out of the room, having evidently decided he didn’t want to know what was coming next.
“I don’t fancy the idea of hoping our picked teachers remember everything on their own either,” Professor Sprout added.  “They might only be teaching first-years, but some of our material can be incredibly dangerous if they teach it wrong.”
“Perhaps if we double them up, then,” Flitwick observed.  “Scare together a team of skilled Equestrians to teach these…  Student Instructors how to take good notes and teach effectively, then I expect we could use upper-year British students as well.”
Dumbledore nodded slowly.  “Yes, that’s a possibility.  What do you think, Aurora, Cuthbert?”
Aurora Sinistra, Professor of Astronomy, shrugged.  “I already do a lot of that- there are only five weekday midnights a week, and I have to teach seven midnight classes, as you know.  I do first and sixth together, then second and seventh as the other pair, and have the more on-the-ball upper-years help out the lower-years on a team basis.”
“Team,” Dumbledore muttered, rubbing his chin.  “Hmm, good point.  If we’re going to instigate a Hogwarts Student Instructor Program, it needs a management team that reports to us, because none of us will have time to manage it directly ourselves.  I expect we can pick those from the best Student Instructors with the most extra free time?”
“They could also be our Instructor-teacher team,” Flitwick suggested.
“Probably a good idea,” McGonagall observed.  “I don’t think our two hundred and thirty-six second-and-higher year students are going to be enough to teach all subjects to a thousand first-years, so we’re going to have to pick first-year Student Instructors as well.  And use bloated class sizes, depending on exactly how many Instructors we can find.”  She sighed.  “And the only people I can think of that can pick Student Instructors before school starts would be the upper-year Equestrians that know their fellows.”
“True,” Dumbledore agreed.  “And of course, as we’re expecting Equestrian first year counts to double for the next few years running, a hierarchy might be good to put into the Student Instructors.”
“A hierarchy,” Flitwick observed, rubbing his chin.  “How about…  regular Student Instructors report to the Lead Student Instructor of their House, subject, and year, who is the best Instructor of said House, subject, and year.  Said Lead Instructor reports to the Head Student Instructor for the subject, who is the best Instructor school-wide, and may or may not also serve a Lead position as well.  That Head instructor would report to the Professor of their subject, and have a position on the Management Team you mentioned.  Then, the management team lead reports directly to the Headmaster.  On top of that, every Student Instructor, from the Lead level upwards, reports to their Head of House as well, and the Heads of House have broad authority to assign Lead and Head instructors within their House.”
McGonagall rubbed her chin.  “So what happens if, say, Severus assigns a Slytherin Head Instructor of Transfiguration, then I find someone better in Ravenclaw?”
“Each Professor ought to have the ‘supreme’ authority over the Head and Lead assignments of their subject,” Dumbledore decided, “except by majority vote of the Heads of House and Headmaster as a group.  And perhaps the Head Instructor can assign Leads as well?”
Snape nodded slowly.  “Works for me,” he agreed.  “I imagine the rest of us can send candidates without issue.  I’d also like to omit the LSI and HSI positions when there’s too few Instructors for them to oversee, and just have the lower levels they would oversee report to the Management Team Lead, as well as whichever official staff that the missing positions would.”
“LSI?” Cuthbert Binns, the ghostly Professor of History, suggested.  “What does that mean?”
“Lead Student Instructor,” Flitwick answered promptly.  “He’s abbreviating them.  And a good idea, too, it’ll make them easier to talk about.”
“I imagine our Lead and Head Instructors should have review and inspection duties on their lower ranks, as well as us Professors on them,” McGonagall suggested, “to make sure everyone’s getting an equal education, and we’re detecting…  deficits as quickly as possible.”
“Good point,” Dumbledore agreed.  “If we find at some point that it needs more levels in the hierarchy, we can worry about that then.”
“Perhaps,” Snape began, rubbing his chin.  “Perhaps, contingent upon Professor endorsement of their assignments, the HSIs and management team, possibly LSIs, should have point and detention powers, reporting to the Prefects of their House?”
“True,” Dumbledore nodded.  “Hmm…  First and second-years could report to the fifth-year Prefects, third and fourth to the sixth-year, then the top three to the seventh year Prefects.  That work?”





It happened at the zoo.
Vernon and Petunia Dursley had been unable to think of something to do with Harry Potter for their son Dudley’s birthday after the local cat-lady and babysitter, Mrs. Figg, broke her leg.  So, apparently afraid that he might convert the house into a crater in a similar manner as Dudley did aliens on his computer, they had taken him along to the zoo.
The zoo visit was…  boring, to say the least.  Even when they visited the reptile house- Harry already knew he could talk to snakes, as he’d meet one in the Dursleys’ garden from time to time.  As such, all it took was a quick request that the Boa Constrictor pretend that it wasn’t talking to him, and they weren’t interrupted.
Until, of course, someone with a particularly dusty cloak walked by while the Boa Constrictor- its name was ‘Slytherin’- was asking him if he’d begun to notice girls yet.
So, while he was thinking about his answer- he actually had to think about it, because he…  sorta had, but mostly hadn’t- he sneezed.
It happened at the zoo.
The snake, resting its head lazily on its coils while they talked, raised its head to look at him.  “Huh.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.”
He blinked slowly, still processing the sudden…  shockwave of tingling the sneeze had sent through his entire body.  “What?” he asked Slytherin.  It was an interesting name for a snake, a play on ‘slither in’ if he translated it into English- yet, in the snake language that he could apparently speak without thinking, it was a pun against ‘slither forth’ instead.
“You’ve changed,” Slytherin observed.
He glanced down at his hands, resting on the railing in front of the cage, and back up again.  “I have?” he asked.  To be fair, his hands did look slightly smaller, and something felt different about his voice box…  which he wasn’t using to speak Parseltongue; no, that was all in his lips, tongue, and teeth.
Which felt a bit different too, but it didn’t seem to affect his parseltongue voice.
Then there was a series of sharp cracks behind him, like someone had stomped on a piece of exceptionally loud bubble wrap.  He jumped, letting out a small gasp of alarm as he spun around.
“Obliviate!” cried one of the cloaked people that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.
“Sure is handy that we don’t have to clutter the Trace with underage magic detection anymore, isn’t it?” another one asked.
“Definitely,” the first agreed.  “All those exceptions kept it from detecting a lot of Statute breaches too.  Hmm, that family already knew,” he continued, gesturing towards where Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley had backed against a wall, staring at them in horror.
“What the-!?” the third of the men gasped suddenly, and turned sharply away from Harry.  “Auror, could you, ahh, transfigure her…?”  He gestured over his shoulder.
The only girl of the group of four turned to look at Harry.  “Her what?” she began, then blinked- and her hair changed in an instant from bubblegum pink to a bright, candy apple red.  “O-Oh,” she stuttered, then stepped towards Harry, a wooden stick of some sort held in her hand.  “Um, why are you wearing that?” she asked.
“Uh-!” Harry began, and paused.  The voice that came from his mouth wasn’t his own, but he found it pleasant.  “It was…”  He trailed off, searching for an acceptable excuse to be wearing Dudley’s oversized castoff- it probably looked to her like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin.  It did to him, whenever he looked in the mirror.  “It was what I had…?”
“That,” she said, her voice suddenly a lot sterner, “is what you had?  Don’t your guardians provide you with proper clothes?”
“Nothing that fits,” Harry answered honestly, even though he doubted anything would come of it.  The Dursleys always managed to explain away his elephant skins- Harry’s ‘affectionate’ name for Dudley’s castoffs- any time Child Services got called on them.  “Only Dudley’s castoffs.”
The woman’s jaw clicked shut firmly, and Harry saw what looked like absolute fury in her eyes.  Then she raised her stick…  and there was a flash of light.
Harry felt a sudden swish of fabric and air against his legs.
He looked down.
His elephant skins were gone, and in their place, he was wearing a long but dainty dress.
Not only that, but there were a couple of small bumps on his chest…  in a position that would easily have been left exposed by Dudley’s castoff shirt.  He never passed them down without first busting the top few buttons.  “Ah-!” he began.
“So where was your family again?” the woman asked, a note of what struck Harry as artificial kindness in her voice.  She was absolutely furious, though apparently not at him.
“Ah-!” he began again.  “The Dursleys are…”  He trailed off, looking down as he took a step to the side to get a clear view of the Dursleys.  The feeling of the dress swirling around his ankles was so strange.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“N-No,” he stuttered.  “It’s-  It’s just-!”  He paused, then decided to go with the truth, and nervously clasped his hands together over his belly.  It felt weird to do that, like his belly was a different shape than usual or something.  “It’s the first time I’ve ever worn a dress,” he muttered softly.
She blinked.  “Oh, sorry, it’s…”  she paused.  “It’s the only thing I know how to make, sorry about that.  Um, where were the, ahh, Dursleys, was it?”
He nodded.  “Over there.  The kid that’s wider than he is tall is Dudley.”  It was an exaggeration, but not much of one- and judging by how her face contorted when she saw the Dursleys, she didn’t think it was enough of one.
He could practically feel her hand itching to point her stick at them too, but she held it firmly down by her side as she led him towards them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley?” she asked.
Both adult Dursleys looked up cautiously, but acknowledged their names.
“What?” Vernon demanded sharply.
“Is this your daughter?” she asked.
“Nephew,” Harry corrected automatically.  If she was calling him their daughter…  then it must not be just him, and he must have actually somehow turned into a girl.  Which would make him a niece rather than a nephew, he supposed.  Eh, too late.
The woman seemed to have noticed.  “Nephew…?” she asked softly, looking confusedly down at Harry.
“Y-Yes, that’s our nephew,” Vernon snarled.  “What’d he mess up this time?”
The woman closed her eyes, schooled her face into nonexpression, and turned to look back up at Vernon, before gesturing towards Dudley.  “And is this your…  son, Mr. Dudley?”
Dudley flinched at being addressed like that.  Harry suppressed a smirk- as nice as it was to see the bully uncomfortable for once, he probably would have reacted the same way if the woman had called him ‘mister’ or ‘missus’.  No, ‘miss’, ‘missus’ was for married women…  and it would have made him raise his eyebrows even higher, he’d have to admit.
“Yes, he is?” Petunia asked, sounding as confused as the woman had been a moment before.
The woman sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand.  Then she lowered her hand.  “Alright.  Does your…  niece, nephew, whichever, live with you?”
“Uh-  Yes,” Vernon said haltingly, also confused.
“Then I am officially charging you with one count of willful neglect of a child and one count of willful neglect of a magical child.  If you don’t want to go to magical prison, then when I visit your house with Magical Child Services the day after tomorrow, your son had better be on a diet, and your…  relative,” she gestured vaguely at Harry, “had better be properly fed and clothed.”
> Chapter 5:  Rescue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry wasn’t sure what to think when the front door suddenly flew open during what would normally have been breakfast.
The last day and a half or so, since that visit to the zoo…  had been stressful.  Once the strange people had left- he never did find out what the color-changing-haired woman’s name was- he had found out, courtesy of Dudley, that while he was faster as a girl…  he was also weaker.  Easier to avoid him in open terrain, but the blows hurt more when they landed- and, he’d found out when they got home, he bruised easier as well.
He’d also found out that the dress the woman had given him tore easier than Dudley’s cast-offs did; Dudley and his friend Piers Polkiss, who had been using the bathroom when the transformation thing had happened, had started shredding it almost as soon as they caught him.  The only reason Petunia had stopped them was because she was worried about what people would think if she allowed her family to be associated with a ‘streaker’.
Then they’d gotten home, and Vernon had taken his turn at beating Harry…  and he wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him he was lucky to have survived it.  He’d been covered in blood at the end- mostly his own- and had sported lots of broken bones.
Then he’d been thrown into his cupboard without dinner.
He had struggled to fall asleep, still as a girl and wearing the fragmented remains of the dress, all the while wondering if he’d ever wake up again.
When he’d awoken…  he’d done so as a completely uninjured boy once again.  The dress had even turned back into some of Dudley’s castoffs- albeit still ripped to shreds.  Oh well, he had…  two outfits left.
The Dursleys had been shocked to find him back as usual, and the day had gone on, also as usual.  This included another beating, of course, though his stronger male body withstood the blows a lot better; none of his bones broke, he only got a lot of bruises.
Around midday, Petunia had dragged him forcefully out to the car to demand he do the ‘girl thing’ again so they could get the clothes ‘those people’ wanted them to.
She was afraid of going to…  they had called it ‘magical prison’, right?  He wondered what made it so terrifying that even Petunia had a shadow of utter terror in her eyes at the mention of it.
He’d had to tell her he didn’t know what had done it.
So she had driven out of town.  Harry had wondered why Dudley and Vernon weren’t with them; Petunia hated driving.  She also hated answering his questions, so he hadn’t found out why.
He could guess, though.  Both boys had been enraged at the sight of his female form, and Petunia needed him to be in one piece long enough to buy clothes that would fit ‘well enough’.
And she was afraid that, if the ‘people’ didn’t see his female form, they would think she and Vernon had dumped him on the streets and replaced him.
It took close to an hour to figure out what it was- and quite a few slaps from Petunia telling him not to be silly.
Well, she shouldn’t have; it was one of his silly ideas that had borne fruit:  He…  sneezed.  While thinking about girls.
The flash of light was unexpected…  but his suddenly getting shorter, and having things that needed hiding on his chest, was expected.  It was a good thing he’d already used a piece of thread from the frayed edges of some of his socks to tie the top of his shirt shut in place of the busted buttons; nothing was unduly exposed, and they’d had a…  rather uneventful shopping trip, in which Petunia had gotten Harry three dresses…  which were all the fanciest, frilliest, poofiest ones she could find.  No doubt she’d claim it was all the store had, but at least it was clothes.
Nothing else, though- and as he found out, he really did need some kind of undershirt or something, because his…  chest bumps, whatever they were called, had really sensitive spots in the middle of each one.  Maybe that was what that…  weird-shaped kind of girls’ underwear was for- the one Petunia hadn’t let him go anywhere near?
Not that she’d let him go anywhere near the more normally-shaped kind either, but that was beside the point.
When they’d gotten home…  Harry had hidden himself away in a hurry.  He’d then waited for the entire rest of the day; while all the broken bones had seemed to be mended, they were also all tender, and Harry got the idea that they weren’t actually healed, only barely set in place, and as such very easily re-breakable.
Then came this morning.  The night before, Petunia had forced him to change into one of the dresses and give her all of the elephant skins he had left.  The dress was terribly uncomfortable, but it was what he had.
It was all he had, actually.  This morning, he’d picked the least flashy of the three and, despite still being male, dressed in it.  It was tight; he was slightly larger as a boy, especially in the shoulders, but he managed to get it on without busting any seams.
He knew what all three Dursleys would do if he dared emerge from his cupboard naked, after all.
He’d started making breakfast.
Then Vernon had entered…  and flown into a rage.
He’d dodged the first blow and fled- but the dress had gotten in his way.  He’d tripped on it in the hallway, and gone down face-first- then before he could recover, Vernon had caught up and begun beating him to a pulp.
By the time the door opened, he could feel several broken bones.  As near as he could tell, the only way for him to survive would be to turn himself into a girl…  and hope that his bones would knit themselves together when he did, as they had the first of the two nights.
There was a barked word Harry didn’t catch and a bright flash of scarlet light, then Vernon flew away from him, howling in rage.  Another flash of light, and his voice was muffled; he’d evidently been tied up.
He knew what had happened.
He concentrated on girls…  and focused the rest of his mind on sneezing.  It took him a few seconds, but he managed it.
The sneeze was insanely painful…  but as he’d hoped, he could feel his bones click back together like a puzzle.
He was alive…  and the People had arrived, so he would probably remain so for a few minutes longer.  Perhaps they’d even see how much of a danger they were to him!





Junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks was basically nothing but nerves as she led a representative from Magical Child Services- a branch of St. Mungo’s- and four other Aurors, including Director Amelia Bones herself, up the walk of Number Four, Privet Drive.
She’d known, when she’d leveled the neglect charges against the Dursleys, that it would be her case- even if all child abuse or neglect cases were required, by law, to involve the Director.
It was quite the first case to have; she’d graduated from Auror School literally the day before she’d run into the Dursleys on her first assignment.  And here she suddenly had such a huge case, which required her to lead it until it was fully resolved, which would basically never happen for an abuse or neglect case until the child came of age!
The Healer, Director Bones, and all four Aurors had read her report from the initial…  event.  They knew what to expect- even if all the Aurors, even the Director, were technically only there to support or witness her in her case.
She froze for a fraction of a second as she approached the front door.  The yelling coming from behind it-!  That couldn’t be good.
Her wand flashed up and she nearly blew the door off its hinges, but managed to switch to a far less destructive ‘Alohomora’ at the last second.  She did overpower the spell quite significantly, though, causing the door to burst open and smash the handle against the inside wall.
She had perhaps a half a second to see what was happening inside- Mr. Dursley was sitting on top of someone that looked like the girl, pummeling her with his fists- before Director Bones overpowered a disarming charm to send him soaring down the hall and through the kitchen door with an ungainly shriek.
She bolted in after the charm, the Healer and Director on her heels.  It took her about a second to cover the girl, silence Mr. Dursley by hog-tying him with a binding charm, and verify that there was nobody in position to endanger them, before turning back to look inquisitively at the Healer…  and to realize that it actually wasn’t the girl.  A boy was lying on the floor, wearing a frilly- and very bloodied- dress.  His hair was as black as the girl’s had been, so it was easy to mistake them.
The Healer brandished her wand silently at him…  then, just as silently, shook her head.
Director Bones then sucked in a sudden breath and reached up to brush a lock of the boy’s hair away from his forehead.
Tonks blinked.
She recognized him.
That was Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived!
Then he sneezed, and turned into the girl.
“What the-!?” the Healer began in alarm.
Amelia only stared for a second, before standing to turn to the other four aurors.  “What are you waiting for?” she demanded.  “Arrest that man for attempted murder of the Lord and sole surviving member of a Noble and Most Ancient House!”
“O-Of what?” the girl- Harry- asked, sitting up while the Healer watched Amelia.
That earned…  Him?  Her?  Them a number of stares.  Their voice was still pained, but it looked like they no longer had any broken bones.
Director Bones looked at them for a second, then back up to the other Aurors as they moved to obey.  “And this case is strictly confidential,” she commanded.
Tonks nodded.  That order would keep the news that Harry Potter could apparently turn into a girl by sneezing from being revealed to the public.
She lowered herself down in front of Harry.  “Um…  Harry, right?” she asked.
“Uh- Y-Yeah,” the girl muttered.  “You’re…  color-changing-hair?”
She blinked.  She’d been kicking herself for forgetting to ask for the girl’s name back at the zoo, but had she really forgotten to introduce herself?
“Ah- Yeah,” she answered.  “Call me Tonks.  Where are the others?”
Harry pointed at the door Vernon had crashed through.  “In the kitchen,” they answered.  “Sounds like Petunia’s cooking and Dudley’s stuffing his face.”
She nodded faintly as the other four aurors walked into the kitchen.  One of them cried out.  “Holy Crap she wasn’t kidding!”  Then- “Why on earth are you feeding him that much?  Are you trying to kill him?”
“How are you feeling?” she asked.  “How badly does it hurt?”
“Not that bad, actually,” Harry observed, looking down at theirself.  “Most of the pain is residual now…  like I’m a completely different person.  Weird.”
“Very weird,” the Healer agreed, evidently nonplussed by whatever results she was getting from her scanning spells.
Harry gingerly touched their ribs.  “Still tender, though.  From the day before yesterday, not from…”
“What happened the day before yesterday?” Tonks asked, her tone darkening while her heart filled with dread.
There was a moment of silence.
“You don’t want to know,” they muttered just as darkly.
“They beat you up, didn’t they?” the Healer asked, her expression betraying a sudden, dark understanding.  Perhaps she was seeing the traces of not the injuries he’d just ‘healed’ but other injuries instead?  “Broke your bones?”
They looked at her, then sighed, and nodded.  “Not as bad as…  just now, though.”
“I should hope not,” Tonks told them- then forced herself to ask the question that might solve some of her confusion.  “So, um- what do you want me to call you?”
“I’m Harry,” they answered promptly, then paused.  “Though…  that isn’t a girls’ name, is it?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she told them.
They shook their head.  “No, no.  If I’m going to turn into a girl when I sneeze, I want to do it properly,” they asserted.  “And that means…  Hmm.”  They paused.  “Harry…  Harrey…  Halley…?  Hailey.”  They nodded.  “Hailey, when I’m…”  They glanced down.  “A girl.”
“...  Alright,” she muttered slowly.  “So…  ‘Hailey’ when you’re…  physically female, and ‘Harry’ when you’re physically male…?”
They nodded.  “Yeah.”
She rubbed her chin.  “And…  should the pronouns also do that?”  She paused for a second, then clarified in response to Harry…  Hailey’s confused expression.  “So that, um, She is Miss Hailey, and He is Mister Harry.”  She scowled.  “Why do I suck at this?” she asked rhetorically.
“Oh, I get it,” Har-Hailey nodded.  “So Hailey does girl things with Her actions, and Harry does boy things with His actions…  Wow, feels really weird to refer to myself in third person.”
“I bet,” Tonks agreed.  “But yeah, essentially.”
She shrugged.  “Sure, why not?”
“Ahh…”  She paused.  “Alright.  Um…  that- that raises another question.”  She met Hailey’s eyes.  “When I don’t happen to know which you happen to be at the time…  how should I refer to you?”
“Well, I’m-!”  She paused.  Then she frowned, and finally rubbed her chin.  “That’s…  that’s a good question.  Maybe as Harry because that’s what I’m used to…?”
She nodded as well.  “Makes sense to me.  Let me know if that changes, though, please.  Um…”  She glanced down at the dress.  “That…  gown.  Is that what they got you?”
She shrugged.  “Well it fits,” she observed bluntly.  Then she glanced down at it.  “Er…  this is- was- the tamest of the bunch.”





Three days later, a parchment envelope arrived in the mail.  When Petunia opened and read it, she burst into tears, and Harry peered over her shoulder to read it as well.
Vernon Dursley had been sentenced to life in ‘Azkaban’ prison.





Three days after that, another letter informed them that Vernon had died in Azkaban Prison, having deliberately broken his own neck.  Petunia was devastated- though not as devastated as she was the following day, when Tonks returned for her weekly visit with Harry.  Harry had proper clothes of both genders and a real bedroom rather than the cupboard under the stairs, all thanks to some very strict orders the week before- and this week, Child Services decided that Petunia wasn’t taking care of Dudley properly, and took him away, kicking and screaming.
Harry noticed that Petunia seemed a little less aversive to him when he was in female form, so he started transforming himself for her.  It wasn’t long before he’d acquired the peculiar skill of being able to sneeze at will.
The house was quiet with neither Vernon nor Dudley in it.  Harry sneezed every morning, then Hailey did the cooking, gardening, and everything she could…  all the while staying out of Petunia’s way, and refilling the cleaners whenever Petunia got low.  That was what Petunia did when she got stressed out:  She began cleaning everything in sight.
Two weeks later, Tonks walked in to find Hailey holding Petunia while the older woman cried.  Interestingly, Tonks commented on seeing traces of red in Hailey’s hair when she’d done that, and used her own strange color-changing ability (apparently she was a ‘metamorphmagus’) to show her what it had looked like.
Then the mail had arrived, and Hailey fetched it.  There were a few letters on the doormat- and one of them looked like the check from Vernon’s life insurance.  Tonks had helped Hailey notify the company of Vernon’s death a week before, while Petunia had been crying over a bottle of bleach in the kitchen.
Another of them was, unexpectedly, addressed to Hailey, in an envelope of heavy parchment.  It wasn’t even paper, but parchment!  She stared at it for a few seconds, and the title before her name, then sighed, picked up all the mail, and headed back to the kitchen, where Petunia was just finishing up her meal.
“What is it?” Petunia asked.
“It looks like the life insurance check is here,” she observed.  “I’m sorry he…”
“Don’t be,” Petunia half-commanded her.  “He made his own choices.  I warned him not to!”  She took a deep breath.  “Didn’t…  Didn’t realize you were…”
“That Lily married into such a powerful family,” Hailey whispered.  Following the disaster that had gotten Vernon arrested, Tonks and her top-tier boss had explained what the Potters were to the Wizarding World.  Apparently, she was the sole surviving member of one of the most powerful magical noble families in the world:  The Grand Royal and Most Ancient House of Potter.  And of course, while her family outright owned a ruling majority in several countries’ magical governments, Britain was their home country, so this was where they lived- even though they only had five Wizengamot seats.  Her father had appointed Albus Dumbledore to one of them, and set him as proxy for the other four, just as he’d done with the two highly influential Potter seats on the International Confederation of Wizards:  One appointed, the other proxied, both to the same man.  Her family was so powerful that, by international law…  she was allowed to kill anyone that attacked or even just insulted her House, and endangering her (as the Head of House Potter) or her family, as Vernon had done, was a capital offense around the world.  So was abusing the same, except only if she formally forgave them, using words- and invoking magic- that were completely foreign to her.
It was rather fortunate nobody had witnessed Dudley beating her up, and Petunia had been on her best behavior in those first few encounters, so no charges had been leveled against them.
And that neglect wasn’t considered ‘abuse’ by that law, unless the perpetrator didn’t correct it promptly upon being notified.
Apparently, imprisonment for life in Azkaban was considered worse than capital punishment, hence why Vernon had gotten that- for the gruesome nature of his attack against her- instead of what Director Amelia Bones had called the ‘Veil of Death’, apparently the magical version of a hangman’s noose.
Petunia nodded, deftly picked up the official envelope, and left the room, headed for the office.
Then Tonks spoke up, looking at the mail pile.  “Did…  Did Hogwarts send your invitation by muggle post?” she muttered.
“Who?” Hailey asked, looking down at the pile, then paused.  “That was the magic school, right?”
“Yeah.  That’s the Hogwarts logo on the wax seal.”
She raised an eyebrow, and flipped the envelope to reveal the address, complete with the title.  “So when they invite Princess Hailey to Hogwarts…”
She blinked.  “...  Huh.  Muggle post, yet applying wizarding titles.”  She paused.  “Impersonating a title that you don’t have is a pretty big crime in either world, so I’d recommend not claiming the title in the muggle world until and unless you can confirm a muggle title that applies it.”  She rubbed her chin.  “Hmm.  I know you like, ahh, girlifying, but it’ll probably be a good idea to stay male for a day to do your Hogwarts shopping.  Turn girl in the middle if you want to get a female uniform as well, and all.”
She sighed.  “Whenever Petunia sees Harry…  It’s like she’s desperately holding herself back from doing something she’ll regret.  Yet she hugs Hailey with all her might…”  She sighed again.  “I guess I remind her of her little sister, my mother.”
“And Harry looks very much like James did,” Tonks observed.  “I wonder what she has against him?”
“Good question,” she agreed, “and I’m afraid to ask.”  She scowled.  “It might be…  easier if I just went to Hogwarts as Hailey.”  She rubbed the side of her head.  “I mean, I can girlify basically at will now- I’ve been able to get away with smaller sneezes lately, whereas at first they had to be so strong they hurt, even without healing my bones- but I can’t go back.  Well..  I can, but only if I sleep for a while.  And if I don’t get a good sleep- say, if I need to use the bathroom multiple times during the night- I don’t actually turn back at all.”  She sighed.  “So…  yeah.”
“I’m worried about what might happen if you go as Hailey, though,” Tonks confided.  “If you do, and sleep in the girls’ dormitories…  say one morning, one of the other girls decides to wake you up, and…”
She flinched.  “That would not be a comfortable morning,” she agreed, then rubbed her chin.  “Do…  Do you think I can request private accommodations?”
“Well, we already know you’re the Princess of a Grand Royal House, and if I remember right, anything Noble and up gets the right to use what’s called the Lord’s Quarters at Hogwarts if they want to.”  She scowled.  “As far as I know, you request it by bringing it up during the Sorting Ceremony?”
> Chapter 6:  Diagon Alley
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long before Voldemort found out what Dumbledore was doing.  Unusually, it wasn’t the third of her that learned about it; rather, it was the first of her, the muggleborn, that found out.
It was kinda hard to miss the forty or so funny-haired first-year students getting their Hogwarts shopping done at the same time as her.
It was also hard for her to miss, as a highly magically-attuned being (thanks to some of the rituals she’d had to cast to make the resurrection rituals possible), that their magical wellsprings were hundreds or thousands of times stronger than anyone else’s.  However, it didn’t seem like they could use that power, merely spill it into their surroundings.
She could only think of one explanation that would make sense:  They had to come from another universe.  And she knew she’d keyed that resurrection ritual to capture and use an interestingly powerful form of magic that had been floating through an interdimensional portal somewhere in Kent!  Obviously, there were now people coming through that portal too…  and going to Hogwarts?  Were they unable to use magic or something…?
Unless, perhaps they were adapted to manipulate ambient magic rather than direct from their wellsprings as humans were?  Their wellspring would still be able to talk to their wand, enabling them to use it, but without being able to feed it power directly from their wellsprings, they’d probably be on the weak side.
Perhaps she should change that?
She blinked as she waited for the goblins to finish exchanging money with her parents, then turned to look back towards the entrance.  That feeling- That signature- it felt like another of herself was entering the bank, but she wasn’t!
She wasn’t, but Harry Potter was…  and when she squinted her eyes, she recognized the magic patterns of a horcrux.
Damn!
It would be an easy fix, though.  The Killing Curse had a little-known fatal flaw:  It only worked once.  That was to say, if one managed to survive it the first time (which was a rather impressive feat, she had to admit, even though both she and Harry had done it), they would be completely immune to it forevermore.
The same did not apply to objects…  such as Horcruxes.
Which meant that, if she hit Harry with the Killing Curse…  it would knock the Horcrux clean off of him, but leave him unscathed and perfectly alive.
She needed a wand…  and a lack of witnesses.  Including Harry himself, preferably.
She smiled at him and waved, before remembering that this one of her was supposed to have no idea how to be friendly, blushing furiously, and burying her face in her mother’s side.  Then she peeked back up at him, only now noticing that he was accompanied not by one of the Dursleys or even school staff, but by an auror with galleon-gold hair.
Metamorphmagus.  Yes, the auror had that detail in her magical signature.  Was she trying to be funny?





As it was, Auror Tonks was trying to be funny.  When Harry had agreed that they had to ‘get gold’ before they could shop, she’d turned her hair gold, and he’d laughed.
It felt…  weird, somehow, to be a boy.  He was too used to being Hailey!
He had planned the morning out with Petunia the night before, so Petunia had gotten an early breakfast and retreated to her room before Harry emerged, got breakfast, and met Tonks on the front porch.  He had one of Hailey’s outfits- one of the ones with skirts, he preferred those to the ones with pants- in his backpack; he’d be returning as Hailey, armed with full sets of Hogwarts robes for both sexes.  He knew Petunia was expecting a morning similar to this morning for when he went to Hogwarts, so he could board the train as Harry…  but he also wanted to be ready in case he couldn’t sleep that night.
Visiting Gringotts was…  strange.  It wasn’t strange because of the weird-looking goblins, or the way he’d had to follow one to a back room to do some fancy stuff with a key, a piece of parchment, a quill, and a hat rack in order to reclaim his Vault…  Vaults.  His account, now finally passed down to him from his parents, which included so many vaults and so much gold.  It wasn’t strange because he had to descend into the Earth to withdraw money from the bank.  It wasn’t strange because the cart felt like a race car, or because he didn’t actually need his key to open the Vault they went to.  It wasn’t even strange because Tonks gave him a leather bag that fit way more coins than it should have and called it a ‘wallet’!
It was strange because a random girl with bushy brown hair waved at him in the lobby, before blushing furiously and hiding her face, as if she’d only just realized what she was doing.
He’d never had anyone react that way to realizing they were waving at him.  Usually they closed their waving hand and made a punch to his face, or perhaps threw something at him.  He always dodged it easily in either case; he did it all the time.
The girl hadn’t been there when they got back up to the lobby and, while Harry was mildly disappointed by that- he was curious to learn more about her- they moved on.
He would perform the whole shopping trip as Harry- as Famous Harry Potter, he was beginning to realize- then girlify for a second round.  He wouldn’t be getting nearly as much in that second round- just clothes, really- but even as they walked away from the bank, he found himself looking forward to it.
They had already been ambushed by eager wizards twice.





Eventually, Harry found a moment of respite in the final male stop of the day, having skipped Ollivanders’ Wands, which he’d visit later as Hailey:  Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.  Unlike so many of the other shop owners, who all looked like they were living both the best days of their lives and their worst nightmares both at once, even before they spotted him, Madam Malkin was unperturbed.  She stayed calm and professional despite the interesting financial woes he heard so many talking about- and when she saw him, and probably recognized him…  she didn’t show any sign that she knew who he was, even when she had to.
“Hogwarts, dear?” she asked kindly.
“Ah- Yes,” Harry informed her.
“Got the lot today,” she observed, picking a robe from a shelf and leading him to the back of the shop where another girl was being fitted for her robes- though she looked a lot older.  Perhaps she had outgrown her robes?  Her hair was, like about half of the people in Diagon Alley, interestingly colored, with dark and medium blue stripes…  flickering their way to her waist, giving the impression that she had a waterfall pouring out the back of her head.  “They weren’t kidding when they said they expected a lot of students this year.”  She sighed.  “I just hope they can teach them all.”
The blue-haired girl smiled.  “That’s what the Student Instructor Program is for,” she informed them- and, when both Harry and Madam Malkin turned inquisitive gazes on her, continued.  “Dumbledore wasn’t able to find additional Professors in time, though I rather suspect he forgot to look, so they’re starting a Student Instructor Program of some sort to make us teach them all.  Seems lazy at first glance, but perhaps he just wears too many hats?”
“Perhaps,” Harry agreed, despite not understanding much of what she’d said.  “How bad will it be?”
She shrugged.  “Well, I got the letter that explained the whole thing just last night…  and apparently I’m also going to be the Student Instructor Program Management Team Lead.  Who knew?”
“That’s a mouthful,” Harry agreed.
“Not as much as some of the titles I’ve heard.”
He snorted.  “Not as much as Her Majesty’s titles,” he agreed.
She seemed amused.  “Yes, Her Majesty the Queen Vanessa does have a rather lengthy title, doesn’t she?  Aside from that, I’m Aqua Fall, a lowly Commoner of Equestria.”
“Harry Potter,” Harry answered softly.  “An average boy that got attacked by a serial killer.”
She raised an eyebrow.  “A serial killer?  The Dark Lord Voldemort was a hell of a lot more than that, I’m pretty sure.”
“Terrorist?” Harry offered.  “Doesn’t really matter to me.  Famous because someone wanted to kill me.  What’s the point?”
“The point…?”  She paused.  “Hmm…   Good question.”





Aqua Fall seemed a pleasant person, but she was all too obviously aware of his fame and perhaps wary of it, causing her to be more than a little stiff.  Fortunately, she eventually left the shop with her new robes- and Madam Malkin, who either didn’t care about it or, unlike Aqua Fall, could tell that he didn’t really care about it, offered pleasant conversation.  For the most part, they talked about the weather- up until he decided to drop the bomb.
“Never liked the rain,” he agreed.  “Bit too wet for my tastes.  Snow on the other hand, that’s fun.  Cold, but it stays on the surface, so I don’t get as cold.  Anyways, um, on an unrelated topic…”  He glanced sideways at Tonks- whose hair promptly turned bronze, indicating that there was nobody else in the shop; Malkin’s assistant had gone out for lunch earlier.  “Um, do you know what happens when I sneeze?”
Malkin didn’t even blink.  “You turn into a girl, right?”
He blinked.  “Wha-?  How’d you guess?”
“Because everyone says that,” Malkin sighed, doing her magic on his boy’s robes.
He let out a sigh as well.  “Well, I mean it literally.”
“And I’ve heard that one too.”
He scowled, glanced at Tonks- her hair turned bronze again- and sneezed.
Madam Malkin paused, then turned to look back at her.
Nobody moved for about three seconds.
“That’d be the first time anyone’s actually proven their claim,” Malkin finally observed, still surprisingly calm.  “I assume you’ve brought an outfit in that backpack?”
Hailey nodded silently.
“And you’d like to get an extra female robe?”
“Ah- a second full set, actually.”  She rubbed her hair.  “The only way I’ve found to turn back involves sleeping, and if I don’t sleep well enough…  I don’t turn back.”
“...  Ahh.  Make sure you claim the Lord’s Quarters when you get to Hogwarts- you won’t want to be caught sleeping in either public dormitory as the opposite sex.  Just remember to ask the Hat for it.”  She paused.  “You’ll probably also want to inform the school matron, under healer-patient privilege, so excuses can be generated if you miss classes because of it…  but none of the other staff should need to be alerted.”
He blinked.  “You know-?”
“About the Grand Royal and Most Ancient House of Potter?  Yes, very few are unaware of the single most powerful magical family currently in existence.”





Hardly half an hour later, as she was walking down Diagon Alley with a thoroughly disguised Auror Tonks, Hailey had to decide that her transforming in Malkin’s had been a stroke of genius.  Why hadn’t she thought to shop for the clothing related items as Harry, transform, then do all of the rest of the shopping as Hailey?  She felt so free without people begging for her attention left and right, wanting to shake hands just to greet her, because they so wanted the ability to brag about having met the Boy who Lived!
And possibly, if Malkin was correct, to start a relationship with a House that was apparently on par with the Queen of England…  if not more powerful.
Both were titles she wished she didn’t have.
She even ran into Aqua Fall again- and this time, the older girl was much friendlier, and actually gave off a motherly air instead of the coldly logical one she’d displayed in Madam Malkin’s.  She even smiled!  Perhaps she’d been afraid of her titles?
After a couple more friendly conversations that she started, she raced Tonks to Ollivanders’ Wands, reveling in the feeling of freedom that being just another face in the crowd gave her.
Finally, she stepped into the shop with Tonks right behind her…  and could somehow sense the man trying to sneak up behind her.  So, while Tonks was tensing up, her brown hair getting darker and darker as she evidently expected a surprise, she turned to face him.  “Good afternoon,” she greeted.
Tonks looked, and blinked, her hair turning yellowish.
There was about two seconds of silence.
“Good afternoon,” the old man answered calmly.  “I do believe that’s the first time anyone’s been able to spot me through the wards in…”  He paused.  “Fifty years?  Sixty?”  He shook his head.  “No matter.  Now then, I expect you’re here for your first wand, miss…?”
“Hailey,” she provided.  “And yes, I am.”  She looked up at the shelves, idly curious how she was supposed to pick one.  It felt like there was one somewhere near the back, calling out to her somehow.
Ollivander seemed to have a plan.  “Alright,” he acknowledged.  “Which is your wand arm?”
“My…  I’m right-handed,” she informed him.
“Alright,” he said again, and drew a measuring tape from his pocket.  “Hold out your arm, then- that’s it.”  He set the tape to work- and while his hands followed it for the first two, she could somehow feel that the tape was actually doing it itself, and reporting back directly to him through some kind of telepathic link.
Were these kinds of strange feelings normal for wizards?  It was kinda funny, she hadn’t felt them at all as Harry…  but had noticed when Madam Malkin had begun doing her magic with her girl’s robes- especially when said magic had poked her, looking for the name it should put on her nameplates.
She’d told it to just make the nameplates disappear- and it had done that.  Malkin had seemed amused by it, informing her that very few girls were so against the nameplate positioning on the point of the breast that they’d disappear completely when she bound them, but apparently she wasn’t the only one.
Ollivander spoke as he tele-kineti-pathically measured her and plucked boxes off the shelves.  “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance.  We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons.  No two wands are the same- just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same.  And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.  After all, it’s the Wand that chooses the Wizard.”  He paused to open a wand box and remove the wand- which felt…  indifferent, she decided.  Like it didn’t care about her.  “Alright, try this one.  Beechwood and dragon heartstring; nine inches, nice and flexible.  Just give it a wave.”
She took it, wrinkled her nose at the begrudging feeling she got from it, and waved it around a bit.
Ollivander seemed to notice after a second, and took it back, returned it to its box, and opened the next one.
This happened again, and again, with various degrees of reluctance from the wands.  The pile mounted higher and higher- until eventually, Ollivander returned from another dig through the shelves with a fresh set of wands…  which contained one which felt eager.
It was the second one he handed her.  “Unusual combination,” he informed her.  “Holly and phoenix feather.  Eleven inches, nice and supple.”
As she touched it, she felt a sudden warmth in her fingers- and she got an almost desperately eager feeling from it.
Yes, this was the wand for her.  If it was that eager to serve her, she would oblige.
She gave it a wave- and the wand let out a burst of energy to inform Ollivander that she’d found her match.  A shower of sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light across the walls.
“Oh, Bravo!” Ollivander told her.
Her new wand wasn’t satisfied, though- it had only told Ollivander who its master was, it hadn’t actually served her yet.
So she let it.  She gave it a little flick and just…  let it.  At the same time, a strange word crossed her mind- ‘Orchideous’.  But what did it mean…?
She didn’t have long to contemplate that, as a moment later, with a loud bang, an entire aisle of Ollivander’s shop was blocked by a giant bouquet of flowers.  At the same time, her wand felt both excited…  and satisfied.
She smiled, looking up at the enormous bouquet.  Yes, she decided, she was satisfied too.
Then she noticed that Tonks’ hair was pure white, and looked around at Ollivander as well.  “What?” she asked.
They stared at her for a few more seconds.
“That was a fourth-year spell,” Tonks finally whispered.  “And a sixth-year technique, the Silent Incantation.”
She looked down at her wand, then back up.  “I flicked it.”
> Chapter 7:  Over-Mailed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Hailey returned home to Privet Drive…  it was to find that a second letter had shown up for her while she’d been gone.  This one was instead addressed to Mr. H Potter, but still definitely destined for her.
“It’s backwards,” Petunia observed.  “Maybe it’s self-addressing to whichever form you’re in when it arrives?”
“Weird,” Hailey agreed.  “Maybe we’ll find out if they send a third.”





“How many do you think it will be today?” Hailey mused at breakfast.  More letters had kept showing up for ‘Mr. H Potter’ in greater and greater numbers each morning- even when she’d deliberately interrupted her sleep to ensure she’d never turned back.
Petunia sighed.  “Too many,” she answered.  “You’d think they’d have realized by now that you’ve already agreed to attend.”
“Yeah, you’d think,” Hailey sighed.  “Yesterday was over a hundred, so-!”
At that moment, a sudden boom echoed down the hallway into the kitchen and the whole house shook.  It sounded like someone was knocking…  hard.
There was a moment of silence.
“They’re here,” Hailey observed, and rose to her feet.
Whoever it was struck again, and the sound of breaking glass followed it.
Petunia also rose to her feet.  “What the hell are they-!?”
As Hailey opened the door to the hall, the front door took a third blow- and she watched splinters fly off of it as another pane from the window next to it popped out and shattered on the floor.  “We’re coming, we’re coming!” she called sharply…  then stood there, by the kitchen, and waited.  She had a feeling it was a bad idea to get any closer than that.
Petunia stepped up next to her.  “Um…?” she began.
Before she could say anything else, Hailey’s feeling was proven as the door was hit with so much force it splintered apart, scattering debris all down the hall and revealing a giant of a man standing in the doorway.
The giant stepped in, out of the gentle drizzle outside.  “Couldn’t make us a cup of tea, could yeh?  It’s not been an easy journey.”
“You are breaking and entering,” Hailey observed calmly, “then asking for a cup of tea?”
“Get out of my house,” Petunia commanded.
“Where’s Harry?” the giant asked, completely ignoring them.
“Harry?” Hailey asked.  “Harry who?”
“Harry Potter, o’ course,” the giant muttered.  “Come to deliver his ‘Ogwarts letter.”
She raised an eyebrow.  “To Harry Potter?”  She paused, then turned to Petunia.  “I don’t remember anyone by that name?”
“He ran away,” Petunia barked irritably, though Hailey could see the signs of her amusement.  “Five years ago now.  Never found him.”
“Can’t have,” the giant growled, rising to his full height and punching his head into the ceiling tiles.  “The magic said-!”
“The magic has been wrong before,” Hailey snapped back at him despite not knowing what magic he was talking about, taking it as confirmation that he was magical.  “Now get out, before I make you.”
“But Dumbledore said-!”
“Doesn’t matter,” she commanded, and snapped her fingers.  Her wand immediately appeared in her hand, transported instantly from where she’d left it upstairs.  “Get Out, before I make you.”
“Dumbledore said I wasn’t ter-!”
Bang.
Hailey wasn’t sure exactly how she knew how to do it, but she did- and it had taken her only a fraction of a second.  A quick, tight flick of her wand was all it took and a bolt of scarlet light slammed straight into the giant’s chest.  A moment later, the giant smashed through the door frame as he flew, backwards, out of the house.
“And stay out!” Petunia yelled after him, a couple seconds after he landed on the front lawn.
Hailey flicked her wand at the entryway, causing it to spring back together again, then walked up to the open front door and twirled her wand in her hand as she leaned against the jamb.  “Go,” she commanded the giant.  “Go tell this Dumbledore fool to stop sending us Hogwarts letters!”
He drew his pink umbrella and started twirling it over his head.  “NEVER,” he roared, “INSULT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IN FRONT OF ME!”
Then he swept it down to point at Hailey.
She flicked her wand almost casually, and the bolt of light that shot at her from his umbrella shattered against the shimmering silver barrier she’d conjured.  A moment later, her own scarlet bolt of light connected with him, and he was thrown all the way out into the street, his umbrella twirling through the air before it landed on the ground where he’d been a moment before.
“What the hell,” someone muttered.
Hailey turned to see Auror Tonks standing on the side of the porch, her wand in her hand.  “Ahh, Tonks,” she greeted.  “Something happen?”
She nodded.  “Yeah.  Security ward tripped.”  She glanced down towards the giant, who was quite suddenly surrounded by aurors.  “And of course it’s Hagrid.”  She sighed.  “He never was very good at…  Well, let’s just say he’s not the finest wand in the shop.”  Then she turned back to Hailey.  “But- how did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You-!  I mean-!”  She sighed.  “When he made it a Wizard’s Duel…  how did you, a new Hogwarts student that has had her wand for not even a week, defeat Hagrid, who had three whole years of magic education before he got expelled?”
She shrugged.  “I followed my instincts?” she offered.  “I mean seriously, I don’t know how I did that either.”  She paused.  “Well…  I do, but I don’t know how I knew how.”
“Something tells me you’re going to be a terrifying duelist someday,” Tonks informed her, “if not already.  That was a very advanced shield alongside an intermediate disarming charm- with some mighty fast cast chaining and silent incantations.”  She sighed.  “That’s a lot of very high-level techniques, and you just followed your instinct?”
She nodded.  “Yeah.”
“Are you, by any chance, an experienced witch that reincarnated, or…?”
She shook her head.  “Nope.  Not that I’m aware of, at any rate.”





Dumbledore stared at the letter before him.
A week before, just in case his enchantments on the Dursley home weren’t enough to ensure Harry got his Hogwarts letter, he’d assigned Hagrid to do just that.
He’d expected Hagrid to be absent for a week; that simply meant his enchantments weren’t enough, and Hagrid had to go to greater and greater extremes to get the letter delivered.  The disappearance duration had started getting a little worrying- but then…
Then this letter.
It was a notice to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…  that Hagrid had been arrested for breaking and entering, initiating a Wizard’s Duel with a minor, and six counts of breach of the Statute of Secrecy.  His trial had been held the day after his arrest, as was fairly typical of cases that involved a House of sufficient standing, thanks to a Veritaserum-permitting law…  and he had been sentenced to just one year in the Ministry-internal prison.
Apparently, the reason he hadn’t been sentenced to Azkaban, or to a longer sentence, was because he had done it under order in his position as a Hogwarts employee.  That also meant that a case had been opened against Hogwarts regarding the same, and a couple other charges added on thanks to the details Hagrid gave during the trial- and he would be required to attend as the defendant, to represent Hogwarts.
He must be wearing too many hats.  There was no other way he would have missed a case like that until after it was a done deal!
He rubbed his forehead with one hand.  How was he going to smooth this over…?
He wasn’t sure it was going to smooth over.  The case was marked as involving a high-standing House- Most Noble or higher- so Veritaserum would be required by law, and he wouldn’t be able to hide his reasons.
But he could lay the blame on miscommunication- that was what had happened, wasn’t it?  He’d merely ordered Hagrid to ensure that Harry received his letter, with the expectation that there might be difficulties related to his relatives.  He had not told Hagrid to do anything illegal.
As such, he was probably going to get off with no more than a slap on the wrist, and Hogwarts merely fined.
He didn’t think it was going to interfere with the Student Instructor Program too much, though- but he’d have to inform Princess Celestia of it before she found out through her people.
He heaved a sigh, pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, and began to compose the necessary letter.





Molly Weasley chuckled softly as she watched her youngest.  She had taken the little girl along for the Hogwarts shopping season this year; this time, there would be nobody of sufficient age left at home to watch her.
Not that Ginevra had ever needed watching, for that matter.  No; it had always seemed like it was Ginevra watching her older brothers and even father once, back when she’d been five, rather than them watching her.  Why?  Whenever she got home, Molly would always hear stories and complaints from those older babysitters that she was reprimanding them when they tried to do the things they wanted to do.
She wasn’t complaining about that, of course.  Thanks to her youngest, her family had straightened out- to a degree.  It still wasn’t the way she liked it, but ever since the girl had learned to walk and talk, all of her sons’ grades had skyrocketed.
And that was even before she considered just how insanely active the girl’s Accidental Magic was.  As a matter of fact, it was so active she was pretty sure the girl had learned to control it already!
Now, though…  Ginny was merely holding a conversation with a few much older girls that had weirdly colored hair.  That itself wasn’t too unusual; rather, the weird part was that they seemed to have gone straight into a discussion of something that was too mind-bendingly strange for her to make heads or tails of.  But Ginny had always been a bit of a weird child- or was it just the difference between a girl and a boy that she was looking at?  She could never be sure.
Then a muggleborn with bushy brown hair had entered the apothecary they were in with Professor Minerva McGonagall and her parents…  and joined the conversation with so much eager energy it was practically like she’d already been a part of it.
Then a minute later, while the muggleborn’s parents were watching the fast-paced conversation with a look of building bewilderment, the Greengrasses had walked into the shop; apparently, Daphne Greengrass was starting at Hogwarts that year.  They’d had their younger daughter with them too- Astoria, according to Mrs. Greengrass.
And Astoria had also promptly joined the conversation.
Interestingly, when Molly had subsequently started a conversation with the other parents (after they had all taken care of their business in the apothecary, of course), it had been to find out that both the other girls- Hermione Granger and Astoria Greengrass- were seen as a little bit strange as well.
> Chapter 8:  Platform Nine and Three Quarters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry lay awake, in bed, and barely twitched when the alarm went off next to him.  He’d tossed and turned much of the night, he knew, too excited for the coming day- had he gotten enough sleep?  Or was he still Hailey?
There was a part of him that was tempted to perform the standard sneeze to be sure- but that would only make sure he wasn’t Harry.
Eventually, he let out a sigh, and raised one arm to scoop his hair around…  Her hair.
Only Hailey had hair long enough to hold in front of her face like that.
She sighed again, then sat up and looked down to make sure.  Two little bumps on her chest, both present.  One Male Appendage between her legs, missing.  Yup, still Hailey.
“This is going to be complicated,” she muttered, clambering out of bed and shedding her pajamas as she got dressed for the day.  Perhaps she should get a proper nightgown during the winter holidays…?
On her way downstairs, she knocked on Petunia’s door.  “Uh, Aunt Petunia,” she called.  “I, uhh, didn’t get enough sleep.  It’s safe.”  She didn’t wait for a response and headed downstairs.
A few minutes later, her aunt joined her in the kitchen.  “...  Hi Hailey,” she greeted.  “Are…?”
She sighed as she pulled out a few pans; pancakes sounded good, and if she wasn’t rushing to keep Harry away from Petunia, she had time.  “Yeah, I guess I’m going to Hogwarts as Hailey.  That’s going to be interesting.”  She sighed.  “I hope I don’t end up being forced to take all my classes as Hailey.  Or to sleep in the girl’s dormitories, that’d be a nightmare waiting to happen.”





Petunia held Hailey’s hand as they made contact with the barrier between platforms nine and ten with a good half-hour to spare.  They found themselves instantly someplace completely different- specifically, a platform.  A different platform, which bore a relatively strong visual similarity to the other platforms, except for the scarlet steam engine that was just pulling up to it with a long train of coaches.
They stopped on the platform to watch it stop; once it did, the conductor hopped out of the locomotive to start opening doors.
Then Petunia wrapped Hailey in one of the tightest hugs she’d done yet.  “Hailey…”  She sighed.  “It’s going to be lonely without you,” she muttered.
Hailey returned the hug.  “I’ll be back for the holidays,” she promised.  “Though I have to ask…  how come you’re so attached to Hailey, yet not so much Harry?”
Her hug became crushing for a second, before she released her.  “That…  Hailey…”  She sighed, then sat on the bench they’d stopped next to.  “Lily,” she stated.
Hailey sat next to her.  “My mom?” she offered.
Petunia nodded.  “Your father, James…  was an insolent man.  Well… as much as a powerful noble of the magical world can be, at least.  Self-obsessed, holier-than-thou, everything.  He was just like the classic evil noble from a cartoon.”  She sighed.  “He saw Lily.  And liked what he saw, of course- she was hard not to like.
“So he poured Amortentia into a glass, then demanded she drink it.  She had no choice; he was at the top of the top, but she was a mere muggleborn with no power.  If she didn’t do it, his guards would kill her for insolence.”
“Then they started dating,” Hailey observed darkly.
“Of course they did, it’s a love potion,” Petunia growled.
“Strongest one there is.  No known antidote.”
“Exactly.  Moment she drank that potion…  the Lily Evans that I loved- my younger sister- died.  In her place stood Lily Potter, a doting housewife that he physically abused from time to time.  Then they produced Harry, and sent him to us.
“And Harry…  Harry is the spitting image of his father.  Of the man that killed my sister.”
She shivered.  “I don’t blame you,” she muttered, then looked up.  “And Hailey…?”
“And you, Hailey, dear…”  She sighed, and hugged her again.  “You look just like Lily, just with darker hair.  Just like…”  Her voice faded to a whisper.  “Just like my sister.”  She took a deep breath and firmed her voice.  “Now, make sure nobody forces you to drink potions like that, okay?”
She grinned.  “No problem,” she informed her.  “Especially since now I am that super-high Noble.  Any idiot that tries is going to get a much more painful treatment than that half-giant a month ago.”
Petunia laughed.  “Get ‘em hard, girl,” she cheered.





Around a half an hour later, Hailey was seated in an otherwise empty compartment of the train, fully dressed in her Hogwarts robes as she idly watched the last few stragglers enter the station, ever closer to the moment the train would leave.
Some people saw her watching, and she waved when she noticed.  She was bored- perhaps one of them would come bring her some entertainment?
Some of the latest party seemed intent on doing that.  A couple of red-haired boys from a family of redheads pointed her out to each other, waved back at her…  then promptly left their family and climbed onto the train.  The cars were simply stupendous on the inside, a little over five times as long on the inside as they were on the outside- and she could practically smell the magic making that possible.
Still, though, it only took the two red-haired boys a minute or so to find her compartment.  “Ahh, good morning, Miss,” one greeted.
She looked.  They looked like identical twins, and the near one was bowing theatrically.  “Good morning to you too,” she answered offhandedly.
“Was that-?” the first began, pointing towards her forehead.
“A scar?” the other finished.
“Maybe?” she offered.
“Is this-!” the first began.
“Can this be-!”
“Are you-!”
“She is-!”
“Aren’t you?”
“What?” she asked, watching them compete to start the other’s sentence.
“Harry Potter,” they chorused.
She raised an eyebrow.  “Harry Potter?” she repeated.  “Do I look like the Boy who lived?”  As she spoke, she placed her hands under her chest to accentuate her curves, such as they were.
There was a moment of silence.
“Fred, George, are you there?”
“Coming mum,” both boys called in answer to the voice that had wafted in from the train door, and promptly left.
She sighed, shaking her head, and returned to people-watching out the window.





Hailey was still alone when the train started moving, but not for long.  The compartment door slid open after a couple minutes, revealing the youngest one of the red-headed boys; their sister seemed to be too young or something, so she wasn’t on the train with them.  “Hi, is this seat free?” he asked.  “Everywhere else is full.”
“The next compartment over is still completely empty,” she informed him, tapping a finger against the wall she was leaning against.  She couldn’t explain how she knew, but she did.
“Ah-!” he began.
She chuckled.  “But yes, that seat is free.”
“Ahh, thanks.”  He sat down, then turned to look out the window.
A moment later, the door slid open again, and the twins were back.  “Hey, Ron!  Listen, we’re going down to the middle of the train; Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”
“R-Right,” the younger red-head mumbled- but Hailey noticed his involuntary twitch.  There was a phobia involved, and the two older boys had to know about it.
“Harry,” the twin began, instantly earning himself a glower from Hailey.  “Have we introduced ourselves?  Fred and George Weasley, and this is our brother, Ron.  See you later then!”  They left, closing the door behind them.
Hailey immediately rose to her feet, summoning her wand to her hand the same way she had when she’d dueled Hagrid, and the door flew open before her as she stepped out.
A moment later, both twins were lying on the floor, gasping in pain.
“What the-!?” someone began, opposite them from her- and she spotted a Head Girl badge on the girl’s chest.
She ignored the Head Girl.  “For your information,” she snapped at the two boys.  “I, Princess Hailey of the Grand Royal and Most Ancient House of Potter, have not given you two leave to call me by a name which is not mine.  Neither have I given you leave to force your brother on me.  So, what are you trying to do?”
“...  So you’re not Harry Potter,” Ron, still in the compartment, muttered.  “So much for that.”
“Ahh-!” one of the twins began.
“Hang on a sec,” someone said behind Hailey- and she instantly recognized the voice as that of Aqua Fall, colored with awe.  “Did-  Did you just use a stinging hex before your first day at Hogwarts?”
She ignored her too.
“D-Dumbledore said-!” Ron began, stuttering.
She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.  “Dumbledore?” she asked.
“Yeah,” one of the twins said.  “Dumbledore said to find Harry-”
“- because he’d be all friendless-” the other continued.
“- and make friends with him-”
“- so he wouldn’t be alone.”
She sighed and leaned against the doorjamb.  “So this Dumbledore somehow knew that Famous Harry Potter would be all perfectly friendless, and told you to meet him and befriend him…  What?  To keep him from making unsavory friends?”
“He was rather adamant that we be his first friends,” one of the Twins observed softly.
“And I’m guessing your family basically worships the ground he walks upon, right?”
“Not… really,” the second Twin began.
“But Mom definitely does,” the first finished.
She nodded.  “So in short, Dumbledore is trying to manipulate poor little friendless Harry- did he mention why he would be friendless, by any chance?”
“Said he’d be an abused orphan,” one twin explained.  “No idea why.”
She facepalmed.  “So he knew that Harry was-!”  She sighed.  “I think we have ourselves a mastermind.”  She glanced down at them.  “You’re forgiven, by the way.  Just…  remember that I’m not Harry, please.”  She returned to her seat and flopped back down on it.  “Why is there always someone trying to cause trouble?”
“Um…  Princess?”
She looked up.  Standing in the door was another girl about her age, with bright red and gold hair that resembled a bonfire.  She, like Hailey, was also wearing her Hogwarts robes already- and also like Hailey, she didn’t have the House Badge that all the already-robed upper-year students seemed to have.  “I’m fine with informal address if you are,” she offered in answer.
The girl blushed.  “Sorry, I’m…”  She sighed.  “About…  Dumbledore.  Princess Celestia, the Grand Ruler of Equestria, won’t be any happier than you- actually probably quite a bit less happy- when she hears that he’s at least complicit in what sounds like a child abuse case, but…”  She took a deep breath.  “But he’s been instrumental in preparing the world for the transfer of our people and such…  in ensuring that Equestria and its people will survive when our world finally collapses.  As such, as the Second in Command of the Equestrian Royal Guard, I feel it is my duty to request that any charges or actions against him be…  minimized or delayed until such time as his removal won’t upset the world.”
She facepalmed.  “Isn’t that a classic,” she grumbled.  “You’re telling me that as abusive and illegal as he might be, he’s also a crucial link in something very important?”
“Uh…  Yeah.  And as soon as we can replace him, you can bet that Princess Celestia will be happy to help you remove him from power if need be.”
She grinned.  “I shouldn’t need any help,” she informed her.  “All of his power comes from my House.  All I have to do is rescind those appointments for cause and he’s no more than Hogwarts Headmaster.”  She sighed.  “But yeah, I’ll hold off on that.”  She looked up at the ceiling.  “Hmm, I wonder if I’m allowed bodyguards.”
“Should be,” the girl informed her.  “Dumbledore has helped us arrange for graduated members of the Royal Guard to reside in the Castle to protect any Equestrian Royalty or Nobility that come through, when they do.  They’ll basically be bodyguards.”
She rubbed her chin.  “Any this year?”
“Nope, I’m the closest there is.  No graduated Guards available, either- not this late.”
She chuckled.  “Maybe we should team up, then,” she observed.  “Make hell for the idiot that would see children abused and do nothing about it.”  She held up a hand for a fistbump.  “My name’s Hailey.  You?”
The girl smiled, bumped her fist with her own, then saluted.  “Vice Captain Morning Sun of the Equestrian Royal Guard, at your service,” she offered.
“Nice to meet you,” Hailey chuckled.  “Though I have to say, you seem a bit young to be a Vice Captain?”
She shrugged.  “The portal makes us younger when we cross.  I’m actually a hundred and three years old.  Which is young for that position, yes- Equestrians have about a three hundred year lifespan.”
“Not as young as the Captain, is it?”
She shook her head.  “Not as young as Captain Shining Armor, no.  He’s simply amazing at the job, so he made Captain at only eighty-six last year.”
“Um…  Should I go…?” Ron muttered confusedly.
Hailey shrugged.  “If you want to, I’m not going to stop you,” she informed him.  “On the other hand, I might just be the most reasonable Princess you’ll ever meet- and I suppose I do have one thing in common with Harry:  I don’t have any friends at the moment.”
> Chapter 9:  Discordad
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ron and Morning turned out to be decent companions, Hailey found.  The Weasleys weren’t going to give up on finding Harry Potter- and, as they’d apparently missed her surname when she’d offered it with her title earlier, she’d professed to be unrelated.  She hated how famous Harry was, even after experiencing it for only half a day, and wanted to have the option of ‘disappearing’ into her Hailey persona whenever she wanted.
Though of course, she had already declared her rank…  She was probably going to be famous anyways, though at least this time not for getting attacked by a mass murderer.  She was also going to be less famous- just enough for people to know about her, but not so much that every single person in the entire Leaky Cauldron would want to shake her hand five times in a row.
She would, she supposed, have to keep an eye out for political maneuvering, though.  Probably in both forms.
But in any case, Ron had stayed behind to hang out while his older brothers searched the train for Harry; Ron was evidently the lazy sort, letting them do all the hard work.
She- and Morning, she realized- ended up learning a great deal about the magical world from him.  Eventually, they were interrupted by a smiling witch pushing a cart full of candy.  While Ron pulled out a few sandwiches his mother had made and complained about how long it was taking his brothers to find Harry, Hailey and Morning together bought enough to stock a candy shop, each intent on trying some of everything.
And, of course, on having enough to share.
It wasn’t too long after that that they were interrupted by a boy named Neville Longbottom, looking for a toad he’d lost.
Morning lost no time.  “Two compartments down,” she indicated, “and under the bench.  You’ll want to get a suitable habitat to keep him from running away in the future- he’s uncomfortable, and is looking for something more suitable.”
“Th-Thanks!” the boy cried, then vanished.
There was a moment of silence, then Morning closed the door.  “Aww, dang.  I was about to offer to help him build such a habitat when we got to the school.”
Ron sighed.  “Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” he muttered.  “If I’d brought a toad, I’d lose it as quick as I could.”
Morning shrugged her shoulders.  “It’d probably be happiest after being ‘lost’ if you waited to lose it until reaching the Black Lake.”
He snorted.  “Probably,” he agreed offhandedly.  “Mind, I brought Scabbers, so I can’t talk.”
Scabbers was the rat that Ron had brought as a pet- and every time he pulled the rat out, it would just snooze.  Eat and sleep, Ron had claimed.  Seemed a bit docile for a rat- and Hailey had the incongruous idea that an excellent use for the rat might be exactly what Hedwig- her snowy owl- obviously wanted to do with it, watching its every movement from her cage.
It would go in line with how much Ron was complaining about having been given said rat.
“He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference,” Ron continued, glaring at the rat in question, snoozing on the seat next to him.  “I tried to turn him yellow yesterday, to make him more interesting, but the spell didn’t work.”
“It didn’t?” Morning asked, tilting her head.  “What spell was it?”
“I’ll show you,” Ron indicated, then dug his wand out of his trunk.
“That wand doesn’t like you,” Hailey observed.  “Not so much that it won’t behave, but…”  She scowled.  “Is there a reason you didn’t get a better fit in Diagon Alley?”
Ron shrugged.  “Didn’t have the money.”
Morning blinked.  “Yet not half an hour ago, you were describing famous Quidditch games you’ve been to with your brothers…?”
He nodded.
“Sounds like your family has a budgeting problem,” Hailey muttered.
The silence held for almost three full seconds.
“I…  won’t deny it,” Ron finally answered.
Right at that moment, the next visitor appeared.  It was a girl this time- with bushy brown hair and a bit of a bossy attitude.  The same girl, Hailey realized, as had waved to her in Gringotts.  “Hi,” she began.  “I heard someone in here found Neville’s-!”  She broke off, staring at Hailey.  “Uh…  Are you Harry Potter?” she asked.
Hailey sighed.  “Would you care to explain to me what part of the Girl sitting in the corner made you think of the Boy who lived?” she snapped.  She wasn’t sure exactly what annoyed her about being called Harry, but it was truly infuriating, even without considering Harry’s fame!
“S-Sorry!” the girl squeaked.  “I- I just saw the scar, and-!”
“So I happen to have a scar that is shaped in a manner that fits the description in the books and you thought I was Harry, without even considering the rest of me?”
She put her face in her hands, blushing furiously.  “S-Sorry, I- I-!”
“Ahh, let’s try not to bite each other’s heads off just yet,” Morning injected cautiously.  “So, uh, Ron, you were going to demonstrate that spell, right?”
The new girl looked up suddenly, her eyes zeroing in on Ron’s wand.  “Oooh, are you doing magic?  Let’s see it then!”  She sat down.
Hailey snorted and turned to Ron as well.
“Oh, ahh,” Ron muttered, evidently unsettled, then raised his wand over the rat and began to incant.  “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”  He waved his wand.
“Uh…  Are you sure that’s a real spell?” the bushy-haired girl offered.  “Well it’s not very-!”
“Who gave it to you?” Hailey asked, raising her voice slightly to cut the other girl off.
“Fred and George,” Ron answered, while the girl shot Hailey a quick glare.  “Bet they knew it was a dud.”
“The pranksters?” Hailey confirmed.
He blinked.  “Ahh…  Yeah, I walked straight into that one, didn’t I?”
“Though…  A good color changing charm ought to work,” Morning observed, then turned to Hailey.  “You know any?”
Hailey paused.  “Hmm…  Yeah, I have an idea.”  She drew her wand, and flicked it at the rat, casting the spell that had come to her mind.  Her wand wanted to add one to it- it felt like the incantation was ‘Homorphus’- so she let it, and both spells hit the rat simultaneously.
There was a moment of silence- then the rat grew and changed shape.  A head, shoulders- a second later, a man sat where the rat had.  His face looked amazingly like a rat’s- and his hair was bright yellow.
“...  Huh,” Hailey observed into the ensuing silence.  “That seems to have made him more interesting.”
“More…  interesting?” the bushy-haired girl asked tensely, elbowing the man in the face as her other hand escorted his hand away from her legs.
Morning rose to her feet.  “Hmm…  Peter Pettigrew, who was supposed to have died nine years ago.”  She scowled.  “And what’s that on his arm?”  She indicated the man’s left arm, which he’d reflexively raised to shield his face, even as he pretended to snooze on.
“Th-The Dark Mark,” Ron muttered.
The man finally opened his eyes, blinked at the back of his left forearm, then drew a wand from his back pocket.
There was an echoing bang and a bright flash of greenish light, and the next thing anyone knew, the man was lying on the floor, tied up like a mummy with a thick green rope that Morning was tying into a knot as she stood over him.
“Not so fast,” she commanded.  “You’re under arrest for assault and sexual assault.  Now.”  She looked up.  “Anyone have an owl handy?”
Hailey looked up.  “Hey Hedwig,” she called- and Hedwig fluttered out of her suddenly opened cage to land on her outstretched arm.  “How fast do you think you can get a letter to the Auror Office?”
“Hoo Hoo.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she smiled, then looked up at Morning.  “She’s ready when you are.”
The bushy-haired girl lowered her wand, her face plastered with surprise.  “...  Huh,” she muttered slowly.
Morning looked up at her, even as she handed Hedwig her fully written letter; she’d conjured it already written.  “Hmm?  Oh.  A secret technique- I’m Morning Sun, Second in Command of the Equestrian Royal Guard.  You?”
“Ahh…  Hermione.  Hermione Granger.  Um…  daughter of a dentist?” she offered.
Hailey laughed.  “Nice to meet you, Miss Granger.  I’m Hailey- or Princess Hailey if you feel like being formal.”
“Princess-?” Hermione repeated back at her.
She shrugged.  “Grand Royal and Most Ancient House of not-going-to-say-it.”
“...  Huh,” Hermione muttered, then turned to Ron.  “And you…?”
“R-Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered, after shaking himself out.  “I think we’re an Ancient House, but no nobility.”  His eyes tracked back to the man his rat had turned into.  “Was…  Was Scabbers really…?”
“Seems like it,” Morning answered, tossing him casually into the overhead luggage rack.  “Peter Pettigrew.  Supposedly killed by Sirius Black, alongside thirteen muggles, right after accusing Black of setting Voldemort on Harry Potter’s trail.  But if he’s got the Dark Mark, I rather expect he was framing Black.  He probably killed the muggles himself, and was the one that set Voldemort on that trail.  We’ll see what the Department of Magical Law Enforcement thinks- we’re still close enough to London that we’ll probably meet them at Hogsmeade Station.”
“Y-You said You Know Who’s name,” Ron muttered softly, staring almost admiringly at Morning.
“Whose?” Morning asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“You Know Who’s,” Ron ‘clarified’.
“I think he means Voldemort,” Hailey informed her.  “But…  it’s just a name, right?  Nothing scary about that- right, Hermione?”
Hermione didn’t answer right away, busy covering her mouth with one hand as she seemed to be suppressing giggles.  She forced her face straight, then straightened up.  “I don’t think there’s anything scary about it,” she answered.  “Most everyone I’ve met up Diagon Alley seems to disagree, though.  Always ‘You Know Who’ this and ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’ that- I mean, the man has a name, does he not?”
“People are still scared,” Morning sighed.  “Wouldn’t happen in Equestria, we get big bads at least as bad as Voldemort every Tuesday.  Well…  we didn’t always, that started in earnest right around the time the worldwall started breaking down some fifty years ago, but…”  She shrugged.  “We’re used to dealing with magical armageddon every other month or so by now, so a mere Dark Lord is no big deal.  Lots of people have started calling them dork lords.”
Hermione burst into laughter.





Around a half an hour later, the compartment door slid open again- and this time, three boys entered.  The middle one was a tall blonde with pale skin, the other two both thick and heavy, looking like bodyguards.  “Is it true,” the middle one asked, making Hermione immediately think of the stuck-up nobles…  which was completely right.  Unlike she and Hailey, the boy was wearing his nameplate, and it read ‘Draco Malfoy’.  “They’re saying all up and down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment.”  He looked at Hailey.  “So, it’s you, isn’t it?”
Hailey rose to her feet, drawing in a breath.
More importantly, to Voldemort at least, was that Morning Sun let out a frightened ‘eek’ and shrunk into her seat.  Morning Sun, the formidable Second in Command of the Royal Guard, who had flattened Wormtail before she, Voldemort, could so much as draw her wand, was scared of a little girl!
“Why does everyone seem to think that I am Harry Potter?” she demanded sharply, her anger filling the compartment and causing all three boys to falter.  “Why do they see a little mark on my forehead that happens to look like the scar on Harry’s, and automatically decide that I must be him!?”
“Ah-!” Malfoy began.
Hailey wasn’t done, though.  “Well, here’s some news for you, then!”  She stuck her fingers into her hairline and peeled her scar right off, leaving unblemished skin.  “It’s a sticker!” she hollered, and threw it on the floor.  “See?  Not.  Harry.  Potter!  At.  All!”
Hermione stared at the scar as it burst into black flames on the floor and disappeared, carefully not allowing the searing soul-pain of a shattered horcrux to show on her face- even as both of the other two of her screamed in agony, startling and scaring their families.
That had most definitely not been a sticker.
So how had the girl so easily peeled a horcrux out of her forehead!?
“Now, now, Hailey, dear, there’s no need to get violent.”
She shivered at the sudden addition of the adult male voice to the room and looked up to see a tall man patting Hailey on the shoulder with a lion’s paw glove.  He wore an eagle talon glove on his other hand, and each of his boots seemed to be designed to look like a different kind of hoof.  He was wearing a long brown trench coat with a gray hood on top and a red tail pinned to the back, giving him the appearance of a man that wasn’t quite sane.  The two horns sewn into the top of his hood didn’t exactly help; one was a white-yellow antler that looked like lightning, the other resembling a strange, swollen blue unicorn horn.
Hailey looked up at him.  “I wasn’t going to get violent, Dad,” she informed him.
Across the compartment from Hermione, Morning Sun’s eyes went wide.  “Wha-!?” she began, but never finished, too busy staring.
The man raised an eyebrow so high it went clear off his face and into the air above it.  What kind of magic was he using to do that?  “And the scar?”
“That was just standard fare,” Hailey informed him calmly.
There was a pause.
“Fair,” the man agreed, then looked up at Hermione.  “Is something wrong, Hermione dear?”
“N-No, Dad,” she answered, then blinked and brought her fingers to her mouth.  “D-Dad?” she whispered, testing the word.  Why had she called him that?
“Oh, I see,” he answered, then reached over to touch the tip of his taloned glove to her forehead for a moment.
And she understood…  instantly.
This man wasn’t actually a man.  He was the avatar of magic itself- and more specifically, the magic she’d drawn to be able to reincarnate.  An act which had made her…  his daughter, so to speak- resulting in the peculiar situation of having more than two ‘biological’ parents for the same body.
His name…  was Discord, apparently.  An interesting name for an avatar of magic.
Discord, apparently satisfied, turned to Draco.  “It would generally behoove you not to…?”  He trailed off.  “Hangon, why are you male?”
“Uh- what?” Draco asked, taking a step back- and judging by the facial expressions, the sentiment was shared by everyone else in the compartment.
Except Ron, who was fast asleep for some reason.
Discord moved quickly, completely unhindered from being behind Hailey; he simply stepped through her.  A second later, he touched Draco’s shoulder- and with a bright flash of light, Draco was gone.
In his place stood a girl.  She was a very cute girl, and unless Hermione missed her guess, short for her age, though rather…  well-endowed for her age as well.  Her hair hung all the way down to her waist, waving gently all the way- and it was a bright, gleaming silver, almost like it was made of liquid metal, except for the two royal blue stripes that split it neatly into thirds.
“There, that’s better,” Discord asserted.  “Now, as I was saying, it would generally behoove you-!”
The girl fainted, falling on top of Hermione.
Hermione caught her quickly.  “What the-?” she began, before flicking her wand, casting a quick diagnostic spell.  The girl…  was unconscious due to shock, as expected.  If awoken earlier than she would on her own, she’d probably just pass right back out again, so there was no point trying.  She looked up at the two bodyguards- but they’d already wandered off someplace, and she somehow understood that Discord had done something to them…  and not just to make them completely miss the sudden transformation right in front of them.
“Why did you turn him into a girl?” Hermione asked.
“...  Behoove you not to call Hailey by a male name,” Discord muttered dejectedly, and sighed, before looking up at Hermione.  “Hmm?  Oh, wasn’t she already a girl?”
“Uh- no, he was a boy before you…?”
“Hmm?  No, she was never a boy to begin with, was she?  Not unlike you weren’t ever a boy, were you?”
“N-No,” she muttered, carefully not thinking about her past life as the very male Tom Riddle slash Lord Voldemort.  “I never was.”
“See?” Discord offered.
“So if…  if she was already a girl,” Hailey began, “what did you do?”
Discord turned to Hailey, who looked confused, but not really scared.  “Hmm?  Oh, I just did about the same thing as ‘Mione did to you,” he informed her.
Hermione looked up from using her wand to close the door and levitate the girl up onto the seat next to her, using her own lap as a pillow.  What was he talking about?
“Eh?” Hailey began, glancing at Hermione and back to Discord.  “You- You-!”  She paused.  “You mean she can sneeze?”
Hermione blinked.  Of course she could sneeze- but no, that wasn’t what Hailey was asking.
She had given Discord a quick wink.
And when talking to Discord, winks could tell entire books.
She wasn’t sure how she knew that.
Discord chuckled, evidently amused by whatever information was embedded in the wink.  “Ah, yes, yes, she can sneeze.  Just like you can, can’t you?”  He winked as well.
Hailey giggled.  “Yes, I can.  So, um…”  She looked around the compartment, and Hermione followed suit.
Nobody new had appeared; there was just Hailey, Hermione, Discord, Morning Sun, Ron, and the silver-haired girl that used to be Draco in the room.  The girl was still out cold- and Ron was still sleeping.  Morning Sun was awake, watching Discord with an expression of wary curiosity, though it didn’t look like she understood what was going on any better than Hermione did.
Except, of course, that Discord seemed to be familiar to her.  There was no trace of the fear she’d shown earlier.
Finally, Hailey asked her question.  “What exactly is a ‘Seed of Magic’?”
Hermione blinked.  A Seed of Magic?  Was she referring to the legendary ‘Carrier of the Seed of Magic’ title that guaranteed a House a Grand Royal and Most Ancient status for all eternity?
There was a pause.  “Ahh, yes,” Discord muttered slowly.  “A random question with nothing to do with the topic at hand.”
Hailey shrugged.  “I’ve been wondering for a while now.”
He chuckled.  “Yes, I suppose you have, haven’t you?  Well then, the Seeds of Magic.  They work a bit differently in Equestria- every Equestrian carries one, and it is in fact what lets you…  sneeze.”  He winked at Hailey, who snorted.  “But you’re not asking about the Equestrian Seeds of Magic, are you?”
“I’ll admit, I didn’t know they were a thing in Equestria,” Hailey muttered, resuming her seat and gesturing for Discord to go ahead and take a seat…  which he did, sitting in midair in front of the door.  “But yeah, I guess I was talking about the… uh, is it Earthen, or British-specific?”
“It’s general to all of Earth, even if all the remaining Terrestrial Seeds are in fact in Britain right now,” Discord mused.  “Simply breathing Equestrian air will give you an Equestrian seed, even though said seed is lethal to a terrestrial soul without some special tuning, but the Terrestrial ones are much harder.  Especially since you simply can’t get them any more…”  He sighed, then began to sing.
“A long, long, time ago,
Long before the super bowl,
And things like lemonade, -!”
“Hangon a second,” Hailey scowled.  “Don’t you mean-!”
Hermione grinned, and began.  “A long, long time ago,” she began.
“Long before humanity,” Hailey continued.
“And things like industry,” Hermione finished- honestly amazed by how well the impromptu duet had gone.
“True enough,” Discord conceded, “but that actually rhymes.”
“Fair,” Hailey nodded.  “So, how far back are we talking?”
“Hmm…  Muggles have found fossils of those things called ‘dinosaurs’, right?  Well, a piece of the asteroid that killed them bounced on the water’s surface and grew into a tree when it hit the shore.  A Tree…  known as the Tree of Life.  It stood for an incredibly long time, up until some silly human chopped it down to make a wardrobe.  Silly, I tell you.  Mind, that same human became the world’s first Dark Lord, and is actually still alive today, sealed away…”  He trailed off.  “But anyways, anyone that ate the fruit of that tree got the Terrestrial Seed of Magic.”
“That’d make it an extra-terrestrial Seed of Magic,” Hermione mused.
Hailey and Morning both snorted.
“Yes, yes, I suppose it would, wouldn’t it?  But then, even old Terra herself came from outer space at one point, so you could make a case for anything, depending on when you drew the line.”  He shrugged.  “In any case, this Seed instantly granted them magic, and the ability to use it.  It could only be passed down to the first child, even though anyone born from someone that carried the Seed is guaranteed to be magical.  For many years before the Tree was hewn down, in the small clan that grew up around it that called themselves the Magicites, it was customary to feed the Fruit of the Tree to all children, to ensure that they all had the Seed.
“This saved them, in the end- there were enough of them to suppress that old Dark Lord, who named himself Satan, when he appeared.  However, without the Tree of Life…  no new Seeds would ever enter the world again.  The source was gone.”
Morning shivered.  “One of the worst fates that could ever befall a magical society,” she muttered darkly.  “The Source of Magic disappears at the same time as an immortal Dark Lord appears.  The world is eventually doomed to total destruction.”
“Normally, yes,” Discord nodded.  “The Equestrian Seed is its own source, though, so Equestrians need not worry.  And in the ages since, magical densities have risen high enough that magicals can be born from non-magical parents, forget non-Seed-carriers; Magic is here to stay, Seeds or not.”  He sighed.  “Anyways, the Magicites fought and contained Satan for a few thousand years before finally executing an immensely powerful magical seal on him.  So long as any of their Seeds remain, that seal will also remain, and Dark Lord Satan permanently unconscious.
“On top of that seal, they built a city, and called it Atlantis.”
“The Sunken City of Atlantis?” Hermione asked suddenly.
He nodded.  “Oh, yes.  They sunk it into the earth, wrapped it in powerful magical barriers and shields to protect and hide it from the wars taking place around them.  You see, while the Magicites were a peaceful lot, everyone else had begun to fight wars over territory and religion of all things.  As the death of a Seed carrier before they could produce a child would permanently end that Seed, the Magicites could not afford to have any die without good cause, and created a Utopia in their city.
“By that point, a vast majority of the Magicites were actually non-magicals descended from other Magicites; squibs, you’d call them.  But the magicals held on strong- and in that city, the ambient magic levels began to rise.  This made magicals more powerful- and eventually allowed magicals to have magical young without being a Seed:  The first true pure-bloods, as the Seeds made sure to never marry one another; such would bind both of their Seeds into the same child, bringing magicals one step closer to extinction.
“A few hundred years after purebloods began to appear, the first half-bloods began to appear- born between a magical and a non-magical.  Another few hundred years saw the first muggleborn- and a thousand years after that, every new birth was magical, regardless of parentage.
“That was an age of advancement.  With so much magical power available, and the constantly rising power levels of new mages, there was nothing that could stop them.
“Except…  just two hundred years after the final non-magical Atlantean died, Magic Poisoning began to appear.”
Hermione scowled.  “Wouldn’t that have set in long before that point…?”
“Ahh, no.  Mere magic densities won’t hurt anyone- the Magic Poisoning was actually a side-effect of the steep gradient in ambient magic across the barrier, and the massive internal turbulence that gradient created.  Atlanteans began dying off in droves- Seeds included- and there was nothing they could do.
“Until the final surviving Seed beyond the city of Atlantis found them, discovered the turbulence they’d been so complacent about, and warned them of the danger.
“The City was evacuated immediately, abandoned.  Legends say there were even meals left out on dinner tables, they left so fast.  The Atlanteans reentered the world, and quickly threw together new strongholds for each Seed, to protect them.  These strongholds were layered with enchantments of the age, and protected with barriers similar to the ones on Atlantis but far more powerful- though tuned to never allow a buildup beyond a certain gradient, far below that required to start any Magic Poisoning effects.”  He sighed.  “All the modern myths about Magic Poisoning are based on the real thing, but are indeed mere myths.”
“Yikes,” Hailey muttered.  “How many of those Seeds are left?”
“Just one,” an unfamiliar girl’s voice said suddenly- and Hermione turned to look.  It was the girl Draco had become; she’d awoken at some point during Discord’s explanation, sat up, and curled up into a ball in the corner.  Her voice wavered slightly, and was tainted with fear, but she was clearly forcing herself to remain calm.  “The Seeds have directly ruled wizardkind throughout history- up until the year five hundred and three, when the three remaining Seeds decided to introduce the current system of nobility so they wouldn’t be forced to do everything themselves.  They’re still the highest authority of magic worldwide- and it’s believed the Seed lets them command any other magical.”  She paused for a second.  “All three seeds were granted the title of ‘Carrier of the Seed of Magic’, which would pass down with the Seed rather than the House, and would carry with it the highest possible House ranking- Grand Royal and Most Ancient, no matter how young the House really was.
“Not that it’s possible to create a new Seed House, but…”  She sighed.  “One of the three died off in the year 1202 when the young Seed fell from her tower bedroom to the ground outside, but nobody knows what the House name was, nor why she fell.  We do, however, know her parents never had any other children, so the House ended with her.
“The second is believed to have died in an ocean accident involving a sinking ship in the seventeen hundreds sometime; the Seed was a child aboard a ship headed for Britain from what is now the United States of America, a territory of Britain at the time, and was never seen nor heard from again.
“The third…  is Harry Potter.”
“And the House of Potter actually carries two Seeds,” Discord observed.  “One from the Atlanteans…  and the other that non-Atlantean Seed that saved the rest from Magic Poisoning.”  He smiled.  “And you’re right, the Seed does grant its carrier a certain level of…  obligatory authority over other non-Seed magicals, though it may or may not be very easy to use.”
Quite suddenly, a bell sprang out of the air next to Discord and rang violently, smacking him in the side of the head with every toll.  Everyone- except Ron, who was still out cold- jumped.
Discord swatted the bell away, causing it to disappear with a crash.  “Ahh, I need to be going,” he informed them.  “My dear Fluttershy is waiting for me; I agreed to have tea with her today.”  He rose to his feet, turned on the spot, nodded his head, raised his hand, snapped his talon-gloved fingers, and vanished.
Hailey immediately rose to her feet and stepped over to the silver-haired girl.  “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Wh-What do you mean?”
“Well, I know that all this was…  well, quite sudden,” she told her, gesturing down at the girl’s body.
The girl glanced downwards, briefly, and blushed.  “Y-Yeah,” she muttered.  “Father will be furious.”
Hailey shrugged.  “He doesn’t need to ever hear about it if you don’t want him to,” she observed- and shot a brief but commanding glare around the room as if to say or else.  “I mean, your bookends wandered off, the Weasley in the corner fell asleep at some point-!”
“He fell asleep!?” the girl gasped, turning to look.  “...  Oh.  How did he…?”
Hailey shrugged.  “Hit him with the Somnus Charm when Discord appeared.”  She glanced in his direction.  “He doesn’t give me the trustworthy vibe.”
She snorted.
“And as for the change itself, just make sure you get five contiguous hours of sleep tonight and you’ll see what I mean.”  She paused.  “So, um, any thoughts on what I should call you in the meantime?”
“Eh?” the girl muttered, staring at her.
Morning smiled.  “Just because if someone hears us calling you by your normal name while you look like that, it’s going to get you laughed at in both shapes.  Appearances, you know.  One of the worst inventions of civilization.”
Hailey snorted, but nodded her agreement.
The girl let out a laugh as well, then paused, and shook her head.  “No idea.”
“How about…  Silver, until and unless you pick something different?” Hailey suggested.
“Silver?” she repeated.
She shrugged.  “The color of your hair.  Or most of it, anyways.”
> Chapter 10:  The Sorting Hat
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Professor Flitwick used to think he’d seen it all.  He’d been Charms Professor at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years, after all- and his Ravenclaws, while not as rambunctious as the Gryffindor lot, were perhaps the most imaginative House, resulting in a lot of the strangest things he’d ever seen.
Then Hagrid had been arrested, and Hogwarts had been implicated.  Dumbledore had stood Hogwarts’ place in the trial- and while nobody had gone to prison in that case, Hogwarts had lost over half of its budget for the next ten years.  On the other hand, that had left nobody to ferry the first-years across the lake to get their first impressions.
So he had taken the job.  Hagrid was tall, and used that height to wave a lantern to get the first years’ attention.  Flitwick, on the other hand…  was short.  He had a disadvantage where Hagrid had an advantage.
But he wasn’t a Ravenclaw himself for nothing, so he’d enchanted himself a shiny silver surfboard that would serve as a broomstick he could stand on.  He’d had some fun engineering the safety spellwork such that he couldn’t fall off without intending to.
That hadn’t been the end of the summer’s surprises.  No, of course it hadn’t!  When he’d arrived at Hogsmeade Station ahead of the train, intending to set up for the first-year introduction…  he’d done so to find no less than twenty aurors chatting and sitting in lawn chairs on the station platform, including none other than Director Bones herself.
Director Bones waved when she saw him.  “Ahh, Professor Flitwick,” she greeted.  “Where’d you get that surfboard?”
He hovered at a comfortable height for the conversation- about six inches off the ground, as the Director was seated.  “Enchanted it myself, Director,” he answered.  “I designed it as a standing broomstick.”
She rubbed her chin.  “A standing broomstick…  You could probably sell that for a pretty penny.”
He laughed.  “Oh, no, I only needed a lift for the First Year Voyage.  What brings you to Hogsmeade Station?”
“Ahh,” she nodded.  “As for us, a dead man with a posthumous Order of Merlin has reappeared as an unregistered animagus with a pulse, so we’re here to take custody of him and find out what really happened.”  She sighed.  “I’ve also noticed that Sirius Black, the man he got the Order for confronting, never had a trial.  On top of that, as the House of Black is a Most Noble House, he has a right to a swift trial with Veritaserum evidence- and Mr. Peter Pettigrew himself is likely the only man on Earth that can provide that evidence.”
“...  Ahh,” Flitwick muttered.
“I’ve sent half the remaining Aurors to retrieve Black from Azkaban for transfer to a Ministry cell, pending trial.”
“The remaining Aurors?”
She shrugged.  “Peter attacked the Head of a Grand Royal and Most Ancient House on the train today,” she answered.  “In a case like this, there’s no such thing as too many aurors.”  She sighed.  “It’s a good thing a high-level Royal Guard of Equestria was on the train with them; she was able to stop his attack in its tracks.”
A whistle blew in the distance- that was the train, signaling to Flitwick that it was about to pull into the station.
“Oh, here it comes,” Director Bones observed, rising from her chair.  “On your feet, Aurors!”
Flitwick nodded slowly and conjured a large lantern in his hand, hanging on a long rod that he could wave over the crowd.





“We’re getting a lot of stares,” Hailey observed, as she, Morning, Hermione, Ron, and Silver all stepped off the train.
“No, we’re not,” Morning observed in turn.  “Well, not most of them.  They’re getting most of them.”  She gestured before them, at the small army of Aurors that was carrying the still bound and gagged Peter Pettigrew to their secure jump point just off the station.  “Most people don’t get to see that many law enforcement officers in one place without going to a law enforcement office.”
“C’mon, let’s get to the Professor,” Hermione muttered, then grabbed Silver’s hand and started dragging them through the crowd to the Professor at the edge of the platform.  “Uh- Professor?” she called.
The tiny man imitating the Silver Surfer as he waved his lantern-on-a-stick looked around, apparently unsure where her voice had come from.
She pulled Silver closer.  “Professor?” she called again.
He spotted her this time.  “Ah, yes, miss…  Ahh, don’t see tagless very often.  Is something wrong?”
“Ahh- yes.  Silver here got mixed up in a bit of a magical accident on the train, and now she looks like someone completely different.”
There was a second of silence.  “Ahh,” the Professor nodded slowly.  “Alright.  When we get up to the Castle and Professor McGonagall takes charge of the rest, I’ll take you two to the Hospital Wing.  Unless it’s something serious, we should make it back down in plenty of time for the Sorting.”
Silver snorted.





As it turned out, Hermione returned in time for the Sorting, but Silver did not.  According to Hermione, the Professor- Professor Flitwick- had stepped out of the room while they explained to Madam Pomfrey, the nurse…  and Silver would be staying in the Hospital Wing overnight.  She would have a quick private sorting ceremony before she went to bed with a five-hour dose of sleeping potion.
After letting the first-years fester in another room for a few minutes, during which Hermione had returned, Professor McGonagall- the severe-looking woman that had taken over the guidance, as Flitwick had promised, at the front door- had led them into the Great Hall.  There were four long tables groaning under the weight of the clean dishes set out across them- even the serving dishes.  They were each sparsely populated by black-robed students with tall black hats, just like all of the first-years- though of course, unlike the first-years, a vast majority of them had ordinary hair colors like black and brown, which didn’t stand out against their black robes.  There were a few odd colors, but they were a distinct minority.
There were also three times as many first-years as there were students seated at those tables.
A moment later, the sorting began.
It went surprisingly quickly, for the number of people they needed to go through- a vast majority of students barely tapped the Sorting Hat to their head before it called out their House.  Hermione was no exception.
Hailey was, though.  McGonagall paused, staring at the scroll, for a couple of seconds after the student before her- ‘Hadfield, Chris’- had departed to his House table.  “Hailey,” she finally called, then looked up at the row of students waiting for Sorting.  “Princess Hailey?”
The murmuring started right away as Hailey, one eyebrow raised, stepped out of the row and approached the Hat.  She quirked her mouth in a grin as she scanned the room, accepting the hat graciously and setting it deftly on her head.  Harry might be famous for being attacked by a mass murderer, but now she was going to be famous for being a Princess with no surname!
It was amusing, she had to admit.
And probably going to be annoying.
Then the Hat spoke in her ear.  “Oh dear,” it muttered.  “I don’t see that very often.”
“You don’t see what?” Hailey offered, speaking in her mind.
“People that are normally boys but can sneeze to become girls.  That’s…  I’ve never seen it before.”
She snorted.  “I suppose that counts as ‘not very often’,” she observed.
It laughed.  “It does.  Even less often is when I get to sort someone who is part magic.  So, ahh, any preference in House?  You’d probably excel in any of them.”
She paused for a second.  “Hmm, Hermione went to Gryffindor,” she observed.
“She did,” the Hat agreed.  “Very interesting girl, that one, though I can’t say any more for privacy reasons.”
She gave a mental shrug.  “Eh, then I’ll join my sister in Gryffindor.  Though…  I’m told I should mention-!”
“The Lord’s Quarters to me, yes.  And yes, I am the one that controls initial dormitory assignments, so you’ve got some Lord’s Quarters in Gryffindor Tower.  I’ll also assign Harry the same Quarters- and you’ll each have a personal house elf to tend to your needs.  Yours will be by at the end of dinner to show you around the castle, and explain the various rights and privileges you have as a Grand Royal that I don’t have time to explain right now.  That work?”
She chuckled softly.  “Excellently, thank you.”
Then she slipped the Sorting Hat off her head, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, and went to sit next to Hermione.
As she walked, the Hat suddenly made a noise like a cough.  “Oh, right, I’m supposed to call the House out, aren’t I?  GRYFFINDOR!”
Hailey laughed with everyone else.





Draco- or ‘Silver’, when anyone other than Madam Pomfrey was in the room- shivered as he lowered the Sorting Hat over his head.  He was sitting on a bed in the Hospital Wing, having completely skipped the Welcoming Feast due to his predicament- and had also skipped the standard Sorting as well.
The Hat spoke.  “Oh, another one, huh?  Though…  Though your family doesn’t have the standing to get Lord’s Quarters.  That could be complicated.”
“Complicated,” he repeated.
“Well yes,” it informed him.  “Your fellow Gryffindors might be-!”
“Gryffindor-?” he echoed in horror.  “My dad’ll kill me if I’m not in Slytherin!”
There was a moment of silence.
“...  And he’ll kill you if he finds out you can sneeze to turn into a girl, won’t he?”
He shivered.  So apparently that would be how he could re-transform after reversing.  “Yeah.”
“Then I can safely sort Draco into Slytherin, for his very Slytherin-like determination to end up in the wrong House, and Miss Name-Pending, currently going by Silver, into Gryffindor.”
“...  Yeah,” he conceded.  “And make it Silversong.”
“Or Silver for short, I like it,” the Hat agreed- then spoke aloud.
“It’s complicated.”
Draco snorted.
Professor McGonagall, the only person in the room aside from Draco and Madam Pomfrey, let out a sigh.  “Of course it is.  So.  Specific to this appearance?”
“Gryffindor.”
“And the other one?”
“Slytherin.”
There was a moment of silence.
McGonagall let out another sigh.  “You’re right, that is complicated.”
> Chapter 11:  Iterative Family Tree
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Much of the meal went uneventfully, even after the amusing event of the food rising up out of the serving platters, making the tables groan even louder.  Hailey had to ignore large numbers of stares, but nobody was brave enough to try talking to her.
Except Hermione.
“Buncha scaredy-cats,” Hermione accused, when she noticed as well.  “You’d think you were Darth Vader or something.”
Hailey chuckled softly.  “We’ll see if they’re still willing to hold back tomorrow,” she observed, knowing full well that they wouldn’t be.  If she got some decent sleep, at least; they’d likely be just like all the adults in Diagon Alley, crowding her as they tried to shake her hand.
Which reminded her.
“I have kinda made myself out to be a hard case, haven’t I?  Taking the Weasley Twins to task for accusing me of being Harry before you ever got there, then having a dozen and a half Aurors cart someone out of my compartment as soon as the train reached its destination…”
Hermione oohed.  “Yeah, that’ll do it.  Nobody wants to be the next one carted off by aurors.”
“Even though he really was attacking,” Hailey observed.  “He was building up for a stunning spell when Morning crushed him.”
“When she crushed him, tied him up, stunned him, and applied an anti-Animagus spell that Director Bones had never even heard of, all before I could do so much as draw my wand.”
She shrugged.  “Yeah.”
“Or maybe,” Ron muttered, having sat on Hailey’s other side when he’d been sorted into Gryffindor- after several seconds under the Hat.  “Maybe, they think you’re actually Harry Potter just pretending.  It’s true, innit?”
Hailey slowly lowered her knife and fork to her plate.
“He’s done it now,” Hermione sighed, turning back to her food.
All the way up at the staff table, Professor McGonagall looked up sharply, dropped her cutlery right where they were, and sprang out of her seat as if she’d been electrocuted.
Then Hailey turned, drew her hand back, and slapped Ron across the face.  “How many times do I have to tell you,” she bellowed at him, “that I.  AM.  NOT.  HARRY.  POTTER!”
Then McGonagall arrived.  “Weasley!” she barked, scowling down at the boy lying on the floor; he’d fallen off the bench in shock when Hailey had slapped him.
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she picked up her glass.
“You do not provoke the Head of a Grand Royal and Most Ancient House!” McGonagall continued.
Hermione spat out her pumpkin juice and turned to look at Hailey.  “Y-You’re the Head of House!?” she asked incredulously.
Hailey nodded silently.  Did that title really carry that much influence…?  She was the one that had slapped him, not the other way around, so when she’d sensed McGonagall on approach, she’d expected to be the one that was told off, not him.
“Now, apologize,” McGonagall commanded Ron.
His twin brothers, seated just on the other side of the table, watched with wooden expressions, looking like they’d completely expected that turn of events.
“Sorry about our brother,” one of them muttered towards Hailey, while Ron was still trying to argue that she’d slapped him.  “He just…  doesn’t understand nobility.”
“And isn’t quite the finest wand in the shop,” the other twin joined in.
Hailey nodded in acknowledgement.  “If only I’d been brought up to understand the nobility,” she informed them.  “If I had been, I might actually understand the gravity of whatever he’s just done.”
The two boys covered their mouths to try to suppress their snickers.
“Imagine walking up to Queen Veronica of England and calling her ‘Jimmy’ to her face, even after being asked not to,” Hermione muttered.
Hailey blinked.  “That bad?”
She shrugged.  “Members of Grand Royal and Most Ancient Houses aren’t quite as powerful as Queen Veronica, as a rule- but the Head of House is another matter entirely.  Seriously, it’s a crime to piss you off.  At least it’s not one that has to be taken to the DMLE, even if it does have to be reported.”
“Which means Mom’s going to find out tomorrow, one way or another,” one of the Twins muttered.
“Keep an eye out for Howlers,” the other cautioned.
“A crime…?” Hailey asked Hermione.  “So the punishment-?”
“Is to take whatever punishment the offended Head sees fit, even including death, and to be made to apologize for the offense, unless the said Head forgives them.”
She nodded slowly, then glanced at the Twins.  “That’s what happened on the train too, isn’t it?”
They nodded in tandem.
“That…  was forgiveness, right?” one of them asked.
She quirked a grin.  “Yeah.  It wasn’t your fault.  Nor was it the first transgression by that particular mastermind.”
“I’m pretty sure Hogwarts policy- as in most public places- is to spot such infractions as soon as possible, and head them off or minimize them,” Hermione continued.  “An irate Head of a Grand Royal and Most Ancient House can be a deadly person to be around, even for people that weren’t involved in offending them.”
“Ahh,” Hailey muttered, looking back down at Ron as McGonagall issued him detention.





Some fifteen minutes later, after a begrudging apology from Ron under threat of a whole month’s detention with Argus Filch, the caretaker, the Welcoming Feast finally drew to a close and Dumbledore gave a number of start-of-term notices.  They started with reminders of forbidden items and an announcement of the Quidditch trial date, then moved on to a notice- and reminder- that they weren’t allowed to leave the school grounds.  Apparently, the forest on the grounds was not a part of the school grounds, and was in fact titled the ‘Forbidden Forest’.  His last notice was pertaining to a forbidden corridor, along with a mention of very painful death, before he tried to get everyone to sing the School Song…  with each picking their favorite tune.
Hailey, Hermione, and most of the Equestrians simply covered their ears and waited, so the cacophony sounded sad and dim in the chamber.  That went doubly so when most of the Equestrians joined in with the two Weasley Twins at the end, after everyone else had finished; their chosen tune was a slow funeral march, making them the last to finish by several stanzas, and making it the ‘saddest’ performance.  The rest of the Equestrians provided acapella accompaniment.
And finally, Dumbledore sighed.  “Ahh, music,” he mused.  “A magic beyond all we do here.  And now, bed time!  Off you trot!”
Another voice immediately vied for Hailey’s attention.  “Princess-Mistress Hailey?”
She turned.  “Hmm?”
The asker…  wasn’t human.  Short, with big ears, and…  This had to be the ‘House Elf’ the Sorting Hat had promised.
“Blinky is being ready to take the Princess-Mistress to her Lord’s Quarters,” the elf informed her.
Ron scoffed, still seated next to her.  “Gotta be the Lord’s Quarters, of course,” he grumbled.  “Damn teacher’s pet.”
Across the table, both twins paused to slap their hands to their faces.
Hailey, noticing this, turned to Ron.  “Is your House of higher standing than Grand Royal and Most Ancient?” she asked him.
“...  No?” he offered.
“Do you know what a teacher’s pet is?”
“Um…  No?”
Several people in the immediate area facepalmed as well.
“Then shut your mouth,” she commanded him, and rose to her feet as she turned to Hermione.  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she offered, then turned and followed the elf from the room.





Hermione rose to her feet, then slapped Ron in Hailey’s place, though not nearly as hard as Hailey had.  “You know better than that,” she snapped.
“What is going on?”
She jumped.  She’d completely forgotten Professor McGonagall’s apparent near-omniscience when it came to troublemaking.  “Uh-  He called Hailey a ‘teacher’s pet’,” she informed the Professor.
McGonagall’s gaze tracked around everyone else present, evidently judging the accuracy by the witnesses’ reactions.  “And her reaction?”
“She confirmed that the Greater and Venerable House of Weasley is not, in fact, senior to hers, and that he actually has no idea what a teacher’s pet is, then told him to shut his mouth.”
She could actually hear the Twins nodding their agreement.
“Interesting that she got much angrier much faster when he called her Harry than when he insulted her to her face,” George observed.
Hermione glanced back.  “...  Yeah,” she observed.  “From what I heard, she hexed you two, snapped at me, shouted at Malfoy, and slapped Ron.”
McGonagall slowly put a hand to her face.  “No wonder she snapped so quickly,” she muttered.  “What about…  before the Twins?”
She shrugged.  “No idea.  Presumably a lot, if she went all the way to a hex- and she did have a good few hours with Ron and Morning before I arrived.”


Ron ended up with an extra day of detention with the caretaker, Argus Filch, who fought a constant war against the student body- and would no doubt force Ron to do manual cleaning.





The Lord’s Quarters were, in a word, ostentatious.  Blinky introduced Hailey to Slinky, the rather sullen-looking House Elf that had been assigned to Harry, once they stepped inside- through a door next to a portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.
The Lord’s Quarters…  was basically a mansion.  She even had two entrances in her foyer; one to the outside corridor, and one to the Gryffindor common room.  Then she had a common room of her own, a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, a library, a ballroom, a study, five single-occupancy bedrooms with beds easily large enough for two adults, and five five-bed dormitories, not counting all the other rooms she didn’t recognize or didn’t explore.  Not only that, but there were three single-occupancy bathrooms and a pool room with a hot tub as well off the main common room, then each dormitory had two bathrooms and each bedroom had one, all with fancy tubs and showers.
In the Master Bedroom, a wide, three-story chamber with shuttered skylights, stained glass windows, no less than six balconies and a separate dressing room that was bigger than her house, she found her trunk.
Her trunk was one of the finest models that Dyllan, the shop owner, had for sale- apparently, nobody could afford it.  It was only twenty thousand galleons, though…?  In any case, it looked tiny, pale, and shabby compared to the room it was sitting in.
“Ostentatious,” she observed simply, and paused for a second.  “Um, have those dormitories ever been used?”
Blinky shook her head.  “Princess-Mistress Hailey is being the eighth person to ever get Lord’s Quarters at Hogwarts,” she informed her.  “Not one is ever having more than three persons in their Quarters.  The Bodyguard’s Quarters are across the hallway from the Lord’s Quarters.”
“...  Ahh,” she muttered.  “Might as well get a few in there, then.”  She looked down at the elf.  “I’ve already been attacked once on the train already, so how would I go about getting bodyguards?”
Blinky was ready for her.  She pulled a scroll out of her little uniform and presented it.  “Blinky is being able to submit these forms,” she informed her.  “Princess-Mistress’ house is senior enough that nearly every specific request is being obligatory.  Nonspecific requests is being fulfilled by the Auror Office.”
“...  Huh,” Hailey muttered, unrolling the scroll to examine the form.  “I wonder if Tonks will come…?”  She stepped up to her trunk.  “Quill, ink,” she commanded- and the named items sprang out of it into her waiting hand.
“Is Princess-Mistress wanting guards for Princess-Mistress’ brother?” Blinky asked, as Hailey knelt to use the top of her trunk as a writing desk.
She looked up.  “Hmm?  My…  brother?”
“Princess-Mistress’ brother Harry Potter Sir,” she clarified.
She blinked.  “So Harry is my brother, huh?”
She nodded her head.
“That works.”  She paused.  “And wouldn’t it be Prince Harry if he’s also of House Potter?”
“It is being so, but strong magics is blocking Blinky from addressing Harry Potter Sir so.”
She scowled.  “Cast by, let me guess, Albus Dumbledore.”
She shrugged.  “Blinky is not knowing.”
“Huh.  Well, let’s go for minimum guard detail for me and my…  brother.”  She giggled.  “Which means I’m my own sister, doesn’t it?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
She looked up.  “Oh, hi Dad.  How’d tea with Fluttershy go?”
Discord, who was sitting sideways on one of the tall posts of her bed, sighed.  “As well as it always does,” he observed.  “How about you?  How’d the Welcoming Feast go?”
She shrugged.  “About as well as it could.  Got called Harry again.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “Can’t he see I’m not a boy?”
He shrugged as well.  “I don’t think he can see that, but it should be rather obvious that you’re female.  Did he do something to hurt you?”
She paused for a second.  “He attacked my hand with his face.”
“Oh dear, how’s your hand?”
“It stung a little, but I don’t think he managed to hurt it.”
“And his face?”
She shrugged.  “A lot redder on one side than the other.  Then he landed on the floor and I shouted at him.  Or maybe he attacked my voice with his ears, I’m not sure.  Then Professor McGonagall arrived to tell him off for bothering me.”
“And she wasn’t worried about the attack?”
She laughed.  “Apparently, because I’m the Head of a Grand Royal and Most Ancient House, if he pisses me off, I’m allowed to do whatever I want to him, and he has to take it and apologize, by law.  He ended up with two weeks or so of detention, if I remember right, before he finally apologized.”
He laughed too.  “I don’t generally condone violence, but some people just deserve it, don’t they?”
She nodded.  “Yeah.  When Blinky appeared to guide me here, he called me a ‘Teacher’s Pet’...  I asked him if his House was senior to mine, then told him to shut his mouth and left.”
“You didn’t slap him for that?”
“No, Hermione did.  But aside from all that, how do you mean, I’m my own sister in a manner of speaking?”
“Ahh, that.  I mean that magically speaking, you, Hailey, are not Harry’s sibling at all, but his daughter.”
She blinked.  “So…  I am my own daughter.  And father, presumably.”  She sighed.  “That’s going to make things complicated.”
“Especially with how Harry dies every time he sneezes while thinking about girls, and comes back to life when you sleep, yet you, Hailey, never die, you simply go dormant.”
She blinked.  “Meaning…  Hailey is the Head of House Potter, even when I’m Harry.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
She rubbed her chin.  “So…  if I’m my own father, and you’re my dad…  that’s two dads- are there any others?  I assume James Potter isn’t my dad, but rather my grandfather…  alongside myself, as I am the father of myself, who happens to be my father, which makes me my own grandfather.”
“I like the way you think,” Discord grinned.  “And no, James is only Harry’s dad.  Good riddance, I say.  That leaves you with only two dads- me, and Harry.  However, for moms…  Let’s see.  There’s Lily- she bound her soul to Harry as his guardian angel, and is now yours…  then there’s Princesses Celestia and Luna of Equestria, Princess Cadence of the Crystal Empire, Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings…”
“And myself, of course,” Hailey observed.
“And yourself?”
She nodded.  “As I have a daughter, I must be that daughter’s parent.  As I am female, I must be that daughter’s mother- and as that daughter happens to be myself, that makes me my own mother.  And as I am the mother of myself, who happens to be my mother, that makes me my own grandmother too.  And granddaughter, by the same logic- but not grandson, I don’t think.  Harry isn’t his own parent, after all, only Hailey is.”
“And since you’re adopting Harry as your brother…”
“That makes me my own aunt,” she observed, “as my father’s sister.  And Harry my uncle too, as my mother’s brother.”  She snickered.  “And it makes me Harry’s mother too, as he’s the brother to my daughter.  Which makes me my own son, and therefore grandson as well.”
“Which fills out the entire family tree with just one soul,” Discord nodded.  “Complicated indeed.”
“Wait, we haven’t filled ‘niece’ and ‘nephew’ yet.  Though I suppose those come with aunt and uncle, perhaps.  As the daughter of Harry’s sister, I am his niece.  And as his sister is her own mother, and by extension his mother too, he is the son of his sister, making him his own nephew, and therefore me by extension.”  She nodded.  “Which fills out the entire family tree:  I am my own mother, father, brother, sister, son, daughter, aunt, uncle, niece, and nephew, all to as many degrees of separation as I like!”
“Well congratulations!” he cheered.
“Meanwhile, Dad, it makes you not just a father, but a grandfather and great-grandfather as well.”
He blinked.  “Oh, I suppose it does, doesn’t it?  I’m going to have to tell Fluttershy tomorrow.  Only told her today that I’m a father, and I’m already a granddad…”  He dropped off of the bed to hug her.  “Oh, my dear girl, already giving me grandchildren…”
Their laughter rang out in the chamber.
> Chapter 12:  Infirmary
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry yawned and stretched as he left his Lord’s Quarters to head down to breakfast.  It was really amusing how all you needed to get into Gryffindor Tower was a simple password (that he actually didn’t know), yet to get into his Lord’s Quarters…  well, the door would only open for him and those he allowed.
Such as Discord, even though he didn’t need to use the door.
That thought made him chuckle as he made his way down to breakfast.  Harry hadn’t shown up to the sorting, causing the whole room to go silent for a minute when Professor McGonagall had called out his name.
So, how exactly were people going to assault him when he arrived?
And arrive he would.  The massive bedchamber was so much larger than he was used to, and the bed so much more comfortable, that he hadn’t been able to sleep at all…  until Discord had started singing him to sleep, after which he’d slept like a log.  He’d known the avatar for less than a day, yet they were already perfectly familiar with one another!
He reached the Great Hall rather uneventfully, despite crossing paths with a few other first-years…  all with funny-colored hair.  A couple of them even greeted him as they went about their business.
And not one tried to punch him.
He scanned the Gryffindor table as he approached, then picked an open seat next to Hermione, even though Harry had only ever seen her at Gringotts.
She greeted him as he sat down, without looking up.  “Morning, Hailey.”
“Good morning,” he answered, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.  Did she actually know it was him, or had she just made a random guess?
Hermione blinked and turned sharply to face him.  “Wha-!?” she began.
“What?”
“Y-You’re-!”  She paused.  “You’re Harry Potter?”  It sounded like a question.
He nodded.  “Yeah, that’s what people call me,” he agreed.  “The ‘Boy Who Lived’, whose hand they all want to shake for some reason.”
She rolled her eyes.  “Of course they do,” she grumbled.  “You’re famous for getting attacked by a mass murderer.  It’s… insane.”
“Quite,” he agreed.
“HARRY POTTER!”
Harry knew it was Ronald Weasley, charging down the table at him, before he even looked.  “What the-?” he began deliberately; Harry had never seen the boy.
Then Ron crashed into him, bowling him straight into Hermione, who cried out in pain.
The next second, Harry’s elbow interacted with Ron’s face, and the aggressive boy crashed to the ground as Harry rolled off of Hermione, also dropping to the floor- though unlike Ron, he landed on his feet and turned back to her.  “You okay?” he asked her.
Hermione pushed herself back up.  “Ow ow ow,” she complained.  “Um, yeah, I think.”  She touched the left side of her head, which had been really close to the edge of the table.  “Am I bleeding?”
He looked critically at the side of her head.  “Doesn’t look like it,” he observed.
She sighed.  “Good.  I don’t think he managed to break anything either.”  Then she turned to him.  “Are you okay?”
He shrugged.  “I’m used to that kind of thing.”
Ron scrambled back to his feet.  “Harry,” he complained through his bloody nose.  “Why’d you hit me, your best friend?”
“My-?” Harry began, turning to him.  “Who the hell are you, and why did you attack me?”
“I’m Ronald Weasley,” he answered.  “Your best friend.  Don’t you-?”
“Since when were you my friend?” he barked.  
Right at that moment, a large gray owl landed on Ron’s head, and dropped a bright red envelope at his feet.
There was a moment of silence before Ron looked down, tried to catch the falling owl (which had apparently fallen unconscious), slipped on the fallen letter, and fell flat on his back.
Harry picked up the red letter to read the front.
“Ronald Bilius Weasley,” he read, then set it on the table and turned back to Ron.  “More like Ronald Bully-us Weasley.”
“Oh, is the Weasel getting up to something?”
Harry looked up- it was Draco Malfoy, back in male form again, and grinning nastily at Ron.
“Trying to hurt the Famous Harry Potter?” Draco went on, before looking up at Harry.
Harry nodded softly before Draco could ask if that was who he really was, even though it bothered him to be called the Famous Harry Potter.
The scarlet envelope on the table began to smoke.
“Clear off, Malfoy,” Ron growled, rising back to his feet.  “This is the Gryffindor table, you’re not welcome here.”
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, according to their nameplates, raised their eyebrows from where they were standing on either side of Malfoy, then raised their hands and punched their fists into their open palms in a way that reminded Harry of that ‘Pacific Rim’ movie.
Then the envelope burst open, belching out a small cloud of black smoke, and the room went instantly silent, save only for the voice of what was presumably Ron’s mother, drowning everything else out with what had to be a hundred times its normal volume.
“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!” the woman began- and Harry noticed an aged man with a very long silver beard, approaching from behind Draco, pause to look around.
That would be Albus Dumbledore, and he was not looking happy.  He did, however, seen to be able to locate the scarlet envelope.
Ron’s mother was, in a word, wordy, Harry decided.  She was evidently absolutely furious with her son- so much that it took over sixty seconds before he found out why she was mad.
She was mad at her son…  because he had angered Hailey.
Harry actually had to laugh at that.  Was Hailey so powerful that people were as afraid of her as they were of Voldemort?
Dumbledore raised his arm to check his wristwatch, before looking back up at the envelope, which was still yelling itself hoarse.
Harry sat back down and started getting himself some food.  Ron’s mother had already informed them all that she was ashamed of her son, and that her son was a disgrace to his family, at least three times now.
Harry noticed when Hermione put a hand to the side of her head and shook herself out.  It looked to him like there was something bothering her.
So he put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention amidst Mrs. Weasley’s yells, and yelled at her.  “Are you okay?”
He could barely hear himself, but it seemed Hermione was able to pick out his words.
She also shook her head.
“Hospital wing?” he offered, also at a yell.
She seemed confused for a second, but seemed to make sense of it and nodded, so Harry stood…  and helped her to stand as well.  She seemed to be having trouble standing upright, so he supported her as they left the room.
As they did so, Mrs. Weasley finally finished yelling.  “...  AND IF YOU CAUSE ANY MORE TROUBLE, YOU’RE COMING STRAIGHT BACK HOME!”
The silence echoed behind them.
Then there was Dumbledore’s voice.  “Mister Weasley,” he began darkly.  “Come with me.”





“Concussion,” Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, confirmed.  “Pretty nasty one too, you’re lucky you’re still awake.”  She handed Hermione a potion.  “Looks like you managed to strain a few joints in your spine as well; this will help with the pain.”  She offered her a small bottle of pills.  “One tablet, as needed for the pain, but no less than six hours between them, alright?”
Hermione nodded, drank the potion, and made a face.
“ ‘And if you cause any more trouble’,” Harry quoted.  “Do you think we should tell her?”
Hermione snorted.  “He’d probably break the record for shortest Hogwarts career,” she observed.
“What is it?” Madam Pomfrey asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh…  about a minute after the incident,” Harry began; they’d explained Ron’s attack to her.  “Bright red envelope started yelling, and it was his mom.  She finished by saying ‘And if you cause any more trouble, you’re coming straight back home’.”
Pomfrey nodded slowly.  “Molly Weasley has a bit of a reputation for sending howlers to her children, threatening to take them straight back home, and never following through with it.  All you’d be likely to do is get him another howler…  well, no, probably no effect.  He hurt another student, so I will be notifying her, by Hogwarts policy.”
“Sucks to be Ron,” Hermione observed.
The door back out to the corridor opened suddenly, and Ron floated in, unconscious, before Professor McGonagall, who hadn’t been present at breakfast.
Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?  What happened this time?”
“I overheard Albus telling him off for ruining everything by angering Princess Hailey, then there was a crash before I got there, and he was lying on the floor in a classroom, about three feet away from Albus.  He said the boy just passed out.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.  “Everything?” he muttered, quietly- but not quietly enough to get past McGonagall.
“Excuse me, Mister Potter?”
“S-Sorry,” he muttered, “but how does angering one person ruin everything?”
The Professor’s expression relaxed.  “Good question.  Even one such as the Princess shouldn’t be powerful enough to ruin everything just by getting angry at one boy.”
“Maybe he’s got a plan,” Harry observed.  “I heard Hailey was attacked by Peter Pettigrew on the train, then the Weasley Twins- and Ron here- were hunting for me on the train, under Professor Dumbledore’s orders.  Good thing I thought to bring a disguise.”
“Concussion,” Madam Pomfrey rattled off suddenly, “three strained and one torn ligaments in his neck, broken elbow and nose.  He’s lucky he’s still alive.”  She looked up at McGonagall.  “What did he fall on?”
“A desk, I think.”
“And nobody thought to catch him?”
“Albus was alone with him.”
“And Albus didn’t think to catch him?”
“Apparently not.  He was certainly close enough.”
> Chapter 13:  Frienemies
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following day was pleasantly Ron-free- to the point where Harry wasn’t able to find him at breakfast.
“Oh, him,” one of the Twins intoned, when Harry asked him where Ron had disappeared to.
“He got hurt so bad,” the other continued.
“They transferred him to St. Mungo’s last night,” the first finished dismissively.
“St. Mungo’s?” Hermione blinked.  “That- That doesn’t mean that he’s the first student to ever leave the castle before attending even a single class, does it?”
They nodded together.  “It does,” they agreed.
“Damn,” she muttered.  “Do you think Hogwarts is going to give him an award for that?”
They blinked.  “Ah-  No.  But we most certainly will!”
Harry and Hermione laughed with them.





Up at the staff table, Dumbledore winced as he looked down towards the Gryffindor table.  Even he had to admit he’d made a mistake the day before; he hadn’t considered the potential harm that might’ve been done to Ron…  and as a result, had foiled his own plan.  The boy had been sent to Saint Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and was expected to stay there for a month while they healed the damage to his neck.  As a direct result, the boy wouldn’t be able to befriend Harry, no matter what he tried, during that time.
And of course, he’d already executed too many steps of his plan to just back down.  He was having setback after setback, with no end in sight!
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately as it had pointed out his own carelessness to him, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall had come ‘Albus Hunting’ the day before.  They had clobbered him- both physically and with numerous quite painful spells- for allowing Ron to get so badly hurt right in front of him and not even trying to prevent it.
They didn’t know it was deliberate.  That he had caused Ron to fall like that.
He had hexed himself in the mirror a few times during the night as punishment for that.
There were plenty of less-harmful ways he could have collected a blood sample from the boy!
Especially as he’d already had the broken nose, which McGonagall and the nurse seemed to have mistakenly believed had been his fault rather than Harry’s.  It would have been simplicity itself to just harvest some of the blood already pouring down the boy’s face.
He felt more than saw Minerva pointing her wand at him under the table, and allowed it.  He deserved the-
Yowch!
The insanely painful stinging hex.  She must’ve overpowered it.
He heaved a soft sigh.  Yes, he deserved it.  He had unnecessarily endangered a student in order to gain a sample of Ron’s blood, which he’d then used in a highly illegal ‘blood guidance ward’ that would guide him into becoming Harry’s best friend.  The boy was insanely susceptible to blood magic like that, as most dim-wits often were, so it would vastly improve his chances- and guide him to take friend-making actions he would never have taken on his own.
Unfortunately, his sudden removal from the Castle, and as such the range of its anchor, during the strongest period of its activity…  would likely cause it to overpower itself upon his return, driving him to some possibly quite dramatic efforts that would no doubt drive Harry away from him for good.
But blood guidance rituals couldn’t be broken.  Once executed, they slowly faded away on their own- and they were always tied to a certain anchor, only effective within a certain range of that anchor, until it broke down entirely at around five years.
The anchor was a particular dungeon floor deep below Hogwarts Castle.  It would reach as far as Hogsmeade…  but not nearly as far as St. Mungo’s.
And the first two weeks were the crucial period that could cause an ‘overcharging’ if he was out of range through it.
Why on earth had he cast that ritual yesterday, after finding out about Ron’s injuries, without first seeing if he’d need to be hospitalized?  The blood would have kept for a week, and he could always have gathered more if he had to!
If he didn’t play his cards just right, he’d have to discard Ron as a control point…  and he rather doubted he’d be able to.  He’d still try, but it would be as a secondary effort.
For his primary effort…  Perhaps that Granger girl Harry had helped to the Hospital Wing.  No, no, she was far too smart- and his passive scanning ward had already informed him she was the next best thing to immune to blood magic.
So maybe someone else?  But there wasn’t anyone as good as Ron!
Though perhaps…  he just needed to find someone that was already prone to what he needed.
And as luck would have it, he found one:
Arienne Fox.
The girl was quite timid and skittish for a Gryffindor, a quality he could use to get her close to Harry; all he’d have to do would be to trigger Harry’s protective instinct.  All Potters had that, whether they believed in it or not.
On top of that, while she wasn’t as susceptible to blood magic as Ron…  she was more average.  He couldn’t control her, but he could guide her.  That said, he’d have to renew the guidance ward each year, as it’d lose enough effectiveness for her to throw it off entirely after only eighteen months or so.
But, if his sensing wards were telling the truth, her core personality was enough in line with what he wanted that he could work with that.
It would be a pain, but it was one he’d basically signed up for.  He’d spent the entire night adjusting his Castle-wide mail manipulation and geas magics to keep anyone from telling anyone about Hailey’s titles; those getting out would be far more troublesome.  Then, the ‘signing up’:  He’d found out about Ron angering Princess Hailey and used that as an excuse to get him alone for blood collection.
He’d forced himself to sleep the night after that, to ensure he wouldn’t make such an egregious error again.  Especially since he’d decided on a second piece of blood magic for his new target, Miss Fox- a blood ward.  Like all blood magic, blood wards were classified as dark magic- though they were protective magic, and therefore the target’s susceptibility to it was moot.  With a sample of her blood and the Elder Wand, he could cause Magic itself to basically guarantee her safety.  To ward off dangers, guide her away from risks.  To make other students overlook her when they didn’t have her best interests at heart.
That would allow her to survive the challenges he was going to set before Harry.  On top of that, blood wards had a much longer range- covering almost the whole country- and lasted a lot longer.  This one would last for a good ten years, through her entire Hogwarts career and a bit beyond it; he’d have to use the Blood Guidance ward to keep her from noticing its protective effect, to keep her feeling vulnerable.
To keep her behaving in a way that would get Harry to want to protect her.
Fortunately, even if something did happen, a Blood Ward would even protect her from the side effects of being too far from a Blood Guidance Ward during the first two weeks!  …  If the ward was placed first, hence the reason he couldn’t just add one to Ron to keep it from overpowering.
Fortunately, she was a girl, and gaining a blood sample from a girl was as simple as waiting for their time of the month and harvesting it out of the Castle sewer system.  It was a pain, and required some extra details in the ritual to keep from having some really weird side effects, but it was reliable.
However, it would force him to wait as much as a month.  Everything would last a month, he was sure.
Of much greater concern was that Arienne was actually pre-pubescent, and so didn’t have a ‘time of the month’ yet.  Which meant…
Wait, the Invisibility Cloak he’d taken from the Potter family vaults after James’ death.  While he still had it, he could use it to follow her into a bathroom, alone.  Stun her, inflict a flesh wound with a small dagger, harvest the blood he needed, heal it with magic, and rennervate her.
It was flawless.





It was most certainly not flawless.
Arienne seemed to have super-cognitive senses or something, because as she approached a bathroom with Dumbledore on her tail…  she stopped quite suddenly, turning back to face him.  He was so close!  But, for as much as they were alone, he never knew when there might be another student- or Professor- just around the corner, so he had to wait until she was in the bathroom and he could confirm nobody else was there before he performed his collection.
The girl’s eyes searched back and forth, and focused in on him.  This was Death’s invisibility cloak- she couldn’t see him, could she?  Then, why was she taking such a deep breath?  And what was she doing with her hands, where he couldn’t see it?
A moment later, she moved- and she moved so fast Dumbledore had no time to react.  She stepped forwards, her body twisting violently as her fist shot forwards and she let her breath out in a single, violent yell.
She couldn’t see him.  And she was only a pre-pubescent eleven-year-old.
Yet, her punch connected dead-center on his throat, and her lack of strength was rendered moot.
He choked.
Her fist twisted, grabbing briefly- then took the Invisibility Cloak with it as she pulled it back, leaving him exposed, visible.
He was still raising his hands to his throat, Elder Wand in one and silver dagger in the other, when her next blow landed:  Her shoe, straight into his groin.
He nearly fainted from the pain, and did collapse, still struggling to breathe as his eyes teared up.
He remained conscious just long enough for her to snatch up his dagger, the Elder Wand, and the Invisibility Cloak before she fled, the cloak streaming behind her like a silver banner.





“So what happened?”
Dumbledore gasped as he sat up suddenly, then looked around.  He was in the Hospital Wing, sitting in one of the beds, with Madam Pomfrey standing over him.  “S’cuse me?” he asked.
“Crushed esophagus and testicles,” Pomfrey clarified.  “Looked like muggle dueling.  You’re lucky Peeves found you, or you would have choked to death while unconscious from the blow to your groin.”
“No idea,” he lied.
He had only been trying to protect Arienne- both with his ward and with Harry, so why had she attacked him?
Meanwhile, getting the Elder Wand and Invisibility Cloak back from her was going to be…  difficult.  In the extreme.
He couldn’t enter the girls’ dormitories, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn’t have any trustworthy female… ‘agents’.





Harry’s morning was rather uneventful, overall.  His classes went normally- or at least, as normally as they could; the first week of school, which had started with the Hogwarts Express on Wednesday, seemed to be reserved for ‘meet-and-greets’ with the Professors and instructors.  He seemed to be doing rather well in that regard; while people did recognize him, and sometimes wanted to shake his hand…  none of them seemed keen on bothering him too much, and as a whole, he got along decently with his classmates.
There was a lot of talk among those classmates about Hailey- and he’d been summarily excluded from those discussions.  Not that he minded; he didn’t like lying, so he was probably better off that way anyways.
Eventually, lunch wandered around, and he made it to the Great Hall before Hermione did- before most of the school, it seemed.  He didn’t pay any particular attention to his hangers-on as he sat down, beyond keeping an eye out for Ron or any that might go after him as Ron had.
There was one exception, though.  One of those hangers-on from that Herbology class picked a seat far closer to him than any of the rest- specifically, the one right next to his, to his left.
He shot a quick glance in their direction as they sat down- correction, as she sat down.  The girl had long, dark brown hair and, just like Hailey and Hermione but not himself, she wasn’t wearing a nameplate at all.  She also seemed to be tense about something- and he could practically smell her fear.  What was she afraid of, though?  He took a surreptitious glance around, but didn’t see anything.  Was she shy?  Was she, perhaps, afraid of him?
At that moment, she glanced briefly in his direction, caught his gaze, and quickly looked the other way.
Perhaps she was just shy…?  But if so, it made no sense for her to sit next to him, perhaps the most famous student in the school.  It also made no sense for her to be so afraid if she was just shy- especially with how she kept glancing around the room; it looked like she thought someone was after her.  He could already hear the whispers starting, about ‘that crazy girl’ with the guts to sit next to him.
He ignored them as he filled his plate.  It seemed like the girl was trying to do the same, but she was putting too much attention on her surroundings and too little on the food; she spilled food onto the tablecloth a couple of times, and once only barely didn’t spill it down her front instead.
Unless he missed his guess, she was going to be bullied pretty badly for her seating choice and nervousness.  He honestly hoped he missed his guess.
But, she seemed to be quite sensitive to the murmurs- was she afraid one of them was going to attack her?  It seemed strange, but he’d seen stranger in the stories he’d read in his English classes.  He had the urge to try to do something about it- even though he didn’t know how to help her.  But…  it wasn’t like it could hurt, could it?  Though, it wasn’t like he had any experience with making it worse either, so who was he to know?  He might just make it worse by accident!
Oh well.  No use worrying himself into inaction; here was a girl in distress, and whether he was right or not, he thought he could do something about it, so he was going to at least try.
If he messed up, it was only one girl- and in a school this large, there were bound to be more.
“Uh, miss?” he asked.
She twitched, but otherwise didn’t react, in the middle of one of her scans of the room.  She seemed to be putting a lot of attention to the Teacher’s Table for some reason.
So he gently touched her elbow as he spoke to her again.  “Miss?”
She jumped, whirling to face him.  “H-Huh?” she gasped, her left hand closing into a fist and drawing back for a second.
It was his turn to wince.  She was a lot more… high-strung than he’d thought, and he could see the fear in her eyes, even as she released her fist upon seeing his face- evidently, she was afraid of an attack, but not from him.  And similarly evidently, she was both willing and able to defend herself.
“Could you pass the orange juice?” he asked.
His simple request for the only drink on the table that he couldn’t reach but that she could seemed to confuse her for a second before she snapped out of it and examined the table.  “O-oh, sorry, yes,” she muttered tensely, before retrieving the jug of orange juice and handing it to him.
“Thank you,” he informed her, accepting it, pouring himself a glass, and gesturing towards her empty glass with it.  “Would you like some too?”
“Eh-?” the girl began- and Harry began to wonder if that had been a mistake.  She seemed even more alarmed now, like things were not going the way she’d expected.  “S-Sure,” she stuttered, then looked around again.
“How much?” he offered, as he began filling her glass.
She didn’t react, so he eventually stopped at a full glass.
“Me too!”
Harry looked up at the girl that had just spoken, leaning over the table to put her glass in range of the pitcher.  She was wearing her nameplate, though thanks to her position, it was at an oblique angle that made it difficult to read.
“No,” he asserted, and set the pitcher down.  “You can get your own.”
The girl scowled and retreated.  As she did so, Harry read her nameplate- she was Lavender Brown.
The girl next to him let out a soft breath that sounded almost like a sigh of relief.
He smiled weakly at her, then turned to his own plate and started eating.  Perhaps he had put too much pressure on her?
After a minute or so, she seemed to work up the courage to start eating her food as well…  without messing up.
“Mornin’, Harry.”
Harry looked up at Hermione as she sat down.  “Good morning to you too,” he greeted.
“Who’s the new friend?” Hermione asked curiously.
Harry chuckled.  “No idea,” he informed her- and noticed when the strange girl choked, briefly, on her eggs.  Had she expected to be recognized or something?
Hermione chuckled.  “Brave, though,” she observed.  “She’s not fleeing from the presence of the Boy who Lived like all the other cowards are.”
“You’re also brave, then,” Harry informed her, deciding not to mention the girl’s apparent paranoia.
Hermione paused.  “Well yeah, but you started it.”
“I did,” he acknowledged, carefully not mentioning that it had actually been Hermione that had started it with Hailey.
“Harry Potter?”
He turned at the new voice, to look over his shoulder.  Draco Malfoy was back.  “Ahh, and a Slytherin is braver than most Gryffindors,” he greeted, completely ignoring the scandalized whispers, but smiling slightly at the paranoid girl’s half-hearted giggle.  Draco would be coming to befriend Harry…  for appearances that he’d complained about on the train, as Silver.  Those same appearances would require him to insult Hermione, calling her a ‘mud blood’, even though they were actually on friendly terms after the train ride- and, Harry was pretty sure, pen pals as well, even after the train.  He even picked out the apologetic flash in his eyes as Draco scanned Harry’s companions- a flash that Harry would not have known to look for.
He did have to admit, though, he was a bit predisposed to be friendly with Malfoy, simply because Hailey was on good terms with him- not even counting the day before, when Malfoy had shown up to insult the boy that had caused Hermione to get hurt.  He figured that, because of that, he could probably get away with appearing more friendly than he otherwise should.
Malfoy seemed determined to ruin that.  Was that for appearances too?
“Yes,” he agreed.  “Nothing is more Slytherin than being sorted into the wrong house, after all.  And you know, Potter, that some wizarding families are much better than the others, right?” He paused for a second, and continued at Harry’s raised eyebrow.  “You wouldn’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort.  I can help you there.”  He held out a hand.
The paranoid girl heaved a sigh, her paranoia seeming to completely evaporate as she shot a glare at Malfoy.  Hermione seemed to be deliberately ignoring him.
Harry let out a soft sigh.  “And what are you talking about?” he asked, purposely darkening his tone.  Was Malfoy deliberately building an enmity with him, or was this all stuff he’d be required to say as a pure-blooded noble?  In any case, it sounded like Malfoy was about to pipe up some ‘holier than thou’ nonsense, which would probably include insults against both of the girls that had sat on either side of him.  Unless the paranoid girl happened to be from one of his ‘better’ families, but judging by his expression, and her reaction, she wasn’t.  As a result, unless he wanted to bully her and scandalize Hermione, he’d be forced to refuse it, or assert that Malfoy was wrong.
Silver had warned Hailey that Draco would be forced to assert a number of different ‘facts’ like that, whether he believed them or not, just for appearances.  Harry wouldn’t know, but…
“I’m talking about blood purity, Potter,” Draco informed him.  “Pure-bloods like you and me are much better than these mud-bloods.”
Harry sighed, ignoring the angry snort from the paranoid girl.  “Well, you’ve gotten something wrong,” he informed Draco.  He really didn’t want to do this- but again, unless he wanted to bully the paranoid girl, and lose what was quite possibly a new friend in her, he had no choice.  “For one thing, it seems to me like only the so-called ‘mud bloods’ know how to be nice for a change- I mean, have you seen that Weasley?”
Draco snorted as well.  “The blood traitor,” he labeled.
Harry ignored it, and injected a little hint into his next sentence, in an attempt to alert Draco that he was making a front as well.  “And for the other, I’m not one of your high-and-mighty silver-haired purebloods.  Which makes you, a dirty Pureblood Supremacist, prejudiced against me, a mere half-blood, doesn’t it?”  He really didn’t want to say it like that, as it would definitely force Draco to be his enemy, but he didn’t see any other way out of the situation.  Draco wasn’t Harry’s friend, after all, and Hermione was.
Harry didn’t miss how Draco’s eyes widened at the mention of silver hair, his veiled hint that he knew about Silver.  Draco seemed to be flustered for a second, but quickly collected himself.  “I’d be careful, Potter,” he growled, but the corner of his eye twisted in a half-wink- acknowledgement of the hint.  Interestingly, the paranoid girl seemed to notice it too, and a lot of her anger evaporated on the spot.  “Unless you’re a bit politer, you’ll go the same way as your parents.  They-!”
He was interrupted by a loud snort of laughter from Hermione.  “The same way as his parents?” she asked, turning at last to face Malfoy.  “You mean getting killed by Lord Voldemort?”
Her declaration sent a wave of gasps all across the room, but she evidently cared about as much as Harry did.
Malfoy simply stared at her.
Hermione rolled her eyes.  “As if,” she told him.  “Even if another Dark Lord appears, won’t he just strike that one down too?  I mean, he defeated Voldemort as a baby!  How do you think he fended him off, then?  By screaming at him?  No!  He fended him off because he’s a thousand times better than families like yours, Malfoy- a name which means bad faith, by the way.  He crushed the Dark Lord at a time when your father was supporting his reign of terror.”
“You would say the Dark Lord’s name-!?” Malfoy gasped.
“It’s a name,” Hermione retorted.  “He’s already long gone.  Why should I be afraid of him?”
“He was the most powerful-!”
“His name is French,” Hermione snapped, over the top of Malfoy’s answer.  “Means ‘flees from death’.  What kind of powerful Dark Lord takes a name that says they flee?  I’ll tell you what:  A Dork Lord.”
Laughter echoed around the Great Hall, alongside a few angry hisses.
“So scram,” Hermione told him sharply.  “Unless you want to start a Wizard’s Duel.”
“What’s going on?”
Malfoy jumped at Professor McGonagall’s voice coming from right behind him.  “Ah-!” he began.  “Just-!  Just making friends…” he muttered.
“And failing dismally,” Hermione observed.
McGonagall’s nostrils flared.  “Fighting is against the rules,” she informed them all sharply.  “If you’re done making enemies, you’d better return to your House table.”
Malfoy nodded silently, glanced at his companions, and retreated with them.
McGonagall turned to Hermione.  “Five points from Gryffindor, miss Granger,” she barked.  “I don’t care what you think of the most recent Dark Dork Lord, you are not to threaten, demand, or invite a duel of any kind while you are at Hogwarts.”
“Yes, Professor,” she bowed.
The Professor nodded, and left.
Harry turned to the paranoid girl.  “Before I forget, I’m Harry Potter,” he greeted.  “What’s your name?”
She let out a soft sigh.  “A-Arienne,” she informed him softly.  “Arienne Fox.”  Then she glanced around again, as if looking for danger- but most of her fear seemed to have evaporated as well.





Dumbledore let out a soft sigh as he watched the Gryffindor Table from the Head Table.  Perhaps getting punched in the throat and kicked in the nuts had a silver lining:  Not only did he receive a (probably just) punishment for trying to sneak into the girls’ bathroom to subdue a girl while she was alone, but Arienne had gone straight to Harry and seemed to have made headway on befriending him as well.  It was like he’d already cast the spell!  Except, he hadn’t.  The only blood sample he’d gotten from that attempt was one of his own.  Perhaps he could hope she had her first ‘time of the month’ sometime soon, then capture that blood?  He had no idea how long it would take, but it would probably be safer than sneaking up on her again.
He’d have to forgo the Blood Ward, though, since he no longer had the Elder Wand, and he couldn’t take it back without her realizing what was going on…  and without the Elder Wand to act as an amplifier, he’d need enough blood to put the poor girl in the Hospital Wing- one of the reasons Blood Wards were considered Dark despite their powerful protection.
He couldn’t use Blood Guidance on Harry directly because he had no idea how it would interact with the Horcrux in his forehead.
> Chapter 14:  Protection
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arienne was a very quiet girl, Harry found.  They had finished their meals without any further comment, then gone their ways.  He hadn’t seen her again until the following day, when he’d sat down in the Gryffindor common room to read his Defense textbook.
She had sat right next to him…  and opened up her own Defense textbook to read, though not without glancing over the top every so often.  The company was oddly comforting, even if they didn’t speak to one another.
The same thing happened on Sunday, when she also joined him and Hermione at dinner.
This quickly became a pattern.  They would stay silent, but every evening, she would sit next to Harry to do her homework or whatever, and at what rapidly became every meal (at least in part because Harry started picking the seats next to her whenever she got there first), she would do the same.  For some reason, she always seemed to be calmer, and less paranoid, when she knew he was there.
Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to…  ‘fade away’.  At first, she joined Harry in just about every study session, and every meal.  But then, she started to miss them every once in a while, and eventually stopped coming at all.
Another pattern Harry noticed was related to the two classes he had with the regular Professors:  Defense Against the Dark Arts…  and Potions.  The former was taught by Professor Quirrell, and it was- if he was being honest with himself- a bit of a joke.  Quirrell was evidently afraid of his subject, and Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he was told the man had no idea what he was supposed to be teaching.
Potions wasn’t much better, but Harry got the idea it was the opposite problem.  Professor Severus Snape was definitely unafraid of his subject, definitely knew he was supposed to be teaching Potions, and was a registered Potions Master as well- one of the best there was, actually.  On the other hand, he was very short-tempered- especially around Harry, he noticed- and his classes amounted to little more than supervised self-study.
That wasn’t to say that his assignment to their classes didn’t confuse him, though, because it did:  He wasn’t a Student Instructor at all, let alone of both subjects, so why wasn’t he studying under the Student Instructors like in all his other classes?
A little over a month later, while Harry was working on his History homework, Arienne started writing what was presumably a letter to her family.  Harry made it a point not to look when she did that, as usual- but her emotions tended to be a lot more colorful when she was writing those letters, so it was rare that he could stop himself from glancing sideways at it as she wrote.  It didn’t exactly help that she often didn’t seem even the slightest bit worried about him seeing what she was writing, often leaving the entire thing in clear view.
The same was true for the replies she regularly got at breakfast- roughly every four days, Harry noticed.  Most of the time, she’d write and send an answer on the evening of the same day that she had received a letter, but sometimes she did it a day later…  and sometimes it had a five-day turnaround instead of four, suggesting her family did the same thing.
And of course, no thanks to Dudley ripping books out of his hands so frequently, Harry was what many would call a ‘speed reader’- possibly even an olympic speed reader, if it was an olympic sport.  He could read entire pages in seconds!
Well…  sorta.  It took longer than that to actually absorb the information, but he didn’t need to see the page for any longer to be able to read it.  As a matter of fact, all it took was a brief glance and he could get at least the general gist of a passage- skim it, so to speak.
Yet, even with that speed-reading ability…  he wasn’t all that great at history.  She was much better than him- or at least, much faster.  Her assignments almost never matched his, since they attended different classes with- he assumed, at least- different Instructors.
Still…  her letter.  Letters, really- he often found himself guiltily aware of basically everything she was writing to her family, and everything they wrote back.  Over the last few weeks, she’d been informing her mom- she usually addressed it to ‘Mom’, and the answers were usually signed ‘Vanessa’- of the developing bullying situation in her dormitory.  Exactly as Harry had expected, the other students had noticed her nervous behavior, and she’d quickly started getting bullied for it.
She was also getting bullied for being Harry’s friend- a designation that she evidently didn’t believe applied.  ‘We’re just acquaintances and have never spoken’, she would frequently remind her mom- who just as frequently referred to Harry as her friend.
Harry, on the other hand, would have to agree with her mom.  They may not have spoken, but their silent friendship was definitely a friendship, unaffected by the silence.  They offered each other their mutual support- and, if he’d had any idea what love was, he might have even called it love and support.
The tone of her letter was much…  darker today, though, as were her emotions.  It seemed at first like she’d just had a bad day- but then she described what had happened when a few normal-hairs (what she had taken to calling the British students) had walked in on her practicing ballet in an empty classroom.
Well…  ‘walked in on’.  She’d locked the door, but these students had apparently known she would be there, and had used magic to unlock the door.
Her dance outfit had been ruined by ink splatters and splitting spells.  Her robes had been as well- but at least they’d only gotten one of her outfits, and hadn’t discovered the Invisibility Cloak she’d hidden under a false bottom in her bag- the cloak she’d taken from the assassin that had tried to kill her on her second day of classes.  They had even smashed the large folding mirror she’d been using!
Once they had left, she had cleaned up as best as she could and returned to her dormitory, naked except for the invisibility cloak.  The magical shampoo in the showers had been able to get the ink out of her hair without any difficulty, and once she’d dressed herself in a fresh set of robes, she’d hunted down a Professor to tell them about it…  but no luck.  Professor Snape seemed to believe she was making it up, even when she showed him the ruined clothing in her bag.  He had deducted points from her for a false accusation, and she informed her mom that she’d been lucky not to get a detention.
Harry had to resist putting an arm around her.  He wanted to- but they had never touched, even fingertip to fingertip, and even he knew that an arm across the shoulders was way too intimate for the first touch.
But he didn’t know of any other way he could support her.
No, wait, maybe he did.  He’d have to ask his house-elf about the options, but he was sure he could provide her with a place to do that practice without even the possibility of someone ‘walking in’ on her.
Not even an assassin.
Hopefully he could provide that place outside of his own Lord’s Quarters; just like hugging her would be too intimate, he was fairly certain that inviting her into his private quarters would also be too far.
So that night, he asked Blinky- Harry’s house-elf, Slinky, was far too glum all the time- if there was someplace that fit the bill…  and had received an answer.  A quite elaborate and well-fitting answer, he thought.
The next day, he wrote down instructions to get into the Room of Requirement and slid them surreptitiously to Arienne’s side of the table while they were doing homework during a shared morning period.  He wasn’t sure if there would be a problem with assassins there, but presumably she could make that determination.
It took her several minutes to notice, then another minute to read the note- before he could feel her stare on the side of his head.
That day, at dinner, she surprised him.  She showed up after he did, as usual- but quite the opposite of usual, she was positively jubilant.  She pranced right up to him, hugged him, and kissed him, before she cheerfully sat next to him to start getting her meal.
Harry chuckled softly.  Presumably, she’d found exactly what Blinky had told him she’d find in the Room of Requirement:  Exactly what she needed.  And apparently, she’d been lacking it- whatever it was- for far too long, resulting in her excitement when she finally found it- and apparent thankfulness.
He looked down at her, and found that she was blushing furiously and quite clearly not looking at him- evidently afraid she’d gone too far.
His first thought was to resist his first instinct- but no, she’d just hugged and kissed him, so it shouldn’t be too weird for him to return the favor, should it?
So he did.  He set an arm gently around her shoulders and squoze just as gently.  He could feel her tense up at the touch- but after a second, she leaned into his embrace.
The next thing he did surprised even him.
He kissed the top of her head.
She stiffened in response, but didn’t draw back for several seconds- and when she did, he was surprised to find tears in her eyes.
Had he touched a nerve?  Had that been a huge mistake?
But she didn’t seem to hate him for it.  They ate in silence, as per usual- completely ignoring all the whisperers going wild at the interaction.  When they finished their meals, they headed back up to the Gryffindor common room together, as per usual- though…  perhaps not quite as usual, since Arienne didn’t usually tentatively take his hand in hers as they left the Great Hall.
He allowed it, surprised by the gesture after the apparent faux pas of kissing her hair, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze to show his appreciation for her acceptance of his blunder.

--------

Three days after their first touch, they were once again eating breakfast together when Arienne’s owl showed up with her mother’s response.  Ever since that dinner, Arienne hadn’t just sat next to him in the common room- she’d sat against him, once even snuggled up under his arm.  Whatever blunder he might have made seemed to have been forgiven, and then some, but he was still at a loss for why she was so suddenly so attached to him.  He’d refrained from pushing his luck at first- but quickly capitulated and just gone with his instinct.
Every time he kissed her hair, which he frequently did when she tucked herself into his side, she would always hug him tightly.  She seemed to enjoy it, rather than being bothered.
Harry could feel her emotions getting mixed as she accepted the envelope from her owl and opened it, and put his arm around her shoulders.  She was undoubtedly thinking about what she’d told her mom just four days before.
She finally unfolded the letter.  Harry focused carefully on his food, trying- once again- to avoid prying into her private business.
His attention was drawn, however, when she let out a soft gasp of evident horror.
He abandoned his food and hugged her while he peeked at the letter.
Her mom…  seemed unconcerned about her well being.  She hadn’t even mentioned the attack, nor the damaged clothing from it, and had merely encouraged Arienne to keep up her practice no matter what people said about it.
He felt his own horror at the apparent lack of care from her own mother, and kissed her hair.  That always seemed to calm her down.
It worked, a little.  She leaned into him, hugged him, and took long, deep calming breaths as she suppressed the tears that evidently wanted to flow.
That evening, she penned a very different letter to a masculine-sounding name that Harry didn’t recognize.  It also seemed to be a very formulaic letter- almost a form letter.
She informed them that she had just told her mother that she had been physically attacked and requested to be withdrawn from Hogwarts for her own protection, and her mother’s only answer had been to encourage her to ignore the people talking behind her back.  She specified that it made no sense and asked him to investigate.  She requested to be either withdrawn from Hogwarts or provided with appropriate protection against the bullying of the other students.
And finally, she signed it Princess Abigail Fox.  That was the name of the Royal Princess, first in line for the Crown.
She read it through once, folded it up, and left to send it.
When she got back, Harry wasn’t surprised to see tears in her eyes, nor that she immediately curled up into his side.  He hugged her close and kissed her hair again.
Half an hour later, he was surprised to find that she had fallen asleep leaning against his side.  He chuckled softly and draped his cloak over her, but let her sleep on.
Five minutes after that, Hermione wandered over, and sat gently on the other end of the sofa- on Harry’s left side, opposite Arienne on his right.  “Is- Is she okay?” she asked softly.
Arienne stirred slightly when Hermione sat down, but otherwise didn’t react at all.
Harry sighed.  “She seems to be doing better these last few days,” he observed, “but she just got a…  very worrying letter from her mom.  I hope it’s a misunderstanding.”
She sighed.  “I…  haven’t been helping, have I?”
He chuckled softly.  “Judging by her letters, she’s unnerved by your attention, but thankful for the way you’ve been protecting her from the bullies.  What have you been doing?”
She blushed.  “Well…  I heard a few rumors a couple weeks back- someone…”  She paused, glancing around for evesdroppers, and leaned in close.  “Someone said she looked like Princess Abagail Fox, Heiress Presumptive to the Crown of the United Kingdom, after her mother became Queen from her grandfather’s…  untimely death.”
Harry silently raised an eyebrow.
“I silenced it, of course,” Hermione informed him.  “Nobody needs that hanging over their head at Hogwarts, whether it’s true or not.  I set a geas on the Castle to make people keep any recognition of royalty to themselves, and disbelieve that recognition to begin with.  But…”  She sighed.  “I’ve also been looking into it at the same time.  It didn’t exactly help she already had my attention; I’m particularly sensitive to magical signatures, and hers isn’t quite like anyone else’s.  Just like how yours is pretty unique, but…  in a different way, if you know what I mean.”  She looked at him.
He shrugged.
“Well…  as near as I can tell, that rumor was actually true.  Which means I’ve probably been protecting her in ways that even I can’t imagine, through that geas.”  She sighed.  “No luck on figuring out what the differences in magical signatures are, by the way; I guess I’m just going to have to wait and see if it shows itself.”  She paused.  “And on the topic of the assassins…  I wonder what happened.  I’ve noticed a few invisible magic signatures moving around the castle as well, but none of them seemed hostile.”
“Any idea who?”
She shook her head.  “Most people’s signatures are close enough to each other that I can’t tell them apart by magic signature alone.  That said, she seems to be one of the invisible ones herself.”
Harry smiled.  “She took an Invisibility Cloak off of the assassin that attacked her on her second day of classes,” he informed her.  “She’d almost have to be stupid to not use it.”
He wasn’t sure, but it almost felt like Arienne giggled silently when he said that.
“Fair,” Hermione agreed, then sighed.  “That also explains why she’s been invisible while she slept a few times.”  She scowled.  “On the other hand, she hasn’t slept in the dormitory at all the last couple days- and her trunk has disappeared as well.  You haven’t…  taken her in, have you?”
Harry chuckled.  “No, I haven’t.  I’d hazard a guess she’s been using the Room of Requirement for more than ballet practice.”
“Ballet?” Hermione mused, then looked across the room, staring into space.  “Hmm.  I’d like to try that at some point.”
There was no mistaking it.  Arienne definitely giggled silently this time- she was almost certainly awake and listening to their conversation, merely pretending to sleep.
Which meant there were a few questions he needed to ask Hermione; she didn’t seem to have the same strange, intrinsic knowledge of magic that Hailey had, but she definitely knew a lot about magic, or at least was very smart.
Harry, for example, had never even heard of a geas, yet here Hermione had cast one on the whole castle?
“Maybe I’ll watch,” Harry informed Hermione.  “I don’t think I even know what it is very well, right now.  But…”  He paused.  “If I was going to…  ahh, take her in, that’d basically force me to do the same for her entire family, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, right about,” Hermione nodded.  “Taking in only one member of the House…  Especially since she’s the oldest muggleborn in her family, that makes her the head of her Magical House, regardless of her status in her non-magical House.  Protecting her but not her sister would tell the magical world that her sister was unworthy…  and your House is powerful enough that there are many that would kill her sister for such unworthiness, whether it was true or not.”
“Monsters,” Harry labeled.
“Every bit,” Hermione promptly agreed.
He glanced at Arienne.  “This…  doesn’t count, does it?”
“No.  Right now, it just looks like a personal friendship, not the Protection of the House.”
“So-!” Harry began, and sighed.  “You mentioned that…  geas thing.  Could that be why nobody calls me by my proper titles?”
Hermione sighed.  “Quite possibly, but I don’t know.  ‘Geas’ is a term used to describe low-level mind control.  It doesn’t really…  control so much as suggest, but a geas can keep people from mentioning certain information, for example.  It’s not strong enough to force someone to go against their principles, though, and generally can’t push you to act, only to not act, or perhaps change an act in a small way- for example, calling you ‘mister’ instead of Pr-!”  She choked suddenly, coughed, and took a deep, snarling breath.  “Okay, correction, definitely yes.  The Hogwarts wards are incredibly complex and difficult to understand, and geas are already vague to begin with- so while I know there’s already at least one geas layer to Hogwarts’ wards before I added mine, I can’t tell what it does, merely that it’s far too powerful for me to even interfere with.  But someone’s paired it with a choke taboo for calling you by your proper titles!”  She took a deep breath.  “When I find out who did that, I will have their head.”
“And I’ll serve it to you,” Harry offered.  “When I find out who did that, I’ll probably find out about some far more heinous deeds as well.”
“...  True.”  She flopped back on the sofa.  “I had a…  funny response from my parents as well this morning, like an entire section of my letter had just gone missing.”  She snorted.  “They mentioned it, of course, because I used a numbered list, and apparently it skipped a few numbers.”  She sighed.  “Anyways, I got to digging and I think someone’s tampered with the school owls as well.”
“What about personal owls?”
She heaved a sigh.  “Unfortunately, I can’t rule that out.  Can’t prove or reverse it either, without some very invasive magic involving those owls’ bonded owners.”
“Would that tampering…?”
“Yes, that tampering would work by way of similarly invasive magic involving the bonded owner.  I’m able to examine the school owls’ bonds because they’re bonded to Hogwarts, and as a student of Hogwarts, I’m technically a representative of the school, making me a party to their ownership bonds, which…”  She trailed off.  “It gets really complicated really fast when you start talking about familiars that bond with institutions.  And no, the owner wouldn’t have to be awake for it, but if you are awake, it’s basically impossible to do without permission.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.  “Which means that, since only I and those I choose to allow can enter my Lord’s Quarters…”
“Yes, Hedwig is almost certainly free of that tampering.  As for all the rest…  No idea.”  She sighed.  “Ron will be returning to the Castle tonight,” she informed him darkly.
He shrugged.  “Just one more assassin,” he observed, “and quite a visible one, at that.”  He sighed.  “So…  how would you seal a letter such that only the recipient could read it, when that recipient was, say, a muggle?”
Hermione rubbed her chin.  “Hmm,” she muttered, then turned and started digging in her bag.  “There’s a fair few spells we can use that’ll secure it against a wizard, though keying it for a muggle to open is a little trickier.”
Arienne lifted her head, adjusted her position against Harry’s side, and silently kissed his cheek in evident thanks.  He was a little alarmed, though not at all surprised, to see a searing rage burning in her eyes, firmly contained.
“Ahh, here we go,” Hermione finally finished, returning from her bag with a large book from the library.  “Magical Security for Every Occasion, by Istanza Lockhart.  Now we just need chapter eighteen, messages in transit.”  She turned to the chapter, then flicked a couple more pages.  “For owl mail…  if the recipient cannot be expected to be able to use magic…  Here we go.”  She read off the eight different spells and the variations used.  “If you use all of those together, you’ll get a quite formidable defense that’s basically impossible to breach.”
Arienne reached over and clasped her hands around Hermione’s- the one she was tracing across the page.
Hermione looked up.  “Is-!”  She froze, then blinked.  “A-Arienne!?” she gasped.  “Y-You’re awake!?”
“Teach me,” Arienne half-pleaded, half-demanded.
“Ahh-!  Um-!”  She paused and looked back down at the book.  “A-Alright, I can try.  I’ve never used any of these myself, though, so chances are we’ll be learning together.”
Harry chuckled softly.

--------

The following morning, he sat next to Arienne at breakfast, as per usual.
A few minutes later, and slightly less usual, Ron appeared and claimed the seat next to Harry.  “Morning,” he greeted.
Harry ignored him.  Arienne didn’t- Harry noticed her sideways glance, and had to wonder if she knew who he was.  She had to have heard about his…  altercation on the first day of classes..
Rather predictably, Ron wasn’t satisfied with being ignored; he was completely ignoring Arienne.  “Harry?” he asked.  “Why are you ignoring me?”
Harry raised an eyebrow and turned to look at him.  “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Ron shrugged.  “I’m Ron,” he said.  “Your best friend.  Remember?”
Harry snorted, though quite aware of Arienne’s sudden stillness.  “You must be mistaken,” he informed Ron.  “I have no idea who you are, and my best friend is sitting on my other side.”
“What, you mean her?”  Ron made the pronoun an obscenity.
Harry sighed, doing his best to keep the anger that sparked from his voice.  “And what business do you have with who my friends are?”
“Because I’m your best-!”
“C’mere, Ronnikins.”
The Weasley Twins had arrived.  They each seized one of Ron’s arms, then hoisted him straight out of his chair and began dragging him down the Great Hall away from Harry.  He hadn’t even started getting any food.  “Our apologies, Harry, we’ll straighten him out,” one of them called back as they retreated.
Harry sighed.  “I hope it helps,” he muttered.
Arienne sighed, watching Ron go, and nodded faintly in agreement.

--------

It seemed to.  Ron didn’t bother Harry all day- nor even the next day.  On the third day, Friday, Harry overheard someone saying Ron had been down in the dungeons, hammering out a new medal under Filch’s watchful eye, moments before the mail arrived.
When it did arrive, Arienne wasn’t the only one to get a letter.  Hedwig also joined them, carrying a letter for Harry.  Harry traded some bacon with Hedwig for the letter, then opened and read it.
It was his Aunt Petunia.  She missed Hailey, but had been getting along alright.  She’d also apparently been contacted by Dudley’s foster parents and, after being allowed to visit her son, been suggested for counseling.  She had done that; the counselor was helping her to understand exactly what she’d done wrong with Dudley, and how to overcome both that and her grief.  According to the letter, even though she’d only been to two sessions so far, she felt the counseling was doing her a world of good- and she was discussing a possible joint Christmas vacation with Dudley’s foster parents.  It would be mostly on her money;  Vernon’s life insurance check, combined with the ownership of his company being given to her in his Will, had made her a millionaire for life.
She had one request for Hailey, though.  As much as she dearly wanted to see Hailey, she had the funny feeling that putting her in the same room as Dudley would be a very bad idea at this stage; Dudley’s counseling didn’t seem to be going as well as her own, judging by the info his foster parents had given her.  As such, and with a full, quite wordy apology, she was asking Hailey if she could arrange to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays.
Even with his reading speed, though, Harry only barely had time to fully comprehend the content of Petunia’s letter before Arienne gasped, staring at her letter in alarm.
He immediately put his arm around her shoulders and looked at it as well, remembering the…  worrying content of her last outbound letter.
The letter was written in a very formal style, and signed with the same male name she’d addressed the last one to.  He had directly informed Arienne that the letter he had received seemed…  malformed, to the point where he had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t the one that had written it.  As such, he wasn’t going to take any major actions based on it- though he had asked the Queen about her claim of mentioning harm being done to her.  Apparently, the Queen had been alarmed, saying she hadn’t read anything of the sort- and wanted to know if it was possible that the letters were being tampered with or replaced.
That much, Harry thought, had to have been expected, after Hermione’s report so shortly after Arienne had sent her letter.  And it matched; Arienne hadn’t had that reaction quickly after opening it, only after she’d had time to continue to the end of the letter.
The end of the letter…  where the man, with the Queen’s support, asserted that Hogwarts would be the best place for her, guards or not, and they would therefore not be bringing her home.  He even expressed his confidence that she could handle the ‘invisible assassins’ herself.
He let out a soft sigh when he finished, then kissed her hair.
She relaxed, somewhat, while letting out a sigh of her own.  She folded and pocketed the letter, then wrapped her arm around Harry as well, returning the hug.
Then Harry turned to his other side, where Hermione was watching them curiously.  He had an idea for what could have caused that.  “Hermione, is it possible a geas could cause muggles to ignore dangers to their magical children?”
Arienne took a sudden, sharp breath, evidently coming to the same conclusion he had.
“Possible?” Hermione blinked.  “Um, yes, quite.  It’s common knowledge in wizarding families- known as the ‘Magic Likes to be Learned’ effect.  Basically, for whatever reason, magic itself acts like a geas to force muggles to send their muggleborn children to magic school, without regard for the safety and security- or lack thereof- of the school.”  She sighed.  “And it does that worldwide, with all magic schools.  It can cause them to neglect to take safety-promoting actions, even, but won’t stop them from picking a safer school.”
“Will it stop them from, ahh, promoting safety by sending guards?”
She sighed.  “Most magic schools have extensive anti-muggle warding that would keep those guards from being able to do their jobs, and the Learned Effect seems to take that into account in suppressing muggle bodyguards and the like.”
Arienne sighed and shook her head.  She then drew a handful of papers from an inside pocket on her robes- the long and heavily detailed letter she’d been working on over the last four days- and opened it.  She added one last detail at the end with her pen and finished the interesting numbering and counting scheme she’d been using to make the letter ‘tamper evident’, then made the same adjustments to the identical copy she’d made along with it.  Finally, she pocketed the copy, cast the letter sealing charm she’d been studying with Hermione, and offered it to Hedwig; her owl had already left.  As she did so, she looked up at Harry, as if asking for permission.
Harry chuckled softly and nodded.
This letter was…  quite amusing.  She’d described basically her entire Hogwarts career in it- and told her mother that Harry felt…  motherly towards her, rather than the fatherly that she might expect.  She’d described the conversation four days ago, and her work with the letter sealing magic.  She’d described all of her troubles- and what she’d found in the Room of Requirement.  Apparently, while it didn’t provide her with clothes, it provided her with a proper ballet room, karate studio, magical practice chambers she’d been using with Hermione in her letter sealing studies, and so much more- all the way down to a bedroom that she could be reasonably sure the assassins could not follow her into.
She even discussed Harry’s implicit offer to ‘take her in’ to his protection, what it would mean in the magical world even without her own status, and requested her mother’s permission for him to do exactly that.
Hedwig finished her snack, accepted the letter, and left.

--------

That evening, Harry was just finishing packing up his bag in anticipation of Arienne’s arrival when she arrived.  That was pretty typical, anymore; the last few days, rather than meeting him for dinner in the Great Hall, she ran up to the Gryffindor common room to meet him and walk back down with him.  She was able to do that when his class ran late instead of hers because he always returned to his Quarters to drop off his books before dinner.  He’d quickly adjusted to her desire, and started waiting for her too.
She made it most of the way to his sofa before Ron stepped suddenly out of the crowd…  and slugged her, right on the side of the head.  She tried to evade, but wasn’t fast enough, and fell to the floor, unmoving.
Harry whipped the last book back out of his bag and threw it, with all his might, straight at Ron.
“How dare you steal Harry’s friend-!” Ron began- before Harry’s Defense textbook struck the side of his head, and he also went down like a sack of hammers.
“Don’t you dare attack my friends,” Harry snarled, as he stormed over- only to find that both of them were unconscious.
Hermione rushed over as well, drawing her wand and tapping it on Arienne.  “Damn,” she muttered.
“What is it?” Harry demanded.
“Concussion,” she informed him.  “And he knocked her out, so waking her up would be…  dangerous.”
He let out a soft sigh, then scooped Arienne up and left the common room.
Hermione followed him, closing the Portrait Hole behind them both and held her silence until they were around halfway to the Hospital Wing.
“Um…  Harry?” she offered slowly.
“Mm?” he asked, not slowing his pace at all.
“I’m…  not entirely sure, but people could think that this means she has your protection.”
He sighed.  “Then I might as well properly offer her that protection.  She asked her mom for permission for me to do exactly that in the letter she sent today- and with the Room of Requirement in play, it won’t be hard to maintain the appearance of that protection before the response arrives.”
> Chapter 15:  Snuggled
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arienne’s visit to the infirmary went much like Hermione’s had over a month ago, even if it had started with Madam Pomfrey scanning and then awakening Arienne.  Madam Pomfrey had confirmed she had a concussion, and given her a potion that elicited a disgusted expression once she drank it.  She’d then informed her she had a few ‘lightly strained’ joints in her neck, and offered her a bottle of pills for the pain.  “Make sure you rest it often, try not to move your head either quickly or suddenly, and if the pain ever becomes acute, come straight here or send someone to get me, alright?  It could be indicative of a bigger problem.”
Arienne had nodded.  “Yes, Nurse Pomfrey.”
Madam Pomfrey’s lips had quirked in a wry smile at the clear recognition of her proper, medical title, but nodded and let them go.  Apparently, just like with Hermione’s back, the reason she hadn’t ‘detained’ Arienne to rest in the infirmary had been because the strain could take weeks or even months to fully heal- and as long as it did, it wouldn’t really be an issue.
Finally, they had left.  Once the door had closed behind them, Arienne had taken Harry’s hand in her own, and they had gone down to dinner.
Once they got there, Harry decided Hermione was right, and people had seen the…  altercation as proof that Arienne had his protection.  Everyone was staring at them like they’d grown extra heads.
Harry ignored them- and so did Arienne, though she seemed at least a little curious about it.
He let out a soft, mostly-silent sigh.  To date, the only words he and Arienne had ever exchanged had been when he’d asked for the orange juice just minutes after they’d first met- and in continuation of that tradition of silence, she hadn’t yet learned about the appearance of his protection.
She would later; they usually returned to the common room to do homework, read, or sometimes write letters before bed, then Arienne always waited for Harry to go to bed first.  However…  it was time he took advantage of her cheerful insistence upon holding hands whenever they were walking together to silently invite her into his Lord’s Quarters to use the common room there.
He was curious, he had to admit, if she would like it…  or even take that offer at all.  Still, though, the offer would be there.  And hopefully, she’d understand it as what he’d intend it as- a long-term open invitation to enter his Lord’s Quarters whenever she wanted.





Harry and Arienne were just about done with their meal when the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore walked in, and strode up to the staff table to clear his throat.  “If I could have your attention,” he called.
Silence gradually fell over the massive chamber.
“As I’m sure some of you are aware already, Ronald Weasley attacked Arienne Fox up in the Gryffindor common room earlier today, and was taken unconscious by… parties unknown.”
A loud bark of laughter was heard across the room.
Dumbledore sighed.  “Their identity does not matter, as they will be fully excused for it.  Ronald has been found to have been under the influence of some quite powerful dark magics, so knocking him out may well have saved Miss Fox’s life.
“This is also not Ronald’s fault, but that of whoever cast that magic.  We have removed that magic from him, and he will be sent home for the rest of this year to recover.  If anyone has any information…”
Harry and Arienne both heaved heavy, annoyed sighs and tuned out much of the rest of his announcement; he had finished the important part and moved on to the ‘fluff’.
Harry would have to agree with him; of course Ron was being controlled.  The Ron Hailey had met on the train would never have tried something quite that violent.  Even the Ron that Harry had met the next morning had been…  odd- like he’d been enchanted somehow.
Perhaps he had been.
But who…?
It didn’t matter, in the end.  As soon as the Headmaster finished his announcement, he, Arienne, and Hermione rose together and left, not interested in being staring targets for any longer than they had to be.
When they reached the corridor with the Fat Lady, Harry turned towards the door to his Lord’s Quarters- then paused; Arienne had stopped, and he didn’t want to go so far apart as to force her to let go of his hand.  He turned to look at her, then raised the hand holding hers in invitation.
A second later, he could tell she understood, as a wide smile slowly spread across her face, then she bounded forwards and hugged him.
Hermione chuckled and watched.
Harry led Arienne to his door, pushed it open…  and paused, even as Arienne stepped past him to look around.  He turned back to Hermione, glanced quickly up and down the corridor to make sure noone was there to see, then offered her his hand as well.
She chuckled again, then waved, and headed for the Fat Lady.
So Harry followed Arienne into his common room, closing the door behind him.
She seemed to be delighted by what she saw- and Harry enjoyed watching her run around the room, peering through doors as she explored.
Finally, she ran back and tossed herself down on the couch next to him, tucked herself into his side, and laid her head on his shoulder.
He chuckled, wrapped his arm around her, kissed her hair, and finally laid his head gently on the top of hers, positioning his Defense textbook so she could read it as well.





Somewhere around an hour later, Arienne rose to her feet and disappeared into one of the many bathrooms, presumably to do her business.  When she did, Harry let out a sigh and glanced up at the big clock over the central fireplace.  Yes…  it was getting late enough that it would be time for bed soon.
When Arienne returned, she stopped, standing about five feet away from Harry.
Harry looked up.  Was there something wrong?
It didn’t look like it.  She was holding a bottle of something- shampoo, he realized- and watching him expectantly.  Once she was sure she had his attention, she held the shampoo out towards him, then lifted it up to the side of her head, and finally moved one hand to gently grip the back of her own neck.
Harry smiled and chuckled softly.  Her meaning was clear; she wanted to use the risk of aggravating her neck injury as an excuse to have him help her wash her hair.  The mischievous glint in her eyes told him she didn’t want him to tell anyone.
But he was a boy.  Mischievous or not, a boy couldn’t help a girl shower.  It was just…  wrong.
Hailey wasn’t a boy, though.  So, Harry turned his head and, ignoring Arienne’s irritated huff, sneezed.  She then turned back to look at Arienne.
Arienne’s jaw dropped.  A second later, she grinned and began chuckling.  That quickly became giggles, then a full-on laugh.
Hailey laughed with her, although probably for a different reason; she wasn’t sure what Arienne thought was funny, but the girl’s reaction had definitely been.
A second later, Arienne practically danced forward to take her hand and pull her back towards the bathroom.
They had hardly gone four steps- Hailey went willingly- when Arienne glanced backwards…  then let out a brief gasp of pain and clasped her hands around her neck, dropping the shampoo.
Hailey winced, whipping her wand out and casting a quick diagnostic spell.  Yes…  in her excitement, Arienne had aggravated her neck injury; it was now bad enough to require hospitalization, by muggle medicine.
Fortunately, all it took was a quick spell and the whole injury was healed.  Did Madam Pomfrey not know that spell?
Arienne blinked a couple of times, rolled her head around, then turned to stare at Hailey.
She smiled, and pocketed her wand.
Her reward was a delighted bear hug and an even more enthusiastic pulling towards the bathroom, once the shampoo had been retrieved from the floor.
Hailey laughed along and followed her in.
What followed was…  far less stressful than Hailey had feared it would be.  It almost felt normal to be bathing with another girl, even though she’d never bathed with anyone before.  They both helped each other wash their hair and backs- and when they stepped out and dried off, they found their nightclothes waiting for them, alongside a couple of bathrobes.  Hailey also noticed what looked like a full uniform- probably Arienne’s- but they both completely ignored it, and went instead for their nightclothes- even though Arienne was apparently appalled by Hailey’s pajamas.  Once they dressed, but before Hailey had time to reach for her bathrobe, Arienne hugged her, then looked up with pleading eyes.
It wasn’t hard to figure out what Arienne wanted.
It also wasn’t hard to make her blush, by kissing the point of her nose as she returned the hug.  Unlike Harry, Hailey was only an inch taller than Arienne.
The next second, completely forgoing both bathrobes, she led the way back out of the bathroom and into her bedroom.
Her reward, once Arienne saw exactly where she was leading her, was a delighted hug and a kiss this time- right on the lips, since Hailey had turned her head at just the right time to make her miss her cheek.
They both drew a foot or so away, putting one hand to their lips.  Arienne was looking concerned, possibly worried- so Hailey grinned, and a second later, they were both giggling again as they clambered into bed.





The following morning, Harry awoke to find Arienne snuggled into his chest.
He let out a soft sigh and just lay there.  He was definitely going to be getting a proper nightgown at some point, preferably sooner than later; his pajamas were quite rough, and sometimes irritated Hailey’s more sensitive parts, but Arienne’s nightgown was quite the opposite.
Speaking of Arienne, his sigh seemed to awaken her, and she slowly, blearily looked up at him.
They looked at each other for a few seconds, before understanding finally dawned on Arienne’s face- and she let out a soft huff of breath as she hugged him.
But…  it was Saturday today, and Harry felt like giving Arienne what she was evidently asking for:  Hailey.
So he turned his head and sneezed.
Arienne giggled and redoubled her hug.





Everyone stared as Hailey and Arienne walked down to breakfast, and it wasn’t hard for Hailey to guess why.  Once they’d gotten dressed- that had been an adventure; Arienne had been unsurprised by her  cavernous trunk, but seemed to be alarmed by just how little she had in it.  Still, once they’d gotten dressed, Arienne had stepped behind her…  and braided her hair.
It was an unbelievably relaxing feeling.
And when she looked in the mirror, she loved how it looked.
So she’d been happy to help when Arienne had obviously wanted her to braid her hair for her.  Not that she’d been able to help, per se; she’d had no idea how to braid hair, so once Arienne had realized that, the girl had used her own hands to guide Hailey’s, with a somewhat rougher but still pretty result.
Finally, they headed for breakfast, hand-in-hand as usual.
“Morning, Harr-  er, Hailey, sorry,” Hermione greeted, glancing up as they approached.  She then blinked at Arienne.
Hailey chuckled.  “Good morning to you too, ‘Mione.”
“Where’ve you been?” Hermione asked- and Arienne giggled.
Hailey smiled.  “Sleeping,” she answered.
“...  Sleeping,” Hermione echoed.
“Sleeping,” she repeated.
Arienne giggled again.
“Of course you have,” Hermione sighed, as Hailey and Arienne sat down, with Hailey sandwiched between the two other girls.  “And I’ve been flying.”
Hailey rolled her eyes.  “I really have been sleeping.”
“So…  what happened to Harry?  I thought he was Arienne’s friend, not you.”
“As the house-elves would say,” Hailey began, unable to keep her amusement from entering her voice as she thought about what Blinky had told her about where Harry went when she transformed, “Harry is not being today.”
Arienne obviously thought it was as amusing as Hailey did, as she broke into uncontained giggling.
“Not being…?” Hermione muttered, staring at her, then sighed, evidently deciding she wasn’t going to get an explanation.  “So, what woke you today?”
“I sneezed.”
Arienne snorted, and her giggling got harder.
“...  Uh…  Whatever.”





Hailey had a lot of fun that day.  Arienne was a delight to be around- even more so than usual, actually.  That said, people seemed to like staring at her whenever she was out in public.  A few times, she double-checked to make sure she hadn’t forgotten something, like a shirt.
She hadn’t.  She was fully clothed, and in the proper sex of clothing.
So maybe they were staring at her because she was Hailey?  Because she’d made a name for herself at the beginning of the year as a hard case, then just vanished for the intervening month and change, only to emerge at the end of it playing and giggling with Arienne?
They spent a fair amount of the day composing a letter to Arienne’s mom- in a far more cooperative manner than Hailey had realized was possible without talking.  The girl obviously wanted to include her more than usual, even though it was to her mom, and not Hailey’s.
They were telling Vanessa- Queen Vanessa, Hailey was pretty sure- about her transformation…  and the ‘deplorably empty’ state of her trunk.  Arienne also openly complained about Hailey’s lack of suitable clothing to join her in ballet or karate- not that it had stopped them.  They’d simply moved the practice to one of the ballrooms in Hailey’s Lord’s Quarters, then at Arienne’s nonverbal begging, Hailey had joined her in her underwear.
Arienne had also insisted on taking Hailey’s measurements and writing them down in her letter, alongside a politely but insistently worded ‘request’ that she, and her mother, ‘assist’ Hailey in building out her wardrobe.
Which included not one but several nightgowns, judging by the words Arienne used.  She’d obviously noticed Hailey’s pajamas as well, and was determined to provide her with a ‘wardrobe fit for a Noblewoman’.
In the afternoon, they’d made a quick trip down to the Room of Requirement, and Arienne had retrieved her trunk and other belongings from it, moving them up to Hailey’s Lord’s Quarters…  and, after a moment of puppydog eyes that didn’t change Hailey’s decision, into Hailey’s room directly.
And when night fell, they showered and crawled into bed together again- this time with Hailey dressed in a nightgown that Arienne had lent her, because they were just about the same size.
She was right.  It was about a hundred times more comfortable.
Before they fell asleep, tightly bound in each other’s arms, Hailey had a moment to wonder exactly what they’d do if Arienne’s mother denied the request for protection permission.





The next morning, Sunday, Hailey and Arienne- Harry had sneezed again- were just getting out of bed when Hedwig arrived.  Hailey accepted the letter, trading it for some owl treats that Blinky brought for her, then read the address and turned to hand it to Arienne.
Arienne, however, was staring at the spot where Blinky had been for a single second, her expression a twisted combination of worry and fear and her nightgown bundled up in her hands.
Hailey stepped over, hugged her, kissed her forehead because she couldn’t reach the top of her head, and offered her the letter.
It took Arienne a minute to calm down and accept it.  Once she did, she slowly, shakily opened the letter and unfolded it to read.
Hailey spent the time changing clothes.
Her attention was drawn as she finished putting on her underwear, when Arienne suddenly broke out in giggles.
A second later, Arienne reached over to give Hailey the unfolded letter, still giggling as she turned to her own trunk.
It didn’t take Hailey long to see what she thought was funny.
Queen Vanessa was not just giving her permission for Harry to protect Arienne, she was demanding that Harry not just protect her but also arrange for her protection when he is unable.
There was a lot more to the letter, a good chunk of which told Arienne about the gaps in the letter Vanessa had received; her ‘tamper evident’ numbering scheme had worked, exactly as expected.  However, a good three quarters of her outbound letter had apparently gotten lost in transit, one sentence at a time.
Hailey was reminded of Arienne’s new letter, which she would probably be sending later today- in which she’d told Vanessa that Hailey felt like a second mother.
Then she grinned, and turned to Arienne.
“Princess Arienne Fox,” she began.
Arienne flinched and looked concernedly up at her, evidently unsettled by Hailey’s use of both her title and surname.
“You should know,” Hailey continued, “that for as long as I have a place to call home, so also shall you, and that what is of my House shall also be yours, for I do hereby accept you as my sister by Magic and welcome you and yours into my House, the Grand Royal and Most Ancient House of Potter, that you might succeed me should I fall.”  She bowed her head.  “So mote it be.”
She felt the magic in the air respond to the ritualistic phrase, and take hold.
It was done.
“Wh-What!?” Arienne began, alarmed.  She would have felt the magic also.
Hailey hugged her.  “Don’t worry,” she muttered softly- and when Arienne didn’t calm down, nor even relax into her hug like usual, she poured her magic directly into her own body, strengthening her bones and muscles.
Then she bent down and swept Arienne off her feet and into her arms, before sitting on the end of the bed and setting Arienne in her lap to hug her there.
“B-But!” Arienne gasped.  “But if- If that changes-!”
“That doesn’t change anything,” she told her.  “You’re still Arienne Fox, and your mother is still your guardian.  All I did was give you claim to the name of the House of Potter- and the powers and protections thereof.”  And name her heir to her line, but that was beside the point.
“Why?”
She chuckled.  “It means you’re not just welcome into my Lord’s Quarters here, you have a right to them now.  In the magical world, independent of your non-magical status.”  She chuckled.  “And of course, being a member of a Grand Royal House also entitles you to be called a Princess in the magical world.”
“But…  why?  Wouldn’t-?”
“A blanket welcome have worked?  For letting you in the door, sure, but not much else.  Seriously, it’s illegal to piss me off, and now that I’ve magically adopted you, it’s also illegal to hurt you.  I mean seriously- as far as magic is concerned, if I invoke the right steps, my word is law.  Worldwide.”
“...  What.”
She grinned.  “Still Princess of the United Kingdom, now Princess of Magic as well.”
“...  Huh.”  She paused, then looked at her.  “When-  When you said sister-!”
She grinned.  “I couldn’t exactly claim you as my daughter, could I?  Besides, adopting you as a descendent would have messed with your guardianship.”
“So…  just as a sister?”
She shrugged.  “Yup, as a sibling.  As a sibling with the right to inherit my titles, actually.”
She snorted.  “And when Mom gets even by adopting you?”
She shrugged.  “I might actually learn what it’s like to be a noble.”
There was a second of silence.
“C’mere, you,” Arienne began, and tackled Hailey, knocking her down on the mattress.





“Um…  Hailey?”
Hailey looked down at Arienne, who was tucked in under her arm.  It was fast approaching dinner time- but this would also be the first time Arienne had ever initiated a conversation.  “Mm?”
“Do you know…”  Arienne paused.  “Why you seem so…  motherly?”
Hailey had to think about that one.  Why was she motherly?  She knew she behaved differently as Hailey than as Harry- she felt differently, after all.  But why…  motherly, and not sisterly, or like any other girl?
She heaved a sigh.  “That’s…  a good question.  Maybe it’s because I’m part magic, and magic is…  well, quite old?”
Arienne snorted.  “I’m part Japanese,” she informed her, “but that doesn’t mean I know jujitsu.  Or that I’m any good at it- Mom had me learn taekwondo instead, and that’s Korean.”
She sighed.  “Yeah, but how else can you explain how I seem to just…  know everything there is to know about magic, even stuff I’ve never heard of before?”
She tilted her head.  “You…  know magic?” she asked.  “Can you teach me magical karate?”
Hailey blinked.  “Magical Karate…?” she muttered.  “I don’t think there is one…”  She paused.  “Though I suppose multicasting, chain-casting, and minicasting would all count as magical ‘martial arts’...  despite being high-level techniques.”
Arienne winced.  “So you can’t…?”
“No, I’m pretty sure I can teach you something,” she observed.  “I’m just…  not sure exactly how much of a something it’ll be, nor how effective I’ll be at teaching it.”  She scowled.  “And I’ll need to be Harry for classes, so it’ll have to be in the evenings.  Maybe even just the weekends, since I don’t turn back if I don’t get enough sleep.”
Arienne wrapped her arms around Hailey, as if to stop her from leaving.  “You know basically all magic, right?  That means you can disguise yourself effectively, right?”
There was a pause.
“...  Yes, I suppose I do,” Hailey agreed, “and I can.  I think.”  She paused.  “We…  might need to use the Room of Requirement a lot.”
She snorted.  “So we can use my invisibility cloak.  It’s large enough for a good three or four people.”
> Chapter 16:  Troll
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Professor Flitwick paused to peek around the corner, see what was making that grunting noise.
It was Halloween evening, right about the start of dinner- and it’d taken him a couple minutes to clean up after his last class of the day, so he was a bit behind all the students.
Well…  he had been a bit behind them, but then on his way down, he’d noticed a faint but absolutely putrid scent, and started following it, looking for whatever someone had done.
After a number of corridors, the scent getting continuously stronger thanks to his sniffing spell always pointing him in the right direction, he’d heard that lumbering, grunting noise.  There was also a kind of scratching noise, like whatever was lumbering down the corridors was dragging something.
This was the second corner he’d looked around since hearing that noise.
He spotted it.
There was…  it had to be a mountain troll.  But how had it gotten in?
It looked to be about twelve feet tall, judging by how it had to duck to fit through the ten-foot doorway into…  that looked like the girl’s bathroom on this floor.
He had yet to see a girl tall enough to require a ten foot door, though, so he wasn’t sure why they were that tall.  Maybe they had been made for Hagrid’s nonexistent sister…?
Still, though, it was a troll.
If it was going into the bathroom, it would have bottled itself up nicely- he could sneak up to the door and-
“What the-?  Impedimenta!  Expelliarmus!  Wingardium Leviosa!  Oh, that worked.  Depulso!  Impedimenta!  Depulso!”
He froze as he heard the cry of alarm, followed by a quick stream of incantations from inside the bathroom.
Towards the end, the troll shot suddenly backwards out the still-open door, froze in midair…  and died, as its own club followed it out like a bat out of hell and plunged, handle-first, into its owner’s face.
He stared.
“Eeew,” whoever was in the bathroom said.  “Scourgify!  Um, Evanesco!  Oh, that…  er, worked briefly.  Um, Incendio!  Aguamenti!  Evanesco!  Scourgify!  Alright, that seems to have done it.”
He shivered as he waited, listening to their footsteps approaching the doorway.  Who had just…  squashed the troll like that?  Then, after simply vanishing the pouring blood didn’t clean the floor for long, thought to cauterize the wound- and extinguish the flames- before vanishing the blood again?
It had to be a fourth or fifth-year student.  A sixth-year would have used silent incantations…  and he’d heard the Impediment Jinx, something that was generally agreed to be fourth-year material.  Though, perhaps it was a sixth-year, but one that wasn’t practicing their silent incan-!?
A tiny girl stepped out of the bathroom and around the troll, her wand in her hand.  Well…  not tiny; the girl was taller than him, but that wasn’t hard, considering his goblin ancestry.  This girl had to be a first- or second-year, yet she seemed alarmingly calm as she stepped past the troll.
That said, her appearance was rather…  refined, in spite of her Hogwarts uniform.  She had braided her dark brown hair elegantly.
She paused when she saw him, blinking owlishly.  “Ahh-!” she began.
“Did…  Did you do that?” he asked.
She glanced back at the troll.  “Um…  it was raising its club.”
He snorted.  “Oh, you’re not in trouble,” he promised.  “That’s a Mountain Troll, and it needed eliminating anyways.  But how on earth did you defeat it like that?”
“Uhh…  I used magic?  Disarming charm didn’t seem to do anything, though.”
“It wouldn’t,” he informed her.  “Trolls are naturally magic-resistant.”
“Impediment jinx worked fine,” she observed with a shrug.
“Well yes,” he answered.  “It doesn’t directly target its target…”  He paused.  “Hmm…  Let me rephrase that.  It doesn’t act directly on its target, instead freezing the air around said target, which makes its function independent from its target’s magical resistance.”
“Ahh,” she nodded.  “Might also be why the vanishing spell only worked on the blood.  I tried to get the whole body.”
He sighed.  “Yeah, vanishing usually won’t work on a living or even recently deceased creature anyways, simply because the magic of their life is too strong for it, even if they have a low magical resistance.”  He paused.  “Were you…  the only one in there?”
“Um…  Yes.  I was just finishing up when it came in.”
“You…  weren’t scared?”
She shrugged.  “I was, but I’ve been studying.”
He snorted.  “Studying mighty hard.  You’re…  a second-year, right?”  She wasn’t wearing her nameplate, so he couldn’t just read her name and year off of that.
“First,” she corrected.  “Arienne Fox.”  She paused for a second.  “Um…  Can I ask which subject you’re a Professor of?”
He had to crack a grin at that.  She might not have been wearing her nameplate, but he was- so she would be easily able to tell that he was a Professor, though apparently unable to tell what he taught.  She evidently wasn’t one of his direct students, and her Instructors clearly hadn’t told their class how short their Professor was.  “Ahh,” he observed.  “Professor Fillius Flitwick, Teacher of Charms and Head of Ravenclaw House, at your service,” he bowed, then straightened back up again.  “Fox…  You’re a muggleborn, aren’t you?”
She blushed and averted her gaze.  “Y-Yeah.”
“Don’t be ashamed, girl,” he commanded her.  “That’s not something to be ashamed of.  Not many first-years can do what you just did- hell, not many fourth-years could do that!”  He paused.  “So…  Twenty points to Gryffindor, I think, for such an, ahh, efficient takedown of that Mountain Troll at such an early point in your education.  It’d be more, but I don’t think I can get away with that.”
Miss Fox let out a snort of laughter.
He chuckled as well.  “Anyways, they’ll be starting the Halloween Feast right around now,” he informed her.  “Why don’t we go down and join it?”
She nodded eagerly.  “Yeah!”
They began walking down together.  As usual, Flitwick had to jog to keep up with her much longer strides, even though she was only a foot taller than him- a fact that seemed to amuse her, though she didn’t say anything about it.
“I have to ask,” he muttered, as they descended the main staircase.  “Where’d you learn those spells?”
“I’ve been studying,” she answered quickly.  “And Hailey helped.  She knows everything.”
“Hailey, huh?  Might that be…  Princess Hailey?”
“Ahh…  Yes.”
“Do you know what her surname is?”
“Ahh…”  She paused.  “Yes, but she’d prefer I don’t tell anyone.”
“Ahh, no problem.”  He paused as well, as they walked across the Entrance Hall.  “So…  if she’s been…  was there a reason she wasn’t with you?”
She shrugged.  “We had different classes for the last period today, so we were going to meet in the Great Hall,” she answered.  “Astronomy ran a bit late, and I stopped to use the bathroom on the way.  Didn’t expect any trolls.”
Flitwick pushed open the door to the Great Hall.
“Troll…  In the dungeons…  Thought you ought to know…”
Professor Quirrell, the speaker, collapsed to the floor in front of the staff table.
“Troll?” Flitwick asked.  “Do you mean the one Miss Fox just killed upstairs, or is there another one?”
“Prefects,” Dumbledore called, after silencing the panic with some purple firecrackers from his wand.  “Lead your Houses to the dormitor-!”
“NO!”
The single, shouted word echoed down from the ceiling as a hard, deafening command, and the room fell instantly silent.  Interestingly, Flitwick heard the word coming from the ceiling outside the Great Hall as well- someone, presumably a student given how young it sounded, had hijacked the rarely-used Castle Announcement System.
“All students stay here, in the Great Hall, where we know the trolls aren’t.  Heads of Houses, do a headcount, then keep watch in case a troll comes here.  Headmaster, pick some teachers and go hunt for any and all trolls in groups large enough to be certain to defeat them risk-free when you find them, even if it surprises you.  Search the entire castle, and find how they got in, not just where they are.  Make sure this won’t happen again.  All the rest of the teachers stay here to help protect the students.”
By the time the order finished, it was evident who it was:  Princess Hailey was marching up the row, arms folded as she glared at the headmaster, her lips moving in time with the echoing commands.
Finally, silence descended on the massive chamber.
“Good thinking, Princess!” someone called, somewhere in the room.  Their solitary voice sounded dim in the vast chamber, but was no less audible for it.
Dumbledore heaved a huge sigh, but complied.
He was helped by how several of the Professors that don’t normally join feasts showed up minutes later- Professor Babbage of Muggle Studies, Professor Vector of Arithmancy, Professor Sinistra of Astronomy, and Professor Babbling of Ancient Runes, all coming to help ensure the safety of the students, or volunteer to help hunt for trolls.
Then Filch arrived, with two Hufflepuffs in tow.





“... to help protect the students.”
Cedric Diggory waited a couple seconds, just in case whoever had really good lungs was going to keep talking, then looked both ways down the passage he was standing in.
He didn’t see anything.
So he turned back the way he’d come, and turned the corner back to the library, where he’d been doing some last-minute studying and had lost track of time a little bit.
He would wait in a place where he knew the trolls weren’t, and not try to traverse the Castle that they might be in.





“Well,” Dumbledore began resignedly.
Aqua Fall let out a soft sigh.  The last half an hour or so had been draining; the Headmaster had, without consulting the Princess, gone straight to her and asked her to arrange groups of ‘capable Equestrians’ to help search the Castle.  She’d done that- or more accurately, she’d taken the request straight to Morning Sun, the senior-most Equestrian in the school despite being a first-year.  They’d quickly arranged groups of students to comb the school as well, mixing Guard talent and experience, where they could find it, with upper-year students’ magical knowledge.
It had gone surprisingly well, she had to admit.  Only one troll had been found, and it had been traced back to the main front doors.  All they’d learned was that someone had let it in.
And, of course, that someone had encountered it already, leaving them perhaps the cleanest Troll murder scene Aqua had ever seen.
It was also the only one she’d ever seen, but that didn’t invalidate the point.
Eventually, though, they’d cleaned up the troll, declared the Castle safe, and sent the students to bed.
Well… most of them.  She, as the Student Instructor Program Management Team Lead, was to be party to the staff meeting Dumbledore had called after the Halloween Feast.
“We found the troll,” Dumbledore finished.
Flitwick raised an eyebrow.  “Just the one?”
He nodded.  “It was…  already dead, with a great big hole in-!”
“They get the idea,” Aqua interrupted.
He heaved a sigh.
“Cleanest murder scene I’ve ever seen, but that’s clearly what it was,” Aqua continued.  “Stabbed to death with its own club through the head, no blood or anything- and no sign of a struggle, either.  According to our tracing spells, it walked in the front doors early this morning, and hid out in a few closets.  Someone let it in and held it, deliberately, within the Castle- probably to use it as a distraction.”  She paused.  “So, who crushed it before Quirrell ever reached the Great Hall?”
Flitwick raised an eyebrow.  “You know it was already dead by then?”
She nodded.  “Bodies cool and decay quickly, and with the right magics, it’s pretty easy to determine the exact time of death.  That thing was dead for almost ten minutes before Quirrell arrived- he must’ve gotten unlucky with the stairs?”  She looked at the Professor in question.
He nodded.  “M-Must’ve also ma-made some…  s-sub-optimal n-navigation ch-choices in my p-panic,” he stuttered.
“I still think you need to see a therapist about that stutter,” she advised him, then turned to Flitwick.  “So…  you knew it was dead?”
He nodded.  “Watched a first-year, Miss Arienne Fox, completely flatten it.  She used a clever application of a levitation charm to disarm it and the banishing charm to both move it away from her and propel the club after it.  There was also an impediment jinx to stop it from hitting the wall- then she combined pyromantic, aquamantic, vanishing, and cleaning charms to cauterize the wound and remove the spilled blood so she didn’t have to soil her shoes when walking past it.”
“That’s a lot of spells for a first-year,” Professor McGonagall observed.
He nodded.  “A lot of intermediate-ranked spells for a muggleborn student that’s known she’s magical for a total of three months,” he agreed.  “Said she’s been ‘studying’.”  He sighed.  “Nevermind the creative use of utilitarian spells in a defensive context- it surprised her while she was ‘finishing up’ in the bathroom.  I gave her twenty points.”
“Only twenty?” Professor Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow briefly, then turned to Flitwick.  “You didn’t stop it before-?”
“I’m sure he’d only just spotted it and hadn’t realized she was there,” Professor Sprout observed.  “From the sound of it, this Arienne was quite the speedy spellcaster, and probably had that troll down to a fare-thee-well by the time anyone could have realized she was there and responded effectively.  Had she not been there, those bathrooms would make excellent bottles to crush it in with minimal resistance.”
“Not that Arienne needed that,” Flitwick observed.  “She needed all of five seconds and it was dead before it could react, walls be damned.”
Dumbledore looked at Aqua.  “Is she one of your people?”
Aqua scowled.  “I suppose she could be, but with a name like Arienne, I seriously doubt it.  Even then, most of the Equestrians have been having trouble learning anywhere near that fast- I expect even Twilight would need to be at least a second year, more likely third, to be able to do that from self-study.  I’m betting she had some pretty focused help, or perhaps studied in a very specific direction and happened to get lucky.”  She paused.  “And maybe she really is a genius.”





“Ahh, Miss Fox?”
The girl looked up.  “Hmm?”
“Chief Student Instructor Aqua Fall here would like to talk to you before you leave.”
Aqua nodded her head, acknowledging Student Instructor Sandy Cog’s use of her title- the one that ‘Student Instructor Program Management Team Lead’ had been remodeled into shortly after the year had begun.
The student that Sandy Cog was speaking to met Aqua’s eyes for a fraction of a second, nodded in acknowledgement, and resumed packing up her belongings with an “Okay.”
A minute later, the girl finished packing up and made her way up to the front, where Aqua was waiting.  “You wanted to talk to me?” she offered.
“Ahh, yes,” Aqua agreed, as Instructor Sandy Cog left with the rest of the class.  “Specifically, I’d like to ask you a few things about what happened on Halloween.”  She paused.  “Er…  it was you, that Professor Flitwick met on the way to the Great Hall for dinner?”
The girl tilted her head.  “That Professor Flitwick…?”  She paused.  “Oh, you mean that troll that was breaking into the girls’ bathroom without permission.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “That male troll.”
Aqua had to laugh at that.  It was true, the troll had later been identified to be a male mountain troll- but its gender had most likely not been the reason she’d killed it.  “Ain't no boys in the girls’ toilet,” she agreed.  “Aside from that, I heard you used some pretty advanced spells in that fight?”
She blinked.  “They were advanced?” she asked.
“Uhh…  Yeah.  Impediment jinx, vanishing charm, cleaning charm, conflagration spell, water conjuration…  All beyond first-year level, and with the exception of the vanishing and cleaning spells, fourth-year or above.”
“...  Huh.  They didn’t seem any harder or more complicated than anything else we’ve been doing…?”
There was a pause.
“Ahh…  Yeah, you know what, you’re right.  They’re probably taught later because of the inherent dangers of using spells like those.  But-!”
Aqua cut herself off, focusing instantly on a chair about halfway across the room.  It had just twitched…  but there was nobody left in the room.  Was someone invisible?
Arienne picked up on it quickly as well, turning in the same direction and going silent as she searched.
“Who’s there?” Aqua called.  “Reveal yourself,” she commanded.
The silence held for two seconds.
Quite suddenly, Arienne whipped her wand out and slashed it across that entire half of the room.  “Aguamenti!”
The stream of water from her wand formed a massive bow as it slashed out across the room- and, just three desks away, the middle of it splashed against someone invisible, just to the side of the chair that had twitched.
Aqua drew her wand, but Arienne was faster.
“Revelio!  Expelliarmus!  Stupefy!  Incendio!  Confringo!”
The first spell missed, though they heard a man gasp as he dodged.
The second connected, causing a wand, a silver knife, and a crystal flask to spring out of thin air and fall to the floor, the last shattering into a million pieces when it landed.
Her third spell flew wide and, like the first, vanished against the far wall.
Her fourth shot a huge gout of fire across the room- and in its wake, while they still couldn’t see the yelling man, they could see his outline, as his clothing and, presumably, hair all caught fire.
Her final spell was definitely meant as a deadly blow against what was basically confirmed to be a hidden attacker…  and her aim was true.
However, the man was quite suddenly gone with a ripple Aqua recognized as a portkey, moments before it would have connected…  and the spell cratered the far wall of the classroom.
“Portkey,” Aqua barked.  “He got away with a portkey.”
Arienne sighed and lowered her wand.  “Damn.  That’s the third time, too.”
“The third-!?” she began, then took a deep breath.  “Um…  How would you like to be the HSI for Defense, then?”
“The what?”
“The HSI for Defense.”
She blinked.  “Uhh…  I don’t think I’m qualified for that.”
She tilted her head.  “Where’d you learn all those spells, then?”
“Uh, Hailey taught me.”  She grinned.
“Hailey…  You don’t happen to mean Princess Hailey, do you?”
“Ahh…  I do, yes.  She knows, like, everything.”
“Damn.”  She paused, then looked back to where the knife and wand had fallen.  “Alright.  Um, if you feel safe, you’re welcome to go…  I need to pick this up and report it to the DMLE.”





That evening, at dinner, Albus Dumbledore had a noticeably shorter beard than usual.

The following morning, he missed breakfast entirely, because Director Amelia Bones had arrived early in the morning, and was busy interrogating him about why his wand had been sent to her office as having been taken from an invisible assailant in the school.





Dumbledore shivered as he sat down at the staff table for lunch, and peered down the Hall to the Gryffindor Table, where the Princess and Miss Arienne were getting along so nicely.  It was a relief that the Princess had been in a much better mood lately, even showing herself to the Castle so often while she played with Arienne.  Arienne, the girl that Harry had so obviously taken into his protection…  before promptly vanishing, save only for classes- he didn’t even come to meals any more!  Had the Princess kicked him and his protection aside, in order to play with her friend?
Because that was obviously what she and Arienne were:  Friends.  It wasn’t clear whether or not Arienne had the Princess’s protection, but it was distinctly possible.
A possibility that, combined with his detection ward throwing its metaphorical hands up at the Princess, meant he was mortally afraid of approaching Arienne while the Princess was anywhere near, for any reason…  and would prefer to stay away from the Princess herself as well, to the point where he wasn’t even going to try to sneak up on her for a blood sample, he’d wait for her time of the month.
…  Not that she seemed to have one, despite being visibly pubescent.
His most recent attempt to get close to Arienne…  had ended in an even worse failure than he’d thought possible.  He hadn’t even been trying to get a blood sample!  He’d merely been trying to get close enough- just within ten feet- to cast a silent, non-invasive charm she wouldn’t even notice…  which would tell him how long it would be until she experienced puberty- and, therefore, her first time of the month.
It was something he frequently did, when he noticed pre-pubescent muggleborn girls in the Castle, so he could arrange for older muggleborn girls to be able to comfort and teach the poor girl how to handle it, whenever she had her first time of the month.  He wasn’t even trying to get any of her blood- and had her crude disarming charm not hit him in the belt, causing his knife and flask to be ejected alongside his wand, Director Bones wouldn’t have begun to suspect that Dark Magic was taking place at Hogwarts!
It had been torture to deflect her suspicion, but he’d managed to do so.  Thank Merlin she hadn’t been able to find any legal justification to use veritaserum; Arienne, the only listed victim, was a true muggleborn, so her Magical House was just that:  No nobility, no tenure, no nothing, which meant she had the rank of the lowest commoners, and veritaserum actually wasn’t allowed, even if volunteered.
Still, though.  Why had she attacked him?  He was only trying to help- and it wasn’t even for anything that even might be considered bad!  He just wanted to make sure she wasn’t traumatized by her own body!
He didn’t do the same thing for descendents of magicals, because they already wouldn’t be traumatized.
Even so, he was aware he was a part of a very small minority of magicals- witches included- that knew girls even had a time of the month.  The reason was that all girls’ underwear sold at magical clothing shops was enchanted to make a majority of those ‘time of the month’ effects just disappear.  Time, mood…  everything.  The blood would still have to come out, though, since it didn’t serve to prevent their time of the month, just hide it.  As such…
As such, he could often tell the muggleborn and magical-born apart by whether their underwear was enchanted; thanks to his detection wards, he could sense those enchantments from across the room, without casting any magic or taking any…  inappropriate looks.  Those wards weren’t even designed to spot those enchantments, but other kinds, and just happened to catch them!
It wasn’t foolproof, though.  As an example, the Princess was definitely actually worthy of her claims, since he’d cast the House Verification charm at her from across the Great Hall during the Welcoming Feast, and it’d come back positive.  That meant she was definitely from the single oldest line of wizards left in existence, even though he’d been sure that would be Harry…  yet, she wore muggle underwear.
Then there were occasionally muggleborn that would wear magical underwear for some reason or another.  That happened especially often among those that were poor but had significant inheritances waiting for them in Gringotts- though he had no idea how they discovered those inheritances.  Perhaps it was just the first clothing store they got to once they gained enough money to…?  He didn’t know.
Not that it mattered.  He concentrated on his plate, shuddering at the thought of what Minerva would say if she knew what his thoughts had turned to.
But at least he’d gotten his wand back, so he didn’t have to floo to Diagon Alley to get a new one.
He hated Floo Travel.  It was the reason his nose was so crooked, after all- he made the famously-clumsy Potters look graceful.
It had been thirty years since he’d last used the Floo, and he did not want to change that!
That girl, though, Arienne…  His eyes picked her out of the crowd once again.  While her spell repertoire was alarmingly effective for a girl of her age…  she was also obviously an inexperienced caster.  She’d beat him with pure surprise advantage- he’d never expected her to start with water, so her first spell had disoriented him.  Not so much that he’d been unable to dodge the spell that would have broken down his invisibility, though it had been so much that he’d been unable to reestablish his bearings until after her disarming charm had hit…  after which point he’d been unarmed, and couldn’t effectively block or counterattack.  He could dodge, though- the first of her offensive spells, a simple stunner.  The second had produced far too large of a fireball for him to dodge.

The girl had a lot of power, which had allowed her crude spellwork to be just as effective as that cast by a more skilled caster like himself.  No doubt her spellwork was so crude because she’d been taught a very large amount of spells in a very short time- but once she had the time to refine her techniques, she was undoubtedly going to be a terrifying duelist.