Unforeseen Trials (Completed)

He was a little nervous. Although he had been assured by Professor Flitwick that there really was a Platform 9 ¾ he hadn't really believed him. Looking at the clock to his left, he knew he had to make a run at the wall, it was twenty till 11, no time to dawdle. Fighting his nerves, Harry Potter started to walk towards what he hoped was some sort of illusion.

Relieved that he hadn't crashed into a solid barrier, he took a minute to survey his surroundings. The platform was crowded as kids were waiting in line to get on the classic locomotive, their parents saying their final goodbyes. The train itself was a dark red, multi-carriage steam engine adorned with Hogwarts Express in dazzling golden cursive on either side.

As he approached the train he began to observe his future classmates; towards the beginning of the line Harry noticed an angry looking blonde-haired girl scowling at a dark-skinned boy, much to the amusement of said boy's mother, a little way back he noticed a pair of redheads playing a game of "keep away" with a third redhead - tossing a shimmering badge between themselves to the frustration of their brother. The entire scene was completely foreign to him.

Not for the first time he wondered how he had spent 11 years of his life unaware that another world co-existed right beside his own. Accepting magic had been hard enough; when Professor Flitwick had shown up on Privet Drive it took several demonstrations before he had accepted that the Professors magic wasn't just an elaborate trick. Being shown Diagon Alley, and all it entailed had forced him to accept that there was a magical society, but until he stepped on Platform 9 ¾ he was ignorant to the fact that magic could be wielded in such a subtle manner as to hide so much from their muggle counterparts who theoretically were standing only a few feet away.

The interior of the train was decadent; the burgundy corridor seemed to be unnaturally wide, and the hallway unnaturally loud as friends from across the Isles got reacquainted. As he attempted to find an empty compartment he observed a group of wizards wearing yellow and black ties tossing some type of ball between themselves while another group of witches appeared to be gossiping about one of them; a frog that looked to be made from chocolate had escaped the grip of another boy, forcing him to stumble into a group of girls in green. Is this what normal kids do? He thought to himself. His years at the Dursleys hadn't given him much insight into what normal children did for entertainment; between his aunt and Uncle's neglect, and his cousin's bullying, he hadn't been the most popular kid in the neighborhood and was largely left alone.

Finally finding an empty compartment near the back of the third carriage, Harry slides the door shut and was pleasantly surprised to hear the noise of the corridor disappear. The compartment was large and simple; two long benches with burgundy cushions faced each other, separated by a basic mahogany table. A small smile spread across his lips as he removed his copy of " Fundamental Magical Theory, " one of the many non-school books that Professor Flitwick had recommended he read before coming to.

While his trip to Diagon Alley, and Flourish and Blotts had been interesting, it had also been exceptionally distracting. Between the moving pictures and unfamiliar noises, had he been left to his own devices he doubted he would have bought anything other than his schoolbooks to get in and out as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, under Flitwick's guidance, Harry had his schoolbooks, plus the recommended reference books for each subject, as well as an introductory book on several different topics. The weeks following his first foray into the magical world saw him trying to learn as much as he could about this strange new society.

He was interrupted from his reading five minutes later by a knock on the door; hoping that whoever was disturbing him would simply go away, he went back to his reading. A minute later the persistent visitor knocked again. Realizing that the sooner he dealt with his visitor the sooner he could get back to reading, Harry slides the door open, revealing two beautiful girls. Both were dressed in plain black robes, they each had long, black hair and dark brown skin, the girl on the left had her hair intricately styled, while her sister wore a simple braid.

"Do you mind if we join you? Everywhere else is full?" the girl with the fancy hair blurted out, causing him to take a small step back. The girl with the braid directed a slight frown at her sister, but otherwise stayed quiet.

After a slight delay, he gestured for the two girls to join him. An awkward moment later Harry realized that the sisters were waiting for him to introduce himself; he wasn't sure what to do, deciding on a simple handshake he somewhat loudly introduced himself as Harry Potter.

To their credit neither girl stared. Speaking for the first time the sister with the braid took the moment to introduce herself and her sister as Padma and Parvati Patil. After a few minutes of small talk, he learned that Padma and Parvati's father, Varun, worked as an Ambassador to the British Ministry of Magic, and as a gesture of goodwill between the two governments, Varun had sent his two daughters to Britain's premier school.

The trio soon fell into an amicable silence as Harry returned to reading his book. The reading was difficult, but interesting. The book wasn't exceptionally big, coming in at just under 400 pages, but was meant to introduce the reader to a wide array of topics. The chapter he was currently reading dealt with strengthening the power behind your spells.

" For hundreds of years academics were unaware of why individuals seemed to differ greatly in spell power. While it is normal for individuals to be particularly interested in one subject or another, it is not a given that this interest will translate to spellcasting. A particularly strong individual with no academic interest in Charms, for example, can often perform complex charms like the 'Patronus' and 'Aqua Erecto', even without a solid understanding of the theory, with little practice. Spells many Charm Masters may struggle with, a strong spellcaster can overcome with power.

For centuries many believed that a young witch or wizard would reach a "magical maturity" leading to a sudden increase in magical ability, the truth is more complex. While it may be true that many young witches and wizards see an increase in their spell work around the age of 16, that can generally be attributed to an older student's years of practice and dedication. When a young person attempts to cast magic for the first time, they are often met with disappointment. The failure isn't unexpected, and it doesn't mean that the spell has necessarily been cast wrong, it is entirely possible that the user is casting the spell properly, but not currently strong enough to obtain the desired result. As you practice with magic, your magic grows like a muscle; the more it is pushed, the stronger it becomes. In addition, magical strength can be increased in ways other than repeated spell use. Certain potions, for example, can increase your magical strength for a short period of time, and while controversial, certain rituals could temporarily, or in some cases permanently, increase a caster casting ability. Many academics suggest a more traditional approach to increasing magical strength. French magical theorist, Pierre De Galle, for example, posited that a wizard's magic was only as strong as their physical health, recommending everything from certain diets and exercises to spell routines that help build strength."

As the train began to slow, Harry packed his things up, both excited and slightly nervous, to finally be arriving at Hogwarts.

The sun setting over the Hogwarts grounds was a truly beautiful sight, Harry thought to himself as he climbed into an empty rowboat.

The tradition of first years making the pilgrimage across the lake prior to their sorting in the great hall went back to the very first years of Hogwarts. As the school began to gain a measure of esteem, families from across the country and continental Europe began to send their children off to receive a proper education. The increased attendance created a need for a central gathering point for magical families to say goodbye to their children, thus the Hogwarts Express, and the tradition of shepherding students across the lake was born. With the introduction of horseless carriages a few decades later the tradition was eliminated for everyone but the first-year students. Every couple of decades somebody would complain about how time consuming the boats were, only to be ignored by the Board of Governors.

Personally, he was glad they kept the tradition. The lake provided a marvelous view of the picturesque landscape, as well as the various buildings and turrets that made up the campus.

Interrupted from his thoughts by a slight shaking of the boat, he realized he had company. Sitting across from him was a slender girl with sharp features and porcelain skin; her blue eyes met his briefly, before breaking eye contact. Breaking the slightly awkward eye contact, the girl reached out with long, manicured fingers to shake his hand.

"Lilith Moon." The girl stated in a soft, strong voice.

Giving her hand a brief squeeze, he tried to relax and smile; "Harry Potter." He hoped he sounded half as confident as Moon, but he wasn't sure he succeeded.

He noticed her instinctively glance at his scar, " interesting" she mumbled more to herself than to Harry.

Interesting? What was interesting about his name . Squishing his face into a slight frown, his response came out a little harsh; "what's so interesting ?"

If she was bothered by his tone, she didn't give tell. Shrugging slightly, she tilted her head to the side as if trying to come to some conclusion on him; responding in a blunt, somewhat mocking tone, "I expected you to be bigger."

With a scowl on his face, he asked her what she meant.

"I don't know; considering your fame, not to mention your status, I assumed the boy-who-lived wouldn't appear so… sickly."

"I'm not sickly!" His petulance shining through. He knew damn well he wasn't the healthiest child. While he wasn't exactly starved, his portions were always small, and the Dursley's didn't stick to the healthiest diet.

Moon shrugged again; "head to the hospital wing and get a checkup, it's included in our tuition."

Choosing not to respond, the rest of the boat ride was spent in silence.

He was starting to get nervous, a quick glance around the corridor gave him the impression that he wasn't alone. They had been standing outside the great hall for the last five minutes waiting for the sorting ceremony to begin, and people were starting to get restless.

"Professor McGonagall, are they almost ready?" A bushy haired girl with her hand raised blurted out.

"Soon enough Miss Granger." Seeing she wasn't going to get any more details, Granger put her hand down, a frustrated scowl on her face.

Not a minute later Deputy Headmistress McGonagall called a blonde-haired, pig tailed girl to the front of the line; "Miss Abbott, they're ready for you."

He was starting to get nervous; Parvati Patil was in the process of being sorted, and any moment now it would be his turn.

He wasn't prepared for the commotion that came with his sorting. The whispers, and glares from students, and even some of the faculty, were starting to give him a headache. Placing the worn hat on his head, he was beginning to wonder if the damn thing worked when he heard a voice yell " Ravenclaw!"

Taking that as his cue to remove the hat, he stood up, briefly noticing that on his breast, the Hogwarts crest had been replaced with the crest of Ravenclaw. Glancing over at his new house, the enthusiastic response brought a genuine smile to his face. They wanted him. He thought to himself as he made his way over to the table decorated in blue and bronze, he took a seat across from Padma, who gave him a brief smile.

After the Headmaster's welcoming speech Padma took it upon herself to introduce him to Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein; and Penelope Clearwater, a fifth-year prefect.

Terry shook his hand briefly; his bespectacled, hazel eyes met his own; a feeling as though the lanky brunette was staring into his soul briefly overcame him, a moment later Boot smiled, quickly introducing himself before grabbing some food.

While Terry was polite, and Penelope was calm and inviting, pointing out the professors and answering any questions the group may have; Anthony Goldstein, a pudgy boy with curly black hair, sneered at him before turning away without giving an introduction.

As dinner began to wind down Penelope gathered the first years to escort them to Ravenclaw Tower.

Ravenclaw Tower was the furthest common room from the great hall, Penelope explained as she led the first years zigging and zagging across the hard-stone floor. Five minutes later the group stopped in front of an enchanted knocker, realizing she had everyone's attention Penelope explained how to access the Ravenclaw common room.

"While Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin rely on traditional passwords for access to their common rooms, Ravenclaw's have to answer a riddle in order to gain access."

"What if we get the riddle wrong?" A short, blonde-haired boy replied quickly, anxiety evident in his voice.

After he introduced himself as "Stephen Cornfoot" Penelope answered his question with a shrug; "the riddles are basic, if you get it wrong you can either try again or wait for someone to open the door."

The common room door opened to a landing on a winding stairway. Gesturing for the group to follow her downstairs, Harry couldn't help but draw a comparison between the black-haired prefect and a muggle tour guide.

The lower level of the common room was peaceful. Torches illuminated a scattering of desks surrounded by bookcases.

"This is the study area." Gesturing to the bookcase closest to her, Penelope continued her tour. "The bookcases are separated by topic, and are fair game for any Ravenclaw, the only caveat is that the books are charmed to return to their spot on the bookshelf every night at midnight."

Picking up a book she turned to a table, sitting down, she gestured for them to encircle her and continued her speech.

"Each table, like the desks in your dorm, are surrounded by silencing wards." At this she gestured to some invisible construct. "And if you tap this rune" she continued taping a rune on the bottom right corner of the table, "you can play some classical music."

Listening to her explanation, he idly wondered if Beethoven was a wizard.

Penelope continued, gesturing towards the dueling pits. Apparently this was the highlight of the tour, the second she had turned on her heel and started walking towards a door on the back wall, his classmates began whispering in quiet excitement to each other, he vaguely overheard Goldstein boasting to Michael Corner that he was going to make the dueling team as Ravenclaws second year representative.

The dueling pits were, admittedly, interesting. Several artefacts surrounded the half dozen dueling pits. The 25-foot platforms had 10-foot-wide circles stationed on each side, step out of the circle, and you get disqualified.

"The dueling pits are reserved for the dueling team only." Penelope continued her tour, to several audible groans from the first years. "You will be able to try out for the dueling team starting second year, although there is generally a dueling club for first years" she explained before leading the group back upstairs.

Penelope was right, he noticed as the prefect led the group into the main room. While receiving an explanation of the bulletin board, Harry noticed that there indeed was a first year only dueling club meeting. Surrounded by fliers for everything from owl order catalogues and tutoring services; was a simple, plain flier stating that the meeting was set for Wednesday in the great hall.

The main floor of the common room was beautiful. Perfectly circular, with tall arching windows providing a magnificent view of the greenhouses, quidditch pitch, lake, and forbidden forest. Leather couches and soft chairs surrounded a wide variety of tables, and the sound of laughter filled the room.

Their Head of House, Professor Flitwick, chose that moment to drop in and hold an impromptu meeting.

"Welcome first years! I am your head of house Filius Flitwick, and for the last 25 years I have had the honor of being the charms professor here at Hogwarts." The small professor said with a warming smile.

"A couple of things before bed. There is a calendar hanging up in the first-year dorms, I will be meeting with each of you once a month throughout your first year, the schedule will be on the calendar." The bigger girl in front of him, Mandy Brocklehurst if he remembered correctly, shifted nervously at that announcement. "Is she intimidated by the professor?" Harry thought to himself before turning his attention back to Flitwick.

"Classes begin at 8am tomorrow morning. For the first week of the year, the first-year dorms will have an alarm set for 6 am, breakfast begins at 6:30, you should try and be out of the great hall by 7:45."

With that, the charms professor bid the first year's goodnight, and disappeared out the door.

The dorm room itself was rather large, and contained five full-sized beds, each space contained a small desk, wardrobe, and bookshelf, as well as curtains that kept all out outside noise.

Picking the space closest to the bathroom, and next to Terry Boot, Harry began to unpack before going over his class schedule. His Mondays looked full; double transfiguration and potions before a break for lunch, followed by double lessons in charms and herbology. Picking up the syllabus for transfiguration, Harry began to prepare for class before bed.

Harry woke up with a start the next morning; " what the hell is that noise?" He thought to himself before remembering his surroundings. Grabbing his glasses and throwing the dark blue curtains open, he idly noticed that the alarm stopped ringing. Deciding to beat the rush; he got out of bed and made a quick left towards the first-year bathroom.

In many ways, the bathroom looked like a regular muggle bathroom; several stalls along the marble walls to relieve yourself; ornate sinks, each with their own mirror; and several private showers along the back wall. There was one major difference, however. With no knobs to turn on the water, Harry was at a complete loss, for about 30 seconds. Examining the wall, a little closer he noticed the words "on" and "off" along with "hot" and "cold" engraved in the marble. Confused on what to do, he tapped the "on" marking with his finger, baffled when he got no response, he spent several minutes trying to figure out the strangest shower he had ever seen.

" Maybe…" he thought to himself, grabbing his wand from outside the shower, he felt the increasingly familiar warmth accompanied by a slight glow of his wand, " if I touch the button with my wand.."

The showerhead immediately spouts a jet of lukewarm water into his face, with a grin, Harry started messing with the controls till he found the perfect temperature.

A half hour later, a fully dressed Harry Potter stood in front of a mirror in the common room, a look of frustration on his bespectacled face.

Tapping his cheek with his wand he tried to stay calm as he attempted to get the teeth cleaning spell to work. "Puriter dentes" he enunciatedto no success.

A small chuckle interrupted his next attempt, followed by a deep voice.

"First spell, huh? Said the boy with thick, dark hair. "I'm Roger Davies." He continued, extending his arm to Harry.

"Harry Potter." He replied, noticing that Davies was wearing an amused look as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Let me see you cast the spell again." Davies gestured to his wand; a grunt was his only response.

" Puriter dentes." He tried again, getting the same result.

Davies was giving him a thoughtful expression; "what are you thinking about when you try and cast the spell?"

Taking a moment to formulate a response, he hadn't really been thinking of anything, had he?

He verbalized as much to the third year, sending him into teacher mode.

"Have you read up on any magical theory?"

Harry nodded his head, seeing where Davies was going with this.

"What do you need to do to successfully cast a spell?"

Again, Harry thought for a moment.

"Intent. You must want the spell to accomplish its intent. Visualization, you must have a clear picture of what you want the outcome of your spell to be. And a focus; something to channel your magic."

The dark-haired boy nodded enthusiastically.

"Exactly. Now what are you doing? Do you know what the spell you're using is supposed to do?"

"It's supposed to clean my teeth."

"And how are you visualizing that?"

Harry thought for a moment " How am I visualizing the spell?"

"When I say the incantation, I am visualizing all of my teeth being clean."

Davies nodded in understanding.

"The visualization of the spell is the hardest part. You need to visualize the plaque disappearing from your teeth, your breath freshening, and your teeth whitening. Spells get easier with time, the more you practice, the better you get."

Ten minutes later Harry had cast the spell correctly, and the pair headed out of the common room, towards the great hall.

Roger Davies liked to talk, Harry realized as they left the common room, making a slight right heading down a different hallway than the one Penelope showed them the night before, the boy had barely shut up.

Noticing his confusion as they continued down the unfamiliar hall, Davies grinned. "The other way takes too long" he said, stopping in front of a painting of an eagle flying over a forest. "Nobody really goes all the way around if they don't have to."

"Fly like an eagle" the older boy stated, holding his wand on the painting as he did so, to his surprise the painting opened into a narrow corridor.

"This passage is the best way to get around." Pointing up Davies continued, "if you go up, you end up on the 7th floor corridor, you go down one and the next landing will drop you right outside the charms classroom."

"Are there any other passageways?" Harry asked eagerly.

With a smirk Davies continued with a brief explanation of Hogwarts secrets.

"Sure, of course, but they are difficult to find. Most of the ones I have discovered have been behind portraits that hold some sort of significance to a specific house. The passageway reveals itself only when you guess the right password, generally it has something to do with the picture."

Filing that away for later, Harry absentmindedly thought that spending some time discovering these secrets could be fun.

Descending the staircase towards the corridor, the older student continued with the small talk.

"What are you most interested in?"

If he was being honest, he was interested in everything, at least to a certain extent. While herbology, potions, history, and astronomy may be interesting, they didn't excite him nearly as much as being able to use his wand.

Verbalizing his thoughts, Davies nodded his head in understanding. "I completely agree, I excel at charms and defense against the dark arts" he started to puff up in pride at this point "but have never been able to get the hang of potions, not that Snape makes it easy."

The pair exited through a picture of a red-haired madman with an axe, chasing a pair of unicorns through a field. Without realizing it, they had somehow ended up right around the corner from the great hall.

Entering the hall and veering left towards the Ravenclaw table, the two boys separated to go their own ways. Taking a seat across from Su Li, Harry took a moment to really take in the great hall.

The professors table overlooked four, long tables separated by house; looking up for the first time he was awed by the enchantments on the ceiling. An image of the rising sun met his eyes as a pair of birds chased each other in the distance.

Around the hall, he watched as the Gryffindor ghost grossed out a couple of first year girls as his head barely clung to his neck. Up at the staff table he saw the groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, engaging in a conversation with Professor Sprout; while the former seemed to be enjoying the conversation, the later seemed a bit frustrated, gesturing wildly with her arms about one thing or another.

An aggressive " hoot" interrupted him from his thoughts, turning to face the large barn owl, Harry pulled out several copper knuts, placing them in a holster attached to the bird's leg and grabbing his copy of " The Daily Prophet."

The newspaper was like nothing he had ever seen. Completely done in black and white, each headline appeared to be floating slightly above the page, pictures were moving in and out of frame, and he swore he could hear soft voices emanating from the periodical.

The first page was dedicated entirely to today's Wizengamot vote on re-legalizing the personal use of blood wards. The topic was interesting, even if he didn't understand what he was reading. Apparently, blood wards helped families ward their homes against people who were not blood relatives. While Lord Malfoy seemed to be leading the charge for repealing "archaic" laws against blood wards, Dowager Longbottom believed the issue was a "dangerous, slippery slope," citing the casters ability to build in potentially lethal punishments for intruders, and generally wondering "where does the obsession with blood stop?"

The next two pages were dedicated to sports, while the last several pages went into some detail about foreign affairs. Out of interest he began reading an article on the French Ministry of Magic.

LaPointe Names DuPont as Chief Advisor

Late yesterday afternoon, in a surprise move, French Minister of Magic Caroline LaPointe named former International Confederation of Wizards member, Francis DuPont, as her chief political advisor. LaPointe, who took office August 1st, cited Dupont's experience in naming him to France's second highest political position.

" Francis DuPont has over 15 years' experience serving in the International Confederation of Wizards, his extensive knowledge of domestic, and international issues made him Francis the obvious choice to fill this post." LaPointe said in a statement through her publicist.

Of course, Francis DuPont is the nephew of notorious French necromancer Marcel DuPont, who was exiled to Bolivia three years ago for practicing necromancy on recently deceased muggles.

Francis DuPont himself is not without controversy. During his final year at Beauxbatons he was suspended for his last term due to an unspecified incident.

'I guess politics is the same everywhere' he thought to himself before joining his classmates who were heading towards the exit.

Walking towards the transfiguration classroom with the rest of the Ravenclaw first years was an interesting experience. In a past life, school was a quiet, lonely endeavor. Between his cousins bullying, and his own awkwardness, Harry wasn't used to walking in groups, or taking part in pointless small talk. Fortunately for him, Dudley Dursley didn't go to Hogwarts.

Turning his attention back to the conversation at hand, he was able to catch the end of Michael Corner's over-the-top story about his trip to the United States over the summer.

"I know that Horned Serpents are common in the western part of the country but stumbling across a whole nest of them while hiking is a bit unnerving." Corner continued; the false bravery evident in his voice.

"Wow Michael, what did you do? I hate snakes! I couldn't imagine running across a whole nest of them" Megan Jones stated, putting her hand on his arm as she did so. "I've heard those things are really dangerous!" The willowy blonde clearly had agenda.

"Well, if there had only been one of them, I'm sure my dad would have let me kill it, a horn from a horned serpent makes a great wand core, you know."

From next to him he heard Terry Boot let out a small snort, drawing the group's attention to the lanky brunette.

"They're not even venomous." Boot said, rolling his eyes. "Ilvermorny named one of their houses after the creature, they raise them at the school, and handling them is part of their Magical Creatures curriculum."

Looking slightly embarrassed, Corner shrugged him off; "yeah but those are tamed, and I've heard their Care of Magical Creatures teacher is a parselmouth, so it's kinda like they're cheating. They're much more dangerous in the wild."

Boot shrugged at this, deciding to let the conversation die.

The transfiguration classroom had two rows of two-person desks. As he slowly walked towards a desk, he couldn't help but take in the room.

The walls were covered with posters and diagrams, showing everything from basic inanimate to inanimate transfiguration, all the way up to the Animagus transformation and beyond. Behind McGonagall's desk hung a green and yellow "Kenmare Kestrels" quidditch poster, adorned with a trio of chasers tossing a quaffle back and forth between them.

Taking a seat next to Boot; Harry saw a flash of familiar long, black hair taking a seat at the desk next to him. Joining Lilith Moon at her table was another first year Slytherin, a blonde-haired girl with a fair complexion and green eyes. The chubby blonde must have noticed him staring, because a second later, Moon looked over at him, giving him a slight grin, before whispering quietly to the girl next to her.

At the front of the room, Professor McGonagall took a moment to gather everyone's attention before diving into her lecture.

"Welcome to first year transfiguration, I am Professor McGonagall, and I will be your teacher for at least the next five years. Before we begin, can anyone tell me what transfiguration is?"

Padma Patil was ultimately called on to provide the answer; "transfiguration is a branch of magic where you change one object, into another."

"Very good, Ms. Patil. Take 5 points for Ravenclaw." The girl puffed up in pride at earning some house points before McGonagall continued; "while what you are saying is true, transfiguration is actually a branch of magic that focuses on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object, via the alteration of the object's molecular structure…"

The lecture went on for another 45 minutes, and Harry noticed that the chapter he had read out of his standard transfiguration book, as well as " Transfiguration for the Novice" covered nearly all the professors' talking points.

A while later both he and Boot both had a toothpick sitting in front of them, with the goal of turning said toothpick into a needle. It was a standard first step in transfiguration. Since a toothpick and a needle are the same size, the only thing he would have to do is change the wood into metal and change the coloring from brown to silver.

Going through the wand motions and clearly speaking the incantation, Harry was somewhat surprised to see absolutely no change in his toothpick. Five minutes, and several attempts later, Harry let out a frustrated sigh and set his wand down on his desk.

Fortunately, a quick glance around the room let him know that he wasn't the only one having trouble; from next to him, he could see Boot with an intense expression on his face, seemingly trying to start his toothpick on fire with his mind. Behind him, he could see Anthony Goldstein making big, over the top wand movements while shouting his incantation with no success, across from him Mandy Brocklehurst and Millicent Bulstrode had completely abandoned the task and were talking in a corner; while next to him, Moon had her head on the desk.

What am I doing wrong? He asked himself. Remembering the steps, he had gone through with Roger Davies that morning; Harry sat back to think about what he had to do. What was his intent? He obviously wanted to turn his toothpick into a needle, but what sort of changes does a toothpick need to make to become a needle? First, he thought to himself, he needed to change the base material, change the wood into metal. Then he would need to change the color from a light brown to a shining silver.

Picking up his wand, Harry went through the instructions again, this time focusing on what he needed to do, pushing his magic forward.

To his surprise, his toothpick had turned a metallic gray. Although still clearly wood, the progress gave him a slight boost in confidence.

Realizing that he had Boots full attention, Harry shut his eyes, and tried again. Feeling a slight tug in his navel, Harry opened his eyes. Laying in front of him was a brown, metal, needle.

Seemingly amused by his transfiguration, Terry picked up his half transfiguration and smiled.

"How the hell did you manage to do that?"

Harry honestly didn't know and set out to try again.

By the time the bell rang twenty minutes later, he had a nice stack of perfectly transfigured needles in front of him, much to the rest of the class's chagrin.

The contrast between the transfiguration and potions classrooms couldn't be clearer. Where the transfiguration classroom was well-lit with posters on the walls, generally exuding a tense calm; the dungeon classroom was dimly lit and plain, with a tense atmosphere.

In front of the room, Professor Snape stood with a scowl on his face as he took attendance, checking names off the class roster as he called the names of his classmates. The professor paused at his name, narrowing his eyes, and spitting out his name.

Does he not like me? It sure seemed that way, though he couldn't figure out why. Midway through the lecture it was apparent that Severus Snape, for some reason, really didn't like him. The professor had spent half of his lecture asking him questions about various potions and ingredients at random, seemingly taking delight with each wrong answer.

The lecture wrapped up, and, after teaching the class of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff the stasis charm, started demonstrating how to properly prepare fresh ingredients; slowly demonstrating the difference between chopping, grinding, and crushing the various ingredients they would need for Wednesdays "blister salve."

Potions, Harry quickly realized, was not his best class. The precision and concentration needed to properly prepare the ingredients was frustrating. Terry, on the other hand, seemed almost relaxed as he prepared his ingredients, and Harry couldn't help but stare transfixed cast the stasis charm on his ingredients.

"My mom's a potions mistress." Boot answered his unasked question. "I've been brewing with her since I was 7, I can help you, if you'd like."

Taking him up on his offer, Harry soon found Boots calm, patient instructions much easier to follow than Snapes intimidating glare, and by the time the bell rung signifying the end of class, he was confident that he'd be able to brew a high-quality potion the next time around.

Lumos. Harry whispered for the third time, a faint light emanating from the tip of his holly wand. The basic light charm was the first charm that Flitwick taught his class of first year Ravenclaws and Gryffindor's. It wasn't particularly difficult to cast, but it would be dead useful for moving around in the dark.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. But try to push a little more power into the spell, visualize how bright you want your light to be; don't worry too much about overpowering your spells at this point, I want you to feel the difference between an underpowered and overpowered spell, it should help you learn to control your magic."

With a nod of his head, Harry cast the spell again. This time his Lumos illuminated the room, causing several people to stare as he cancelled the spell with a quick nox. To his left, he noticed Hermione Granger's wand light up, but with much more control than any of his attempts.

It was an exhausting effort, trying to refine and manipulate a spell, and he couldn't help but be pleased with himself while he compared himself to his classmates.

While Granger, Boot, and the Patil twins were able to quickly cast the charm, besides himself, only Granger and Parvati had been able to manipulate the spells power with any success.

As the bell rang, he couldn't help but be pleased with how his classes had gone. While potions and herbology didn't appear to be his strong points, Harry quickly realized that his wand work was above average.

Prior to coming to Hogwarts, he had, admittedly, been nervous. How could he compare to his classmates that grew up around magic? Did he really belong in this strange new world? He had tried to catch up, reading as many books as possible while practicing wand movements from his room on Privet Drive, but that hardly meant he would be successful

Through one day of classes that anxiety had begun to disappear, replaced with a new-found determination. "Maybe I do belong" he thought to himself as he exited the classroom and headed back towards the common room.

" Stupefy" he almost yelled. He had been practicing spells in an unused classroom for nearly an hour; transfiguring toothpicks into needles, and needles back into toothpicks and practicing his Lumos charm before moving onto a few new spells.

He had been able to successfully cast the jelly legs jinx, and he had been able to hold the basic shield charm for nearly ten seconds, but he couldn't get his stunning charm to work. He could feel something in his magic, like a river crashing into a dam, but the dam was holding. It was frustrating knowing that he was casting the spell properly, but not didn't have the ability to perform the spell. Remembering what he had read on the train, he vowed to come back to the stunning spell once he built up his strength.

Half hour later Harry Potter found himself inside Hogwarts famous library.

The two-story room was beautiful. Wooden floors led to hundreds of tall bookcases, long study tables filled with students reading and doing their homework, and a stern looking middle aged woman with salt and pepper hair observing it all from a tiny desk near the entrance.

Walking over to the catalog, Harry picked up the quill and began to write on the enchanted parchment.

The library's cataloging system was different than anything he had ever seen. Each row had an enchanted piece of parchment; to find the book, or topic you were researching, all you had to do was write the books title and if it was available, the book would appear on the parchment. The system worked much the same way for authors or subjects, but would present you with a list of books, tap the title of the book and you're presented with a quick summary as well as what topics the book falls under, tap the book again and it would appear.

His failed stunner still on his mind, he wrote " magical strength" on the parchment.

He immediately recognized a book by " Pierre De Galle," The French theorist that was mentioned in "Fundamental Magical Theory ."

Book in hand, he headed to one of the few empty tables near the transfiguration section and began to read.

Thirty minutes later he was interrupted from his reading on basic strengthening exercises by an uncertain voice to his right.

"Is anybody sitting here?"

Looking up Harry immediately recognized Hermione Granger. Bushy brown hair, ink stains on her right hand, and buck teeth; it was easy for him to imagine that Granger probably didn't have the easiest childhood. Standing up from his chair, and extending his right hand, he tried to sound reassuring.

"Harry Potter."

With a firm handshake she replied in kind and took a seat, pulling out a familiar transfiguration textbook.

An hour later and Harry was conflicted. He wasn't sure how he felt about Hermione Granger. On one hand, he felt that the two of them probably had quite a bit in common, if her appearance and his limited interactions with the girl told him anything.

He had seen her taking extensive notes and paying rapt attention to Professor Flitwick in charms. Like him, she was clearly dedicated to her studies, and it would be nice to have a friend who pushed him to be his best. If Granger had been bullied as a child, that would only be a bonus.

While he felt bad for her, he could relate. Years of neglect and physical abuse from his cousin had left him as an introvert, maybe they also had that in common.

On the other hand, she was desperate for attention, and in the worst possible way; bouncing in her seat to answer questions in class and glaring if she wasn't picked to answer. When she was picked, she had this tone to her voice, it annoyed him, and if the looks on the faces of their classmates told him anything, he wasn't the only one. Her attitude probably wouldn't win her any popularity contests. Maybe he could work with her? He didn't need to make enemies if he could avoid it.

Unaware of his thoughts, the Gryffindor was currently muttering under her breath.

"What's that you're talking about, Granger?"

"I just don't get the point. Why are we transfiguring toothpicks into needles? What practical application could that, or the levitation charm that's on our syllabus, or the jelly legs jinx ever serve?"

He was surprised, if he was being honest with himself. The muggleborn looked like the type of girl who meticulously researched every aspect of something before making a life-altering commitment.

"Didn't whoever visited you and your family give you an information booklet and answer your questions?"

"Of course!" She snapped, before apologizing sheepishly.

"It's just that I turned down a scholarship to a very prestigious muggle school for this opportunity, and now I'm starting to regret it."

"So why did you accept?" He couldn't imagine returning to the muggle world.

"I was excited. You grow up reading kid's stories about giants, magic, and unicorns, it's all supposed to be fantasy! When I suddenly learned they were all real, I couldn't turn down an opportunity to learn about this world! But now that I'm here I feel a bit let-down."

Harry couldn't relate to that. He loved everything about Hogwarts and what he was learning.

Maybe she's just homesick?"

"Well to answer your question." He replied, confidently. "The classes start easy. As first years it's all about getting used to using magic. While the charms may not be useful for everyday life, they're magically taxing, which helps you build magical strength. Professor Flitwick expects you to learn the more useful everyday charms on your own."

"What do you mean, magical strength." She looked curious, as if she had never given the idea any thought.

I thought she was smarter than this.

"Magical strength. You can't honestly expect to start taking healing classes as a first year."

"But I haven't read about that anywhere." She frowned, clearly, she felt cheated by the required reading for depriving her of this information.

"It's not in any of our readings. Magic is like a mental muscle. Think of a long-distance runner. They didn't wake up one day and run a marathon without training, they spent time, running more and more kilometers each day. Magic is the same way, you must build up endurance and strength, slowly expanding your repertoire to include more difficult and useful spells. I can lend you my copy of Fundamental Magical Theory, if you want."

Granger accepted his offer with a smile, as he retrieved the book from his bag.

Hermione was funny, he thought as she finished up a story about accidentally setting her dad on fire when she was 8.

"… and then my mum started beating him with a towel as he rolled on the floor, trying to put the flames out!"

Her laughter was contagious. They had spent the last 45 minutes talking about school, and trading stories. He had told her about his relatives, leaving out some of the more embarrassing details. While she had told him about her parents, who owned a small dental practice near their home.

"Tell me about some of your accidental magic."

He thought for a minute, before smiling.

"Well, this summer, before I turned 11, we were celebrating my cousin's birthday at the zoo in London." He remembered fondly. The trip to the zoo was one of the best days of his life, despite the bit of magic that had enraged his aunt and uncle.

"Dudley had been going on all day about how he couldn't wait to see the snakes. So, when we finally got to the snake house, he was so excited he almost wet himself." And he had, by the time they had reached the snake exhibits his cousin had already downed a large coke and had been squirming uncomfortably.

"So, when we got there, he became angry when the snakes were all hiding in their enclosures, not doing anything. So, he began yelling and knocking on the glass, trying to get their attention. Next thing you know, the glass had disappeared, and a 12-foot boa constrictor was slithering towards my cousin!"

He frowned at that last part, his aunt and uncle had thrown a fit, alternating between screeching in terror at the scene, and yelling at him for being freak.

"The snake then slithered out of its cage and thanked me on the way!"

"Wait. The snake thanked you?" Granger appeared confused.

"Yeah" he shrugged "then I told him 'No problem' and we both went on our way."

"So, you can talk to snakes?" The glint in her eye suggested that she was about to learn everything she could about his ability.

"I guess I can."

Beady black eyes surveyed the room. He was meeting Lucius Malfoy at the "Spotted Pegasus" and Malfoy was late. The letter he had sent suggested the meeting was urgent, and to meet him that night at half past 7. It was now 7:45. Severus Snape was a stickler for promptness, and with each passing second, he struggled a little more to keep the annoyance off his face.

He knew why he was meeting at the dimly lit bar, and he had been expecting the letter. His dark mark, barely recognizable in May, had been getting progressively darker throughout the summer. The dark lord had always said he had a contingency plan.

Still, after more than a decade he had thought something had gone wrong. And although he would never admit it to Lucius, he had more than hoped something had. While he had initially been dedicated to returning to the Dark Lord, he had grown comfortable with his life.

Teaching those snot-nosed mouth breathers brought him no pleasure, that was true. But his time for independent research had allowed him to gain some respect in the potion's community. He wasn't sure he was ready to give that up.

Interrupted from his musing by Lucius's arrival. The man was sporting an emerald coat with a fine black robe, a glass of dark red wine in his left hand.

"Severus!" The blonde haired mine greeted cheerfully, well, as cheerfully as a Malfoy can be.

"How have you been? It's been too long."

"Not too bad, Lucius, and yourself."

"No complaints. The Wizengamot has kept me busy."

"Congratulations on your victory. I look forward to being able to buy vampire's blood again." Snape responded seriously.

"So, Severus, Draco tells me he's been sorted into your house. Narcissa and I weren't surprised, of course."

Snape knew what Lucius was doing. It would look suspicious if he had come in and silenced the table; best to make some small talk and wait for eavesdroppers to lose interest.

Half hour later and the pair were finishing dinner. Silencing the table, the two could finally get to the point.

"The Dark Lord will return." Well, that's one way to start a conversation, Snape thought to himself.

"The mark has been getting darker." he replied curtly.

"Yes, and I received a letter from Bellatrix, a few days ago."

This did catch his attention, nobody had heard or seen much of Bellatrix Lestrange since she escaped custody.

"And how is Bellatrix enjoying Bulgaria?" She had apparently taken up residence in the Eastern European country, staying in an old Lestrange cottage avoiding the public.

"Hard to tell. She doesn't talk much about it." Bellatrix Lestrange was currently the most wanted person in the world; all her Gringotts accounts had been froze. For someone used to luxury, he had to imagine the situation had made her quite emotional.

"The Dark Lord is in the process of doing the impossible." Lucius said, taking a sip of his near empty wine.

"Bellatrix contacted me with a plan in May. The Dark Lord had possessed a man. For him to return to full strength, he needed access to Hogwarts. So, I arranged for him to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

"Quirrell." Snape said, more to himself than to Lucius.

"Yes." The blonde responded, an amused look on his face.

"Our lord will retrieve the necessary artefact when the time is right. In the meantime, he has requested you brew several potions, and acquire certain ingredients."

His head may have been nodding, but internally, Snape was weighing his options. Best to brew the potions and acquire the ingredients, he could decide on a course of action later.