AN: More stuff that got accidentally skipped! Woo...

– – – –

While unpacking his things that evening, Harry came across the bottle of his animagus potion and set it in one of the drawers of his desk. He didn't think he wanted to do it while any of his dorm mates were around, and the potion wouldn't expire for six months so he wasn't necessarily in a rush. He figured he'd try finding some time that weekend.

The week passed exceedingly slow. Harry was bored out of his mind. His homework was easy and he got it done without any difficulties. He'd continued with cordial relations with his housemates, and managed to avoid any serious altercations with any of them. Some of the Slytherins, especially the older ones, were still extremely cold to Hermione once it became more widely known that she was a muggleborn, but Harry stayed close to her whenever possible.

Harry sat next to Neville in his Defense class on Wednesday to work on their classwork. He was working on improving the boy's confidence, but he knew it would be a long journey.

Friday arrived and Harry felt his hesitant trepidation growing to a peak. He wasn't yet sure how he was going to handle the Snape issue. He'd hated the man for so many years, and he'd even watched him send the killing curse at Albus Dumbledore. It wasn't until about six months later that he had come to understand what had really happened. What Dumbledore's black withered hand really was.

When he'd first learned that Snape had been forced into the whole thing, it had given him pause. He was forced on two sides. Both by his vow to Narcissa Malfoy, as well as his promise to Dumbledore himself. And it had been absolutely necessary that Voldemort believe it was real. That the Order believe it. Everyone believed it, and Harry had felt like the only man who knew the true. Ron refused to believe it when Harry had discovered the truth. But Ron and Harry rarely saw eye to eye in those days. That time had been the beginning of the end of their friendship.

For a year and a half, Harry and Snape had had secret correspondence and had even met in secret a few times. They'd had several close calls together, and had even gotten stuck in one of the safe houses with only each other for company for two whole weeks. During those years the two had grown strangely close. Neither would ever suggest that they liked each other, but they no longer hated each other. They shared a bit of a kinship. They had both been Dumbledore's pawns. Both of their lives had been molded and manipulated by the old man. They had slowly grown to understand each other. And Harry had mourned Snape's death with far more sadness than he had ever expected to.

So now that he was approaching the Potions classroom he couldn't help but feel conflicted. He wasn't James Potter's son this time, but he was Sirius Black's son, which he was sure would be just as bad in the eyes of Severus Snape. The fact that he was not famous, nor the fact that he was a Slytherin, likely would not save him from the man's acerbic wraith.

He knew he would still want to lash back at the man if he was attacked, but there was another big part of him that wanted try and save the man from his fate. Save him from Dumbledore's manipulations. He just wasn't sure how the bloody hell he was going to accomplish such a task when Snape was sure to hate him.

All he could do was hope the fact that he was a Slytherin would keep the man from lashing out too much in class. Snape hated to take points from his own house.

"You okay, Orion?" Hermione said quietly as they walked down the hall.

"Hmm?" Harry said, pulling himself from his musings and looking at Hermione with blank confusion.

"You've just been sort of out of it today. You've been so distracted all morning."

Harry shook his head and gave her a soft smile. "I'm just tired. Didn't get enough sleep last night. At least tomorrow is Saturday so I can sleep in if I need to."

The group of Slytherins entered the potions classroom as a group with five minutes to spare before the start of class. The desks were split into two sides with a wider space between the two sides. The Slytherins filled out the left side of the class, with two seats to a table. Pausing at a table an idea went through Harry's mind and he looked at Hermione with a brief moment of hesitation.

"Hey, 'Mione? Do you mind if I sit with Draco in this class?"

Hermione blinked and then smiled. "Sure, that's fine. I can sit with Daphne."

Harry grinned. "Great, thanks."

Harry quickly went over to Draco and gave him a questioning look as the blond boy began to sit at a table in the front row. Draco nodded his head and Harry sat down beside him. Crabbe and Goyle sat together at one table and Harry gave Draco an amused look.

"That can't be good..."

"Hmm?"

"Vince and Greg are sitting together. I hope they don't blow anything up," Harry said with a snicker.

Draco glanced back at them and then gave Harry a questioning look. "How do you know if they're any good at Potions?"

"Well... I suppose I don't know, but they aren't exactly the two sharpest knives in the drawer, and if their classwork so far this week is anything to go by, I don't exactly have high hopes for their performance in this class."

Draco snorted and smirked as he began to dig his supplies out of his bag and set them up on his desk. Harry pulled out the assigned potions text, Magical Drafts and Potions, as well as One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and some parchment and quills.

Be prepared. Take notes. Pay attention. Sit with Draco. That wasn't much of a plan, but it was a start.

Draco was Snape's godson, so he could hopefully avoid some of the brunt of the man's anger if he associated himself more openly with the blond boy.

After a few minutes, the Gryffindors began to show up and slowly fill in the other side of the classroom. Once the chime had rung, Snape burst into the room with his black billowy robes, all intimidating and overbearing. He read through the roll and while he did pause for a moment to fiercely glare at Harry when he reached 'Orion Black', he did not call him out or make any snide remarks about celebrity... because, he wasn't one. Harry concealed a small grin.

It was the strangest sense of deja vu as Snape went through the exact same spiel that he had in Harry's original first year. Right down to his introduction about bottling fame and putting a stopper in death. He finished up with the remark about his students usually being a bunch of dunderheads and transitioned instantly into throwing random questions around the room.

The difference here was that the questions he was tossing out were actually things covered in their textbook's first few chapters. It was surprisingly 'fair' of him – in a relative sense, anyway. Just the same, almost no one actually knew the answers, beside Hermione. The difference this time was that Hermione was a Slytherin, and not some snot-nosed Gryffindor, so Snape did not hesitate to call on her when her hand shot into the air. She earned Slytherin house nearly forty points in just the first fifteen minutes of class. The Gryffindors were glaring daggers at her. Snape had called on nearly every one of them, asking some question that none of them had known. Once they'd given up, Hermione had answered the question, showing them all up. The only exception was a question Snape had asked Seamus Finnigan, and in that instance, Draco had known the answer and raised his hand.

"Mr. Black," Snape called out suddenly, in a sharp tone.

Harry sat up a bit straighter and tried to put on the air of giving the professor his undivided attention.

"What would I get if I mixed powdered ginger root, concentrated armadillo bile, and ground scarab beetles?"

"A wit-sharpening potion, sir," Harry said easily.

Snape's brows rose minutely. Harry had yet to raise his hand for any of Snape's questions, so Snape had probably assumed that Harry hadn't known any of the answers. As it just so happened, he'd known them all, but he was sticking to his plan of not standing out when not needed.

"Correct," Snape said with a small air of surprise. "What is the antidote to the swelling solution?"

"The Deflating Draught, sir."

Again, the tiniest flicker of surprise entered Snape's eyes, but was quickly gone again. "Very good. Name one use of ashwinder eggs."

"When eaten whole they can cure ague," again Harry answered instantly. This one garnered more surprise, and even Hermione hadn't raised her hand for it. Ashwinder eggs were a restricted ingredient, so there was no way that any potions involving them would be in a first year textbook. In fact, Harry knew for a fact that they were even discussed until fifth year in preparation for their OWLs.

"Correct..." Snape said slowly. He narrowed his eyes and gave Harry a piercing glare. Suddenly Harry felt a pressure against his mind and slowly, a presence tried to slip inside. Harry wasn't really concerned though. All of his real thoughts and memories were locked away inside his mind and concealed behind a wall of fake thoughts and memories he had constructed in preparation for both Snape and Dumbledore's inevitable mental intrusions.

The presence dug around for a moment, but Harry kept his face passive and showed no sign of being aware of it at all. Snape grimaced a bit and pulled out after going through a few modified memories of Harry and Sirius watching movies together in front of the telly and tossing popcorn back and forth at each other playfully.

"Alright, Black, name three ingredients in the Befuddlement Draught."

"I believe that's a NEWT level potion sir so I'm afraid I'm not familiar enough with it to name three... but I'm pretty sure that sneezewort, scurvy-grass are two of them."

Snape's lip curled slightly, and his face took on an almost constipated look that was extremely difficult not to laugh at. It looked like the man was waging an internal war. On one hand, one of his Slytherins had just answered a question far above what they should know, and could warrant a very significant point award. On the other hand, that student was the son of his schoolyard nemesis, Sirius Black. Quite a conundrum.

"Correct. A third is lovage," Snape said, finally before turning away and glaring at the rest of the class, who were all looking at Harry with different variations on shock. Hermione looked envious and Draco looked a bit smug. "Well, why aren't you all taking this down?" Snape snapped at them before turning to face the board and filling it with instructions with a wave of his wand.

The rest of the class progressed in much the same way it had in Harry's original time, only this time he was sitting on the same side of the aisle as the green and silver snakes. Neville still partnered with Seamus Finnigan, and still managed to add in the nettles when the potion was still boiling, resulting in a horrible explosion that sent Neville to the hospital wing covered in boils.

Ron partnered with Dean Thomas and the pair of them ended up with a goopy green concoction that smelled like rotten eggs. Snape had snarled at them and banished the noxious mess before it could foul up the classroom too badly. Harry and Draco's potion was the perfect pale opaque blue and Snape nodded approvingly at Draco, and then scowling with an uncertain expression at Harry. Hermione and Daphne's potion came out just as good as Harry and Draco's and again, Snape gave them mild praise.

As the class was leaving, Harry heard Ron and Seamus grumbling in annoyance at Snape being a dirty greasy git who pampered his snakes while picking on the Gryffindors. Draco had snorted and rolled his eyes, but Harry had just remained silent. He certainly wouldn't defend the potion master. It was true, and everyone knew it – including the Slytherins.

– –

The weekend came and Harry slipped away from all of his dorm mates after making sure that Hermione would be fine without him. She was studying in the Library with Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis when he left them, so he felt relatively secure that she'd be fine. Hermione had been spending a lot of time with the two blonds and Harry realized that he really needed to make the effort to get to know them better. Hermione seemed to get along well with the pair of girls, despite the fact that Daphne was from a very old and proper pureblood family, and Tracy's family was on the dark side and he knew that they'd sided with Voldemort in the war. The fact that pure-blood Daphne didn't seem to mind Hermione's heritage honestly surprised Harry, but he wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

He grabbed his animagus potion from his trunk and made his way up through the Grand Staircase, all the way to the forth floor. He dodged a few Gryffindors by ducking behind tapestries and into secret corridors, and finally made his way to the section of hall that featured a large tapestry with ballet dancing trolls.

Harry paced back and forth three times in front of the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy while thinking, 'I need a private place to take my potion'. On the third pass a door appeared in the stone wall opposite the tapestry and Harry quickly made his way inside.

The room that Hogwarts provided for him was rather plain and simple. It had a chaise lounge in the center with a number of pillows on it, and a small low table in front of it. Harry made his way over, sat down on the chaise and pulled the potion bottle out of his robe's inner pocket. He laid back on the lounge to get comfortable – since he knew that the potion would be putting him into a trance – uncorked the bottle and downed in in one gulp.

Everything was hazy and dark. There was a chill to the air and the wind was blowing against him harshly. He could feel a sense of elation as he soared through the air, feeling the wind currents under his... wings?

Harry blinked and realized that his vision was extraordinary. He could see so far, and so clearly. The tiniest movements on the ground far below him caught his focus instantly. He turned his head, trying to get some sort of idea of what he was. He definitely was some sort of bird. He stretched and wiggled his taloned legs and toes. The strangely shaped limbs felt weird, and they they also felt right. He beat his wide powerful wings and felt the air rushing under and through them.

Twisting his head he observed his body. His feathers were mostly a grayish-white, with specks of grayish-brown. He had a broad chest, long pointed wings, and a long barred tail. It was still difficult to really figure out what sort of bird he was, though.

He looked out over the surrounding landscape and saw a large lake to his right and quickly veered off in that direction. Flying felt so right. It was even better than being on a broom! It was the most amazing feeling, and he just instinctively knew how to do it. He knew just how to twist his body, or angle his wings, or adjust his tail feathers to catch the wind just right, and gain the most speed.

He dipped lower the closer he got to the lake and started to slow down in speed. As he glided over the surface of the water, he looked down into it, trying to get a good look at himself. He was definitely some sort of falcon or hawk, although he seemed pretty large for a falcon. He'd never personally seen a falcon as large as he appeared to be.

He was quite fond of his appearance. He had to admit, he made a pretty beautiful bird. He mentally snickered at the thought and angled his body to begin turning. He let his taloned feet drag across the surface of the water for a moment before raising a little higher before coming to land on the shore of the lake.

He hopped around a bit, feeling extremely awkward on land for a moment. He practiced moving around, lifting and extending his wings in various movements, memorizing the way everything felt. The better he remembered all of this, the easier it would be to perform the transformation in the real world.

As he was twisting his neck around, giving himself another good one-over he felt himself growing tired. The landscape around him was quickly growing dark and before he knew it, he was blinking owlishly and looking at the simple open space that the room of requirement had provided him with.

He shook his head, blinking rapidly and trying to clear his hazy mind from the potion-induced trance. He sat up, supporting his weight with one arm on the back of the chaise lounge. A grin spread slowly across his face. He had an animagus form. And it was a fairly cool one too. He needed to figure out exactly what he was. Perhaps he could owl-order to Florish and Blotts for a book on bird breeds. Birds of Prey, more specifically. He wondered if he'd really even find a very useful book on birds from a wizard bookstore. He suspected that he would get better results if he went for a muggle book.

Making the decision, the room suddenly shifted to provide him with a desk and a chair. He stood up and sat down in the chair just as a quill and parchment appeared before him.

Moony and Padfoot,

I took that potion today, and I got great results! You'll be needing to come up with a nickname for me too before too long. Of course, now I've actually got to master the darn transformation first, but I'm sure I can manage. My goal is to decimate your record and get it done by next summer. Think I can do it?

What I need now is a good book on birds. I need help identifying a certain breed. I'm going to look through a catalog from Florish and Blotts for any books, and of course, also check the Hogwarts Library, but I was thinking I might have more luck with a muggle book, so maybe you can help me out there?

I'm looking for a very large breed of falcon or hawk. Mostly white in color. So if you can find a muggle book on various types of birds of prey, I think that could help me narrow it down.

In other news, classes are so horrendously boring, I think I may die before I ever even face Voldemort. Seriously. But there's something more that I didn't even realize. I anticipated the first year course-work being mind numbing, but I totally neglected to take into account how brain numbing it would be to have to spend all my free time with a bunch of children.

I mean, I love Hermione. Really I do. But I really really miss the 20-year old Hermione I left behind, and am finding this 11-year old version insanely frustrating. Not to mention the 11-year old version of the rest of my class. Holy hell, I never realized how stupid first years were when I actually was one.

I think I'm coming off as anti-social, but I'm just finding it really difficult to spend all my freetime with a bunch of kids half my age. Anyway, those books would be greatly appreciated. I guess I'd better get back to the children.

Missing you guys!

Love, Orion

– –

The next week of classes were just as boring and mind numbing as the last. Defense proved to be mildly interesting, during the Monday session, since they actually got off their arses and did some practical spell work – although it was obscenely simple and Harry couldn't find it in himself to find any of it interesting. But he was getting Neville to open up some more, and Hermione loved the opportunity to try and help the shy boy out.

Transfiguration was the hardest class for him to disguise his advanced standing. McGonagall had them trying various practical transfigurations every class, and Harry was finding it surprisingly difficult to fail at transfiguring things. After having learned how to properly transfigure, and having done it mindlessly for so many years now, trying to do it wrong, was proving harder than he'd expected. Several times while trying to fail at it, he'd still done it perfectly.

He figured his magic was just working on auto-pilot from so many years of practice. Of course, thanks to this, McGonagall had practically labeled him as a transfiguration prodigy and was singing his praises every class period. He'd earned his house a load of points.

It was easy for him to fade into the background in Herbology because he had never given a crap about that class. He never volunteered to answer questions unless he was specifically called upon, and simply followed directions and followed the rest of his classmates for their work in the greenhouses.

'History of Magic' was just another name for 'nap time'. Same-o-same-o.

Charms was all theory. Flitwick was never one for rushing into practical spellwork, and had stuck entirely to assigning readings, and discussing magical theory, so it had been easy to go unnoticed.

Wednesday morning he received a letter back from Sirius along with a small parcel that he assumed was probably a book on birds. He opened the wrapped parcel to discover that it was actually two things. It was a book, like he had assumed, but it also included a box of sweets. He grinned at it, seeing that it was a box of all muggle sweets and chuckled.

"What have you got there?" Draco asked, leaning over and looking into Harry's package.

"My father sent me sweets... oh, and a book I asked him for."

"Really? What kinds of sweets?"

"Umm... some Mars Bars, Cadburry buttons, Curley Wurly's, a Double Decker Bar, some Fry's Turkish Delights, some Nestles Kit Kats, Toffee Crisps, and a couple Snicker bars."

"Whut?" Draco said looking at Harry with complete confusion. "I've never even heard of any of those."

"Oh, that's because they're muggle candies," Harry said, chuckling.

"Muggle candies?" Vince exclaimed. "Why would you want muggle candies?"

"Whether they're made by muggles or wizards, they're still made with sugar, and they're still good. Have you ever had a Mars Bar? Eat one of these and then ask me why I would want muggle candies," Harry said tossing one of the Mars Bars to Crabbe. The oversized boy caught it clumsily and eyed it suspiciously for a moment before wrapping it and sniffing at it as if he were afraid it was poisoned. Harry snickered.

He pushed his finished plate of breakfast food away and dumped out most of his box of sweets onto the table, and offered for his house mates to take a sampling. Hermione refused, as Harry had expected. Being raised by dentists and all, she had basically been hardwired to avoid sweets.

Draco, Daphne, Tracy, and Greg all hesitantly picked out a different sweet. Harry tossed a candy each down the table to Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini a moment later. Pansy was sitting further down and turned her nose up at the sweets, sneering disdainfully at the lot of them, lowering themselves to eating inferior muggle products.

After the group of them began to acknowledge that, yes, muggles were actually pretty damn good at making sweets, even Milicent Bulstrode asked for one, and everyone else asked for seconds. Harry even managed to get Hermione to eat some Cadburry buttons after a bit of gentle prodding.

Later that day, after classes and after dinner, Harry holed himself up in his dorm room and pulled out the book on birds that Sirius had sent. A letter was folded into the front page and Harry opened it first. At first glance, it looked blank except for the line, 'Hey Orion. Here's the book you asked for. Love Dad' but Harry knew there was more to it than that. He tapped his wand on the parchment and quietly whispered 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good', and the real letter materialized.

Harry read it through and felt some of his stress and worries melt away with the kind, reassuring words. Even though Harry had put up a strong front, and had been handling the whole 'sorted into Slytherin' thing, pretty well, a part of him, deep down inside, had still been worried about what Sirius would think of the whole thing.

Sirius insisted that it didn't bother him at all, and it didn't change his opinion of Orion in any way. He would always love him no matter what. He had become a son to him, and nothing would change that. Harry actually felt the prickling of tears, threatening to escape his eyes and he had to quickly blink them back as he smiled down at the letter. He really felt... loved.

He still had trouble reconciling the whole 'dad and son' thing sometimes. Intellectually, he knew that Sirius was not his real father, and Sirius knew that Harry was not really Orion Black, but the magic from the blood adoption was very powerful. It was like, while his mind knew Sirius was really his godfather, and James Potter was his real father, his heart was absolutely convinced that Sirius Black was his father, and he really was Orion Black. Every day that passed he felt more like he really was becoming Orion Black, and not just pretending to be him.

The later half of the letter was spent exclaiming how proud Sirius was that Harry was able to start the animagus transformation practice. If Harry's body hadn't been ready or if he had been incapable of it, he wouldn't have had such a successful vision. The fact that he'd seen so much, and it had been so clear was a sure sign that he really was ready.

He relayed a few words of praise and congratulations from Remus as well and then went on to describe some of the houses he'd been looking at. He'd acquired the services of a muggle real estate agent, a rather attractive young woman, that Harry could tell Sirius had a thing for from his oh-so-subtle hints at how nice the woman's posterior was. Harry chuckled as he read the letter and set it aside once he'd reached the end.

He cracked open the book and began flipping through the pages, looking at the pictures and reading the descriptions of the various bird species, looking for anything that sounded and looked right from his trance dream.

About fifteen minutes of skimming through the thing he came across one that looked exactly like what he'd seen in the reflection of the lake.

Falco rusticolus ORDER: FALCONIFORMES FAMILY: FALCONIDAE

Gyrfalcon

Falco rusticolus is the largest of the falcon species in the world. The Gyrfalcon breeds on Arctic coasts and the islands of North America, Europe, and Asia.

This species is a very large falcon, being about the same size as the largest buteos. The Gyrfalcon is in size between the Peregrine Falcon and the hawk in general structure, being unmistakably falcons with pointed wings, but also being broader-winged, and longer-tailed than the Peregrine.

The Gyrfalcon is a very polymorphic species, so its plumage varies greatly. The archetypal morphs are called "white", "silver", "brown", and "black", though they can be coloured on a spectrum that begins with all-white birds and ends with very dark ones. The brown form of the Gyrfalcon is distinguished from the Peregrine by the cream streaking on the nape and crown and by the absence of a well-defined malar stripe and cap. The black morph has its underside strongly spotted black, rather than finely barred as in the Peregrine. White form Gyrfalcons are unmistakable, as they are the only predominantly white falcons. Silver birds resemble a light, grey Lanner Falcon of larger size. There is no difference in colouring between males and females; and juveniles gyrkins are darker and browner than the corresponding adults.

In medieval times, the Gyrfalcon was considered a royal bird. It was highly prized as far away as the Sultan's court in Egypt. The geographer and historian Ibn Said al-Maghribi (d. 1286) described certain northern Atlantic islands west of Ireland where these falcons would be brought from, and how the Egyptian Sultan paid 1,000 dinars for each Gyrfalcon (or, if it arrived dead, 500 dinars). Due to its rarity and the difficulties involved in obtaining it, in European falconry the Gyrfalcon was generally reserved for kings and nobles; very rarely was a man of lesser rank seen with a Gyrfalcon on his fist

Harry stopped there. There was quite a bit more written about them, but that was enough for now. The next page had even more pictures of different variations on the bird, but most of them most definitely matched what he'd seen in his dream. He was positive this was the right bird.

He grinned to himself and felt a rush of eager anticipation.

He couldn't really enjoy the learning experience of redoing all his first year classes, all over again, but he could at least get something accomplished. He was looking forward to the day he could perform the successful transformation and experience that glorious feeling of soaring through the air, again.

– –

Thursday morning brought with it an event Harry had honestly hoped wouldn't repeat itself. Neville Longbottom received a package in the post from his Gran. It was the Rememberall. Harry almost groaned aloud as Draco eyed the small orb with gleeful interest. Harry could see the desire to snatch the thing away and mess with the small round boy.

Draco was beginning to stand up when Harry grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him back down into his seat. Draco was startled and looked over at Harry with confusion.

"What?" he hissed in annoyance.

"Don't," Harry said under his breath.

"Don't what?"

"Longbottom. Leave him be. Mess with the Weasel or Finny, but leave Longbottom alone."

"What? Why?" Draco exclaimed.

"Remember what I told you the first day of school on the train? About people who get picked on when they're young, and then become something bigger later in life and make life miserable for the people who picked on them?"

Draco took on a calculating look, but also looked at Harry with significant skepticism.

"Longbottom? Are you kidding? He's practically a squib!"

"No, he has no self confidence because even his family treat him like he's worthless. Someday he's going to grow up, be in a very powerful position, and be very very bitter. Leave him be. Pick on one of the other Gryffindorks."

"Is this part of that seer thing you do?" Draco asked with sudden interest.

Harry paused for a moment. "Yes."

"Okay... but seriously? Longbottom?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I know. But really now, why the hell did you think I partnered up with him in Defense?"

"Because his mother is the teacher," Draco said with a shrug as if it were obvious. "Special privileges."

Harry shrugged and gave Draco a 'alright, you're right there' sort of look. "Yeah, but I'm also trying to get on his good side. I mean, I could either be one of the people he looks back and remembers with bitter resentment, or one of the few people he looks back and remembers as someone who stood up for him and helped him out. I'd rather be his friend and ally than his enemy."

Draco looked absolutely incredulous. "Longbottom? I still can't see it. What the hell is he going to become?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't get that much detail. But I've got an incredibly strong gut feeling that he's going to be important some day, and the people who treated him like shit are going to regret it. It's even stronger than the gut feeling I had that told me Hermione was going to be an absolutely brilliant witch, and that someday you're going to be a huge political force to be reckoned with."

"Really?" Draco asked, his eyes suddenly lighting up with excitement.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Of course. You're a Malfoy. I don't even have to be psychic to know that's coming."

Draco sat back with a big, smug grin on his face, looking rather accomplished for having actually done nothing.

After a moment he turned to Harry with curiosity. "Have you seen anything like that on anyone else?"

Harry screwed up his face, trying to look like he was working through his so-called sixth sense. "Weasley is probably going to end up playing Keeper for the Chudley Cannons."

Draco snorted and had to cough to hide the sudden urge to burst into hysterics. "The Chudley Cannons? How pathetic!"

Harry snickered and smirked back at Draco. "Yeah, thing is that if I told him that, he'd probably be thrilled."

"What? Why? The Cannons are a joke!"

"I'd bet you ten galleons that the Cannons are his favorite team and he actually wants to be their keeper."

"So he's an idiot?"

Harry snorted. "Yup. It takes a special kind of moron to want to play for the Cannons. The Weasel is just that sort."

Draco chuckled. "I don't doubt it."

As Harry left the Great Hall that morning to head to his first class, he had to admit to himself that he honestly made a pretty damn good Slytherin.

– –

At 3:20 that afternoon, all of the Slytherins made their way out, as a group, to the Hogwarts grounds for their first flying lesson. There were a little more than twenty brooms on the ground in two lines, and all of the Slytherins came to stand along one line, one student to a broom. They stood around, waiting impatiently, for the Gryffindors to show up.

By 3:30, all of the lions had finally shown up and Madam Hooch started the lesson. It was just as Harry remembered it. Hermione had been nervous all day, and she barely got her broom to wiggle when she yelled 'Up!' at it. Draco got his up on his second command. Harry, of course, got his instantly.

Once everyone had their brooms up and had mounted them, Madam Hooch went down the lines and corrected their grips. She went on to explain that she would count down and on 'three' they should all kick off from the ground, hard, hover in the air for a moment, and then come back down.

She stood to the side, brought the whistle up to her mouth and said, "One... two... th–" but before she could even finish the word, Neville, in a fit of nervous panic kicked off the ground and began to fly, uncontrolled into the air.

Harry quickly pulled out his yew wand and trained it on Neville's figure as the round boy floated haphazardly into the air, started to turn and twist off the side of his broomstick and began to fall.

"Impedimenta!" Harry shouted out and Neville came to a complete halt about two feet before crashing into the ground. The jerk to a sudden stop was clearly jarring, but not nearly as jarring as hitting the solid ground would have been. Nevile floated there with wide, startled eyes for a moment before Harry canceled the spell with a silent finite, letting Neville to fall into a lump on the ground.

The shocked eyes of the class shifted suddenly from the form of Neville on the ground, over to Harry who was only just lowering his wand and sliding it back into his leather wrist holster. Madam Hooch raced over to Nevile, and helped him to his feet, checking him over for any injuries. As soon as she was sure the Gryffindor boy was fine, she turned her surprised and clearly impressed eyes on Harry.

"Mr. Black, that was quite impressive. Ten points to Slytherin for your fast thinking, and for saving a fellow student."

Harry shrugged and gave off an air of disinterest as he reached down and picked his broom back up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco bending down and picking something up from the ground. He turned his head and rose a silent, questioning eyebrow at Draco, who was now looking at the Rememberall in his hand with a speculative gaze.

Neville was walking his way back towards the line of students with his head bowed in embarrassment, while the rest of the class slowly reformed their earlier lines and remounted their brooms.

"Hey, Longbottom!" Draco called out.

Neville's head jerked up and his expression was a mixture of surprise and fear. "Er, yes?" he asked, hesitantly.

"You dropped this," Draco said, tossing the Rememberall across the open space, directly at Neville.

Neville scrambled to catch it, almost dropping it twice before he managed to get a good hold on it. Finally, sighing in relief at having a good grip on it he looked up at Draco with a look of incredulous shock.

"Er, t-thanks."

Draco shrugged and tilted his nose to the side and into the air a bit as a sign of disinterest.

Once Madam Hooch made sure that Neville wasn't about to perform a repeat of his previous screw-up, she got everyone ready on their brooms again and after a quick count-down, she blew her whistle and the lessons actually began.

– –

The weeks continued to pass without anything of anything noteworthy. Every morning Harry would get up long before his dorm mates so he could go do a couple laps around the lake. Every evening Harry would spend an hour performing the animagus meditations in the room of requirement.

He and Sirius had kept in regular correspondence, and he'd sent a few letters back and forth with Remus as well. He'd owl-ordered some books from Florish and Blotts that actually contained some subject matter beyond the first-year drivel he was exposed to on a daily basis.

As much as he cared about Hermione, he was exceedingly grateful that she was getting on so well with Daphne and Tracy because he really didn't have the stamina to put up with her 11-year old self. He did get her a present for her birthday on on September 19th. She hadn't told anyone about it, so the fact that he just seemed to magically know only seemed to add more credence to his whole 'seer' story.

As September turned into November, it started to get more and more frigid in the mornings and Harry decided he needed an alternative for his morning exercises. He ended up using the Room of Requirement. The room ended up providing him with something that was basically the same as a treadmill. It didn't have the visual stimuli of a picturesque Scottish Loch, but at least it didn't involve freezing his testicles off each morning.

While Harry wasn't much for actively socializing with his classmates, he did make use of the time he spent in the Slytherin common room. He would sit there with a book open in his lap, pretending to be engrossed in it's pages, while in reality he spent the entire time listening to all of the various conversations going on around him. He rarely got anything useful, but he was slowly starting to form a much better understanding of the pureblood social society and their traditions.

Snape's class was always a bit strange for him. Snape never quite seemed to know what to make of Harry. Harry's class performance was always flawless, and he always answered the enumerable questions that Snape had developed the habit of throwing his way on a weekly basis. After 4 classes, Snape seemed to decide that Harry's perfect potions had to be a result of being partnered with Draco and assigned partners to everyone in the class. Most people got partners that were within the realms of who they normally chose on their own, but Harry was assigned to work with Neville.

As far as Harry was concerned, this was fine with him. It took quite a bit more effort to still accomplish a proper potion, since Neville was really really bad at potions, but it did give Harry more opportunities to try and work on the Gryffindor's considerably pathetic self-esteem.

Their work together in Defense had been rather effective in that regard as well. Neville was slowly but surely starting to show some confidence, and even his classwork was improving a bit as a result. Harry, Hermione, Neville, and the Ravenclaw Rachel Murray had established a weekly study group in the library to tackle their Defense class assignments, and they had a pretty good working relationship. Rachel, who was a half-blood with a muggle-born father, but a mother from one of the old, yet untitled, pure-blood flamiles, was a bit on the quiet side, but she and Neville seemed to have managed to find a lot of common ground and often got each other talking surprisingly easy.

Transfiguration had continued to prove a difficult class to hide his advanced standing, and McGonagall continued to praise his classwork. Most of his other classes had remained in the realm of theory and book work, but as the end of October drew near, classes started to focus more and more on practical exercises in class, than just theoretical discussion. Harry tried to minimize any extraordinarily obvious skill, but it was surprisingly hard to fake performing a spell incorrectly.

Another unexpected complication that had come up during the last month was an increasing hostility with the Gryffindors. Harry had tried to stay as neutral as possible since he knew he would likely need the trust of the Gryffindors at some point if the war started up again, but his patience really only went so far with them.

Harry had basically come to hate Ron Weasley during the last year and a half before he 'died', and Seamus and Dean had both pussied out and ran as soon as things got bad and the war really heated up. He had no idea what happened to either of them. He could sort of forgive Dean since he was muggleborn and he probably wanted to try and get his muggle family as far away from all the danger as possible, but it still left a foul taste in his mouth that the two boys who had always gone on about bravery and courage had been such blatant cowards when it really mattered.

So when Ron, Dean, and Seamus started taking it upon themselves to be openly hostile to anyone wearing green and silver – and specifically him – Harry found it exceedingly difficult not to respond accordingly.

It was one such day when the three 1st year Gryffindor boys had tried to hex Harry in the hall, Harry had easily deflected it and spun around, pointed his wand, and transfigured their robes while simultaneously spelling their hair. The whole event had taken less than a second, and it was nearly five seconds later before the three eleven-year-old boys even realized that something had been done to them. The moment they did notice, they had all shrieked in embarrassed horror and gone running at top speed. Harry chuckled to himself and turned around to find two familiar and maniacally grinning identical faces looking down at him.

"Well, I'll be, brother of mine. That was quite an impressive accomplishment," one of them said.

"That it was, that it was. Quite impressive indeed."

"Especially for a firstie."

"And a Slytherin firstie, at that. They're usually not quite that creative."

"Hullo," Harry said easily as he looked up at them and folded his arms across his chest. "Can I help you?"

"Well, now that you mention it –"

"–we wouldn't mind if you told us exactly what charm you used –"

"–that made their robes transfigure into those funny looking skirts."

"And the animated little dogs dancing along the hem was a nice touch. Oh, and I was wondering what was up with transfiguring their trainers to be black and white?"

"The skirts are called poodle skirts, although normally the poodles don't move," Harry said with a smirk. "and the trainers are called saddle shoes. It's a reference to an old muggle thing. Ask your friend Lee Jordon. A movie called 'Grease' would be a good reference. I was actually thinking of transfiguring Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil's robes into leather jackets, white t-shirts and blue jeans, and then charming their hair into a duct-tail type deal, but I doubt that would go over too well with the other Gryff girls and they honestly scare me."

"A Slytherin whose familiar with muggle references?" one of the twins said as he turned and looked at his brother with exaggerated shock in his face.

"Shall wonders never cease?"

"He even has a sense of humor!"

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, well with a marauder for a father, I'd be pretty pathetic if I didn't have one."

The two red-heads turned abruptly and their faces took on an entirely different expression.

"What was that?" one twin said.

"A what for a father?" the other added.

Harry forced on a look of bewildered confusion. "Uh... a marauder. Sorry, it's an inside joke. It's the name my dad and his friends called themselves when they were younger. You wouldn't get it."

"You just might be surprised. Please young marauder, do tell?"

Harry proceeded to give them a brief history of the Marauders, with necessary bits edited out or altered. Of course he wasn't Prong's son now, he was Padfoot's, but that didn't exactly make a big difference in things. He also said that Moony was an animagus who turned into a wolf, not a werewolf. Lupin's lycanthropy wasn't public knowledge at this point, and if Harry could manage it, he would keep it secret.

In any case, the Twins were stunned, thrilled, and ended up begging Harry to allow them to owl his father and 'uncle'. They also revealed to Harry that they had discovered the existence of the Marauders during their first year when they'd had a detention with Filch and had discovered the Marauder's Map. Upon mention of the Map, Harry had acted excited and gasped, exclaiming that his Dad had told him about it, and had lamented about how it had been confiscated during their last term at school, and how he was eternally saddened that he was unable to pass it on to his own son upon his going to Hogwarts.

The twins had shared a long silent look as if the two were telepathically communicating with their eyes before turning back to Harry and offering to give it to him, on the condition that he might occasionally let them borrow it.

He had agreed with a wide grin.

He had the map back.

– –

It was one week before Halloween and Harry was racing down an empty corridor with a mild sense of panic. He turned a corner and came to a stop as his head darted from one side to the other, searching for the best hiding place. He saw an open door, ducked his head inside and found the room totally empty – although upon closer inspection, he realized that the room was probably one of the teacher lounges. He hesitated for a moment, but decided it would probably make a good hiding place since his persuers would probably not have the guts to enter one of the teacher lounges. He raced inside and quickly made his way to a large standing wardrobe to the side that was mostly empty. He slipped inside and pulled the door shut.

He heard the sounds of footsteps hitting the stone floor out in the hall as it drew closer and then gradually faded away. He heaved a sigh of relief, but wasn't willing to abandon his hiding place so soon. He could wait a few minutes to help guarantee that they wouldn't catch him.

So why was he hiding?

Hermione, Daphne, and Tracy were trying to find him. Why were they trying to find him? The three had been experimenting with facial and hair glamors that Tracy had learned from her older sister. The kind that could lengthen or shorten hair, change it's color, and change eye color, and even the shape of your eyes and nose. They had been changing each others hair and eye color all night in the common room and giggling madly.

Harry had been stunned that Hermione would actually partake in something like that – she had always held quite a bit of disdain for all the make-up glamors that Lavender and Parvati were always going on about when she was a young Gryffindor in Harry's old world, but Daphne and Tracy had managed to make it about learning something complex and interesting, so she had ended up quite excited and intrigued despite her natural predisposition to dislike anything excessively 'girly'.

The problem was that once they got tired of messing with each others' faces, they had desperately wanted to mess with one of the boy's faces. They had all instantly insisted that out of all the boys, Harry and Draco were the prettiest and that they should use them as their test subjects. Draco had put his foot down and said in no uncertain terms that he was far too dignified for such an action... and then they had pinned him down and actually tickled him! Harry realized belatedly that the girls had apparently gotten into a lot of sweets, so they were probably some sort of sugar high.

They got a few laughs out of their torture of Draco and had then turned on Harry.

He had run.

And that was how he had ended up hiding in a wardrobe in a teachers lounge. He was just about to consider it 'safe' and leave when he heard the door to the lounge open and then close again, followed by the sounds of heals on stone floor. He stood frozen, listening intently.

"Now come on, dear, I know when something is bothering you. You've been like this for days. I'm worried about you," McGonagall's voice said in a concerned yet soothing voice.

Another female voice heaved a sigh and Harry heard the sound of the person sitting down on the edge of a desk or table.

"Oh Minerva... I just don't know what to do..." it was Professor Longbottom.

"What is it? You know you can talk to me, and I'm sure whatever it is that's bothering you won't seem so bad if you can just lay it out there."

"I'm not so sure... I don't think that anything can make this better..."

They were quiet for a moment and Harry wished he could risk pushing open the door to the wardrobe so he could peak out, but he knew he couldn't.

"You... you remember back when Neville was just born how Albus had Frank and I go into hiding?" Longbottom said hesitantly after a moment's silence.

"Of course. The Potters went into hiding too."

"Do you know... why he had us all go into hiding?"

"I... know a bit," McGonagall said hesitantly. "Albus never told me the specifics, but I know that there was some sort of prophecy involved. It was the reason You-Know-Who went after Harry Potter."

"The prophecy never said which child it was about by name. It listed several factors and both the Potters and us fit the general description. But in the end He chose the Potters. He marked little Harry and it was Harry Potter who became the boy-who-lived."

"Right."

"But it could have been my Neville. He just as easily could have come after us that night."

"But he didn't come after you," McGonagall insisted wearily.

"No... he didn't. The thing is that the prophecy basically said that the child it spoke of was the only one who could defeat You-Know-Who. But then Harry Potter died."

"I don't see what this has to do with anything..." McGonagall said slowly.

"Albus thinks that You-Know-Who is coming back, Minerva! Did you hear about the Philosopher's stone? It was stolen this summer! He thinks that He was behind it! That He has it and he's going to use it to come back! That maybe he already has!"

Harry felt his heart shoot up into his throat and then plummet into the pit of his stomach. The stone had already been stolen! Voldemort already had it! Shit!

"Oh dear!"

"But if He does come back, there's no Harry Potter to fulfill the prophecy. He's gone, Minerva. And now... now... Albus wants to try and... I don't know... prepare Neville for it instead."

"Neville? What for?"

"He hopes that somehow since Neville could have been the one the prophecy spoke of, that he could still somehow fulfill it. I don't know... I really don't see how. The prophecy spoke of a few things that obviously described little Harry after he was attacked. And even if it were somehow possible I just... oh, Minerva, Neville just doesn't have it in him. He's such a kind boy. He couldn't possibly..." Harry heard her cough out a small sob and then heard McGonagall soothing her.

His mind was racing. He didn't even know for sure what to do with this information yet, but he knew it was important. Obviously Dumbledore had to be desperate if he was hoping to shift Harry's destiny off onto Neville. He also had to be a damned fool. Neville wasn't the boy-who-lived. He wasn't marked as Voldemort's equal, and he didn't have the power that the Dark Lord knew not, which Dumbledore should know – unless of course Dumbledore was still on that idiotic 'it's the power of love' kick. Neville, defeating Voldemort? Pfft! It just wasn't going to happen! It wasn't his fate to destroy the Dark Lord. It just wasn't.

Professor Longbottom's stifled sniffling pulled Harry back to the professor's discussion.

"I'm just worried about how Neville is handling the pressure. He doesn't know everything yet of course, he's just too young, but he knows something is going on. And I know it's horrible of me, but I have to admit that I'm concerned about how much time he's spending with some of the Slytherin students. I know I'm a professor and I'm supposed to be impartial and not per-judge but I just can't help... I mean, Black and Granger seem like nice enough kids, but they were sorted into that house for a reason... I'm just worried."

Harry had to stifle the urge to snort at that last comment.

"Hmm... yes. Neville does seem a bit outcast by his fellow Gryffindors. I hate to say it, but none of his dorm mates were very anxious to make the effort to befriend him. Black extended his friendship easily and Neville accepted it eagerly. I have to say that your son does seem to be benefiting, in general, from the arrangement. Both Black and Granger are absolutely brilliant students."

"I know... that's why I feel so bad for feeling that way. I was honestly a bit surprised that Mr. Black got sorted into Slytherin – although I suppose I shouldn't be. Sirius was the oddball of the family, getting himself sorted into Gryffindor. All the rest of them were always Slytherins."

"I was a bit more surprised about Miss Granger. She's a muggleborn you know. It's been decades since the last time a muggleborn was sorted into Slytherin."

"Is she? But she's so good with her spells and she knows so much. I almost suspected that her parents had hired private tutors for her at some point like so many of the old pureblood families are known to."

"Not at all. She's muggleborn. I delivered the news to her and her family just this last summer myself. Her parents are muggle dentists!"

"Well I'll be damned..." Longbottom said before trailing off and giving another sigh. "I suppose I shouldn't be so worried. They're both nice and polite children. I've never seen either of them partaking in the same bullying I see their older housemates do... Mr. Black is surprisingly mature, actually."

"Very surprising indeed. Considering who is father, and family are. Both Sirius and Erin were good people – although Sirius definitely had a tendency to bully and pick on people when he was younger – but both the Blacks and the Aubreys were strong believers in the old ways."

"Both families also openly supported You-Know-Who. Sirius and Erin were the black sheep of their families in their refusal to do so," Alice Longbottom added.

"Yes, true. Although I suppose its really not fair to try and judge the boy by his family. He seems to be good for Neville. Try not to worry yourself on it so much."

"I suppose... Ugh! I need to get out of this funk. What do you say we slip down to Hogsmeade tonight and pay Rosemerta a visit?"

McGonagall laughed lightly. "Alright, Alice. That sounds like a reasonable idea. Come now, it's almost curfew and I need to gather some things from my office."

Harry stayed there and listened as the two left the room and the door clicked shut behind them. He waited an additional thirty seconds just to be sure, but finally slipped out from inside the wardrobe.

He stood there for a moment going over everything he had overheard his two professors talking about. He realized that as much of it seemed like a big deal, the most important piece of information he'd garnered was the fact that the Philosopher's Stone had already been stolen. Voldemort already had the stone, which mean, he likely already had a body back.

This was bad.

This was very, very bad.

– – – –

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT

I told you this was discontinued. That is as far as I wrote. I suck. I'm sorry.

Story is up for adoption. Anyone interested, is free to send me a private message.

As far as plans for the story, I had very little except that on Halloween night, on the way back from the feast, Harry would come across a petrified Mrs. Norris with bloody writing on the wall about the Chamber being opened. Harry would end up putting some sort of alarm on the entrance to the chamber so that it would notify him if anyone went down so he could try and figure out who the hell had the diary, since he needs to find it. If he looses track of it, he's screwed – can't destroy all horcruxes, can't kill Voldemort = screwed. I also had plans that during Winter Break he and Sirius would go track down the Guant Ring or something, but I wasn't really set on anything. Whoever / if anyone / adopts the story, is free to do whatever the hell they really want with it. Where ever their muse takes them. If someone does adopt it, I'll post another chapter, linking to the continuation.

– – – –

Cosette-aimee has started a re-write/continuation. I don't really consider it a continuation of this story, since she isn't really using any of what I've written here, she's just taken the initial premise/plot and started writing her own thing with it.

You can find it here -

fanfiction(dot)net/s/6671596/1/A_Necessary_Gift_A_Harry_Potter_Story

– – – –

Ardence is also doing a rewrite/continuation. It can be found here -

fanfiction(dot)net/s/6700252/1/Harry_Potter_and_Morrighans_Gift