A/N: This story features a Fem!Harry with a twin. Neither of them are a 'child who lived'. It is a very AU story, as evidenced by fem!harry. Inspired by murkybluematter's 'Pureblood Pretense'.

Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Anything you recognize from cannon is hers. This disclaimer applies to all following chapters as well.

Warnings: Fem!Harry, mature themes. Read at your own risk.

"Dad still at work?"

Harriet Potter looked over at her twin brother, Alex, from behind the latest issue of Goal, her favorite Quidditch magazine. "Yeah. He's never back this early, anyways."

Alex shrugged and returned to staring out the window at the darkening sky as it cast shadows over the expansive grounds of Potter Manor.

After a few minutes, in which the only sound was the quiet rustling of pages and Alex's despondent sighs, he spoke again. "Even on our birthday?"

Harry closed the magazine and let it drop to the floor next to the couch where she sat. "Especially on our birthday. He hasn't once been here on our actual birthday - we got our gifts yesterday. Did you expect him to come home for dinner with cake and arms full of presents?" Her voice was cynical from long practice and repeated disappointments. When their mother, Lily Potter, had died from 'complications' after giving birth that not even magic could heal, James Potter had withdrawn into himself. He had literally shoved them into the arms of the house elf at Lily's bedside and spent the next week mourning in private.

Alex and Harry had grown up with no parents. Their godfather, Sirius Black, had met them only once, the day they were born, before their father had kicked him out of the house in his misery. Once Remus taught her to read, Harry had discovered that Sirius had been missing for years, an assumed casualty of the war. Their intended godmother had been recovering from delivering her own child, and the ceremony had never been completed. Harry had never found anything about Alice, not even in the newspapers she read after her father left for work. Remus Lupin had been their primary caretaker for the first five years of their life. Harry often wondered if their father had even realized that his old schoolmate was raising his children for him.

James had taken notice, however, when Remus had somehow gotten loose during the full moon the September after the twins turned five. Without pausing to reconsider, James had reset the powerful blood-wards around their home to exclude Remus from entering, including Floo-calls and owls, and instructed the house-elves to take charge of his children's education. Harry and Alex hadn't had any contact since with the man who had raised them and loved them like his own for the first five years of their lives.

After Remus had vanished from her life, Harry took to exploring the property. At first, she walked, sometimes for hours at a time. After their eighth birthday, she flew on her broom, which was a gift passed on from her brother. She herself had never received a broom from their father because it was deemed unladylike to fly. It was an unspoken law in the magical world that banned women from flying on broomstick, even just to travel. Harry couldn't imagine not flying - she felt more at home on a broomstick than she did on the ground. The air sang around her, flowing like water through her black hair and curling lovingly around her body like she imagined a mother's embrace would.

Alex was dreadfully afraid of heights, and had been since the day he had fallen from one of the large oaks on their property when he was only six. The day James had pressed the broom into his hands, the day before their eighth birthday, he had gone pale. Their father had thought it was from excitement, but Harry knew it was from fear. She had stepped forward and asked where her broom was and submitted herself to the following lecture on how ladies did not fly and most definitely did not play Quidditch. Alex had thanked her profusely afterwards, giving her the broomstick without an ounce of regret. She hadn't gone a day since without flying.

Most of the time she stayed in the large clearing just over the hill, near the small pond. Other days she would fly to the very edge of the property, close enough to the wards that she could feel them buzzing gently next to her skin. She would gaze out at the countryside surrounding them, wondering what it would be like to simply fly in a straight line until she reached civilization. She and Alex had never been beyond the wards of Potter Manor. They had been born there, and, until they were sent away to school, they would stay tucked safely behind the wards. James had never told them this, but whenever they tried to bring up the topic of going to Diagon Alley or even simply to the closest Muggle village, he just left the room. Privately, Harry and Alex had agreed that their father was so lost without their mother that he kept them as safe as possible to try and assuage his guilt.

Growing up, their only playmates had been the younger house elves. After a while, they had stopped playing with the creatures since they would purposefully lose whatever game they were playing in order to try and please their 'young mistress and young master'. Alex had taken to reading and playing chess, while Harry had started flying and exploring the large house. She read too, but not nearly as much as her brother. Then again, the books her brother read were more novels than anything, and she preferred to gain knowledge rather than waste time, so the books she read were ones he'd never dream of opening.

She knew she would get in trouble if her father ever found out about her exploring, especially the two basement levels, but the portraits on the walls never reported her, just watched silently as she crept through the numerous halls. She had found a room full of her mother's belongings, and had passed hours going through her belongings. Over the course of the two years since she'd discovered the room, Harry had read every single one of her mother's old books, many of which had hand-written notes in the margins from her school days. Without even realizing what she was doing, Harry's own handwriting began to mimic that of her mother's.

Now, Harry wished she could go back to small room, where she had been looking at the myriad photos of her mother, photos that spanned from the time when Lily was a baby until her last days of pregnancy. James wouldn't be coming back from work until late at night - ten o'clock or later. His work as an Unspeakable had consumed his life since Lily's death. Sometimes he would even stay at the Ministry overnight, trusting the house elves and the family wards to keep his children safe.

"Let's go eat," Harry said, unfolding herself from the position she had curled herself into on the couch. She reached over and grabbed Alex's hand. He allowed himself to be pulled away from the window - the sun had set, so it was no use standing there any longer. This far out in the countryside, the only light was from the stars and the moon, which hadn't fully risen yet.

"I hope the food is good," he grumbled as they passed by the numerous shelves of books that made up the Potter library. It was his favorite room in the house, but not even the calming presence of thousands upon thousands of books could soothe the discontentment he felt at their father's absence.

"It's always good," Harry said as she closed the door behind them and started down the hallway, tugging her brother after her. Even though he was older than her by exactly seventeen minutes, she often felt the elder. Alex would forget to eat if she didn't remind him. "Leena wouldn't serve it if it wasn't."

Alex sighed. "I know. I just…" He tapered off, but Harry knew what he meant. She too would have liked their father to be there when they received the school letters. Tonight, their eleventh birthday, would be the day they received their letters of acceptance from the schools they had been enrolled in. Neither of them knew where their father had arranged for them to live and learn for the next seven years, but they both assumed that they would soon be proud first-year students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"I wish he was here too," she assured her brother quietly. "I'm sure he's working on something very important."

Alex scoffed. "Of course. Like he's always working on something important on our birthday." Their father hadn't been present for any of their birthdays. This was also the day his wife had died, a minute before midnight, only ten minutes after Harry was born. She had lived just long enough to name them: Alexander James Potter and Harriet Rose Potter. Then she had lay down and died peacefully with a blissful smile on her lips. Or so Old Mathilda had said, once the twins had been old enough to ask the eldest of the family house elves questions about their mother.

Harry almost missed the door to the dining room. She shook the thoughts of her mother's death out of her head and opened the door silently. Alex wriggled his hand out of her own and walked quickly to his spot at the table, to the right of the head. Harry sat across from him. The dinner floated out through the doors leading to the kitchens. Harry ate in silence while Alex chattered on and on about the adventure novel about curse-breakers he had read recently.

"…fifty percent fatality rate! Isn't it amazing! And they get to keep a certain percentage of any treasure they discover!" Alex had recently become obsessed with curse breakers after finding out that a portion of them were essentially treasure hunters. After swallowing his bite of roast, Alex announced, "I'm going to be a curse breaker when I grow up.

"Brilliant," Harry said sarcastically. "And I'm going to play professional Quidditch."

"You don't have to be mean about it," Alex chided, frowning at her. "It's not my fault girls aren't allowed to fly."

"I know." Harry moved the potatoes on her plate around with her fork. She didn't feel much like eating. "It's just not fair that you can follow your dream and I can't." She'd wanted to play Quidditch professionally for years, ever since her first flight. Their father probably wanted to trap her inside where he could protect her, preferably until she died of old age.

Alex's eyes glinted with pity, but he didn't say anything, for which Harry was glad. She didn't think she could stand having her own twin pity her.

"You'll figure it out," he said, then shoved a large mouthful of potatoes and roast into his mouth with his typical grace. Harry looked away, appetite gone.

At that moment, Triss entered the room with a small silver platter in her hands. Two letters lay on it, sitting innocuously next to each other. Alex lay his fork down on his plate, and Harry pushed her plate away. They watched as Triss approached them, her green batlike ears twitching excitedly.

She stopped next to Harry first, holding the tray up over her head so Harry could reach the letter without having to bend over. Harry extended her hand and picked up the letter with her name on it, absently noting that she was shaking.

The letter was addressed in purple ink to Harriet Potter, Potter Manor. Turning it over, she inspected the seal. It was a simple design - a wand crossed with a winged staff and a sword, a phoenix rising above them both. The entire thing was surrounded by an ouroboros. Her heart sank. She wouldn't even be able to watch Quidditch at Asclepius Academy of Magic, located in the tiny country of Andorra. For all that it was a very prestigious international private school that she should feel very honored for being accepted into, she had hoped to attend Hogwarts. If she couldn't play Quidditch, then at least she could watch, or maybe, if luck was with her, commentate. Without opening it, she looked across the table to Alex, who had a large smile on his face.

"Where's it from?" she asked.

"Same as yours, I expect," he answered with a grin. "I can't want to see what House we're Sorted into." He looked back down at his letter and puffed up in satisfaction.

"I didn't get into Hogwarts," she said quietly. Alex nearly dropped his letter.

"Dad's separating us!" he exclaimed in horror at the prospect. "Give me that." He reached across the table and snatched it from her hands, unopened. His jaw dropped. "This is from Asclepius Academy," he breathed in awe. "They're impossible to get into!"

"I'd rather have Hogwarts," Harry grumbled. Alex heard her and stared in disbelief.

"You're mad. I would give anything to go to Asclepius. They have the best programs in Healing and Charms and - " His eyes went wide. "And Curse-Breaking." He made as if to open the letter, but Harry let out a small growl and grabbed the letter back.

"It's my letter, and I'll thank you not to open it for me," she snapped. Without hesitation, she slid her thumb under the small flap and, with a savage jerk, broke the seal. She pulled the thick parchment from inside and read it.

Dear Miss Potter,

We have accepted your father's request and will be holding a spot

for you. Please send an owl with your response at the earliest convenient

time, but no later than August fifteenth. If you do decide to take the spot,

please purchase the following items:

One pewter cauldron, standard size two

One set brass scales

One telescope, silver or brass

One globe of the moon

One set Abernathy's Star Chart

One wand

Four school robes

Six school uniforms

One winter cloak, purple with white trim

One pair of protective gloves, dragon-hide or similar

Charms for the Beginning Sorcerer by Ava S. G. Hannoway

An Introduction to Transfiguration by Pierre Beaufort

The Secret Art of Potion Making by R. Selwyn

Abernathy's Encyclopedia, Volumes I, II, IV, V, VII

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat. No snakes, dogs, rats, toads,

frogs, turtles, hares, falcons, or lions.

Asclepius Academy has a blanket ban on all broomsticks.

We hope to hear from you promptly.

Regards,

Jasper de Calderon

Headmaster

She glared at the words 'blanket ban on all broomsticks' for a few seconds before re-reading the booklist. From what she knew about Asclepius Academy from books she'd read, the first three years were basic education. Years four through seven required students to chose a career path to focus on and included a series of career-oriented classes.

Alex was all but bouncing in his seat in his impatience. "Can I see it now?" he whined, already reaching out. Harry sighed and passed it over.

"Wow," Alex said happily. "Who's this Abernathy bloke? I've never heard of him before."

"He probably writes to the specifications of the school." Harry watched as her brother examined the letter more closely. "They would pay well and it makes it easy to control what students read."

Alex didn't respond except to shoot her a quick smile. His smile turned to a frown and he looked over at her. "They don't allow any flying. I'm sorry."

"I know." She picked at a loose thread on her robes sleeve. "You'll just have to invite me to Hogwarts for Quidditch matches." She forced a smile.

To her surprise, Alex smiled back, a genuine smile. A genuine, down-right mischievous smile, one that only ever appeared when he'd come up with a fool-proof plot. "What if," he said carefully, "I didn't have to invite you to Hogwarts for Quidditch?" He ignored her confused noise and pressed on. "What if you were already there?"

Harry glanced around the room to make sure none of the portraits were listening. Of the three frames hanging in the room, only one was occupied. James's parents' greyhound was lounging in front of the fireplace in their portrait. Harry had always wondered why they had bothered putting the dog in, but had never dared ask her father. His parents had both been murdered by Death Eaters the year after he and Lily married.

"What do you mean?" she hissed across the table, thankful that the flower centerpiece wasn't in the way. "What are you planning?"

Alex smiled smugly and leaned forward as well. "We're going to switch spots." He looked as if he'd just won the Quidditch World Cup.

"What?" Harry was starting to worry that her brother had gone crazy.

Alex rolled his eyes and reiterated what he'd just said. "We're going to switch spots."

"I heard you the first time!" Harry snapped. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the portrait of her mother sidle into her frame. Harry immediately cleared her face of any suspicious expressions and relaxed into her chair. "What do you say we go look it up?" For a split second, Alex had a look of utter confusion on his face, but he caught on quickly.

"Of course. I know just the book we need." They stood up together, nearly mirroring each other's motions.

"You've got the letters, right?" Harry asked quietly as they walked out together as innocently as possible. She could feel her mother's eyes on her back but ignored it - even if Lily's portrait did overhear anything, she wouldn't be able to repeat it. Until their father joined her in the painting, she was mute and lacked most of her personality beyond basic knowledge of who lived in the house and who didn't belong there.

"Yeah, in my pocket." Alex reached out and linked his arm through hers. She allowed it, even if she preferred to have her arm on his.

"My room?" she asked casually as they passed a portrait of some unnamed Potter ancestor with a backdrop of the library. Alex nodded once and she wriggled her arm free to lead the way up the flights of stairs that led to her room on the fourth floor. Alex's room was directly underneath hers. It used to be next to hers, but she'd found a secret passage in her bathroom that led down to the room below. He'd moved immediately once she shared her knowledge of it, happy to be even a single floor lower.

Harry locked the door behind them and then joined her brother on her bed. He passed both letters over to her and she read his acceptance letter from Hogwarts.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list

of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September first. We await your owl by no later than August

tenth.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry pulled a second parchment out of the envelope, which was addressed in green ink, and read the supply list. Three sets of plain black work robes, five school uniforms, a plain black pointed hat, a pair of dragon hide protective gloves, a brass telescope, a set of brass scales, and a black winter cloak with silver fastenings. The books were all different than the ones on her booklist. She scoffed at The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, as she'd already read it and had come to the conclusion that it was absolute rubbish. The rest of the books were, as she'd suspected, standard. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was incomplete as it left out many magical creatures, but Magical Drafts and Potions, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, and The Standard Book of Spells were all good for instruction. She'd read both A History of Magic and Magical Theory, even though it had taken nearly a year to read them. She'd only done it because they were her mother's, and had small notes in the margins.

"Well?" Alex asked once he felt he'd given her enough time to think. "Will you do it?"

"Do what? You still haven't explained what it is you want to do."

"Switch with me." He gave her a look that told her, quite clearly, that she was being dense. "You go to Hogwarts. I go to Asclepius. You play Quidditch. I learn curse-breaking at the finest institute there is on the subject. Hogwarts doesn't do that, you know. I would have to spend at least two years after I graduated doing extra studying to become a curse breaker. Asclepius matriculates me with the required knowledge."

Harry hesitated before replying. As good as it sounded, there was still one flaw, and it was too large to ignore. "But I still can't play Quidditch. I'm not a boy."

Alex just grinned. "They don't know that."

Harry felt her jaw drop at the sheer audacity of what her twin was suggesting. "You mean…"

"Yes. Exactly."

"But - "

"You could do it. I know you could. You can. I know you better than you do, after all. Since I'm the smart one."

Harry went along with their long-standing joke. "Yes, and I'm the pretty one, we've established that. But how -"

"Carefully." Alex's eyebrows snapped together as he frowned. She fidgeted slightly under the intense stare. "Yes, I think…"

Nervousness bloomed in her stomach. "What?" she asked carefully, half dreading the answer.

"Well, the hair will have to go." Her hands flew to her hair, which was long enough to reach mid-way down her back when loose. Alex ignored her sudden movement and continued speaking. "And we'll have to get Dad to sign a few papers so the schools will accept the switch."

"How?" Harry whispered. She was equally as brilliant as her brother, but she'd never had the gift he did when it came to planning or plotting or strategy of any kind. Her mind worked in a logical order, not the twisting morass of tunnels that Alex seemed to have cultivated through years of chess and mystery novels.

"You can't cut your hair until we say goodbye to Dad. He'll most likely go to work after that, and Triss will be taking us to where we need to go. And we'll have to switch our supplies, but we can do that as soon as we get them."

"But I'll be buying girl supplies. What will you wear?"

"Haven't you read anything about the uniforms at Asclepius?"

"No. I read about how the curriculum is shaped. And the statistics about the school and it's graduates. Why would I care about the uniforms?"

"You can tell a lot from uniforms."

"Oh yeah?" Harry arched an eyebrow as a challenge.

Alex took the bait. "Yeah. Durmstrang's uniform is composed of fur-lined robes, so you can tell that the school is located far north where it's cold all the time."

"Mhmm. Back to Asclepius. What's so special about their uniforms?" She shifted until she found a more comfortable position on her bed, but she kept sliding towards Alex's heavier weight.

"They're the same for both genders," he declared triumphantly.

"Why would they do that?" she asked, genuinely confused. It was completely nonsensical. Every other custom and tradition in the wizarding world, and even many Muggle traditions, separated girl from boy by how they dressed. Girls wore skirts, boys wore trousers.

"The book said something about not wanting to divide the class into two entities," Alex said as he leaned back against the headboard. "It makes it less likely that girls will be harassed, or something like that. I read it a while ago, and I think Dad may have gotten rid of it. I don't think he liked that I was reading about different schools. He really wants me to go to Hogwarts."

Harry pouted. "Why doesn't he want me to go to Hogwarts too?" she whined, even though she already knew the answer. James wanted his precious daughter, the child that had inherited his wife's eyes, to receive the absolute best education possible. And Asclepius was certainly the best, recognized around the globe.

"Because you're you," Alex told her calmly, as if their father's attitude towards his daughter didn't bother him. And it most likely didn't, Harry thought to herself. Alex was perfectly happy being left alone with whatever odd book he'd picked up, without James bothering him to go fly. "Plus, if he did sign you up at Hogwarts, then you'd never have gotten this chance to go as a boy and fly. Never be able to reach your dream," he added slyly.

It was this last sentence that made Harry's decision for her. And she knew that Alex knew, and had said it on purpose to make her agree. He wanted to go to Asclepius just as much as she longed to go to Hogwarts.

"Fine," she sighed in defeat even as elation bubbled up inside and she had to repress the grin that threatened to take over her face. "But you're in charge of getting Dad to sign the papers." Alex's face fell for an infinitesimal amount of time, but a determined expression soon settled itself onto his features.

"Deal. And you're not getting out of it."

The next week was spent planning. Every day, Alex and Harry would meet in the darkest corner of the library, as far away from any portraits as possible. Plotting took up so much time that Harry didn't even get a chance to fly. She'd never gone so long without leaving the ground.

Alex took to quizzing her about inane details, covering everything from how boys act to what do to if she got hurt and was sent to the hospital wing. Hogwarts, A History, became a permanent resident of Harry's rooms as her brother forced her to read it over and over. Harry didn't see the point of reading it, since she was going to be going there herself, but Alex wouldn't budge on the matter.

On the morning of the eighth of August, only two days before the deadline for replying to Hogwarts, Harry was woken early in the morning by a gleeful Alex.

"I got it!" he crowed excitedly as he burst in from the bathroom. Harry rolled onto her side just in time to pull her legs out of Alex's way as he leapt onto her bed and flopped down next to her. "He signed it!"

His final declaration woke her up more effectively than a bucket of cold water. "Dad signed it?" she asked, disbelieving. She had suffered through Alex's planning sessions in silence, but had never truly believed their plan would work. It all hinged on getting their father's signature, something that she had never expected to happen.

"Yeah, here!" he shoved two slightly wrinkled pieces of parchment at her. She read through them and felt hope blossom within her. The letters explained the mistake in the enrollment of his children.

"How did you get them?" she asked breathlessly, folding the parchment meant for Hogwarts carefully and placing it on her bedside table. Alex took the one for Asclepius Academy and shoved it into his pajama pocket.

"I caught him just as he was about to leave," he said, a triumphant grin on his face. "Told him the schools had made a mistake and sent us the wrong letters. Then I told him we'd written up responses explaining the mistake, and all he had to do was sign them. And he did!"

Harry gaped at her brother. "But - that's so simple!" She never would have expected her father to fall for something like that. He was an Unspeakable, for Merlin's sake! Wouldn't he have seen through it?

"It's all about timing," Alex explained in a self-satisfied manner. "We both know how eager he is to get to work, and we haven't seen him since before our birthday, so it was easy to get him. He's always in a rush at the beginning of a new project." A smug smile spread across his face. "And once we owl them, it'll be too late."

They stared at each other, awed by their own daring and cunning. Although, if Harry was being fair, it was mainly Alex being daring and cunning. She would have whined and raged and complained, but she knew she would have gone to Asclepius as her father had decided. Alex, on the other hand, knew what he wanted and fought tooth and nail to get it. "Let's go mail them, then," Harry suggested. It was her turn to be daring.

Neither of them bothered to get changed - after all, the only other beings in the manor were house elves. They raced up to the small chamber on the fifth floor where the owls lived. Together, they stood at the window and watched as the two owls winged their way from the manor, one to the north and the other to the east. Once the owls had vanished from sight, Harry turned to watch her brother. Excitement blazed across Alex's face, undiminished by the doubt and worry over the possible failure of their plan and the consequences it might yield.

Two days later, Alex and Harry were up by six o'clock and waiting for their father in the dining room.

"How much longer, do you think?" Alex asked impatiently, shifting from foot to foot.

"He'll be here soon," Harry soothed her brother. He was always impatient and overly eager and barreled into things with unequaled enthusiasm. The only exception was when he was planning a prank; then, Alex could wait for weeks at a time to find the perfect moment. Harry was nearly the opposite - she thought things through before acting. Quidditch didn't count; she acted on pure instinct when flying, no thinking or rash behavior involved.

A large yawn took her over and she leaned against the wall. Alex followed suit, folding his arms over his chest. Before he could open his mouth to complain again, the door opened quietly and a tall, bespectacled man slid through the small opening. His hair, the same raven black as Harry's own, was neatly trimmed yet wild at the same time, defying all logic and any application of hair crème. His eyes, a hazel that contained more brown then Alex's, took in their appearances.

"Good morning," James Potter said to his children, approaching them, his dark blue robes fluttering with his motion.

"Hi Dad," Harry said, hugging him as he kissed her forehead. After a moment's hesitation, his strong arms wrapped around her and she relaxed into his hold. It had been too long since she had been hugged by her father. With a small giggle that he would no doubt deny at a later time, Alex flung himself into the hug, squirming under James's arm until he was squashed against Harry's side. Even though they weren't particularly close with their father, they loved him. He was all the family they had.

"Are you two ready to go?" James asked after extracting himself from their hug and resettling his glasses on his nose. Harry unconsciously imitated him and pushed her own rectangular lenses up the bridge of her nose.

"YES!" Alex yelled, earning a reprimanding look from their father that was tempered by the indulgent smile he gave them.

"Now, before we leave, I have some rules." Alex groaned, but Harry leaned forward. The faster they shut up and listened, the faster they would leave. And she had wanted to see what lay beyond the wards for as long as she could remember. "First of all, you will stay close to me at all times. Harriet will be on my left and Alexander will stay on my right." When Alex made to object, James added in a tone that brooked no argument, "If necessary I will hold your hands." Alex flushed and closed his mouth with a snap. "Second, if there appears to be any trouble, you will use your emergency portkeys at once." Both Alex and Harry nodded solemnly. Every year on the first of February, their father gave them new emergency portkeys that would taken them to an undisclosed location until either their father or Tiber, the head house-elf, came to gather them. Every year, they received a lecture on the importance of using the portkey, and the consequences that would befall them if they triggered it for fun.

"You don't - expect trouble, do you?" Harry asked as she fingered the silver barrette she'd been wearing since February first. James smiled gently and knelt so she had to look down to meet his eyes.

"You know how Voldemort hasn't been sighted for nearly six years now, and how we think he's dead." Harry nodded, and the rustling of fabric next to her told her that Alex had too. "Well, not all of the Death Eaters have been caught yet. They've been hunting down members of the Order and attacking them in hopes of getting information on their master." James had told the two of them about the Order of the Phoenix on their tenth birthday. Their father was a member, but contributed mainly in the passing of information about the Ministry, downright refusing to fight as he had when he'd been an Auror, back when their mother was alive.

"They've been acting up lately, getting more reckless. That's part of the reason why we're going so early." James turned and stared at Alex. "That's the reason you cannot leave my side, no matter how tempting. Even in the stores, you must not wander."

"Yes Father," they chorused.

"Good." James stood up and pulled the two of them closer, one arm over each of their shoulders. He steered them to the fireplace in silence. With a flick of his wand, the logs burst into flame. "I'll go first. Wait ten seconds, and then come through together."

Without waiting for confirmation, knowing that they'd follow his orders, James took a pinch of sparkling green powder from the marble bowl on the mantle and threw it onto the orange flames. As soon as the orange shifted to green, he stepped in a said calmly, "Leaky Cauldron." Harry and Alex watched as their father spun out of view.

With nearly identical grins of excitement that were only partially subdued by their father's seriousness, they moved closer to the fire, ignoring the heat. Harry beat her brother to the powder and threw the large pinch into the fire. She and Alex clasped hands and stepped in. "Leaky Cauldron!" they shouted together. Their dining room whooshed out of view, and Harry closed her eyes to try and lessen the nausea brought on by the spinning of Floo travel. After what felt like much too long, she felt herself slowing. Alex's grip on her hand tightened until it was nearly painful as he dragged her out of an unevenly paved hearth.

Harry opened her eyes, only to find she couldn't see. Her glasses were completely covered with what a combination of soot and ash. Just as she reached up to remove them and clean them on her black robes, she heard her father's voice. "Tergeo." In an instant, her glasses were cleaner than they'd been before she had stepped into the fireplace at home. Now able to see, she took the chance to stare at the room they'd come into.

The Leaky Cauldron was a pub - that much was obvious. A few scruffy men sat at a table with a deck of cards and stacks of silver sickles and bronze knuts. A couple of gold galleons glinted in the lamplight as well, though not very many. All five of the men were asleep, likely drunk judging from the empty bottles scattered around them on the floor. The only other person in the pub was a bald, hunch-backed man behind the counter. He glanced up from the Daily Prophet in his hands and nodded once to their father before returning to the news.

"Come on," James said quietly to Harry and Alex. They fell into place at his sides. He led them through a wooden door to a small bricked-in courtyard. Before Harry could ask why they were there, James pulled out his wand and tapped several different bricks with it. Harry stared unabashedly at the wall as the bricks her father had tapped quivered for a moment, and then, with a grinding noise that felt much too loud in the quiet that surrounded them, spun and folded into their neighbors to form an elegant archway.

Harry wouldn't have moved if not for James, who placed a hand protectively on her shoulder and steered her through the archway into the cobbled street beyond. She couldn't decide where to look - there were so many things she'd never seen before and had dreamed about seeing since she'd first heard of Diagon Alley from Remus. The winding street was nearly empty. Only a few early-morning shoppers darted from store to store, and she couldn't see any other children.

"Ollivander's first," James said softly as they skirted a potbellied man setting up a display of cauldrons outside his shop. "He opens the earliest."

Harry snapped her gaze away from Quality Quidditch Supplies with difficulty and tried to remember the location of all the stores, in case she got a chance to come to Diagon Alley again. They passed by many stores, very few of which were open. Flourish and Blotts was next to Quality Quidditch Supplies, then Eyelop's Owl Emporium. And across the street was an apothecary and Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, and Florean Fortesque's Ice-Cream Parlour next to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. And then there was a second-hand shop and a small café and a stationer's. Squeezed in between the large shops were small businesses, like a specialty jeweler and a store called Obscurus Books. A joke shop called Gambol and Japes, and a third book store, Whizz Hard Books, stood like tall and skinny sentinels on either side of the squat building that housed the Magical Menagerie. Sandwiched between The Junk Shop and Twilfit and Tattings was the narrow building that housed the Daily Prophet. Alone of the shops in it's surrounding area, the tall building was lit up and bustling.

James pulled Alex closer as they passed a dark archway between Second Hand Robes and Obscurus Books with a half-rotted sign that read Knockturn Alley. Harry had the ominous feeling that some people who went through that dark portal never returned. Near the very end of Diagon Alley, only a few stores from the tall stone wall that marked the division between muggle London, James came to a halt. Harry stared at the shop in front of them. In peeling gold paint, a sign declared the store to be Ollivander's: Maker of Fine Wands Est. 382 BC. The windows were dark, but the sign on the door was turned to 'open'. James pushed Harry and Alex forward, and the three of them entered the shop, which smelled distinctly of dust and wood polish.

"Ring the bell," James whispered to them. Alex reached out, his hand appearing to glow white in the dim lighting of the shop, and tapped the bell on the counter. It chimed sweetly but loudly, and Harry could have sworn she heard something rustling in response to the note.

"Ah, yes." Harry and Alex jumped in surprise at the voice that came from an aisle to their left. The old man who appeared had a ghost-like quality about him. It could have been because everything about him was pale and washed-out - his hair was white and ethereal, his skin was white and wrinkled, and his eyes were the palest blue Harry had ever seen, so pale that they appeared white. "I was wondering when you two would be coming in. I still remember the day your parents came in." His eyes focused on James, who passed his wand over without hesitation. Harry had to stop herself from gaping - their father never let anyone else so much as touch his wand. The one time Alex had gotten hold of it, James had confined him to his room for two weeks.

Mr. Ollivander, for who else could he be, accepted James's wand and ran his long nimble fingers over it. "Yes, yes. In good condition. You treat it regularly?" he asked as he handed it back to their father.

"For work," James answered, placing the wand in his wrist-holster. "But we're here for Harriet and Alexander, not me and not my wife." The pale eyes blinked once and then turned to Harry, inspecting her from head to toe before moving to Alex.

"Oldest first, I think," Mr. Ollivander declared softly. A measuring tape flew over from behind the desk and started measuring. Harry watched it as it took measurements of Alex's right arm from shoulder to wrist, elbow to finger-tip, wrist to finger-tip, wrist to knuckles, thumb-length. By the time Mr. Ollivander returned with a stack of five boxes, the measuring tape was measuring between his nostrils.

"That's enough," he commanded, and the tape coiled itself up and fell to the ground with a small thump. "Here you go, beech and unicorn-tail hair, eleven and three-quarters inches, bendy." He pressed the thin stick of wood into Alex's hand. Alex stared down at it and raised it to give it a wave, but before it got to shoulder height, Mr. Ollivander had snatched it from his hand, crying, "No, no, all wrong!"

The wand was placed back in it's box and the next shoved into Alex's waiting hand. "Try this, more like your father's, oak and dragon heart-string, ten and half inches, hard." Alex grinned and flicked the wand at the desk. A small glass paperweight exploded, shards flying outwards before being halted by a shield cast by James. Harry's eyes flew to Mr. Ollivander, expecting him to be angry, but instead he was smiling. "Closer, closer," he muttered, grabbing the wand and replacing it in its box. "I know just the one, very unusual, very rare combination…"

He bustled away down an aisle, lost in the shadows that grew more pronounced as the post-dawn sun rose higher in the sky. Mr. Ollivander came back with a slender box clutched in his hands. With quick, effective motions, he opened the box and pulled a wand so pale it looked white out of it's wrappings. "Willow with dragon heart-string, eleven and a half inches, springy. A mixture of your father's and your mother's wands," he added quietly as he passed the wand to Alex, who took it almost reverently. As soon as it touched his skin, the wand spat out a shower of purple and silver sparks and a blissful smile crossed his face.

"This one," he said, hand clenched around the wand. "This is mine."

"Indeed," Mr. Ollivander agreed, already turning towards Harry, who took a nervous step back. "Come now, nothing to be frightened of, I'm sure we have your match here." Harry, embarrassed at showing her nerves, stepped towards Mr. Ollivander.

"Excellent, let's get you measured up." At the last two words, the measuring tape, which lay at Alex's feet, zoomed towards Harry. She ignored it and watched as the wandmaker opened one of the boxes Alex hadn't tried. Harry snapped, "That's enough," at the measuring tape once it started to move towards her face. It coiled up and fell to the ground. Mr. Ollivander chuckled as he passed the wand over. "Ebony and unicorn hair. Give it a wave."

Obediently, Harry flicked the wand, but nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander frowned. He passed a second wand to her, taking the first back. "Redwood and phoenix feather." She waved it without waiting for a prompt. Once again, nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander gave a tight smile as he took it back. "You're one of those," he said mysteriously.

"One of what?" Alex asked from next to James. They had moved to the door and were leaning on either side of it like guards.

Mr. Ollivander didn't answer until he had plucked an armful of boxes from the shelves and returned. "Difficult customer," he answered with a satisfied smile as he passed another wand to Harry, snatching it back almost immediately. The process of handing an wand to Harry and taking it back after a few seconds repeated over and over as he talked. "The wands all responded to small degrees with you, Mr. Potter, as they do with most young witches and wizards. Miss Potter, here, is more particular. The wands respond, but the responses don't tell me anything about what will make the best combination for her."

They had run out of wands, so Mr. Ollivander took out his wand and summoned some more. Harry stared in amazement as what had to be a hundred boxes stacked themselves neatly at Mr. Ollivander's side. He didn't look bothered at all. In fact, a pleased smile was stretching across his wizened features as she tried more and more wands. She heard Alex complain under his breath as he moved and sat down in the spindly chair in the corner.

"What's the most someone's tried?" Harry asked as Mr. Ollivander summoned another batch of wands.

"The entire shop," he said with a maniacal glint in his eyes. "But that was back when the shop only held about a thousand wands. I have increased the stock since then." Harry swallowed nervously. What if she didn't find a wand? Mr. Ollivander seemed to have read her thoughts. "A wand will choose you, not to worry." She nodded and gingerly took the proffered wand. It was plucked from her fingers a moment later. She waited, but Mr. Ollivander didn't offer her another one. A pensive look had taken over his features.

"I wonder…" Without another word, he spun and rushed through the doorway behind the counter. He reappeared a minute later, a dusty box clutched in his hands. "Try this," he said as he lovingly pulled a wand out of the box. "Another rare combination, like your brother's." Harry stretched out her hand and took it. A pulse of warmth rushed down her arm from where her skin made contact with the wand. Tingles spread more slowly, and a euphoric feeling of contentment spread through her. She waved her wand, for it was her wand, almost lazily. Gold and blue confetti burst from the tip and floated to the ground.

"What is it?" she asked as she tucked the wand into her robe pocket.

Mr. Ollivander stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face before answering. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Harry stroked the wand in her pocket.

"Thank you," she said with a slight smile to the old man. He bowed in return and, after waving his wand to return all the boxes to their shelves, moved to the counter to ring up the purchase.

James stepped forward, pulling a coin pouch from his pocket. "Can I see?" Alex asked as she leaned against the wall next to him. Trying wands took more energy than she had expected.

"Only if I can see yours," she answered, pulling her wand out of her pocket. They swapped wands. Her brother's wand wasn't anything like her own, and didn't feel any different than any twig she could pick up off the ground. She shrugged and held it out to Alex.

"Here." Alex thrust her wand at her and took it. Harry pocketed her own, making sure it wouldn't fall out.

"Ready to go?" James asked, tucking his coin purse back into his robes as he approached them. Harry glanced out the window - the sun was fully risen now, and the alley was beginning to get busy.

"Yeah!" Alex said happily, moving to his spot at their father's right side. Harry followed suit and situated herself on James's left.

"Bookstore?" she asked as they exited Ollivander's.

Alex caught her meaningful glance behind James's back and nodded. "And then can we go to Quality Quidditch Supplies?"

James nodded absently, a small frown on his face as he watched the crowds of shoppers in the alley. "After we've got everything, we'll see if we have time. I need to be at the office by one." Harry grinned at Alex, who grinned right back. He would tell her what book he wanted at the bookstore, and then he would try and finagle their father into buying a better broom, or at the very least some polish and twig clippers for the old one.

The next store they went into was the larger of the two apothecaries. Both Alex and Harry needed full starter kits, as well as silver knives and glass stirring rods and other preparatory instruments. James refused to let them pick the pattern out themselves, and ordered the entire set with their initials imprinted onto every item. Including the jars and containers for each ingredient.

As James paid the grumpy owner, Alex and Harry held a hurried conversation.

"What will we do if he puts our initials into everything?" Harry whispered. "It's not like we can go to school with each other's initials on everything!"

Alex was infuriatingly calm. "Look, it's not a big deal. Just say that our father got mixed up in the orders. And the potions supplies are the same for both schools."

"Not the globe of the moon or the star charts!" Harry hissed. "And what about when we get older, hm? How are we going to get robes then!? We won't stay the same size forever, you know."

"Sweet Circe, will you just calm down!" Alex put a hand on her elbow, glancing over to the counter where, thankfully, James was arguing with the owner. "Look, 'once we get older' is a long ways from now. We'll probably not need new robes for at least two years and by then Dad'll have to let us come to Diagon Alley by ourselves - "

"Fat chance," Harry muttered, but Alex kept on going as if he hadn't heard her.

" - and if we have to we can order stuff by owl."

"And that won't be suspicious at all, packages arriving for us at all hours."

"Dad's never home. You know that as well as I do." Harry glared at her brother, who smiled winsomely back at her. Finally, she gave up.

"Fine. You keep acting like nothing will go wrong, and I'll stay in reality." He gave a quiet laugh and hugged her, just as James came over with the sales slip in his hands.

"Let's go," he said as he put the slip into the coin purse and slid it back into his pocket.

"Where to?" Harry asked immediately. James had spent quite a long time arguing with the apothecary owner, and she was starting to worry that they wouldn't have time to get to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Cauldrons first, then robes. Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, and then Flourish and Blotts last."

"Quidditch last," Alex corrected. James gave him a small smile.

"Very well. But only - "

" - if there's time," Harry and Alex chorused together dully. It was their least favorite phrase, and the one that most often came from their father's mouth, usually while he had one foot in the fireplace.

Harry and Alex rushed through the cauldrons and tapped their feet while Madam Malkin and her assistant bustled around them as they stood on stools and were measured for robes. They fidgeted non-stop while their uniforms were being hemmed in and let down. Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment was only a blurred memory as they each bought brass scales and a brass telescope, and Harry picked up a globe of the moon and the requisite star charts. She was slightly jealous that Alex would get them, as the globe was quite pretty and the charts would mean that she'd never have to take Astronomy. Then Alex, quietly, pointed out that he'd be studying the subject on his own, without a professor, and would have to take the equivalent of the O.W.L. exam and was expected to pass. After that Harry kept her mouth shut.

Finally, they were at Flourish and Blotts. Harry sped towards the encyclopedia section and pulled the five volumes of Abernathy's Encyclopedia that the booklist said she needed. Charms for the Beginning Sorcerer, An Introduction to Transfiguration, and The Secret Art of Potion Making were piled on top, and she lugged the books to James.

"Dad, will you hold these?" she asked from behind the stack. Her answer came when strong arms lifted the books from her. "And can I go find a book to read? Just for fun?" When James looked about to say no, she used her trump card. "Since we're going to the Quidditch store for Alex?" She looked up at him, widening her green eyes behind her rectangular glasses.

Sure enough, James's face lost the stern lines as he sighed. "All right. Just make it fast."

Harry hugged her father, nearly bashing her head on the corner of one of the books she'd just given him, and took off back into the shelves of books. She made a beeline towards the Arithmancy section. It was a topic her father would approve of, if just barely, for his daughter to read. It was also a subject that Alex would need to become a curse-breaker, and he wanted to get started as soon as possible. She plucked a book titled The Power of Numbers from the shelf and flipped through it, not really knowing what she was looking for. Arithmancy was one of the few subjects that truly didn't interest her. She might have to end up taking it, though, just in case James decided to ask them about school.

When she got back to where she'd left James, Alex was waiting next to him. "Done?" he asked with a fake scowl on his face. His eyes were glued to the book in her arms.

"Yes. But Quidditch doesn't matter, anyways." Her throat nearly closed off as she forced the lie from her mouth. Alex had to suppress his smirk at the expression on her face, but James didn't seem to notice.

"What did you select?" he asked as the three of them took their place in the line to check out.

"The Power of Numbers," Harry answered, summoning as enthusiastic a tone as possible. "I was reading about Asclepius Academy and saw that they offer Arithmancy as a class after second year, and the description was just so interesting that I couldn't help but - "

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Alex interrupted, to Harry's relief. She didn't know how long she could pretend to be enthusiastic about what was essentially very advanced math. "It's our turn."

As they checked out, Harry watched a large family of red-heads come in and split up. The youngest boy, who looked to be about her own age, made his way to the 'Used' bin and started rummaging through it. He was quickly joined by a pair of twins, who were identical down to the last freckle (and they had a lot). A smug looking boy with a shiny badge on his shirt was in the Transfiguration section, a small girl tagging after him. The red-haired parents separated, the mother following the twins and the small boy, and the father going after the older one and the girl until a book distracted him.

Harry felt jealousy seeping through her as she watched the happy family. Lots of siblings, a loving mother, a father who paid attention, and, from their familiarity with the layout of the shop, allowed to go outside their property. Everything she didn't have, and likely never would.

Tugging on her arm brought her out of her funk. "C'mon, Harry." It was Alex, his face worried as he peered at her. That's one thing I wouldn't have, she thought to herself as she smiled at him and allowed herself to be pulled out of the store. I wouldn't have Alex, and I wouldn't have been allowed to play Quidditch. The smile became genuine as their father made a path through the now-crowded street with just his presence.

With a rush of excitement, she remembered where they were going. As they drew closer and closer to Quality Quidditch Supplies, the crowd became even thicker. The window of the store told her why. A beautiful broomstick was on display, and children of all ages were clustered around it, taking excitedly.

"- best on the market!"

" - outdone themselves with the - "

" - naught to eighty in - "

"Mum won't let me - "

Harry wasn't aware that she had stopped moving until Alex prodded her in the back and hissed at her to shut her mouth or she'd be catching pixies. With a shake of her head, she scurried to catch up with their father, who had just reached the door. The inside of Quality Quidditch Supplies was just as crowded at the outside. People milled about, mostly just looking at the expensive brooms and the top-of-the-line equipment.

"Dad, can I get a new broom?" Alex asked as they pressed past a burly brown-haired teenager. Harry missed James's answer as the boy stepped back into her and she stumbled to the side, narrowly missing running into a dangerous looking teenager.

"Ah, sorry!" A hand clasped her forearm and steadied her. She looked up at the older boy, taking in the messy brown hair, light-brown eyes that were almost hazel, and sun-tanned skin. He was quite obviously a Quidditch player, as his firm grip could attest to. Harry made sure her bangs were in her eyes - if he went to Hogwarts and recognized her…

"It's all right," she said, straightening up. "It's as crowded as a bag of kneazles in here."

The boy's eyes were wide as he stared at her in shock. "You're a girl," he said blankly. He still hadn't let go of her arm.

"I know."

"What are you doing in here?" he asked pulling her into a corner that was mostly protected from the crowds by a manikin wearing the newest in Quidditch protection pads. "Girls aren't allowed to play Quidditch."

She scowled. He still hadn't let go of her arm. "And you think I don't know that?" she snapped. "I'm here with my brother. So let me go." His hand sprang off her as if he had been burned. She turned and flounced off, making sure to flip her hair over her shoulder at him. Stupid segregation rules, she thought venomously as she squeezed between a tower of Quaffles and the same pair of twins that had been in Flourish and Blotts only minutes before. The rest of their family was nowhere in sight, and she smirked at them as she passed. They had the right idea, ditching their parents to go to a Quidditch store.

To her surprise, they smirked right back, and one of them winked at her. Harry nearly paused to talk to them about Quidditch, but thought better of it. Girls, as the brown-haired boy had said so eloquently, weren't allowed to play Quidditch.

"Harriet Potter, please come to the front counter." Harry flushed as a loud voice boomed through the store. Her father had noticed she was missing, finally. The rest of the store froze in place for a second after the announcement, then went back to their conversations. Harry wound her way to the counter, passing by group of boys after group of boys. As she reached her father and Alex, she realized that she was the only girl in the store.

"Where were you?" James growled, his eyes flashing over the crowded store. "Did someone try to take you?"

"Honestly, Dad, why would someone want to take me? Everyone in here is so caught up in the merchandise that they wouldn't notice a girl unless they ran over her." Which, incidentally, was true, mostly. When James's scowl deepened, she sighed and said quietly, "Someone accidentally knocked me over and then was all surprised that I was girl and insisted on asking if I was a girl." She snorted. "As if the skirt wasn't indication enough."

Alex grinned good-naturedly and flashed a small leather bag in her direction. She tore her gaze away and looked back at her father. "Really, Dad, I'm okay. Can we go home now?" The words seemed to melt any worry or anger right out of him, and he placed a protective hand on her shoulder.

"Follow me, Alexander," he said as he steered her to the doorway. In the street, once they had gotten out of the crowd of boys around the Quidditch store, James relaxed his grip and Harry fell back to walk with Alex.

"What is it?" she whispered as she reached out a hand and stroked the leather.

"Servicing kit," Alex whispered back. "Tell you more once we get back home." Harry nodded and concentrated on following their father.

A few feet from the archway that led to the Leaky Cauldron, the three of them were waylaid by the red-haired family, or most of it. Harry was amused when she saw that the twins were still missing.

"James, have you seen the twins?" the woman asked. She was holding the hands of the younger boy and the girl, and the father and the older boy were standing behind them, searching the street.

"No, I've been busy with my own, Molly," James said coolly. Harry was surprised that they even knew each other. The woman didn't look like she worked, let alone as an Unspeakable. She wondered where they had met.

"Oh, those two!" The woman, Molly, scowled. "When I get my hands on them…"

"Come now, Molly, I'm sure they're perfectly fine," her husband soothed her.

"They should know better than to try that," the older boy proclaimed. "After all, now that I'm Prefect they'll have to stop breaking rules." He puffed his chest out importantly. Harry hid behind her father's back. If the boy was a Prefect, he went to Hogwarts. She couldn't be recognized.

"Give it a break, Perce," the girl retorted. "They don't stop for anyone." All three of the red-haired children started bickering, the two younger teaming up on the older. James ignored them and moved past the red-haired family with a polite nod to both the parents. Harry and Alex followed close behind him, nearly stepping on his long robes.

The Leaky Cauldron was very busy with patrons eating lunch. A grimy grandfather clock told her that it was twelve thirty. No wonder James had hurried them along - it was nearly time for him to get to work.

"You first, Alexander," James said as they stopped beside the fireplace and flipped a sickle to the barkeep as payment for letting them use his Floo. Alex stepped forward, the broom servicing kit still in his hands. "And take this." James handed Alex's cauldron, which had been shrunk to the size of an apple, over. "Your books and robes are in it as well." Alex nodded and shot Harry a smug smile before stepping into the fireplace and shouting, "Potter Manor!"

"You next, Harriet," James said, passing her own shrunken cauldron over. She looked into it and saw her books stacked atop her uniforms and robes. As she stepped towards the grate, the flames flared green. Hurriedly, she stepped back, running into her father, who clamped a hand onto her shoulder.

A spinning figure appeared in the fire. Once it slowed down, it stepped out, straightening up until a tall aristocratic man with long white-blond hair and smoke-grey eyes stood in front of them. One of his hands was wrapped around a black cane with a silver snake head for a handle. He turned his back on them and held his hand out to help a blond woman out of the fire. A small blond boy joined them a few seconds later.

"James!" the man said in mock surprise as he turned around again, one hand on his wife's back, the other on his son's shoulder. "I didn't see you there. And this is…?"

Harry stood proud under the man's scrutiny. "My daughter," James ground out, voice tight. Harry resisted the urge to look up - she'd never heard her father so angry before. Instead, she met the eyes of the boy, who was looking her up and down like a piece of meat, and, from the sneer on his face, a rotten one at that.

"But surely, there's another? Or has he gone ahead with his mother?" Harry winced as her father clenched his hand on her shoulder, hard. She stared at the man in dislike.

"No. He just Flooed home. Now, if you don't mind - " He pushed Harry around the blond family and threw a pinch into the flames, which turned green. "Go," he whispered. She stepped into the flames. The last thing she saw before she spun out of sight was a smirking blonde man turning away from her father, wife and son at his side, and she felt a burning hatred that any man could be so purposefully insensitive about her mother's death.

Harry stumbled out of the fire at the other end, right into Alex's waiting arms. "What took you so long?" he demanded as Harry straightened up and brushed the soot and ash from her clothes. She took her shrunken cauldron from her pocket and placed it on the table for James to un-shrink.

"A family showed up and blocked the Floo," she said as she joined Alex in waiting for their father to come through. "I don't think Dad likes them very much."

"I wonder why?" Alex mused as they stared at the flames. "Maybe they're rivals at work or something."

"I dunno." Harry frowned, remembered the almost predatory vibe the blonde man had given off. "I don't think that man works."

Alex cut off his response when the flames turned green and James stepped out of the fire. "Dad," Harry said in relief.

James ignored her and approached Alex. "Whatever you do, son, do not let your guard down around Draco Malfoy." Harry and Alex traded surprised looks as their father un-shrunk their cauldrons and placed the bulky package containing their telescopes, scales, dragon-hide gloves, and the star charts and globe of the moon onto the table next to them. "I'm going to work now. Be good and start your new books. You don't want to be ill prepared." He took a step towards the fireplace. "And don't use your wands. I've set up wards that will tell me if you do."

Alex made a small noise of outrage, but Harry covered it with a loud, "Yes, Dad."

As soon as their father vanished into the fire, Alex started complaining. "That's rubbish! I bet all the other kids at Asclepius will be have started learning the spells! I'll be so behind!" he whined.

"Oh, shut up," Harry snapped. "At least he didn't take our wands away. He trusts us not to break the rules."

"With a baby-watching spell," Alex muttered rebelliously.

Harry ignored him. "Lets get this stuff upstairs and sort it out." She grabbed her cauldron and the Wiseacre's package. Still grumbling, Alex followed suit. Once in her room, the flopped onto the bed.

"Here's your clothes," Harry said as she pulled the numerous robes and uniforms out of her cauldron. "And the cloak." She was actually a tiny bit upset at having to give up the cloak - purple was much better than black.

"And yours." Alex set the neatly folded stack of clothes next to her cauldron. They traded books next, and Alex immediately grabbed the Arithmancy book Harry had chosen. Harry reached over him and snagged the broom servicing kit and opened it. A book on how to service a broomstick was on top, with a bottle of polish, twig clippers, a very nice brass compass, and a polishing cloth underneath.

"Wow," she breathed as she reverently picked up the book and opened it. "This is amazing."

"Yeah," Alex agreed. She looked over at him curiously. His voice was oddly serious. "Don't mess it up." Understanding that he wasn't referring to her broomstick, she nodded.

"I won't," she promised.