Arcadia's Gift

JOINT PROJECT with The-Living-Shadow, ACCEPTING BETAS.

HP/Sirius Black, Slash, Alt. Universe Time Travel. Creature!Harry. Non-DH Epilogue Compliant

He's not a boy-Basilisk, werewolf, vampire or dementor, no, he's a light creature, a fairy – prepare for gay jokes..

Will contain hot sweaty man love, abuse, jokes, and yeah. Sex. Siriusly.

Summary :- Harry James Potter, mixed with inhuman frustration, an inability to live at peace and the desire for a fresh start, the Room of Requirement does its job and gives him what he wants, sending him back to the 1970s, in his parent's sixth year. As things often do for Harry Potter, things proceeded to go tit's up.

DISCLAIMER: WE DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER (Thank Merlin)

{Chapter One}

'Maybe I don't want to be human anymore!' – too often Harry James Potter found himself casting his mind backwards to the tantrum he'd thrown in Dumbledore's office those few years ago, where he'd wreaked destruction from just rage and wild magic alone, the phrase famous last words, came to mind.

It certainly came to bite him in the ass further down the line, at any rate, especially in the presence of Arcadia, she, and a small flitter of pixies, doxies and fairies came fluttering to Harry's aid at the final battle ground of Hogwarts, where the magical creatures who came out to fight and defend their land and aid humans in a truce against the Dark Lord, allowed injured wizards and witches to flee deep within the magical forest as they recovered from their wounds. Death Eaters would follow, naturally, but not only have the damaged humans to deal with, but the centaurs, the acromantula, and other creatures of the forest that dwelled along with the trees themselves that rose to life to defend their habitat.

He couldn't complain too much about the actions taken by the fairies, especially after, when he was no longer the Master of Death, their gift had changed his life – and it was needed in order to break the darkness that washed over the blood soaked land of Hogwarts and much of the wizarding world. Days upon weeks which stretched into months, were spent in St Mungos, The Boy Who Lived became The Boy Who Conquered and his final title – The Boy Who Heals, rather unoriginal, but they kept up the moniker that Skeeter cursed him with from his inception as hero and developed it to match the efforts of Harry Potter in repairing the world after the war.

He certainly couldn't live in the muggle world, and he had no desire to take Dumbledore's place, or Minister Fudge's for that matter, or to spend the rest of his days repairing the world at the cost of his own retirement, no, now Hermione had the gall to suggest that upon finding out his permanent physiological changes weren't reversible, that he go to Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries of all places and let himself get tested, poked and prodded. The argument that ensued was enough to be put in history books as perhaps the second battle of Hogwarts, and destroyed Minerva's office, much to the chagrin of Dumbledore's portrait.

Harry trembled, shook, threw a few things, destroyed a few things, and even screamed, before fleeing and wondering where on Earth he'd even run off too, the Forbidden Forest came to mind, but he was in no mood to see the repair work being done by the magical creatures of the forest and be reminded of the damage of the battle, and instead found himself bolting down a Hogwarts corridor, in need of a room. A room. Any room. Somewhere to hide. Somewhere to escape. Somewhere to cry.

And just like that, the Room of Requirement obliged, and a door appeared – angrily he pulled it open, almost ripping it off its hinges, and slamming it shut as he entered the soft plush room that resembled the Gryffindor common room, except it was stuffed with treasures and forgotten items – things people wanted hidden, where he remembered finding the horcrux, he sniffled to himself, curling up on a plush chair.

Harry Potter was not someone who cried, he often pulled a face around it, unable to handle it – Cho Chang had been a prime example of that, Ron was always better with that sort of thing, when people cried, Ron comforted, where Harry would stand awkwardly, unsure of what to do, so it was rare when he cried himself – it was something Dudley would mock endlessly and generally discouraged within the Dursley household, for the simple reason that it meant something was wrong, therefore not-right and not normal – and hell would freeze over the day they'd ever be concerned for Harry's emotional welfare.

He was so upset, that he didn't notice the door disappear for the briefest of moments behind him, before reappearing, and merely allowed himself to enjoy the warm of the faux-fireplace, body giving way to shaking even more intensely, and finally, shedding tears.

Harry didn't count on falling asleep, but he did, and upon waking, he sniffled a bit and wiped his cheeks, rubbing his eyes and slowly lowering off the chair onto his worn shoes with a heavy sigh – the tantrum was probably uncalled for, and he should probably apologise, if not to Hermione than at least McGonagall – for destroying the office. With a furrow of his brow he brushed himself down, scourgified the sweat and slight dirt from his robes, school robes were never meant to withstand this level of heavy duty work, and truth be told, between being on the run and defeating Dark Lords – a nip to the shops didn't factor in anywhere.

Rolling his shoulders back with a click, he rubbed his eyes under his glasses and making his way out into the eerily silent halls. The eyes of the familiar portraits followed him oddly, but didn't comment on him as he plodded down the halls, his eyes searching for signs of skirmish and battle, the air no longer held the heavy tinge of copper that hours of scourgify could barely bring down, nor did Hogwarts possess any of the thick static magical atmosphere that was laden with remnants of Dark magic, that Harry could not help but liken to burnt food. Indeed, all traces of the smells were gone, except for that faint one of youth and active wild magic of young students brimming from every layer of brickwork that sent him back to first year in his mind. Harry smiled wistfully, although something was very, very wrong with this picture.

It all came to a head when he found himself staring at the untarnished guardian gargoyle of the headmistress's office.

"Light Never Dies," said Harry clearly, the gargoyle grunted and looked at him strangely.

"Not even close," Harry raised a brow, did McGonagall change it? That fast? He spouted out a few battle slogans until the Gargoyle got sick of his voice and grunted a hint.

"Candy,"

Harry blinked slowly and sighed, trying to dispel the sadness from the pit of his gut as he thought of his former mentor and would-be grandfather, and began listing off candies.

"Fizzing Whizbees, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pastries, Lemon Sherbet—" and with that – though he wasn't sure exactly which one – the gargoyle moved to grant him entry.

Oh yes, something was very wrong, because Harry Potter found himself staring at the startled face of a very old, very much alive, very much hugely powerful Albus Dumbledore, the man he saw die not so long ago.

He itched for his wand to attack on sight almost, if not for the fact that magical auras couldn't be copied in this way, and if he somehow fell in a penseive, memories did not let you feel things in this manner, or interact directly at all, and the very, very real trill of Fawkes brought him back to the land of the living, as the phoenix sat upon it's perch, burning brightly and letting out a delighted noise at the boy's presence, making Dumbledore relax.

"And to whom do I owe the pleasure of this impromptu meeting?" he must place a lot of faith in Fawkes's immediate judgement, because he instantly relaxed, an infernal twinkle back in his eye that Harry would have almost said he missed if not for how irritating it was.

"….You're dead," said Harry very slowly, as though talking to a particularly thick child.

Dumbledore stroked his beard, wrinkling his nose a bit and turning to Fawkes, who let out a noise of disagreement.

"Interesting theory lad, but I'm afraid Fawkes would disagree, and the last I checked, I was very much in the land of the living," he frowned, wondering if he should get the boy to St Mungos, he looked shabby and out of sorts, and though he was clean, he still had a faint smell of blood about him, and the look of someone far too worn out – and not entirely human. He couldn't place his wand on the ethereal quality, but the simple words 'You're Dead' came from a low, dulcet tone that made him want to sink into his seat more in relaxation in a way that only a ditty from Fawkes ever could.

"My boy, you're going to have to take a seat and tell me your name, how you got here, and how you got under the unfortunate conclusion that I am, ah, deceased," he said, with a wry smile.

Harry almost wanted to faint, and opened his mouth to explain.

Absentmindedly Harry ran his fingers through Fawkes's feathers, quietly listening as Dumbledore and the current minister of magic argue if he was too dangerous to be around children after he'd been fire-called to come, or if he should be shipped off to the Unspeakables in hopes that they would find a 'cure' for what he had become. The arguing only got worse when he quietly informed the two that if his reality - which was years ahead in terms of advancement, could not 'cure' him, then what chance did they have? Plus it wasn't as if he wanted to change – he had earthen ability and an almost automatic mastery of a range light spells. Why would he give that up? He was a light wizard anyway, even if it was at the cost of a few small physical changes, he could certainly live with it.

In the end he lost his temper at the 'adults' and informed them, that at the end of the day it was his choice if he wanted to be an experiment of not and just like he told his so-called-best-friend: he was a living being with free will, not some toy for others to play with and take apart when it suited them.

Just because he wasn't fully human anymore, didn't give anyone the right to act as if he was some sort of dumb, drooling animal.

Dumbledore sighed, the minister spluttered, whilst Fawkes just cooed happily as he rubbed his feathered head against his.

"This is my room?" Harry asked as he stared at the rather dimly lit storage area. The headmaster nodded, making a few hand gestures to disperse most of the dust.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if some of the spiders that skittered across the floor were related to Aragog: huge, hairy and practically venomous looking with their huge fangs (he ignored the fact they were half the size of his palm) Harry really didn't want to go in there. It reminded him far too much of the cupboard under the stairs for his liking.

Dumbledore who didn't notice his hesitation (or just plain ignored it) continued on "You must understand, we haven't had a student-no, a child stay in Hogwarts for over two hundred years. Without you being re-sorted, I can't possibly allow you into the student dormitories with a good conscience,"

"Is it because I am legally over the age to be in school?"

Dumbledore chuckled "My dear boy, we have many students that are seventeen – be it from the war getting in the way or being held back and the like. I simply can't allow you entry due to the fact the magic in the dormitories may attack you if you don't have a student's permission to be there,"

'But when Ron and I were disguised as Crabbe and Goyle, we were able to get into the Slytherin dormitories…but didn't Draco invite us when he insulted Percy?' Harry pondered to himself.

"But how are you-" he started, only to be cut off.

"-I am an adult. It would be foolish to have protections against adults, what if a student was hurt and needed medical assistance?" he beamed "The portraits also act as security, and we don't allow adults who are not staff into the school, unless they are from the Ministry or the board of governors,"

Slowly nodding, he stepped into his new 'room', whilst trying his hardest not to cringe: dirt, broken floor boards, spiders and their webs, Harry was glad at least the dust was gone.

"I myself will be taking you to Diagon Alley. The Minister has given me permission to help you financially until you are able to graduate and accommodate yourself,"

Harry, insulted by the fact he wasn't trusted enough to look after himself protested "I don't need-"

"-Harry," the headmaster interrupted "-I don't know if you've actually thought about your situation with a clear mind, but you need as much help as you can get: money, security and even clothes. You have nothing to your name. The Ministry doesn't normally do this, and with each magical community still in recovery from the war – which my boy, is still ongoing in this time, you will not get this kind of a chance, at least, not for a very long time,"

His wise blue eyes softened over his glasses as his words clearly shook the boy to reality – he had to start over, and get used to a cover story they cooked up and still developing, which was mostly based in truth, with things omitted like obvious tussles with the Dark Lord himself and his former education in Hogwarts.

Harry shrunk under the wise old man's stare, and one oath later plus an approval from Fawkes was enough to get Dumbledore's approval, especially when it became apparent he wasn't even a Dark creature per-se, not that he seemed to have much regard for what the Ministry standard was on "dark" or "light" when it came to the difference non-human potential-students had. Everyone had a right to an education, it was a statement Dumbledore would live and die by.

"Harry, it'll be okay," he said gently after a moment, because sometimes – no matter how mature a person may seem, they needed somebody to absently comfort them, whether the statement was true or not, and Harry was grateful for that – truly.

"Culcita Rudentis," he said, waving his wand idly over some of the dusty old bottles kept in storage which slowly shaped into a large, plush mattress, though it didn't have a bed frame, it also took up half the small room, but it was a temporary measure until the following morning. Some baby blue bed sheets and pillows appeared too. Dumbledore cast a frown at Harry's footwear which were in a state of disrepair and cast a quick warming charm over the cold, stone floor that would last the chilly night before placing a small rug there.

"It's a little bare bones but only for one night," the room still looked pretty sad and not pleasant even for one night of rest, so he changed the walls to a soft, cream colour to allow some light in and a very quick complicated bit of enchantment for a temporary tiny window that would let him know when the sun was up that instantly made the room look passable. He couldn't dispel the spiders so he just cast an idle spell to keep them off the bed and looked at Harry kindly.

"Tomorrow morning I will have a house-elf wake you early and have you washed and watered before any students are awake, it'll give us enough time to have you down in the office to consult the Sorting Hat. After it makes a choice about what to do with you and we've got your cover properly sorted, I shall announce your presence at breakfast and you may get to know whomever your dorm mates will be," his twinkle was in full-force at this, and Harry couldn't help but cringe.

"-Then we shall shop my boy!" he clapped his hands together in excitement, which made Harry look at him all too warily, the man looked far too excited by the notion.

"Riiight."

"I must ask that you do not wander during the night, lest staff ask you questions before I get to speak to them, will you need me to provide ligh—" he trailed off at Harry's deadpan look, asking a light creature if they needed light was like asking an ocean if it needed more water.

"Never mind," he chuckled.

"I'll be okay, thanks Headmaster," murmured Harry softly, reluctantly letting Dumbledore leave the small room where he provided his own light from the tip of his wand, the setting sun letting it in too from the tiny window.

And now he was alone again, and sleeping was admittedly difficult.

"Headmaster Dumbleydoors is instructing me to wake you up Sir!" a bright, loud voice woke Harry up, immediately he grumbled, before hissing and covering his eyes with his hands, the sun wasn't even fully up yet – he groaned.

"Sorry Sirs, but Headmaster is insisting!" the elf proceeded to yank the sheets and pull Harry clean off the bed and tumble him onto the floor, where he met eyes deliriously with a tennis-ball-eyed, bouncy, hyped-up Hogwarts house elf.

"Hrg…?" he mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his lashes.

"My names is Smiffy Sir!" said the house elf, beaming and somewhow translating Grumbly Tired Teenager Speak into something understandable. He reached out his hand and let the elf take it, leading him in a half-asleep zombie state while awkwardly bent over as he walked in order to be led by the tiny creature to the empty prefect bathroom after mumbling the password, ensuring Harry's privacy.

"Headmaster Dumbleydoors is sayings you must wash the blood smell off and brush and come to his office, Smiffy is leaving you teefbrushes," said the elf, snapping his fingers and letting a blue brush and toothpaste appear in the tired boy's hands.

"Just call for Smiffy when you is done!" the elf popped out of sight, leaving two fresh towels in his wake and a bewildered, tired, teen.

It took him about five minutes of idleness to fully awaken, he brushed and hummed quietly, if only to fill the eerie silence of the prefect's bathroom at this time, letting the bath run. He slid inside and stretched languidly, groaning contently at the feel of the steaming hot water on his muscles and his less human traits that protruded from his back. Harry slid down and began washing his hair after taking his glasses off, washing up quickly and soothing his skin before draining the bath and putting his shabby robes back on – at least he was clean and fresh, and did his best to look neat despite the state of his clothes.

"Smiffy!" immediately the elf popped into view, looked over Harry appraisingly, before disappearing all the things he used and dragging him over to Dumbledore's office, much to the amusement of the young wizard, who was definitely awake by the time he was up the spiral staircase.

"Ah, good of you to join us, come sit, it's time to Sort you," said Dumbledore, not missing a beat and moving to pick up the old crinkly hat, and to his left, he saw his deputy – Minerva McGonagall, looking over what he assumed was his papers and what she was to tell other staff members in regards to Harry's situation as a ward of Hogwarts.

"Sleep well?" hummed Dumbledore as he plonked the hat onto the drying hair.

"Kind of," he sighed, closing his eyes as the hat fell over his eyebrows and woke up rather annoyed.

"Your head is moist!" the Hat complained, before McGonagall shot it a look as if to say 'hurry it up' – the Hat spoke aloud, mumbling in Harry's head a bit before further complaining.

"Pah! I Sorted you! In another life perhaps but Sorted all the same! Everybody gets one, and only one, so shoo! Shoo I say! To Gryffindor with you where you belong!" the Hat complained, making Dumbledore chuckle and pluck him off of Harry.

"I suppose that makes you one of mine," said McGonagall, looking at Harry appraisingly, her eyes widening when the Headmaster plucked the Hat off of Harry's head, and the heavy handle of a sword was visible first, bonking Harry on the head, a long blade that was far too large to be stored in the Hat if not for its enchantments, completely fell out of it's safe place, hitting Harry on the noggin in the process, and leaving Gryffindor's Sword at everyone's feet in the office.

"Well then…" Dumbledore trailed off, blinking owlishly before chuckling "-I suppose he's Gryffindor through and through Minerva,"

"Owww…" groaned Harry, rubbing the top of his head with something of a pout.

McGonagall only spluttered, before hesitating and floating the Gryffindor blade up so that it lay flat across Dumbledore's desk, staring at it intently as she'd never quite seen it in all its glory.

"The Sorting Hat keeps a founder's heirloom?" she said, her tone enquiring as to whether there were more, Dumbledore merely smiled and said nothing on the matter of whether the hat had any more surprises kept in it.

"Godric insisted it be kept safe, where better than something the four of them had enchanted together?" he clasped his hands, looking at Harry in a pleased manner.

"Right well, maybe not on something that goes on student's heads, what if it went blade-side down? You'd be mopping me off the floor," muttered Harry, still rubbing his sore head.

"Quite right, I shall have it warded and stored here, why it's been in that hat so long I forgot it was even there," the headmaster chortled, making McGonagall give him a sharp look.

"Well, if your stories are all straight, I just have one thing about Mr Fey's sleeping arrangements," her tone was crisp, though there were concerns.

"You can stay where you are and have it permanently renovated – though that'd require explaining to your classmates one would assume – I can just hear the cries of 'special treatment'," the Head of Gryffindor all but groaned, and Harry winced.

"Well maybe not, the beds in the dorms have privacy curtains right? In the older dorms? If I'm going into sixth year?" he said "-it shouldn't be too much of a problem, don't worry about it, we'll try to keep my uh – less than normal attributes from the majority of the Hogwarts populace, but if it comes out, it comes out. I'd rather get to experience Hogwarts as a normal kid," for once, he added silently.

"I can speak to one of the Gryffindor prefects – Mr Lupin is our male prefect for Gryffindor," said McGonagall in thought "-I'm sure he's trustworthy despite his associations, perhaps he'd help you keep a lid on it if we have him up here and speak with him about it, but it's your decision," it was a good idea, but Harry shook his head, Remus had his own secret, it'd probably be really awkward between the pair if hiding their nonhuman sides was the first interaction they had. No – he'd play the game raw and see how it turned out, dangerous – yes, but few things scared Harry much anymore.

"Very well, if you insist, however if you have any trouble, you come to me, or the headmaster, wouldn't you?" said McGonagall "-ideally we should be your foremost ports of call before approaching other staff members or prefects, we want to make your time here as easy as we can. Will you be requiring a revision schedule?" she asked, making Harry blink in confusion.

"I should be fine, I remember most of my OWL material, I'll just brush over it to make sure nothing's hugely changed – but from what you said, the curriculum sounds similar enough…when will I be resitting those?" he asked, tilting his head – he didn't have his official letter or record of his OWLs he'd taken so it had to be done, regardless.

"As soon as possible, next week or this week even, if you're so very sure," said McGonagall in thought "-we'd just have to consult the other staff members to see that they find the time to privately oversee you in their subject, and then you can pick your NEWT classes and join your year group,"

"Being roomed with them might help actually, as they'll be starting their NEWT classes too, they can perhaps give you a better insight into them so you know what you want to do and what OWL grades to aim for," she said after a moment, before letting Harry get another word in edgeways.

"As soon as possible then, best get them out the way," honestly his OWLs seemed pathetically easy in hindsight, he just had to go over the book theory to refresh his mind on the written aspects of it all and he should pass with the same or maybe even better grades the second time around.

"Three days' time then, I shall have answers from the other staff as to when you can sit their subject exam, until then you are, as the muggles say – a 'free agent' – it should give you and the headmaster time to get your affairs in order," said McGonagall primly.

Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles, as though searching for any sign that Harry wouldn't be ready for his OWLs, though the boy merely returned his stare with a levelled look – until the irritable Sorting Hat, who'd been listening the whole time, butted in.

"The boy could sit his OWL for every bloody subject and be fine! I've been in his moist little head! Enough now, or you'll be running late. Shoo, shoo. Let a Hat get a nap," snapped the irritable bit of cloth, making McGonagall scowl and the elderly headmaster chuckle.

"Well then, Harry my boy, you should walk with me and let Minerva go ahead of us, and discuss your introduction to the other staff members, in fact…yes yes, you'll come with us to the staff table until the announcements are over and then join your fellow Gryffindors for the feast – get to know your future housemates," his eyes twinkled at this, which only served to make Harry more wary as opposed to comforted, and snatched a lemon sherbet on his way out, sucking on it idly to take his thoughts off of panicking.

"Just one more thing to have you looking a little less like a certain Gryffindor and a little more human," said Albus after a moment, tapping his wand silently on the bridge of Harry's bottle-sized glasses, turning them into smooth, black, rectangular frames.

"Aqua Depulso," the lenses shined and returned to normal, before casting a final powerful charm.

"Oculi Hominum Insatiabiles," a light glamour, and nearly impossible to undo unless you happened to be a certain short Charms master.

"What was that?" Harry asked, conversationally as they headed toward the Great Hall.

"Something to keep the rain and cold weather fogging them up and to smooth out the slit-like aspects of your pupils, I almost didn't notice them until you sat across me in the office, but now it's a little less obvious," smiled the man kindly.

"Thanks," he mumbled in turn.

"Ah and before I forget, you can shadow a class or two just to get to grips with things, then I'll come find you and we'll head to the Alley to get you supplies,"

The sounds of feet pattering along the corridors filled his ears and his senses were overwhelmed quickly by the scent of many, many children and sweaty teens, it was almost deliriousness inducing, making him blink rapidly to get his vision to straighten out – bloody hell, it didn't matter what year it was – Hogwarts was always filled to the brim with kids.

Harry wasn't really noticed by the flock of gaggling students, who were chattering excitedly with one another to not notice the teachers stalk in and take their place on the high table.

Albus conjured up a small temporary chair beside himself and sat at the centre, turning to a curious Horace Slughorn, who was fiddling with his glasses to peer at Harry curiously.

"My word Albus, where have you been hiding this one?" curiosity oozing from his tone, apparently, McGonagall hadn't gotten a chance to say anything to them yet, as she took her seat at that moment.

"I don't recognise you," said Filius Flitwick, looking at Harry curiously, before smiling at him and looking up at the headmaster quizzically.

"Staff, I'd like to introduce you to my ward, he's been displaced due to the recent spike in Death Eater activity and I've accepted him into Hogwarts for the foreseeable, you will all hear about it in the announcements shortly and I'm sure you'll have a chance to present me or Minerva with inquisition soon enough," Dumbledore twinkled, and immediately Flitwick's face fell.

"Oh you poor boy," he patted Harry's hand, before willing him not to be nervous, though his eyes filled with sympathy.

"Not to worry, you're safe at Hogwarts, no Death Eater dare penetrate the grounds and you will be looked after here, tell me, have you been Sorted yet?"

"Gryffindor," said Harry shortly "-I'll be doing my exams soon so I can pick my NEWT classes -and be with all of the sixth years properly," his voice made the rest of the table turn their heads to him, as though registering the dulcet tone as something that shouldn't quite belong to him.

Filius's eyes widened and he nodded hurriedly. "Ah, yes, yes. Exams are important, can't let displacement from this damnable war permanently mar your future. I'm sure you'll love Gryffindor – Miner—Ah, Professor McGonagall is an excellent head of house, though if you need any help academically and the like, you can approach me or any of the other staff,"

"It's a sorry state of affairs isn't it?" said Horace Slughorn with a frown, before petting Harry briefly on the head, making the boy scowl a bit unnoticed. "Never fear though, I'm sure you'll fit right in, I look forward to seeing you in my Potion's class – ah well, should you choose it for NEWTs at any rate – you look like a bright boy,"

"Horace don't crowd the boy," said the kindly and infinitely younger Professor Sprout, who flashed Harry a gorgeous grin.

"No need to look so nervous, there's never a friendlier bunch," she said, and oddly, Harry did relax, his eyes settling on the tired man who had yet to speak at all.

"Erasmus Bancroft, I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, in these times, I know you can appreciate the importance of it, so I expect to see you trying your hardest," he said heavily, even making McGonagall frown just a bit – it was a bit much to lay on the lad, who looked ready to duck under the table under the stares.

"Hush hush, Albus is doing announcements," said a startlingly young Charity Burbage – a Muggle Studies professor.

"Students of Hogwarts, I shan't keep you from your meals for very long, as I now we're all eager to chow down," his eyes twinkled a bit, standing at the broad winged metal phoenix stand that acted as a podium, bouncing a Sonarus charm to every bit of speech that was spoken over it so that it carried across the Great Hall without an echo.

At the mention of chowing down, his eyes had flitted to the Gryffindor table, to an impatient, mousy boy who had a fork hanging out of his mouth and a sheepish expression.

"I'd like to introduce you to a new addition to our fold – joining the Gryffindor sixth years," this made the more impatient members of the house pause and look up at the man, and suddenly Harry felt the urge to shrink under the staff table even more.

"Unfortunately, many face displacement in these trying times, so I ask that you do your very best to show him what a warm and accommodating place Hogwarts can be – Harry, come here," he put on the role of a less teacher-y and more grandfatherly nature, and suddenly Harry felt very unnerved by it all, and had to will his legs not to shake.

He was never good with fame.

Harry flinched at the feeling of hundreds of eyes on him at once, but he couldn't deny there was some comfort in having the headmaster's hand at his back, silently keeping him up against the scrutinizing stares at his face, his clothes and battered shoes.

The Gryffindor table was looking at him with the most interest, since he'd been introduced as one of theirs.

"…Hey, it's Evil Prongs," giggled Sirius after a moment, making the mousy boy choke the fork out of his mouth onto the table with a clatter.

A boy with dark, messy, short hair and bottle-like glasses cocked a brow at the young Black heir, arms folded over his chest.

"Who says I'm not the evil one?" he grinned, he could see a loose resemblance, but really – the boy had higher cheekbones and longer hair, and was half a head shorter than him "-besides, I'm more good-looking," James Potter insisted, making Peter snort loudly.

"This, is Harry James Fey, and I trust the House of Lions to look after my ward," now that raised more eyes to look at him, making Harry squirm a bit.

"Now, I'm sure you're all dying to eat and meet your classmate, so with that, Bon Appetite," he clapped his hands and the feast resumed instantly, the hall filled with chatter as Harry stepped down from the announcement area, feeling the students from Hufflepuff adjacent to Gryffindor, turn their heads to look at him as he passed by, and a few Slytherin's – until a prefect hissed 'wind your necks in, the lot of you,'

Immediately, Harry felt his throat go dry at the sight of four very young, eerily familiar boys, and one, who so closely resembled his old reflection, that it was extremely jarring, and to the right of him – bloody hell, with no lines on his face or haunted gauntness, was his godfather, and further down, a familiar face also lacking signs of age and a healthy mess of light hair with absence of all greys – and a tiny, mousy lad, that made Harry want to scowl on instinct.

"Hey, there's a seat here!" the boy with long, light hair felt he had to step up as prefect on behalf of the bewildered looking student, ushering him close and all but plonking him down in the seat for him.

Upon closer inspection, they could see his long black hair was a little fluffy, but weighted down to carry a little past his chin, and piercing green eyes behind a set of rectangular frames – Killing Curse eyes, soft lips and narrow features, slim wrists and lean body. Despite his battered clothes, the word neat sprang to mind, neat enough – anyway.

"Dumbledore's ward, huh? Does that mean he's like your dad or something?" asked the mousy boy, Harry almost snapped on instinct, but the last thing he wanted to do was lynch a boy who had yet to commit any crimes.

Yet.

"Legal guardian, I just live at the school now, we don't have a father-son relationship if that's what you're asking," said Harry smoothly. Peter Pettigrew's eyes widened just a little, and 'Oh, Merlin…' was the first thought to flash across Sirius Black's mind before he could control it, he didn't know what that was for but there something dulcet and melodic that he couldn't place. It reminded him of veela, except he knew there wasn't such a thing as a male veela, it was only really comparable to a supernatural thrall – a pull, rarely did a voice ever remind him of piano keys playing along an echoed marble hall, and from Remus's face, he noticed it too, but looked more transfixed by it than anything.

James was looking for the same thing Sirius was – some tied silk charm on his persons and tied together by a small unnoticed bell and perhaps some flowers or rune, usually kept in the hair or around the neck, something to assure a seductive lilt that helped ensnare many men under the thumbs of songstress women. It was highly complicated and seen amongst the older pureblooded women, but such alterations had fallen out of fashion now – viewed as a pointless enhancement the way some people might view muggle breast enlargement surgeries as negative – it was seen as the sign of a shallow, ill-befitting addition to a modern ensemble. Neither had heard of males doing it, he didn't even think it worked on males, but there was nothing on the Fey boy to suggest it.

The two shared a look, and James shrugged it off – they had a silent conversation with their eyes, before they began talking excitedly to their newest addition.

"Harry James Fey huh, any relation to James over there?" asked Remus, snapping out of his daze, it was a bit quick to suggest he might not be a normal wizard, but for some reason, his senses reacted a little strangely to the boy's presence beside him.

"Uh, I wouldn't think so, unlikely at any rate, my parents were muggleborns," at the use of past-tense, the subject was dropped, mercifully by young Lupin, who was able to change the conversation easily.

"None of us have introduced ourselves yet have we? Sorry, we know your name but you don't know us—"

"We're infamous," beamed Sirius, grinning at Harry, unbeknownst to his inner turmoil over the whole situation.

"We're the Marauders," grinned James, and Harry did his best to school his expression into an innocent one.

"I'm Sirius Black, that evil twin of yours over there is James Potter," said Sirius, beaming bright enough to light the entire hall up on its own without the need of the candles and chandeliers.

"I'm Peter," offered the mousy boy, and then Remus slid back into the conversation, used to having to get his word in edgeways by simply butting in when it came to his large group of friends.

"And I'm Remus Lupin, I'm also a prefect so if you get lost or something just ask, okay? Dumbledore would probably have our guts for garters if we lost you on the first day," he smiled good naturedly, while Sirius cackled.

"Perfect Prefect Lupin~" he teased, making the other roll his eyes.

"Never mind them Fey, that's just how they are," snorted Remus.

Dinner went by smoothly and Harry could say he was honestly enjoying himself. Though he had yet to see Lilly Evans, he admitted to himself he wasn't ready to see the child version of his deceased mother. He had only been around James for less than an hour and he could feel his eyes tearing up at random moments.

Luckily he was surrounded by non-observant children: no one noticed and quite possibly, no one would care even if they did. Everyone had lost a friend, or knew of someone who lost a relative due to death eater attacks. Harry crying wouldn't bother them in the slightest.

"So…what lesson do you guys have?" Harry suddenly asked just as they were about to leave for their first class "I'm supposed to follow the sixths years for their first lesson,"

Sirius barked out in laughter "Tough luck mate, most of the classes from third year are mixed, but if you have a choice where to go…" he trailed off looking at James, who shrugged in reply.

"You may as well come with us. We have Defence Against the Dark Arts first, Charms, then Potions. We were supposed to have Care of Magical Creatures but…the teacher almost had his arm torn off,"

Harry's eyes widened "By what?"

James who had enough of being silent, butted in before Sirius could continue.

"A Hippogriff, dark creatures they are. What if they attacked the students?"

Harry frowned slightly "Hippogriffs are very proud creatures-not dark, but they are certainly not light. They will attack those who treat them with disrespect,"

"Kettleburn's not exactly known for treating others with respect," Remus said with a frown.

"You…have to be respectful to Hippogriffs?"

"Yes. If you're not, don't be surprised if one attacks you,"

"H-how do you treat one 'respectfully'?" Peter asked with a small quiver in his voice. Harry winced slightly as the small teen spoke, causing them to frown: he still couldn't get his head around the fact Pettigrew was a few feet away from him, and he couldn't even hit the bloke due to the fact he technically hadn't done anything to deserve it.

"Harry?"

"Y-you bow to it, and let him or her come to you,"

Sirius laughed suddenly "Bad experience?" Harry quickly thought of a reason for his earlier reaction.

"No…a boy I knew insulted one and was almost permanently scarred. If he hadn't reacted in time and shielded his face with his arms," he frowned "The Hippogriff would have torn his throat out with his claws,"

The four boys paled at his words "Wh-why would he be stupid enough to insult…why?"

"He was a prat and thought of showing off, not liking the fact someone he hated interacted with the Griffin first and came out unscratched,"

"So he insulted the Hippogriff, knowing it was dangerous just because he could?"

"He-" Harry scowled further "Yeah. Draco was the perfect example of a spoilt kid, who thought he knew everything just because his family had money, and no one would dare harm him because he was a Pureblood," all five boys went silent, before Remus cleared his throat.

"Well…the Hippogriff showed him-"

"-Watch where you walking! You almost pushed me off the stairs you dolts!" almost jumping in surprise, Harry stared at the angry Hufflepuff in slight fear as he realised that yes, they had almost pushed the boy off due to not paying any attention to where they were walking.

He was glad the staircases weren't moving otherwise they all would be a nice splat on the first floor.

"Hey! We didn't mean any harm!" James glared.

Sirius nodded rapidly in agreement "You couldn't have been paying attention either, since how did you not notice five boys walking towards you?"

"Y-you! Don't you try and blame me, you were the ones who-"

"-now you're holding up everyone," James continued, causing the boy's face to redden angrily at being ignored "Now, will you please let us pass so we can get to our lesson on time?"

"Why you-"

"-Look we're sorry," Harry finally interrupted causing the Marauders to stare and the boy to frown in his direction "We honestly didn't mean it, it was an accident,".

"Yeah well, it might have been an accident, but that doesn't change the fact that if I fel-", he suddenly froze whilst grasping his throat, sending an accusing glare at Sirius who was twirling his wand happily.

"As much as I like a good fight. We really do need to get going, otherwise Professor Bancroft is going to have a fit if we're late to his class again," he smirked "But…if we tell him how we were held up after apologising. It won't be us he will be angry at…" the boy's face quickly whitened in terror at the thought of facing an angry Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher on his first day of school. Nodding, he sent Sirius a pleading look and made a gesture to his throat.

Sirius could only grin in amusement "I don't know how to cancel it, you're going to have to ask Madame Pomfrey,"

Harry could only sigh.

"Professor Bancroft isn't…horrible. He just doesn't like people messing around in his class," Remus said with a sigh, staring at the smirking pair of idiots as they spoke quietly to each other with a grin and got to their DaDA class.

Peter nodded in agreement.

"He's not exactly helpful either, if you struggle in his class he will expect you to learn in your own time, rather than waste everyone else's,"

"But…isn't that what teachers are there for? To teach? Anyone can read and study a book after all," Harry found himself reminded eerily of Umbridge – though Bancroft wasn't nearly as bad, and acknowledged their need for vigilance and practical work at any rate.

Peter frowned "Don't tell him that, or he'll give you detention for the rest of the month, and make your life miserable," he glared at the floor "-the curse hasn't even worked: he gets injured each year, but keeps coming back, he's like-"

"-Fungus," Remus interrupted "There's a bet going on that he'll either end up with both his legs broken again, or he'll fall out the window and this time die,".

"This…time?"

"Someone accidentally set the curtains alight, and he fell out of the widow trying to put them out,"

Harry could only blink in reply.

"The position is hexed, they say You-Know-Who did it before he left Hogwarts," said Sirius in a hush-hush tone.

"No teacher lasts a year," murmured Remus "-we tend to place bets on how they're gonna go, Bancroft is the longest runner yet,"

"Bleak," muttered Harry, effectively silenced by the stern look shot at them by the professor, who had age lines on his face, but only one stray lock of grey hair amongst dark oak brown strands that could almost pass for black, and piercing grey eyes.

"Now…"

"Can anyone tell me anything about Lethifolds?" said Professor Bancroft with a silencing sort of ability that was able to hush both houses easily and reduce the Marauders to passing notes.

"...Potter!" Harry had to fight the urge to flinch as James was called on.

"Give me a fact about Lethifolds, if you're confident enough to be passing notes to not pay attention,"

"Uh – they're sort of like Dementors but more rare and eat flesh not souls?" said James ungracefully, but the man nodded, accepting the answer, and the class proceeded to drone on in relative peace.