AN/SUMMERY: This will be a slow friendship that with eventually grow to be a romance. Harry is more intelligent but less socially able. His classmates and relatives are also a bit worse than in the book. Harry is also an emotional yo-yo ball. He is a lonely, isolated, abused kid who is less forgiving of others treatment of him. He is young so his reasoning is not always the best and his logical is not always logical so please forgive him his moments he isn't stupid just young and scared. ps, this is not betaed please ignore the grammar issues.

Hogwarts wasn't quite what Harry had expected it to be.

It had been wonderful at first. The thrill of leaving the Dursleys, getting enough to eat, not being beaten bloody every day, and learning magic was the best feeling in the world. It was like something out of a storybook and Harry had let himself be swept up in it.

Reality had reasserted itself in pieces. Small ones at first though that quickly cascaded at an unbelievable rate. Why were students like Malfoy allowed to get away with murder in the hallways? He wasn't, despite being a Slytherin, very subtle about it. He yelled out the word mudblood constantly. He would actually attack other students in the corridors, Neville was a constant victim of this outright abuse. And yet not one teacher, or even the nurse for that matter, had done anything about it.

It wasn't an isolated student doing it though, Malfoy was, apparently, in good company. Along with dozens of Slytherins doing the same thing, Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey being particularly open and vicious about it, there were students from other Houses doing it as well. Amid the worst of the offenders, just in his year mind you, was Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff, and Michael Corner from Ravenclaw. Padma and Parvati Patil, though very quiet about it in comparison and a Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively, were unbelievably cruel in other ways. They had been the ones that had turned the Gryffindor girls against Hermione, whose only real crime was being more intelligent than them and a muggleborn. Between them and Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin they had complete control of their year's gossip and were free to build and destroy reputations on a whim. Anybody who they didn't like, anybody they thought they were better than, and anybody who scored higher in their classes were all fair game.

Was it any wonder Harry deliberately undermined his own grades? He had absolutely no desire to repeat the misery of his early primary years by outscoring his classmates. No, it was best to let the cutthroat purebloods duke it out in class and just practice and study to his heart's content in one of the many deserted classrooms by himself. After all, it was no secret that the only tests that matter are the OWLS and NEWTS. It wasn't even possible to fail out of Hogwarts in any years but fifth and seventh, Hogwarts wanted all the money they could gouge from the students and their families. Best to keep his head down and do as he liked in safety, at least until his OWLS in the fifth year, at least then nobody would be able to do anything about it. He just hoped for her sake that Hermione eventually learned to do the same.

The only way the teachers didn't know of the hallway warfare was if they were all collectively blind, deaf, and unforgivably stupid. Yet they did nothing about it.

So now here Harry was three-quarters of his way through his first year at Hogwarts and he was beginning to think that he had made a mistake in coming here. The dragon incident, as he was beginning to think of it in his head, had revealed to him a very dangerous thing. His fame, which he had hated from the beginning, was going to become a massive problem. No scratch that, it already was a massive problem.

At the beginning of the year, Harry had been overwhelmed by the attention he had received from his fellow students. Everybody wanted to talk to him, spend time with him, befriend him. And Harry had, for the most part, allowed it. He didn't know how to make it stop having never had a single person, much less an entire school full of them, want to be around him before. He hadn't liked it but he lacked the social skills required to make it end. So Harry smiled and bore it as best he could and hid away in the quiet of the classroom on the second floor, where no classes were actually held at all strangely, as often as he could.

However, it had all changed in one night about two weeks ago. Harry and Hermione had snuck that damn dragon out of the school in an attempt to help Hagrid, also known as the most irresponsible person Harry had ever met, and lost fifty points each for doing it. As a result, he was now being ostracized by the entire school!

Nobody in Gryffindor would talk to him anymore and everybody went out of their way to avoid him. They had even taken to actively insulting him in the loudest whispers imaginable. Even Hermione and Ron had stopped hanging around him, sick of the unpleasant backlash that washed their way. The Quidditch team that had been so excited at having him as one of their own had stopped referring to him as a person and had degenerated to just referring to him as "the seeker" like losing house points meant he was no longer human. Even Fred and George Weasley, who collectively lost hundreds of points every year by themselves, had begun doing it.

When Harry had finally gotten sick of it enough to quit the team the whispers had gotten all the more vicious.

Hermione and Neville were shunned as well of course for the points they had lost but nothing like how Harry was. It was the price he paid for being universally known.

Even the once friendly students of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had turned on him. Apparently, they were angry that Gryffindor was now behind Slytherin in the house race. As far as Harry could tell they wanted Gryffindor to win because Hufflepuff was too stupid and Ravenclaw was too lazy to win the cup themselves. Hermione got tons of points for answering questions in class so why didn't Ravenclaw pick up the slack if they were so desperate for the snakes to lose? Why didn't Hufflepuff win if Neville got so many points for his teamwork in herbology? Sprout was their head of house she would have rewarded them. Apparently, they were loyal but not in anyway helpful to each other.

At this point, Harry didn't want to be friends with any of the wishy-washy backstabbers anymore anyway. But... he was lonely. At least in Surry, the librarian would talk to him, here the chances of Pince talking to him for more than two seconds was so laughable it was absurd. Madame Pince hated the Hogwarts students almost as much as Filch did.

His only real friend in the world was Hedwig. Which was why Harry was sitting in the owlery with her, instead of being in the great hall for lunch, while he contemplated the newest of his problems. The two books currently sitting on his lap.

In defense of the books, they were rather handsome things. Dark gray leather was soft to the touch and the binding, consisting of a thin strip of leather crisscrossing the spine, was rather pretty. The parchment pages within were a lovely golden color. Across the covers, embossed with a shiny golden filigree, were the words, Pen Friend.

Every year the Hogwarts first years were given these books and were told to send one of them out. The teachers didn't care to who so long as they were sent. They were created so that what was written in one book would show up in the other, presumably to cut down on people giving up their pen friends with the excuse that the correspondence took too long. They were also mildly enchanted to encourage the owners to write in them, to tell the truth, and to never run out of parchment.

The problem was that Harry had nobody to send his book to.

He didn't want to send it to somebody that he knew. He couldn't and didn't really want to send it to a muggle without breaking the Statute of Secrecy so that was out. But on the other hand, he didn't want to send it to anybody in the wizarding world, he had yet to meet a wizard that didn't make him feel extremely uncomfortable. As far as he could tell wizards all either hated him or they worshiped him for a little while and then they hated him. He honestly felt he couldn't trust any of them. But he had to send one of the books out. It was a mandatory history, for some reason, assignment and just because he wanted to seem average didn't mean that he could not do the work.

So what to do. With a sigh, Harry turned and looked at Hedwig, who had been watching him without blinking for nearly half an hour.

"What should I do Hedwig?" he asked her rather hopelessly not expecting a reply, but enjoying having somebody to talk to.

Hedwig gave a little hoot of acknowledgment before ruffling her feathers like she was coming to a decision of her own before sticking her leg out expectantly.

Harry blinked in surprise. "You want to choose a friend for me Hedwig?" he asked softly.

Bobbing her head slightly and hooting again in agreement Hedwig proffered her leg a little more firmly toward Harry.

"Well if you're sure," Harry told her, " I suppose a clever girl like you could find anyone in the world, can't you. Even a person that might like me for me and doesn't care about my fame at all. Someone that won't turn on me at the drop of a hat. Thank you, Hedwig, just give me a minute to write them a letter to explain okay?"

Feeling, perhaps illogically, better than he had in months, Harry set about writing a letter to a person he didn't know.

Dear Stranger,

As you probably know every year at Hogwarts the first year students do a pen friend exchange. While traditionally we send these books to relatives or friends that have already graduated I find that I have no such person in my life to send a letter to. I send this to you, who I do not know, randomly. My owl (Hedwig) is a fantastic judge of character and I have great hope that she will choose for me a person that I can eventually come to consider a friend.

I do, however, understand if you feel that you do not want to invest your time in somebody that you do not, and may never, know in person. If you find that you cannot then I thank you for your time and ask that you simply not write in the book. The enchantments on the book will end in seven days if the book is never written in. In this case, you have my promise that I will not bother you any further. If you do however send me a letter in the book than I thank you and promise to write back at the first opportunity.

As for myself, I am eleven years old and a male first-year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My favorite classes are Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, though unfortunately, the professor we have for the latter is significantly less than satisfactory. My least favorite class is Potions because the teacher is a joke and it is very difficult to self-study without access to the student ingredient storeroom outside of class sessions.

I'm sure that you have noticed that I have not given my name or house affiliation. To be perfectly honest I have found the preconceived notions that people have when confronted by such things to be more than a little alarming. As such, I hope you forgive me for keeping both to myself for the time being. In lieu of my given name, please call me Owl. I choose this name because not only is my closest confidant, whom you have met, an owl but because they are known to be watchers of the world around them, a trait I feel that I make great use of in my life for various reasons.

I end this with a final hope that you will wish to continue this correspondence.

Thank you for your time,

Owl

That being completed Harry wrapped the book in brown paper and strapped the letter to it with a piece of twine.

Harry watched with faint hope as Hedwig flew away that he may soon have an actual person to talk to after spending so many days so very alone.

It was sometimes difficult, Hedwig thought as she flew away from the Hogwarts owlery, having a human for a chick. They were so very vulnerable in ways an owlet never was. Owlets were raised from the egg knowing that they were strong and worthy and that such things would always be true. Her human chick didn't seem to have received these vital lessons. It made Hedwig even more protective of her chick than she might have been naturally.

Thankfully her chick seemed to understand that he could come to Mummy Hedwig with his problems or when he was lonely.

So Hedwig, hearing her poor little, for his kind anyway, chick's problems had volunteered to scout out an appropriate companion for him. She was thrilled that he was smart enough to trust his mother with such matters and was determined to find the perfect lifemate for her chick.

Now if only she knew where to begin.

Thankfully unlike her Harry-chick Hedwig had made a true friend since coming to Hogwarts and she knew that she could count on him to help her. As a phoenix Fawkes had the ability to know the true nature of a living being and that was exactly what Hedwig needed now above all else.

Leaving the Headmaster's tower not long later Hedwig knew she had made the right choice. Fawkes had found the perfect human to help her chick. He had even had his human chick (and only a phoenix would keep a chick that old in their nest) add a spell to the book to keep the recipient from telling others about the correspondence so long as they wrote in the book before anybody else saw it. Apparently, he thought Harry having an anonymous friend was a fine idea and wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself.

Silly human chick, maybe that was why Fawkes did not yet trust him with his own nest despite his great age.

Her problem now solved Hedwig set off to find her Harry-chick's new friend. Catching a warm updraft under her wings she set off toward Winchester.

Thirteen-year-old Nate Rivers, better known as Near, sat on his dorm room floor contemplating the strange new problem he was facing.

Near had been living in Wammy's House, an orphanage for genius children, for several years now, but despite attempts by teachers and staff to make Near's admittedly very advanced curriculum challenging Near had never had to try very hard to succeed. Academics just came easily to Near. It often felt as if he already knew the material and was simply being reminded of it rather than being taught it. There was no challenge.

Until now.

Near was officially failing a class.

The idea of such a thing would have been laughable had Near been inclined to such outbursts, which he absolutely was not, but instead, it was rather unsettling. Near had never lost a game before and losing in the game of academia was bewildering.

The diminutive teen leaned back against the side of his bed, one knee pulled toward his chest with his other leg lazily tucked underneath him, and swept a lock of white blond hair out of his dark gray eyes while he contemplated his dilemma.

Wammy' House, apart from being an orphanage for genius children, had another purpose. Every resident became aware of it within days of arrival. Wammy's was not a school, it was a training facility run solely with the goal of reproducing copies of the greatest detective in the world, a man known only as 'L'.

One of the required classes for any of the Letters (the top students of the facility of which, until now, Near was by far the best) was a psychology course aimed at developing an understanding of the impact emotions had in a criminal case be they victim, bystander, perpetrator, of detective. The students were also expected to learn to negotiate the confusing quagmire of social interactions to gain information that a suspect may not want to part with, learn to coax information from reluctant witnesses, and retrieve important clues from, often traumatized and hysterical, victims.

This required knowing how to intimidate and control. They needed to be a person's nightmare, confidant, and friend by turns depending on the circumstances. To do this they needed to have an intimate understanding of emotions and social interactions.

And Near was terrible at it.

Which was unacceptable.

The problem with social interactions, Near decided, was that the were social. He could admit to himself, though he knew that it was obvious to everyone who interacted with him in any way, that emotions were not his area of expertise. Sure he could clinically state how each emotion would affect the case, and he could spend hours detailing why a person would act a certain way and even accurately predict how someone would act based on specific circumstances.

But he didn't understand them.

Near had emotions, of course, he wasn't a robot no matter what the other residents liked to believe, he was just completely incapable of expressing them. Unfortunately, this made the people around him very uncomfortable. It might lend him well toward intimidating and questioning suspects but nobody was going to be coming to Near when in need of a confidant. Nobody would choose to trust him when he tried to coax anything useful from them. And Near did not know how to fix it.

The obvious answer was to spend time with someone and practice. Yet there was nobody in this place that he trusted not to deliberately undermine him in an effort to knock him from his top spot in the race for the Letters.

Perhaps Quillsh Wammy might have worked but he already had an emotionally stunted genius to deal with.

His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden tap on his window.

Near looked up from his seat on his toy-strewn dorm room floor puzzled by the occurrence. There were no trees by his window, and there was no way to climb up to it from the outside. Brushing his hair from his eyes once more he peered towards the window, eyes wide.

Climbing to his feet Near opened his window and was shocked to have a large snowy owl (Not native to England, a strange presence even before it had entered his room.) invading his dorm. Taking a closer look at it, he realized it was carrying a large package. Completely apart from the thought that such a large object tied to an owl should have removed its ability to fly he couldn't help but wonder how anybody had managed to tie something to a living owl at all. The owl didn't even seem to be bothered by it except that it was waving it's leg at him, clearly trying to get him to remove the package.

He didn't. Who knew what was in it? Though it had never happened on the orphanage grounds there were plenty of people out there who would love to cause harm to L and all who fell under him.

Near went to the wall and sounded the alarm. There was no way he was going to take such a stupid risk.

They had checked the package for fingerprints. They had searched for chemicals of any sort that the book, note or packaging could be covered in, they had even had it x-rayed and scanned for any kind of microchips or devices that could have been planted in them.

Nothing was found. The only thing that was unusual was that the images from the various computer scans and x-ray pictures came out far more grainy than what such high-end equipment should have been producing. Unfortunately, they could not determine the cause.

They were all set to write the whole thing off as the ramblings of some insane kid except for one thing. They had tried to remove a sample of the leather book cover and parchment for further testing in hopes of pinpointing exactly where they had originated from and found that they couldn't. No knife could cut them. They could not be ripped of torn. Even trying to separate a piece using a laser failed completely, not even leaving a mark on it to show the attempt.

As technology currently stood it should not have been scientifically possible and yet here it was.

So now here they sat, Near, L, and Wammy deciding on their next course of action because if the letter was to be believed, and they were secretly each beginning to at least question the possibility, then they were running out of time. According to the note sent by the one that called themselves Owl they only had a few more hours before the lack of writing in the Pen Friend book ended the so-called 'enchantments'. Whatever that meant.

" We will have to test it." L decided busily stacking sugar cubes into a slightly leaning tower in front of him. "It is the final path that we have ahead of us at this time and we must exhaust every possibility. It would be foolish to not do so and allow the only explanation that we currently have to slip between our fingers because we were unwilling to acknowledge a possibility, no matter how absurd."

"And what do we do" asked Quillsh Wammy, watching Near for once rather than his normal charge, "if it turns out to be true."

Nobody said anything as they all paused in their conversation to glance once more at the book in front of them.

"If", Near began in his monotone voice," it turns out to be real we can use the connection to question the being on the other side. If nothing else we must determine the physical nature of the book and how such an indestructible item was acquired."

"In that case," Wammy stated with a kind smile on his old face, " perhaps you should do the honors Near as the book was specifically sent to you."

Near stared at him blankly before turning back to the table they were sitting around and pulling the gray notebook labeled Pen Friend toward himself and picking up a pen. Opening the book he paused for just a moment before he touched the pen to the parchment and began to write.

Once he was done he closed the thing with a quiet snap.

All that there was left to do was wait for the response that they were not expecting to come.

They were quite astonished when, the next day, the book began to glow and a message appeared on the second page of the book despite having photographic proof that nobody had touched it.

Further testing afterward would prove that no matter who attempted to or how, for some reason, nobody was capable of writing in the book other than Near, even when they used the exact same pen.

Eventually, other cases came up and they left Near to acquire as much information on the wizarding world as possible and submit the information to the databanks for further study. Other than the monthly meetings and emergencies they left Near to write to Owl on his own.

Quillsh and L would notice as time went on that, though subtle, Near was very much benefiting from having somebody to talk to. That they were a goldmine of astonishing and useful information was simply a, rather large, benefit.

Harry had more or less given up on hearing back from his potential pen friend by the time six days had passed and his copy of the book had not registered a letter.

Disappointed but not altogether surprised Harry had gone to Professor Binns and informed him that the person he had sent his letter book to had not responded. This, apparently, had happened to students before so Harry had been given an alternative assignment that consisted of reading various history books and submitting essays on them once a week. Harry didn't argue with this as he was reading those books anyway and now had an excuse to have them checked out that the Ravenclaws could not argue against, even if they still tried to punish him for it. They seemed to think the library and everything in it was there solely for the Ravenclaws use.

Because of this, he was rather surprised to find his book gently glowing from where he had dumped it that morning at the foot of his bed showing he had an unread letter inside.

Excited, he climbed on his bed and shut the curtains around him before eagerly grabbing his book and opening it to the first page. His enthusiasm slowly dimmed to horror however as he read his very first Pen Letter.

Owl,

I will concede to calling you such with the understanding that I too will be referring to myself under a pseudonym. You may call me Near.

The letter you have sent to me has me questioning many things. Namely your sanity. I know of no such Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and research into the matter has shown no such institution is known to exist. Your use of an owl to deliver your package (Though I am most interested as to how you managed to convince it to carry anything at all, far more how it managed to carry a package that should have been too large for it to handle.) and your use of the words ' enchantments' and 'charms' show me that you are either perpetuating a ridiculous hoax ( Only a twenty-two percent chance of this considering the lengths you have gone to.) or you truly believe what you are saying to be true (Eighty-seven percent chance though your belief in such things does not make such a thing true, there is a seventy-six point three percent chance that you are delusional.)

Should your proclamations prove to be honest I would be more than happy to correspond with you further, however, I am sure that you understand that I would require proof of the veracity of your claims.

A return letter to this (Highly monitored) book would be a good start.

Near

Finishing the letter Harry sat there stunned. Hedwig had given his book to a muggle. Why had she done that? Harry had broken the Statute of Secrecy and he hadn't even made it through a year of Hogwarts! Would he be expelled? As bad as things had gotten for him here he was not yet willing to leave forever, there was still too much information available that he may not have access to anyplace else and he was absolutely unwilling to spend even a nanosecond longer at the Dursley's then absolutely necessary. Worse, would he be arrested?

Harry knew that he should inform a teacher but he was scared. They had already shown a distinct lack of concern for the wellbeing of the students and Harry wasn't willing to find out how far that apathy ran. The professors did not seem to care if pureblood students hurt the non-purebloods, what if that was because they approved of it? If that were the case then what would the teachers do to a half-blood that broke one of the most fundamental laws separating the purebloods from the muggles they despised?

Harry couldn't risk it. There was no way he trusted those in authority to not hurt him. They had never given him a reason to.

The problem remained, however. What was Harry going to do about Near? He couldn't get the book back, he had no idea where it was. Two other things kept going through Harry's mind. Near was willing to talk to Harry providing Harry supplied him with evidence that he wasn't a lunatic. Harry couldn't blame him, he would have thought that it was written by a loony person if he had received it a year ago. But the more important thing was Near, for all that Harry didn't know who he was, was a person. Regardless of what happened to Harry if he told someone what had happened Near's fate would be sealed. He would be hunted down like he as the one who had done something wrong and he would be obliviated. Harry found that he was very unwilling to have that happen. It seemed too much like an unwarranted assault to him. He knew nobody else would care but Harry was unwilling to treat Near like some filthy muggle like the purebloods would. He didn't want to dish out to Near, who was blameless in this, what was being given to Harry here at Hogwarts, only worse. Harry's mind was his sanctuary, he did not want to be the cause of the violation of someone else's.

Well, Harry decided recklessly, Harry wasn't going to turn into that which he so actively despised. He would be giving Near proof and then he would see what happened. He could always tell someone later after all and he could still end up with a real friend from all of this. Hedwig had chosen this person so they couldn't be too bad, no matter how strangely written the letter had been.

Harry slept uneasily that night.

It wasn't until after lunch the next day that Harry finally screwed up his courage and wrote back to Near. It took some thought because most of what Harry needed to write was rather illegal, so he had to be very careful. In the end, he ended up just saying everything and hoping for the best.

Near,

I feel that I should apologize for any distress I may have inadvertently caused you with the letter that I wrote. I can assure you that had I known that Hedwig might deliver the notebook to someone that was not already knowledgeable of the Wizarding World I would never have sent her out without any orders.

I feel that I should warn you that your unauthorized knowledge of magic could put you in danger. It is against our laws for nonrelated muggles (non- magicals) to know of its existence. The law says that I am obligated to turn you in and have all knowledge of this forbidden information removed from your mind.

I will not be doing this. I acknowledge that this security leak is entirely my fault and I won't see you punished for being a bystander.

I feel considering these unfortunate circumstances that complete candor is in order. Despite the unintended problems that this correspondence will be causing me I find that the original purpose of my letter still stands. I am in desperate need of a friend. Or at the very least someone to talk to.

As I am unwilling to have the meager knowledge you now possess taken from you by force the only alternative that I can come up with is to give you enough information to protect yourself with. If you are still interested in writing to me and if you are willing to accept more owl post I am willing to send you the informational books that all magical children born to muggles receive when they first enter into our world. I will admit that I am one of those children and have only been a part of the magical world for less than a year so there is a lot that I don't know yet.

Write me back and let me know your answer.

Owl

Now all Harry had to worry about was getting Near to like him for Harry and not for the magic that Harry could give him.

By himself, in his empty classroom, Harry wrapped his arms around himself and felt more alone than ever.

As much as Harry loved Hedwig nothing compared to having a real live person to talk to. Harry had sent Near several dozen books in hopes of having academic conversations on a more even level. Thankfully Near always sent them back quickly and nobody seemed to notice that Harry was sending library books out of the castle. Near's only complaint was that he had no way to do additional research to support or deny Harry's theories during their debates.

As much as he enjoyed his academic chats with Near Harry truly treasured the more personal discussions that were slowly becoming more common as they got to know each other. Near had a way of looking at the world that had Harry changing how he saw things as well. Even at his most unhappy Harry was slightly ashamed to admit that he didn't ask some of the most obvious of questions. Near however wasn't even at Hogwarts and he was calling bullshit on some of the things that were going on. When Harry had vented to his new friend about how much he hated Snape and the way he treated him Near had asked,

"Why are you paying to attend a school that allows teachers to act so inappropriately? Is your school not a professional environment? I find it hard to believe that parents are willing to pay for their child's abuse. Even if they are not concerned for their children's mental wellbeing it seems odd that they are willing to spend their money on such substandard instruction, this is the third Professor out of seven that you have indicated are not doing an adequate job as your teachers, maybe it is time save yourself the tuition and higher tutors instead."

Harry didn't know how to tell Near that there was no way he could leave Hogwarts even if he wanted to. He had considered leaving of course but there were too many obstacles in the way. A search of the library had proven that without the consent of the Headmaster and his legal guardians it wasn't possible to transfer schools. The biggest problem with this being that there was absolutely no chance that the Dursleys would help him in any way. They did not want Harry learning magic at all so if Harry ever expressed the desire to leave Hogwarts he would probably find himself living back in his cupboard with no further access to magic. He was equally convinced that as the boy who lived he was stuck here regardless. Despite how much Snape and his fellow classmates seemed to hate him everybody still seemed to have some great expectations as to every aspect of Harry's life.

Harry had not told Near about his life at the Dursleys and never planned to. It was embarrassing. Harry knew that it was wrong but he couldn't bring himself to tell anybody about it. He didn't want Near to think less of him for not doing anything about it. Likewise, he had not told him about his horrid celebrity status. Harry knew the whole story behind it sounded unbelievable and he didn't know how to describe it in a way to make it understandable. Besides, the truth behind his family's murder was still too raw, too new. It hurt. Admittedly Harry wanted to talk about it, especially to Near who would be able to listen without getting distracted by the grand legend of it all. But Harry didn't know how. He had never had someone to confide in before and it was taking him a while to figure out how it was done.

Instead, he wrote back,

Unfortunately, withdrawal from a formal magic school is a lot more difficult than it is from a nonmagical one. I cannot at this time remove myself from this institution. As things stand I am unlikely to be free of this place before I graduate. Thankfully it has it's upsides as well. My other four teachers are more than capable in their subject and, in the cases of my charms and transfiguration instructors, they are world-renowned for their abilities. As much as I dislike their disciplinary practices, or lack thereof, outside of their classrooms, it is a privilege to be taught by such capable professors. Also, the library is enormous. It is almost worth staying just for access to that.

Near also did not seem to understand why Harry felt it necessary to hide his intelligence. He didn't seem to understand that it was dangerous to be on the wrong side of magicals when they think that you are too smart for everybody else's good. Harry had tried to explain that he had watched this process happen to others like Hermione and had no desire to be the next victim of intellectual intolerance but Near seemed to be of the opinion that Harry shouldn't care what other people thought. It was easy for him to say, Harry eventually decided grumpily, Near wasn't the one in danger of being hexed.

It was only when Harry admitted to how far ahead he was able to self-study and that class scores didn't matter so long as you scored well on the standardized exams that Near had backed down on the topic.

The information shared between them had been pretty one way at first. Near had, understandably, been very interested in magic. But slowly he had given Harry some insight into his life at the school he attended.

Near never actually told Harry what school it was but apparently, it was one of those schools where academics were everything. It seemed to be some sort of elite boarding school for the gifted. Harry was unsurprised that Near was doing well there academically but he was equally unsurprised that he seemed to struggle socially. Near seemed to struggle with anything that had to do with feelings in exactly the opposite way that Harry did. Harry had trouble controlling his. Everybody who spoke to Harry knew how he was feeling. Near seemed to have trouble remembering that he had any emotions at all or at the very least struggled to show them to others. If Harry hadn't been naturally good at reading between the lines he might have thought that Near lacked any form of empathy at all.

Near never came right out and said it but Harry got the impression that Near didn't have many friends. Or any for that matter. He did seem to have a few people that disliked him though. Apparently, two, in particular, were the worst. Near never really elaborated but he seemed to find the entire situation to be aggravating.

Harry's problems at school came to a head on May twenty-sixth when Harry finally had his detention for the dragon smuggling.

Apparently, Hogwarts felt that the appropriate consequence for breaking curfew was to stick untrained eleven-year-old students into the Forbidden Forest at night while an unknown creature was wandering around killing unicorns.

Harry wondered they were not being given detention so much as they were being used as yummy looking bait.

To make things even better Hagrid had decided to split up into groups and sent out two students (lures) to search (get eaten) with his dog Fang, who didn't seem to take orders from anybody but Hagrid, who openly admitted that Fang was a coward and as such less than useful.

Harry had followed Hagrid and Hermione further into the forest than he had ever wanted to go only to meet up with an incredibly aggravating and creepy centaur that seemed to do nothing but prattle on about Mars being bright and stare at Harry in confusion before wandering off muttering about free will and fate.

When Malfoy had decided to show his inbreeding by pulling a prank on Neville, his only backup in the dangerous forest that he was wandering around in, Hagrid had actually left Harry and Hermione in the dark by themselves to wait for him.

Harry wondered how long they were meant to stand there. What if Hagrid had been attacked with the other two? Were they meant to stand here until morning? Or just until their own demise?

Hermione was only making matters worse. She kept glancing over at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention, as if Harry would allow anything to pass by his attention in a situation like this, and opening her mouth as if to speak to him only to shut it again with a snap each time.

He knew she wanted to apologize for abandoning him along with Ronald to whether the horror that was their fellow students on his own. But why should he forgive her? To make her feel better about being a coward? She wasn't the one who was all alone. She wasn't the one who was constantly belittled even though she had an equal share in the botched dragon rescue and subsequent point loss. She wasn't the one who was being insulted at every turn. Why should Harry show compassion towards her when she had given none to him? Even now she was only trying to talk to him because there was nobody else around to see it. Harry had no use for fair weather friends. If that made him a bad person so be it.

Besides Harry had a new friend now, he didn't need Hermione anymore. That ship had sailed... and sunk.

When Hagrid finally returned with Neville and Malfoy Harry was almost happy to go off with the Slytherin if only to get away from Hermione.

Being attacked by the blood-sucking monster of the Forbidden Forest almost seemed inevitable by that point.

The pain in his head made him feel like he was dying and the fear he felt when the beast had started closing in on him and been paralyzing. If the centaur Firenze had not rescued him Harry was certain that he would be dead.

Maybe centaurs weren't so bad after all.

To find out that the thing had been Voldemort and that he was actively attempting to get into the castle was more than Harry could take.

Climbing into his bed that night Harry was trembling with rage, fear, and lingering pain.

Desperate to confide in someone Harry had spilled the whole horrid tale, starting with his parents and ending with the events of that night to the only person in his life that had yet to let him down. He wrote about his parent's murder.

"I think that the worst part of having an eidetic memory is the fact that I still cannot remember exactly what happened the night my parents were murdered. I can remember nearly everything I have ever seen or learned but that far back all I remember is green light and pain. I wonder if it was a byproduct of the curse I was hit with. That being said I sincerely doubt that it happened the way all the books claim it did. You should read some of the absurd things so called scholars have written about that night. It's like they were trying to write bad adventure novels rather than factual history."

He had explained exactly why he was keeping his magical academic prowess a secret.

" Honestly, the students here are insane. I have absolutely no desire to become a target for vengeful hard done by Ravenclaws"

He told Near all about being idolized and then shunned by the entire school and losing his new friends over something that every student did at some point rather than the glossed over version that Harry had fed him before.

" It's infuriating that other students can lose fifty points in a day and nobody will care but I lose them all at once then I am the next antichrist!"

And finally about the strange things that had been happening that year with being attacked on his broom and in the forest and about philosophers stone and the Mirror of Erised.

"Seriously, who puts dark lord bait in a school full of children?"

By the time he was done Harry had written nearly twenty pages ranting and raving at the unfairness of it all. The only thing that he did not tell Near about was the Dursleys.

In the end, Harry felt like something cold, dark, and poisonous had been removed from inside of him and he had fallen asleep shortly after relieved and exhausted. When he woke in the morning and realized what he had written he had immediately wished that he could take it all back. Unfortunately, he knew that there was no way. As he slowly got ready for his day he wondered what Near thought of it all.

Near wasn't sure what to think of the information Owl had dumped on him. When he had gotten up that morning he had almost not bothered reading the book right away. The things Owl shared with him were both fascinating and frustrating. All the information Near was learning about magic was causing quite a bit of chaos with L and Wammy. It had been decided almost immediately that the information was going to be given the highest level of classification available. Who knew what enraged wizards would do should they find that their secret had been revealed.

The problem with the whole thing was that it was obvious Owl was hiding something important and Near wanted, very much, to know what it was.

Owl was a strange person even apart from his magic. He was both more open, spilling personal secrets to Near with an ease that Near found to be slightly alarming, and more recalcitrant than anybody he had ever spoken to before. Owl's secrets seemed to have secrets and he wasn't sharing many of them with Near.

Near was trained well enough to know that Owl was a very unhappy person. Owl never outright said it but it was clear every time he wrote that he was on the verge of a breakdown and it was only a matter of time before the floodgates opened. Owl gave the distinct impression of somebody who was rapidly being pushed too far. One major drawback of the books was that it didn't give Near the ability to see Owl to help him deduce the things he wanted to know.

Why was Owl so unhappy? Why was he so desperate for someone to talk to that he had thrown himself into a correspondence with a stranger despite knowingly breaking what appeared to be major laws to do it? Why was Near becoming so attached to writing to Owl anyway?

But Near, in the end, felt an unexplainable draw to the notebook, he wondered if that was one of the enchantments though Owl had not mentioned such a thing in his explanations., and had opened the book first thing.

Reading what was written there had Near grabbing his cell phone and punching in his " I have had a magical breakthrough that cannot wait." number and waiting impatiently for Wammy to pick up the phone.

L, Wammy, and Near spent a long time discussing the newest turn of events that Owl had sent them. Most of the problem stemmed from L wanting to take the case of the dark lord and Wammy refusing to let him.

"But wouldn't it be better to catch this dark lord before he manages to enter a school full of children and kill them all?" L asked, certain this argument at least would convince his handler to let him go.

Wammy was pretty sure that L was only arguing for the sake of arguing to relieve his anxiety over the information they had been getting. Not all of it from Owl. Now that they knew to look for it the geniuses were finding numerous cases that seemed to link back to some of the things that Owl was telling them. Dissaperences that were never questioned, police reports that made no sense and were then forgotten entirely, crimes that had no possible explanation but nobody seemed to care or even remember them. How could nobody notice thirty-seven gas explosions in one year? No, now that they knew to look magic was surprisingly easy to spot.

Placing down a tea tray and a bowl of sugar cubes for L, Wammy asked, " How exactly do you plan on catching a madman in a forest you can't find and keep him from attacking a castle you can't see?" He didn't even bother pointing out that they had no defense against some of the magic described in the ever increasing stack of books Owl had sent them.

L, having finished turning his tea into syrup, said, " We could ask Owl to investigate. He seems to be a target anyway."

Quillsh paused his automatic negative reply to think this through. Owl did seem to already be a target. He also, for all his young age, seemed to be gathering some unusual but useful allies if the centaurs were willing to continue to give Owl information. However, none of this changed the fact that he was unwilling to send an eleven-year-old boy after a murderer alone.

Instead of addressing L, he turned to Near. " If we asked him to do intelligence gathering how successful do you think that he would be?" He asked slowly, still not happy about the idea but knowing a losing battle when he saw one.

Near looked up from his solid black puzzle, next piece in hand, and seemed to think for a moment. " I don't believe Owl would be able to restrict himself to just gathering information." He stated before quickly clicking the puzzle piece in place. " If he were to get any further involved he would not be able to stop himself from interfering, even if it put him in danger." He concluded.

Quillsh got the distinct impression that Near rather approved of this aspect of Owl's personality. Distantly Wammy could even understand why; it was always very useful to have a highly intelligent person willing to poke around for you in an investigation. Unfortunately, they had no way of intervening should anything go wrong and as such he couldn't allow it.

Unsurprisingly both L and Near seemed to realize that he was going to once more object.

"I don't believe we will have to ask him to do anything. He will do it whether we convince him to or not. It would be more prudent to have him give us what he learns then it would be to risk closing the line of information entirely if he believes we disapprove. He is still very fragile from his fellow student's rejection." interjected Near.

Only years of knowing him allowed Wammy and L to hear the vague concern in his monotone voice. That more than anything else convinced Wammy that this was the right thing to do. He was completely unwilling to end the progress that Near was slowly making. If L's heir was to benefit at the expense of someone else, well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"Excellent." L concluded pulling his plate of strawberry cake closer to him knowing that he had won. " Update the system files before you go." He rudely directed to Near before shoving an enormous forkful of strawberry cake into his mouth. Sweets and a fascinating case, things were looking up.

Near left the computer room several hours later mentally planning his next letter to Owl.

Harry was becoming concerned by some of the things Near was writing. If he didn't know that the book would force Near to tell the truth (Harry had eventually managed to get him to admit that he was thirteen), and if he didn't trust Hedwig as much as he did, Harry would have thought that Near was less of a peer and more of a police officer. The letter that he had gotten back after his breakdown four nights before was practically an interrogation. If Harry hadn't come to realize that it was just Near's nature he would have been offended by the seeming lack of care for Harry's well-being. As it was despite the lack of questions as to his health and happiness, he took heart in the fact that in between demands for more information on the suspicious happenings was repeated insistence that Harry not take any unnecessary risks.

Harry had taken to traversing the castle under his invisibility cloak hoping to overhear something useful but other than the assurance that Fluffy could still be heard growling softly behind the third-floor corridor he learned nothing new. He could not spend much time doing this however as exams were coming up.

After double checking that he was capable of casting all the required spells while inside his second-floor classroom, Harry took a moment to decide how well he should score on each test.

Defense and Charms he would have to do well in, it would be expected of him after all. He decided that everything else would be just barely above average. He didn't want his new name to be the-dunce-who-lived after all. Except for Potions. He knew that he could brew the most perfect potions in existence and Snape would still find a reason to fail him so he decided that for that exam he would focus on creating the biggest harmless explosion he could manage, purely for his own amusement. Next year he would buy double the required ingredients and practice by himself but for now, his petty revenge would have to do. Irritating Snape while simultaneously disrupting his fellow student's tests would be hilarious, he just hoped he could pull off pretending to be upset over it without laughing.

All that was left was to be seen studying.

Harry was bored. And curious. It was never a good combination for him because he would be the first to admit he had very poor impulse control when it came to things that he wanted to know.

Harry knew logically that Fluffy could not be the only obstacle stopping people from getting to the philosophers stone. There had to be fascinating enchantments and all sorts of interesting things down that trap door and Harry, who had nothing to distract him from his interest, was feeling more and more like jumping down there to find out.

He knew that getting past Fluffy wouldn't be a problem. Or at least it shouldn't be if the information Near had found on mythological Cerberus' being weak to music was in any way true. After that, though it was all a mystery.

Harry had always loved mysteries. He had spent many a happy afternoon in the library reading about Sherlock Holmes, Spade, Poirot, Magnum, and even Dick Tracy.

On Friday, several hours after dinner, Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak, his broom, and the wooden flute gifted to him by Hagrid for Christmas and headed to the third-floor corridor knowing that he wouldn't be missed. He was going on an adventure.

A quick unlocking charm on the door later and Harry was face to face with a grouchy Cerberus for the second time. Three sets of wet noses twitched in his direction, clearly having no problem knowing where he was even if it couldn't see him.

Lifting his flute to his lips Harry blew.

The flute let off its airy owlike hooting sound as Harry tunelessly moved his fingers over the key holes.

Fluffy's eyes almost automatically began to droop. The giant dog gave off a few snuffling sounds before it, spinning itself around three times first, settled down and began to snore.

Without stopping the music Harry cautiously strode forward towards the ring of the trap door. Fluffy gave a massive twitch and Harry froze. Hearing a soft growling he realized when he stopped moving he stopped playing and Harry began to blow across the mouth hole again causing Fluffy to settle down once more.

A few more steps forward and Harry was able to reach down with one hand and open the trapdoor.

Inside was a massive fall. Harry was glad he had thought to bring his broom with him as he did not yet know any magic that would keep him from plummeting to his death if he jumped and the hole went down to far. He quickly stuffed the flute into his pocket, mounted his nimbus two thousand and smoothly glided down the opening before Fluffy could wake up enough to stop him. Pausing only to pull the trapdoor closed behind him Harry descended into the darkness.

As he flew lower and lower he began to hear movement from the dark below him. Belatedly lighting his wand with a quick 'Lumos' Harry peered downward to see that is was... a plant. Bewildered Harry flew closer to get a better look. Writhing feelers snapped out trying to grab him and Harry, alarmed, jerked his broom back upward away from them. After a moment spent calming his heart he realized what it was.

Devil's Snare.

Glancing down at it unhappily Harry considered his options. He could give up and leave, or he could drop a bluebell fire charm on it and hope for the best. He didn't want to leave.

Calling up the flickering blue flames and willing it larger Harry quickly had a fireball the size of a quaffle. He dropped it. The Devil's Snare flailed wildly trying to get away from the heat source but failed.

Taking advantage of the plant's distraction Harry quickly flew past it and into the connected corridor. Looking back at the dying plant he felt sort of bad. It didn't seem right to kill the thing. He canceled the fire charm. It would live, he knew, so long as it hadn't been completely burned up it would be back to normal within days.

Deciding that he didn't want to trust the floor as he had no idea how to tell if it was spelled or not He flew down the hallway towards a faint light.

Entering the new room while pulling off his cloak all Harry saw at first was a door on the other side of the room. A closer look around showed that he had initially missed a trio of rickety brooms propped against one wall and hundreds of bug-like flying keys fluttering in the air above him.

He flew to the door to get a better look at it. It was an old fashioned regular door as far as he could determine. There were hundreds of doors just like it all around the castle.

Gingerly he reached forward and grabbed the handle, trying to see if it would turn. It didn't. Undeterred he tried the unlocking charm. That not working either he turned back to the winged keys with a sigh. There were hundreds of them.

Flying up closer to them Harry peered around hoping to spot a large silver key that would match the handle of the door. Not seeing it immediately he pulled his wand out again. Pointing it at a thick cluster of keys he tried a 'Finite'.

A single key lost its wings and fell to the floor.

That was clearly not the answer, he would be here all night doing that.

Resigning himself to searching the old fashioned way he began flying around underneath them.

It took him fifteen minutes to find the right key and another five to catch it but he was pleased to have managed it. Holding it tightly in his hand he cast a 'Finite' on it and watched as it lost its wings. He had no interest in chasing it down again if it got away.

Stuffing the key into the door handle and turning it Harry entered the next room.

Torch lights lit it and Harry's broom hit the ground.

Bewildered, Harry climbed to his feet and picked up his nimbus. It didn't look any different, there was nothing wrong with it.

Harry walked back into the key room and mounted his broom not far from the floor. It flew. Re-entering the next room the broom once again hit the floor. Harry could only assume that there was some kind of magic keeping him from simply flying over the next obstacle. It made sense, he supposed, the last room had provided free brooms so it would be silly to let intruders use them to get past the other obstacles.

Harry wondered briefly why it was possible to get past them at all. Why provide a way past them? Why not just lock the door and not provide a key at all? It made no sense.

Brushing off these thoughts to consider later Harry contemplated the chess board in front of him

It was enormous for one. And clearly highly enchanted. Carefully approaching it he froze when all the pieces turned to stare at him. Breathing out slowly when they didn't try to attack him, Harry, feeling foolish for talking to an inanimate object, asked, "Do I have to join you to get across or do I just have to direct the game to a win?"

The king silently stepped off the board and gestured for Harry to take its spot on the board.

Harry didn't. He had played chess a few times with Ron but he certainly had no hope of being good enough to risk his life with it. He would have to leave and regroup.

Slowly backing out of the room still nervous that the giant chess pieces would attack at any moment Harry slipped out the door and quickly relocked it before placing the key in his pocket.

Remounting the broom he flew back towards the entrance intent on writing to Near to get his advice.

Reading the letter that Owl wrote to him Near was beginning to regret stroking the boy's curiosity the way he had. Owl was going to get himself killed, and he wanted Near to help him do it.

" I managed to get past the Cerberus without any problems at all. You were right, of course, music put it right to sleep. It didn't even have to be very good music to do it. There was Devils Snare at the bottom of the passage though. Devil's Snare is a carnivorous sort of plant that lives in dark places and survives by strangling wayward passersby and draining their blood onto the plant's roots. It is incredibly fast with its feelers, but I had no problem dropping fire on it and getting past. The next room was full of enchanted flying keys. There was a door that was locked and I had to fly and catch the right one. I managed it and kept it so that I don't have to do it again when I go back.

The problem is that the fourth obstacle is a giant chess set in which I have to become one of the chess pieces to direct the game to get to the door on the other side. Wizards chess is sentient and you have to give verbal commands. When a piece is taken the attacking piece violently smashes it to bits. It's wicked to watch but I don't want to be the losing chess piece. Unfortunately, I am no good at chess as I have only ever played it a handful of times, and even then it was only against one person. I am certainly not good enough to be comfortable risking my life playing it. Do you have any suggestions?"

Owl had written the whole thing with the air of an excited child on Christmas.

Near had a suggestion alright: Never go down that trapdoor again. Unfortunately Near was pretty sure Owl would do it anyway. He would probably try his luck with his apparently lackluster chess skill and die. He would have to help him. If they timed it right they could use the books as a sort of chat room. Harry could write each move-out and Near could tell him what to do.

Decision made Near grabbed his cell phone, less than happy with what he was about to do. Near was good at chess of course, but he knew someone who was better. L had been itching to be at the center of the investigation anyway.

Saturday night found Harry once more standing in front of the chess set, this time with his Pen Friend book and a ballpoint pen he had stolen from Dean.

Sitting down to write the asked "Near?"

"I am here Owl." Was the reply.

Excited to talk to his friend directly for the first time but focused on the dangerous task at hand he wrote back. "What piece to you want me to be?

" The king. You said that that is the only piece that doesn't get physically attacked. It is not wise to take unnecessary risks. If you still insist on this foolish course of actions we can discuss things after your game is over, go join the board."

Grinning Harry wrote " You know you want to know what's down here too. Don't deny it. That's why you are really helping me. You're curious."

" I am helping you so you do not end up a battered cadaver left there for your dark lord to trip over when he repeats this foolish venture. Join the game board."

Harry joined the game board.

Move by move Harry called out orders that he was fed by Near. The first piece taken had been a nasty shock. The other sides knight had taken one of Harry's pawns by smashing it so hard with its sword that the pawn's head flew off entirely. Harry had needed several minutes to build his courage back up enough to keep playing. By the time the game had been won for Harry his nerves were shot and he wanted nothing more than to leave and go to bed.

Not wanting to have to do it again though he pressed on.

" Thank you Near, we won. I am going to see what's behind the door so I might be a few minutes. Please don't leave though, I don't know if it will make me play again to get back across."

Barely waiting for a response Harry closed the book and stuffed it in his pocket. Gripping his wand in his hand tightly he opened the door and walked in.

He immediately wished that he hadn't. The troll that was there waiting for him was far bigger than the one that he had helped save Hermione from on Halloween. Thankfully it was as surprised to see him as he was to see it. Unfortunately, it got over its shock faster than Harry did.

With a great bellowing roar, it snatched up its club and charged straight at him.

Panic set in as Harry dodged with barely a moment to spare. Hitting the ground hard from where he had thrown himself out of the was Herry rolled to the right trying to get out of the things line of sight. Glad that the circular room was so large Harry scrambled to his feet and ran to get out of the things reach. Spinning around Harry tried to levitate its club like Ronald had before with a 'Wingardium Leviosa' but missed having to scramble out of the way once more.

As Harry was trying to line up another attempt the troll got a lucky hit. Not with its club thankfully, that probably would have killed him, but with its arm. Tossed arse over kettle Harry smashed against the wall with a thud.

Ears ringing and vision slightly blurred it took Harry a moment to realize that he was lying right next to the door he wanted to go through.

Taking his chance he leaped up, body loudly protesting but mercifully not broken, Harry grabbed the knob and turned.

It opened.

Flinging himself through the door just in time to miss the troll taking another club shot at him he slammed it shut behind him.

He felt the door shudder as the troll repeatedly slammed against it trying to get at him but though it shook violently time and again the thing held. Relieved Harry turned to survey his temporary sanctuary.

Seeing no immediate danger he took a moment to check his injuries.

Satisfied that he was going to have some spectacular bruises on his arms legs and back but that he was otherwise okay Harry pulled his Pen Friend book back out. Hoping that Near had waited for him he wrote, "Near?"

" That took significantly longer than anticipated. What happened?" Came the nearly instant reply.

" I tried to make a new friend but I don't think that he liked me very much. He was a twelve-foot tall troll that tried to crush be with his club, now it is trying to get at me by bashing down the wall separating us, don't worry it won't work. I managed to get away and am in the next room. I am a bit bruised but that's it." Harry wrote. "Not sure how I am going to get back through though so I might as well keep going." Even in his writing, you could tell that his enthusiasm was waning.

" Only if you are certain that you are uninjured."

Smiling at the rare concern Harry agreed before walking over to the bottle covered table, trying to ignore the fire springing up from every side.

Picking up the note that went with the bottles he read it quickly.

So, he thought, I have to find the right potion to get through the flames. Reading the poem again Harry turned to each bottle in turn before quickly honing in on the smallest bottle. Reaching out to pick it up he paused and looked at his book. It wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion.

Only after he wrote down the riddle and doodled the potion bottles for Near to see and receiving confirmation that he was right did he pick up the bottle and drain half of it, saving the other half for the trip back. Shuddering at the feeling of ice going through his body Harry pocketed the potions bottle with the once flying key and his cloak before hurrying through the flames.

On the other side, all he found was a large room and the Mirror of Erised. Confused Harry walked closer.

Looking into the mirror Harry once again saw his family smiling back at him. There was another person there this time though. A white haired boy stood beside Harry's reflection. He was short and pale with dark eyes and a rather creepy little smile, though the Harry in the mirror didn't seem to mind it. He was clutching a toy robot and appeared to be wearing slightly baggy white pajamas. Harry had no idea who the boy was.

All at once the Harry in the mirror laughed at something the strange boy said and, grinning, accepted something that the boy handed to him before slipping it into his own pocket.

Harry was shocked to feel something hard and heavy land in his real pocket at the same time. Pulling the mystery object out Harry found what looked like a large red garnet in his hand. Harry had somehow gotten the philosophers stone without really meaning to.

Not terribly happy with this development he stopped to think.

Harry had only come down here because he was curious as to what the professors thought would stop a dark lord. It was a stupid thing to do, Harry admitted, but he couldn't feel regretful for it. It had been a lot of fun and now maybe his curiosity would let his brain have a break without its incessant nagging. But now he had a big issue. He had somehow gotten the stone out of the mirror and he didn't know how to put it back.

Harry had a sudden thought. Should he put it back?

The philosophers stone was a dangerous thing, all the gold, and life a person could ask for. But a dark lord was after it now. Harry knew that he was intelligent and decently capable. As far as he could tell he was pretty powerful magically as well though it would be impossible to tell how strong he would be in the end as he had yet to hit his growth spurts. That being said he did not think that he could in any way measure up to an experienced dark lord. If Harry, as a reasonably well-read first year with a little bit of remote help, had managed to take the thing, there was zero chance that any of this would have done more than slow Voldemort down a little bit.

Leaving the stone here would pretty much guarantee the stone would fall into Voldemort's hands but nobody but Near, who was a muggle and could do nothing, knew that Harry was down here. If Harry took it nobody would ever know. It would be far safer.

Placing the stone back in his pocket Harry took one last look at the perplexing boy in the mirror before turning away and pulling out the potion bottle.

Later that night Harry was once more under his invisibility cloak as he talked to Hedwig in the owlery.

Holding a small brown package in his hand Harry thought back to his trip out of the glorified obstacle course. The longer Harry thought of the gauntlet the less impressed he became. Other that the fire in the bottle room and the troll, which was asleep when Harry snuck by it invisible, all of the other challenges let him simply walk past. The chess set had rebuilt itself of course but, seeming to understand his intent to leave, it had let him wander right through. The only real stop Harry made was to refill the little potion bottle with wine from a larger bottle and leave it behind. He had been tempted to fill it with poison instead but he was not willing to kill anyone, especially as there was no telling who would be drinking it.

After he made his excuses to Near, feeling rather bad that he had told him that he found the mirror but not the stone, Harry had snuck into bed to think of where to hide the rock. He had decided pretty quickly that there was no way he could keep it in the castle so he had wrapped the stone in brown paper and, like he had with the book, went to give it to Hedwig to get rid of.

"Okay Hedwig, I need you to take this to Private Drive and leave it in the shed, can you do that for me?" He asked.

Fluffing up her feathers in slight insult at the perceived lack of faith in her abilities Hedwig huffily extended her leg and excepted the package.

" I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't do it, Hedwig," Harry backtracked quickly not wanting her to be angry with him, " I just didn't want to seem like I was taking your help for granted, that's all." He finished as he tied the little package to her leg.

Softening a little Hedwig gave him a gentle nip as if to say he was forgiven before flying away with it.

Harry watched her until she was nothing but a tiny speck in the distance before he pulled his invisibility cloak more tightly around himself and left to finally go to bed.

The next week was a busy one for Harry with exams every day. The other students seemed to be finally calming down in their animosity toward him. Harry had even taken the time to help Neville study for his Defense exam along with a Hufflepuff girl named Susan Bones and her friend Hannah, none of whom had active parts in his school wide torment, though none of them had actively helped him either. But as Near said, it would be foolish to burn every bridge in a place that the had to spend another six years.

The only surprise came when it was announced at dinner on the day after exams that Professor Quirinus Quirrell defense instructor had died in a freak magical accident that was not elaborated on. The first years were all rather shaken by it but the older years seemed to take it in stride. Apparently, it was normal for something to happen to the defense teacher every year and to have a new one the next. The mortality rate for Hogwarts defense instructors was quite high it turned out. Only Harry was in any way suspicious of the turn of events but he knew better than to say anything.

On the last evening before the Hogwarts Express came to take them back to London Harry was summoned to the Headmaster's office for the first time.

Sitting in the visitor chair in front of the Headmaster's giant desk Harry could not stop himself from staring around at all of the fascinating looking trinkets that littered the room.

"Harry," The Headmaster said causing Harry to turn and face him with a slight blush on his face for being caught " I see that you are interested in them. They are something, aren't they? I have spent many years collecting them."

" What do they do?" Harry asked, curious despite himself.

" Many things" Dumbledore answered eyes twinkling, "Perhaps someday I will show you, my dear boy. However, I called you up here to talk about your summer arrangements. And your Pen Friend."

Harry stiffened, these were the last two subjects that he wanted to talk about with anyone. "Can't I stay here for the summer?" Harry asked, already suspecting the answer.

"I'm sorry Harry but that isn't possible. The summer is the time for the professors to go home and visit their families. There isn't anybody here to be any sort of supervision for a growing boy. I know you likely think you don't need it but I cannot in good conscience allow any child to be in the castle without adults present. Also, Harry, I know you hate to hear it but you must spend time with your family during the summers. There are special wards on that house you see, so long as you call that place your home the dark wizards that linger from the last war will have a much more difficult time trying to harm you." Dumbledore continued.

" There is also the fact, and I hate to tell one so young, that Voldemort is very much alive and trying to come back. Firenze, the centaur that you met in the forest not long back, informed me that you had met the dark lord that night and as such are aware of this. I believe, dear boy, that so long as you consider the house that you share with your aunt your home then you will have a certain amount of protection from his evil." He concluded.

Harry tried to be angry that he had to go back, but he wasn't sure he had the right. It wasn't, after all, the headmaster of his school's duty to help him find alternative lodging. As much as Harry hated it made sense. Voldemort probably did see him as a loose end, it certainly fell in line with the psychology of a psychopath. He was probably angry that Harry's survival had taken such a toll on his own. Harry would have to be more careful of that.

" About your Pen Friend book recipient." The headmaster began, leaning back and pulling open his desk drawer to pull out a small stack of papers.

"How did you know that I had a pen friend, sir? I never told anyone." Harry asked bewildered.

" Why, that magnificent owl of yours came to my familiar for help finding someone for you to write to," Dumbledore said with a jovial smile on his face, clearly amused by the situation. She is clearly very fond of you."

Smiling a bit himself Harry replied, " I am very fond of Hedwig."

" Hedwig," Was the thoughtful reply, " The patron of orphans, a very fitting name for a lovely bird, it's a shame that Fawkes isn't here for you to meet, I am quite sure that you would get along. Still, Hedwig came to my bird familiar for help finding you someone anonymous to write to, quite clever really my dear boy, well thought out," He approved, " I took the time to put a few extra charms on the book to prevent exposure from spreading if they decided to send the book to a muggle."

" She did," said Harry admitted reluctantly, " my friend is a muggle."

" That's quite alright Harry, I to have several good friends that haven't a lick of magical power. Extraordinary people all the same. I will have to ask you though in the future should something like this happen you tell me so that you tell me immediately though. It is quite serious Harry the laws must be upheld." He said rather sternly to which Harry quickly agreed.

Pushing the papers he had pulled out across the desk to Harry, who picked them up, he continued with a rather stern look on his face. " I do not do this lightly Harry, you must understand. These papers are legally binding and not a toy to be played with." Pausing to wait for Harry's eyes to meet his own before continuing, he said, " These papers will legally reclass your muggle friend and their parents as squibs. This cannot be taken back once the papers have been signed, not even if you have a falling out. It will, however, allow you to share your life with them more freely without the fear that doing so will cause legal repercussions. You could even, if you so choose, introduce them physically to the magical world such a Diagon Ally of Hogsmeade. You need to think very carefully about this before you have them sign Harry. Promise me you will."

"I promise," Harry whispered solemnly. " And his parents?" He asked.

This got a laugh, breaking the heavy mood. " My boy I have worked with children long enough to know the foolishness of trying to hide things from the parents."

Harry figured that was true, though he wondered how that explained the third-floor corridor.

"One last thing Harry," Dumbledore said, " Is there anything that you wish to tell me that you think that I should know? Anything at all?"

Harry paused thinking. The headmaster was doing him a big favor with these papers and he didn't really want to repay that with lies, though he knew he could not tell the truth. Compromising he asked " What happened to Professor Quirrell? He was acting quite strangely."

Surprised at the question the headmaster answered, " He was indeed acting strangely, he tried to steal something from a high-security area and paid the price for it I'm afraid. It means, of course, that I will have to find a new defense professor. I do seem to run through those." He trailed off thoughtfully. "Well, Harry if that is all I will be seeing you in September. Oh, where are my manners, would you care for a lemon drop before you go?"

Harry took one and left smiling.

On the train ride home, Harry sat in the compartment that he was sharing with Neville, Susan, and Hannah gloomily staring at his paper telling him that he was not allowed to do magic during the summer. Sighing he stood up and stuck it on the bottom of Hedwig's empty cage. She was out delivering some important papers to a friend.

Sitting back down he smiled. He may not be allowed to do magic during the summer but the Dursleys wouldn't know that.

Reaching into his pocket to pull out a set of exploding snap cards he asked his acquaintances if they wanted to play.

END

AN: So here is chapter one. It ended up longer than I had planned, mostly because I didn't plan for Near to not take the book. I meant for him to take the book and write in it to see if it would work but he decided that he would rather call security instead. That got L and Wammy involved. Harry, on the other hand, is a moody abused kid that is desperate to confide. He may be just as brilliant as a Wammy kid, but he may not seem to be because unlike them he was not trained to use it. Also unlike Near and L Harry is not very good at suppressing himself in any way. He is an impulsive kind of brilliant, not so much the cold calculating kind. He is brilliant in the moment, L and Near are brilliant at planning their chapter will cover book two. It will probably have more Near, remember they barely know each other they are not yet best friends, and he will probably reflect a bit on Harry's little adventure and his side of it. The death note timeline will be changed. It will be pushed back until at least Harry's seventh year making the Wammy's boys, though not Light, older when it happens.

I do not own Death note of Harry Potter.