A/N: Written for a prompt by LeadVonE, the author of the wonderful Dodging Prison and Stealing Witches. If you're not following it yet, you have over half a million words to look forward to. Seriously. I have watched him live edit and every single word is handpicked for our enjoyment.

Prompt: In OotP, Dumbledore says he did what he did because he wanted Harry to enjoy his time before stuff got hella serious (no pun). But what if Dumbledore—Book one, slightly frootlooped Dumbledore—went unreasonably out of his way to ensure that this was actually so, either at the Dursley's or at Hogwarts. What would that look like?

Thanks to my wife for betaing.

Thanks to LeadVonE for reading aloud. Find the one hour recording at hcgf no slash fd html.

2019-07-07: Language improvements.

.oOo.

The boy was visibly vibrating with excitement. His birthdays were the best! Especially when compared to his cousin's. That poor boy's birthdays were dull affairs.

But his! His were the best, and the next one was tomorrow. He knew he needed to go to sleep, but even the most comfortable bed in the house wasn't helping to get any blissful dreams about his big day started. He only became eleven once, and he had been promised it would be his best birthday yet — which was saying a lot.

Eventually, his body calmed down and the next thing he knew a familiar face said the words he had anticipated for weeks.

"Happy birthday, my dear boy! A lemon drop gets the day started, don't you think?"

Harry lit up and accepted the sweet with a smile. His eyes were drawn to the old man's hand, which was holding a letter.

"Ah, yes," said the man, while savouring a lemon drop of his own. "I just might have been looking forward to when I could give you this as much as you have waited to receive it. Alas, in my excitement it appears I might have woken you up, but it is for the best, don't you think?"

Harry nodded eagerly and tore open the letter as soon as his hands were upon it. It was his invitation to Hogwarts, of course, and they both knew the letter was just a formality to get out of the way. He was going to the magical world again, and he would finally be shopping.

.oOo.

After a year of living at the Dursley house, the smiles that had once graced little Harry's face had yet to make a reappearance, and as circumstances stood they were the furthest from his little mind. It was dark. Dark and boring. He had made it light yesterday, but then uncle Vernon slammed open his cupboard door and ranted and raged so furiously that Harry both cried and wet himself. He was still clammy too. But mostly he was bored.

And it was still a month until events that changed Harry's current condition were even set in motion. The first to notice something afoot, was Minerva McGonagall, seated at her usual place in the great hall.

Minerva had hoped for another boring breakfast. But then Albus had went straight from his usual slightly aggravating into fully exasperating. Apparently — while visiting MACUSA — he had overheard a Muggleborn calling him slightly frootlooped. The poor man discovered to his dismay that Albus' hearing was still as excellent as always and was then forced into a stammering explanation of the concept. Albus had been... more enthused than was proper, which led to their current predicament.

Albus rose. "Ah, I see many an eye has discovered today's treat. As Christmas still seems insurmountably far away for young minds, and the weather has been dull and dreary for weeks now, I thought some colour would do us all good."

Minerva looked down on her plate — no, bowl — and was met with a cacophony of colours. Red and orange. Yellow. Blue. Green. And there was silver, black and... pink? And lilac, of all things! She saw maroon, and even dusty lavender. And there were even some that constantly changed, gradually looping through the rainbow.

After spotting Minerva in the corner of his eye, Albus seemed to falter, but then ploughed on. "The Muggles have a wonderful invention called Froot Loops. As a favour to me, and a treat to you, Bertie Bott himself has enchanted them with a more proper range of colours, and some actual taste." Several students shivered and Minerva turned slightly green. "Never fear! He ensured me they are all palatable for all palates, both young and old."

Albus sat down and looked out on his students. It seemed even Gryffindor bravery faltered in the face of unknown and colourful food. He stirred his own loops and the colours seemed to coalesce into a resemblance of Santa Claus. Saddened by this one of many reminders of the distance to his brother — who held more with their father's tradition of Father Christmas — Albus still indulged himself with a little daydream of the jolly man from across the Atlantic, who rode reindeers and brought presents for children.

The daydream firmed into an idea. The idea grew into a plan. Yes, little Harry would get some extra cheer. But not this Christmas. No, these things took time to plan, and to create, even for a genius like him. At least when considering said genius' overabundantly stuffed schedule. And Harry was still young, he would appreciate it more when three and a half years old.

Albus smiled widely as he lifted a spoon of mostly red and white loops. Minerva scowled at a particularly dark green circle, of sugar and who knew what else. She did know however, that she had not seen that particular smile grace Albus' face before. It seemed to have gained a much more prominent nuance of crazy.

.oOo.

Another year of boredom. Locked in his closet and kept out of way. His aunt was preparing the food for Christmas Day and was not to be disturbed.

On the huge snow-covered Hogwarts lawn in Scotland, an eccentric old wizard had other plans. He had collected presents from Minerva and Hagrid, and the other professors had pooled together for a large selection of wizarding candies. He had discreetly disposed of Severus' addition. The man seemed to hold a particular grudge against Christmas, or perhaps any festive occasion.

The thestrals had been outfitted with bows and bells and linked together in pairs with a magical green rope that allowed their wings free movement. A large red sleigh that Hagrid had helped him build had been inscribed with runes to keep the wind out of his beard and the cold out of his bones. To the side, Minerva looked on disapprovingly, but Hagrid's huge smile dwarfed her, in any case.

Albus himself was somewhat overcome with excitement. There had been too much paperwork and stuffy meetings, now that the immediate aftermath of Lord Voldemort's demise was long behind them. Some good cheer and fearless fun was past due. Albus waved as he chuckled and snapped the reins.

The thestrals began trotting through the snow, the sleigh gouging deep, straight lines, canvassing the chaotic mess of hoofprints. At another snap of the reins, they picked up speed and unfolded their wings. It almost all went wrong when the runes to bind the sleigh to their flight malfunctioned, but Albus' wand shot into his hand even as the motions for a featherlight charm began. Crisis averted.

Now he simply had to lean back — or forward, as it were — and enjoy the sight of the white landscape below blurring by, as the thestrals found favourable winds and flew towards Surrey faster than Nimbus' top broomstick.

Wind rushed unnoticed by as they descended towards number four, Privet Drive. Albus drew his Put-Outer and summoned the nearby lights. The landing on the roof was a little jarring, but acceptable. Albus hopped off and strolled to the chimney. A quick expansion charm later, and he started climbing down.

.oOo.

Petunia Dursley had just put the last of tomorrow's feast away and was about to start the dishes, when Vernon called her from the living room.

"Did you hear that, Petunia?" Vernon narrowed his eyes and looked at the fireplace as if to scold it for disturbing his evening.

Petunia leaned towards the fireplace and narrowed her eyes. Then she shrieked and leapt back as a black booted foot came down, followed by a long red robe that had brown reindeers dressed in green flying around it, under an abnormally long beard.

Vernon, spotting both the moving reindeer, and the fact that his chimney could not possibly fit a person, immediately suspected unnatural people at play. "Get out!" he screamed. "We don't want any of your kind here. This is a normal house, with normal folk, do you hear?"

Albus stepped out of the fireplace and smiled brightly. "Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas! Mister Dursley, I presume? I shan't be long, I assure you. I wish simply to deliver some presents for young Harry." Albus leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "And I had hoped the lad was still awake. After having spent so many hours creating my sleigh, it would be such a shame if it went unseen by excited little eyes."

But Vernon had been building up an outburst and exploded as Albus finished. "OUT! OUT, I SAY! We took the lad in, but we'll raise him our way. He doesn't know your kind, and if I have my way — which I will — he'll never hear a word of your freakishness!"

Albus' good cheer was diminishing with each shouted word and angry hand gesture. Perhaps he had made a mistake in coming? When Vernon paused for breath, he spoke quickly. "If I am not welcome, I shall not trespass. But surely, you won't deny Harry his heritage? He is who he is and his parents put him down for Hogwarts at his birth. But that is still years away. I shall take my leave."

Then he turned to the giant pile of presents by the Christmas tree. "Just as soon as I have added a few gifts to the pile you are presenting the boys. Quite a haul this year, I see."

Petunia, who had recovered her wits now that she knew what she was dealing with, sniffed. Something felt off to Albus. As he bent down to place a present, he saw two packages for Dudley. He placed another between more packages to Dudley. He began surreptitiously reading as many labels as he could. None were for Harry.

"Now Petunia, that should even the numbers between the boys somewhat. I take it that Dudley is a family favourite?"

Mrs Dursley raised her chin up. "Of course he is. Our little Dudley is an adorable sweet little boy."

"And Harry's presents are further down the pile?"

Mrs Dursley's guilty look was the answer he didn't want. "They're not, are they?"

Mrs Dursley sniffed again and stared straight ahead.

"Of course they're not," Mister Dursley brushed him off. "We're giving the f-, boy, room and board. We're not about to throw away more of our hard-earned money on him."

Mrs Dursley realised Vernon's mistake and blanched.

Albus didn't like the signals, and his instincts now told him that the situation was about to go from bad to worse. "And what room, Mister Dursley, have you seen fit to bestow upon young Harry? As I recall, you have four rooms suitable for bedrooms. As you still have only one child yourselves, sparing one for Harry should be no particular hardship. Does he eat so much, that an affluent person such as yourself could not even afford him some trinkets for Christmas?"

With each question, Mister Dursley's face went from red towards puce. "Now see here!" he spluttered. He was panting from rage. "I don't like your accusatory tone! I have told you to GET OUT, AND NOW YOU WILL LEAVE!" He hefted his fists.

Albus was getting agitated himself. Could it be Minerva had been understating what horrible people these were? He brandished his wand and froze Mister Dursley in place before the man hurt himself. Mrs Dursley lunged for him, and he sent her to the couch and attached her to it. "Homenum revelio!"

His heart sank. Where he expected two boys upstairs, there was one. He knew there was no bedroom downstairs, but his charm told him there were three other people. One of them out in the hallway, where he couldn't see anybody. Albus walked resolutely towards the place of the third person, stopping before a cupboard door. With a locked latch outside.

Gently, he lifted the latch and opened the door. The final vestige of his good mood had long since melted away, but he forced a grandfatherly smile on his face.

.oOo.

Harry had almost fallen asleep when a shout from Uncle Vernon woke him. Then there was more shouting, until suddenly there was silence. When the door opened, Harry was sitting with a fearful look with his back to the wall — as far away as he could get, which wasn't all that far.

A man with a very long beard and an unusual expression on his face hunched down and said, "Merry Christmas, Harry. Would you like a lemon drop?"

.oOo.

Back at the castle — after a long and exhausting conversation with Madam Pomfrey — Albus sank into his chair. His attempt at giving the boy a normal childhood, sheltered from fame and expectations in the wizarding world had failed miserably. He took a lemon drop.

There was still hope. Much of Harry's childhood remained, and Albus could be as persistent as anyone. His next attempt would succeed. But he had to act immediately. It would not do for anyone to discover a three-year-old with a lightning bolt scar in the Hogwarts infirmary.

.oOo.

A flash of flames startled Remus Lupin out of his drunken stupor. Was that a phoenix?

"Remus, I have made a grave mistake."

Remus peered at the man below the phoenix. Did a wolf eat the reindeers? Where did Santa Claus find a phoenix?

"I dare say," the werewolf mumbled. "There is no one here deserving of presents." He gestured to the room, littered with empty bottles, but missing both Christmas ornaments and nice children.

Santa Claus hung his head and closed his eyes for a while. "Then perhaps you would rather give a present. Do you have contact with anyone in the wizarding world?"

Of course Santa would know all about wizards. "No."

"And is there anything holding you here?" The lack of company told the tale, Remus' shaking head merely confirming it.

"Take my hand, then. Fawkes!"

.oOo.

While Poppy was administering a hangover cure to a thoroughly confused Remus Lupin, Albus got to work in Privet Drive. For the blood wards, Harry still had to live at number four, as did his aunt. Remus couldn't visit all the time and risk alerting the ministry, which would not look kindly upon a werewolf meeting the boy-who-lived. No, there would be no need for visits when Albus was done.

The next day, a still dazed Remus carried a nervous Harry up the stairs.

The Headmaster stood slumped with purple rings under his eyes and a crumpled Santa costume still on. But his voice was all cheer and his eyes twinkled as he stated simply, "Harry Potter lives in the first room to the right at the second floor of number four, Privet Drive."

Then he opened the door. Harry dared look, and stared in spite of himself. Instead of Dudley's second room, which he had cleaned before, there was a hallway that was too long. It had two doors on the left and three on the right. "Your present, Harry. A proper room for yourself, another for Remus, who will look after you, a bathroom, living room and a kitchen." Harry stared. Remus stared.

"Magic," said Santa.

.oOo.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Albus Dumbledore led the cheering.

With his best lungful of air, Harry leaned forward and managed to put out all four candles. They hopped off the cake and bowed to him. When the knife had cut a huge piece — much larger than even a growing boy could hope to eat — the candles marched into the seam and somehow lifted the slice out and carried it to Harry's plate.

Minerva McGonagall mirrored Harry's smile. Such unrestrained enthusiasm he had when falling upon his cake let her forgive Albus a little. And herself.

Half a year back, she had learned from her mistake and insisted on personally checking up on Harry, just before school resumed after Christmas. Harry had not left his room since moving in, and did not once dare to meet her eyes. Now his gaze had taken in everyone, sharing his enthusiasm for the live candles.

.oOo.

When Harry turned five and would soon start school, Remus told him the full story of his parents' murder.

"Padfoot? Padfoot would never hurt me! He didn't, he didn't, he didn't!" Remus looked utterly miserable, and couldn't say anything else. Harry sulked in his room until Albus stuck his head in and a plan struck Harry. Albus never refused him.

When they were all assembled in the living room, Harry quashed the festive atmosphere by standing silently and trying to look each of them in the eye. Remus was still dejected and looked down on the floor. Hagrid was hard to stare down and simply stood confused, waiting to see how the others reacted. Minerva was baffled and looked to Albus for an explanation.

Albus met Harry's eyes. Before Albus could take initiative, Harry rushed out, "I know you have brought presents for today already, so here is my Christmas wish. Next Christmas I don't want anything. Nothing but one favour. I want to visit Padfoot, and he will tell me he didn't do it."

Albus looked crestfallen. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, my boy."

"He will tell me! He will! I don't want anything else, not for any Christmases. Please Albus, take me." And then he looked up at Albus with those innocent green eyes, misted over with tears about to fall. Albus feared the heartache that would come, but his favourite orphan requested to meet the reason for that, and he gave in.

.oOo.

Adding yet another room while maintaining the current interior had been fiendishly hard, but Albus had enjoyed every moment. Another wrong had been righted, his exhausting effort with magic a counterweight to the shame of his failures.

For three years now, Harry had had two parents, surely that was even more normal than only having one. Albus rejoiced in his success at finally providing Harry with a normal childhood.

Except... he couldn't really force children to be friends with Harry. The Dursleys hadn't improved their attitude. Remus and Sirius had put a definite stop to their son's attempts at physically assaulting Harry, but Dudley and his gang had managed to scare the other kids away. Apparently, having two parents who were both men wasn't quite so normal, and Harry was ostracized by his yearmates for it.

Instead, Harry mostly found his friends in books. Not so surprising given his role model in Remus. When Harry turned eight, all five adults pooled together for the one hundred pounds for a year of membership to the London Library.

The next day, Harry was in awe. He only had a vague idea of what a number like a hundred thousand was, and the library had several hundred thousand books. Being among them was almost overwhelming. They ended the day in the Science and Miscellaneous section.

Harry was bemused to find a category called conjuring, with books such as Victorian magic by Geoffrey Lamb and an old looking one called Modern magic: A practical treatise on the art of conjuring by Professor Hoffmann.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a girl that was suddenly next to him saying, "It's silly, isn't it? Of course, most of these books are about the sleight of hand used by stage magicians, but some of them claim to be historical accounts of actual magics. I'm a little angry, actually. Books shouldn't lie. There is no such thing as magic, is there?" Harry hesitated.

"I'm Hermione Granger." She stuck out her hand and he shook it by reflex. "I haven't seen you here before and I have been here every day my parents had time to take me, since I was five. Are you a member then?"

Harry gathered his wits. There was something familiar about this girl, but he was quite sure they had never met. "Yes, since yesterday. A birthday present from my aunt, uncles and grandfather. It's amazing, I never knew there could be that many books in one place, though uncle Remus says Hog- I mean, the school he went to had a pretty impressive library as well." Harry started sweating at his near slip up. Perhaps interacting with peers wasn't such a good idea. But he really wanted a friend. Blast it.

"Do you want to be friends?" he blurted out.

The girl — Her-something? looked flustered. "F-friends?" she stammered. I don't even know your name."

"Oh, sorry! Harry, Harry P- Lupin, I mean." This time his slip up earned him a stern look.

"Are you making fun of me? What do you mean, you mean?" she asked harshly.

Some hectic thinking and a slightly too long pause later, Harry had his solution. "Sorry, I just changed my last name. My parents died some time ago, and everyone always gave uncle Remus grief about our names being different, so now I'm Lupin too."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine," Harry reassured her. "I was just a year old when a terrorist killed them."

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione gasped as tears gathered in her eyes. She seemed to hesitate, but then threw herself forward and hugged him. "Friends," she whispered.

.oOo.

A year later, Hermione was the only kid at the McDonald's table of five adults, besides Harry. It was a Monday morning and they currently had the upper floor to themselves. Remus was the only grownup there that she had met before. One of the others was extraordinarily huge. Hermione was polite enough not to comment, but thought it fortunate that he had brought his own chair.

As the birthday meal progressed, she was somewhat confused with how Sirius and Remus behaved. She leaned over to Harry and whispered, "Are your uncles having a falling out?"

Harry looked confused. "What gave you that idea?"

Hermione wavered. "Well, I thought... They're not behaving very boyfriend like, are they?"

"Boyfriends," Harry exclaimed and everyone turned to him. "They're not boyfriends," he blurted out, heedless of the adults' reactions and Hermione's rapidly reddening cheeks.

"Oh! I just assumed when you told me you were living together," Hermione's voice dropped off towards the end. Sirius laughed uproariously. Hermione got even redder. The first meeting with her only friend's family, and she had made a total fool of herself. Hermione wished the floor would just open under her.

None were more surprised than herself when it did.

"Hermione!"

Before Harry had completed his shout Albus had his wand out and Hermione was summoned back up. Physically intact, but somewhat unhinged.

"What?" she kept repeating.

Albus reached into his yellow suit and took out a most curious looking cork capped vial. "Drink this, my dear," he said calmly. Unused to questioning adults, Hermione accepted the calming draught and chugged it down. "Congratulations, Miss Granger, you're a witch."

.oOo.

After the birthday concluded, Albus had insisted Minerva go with Remus and Harry when getting Hermione home, and do the regular Muggleborn introduction to her parents. Since then, Hermione had started coming over to Harry most vacation days and every afternoon that he didn't come to Crawley.

It had taken some galleons to Madam Edgecombe at the Floo Network Authority, delivered covertly by Mundungus Fletcher, but Albus had gotten a mostly legal floo connection established between their houses.

Now that Harry had a steadfast friend, Albus was thinking about all the starstruck children that would try to edge into Harry's circle once he started school. All the stares he would receive while shopping in Diagon Alley. No, it simply wouldn't do.

Remus had the idea of getting Muggle surgery to remove the scar, as no magical method had proved helpful. Harry was more than a little apprehensive about the skin graft — having to cut skin from his stomach — but if it shielded Hermione from being known as the freak's friend, he would do it.

Albus stood disillusioned, watching the procedure and was highly alarmed when a black tar like fluid started leaking from the cut part. The lights went out as there was a high shriek. Albus sighed and cast lumos and calming charms. A very quick explanation later got them through the operation. Albus' first thought was to dread the obliviation paperwork. But that had looked suspiciously like a horcrux. He had a lot of thinking to do.

.oOo.

BOY-WHO-LIVED TO BE HOMESCHOOLED

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore brought disappointing news to those who had been hoping to see Harry Potter at Hogwarts after summer.

"Harry's guardians have notified me that he will not be attending school until his OWL year. They fear the pressure the young boy would be under, as well as security concerns with public travel with known schedules."

.oOo.

Harry and Hermione Granger were both sorted into Ravenclaw. A few of their classmates wondered how siblings could look so different. About the only similar thing was their hair colour — courtesy of an alchemical permanent colour changing potion provided by Albus. Since they were different genders, born almost a year apart, and sticking as close as any brother and sister could, none actually questioned it.

Sirius, who many suspected was in contact with Harry, stayed at home. Remus took up the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship, to the vast relief of all OWL and NEWT students.

When summer approached, Albus looked back on a successful year, with Harry appearing as the entirely normal — for a Ravenclaw — student Mister Granger. Now it was time to enact his plan to capture Lord Voldemort and thus ensure a few more peaceful years for Harry.

.oOo.

Lord Voldemort controlled Quirrell's body and held a cruciatus on it for another few seconds. He had grown impatient over the last year. "Useless fool," he cried as Quirrell whimpered from the aftereffects. "You came to serve me, but brought nothing of value."

Quirrell held his whimpers back as much as possible and did not even consider speaking.

"Now Dumbledore has set an obvious trap, but one we cannot afford to ignore." Quirrell had failed to acquire good ingredients for a resurrection ritual, which was fickle to begin with and best not attempted with suboptimal materials. Now his body was wasting away and the remaining potential of his only available follower was fast diminishing.

"We must make for the stone tonight. Fortunately, there are unicorns nearby that will see your worthless flesh through the attempt."

Quirinus Quirrell wanted to protest. He knew the consequences of drinking unicorn blood. Living a cursed life for a little longer was preferable to being tortured to death immediately, so he remained silent.

.oOo.

Lord Voldemort had only been inspecting the Mirror of Erised for a few minutes when he felt the ward activate around him. Albus Dumbledore stepped forward, looking smug. "I hope you enjoy the sight, Tom. I fear it is the only one you will have in the coming years."

So the old fool thought to trap him with a soul cage. He did not know nearly as much as he thought, then. A soul cage might hold a spirit walker when outside his body, but a soul split into horcruxes existed both inside and outside the cage — at least when his horcruxes weren't physically present — and thus could not hold him. Lord Voldemort ripped out of Quirrell's head and fled.

.oOo.

"Good evening Horace, just the man I was hoping to find. I had a most enlightening encounter last week. A soul cage will not hold a spirit that has horcruxes outside it." Slughorn blanched. "Oh, yes, Voldemort is still very much alive. You know what answer I seek."

Slughorn trembled. "I cannot give it to you, Albus. You know what he is capable of, what he would do if he found out. Please forgive my cowardice."

"Not at all, Horace. Not at all." Albus' twinkle disappeared from his eyes. "The choice is simple. Voldemort's total defeat is your only chance. Why, if Severus meets him, he might let slip that 'the old fool has learned of something called Horcruxes from the former potions professor'. You can see how that might go, I presume?"

"Surely, Albus, you wouldn't-"

"I have children to think of, Horace. I will do what I must."

Slughorn felt defeat, direct confrontation had never been his strength. With mounting dread, he whispered, "Six. He wanted a seven part soul, so you need to find six horcruxes. I'm sorry, it can't be done."

.oOo.

Harry and Hermione looked through the train for a compartment where they could read in peace. The parting with their uncles and parents had been even harder now that they knew how long a school year ran, and none of Harry's uncles were going to be at Hogwarts. Remus had told them that another professor had threatened to oust him as a werewolf, and resigned to avoid difficulties for himself and the headmaster.

No compartment was free of exuberant schoolmates, though, and they settled on one which contained a blonde with strange ornaments, reading a magazine upside down. Hermione introduced them. "Good morning, do you mind if we sit here reading as well?"

"Oh, do come in. Did you know that you are the first children I have seen without nargles today?"

Hermione shook her head and looked at Harry.

"I'm Harry Granger, and this is my older sister, Hermione," he said.

"That's not very nice, Harry," the girl replied airily. "I'm Luna Lovegood."

Harry was silent and bemused, so Hermione asked, "What isn't nice?"

"Well, for one thing, you have the most compatible auras I have seen. None of the Weasley siblings come close, and even my parents had their differences. I guess it must make for a peaceful home life, but most people with compatible auras tend to be married." Hermione flushed. "Of course, most married people are hardly compatible at all, but I guess finding your match is hard for almost everyone, because they can't actually see the auras.

"Oh, and you are Harry P. Lupin. At least that's what I heard while looking for interesting books in London Library's most interesting section. My mother used to take us," her face fell slightly at that. "Because there are so many Muggles they have accumulated much more knowledge than wizards, you know." Luna finished her mother's quote in a whisper.

Both Hermione and Harry were left speechless as Luna fell silent.

Hermione regained her equilibrium first and asked, "Did something happen to your mother?"

"She was experimenting with a spell. I liked to watch her work, because she sometimes created the most beautiful effects, but two years ago her arithmancy was wrong and she died."

Hermione gasped and wondered if she would only ever blunder about people's dead parents. It had happened at Hogwarts too. Luna seemed the type that would appreciate the same kind of blunt comfort as Harry, though, and so she leaned forward and embraced her. "I'm so sorry, Luna. If you want some friends at school, you can come to us."

Luna's father was not the most physically expressive of people, and Luna had rarely seen Ginny since her mother's death. She clung to Hermione in acceptance of the hug and felt her cheeks turn wet upon the offer of friends. "I would like that very much, Hermione. And since Harry seems to need to hide who he is, I will do my best to pretend he is your brother." At that Harry relaxed. "At least until you get older." Hermione flushed again, and Harry wondered at her thoughts.

.oOo.

Harry and Hermione liked Luna's company a lot. The pureblood was one of the most innocent and knowledgeable people either had met. Her optimism and curiosity at everything were infectious. But it had some drawbacks too, like when the deathday party had been old for several hours and Luna still found interesting ghostly conversation. But when they came back to the dorm late, late at night, everyone was still wide awake, discussing the chamber of secrets.

.oOo.

Albus applied a notice-me-not charm and stood waiting for the duelling club crowd to file in. He would probably have come only to watch Harry participate. But with the chamber of secrets business and so many students gathered in one place, he also felt he had an administrative reason for being there. And he wanted to see Lockhart's performance for himself.

As the opening demonstration concluded, Albus sighed. He would have to look hard for someone willing to take over the rest of the year. Maybe even call in a favour.

At least Harry was proving to be the best in his year. For some reason, Severus seemed to think this warranted placing him against Mister Malfoy up on the stage. Perhaps he wanted young Draco to gain some humility.

Then Lockhart interfered, and it all went wrong. The snake landed near a young Hufflepuff, seriously agitated and in a mind to bite first and flee later. §Stop,§ shouted Harry right as the snake was about to strike. It checked itself mid-air, just as Severus banished it.

Albus did some fast thinking. This could quickly get out of hand. He dropped the notice-me-not and stepped onto the stage, next to a shaken Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Thank you, Mister Granger, for saving Mister Finch-Fletchley. Fifty points from Slytherin and one week detention for conjuring a venomous snake in a beginner's duel, Mister Malfoy." Dumbledore silenced Severus with a look. "Is this your first time speaking to a snake, Mister Granger?"

"Yes, sir," Harry stammered, looking out on the many faces filled with suspicion and some with downright hostility.

The headmaster urged the students, "Before you condemn Mister Granger simply for possessing a rare skill, please take a while to think. It is our choices that define who we are, not our heritage. If he did not wish to save Mister Finch-Fletchley, he could have simply remained silent and let him be bitten. Even were Mister Granger a long lost squib descendant of Slytherin-"

"What!", "No way!" and "Heresy!" could be heard shouting.

"-even if he were, that does not exclude the possibility of other heirs of Slytherin. Ones whose actions are not so benevolent," Albus concluded.

Later that night, Harry was asked to demonstrate his skill in the Ravenclaw common room, and nobody from his own house gave him any grief on the matter. Luna even learned a passable imitation of §please don't bite me, I mean no harm§.

.oOo.

Harry was walking with Luna and Hermione. The Hufflepuffs had gotten very suspicious when Harry had found Justin petrified — the heir's first human victim — the day after the duelling club. Their new defence teacher, Auror Shacklebolt, had arrived the very next week. He had told his classes how the evidence so far pointed to an unknown perpetrator, probably with connections to someone at school fifty years ago. Still, neither girl was letting Harry walk about alone anymore, not even after they all had a relaxing Christmas holiday.

When they approached a girl's bathroom, they heard loud sobbing inside. "That's Myrtle Warren's bathroom," said Luna. "She is always sad, but she must be extra upset today." She went in to comfort the ghost.

Harry followed her and noticed a soaked diary lying on the floor. Then he noticed Hermione moving to pick it up. "Wait, Hermione!"

Luna turned towards Hermione and noticed the book too. "Oh, Harry is right, you really shouldn't handle unknown books. People heavily infested with nargles seem to like applying really nasty curses to them."

Harry had a bad feeling about the book. He decided to levitate it, and they all went to see the headmaster.

.oOo.

The week after Easter, Harry was walking with Hermione from the library when he heard a sound he couldn't locate at first. §Master! Master, where are you? Hungry, soo hungry. I smell blood.§

"Did you hear that, Hermione?" She shook her head. "Parseltongue, maybe? I can't hear where it's coming from. It's like it's inside the walls."

"What does it say?"

"It called for a master, said it was hungry and smelled blood."

Suddenly there was a pop behind them. A high-pitched voice exclaimed, "Dobby the house-elf has come to protect innocent students. Students are in grave danger. Students must go back to the library at once."

"Let's go, Harry." Hermione was nervous. She grabbed his hand and started back towards the library.

"Wait, I hear the voice again. I think it has entered the hallways behind us."

"Sir is right. Students must run! Dobby will protect everyone." The little creature snapped his fingers and was transported inside a suit of armour.

§I smell food.§

Harry dragged Hermione along, stumbling through the corridors at a dead run. They heard a loud crunch and sprinted harder. Harry heard the voice gaining on them. It had to be just around the corner as they came upon the headmaster's gargoyle. Harry panted, "Froot Loops!"

As the gargoyle closed behind them there was an almighty crash. They ran up the rotating stairs to an open door.

"Albus! The monster from the chamber. It is trying to get through the gargoyle. I think it is some kind of large snake."

Albus gasped. It couldn't be a basilisk, could it? He would have to assume the worst. "Expecto patronum. There might be a basilisk in the hallways, alert everyone else." A ghostly phoenix flew off to Minerva. "Fawkes, take me to Hagrid's chicken coop, please."

.oOo.

Fortunately, a rooster crowing throughout the hallways with the help of an amplifying charm was enough to stun the basilisk before anyone came to harm — except Dobby, who was found petrified inside the armour. Albus had to summon Hagrid to cut through its skin and dispose of it, however little the half-giant liked the task.

The next day, Albus had Harry try to speak parseltongue to the snake carvings found in the bathroom where both Myrtle Warren was murdered and the diary was found. After a detour to retrieve Harry for a second closed gate below, Albus explored the chamber thoroughly, not finding neither more basilisks or horcruxes.

.oOo.

Lucius Malfoy came the day the mandrake potion was ready, excusing it as an inspection by the Hogwarts board to try to find out more about the diary's progress. Also, it was highly suspicious that a house-elf had been petrified while one of his own elves had gone missing.

An unwelcome voice startled Malfoy as he was looking upon what was clearly Dobby. "Are you perhaps already familiar with our hero? Were it not for Dobby, Slytherin's monster might have killed a great number of people." A look of distaste passed Malfoy's face before he schooled it.

"I shall reward him appropriately then."

Albus was still standing by Malfoy's side when Dobby was unpetrified.

"I wonder, Mister Malfoy. You see, I came upon a most intriguing object. An old diary. It had a lot to tell. But to be honest, I didn't like it very much and decided to test its resilience to basilisk venom. It is safe to handle now, but perhaps the board would like it for study?" Albus held forth a half melted small book.

Malfoy sneered. "I don't see why the board would have any interest in an old, broken object. Dobby!" He threw the book at the house-elf. "Dispose of it."

"Before you do," said Albus with a glimmer in his eyes, "you might want to have a look inside. Thank you very much for your help, Dobby."

Dobby opened the book to find a shrunk woollen sock. "Master has given Dobby clothes. Thank you, Mister Dumbledore, sir. Master has freed Dobby!"

Malfoy turned to shout at Dumbledore, "You'll regret this!"

Albus chuckled. "Yes, yes. Just as soon as we find out how this diary made its way to Hogwarts, I'm sure. Hagrid told me of a most suspicious fight. Muggle brawling, Mister Malfoy?"

Malfoy left in a huff. Albus turned to Dobby.

"Perhaps I could interest you in a place of work, Dobby? I know a young boy who is most thankful to you for saving himself and his best friend. And I hear his godfather is rather messy." Dobby's huge eyes lit up.

.oOo.

Halfway through the summer, the novelty of a cheerful house-elf with a tendency to take initiative had long since worn off. Sirius was ready for some serious time away from Privet Drive and Dumbledore was in need of a defence professor.

When Peter Pettigrew heard Ron Weasley complain about the way Professor Black had called him out in class, he decided his luck had been used up. The next morning saw one less animagus left at Hogwarts.

The first Hogsmeade weekend, Hermione dragged a willing Harry to Scrivenshaft's. Harry bought Hermione her favourite chocolate at Honeydukes, seeing as how she would never had bought it for herself. Hermione helped Harry pick up some nostalgic items for his uncles at Zonko's.

When they finally arrived back at the common room, Hermione was slightly flustered, coming down from a high of a day filled with novel experiences shared with good companionship. She hugged Harry good night enthusiastically and he couldn't help noticing that she was becoming well grown. He fell asleep thinking about their next Hogsmeade visit.

That visit ended with them at the Shrieking Shack, sharing thoughts and dreams of the future, and quite forgetting the time. After sneaking back into the castle cuddled together under Harry's invisibility cloak, Harry knew that he never wanted to let Hermione go. He felt a little perverse as he let the good night hug go on, but then, Hermione wasn't letting go either. At its eventual completion they were both embarrassed and glad to leave for their dorms unnoticed by anyone.

By unspoken consent, they ended up alone by the Shack again in February. It was a crisp, cold highlands winter day and they told themselves they were simply touching shoulders for warmth. Then they turned towards each other at exactly the same time. Harry couldn't help notice how close Hermione's mouth was. How they had shared practically everything for more than four years. How he never questioned who he wanted to spend time with.

Someone who always liked spending time with him too. Someone beautiful, inside and out. Someone whose aura was apparently very compatible with his. And someone who had now looked into his eyes in silence for quite some time.

He slowly leaned forward and Hermione turned fully towards him, hands on his hips. He lifted his hands and cupped her face. Their eyes closed and their lips met.

Two minutes later they were getting the hang of it. Then Hermione licked his lips, his tongue darted out to meet hers, and there was a whole new technique to master.

Yet another late arrival to the castle saw the cloak put to good use.

.oOo.

After his second perfectly normal school year, Harry was looking forward to travelling with Hermione to the Quidditch world cup. Her parents would join them, for their first immersion into the wizarding world. Not to mention being alibies as the kids' parents. Sirius tagged along as their dog and Remus got a tent just a few spots over.

When they had settled down for the night, there was a commotion that woke them right back up. Remus was with them just as they got their clothes on. "We're evacuating," he said and packed up their tent. Then he cast a notice-me-not on the black dog.

"Sirius, apparate home with Dan and Harry as soon as you change. I will take Emma and Hermione." Ten seconds later, they were all at Privet Drive and dreading what news tomorrow's Prophet would bring.

.oOo.

Three champions stood proudly by the goblet of fire. Just as the headmaster was about to let Ludo Bagman present the first task, the goblet lit up again.

Harry watched Albus' face fall, and the unease he had felt since reading about the dark mark at the world cup came back tenfold.

"Harry Potter. My dear boy, I am so very sorry." Albus looked directly at him.

With a heavy heart, Albus thought of his options and his next words. He had felt the goblet binding itself to Harry. It used the target's own understanding to interpret events. If the participant knew he had not made his best effort at competing in each task, his magic would be forfeit. If the tasks were obvious shams designed to satisfy the condition of holding a tournament, it would not be enough. The tasks had already been agreed upon, and Harry would have to fully partake in them.

"We thought it prudent to limit the tournament to adults, after a two-hundred-year break caused by a high death toll. I assure you all that Mister Potter did not enter himself. It appears there is a sinister plot to put his life at risk. And expose him a year before his own choosing.

"In these distressing circumstances, I present to you the fourth and unwilling champion. Going incognito for three years — by my own design — posing as an only Muggleborn's younger brother, Harry Granger. Please step up."

All eyes turned to Harry, who had stood up. They had gone to school with the boy-who-lived? People were confused; he had looked like just an ordinary guy to them. Well, except the parseltongue, and now the tournament. Perhaps there was something about him after all.

Hermione stood too, and hugged him hard. He was shaking. "Join them, Harry. We'll figure it out." She waved him on and sat back down.

.oOo.

The very next day, Albus had gifted Hermione and Cho a book of travel stories by wizards that had encountered a dragon alone in the wilderness, and survived to tell the tale. "You should prepare yourself for the mindset of the kind of daring men you have chosen to stand beside."

Hermione was freaking out. "I can't believe they're sending you up against a dragon, Harry! Whoever designed these tasks must be completely mad. A team of experienced, trained dragon handlers can expect at least one serious injury — serious even with wizarding healing — while subduing a dragon, and on average a dragon reserve gets one dead employee every second year." She hugged him and started crying.

Harry had felt like crying himself, but with Hermione in tears it was left to him to stand strong. "Don't worry, Hermione. Albus wouldn't have agreed to tasks that were impossible. We're already way ahead of OWLs academically, and you know defence is my best subject by far. I'll be fine, I promise."

.oOo.

As the day of the task dawned, Harry didn't feel so sure about his promise, but he did his best not to let it show. As lunch came to an end, the headmaster rose. "If the champions would please make their way to the arena and enter the tent, the last preparations can be made. The task will begin in one hour."

After being ousted as the boy-who-lived, the attention Harry got from fellow students had skyrocketed. Especially the female attention had been annoying him, Hermione knew. Which was silly, because except for his hair being back to its original black, he looked just the same.

She stood up with him. They needed to make their relationship known. And he could theoretically die. Two minutes and a snogging later — which Albus had to interrupt — everybody had a better idea of how much they liked each other.

.oOo.

"Accio golden egg!" Well, he hadn't expected that to work.

"Engorgio," was Harry's next attempt and he sent the model dragon — now about half the size of the real Hungarian horntail — running as fast as it could. Meanwhile, he transfigured a rock about the size of the egg into already chewed bubble gum. "Wingardium leviosa." The bubble gum took off towards the golden egg and stuck to it. Success! The levitation charm required a little more power to maintain, but it was hardly taxing. The egg stuck in gum zoomed back to him and he ran out of the stadium.

.oOo.

Time was running out and Albus felt it. A single horcrux of Horace's projected six, that was all he had found. He was certain Voldemort had not meant to make one of Harry. It was time to follow up on all his leads.

"Remus, could you accompany me to an old abandoned house most likely filled with lethal traps?"

.oOo.

"Dobby, could you watch over me as I go about drinking a most foul concoction?"

.oOo.

"Sirius, your brother was Regulus Arcturus Black, R.A.B., if my memory serves me right. I think we need to visit Grimmauld Place."

.oOo.

"Topsy! Do you know of any unusual or hidden rooms in the castle?"

.oOo.

"Well met, chief Ragnok. I bring grave news. If my suspicions are correct, an item most vile and evil has been placed into a Gringotts vault." The goblin looked unimpressed. "I have seen for myself that this item allows a particular individual to pass through all known wards." Now he had his attention.

.oOo.

"Harry, I fear the reason you were entered into the tournament is the same that saw your parents dead. You need to be forewarned. If ever you have the bad fortune to run into Voldemort, you must be prepared for any special item he might keep, or companion he might have. It must be destroyed.

"Now, for the reason. There is a prophecy."

.oOo.

For the second task, Hermione and Harry had investigated and trained with all kinds of methods of underwater travel, except apparition, which was both illegal for Harry and fatal if one apparated too deep underwater. As the task was about to start, they wondered what would be taken.

Bagman got almost straight to the point. "What all wizards and witches would most sorely miss, is of course their only wand. You have one hour to retrieve it from the merpeople's village. Good luck."

Harry started swimming towards where they had found the village while exploring. When he was at about the right location, he opened his pouch of gillyweed and chewed a ball of it. A rather long and dark dive later — fortunately the village was lit — and he resurfaced with his wand, clocking in at thirty-five minutes.

The other champions' preparation was disappointedly lacking. Only Krum had trained enough swimming that he managed to dive almost down to the village. But before he reached his wand he passed out and had to be rescued by the merpeople.

.oOo.

Harry entered the maze forty minutes before the next champion, one minute per point lead. As Krum took his first turn, Harry was answering the sphinx.

Then an absolutely gigantic spider appeared. There was no way Harry was going to reach the cup before the spider was upon him. "Avis, avis, avis." Flocks of birds went for the spider's eyes, and it stopped, trying to fend them off. "Reducto!" A direct hit into an already plucked open eye, and the spider was down.

Harry grabbed the cup.

.oOo.

Trying to adjust to the lack of lighting, Harry saw someone walking towards him, carrying a bundle that might have been an infant. This was obviously not part of the tournament.

"So kind of you to join us," said a high-pitched cold voice. "Bind him, Wormtail!"

The portly man shot ropes towards him, and Harry simply sidestepped them, even as he cast. "Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy." Left, right and middle. With his girth, and the bundle he was carrying, the man couldn't sidestep fast enough and fell down unconscious, right on top of the baby.

§Master!§ A distressed shout from his right. A huge snake — much smaller than the basilisk, but certainly larger than any non-magical snake — slithered towards the unconscious body.

Remembering Albus' warning, repeated just this morning, Harry fired off a blasting curse towards it. That drew its attention and it went towards Harry. A cutting curse didn't work either.

"Incendio!" Harry kept the fire as hot as he could, pouring his magic into it. The snake's eyes boiled and popped. Harry pushed out yet more magic and walked nearer the writhing creature for greater effect. As soon as it stopped moving, there was a horrible screech, and a black liquid trickled out of the crispy skin.

While Harry was pouring flames over Nagini, a black cloud had been inching slowly towards him, starting below the still body of Peter Pettigrew. Only a meter away, the cloud stopped and faded just as Nagini died.

Harry looked around. Nothing else seemed to be moving. He walked over to the downed man, sat on his head, and summoned the cup.

.oOo.

Dumbledore was performing legilimency on Pettigrew. Harry had walked off with Hermione and was enjoying a heated snogging session with her, rejoicing both in being alive and being alive. They had just started feeling up the inside of their school uniforms, when the paranoid defence professor found them.

"Potter, you need to come with me," he said gruffly.

Hermione was less than pleased and countered, "I thought you had retired as an auror, Professor Moody. I think I will look after my boyfriend until he can be officially questioned."

Moody looked impatient. "Listen you twat, I only need a few minutes of his time. Telling the tale while it is still fresh is very important, you know. You'll get him back to satisfy your hormones momentarily." He grabbed Harry's shoulder and tried to drag him away.

"Where are you taking him," insisted Hermione.

When the scarred man raised his wand towards her, Harry had had enough. He fell to the ground and yanked on the man's wooden leg, dragging him down too. A quick stunning spell later, and whoever it was stayed down.

.oOo.

Two out of four, mused Albus. He had the distinct feeling that Harry could have had far fewer normal school years. There were still three left, each with a high chance of normalcy. Funny how it all began with his own eccentricity. Perhaps it wasn't all that bad as Minerva made it out to be.