ARGLFLARGLEBARGLE! This chapter! It refused to be written! And then Safari refused to post it! I had to resort to Google chrome for this! GAH!

Harry Potter had been living at Hogwarts for nearly two months now, but to the staff at the castle sans Hagrid, the boy was just as much an enigma as the day he first arrived. He didn't talk to the staff of the castle very much and when he did it was usually only in order to ask questions and run off immediately after. They didn't really know his hobbies either. According to Madam Pince the boy spent many days and long hours in the library pouring over subjects ranging from law, to history, to runes with no real pattern in his choices.

Some of the staff was actually worried about the child retreating into himself due to lack of social interaction until they heard about a certain ghost party one night. Harry's friendship with Hagrid also did wonders to alleviate some of their fears for the boy's well being.

Still, the staff did get to see the child on a daily basis for breakfast at least. Harry would routinely walk through the door to the staff room still slumped over and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He'd slide a chair up next to Minerva in order to shield himself from Sybill who happened to be a very enthusiastic morning person. The deputy headmistress who was not unaware of Harry's machinations was secretly pleased that Harry found the woman as annoying as she did.

He would eat in silence, which most of the staff appreciated. It was their summer vacation too and they enjoyed the peace that came with the lack of hundreds of children. Most of them knew it was unfair to hold it against the boy for staying here as he had no where else to go, but some of them couldn't silence the tiny voice deep down inside themselves that said Harry was intruding on their time off even when he was doing no such thing. Pomona, Minerva, and Poppy were able to squash such thoughts after the first two weeks, but it was in both Irma and Argus' nature to be suspicious of children so their attitude with the boy remained chilly.

The rest of the staff wondered if Sybill ever entertained such thoughts, but dismissed the idea when it became obvious that she was just too enamored with predicting horrible calamities that would befall the poor boy.

So, while the staff didn't know Harry as well as some of them would have liked to, they knew enough to know that he was acting very peculiar this morning.

It started with him walking into the staffroom five minutes earlier than usual. That in itself wouldn't have been so strange if not for the fact that the ever present morning slump was absent along with the usual half-baked wave he gave to everyone. No, today he was smiling and met everyone's eyes when he waved his hand to greet them.

He still sat next to Professor McGonagall, but instead of slowly dragging the chair over like he usually did, he quickly slid the seat into position and practically jumped into it.

Professor McGonagall raised a brow; "You seem chipper this morning."

Harry grinned up at her between mouthfuls of oatmeal.

"I just know today is gonna be a great is all," said Harry.

"I admire you're bravery in the face of the dark days you have ahead," Professor Trelawney spoke tranquilly, "have you made peace with your fate?"

Harry sighed, "You know I would enjoy the time I have left so much more if you didn't keep reminding me of my upcoming demise," Harry deadpanned.

Pomona coughed into her hand what sounded suspiciously like a snicker. Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched upward for a fraction of a second.

"I'm merely warning you of what is to come," the instructor waved a ring covered hand.

Harry crossed his arms, "Yeah, well there are some things that people are better off just not knowing about. Unless you can tell me how to avoid this awful death that you keep seeing, then it would be nice if you could keep it to yourself."

Professor Trelawney threw her chin up in the air, "Well if it will make you feel better –"

"It will"

"- then I'll keep my predictions concerning your death to myself. If only so you can enjoy the time you have left," she finished dramatically.

Harry shrugged, "Everyone's gotta die sometime," his face darkened for a moment, but brightened up again before Professor McGonagall could ask what was wrong.

The fortuneteller narrowed her eyes, "You treat death so lightly-"

A bitter laugh cut her off, "Don't you dare patronize me about death," Harry's voice was cold, "I'm not the one giving out killing predictions like candy."

"Hmph!" the Professor stood from the table, the beads on her shawls jingling along with her, "I see I'm not wanted here…" she swept dramatically out of the room, taking her plate with her.

Harry's cold expression immediately vanished and was replaced with one of regret. He slumped into his seat and moaned, "I didn't mean to make her leave. I just wanted her to stop telling me I was gonna die!"

Madam Pomfrey sighed, "Oh, don't worry about it. This usually happens at least once per break, although it's usually Professor McGonagall that ends up doing it."

Minerva remained silent, but sat tall, proud and completely unapologetic.

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes, "Yes, well, Professor Trelawney just happens to be very sensitive when it comes to criticism and very vocal when it comes to her beliefs. As you can see it's not a very good combination."

Harry nodded, "you can say that again," he propped his chin on his fist, "Do you think she'll keep her promise and stop predicting my death?"

"Don't hold your breath," muttered Professor McGonagall.

Harry sighed, "Figures, I guess it was too much to hope for anyway."

"So what was that you were saying about a great day earlier?" asked Madam Pince sardonically between sips of her morning tea.

Harry's smile was back again.

"I was saying today is gonna be great. Not even Trelawney's drama can ruin my day!" He pumped a fist in the air and launched himself out of his seat, "I'll see you guys later," he waved behind himself as he ran out the door with renewed vigor.

"That was… different," Professor Sprout was the first to recover.

Filch, who'd been sitting quietly in the dark corner of the lounge he'd claimed previously snorted, "Boy better not be plannin' any funny business," he hunched over his oatmeal and blended back into the shadows.

Professor McGonagall restrained herself from rolling her eyes, "You're faith in Harry is inspiring Argus."

Filch just grunted.

The door to the teacher's lounge opened up once more, this time revealing the headmaster. He appeared to be looking for someone.

"Oh dear," said Professor Dumbledore, "I take it that Harry's already eaten?"

The occupants of the room nodded affirmatively.

"Is there something you needed to tell him Albus?" asked Minerva, immediately concerned.

"Oh nothing serious," Professor Dumbledore wave his hand, "I just wanted to wish him a happy birthday," he smiled fondly.

The staff went silent. Irma and Filch went about their business as usual, while Minerva, Pomona and Poppy wondered just what else they didn't know about the new resident at Hogwarts?

Harry didn't immediately go back to his room after breakfast. Why would he? It was his birthday after all; who spends their birthday in their room?

As Danny, birthdays didn't mean much since he was long past any meaningful milestones in life aside from 'you should have died X years ago' but he didn't really like to celebrate those. When he first became Harry, his birth parents threw a pretty sweet birthday party despite the fact that they were supposed to be in hiding. He remembered his mom yelling at his dad for trying to shoot up fire works up in front of the house so they could watch from the windows.

It went down hill after that though, when he moved in with the Dursleys. His aunt and uncle didn't even like to acknowledge his existence, let alone celebrate the day of his birth. Harry soon learned to associate birthdays with every other day of the year with the exception of Dudley's taunting because it was just his luck that the only one to remember his birthday would be the spoiled brat.

But he didn't live with the Dursleys any more. Harry was free from Privet drive and its suffocating normalness. There was no one to stop Harry this year from having fun on his birthday! As long as he cleaned up after himself, he was home free!

Harry surfed down the railing of one of the grand staircases. Right as he ran out of railing he jumped ship to another passing staircase and started the process all over again. It was kind of a game to Harry. He would start at the seventh floor and surf the railings in his socks until he got to the bottom. He'd constantly try to grab the stairs going upwards to prolong his descent and try to keep his best time in his head, as he didn't have a stopwatch on him.

It wasn't really dangerous to him. If he fell he could just oh so subtly use his flight powers to change his trajectory to the nearest set of stairs for him to grab onto so the portraits wouldn't notice anything funny.

Speaking of portraits, he was curious at first as to why none of them reported his reckless behavior to a teacher yet, but it became a little obvious when he started to hear cheers and trick requests from half of them. They were bored, and by god Harry was the most entertaining thing to happen to them in years when it came to the summer. What Dumbledore didn't know wouldn't hurt him…

Still, Harry didn't plan on riding the stairs all day (he did that last Tuesday). No, he wanted to celebrate with someone darn it! This was his first birthday away from the Dursleys and he wanted it to be special.

He didn't bother with the regular teachers and staff. They hardly knew him and celebrating with them would probably end up with something like the horrible lovechild of an awkward office party and a children's birthday party thrown by parents who don't realize their kid terrified of clowns: uncomfortable, embarrassing and distant. Besides he didn't want to find out what kind of gift Professor Trelawney would give him, ever.

He thought about partying with the ghosts, until he remembered the ghosts around here only celebrated death days and were kind of sensitive when he brought up certain subjects. Celebrating the eleventh anniversary of his life might not go over very well with that crowd.

That just left the house elves and Hagrid, a tough choice indeed.

On one hand Hagrid was an all around swell guy and his pets were awesome. Almost all of them were dangerous, but hey, so was he. Hagrid was also the only guy on the castle grounds that came close to really knowing him.

On the other hand, the house elves were fantastic cooks. They could probably make the best birthday cake Harry ever tasted if he asked nicely enough. Not to mention their party potential. Harry knew those little midgets were holding back their wild side. No one was that well behaved all the time. There had to be a way to release those pesky little inhibitions and free the little party animals inside…

Harry finally landed at the bottom landing of the grand staircase, having run out of other staircases to jump onto. He jumped off the railing and onto the floor so he could walk into the entrance hall, but before he went any further, he pulled out his wand and summoned his shoes.

He still had no idea how to do the spell Professor Dumbledore told him about in the infirmary, but he could imitate telekinesis well enough with his magic, while the ghostly version hadn't developed yet. It was only a matter of the source of power he drew upon to do it.

Harry lazily walked into the entrance hall where he now stood at the crossroads. He could walk out the front door and over to Hagrid's or he could take the door next to the stairs leading down to the dungeons and maybe get a crazy house elf party going?

His only closest real (living) friend…

…or his own party army…

…a tough choice indeed.

And then Harry had a brilliant idea! What if-

A puff of cold air forced itself out his lips.

"Harry!" a gruff voice echoed through the hall.

The black haired boy rose his head upward just in time to watch the silvery figure of Harold the highwayman descend through the ceiling.

"The headmaster wants a word with ya' lad! Don't keep him waitin'!" and with that he made a dive for the floor. Harry cocked his head to the right when he noticed something fluffy in Harold's hand.

Another cold mist breezed through his mouth.

"GET BACK HERE YOU SLAVE*!" a shrill voice screeched.

Right after the ghostly highwayman disappeared from sight, a new spirit came to take his place. A woman in Elizabethan garb and no hair stormed through the same patch of ceiling Harold entered.

Harry waved nervously, "Hi Bella…"

The silver spirit fixed her furious gaze upon him.

"WHERE DID HE GO!"

Harry resisted the urge to flinch and hurriedly pointed downward. Harold was a fun guy, but he wasn't going to lose his hearing just so he could steal a woman's hairpiece.

The lady huffed and swooped down through the floor leaving Harry alone once again.

Harry beamed with excitement. He hadn't even considered celebrating his birthday with Professor Dumbledore. The old man was just so busy all the time that the thought of visiting him for trivial things just seemed rude. They would sometimes chat at breakfast, only to quickly go their separate ways afterward. Still, Dumbledore was the one inviting him this time and Harry wasn't going to blow off this rare chance.

The portraits of the grand staircase were treated with an impressive gymnastics display as Harry ran, jumped and swung up to the seventh floor landing, as he was too impatient for the staircases to line up properly for him to use the right way.

The black haired boy approached the end of the hallway where the gargoyle statue guarded the entrance to the headmaster's office and stopped short, then pulled at his hair in frustration.

Stupid Harold! You never gave me the password! I hope Bella chokes you with that wig!

Harry inspected the gargoyle curiously. The password to his fireplace was candy and the headmaster had the biggest sweet tooth he'd ever seen so…

"Uhh.." he said intelligently, "ring pops?" no response.

Have those even been invented yet?

"Hershey kisses?" nope.

"Tootsie pops," nuh uh.

Harry huffed.

"Cotton Candy?" BZZZZ try again.

Harry rolled his eyes and glared the gargoyle in his way. He considered just walking through it, but it really wasn't worth it. He tried thinking about Dumbledore again. What kind of candy would he like? He seemed kinda partial to the non-magical kind, which was a relief since he didn't really know any of the magical name brands.

So what kind of candy would a non-magical guy suggest to someone like Dumbledore anyway...?

Oh, right.

"Candy corn." The gargoyle jumped to the side and Harry walked in with a wry smile at the thought of someone mistaking the professor mistaking Dumbledore for a guy in a Merlin costume.

Harry reached the top of the spiral escalator and walked into the opened door to Dumbledore's office only to realize he wasn't the only guest there.

"Hiya Harry," said Hagrid.

"Hey Hagrid," Harry greeted back, suddenly glad he didn't try to visit the man's hut today, as it would have clearly been for nothing.

Harry had to restrain himself from reacting defensively when Hagrid rushed over and crushed him into the man's all assimilating beard.

"Yeh never said yer birthday was comin' up!" said Hagrid, "How could yeh ferget to mention somethin' like that!"

"Iff wss dftrctd…" Hagrid furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, while Dumbledore smiled behind his desk.

"Ah, Hagrid, I believe you are smothering him," the Professor remarked casually.

Hagrid let out a surprised "whoops!" and released the poor kid from his bear hug. Harry coughed a little before taking a deep breath and looking back up at Hagrid.

"I was distracted," Harry repeated, "you'd be surprised how easy it is to forget what day it is when you're riding hippogryphs," he beamed at Hagrid who grinned back.

Professor Dumbledore's brows furrowed, "You've ridden a hippogryph?" he sent a reproachful look to Hagrid, "that sounds a little dangerous for an untrained wizard…"

Hagrid smiled widely, "He's a natural Professor! Yeh should'a seen'em n' Beaky together. Like watchin' a fine tuned flyin' machine."

Professor Dumbledore smiled wryly, "I see, I hope you can forgive an old man for worrying about something so silly."

"It could have happened to anyone," Harry said casually.

"Yes, I see it couldn't be the irresponsible recklessness I was afraid of, or else as your guardian I would have been forced to place some restrictions on you to keep you safe," the old man's eyes were twinkling with mischief.

The ghost boy gulped, "Ehehe.., of course not!"

Note to self: make extra sure those portraits don't rat me out for the stair game…

"Good! Now, on to more pleasant topics… Happy Birthday Harry!" two streams of light surged up from behind Dumbledore's desk and burst into small, but brilliant fireworks. No one else in the office was worried about anything catching fire, so Harry decided it probably wasn't important either and just enjoyed the show.

"Wow, best. Birthday. Ever," said Harry.

Hagrid laughed, "Don't set the bar so low Harry."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, "Hagrid's right you know. Eleven years old is a very important age for magical children you know. It's the year they recieve their letter, accepting them into Hogwarts. Usually an owl brings it to them, but in your case…"

Dumbledore held out a single envelope for Harry. After a moment of hesitation the ghost boy took the letter from the older man's hand and examined it for himself.

Mr. H. Potter

The Room Between the Portraits of Ethelred the Ever-ready and Morgan Le-fay

Hogwarts School For Witchcraft and Wizardry

Scotland

"That's awfully specific," Harry remarked as he turned the envelope over to inspect the school coat of arms.

"We pride ourselves on our accuracy," said Dumbledore before he furrowed his brow, "but for some reason most muggleborn children's parents are alarmed by it."

Harry shook his head. Today was not the day to open that can of worms. Instead he opened his envelope and inspected the first of two pages inside.

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you've been accepted Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry looked from the letter back up to Professor Dumbledore, "Do I really have to send an owl or can I just say 'yes' now and get it over with?"

"No, that's quite alright Harry. No need to waste an owl's valuable time with such a trivial distance," said Dumbledore, "In fact you can give me a reply to your letter after you come back from Diagon Alley."

Harry fumbled with his letter before he looked back at Dumbledore, "Wait, What?"

"You have to get your school books sometime, and what better date for a field trip away from the castle than your own birthday?" the Professor smiled, "Hagrid has volunteered to take you."

The black haired boy's brow furrowed, "you're not coming?" He couldn't stop himself from visibly sagging a little bit.

"I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore, "There are arrangements to make for the upcoming year that demand my attention at the moment. I hope you can forgive me."

Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair and suppressed a sigh.

"It's no big deal, sir really," he said with a weak smile, "I mean you gave me fireworks and nobody's ever done that for me before."

At least not successfully…

And while Harry was truly grateful, he couldn't quite squash the disappointment from losing another chance to hang out with Professor Dumbledore again.

"Atta boy Harry! That's the spirit!" bellowed Hagrid, "You 'n me'll have a good time ourselves," the man's oblivious jovial tone seemed to lighten the mood. The ghost boy looked at the man and smiled.

Harry laughed, "You said it! Let's paint the town red Hagrid," he grinned widely until something seemed to switch on in his brain.

"Wait a minute!" Harry exclaimed, "Nobody's going anywhere until I'm properly Clark Kented!"

And with that Harry raced out of Dumbledore's office, leaving a confused Hagrid to face an amused Headmaster.

"What on Earth is that boy on about sir?" asked Hagrid.

Dumbledore simply ignored the large man and smiled, "Is that what children are calling it these days…?"

It was decided that they would take the floo network to the leaky cauldron in order to get to Diagon Alley. Hagrid said he would go first in case Harry needed a refresher – which Harry would never admit how much he secretly appreciated it. Still he was unaware of the spectacle that came with watching someone as big as Hagrid use floo powder.

The chimney fires would always roar extra loud and the fire would always dance extra high just to let the large man through. Anyone who was near enough to watch was almost always treated to a rather pleasing change from the ordinary floo powder experience.

As always when the flames reached their peak Hagrid stepped out. His size always delivered after the big build up his flames had promised. The massive man wiped his beard and coat clear of ashes and looked back at the fireplace he just stepped out of.

Sure enough another, smaller, burst of green flames erupted from the fireplace and a small boy fell out onto his back on the floor.

"Aw, bad luck there Harry," Hagrid said as he looked down at the child who was now lying on his back and wincing.

"The pain's not bad," said the black haired boy through a grimace, "It's just that I'm pretty sure this floor is it's own thriving bacteria ecosystem."

"What?" Hagrid blinked.

"Never mind," the boy quickly jumped off the floor and dusted himself off to the best of his ability, but he was pretty sure there was still stuff in his hair.

"So we gotta hit the bank right?" asked Harry.

"S'right," answered Hagrid, "Professor Dumbledore said yeh made a withdrawal before, but he don't think it'll be 'nuff to buy whatch'a need today."

The two made their way out to the empty courtyard where Hagrid tapped his umbrella in a counterclockwise pattern to open up the gates to the Alley.

"True," said Harry, "Hey Hagrid what's that street down that way?" he pointed to a separate cobblestone street branching off of the main alley. It may have been a trick of the light from where the two were standing, but it seemed shadier than Diagon Alley. It was almost like that place was perpetually overcast while the rest of the world was sunny.

Hagrid immediately tugged Harry closer –Harry couldn't stop himself from flinching, but Hagrid thankfully didn't notice- and glared in the direction of the road Harry pointed to like it had offended his mother.

"That there's Knockturn Alley 'n there's no reason fer a young wizard like you to go down that street there Harry. Only shady characters 'down that street," said Hagrid, who looked down at Harry now expectantly, "Understand?"

"Yes," said Harry.

Though it's not going to stop me from checking it out next chance I get…

The tense atmosphere around the massive man seemed to evaporate and the half ghost finally deemed it safe to step away from Hagrid.

The rest of the trek to the bank was spent in a mostly comfortable silence broken mostly by Harry asking what the passing venders were selling, only to get reminded that he didn't have his money yet.

"I still have money from my last trip!" the young wizard protested.

"Just wait 'till yeh get to the bank Harry. Then yeh can do it all in one go," said Hagrid reasonably, but Harry didn't want to be reasonable right now. It was his birthday; he wanted to do what he wanted, when he wanted.

Still, he'd listen to Hagrid for now, then do things his way later.

They arrived at the bank to find it only mildly busy. They only had to wait in line for a couple of minutes before being helped at the counter by a goblin. Harry rattled off his name, showed the goblins his key and named the person in charge of his account quickly and efficiently, so he could start running hog-wild over the city as fast as possible. The goblin at the counter was about to turn and go get Griphook when both Harry and the Banker heard a "Wait!" from behind them.

Both boy and Goblin turned around to see Hagrid franticly fishing through his pockets. The-boy-who-lived-halfway watched in a strange sort of awe as the man pulled an assortment of dog biscuits, change, chew toys and treacle tarts out of his massive coat before taking out a white envelope and presenting it to the goblin.

"I've also got a letter from Dumbledore," Hagrid said importantly, while somehow simultaneously putting his junk back into his coat, "It's about the you-know-what in vault 713."

The Goblin carefully inspected the letter with sharp beady eyes before saying: "Very well, Griphook will take you to both vaults," and left the two alone.

Harry looked up to Hagrid, "What's in vault 713?"

"Never you mind," Hagrid said mysteriously, "it's got nothin' ter do with yeh," and like that the conversation was over, but Harry couldn't help remembering a certain three headed dog that had nothing to do with him either. Both were on Dumbledore's secret orders, entrusted to Hagrid. Were they connected somehow?

Harry pushed the thought to dwell on later when Griphook arrived and directed them to the bank's cart system.

Harry made sure to at least dip his head politely before he got on. He didn't know whether Griphook saw it or not, but it was never a waste of time to use manners, especially to the guys who were handling your finances.

The ride to his vault was spent mostly the same way, as it was last time. Harry threw his hands in the air and whooped in glee, while Griphook would sit stoically. The only thing new was Hagrid who spent most of the trip trying valiantly not to get sick. The most joy Hagrid felt during the whole ride was when it finally came to a stop at Harry's vault.

The eleven year old gave the goblin his key to open his vault while he returned to the car to gently assist the poor games keeper off the cart.

"Take yer time Harry," said Hagrid, who at the moment looked a little green. The half ghost smiled through a wince, the man was obviously trying to prolong his eventual return to the cart. However Harry really wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible so…

He was sure Hagrid would understand.

The young wizard rushed into his vault and filled his bag with the amount that he earlier determined and quickly headed back out to the two waiting for him.

"Ready," said Harry.

"Are yeh sure?" Hagrid almost seemed to plead, "Yeh positive that's enough Harry?"

But the boy was not moved, "Yup."

Hagrid sighed, "Right then," he turned to Griphook, "vault seven hundred and thirteen please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," the goblin said unapologetically.

The three boarded the cart again and it took off like a rocket. Despite the misleading twists and turns, Harry was still able to tell that they were going much farther down to get to their destination. The air was much more cold and dark than his vault had been.

The black haired boy took a discreet look down into the blackness and widened his eyes at a shifting shape in the blackness below.

Were those scales…?

They came to a stop at a door that appeared to be very different from the ones upstairs. For one thing it was much thicker, and the wood –if Harry could call it that- had the strangest pattern in its grain that he'd ever seen. It also had no keyhole.

His eyes turned to the banker escorting them, as it was clearly his show now.

The half-ghost watched in interest as Griphook approached the door and stroked it. Immediately the door melted away leaving nothing but an empty doorway into darkness.

"If anyone but a Gringotts Goblin tried that, they'd be sucked in the door and trapped there," Griphook said.

Harry shivered and thanked whatever god was listening for intangibility.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

Griphook's face contorted into a rather nasty grin that set the ghost boy on edge, "about once every ten years."

Harry's face paled as he recalled the wooden door again. The strange grain on the wood started to make sense as contours and lines in the grain connected themselves in his brain to sketch out the frozen bodies and the anguished faces of failed thieves who didn't know just what they were up against.

Whatever was in that vault must have been priceless.

The young wizard walked behind Hagrid into the vault and watched the man pick up what appeared to be a small grubby little package and put it in his pocket. Had Harry been a normal eleven-year-old boy, he would have been extremely disappointed by the seemingly dingy thing. However Harry was the farthest thing one could get from a normal eleven year old, so he wasn't fooled by its less than extravagant appearance. Half the junk in the Ghost Zone could be considered "priceless", but most of it looked like worthless clutter. Harry knew that the extra horrifying security had to be there for a reason.

However, Harry also knew Hagrid was determined to keep his lips sealed about this.

He also knew it was his birthday and he had better things to do than solve mysteries that were none of his business.

"Last one to the cart's a rotten egg!" Harry yelled leaving Hagrid in the dust…

Once the three were back on the main floor of the bank Harry turned and looked up to Hagrid.

"So Hagrid I was wondering if I could go to not-magical London to get some of my school supplies today," said Harry

Hagrid looked confused, "What could muggles possibly have that yeh couldn't get in the Alley?" he said, genuinely perplexed.

"A lot of things actually," said Harry, "Please!"

"Well it is yer birthday," Hagrid conceded.

"Yes!" Harry whooped.

"But first yer gettin' yer Uniform!" Hagrid said sternly.

"Deal!" Harry agreed, "Let me go convert some of my money. I'll be right back!" and like that, Harry made a beeline for the bank counter.

"Here we are," Hagrid gestured to the shop in front of them. The sign above the door read: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, in mauve lettering and outlined in gleaming silver.

Hagrid lowered himself down a little bit to Harry's level, "Listen Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick me up at the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." To his credit Hagrid did look kind of green, but Harry's eyes weren't drawn to his face, but rather to the bulging pocket he'd seen the gamekeeper stuff the mysterious package into.

Harry lifted up his arm and patted Hagrid on the shoulder, "take all the time you need," he said sincerely. Getting puked on was not on the agenda today.

Hagrid smiled weakly, "Thanks Harry. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Harry waved goodbye as he watched his friend stumble through the crowds of Diagon alley and out of site.

Note to self: Hagrid probably wouldn't like amusement parks.

Once he couldn't see his bearded buddy anymore, the ghost boy turned back around and entered the shop. Once inside Harry was greeted by a squat smiling witch-wearing robes in the same mauve color as the sign outside.

"Hogwarts dear?" Harry wasn't even given the chance to speak, "got the lot here- another young man being fitted up just now in fact."

She led him to a room in the back where the other boy was being fitted. He had a pointed face with platinum blond hair and seemed to be about Harry's age.

Harry paid him no mind while he took his place on the footstool. The black haired boy watched as a premade robe was fit onto him and one of the tailors began the job of pinning it at the appropriate length.

Or at least she would have if Harry hadn't stopped her.

"Hey Miss?" he asked, gaining the young woman's attention.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if there were any rules regarding the set length of the robe. Does it have to reach my ankles?" Harry asked.

"Not that I know of," the tailor answered honestly while tapping her chin.

"What about the cut? Is there any set rule about that?"

The young woman drew her eyebrows together, "Not that I can think of. Why?"

Harry smiled sheepishly while scratching the back of his neck, "I was wondering if I could request some custom alterations to my robes. I always end up tripping over the long ones," he shrugged helplessly.

The fair-haired tailor was silent for a moment before she held up her hand, "Wait just a moment, I'll consult Madam Malkin," she said before turning swiftly and leaving the room.

The blond boy next to him turned and arched an eyebrow.

"Are you really going to start your first year at Hogwarts sticking out like a sore thumb?" he drawled.

The ghost child shrugged, "I'd rather be known as the kid with the weird robes, than the first, first year to fall down the grand staircase. I can't really imagine a worst start to the school year than that."

"I guess I can see your point there," the pale boy conceded, "when I get out of here I'm going to drag both my parents off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own."

"Me neither…" Harry agreed, his mind filled with thoughts of soaring the skies. Just like old times, except better, because he wouldn't have to carry anyone who wanted to fly with him.

"I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry snorted, "Good luck with that," if Dumbledore was serious about Hogwarts being the safest place in the U.K., then something like a broomstick – something they'd expect first years to try and bring anyway- wasn't going to be a challenge for them.

"Have you got your own broom?" the kid asked.

"Not this year," said Harry, "My guardian says I can have one next year though."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Oddly enough, no." Harry admitted, but oh, was he planning to.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree," Harry refrained from mentioning parent's bias to the boy. He really did seem enthusiastic about the sport, even if he was a bit pompous about it, "know what house you'll be in yet?"

"Not really," the ghost boy pouted, "Everyone's being so tight lipped about the sorting ceremony that they won't tell me anything," Madam Pince even went so far as to keep any references to the school or its founders out of his reach. He had the feeling she was trying to get back at him for spending so much time in her library.

"Well no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave wouldn't you?

"I wouldn't leave but I'd definitely defect," The half ghost shuddered. He'd seen the mascot for Hufflepuff on the banner in the Great Hall.

I am no one's badger!

"Maybe I'd start my own house or something. If the whole Slytherin thing doesn't work out you're welcome to join me," Harry grinned. The blond laughed.

"I'll hold you to that," the pale lad smirked. Suddenly his eyes widened and switched over to the window, "I say, look at that man!"

Harry followed the blond kid's gaze and was surprised to see a grinning Hagrid holding up two ice cream cones, showing that he couldn't come in.

The black haired boy hoped his tailor would get back soon or else Hagrid would have to wash melted ice cream off his coat.

Still he turned his attention back to the other boy in the room.

"That's Hagrid, he works at Hogwarts," said Harry, in hopes that identifying the man as an actual person, not an exhibit, would make the boy realize that pointing like that was rude.

The boy put his hand down to Harry's approval.

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Harry corrected him, "A job that requires a lot skill with both animals and knowledge about the land."

"Well I heard he lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed." The boy snickered.

Harry looked over the boy again.

Fancy clothes under robes being fitted? Check.

Pompous attitude? Check.

Formal hairstyle for everyday hairstyle? Check.

Looking down on the lower class? Check. Check! Check!

So this is what the 'social elite' of the wizarding world was like! If Harry was to be honest, he was kind of disappointed. They seemed just as shallow as the ones in the non-magical world.

Well I guess some things will always be the same anywhere I go…

Still Harry wasn't going to hold it against the kid for being the way he was at he moment. From what he understood of the magical community, the kid probably never had a chance to leave his own back yard or meet anyone beyond his own tax bracket. It wasn't until Hogwarts that most of the children in magical Britain were free to mingle with others from different backgrounds. All he probably had were his stuffy parents to look up to for guidance.

Also he was, like eleven. There was no way this kid understood half the garbage spewing from his mouth. Seriously.

"As gamekeeper, it's Hagrid's responsibility to be ready at his post should any crisis arise affecting the grounds or creatures of the grounds. Living inside the castle would only hinder him," Harry explained, "I heard one of the other professors sleeps right next to the green house in order to keep maintenance for the same reasons.

"As for the drinking, well everyone gets drunk sometimes, and it would be impressive if the guy could pull off magic when he was sloshed," he reasoned, "You should spend some time at the Leaky Cauldron. You'll see some real drunk magic mayhem there," Harry snickered

"Like what?" the boy asked. His eyes lit up with the childish glee that only came from hearing adults make idiots out of themselves.

"Like one time, this one guy tried to curse this other one who was wearing an eye-patch, but he slurred the words and his wand just farted. While the guy was humiliating himself, eye-patch guy countered with some spell that forced the other guy to sing whatever he was saying."

"Was he any good?" the blond asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment before making a so-so movement with his hand. They both laughed until the sound of a door opening stopped them short.

Harry's tailor had returned and she wasn't alone. The squat woman from the front looked Harry up and down.

"What's this about changing up the Hogwarts uniform now?" she asked somewhat imperiously.

Harry heard the seamstress pinning the blond boy tell him that he was done and heard the 'good luck' as he walked out.

"I just wanted to make it a little shorter," Harry said honestly, "Maybe get a single vent on the back, so I can move easier. I mean it doesn't say anywhere that I can't alter my robes a little bit does it? It just says I need a black robe for school hours and stuff."

The younger tailor looked to her boss who was stoking her chin in consideration.

"No… but it is tradition," Madam Malkin mumbled to herself before she appeared to gain new enthusiasm, "but, then again tradition's never had a place in fashion to begin with," she beamed excitedly, "Out Tabitha! I'm going to do this one myself!"

The elder witch shooed away the younger seamstress who squeaked in surprise as she was pushed out of the room.

"Just you wait boy! When I'm done with you, you'll be the envy of every student at Hogwarts," a fire seemed to burn in the tailor's eyes that the hybrid wasn't sure what to make of.

"I just want it to be maneuverable. Nothing crazy."

Madam Malkin almost seemed to pout after hearing that, "I see, ah, well, it's the customer's choice I suppose…"

The rest of the appointment passed in silence and the madam's excited mumbles. When the ghost boy was finally released to the outside world he was greeted by Hagrid and two melted ice cream cones. Harry was also not surprised to see the pocket carrying whatever they picked up at Gringotts notably less bulgy than before the two separated.

"hehe sorry…" Harry apologized sheepishly.

Hagrid waved him off, "It's no big deal, we can just get some more."

This time Harry waved Hagrid off, "It's fine. Besides you promised we'd go to London remember?"

The bearded man sagged a bit as he threw away the ice cream cones and melted off his hand. "I was hopin' yer'd fergotten about that."

"No such luck mate," said Harry as he dragged the man toward the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, "a deal's a deal."

"Aw come off it Harry!" Hagrid tried to reason with the eleven year old, "I'd stick out like a'right sore thumb in muggle London!"

Harry just laughed, "You'd be surprised just how much city folk ignore. You'll be fine Hagrid." He tapped the pattern to the portal in the wall and watched the bricks rearrange themselves, "We'll come pick up my robes later and then we can finish my school shopping. I promise!"

"Oh a'right," said Hagrid. The two were now walking through the pub, "but why do you want to go to muggle London so much anyway?"

"'Cuz I miss it," Harry said simply, "magicless people got a lot of cool stuff that magic people don't and I'm going to show you!" Once Harry and Hagrid were out the door to the Leaky cauldron Harry grabbed Hagrid by the coat and spirited him away to show him the merits of the modern world.

"These are televisions Hagrid," Harry explained while they browsed an electronics store, "They're like the magic radios we got at home, but better because these show pictures."

Hagrid looked a little skeptical.

"That's a lot o' money to pay for a suped up radio…"

"Yah well it also delivers news too and has way more channels than a radio has frequencies and besides…" Harry coughed, "You'd be surprised how much more interesting watching the swimsuit competition at a beauty pageant is than listening to the radio describe it…"

Harry knew he'd gotten his point across when he saw Hagrid flush.

"This is a washing machine and dryer; it does one of the house elf's jobs for them."
"I'm not sure they'd like that."

"Me neither," Harry admitted, "but they'd probably like something that makes their job easier!"

"This is a computer. It looks kind of unimpressive right now, but it can send letters faster than any owl and one day it'll connect to a database with more information than the entire Hogwarts library." Harry stroked one of the moniters lovingly.

"How would you know that?" Hagrid asked, just a bit creeped out.

"Uhm… hey look a telephone!"

Almost as soon as the duo walked out of the electronics depot Hagrid accidently ran into a sharply dressed woman, who fell down.

"I'm tar'ribly sorry miss," Hagrid apologized profusely as he offered to help the woman up off the ground, "Sometimes it's hard see all the way down there," he laughed nervously while picking up the woman's fallen stuff.

The woman frantically dusted off her dark purple pants suit, "Apology accepted I suppose," her glove clad hand reached out and took the briefcase from Hagrid's outstretched one.

She looked up at Hagrid to thank him before her eyes widened to the size of saucers. She then looked Hagrid up and down again – or perhaps for the first time since she bumped into him – and gasped.

"Oh – my – Where did you get that coat!" she demanded.

"I – uh – made it meself," Hagrid stuttered, blushing, "H-hard teh find clothes in me size and all…"

"I see…" the woman nodded, clearly in her own little world by now, muttering things like 'grunge' and 'unique'.

Quickly she set her thick briefcase on the ground and started to fish through it before yelling, "aha!" and pulling out a very expensive looking camera.

She gave Hagrid a blinding smile, "Terribly sorry, but would you mind if I took some pictures?"

Hagrid looked hesitant, but Harry just beamed, "Go right on ahead!"

The bearded man sent Harry a panicked look, but the flash of the strange woman's camera cut it off as she took at least fifteen pictures at differing angles.

After she put her camera away she sent Hagrid a grateful smile.

"Thank you very much! You have no idea how much of a help you've been!" and without saying a single word of explanation she continued on her way, leaving the two like nothing had ever happened.

Once Hagrid got his vision back he rounded on Harry and gave him a stern glare.

"You can't just let muggles take pictures like that! It could expose us!" He whispered fiercely.

"And what would she have exposed?" Harry asked rhetorically, "We weren't doing any magic and she was clearly more interested in your style than your tallness."

"Maybe, but what if she took pictures a' you Harry!"

"My scar's covered isn't it? Other than that, no one really knows what I look like," Harry reasoned.

Hagrid tried to counter Harry's argument at least several times, but all that really came out of his mouth was illogical rabble that both of them had the sense to know didn't really have to do with anything. At last Hagrid forced his forced his face back to it's normal not tomato color and sighed loudly.

"I guess yer right," Hagrid conceded, "but if there's any more close calls, it's back to the Alley, yeh hear?"

"Got it."
"Alright then," Hagrid straightened his coat, "Where to next?"

"There's a comic book store a couple blocks over! C'mon!"

A befuddled look settled over Hagrid's face as Harry pulled him along, "a what – book store?"

Three hours later Harry and Hagrid were back at the Leaky Cauldron with packages from both Diagon Alley and normal London.

After his spree in the comic book shop and his failed attempt to go see Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey ("We ain't got time fer that Harry!") Harry started shopping for his school supplies. At first Hagrid was a little beffudled as to why Harry would shop for muggle products for a magic school, but gave up when Harry went on a tirade about refusing to use a leather knapsack when he could get one made from synthetic materials and not murdered animals.

Somewhere in the great beyond, Sam Fenton was satisfied. Or at least, he thought she was; it was really hard to remember which material she said was eco-friendly.

In the end Harry bought flashcards, several packs of loose-leaf paper and notebooks, pencils, a manual pencil sharpener, and normal pens.

Once back in the Alley, Hagrid set Harry on the right track to buy what he couldn't in London: namely his textbooks, cauldron, potion ingredients, set and tools, brass scales, and dragon hide gloves.

Hagrid also insisted that Harry bought at least a couple quills and ink bottles.

There was also one other thing Harry couldn't get in London, his new pet snowy owl. Hagrid surprised him when he came out of the apocathary and brought him to Eeylops Owl Emporium. From there he told Harry to pick any owl he wanted and to consider it a birthday present from him.

At first Harry hadn't known what to say. It was his first physical birthday present since he was one (that wasn't something like his uncle's old socks). He'd opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sounds actually came out. Eventually Hagrid just shoved him through the doors of the shop and told him happy hunting, coming in shortly after. Twenty minutes later Harry came out carrying a cage with a beautiful white snowy owl.

Now the two were just resting their feet at the Leaky Cauldron before heading back to the castle for dinner.

Harry glanced back at his new owl, which was perched elegantly in its new cage, which he set on one of the pub chairs. Hagrid appeared to notice his interest in the bird.

"Decide on a name yet?" asked Hagrid.

Harry shook his head, "Not yet – this is gonna be my companion for the next decade and a half at least – I don't wanna start off on the wrong foot if she doesn't like the name I give her."

Harry was absolutely positive that if he'd said that to anyone in the world except Hagrid, he would have just been scoffed at told that he was overthinking it, but not Hagrid. No, Hagrid drew his brows together and hunched over to consider the owl for himself.

After a few beats of contemplation the man drew himself and his beard back up to his original sitting position and gave his attention back to Harry.

"…Well I always ask my pets iff'a name's a'right wi'them," Hagrid offered tentatively.

Harry's brow reached his hairline, "All of them?"

"Yep."

"Even Fluffy?" Harry asked dubiously.

"Especially Fluffy."

"Well alright then."

Harry stiffly turned turned his attention back to the owl, trying not to dig to deeply into the possible psyche that was Fluffy, and smiled at his new pet.

The owl in front of him was white, so white she almost glowed in the dark… like a ghost…

"Hey," Harry called to the owl, which looked at him curiously, "for your new name, I was thinking since you looked as pale as a ghost, how about Spooky?"

His hopeful smile slid off his face when the she-owl angrily pecked at her cage and flapped her wings as if to swat his head from behind the bars. The black haired boy reeled his head away from the shaking cage and frantically starting making pacifying hand gestures.

"Ok! Got it! You're not a Spooky!"

The ghost-boy could have sworn he saw the bird huff after she finished fitting her wings to her sides again.

"I'm guessing you want a more dignified name then?" he asked dryly.

The owl actually inclined her head.

"Yeh sure picked a clever one there, Harry," Hagrid laughed before taking a long gulp of his drink.

"Heh, Yeah," Harry ran a hand through his hair and stared at back at the owl.

"Okay then, if you want something sophisticated… how about Galadriel?"

Ms. Owl was not impressed.

The ghost-boy pouted, "Come on! She's like, the most regal elf queen ever! How much more dignified can you get?" he pleaded, but his new pet was unmoved "ah, whatever. I guess it is kind of a mouthful."

The owl huffed smugly.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Of course, sorry I didn't realize it earlier. What about Èowyn?"

The still nameless owl narrowed her eyes and snapped her beak at the bars.

"Geez, someone's not a Tolkien fan…"

Harry was just about to spew a name from the Illiad when a panicked looking wizard in a turban practically stormed in from the Diagon alley entrance and got almost everyone in the main bar's attention, freaking out some people, while just exasperating others.

"Settle down Quirrell before you soil yourself," Tom rolled his eyes, still making no progress on cleaning the same dirty glass Harry saw him with when he and Hagrid first walked in that day.

The man – now identified as Quirrell - jumped. His wild eyes darted around the room before they landed on the one who addressed him. His face started to twitch in a multitude of funny ways before Harry realized that the man was actually trying to force himself to smile but couldn't appear to keep the muscles in his face – or any part of his body – from spasming out in some way.

Quirrell let out something between a gasp and a laugh before forcing his twitching legs over to the bar and taking a seat. He ejaculated some mix of whimpering laughter before he could gather himself together enough to speak.

"S-s-sor-ry for t-the sc-care," he apologized sheepishly.

"What's this all abou' Quirrel? Yer more jittery than normal an' that's nothin' teh spit at!" it was Hagrid who addressed the distressed man this time.

"Y-you m-mean you don't kn-now?" Quirrel seemed surprised.

"Know what?" Tom asked gruffly.

"Ab-b-b-out Grin-g-g-gotts, of course!"

Harry noticed Hagrid stiffen in his chair, "What's all this abou' Gringotts?" he nearly shouted.

Quirrel jumped at the urgency in Hagrid's and had to take a few deep breaths before talking again, "I-I heard T-there was a-a big-g com-m-motion in t-the l-lobby not to l-long ago and a-an even b-bigger one n-not-t-t too l-long after t-that one. T-then G-g-gringotts actually c-closed early!"

The bank closing must have been big news because as soon as Quirrel finished talking the while bar broke into muted whispers.

"Someone s-said t-their w-w-as a b-break-in, a-a-and o-only an extremely powerful d-dangerous w-w-w-wizard w-w-w-w-ould be a-a-able to d-do that! I-I-I l-l-left a-a-a-a-a-s soon as I h-h-heard," the man was practically a trembling mess by the time he was finished and the bar was in an uproar with the news. Everyone was absolutely swept up by Quirrel's sensational news.

Well almost everybody.

Harry looked back at Hagrid, who seemed to be staring intently at the floor with a some-what pale face. The news obviously seemed to bother him, maybe even scare him. Harry could hazard a guess why though. After all, they visited Gringotts earlier today.

The ghost boy reached out to his friend with a tentative hand, careful not to startle him.

"Hagrid?" Harry asked quietly.

Hagrid quickly whipped his head around with wide startled eyes landing on the small boy in front of him.

"You're thinking about the break-in right?" Harry guessed and he knew he was right by the way Hagrid's arm tensed under his hand, "how it could have happened while we were there?" he guessed and by the way Hagrid became even more rigid he guessed he was on the right track, "it's okay to feel like that you know, but Quirrell didn't say that anyone got hurt, so we probably would have been fine," Harry gave a reassuring smile, but it didn't seem to help Hagrid at all. In fact the man's face lost a little more color.

It was times like this Harry wished Jazz were with him. She would know what to do with Hagrid's pseudo survivor's guilt-or-whatever this was.

Still, something seemed to click in Hagrid's head because he stood up abruptly and looked toward the empty parlor room.

"I think it's abou' time we get back home Harry. This place'll be a ruddy mad house soon enough." Hagrid started to put Harry's stuff back in the large sack he'd pulled out of one his massive mysterious pockets earlier and threw said sack over his shoulder.

"I guess…" Harry agreed slowly while he picked up his nameless owl and followed after Hagrid.

Despite how terrified that Quirrel guy sounded and how excited the rest of the bar was at the news, it still didn't sound like they needed his help. They had wizard police – he remembered them being called "orals" or something – it was their job to catch out of control wizards right? It wasn't something he needed to get involved with at eleven years old.

It didn't sound like anyone needed Danny Phantom...

Hagrid said they'd floo back into the teacher's lounge as that was closer to his room than Dumbledore's office. Harry agreed readily as he really hadn't been looking forward to carrying all of his supplies from the seventh floor to the third; it would be way easier to carry his stuff up from the ground floor where the staff room was.

That didn't stop Harry from trying to save his supplies out of instinct when he saw Hagrid chuck his sack of stuff into the burning green fireplace. The massive man had to grab the back of his shirt from reaching in after it. Five minutes and a small lecture later about waiting his turn and its effect on the chimney-space continuum later, Harry walked into the green flames himself while holding his owl's cage in his arms and stated his destination.

Harry completely understood when his new pet started screeching when they entered "chimney world" as Harry called it. He would have screamed right along side her if it didn't mean risking a throat full of ash. Come to think of it, his companion should end up swallowing said dust in 3…2…

"SCREEE-ACCCKKK" The boy-who-lived-halfway looked down to see his bird force her mouth shut to avoid a repeat of the nasty experience.

Clever girl.

Harry looked back up from his pet to see a large square opening rushing toward him and was thrown through yet another fireplace. Thinking quickly in order not to crush the owl's cage, Harry spun in midair and landed on his shoulder cradling the cage to his chest.

Harry gave the owl a wry smile, "three crashes for three Ms. Owl. I don't think I'm too good at this whole "floo" thing."

The owl ignored him in favor of trying to hack up ash, so Harry stood up and took the opportunity to dust himself off and try to stop feeling so dizzy. While he was righting his owl's cage he blinked a couple of times, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the staff room.

It didn't take long, as his ghostly nature made his eyes capable of seeing in the darkest of places, since those were the preferred haunts of so many of his species.

The room seemed empty but something felt… off. Harry put one foot forward to see if he could spot just what was throwing him out of whack, but ended end jumping at least a foot in the air when the fire behind him became a massive pillar of green flames. Harry picked his bird up and scrambled out of the way just in time for Hagrid to obliviously step where he'd just been.

Hagrid searched the room before his eyes adjusted to the light and settled on Harry, and then he smiled.

"So yeh made it a'right then?" asked Hagrid. Harry shrugged and smiled helplessly.

"Depends on your definition," the black haired boy rubbed his sore shoulder.

Hagrid just chuckled and slapped the boy on the back, nearly knocking him and the poor owl over. It seemed like Hagrid forgot all about whatever was bothering him at the Leaky Cauldron for now

"Good, Good!" said Hagrid as he dusted off his moke-skin coat, "well before ye head upstairs I think we should get a few things outt'a the way firs'."

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"SURPRISE!"

Harry leapt a foot into the air for the second time in the last five minutes, when six magical signatures and one normal suddenly registered behind him via his third eye and the combined noise of loud voices and firecrackers going off consumed the once silent room. The torches on the walls lit up magically, so now everyone could see clearly.

Quickly, Harry spun around into a battle ready position, only to drop it a half-second later when he came face to face with Madame Pomfrey, Madame Pince, Filch, Professor Trelawney, Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, Sprout, Pomfrey and Trelawny all held their hands in the air enthusiastically, while McGonagall was actually smiling and seemed less stern than usual. Meanwhile Pince and Filch stood off to the edge of the group; looking back, Harry didn't think he heard their voices shouting at all.

"Happy birthday Harry," Dumbledore said, "while I did get the chance to say something similar earlier, some of the residents argued that it wasn't a proper birthday without some kind of celebration."

Professor Sprout stepped forward, "…You never told us much about your family before coming here…" Harry's expression became stony and guarded, "but I'm willing to wager they never gave you a proper birthday, did they?"

Harry felt taken back, "W-well no, but you didn't have to…" he looked off to the table where he and the staff usually ate their meals, there was a small pile of presents on it now and a several large plates filled with sweets.

Professor McGonagall spoke up "Perhaps not Mr. Potter-"

"Harry"

"-Harry, but we wanted to. This is your home now and if you can't celebrate your birthday here, then something is very wrong," she finished with particular emphasis on the last two words and Harry didn't feel like it was up for discussion anymore.

Harry scratched the back of his head before wincing and grabbing his shoulder, "Got a point there. So what do we do first?"

Professor Dumbledore beamed down at him, "That's the beauty of it Harry! As you are the birthday boy, you are the one who decides tonight's itinerary."

Harry grinned back, "Well I don't know about you, but that food over there's kinda calling my name."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, "Ah yes… I'm relieved that I'm not the only one who hears it," he said, then strolled over and took a seat at the table.

It didn't take long for the rest of the group to find their own seats as well. The only real hiccup was Hagrid, who needed McGonagall to enlarge one of the chairs to accommodate him.

Harry stared in awe at his birthday cake. It was shaped like a broomstick and took up half the length of the table. The stem of the broom looked wide enough to get two slices out and was long enough to ensure left overs, and that wasn't even including the bristle-y section.

A single clap stopped the black haired boy from drooling and brought his attention to Dumbledore.

"Alright, now I don't believe this can be called a proper birthday party unless we sing to the birthday boy," said he Professor, seemingly ignorant to the groans and sighs that echoed around the table.

Harry forced a polite smile, "That's really not necessary Professor-"

"Nonsense! All right everyone and a 1 and a 2 and…"

Only Professor Dumbledore, Trelawney and Sprout put any effort into the song. Everyone else sounded like hungry zombies, hungry zombies that were eyeing his cake as longingly as he was.

Except Filch.

Filch was glaring at him, but that was normal.

The song came to a close at last when Trelawney finally finished elongating the last note with her surprisingly fantastic voice.

To Harry's infinite relief, the cake was cut with no incident and even Madame Pomfrey was being silent about him stuffing his face so thoroughly. Eventually the silence got too boring for him though and he was still curious about something.

"Hey Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes my boy?" the old wizard put down his fork.

"How come I didn't notice you when I first came out the fireplace? I was there for at least a minute and my eyes had adjusted to the light and everything. The place where you guys stood was empty," the boy's brow furrowed.

He saw the Professor's eyes twinkle, "That may be what your senses told you, however you'll find that there are spells specifically made to alter one's senses and perceptions."

Harry sat rigid, "Uhh, what spell did you use?" he hoped the anxiety he felt wasn't obvious.

If it was, then the old wizard didn't call attention to it, "I used two actually," the old teacher smiled, now in his element, "One is called the disillusionment charm, which acts a bit like a chameleon as it blends your body to the background around you. The effectiveness of the charm of course, depends on the skill of the caster and their mastery of the charm," Harry could hear a bit of pride in the Professor's voice at the end there, "The second spell is known as the notice-me-not charm. Once casted on a subject, this spell will alter the senses and perceptions around that subject to completely ignore its existence."

"So there's no way to counter it?" Harry asked, inwardly nervous.

"Oh no! It's hardly foolproof. For example, if someone were looking specifically for the charmed subject, the spell would be a lot less effective. It also tends to fall short if you know what to look for or where to look for it. Had you come through that fireplace with the knowledge that we would be hidden from sight in the room, the charm would have been useless." Professor Dumbledore informed.

The scarred youth's heart rate slowed back down to something resembling normal. While he'd had his senses fail him before, he couldn't really afford to have them do that now. He was so much weaker. If anyone figured out just what he was, he was willing to bet his entire trust fund the ministry would drag him off to their deepest cell and let loose their most curious healers. He couldn't afford to accidentally "go ghost" in front of someone using one of those charms the Professor mentioned. Heck, Harry was willing to bet those weren't the only means the magical community had of sneaking around!

Looks like another week in the library…

Professor Sprout snorted from her seat, "I can see why the boy's alarmed Albus. Using two stealth charms for a simple surprise party trick is overkill!"

The Supreme Mugwump chuckled a bit sheepishly, "I must admit that I was a trifle excited to throw a non-school affiliated party. In fact, it's been quite a while since I've done so."

"We're still in Hogwarts Albus…" Professor McGonagall reminded him.

"Details…" The eldest wizard waved his hand.

"I get what he's saying though," said Harry. The transfiguration professor raised a brow, "I mean I've never been to any birthday parties myself, so maybe I wouldn't know what was normal for a party either. This is my first one, so as far as I know stealth charms are normal for surprise parties."

Professor McGonagall appeared to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, "Yes, well, we'll keep that in mind for other parties, lest you start to get the wrong idea of what happens at a proper party and get confused at someone else's."

"Speaking of proper birthdays," the massive spectacles of professor Trelawney dove into the center of the conversation, causing Sprout, McGonagall and Harry to recoil backward. Dumbledore just smiled benignly at the unexpected interruption, "I foresee a brief window of light and happiness in your very dark destiny. Perhaps this is the time to open your gifts?" she finished brightly.

Harry blinked at what had to be the nicest prediction he'd ever gotten from Trelawney before he shrugged it off and looked down the table to see that the rest of his party was done with their cake and talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Yeah… sounds good," as soon as the words left his mouth, a loud POP erupted next to him and revealed Buttons.

"Hello master Harry," the elf waved excitedly, "Oh! Buttons sees Master Harry liked the cake. Buttons made it all by herself you know! Buttons was so excited when she heard the news, she simply had to do something!"

Harry smiled back, "thanks Buttons. This is the best cake I've had in my life!"

Buttons almost dropped the plates she was collecting off the table and stared at Harry with wide watery eyes.

"D-does you really mean that master Harry?" she asked in a small voice.

Harry knelt down and put a hand on her shoulder, "Of course I do."

I've barely tasted any cake in this lifetime, but that's neither here nor there is it?

"You don't have to compliment it boy. Let the creature do its job," Madam Pince's callous voice seem to physically sting Buttons, as she quickly jerked away from Harry, apologized curtsied and returned to work on collecting dirty plates off the table.

The half-ghost stood up and glared at the old librarian, "Buttons is a SHE not an IT."

Pince just waved him off, "I surprised you can tell; they all look the same to me."

Harry opened his mouth to retort when he felt something tug on his pants. He looked down to see Buttons had somehow vanished the all plates somewhere else.

"Is there anything Buttons can do for master Harry?" she asked somewhat meekly.

The black haired boy debated asking her to stay and enjoy the party, but upon second glance he noticed just how content everyone was to ignoring her presence and chatting among themselves. Well, except Dumbledore, who was smiling and eye-twinkling at them again for some reason. It was as if Buttons' very existence was so below them it need not be acknowledged. It disturbed Harry and he doubted Buttons would be comfortable staying up here.

I'll visit her tomorrow.

"Nothing for now, thank you Buttons." Harry said quietly.

"As master Harry wishes," Buttons gave an enthusiastic salute and POOFED away.

"Ah good, the table's clean," Madam Pomfrey announced, "Why don't you sit at the head of the table Harry. This way everyone can see what you got."

Harry stuffed his concern for Buttons to the side for now and walked to his suggested seat.

"If you say so Ma'am," he shrugged.

At some point the other people at the table seemed to have played musical chairs as well. On his right side was Dumbledore, followed by Pomfrey, Trelawney and Pince. On his left were McGonagall, Sprout, Filch and Hagrid. Still it didn't change the fact that all eyes were on him now; him and the pile of brightly colored packages in front of him.

Harry shrank in the seat. All the attention he was getting tonight was a getting to be overwhelming. He could feel a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. The ghost-boy swallowed slowly wishing for that confidence he used to have in his old life. Then again, Fenton wasn't exactly a social butterfly at eleven years old either…

Focus!

Harry snapped his head back up just in time to catch the faces of the some of the kinder adults around him start to contort in worry. Harry immediately painted an embarrassed smile over his formerly blank expression.

"Um… so do I just pick any present?" he asked.

Hagrid, bless his soul, was the one to break the tension, "Yep! Don't yeh worry about no order Harry. Yeh'll get ter em all eventually and for pete's sake don'cha dare be gentle on tha' wrappin paper!"

A couple people around the table chuckled and Harry ended up choosing a long thin package that got wider at the end. The ghostly hybrid would have gotten really excited at the broom shaped present if only he hadn't looked at the tag and seen that it was from Mr. Filch. Harry heeded Hagrid's advice and absolutely destroyed the wrapping paper. The present was revealed to be a cleaning mop and the black haired boy honestly couldn't say he was surprised at all.

"Heh, now ye got no excuse not to clean up your own mess," Filch cried out victoriously.

Harry could feel one of his eyebrows twitch, "Name one instance you found a mess I made and didn't clean myself, or more importantly that you had to force me to clean myself."

Filch opened his mouth to counter, but shut it after a full minute of thinking on the spot of such an instance and coming up with nothing.

"Besides," Harry continued, "a mop is useless without a bucket to hold the water anyway."

A Grinch-like grin settled over Filch's features at that moment and just like that Harry knew Filch's present for next year.

Harry leaned the mop against the back of his chair and reached for a heavy square shaped present whose tag was signed by Professor McGonagall. Harry unwrapped it to reveal a stone chess set. Upon further inspection the ghost child was surprised by the fact that the pieces seemed to be alive!

"I take it you've never played wizard's chess?" Professor McGonagall asked, "Muggleborns have come to Hogwarts before, knowing the rules to chess, but they're always surprised when the pieces move themselves."

"Uh… yeah," Harry agreed while watching the black knight flex one arm after the white king cut his other arm off, "Well non-magic chess pieces don't move-"

"I know that much Mr. Potter-"

"Harry"

"-Harry. My father was a muggle himself. He raised me; I may be out of date, but I know a few things about muggle culture." the transfigurations professor gave a wry smile, "I suppose I should have just asked if you had any chess experience at all?"

Harry bit his lip. Oh, he had plenty of chess experience. Once the Frootloop was out of the way, the first thing Danny did was force his mom to teach him how to play chess for the sole reason of learning just what all of Vlad's stupid puns meant. He was furious once he learned what Vlad had been calling him all that time. A pawn? The most disposable piece on the board?! That jerk was lucky to be a space nomad; otherwise he'd have to face his fury.

He left the game alone for a long time after that. It wasn't until he'd been at least a couple years into his self-imposed exile in the ghost zone that he took up the game as a hobby. There were some ghosts in the zone who were surprisingly proud of their skills at the game and were more than happy to kick his butt every once in a while. At least until Danny got the hang of it, then they were decidedly sore losers who had no qualms with attacking him with ghoulish chess pieces the few times he was victorious.

Harry had to admit that in hindsight that challenging the ghosts of former chess champions might have been a bad idea. Especially when they had a well-known obsession with winning…

"I would play sometimes at my old school if another kid brought the game during recess and no one else would play them," that was a bold face lie. This was the first time Harry Potter had ever touched a chess set, magical or not. Kids in his class were way too afraid of Dudley to approach Harry for that kind of thing. Still Harry needed someway to pass off any skills he might have.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, "than perhaps you and I could play each other in a friendly game one day."

"Hah!" Madame Pomfrey scoffed, "You aren't fooling anyone Minerva. Watch out Harry! Your Professor here holds the title as Scotland's undefeated wizard chess champion. A friendly game to her is more like being thrown into a lion's den."

Professor McGonagall huffed at the healer, "It would hardly be sporting to use the full extent of my prowess on a beginner."

"Of course, of course," Madam Pomfrey held her goblet to her lips.

Harry cut in before it could get ugly, "I'd be happy to take you up on your offer Professor," he said quickly, "hey who knows? I might just swipe that title out from under your feet," he joked.

The deputy headmistress's lips twitched slightly, "I commend your confidence. However I must warn you, the slip from sureness into arrogance is a very subtle road."

"I just call it optimism," said Harry glibly.

"Of course," said Professor McGonagall flatly.

Harry took that as his cue to grab another present. It was a big dome shaped one that he needed drag towards him; the tag read as Professor Sprout's. He unwrapped it quickly and tossed the paper away to the growing pile on his right. A quiet but collective gasp swept across the table. Underneath the wrapping paper was a glass case with a rounded top and golden framing around the base and up the sides all the way to the top where the four points converged at the very center at the top into one small golden sun.

While the case on it's own was gorgeous, Harry couldn't be bothered to admire it, as he was too captivated by the content inside. It was a flower, but not like any that the ghostly hybrid seen before. It had white petals and was shaped like a lily, but lacked the styles jutting out of the center that identified it as one. Instead the flower had a small brightly golden glowing orb where its pollen should be. The edges of the flower petals glowed gold as well, along with the edges of the stalk and its leaves, making the flower seem otherworldly and ephemeral.

"You've been holding out on us Pomona," Madam Pince broke the silence, "and here I thought all you had in those green houses were dirt ridden monstrosities!"

Several chuckles came from the other staff, but were immediately stifled when they saw the gardener's glare.

Professor Sprout sniffed, "Yes, well I have a lot more in my green houses than what I show in class," the herbology teacher glanced warmly at Harry, "That plant right there is one that's usually kept in my personal green house. It's very rare and-"

"Are you sure you're okay with giving me one of your favorite plants?" Harry asked with slightly wide eyes and a little disbelief, "I mean we didn't even meet each other that long ago and this is-"

"Harry!" Professor Sprout snapped and the black haired boy shut up, "If it makes you feel better, this is one of four that I have," she smiled wryly, "second, I order to stop acting like you don't deserve nice things. Maybe I don't know you that well, but maybe I would like to know you better. Have you ever thought of that?

"You're a very nice boy and we're going to be living together for the next couple of years. Maybe getting more familiar with each other wouldn't be such a bad idea hmm?"

Harry blinked at her, "So this present was your way of saying 'let's be friends'."

Professor Sprout nodded kindly.

Harry slumped, "and I completely missed the point and tried to shove it back in your face… my bad."

Pomona patted his head kindly, "You're forgiven. Now as I was saying, the flower is very rare. In fact it's named Taiyō no bīkon or Beacon of the Sun and is only native to Japan, as is the (also) incredibly rare soil it's planted in. The Taiyō no bīkon needs no sunlight, as it is its own source of energy. As it gets brighter, the more it needs to be watered. It can stand up to one month of no water until the light becomes absolutely blinding and the flower burns itself out. Once water is added the brightness becomes a dull glow, hardly strong enough for a night light," she pointed to the flower, "Right now the Taiyō no bīkon has not been watered in six days. As long as you give your flower about three fourths a liter of water before the thirty-day mark you'll be fine."

Harry smiled up at her, "Thank you, I appreciate it really."

Professor Sprout smiled warmly back, "I know you do," then she pulled out her wand and gave it a wave to levitate her present out of the way and gently set it onto the floor next to Harry's still nameless owl.

Next Harry picked up a colorful bag with tissue paper obscuring the contents inside. Harry found a note on one of the two handles of the bag signed by Madam Pince and a note warning him against using any of his present in the library. The red ink was a nice touch and even though he told himself he'd faced more horrifying things in his life, he still couldn't quite silence the whisper in the back of his mind that it wasn't blood.

When would she have even had the time to do that kind of thing anyway..?

When she was getting the present! HOLY HARTMANS!

Harry gulped quietly and ripped the tissue paper out of the bag a little more forceful than necessary. He reached inside and felt around and felt nothing. He was about to call the cranky Librarian out on a prank when he felt a small but sturdy piece of square paper at the bottom. He pulled it out and inspected it.

Official Certificate to Honeydukes Shoppe in Hogsmeade

This Certificate is good for 10 galleons worth of Honeydukes Products. This may be used at Honeydukes Shoppe in Hogsmeade or at the Honeydukes Express Cart on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry looked at the librarian in disbelief, "Wow…thanks Madam Pince."

The vulture-woman sniffed, "I figured you'd be smart enough to keep it where it belongs and AWAY from where it doesn't."

"Uh, yes ma'am!" Harry wasn't really sure what to do with that backhanded compliment so he just moved on to the next present.

He wished he hadn't.

The next present turned out to be a book, but not just any book; it was Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming. He didn't even have to look at the tag to know who gave him this. Still he plastered on a fake smile and faced Trelawney.

"Thank you so much Professor," said Harry, "now that I can look for death omens on my own I guess you won't have to tell me yourself anymore, right? That must have gotten so tiring after a while."

"Nonsense!" cried the fortuneteller, "I will never grow weary of keeping my inner eye peeled for those in need! A book may help, but it could never substitute for a true seer!"

Harry slammed his head on the table, while Professor McGonagall patted his shoulder. When the ghost-boy brought his face up to level with the rest of the party once more, Professor Dumbledore's eyes did that twinkling thing again.

"Hmmm, Perhaps Madam Pomfrey's gift will be able to do something about that bruise blooming on your forehead," the man said, not bothering to conceal his mirth and neither did the rest of the table.

Harry ignored the jibe and accepted the next gift. Professor Dumbledore turned out to be right, as Madam Pomfrey's present was a first aid kit of the magical variety (instructions included).

The school nurse sniffed, "You may be one of the most reckless boys I've ever met, next to Hagrid-"

"Oy!"

"-so it's come to my attention that, you just might get yourself into so much trouble one day, that you may not be able to come immediately to me." The poor woman looked sick at the thought. "Now, you can at least patch yourself up with this to survive long enough, until someone finds you and then come to me."

A shiver traveled up the boy's spine and Harry remembered those times she froze his body in place to keep him from escaping when he first arrived. If she thought he would ever go back to that place willingly, she had another thing coming!

Still, the present was nice and now he wouldn't have to see her for the minor stuff.

Score!

"Thanks Madam Pomfrey, I'll try to stay out of trouble."

"See that you do," she said sternly.

Harry smiled tightly and put the kit down with his other presents on the floor.

He smiled genuinely when he looked back up at the members of his party.

"Thanks guys," Harry said, "I can honestly say, this is the best birthday I've ever had in my life."

Most of the table smiled back warmly.

"It's no big deal Harry!" Hagrid laughed, "a'couple of us could'a used the day off anyway."

Harry blinked.

It's the middle of summer. What's he talking about? Are they drafting lesson plans this early?

Harry saw Professor Sprout actually glare at Hagrid before she beamed a smile at him.

"Don't fret Harry. This evening was a lovely way to end the day after a full frontal attack on a doxy infestation in greenhouse four," the gardener cracked her neck and spine, "Still, it was a full day for me and I'm afraid I'm going to have to retire for the night."

She sent Harry a meaningful glance, "feel free to drop by the greenhouses anytime," she smirked, "You know how to work the bell."

The ghost-boy flushed, "Uhm, yea. Sure thing Professor."

The squat witch laughed quietly as she walked out of the lounge.

Hagrid sat up next, "Sprout's got a point. I better be getting' back to fang. He's expectin' dinner by now," he scooted out of his chair, "thanks fer the seat McGonagall! Happy Birthday Harry!"

And with that he ducked through the lounge doors.

After Hagrid's departure, the rest of the partygoers slowly, but surely and politely excused themselves for the night. Eventually the only ones left were Professor Dumbledore, Harry and his new owl.

The old man and the boy picked at the left over cake in companionable silence.

Dumbledore was the one to break it.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your birthday Harry. As your guardian, it fills me with so much joy that I could make this special for you," said the Professor.

Harry smiled, "well you deserve every bit of that feeling Professor. This beat anything I planned to do today."

It was true. Getting out of the castle was such a relief after being cooped up for so long, no matter how big the place was. The surprise party was an almost perfect way to end the day. The eleven-year old couldn't help but feel guilty for the unfavorable thoughts he'd had about the idea of celebrating with the adults earlier that day. He shouldn't have thought so low of them.

"Still, I'm surprised any of them managed to get presents on such short notice," Harry admitted to the elder wizard.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled, "That, my boy, is the beauty of magic!"

"Heh," the ghost-boy grinned, "I guess it is…"

"Speaking of which, I believe it's about time I give you my present…"

The younger wizard furrowed his brow, "I thought your present was the shopping trip and the letter… and the fireworks."

Dumbledore gave his charge an amused smile, "Harry, that letter was yours by right. I may have presented it to you, but that did not make it a present," he winked, "As for your trip to Diagon Alley, while it is true that I gave you permission to leave the castle, it was your own money that you spent while out and about. I dare say that hardly qualifies as proper gift in my book. As for the fireworks, well… I must admit that they were just as enjoyable for me as they were for you."

"Well okay," Harry raised his brow, "but you couldn't have given your present while everyone else was here because...?"

If Harry had known Dumbledore any less than he did, he would have missed the sheepish way the man stroked his mustache.

"Yes, well, I must confess a certain fondness for showmanship when the mood strikes…"

"You don't say?"

And the wardrobe is explained! …Sort of.

"I do say, but I admit that is not my only reason for waiting until now, but I can explain that best once you open your gift." Without further ado, Dumbledore held out a large wrapped box for Harry to open.

Harry grasped the present and slowly appropriated it from Professor Dumbledore's willowy hands, before he quickly tore off the paper, opened the box and peered inside.

Harry cocked his head to the side.

"You seem confused, my boy," said Dumbledore.

"Well – yes actually," Harry held up two copies of Magical Theory by Aballbert Waffling. One was less than a year old, while the other had seen, at least, several decades of heavy use, "I already bought this book for class. It was on the supply list, so why give me a book you knew I would already have?" Harry's brows furrowed.

The professor smiled kindly, "Between you and I, Harry, I happen to believe that Magical Theory is one of the most under-appreciated courses in the entire curriculum," he confided, "No other class explores one of the most basic and the most integral principles of a wizard's power. To put it simply, it explains how magic works.

"While it's true that the other classes will teach you how to use your magic, only in Magical Theory is it explained how you're able to draw upon the magic to cast that very spell in the first place."

Harry stared at his guardian, completely fascinated and maybe a little excited.

Is he serious? There's a class dedicated to telling me how my powers work?!

The old wizard made a sweeping gesture to the textbooks in Harry's hands.

"Even when I was a student myself, so many years ago, I felt there was something to be gained from extra time and effort on the subject. That old worn textbook you hold now used to belong to me Harry."

Harry's eyes darted down to the older of the two books he was given.

"That textbook is covered with my notes, my theories, even my first little experiments in spell creation are in there," Albus gazed at the book wistfully.

The ghost-boy's breath caught in his throat.

"However, I recognized that it's also a complete mess, so I bought a second textbook and copied my notes into that one, in a much more organized and readable experience. Still, I thought you would enjoy the original as well. It is my hope that at least one of them helps you in the first steps to becoming a great wizard," said Professor Dumbledore, "I believe you have it in you to be even greater than I."

At this point Harry was reduced to staring at dumbly at the two books. He couldn't remember ever receiving a gift showing that someone both cared and believed in him, not to this extent.

The Fentons gave him presents, but to be honest, Maddie and Jack didn't put much thought behind their gifts and usually just gave him the latest toy he wanted that year. It wasn't a horrible thing to do and he sure didn't complain at ten years old when he got the latest model rocket ship he wanted. He noticed as he got older though, that his parents would often go the simpler route, as it gave them more time to work on their inventions.

Presents from Sam and Tucker were always pretty simple. Even as the trio got older, they kept the same unspoken agreement between them that they kept throughout childhood. Birthday presents were an escape from reality, or an assist to make it more bearable. When they were kids it was video games and CD's, when they were adults it was gift cards and cruise tickets.

The gifts he received from Sam when they got married were an entirely different story and made him feel like the happiest man alive, but that was a different kind of special and a different kind of love that Harry knew he might never feel again.

The Dursleys weren't even worth mentioning, as they thought his birthday wasn't worth mentioning and Mr. Luvre didn't know his birthday. Although if he did, Harry probably wouldn't be allowed to keep the present anyway.

Yet Albus Dumbledore, the old Wizard who knew him for less than a month was able to make Harry feel more special than he had in ages, with a kind of present he would have never dreamed of receiving from anyone else he ever knew in either life time.

He opened his mouth to thank the man.

"I just wish I'd known about this earlier. I wouldn't have wasted my money on an extra textbook, ya'know?" Harry flushed.

Wait, that didn't come out right.

"Not at all my boy!" Professor Dumbledore didn't seem bothered at all, "Now you have an extra textbook to write your own notes into!" The gleam was back in his eye, but this time Harry could appreciate the ingenuity behind it.

Harry smiled brilliantly at the professor.

"Thank you," he said, "I never had anyone who was willing to go out of their way to help me with my powers."

Professor Dumbledore pat Harry on the head with a tired smile.

"I can imagine."

Harry's eyes betrayed something much older.

No you can't.

"SQUAWWK"

Both males jumped nearly a foot out of their chairs when Harry's new owl decided to remind everyone that she still existed.

"I believe your owl is ready to retire for the night Harry," said Professor Dumbledore as he began to rise from his seat, "and I think I might heed her advice as well," he straightened out his robes.

Harry got up from his seat too and started to gather both his supplies and presents together before the elder wizard stopped him.

"Not to insult you, my boy, but I think I might have a slightly less risky alternative to you hauling all that" he gestured to the sheer amount of stuff Harry acquired over the course of the day, "up the grand staircase, all alone."

Harry too, looked at the massive load of things he'd gotten and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I guess it is a little different than bringing Dudley's birthday haul up the stairs." He admitted, "Alright, what'cha got for me this time Professor?"

The black haired boy took a couple steps back from his stuff.

The Dumbledore's eyes lit up, "Consider this a demonstration. With enough knowledge, determination and imagination, there are almost no limits to what magic can accomplish."

A couple complicated wand movements later, Harry witnessed the very air shift around the Professor, as something almost seemed to draw itself into existence. The pencil strokes were made of metal and shaping up into something large and boxlike. The shape had four metal gridded sides and a bottom, but no top or lid.

It was a cart. Granted a much larger one than the one he used in Diagon Alley, but still just a cart. The ghost-boy didn't see what the big deal was.

At least until he looked at where the wheels were supposed to be; instead he found large metal feet.

Okay, that's weird. Hey! Are those hands!?

Harry snapped his eyes to the handles where he was supposed to push with and was greeted instead with a set of arms. One even held out a hand for him to shake, which he cautiously allowed.

"Nice to meet you too? Mr.? Ms.? Cart-being…?"

"You needn't worry about the cart in this instance Harry. I didn't conjure this item to be sentient. It's merely enchanted."

Harry looked doubtful; "It has pretty good manners for something without a brain."

"Yes, sometimes the caster's personality can affect the behavior of an enchantment." Dumbledore stroked his beard, "In any case I think I'll name this one Carl."

"What?"

"Things are much less confusing when you can call something by their very own name you know," the older man offered, "Besides he just strikes me as a Carl."

"How do you know his gender?" asked Harry.

"I'm his creator, it would be irresponsible not to know," answered Dumbledore, yet answering nothing at all.

Harry was about to probe deeper when 'Carl' tapped his shoulder. Harry looked behind to see Carl had kindly loaded up all of his stuff and was ready to go.

"So, should I send Carl back to your office when he's done helping me?" Harry asked.

"Oh, don't worry," said Professor Dumbledore, "Carl is only a temporary conjuration. In two hours he'll disappear."

"Alrtighty then c'mon Carl. Your life may be short, but it'll be memorable. To the stairs!" Harry ordered his metal companion forward. Together they'd tackle the worst staircase ever conceived and formed a bond to last until Harry forgot about him the next week.

A simple review Review can make it all worth while for an author. Criticism included!

*The stair game might seem a little extreme at first until you remember your own childhood. Recall all of the ridiculous stunts you did as a kid and now look at Darry, who actually has a clue what he's doing. It's not so crazy.

**Draco ain't 'good' in this universe. Darry just can't imagine himself being arch enemies with an eleven year old.

*** Trelawny is so much fun to write. Darry undeadness keeps throwing off her inner eye and it's driving them both insane!

This chapter is a mess. One day I'm gonna come back and clean it up, but for now I have to let it go before it drives me insane.

****In Shakespearian times, Slave was considered an insult as well as, well… being a slave.