An Enchanting Possibility

Heya! Orpheus here with my very first story outside the Naruto-verse. I've had this floating in my folders and happened across it while poking around. Sure, I don't have anything besides this first chapter done, but I thought that it couldn't hurt to see how it goes, right? As a warning, I haven't done… well, anything with the HP-verse before, so I'm not sure how quickly I'll update or if I will at all (it depends on the reception this receives), but I'll go ahead and put this forth into the wide ocean that is the Harry Potter fanfiction section. Should be fun at the very least, right?

Chapter I: A Whole New World

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

It was cold and loud. Those were the only adjectives that Harry James Potter could use to describe the rainy evening that the Dursleys had dragged him to while they stayed in some wood shack on the English coast. Harry was restless, unable to sleep thanks to the reason he had been forced here. It was all about those letters, those letters from somewhere called Hogwarts. He was just so curious about it. The letters all had this… aura about them that made him want to know what was inside. Then there were the messengers, the owls. Who used owls to send post? It was all just so… absurd! Yet, it somehow seemed to make sense to him on a level he didn't quite understand. It wasn't so much a thought or a feeling as something deeper, an instinct of sorts.

It was that same instinct that made him look at the door. Nothing was there at first glance, but then he saw… what was that? It seemed to be some sort of glow in the cracks of the door. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley didn't seem to notice it though, which was odd. They sure noticed when two knocks turned into the door falling into the floor though! Oh, how Aunt Petunia jumped! Harry might've found the whole situation quite funny if his green eyes weren't glued to the figured in the doorframe. He was the largest man that Harry had ever seen!

Stepping inside, the giant of a man made sure to step around the broken door and looked apologetic. "Sorry 'bout tha'." His accent was heavy, but still understandable enough. Coupled with the leathers and furs that the man wore, it gave him the air of an uncivilized brute, but hearing the sincere apology, Harry figured that there was more to this man than his appearance gave. "Guess I don' know mah own strength!" His guffaw was loud and hearty, so much different than anything that the boy had ever seen.

"What are you doing here?!" Uncle Vernon demanded to know, going red in the face (that was something Harry had seen plenty). The very large man ignored his uncle and laid his eyes on Dudley, oddly enough, causing his portly cousin to back up against the wall.

"'Arry?" He asked, seeing the fear in the eyes of Dudley. At his cousin's insistent shaking head, Hagrid then finally turned his sight to Harry himself, who could only look at the man in awe. "Yer 'Arry then, right?" Harry nodded numbly, looking at the man, finally understanding what he had seen in the door. It was him, he was faintly glowing a light brown, the umbrella in his hand a brighter shade of brown and the two connected by thin tendrils of the aura. He wasn't sure what he was witnessing, but decided to listen to what the man, who introduced himself as Hagrid, was saying. Well, listen after witnessing Dudley's new pig tail grew!

"What was that?" Harry wondered, watching as Hagrid pointed his umbrella at the fire place, as the medium brown aura flashed red a moment and the logs lit up brightly, now aflame. It almost seemed like… but it couldn't be, could it? That was impossible!

"Tha' would be magic. 'Preciate it if you di'n' mention it to anyone though." Hagrid's smile was so sincere, Harry nodded. How could he not? He was so amazed and mesmerized and curious though! Magic! Magic was genuinely and truly real! Hagrid said something then that had him blinking, tilting his head as he looked at the man.

"I'm a… what?" He asked, truly suspicious of what he had just heard. It just wasn't possible, not at all. How could it be?

"Yer a wizard, 'Arry." He repeated, reaching into his pocket and handing him a slightly crumpled envelope with that same crest he'd seen before. This was the letter that Uncle Vernon would never let him read! With furious eyes, Vernon jumped up and made for Harry, only to fearfully back into the wall at a step towards him from Hagrid. Harry was too immersed in reading the letter to pay that any mind. A whole school for witches and wizards and he was accepted? A boarding school far away from the Dursleys where he'd learn to do things for nine whole months, things that made him special?

The spectacled boy stood, gaining Hagrid's attention. "This sounds all so fantastic Hagrid… but can I really go? I've never done any magic before."

"Tha' what ya think? Ha' ya ever noticed anything strange when yer happy or scared or sad? Things ya can' explain?" Harry silently thought for a moment, remembering the incident with the snake, with his hair, with the roof and slowly nodded his head. "'Arry, magic is in yer blood! Of course, ya can go!" The black-haired boy smiled and watched as Hagrid walked back to the door, turning back to him. "Well? Are ya comin'?" Looking back at the Dursleys, who didn't move, Harry hurried to Hagrid's side before Vernon could change his mind. On his way out, Hagrid set the door back into the doorway, though it would fall should someone open it again, of course. No sense in using more spells than necessary after all.

Hagrid opened his umbrella for the boy, protecting Harry more than himself from the rain. The two made their way to the waiting motorcycle, with Harry taking his seat in the sidecar. "'Ang on, 'Arry." Hagrid stated, getting a nod from the boy as he revved the engine. Without another word, the vehicle took off… into the sky.

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As the trip was taking quite a while, Harry had ended up drifting off into sleep. While in flight, Hagrid had somehow gotten his coat off and placed it over the boy as a makeshift blanket. It wasn't until several hours later, but Harry finally woke up. Slowly opening his eyes, he noticed the heavy coat over his body and the chilly temperature. Pulling it closer to himself, Harry looked around to find out what was going on. It was then that he noticed Hagrid, still surrounded in that light brown, and his motorcycle. The motorcycle had its own glow… a faint and dim silvery-white that felt… light.

"Oh? Yer up 'Arry?" Hagrid asked. He nodded with a slight yawn. "We're almost to London, don' worry. Once we ge' there, we can buy yer supplies for Hogwarts."

"Supplies? Hagrid, I don't have any money…" Harry admitted, downtrodden. Hearing Hagrid's slight chuckle, he looked up at the jovial giant.

"Don' worry abou' that! Ya didn' think that yer parents left ya with nothing, did ya?" Harry widened his eyes before smiling slightly at that thought. "I gotta ge' somethin' from Gringotts Bank anyways. Dumbledore sent me an owl while ya were sleepin'. I gotta ge' somethin' from one of the vaults."

"Hagrid, can I ask you something?" The man nodded as the bike began to slowly descend to the road, an empty and rural road several kilometers outside England. "Why haven't I met anyone magical yet? Or even heard about them?" Uncle Vernon's hatred for magic didn't mean that they just stopped existing, though based on how little he knew of them… you would certainly think they did.

"Ah, tha's actually easy. The Ministry of Magic keeps the secrecy of magic away from muggles."

"Ministry of Magic? Muggles?" Harry repeated, not quite understanding.

"Oh, muggles are humans who can't use magic, prob'ly shoulda mentioned tha'. The Ministry is the government in charge of the magical society in England. They wanted Dumbledore as Minister, but he chose to stay as Headmaster and ended up electing Cornelius Fudge." Harry nodded, understanding there was a lot that he would need to learn about magical society. There was so much history outside of using magic that he'd need to understand.

"I've got so much to learn… I might be at a disadvantage but I'll do my best to catch up." He sighed and looked out at the rural scenery on his side of the road. "Hagrid, did you know my parents?" Harry wondered idly, not expecting an answer. The man looked at the boy and couldn't help but to smile a bit sadly.

"A bit, I've been the Keeper of the Keys fer a long time. James and Lily were quite talented students. I di'n't know James as well, but Lily spent a lot of time on the grounds out of the castle. She was very talented in Charms and caring to the magical creatures I take care of, which was enough to make me appreciate her. She really was a brilliant witch until… that night." Harry turned to Hagrid, curious about the tone he used. "Did they tell you what happened to yer parents?"

"Uncle Vernon told me that they died in a car crash." Harry responded immediately. Hagrid frowned heavily, shaking his head as he looked back at the road, the London lights showing themselves in the early morning finally. "That… wasn't what happened, was it?"

"No, not at all. Some wizards aren't what ya would call… good. Sometimes they learn the darker magics. Some of those wizards go so far that they… well, we call them Dark Lords. The last Dark Lord was… he was…"

"What was his name?" Harry wondered.

Hagrid seemed very nervous, as if he was building up his courage. Finally, he whispered a name. "Lord Voldemort." It was just the barest, faintest sound, but Harry heard it. "He was powerful, and evil. The whole of magical England was struck with fear. He killed magical and muggles alike, anyone that wasn't a Pureblood he went after. Yer parents defied him though, and he went after them. They were killed by… him. But, when he pointed his wand on you… something happened. Instead of killing you, his spell turned around and killed him. Yer the Boy Who Lived against the Dark Lord."

Harry listened intently to the tale that Hagrid told and had wide eyes. That's how his parents died? Hagrid then began speaking again. "Tha' scar on your forehead, the lightning bolt, tha's the proof of wha' happened. Tha's where his wand pointed." Harry reached up and touched his familiar scar, rubbing it lightly.

"I didn't know… I never could have even guessed something like that was what happened." He finally mumbled as they entered London, Hagrid parking his motorcycle and helping him out. Wearing his coat again, he began to lead the boy down the street.

"Don' worry about it, 'Arry." He stated, giant hand on one shoulder. "The past is the past and ya have a chance now thanks to tha'. Just be the best wizard ya can." Harry nodded once, causing Hagrid to smile at him as they made their way through the busy London streets.

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Hagrid eventually led Harry to a somewhat dinghy pub called "The Leaky Cauldron". It was dark and drab, the kind of place he wouldn't have noticed unless Hagrid pointed it out to him. Inside, he noted about a dozen patrons as well as the bartender. "Oh, hello there, Hagrid!" Said bartender greeted him warmly. "And who's this here with you?" Squinted eyes widened in surprise very suddenly. "Merlin's beard… it can't be. But it is, young Harry Potter!"

Harry smiled nervously as a crowd of people surrounded Hagrid and himself, until a man looked even more shaky than him approached in a purple turban. "Oh! 'Arry, this here is Professor Quirinius Quirrel, 'e'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year." Harry nodded and shook the hand of the nervous man. His aura was… strange, to say the least. Most of it was an odd, bright and sickly sweet yellow, but around his turban it was… pitch black. The yellow felt… sick while the black gave him the chills, like all the darker things he'd ever thought of became one being. And then something even worse had consumed it.

"Y-yes, hello H-h-harry Potter." Professor Quirrel's quivering voice stuttered out with some obvious effort. "I h-hope to see y-you excel i-i-in my classes." Harry nodded with a slightly more confident smile.

"I'll do my best, Professor. I can't wait to learn as much about magic as I can!" Quirrel smiled back, though the black halo around his turban pulsated strangely at the comment. As if it was angry. In response, the yellowish aura quivered violently. Harry pondered what it could mean until Hagrid pulled him along to the back of the pub. As they did, Hagrid pulled out his umbrella and began tapping the brick wall in a very specific order. "What's that for?" He wondered.

"Watch an' see, 'Arry." Hagrid commented with a smile. Watch he did. The wall glowed with magic as a large field of bright light materialized, many runes materializing on the bricks themselves. The masonry then began to split and pull apart, forming an opening to a street that had even more magic. The burly man let a heaty laugh out as he watched Harry's eyes nearly pop. "Told ya, di'n' I?"

"There's so much… it's so beautiful." He whispered. There were a thousand shades of blues and reds and greens and yellows and violets, bright beacons of white, bubbling fumes of brown swirling into orange. There was so much that he didn't know where to start. "Hagrid, all the colors and the magic… it's so amazing!" Hagrid led the boy past the wall so that it could close and looked at him.

"Colors? Don' you 'ave those in the Muggle world?" Harry turned back to the man, shaking his head.

"Not like this! All the magical auras in all the different shades, I never even knew that magic could be seen like this until you showed up!" Hagrid widened his eyes and looked at the Boy Who Lived.

"'Arry, what do you see on me?" He wondered. Harry was so curious and amazed he didn't even notice the stressed tone the normally jovial man had.

"You have a dark brown aura and your umbrella is lighter brown." He explained while trying to look around at everything at once, a wide grin on his face. Hagrid frowned but shook his head. Dumbledore would want to hear about this. It didn't bode well for those muggles either. Not if it was what he thought…

"Le's get started then, shall we?" Hagrid asked, getting a nod of assent from Harry. "Firs' off, we need to go to Gringotts." The two began walking down the street. "I's the bank where most of Magical Britain keeps their money. Oh! Tha' reminds me, the Wizarding World uses a different currency than the mundane one. It'll be good to memorize the differences now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, then picked three of them. "We use Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. There are 17 Sickles in a Galleon and 29 Knuts in a Sickle." Harry nodded, vowing to remember that. He knew that Muggles tried to take advantage of anyone they could scam money out of, so why should the Wizarding World be any different?

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Gringotts was the absolute largest building that Harry had ever seen in person. It stretched up to the sky (and Hagrid said that it stretched out under the entirety of London on its basement levels). The aura around it was certainly interesting given it was bright and stark white, glowing like a hot fire. "Tha's prob'ly because of its nature. Gringotts is among the safest places in Magical Britain, along with Hogwarts. In all the centuries tha' it's stood, there's never been a successful break-in."

It was then that the two went through the front door. Gringotts had scattered witches and wizards doing business here and there, speaking to the clerks. Harry paid less attention to them and more to the… creatures behind each desk. The small, pale-skinned bank tellers and clerks had the utmost look of seriousness and watched the pair as they walked past, though only for a moment. Each of them also had auras that were very dark brown that reminded Harry of… dirt. Not sand, not mud, but soil specifically.

"Mind yerself 'Arry." Hagrid warned. "There's no one better to watch a wizard's gold, but upsetting a goblin is the last thing some wizards ever do. As long as ya don' break any contracts with them, they won' do much to ya though." Harry nodded, filing that information away for later. They then approached one of the clerks in the very back with the sign denoting him as Griphook.

Griphook looked up from his paperwork with something between a smile and a sneer. "Yes? May I help you?" Harry gulped, but kept eye contact with the goblin. Just as the creature looked to be getting impatient, Hagrid spoke up.

"This is 'Arry Potter and he'd like to get into his Vault." Hagrid explained. Griphook looked at the burly man silently until Hagrid got the picture and reached into one of his many pockets. He revealed a key and handed it to the goblin, who looked upon it. Nodding to himself, Griphook appeared ready to stand until Hagrid continued. "We also need to get into Vault 713." At that, the Keeper of the Keys handed a letter to Griphook, who scanned the writing quickly before nodding.

"Very well." He replied and stood, leading them further back into Gringotts. The goblin stopped when they reached what appeared to be a mining cart. Curious, Harry got in after Hagrid.

"Brace yerself, 'Arry. It can be… disorienting the first few times." Before the spectacled boy could what that meant, the cart lurched forward. The only thing that the Boy Who Lived could see for quite a few moments was hundreds of colors passing by. His ability to see auras was coupling with the sheer speed they moved to disorient him further. Harry blinked a few times, but by the time he had regained his bearings, the cart stopped hard.

"Here is the Potter Vault." Griphook announced as everyone got out (Harry was noticeably more unbalanced than the other two). Blinking the dizziness aside, Harry watched the Vault and was amazed at what he saw. It had this… solid looking aura. He couldn't quite place it, but it was certainly bright white. It just seemed to be dense. As Griphook unlocked it with the key Hagrid had, the white aura just disappeared. When it did, Harry could see several hundred symbols on the vault door, though they looked like gibberish to him.

"Wait… this is my vault, Hagrid? But I don't have even a pence to my name." Hagrid only smiled as the vault door opened.

"Did you think yer parents left ya with nothin', 'Arry?" Harry looked back to the vault just as it fully opened and widened his eyes considerably. There were stacks of bronze, silver and gold coins that fill his cupboard back home several dozen times over easily! The groundskeeper chuckled at the response that Harry gave even as he allowed the boy to step inside and look around the vault. "Take enough to fill yer pockets, we've got supplies to buy and it'll give ya a little spending money." Harry nodded and did just that, grinning.

As he walked back out, Griphook locked the vault up once more and held the key to be taken by Hagrid. The older man glanced to Harry and nudged the boy, motioning him to take it. The raven-haired Hogwarts prospect nodded and took it, placing it in a pocket that wasn't filled with coins as they headed back to the cart.

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"So, where to next, 'Arry?" Hagrid asked as they left Gringotts. They had visited another vault that was even more dense with what Harry had come to assume was protection magic. There was no key, but instead Griphook opened it with some sort of… he thought it was a spell. Calling the way Griphook manipulated the locks on the door a simple spell seemed to go against Harry's instincts. It was more as if… the door gave the goblin entry, allowed him permission to enter than the other way around.

Hagrid had grabbed some sort of package wrapped in and bound by leather that was the size of a small stone, pocketed it, and then they left. Harry took out his supply list that had been attached to the acceptance letter and read it out loud. "Let's see… a robe, a pointed hat, Dragonhide gloves, a winter coat, stationary, either an owl, a toad or a rat and textbooks." Harry didn't bother naming all the textbooks.

It didn't take very long to go around and pick up his things. First they had gone to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. There, Harry had been measured by the tailor and received his Hogwarts uniform, meeting a strange boy in the process. It was a red-haired boy that had been there with his mother, getting some used robes.

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"Go ahead and wait in the chairs there, 'Arry, I'll go get someone." Hagrid suggested as he went to the back of the store, searching for an employee. Harry watched him go, but instead of sitting, decided to look around the shop. There wasn't really any magic in this shop that he could see, but he could... sense something there. There were all sorts of uniforms, cloaks and hats in many different colors. Harry had never really had any new clothes, always receiving Dudley's hand-me-downs, so seeing so many custom-made clothes that were gently used for sale was new to him.

So enraptured by looking at everything, he didn't notice the boy walking his way until it was too late and they ran into each other. Harry fell to his rear and shook his head, noting the other boy had short, red hair, pale skin and freckles. He would be described as a "ginger" by Dudley and his gang, Harry was sure. "Sorry about that." Harry apologized as he stood up, helping the other boy up. "I just never saw so much clothing in such good condition before. It's the first time I've gotten something that wasn't a hand-me-down…"

The other boy looked as if he might be agitated but at Harry's words noticeably calmed down until he smiled. "Yeah, I get that. I'm here to get a robe myself. My brothers took care of my da's for a long time… but it was just too ripped up to be used anymore, so my mum is letting me get one of the used ones here." Harry smiled back, glad to know that he wasn't alone in having to wear someone else's clothing. There was a woman's call just then, and the ginger turned his head. "Er… sorry, got to head over back to mum. Maybe I'll see you at Hogwarts, huh?" Harry nodded his head.

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Then the pair had gone around to different shops for supplies. Flourish and Blotts gave him all the textbooks on his list. Scribbulus Writing Instruments was where they obtained quills, ink, inkwells and parchment for the year. At Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, Hagrid helped Harry get all the necessary potion ingredients he might need as a First Year (though with fair warning to pay close attention in Potions class because Professor Snape didn't like slacking or mistakes). At Potage's Cauldron Shop, Harry purchased a relatively small cauldron for brewing purposes. Finally, they were up to the last item on the list and came to a shop with a sign that read Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

When they walked inside, Harry immediately noted that there were large stacks of small boxes stacked to the ceiling and farther back into the shop than he could see. Each box also seemed to give off a very small aura. So small that if it wasn't for the quantity of them, he was sure they wouldn't even be noticeable. He was so mesmerized at the environment that he didn't even notice as the shopkeeper appeared. "How may I help you?" Hagrid led Harry to the counter where the shopkeep stood. He looked to be an older man with a wrinkled face full of many laugh lines and bright, cheerful eyes that lit up as he laid eyes on Harry. "Ah, young Harry Potter. I should have seen this coming, though it is unfortunate your parents could not have brought you themselves."

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked, curiosity giving way to a small, pleading tone. The man - Harry assumed this was Ollivander - smiled mysteriously.

"They came when they received their letters." He explained. "I remember them very well. I sell every wand personally: I make them all. I recall every wand I've ever sold. Your mother… yes, it seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, willow. Nice wand for charm work. Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - is really is the wand that chooses the wizard, you know."

Harry nodded, taking it in. Something as small as knowing the wands of his parents was more than he had known in the last eleven years combined. "Hm… I suppose it is time for your wand as well. Let me see…" Ollivander turned around and shuffled through a few boxes before pulling one down and coming back to Harry. Opening it carefully, he pulled out a wand that gave off an echo - he couldn't even call it an aura with something that thin and insubstantial - of red coming off it. "Nine inches. Holly with a unicorn hair core." Handing it to Harry, Ollivander waited. "Go on then, give it a little wave." It was very light. Harry would have sworn up and down that it was not his intention to explode a pile of empty boxes in one corner. Of course, his intent didn't matter much now, did it?

"Hm… how about this? Twelve inches. Oak with a dragon heartstring core." Harry took up this one as well, noting its cyan echo. With a wave, it caused several boxes to fly off the shelf across the backroom. Ollivander took it back up and hummed to himself, shaking his head. He left and returned once more, presenting a new box. "Nine and a half inches. Blackthorn with a core of unicorn hair." It continued. Each wand caused a different accident in the shop, and each had a different colored echo. Ollivander didn't get impatient. He simply seemed interested. He became enthralled in the challenge Harry posed. Finally, the man paused and brought a box labeled #963. "Eleven inches, holly with phoenix feather."

As soon as Harry picked it up, its silver echo flared up brightly. He felt a… warmth run through his body as he touched it and couldn't help but smile. "Curious, most curious." Harry looked up at Ollivander's words.

"I'm sorry, sir. What's curious?" He wondered.

"I remember every wand ever sold in this shop. Every wand I've ever made I recall. The phoenix that gave up the feather that is in that wand only gave up one other feather. It is in that wands brother." Ollivander paused a moment, looking at Harry's forehead. "It's brother is the very wand that gave you that scar." Harry looked back at the wand as the wandmaker continued. "I expect great things of you, Mr. Potter. The Dark Lord did great things with his wand. Terrible things, to be sure, but great things." The Boy-Who-Lived nodded his head as Hagrid paid the seven galleons for the wand among Harry's money and they left.

Back out in Diagon Alley, Hagrid saw Harry looking at his wand and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don' worry, 'Arry."

Harry looked up at the man and nodded. "I reckon… it's like my aunt." Hagrid's confused look set him explaining. "I can't control that I'm related to Aunt Petunia any more than this wand can control being related to Voldemort, can it?" Hagrid chuckled and shook his head.

"Oh, I should prob'bly tell ya. Since yer under seventeen, don' use your wand except at Hogwarts. When ya turn seventeen ya can use it all ya want, but before that the Ministry can tell if ya do and they tend to punish students harshly for breakin' it." Harry nodded, though couldn't help feel that Hagrid was speaking from personal experience by the tone of his voice.

"I think that's everything on the list then." Harry replied, wishing to change the subject. Hagrid seemed to brighten up at the statement and shook his head. "No? Did we miss a stop?"

"Jus' follow me. I've got a surprise for ya." Harry did just that. He could swear he heard Hagrid mutter something about birthdays, but couldn't be completely sure.

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As it turned out, Harry's surprise had been a snowy owl named Hedwig from Eeylops Owl Emporium. After that, Hagrid had taken him back out of Diagon Alley. By the time they had gotten back to his house on Privet Drive, Harry had been given a ticket to Hogwarts Express, the date he should board and instructions to not be late.

To be perfectly honest, Harry had not been at all looking forward to the next month with the Dursleys. After the parting they had had on the Hut-On-The-Rock, he couldn't imagine anything but the worst treatment from his family he had ever experienced. He dared not even think about what Uncle Vernon could cook up, lest he inadvertently give him ideas. Of course, he apparently had been worrying over nothing. Or as close to nothing as could be possible in the Dursley house.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia had all but ignored him during the entire month except to inform him that he'd now be staying in the guest bedroom. His things (what little he had had under the stairs) had already been moved there too, which was a nice surprise. Harry, for one, wasn't about to argue with such a fortunate turn of events and stayed in his new room (he'd certainly have to get used to thinking that!) as much as he could, except to eat and do some chores. That said, his list of chores certainly had shortened by quite a bit with how many of the things he used to do, Aunt Petunia now doing them before he could even think to.

During the month, Harry had taken a look at his books to try and get ahead on his classes before they started. He remembered Hagrid saying that his mother was very good in Potions and Charms, so of course those were the first two he looked into! It seemed that just those two branches were capable of things that Muggles (that's what Hagrid called non-wizards, right?) only dreamed of in their wildest fantasies!

It was just too bad that he couldn't use his wand for a little practice, but he would certainly do his best to make sure he knew as much about the subjects before he got there. Once term started he could get all the practice he could possibly want, right?

Harry also found himself very enthralled with the history of Magical Britain and Hogwarts specifically. Hogwarts: A History told him all he could want about the school and more (though he assumed there was so much more you just couldn't fit into one book, no matter how thick it was!).

Of course, there was no way he could get through eight textbooks in just over four weeks, now could he? He didn't attempt to do that, but all that he learned on magical theory, magical creatures, charms, potions, transfiguration, magical history, herbs and self-defense enraptured him to the point he never even noticed when the day came for him to leave for London once again. As they say, time flies when you're having fun. He just never imagined that learning could be so fun. Then again, this was the magic of reading, he supposed. Perhaps the librarians weren't as mad as he once thought?