Basil

When Harry Potter’s watch stroke midnight upon his eleventh birthday, in a shack secluded somewhere in the middle of an ocean, he wasn't expecting much. Nothing at all really, maybe some passive aggressive comments from the Dursleys, a shove from Dudley.

A giant of a man waltzing in and proclaiming he was a wizard? Yeah, definitely unexpected. Learning his parents were killed by a dark wizard and he survived a killing curse that destroyed said wizard? Even more unexpected.

The next day, they're walking out of this bank. Goblins are staring at him and he feels so exposed he doesn't know what to do. By the time they're out of the building, Harry's skin is crawling and he just wants to be alone.

Of course, he can't, because there's the list. A school list with things like pewter cauldron (not gold, unfortunately), or wand, and robes. He's not sure what any of it means, but he follows Hagrid until suddenly he's talking about an errand he needs to run, and up the street is Ollivanders, best Wandmaker in the world. So, Harry takes the list and walks down the street.

He makes it about ten feet when he hears it. The distinct hssss, like the time in the zoo. He turns his head and looks back up the street, tracking Hagrid as he turns a corner. The hssss calls again, and without consciously deciding, Harry is following the sound. He comes to a stop outside a dingy store. The windows are caked with dirt and dust, and the sign Shyverwretch’s Venoms and Poisons. He's walking through the door before he can even recognise the sense of fear running down his spine.

The minute the door opens, the hsss silences, and Harry's left staring at and old man, glaring down at him from the counter.

“What do you want, boy?” The mans creaky voice seems to come from all around the store, and a shiver runs down Harry's spine.

“I-er, I heard something…” he trails off when the man quirks an eyebrow. He goes to open his mouth, but before he says anything back, a resounding hssss comes from Harry's right.

Turning quickly, he eyes a slithering form as it weaves through the shelves towards him. It's a shorter snake, not even a foot long, distinct by the blend of blue and green scales, and he thinks it's probably young. Above the snake, a chest of drawers is overflowing with them, all different varieties. When the snake reaches him, it raises its head. Immediately, Harry crouches so as to better face it.

“Hello,” the snake starts, “I've seen you coming.”

“Seen me coming?” Harry asks, “What does that mean?”

“Boy, what are you doing!” The man behind the counter shouts, interrupting the snakes reply. The snake immediately turns its eyes on him, and he shrinks back slightly. Interesting, Harry thinks, he's afraid of his own pet.

“I have found him.” The snake rises a little higher, seeming to extend its body. The mans face seems to clear a bit at his words, and he suddenly turns behind the counter and disappears through a door.

“What just happened?” Harry asks, and the snake turns back to him, body deflating to the original size.

“I have claimed you. You are mine and I am yours.” The snake says, and then drops to slither around Harry's foot, then climb up his leg.

“I'm sorry, I'm very new to this, I don't really understand what you're saying.” Harry tries to explain, but the snake just keeps climbing him, until it's wrapped around his shoulders, seeming to have shrunk down in size even further.

“Ah yes,” the snake hisses, “muggles. You do have a name for me, I believe it is pet?”

Harry looks down at the snake curled over his shoulder sort of dumbstruck. He knew being a wizard would be a change, but this feels like a lot.

“Er, okay? Don't I have to pay for you? Where did the owner go?” He asks, and he thinks the snake starts laughing.

“Shyver does not own me, so I am not his to give.” And Harry think he understands, but he still pulls out a gold galleon and puts it on the counter. He thinks the snake is rolling its eyes, but he's not really sure how that works and doesn't want to question it.

“Okay, well I still have to get a wand, are you going to stay with me?” He asks, and the snake nods. It's then he realises, “I don't know your name?”

“I do not have one, I have been waiting for you.” Harry blinks in surprise at that.

“Well, do you have any names you like?” He doesn't think it's fair to name a snake that can talk when it can name itself.

“You must name me. It will create our bond.” The snake definitely sounds worried, as if Harry might say no to naming it.

“Oh, okay. Well, tell me about yourself? I don't even know if you're a boy or a girl.”

“I am a girl. You must name me without my input, or it may not work.” Again, Harry thinks she sounds nervous. He doesn't want her to run off, the weight of her is very comfortable, like she fits there perfectly.

“Well, you're very green. What about…Basil?” He asks.

“Basssssil.” The snake repeats, sounding like she's tasting it on her tongue. “Yes, I quite like that. And you are Harry Potter.”

“Uh, yes. How did you know that?” Harry asks.

“Everyone knows who you are. You'll see.” She says, then curls more so her head is resting nearer his neck. “I am tired.” Is all she says, before her body loosens. She slithers down into his pocket, and he thinks she's probably asleep already. Unsure how to handle this, Harry decides leaving the dusty shop is the best idea, and quickly heads back up the street he started from.

Turning back into the busy street, he heads back towards the wand shop, Ollivander's. Entering the store, the busy sounds from the street go quiet, and he walks towards the empty counter. Eyeing the bell, he hits it once.

The man comes out of nowhere, and the look on his face is one Harry has the feeling he might get a lot, for whatever reason. The man is beaming and talking, showing him wand after wand that don't feel right. Until, the one that does.

The owner, Ollivander, seems worried about it being this wand, but before Harry can ask, Hagrid is tapping on the window with a beautiful white owl.

The rest of Harry's day is a blur, and by the time he's entering the train station, he's nearly forgotten about Basil in his pocket, until she shifts and he feels her head about to pop up. He pats his pocket lightly, hoping she can tell it means stay still.

“I'm late!” Hagrid is saying, then saying goodbye and before Harry can ask about Basil or Platform 9¾ he's gone. Staring at his ticket, he heads down to the platform between the two. He asks the ticket master, but he scoffs at him, so sheet figures he's a muggle. A second later, Basil is sliding her head out of his pocket to look around.

“You have to go through the wall.” She says, and Harry looks at her incredulously. Huffing, she turns her head and seems to point with it. Harry looks, and sees a family of redheads. Two boys, identical twins, run straight through a wall. Harry's eyes fly wide, and he quickly walks up to the family to ask.

The woman seems nice, but Basil has disappeared back into his pocket, so he tries to move to the train as fast as possible. He can feel the anxiety from her in his pocket, quivering a bit. By the time he's situated on the train, she shaking, and pulls her out carefully.

“We’re alone.” He whispers to her, and she slithers up onto his shoulders, curling her head into his neck. “Are you okay?” He's asks.

“I do not like strangers. Or crowds. It is easy to get stepped on.” She says

“Oh, okay. I'm sorry.” He says, and she's about about to answer, when the door starts to slide open. Basil is off his shoulders and in his pocket so fast, the redheaded boy who enters doesn't even see her.

“Everywhere else is full, mind if I sit here?” Harry nods, but finds himself disappointed that he won't be talking to Basil instead. “I'm Ron, Ron Weasley.”

“Harry Potter.” He sticks his hand out to shake, but the boy is now staring at him slack jawed.

“Y-you,” he stutters, “you're Harry Potter. Do you have th-the…” he trails off but Harry gets what he means. He lifts his hair and the boy gapes at him a bit. Harry shrugs and lets his hair fall. The boy goes to say something, but the door opens again, this time the trolley cart is coming by.

The offer of chocolate frogs and sweets makes Harry's mouth water, and Ron looks miserable about his sandwich, so Harry figures he can buy enough for all three of them.

It's not until Scabbers, the pet rat, is out and Ron is trying to cast a spell on him, that he thinks about Basil wanting something. Of course, she chooses that moment to leave his pocket, and slide onto his lap. She's eyeing the rat, so Harry pets her absently, trying to communicate she can't eat it. When he looks back up Ron is staring at him open mouthed.

“What?” He asks.

“Th-that's a snake. You have a snake!” He pints at Basil with the wand still in his hand, and Basil tenses.

“Yes, this is Basil. She's my…. pet.” He says, although the word feels wrong. He puts his hand around her some more, trying to keep her covered form the pointed wand. Ron lowers his hand slowly and nods, clearly a little panicked.

“Okay, just, just keep her away from Scabbers!” He says, moving to pull his rat into his arms.

“Basil wasn't going to eat him.” Harry's says, then turns to Basil, “were you?” She shakes her head and Harry nods, satisfied. Ron is staring open mouthed again, but before he can say what he's thinking the door opens again.

A girl with thick, bushy hair leans in. She looks frustrated, her dark skin a little sweaty, as if she's been running about the same train.

“Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.” She's eyeing them skeptically, and Harry feels Basil shift in his lap at the mention of a toad. The girl's eyes narrow on him and he shakes his head. She eyes Basil, but says nothing. “Your glasses are broken, let me fix those.” She casts a spell and suddenly Harry's glasses are sitting straight, and clean.

He feels Basil move, lifting her head to angle and dip towards the girl. He thinks that might be her way of showing approval. The girl nods back at Basil, before looking up at him again, her eyes going wide. “You're Harry Potter! I've read all about you.” And Ron is rolling his eyes behind her back but Harry is interested in what she has to say. Of course, all it is is about Hogwarts: A History, so not that helpful.

Eventually the girl leaves them, and he and Ron sit in silence for a minute. Ron is still eyeing Basil, and Harry is trying not to be offended by it. Eventually scabbers struggles and leaves Ron’s lap, heading back for the pile of candy. Basil watches with a bored look, before dropping her head back to Harry's lap and closing her eyes. Ron seems to let out a breath, and they return to easier conversation.

By the time they pull up to the castle, Basil is curled up on his neck and scabbers is asleep on Ron’s lap. When they stand to exit the train, Basil quickly retreats to Harry's pocket, and scabbers disappears somewhere with Ron.

Harry sits on the edge of the boat, so Basil can peek out his pocket. Hedwig and his trunk have supposedly been taken for him. Leading all the boats sits Hagrid, his large form almost blocking some of the castle, until they turn a bit and Harry can see the full image.

It's breathtaking, the towers and bridges all around, like something straight out of a fairytale. The boats are moving fast, so he can't focus on too much, but he sees a tower with odd shapes inside, and he swears he can hear owls hooting from another.

By the time they reach the shore, Basil is nearly out of his pocket, quivering in anticipation. He quickly shuffles her back in, and he stands with the other students. He’s with Ron, and the bushy haired girl (Hermione, he thinks someone called her), she's talking to another girl, and they don't look happy. Suddenly the other girl bites out something and Harry notes tears well in Hermione's eyes. Basil is twitching, and not really thinking about it, he pushes himself between the two and glares at the girl. She looks at him defiantly, before her eyes flicker to his scar. Her mouth goes slack and she quickly steps back. When Harry looks away, Ron is standing on the other side of Hermione. He's not sure why he did what he did, bus Basil has calmed down, which makes him feel better.

A blonde boy steps in front of Hermione and Ron, and sneers at Ron, making some comment about red hair and being poor. It rankles Harry, and Basil shifts again. When the boy turns his eyes on Hermione, Harry steps up next to her again, and they boy's eyes narrow. But, before he can open his mouth, a woman with a pointed hat steps up behind him. Noting all eyes above him, the boy turns and flushes.

“I am Professor McGonagall. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.” She goes on to explain the houses, and Harry feels Basil jump slightly at the name Slytherin.

By the time they enter the hall, Harry's is full of anxiety. Walking between the four tables, all eyes on them, he thinks Basil digs herself deeper in his pocket. A tall man, with a white beard that seems to go on for miles is standing at the front of the room. Harry recognises him from the chocolate frog card Ron told him about, Headmaster Dumbledore.

“The very best of evenings to you!… to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…” he goes on, but Harry only barely listens, until he announces “the third floor is off limits to all, unless one wish to experience certain death.” Harry looks around, but he's really only one of a few who finds this information shocking and terrifying.

Basil is twitching again in his pocket, but when the hat starts singing, she stills, until they reach:

“Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.”

At that, Basil begins shifting again, Harry thinks she's making a circle in his pocket, all energy over the house. When the cheers from the room calm down, McGonagall begins calling out names.

“Hermione Granger!” Professor McGonagall calls out. Hermione mutters under her breath, but eventually makes it through the crowd to the stool, the hat settling on her head.

“Hmm, yes. Very interesting. Intelligent, you do love to learn, and teaching others. And friendship. You wish for friends, but have not found ones who will stay.” Hermione blushes as that, but a steely look enters her eyes. “Ah yes, there you are. That's what I was looking for. That ambition. You will do what you need, won't you? Yes, well. Better be Slytherin!” The table against the far wall has a few scattered claps, but Hermione’s faces is white as a sheet, and she almost looks like she's going to be sick. She makes her way to the table, and a girl nudges her, striking up a conversation, but just as quickly that girls face goes slack, and she turns her back on her.

Names are continued, until “Harry Potter!” The quiet chatter in the background completely stops, until Harry is sitting on the stool, looking up; all eyes are on him, and then the whispers start again. The hat rests on his head, and the sensation of something entering his mind stops him cold.

“Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, Ah, my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?" The hat said to him, and Harry suddenly felt Basil shift.

“Ah, so that's different.” The hat says. “A talent like that should be cultivated. You will do great things, and with her by your side you will need a house to accept the ambition you hold. Yet, there is that bravery. That little streak saying ‘don't give in’ yes, very hard indeed.” Harry feels Basil shift again, head head nosing towards his right. Harry shifts his focus, and sees the green and black stripes shining on banners over the table. There, he thinks, that's the one. The sorting hat seems to breathe in deep, almost as if surprised. “Well, if you're sure. SLYTHERIN.” It shouts, and the entire hall goes silent. Not a single clap is heard, until the hat is removed and he steps off the stool.

The shocked faces around him are all that register, until the loudest cheering of all begins from the Slytherin table. He walks numbly to the table, not entirely sure what just happened. Names continue to be called as he sits next to Hermione, they glance at each other but stay silent. Approving glances are sent down the table at him, and a few get up to pat him on the back, but the quiet shock seems to remain. Harry accidentally catches Headmaster Dumbledore’s eyes, and is shocked to note something akin to fear in them.

The sorting hat continues, name after name called out, until “Ronald Weasley!” Is called, and he walks to the stool. Harry and Hermione both look over.

“Ah, another Weasley. Although, not much the same. Are you so sure you wish to follow in the same steps as before?” The hat begins to whisper then, and Ron straightens. “Well, alright then. Be so stubborn. It won't change where you belong. Better be… Slytherin!”

Ron yanks the hat off his head, and throws it on the chair, stomping away. Polite applause comes from the Slytherin table, but it's nearly drowned out by the sounds of outrage from the Gryffindor table. Turning, Harry catches the two identical redheads, and a third redhead next to them shouting. They're all glaring right at the hat, as if it has personally offended them.

Ron sits next to Harry with a huff, but says nothing at his and Hermione's questioning looks. There's only three names after Ron (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff), and by the time the rest of the students are sitting, Dumbledore is standing.

Dumbledore begins another speech, but Harry forgets to listen when he notices the whispering down the table. Not about him, but about Hermione. Pointed fingers and sneers, her face seems to go even whiter. At some point food appears on the table, surprising Harry. He looks up, and across the table locks eyes with the blonde boy from before. He quirks an eyebrow at Harry, but says nothing, continuing to serve food onto his plate.

The rest of the meal goes like that, mostly silent around the three of them, a muttered “pass the salt please” or two. Harry thinks the others probably would talk to him, but he feels oddly comfortable between Hermione and Ron. When dinner ends the other first years stand, and begin following a tall female prefect down out of the hall. They exit back towards the Entrance Hall, and turn right to a slightly hidden door.

Walking down the stone steps, Hermione, Ron, and Harry seem to cluster together. The other first years clearly already know many of each other, and are chatting animatedly about a variety of subjects. People cast him glances every once in a while, but nobody attempts to speak with him. The three of them remain silent, until they enter a corridor and a large stone wall opens in front of them.

Wandering through the entrance is like entering another world. The bright white lamps from the hall fade into a green and blue glow, the marble and stone along the wall blending together seamlessly to reflect the light, giving the whole room a brighter feeling that it should. Across the far wall is about 20 panes of glass, and the Great Lake is beyond it. Harry can see figures swimming by, and Hermione rushes over with a few other girls to wave at them. Ron and Harry hang back, but he feels Basil twitch again, and knows it's because she wishes she could see the room. Silently he promises to bring her down after everyone else is asleep.

Looking around the rest of the room, his eyes snag on the plush blankets and couches, leather and velvet all around. Green and black are the most prominent colours, but blue and silver also appear. The left wall is covered in plants, cauldrons, and what looks like hundreds of books. The right wall is overlapped with tapestries, all depicting some past Slytherin who dedicated their life to something. Harry's eyes swivel around the room trying to take it all in, when he notices Ron is focused on Hermione and the group of girls.

When the girl's around Hermione realise she's standing next to them, they take an obvious step away from her, and begin whispering all over again. Hermione’s face hardens, and Harry watches as that steely look enters her eyes again. She walks back to him and Ron, and they stand together, slightly apart from the others.

“Alright kids,” the prefect announces, and they all turn to look at her. “First year girls are through the door to the right, boys to the left. Your rooms have been assigned and you'll find your trunks already at your beds.” She pauses and when no one moves, sighs. “Go! I'm not your babysitter.”

At once all the girls seems to take off, walking quickly towards their door. Hermione glances at them quickly, but steels her shoulders and walks confidently after the others. “Should've been a gryffindor” Harry hears Ron mutter, and he has to agree a bit. She does seem brave. But there's that look in her eye that tells him this is what she chose.

The boys walk slower, Harry and Ron ending up in the middle of the pack. Peeking into each door, Harry looks for his trunk. When the third door opens, and he and Ron both find their trunks waiting, he breathes a sigh of relief.

The rooms have five beds each. Each draped with heavy green curtains. The beds themselves are plush, luxurious looking things, dark sheets and soft green and silver comforter. Harry moves to the one with his trunk and sits on it experimentally. It sinks, but not so much that he'll be absorbed by the mattress. It's nice, he thinks, if a little extravagant.

The sound of voices from the door makes Ron and Harry’s head snap up. The blonde from earlier enters the room, followed by a tall skinny boy, and a dark skinned short one. They stop talking as they enter, and eye the two of them. Eventually the skinny boy steps forward a bit.

“I'm Theo. Theo Nott. Welcome to Slytherin.” He sticks out his hand and Harry takes after only a second of hesitation.

“Harry Potter.” He says and Theo smirks.

“We know. That’s Draco,” he points to the blonde, “and that's Blaise. They're both dicks, so ignore them as much as possible.” Draco scoffs and Blaise rolls his eyes, but they don't argue. Theo turns to Ron then. “So, a Weasley in Slytherin. I'll be keeping an eye on you.”

It doesn't sound like much of a threat, but Ron straightens anyways. “Probably a good idea.” Is all he says, but his refusal to shake Theo's hand gets the message across, and Theo nods after a moment, dropping his hand.

Theo abruptly turns to his own bed, and starts unpacking into the dresser. Draco and Blaise do the same, so Harry and Ron turn to begin their own unpacking. Scabbers jumps out of Ron's pocket after a minute, and climbs lazily onto the bed. Eying the other three boys, and the the giant symbol of Slytherin on the wall, Harry decides its best to get it over with.

“Er,” he begins, and clears his throat. The others glance at him but don't stop their unpacking. “So, I have to show you guys something, but don't freak out, okay?” The others exchange looks, and Ron's eyes go wide, but Harry figures it's now or never. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the shrunken figure of Basil. She uncurls cautiously, and slowly winds her way up his arm, body expanding as she does. She weaves until she's wrapped around his shoulders, and then stills.

Looking up, the faces of the other three are staring at her with a range of shock and interest. Draco is the first to look at Harry, and his mouth closes and opens a few times before he finds his voice.

“What in the hell is that, Potter?” He sounds more curious than upset, but Basil still tenses and pulls closer into him.

“This is Basil. She found me. Or I found her…. we found each other.” He decides on, and Basil nods her head. Draco’s mouth shuts with a snap, and he looks to Blaise and Theo. Theo is looking at her with the same look Hermione had, curious but not prying. Blaise is looking at her with straight admiration.

“She's party occomy.” He says, and Harry isn't sure what that means, but Basil’s head whips up to face him so he figures it must be part right.

“What's an occamy?” Harry asks, and Blaise turns his eyes on him.

“They're a magical serpentine. They have wings and can adjust to any size to fit a space as they wish.” His eyes fade back to Basil. “She doesn't have the wings, although she's young so they might develop later.”

“How do you know about them?” Harry asks, confused because he doesn't think the chapter index of his books mentioned anything about it.

“My father had one. It's my mothers now.” Blaise says, and at the mention of his father, the other two boys look down at the ground. Blaise rolls his eyes at them and moves back to unpacking.

The other two turn back soon after, and that's that. Harry lets Basil onto the bed, and she quickly slithers to the wood posts to pull herself up and down one. Scabbers hides in Ron’s pillows whenever she looks his way, but Harry thinks she knows better than to go after him.

Twenty minutes later there's a knock at the door. Draco is closest, and opens it to reveal Hermione standing there. He sneers at her, and says “What do you want, mudblood?”

Instantly that look enters Hermione's eyes again, and Harry watches her fingers twitch around her wand. Before she can do anything though, he quickly says “Hey Hermione, come on in.” She looks at him and the look fades, leaving her slightly softer. Harry sees Draco blink at her before moving aside and sitting on his bed.

Hermione enters, and her eyes immediately flick to Basil. “I never asked her name.” Is what she says, though Harry is fairly certain it's not what she came here for.

“Basil. Wanna go for a walk?” He asks, and she nods. Reaching his arm out, Basil winds her way back on him, then shrinks down into his pocket. Ron gets up and follows them out the door, shooting a glare at Draco.

Once they're in the hall, Hermione's shoulders sag and she leans against the wall for just second. Just as quickly though, she's up again and walking. Ron gives him a look that clearly reads crazy, but Harry pretends not to see it. They reach the common room and follow her to a corner by the glass wall.

“Hermione,” Harry starts, and she turns her eyes on him, “what does Mudblood mean?”

She looks back towards the lake, but her shoulders are tight and he thinks there might be an unshed tear in her eyes. She take in a deep breath, let's it out, and then says, “It’s a foul term for witches and wizards with non-magic, muggle, parents. It's not usually heard in civilised conversation. In a way, it's like a racial slur. As if because my parents aren't magic, I am a lesser witch.”

“Is that what the girl in the stairs called you?” Ron asks, and Harry is surprised he'd noticed that much.

“Yes.” Harry can hear the steel in her voice, and he thinks it's really not fair. So what if her parents weren’t magic? She is now, isn't that all that matters? “I was scared when they sorted me here. Slytherin is famous for purebloods, and purebloods are famous for hating muggle-borns.”

They sit in silence absorbing what she said. After a minute she takes a deep breath and turns to face them. Eyes cleared, though still steely in an intimidating way, she tries to smile.

Harry smiles tightly back. “I don't think anyone really expected the three of us to be here. A lot of people seemed quite upset when Slytherin called our names.” He says.

“Well, I'm the first muggle born in a decade to be sorted into Slytherin, so that's probably why.” Hermione says, shrugging.

“My entire family has been Gryffindor. We can trace it back like forty generations.” Ron says, looking out into the lake. “My parents are going to be so disappointed.” A few small creatures are floating about, and a floating piece he thought was seaweed seems to wave at them. Ron gives a halfhearted wave back.

“Well I don't really know why I'm here. I think Basil is the one who really wanted this, she seemed to only react to them.” Harry says thoughtfully, thinking about her excitement over the name Slytherin.

“I think everyone was the most shocked over you. Any other house would have been preferable.” Hermione says, which just confuses Harry more.

“But why? What does it matter?” He asks, and both Hermione and Ron turn sympathetic gazes on him.

“They think you-know-who was a Slytherin.” Ron whispers, and Harry feels it like a punch to the gut. His mouth opens in an ‘O’, but eventually closes and he just looks out at the lake.

~~~

Charms and Transfiguration quickly blend together, he's paired with Ron, which makes him look much more talented than he is. Poor Ron seems to struggle with the most basic of spells at times, and other times excels at the complicated ones. It's a confusing process nobody seems to understand.

It's flying class Harry seems to excel at. They share with Gryffindor, who seem like nice enough people, if cold to the Slytherins. When Neville Longbottom (the toad boy) loses control of his broom. The broom takes off, and when he gets stuck hanging on one of the statues, Harry feels an odd sensation take over, before he's suddenly in the air lunging for the boy. Neville starts to fall and Harry just manages to grab his arm. Lowering them down slowly, they reach the ground at an easy pace. Neville is in shock, that's obvious, but Madame Hooch looks equal parts terrified, angry, and relieved. She helps Neville up, checking him for injuries, but everything seems fine.

Turning her gaze on Harry, he's expecting a reprimand for flying like that. Her expression is furious and if looks could kill he'd definitely be dead. Instead, she says “Ten points for Slytherin.” And then walks Neville away to sit down. The Gryffindors eye him, small smiles on some of their faces. The Slytherins look at him with a variety of looks, from anger to admiration. He walks back to Hermione and Ron, avoiding the others.

It's potions class that makes Harry the most confused. The professor, Snape, seems more unsure of him than any other professor. He sits next to Hermione, who is eyeing the classroom with a look of hunger he didn't expect. Snape is berating some of the Gryffindors, which Harry finds unfair, when he suddenly turns on the two of them.

“Mr. Potter,” he says with a sneer, “maybe you can answer, where exactly would one find a bezoar?” He asks. Harry is pretty certain Snape knows he won't know, but Hermione's hand shoots up, and even though he likes her, he wants to prove himself to Snape. He’s more than just “the chosen one” people keep going on about. He just doesn't know.

He opens his mouth to say this, when Basil’s voice is suddenly whispering into his ear, “the stomach of a goat.”

Harry immediately repeats this, and Snape looks taken aback. A smirk overtakes his face, but it's distinctly less mocking than the one before.

“Very good Mr. Potter. Perhaps you are more than just a famous name. We shall see.” And while it's not much, Harry feels a small swell of pride in him. Even if he cheated a bit.

It's then that he realises Basil has shrunken to less than the size of his pinky, and is curled atop his ear. It's a new place, and she's never been this small before, but he likes knowing she's there. Plus, he supposes, now she can help him with classes.

The rest of the day is a blur, and he definitely falls asleep during History of Magic, but Basil gives him a run through of the important bits, seeming to have actually enjoyed the lesson, much like Hermione. It's not until they're leaving the lesson, that he realises the three of them (and Basil) are lost.

Somehow they've ended up on a rogue staircase, moving wildly. By the time they get off, Harry has no idea where he is, but Hermione looks concerned.

“I think we're on the third floor.” She whispers, and Harry looks around wildly for whatever “certain death” is waiting for them. All he sees is a long hallway with a wooden door. Basil is tugging furiously on his arm, and he turns to see Mrs. Norris is in the hall behind them.

Grabbing Hermione and Ron’s wrists, he takes off for the door. They'd been warned about Filtch and Mrs. Norris and he doesn't want to meet the man. Quickly unlatching the door, he pulls them all through. Another door is behind them by five feet, and he quickly tries the latch. It doesn't open, and he curses, before Hermione shoves her way through and says “alohamora” and the latch flies open. They pile trough and close the door tightly behind them.

Quiet steps file towards the door, then away again. Harry lets out a sigh of relief, before he feels Basil stiffen around his arm. Turning to follow her gaze, he freezes at the sight of the three-headed dog. Hermione and Ron follow his gaze, and immediately freeze.

“Sing to it!” Basil squeaks out, just as the thing starts to bark. Harry doesn't have time to process her words before Hermione and Ron are shoving through the door, dragging him with them. They slam the door just as the dog lunges, and they all breathe a sigh of relief.

“Who would put that in a school!” Ron shouts, eyes wide. Harry nods along in a agreement.

“There was a door.” Basil says, just as Hermione announces, “It was protecting something.”

He looks at them both with equal parts shock and awe. Harry's beginning to think she and Basil might be a little too similar.

“We should go.” Harry manages to get out, before he can think more about the three-headed dog or Hermione and Basil’s similarities. By the time they're back at their dorm, both of them have spewed enough facts and observations he's forgetting which one said what. He's ignoring Basil, mostly because what they're saying is so similar it doesn't matter, although he thinks if Hermione could understand Basil they'd be pretty close.

He confirms his idea when, before they leave for dinner, the three of them are sitting in their corner by the glass wall, and he looks up from his homework to see Basil lazily curling around Hermione's propped up ankle. She hasn't touched anyone else but him, and here she is giving Hermione casual affection.

“Gargoyle strike, gargoyle strike.” Hermione mutters. She looks over then at him and Ron, “You two don't happen to remember when the gargoyle strike happened do you?”

“I was asleep.” Both he an Ron answer, and she rolls her eyes. He's not even sure how she's doing homework at this point.

“1911. Tell her.” Basil says, and Harry relays the information. He looks up at their silence and startles at both Hermione and Ron’s intense gazes on him.

“Do you speak parseltongue?” Hermione asks.

“What's parseltongue?”

“The language of snakes?” Ron says incredulously.

“Oh! Yeah, Basil and I talk all the time.” At their shocked looks he continues. “I mean, I know it's rare to have my own snake, but I'm sure people talk to snakes all the time.”

“No, they don't. It's a very rare gift.” Hermione says, and Harry turns a questioning face to her. “Usually only dark wizards possess the gift.”

“You're not dark. You are kind and you are special.” Basil whispers, and Harry gives her a quiet thanks (apparently in parseltongue).

Hermione and Ron stare at him a bit longer, before moving back to their own papers. He thinks the three of them are probably a little too good at accepting strange situations.

~~~

Almost two months later and the three of them are sitting in the great hall before the Halloween feast. Ron is eyeing the Gryffindor table, and Harry wonders when the last time he spoke to his brothers was. He's not sure Ron misses them as much as he thought he would, which Harry thinks is making him feel guilty. But, for as much trouble as Slytherin is, they're starting to carve a place in it.

Theo is a surprisingly good roommate, if not friend. And Blaise doesn't really talk much so he's fine to be around. The only problem is Draco, who's so spoiled rotten Harry doesn't know how to speak with him. He's not sure if Draco is oblivious, or if he's a bully because of other things in his life. Either way, the way he treats the three of them, and especially Hermione, grates on Harry's nerves.

Like now, when Draco is muttering about mudbloods a few seats away, he and Pansy Parkinson going on about “try hards” and “lack of actual talent.” He can see Hermione stiffening across the table, until suddenly she just deflates.

Pansy’s comment, “know it alls pretending they’re powerful, acting like they have friends when nobody really likes them.” Seems to be the tip of the iceberg, and she takes off, briskly walking out of the room. Harry gives her five minutes before they go after her.

In the meantime, he puts his hand on Ron's arm to stop him from lifting his wand. He nods his head to the floor, where Basil is already slithering towards Pansy’s feet. Ron holds back a laugh, and they watch and Basil shrinks to rise up her robes. When she gets to Pansy’s lap, she suddenly grows about five feet, and Pansy screams like the devil, flailing off the bench. Basil quickly shrinks, and slithers back up to Harry's ear, her new favourite spot.

Draco is openly glaring at him, and opens his mouth to say something. Before he can however, Professor Quirrell enters the great hall.

“Troll! In the dungeon!” He says, then mutters a few words before passing out. Screams resound around the room, and he definitely holds back a laugh at the fear on Draco’s face. But then Dumbledore is shouting for quiet, and telling everyone to head back to the dorms.

As they're walking out, Ron grabs Harry's arm suddenly. He's white as a ghost when he whispers “Hermione.”

Quickly they turn and run in the other direction, not noticing Draco Malfoy following behind them. But by the time they make it to the bathroom, her favourite hiding space, Hermione is cowering under the sinks, where a troll is brandishing his club above her. Harry immediately pulls out his wand, but he hesitates when he remembers Hermione's warning that “trolls skin is thicker than most spells.” And he's really not great at charms.

It's Draco, pushing both of them aside, muttering “petrificus totalus” and the troll freezing before starting to fall. Ron scrambles, and grabs Hermione by the arms, pulling her back before the troll can fall on her. The four of them collapse near the door, and the troll breaks the rest of the sinks with its fall.

It's only a few minutes later, as they're picking themselves up, and Harry's checking over the two of them, while Draco stands to the side watching, that the teachers come running in. McGonagall and Snape are first in, and the concern and fear in both their eyes shocks him, especially Snape’s. As does the cut on Snape’s leg.

“What in the world are you four doing up here!” McGonagall raves. “You could have been seriously injured. What happened, you were supposed to go back to the dormitories.” Harry and Ron exchange a glance, but it's Hermione who opens her mouth.

“It was my fault. I thought I could take on the troll. If they hadn't been here I'd surely be dead. Draco saved my life.” If the distaste in her voice when she says Draco is apparent, none of the teachers seem to notice, instead turning their eyes on him. He blushes under the attention, and nods when they ask if that's true.

“You should be very, very disappointed in yourselves. Going after a troll, I swear.” She's muttering, but Snape steps forward.

“Five points each.” He says, and Ron begins to smile, but Snape eyes him and he immediately drops it. Harry is still curious about the cut on his leg, but elects to ignore it for now.

The four of them walk back towards the dormitory, mostly in silence. The moment they enter the secret staircase however, Hermione shoves Draco, and holds him there with her wand pointed at him.

“Why the hell did you follow them?” She asks, and the dangerous tint to her voice reminds Harry immediately of the steely resolve she has, of why she’s in Slytherin.

“I'm the reason you were there. If you'd died it would've been my fault.” His voice is calm, but Harry picks up the little bit of distress over the idea of Hermione dying. Or maybe it being his fault, Harry isn’t really sure.

Hermione eases off him and nods once. She turns just as suddenly as before and walks the rest of the way to the dorm. Instead of going to their corner, she walks briskly to her room and leaves them behind. Harry eyes Ron and Draco, who are staring at different walls. He rolls his eyes, but decides going to bed is better than waiting for them to figure out their issues with each other.

Leaving them behind, he opens the room to find Theo, but no Blaise. Theo looks up from his book (Intermediate Potions) and gives him a small wave, before returning back to the book. Harry pulls up his own copy, letting Basil expand and unravel herself on the pillow next to him. He finds his place and begins to read more about this week's assignment; hiccuping potions.

~~~

The months pass easier after that. While he and Draco are by no means friends, he stops bullying Hermione and Ron. Ron himself starts actually improving in charms and transfiguration. Granted, nobody seems to be as good as Hermione, now or ever. But in potions, Harry is close behind her. His interest in the subject and Snape’s burgeoning approval at times push him to want to surpass her.

By the time Christmas arrives, the three of them have agreed to stay. That is, until Hermione's parents change their mind about Paris and ask her to come home. He, Ron, Draco, and Theo are the only first year Slytherins to remain. Although Theo complains Pansy almost tried to stay, just to spend more time with Draco.

Christmas morning has them waking to a house elf on the two other boys beds. One named Dobby and one Leeda. They're dropping presents off for the other two, and bow their heads politely at Harry and Ron. The two of them find a small pile of presents at the foot of their beds. Harry's not sure who got him presents, besides the fifty cent piece from the Dursleys (which he's sure they thought was hilarious, and he immediately gives to Ron), and the flute from Hagrid.

When Draco wakes he rolls his eyes at their small piles and grabs two from under his bed, tossing them over. Harry and Ron exchange a surprised face, and Draco scoffs.

“They're not good presents you idiots. They're from Pansy and Daphne, and I don't want them. I figure it'll send the message if you wear them.” They open the boxes to find two watches, one black and one brown leather. Ron raises his eyebrows, but shrugs and places it on his dresser. The next present Ron grabs he groans at.

“My mum. She thinks she can knit. Loves making these sweaters.” He sounds annoyed, but Harry knows he's secretly pleased his mom thought of him. A small smile forms on his face, until he opens the package and pulls out a red with a gold “R” on it. His face turns into a deep frown and he rolls his eyes. “Of course she sticks with the maroon. Even when I'm in a new house, I still get the worst colour.”

Harry doesn't say it aloud, but he's definitely annoyed by Ron's response. He knows that Ron is actually grateful for the normality of the sweater, but his attitude about it gets on Harry's nerves. He'd do anything for a sweater from someone who cares. That is, until Ron slips the sweater on and he realises how awful it is. Then he can't hold in a laugh.

“Oh shove off it. She made you one too.” Ron throws the package at Harry, and his laughter abruptly stops. Opening the package, his eyes go wide at the dark green material. Pulling it over his head he marvels at the texture, soft but stiff. Ron rolls his eyes at him again, but there's a small smile on his face.

Draco and Theo are laughing across the room, piles of presents around Draco, and many around Theo. They get up a few minutes later and leave for breakfast. Harry grabs his last present, a lumpy paper bag. Opening it carefully, he pulls out a distinctly ugly cloak.

“Uh, what is that?” Ron asks, disgust lining his voice.

“I don't know. The note says “use it well.” That it was my father's…” Harry trials off, handing the note to Ron who shrugs.

“Put it on.” Harry stand and pulls the cloak with him. There's no fastenings, so he settles for wrapping it around him like a blanket. When he looks to Ron, his mouth is slack jawed. Harry quickly looks down and realises his body has disappeared. “That's an invisibility cloak!”

The door starts to creak open, and Harry quickly yanks the cloak off, throwing it back on the bed. It lands on Basil, who lets out a huff of frustration. Theo walks in, nods, and grabs his wand from his dresser. Harry looks back to Ron, but he's staring at the cloak, which has disappeared on his bed with Basil under it. Harry picks it up and it returns to opaque colouring. He folds it carefully and puts it in the drawer with his socks.

“We should use it to explore at night.” Ron says, and Harry quietly agrees. He takes the note back from Ron, but there's no use, seeing as he doesn't recognise the handwriting. He's about to get back on his bed when he notices a small envelope sticking out from underneath.

Pulling it out, he opens it to reveal a single photograph. There's a small red headed girl smiling up at the camera, hogwarts books in her arms. Her eyes are bright green and Harry suddenly feels like he's falling. That's my mom, he thinks.

Ron peeks over his shoulder, but doesn't say anything when he realises who it is. Instead he shuffles away and begins getting dressed for breakfast. Harry stares for a few more minutes, while Basil squeezes around his wrist. It's supportive and he feels grateful to have her resting there. Eventually he puts the photo down on his dresser, mind spinning with ideas of who may have given him the photo, and gets dressed himself.

He and Ron walk to breakfast, Basil behind Harry's ear. There's only a select few students, so the tables have been pushed out and one large one sits in the middle, teachers and students intermingled. Ron finds his brothers and sits next to them, Harry on his other side. Theo and Draco are at the other end of the table, with two other first year Slytherins, Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry is focused on his food when he hears the loud footsteps of Hagrid. He smiles up at the man, and he seats himself next to Harry, making the bench tilt just slightly.

“Hi Hagrid!” Harry says brightly. “Thank you for the flute.” They converse about school and how the grounds are coming along. They're discussing Hagrid's animals, specifically a dog named Fluffy (which, with the description, Harry tries very hard to pretend he has no idea about the three-headed dog), when suddenly Hagrid sits up straight and starts muttering. “Hagrid?”

“Forgot about something I did. Gotta get Nicolas's letter to Dumbledore.” He mumbles, and Harry's brow furrows.

“Nicolas?” Harry questions.

“Nicolas Flamel of course.” Harris says with a wave of his large hand. Then he pauses. “I shouldn't have said that.” He suddenly gets up and disappears out the doors. Harry stares after him for a bit, before Fred and George rope him into a conversation.

By the time Harry gets back to the dorm (snowball fights take time and Fred and George are ruthless) it's past dinner. He enters his dorm, only to find it still empty. Ron is staying in gryffindor with his brothers tonight, and Draco and Theo were off practicing on brooms. So, Harry pulls out the cloak.

He's not sure who Nicolas Flamel is, Hermione would probably know, but he's not going to just sit around. The library is probably closed at night, but he figures he can sneak in with the cloak. I sound like Hermione, he thinks with a roll of his eyes.

By the time he makes it to the library, the light is fading fast, so he uses his wand to cast a Lumos, something Hermione taught him a few weeks back. Going to the library section for new and important wizards, he searches for any Nicolas names. While there's quite a few, even a book on Nearly Headless Nick, nothing on Nicolas Flamel. Sighing, he eyes the restricted section a little harder.

Pulling the cloak tight to make sure it fits all a round, he takes the steps into the section. Now I really feel like Hermione, this is exactly what she would use the cloak for. He moves to the corner. Things are a little less organised here, but there's still a section on people.

Opening the first book he finds with the name Nicolas, a piercing scream sounds from the book. He drops it quickly and extinguishes his wand.

“Who's there!” A voice, he thinks Filch, sounds. Backing away towards the library corner, he watches as Mrs. Norris comes close to him sniffing. Basil lets out a loud hiss, and the cat squirrels away. Absently Harry lifts his hand to pet her head.

A second later Snape turns the corner. Even though he doesn't hate Harry (maybe even reluctantly likes him), Harry doesn't think getting caught by him would be good. Plus, he still hasn't figured out what the cut on his leg was from. He follows along the corner until he can turn towards the entrance again.

Moving quickly, he goes to exit the library, when a tug on his pants alerts him that Mrs. Norris is in the hallway yowling. Basil directs him to the right, where a door stands. Looking behind him at Filtch and Snape hurrying toward the noise, he pushes through the door. Basil slides back up to his ear as soon as he's through. The door closes behind him with a small click, nothing big enough to alert the adults.

Still, Harry backs away from the door slowly, until he reaches a set of stairs. Looking around, he eyes the mirror at the base of the lowered area. It's a grand thing, silver twirls surrounding the top. The mirror itself is spotlessly clean, and he feels his feet moving toward it before he tells them to.

By the time he reaches it, the cloak is dropping from his fingers to the ground. His reflection is flawless, except for the hands of two people on his shoulder. A young woman, red haired green eyed stands on his left. On his right, a near reflection of him, older, messier hair and dark eyed, but so similar there's no doubt about who the two of them are. Behind his father stands a series of wizards, all similar in looks (messy, dark hair and glasses). Harry sucks in a deep breath, and takes in this image of his family.

He could be there for hours or minutes, but eventually Basil nips at his ear to draw him out of it. He scowls at her and rubs his ear.

“I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes.” She hisses at him, and he rolls his eyes but gets up. Grabbing the cloak, he casts one last longing gaze back at the image before donning the cloak and moving silently out of the room.

By the time he gets back to the dorm, he's yawning and even the excitement of telling Ron fades next to the idea of sleep. When he does finally crawl into bed, Draco is the only one awake enough to notice. But he just rolls over and starts snoring almost instantly.

The next morning, Harry's focus is shot. He should work on the extra credit assignment for potions, but finds himself gazing at the photo of his mother and letting Basil wrap herself all around him. At dinner he barely says a word to anyone, until he spots Hagrid and suddenly remembers Nicolas Flamel.

After dinner he goes to the owlery, and writes Hermione a letter mentioning the conversation and that he thinks it's important. She'll know what to do, he thinks.

When he gets back to the dorm, Ron is sitting on the bed staring at the letter he received at the beginning of the year. He's never shown Harry it, but he thinks it's from his old brother, Charlie. He's seen Ron tear up over it a few times, but he's not sure if they're happy or sad tears. It feels invasive to ask.

“I have something to show you.” He says instead, and Ron looks up at him. He blinks a few times before nodding. Folding the letter he puts it back in its drawer.

Harry drapes the cloak around both of them when they reach the library area, then pulls Ron into the hidden door. Leading him straight to the mirror he stands in front of it, and watches as his parents materialise.

“Do you see them? They're my parents. My family.” Ron’s looking at him confuses, so he switches places with him, and Ron’s eyes go wide. “There! You see, my parents!”

“Mate, I have no idea what you're talking about. This is me, but I'm older. I've got the house cup, and the quidditch cup. I-I'm head boy of Slytherin. And my mom. She looks, proud.” The wistful tone shakes Harry out of his disappointment, and he looks at Ron a bit closer. He has unshed tears in his eyes. Harry reaches out, but it's Basil that extends to Ron's shoulder, winding up to curl around his neck. He pats her head absently, and then steps back, away from the mirror.

“Sorry.” Harry says, and he knows it's not enough but Ron nods anyways. They gather up Harry's cloak, and he's about to throw it on when he turns and catches Dumbledore in the corner. “Why don't you and Basil head back with the cloak.”

Ron looks at him confusedly, but eventually nods at the serious look in Harry's face and dons the cloak. The instant the door closes behind them, Harry turns to Dumbledore.

“Sir, I'm sorry we were out of bed. I discovered this the other day and just wanted to show it to Ron, I didn't mean to be out so-” he cuts off as Dumbledore raises a hand.

“It's quite alright Harry,” he says calmly, “I know the draw of the Mirror of Errisand is a strong one. I cannot fault you.”

“Mirror of Errisand, sir?” Harry questions.

“Yes. Quite a special mirror. The image shows what the user wants most in the world. It has been known to drive many a few wizards quite insane.” Harry's eyes widen at that, but he thinks he gets it. Basil had to bite him for him to snap out of it.

“Sir, my parents…” he trails off.

“Ah, yes. A full family, parents who love you and care for you. Unfortunately Harry the Mirror cannot bring them back, only show you what you wish.”
Dumbledore nods to himself, looking in the mirror now, a deep sadness seems to take over him. “In any case, the mirror will be removed to a safer location tomorrow. I'll let you and Mr. Weasley off tonight, but if I catch you in this room again I will not be so lenient.”

Harry nods and thanks him, and Dumbledore exits the room. He then sits down in front of the mirror, and lets the sensation overtake him again.

The next day, he and Ron seem to make a silent agreement not to discuss the mirror. Instead, they actually go to the library to attempt research on Nicolas Flamel. They find nothing beyond a single mention in a book about wizards with great power, which obviously doesn't narrow it down much.

The rest of their break alternates between the library (where Harry finds a book on improving charms that looks very helpful) and snowball fights with Fred and George. The night before the other students return, Ron, Harry, and Basil are curled up on a sofa by the fire. He's almost halfway through the charms book (Hermione was very right about pronunciation) and Ron is looking through a quidditch article. It's as peaceful as Harry's felt in years.

Of course, that's when Draco comes running into the dorm, face pale and a little green. His panicked eyes find theirs and he runs straight for them. Settling himself between the two he sends Harry a pleading look.

“Please pretend I've been with here you for hours. Please.” He sounds desperate and Harry just nods numbly. Basil takes the initiative, and slides the upper half of her from Harry's shoulders to Draco's. Expanding a bit, she manages to curl both ends around the two of them. Draco leans his head toward Harry’s book.

Less than a minute later, the terrifying form of the Bloody Baron comes sliding through the wall. He zeroes in on Draco, who pretends not to notice. He floats closer to them, and Draco looks up, all signs of panic gone, confusion in its place. The Baron scoffs and turns away, back through the wall.

Draco relaxes slowly, and Basil leaves their shoulders to curl in Draco's lap. Absently he pats her head, and Harry glances curiously at the motion, and at the comfort from the snake. Draco leans his head on the back of the couch with a sigh.

“Sorry. Peeves and I pulled a prank but he forgot to mention it would piss him off. He terrifies me.” Draco says, then stiffens, as if he's realised what he's said could be a weakness. Harry and Ron glance at each other, then both shrug and turn back to their reading. Harry can see Draco glance at them both, but he turns to Ron and asks which article he's reading. They start discussing quidditch, and Harry gets lost in his reading again.

By the end of the night, Draco and Ron have dissected the article and decided Draco will take Ron to the next Chudley Cannons game. Which Harry finds a little weird, but they're inviting him and he likes quidditch, wants to try out for the team next year, so he just goes with it.

In the morning, he wakes up to yelling from the door. Groggily, Harry grabs his glasses and squints around. Draco and Hermione are at the door, Hermione glaring (shocker) and Draco uncomfortably crossing his arms. They're whisper yelling but Harry can't pick out the words. He sits up, and Hermione's eyes snap to him. Haughtily, she shoves Draco out of the way, and sits on the end of Harry's bed.

Basil slithers across Harry from the pillow, and heads straight for Hermione. She slides over her wrist, and begins circling it slowly, then curls in Hermione's lap.

“She missed you.” Harry says gruffly, then lies back down. Hermione lies down along the bottom of the bed, Basil moving up to her chest. Harry quickly begins falling back asleep, and just catches Draco's stare at Hermione. Not of disgust, but just blank. He doesn't have time to think about it before he's out again.

His shoulder is being roughly shaken, and he flinches away from the touch, moving to the other side of the bed. The hands pull back, but he can almost feel the sigh of frustration Hermione lets out.

“Harry I need to talk to you about Nicolas Flamel.” She says, and Harry sits up immediately. His glasses are crooked, and he fixes them quickly before eyeing her raptly. She gives a small smile, but she has that steely look in her eye.

“What? What is it?” Harry asks immediately, and she smiles.

“I know who Nicolas Flamel is.” She says, and Harry's eyes go wide. He motions for her to continue, and she lets out a soft laugh. “Honestly it's just chance. I stole some books from the library before I left. Really good ones, all about potions and alchemy. I learned a lot I definitely think I'll be Snape's best student.”

Harry clears his throat, and she stops and smiles at him sheepishly. “You stole books from the library?” He asks, and she blushes dark pink.

“Well, not stole. Borrowed. Against the rules.” She blushes harder at that. “Anyways, that's not the point. I found him! Here look.” She drags a heavy book out from her bag, Ancient Studies of Alchemy the title reads, and Harry rolls his eyes at Hermione's idea of good reading. But then she opens to a page and his eyes snag on the passage. A description of Nicolas Flamel’s interests are there, but so is the mention of his “six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday”.

“Philosopher’s stone?” Harry looks at Hermione, but she looks just as confused as he feels. Ron comes in then, and they show him the passage. He guesses that's what keeps him living so long, but it still doesn't explain much.

Then, Hermione asks, “Didn’t Hagrid take something out of Gringotts the day you went in?”

“Yeah. It was a small package. Why?” Harry asks, unsure what this has to do with anything.

“Harry,” she says a little exasperatedly, “Hagrid. Fluffy is Hagrid’s, Hagrid had a letter from Nicolas Flamel. What if, that package was the stone!”

He blinks at her for minute, before his mind starts connecting the dots. It fits perfectly. So, he says “We need to talk to Hagrid. Tonight.”

“Well, I'm clearly not the best at following rules, but we can't exactly walk around at night without getting in trouble.” She says

“Oh, Harry has an invisibility cloak now. We forgot to tell you.” Ron pipes up, and Hermione looks between the two of them, before bursting out laughing.

“Of course you do.” She says. “So tonight then, we’ll go down there and confront him?” The two boys nod, and Hermione stands. “I need to unpack. I came straight here.” She says, and quickly leaves the room.

---

It's nearly nine o'clock when Hermione finally meets the two of them in the common room. They all stand to go, when Draco pops into the room.

“Where are you three going?” He asks suspiciously.

“On a walk.” Hermione says, the usual kindness in her voice gone. Draco seems to flinch a bit at that, but then he just shrugs and lets it go. They turn as one and continue walking through the door.

Before exiting the hidden staircase, they dawn the cloak. Hermione looks slightly flabbergasted by the whole thing, and Harry definitely thinks she's going go try to make her own after this. They shuffle quickly to Hagrid’s hut, and Ron is the one to knock loudly on the door.

The whining of a dog sounds, before the door flies open and Hagrid is looking around.

“It's us.” Harry whispers, and Hagrid's jumps about two feet. “Let us in.” He says, but Hagrid shakes his head.

“You can't be out this late!” He exclaims. “Go back to yer beds!”

“We know about the philosopher’s stone.” Hermione says, and Hagrid's face pales. He opens the door, and they file in, removing the cloak once the door closes behind them.

The hut is small, but still big enough for Hagrid and his dog (Fangs, Harry discovers later). There's a pot over the fire, and something inside it is rattling. Hagrid's rushes over, and removes the pot quickly. Looking inside, a large egg is cracking apart.

“Is that… a dragon egg?” Hermione asks, pale but more curious than he's ever heard her. Hagrid doesn't say anything, but there's a guilty look on his face. “Hagrid, it’s illegal to have pet dragons!”

“I know, but I always wanted one! And I got it for free, eh? How could I say no?” He rushes through his words, explaining a stranger with cards and questions, and by the time he finishes the egg is being broken by little arms and legs.

The baby dragon pops out of the egg, onto the table. Hagrid names it Norbert and keeps calling himself mummy, and Harry is trying really hard not to laugh. Ron is staring in fear, but Hermione is rapt. She’s got the look in her eyes from potions class, when the words “deadly” or “incapacitate” are thrown around. It's a scary look to anyone else, but Harry finds he understands it.

Less than ten minutes later, there's a knock on the door, then Draco is pushing his way through. They all stare at him in shock, but he's breathing hard.

“Dumbledore. Coming. Hide.” He gasps out, and the three of them pull him into a corner, where they drape the cloak over them. Hagrid is still holding Norbert, and tries hiding him in a teakettle. By the time Dumbledore knocks, Draco's breathing has slowed. Harry notices he's holding Hermione's wrist, who hasn't seemed to notice yet.

Dumbledore enters and asks if there's been a new letter. Hagrid nods hurriedly and hands him the letter. Dumbledore turns towards their corner, and Harry swears they make eye contact. He leaves briskly, and they all breathe a sigh of relief when the door closes.

Ron is the first to stand and walks up to Hagrid.

“You can't keep it.” He says, and Hagrid looks so crushed. But Harry thinks he also agrees. “I'm sending a letter to Charlie. Norbert will go to Romania. Where is your owl.”

Harry's never heard Ron's voice so hard before, almost resigned. He thinks about the letter Ron’s always reading, and thinks it probably isn't a good letter after all. Hagrid nods towards a window, and Ron reaches through it for the owl. He writes a quick note and sends it on it's way.

“When you get a response, tell me.” Is all Ron says. Harry's not sure when they all moved, but they're surrounding him now, and he looks relieved.

“Hagrid,” Hermione starts, “you need to tell us about the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“No!” He immediately says. “That's not something you're supposed to know about. I can't tell you about it or Fluffy or anything.”

“Fluffy? You mean that mutant dog?” Ron asks incredulously.

“He's not a mutant! He's a good Dog, he’s just cranky without his music!” Hagrid's eyes go wide. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“Hagrid, on Halloween Snape had a deep cut on his leg. Was he trying to steal the stone?” Harry asks, uncomfortable about the idea of Snape trying to steal it, but not sure what else would have caused it.

“What? Of course not! Snape is one of the teachers trying to protect the stone!” Hagrid's looking at them like they're crazy, but Hermione catches what he said.

“Protect it from who?” She asks, and Harry is so grateful she's there to ask what are probably the important questions.

Hagrid's face goes pale, the same way the other kids do when Harry says “Voldemort” instead of “you-know-who” and Harry feels dizzy from the sudden understanding. He steps back, and all the eyes are suddenly on him, his scar. Basil is still in his pocket, and he feels like his next breath is the hardest they’re both ever taken.

Slowly, Ron reaches for the cloak. Hermione grabs his arm, and Draco twists the door handle. Hagrid is still pale, looking at them guiltily, but Harry can't stand that. He looks away and grabs the cloak. The step up to draco, and it's a stretch around the four of them but they make it work.

By the time they're back in the common room, Hermione's eyes have turned steely, and Draco is staring at her with that blank look again. Ron is mumbling under his breath. Basil slowly slithers up to his shoulders, and rests herself there. They follow him to their glass corner, and he sits slowly.

“We need to steal the stone first.” Are the first words spoken, but they come from Draco. All three heads turn to face him, and he flushes. “Look, we need to stop him. I don't want the dark lord back.”

He and Hermione both flinch at his last words, but he doesn't apologise, just looks down. Basil slithers off him to circle Draco's ankle three times, before coming back to Harry's lap.

“You're right.” Hermione says, and both Harry and Ron raise their eyebrows. Not that they disagree, but that she's agree with Draco. “Don't looks surprised. He can be right for once in his life.”

Unintentionally the comment lightens the mood, like a little bit of the tension is leaking out.

But then Ron aks, “When?” And the tension rises twice as high as before when Harry's responds with, “Tonight.”

Hermione nods, but Draco and Ron look uncertain. It's Ron who responds, “we haven't slept, and how are we supposed to stop this? Shouldn't we tell Dumbledore?”

“No.” Hermione says, and they all turn to look at her. “At least, not until we're already going. They might try to stop us.”

It makes some sense, mostly because Harry doesn't always trust older men, and isn't sure if Dumbledore is more like Uncle Vernon or Hagrid.

“We send a letter right before we go in.” Draco says, and Harry wonders when he became part of this, why it feels so normal. “To Dumbledore and McGonagall. We don't know if it's Snape, so we can't tell him. But Dumbledore is on his way to the Ministry. I'll explain how I know later.” They agree, if a bit suspiciously, and Harry's the one to go grab Hedwig.

By the time he's back, Hermione has already written three different versions of the letter. They pick the most concise one, and Harry perches Hedwig on his shoulder, while Basil curls behind his ear. He's not sure if the two like each other or not, but he's not willing to test it.

They don the cloak by twos, Harry and Ron, then Harry and Draco, lastly Harry, Hermione, and Hedwig. When they've all reached the third floor, Harry hands the letters to Hedwig and tells her to find Dumbledore first. She nods, and he hopes that means she understands.

When she takes off, they turn to the first door. The short hallway beyond is filled with the faint sounds of music, and Harry's shoulders tense.

“Is that… music?” Hermione asks nervously. They all nod, and she quickly unlocks the door.

Inside, the previously angry and barking dog is sound asleep. The trap door accessible before one of its large paws. The harp in the corner is playing a soft melody, and Harry tries not to let himself think about what that means. Instead, he drags the three of them behind him, to the trap door.

Ron opens it, and they all cringe at the creaking wood, but the dog doesn't stir. Staring down into the darkness, Harry feels his nerves begin to take root, and he starts breathing a little heavier. Draco is the first to look up, and when he does Harry realises the music is slowing down. The glance at each other nervously, before Draco shrugs and drops into the hole. Hermione gasps quietly, and Harry's eyes widen in shock.

A soft “I'm fine” comes, just as the music finally stops. Looking at the other two, Harry looks up to see the dog stirring. He jumps into the hole without allowing himself to think about it. Ron and Hermione follow quickly behind, and he hears the door close above them loudly.

They've landed in a dark green mass of vines, and Draco is already being wrapped in them. Harry feels them begin to slither around him, and starts thrashing trying to dislodge them. Basil's whispered “Sit still. Do not move.” Freezes him in place, and he feels the vines loosen.

“This is Devil’s Snare,” Hermione says, “just relax and we’ll be fine. She's already sinking through the vines, when suddenly she disappeares from view. Ron screams, but Harry follows behind her not long after. He looks over to see Draco already standing next to Hermione. “He's not calming down.” She says as Ron screams some more.

“Sunlight.” Draco says suddenly, and Hermione looks at him in surprise, before turning back and yelling “lumos solem!”

A beam of sunlight shoots from her wand, and Ron is suddenly crashing through to the ground. He blinks up at them groggily before standing and muttering a quiet, embarrassed thanks.

They turn as one to the door behind them the sound of wind is coming through it, and Harry already begins steeling himself for whatever it is.

However, when they open the door, there's no wind, just a bunch of wings flying around, and a closed door across the room. The rush over, and Ron tries the alohomora to no luck. By the time Hermione figures out the wings are keys, Draco is already reaching for the broom. He’s on it before anyone can stop him, and suddenly the keys are chasing after him, except for the one with the broken wing. Harry watches as he clumsily chases after it and thinks “not seeker, but made for quidditch.” When he throws the key at Harry he's ready, and throws open the door as fast as he can. They slip inside and Draco zooms in a second later. Hermione slams the door, and the sound of the keys nailing into it makes Harry jump back.

Last to turn, Harry is late on his gasp at the giant chess board. Ron is eyeing it like a man starved, and Draco and Hermione look terrified. Harry steps next to Ron, and breathes out slowly. He looks to Ron, who just nods slightly. They step onto the chess board.

He and Hermione both attempt to walk across to the door, but the swords that fly out to block them send them reeling back. Ron is already looking at the board, calculating and analysing. By the time he looks back at the three of them, his eyes have taken on a determined gleam.

“We have to play.” He says. They move on to the empty spots of the board; Ron as the missing knight, Hermione as Queen, Harry and Draco as Bishops,

The game is brutal, and the fear on Hermione’s face reminds him constantly of the fact that they could die. He's not sure why they thought they could do this, they're only 11 and 12 year olds! But Draco and Ron look determined and Harry is impressed by the sudden bravery in both.

By the time he realises what Ron's about to do, he's almost forgotten they're the ones on the board. Ron's strategy has been brilliant, years of trying to beat his older brothers helping him keep the four from getting hurt. Until now.

“No you can't!” Hermione is screaming, and Harry is agreeing. Draco's eyes are blown wide, not in fear, but admiration. Harry imagines Draco's friends have never been this dedicated before. And Ron is this dedicated. He's moving before they can find another way, and he's suddenly flying through the air. Hermione about to move, but Draco screams at her to stop.

Harry moves to checkmate. The queen's sword falls. He waits five seconds before running for Ron. Hermione is already there, and Draco not far behind. They kneel around Ron, knocked out, bleeding a little bit. Hermione looks terrified and Harry doesn't think she should continue with them.

“Hermione, take Ron back. Go to the infirmary and send another owl to Dumbledore.” She nods solemnly, but looks at the door in tredaptation.

“I'll stay with Harry.” Draco says, and their eyes flick to him in surprise. He rolls his eyes at Hermione and says, “I'm just as smart as you. You're only one rank ahead of me in potions and charms.”

Both he and Hermione flush a bit, but she nods and he turns to Harry. Harry nods at Hermione and they run for the door.

A wooden table stands in the centre of the small room. The instant they step up to it, flames erupt around the room, blocking both exits. The flames ahead of the two are black, and the ones blocking the door they just came through are purple. Harry walks quickly up to the table, where he reads:

“Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.”

He and Draco glance at each other, before Draco steps an inch closer to the table. Harry can see the look enter his eye, similar to the one Hermione gets sometimes. Harry likes potions, but he's nothing like Draco and Hermione, who's ambitions are giving them top marks, drives them both to read everything they can in their extra time.

“Drink this one.” Draco says after a minute, handing Harry the dwarf potion. He grabs the rightmost one. “This one will send me back to the others.”

He's looking at Harry, full of nerves, and it takes Harry a minute to realise what he means.

“I have to go on alone?” Draco nods at him, and he swallows thickly. “Okay. On three. One, two, three.” They swallow together, and Harry nods at him one more time, before rounding the table towards the black flames. He cringes before walking through, but all he feels is a slight tickling sensation, and then he's through the door.

The room in front of him is similar to the one he first saw the Mirror or Errisand in. So, he's less surprised than he should be at the sight of the mirror in front of him. More surprising, is Professor Quirrell, turban in place, eyeing the mirror.

“You!” Harry shouts, “It can't be you! What about Snape?”

“Ah yes.” Quirrell says, his voice stronger than Harry has ever heard it. “Snape, what a perfect cover. If it weren't for him I would have had the stone months ago. Besides, who would suspect p-poor st-stuttering Professor Qu-Quirrell.” He rolls his eyes and Harry's stomach gives a nauseous swoop at this new information.

“You let the troll in!” Harry exclaims.

“Very good Potter, yes. Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled. He hasn't trusted me since. He's been watching me.” He turns back to the mirror. “He doesn't understand, he doesn't know. If he knew, he wouldn't have stopped me.”

When the back of Quirrell’s turban faces Harry, his scar begins to burn, as if someone had taken a lighter and set it there.

“Now, what does this mirror do? I can see myself holding the stone, but how do I get it.” He's angry, and reaching towards the mirror.

A voice, seeming to come from the walls themselves, crawls over Harry. It whispers “use the boy” and suddenly Quirrell is dragging Harry in front of the mirror.

Harry’s expecting to see his parents again, but instead it is just himself. Except, not himself, because he's holding the stone, and putting it in his pocket. Harry almost gasps when he feels the weight of the stone in his pocket, but stops the sound before it materialises.

“What? What is it? What do you see?” Quirrell demands, and Harry jumps.

“I-I'm shaking Dumbledore’s hand,” he starts, remembering Ron's description, “I've just one the house cup.”

“He lies.” Comes the whisper again.

“Tell the truth!” Quirrell shouts, and Harry takes a step back.

“Let me see him.” The whisper comes, and Quirrell tries to argue, but he looks so afraid and gives in so easily. He begins unwrapping the turban, and Harry looks nervously around for another exit. When he looks back, Quirrell is pulling the last of the turban away. The face on the back of his head is nothing like what Harry sees in his nightmares, and it makes him all the more terrifying.

“Harry Potter, we meet again.” The face whispers, echoing around the room.

“Voldemort.” Harry manages to breath out, and a cruel smirk overtakes the face.

“Yes. You see what I've become. You see what I must do to survive? Live off another, a mere parasite?” His voice continues to echo, but it's beginning to sound weaker than before. Harry feels Basil sliding out from his pocket and up behind his ear. “But I can live again. I can have my own body. I just need one thing. Which conveniently enough, lies in your pocket.”

“Run.” Basil whispers into Harry's ear, and he takes off.

“Stop him!” Voldemort's voice echoes, and he can almost feel Quirrell casting the spell. Flames erupt around him, and Harry pulls up short. “Don't be a fool.” Voldemort says. “I can help you. Don't you want to see your parents?”

Harry stills, and turns around. Looking at Quirrell/Voldemort, their arm is pointed towards the mirror. Looking to it, Harry sees the faces of his parents, smiling at him.

“I can bring them back.” Voldemort's voice surrounds Harry, but he can barely focus on anything but his parents. “All I ask l, is for something in return.”

Before he really recognises the action, Harry is pulling the stone out of his pocket. He looks down at it, then back up at his parents.

“That's it Harry. There is no good or evil. There is only power.” The voice whispers, and Harry suddenly realises what he's doing, what his parents would think.

“Never!” He shouts, and the rage that overtakes Voldemort's face nearly stops his heart.

“Kill him!” He shouts, and Quirrell seems to jump at him. He tackles Harry to the ground, forcing a hand around his throat. The stone flies out of Harry's hand, just out of reach. Basil slithers from behind Harry's ear, and bites Quirrell’s hand. He curses, but doesn't move his hand, until it starts to swell. Whatever venom Basil holds begins taking place, and Harry quickly grabs at Quirrell's hand to pull it off.

The instant Harry touches the hand, it seems to dry up and crumble. The look of horror on Quirrell's face spurs Harry on, and he quickly reaches out to touch it. By the time he gets his second hand on it, his whole body is crumbling. Harry lets go and steps back just as he dissolves into dust. Harry looks down quickly and grabs the stone.
By the time he stands up, the ghostly figure is already zooming towards him. Harry screams as what feels like buckets of ice and fire go through him, and he falls heavily to the ground.

---

Harry wakes slowly, as if pulling himself through a massive pile of blankets. Grabbing his glasses, Harry looks around, sees the infirmary, and Ron a few beds over. The door creaks open, and Harry looks at the tall form of Dumbledore walking through.

“Good afternoon Harry.” He says, then gestures to the pile of sweets at the end of the bed. “Tokens from your admirers.”

“Admirers?” Harry asks confusedly.

“Ah yes. What happened to you on the third floor is a mystery. So naturally, everybody knows.” Dumbledore is smiling, but the reminder of the night before shocks Harry.

“Is Ron alright? What about Hermione? And Draco?” He's panicking, but Dumbledore raises a hand so he silences himself.

“They're all fine. Ron will be bruised but fine.” The relief that overcomes Harry is overwhelming, but then he remembers something else.

“What about the stone? What happened to it?”
Dumbledore raises his hand again, and Harry is surprised by the bit of irritation he feels at the motion.

“Relax, dear boy, the stone has been destroyed. Nicolas and I have agreed it was for the best.”

“But,” Harry starts, “then Flamel…” he trails off and Dumbledore nods.

“Yes, but he is ready I believe. He has lived for very long.” And Harry nods at that. Dumbledore is sitting on the edge of his bed now, and staring pensively at the wall.

“Sir, how did I get the stone in the first place?” It's something that bothered Harry from the beginning.

“Ah, you see, only the person who wanted to find the stone, find it but not use it, would be able to get it. One of my more brilliant ideas I do believe.” He says, and Harry smiles just a bit.

“Does that mean, that with the stone gone, Voldemort can never come back?” Harry asks hopefully, but a deep sadness overtakes Dumbledore’s eyes, and he knows the answer before it's said.

“I'm afraid, there are other ways in which he can return.” The man looks haunted, and Harry suddenly feels as though he only knows half the story. “Harry,” he continues after a pause, “do you know why Professor Quirrell couldn't touch you?” Harry shakes his head. “It's because of your mother. She sacrificed herself for you, and that kind of act leaves a mark.”

Harry touches his scar, but Dumbledore shakes his head. “Oh no, this kind of mark cannot be seen. It lives in your very skin.”

“What is it?” Harry asks, and Dumbledore looks at him kindly.

“Love, Harry. Love.” Harry blinks at Dumbledore blankly, trying to process this idea. He barely notices as he grabs a box of Bertie Botts and leaves. He’s not sure he really understands what Dumbledore meant, how can love protect him? He’s also not sure that it did protect him, because even though Quirrell/Voldemort was trying to kill him, Harry’s pretty sure he killed first. Which bothers him less than it should. Harry’s pretty sure you’re supposed to feel guilt after killing someone, but all he feels is relief.

---

By the time Madam Pomfrey releases him from the infirmary, he’s practically itching to talk to Hermione and Ron, even Draco. Madam Pomfrey kept him for a week, and by the time he's convinced her to let him go the end-of-year feast has already begun. He’s walking through the halls, when he spots Hermione, Ron, and Draco at the top of the staircase. They look down just as he enters, and Harry lets out a wide smile, his first in weeks.

“Alright there, Ron?” Harry asks.

“Alright. You?” Harry shrugs in response, and turns to Hermione.

“Alright Hermione?” He asks, and she beams.

“Never better.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all fine. Can we eat now?” Draco cuts in impatiently, and the other three all roll their eyes at him. Harry runs up the staircase (Madame Pomfrey would throw a fit) and catches up with them just as they enter.

The hall goes silent as they enter, but just as quickly whispers start up all around them. Harry blushes, and Hermione and Ron stare at the floor. Draco just rolls his eyes before marching towards their table. They follow him and sit facing the rest of the room. All eyes are on them, but Harry pretends to ignore them in favour of the food. After about five minutes, the sensation of being watched lifts a bit, and the four of them all start breathing easier. Or at least three of them, Draco didn’t look all that affected in the first place.

McGonagall’s tap-tap of her glass causes the hall to go quiet. Everyone stares as Dumbledore stands from his seat.

“Another year, come and gone. And, as I understand it, the awarding of the House Cup is in order. In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with 352 points.” There's some sad looks, but the Hufflepuffs mostly look fine, and polite clapping is heard. “In third place, Ravenclaw, with 426 points. Second, Gryffindor, with 462 points. And finally, the winners of our house cup, Slytherin with 472 points.” As Dumbledore finishes speaking, the banners fall from the ceiling in green and black, and their table erupts in wild cheers. Harry and Ron are smiling, Hermione is rolling her eyes, but with a small smile, and Draco is cheering loudly across the table at Blaise and Theo.

Harry looks around and grins. Even though he doesn't like many of his housemates, they are his and they have just won. It's a good feeling. And if Ron looks smugly at the Gryffindor table, and the twins stick their tongues out, well, Harry's just glad it looks to be friendly.

---

Harry’s wrapped up talking to Draco as they load their trunks when he hears, “Harry!” He turns to see Hagrid waving him over. He’s smiling wide and Harry smiles at him as well. Hagrid catches up to him and engulfs him in a large hug. “didn't think you could leave without saying goodbye did ya?”

“Of course not.” Harry says, smiling widely.

“Here,” Hagrid reaches into his coat, and pulls out a photo album, “thought you might like this.”

Harry opens it slowly, to see a picture of his parents, with him as a baby being held between them. He swallows thickly, but keeps the smile plastered on for Hagrid’s sake. He steps up and hugs Hagrid around the middle (well, he tries to).

“Harry! The train is leaving!” Draco's voice calls, and he turns to see the three of them waving from a window. He turns to wave at Hagrid, and rushes on to the train.

When he makes it the compartment, Hermione is the first to speak. “Feels strange to be going home, doesn't it?” She asks, and Harry catches Draco's small look of panic, before his calm facade is back.

“I'm not going home. Not really.” He says, and looks at Draco. He sends a small nod at Harry, and Harry suddenly realises Draco might understand him better than he thought, and he might even understand Draco.