Perfect Mate? If You Say So
For the first year of Harry James Potter’s life he was loved and cherished by two wonderful parents and spoilt rotten by a magically inclined prankster also known as his godfather. Sadly, this did not last, the happy homestead destroyed by a self-titled Dark Lord. After his parents’ deaths, on the orders of one Albus Dumbledore, little Harry was sent to live with his muggle relatives, the Dursleys.
The next ten years of his life were not charmed in anyway. By the time he was three, little Harry Potter did all the cleaning at #4 Privet Drive, and at five he had taken over all the chores. From these he had many scars added to his tiny frame. He received gashes up and down his legs from mowing the lawn, and cooking led to burns on his forearms. Cooking was his most hated chore, for there was food he could see and smell but could not eat. If he was lucky he got the scraps off their plates, otherwise he got nothing. Harry attended school rarely, the minimum required, any less and the police would have been knocking on the Dursleys door, though he knew it not. The rest of the time was spent either at chores or locked in his room, the cupboard under the stairs.
Yes, by the time he was eleven Harry’s aunt, uncle and cousin had abused the young boy in every way imaginable. His clothes were hand me downs, worn until faded through. His toys were cleaning supplies and instead of hugs and kisses he got bruises and broken bones. Instead of love, he got hate.
When he turned eleven, Harry learnt about witches and wizards, about Hogwarts and the truth to his parents’ death. For the month between his birthday and the start of school the Dursleys ignored him so when he entered platform nine and three quarters there was not a bruise upon his body, though he was far skinnier than every other first year. In the space of that day, Harry Potter went from servant to ‘Savoir’, from house elf to hero. He made his first friends ever and settled into a routine of schooling.
Despite the dangers that seemed to come about each and every year, Harry quickly came to view Hogwarts as home and as such began to beg the headmaster to let him stay over the summer holidays. By the end of second year that changed to being able to stay with the Weasleys at the Burrow. By third year, Remus Lupin had added his name to the list. The end of fourth year, Sirius Black’s name had been added. This year so soon after Sirius’s death, Harry had pleaded with everyone in sight to stay anywhere else. Ron had supported him but Hermione had muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘suck it up, it’s not that bad’. Some of the adults in the Order of the Phoenix were sympathetic, especially Remus and Molly, but Dumbledore had spoken and that was that. Harry had grinned at the show of support when he met Vernon at the train station, but when they left and Harry was forced to enter the car with a purple faced uncle, he knew this was not going to be a good summer.
He was right.
The first blow came not from his family however, but in the form of a rather terse note from Hermione on the second day. It said, in barely a full sentence, that she would not be in contact with Harry for the rest of the holidays. Neither Ron nor Harry could understand what was going on, and Harry couldn’t demand an answer as he had once again forced Hedwig to take up residence at the Burrow to protect her from a vindictive Dudley. Indeed, the only owl to continually brave the wrath of Harry’s cousin was the dedicated post owl that brought him the paper at exactly 9:22 each morning.
The second emotional blow came just three days before his 16th birthday. Harry was lying on his lumpy bed in the second bedroom, nursing his recently relocated left shoulder. Tapping on the window between the bars was an immature barn owl that he did not recognise.
“Hey, boy,” Harry whispered to it softly, retrieving the letter. “I’m sorry I don’t have any treats for you.” It nipped his fingers lightly, and with a soft hoot flew back into the night.
“Best conversation I’ve had in a week.” Harry muttered to himself, gingerly sitting on the bed. He opened the unmarked letter.
Harry,
I could say that I wish to see you, but rather I wish for you to see me, to see me and to stay with me, somewhere safe. Unfortunately, it is not to be. I was going to write to tell you to expect to see me on your birthday, but circumstances have changed.
After my failure with the British werewolves, Dumbledore has “asked” me to approach the second largest colony of werewolves, those in Australia. Reluctant as I am to accept this assignment, I am unable to refuse it. Since the start of summer only the Weasley twins have succeeded in saying no to Albus. They are no longer members of the Order, but they have their joke shop. I’ve nought but you, my cub, and the memory of my mate. Suffice to say, that is not an advantage when dealing with the old man.
I’m posting this, with every ward and protection charm I can think of, from the portkey point. I feel it is better if you hear the full truth of what I’m doing from me. I don’t know what the other members of the Order will tell you, but I doubt that it will be the truth. I will be out of contact with you, and indeed the whole of England, until Christmas unless we can reach an accord earlier. Doubtful, to say the least.
I will say this however; I love you, my cub, and I am proud of you. No matter what happens between now and when I next see you, nothing will change that. My wolf has claimed you as its cub and I’ve claimed you as the son of my heart.
Remember you are loved,
Moony
Harry leaned back on the bed. ‘No Remus until Christmas’. He blinked away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. He opened the small parcel that had come with the letter. It was a necklace and locket in the shape of a crest. He quickly read the attached note.
Happy Birthday, cub.
It’s the Black family crest; after all you are now heir.
Sure enough Harry recognised the crest as the one emblazed on nearly every surface at Grimmauld Place. He felt a sharp pang in his chest at the thought of Sirius. Blinking hard, he clicked the locket open. Inside was a muggle picture of two grey wolves laying down on a rock with a black cub between them. The other space was empty. Coming to a quick decision, Harry ripped the last paragraph of Remus’ letter off and, folding it tightly, stuffed it into the empty space. He placed it around his neck, silently vowing to get a real picture of him and Moony to put in the slot at the earliest opportunity.
Until then he was alone with nothing but words to keep him company.
.
Chapter 1
30th July
Harry lay on his bed, staring at his clock and ignoring the painful cramping of his stomach. He was incredibly grateful that it would soon be his birthday. He’d run out of the food that he’d taken from Hogwarts during the last week of term, and he’d had to make do with the next to nothing that his family provided. Hagrid always sent fudge, enough to ration for three weeks. As he watched the clock approach midnight, Harry remembered that a wizard’s 16th birthday was the most important in their life.
Sure, you were counted as an adult when you turned 17, but at 16 you received your Inheritance. This allowed the wizard a year to adjust to the changes before they became legally responsible. Inheritance was different for everyone; most muggle born wizards barely even registered an inheritance while for purebloods it could be spectacular.
Harry thought back on what Ron had told the Gryffindor boys the night before his 16th. The Weasleys as a pureblood family had always had luck their Inheritance.
Bill had gotten a massive power boost solely focused on reversal spells, his ‘Finite Incateratum’ still the strongest ever seen at Hogwarts. This had influenced his choice of job; he was now a curse breaker, and an extremely good one at that.
Charlie’s job choice was also due in large part to his inheritance. He was the first Weasley in two generations to exhibit creature blood, that of a Fae, which had made him ideally suited to dragontamming. Ron had waved off their questions with a ‘go look it up if you want’. Being fifth year boys they did no such thing.
Percy had discovered a skill in all things paper related, although, as Ron pointed out, that had not exactly come as a shock to anyone.
The twins had doubled their overall power levels, as well as developing a strong affinity for chaos magic, a branch of magic not generally taught at Hogwarts. It explained more than it didn’t.
It took Ron less than an hour with Professor McGonagall to discover he had gained a boost in his overall power levels and now had an enviable knack for self transfiguration. This would make it easier for him to become an animagus.
The Weasleys were odd as a pureblood family, only one in six (eight if you count Molly and Arthur) with a creature inheritance. For most purebloods it was one in three or four who would have a dominant creature inheritance. The inheritance was from the Vampyres, Veela, Fae, Daemon, Shiveran and other creatures that had married into families hundreds of years ago. The genes remained dormant until the right cross was achieved and the creature blood came to the fore.
Harry, as a halfblood, was expecting to develop an affinity to a certain kind of magic. ‘Please don’t let it be divination,’ he thought as his clock ticked over to midnight. Looking out the window he saw two-no three-owls approaching. He practically pounced on them when they reached the window. Thanking the two school owls he retrieved the package and letters, and pulled Pig inside his room.
“How come you’re here and not Hedwig?” Harry asked, removing the tiny package, which immediately began to grow, and released the tiny ball of feathers that was Ron’s owl. He ripped open the box from Hagrid (easily distinguished by the bad wrapping) and tore into the large block of fudge, not caring about the flavour. He set the card (which wished him a happy birthday and good luck with his Inheritance) aside and grabbed the package from Ron. There was a note attached to the side. Harry dodged a dive bombing Pig and read it.
Hey Harry,
None of us have the foggiest as to what spell you put on Hedwig’s cage when you moved her. None of us (And that’s mum and dad too) can break it so she’s stuck in the cage and I have to send Pig with your presents. Send back Pig with the countercharm, and we’ll probably be kicking ourselves for not having thought to try it.
Anyway, Happy Birthday and I hope those muggles aren’t giving you too much grief. If they are Fred and George are looking for some new testers for their gags J
Ron.
Harry frowned; the only charm on Hedwig’s cage was the standard suspension one that kept her from being shaken around too much. Never the less, he obediently wrote out the countercharm and gave it to Pig before opening his presents.
Ron had gotten him refills for his broom maintenance kit and a book ‘Tactical Advantage: Seekers Feints and when to use them’ one of a series of Quidditch books that described, in detail, almost every move legal (and some not so) that could be used.
Hermione had sent a book as well ‘A Common Magical Inheritance’. The thin book gave exercises to be done if one developed an affinity to Charms, Transfiguration, Potions or Astronomy; the most common affinities for a halfblood. There was no note save ‘To Harry, From Hermione’ and he had not heard from her since the start of summer.
The twins had given him a selection of their new range of potion pranks. The tiny vials of potion (tasteless and odourless when added to pumpkin juice) would cause havoc at Hogwarts. They’d thoughtfully included the antidote which would protect him from the same potions for six months. Looking at the vials of sex-changers, species-changers and boil-inducers, among others, he decided that the last thing he did before leaving the Dursleys would be to swallow that particular potion.
Finally, Molly (though the card said ‘The Weasley Family’) had sent him new boxers, socks and a fruit pie. The underwear, while downright embarrassing, was defiantly needed even if the note attached to the black boxers, ‘The smallest size I could find’, upped the blush on his checks, more so because they were too large around the waist and Molly had probably guess that. The fruit pie was most welcome; between that, the fudge and the Dursleys’ scraps Harry figured he wouldn’t lose too much more weight over the holidays.
Grabbing the last of his letters, the official Hogwarts one, Harry slit it open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside, wondering at the fluke that resulted in his O.W.Ls being delivered on his birthday.
ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS
Pass Grades: Outstanding (O)
Exceeds Expectations (E)
Acceptable (A)
Fail Grades: Poor (P)
Dreadful (D)
Troll (T)
HARRY JAMES POTTER HAS ACHIEVED
Practical: Theoretical:
Astronomy: A -
Care of Magical Creatures: E -
Charms: E O
Defence Against the Dark Arts: O O
Divination: P A
Herbology: O E
History of Magic: - D
Potions: O E
Transfiguration: E O
Attached to the back of the parchment was a note from Professor McGonagall.
Dear Students and Parents,
Congratulations on some wonderful O.W.L results. Please note that the standard workload of a sixth year N.E.W.T student is eight subjects. Students must carry-on between four and seven of their O.W.L subjects. If you did not receive at least four O.W.Ls you are no longer eligible to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The entrance mark for each class will be at the digression of the teacher and the remainder of the students course load will be made up of N.E.W.T electives. Overleaf is a list of these subjects; placing your wand on a subject name will give a brief overview of the subject and any prerequisites.
At the end of this letter you will note that there are ten blank spaces. Please write in them your subject selection, in order of preference. You are required to fill every space, although most of you will only take eight subjects, as you are not guaranteed to meet the entrance requirements for the classes you choose.
Thankyou,
Prof. Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress.
Harry sighed, he’d think about subject selection tomorrow. Putting the food under the loose floorboard and the books in his trunk, Harry climbed into bed. A quick look at the clock revealed it to be 12:37, only five hours before his new day of chores would start. ‘Funny’, Harry thought, folding his glasses on the bedside table, ‘I don’t feel anything different from my inheritance; Ron described it as a new buzz that hangs around for the first couple of days.’ Shrugging mentally, Harry drifted of to sleep, careful to lie on his back and not aggravate his ribs.
An hour and a half later-well at 2:14 and 32 seconds (and exactly sixteen years since Harry Potter had drawn his first breath) -Harry arched his back sharply off the bed, and hung there as if suspended. White light speared from his belly button, fingers and eyes. From there it spread engulfing his whole head, hands and abdomen. It settled for about five minutes before dissipating slowly as Harry was set, gently, back on the bed. He curled himself tightly into a ball, with a pained whimper as his various bruises made themselves known, and drifted back into a deep sleep.
***
31st July
The next morning started like any other at #4 Privet Drive. Harry awoke suddenly at exactly 5:30 am but didn’t move. Slowly tensing and relaxing each and every muscle, running a mental list of each hurt, he listened intently. After determining no-one was in the room with him, a task that took five to ten minutes, Harry rolled out of bed. Shoving his glasses on his face, he grabbed clean clothes and moved out of the room. It wasn’t until he grabbed today’s list of chores, that was stuck on the outside of his door, that he realised everything was unusually blurry. Quickly dismissing the possibility of a concussion, Harry shrugged and moved to the bathroom. It was a Sunday, the one day a week that he was allowed to shower, and he wasn’t going to waste his ten minutes puzzling over his sight.
In the bathroom he quickly stripped and divesting himself of his glasses, he was surprised to see everything become into clear. Indeed, it was the clearest he’d ever seen. Shaking his head, ‘puzzle it out later’, he jumped under the hot water. Washing his hair, Harry discovered it longer than he remembered. ‘Okay, that’s it’. Harry yanked open the shower curtain and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror.
His hair, already black, had darkened further and grown maybe two inches. His eyes commanded attention, no longer the bright green of Lily Evans, they were now a deep and pure jade, perfectly clear save for flecks of unfathomable onyx, the perfect opposite to the sparking jade. The eyes seemed to take up more of his face and his famous scar was completely covered by his (currently wet) black hair. His fingers had elongated, no longer crooked from repeated brakes, and his nails were perfectly formed and the deepest of blacks. His teeth had sharpened, but only slightly; indeed they were barely noticeable compared to how they normally were. Overall, Harry groaned in realisation, he’d returned to the size he was last summer before his growth spurt, now just barely 5”6; he’d lost three inches. Otherwise he looked similar to how he always did at this stage of the summer holidays, scars and bruises on a too thin frame. The muscles he’d built up during the school year from Quidditch and the DA disappeared weeks ago.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and got back into the shower. So his Inheritance had come in the form of black finger nails, a smaller stature and perfect eye sight. ‘I can live with that. At least I won’t need new robes; they’re not getting too short anymore.’ With a chuckle that turned into a whimper as his ribs made themselves known, Harry went back to his daily routine.
TBC...
.
The next ten years of his life were not charmed in anyway. By the time he was three, little Harry Potter did all the cleaning at #4 Privet Drive, and at five he had taken over all the chores. From these he had many scars added to his tiny frame. He received gashes up and down his legs from mowing the lawn, and cooking led to burns on his forearms. Cooking was his most hated chore, for there was food he could see and smell but could not eat. If he was lucky he got the scraps off their plates, otherwise he got nothing. Harry attended school rarely, the minimum required, any less and the police would have been knocking on the Dursleys door, though he knew it not. The rest of the time was spent either at chores or locked in his room, the cupboard under the stairs.
Yes, by the time he was eleven Harry’s aunt, uncle and cousin had abused the young boy in every way imaginable. His clothes were hand me downs, worn until faded through. His toys were cleaning supplies and instead of hugs and kisses he got bruises and broken bones. Instead of love, he got hate.
When he turned eleven, Harry learnt about witches and wizards, about Hogwarts and the truth to his parents’ death. For the month between his birthday and the start of school the Dursleys ignored him so when he entered platform nine and three quarters there was not a bruise upon his body, though he was far skinnier than every other first year. In the space of that day, Harry Potter went from servant to ‘Savoir’, from house elf to hero. He made his first friends ever and settled into a routine of schooling.
Despite the dangers that seemed to come about each and every year, Harry quickly came to view Hogwarts as home and as such began to beg the headmaster to let him stay over the summer holidays. By the end of second year that changed to being able to stay with the Weasleys at the Burrow. By third year, Remus Lupin had added his name to the list. The end of fourth year, Sirius Black’s name had been added. This year so soon after Sirius’s death, Harry had pleaded with everyone in sight to stay anywhere else. Ron had supported him but Hermione had muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘suck it up, it’s not that bad’. Some of the adults in the Order of the Phoenix were sympathetic, especially Remus and Molly, but Dumbledore had spoken and that was that. Harry had grinned at the show of support when he met Vernon at the train station, but when they left and Harry was forced to enter the car with a purple faced uncle, he knew this was not going to be a good summer.
He was right.
The first blow came not from his family however, but in the form of a rather terse note from Hermione on the second day. It said, in barely a full sentence, that she would not be in contact with Harry for the rest of the holidays. Neither Ron nor Harry could understand what was going on, and Harry couldn’t demand an answer as he had once again forced Hedwig to take up residence at the Burrow to protect her from a vindictive Dudley. Indeed, the only owl to continually brave the wrath of Harry’s cousin was the dedicated post owl that brought him the paper at exactly 9:22 each morning.
The second emotional blow came just three days before his 16th birthday. Harry was lying on his lumpy bed in the second bedroom, nursing his recently relocated left shoulder. Tapping on the window between the bars was an immature barn owl that he did not recognise.
“Hey, boy,” Harry whispered to it softly, retrieving the letter. “I’m sorry I don’t have any treats for you.” It nipped his fingers lightly, and with a soft hoot flew back into the night.
“Best conversation I’ve had in a week.” Harry muttered to himself, gingerly sitting on the bed. He opened the unmarked letter.
Harry,
I could say that I wish to see you, but rather I wish for you to see me, to see me and to stay with me, somewhere safe. Unfortunately, it is not to be. I was going to write to tell you to expect to see me on your birthday, but circumstances have changed.
After my failure with the British werewolves, Dumbledore has “asked” me to approach the second largest colony of werewolves, those in Australia. Reluctant as I am to accept this assignment, I am unable to refuse it. Since the start of summer only the Weasley twins have succeeded in saying no to Albus. They are no longer members of the Order, but they have their joke shop. I’ve nought but you, my cub, and the memory of my mate. Suffice to say, that is not an advantage when dealing with the old man.
I’m posting this, with every ward and protection charm I can think of, from the portkey point. I feel it is better if you hear the full truth of what I’m doing from me. I don’t know what the other members of the Order will tell you, but I doubt that it will be the truth. I will be out of contact with you, and indeed the whole of England, until Christmas unless we can reach an accord earlier. Doubtful, to say the least.
I will say this however; I love you, my cub, and I am proud of you. No matter what happens between now and when I next see you, nothing will change that. My wolf has claimed you as its cub and I’ve claimed you as the son of my heart.
Remember you are loved,
Moony
Harry leaned back on the bed. ‘No Remus until Christmas’. He blinked away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. He opened the small parcel that had come with the letter. It was a necklace and locket in the shape of a crest. He quickly read the attached note.
Happy Birthday, cub.
It’s the Black family crest; after all you are now heir.
Sure enough Harry recognised the crest as the one emblazed on nearly every surface at Grimmauld Place. He felt a sharp pang in his chest at the thought of Sirius. Blinking hard, he clicked the locket open. Inside was a muggle picture of two grey wolves laying down on a rock with a black cub between them. The other space was empty. Coming to a quick decision, Harry ripped the last paragraph of Remus’ letter off and, folding it tightly, stuffed it into the empty space. He placed it around his neck, silently vowing to get a real picture of him and Moony to put in the slot at the earliest opportunity.
Until then he was alone with nothing but words to keep him company.
.
Chapter 1
30th July
Harry lay on his bed, staring at his clock and ignoring the painful cramping of his stomach. He was incredibly grateful that it would soon be his birthday. He’d run out of the food that he’d taken from Hogwarts during the last week of term, and he’d had to make do with the next to nothing that his family provided. Hagrid always sent fudge, enough to ration for three weeks. As he watched the clock approach midnight, Harry remembered that a wizard’s 16th birthday was the most important in their life.
Sure, you were counted as an adult when you turned 17, but at 16 you received your Inheritance. This allowed the wizard a year to adjust to the changes before they became legally responsible. Inheritance was different for everyone; most muggle born wizards barely even registered an inheritance while for purebloods it could be spectacular.
Harry thought back on what Ron had told the Gryffindor boys the night before his 16th. The Weasleys as a pureblood family had always had luck their Inheritance.
Bill had gotten a massive power boost solely focused on reversal spells, his ‘Finite Incateratum’ still the strongest ever seen at Hogwarts. This had influenced his choice of job; he was now a curse breaker, and an extremely good one at that.
Charlie’s job choice was also due in large part to his inheritance. He was the first Weasley in two generations to exhibit creature blood, that of a Fae, which had made him ideally suited to dragontamming. Ron had waved off their questions with a ‘go look it up if you want’. Being fifth year boys they did no such thing.
Percy had discovered a skill in all things paper related, although, as Ron pointed out, that had not exactly come as a shock to anyone.
The twins had doubled their overall power levels, as well as developing a strong affinity for chaos magic, a branch of magic not generally taught at Hogwarts. It explained more than it didn’t.
It took Ron less than an hour with Professor McGonagall to discover he had gained a boost in his overall power levels and now had an enviable knack for self transfiguration. This would make it easier for him to become an animagus.
The Weasleys were odd as a pureblood family, only one in six (eight if you count Molly and Arthur) with a creature inheritance. For most purebloods it was one in three or four who would have a dominant creature inheritance. The inheritance was from the Vampyres, Veela, Fae, Daemon, Shiveran and other creatures that had married into families hundreds of years ago. The genes remained dormant until the right cross was achieved and the creature blood came to the fore.
Harry, as a halfblood, was expecting to develop an affinity to a certain kind of magic. ‘Please don’t let it be divination,’ he thought as his clock ticked over to midnight. Looking out the window he saw two-no three-owls approaching. He practically pounced on them when they reached the window. Thanking the two school owls he retrieved the package and letters, and pulled Pig inside his room.
“How come you’re here and not Hedwig?” Harry asked, removing the tiny package, which immediately began to grow, and released the tiny ball of feathers that was Ron’s owl. He ripped open the box from Hagrid (easily distinguished by the bad wrapping) and tore into the large block of fudge, not caring about the flavour. He set the card (which wished him a happy birthday and good luck with his Inheritance) aside and grabbed the package from Ron. There was a note attached to the side. Harry dodged a dive bombing Pig and read it.
Hey Harry,
None of us have the foggiest as to what spell you put on Hedwig’s cage when you moved her. None of us (And that’s mum and dad too) can break it so she’s stuck in the cage and I have to send Pig with your presents. Send back Pig with the countercharm, and we’ll probably be kicking ourselves for not having thought to try it.
Anyway, Happy Birthday and I hope those muggles aren’t giving you too much grief. If they are Fred and George are looking for some new testers for their gags J
Ron.
Harry frowned; the only charm on Hedwig’s cage was the standard suspension one that kept her from being shaken around too much. Never the less, he obediently wrote out the countercharm and gave it to Pig before opening his presents.
Ron had gotten him refills for his broom maintenance kit and a book ‘Tactical Advantage: Seekers Feints and when to use them’ one of a series of Quidditch books that described, in detail, almost every move legal (and some not so) that could be used.
Hermione had sent a book as well ‘A Common Magical Inheritance’. The thin book gave exercises to be done if one developed an affinity to Charms, Transfiguration, Potions or Astronomy; the most common affinities for a halfblood. There was no note save ‘To Harry, From Hermione’ and he had not heard from her since the start of summer.
The twins had given him a selection of their new range of potion pranks. The tiny vials of potion (tasteless and odourless when added to pumpkin juice) would cause havoc at Hogwarts. They’d thoughtfully included the antidote which would protect him from the same potions for six months. Looking at the vials of sex-changers, species-changers and boil-inducers, among others, he decided that the last thing he did before leaving the Dursleys would be to swallow that particular potion.
Finally, Molly (though the card said ‘The Weasley Family’) had sent him new boxers, socks and a fruit pie. The underwear, while downright embarrassing, was defiantly needed even if the note attached to the black boxers, ‘The smallest size I could find’, upped the blush on his checks, more so because they were too large around the waist and Molly had probably guess that. The fruit pie was most welcome; between that, the fudge and the Dursleys’ scraps Harry figured he wouldn’t lose too much more weight over the holidays.
Grabbing the last of his letters, the official Hogwarts one, Harry slit it open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside, wondering at the fluke that resulted in his O.W.Ls being delivered on his birthday.
ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS
Pass Grades: Outstanding (O)
Exceeds Expectations (E)
Acceptable (A)
Fail Grades: Poor (P)
Dreadful (D)
Troll (T)
HARRY JAMES POTTER HAS ACHIEVED
Practical: Theoretical:
Astronomy: A -
Care of Magical Creatures: E -
Charms: E O
Defence Against the Dark Arts: O O
Divination: P A
Herbology: O E
History of Magic: - D
Potions: O E
Transfiguration: E O
Attached to the back of the parchment was a note from Professor McGonagall.
Dear Students and Parents,
Congratulations on some wonderful O.W.L results. Please note that the standard workload of a sixth year N.E.W.T student is eight subjects. Students must carry-on between four and seven of their O.W.L subjects. If you did not receive at least four O.W.Ls you are no longer eligible to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The entrance mark for each class will be at the digression of the teacher and the remainder of the students course load will be made up of N.E.W.T electives. Overleaf is a list of these subjects; placing your wand on a subject name will give a brief overview of the subject and any prerequisites.
At the end of this letter you will note that there are ten blank spaces. Please write in them your subject selection, in order of preference. You are required to fill every space, although most of you will only take eight subjects, as you are not guaranteed to meet the entrance requirements for the classes you choose.
Thankyou,
Prof. Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress.
Harry sighed, he’d think about subject selection tomorrow. Putting the food under the loose floorboard and the books in his trunk, Harry climbed into bed. A quick look at the clock revealed it to be 12:37, only five hours before his new day of chores would start. ‘Funny’, Harry thought, folding his glasses on the bedside table, ‘I don’t feel anything different from my inheritance; Ron described it as a new buzz that hangs around for the first couple of days.’ Shrugging mentally, Harry drifted of to sleep, careful to lie on his back and not aggravate his ribs.
An hour and a half later-well at 2:14 and 32 seconds (and exactly sixteen years since Harry Potter had drawn his first breath) -Harry arched his back sharply off the bed, and hung there as if suspended. White light speared from his belly button, fingers and eyes. From there it spread engulfing his whole head, hands and abdomen. It settled for about five minutes before dissipating slowly as Harry was set, gently, back on the bed. He curled himself tightly into a ball, with a pained whimper as his various bruises made themselves known, and drifted back into a deep sleep.
***
31st July
The next morning started like any other at #4 Privet Drive. Harry awoke suddenly at exactly 5:30 am but didn’t move. Slowly tensing and relaxing each and every muscle, running a mental list of each hurt, he listened intently. After determining no-one was in the room with him, a task that took five to ten minutes, Harry rolled out of bed. Shoving his glasses on his face, he grabbed clean clothes and moved out of the room. It wasn’t until he grabbed today’s list of chores, that was stuck on the outside of his door, that he realised everything was unusually blurry. Quickly dismissing the possibility of a concussion, Harry shrugged and moved to the bathroom. It was a Sunday, the one day a week that he was allowed to shower, and he wasn’t going to waste his ten minutes puzzling over his sight.
In the bathroom he quickly stripped and divesting himself of his glasses, he was surprised to see everything become into clear. Indeed, it was the clearest he’d ever seen. Shaking his head, ‘puzzle it out later’, he jumped under the hot water. Washing his hair, Harry discovered it longer than he remembered. ‘Okay, that’s it’. Harry yanked open the shower curtain and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror.
His hair, already black, had darkened further and grown maybe two inches. His eyes commanded attention, no longer the bright green of Lily Evans, they were now a deep and pure jade, perfectly clear save for flecks of unfathomable onyx, the perfect opposite to the sparking jade. The eyes seemed to take up more of his face and his famous scar was completely covered by his (currently wet) black hair. His fingers had elongated, no longer crooked from repeated brakes, and his nails were perfectly formed and the deepest of blacks. His teeth had sharpened, but only slightly; indeed they were barely noticeable compared to how they normally were. Overall, Harry groaned in realisation, he’d returned to the size he was last summer before his growth spurt, now just barely 5”6; he’d lost three inches. Otherwise he looked similar to how he always did at this stage of the summer holidays, scars and bruises on a too thin frame. The muscles he’d built up during the school year from Quidditch and the DA disappeared weeks ago.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and got back into the shower. So his Inheritance had come in the form of black finger nails, a smaller stature and perfect eye sight. ‘I can live with that. At least I won’t need new robes; they’re not getting too short anymore.’ With a chuckle that turned into a whimper as his ribs made themselves known, Harry went back to his daily routine.
TBC...
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