So, let's get some early explanations and warnings out of the way first shall we?

Warnings: This fic will NOT include any of the following: Unreasonable bashing, Overly-Helpful-GoblinsTM, sidelined-comic-relief-major-VillainsTM, The-One-True-Dark-Lord-DumbeldoreTM, or any of that other silly shit a whole lot of HP writers love to include.

In addition, there will be no yaoi whatsoever. It's just not something I'm personally interested in.

On the other hand, this will involve: Characters who are OP in terms of canon. The story is definitely AU. It certainly is NOT the Canon Universe. I won't pretend I'm not a huge fan of anime, video games, and big blockbuster action movies. While this is a Harry Potter fiction at its heart (and it is NOT a full crossover. Yet anyway. Maybe a possible sequel. Eventually.) It WILL contain elements from other fandoms. It's what I enjoy and what I enjoy is NOT "Oh I have the Elder Wand even if it's in your hand. Expelliarmus." *Voldemort dies.

That said, I won't be focusing solely on Harry. He will be extremely powerful in his own ways, while others will be extremely powerful in theirs. Hopefully it'll lead to some good, fun showdowns. You can certainly expect that Voldemort will tear chunks out of his hide the first time they fight for real. There will also be some clichés. Frankly, at this point it's probably impossible to avoid them all.

Further warning: Quite obviously, the Animagus transformation will feature heavily in this particular story. Unlike many stories where it's just a throwaway or a "Hey, look what MY Harry can do!" it will feature prominently in this story. It will even be the source of a fairly important arc/conflict at some point, which I have planned out. But I don't want to say too much about it here at the top. I will have more to say on it at the end of the chapter.

-]|[-

Status for Other Stories

The Great Sage: I currently have 14k words on chapter 2, with two or three scenes left to go. Shouldn't be too much longer, provided my mojo is flowing for it. Unfortunately, crossover sequel after crossover sequel keep popping into my head and distracting me. It's making it rather difficult to actually get TO a sequel.

The Arcane Empire: …Where do I start? I have words written. I have a lot of words written actually. It's just…none of it feels good. It's just…falling flat. Sorry to any who care, but my interest in the project has kind of waned. Everything is just feeling awkward in it. For now, it won't be a much focused story.

-]|[-

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the assorted universes that may or may not show up in this fiction. I would like to thank Mrs. Rowling for allowing us lowly fanfiction writers to play in her sandbox.

-]|[-

The still silence of the Yukon was broken when two small cracks rang through the air. In the relative silence, even two as experienced in Apparition such as Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall made noise. "Are you sure this is the right place Albus?" Minerva cast a wary gaze around themselves. Indeed, they were in the deep wilderness – the only sounds being those made by nature. The bubbling of the small waterfall, the singing of the birds… Not at all a place Minerva ever thought their spell would lead them to.

"I am as sure as I reasonably can be." Albus' weary voice replied. "Indeed, I can feel the beacon spell close by. I can only hope our quarry hasn't been harmed. We've failed that family far too many times."

Minerva cast a spell, creating a glowing white orb in front of her. It was a small model of the earth, with a single blinking red dot on its surface. "We're in the Yukon?" Came the uncharacteristic – and slightly hysterical – cry of sheer incredulity from the usually refined woman.

The old man's head snapped to his companion, "The Yukon you said?"

"What the dickens is he doing here?" Minerva didn't bother answering, knowing full well that he had heard her correctly the first time.

Albus drew his wand and strode forward commandingly, knowing his old friend would follow. "Be prepared for anything Minerva. With hope, he was simply adopted and his new family happened to live in an area that was out of the way."

Minerva followed, a loose but steady grip on her own wand, "Unless they are hermits, I don't think so. Something is afoot here Albus. The nearest city – even a minor one – is more than fifty kilometers from our location. We're in the wilds here." They crossed through trees and were forced to leap a river, before coming to a stop at a sheer cliff. It wasn't a large one, but they stopped because they saw the beacon they had been led to.

It was a simple mottled brown post owl, with an envelope tied securely to her talons. But what was more important was what they did not see. Nowhere in sight was the boy they had been desperately searching for. The owl was intelligent, and recognized two of her favorite humans below. She flew down and landed on Minerva's arm with a mournful bark.

"Oh what is wrong, Vesper? Can you not find him?" Minerva seemed lost. This had been one of their last hopes for finding him. If the magic of the Hogwarts Book of Names could not pierce whatever was hiding their charge, then she really doubted any legal method could. What was worse was that illegal ones required specific ingredients, such as a cherished possession or even blood of the one to be found.

Vesper barked indignantly and puffed her feathers. She stood on one leg and flared her wings while the other pointed somewhere around a dozen meters ahead of them. Minerva noticed it then. It was a rocky outcropping, surrounding a rather huge black hole. It was a cave. A very large cave.

"He is in there, then?" Albus asked gravely. The satisfied owl puffed up again, and held out the letter for them to take. Albus did so, looking worriedly at the loyal bird. It was not often that a post owl as proud as Vesper refused to deliver their packages personally. For her to refuse to go near that cave meant something had well and truly frightened her. Albus took out a piece of string and handed it to her, "Go and rest Vesper. You've done a fine job." The owl glowed blue momentarily before vanishing. Albus turned to his friend, "Be very much on your guard Minerva. It's not a common occurrence-"

"For an owl like Vesper refuse to deliver to a target very close to her. I know. I shall be vigilant." Minerva replied evenly, before the two leapt/glided to the entrance of the cave in a single bound. They looked at the hole in slight bewilderment. "These rocks look…melted. As though they were once a whole piece but were broken, and melted back into place." She stated, with Albus nodding in agreement.

"Very peculiar." He said before striding forward confidently. The both of them descended into the dark, igniting their wands with powerful light spells. This revealed what appeared to be a broken corridor. Here and there were torch armatures still hanging to the bits of wall that weren't broken. The floor itself dipped, crumbled and uneven. Something very large must have passed through here, carving and pushing the very earth itself out of the way. Some of it looked melted as well.

Both Albus and Minerva began unleashing the shackles put on their magic, in preparation for what could be a fight. They followed the broken path further, going down what must have been stairs at some point. But as they went further in, deeper and deeper, the more the melting effect on the rocks showed. And as the path leveled out once more, something odd began to happen. The lights they shone forward started reflecting back at them. As they closed in on what could only be the end of the rocky tunnels, golden light began intensifying more and more in return.

"Albus, this can't possibly be a Goblin Gold Cave can it?" Minerva asked of her companion.

"More and more, I have been thinking the same thing. That, however, is not the correct question." Albus said grimly. "More importantly, what could have forced them out." Minerva realized with a start that Albus was right. Where in the world were all the Goblins? Goblins were vicious about what they regarded as theirs. More than once in history, wars had been started for a single piece of unreturned Goblin crafts. They zealously guarded their creations, not even considering inheritance a valid reason for allowing a human to keep something they created.

But if they considered goblins zealous over their creations, it was nothing compared to how they guarded their Gold Caves. The Goblins were incredibly proud of their knowledge and command over the earth. Even all the largest muggle gold operations together couldn't even hold a candle to a single Goblin Gold Cave. The reason the ore seemed so rare was that most of it was deep, deep underground, in areas that the Goblins had somehow managed to both claim and protect for millennia. These caves – more underground palaces to be honest - where gold ran like rivers through solid stone were the reason that Gringotts was the only true bank in the wizarding world. Not only did they hold an almost monopoly on the largest amounts of gold, but they ruthlessly warred for even a slight whisper of a thought of moving away from the metal as the world's currency. They kept the majority for themselves, loving the metal passionately, and kept rates of exchange high.

It was a practice Albus had long abhorred, but there was little he could do about it. Any action to change things would have the little greedy creatures ready for blood, and losing access to the banks would be a disaster. The wizarding world could not easily handle another Goblin Rebellion. Not this soon after the war with Tom.

As they crossed the threshold of the tunnel into a gigantic cavern, even Albus could not help but stop and gape. Gold. Silver. Copper. Diamonds. Rubies. Sapphires.

Everywhere they looked, precious metals and gems were strewn. There were literal mountains of coins, slabs, and billets of the materials. "What in Merlin's name could have caused the Goblins to abandon this place?" Minerva was almost choking. Albus' mouth was incredibly dry, knowing that the danger level had just skyrocketed.

He didn't bother answering the question, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his sweaty brow, before handing it off to Minerva. It was hot in the cavern. Blisteringly hot even. A quick air conditioning charm on their robes had them at least ready to continue. "Well," He smacked his lips, trying to moisten them, "We now know why the Goblins have been even more surly and unmanageable for the past few years." Minerva could only nod in agreement as she handed him a cup of ice-cold water she conjured.

Minerva sighed and floated her wand in front of her, "Point Me Harry Potter." She didn't expect anything to come of the simple spell. It had been tried before and nothing came of it previously. This time was different. The floating wand began to spin rapidly in every direction before stopping. Its tip was pointing slightly downward, in front of her and to the right. She stared at her wand in shock.

Albus smiled, "So he is alive, even if he is in this dark place. That is somewhat relieving news, at least."

"Albus…How can he be here of all places? If the Goblins were chased out and have not been able to reclaim it in the past five years, how can he be here?"

"How indeed?" Albus murmured, as they began heading in the pointed direction. Minerva's floating wand continually changed directions, affixed to their target's location while floating in front of her. As they went down the rock spiral staircase, it adjusted for the new position. They reached ground level and began their climb through the golden mountains. The coins clicked and clanged as they were disturbed for the first time in a long while, sliding as large piles of it were disturbed. Additionally, the sweltering heat seemed to only grow more powerful the further into the mountains they traveled. As they travelled, they occasionally threw starbursts into the air, where they hovered proving both more illumination and a way to find their way back to the entrance.

The Point Me spell, once sufficiently mastered, could not only give a direction but also a general sense of how close they were to their target. It wasn't very accurate, being only a very loose sense, but it could at least tell Minerva that they were getting closer. And the closer they got, the hotter it became. They came upon a very large mountain of coins, surrounding what seemed to be a large rock spike. They ignored it, and circled around rather than climbing. But both noticed something strange. The wand was no longer fixed ahead of them. As they walked around, the wand slowly revolved. By the time they made it less than a quarter of the way around the mound, it had become increasingly clear.

"Albus…please tell me he is not somehow buried within this gigantic pile of gold." Minerva deadpanned. This heat was getting to her. She was tired, and irritated, and now they would likely have to dig in this pile to find out how Harry could possibly be both alive and buried in heavy gold.

"I'm afraid that may be the case, as impossible as it see-" Albus was cut off by a loud noise, almost like a large amount of air being blown through a pipe. The sound of clicking coins drew their attention and they slowly turned. Part of the mound was sliding downward, revealing black underneath, and what appeared to be a hole. As more and more of the coins clinked and slid down, more and more of the black – and now recognizable as scaly – mass appeared. That wasn't a hole.

It was a nostril.

Minerva took a step back. The makings of a head had been revealed. A very…draconic… head. Minerva whimpered. She turned her head sharply as more clinking sounded out, and saw that dozens of meters away, a long appendage was moving as well. The massive beast's head started moving forward, uplifting and moving tons of gold. Minerva and Albus backpedaled in a hurry.

The massive beast's eyelids opened, a secondary eyelid sliding sideways, revealing a glowing, emerald green eye that appeared to have literal fire in its depths.

Albus clenched his wand hard as the beast began to stir. The massive mound they now realized was covering the beast shifted. Golden rivers and then waterfalls fell from the beast's hide as it moved, raising itself slowly while turning to look at the intruders. It sniffed, and what could have been a snarl started pulling at its mouth, revealing razor sharp fangs. It brought its head forward, and Albus clenched, ready to cast his strongest flame freezing charm or turn this mountain of gold into something that could possibly restrain it long enough for him to grab Minerva and flee. What happened next almost caused him to drop his wand in shock.

"How…interesting. It has been a long time since I have smelled Human." The great dragon spoke.

In English. The dragon spoke. The Dragon. Spoke.

Minerva felt quite faint. She was no dragon handler or even a novice on dragons. Neither could she even see all of the massive creature in front of them. But despite that, she knew. She could feel in her bones that the terrifyingly large dragon must have been the largest dragon the world had ever seen. Its head was too large for that not to be the case. The Ukrainian Ironbelly was the largest breed of dragon known. The largest Ironbelly ever measured was said to have been 26 and a half meters in length. The average Ironbelly usually measured from 18 to 20 meters in length. She had been lucky enough to see a herd of them in her youth, and she was very, very sure that this monster would likely have been able to hold a full-grown Ironbelly in its mouth.

As more and more of the gold slid off its hide and scales, she became surer. The black dragon in front of them was too massive. Its head was relatively smooth, up until the tip of its skull. There, large black spikes started jutting back, continuing down its spine and growing progressively smaller. Its scales were massive, and could better be described as armored plates in certain locations. She did not know what the tail looked like, as it was still buried. It had a joined wing/arm, like many of the dragons they knew about. It also had a very long neck – much longer than any breeds she knew of - which joined to its larger and clearly powerful body. The scales on its underbelly were tinged green, unlike the rest of its jet black body. It's absolutely massive wingspan was not even spread, but must have been immense. She could only see hints of its hind legs, but she could tell that they were powerfully built.

The dragon climbed out from under its gold fully and began circling them. Every footstep it took seemed to cause a small quake, and a new shifting of the mountains of gold under their feet. Even Albus Dumbledore – widely regarded as the strongest Warlock in the world currently – would not fire first on such a massive dragon. It was bound to be incredibly powerful and extremely resistant to magic. The pair were forced to watch as the dragon took up position in front of them, its back now to what they knew was the exit. But they could now see it in its full glory as it stood proud. Minerva could only guess, but she figured that it must have been 40 meters in length. At minimum.

"So!" The Dragon's voice now boomed. "Whom do I have the pleasure of receiving in my home?"

Albus swallowed, but the lump in his throat seemed to not want to go away. He didn't imagine Minerva was coping much better. The magnificent, terrifying(ly intelligent) being blocking off the only exit they knew of could very likely kill them before they could even retaliate. But it appeared to be intelligent, and could speak. He hoped beyond hope that it truly had manners and was not just toying with them. "M-My name is Albus Dumbledore!" He hated that he had stuttered, and firmed his voice, projecting confidence he truly didn't feel, "My companion is named Minerva McGonagall!"

The beast rumbled, "A pleasure, I'm sure." Its eyes seemed to glow brighter, "Now, what brings you to my home. It has been a long time since I have had…visitors. The last company to come did not meet with as much…pleasantness."

Well, no one ever called Albus Dumbledore sane, "We are looking for a human child! A boy who went missing just under five years ago! We were led here through the only tracking charm that has worked since we began searching for him!"

The rumbling increased, and the scales in front of its chest seemed to glow brighter for a moment. "I see." Its head descended, coming closer to the duo, "And what is this child's name, may I ask?"

Minerva spoke for the first time in many minutes. She felt faint, and quite frankly just wanted to find the boy and leave, "Harry Potter!" She called out, and the dragon stirred once more, its eyes flashing, "He disappeared five years ago! He lived with his aunt, uncle, and cousin! One day, his house caught fire and practically exploded! His relatives all died but he somehow lived! He was just never heard from again. We have been searching for him ever since!"

The rumbling rang again, different this time. Minerva realized with a start that it was laughing. The beast continued for a long moment, before settling physically, "And what is your interest in this…Harry Potter."

Drat. Looks like they would have to play the Dragon's game. "We came to find him and bring him home. His parents had his name down for Hogwarts – the greatest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the word – since he was born. The Potters were close friends and great allies of ours, so we tried to make sure he was well cared for. I am the school's headmaster, while Minerva is my Vice and also the transfiguration teacher. We taught Harry's parents and I myself taught his grandparents a long time ago. Failing their son…" Albus choked up.

But the dragon was interested, "So, you were the one who placed the boy with his relatives?" It growled.

"We were." Albus confirmed, "Minerva here didn't quite agree, but there really was no other option." The dragon's chest noticeably started to glow, seeming to have molten heat trying to escape its scales.

"Why?" It growled, and Minerva realized with a whimper that it was angry.

"It is…a rather long story." Albus said carefully.

The dragon snarled, "You have the time." An ominous note crept into its voice, "I am waiting."

Albus sighed, "To fully understand, we have to go back many years. To start, there is and has been an ideological conflict within the wizarding world. Our world hides within and alongside the normal, mundane world. Magic gives us her blessings and gifts, and we train them to a fine edge. The first Warlocks were powerful, and their children inherited their abilities and potential. Over centuries, these pioneers refined their crafts and quickly catapulted their quality of life to heights that were unimaginable at the time. The mundanes, called muggles in our world, did not. In fact, many times through history, they even regressed and lost knowledge! When children with magic started being born to muggles, they were not warmly welcomed by the world. Those who weren't discovered were murdered, sometimes by their own frightened parents who believed the children possessed by evil spirits. Those who survived were picked up by the more tolerant magical folk."

Albus stopped to conjure a glass of water and renew the air conditioning charms on their robes, so Minerva picked off tiredly. Giving an ancient history lesson to probably the biggest dragon the world had ever seen was not how she planned her day out, "But these were unwashed, often abused children. They were uneducated. Illiterate. Frightened of themselves and those who now surrounded them. They were shunned. The established magical communities did not feel that they should share their hard earned knowledge with these – to them – unworthy masses. To make matters worse, these muggleborn children sometimes brought the wrath of mobs of muggles in religious frenzies. They tried to kill witches and wizards. This was the true start of the longest running ideological conflict in our world. The established magicals – who would go on to call themselves purebloods – did not want to share their knowledge and hoarded it amongst families.

There were no schools at the time for magic. Only clans and families and the alliances between them. They were obsessed with their own power and superiority, with some fair reasons. Many pureblood families had instinctual, personalized family magic. Some might even call some of these abilities blood gifts. This further deepened the rift, as the muggleborn had nothing to offer purebloods in marriages. Some persevered, their great-grandchildren coming to be called second generation purebloods. Others went mad, and either created conflicts or more regularly were killed. This went on for over a millennia before Hogwarts was formed."

Albus took over, "Hogwarts was the very first formal school for magic in the entire world. Class sizes were small at first, but through the perseverance of its four founders, it became a wildly successful institution that would inspire other counties and other systems to rise up and emulate it. But this created a problem in the minds of the purebloods, because the founders created a method of tracking the birth and magical status of every child in the Isles. It soon became clear that the muggleborn outnumbered the purebloods. So the conflict continued into the school, eventually splitting the founders between the three who believed in equal opportunity and the one who believed that muggleborn should be taken from their parents at birth. When his wife was burned at the stake, he descended into madness and eventually left the school, determined to wipe out all muggles entirely."

The dragon rumbled, "Ahh, revenge was it?" The dragon laughed lowly, "Yes, even the mightiest can fall under its sway. But I wonder, was it relief or further pain that this individual found?"

"Indeed," Albus replied tiredly, "All Salazar Slytherin found for the rest of his days was pain and sadness. He turned on his former friends, demanding the exile of the muggleborn. When they refused, he slowly started exploring the darker magicks. He started trying to poison his students against the muggleborn. It worked unfortunately well, as many of his personal students never wanted anything to do with the muggleborn to begin with. War soon broke out, and raged for near a decade before he was slain by his former friends. But the conflict did not end with his death.

No, his children – furious with the cold-hearted murder of their mother – continued his work. They were merely less obvious about it. More secretive. They slowly took over the newly formed Ministry of Magic while the oldest took a seat on the Wizengamot. They ensured only the like-minded purebloods had good positions in the ministry. Only they could become department heads. They passed many laws which were only recently repealed this century legalizing muggle hunting and the like. Truly barbaric, and there was truly nothing anyone could realistically do about it."

Minerva sighed, clenching her fists minutely, "And so the conflict continued for the next millennia, with a Slytherin or other dark wizard laying claim to the title of Dark Lord and using the muggleborn conflict as the perfect tenant for recruitment. This continued until 1926, when a boy named Tom Riddle was born." An angry snort was her response. The dragon had never heard the name before, but just the sound of it made it twitch, "He was the latest in a line of heirs to the name Slytherin, and he used it to his full advantage. He was a model student; he became head boy at Hogwarts in his final year. Charismatic. Handsome. Polite."

She grimaced as Albus took over, "And utterly depraved. He murdered for the first time at fifteen years of age, and managed to frame it on another student. I protested of course, even if I had no actual proof at the. I knew that Rubeus Hagrid never would have done such a thing. But no one would believe a half giant with a propensity for dangerous animals over the model student. I kept a close eye on him afterwards, but there was little I could do after he left the school. I had…my own issues to deal with in the same period." He turned away.

"Tom did not go into the ministry as expected. He got a job as a simple clerk in a questionable store. Kept his ear the ground, looking for certain….heirlooms he wanted to collect. And once he had those heirlooms, he simply disappeared. For nearly a decade and a half, he vanished entirely. He was like a ghost, before suddenly reappearing in Hogwarts applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Albus saw right through him, of course. He hadn't wanted to teach. No, he had wanted to do as his ancestors had done and poison the students. Recruit them for his army. But again, without proof, all Albus could do was reject him and prepare." Minerva smiled mirthlessly.

The dragon's voice was like rock grating on rock, "I can see what came next. War."

Albus nodded, "Indeed. We had peace – a restless peace, but peace nonetheless – for the next ten years. It started small at first. Disappearances once every few months. Pro-muggleborn Laws failing in the Wizengamot. Whispers of a nameless fear. Then, things intensified. Powerful Aurors squads dying out. Muggle families tortured and destroyed. Businesses owned by muggleborn exploding with their patrons and owners still inside." He growled, anger infusing his being. Even the dragon shifted slightly at the amount of power it could feel from the old man, "Then, came the first true shot of the war. An entire muggleborn settlement vanished overnight; it's people mauled by werewolves. We found the corpses of their children bloodied and sliced open in the streets, with the image of a skull with a snake for a tongue flaming bright in the night sky. The Blood War had begun anew."

"And it truly was a war." Minerva said silently, "Any not with them were against them. Lord V- V- Voldemort – the name Tom had chosen for himself – ruled his minions through fear and punishment. He liked to style himself as a King, and ruled as cruelly as a mad tyrant could. The only one he ever feared was Albus, for good reason of course."

To his credit, Albus didn't as much as twitch at that, "Lord Voldemort had powers I never will." He said solemnly.

"Only because you are too noble to use them." Minerva shot back just as quickly. Probably an automatic response at this point. "People disappeared daily; kidnapped off the streets in broad daylight. No one knew who to trust. Loyal followers and mind-controlled puppets could be around you at any time, with no telling of who was with him and who was against him. Oh, we fought. Plenty of us fought. But it was hard to fight a shadow. By the time the aurors deployed to help one distress call – possibly a fake one at that – the next one was raised. And even when we did catch his followers red-handed, no one but Albus could have even a chance at defeating him. Families simply vanished over-night; both muggleborn and purebloods who rejected his doctrine. His reign of terror continued for years…and he was winning." She said darkly.

Albus smiled sadly, "And then, when many of us had lost hope…it happened. He attacked the Potters. Personally. James held him off, fighting like a man possessed. He was a genius with transfiguration – almost as much as I have been called – and was no slouch in other areas of magic. He held Lord Voldemort off for two minutes before he fell to the Avada Kedavra. The Killing Curse. And like a tiger stalking a baby antelope, Lord Voldemort climbed the stairs. Lily Potter blocked his path, shielding the crib of her baby. Lord Voldemort offered her life if she stood aside. Lily refused. She too fell to the Killing Curse. And then Lord Voldemort turned his wand towards the baby – little one-year-old Harry Potter – and cast the unblockable Killing Curse once more."

Albus and Minerva could be excused if their smiles looked a bit vindicated, "And the single most deadly curse known – one capable of passing through any shield made of magic and killing with a single grazing of a pinky – bounced off young Harry's forehead. No one knows exactly what happened or how it happened, but that curse bounced and destroyed Voldemort's body, leaving behind nothing but a torn black cloak and a lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead."

He sighed tiredly, looking quite down, "And almost overnight, the reign of terror of the darkest wizard in centuries ended. Everyone celebrated, heedless of our laws against detection by muggles or the fact that a young boy had just been orphaned. No, they toasted to Harry Potter for ending their nightmare. Except it wasn't quite over. His followers were still at large, even if their leader seemed dead. So I took young Harry and tried to make sure he was taken care of. I gave him to his last living family, hoping that they would care for him as if he was their own child, as Lily would have done for them."

Minerva seemed close to tears, "And five years ago that poor child's house exploded and he vanished. It was undoubtedly one of our greatest failures."

The dragon rumbled angrily, seething, "And this Voldemort. I did not miss that you did not say that he died. No, you said his body was destroyed. What became of him?" The dragon snarled.

Albus grimaced, as did Minerva, "Many believe he died. They are content that he is gone and as far as they're concerned, the problem is over. The smarter think otherwise. One of the biggest traits of Voldemort is right in the name he fashioned for himself. Vol De Mort. Flight From Death. Tom Riddle was born as his mother died, abandoning him to the orphanage and cruel muggle children. His biggest fear is and has always been Death. I have no doubt that scoundrel is out there somewhere, licking his wounds. One day he will try to rise again. I am sure."

The dragon's chest noticeably started to brighten – inner flames lighting up the scales in an emerald blaze. His eyes started to pulse as flames licked inside its snarling maw. It stood from its passive stance, looking very much enraged, "Good." Its voice was concrete on rough stone, "Let him come. I will tear him apart!"

Finally, Minerva lost it. She just couldn't take it anymore. The heat and this bloody overgrown lizard had gotten to her, "Excuse me, but what interest is he to you! You're just a dragon!"

Albus coughed to keep a laugh from escaping him, "Really Minerva? Of the two of us, I would have expected you to have realized it before me."

Minerva turned to him, almost snarling, "Realized what?"

Albus simply pointed at the dragon. The shrinking dragon. Forty meters became thirty, then twenty. Its massive wingspan shrank, its tail curling up into its body. Its skin started lightening, losing its scaly patterns. Then, before too long, a naked boy stood in its place. He was tall for what she idly realized must have been his age, and much more muscled. He very much still felt like a massive predator to those who could sense such things, but that messy black Potter hair and Lily's emerald eyes made certain that people would know who he was. "I am Harry Potter, and I accept your invitation."

Minerva stared. And stared. Then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed in a dead faint.

-]|[-

Minerva first waking action was to groan out load, "Urgh, my head. I had the strangest dream."

"And what dream was that, my dear?" Albus asked her.

He sounded entirely too amused. She scowled at him, "That we found Mr. Potter and he somehow managed to transform into a great honking dragon." She snorted, "Entirely ridiculous of course. Everyone knows Magical Animagi are strictly impossible."

"Indeed." His twinkle was on at full blast. She may as well have been staring at a Christmas tree. She almost felt like strangling him with his own beard.

She wasn't allowed to say anymore, as an earth-shaking roar sounded in the distance, making her jump in fright. It rapidly closed in to their location, with a noise sounding like a hurricane approaching with it. The massive dragon burst into the sky above them, circling their little clearing once before coming in to land. It shrank as it descended, losing its scaly look once more. The boy – thankfully clothed this time – flapped his arms slowly to finish his landing, before they too reverted to human flesh and blood. "I see Professor McGonagall is awake again. I hope she didn't hit her head."

Albus shook his head, "I cushioned her fall. She's fine. Just had a nasty shock."

Minerva felt like a first year, and acted like one too, "You're impossible!" She said, pointing a finger accusingly at the boy.

He looked entirely too smug, and his eyes were glowing almost as brightly as Albus', "No, I'm Harry."

-]|[-

Elsewhere, in one of the most inhospitable places on earth, a man lay shivering in his sleep on his cot. Even with the blanket he was provided, Azkaban was still a freezing hell due to the Dementors. Inexplicably, said prisoner suddenly fist pumped once in his sleep. His arm did not fall until he woke the next feeding time.

-]|[-

Minerva twitched. She now had two people she wanted to strangle in that clearing. She had a feeling Severus would be spitting fire the first staff meeting. Without fire whiskey, "What you just did was impossible."

Harry looked affronted, "Hardly. I'm not the only one here who can transform. Professor Dumbledore here assures me you are quite a gorgeous kitty." Said old man was whistling innocently, pretending not to be listening.

Minerva took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. After a slow five count in her head, she spoke again, "It is not your transformation that is impossible. The ability itself as not really all that rare, even if most never manage to complete the training. I am talking about what you transformed into. Everything I know about the Animagus transformation as well as millennia of recorded history states that a magical Animagus should be impossible."

Harry chuckled, "I think I see now why the non-magical scientific folk don't like listing their discoveries as laws or rules. There's always a chance for them to be proven wrong."

Minerva sputtered at that, "We have millennia of data collected stating that not a single Animagus has ever been a magical animal. I would call that fairly trustable data."

"And yet," Albus stated happily, looking far more animated than Minerva had seen him in many years, "We have someone proving otherwise sitting right before us." Albus was, at heart, a Transfiguration Grand Master. Seeing something new in a field that saw little change due to how established and rigid it had become was a grand thing. He was sure when Minerva realized that herself she would become just as excited. Once the shock worse off, of course.

"Professor, what is involved in becoming an Animagus? That may be a good place to start." Harry suggested, looking at the two elders.

Minerva primed herself for an impromptu lecture at the question, "The Animagus Transformation is an arduous process that many show interest in yet few complete. It differs from a regular human-to-animal transfiguration in that it is completely wandless. Additionally, an Animagus keeps fully cognizant of themselves. Even with a tinier brain to go along with a smaller form, it functions the same as a human brain. On the other hand, people transfigured into animals with less brain power can even forget that they are human. The final difference is that an Animagus form is truly another form, and both forms draw from the other. A dog Animagus has heightened loyalty. A wizard stricken with bad eyes who becomes a jaguar will wake up with perfect vision. A bear Animagus will have extremely high strength and a highly improved sense of smell. The form improves the wizard as much as the wizard embraces the form. This can also have negatives, as insect Animagi generally have less respect for personal space and can even grow a lot more nosey than they once were."

She conjured a glass and had a drink. Despite the fact that they were in the Yukon, it felt extremely hot. Unreasonably so even. She twitched as she realized that a large amount of heat was coming from Harry himself, as the clearing had become a lot hotter once he had appeared. "The process has only one known method with a hundred percent success possibility. There are other rituals that I have heard about but in all of my research I have never come across any information on how to actually perform them. They are essentially legends or myths. So, we have only one way that will reveal your form, and that is through the Animagus Revealing Potion. It is incredibly expensive to buy and is one of the most difficult potions to make. Unless you are from a rich pureblood family, you have almost no chance of buying one. If you want it, you must be gifted in potions, never mind the gift you need for transfiguration to actually transform. However, when properly made, it shows you your form and all that is left for you to do is to embrace it and become it."

Silence rang in the clearing for a beat. Harry was smirking at both of them. Albus was again the first to cotton on, "A potion young Harry here could not conceivably have gotten his hands on." He deadpanned.

Another beat, "That's right." Minerva slowly muttered, "There is no way you could have consumed that potion. Not unless Lily had left a trunk or a cabinet full of potions she had brewed with her sister in case the worst happened."

Harry snorted, "The Dursleys were completely obsessed with normality and being as mundane as possible. If mom had left such a trunk with them they probably would have had a bonfire in the back yard to destroy all evidence." His eyes flashed, momentarily gaining draconic qualities, "I'm sure there were worse muggles you could have left me with. Don't think I would want to meet them."

And there it was. Out in the open. Dumbledore was sagging and Minerva was glaring daggers at the man, "Harry, can you tell us what happened that night?"

Harry looked away. The temperature got unbearable for a moment, before calming, "I'm sure you can guess. They certainly were not nice people. Petunia once brained me with a skillet for dropping a plate because my hand-me-down trainers were torn up. Dudley's favorite game was "Harry Hunting" with his gang. And Vernon…well, one day, he found me with a Fantasy novel that I'd borrowed from the school library." His eyes were fully draconic and seemed to be burning from within, "That day he broke my arm and tore up the book. When he found out that it was a library book and that he would have to pay for destroying it?" Harry smiled. It was not a kind smile. "That night was the first time I transformed."

The two adults looked ashen, "I just don't understand." Albus mumbled, mostly to himself. Silent tears dripped from behind his glasses, "Children are precious to us. One of the reasons Voldemort was considered one of the darkest Dark Lords in centuries was his willingness to go after children." He almost seemed like he was pleading with himself, "How could family treat family that way."

Harry shrugged, "They did seem to get worse and worse the longer I stayed with them. I won't make excuses for them. What they did was unforgiveable."

"Indeed." Minerva sounded rather croaky, "I warned you Albus. I warned you, but I never expected this."

"How could you? You're a bunch of school teachers. If you didn't love children yourselves I hardly would think you would do what you do. How could you expect anyone to wish to harm innocent children?" Harry said pragmatically.

Minerva snorted, "You're oddly mature for an eleven year old."

"I'm a dragon." He deadpanned, "Not only am I a dragon, but I have been alone for over five years. Moreover, I had no friends whatsoever growing up. Dudley made sure of that. Made sure everyone was either too afraid of him to approach me or that everyone thought I was a dangerous freak. I turned to books and education because that was all I could do. That did not stop just because I became a dragon, other than the two or three month long period when I was learning how to transform and control what parts of my magic I could get working."

"The instincts did transfer over then? Also, why is your dragon form so massive? You're almost twenty meters bigger than the biggest dragon I've ever heard of, and neither of us can recognize your species." Minerva asked, some excitement in her voice. She was glad that they could get away from the depressing topic, even if only momentarily.

Harry looked slightly bewildered at that, "Really? Isn't that interesting? I used to be smaller too. Roughly half the size I am now. I knew I wasn't like any of the dragons in the books I found in my hoard, but none of those had any mention of size. Well, not any that I could read at any rate. I never did find out what those green creatures were."

Albus winced in unison with Minerva, "Ahh… Harry? If I may interject for a moment?" He paused delicately, "Your, ah, hoard. I don't suppose you acquired it…peacefully, did you?"

Harry laughed darkly, startling the two adults, "Whatever dragon I am, has a burning and completely instinctive desire for gold and wealth. I am not here in the Yukon by mistake. My senses brought me here." He relaxed, his smile becoming lighter, "You need not worry. Those days are past, or at least controlled. Enough of the human in me has mixed with the Dragon to lighten the need and the instinct."

Both of them sighed in relief, "So then you would be amenable to returning this land to the Goblins?"

"I think not." The answer pained the two adults greatly, "These…goblins… have launched incursion after incursion into my lair, throwing life after life away in a futile attempt to feed their greed. Even if I were to be inclined to giving up my hoard – which I am not, as you may as well ask me to tear off my scales – it certainly wouldn't be to them."

Albus looked grave, "I would ask you to reconsider Harry. The goblins…are not an enemy you wish to have. They will never stop fighting you for this cave, and all of them are fully dedicated to seeing it in their grasp once more. Furthermore, they breed at ludicrous speeds and have ways to combat dragons. It would be wise to leave this place. They will never leave you in peace."

"I know." Came the reply, though not as seriously as the situation warranted, "They have tried. They even brought what I had thought to be juvenile dragons the last few times. I now know that they were adult dragons, thanks to you. Their dragon hurting methods do not work on me. I am far more magical or far more armored than the ones they employ, and I only grow larger and stronger as I age. When I first transformed I was less than half the size I am now and had far less armor on my body. My fire couldn't even melt stone. I had to dig out my first few homes with my claws. By the time I took this cave roughly seven months after my first transformation, I had grown and my fire could melt stone and metal in instants." He smirked, "Given what you've told me, at this point I'm not sure if I will stop growing."

Minerva especially was thunderstruck. He was going to get bigger? She wanted to whimper.

"But enough about that. I will not agree to give up my hoard. Though I will be careful in who I reveal this place to. After all, at the most, the goblins know a dragon has taken up residence here. They do not know that I am the dragon, nor that I can smell their kind coming from twenty kilometers. Though, with me gone for a large part of the year to this boarding school of yours, I will need to learn some alerts spells quickly. They haven't tried to take this place in over a year. I was getting rather restless, to be honest."

Minerva wondered if she should feel numb or not. There would clearly be no reasoning with the boy on this issue, and she was loathe to anger the forty meter minimum dragon in human flesh in front of them, "Indeed. But that discussion brought up some interesting facts. Would you be amenable to working with me on this Animagus form of yours? It has always been a passion of mine and seeing what I thought were laws of the transformation broken so thoroughly makes me excited to study it."

Harry shrugged, "Of course. I am rather interested in it myself. I have a feeling I will enjoy transfiguration." Albus and Minerva both beamed at that, though Albus sobered quickly.

Albus addressed the young boy, "Harry, this likely won't be something you want to hear, but I suggest that you keep this transformation of yours a secret. At least for now. You're young, and I assure you that even with your form, you are not unbeatable. If your form is revealed before you can keep yourself safe, you would be in danger."

Harry's eyes were hard, "I will agree, provided that on weekends and vacation days I am free to return here if I wish. I know at least one form of magic deals with teleportation, which I learned how to accomplish myself-"

Albus and Minerva choked, "You know how to apparate!" Harry blinked and leaned back with wide eyes, "Harry, that's another thing you have to keep secret. You need a license to apparate in our world, and you can only apply for that license at seventeen." Albus told him sternly, "I will test you on this to make sure you actually know what you're doing. It is incredibly dangerous to the untrained, as you can leave entire limbs or organs behind. I will not try to restrict you – you are far too independent and have been so for far too long for me to even try – and apparition is an incredibly useful skill. However, I will offer my advice and opinions, and try to guide you. I would suggest that you tell only those who you feel are beyond reproach about this skill. Same for the dragon form."

Harry nodded, "That is okay with me. As long as I get to spread my wings on weekends, I will not be transforming in the school. Not until I have learned some protection and defensive magic at least."

Albus smiled, this time with a fair bit of relief. The boy was nothing like what he had expected or hoped for, but he was at least not unreasonable, "Now, I think we have spent enough time here in the wilderness, no? Minerva, can you handle getting Harry to Diagon Alley and his school shopping? I will return to Hogwarts to prepare something for young Harry here. I believe he will need it."

"Of course, Albus. Getting back to some normalcy will do wonders for me, I think." The woman replied.

The three stood, and Albus addressed Harry, "Harry, your aura, even in your human form, reeks of an extremely large and powerful predator. Not only that, but you radiate magic in a way I've rarely seen from one so young. Furthermore, your body seems more like a furnace than a regular human body. Even standing this far from you, I feel almost unreasonably hot, and that it without your emotions making you burn hotter. You will need to learn how to suppress that."

Harry looked quite sheepish, "I know. I have been trying, actually. It is a slow process, since I don't really know where to start with either."

Albus nodded, having suspected that due to the heat fluctuations he had absently been monitoring, "Normally I would not teach a student personally, but that is something you will have to get a grasp on. Until school starts in eight weeks, I will meet with you to help get that under control. At the very least I will help you reduce your aura. The most powerful of us all have auras. They are a sign of that power. However, uncontrolled auras such as yours are the sign of inexperience with that power, and are a sign of weakness. By the time school begins in full, I hope to have you at least capable of suppressing it. In the meantime, I will devise something that you can wear which will accomplish this for you."

He drew his sleeve back, revealing a rather odd watch, "This watch is both a watch and an extremely valuable magical tool. It functions by sapping you of a vast majority of your magic. In doing so, it becomes linked to you and takes on traits of your magic. For example, even if I were exhausted and completely drained of magic, I could use this watch to conjure objects, as it was one of my favorite and most used forms of transfiguration. I could even reverse the flow and feed myself more of my own energy. Additionally, this stresses your magic, forcing your body to strain itself harder to regenerate more, increasing the overall amount you have. Your training with it will be complete when you can utterly ignore it and its effects. Then, it will essentially become another tool in your arsenal. An extension of your arm, so to speak." His mustache quirked upwards, indicating a smile, "Finally-" He flicked his wrist, and – quite impossibly – a wand popped out, "-it will also function as a rather stylish wand holster."

Harry's eyes were shining at the use he could see out of the device, "That sounds rather amazing! Does every witch and wizard wear one?"

Minerva laughed, "I'm afraid not Harry. It would be nice to have, as one of the biggest issues students have is the lack of enough power to cast some spells. Of course, there are other reasons; lack of self-confidence, mismatched wands… These are all things that can cause a student to underperform. In the early years, these are usually the only reasons. However, in the later years, especially in NEWTS and post-NEWTS, you'll find that some spells have a very real power requirement. Many wizards and witches need to wait decades for their magic to mature enough to be capable of casting a spell such as a Patronus. The more they stress it, the more powerful it becomes, of course. It is very much like a muscle. But some students are – quite unfortunately – just not dedicated enough. These devices require a bare minimum threshold of magical power to not harm the user. At least half of our population will only hit that point in their late twenties and early thirties when they have been using magic every day in small amounts for years. You are unusually powerful for your age."

Harry shrugged, "Hey, I am a dragon. Might be the reason, might not. I'll roll with it anyway. Can anything be used to make one of these devices?"

Albus nodded happily, "Anything you choose Harry." Said boy 'whooped' in glee and abruptly vanished, causing the smiles of both adults to become…strained, "I had quite happily forgotten that we had an eleven year old capable of doing that."

Harry returned as abruptly as he'd left, and handed the older man something. It was leather and metal vambrace that he'd found in his hoard at some point, "Always liked the look of this thing. Never fit me though." It was indeed beautiful, if one was into things like that, what with its intricate designs.

Albus chuckled, and put it on the boys arm. A few quick spells had it fitting like a sleeve. He took it off and nodded to the two, "I'm off you two. I shall see you in a couple hours. In the meantime though." He poked Harry's wrist with his wand, and an oddly shaped character appeared on his skin. He drew the boys sleeve over it, "That will suppress the predator portion of your aura until I finish this permanent device. It will not last long, so you have to be finished with Gringotts at the very least in four hours." He tipped his hat at them, and with that, he vanished.

Minerva turned to the boy and smiled, "Okay Harry. We'll be going to Diagon Alley to pick up your school supplies. If you wish, you could also stay there under the supervision of Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron. Normally we would return you home, but I think it will be better for you to meet some of the children you will be schooling with. You've been alone for far too long." Minerva looked quite sad at that.

He smiled at her, "It was for the best. I needed time to myself, to be honest. I was consumed with a lot of anger back then. Having a dragon's power to back it up didn't help."

She shook her head, "You never should have been in that position to begin with." She sighed, "Alright, now, we did tell you the story about how He was defeated. There are two things you should know or realize. A large part of the magical community will idolize you. Whether you like it or not, that will happen. You are lucky that scar on your head faded a great deal. Secondly, you've proven you can apparate. Would you like to take us to test your distance apparition or would you like me to bring us?"

He grinned brightly, "I'd like to give it a go. I just need to know where it is." She pulled out her wand and dragged a tiny silver light from her head. She directed it to his head, and he instantly learned of an alleyway close to the Leaky Cauldron that was warded against muggles. He offered his arm to his professor, and with a pop, they were gone.

-]|[-

Harry raised an eyebrow from under the brim of his cap. "Well, it's a nice wall professor, but I hardly think I can buy things here." Harry was apparently well versed in the art of the snark.

"Hush you." She rolled her eyes, beginning to tap on the wall with her wand. "If, by some odd miracle, a muggle managed to slip into the Leaky Cauldron unnoticed, he still would not be able to get into the Alley. This is a gate. Nice work on thinking of the hat. I did not fancy getting mobbed in that pub."

He snorted, "Less than I don't wish it, I'm sure. I'm sure they'll mean well, but I'd rather not have them trying to cozy up to me for something my parents did. I have no intention of being a nameless face, but being known as the Boy-Who-Lived is actually rather aggravating."

Minerva approved, "Indeed. You were but a toddler. While you were strong even as a baby, I doubt your sheer presence managed to reflect that curse. The masses just want an idol." She looked at him proudly, "Do not be afraid to feel pride over your accomplishments Harry, but feeling as though you must earn that praise is a good attitude to have." With that, she tapped the final brick and the passage melted away.

The magic of the alley was clear to Harry. It was large, he could tell, and completely crowded. It felt very alive, and the displays in front of the shops were colorful and loud and – in the case of the apothecary – quite smelly. Thankfully, beyond cursory greetings to Professor McGonagall, they made it through the crowds rather easily. Though Harry may have pulsed his aura slightly to clear the path faster.

"This is Gringotts, and, as you may be able to tell, is where the Goblins rule." She looked at him sternly, "Do try to behave. Keep that aura down."

"I know." He said in an annoyed tone. He did so hate having to hide who he was, but understood it as necessary for the moment. While he cared little for the wealth – beyond wishing to add it to his hoard as soon as possible – as he had more than enough of his own, he was slightly hopeful that there would be heirlooms of his family protected inside the vaults. He knew from speaking with the Headmaster that the Potters were quite an old family, so the vaults would likely be filled with heirlooms – especially since Voldemort attacked and burned the old Potter Manor in the mid stages of the first war. Despite the attack, the most important effects were thought to have been saved. However, he would trade all of it for even some time with his parents.

Dragon or not, independent or not, he was still an orphan. He did wish for a family. He knew he couldn't have his old family back, so he hoped to find his parents belongings, to see what they were like. And Gringotts may have some of these belongings.

So he would play nice. For now.

The doors opened soundlessly, as expected. Greedy little bastards that they were, Goblins at least knew how to live in style, and spared no expense to make sure the shining white building in the center of the Alley gleamed. He ignored the threat written on the plaque. It was hard to feel scared of whatever toys the Goblins had when he had personally crushed and eaten many of them.

He almost snorted at the opulence of the main hall they walked into. There was gold – false, foil, and otherwise – and a whole lot of it. Everywhere. Matched with marble pillars that shone – seemingly freshly polished. Each desk was a rich light wood, raised high so that the tiny beings could loom over their customers. Each goblin was dressed in a suit – the whole nines – with one of them even sporting a monocle.

Harry could smell the bloodlust each being held even without focusing his senses.

They approached the nearest open teller – counting gold like a fat cat – and raised its attention, "Mr. Potter here would like to visit his vault." Minerva stated clearly, if a tad silently so as to not attract too much attention from the clientele.

Harry spoke up himself, "I would also like a full review of my account. I have, after all, been absent for years, with my parents dead."

The Goblin sneered, "Yes, quite…unfortunate." It said. Didn't quite manage to convey sincereness either. Harry was quite happily considering ways that he could roast it. "Very well. I shall require some of your blood. I shall also require a key."

Harry's eyes flashed, though he managed to keep his pupils from changing with sheer will. His blood? He held back a snort. It figured that the only way they little monsters would be able to bleed him would be when he had to offer it freely to get what he wanted, "Very well. Where do I need to go?"

Minerva placed a key on the desk gently – having to reach slightly due to the obnoxiously high desk – as the goblin rummaged around for something. "Here is his key. It has been held by Albus Dumbledore and myself in trust."

The goblin paused to snarl lightly at the key, "Everything appears to be in order." He floated an ostentatious golden slip of paper with the Gringotts logo embosomed on it as well as a sharp-looking quill. "Prick your finger and place it on the sheet. The fifty galleon fee for this procedure will be deducted from your account."

Harry's eyebrow twitched slightly. The urge to impale this creature on his claws was growing by the second. He was interrupted by Minerva, who conjured a small prick and handed it to him. "Use this instead, Harry. It will cause a smaller wound, and I've spelled it to heal the cut after a single drop of blood has been squeezed out." The goblin was fuming at that turn of events, though it kept still and silent outwardly. It was unfortunate, but goblin-cast blood protections were fairly rare in Gringotts. There were some vaults with them, but all wizards usually requested such rituals to be unwitnessed. There was rarely any chance to collect willingly given blood when they were finished. That quill was meant to capture some inside a hidden reservoir, making it simple for Goblins to bypass blood wards – inside the bank and otherwise – when necessary. His superiors would not be pleased.

Harry nodded to her in thanks, and dripped the red fluid on the golden sheet. Immediately, it flashed black, and golden letters began appearing. The process took roughly two minutes, and when it was finished Harry picked it up.

Harry James Potter

Vaults

687 – Potter Heir Trust Vault:

Liquid: 12,000 Galleons

Effects: N/A

Annual limit of 12,000 Galleons – To be refilled on July 31st yearly until his majority.

Monthly Withdrawal Limit: 1000 Galleons

Last Withdrawal: June 20th 1991 – 150 Galleons – Final Hogwarts Tuition Payment

17 – Potter Family Vault:

Liquid: 839,548 Galleons

Effects: Various Potter Family Heirlooms, Portraits, and the Potter Family Library

Monthly Withdrawal Limit: 0 until his fifteenth year; 100,000 afterwards; Full Access after his Majority. All Effects may be removed at any time.

Annual 3000 Galleon maintenance fee to Gringotts.

3849 – Personal Vault of Lily and James Potter

Liquid: 0 Galleons

Effects: Personal Libraries, Awards, Belongings

Full Access

Harry smiled widely. Even the greedy dragon in him could frankly care less about the gold. His parent's vaults had the actual value

Properties

The cottage at Godric's Hollow was turned into a national landmark by the Ministry of Magic. Potter Manor was burned down. Its land was sold off to pay outstanding debts.

Now that on the other hand, caused him to fume. How dare the Ministry take what was to be his home and turn it into a National bloody Wonder! Did they not consider that perhaps he could want to rebuild? Clenching his fists, he moved on.

He rolled it up and pocketed it, "I would like to visit 687 and 3849 today." He did not bother with false politeness. The goblin did not either as it whistled for another goblin to lead them away, tossing back the key negligently and paying no more attention to them. Harry pocketed the key and allowed himself to be led away.

Said goblin at least had a nametag on it; Griphook was its name. What followed would have likely had Harry screaming for joy and Minerva moaning in sheer horror if it were not for the fact that he was a dragon. The puny cart ride couldn't even budge his stomach. As it was, only Minerva was moaning in horror. Griphook was very grudgingly impressed at the young child.

Harry accepted a bag from Minerva, which she had enchanted to be bottomless and weightless. Once opened by him, it would read his magic and open only for him. He filled up the bag with the full 1000 Galleon limit from 687 and shrank it – another useful feature. He was tempted to get Minerva something nice in return. The hills of gold in his vault did not truly interest him. After all, they paled in comparison to the actual mountains in his lair. No, what he was truly excited for was seeing his parent's vault, which was next on the itinerary.

"I shall wait here in the cart Harry. I hope you find what you're looking for." Minerva smiled gently at the boy, deciding to give him a bit of privacy for this. Harry nodded gratefully and entered the vault. It was much smaller than the other vault, and had no liquid contents. Instead, it looked almost like a large storage unit. There were trunks lined up on the far wall, six in total. On the sides were large, sturdy shelves, holding a bunch of knick-knacks and other apparel. He shook his head rapidly, trying to hold in his emotions. He approached the trunks, each in a slightly different style, with the three on the left being much more…manly… compared to the feminine ones to the right. On top of the middle two trunks were single letters, each in decidedly different handwriting. He picked up the letter on the left and closed his eyes, clenching them tightly.

He grit his teeth, opening both eyes and the letter itself;

My precious son,

Harry clenched his left fist, tears licking at his eyes. He angrily wiped them away and continued,

How does a father write a letter like this, assuming the worst? The father is meant to protect and provide for his loved ones, and if you are reading this, it means that I failed. It is my greatest hope that you shall never see this, and that I will one day be able to tell you all of this in person, when this nightmare is over. We have done everything we could to make sure that we are safe, but Voldemort is unlike any threat we've faced before. I fear even our preparations will not be enough, but we will have the last laugh. Even if your mother and I don't survive, we will go knowing you will be safe from that madman. I would trade my life a thousand times if it meant you and your mother survive.

But this letter is not just my final message to you, Harry. This letter is meant to make sure that – at the very least – you know me, and who I was, and that I love you more than you can imagine.

My name is James 'Prongs' Potter, your very proud father. I am a Transfiguration Master – the youngest to achieve it since Albus Dumbledore, in fact. I am also an Animagus, which I accomplished with three of my best friends in the early part of my fifth year at Hogwarts.

Harry's eyes, which were leaking quite against his will, lit up in joy and a smile lit up the room. He never would have guessed that his father was an Animagus. It immediately made Harry feel a little closer to the man, knowing that they shared the ability.

You'll never find a record of that, so don't bother looking. None of us were registered. We were…troublemakers…in our youth. You can't hear your mother, so allow me to quote her, "You, mister have a knack for severe understatements."

He choked out a laughed.

Yes, we were collectively known in school – secretly of course – as the Marauders. We started small, with tiny pranks targeting a few people. Eventually, by the time we graduated, we accomplished our biggest goal; pranking Headmaster Dumbledore. You may now grovel in sheer awe at your father.

Harry let out a delighted laugh. He had needed this. He never knew how much he needed it until he was here, but he was happy all the same.

Unfortunately…as you may be able to tell from that last comment, we were rather…bigheaded. Full of ourselves. I regret much of what we did back then. There were times when we crossed over from pranking into bullying, even unintentionally. Our favorite target was one Severus Snape. He was always a nasty little bugger and gave as good as he got, but three and a half on one was never going to get him anywhere. It didn't help that he was best friends with a wonderful young lady named Lily Evans, who I loved from the moment I first saw her.

Your spitfire of a mother loathed me and my friends. For good reason too, for what we did to Snape and my absolutely titanic head. I sincerely hope that this is a trait you did NOT inherit from me. But, change can happen at any time, for good or ill. I had already started deflating midway through sixth year. Pranks and such stopped mattering as much to me, as well as one of our quartet. Sirius was a bit more hot blooded than I was, but Remus always had a good head on his shoulders. Peter always was a bit of a hanger-on. He just went with the flow. Then, at the beginning of seventh year, it happened.

Potter Manor burned, and the Dark Mark flew above it.

Loud cracks echoed through the vault, as Harry clenched the hand not holding the precious letter into a tight, trembling fist. His skin flashed black and scaly for a moment, before returning to normal as his hand relaxed.

Overnight, my goals in life had changed. I no longer wanted to be a Professional Chaser, as I had been dreaming of for the past five years. Instead, I wanted to see Voldemort in a shallow hole with all of his like-minded followers lying beside him. Pranks stopped overnight, and a very different James Potter came to classes. Lily had already started becoming more accepting of me towards the end of the previous year, and it was because of her that I was able to pull myself out of the grave I had been digging. I graduated with top marks beside your mother, and we married soon after. Sirius was our best man, and for the first time since my parent's deaths, I was truly happy.

I joined the Auror Corps and finished the training program with distinctions. Then, I was out in the field, capturing what Death Eaters I could and killing those who wished to fight to the bitter end. I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy giving them that end.

Felt horrible afterwards, of course. It was not a single night that Lily had to comfort me as I emptied my stomach over the lives I had taken.

In the course of the War, Lily and I fought Voldemort himself thrice, merely managing to survive long enough for Albus to appear and take over. The Death Eaters feared us completely. Very few of the Inner Circle could hold against even one of us. If Sirius was around for the fight – which he always was – it was usually a rout. But slowly, the war tired us, and Voldemort seemed to always have fresh bodies to throw at us. Gideon and Fabian Prewett fell to a group of five of the strongest of the Inner Circle in an ambush. We began suspecting a spy in our midst. We started losing trust in each other

Then, Albus came to us, warning us that we were in even more danger than usual. He urged your pregnant mum and I to go into hiding, as Voldemort would soon begin targeting us personally. We did not like it, but your safety was more important to us. We went under the Fidelius Charm, which leads me full circle to this letter.

Harry, know that you have been a shining light in our lives. There has not been a single moment since you came to us that I have not loved you. My darling son, you are our most precious legacy, and even if we cannot be with you physically, we will always be with you in spirit. Above all else, it is my greatest wish that you are happy, no matter who you choose to become.

Inside these trunks are our gifts to you, Harry. The left three are mine, while the right three are from mum. Inside the leftmost trunk, I have every single thing the Marauders ever created. Every prank item, every enchanted item, every spell… Everything. Along with them, are all of the instructions and notes on how to make them. While pranking may not be your thing, there is much in there that you will find useful. Additionally, I have some more…naughty stuff in there. I won't age lock it, despite the death beams your mother is trying use to ignite the back of my head with currently. Instead, I will trust that you will be mature enough to handle it. Have fun and be safe. When you find them, that is.

In the middle of my trunks, are all of my own personal creations. All of my personal spells, all of my improvements to spells in transfiguration, instructions on how to make duels go your way, tricks to give yourself an edge in a fight… I dislike the thought of you growing up in a world still in conflict, but I am pragmatic enough to realize it may come to pass. I wish to see you defended.

In the rightmost of my trunks, is the most precious gift I can give you Harry. This is a dual compartment trunk, with two different stored dimensions. In the first, there is only one item. A Pensieve. You likely will not know what that is, so I will tell you. It is a runic bowl capable of storing and viewing memories.

Harry's eyes bugged out. This was beyond valuable!

In the second stored dimension, there are hundreds of labeled vials of my own memories.

A wet sob escaped him.

I'm sure you will find a use for them. If nothing else, it will allow you to feel closer to me. I hope they help give you some of the love I will not be able to.

Grow, Harry. Grow, my precious son, and be happy. Grow old, find love, and I will greet you with a smile on my face when it is finally your time.

Just take your time. Don't show up here before you turn a hundred.

His laugh was decidedly wet.

I love you my son. Take care.

James Potter.

"Thank you, dad." He whispered to the empty room, "Know that your sacrifices will not have been in vain. I'll make you both proud." Gently folding the letter once more, he placed it on the right shelf. With one last look at it, he strode back to the trunks and picked up his mother's letter. He had already been on an emotional roller coaster with his father's letter, but he had another to read.

My Darling Boy,

My precious son. My Harry. I am so, so very sorry that I could not be there for you. You cannot possibly understand how much of a shining bundle of joy you have been to us. It is my greatest regret that we may not have as much time together as I wish. I wish I could just end this nightmare our world has been living in for the past decade, but I am only one person. We've been trying our hardest, but sometimes it seems like our world itself is fighting us.

My name is Lily Evans. I grew up in Cokeworth, with a loving mother and father and an older sister who I looked up to.

Harry had to fight really, really hard to hold back the snarl,

For many years, we were a perfectly normal family. But, not always. Strange things began happening to me. A rock levitated here, a toy Petunia was using flying to me there…I was scared. All of these weird things happening, with no explanations. Then, I met a boy. His name was Severus Snape, and he was the one who showed me what I was. A witch. A firstborn witch, the first in my family. He taught me all he knew about Hogwarts and magic, and we became fast friends.

It was unfortunate, though I will never regret it. Petunia wasn't a witch, though she wanted to be. She even wrote to Headmaster Dumbledore, begging to be allowed to come with me.

Harry was almost choking, and was turning a color that he would have remembered as being Vernon Purple II. He started to hiss, "That fucking bitch. All this time…she was jealous!"

The refusal – it never had a chance of working after all, since Petunia had no magic – really fractured our relationship. She became angry and spiteful, beginning to dislike me for something I could not change.

She was not the only one who disliked me. From the moment I first entered the Wizarding world, I have been discriminated against for being a firstborn. A muggleborn. A mudblood. This conflict has been raging in the wizarding world for millennia. It separated me from Severus eventually – he went to Slytherin while I went to Gryffindor along with your father and his friends. At times, I wished I had taken the hat's advice and gone to Ravenclaw. Toe-rag was an apt description of your father and his Marauders, at least for the first few years we schooled together.

From the start, I was an utterly dedicated student. I loved magic, and everything about it. Well, the physical aspects at least. The discrimination was always hurtful, but you either learned to ignore it or let it consume you. I chose to prove them wrong. From the start, I was determined to be the best. I was always top of the class, always researching, and always trying to create new spells. By the time I graduated, I was an accredited Charms Mistress, Runes Mistress, and Potions Mistress. James had more than one accreditation as well, but I suspect he's trying to make up for his early years by being overly modest. He is currently chuckling beside me.

Throughout school, I became slowly disenfranchised with Severus. He had gone to a different house, and fell in with quite a bad crowd, trying to fit in. Slowly, I became worried about him, and just as quickly, he started proving me right. In our fifth year, it all came to a head. James and his friends were taunting him, and I helped him.

He called me a Mudblood.

Harry snarled. This Snape had best hope they did not cross paths.

He regretted it almost immediately, but the damage had been done. My temper had never been what one would call mild –

Here the writing changed back to his father's more manly writing;

– Unless you consider Habanero as mild –

Harry started cackling like a madman at his father's quip, and Lily rapidly took over once more.

Ignore your father Harry. He is an unmitigated moron who thinks he's funny.

His tears had dried, and he wiped his eyes for what he hoped was the last time, but the routine in the letter had done wonders for his mood.

Now. I had been hearing rumors – and praying that they were untrue – that Severus might have been thinking of joining the Death Eaters. I asked him if he did truly plan on joining, and he didn't respond. I'm honestly unsure if he knew what he had been getting himself into, but that day cemented it for me. He wasn't the boy I had grown up with anymore. I parted ways with him, and we were never close again.

Slowly, I started getting closer to James. It was a huge relief when he stopped being – excuse me if you're still a little young when you read this – a braying jackass. When that happened, I discovered – quite to my surprise – that he was not in fact all that bad. As we grew closer, I started falling for him. He took me on one date, and it was magical. He had truly turned himself around.

Then, came the attack on Potter Manor, and everything almost fell apart. James fell into a deep depression, and was just so full of rage. We almost split because of it, but I tried to stick through it and help him. Slowly, he healed. Healed, but never forgot. In seventh year he resigned from the Quidditch team and spent all of the time he was not being a boyfriend learning to fight.

I had never wanted to fight myself, but seeing James in that state made me realize that all the Dark needed to win was for the good people to do nothing. I realized that these monsters would never leave us in peace. James and I married right out of school, and I was recruited into the Unspeakables. Their training was even more brutal than the Auror training was, if what I've been able to compare with James is correct. It was well worth it. James and I had the highest kill and capture counts on our side of the war. I am not proud of causing those deaths, but after walking into one particular scene which I will not describe here, I will never regret them.

My time was not spent only fighting though. That's not a way to live. Dueling is fine – fun even – but constantly struggling for your life, where one misstep is the difference between life and death… Anyone sane would go mad. The rest of my time in the Unspeakables was spent doing what I loved; researching. The results of that research, I now pass to you.

My darling boy, it pains me to know that one day you may wake up without me there to hold you, to dry your tears, to see you smile… Know that I will always love you, and I will always be there with you, even if I can't be by your side.

In these trunks are everything I can think of to make sure you survive to a ripe old age, surrounded by your loved ones. The trunk you found this letter on has only one compartment. After all, I can hardly guess at what you would do with a second Pensieve. Inside, you will find my memories. I hope you will treasure them.

Inside the middle trunk, I have all of my research. Every theory – proven and unproven – and every spell I've created. There is one in particular in here that I never even tried to publish. The interest I had in beginning that project started when I first saw your father transform. My research yielded…interesting results. Dangerous results. Be careful with it, Harry.

The last trunk contains my diaries, as well as all of my personal schoolbooks. You'll find quite a few of my creations scribbled inside of them. I truly hope you will never need these, and that I will be able to teach you myself, but like your father I will not leave you with nothing should the worst come to pass. If you wish to take any of these trunks, simply touch the marking in the middle of each and say the word "Shrink." They will do so, and you'll be able to bring them with you wherever you go. They are as indestructible as money can make them, but still, be careful with them. You will not find replacements for the contents should they be lost.

Live your life Harry. Find love. Start a family. Discover your passions and follow them. Know that we will support you always.

Goodbye, my darling boy,

Lily Potter

Harry sank slowly to his knees, rubbing furiously at his eyes. His entire life, he had been told he was worthless. That he was a freak. That his parents were washed up drunks who never wanted and had gotten themselves killed in a car crash. Now, he knew the truth. His parents had loved him beyond anything, and would always be proud of him.

He punched the floor, his draconic strength cracking the stone tiles. He climbed to his feet and shrank each of the trunks, slipping them into his pockets. He would have to discuss ways of securing these with his professor.

He got up with a sigh, and took one last look around the more spacious vault. Those letters had been emotional for him, and he didn't think he could handle anything else at the moment. He would have to return at some point. He walked out and shut the door firmly, getting back into the cart. Minerva shot him a worried glance, "Are you alright, Harry?"

His eyes were no doubt red and his face blotchy and bloated, but he felt lighter than he had in years. He smiled, "Never better. Shall we?" Griphook did not wait for a response and they were zooming through the tunnels once more.

-]|[-

In the end, the rest of the shopping trip was much less eventful than the trip underground had been. It was rather early in the season, since Albus had spelled the Book of Names to skip to Harry's letter roughly a week after term had ended. As such, the Alley wasn't as full of current and prospective students as it would be in the coming weeks. The children were more interested in vacationing than in buying school materials, after all.

As such, the lines were short, and the day progressed rapidly. Even the bookstore did not keep them for long, as Harry knew he had almost two full months to assault its shelves. The only part of the day that was actually eventful was the purchase of Harry's wand.

Student and professor entered the dusty shop talking animatedly about transfiguration. It was a subject Harry knew he would enjoy, especially after having found out that his own father was an Animagus. He absently rang the bell, and did not jump when the old, gray-eyed man came out from the shadows. "Good evening, Mr. Potter. Minerva."

"Hello," Harry said cheerfully, "Would you be Ollivander himself or do you just run the store?" He enquired. Minerva chuckled. She was sure his bluntness would get him in trouble at some point, but for now it was rather amusing.

Ollivander smiled, "Ollivander I am." He confirmed in an odd way, "I thought I would be seeing you here soon, Mr. Potter." He turned to McGonagall, "You, on the other hand, I have not seen in quite some time. How are you, Minerva? Fir and dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches, quite stiff and excellent for transfiguration, wasn't it?"

The proud woman smiled, "Indeed." That wand had been with her through thick and thin, and she cherished it. "I have been well, for the most part."

Ollivander turned back to Harry, "You look quite like your father, young Potter. Were it not for your eyes – which shine like your mother's – I might even have mistaken you for his long lost twin." He smiled, "It seems like only yesterday, when they came to me for their first wands. Your mother favored a willow wand. Swishy. Ten and a quarter inches long and perfect for charms. Your father, on the other hand, had a wand made of mahogany. Eleven inches and pliable. More powerful than your mother's wand, and excellent for transfiguration. Of course, I say favored, when that is not entirely correct. It is, after all, the wand that chooses the wizard. I do wonder which will choose you." He had not blinked once during his speech, and Harry matched him, "You will be a difficult customer." The man smiled excitedly, "I can see the sheer power in your aura. Never have I seen one such as yours in all my years. Or at least never on one so young."

He clapped, and summoned a tape measure, "Now, which is your wand arm?"

"I am right handed." Harry said cheerfully. He looked forward to seeing which wand would be his.

That excitement lasted roughly twenty minutes, when even his smile had started to become rather strained as the boxes of tried wands piled up. Worse was the pile of boxes and flimsy wooden shelves on the floor – Harry was rather sorry about that incident – which had collapsed when one wand reacted rather badly to Harry.

Ollivander on the other hand, looked like a child who was told Christmas was coming twice that year. He was muttering to himself, pulling boxes left and right, before taking a look at the box and then Harry and putting it back. Finally, he came forward with a black box, "Holly, Phoenix feather. It is eleven inches and nice and supple."

Immediately, Harry felt a spark with this wand. It was weak, faint, but it was more than he had felt with any of the others. "I felt something that time." He declared, "It still feels wrong though. The connection feels weak." He frowned, wondering why that was.

Ollivander scratched at his head. He'd been rather confident with that one. "Well, come on in the back, Mr. Potter. That was the strongest of the wands I had in the front of the shop. Only its brother wand could match it."

"I wasn't aware wands could have brothers." Minerva spoke up as she followed the two.

"It is not surprising, Minerva. Not many do. Only those who have put a bit of study into wandlore such as myself or Albus would know of it." Ollivander replied absently.

"Was the brother wand sold?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes." Ollivander shuddered, "Yew, thirteen and a half inches. Incredibly powerful." He stopped and looked at Harry in the eyes, "It is a wand that you would know well." He said gravely, "It gave you that scar." Minerva gasped and covered her mouth in shock.

Harry's eyes hardened, "I see."

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every. Single. One. That wand went on to do great things. Terrible." He said quickly when he saw the fury in the boy's eyes, "But great nonetheless. Here we are." He stated as they reached the room, which he unlocked with a drop of blood. "Here are my masterpieces. The wands contained in this collection are some of the greatest achievements of the Ollivanders since our founding – either for their disastrous failures or for the sheer power they contained and the difficulty in crafting them. If we cannot find a wand for you here, then I will have to make a custom wand for the first time in almost a hundred years." He almost looked like he was hoping all of these would fail as well.

Harry smirked, "Was Headmaster Dumbledore the last?"

"Indeed he was." Ollivander chuckled, "Well, let us begin. Black Ironwood and Acromantula silk web. Whippy, twelve inches. One of the most…difficult wands I've ever made. The wood itself is heavy and doesn't usually tend towards good spellcasting, and therefore needed an extremely light core and thin design. You can absolutely forget about using it underwater. Try."

He held out the wand to Harry, whose hand got within five inches of it before his entire body jerked back involuntarily. His eyes wide, Harry hissed, "Definitely not. I couldn't even get close to that one. It felt…wrong."

Ollivander chuckled, "I had thought not, but it was worth a try nonetheless. Here, Plum, nine and three-quarters inches. Flexible with dual phoenix feathers for its core. Good for transfiguration and extremely powerful in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry grabbed it from him easily that time, and felt slightly warm, "That was about the same as the last wand we tried in the other room. Decent, but not quite right." He said with a frown.

"It appears you are heavily aligned with fire for some reason." Ollivander muttered to himself, missing Harry's smug grin and Minerva's internal groan. "Well–" he straightened, "– that certainly gives us some information." He skipped over three of the wands, one of which looked decidedly green, and grabbed one that was slightly yellowed. "Atlas Cedar wood with the heartstring of a particularly violent Hungarian Horntail. Sturdy, thirteen and a half inches."

Harry rejected that one with a single touch, shaking his head. And so the journey continued to find a troublesome young wizard his wand.

-]|[-

"I must say Mr. Potter, when I guessed you would be a difficult customer I didn't quite expect this." They were down to the last wand in the shop that Ollivander felt had even a remote chance of matching the boy. He held it in his hands, turning it gently and contemplating it. "This wand, Mr. Potter, was the last wand my father ever created." He stated, "Knowing his time was near, he decided to make his last wand with every experimental and dangerous technique he had never before dared to attempt."

Ollivander turned to him sternly, "I am often asked why most wands contain only one core, or why wands are never made of blended woods. The reason for that is the fact that such attempts end up in only one way eighty-five percent of the time; death. Dual cores are uncommon, but not non-existent. Weaker second cores are usually effective in helping control a stronger, unstable core. Other than the wand I am holding, Tri cores have been seen a total of ten times in all of history. Three were lost forever without ever choosing a partner, and a further two overloaded when they met their match, exploding and harming everyone in the vicinity. The five that were chosen and used, all went on to change the world. Nicholas Flamel was the last to gain the allegiance of one." He smiled without humor, "The more cores you try to fit into a wand, the more powerful they become. Unfortunately, the difficulty in making them also increases exponentially with each core, and – more importantly – failures become increasingly unstable and violent. The only ever attempt to include seven cores caused the sinking of Atlantis." Harry's eyebrows were raised high and Minerva let out a gasp.

He beckoned them to follow him, and led them to a completely stone room in the basement with a single large entranceway. In the middle of the room was a single pedestal. He placed the wand gently on top of it and turned, "Blended woods, on the other hand, are flatly impossible. Many have tried, and there has never been a single recorded success. To use multiple woods, they must be separate parts of the wand. Which leads us full circle, Mr. Potter, to this." He gestured at the wand.

It was a rather beautiful wand, Harry had to say. It had two different colors, a light shaft and a reddish handle carved almost like a claw. It was polished to a high sheen. "It is rather beautiful." He smiled, "And I can feel it's presence from here."

Ollivander held back a wince, "I had…hoped you would not say that. I saved this wand for last for a reason. I had hoped not to bring it out." He sighed, "As I said, this bout of madness in wand form was the last successful creation of my father, and in many ways can be considered his magnum opus. Even if he expected it to never sell, it was still his most stubborn and difficult creation."

"What is it made of?" Harry asked in interest. He was getting a very different feeling from that wand and he wasn't even all that close to it.

Ollivander held back a groan and stepped out of the room, dragging Minerva with him. He kneeled at the entrance and looked Harry in the eyes, "That wand is Ironwood – or Hornbeam – in its body. Sturdy. The handle is made from a branch taken from the oldest Giant Sequoia in the world, ravaged by fire yet enduring." He said, "The core, taken by itself, is a single willingly-given feather of a Royal Phoenix. If you're wondering, that is just a phoenix with white plumage and fire. Not entire sure why it was named as such, but I suppose its fire is a tad hotter than most other colorations of phoenix. However, the feather's preparation must be taken into account. It was bathed for seven days and nights in a potion made of forcibly taken dragon's blood –" Minerva let out a shocked gasp, "– and a powdered Chimera Scale." Minerva looked like she wanted to drag Harry out of the store and not look back. "Therefore, it is technically a tri-core wand. It is without doubt the most powerful wand I have ever personally seen."

Ollivander saw Harry's determined grin, and made sure the boy understood what he could be getting himself into, "Mr. Potter, this wand sounds powerful and sounds excellent, but it will fight you every step of the way until you master it fully. It will be the most unyielding, dangerous, bucking bronco of a wand you have ever seen." He stated seriously, and saw the boy's eyes sharpen. "If you should do the improbable and master it…" He didn't have to finish his statement.

"I will." Harry said calmly, and walked forward to the pedestal.

Ollivander could not keep his muttering to himself, "Blasted children." He grumbled, "Can never take the easy way out. I can make him his own wand with far less risk of dismemberment."

Minerva deadpanned, "At least you don't have to teach him."

Ollivander snorted, and Harry snickered, having heard the exchange, "Very well, Mr. Potter. If you truly feel you are up to the challenge, then take up the wand." His voice turned formal, "Ironwood and Giant Sequoia, thirteen inches exactly. Extremely rigid with a Phoenix Feather, Dragon Blood, and powdered Chimera Scale Tri-Core." He snarked, "Or as I like to call it, Insanity in a Stick." A shimmering blue barrier rose at the entranceway and he quickly backed away, holding his arm out and pressing both himself and Minerva to the wall.

Inside the now locked and protected room, Harry gazed hard at the wand sitting innocently on its pedestal. He held his hand out and the wand levitated. He took a step forward and gestured. The wand floated to him and lay in his open right hand, not touching skin. "Well, Wand… I will be your new partner." He said. "Get used to it." His fingers closed around the handle.

A star burst into existence.

A raging, white inferno surrounded the boy, roaring its displeasure. Minerva gasp and tried to run forward, even as they clutched at their eyes and cast spells to protect them, but Ollivander held her back. "No!" he yelled, "We must let it run its course. Nothing good will come of interrupting it!" Even with all of the protection woven into that room, the sweltering heat escaped. Both of the elders burst into an instant, heavy sweat, and the wooden floorboards at their feet started smoldering.

Then, as quickly as it started, the firestorm began dying down. Inside the room, the inferno began retreating as the bond completed and Harry began exerting his will on the wand. It went. Not quietly by any means, but it went all the same. The white fire which had been spewing from all corners of the wand retreated, leaving what appeared to be a perfectly normal wand in his hand.

He turned and smiled at the elders, who couldn't quite see him. After roughly two minutes of rubbing their eyes and trying to get the white spots to leave their vision, Ollivander and Minerva were finally able to gaze into the room.

It was slag.

Molten rock oozed from all corners of the room, and the entire floor was red hot and liquid. Harry was calmly floating over it, holding that death stick in his hand and a proud smile on his face.

Completely and utterly starkers.

Minerva blinked, "Mr. Potter! Hide your shame!"

Harry blinked, looking down. He turned to Minerva and laughed, "We have got to stop meeting like this."

-]|[-

All in all, the rest of the day was rather boring. He got his supplies, but unfortunately, not a pet. None of the animals in the shop wanted anything to do with him.

He couldn't imagine why.

So, with the shopping done and a room rented for the next two months at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry bid goodbye to his transfiguration teacher.

The next two months passed with some good times, as well as some hard times. Ollivander's words proved prophetic, and his wand was as stubborn as could be. He'd gone back to Ollivanders a few times to talk to the old wandmaker and learn about wands themselves. Wands, he learned, had their own personality-facsimiles. They essentially had their own memory – for lack of a better term – of what they had been in life. As such, wands could be proud, and wands could be anything under the sun, for good or ill to their wielders. He learned the wands made with hippogriff feathers, for example, had an alarming tendency to turn on their owners if they felt that their owners had lost respect for what they wielded.

His wand was as proud and stubborn as expected. Every spell he learned using it had to almost literally be forced through the wand. He got quite a bit of practice with his wandless casting, when the wand was being particularly uncooperative.

Two days after purchasing it when Albus arrived with his vambrace, the wand had almost rioted at its owner's weakened state. It was only quick casting from Albus that had saved the room, and possibly the inn itself. After bonding to his vambrace – officially called an Arcane Inhibitor – the wand was spitting mad and had burst into flames on numerous occasions. But things were improving. Harry persevered, and kept working with the wand, and slowly, it grew a grudging respect for him.

Albus popped by every other day for his lessons. For three hours a night, Harry learned under one of the greatest minds currently alive in the wizarding world. It was nothing strenuous. At times, Albus simply spoke through the whole lesson on some theory or helped Harry with a spell he was having trouble with. His training with the vambrace was slow, but at least it was progressing. He had managed to completely control the furnace effect, but not the predatory aura that so scared the animals and humans alike. Thankfully, that was suppressed to a low level with the Inhibitor when it was active.

What was not progressing in the slightest was the thing Albus and Minerva had hoped for the most when leaving him at the Cauldron, much to their chagrin; his social life. After a gaggle of irritating seven year olds had recognized him one day in the alley and hounded him until he managed to get far enough out of sight to apparate to the Yukon, he had been much more reserved around others. He was a person damn it, not something to admire as if he was an attraction at a zoo!

And so the next two months passed in much the same way the past five years had passed; studying, sleeping, and learning magic.

-]|[-

Harry whistled in appreciation at the sight of the gleaming scarlet engine in front of him. "Not entirely sure why a bunch of wizarding children are taking a train to school when we can just travel there magically, but damn if it doesn't look good." He muttered. He was very early, and the platform was almost deserted. There were very few early risers, or at least very few of them that cared to spend hours waiting on the train. Harry on the other hand, had no reason to wait around. He hopped on the train and took the first empty compartment he could find, which was near the middle but closer to the front. He absently shoved his trunk – which he had carried without a care on his shoulder – into one of the luggage racks.

He flicked his wand out of his vambrace and transfigured the rough, hard arm rest on the right side of benches near the window into a black, fluffy pillow. If not for the embroidered emerald flames on it, it would have been a perfect transfiguration attempt. His eye twitched. "Bloody smartass wand." He flicked it again and the flames disappeared. The wand felt displeased. Fire was awesome! He could almost feel the wand pout and glower in his hand. He ignored its whining and put it back into the vambrace, before pulling out a transfiguration book and opening it up to where he had left off. He settled on his pillow, sprawling out on the seat and relaxing.

He passed the time in silence, enjoying the book. But before too long, the station started to come alive as more and more families came in; muggle, half-blood and pureblood alike. The platform's noise levels started to rise, with Harry mostly ignoring it in favor of his book. This did not, however, last too long.

The door opened, rousing his attention for the first time in a couple hours. He smiled at the newcomers, "Morning, ladies." It was two girls in particular, already in their school robes. He guessed that they were at least half-bloods from one of the old families, from the quality of their robes. The one on the right was a brunette, though calling her hair brunette was akin to saying a really deep, unlit cave was 'rather dark.' Her eyes were a beautiful purple, and she was rather tall. Not quite up to his height, but perhaps her friend was simply making her look taller than she was. All in all, she was quite pretty. The other girl was a redhead with some rather wild looking hair. She had light freckles covering her equally pretty face and wide, ice-blue eyes. She was also fairly short, looking downright tiny next to the other girl.

The brunette inclined her head at him, but did not smile, "Daphne Greengrass. My friend here is Tracey Davis." The other girl waved cheerfully.

"A pleasure." Harry met Tracey's cheer. He had, after all, promised to make an effort to make some friends at Hogwarts. "Are you two looking for seats? There is plenty of room."

Tracey smiled while Daphne merely quirked her lips, "Thank you." They closed the door and sat, putting their matchbox-sized trunks inside the luggage compartments and expanded them – or rather, Daphne did as Tracey was too short to reach. It was rather adorable.

Tracey spoke for the first time, "So stranger. You planning on giving us a name or shall I just call you green-eyes for the rest of your life?" She had an amused glint in her eyes, and Daphne let out a small smile.

Harry chuckled, "Well as nicknames go, I suppose I could do with worse. My name is Harry Potter."

Thankfully, their reactions weren't…explosive. "Wow, a pleasure to meet you, Harry!" Tracey chirped. She held the urge to request a view of the scar. It would be rather rude and forward of her, after all. Daphne merely looked more interested in him than before.

Harry sighed in relief, "Oh good."

Daphne blinked, "What's good?"

Harry laughed, "I was rather worried about your reactions. The last people who realized who I was almost started a damn riot in Diagon. I barely escaped with my life." He shuddered.

Tracey was too busy cackling to say anything, but Daphne snickered and visibly warmed up, "Well, you don't have to worry about that with us." She smiled at him, "Very fortunately, we're not a pair of vapid idiots."

"Hear, hear!" Harry grinned. He wasn't sure if they would become good friends, but he could tell he liked the pair.

"So, Harry." Tracey said, "What's that you're reading? I don't recognize it from this list of books we need."

"Oh this?" He lifted the book had had been reading before they came in, "This is something written by Headmaster Dumbledore." Both girls gasped and sat up straighter.

"Oh wow!" Tracey breathed, "Our parents don't like Dumbledore too much, but even the darkest of families in the wizarding world acknowledge that he's a genius and wouldn't pass up a chance to learn from him! How did you get it?"

Harry chuckled, "He leant it to me." Both girls gasped, "If you get to know me, you'll find I'm quite…gifted…at transfiguration." He chuckled slightly at the understatement of the century.

Daphne gaped, "Wait, you don't mean the books are actually true, do you?"

Harry chuckled, "Which ones?"

Tracey babbled a bit, but he'd excuse her for that, "The stupid Harry Potter children's series! Have you really been in secret training with Dumbledore for years?"

Harry started cackling, and Tracey did look a bit affronted, so he hurried to answer, "No, no. Nothing of the sort. I took a look through that garbage and – while I'm glad they labelled it as fiction – I'm really irritated that they were printed at all. The children especially who met me in Diagon during the summer had entirely too much hero worship directed at me. It was actually really maddening." He shook his head, "No, I'm afraid the truth was nothing of the sort, and a… fair bit less lighthearted than those stories." He looked at them, his smile gone, "Hope you don't mind, but I'd rather keep my upbringing to myself for now. Perhaps if we become good friends, I would let you know all about it."

The girls looked pretty sober, "It was nothing…bad…right?" Tracey looked rather down in particular.

Harry snorted, "It certainly was…unpleasant. I only met Headmaster Dumbledore two months ago." He clapped his hands, "But enough of that Debbie Downer shit." He smiled, trying to bring the mood back up, "I can sense that you girls are already fairly accomplished for what I'm assuming are your ages. Feel free to correct me on that. What kinds of magic do you know?"

Daphne smiled gently, "We're both first years, same as you, I think?" He nodded happily, "We both come from pureblood families, though Tracey is a half-blood herself. Our parents have taught us a lot of the basics, as is common in such families. Me especially, since my birthday is in two days and I'm actually almost twelve. There was no way they could have kept me from a wand for an additional year, so I have quite a head start." She had a 'cat-that-ate-the-canary' grin, and looked quite smug, "Additionally, we have our own personal family magic. Tracey and I have been friends since we could crawl." She smirked, "But if you have your secrets, then we have ours too. We won't show you our family magic unless you can guess what they are." Tracey had an equally devious look on her face, and she nodded.

Harry laughed and settled back in his pillow, smirking confidently at the girls. He began stretching out his senses, just as Albus had shown him. "Hmm…" His eyes started to burn with an inner fire, and the pupil became slightly elongated as though he was undergoing his transformation, "Your magic feels particularly…chaotic. Almost…electric I would say." He said, and both girl's jaws dropped as they began to realize exactly how advanced the boy they were sharing a compartment with was.

"H-Holy shit! You can already sense magic!" Tracey yelped in her shock.

Daphne said nothing, though she was equally as surprised as her best friend. She didn't even reprimand her on her language. Harry laughed, "Indeed. It is a very useful skill, and was necessary for me to learn due to an issue I had." He smiled gently at Tracey, "Your magic looks very beautiful Tracey. Like a rainbow. You also appear to have particularly dense nodes of magic on your back and in your arms."

The glow in his eyes dimmed back to their normal bright emerald and his pupil returned to normal. He grinned at them, and Tracey was the first to recover. She smiled back brightly, "Indeed! The Davis magic has always been beautiful! Long ago we migrated from Norway, and took up permanent residence in Britain. Despite that-" She grinned, and did a twirl, and her back began to shine before bright rainbow wings erupted behind her. She began to float, and everyone in the room felt happier than they had a moment prior at the beautiful sight, "-We have always had daughters blessed by Freya!" She floated back down and the wings disappeared. She turned to Daphne who gave a small grin and a quick nod. "Though for the past millennia, it has always been the Greengrasses who have brought the thunder and the lightning."

With the final word, one of Daphne's arms became consumed by the element. No, more precisely, her arm became the lightning. As it crackled and sparked, the door opened. "Hello, I was wondering if I could si- Oh my!" The girl gasped as she saw Daphne's power. She had bushy brown hair and chocolate eyes. She was shorter than Daphne but taller than Tracey, who would glower when she realized that fact. Daphne quickly cut her lightning show short and dropped her arm. The girl at the doorway, stared for a moment, before shaking herself, "That was really awesome! I've learned plenty from the books of course, but nothing as amazing as that!" She chirped, "Is there space for one more in here?"

Harry smiled, "By all means." He gestured her in. The girl beamed before turning and grabbing at something. She strained a bit, and a heavy looking trunk was slowly dragged through the doorway. Harry chuckled but got up to give her a hand, "You may want to learn the feather-light charm if you're going to be lugging around a ton of bricks." He teased, making the girl flush. The three girls then gaped slightly as he effortlessly lifted it and shoved into the now-even-larger luggage compartment. "Jeez, I didn't think you actually had bricks in there. Did you pack your whole library?" He laughed at her increasingly red face as he went back to his pillow.

Blushing furiously, she replied, "I may have overdone it a tad." She sat near the other two, seeing as he was kind of hogging most of the space on the other side. Tracey snorted and Daphne's lips quirked. "Oh!" She jumped slightly, "How rude of me! My name is Hermione Granger. A pleasure to meet you all." She said with a slight curtsey.

Tracey offered her hand with a smile, "Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass!" She shook with Hermione, "This lug over here is Harry." She jerked her head in his direction, earning an indignant call from the lug in question. "You a muggleborn Hermione?" She asked, though it didn't really need to be.

Hermione's posture closed up slightly, Harry noticed. Clearly, she'd already had a run in with some blood supremacists. Her magic was broiling within her in an instant, though not like Daphne's. No, she seemed very nervous. "Ah, yes I am." She replied hesitantly.

Tracey realized that the question had set her on edge almost as quickly as he did, and gave her a reassuring look, "Was just confirming it was all. You can relax. I'm a half-blood myself, and both of our families from the past century or so have been much more tolerant than they used to be." Hermione looked relieved, and gave her a hesitant smile. "You'll probably want to avoid Slytherin house though." She said seriously, "A good number of the worst believers of blood supremacy – which I'm fairly certain you've already run into – will be going straight there."

Hermione had a frown, "Really, I don't see what all the dislike is coming from. Muggles are a lot more tolerant and much more advanced that they ever were in centuries past."

Daphne was the one who answered, slipping some of her silky black hair behind her ear, "Most of the pureblood families do not acknowledge that fact, if they're even aware of it. Wizards and Witches live for a very long time, and have very long memories. Our headmaster is almost a hundred and forty years old, and the OWL examiner who tested him is still in the Ministry doing her job. In the face of that fact, it is not that hard to see why we have been so slow in accepting the muggleborn. A fair number of them take the fact that muggles don't have magic as outright proof that they're lesser beings. It's all tosh, of course…" She said with an apologetic look in her eyes.

"I see." Hermione did see, but her frown did not go away. "What houses are you all hoping for? I think I would like Gryffindor myself. Wouldn't mind Ravenclaw either. Both sound rather exciting!" She tried changing the subject, seeing as how it was a rather depressing issue.

Tracey spoke for the both of them, "We'll both be Slytherins." Hermione deflated, "We both have a lot of ambition. Daphne wants to be Minister one day, and – due to my upbringing with a Pureblood mother and Muggleborn father – I've always been interested in trying to combine magic and technology. I want to run a successful company." She exclaimed with a raised fist, and fire in her eyes. She looked rather fierce and fiery, which Harry found very attractive.

Harry snorted, drawing their attention, "If I had my way, I wouldn't be sorted at all."

Daphne couldn't help herself and actually laughed at that, "Good luck! You have a zero percent chance of avoiding that particular tradition."

"I know." He sighed, "It just seems stupid and idiotic to sort, label, and stereotype a bunch of eleven year olds. Most of us are too busy drooling over racing brooms or wondering if that girl will like you." He scratched his head, "Most of us don't know what we want out of our lives, and despite that we'll be separated and practically segregated."

Daphne sighed, "I do agree with you. My parents and Tracey's do as well. But there's not much that can be done about it. Its tradition." She sneered. "I'm all for tradition and I'm all for our cultural heritage, but tradition for tradition's sake is meaningless." If anyone asked her if she thought that up herself or if she'd picked it up from her mother, she'd lie until she was blue in the face.

Harry snorted, "But it is worse than that. If the house system worked as intended and you were sorted because of the qualities that you embodied, it would be acceptable. But it isn't. I've had a lot of contact with Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall the past two months, and even they agree that the house system has lost its meaning."

Daphne and Tracey especially were looking at him with wide eyes, "Wow, really? I would have expected them to have the opposite opinion!" Hermione cut in for the first time.

Harry shook his head, "Slytherin. The house of the cunning and ambitious. On paper, it's the house that you go to if you wish to be great; if you want to change the world!" His grin was very, very sardonic, "I have more than enough ambition for it, and would have liked to join you two ladies there, if reality was the same as it is on paper. Instead, in recent years it has turned into the house of blood supremacy, playground politics, and whoever's daddy has the biggest wallet."

Tracey sputtered, before breaking out into a fit of giggles, "Oh Merlin! Harry, why would you do that to me? I might actually not get sorted there now because that's all I'll be thinking about." She cackled. Daphne was quietly giggling along with Hermione.

Harry laughed himself for a second, before continuing, "Ravenclaw! The house of Knowledge, Wit, Learning and Wisdom! A haven for the studious sorts! Unfortunately, they also have become rather close-minded and intolerant in recent times. In the past couple of years, Ravenclaw has had the most cases of in-house bullying, and it is always for someone daring to be different." Hermione looked extremely disappointed with what she was hearing, "All in all, it is proof that all the intelligence in the world won't help those who are truly stupid."

"Oh but I like this. If only I had some popcorn." Tracey had a wide smirk gracing her features, "And what about the other two? You better have some acidic commentary for them as well."

Harry smirked back, "Good old Hufflepuff!" He exclaimed, "The house of the hard-working and the loyal! Or – if you ask the rest of Hogwarts – the house of the duffers and leftovers." His grin disappeared, "Some of them have even started to believe it themselves. Quite sad really."

Hermione mewled, "This house system is looking more and more unappealing with each word." She huffed and crossed her arms.

"Quite. I've had two months of questions and discussions to draw my own conclusions." Harry said, "Dumbledore and McGonagall tried to be impartial, but their own dissatisfaction did shine through on some occasions. But even worse for the Hufflepuffs isn't the opinions of the rest of the school, but of opinions in general. As the house of the loyal, they must support their own." He snarked, "And that means that whoever bleats the loudest claims the opinion of the rest of the house, and even if some of them feel it may be wrong, they'll go with it just to not stick out."

Hermione and Tracey groaned in unison. "Can we just – I don't know – go on strike or something? That sometimes works in the muggle world." Hermione groused.

Daphne didn't look any more pleased, "Like I said. Tradition. Good luck."

Harry fist pumped, "And lastly, good old Noble Gryffindor! The house of the Brave and the Courageous!" He stopped and waited a beat, for the two Slytherin-to-be ladies to get irritated at the lack of commentary, "Or rather, the house where the solution to getting a square peg in a round hole is a bigger hammer."

All three girls burst into giggles. Trying to calm herself, Hermione managed to get out, "The whole system seems counter-productive. I say we ignore it and remain friends no matter where we end up!" She then seemed to remember herself and visibly shrank inwards, "I-I mean if you want to be friends." She seemed very small, shy, and unsure of herself all of a sudden.

Tracey have her a one armed hug and pulled her in, "Yeah, friends!" Daphne shared a smile with Harry, and both nodded. Hermione almost looked like she was going to cry, and merely graced them with a rather watery, shiny-eyed smile.

-]|[-

At the other side of the country, an old man and a greasy-haired man sat at opposite ends of the table. "You're sure of this?" Severus Snape asked for what seemed like the tenth time. This was the first time the two men had managed to meet face-to-face since the end of the previous school year, as Snape had gone abroad to widen his potions knowledge.

Even Albus Dumbledore was starting to lose his patience a little, "Yes, Severus. I felt no presence whatsoever in young Harry's scar. If I was right and it was a Horcrux, it exists no longer."

"What could have caused it?" Snape enquired.

Albus had theories, and usually he would share them with the younger man in front of him. But Harry's dragon form was his own secret, and Severus really had no business knowing about it. "I'm afraid I am at a loss. I have a guess, but only a guess. Horcruxes are dreadful creations as you know, but I've never read of a single case where the creation of one was not premeditated. I cannot imagine that it could simply happen." Albus said, "Furthermore, its disappearance when we know that Tom is not gone for good supports my theory that he made more than a single one of those abominations."

Snape nodded, "I had been contemplating it myself, and I agree." He fixed his beady eyes on the headmaster, "So what is your theory?"

Albus sighed and shifted in his chair, "While I believe that whatever was inside that scar was indeed a piece of Tom Riddle's soul, I do not believe it was a true Horcrux. Lily's protection was capable of reflecting a Killing Curse. I can't imagine that it would be capable of that and not capable of at least fighting to keep a Horcrux from the same man from latching on to her son. I think Tom's fragmented soul was broken even further by his rebounded curse. A small sliver managed to worm its way onto Harry, but not latch on completely." He stated, "It acted like a leech more than a true Horcrux, but was indistinguishable from a true Horcrux. His mother's protection likely kept it from bonding completely to his soul and magic." His mustache quirked, "Then, when the…incident… happened, it was too much for the leech to bear and it was forced out. Without a host, and with nothing living to latch on to, it evaporated."

"It is…plausible, I suppose." Snape allowed.

"Indeed. I have no proof, but I do have the evidence. Harry Potter is no longer a Horcrux, if he ever truly was."

-]|[-

The past few hours had been entertaining. The train had finally started moving, and the four newly-discovered friends had spent much of the trip getting to know each other. Harry had dug a little, and learned that Hermione had grown up as friendless as he did, though that went unmentioned. Hermione had grown up in a household lacking a great deal of emotional support. Her parents were both dentists and they had precious little time to spend with her. They were a typical pair of adults who had lost sight of the important things in order to advance their business. Sure, they always told Hermione that they loved her, but actions spoke louder than words. To compensate, Hermione had always been very studious and – as she was left to her own devices more and more often – had become a friendless bookworm. Children, cruel little buggers that they were, were more intimidated than impressed by her intelligence and ostracized her harshly.

She had been a very lonely person all her life, but unlike him, she had never transformed into a dragon. "Do not worry about the little gremlins you are leaving behind." Harry told her, quite seriously. She had looked shocked, and almost looked ready to break down slightly at his dismissal of her worries, "True friends are those that accept you for who you are." He said, getting nods of agreement from the other two young ladies, "Why should you care about a nameless face? In ten years you'll look back at your early life and not even remember their names." He said, "They're no-bodies, and you shouldn't let them hurt you any longer."

"But-" She started.

"No buts." Daphne cut her off with a smile, while Tracey rubbed her back in comfort, "Harry is right. You are who you are, and if they can't deal with that then they're not worth having as a friend. You are intelligent, Hermione. Brilliant even. It took ten minutes for me to teach you the levitation charm." She said with a bright spark in her eyes, "You have no idea how rare that is for a muggleborn."

"Daphne is right." Harry said, "Everyone starts off from the same point. No one is born with an advantage – other than sheer power perhaps, but that is irrelevant if you have no knowledge. However, the purebloods and the half-bloods usually do have the advantage of growing up around magic. They usually live around magic their whole lives, and have their family magic as well as a head start on magical theory." He stated, "Muggleborn such as yourself do not have that advantage. You come into this world blind, and most of you take many, many years to build up the magical power and magical knowledge necessary to become truly competent spell casters. You have an affinity with magic."

Hermione was rapidly turning red as he spoke, "You will shine amongst us, and be successful whenever you dedicate yourself to something. You have that spark. And in doing so, you will catch the attention of the masses. They will belittle you and try to bring you to their level, and you will sink if you let them. Do not worry about hanger-on's and false friends. Do not pay any attention to leeches who will smile and beg you for study tips in one breath and insult you behind your back in the next. Be who you want to be, for yourself. No one else's opinion's matter but yours and those of your true friends."

Hermione stared at the floor, and two silent tears dripped from her eyes. She looked up at him, eyes misty and whispered, "Thank you."

Other topics were much less deep, such as the discussion they had over their wands. Well, other than Harry's cocky wand bursting into flames in pride when he showed it off and having to be sharply reprimanded, much to the – at first quite frightened - amusement of the girls. They were then appropriately humbled when Harry explained what it was made of. Tracey's screech of shock still had his ears ringing.

Currently, Harry was once again engrossed in his text, while Tracey was taking a nap and Daphne was showing Hermione more magic. Said brilliant, bushy-haired brunette was gobbling spells up at a rather alarming pace. She certainly would go far.

But as peace tends to do, it came to an abrupt end with the opening of the door. Tracey jerked awake with a snort, and sneered harshly at the person at the entranceway, matched by Daphne. A surprised Hermione sat back, shocked at the looks on her new friend's faces, "So! Word around the train is that Harry Potter is in this compartment!" A rather oily voice rang out, belonging to a pale boy with hair so blonde it was almost white. Behind him stood two…well… mean gorillas would be an apt description. "So, it's you is it?"

Harry carelessly tossed a look over, and instantly was reminded rather strongly of a skinny version of Dudley Dursley. His knuckles popped slightly as he tightened his grip on his book, before relaxing. This boy had immediately rubbed him the wrong way. He looked back at the book, uncaring of what the boy clearly wanted, "I am." He tossed back.

"My name is Malfoy. Draco, Malfoy." Draco looked like he was expecting some recognition, and was rather displeased when Harry ignored him. He sneered at Harry due to his dismissal, not that Harry noticed. He turned and greeted Daphne and Tracey, "Davis. Greengrass."

"Malfoy." Tracey spat.

Hermione looked even more surprised at how acidic Tracey sounded. The newly named Malfoy turned to her with a more pronounced sneer, "I don't know you." He turned away, deeming her not worth his time. He turned to Harry, already saying, "You'll find that some wizards are much better than others-"

But Hermione had taken that as an invitation to introduce herself and, in her haste, cut him off before he could finish, "Ah, my name is Hermione Granger." She said with a shy smile, "Pleased to -"

"I did not say I cared to know!" He looked at her as if she was a bug, "You filthy little mudblood." Hermione instantly cringed back, incredibly hurt by his words despite the talk with her new friends who she knew didn't think she was worthless. Old habits die hard, after all.

Then, a sharp crack rang out in the room, sounding much louder and sharper than a book being slammed shut should have. Harry spoke calmly, even if the dragon inside was raging, "You know Draco, transfiguration is such an interesting art." He said, confusing the entire cabin. Hermione – If anything – looked even more hurt at him seemingly disregarding Malfoy's hurtful words than she had when the boy had said them, "In our very first lesson, we are taught to change a match into a needle." He said, seemingly incapable of reading the mood in the room.

"A simple piece of wood turned into a sharp, pointy implement, forgetting it was ever made of wood in the first place." The book was floating in front of him, drawing everyone's attention. There was a very different glint in his eyes than the three girls had seen before. "And what is a book, if not a very. Large. Match." With the final word, the floating book warped and elongated, its red color turning metallic silver. In an instant a pike replaced the book and dropped into his waiting hand. With one sharp movement, he rolled from his laying position into a sitting one and drove the point of the pike into the lacquered wooden floor of the cabin – causing the girls to each let out squeaks of fear - and used it to pull himself up to standing. That was when the other occupants of the cabin realized something very important.

Harry Potter was a giant compared to others his age. He towered over Draco and was roughly half a head taller than the two unnamed boys with the blonde. He left the pike behind as he strode forward, even as Malfoy dried to jump back but was stopped by the slower reactions of the two grunts. Harry got face to face with Malfoy and spoke calmly, with a dangerous intonation, "Now, dear cousin." The word sounded more like a curse than anything, "I would like to ask you a question. Have you ever met a muggle?"

"I – wha-!" Malfoy babbled.

"I'll take it as a no. What about a muggleborn? Have you ever truly spoken to one of them? Did a muggleborn harm you as a child? Did one make fun of you?" His voice was very mocking, and the girls were staring wide-eyed at this new side to their new friend.

Draco blustered, "Of course no-"

Harry cut him off before he could finish, "Then why do you hate them?" He asked, more softly, "Was it because daddy told you to?"

Draco snarled, "Now see here! When my father hears-"

"Your father doesn't mean anything to me." Harry interjected with a vicious smile, "In fact, I would rather love to have a word with him. I would love to hear about what terrible things Voldemort–" Everybody save Hermione hissed, "– made your poor father do under the Imperius. He must have been rather weak willed."

Draco snarled and wanted to pull his wand, but decided discretion was the better part of valor, "Crabbe! Goyle! We're leaving."

"Oh cousin!" Harry called as they left, making Draco stiffen, "Take note, I have no need for useless hanger-on's or people who can't think for themselves." The boy stiffened, clenching his fists in rage, "Don't expect to ever have anyone respect you if you can't even tell them why you have the opinions you have. Gold will only get you so far." The boy was red with rage, and whirled around to speak, but Harry didn't let him get a word in edgewise, "Oh and Draco…" Harry said sweetly, "If I hear you or anyone say that word again, you will regret it." He said softly, and shut the door.

The cabin was silent as the girls reevaluated Harry Potter. Or Daphne and Hermione did.

"That. Was. AWESOME!" Tracey yelled and glomped the boy. Harry flinched slightly, but realized that getting a hug from a pretty girl was a rather nice feeling.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, "Glad you enjoyed the show." He let go and waved his hand, repairing the floor and reverting the transfiguration with the same motion. He shrank and pocketed the book, and turned to Hermione. He cupped her chin gently, making her look at him. He gave her a small smile, which she returned, a mite more hesitantly. With that he retook his seat while Tracey took hers. Hermione was decidedly quieter and less animated.

Daphne was a bit calmer than her best friend, "I'm not sure you should have done that." She said gravely.

Harry smiled at her disarmingly, "Don't worry about it." He brushed off her concerns.

Tracey reluctantly threw her two Knuts in, "I'm kind of afraid that she's right. Malfoy's family is very rich and influential."

Harry chuckled, "Girls, this is one of those things that you'll learn about me if we become really close." He stated and stretched lazily, "I have nothing to fear from that idiot."

Daphne didn't like how cavalier he was being about it, "I'm serious Harry." She huffed, "The Potters were rich, but never on the level of the Malfoys." Harry started cackling, "I'm serious Harry!"

Harry tossed her a grin, "My dear, you don't know the meaning of the word." He snickered at her affronted look, "Trust me." He said, trying to get her to ease up, "This is one of the reasons I absolutely refuse to go into Slytherin." He said easily, "I've absolutely no patience for that faux political bullshit he was trying to pull. I'm far too…blunt."

She sighed, and shared a look with Tracey, "Don't say I didn't warn–"

The door burst open once more, revealing a very smug looking Draco and a much older boy resplendent in robes embroidered with green and silver trim. He had a silver badge pinned to his chest, "Alright, Malfoy here tells me one of you threatened him." He eyed Harry suspiciously, "Something about advanced transfigurations."

Harry didn't even blink, "Threatened him? My, that certainly sounds interesting. Blondie over here must have quite an imagination."

The older boy sneered, "Cut the shit, boy, or you'll be in detention for a month before you even step foot in the castle." That word and intonation instantly set Harry off, "Show me your wand. Easy enough to discern the truth from that."

Harry had a smug look on his face, as he produced said stick, "I would suggest you not touch my wand. It's very…possessive." The boy rolled his eyes, and went to grab at the wand which was laying peacefully on Harry's hand. Once his hand got close, the wand immediately gushed small gout of white flame at him, causing him to jerk back with a hiss. "I believe I did warn you." Harry pointed out needlessly.

The boy snarled, jerked his own wand out of his pocket – amateur – and cast, "Priori Incantatem." In a clear voice. Harry's wand started spewing a myriad of spells, none of which were anything other than normal first year spells.

"You may want to work on your gullibility." Harry mocked the boy, "Honestly, an unsorted first year threatening someone with advanced transfiguration."

The older boy snarled at him, and then at a paler Draco, "You!" He spat, "Try to trick me again and detention will be the least of your worries." He stomped off, fuming at having been made a fool of. Draco glowered at them before following and slamming the door shut.

Harry looked quite pleased, and the girls were fighting to hold back snickers, "Well, you certainly make friends easily." Tracey teased. That set off Hermione as well. Normally she would have mentioned something about respecting authority figures, but she didn't really like the way the boy had barged in there.

Harry chuckled, "There are few things which will set me off. Calling me 'boy' the way he did is one of them."

Hermione stopped giggling and looked at him in concern, "That seems like a rather…odd trigger."

Harry debated with himself, before deciding he could allow something to slip, "It's the same thing my aunt and uncle used to call me. When they weren't calling me a freak that is." The girls gasped, and Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth in shock, "Be grateful Hermione. Not all muggles are out of the stone ages yet." He said with a note of finality. Hermione looked quite like she wanted to interrogate him, but he was saved by the intercom coming on.

"ATTENTION STUDENTS. WE WILL BE ARRIVING AT HOGSMEADE STATION IN TWO MINUTES. CHANGE INTO YOUR ROBES AND LEAVE YOUR LUGGAGE ON BOARD WHEN EXITING."

Harry grew very excited at that, and pointed his wand at his trunk. Instantly, an outer robe appeared over his day clothes. He wouldn't be caught dead in that stuffy, scratchy uniform if he didn't need to be. He turned and smiled at the impressed ladies, "Shall we?"

All three – in full uniform – stood and joined him, ready for their first look at the magnificent castle they'd been invited to.

-]|[-

And that's a wrap. Some final words:

The Dragon's awakening scene was quite obviously a homage to The Hobbit. Not quite the book – or at least I don't remember him being buried in the gold - but certainly the movie. This dragon was also – unfortunately – a mite less violent. Patience. The fire will come. Also, remember that this is an AU. Alternate Universe. Magic itself will not necessarily be the same as in canon.

The wand: I debated with myself for a long while on whether to keep his canon wand or not, but even if I wanted to keep it non-cliché I didn't feel I could. As I explained in the Snape and Dumbledore scene, Harry is no longer a Horcrux. I also explained my reason for that, and it won't come up again for a while. With that in mind, I didn't feel the original holly wand would fit, especially since this Harry certainly is NOT canon Harry. With that, I decided to go whole hog on it. I also – for the first time ever – decided to go into Pottermore to find some wandlore. The pieces were specifically chosen, and not just random basilisk fang and Dementor bone with Nundu penis for a core. That is also your hint that I will be either unaware or uncaring of anything that's come out of Pottermore. If it wasn't in the books or MAYBE the movies, it will very likely be disregarded.

Cliché abusive Dursleys are cliché and abusive. I know, I know. Please don't hang me. That will be brought up again in the future, tying in with another issue.

The absolutely obscene amount of gold Harry has: This was intended to be two things. One; it was necessary for the Hobbit homage. Two; it was intended as a 'fuck you' to all of the fics where Harry is Lord Potter-Black-Slytherin-Gryffindor-Merlin-etc. where he has TRILLIONS of Galleons as if that random number you typed in by facerolling your num-pad actually means something. And the best part?

None of that gold is actually in circulation so it is worthless without re-melting all of it and selling it incredibly slowly – to avoid a gold price crash – to muggles for cash to change into Galleons at Gringotts. Otherwise there would be an instant goblin war aimed solely at killing him. Imagine that.

The length of this opening: holy shit on a stick, this has been the longest piece of fiction I've ever written. While I freely admit that I like longer chapters in my fanfiction, this one was kind of fucking ridiculous. I had a lot to get through, characters needed establishing, and I'm fucking tired of ten-point-five-six-chapter long visits through Diagon Alley where fuck-all happens. I won't promise 20k word chapters EVERY time, but I will say that you should probably expect at least 10k.

The chapter is very much the same as it was in the original pilot version. I changed a few things around; removed some parts; edited for mistakes I originally didn't catch as well as for wordiness. All in all, I'm happy with it as a first chapter.

Finished: 4/15/2015

Updated for full release: 9/12/2015

Total Word Count (Author's Notes Disregarded): 23598