Chapter 2
In the year since he'd been infected, Harry had come to like his lycanthropy. After his fifth full moon he'd been able to take control instead of having the thing inside him control what happened. He'd even gotten better at controlling it while in human form.
At least to the extent that he no longer desired to indulge in cannibalism. Although Harry did wonder if it was considered cannibalism if he as a lycanthrope ate somebody purely human. Not that Harry truly wanted to eat his classmates. It was much more entertaining to mentally stalk them while in class or at recess.
He'd even learned how to read people's moods and whether or not they were lying with his senses. His sense of smell combined with the ability to hear a human heartbeat was an amazing lie detector.
He watched the brown haired girl walk past the bus stop, still unsure as to why it had never considered her prey. Perhaps it was because of the tingling he felt around her. He was sure that the girl-whoever she was-had some sort of magic.
Living so close to London, Harry had encountered many more people with magic of some sort or another than the girl. The people who tingled like the girl generally bowed to Harry and knew what his name. The people with a warm prickle and an animal-like afterimage generally sized him up, most likely because they were werewolves. There were people who produced other sorts of tingles, but Harry hadn't really paid them much attention.
Hearing the sound of an engine, Harry perked up. It seemed to be moving much faster than cars generally did in Hillsdale. He glanced at the girl who was now in the middle of the street. She didn't know about the car. She was going to get run over.
Without a second thought Harry leapt from his seat. Moving faster than the human eye could see, he tackled the brown haired girl. They landed on the other side of the street, the girl on top of Harry (he'd known instinctually that if they'd landed on her, she would have been much more hurt than he would have been). A large car sped by, moving quite a few kilometers faster than the speed limit.
Ignoring the smell of fear emanating from the girl, the way she trembled, and her rapid heartbeat, Harry sat up. Once he stood, he helped the girl to her feet.
"You alright?" he asked.
The girl nodded slowly. "W-w-why d-did you s-s-save m-me?"
"Why wouldn't I?" asked Harry, slightly confused.
"B-but you're a w-werewolf," said the girl.
"Number one, I'm a wereleopard, not some stupid dog," said Harry, too offended at being compared to a werewolf to realize that he'd outed himself. "Number two, I don't eat, hurt, or kill humans. Cannibalism is disgusting. Number three, I'm just as human as you are, witch. Number four, I control the leopard, the leopard does not control me."
"But the books-"
"The books are wrong," snapped Harry. "I've read the types of books they have on lycanthropes and they're very wrong about lycanthropes."
She gave him an offended look. "They were written by-"
"Prejudiced bastards who'd likely never met a lycanthrope in their entire life." He let out a growl, feeling it wake up. Now was not the time to let the leopard free. "It case you haven't noticed, most nulls are too damn scared of things like lycanthropes and witches to do proper research."
"Oh," said the girl, suitably chastised. "I-I'm sorry. The books are all I have. My sister and I are the magical people in Hillsdale a-a-and can you stay for breakfast?"
"Huh?" said Harry.
"Breakfast. Mummy said I could eat in town so long as it was healthy," explained the girl. "I was going to go to the bookstore first, but since you're here, you could go to breakfast with me. You're the only other magical person I know that can talk. My sister-Trudy-is only nine months old."
"I-uh, I only have enough money for the bus," said Harry.
"That's ok," said Hermione. "Mummy gave me enough money for breakfast and lunch. I can have breakfast with you and go home for lunch."
She was offering to buy him food, but Harry didn't much like charity. Then again, it was free food. And Harry never turned down free food.
"Ok," he said. "I'm Harry Potter."
"Hermione Granger," she said brightly. "You know I'm a witch?"
"You feel like one," said Harry, as if it explained it all. Judging by the look on Hermione's face, it did. "Why did you think I was a werewolf?"
Hermione bit her lip, looking down. "I always saw you on the morning after the full moon and the… aura looked like an animal. And anyway, do you know how rare feline lycanthropy is in the UK?"
"Very," said Harry. "Wolves have more of a… I'd have to point it out. But once I did, you'd understand."
"Oh," said Hermione.
**
Hermione tilted her head to the side, listening to Harry describe what transforming felt like. They'd chosen a corner booth which allowed both Harry and Hermione to have their back to a wall-Harry had insisted.
It was a small café, one of only three establishments in Hillsdale where one could procure food. The other two being a rather fancy restaurant and the local pub.
Between words, Harry happily munched on an omelet and toast. As Hermione listened, her disillusionment grew. Neither knew that this would be the day Hermione realized that those in authority could be wrong, that books were not always right, adults could be wrong, and before anything else, one had to be willing to be proven wrong to truly learn. Nor did the two children know how large an impact this would have on their lives, particularly Hermione's.
"A-are you going to tell anyone?" whispered Harry. "Y-you're the only one I've told, and you figured out on your own."
"No," said Hermione, shaking her head. "But what about your family?"
"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon think anybody with magic should be put to death," said Harry. "Aunt Petunia always calls people like you and I unnatural frea-"
In that moment Harry's eyes changed from their normal green to yellow-green cat eyes. Hermione bit her lip, wondering if she should be worried about Harry's sudden change. She could feel and see his aura growing stronger, like it wanted to get out.
"Harry, we're in a public place," hissed Hermione. "You need to calm down."
He took several deep breaths as his aura calmed. After a minute or two, Harry's eyes returned to normal.
"What's wrong?" asked Hermione.
"Aunt Petunia called me a freak. She doesn't know about the… leopard thing and she called me a freak." Harry took another deep breath. "She only calls witches and psychics and lycanthropes and vampires freaks. She's called Mom and Dad freaks before as well." For a moment his eyes flashed to leopard eyes. "Mom and Dad had magic and so do I. And she never told me." Harry started to growl. "She hates all magic and she knew. She knew that Mom and Dad were special and magical and she said nothing."
"I-oh god," said Hermione. "Th-that's horrible. How can you live with her?"
"It's better than the alternative," announced Harry. "At least I know why Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hate me. I have to-I have to have more magic than just the leopard."
**
Leopold and Bronwyn Granger were a bit surprised when Hermione asked if a friend could stay the next weekend, but quite happy. They'd known that Hermione didn't have very many friends and the prospect of a child coming for a sleepover was a happy event.
And when they did meet Harry Potter, he seemed like such a nice boy. The two children had spent most of Saturday and Sunday either holed up in Hermione's room or playing outside. The very idea of their daughter doing something that did not involve books was wonderful.
Though they'd never met Harry's family and were quite sure the boy did not live in Hillsdale, neither said anything. After the first time Harry slept over, the boy could be found at the Granger residence on the weekends more often than not and occasionally during the week as well.
Leopold was just grateful that Hermione had finally found a friend. Bronwyn, on the other hand, spent a great deal of time trying her best to feed the boy as much as possible. She was sure that his family was… not quite as well off as her own, and as a result, Harry rarely got enough to eat. Harry didn't bother to correct her. Free food was free food.
**
Harry moved a piece of string for a half grown kitten. It was the last of its litter to still live with Mrs. Figg. Apparently none of the stores wanted to buy the squashed face, bow-legged ginger tabby. Harry really couldn't understand why.
With Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley visiting Aunt Marge for the weekend, Harry had been left in Mrs. Figg's care. He would have much preferred to sleep over at Hermione's house, but that wasn't possible. The Dursleys hadn't questioned his absences yet, but if they were brought to their attention, Harry knew it would become much harder to sneak away.
"What's his name?" asked Harry.
"I've been calling him Crookshanks, but whoever buys him will probably name him something else," said Mrs. Figg.
Looking at Crookshanks, Harry thought of the upcoming holiday. It was only days before school broke for Christmas break. He'd already been invited to come for Christmas by the Grangers, an invitation he'd gladly accepted. It was doubtful that the Dursleys would even notice he was gone, and hopefully he'd miss the traditional Boxing Day beating from Uncle Vernon.
"What will you do if nobody buys him?"
"Keep him, I suppose," she said.
"How much does he cost?"
"I-Harry dear, I don't think your aunt and uncle would let you have a cat," said Mrs. Figg, looking a bit sad.
"I know, but Hermione loves cats," explained Harry. "And I need to get her a Christmas present and Crookshanks needs and home and I'll ask her mom and dad and everything and Hermione really likes cats."
""Who's Hermione?"
"She's my best friend. I sleep over at her house all the time," added Harry. "I was suppose to go today but then Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon asked you to baby-sit."
"Do you know Hermione's phone number?" asked Mrs. Figg. "I want to talk to her parents. If they agree, I'll talk to you about how much Crookshanks costs, alright?"
Harry nodded, a large grin on his face. The first real smile Mrs. Figg had ever seen on the boy. He raced to the phone and began to dial a number from memory.
"Granger residence," said Bronwyn Granger, answering the phone on the third ring.
"Hi Mrs. Granger," said Harry.
"Oh, hullo Harry," said Bronwyn. "I'll put Hermione on the phone."
`Wait," said Harry. "I wanted to ask you about Hermione's Christmas present. Well, Mrs. Figg wanted to talk to you about it."
"Who's Mrs. Figg?"
"My babysitter," said Harry. "I'm staying with her this weekend."
"Could I speak to Mrs. Granger?" asked Mrs. Figg.
"Ok." Harry handed her the phone.
**
Micah Callahan couldn't help but be grateful that there were no actual wereleopard pards in the United Kingdom. The Maneater Clan had to deal with neither shapeshifter politics nor taking over another pard.
He was still unsure why Chimera wanted to be in London. There were only werewolf packs within fifty miles. Although he was supposed to be giving some sort of speech. Perhaps it was just the speech.
While they could not do anything that day, Micah knew that Chimera would let them explore London the next, so long as a member of the pard stayed behind. He once again cursed Merle for allowing the pard to be taken over.
On an intellectual level, Micah knew that he would have been unable to do any better than Merle had against Chimera, but Micah had to direct his anger somewhere. At least he had calmed somewhat. It was more important to figure out how to survive than it was to play the blame game. Survival came before anything else.
**
Hermione had been overjoyed. She'd taken to bringing Crookshanks with her wherever she went, something Harry had no problem with. He was rather fond of the cat as well.
Early June found Harry on his way to London. Neither he nor Hermione had access to any good books on magic. After quite a bit of research, and several conversations with local werewolves, Harry had a list of stores to check and witches to speak to.
Harry found the pity the local werewolves felt for him insulting, but he was not above using that pity to his own advantage. He knew that if he'd been several years older, many of those werewolves wouldn't have given him the time of day.
Harry had spent the months since Christmas saving his money. He stuck to visiting Hermione only twice a month. The morning after the full moon and one weekend a month near the new moon. Luckily Hermione understood that Harry wanted to save his money for any books he might find. Hermione had also given him all the money in her piggy bank for any book he might think was worth buying.
By midday, he'd visited all the witches on his list and three stores. In his backpack were five books. Two on potions, one on a type of shapeshifting called Animagus (Hermione had specifically requested that he find a book on non-lycanthrope shapeshifting and the Animagus transformation was the only type he'd found that involved neither the pelt of a lycanthrope nor a curse), and another two books that had been recommended by a rather powerful (and ancient) witch by the name of Lorelei. She'd said they were the best ones to start learning magic from.
Lorelei had given him the name of another bookstore as well. One she'd said was cheaper than the others on his list and had a better quality of work. She'd also invited Hermione and him to attend one of her coven's meetings, although Lorelei had been quite understanding when Harry had told her that Hermione's parents didn't know she was a witch. At that point, Lorelei had given Harry her phone number and told him to be sure that he and Hermione called if they had any trouble with magic or needed advice.
Unfortunately the bookstore Lorelei had recommended had quite a large selection of books on a multitude of subjects, which was why Harry was in a phone booth calling Hermione to ask her opinion.
**
Micah paused, blinking in surprise. For a moment he thought himself mistaken, but a closer inspection was enough to confirm his suspicions. The child in the phone booth in front of him was a lycanthrope. A wereleopard to be exact.
Never before had Micah encountered a lycanthrope so young. The child couldn't have been more then ten. The child was rather powerful for his age as well. Perhaps not as powerful as Caleb, but combined with the magic he could feel coming off the boy, Micah was quite sure that the boy would eventually grow to be one of the more powerful wereleopards around.
The boy didn't seem to have noticed Micah's presence, but that was understandable. Micah was shielding rather heavily. He couldn't hear the person the boy was talking to, but he could hear was the boy was saying.
"… so do you want a book on charms or one on transfiguration?" asked Harry. "Well, there were a couple books on rituals, but I don't think you want to use animal sacrifice… Uh, there was a book on spells and potions that needed to be said or used during certain lunar phases. It looked pretty cool. There were a couple on divination… No, there's only enough money left for three more books if I want to get back to Surrey without begging or hitch hiking." The boy paused. "Well, I'm sure we'd be able to get more books later. And Lorelei said we were both welcome in her coven… I think she's about as trustworthy as Mrs. Figg… I dunno… Right. I'll get you those books."
With that the boy hung up the phone and turned around. He stopped short, staring at Micah. He knew, in that moment, that the boy had recognized him as a fellow wereleopard.
The boy looked down first, acknowledging Micah's dominance. After a moment he stepped out of the phone booth.
"Who are you?" asked the boy. "I'm the only one in the nearest seven counties."
"Micah, of the Maneater Clan," he said. "We'll be gone in a week or two."
"Oh," said the boy. "I'm Harry. I don't really have a clan thingy."
"Pard," said Micah. "Wolves have packs, we have pards."
"Oh." He bit his lip. "Uh, I need to go buy some books. I have to catch my train before four if I'm going to get back in time for dinner."
"If you want, after you buy your books, I'll buy you a late lunch." The boy was far too thin. Obviously he hadn't been getting enough to eat. "I'll tell you everything I can about wereleopards before you catch your train."
Everything about the boy from his scarred face to demeanor to clothing not even thrift stores would accept told Micah quite a bit about Harry. Somebody had to teach the young wereleopard about their culture, and obviously nobody had before. If not for Chimera, Micah would seriously consider offering Harry a place in the pard. But he wouldn't bring a child into that. Even a child who happened to be a rather powerful wizard and an alpha shifter.
**
"I have a place to go during the full moon," assured Harry. "And none of the werewolves use it so I can hunt in peace."
Micah nodded his acceptance. "Do you still have trouble stopping yourself from shifting if you smell blood or remembering what happened while you're in your leopard form?"
"I haven't had any problems like that in more than a year," said Harry. "Hermione gave me a book on meditation. It really helped."
"Hermione?"
"My best friend. She's a witch and the only non-shifter that knows what I am. Well, she's my only friend."
Micah raised an eyebrow.
"Hermione's the only person I haven't wanted to stalk. She doesn't feel like food and most of the time I want to hunt the other kids, not play with them. Alright, her younger sister feels the same, but Gertrude is only three."
Another nod. Micah wrote out something on a napkin. "If you're ever in trouble-serious trouble-call this number. It's my parent's phone number. They know what I am, so you can explain that it's a shifter thing without worry. I try to call them once a week, so it might take a while for me to get the message. Just remember, it's an international call to the United States of America."
Harry took the napkin and Micah's pen. "Thanks. This is Hermione's number. She knows how to contact me." Harry ducked his head down. "How come I can't really feel you? I can always feel the others from fifty meters away."
"I'm shielding," said Micah. "Meditation is a very good beginning to learning to shield. Once you have meditation down, you want to…"
It took a little over an hour to explain everything about shielding from how to stop somebody from feeling your magic to how to protect one's mind from a vampire. Harry wrote down three pages of notes on top of the fourteen pages of notes he had on wereleopards and nine on other types of shifters. Micah had said it was acceptable to take notes only because Harry was unlikely to encounter another wereleopard anytime soon or learn what Micah was teaching him from anybody else.
**
Harry and Hermione spent a great deal of studying magic on top of their schoolwork. Hermione had studied the Animagus transformation incessantly, but was unable to attempt it. One of the steps involved a complicated potion with ingredients Hermione didn't have access to.
By the summer Harry turned eleven, the Dursleys had grown so used to Harry's disappearances that they didn't even notice if he was gone for days at a time. However, when Harry was at Number 4, his relatives treated him much the same as they usually did.
The pity the local werewolves felt for him had dropped sharply in the two years since the first and last time he'd met a fellow wereleopard. Nine werewolves had challenged him in the past year and a half. Only three still lived-mostly because Harry didn't like the idea of killing a woman.
At first the idea of killing had disturbed Harry, but as time went by it'd stopped bothering him as much. That was not to say that he endorsed the idea of killing, but he no long had a problem doing what needed to be done.
Not that he'd bothered to tell Hermione everything about what life as a shifter was like. Oh, she knew that he'd had to hurt people, but she had no idea that he'd killed. Harry had explained that a lone shifter had to be tough enough to win any fight that might come along or they would become everybody's meat, but Hermione hadn't quite realized what winning meant.
The Grangers had taken the news that Hermione and Harry were witches rather well. Once they'd proven they were capable of doing magic, the two dentists had agreed to drive Hermione and Harry to the meetings held by the coven Lorelei was in charge of. While they were a bit put out by the idea of both their daughters having magic, neither gave any sign of fear or prejudice.
As for the coven… as far as any of them other than Lorelei knew, Harry was not in any way shape or form a lycanthrope. Micah's lesson on shielding had proven to be very useful. The witches were more than happy to teach Hermione and Harry magic, although several were jealous of how powerful both children were.
At the moment both children were napping in the Grangers' back yard. The night before had been the new moon and Harry and Hermione had been up rather late doing several spells and potions that could only be made or said during that part of the lunar phase. Mrs. Granger had come out at dawn to put a blanket over the children before returning inside.
At precisely nine in the morning, Hermione and Harry awoke to feel the wards around the Granger residence being triggered. Since the person entering the property was a witch but did not have any negative intentions toward any of the residents, the wards only warned them.
**
Minerva McGonagal stopped short. She'd come to give the Muggleborn witch, Hermione Granger her letter of acceptance to Hogwarts and explain magic, which wass why the wards around the property had surprised her. From what she could feel, the wards were rather well made and very powerful.
"What is the reason for your presence here?" said a soft, feminine voice.
Minerva turned to see a young girl with loose, knee length brown curls. She wore a plain shirt and skirt.
"Miss Granger, I presume," said Minerva. At the girl's nod, she continued. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagal, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"Never heard of it before," said a boy.
Minerva spun around, trying to hide her shock. Nobody had been able to sneak up on her since she'd become an animagus six decades earlier. While animagi were not as powerful as a lycanthrope, they generally had all the abilities of a lycanthrope on a smaller scale.
The boy in front of was a bit on the short side with shaggy black hair that touched his shoulders, a large scar that ran from his right temple to the bottom of his left jaw, and eyes a shade of green rarely seen.
"Mr. Potter," said Minerva. "You should be receiving your Hogwarts letter in three weeks." She paused. "Your Aunt and Uncle didn't tell you about Hogwarts? Both your mother and father attended."
He gave her a measuring look. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon don't like magic. She's telling the truth, Hermione."
"Mum should be making breakfast," said Hermione. "I'm sure we'll have enough for you, Professor."
"Thank you, Miss Granger."
**
"Hogwarts is very selective about students," explained Minerva. "Only the most powerful witches and wizards with the correct type of magic are invited. The witches you hear about, while powerful either do not posses the right type of magic, or were not powerful enough to attend Hogwarts."
"What do you mean by `right type of magic'?" asked Harry.
This was going a bit better than usual, mostly because Mr. and Mrs. Granger had already known that their daughters were witches. Apparently both Hermione and Harry had become involved with the Muggle witches. Minerva wasn't quite sure of what to make of that. While the Muggle witches were powerful in their own right, many of their techniques were banned in the Wizarding world.
"Muggle witches use nature and ritual most of the time," said Minerva. "Our type is capable of using magical foci to do more powerful spells. Most Muggle witches are incapable of using anything other than a familiar as a focus." Minerva paused. "Perhaps you would like to see an example of how Muggle and Wizarding magic differ?"
Both children nodded. With a wave of her wand, Minerva transformed her teacup into a dog. Hermione gasped while Harry examined the dog.
"How hard is that spell?" asked Harry.
"Most fourth years can manage it with ease," said Minerva, turning the dog back into a teacup.
The Grangers had told Minerva at the beginning that the decision of whether or not to attend Hogwarts was Hermione's, not theirs. So when Harry began to quiz her, she was not surprised.
"What's the tuition? What classes are offered? How many years is Hogwarts? Do we get any vacations? Where is Hogwarts? Why have I never heard of Hogwarts before?"
Minerva cut him off before Harry could ask any more questions. "Tuition is free, you only need to buy your supplies and uniform…"
**
"Mr. Potter needs to access his trust vault," Professor McGonagal said sharply.
"I have a vault?" said Harry. He'd thought that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had taken whatever his parents had left him.
"Several, Mr. Potter. However your trust vault is the only one you may remove money from until you come of age at seventeen," explained Professor McGonagal.
"Oh," said Harry. "Could I have my key or whatever it is?"
The goblin narrowed its eyes. "You do not have your keys?"
"Nope."
"Put a drop of blood on this stone," said the goblin. "A new set of keys will be made momentarily. The old keys will be destroyed."
With a mental shrug, Harry bit a finger hard enough to draw blood. He let a drop of blood hit the stone before bringing his finger back to his mouth to suck on it. It was a human enough action that nobody would notice he was really cleaning the wound to help it heal faster.
"Everything is in order, Mr. Potter," said the goblin, handing Harry a ring with nine keys on it.
"Thanks."
"I shall help the Grangers exchange their money while you go to your vault," said McGonagal. "There are twenty-nine bronze knuts to a silver sickle, seventeen sickles to a gold galleon. Five pounds to a galleon. You will need at least twenty galleons for your school supplies. If you want a familiar, I would recommend taking out thirty galleons."
"Thank you Professor," said Harry. "Hermione, want to come with?"
"Can I?" Hermione asked her parents. At their nod, she moved to stand next to Harry. Neither noticed the odd look that passed across Professor McGonagal's face.
"Can I visit my other vaults? I know I can't take any money."
McGonagal nodded. "I don't see why not. You're only banned from removing actual money. I believe some of your parents' possessions should still be in the family vault." She handed him the supply list. "You should be able to find most of your school supplies."
A goblin cleared his throat. Harry blushed slightly, then led Hermione off to the waiting cart. The goblin gave Hermione a speculative look, but said nothing other than to ask which vault to take them to.
"Trust vault," said Harry.
When they arrived, Harry quickly tossed thirty galleons into his bag, only taking the time to note that there was enough money in it to last his entire Hogwarts education.
"Potter Family vault, please," said Harry.
Several minutes later, they stood outside a large vault with the word Potter carved into the top. Once the door opened, Harry couldn't help but gasp. To the left side were mountains of gold and jewels. To the right were all sorts of furniture, weapons, jewelry, and portraits.
"Hermione, help me find my parent's trunks," said Harry.
It didn't take them long to find the trunks near a large portrait of a man and woman. There were three trunks, labeled JCP, LRE, and SOB. Using the trunk labeled JCP to hold everything, Hermione and Harry put one copy of each book they could find into it along with any personal items they found in either of the other two trunks. All of the old potions ingredients were put into the trunk labeled SOB.
While Hermione looked at the other books in the vault, Harry found several weapons that might be useful. Two sets of knives, a machete, and a sword. Before returning to Hermione, he grabbed a necklace he thought beautiful. Harry slipped the sword, machete, knives, and necklace into his father's trunk while Hermione was distracted.
Once they returned to the surface, Professor McGonagal shrunk Harry's trunk for him with a promise to unshrink it once they returned to Mr. and Mrs. Granger's car. With that they set off to Madame Malkin's to buy school robes.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"When was the last time the uniform changed?" asked Harry.
"Uniform hasn't changed," said McGonagal. "It's the same as it was when the school first opened."
"So, I could wear my father's school robes, right?" said Harry (he found the scents on the robes rather comforting, even though he knew that after a cleaning or two, his father's scent would be washed away).
"I don't see why not," said McGonagal.
Several hours later, Harry and Hermione found themselves in Ollivander's to buy their first wands. Unlike most in the Wizarding world, they were familiar with magical foci, and had on occasion, used Hermione's familiar Crookshanks as a focus for particularly difficult spells.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, I've been expecting you," said Ollivander. Unlike McGonagal and the Grangers, Harry and Hermione had felt Ollivander's presence.
Several minutes later, Hermione had a vine wood and dragon heartstring wand while Harry was still trying wands. Nearly an hour passed before Harry received a holly and phoenix feather wand, the brother of the wand belonging to Voldemort. Apparently this Voldemort person had killed his parents before Harry had killed him.
Harry had been a bit hesitant about buying a familiar. Most animals were terrified of him. Seconds after he entered the store, only a beautiful snowy owl remained. The other birds had flown to the rafters in an attempt to avoid Harry.
Harry rolled his eyes before offering his arm to the owl. When she landed on it, he happily paid the clerk. McGonagal had pursed her lips, a serious look on her face, but said nothing.
"What are you going to name her?" asked Hermione.
Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I'll name her before Hogwarts starts."
**
"Minerva?" asked Albus Dumbledore.
"Miss Granger and Mr. Potter had both enrolled in Hogwarts," Minerva said. "Since Mr. Potter was with Miss Granger when I arrived, I gave him his Hogwarts letter and took him with Miss Granger to Diagon Alley."
"What was Harry doing with Miss Granger?" asked Albus.
"From what I understand, they are rather close friends and have known each other for several years."
Albus nodded. "Very well. Who are you seeing tomorrow?"
"A Mr. Boot."
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