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Breakfast on Friday started with some interesting rumors. Word had trickled down to us from the prefects, who had gotten it from the heads of houses. That Quirrell was finished with the muggle part of our curriculum and would be moving on to other things.

It honestly surprised me. Even with all the changes I had noticed. I hadn't honestly expected Quirrell to be reined in. And that's what must have happened. There's no way he was stopping on his own, no matter how nicely framed - moving on from that part of the curriculum, had been put.

I also did not relish how his actions made absolutely no sense, if he was Quirrelmort. Why would he draw attention to himself? What was his plan? Was he even in league with Voldemort? Was the stone even here? The third corridor was forbidden as it was in canon… But I couldn't see how the stone would actually be here, and not under a Fidelius or something. Was the third corridor just bait? At least Quirrell being reined in would hopefully make DADA slightly more palatable.

Of course as we sit down for breakfast and I am told the reason Quirrell had been reined in, I choked on my breakfast.

"Potter blew up the classroom!?" I cough out, Neville tries to be a pal by giving me a pat on the back, it's barely there and weak, but it's the thought that counts. Besides, he looks pretty dead on his feet this morning for some reason. I shake my head in disbelief. "That's got to be a rumor mill exaggeration. I don't believe it." If Harry never blew up Snape or Umbridge, what on earth did Quirrell say, I mean other than the shit he already told us…

"Well I heard it from Parvati, who had the DADA class with them, and Potter blew himself and Granger up, and ended up sent to the hospital wing." Padma reiterates calmly. She cocks her head slightly, eying the Gryffindor table. "Parvati could have been lying of course," This was said in a tone that intimated her skepticism at that. "Granger has joined Weasley and Potter at the table, however."

We all look over. And sure enough, the golden trio seems to be a thing now. Although Ron looks mightily annoyed, no troll this time to tie him to the friendship - that's going to make things interesting, I bet.

Hermione and Harry are both keeping their heads down, obviously aware most of the hall is taking peeks at them now and then. Thank you Harry for living up to your role and taking the attention off me. I think with relish.

"I don't believe it, if Potter blew Granger up, why would they be friends now?" Susan says, shaking her head firmly. "It's ridiculous."

"That actually makes me believe it more, now." I admit, spearing a sausage, pondering this new development. Last time around a near death experience worked, so why not this time too. Although I doubt they'd been near death, it probably felt like it to two regular muggle raised eleven year olds though. They'd be used to the muggle thought of how absolutely deadly an explosion was. Not yet aware that magicals bodies were tougher, and the many varied ways a witch or wizard could heal from almost anything short of a cut off head.

In a culture where having your arm cut off just meant you apparated or floo'd to St.Mungos and got it fixed up again in time for dinner, injuries were really not seen as a big deal unless it was dark magic or something of that sort. Those muggle raised though, probably would have a hard time accepting such a culture shock. I'd already studied enough, and talked with Tonks, to understand how the magical world could see it that way, so to me, it wasn't a big deal at this point.

Pain was easily dealt with through numerous spells or potions, most injuries healed immediately or within the night at most. So no point in crying about it. The magical world has existed and mostly done fine over thousands of years, certainly better and for the most part fairer than the muggle world during the same time period. So I wasn't going to judge. Fairer being the term for witches and wizards of course. They still sucked when it came to relations and laws for anyone else.

"Of course that makes you believe it more." Hannah rolls her eyes. Tossing a biscuit at me. Jokes on her, I love biscuits. I haven't found any food at Hogwarts that hasn't tasted amazing. Now drinks on the other hand…

"They should have blown up Quirrell." Su says, viciously tearing into her breakfast. Adorable. She's still pissed on my behalf.

"I take full responsibility for the influence that has turned Su into this murderous person." I say smugly. Raising a fist to Neville. Who tiredly fist bumps me, half his face in his eggs.

"No murders, Su." Susan says firmly. She sends a warning look at Hannah who was about to open her mouth to no doubt support Su's murder plot. "No Hannah." And she reaches over and pulls Neville's head off his plate, "Did you not get any sleep, Neville?" She asks gently. Susan Bones is a mother hen. Interesting. I think, watching in amusement as Neville blearily blinks at us. Before sending a weak glare my way.

"Someone was practicing spells, and made the dorm room emit a loud honk every few minutes, for the entire night!." He grumbles.

Everyone looks at me with judgemental eyes. I raise my hands in the air in front of me. "Hey, it was just a prank spell, I had some… Minor issues making it stop. I silenced both our beds just fine." When I woke up this morning it was gone, so I figured it all had worked out.

"Mine wore off in an hour." Neville growls. Bags under his eyes as he glares at me, "And I don't know the silencing charm!"

I blink. Oh. That's totally my bad then. "Yikes, sorry Nev, that's totally on me." I say feeling a bit guilty. I had slept like a baby after all. That would explain why he had practically sleepwalked to breakfast. And the bloke was just too nice to go wake me up to reapply it. Now I definitely feel bad.

I had played around trying to modify the prank spells Tonks taught me and had encountered some minor difficulties last night. I realize now, thinking back on it, that I had fully concentrated on what I was doing, silencing my bed. And then as an afterthought tossed the charm at Neville's bed. So it didn't last, then. The same spell, the same purpose. The more magic I do, the more I seem to be correct in that my focus and intent is more important than even the wand movements or words.

"At least we only have our afternoon classes until 3:30, due to Astronomy tonight, so you can nap all afternoon." Hannah says cheerfully, tossing another biscuit, this time at Neville. Of course his reflexes might be slightly delayed at the moment - not that they were great normally. He gives Hannah a dirty look as it bounces off his face. Before he slowly droops down on the table again.

"Susan, control your other half." Padma says with a tiny smirk on her face. Both Su and I laugh, as Susan turns an exasperated stare onto a blushing, giggling, Hannah.

"It should be a crime to schedule Astronomy on a Friday." I say as soon as our giggles wear off. All of us politely ignore that Neville is now snoring into his eggs.

"I like it better this way." Su says quietly. "No morning classes."

Ooh, she better not say that near the Ravenclaw table. I think jokingly. I acknowledge the point, however. I personally like morning classes the best, nothing better to get my mind revving in the morning. As long as it wasn't Binns, of course. But everyone else probably liked the chance to sleep in on a Saturday after having Astronomy better.

"Are any of you going to the Quidditch trials this weekend?" Justin Finch-Fletchley interjects, asking us from the perimeter of our little friend group. The Finch-Fletchley, Macmillan and Smith trio are usually the ones seated next to us for some reason.

"Quidditch, bah. I'm not wasting time watching seven people fly around when I could be reading in the library." I scoff. Screw broomsticks when I could study stuff like how to become an Animagus… Not that I am that ambitious… Yet.

"They're doing trials for all the teams though, it sounds so interesting, Quidditch I mean." Justin says enthusiastically. "Not at all like footy, is it?" He puffs his chest out slightly, "If I had gone to Eton, I would have definitely made the footy team, it's in my genes."

I'm caught on one word in all of that. And it isn't Quidditch, or footy. "What do you mean, all the teams?" I ask suspiciously. I doubted all four houses held their trials at the same time - Slytherin and Gryffindor would end up in a brawl that way.

My friends all look at me. I look back. "Muggleborn." I remind them, rolling my eyes.

"You're extremely inconsistent on what you know and you don't know, how can we know when you're clueless at this point?" Padma says dryly. Before copying me and rolling her eyes, "That said I am not talking about Quidditch of all ridiculous things," She grabs Su's arm, "Come along Su, let's go get some more intellectually stimulating conversation." Su waves with a small smile as she's unceremoniously dragged away to the Ravenclaw table.

I wonder how badly she'd hex me if I tell her that was such a Parvati move, well except for the talk about intellectually stimulating conversation. I think amusedly.

"Sooo, Quidditch isn't just one team for each house?" I ask, starting out with the basics. Canon only had the four teams, so what was different here…

Macmillan looks at me weirdly from where he sits next to Justin. "What? And have only three games a year, per house? Sounds dreadfully boring, I'd say."

Well… He's not wrong. I thought the whole premise of Quidditch was dumb, partly, because of the fact it only involved 28 students entirely. Hufflepuff alone had, through the seven years, over 150 students... "So that didn't actually answer my question." I point out dryly, turning away from these Puffs, and turn to my Puffs. "Hannah, go with the 'splainy."

"Like I'm a Quidditch expert." She snorts. She runs a hand down her pigtails, giving me a teasing look, "I like it better when you don't know something." She decides. "Maybe ask Smith?" Her eyes are doing the Dumbledore twinkle. Is that like a spell … Or a natural skill?

"Smith, who?" I say distractedly, as I ponder whether or not Hannah Abbot has put a spell on her eyes to make them twinkle. Almost face palming a moment later as I realize I honestly hadn't clued into the fact - in the moment, just now remembering Zacharias last name was Smith. And despite deciding to leave off him, I'd accidentally kept the gag going.

I ignore the burning eyes on me, turning to Susan, my last hope. She's already giving me a stubborn look, telling me without words that she's going to follow Hannah's lead. Mean. Everyone was mean to me, really.

I have a secret weapon however. I point at Neville, "If you don't tell me, Susan… I'll have to wake Neville and ask him."

I can see her stubborn look crumbling already, as she sends a glance over to the snoring boy, biting her lip.

"I say, he's entirely forgotten we were part of the conversation." Macmillan says, sounding annoyed.

Justin shrugs, "He does that alot." Hey… That's … Factual actually. Oops.

To be honest, it's hard for me to really overly care about the other students that aren't my friends. I'm just not that nice of a person that random eleven year olds are going to hold my full polite attention if my mind is elsewhere. Even my friends struggle to keep my attention sometimes as some magic question pops into my head suddenly.

"He can still hear you. But as you weren't being helpful, he turned to his friends." I say dryly to the two Puffs. "If you're able to explain, I'll gladly listen to your superior knowledge in this subject."

"Come off it, Greenwood. It's common knowledge." Zacharias spits out. Glaring at me angrily as usual.

"Then you won't have an issue sharing it, will you?" I say raising an eyebrow. Looking straight at him with a polite little smile.

Everyone stares at me, Zacharias mouth is open in gaping shock, his eyes bugged out as he stares back at me.

"What?" I say, an innocent expression on my face.

"You're talking to me?" Zacharias sputters out. Susan and Hannah both are looking at me with skeptical faces.

I raise an eyebrow, "Yes… That's why I spoke words in your direction after you spoke words in my direction." I answer sweetly, a butter won't melt kind of smile on my face.

"But you've been ignoring me all week!? You can't even remember my name!?" Zacharias bites out, pure frustration in his voice.

I give him a pitying look, "That's kind of mean, Zach. You're in my year, why on earth would you think I don't know who you are?"

"Oh, Merlin…" Susan sighs, putting her face in her hands, also successfully hiding her smile - the little sneak. Hannah pats her shoulder, a large smirk on her face as she watches the absolute confusion on Zacharias face, and on the other two Hufflepuff boys as well who can't seem to believe what is happening.

"Y-you! Arrghh!" Zacharias turns back to his breakfast, completely ignoring me, face red, his body language telling of his absolute frustration with me.

"It's like the guy's totally forgotten about me." I shake my head sadly. Not able to completely control the upturn of my lips as I try not to smirk. I'm definitely an asshole, yup. Totally confirmed. I think, trying not to chuckle. I'll have to lay off now though, the gag has pretty much run its course for now…

"You are such a….Hmph!" Susan mutters, shaking her head, even punching Hannah's shoulder as the pigtailed girl breaks out into giggles. "Don't encourage him, Hannah!"

I shrug, "Hey, this would all have been over, if everytime I asked about Quidditch teams, someone answered me instead of snarking at me or giving me an answer that provides no information whatsoever." I point out, gently poking Neville to see if he's alive. A particularly loud snore answers me.

"Fine, I'll tell you." Susan sighs, "Before you manage to create any more trouble." She's trying to look at me sternly, it's not really working very well with the way her lips keep twitching like that. She can play goody two shoes all she wants. I know she finds my antics funny.

"Hogwarts has two Quidditch leagues. One for first years through to fourth years only to play in, they play for the Memorial cup. Headmaster Armando Dippet instituted the league in 1926." Susan explains, and for someone not that into Quidditch, she seems to know her stuff, "The Quidditch cup is played for by the fifth to seventh years, although they can recruit any of the younger years to their teams, and was the only Quidditch cup up until 1926." She seems to think of if there is anything to add, before continuing briefly, "If a younger year gets chosen for the Quidditch Cup team they can't play for the Memorial cup team."

Memorial cup, huh? Memorial for who I wonder. And it shows that whatever deviation from canon exists, deviated that far back. Now I kind of wish I had asked the hat about its comments about someone like me, in the late 1800's.

"I thought us first years couldn't play. The letter mentioned no brooms for first years." I point out, wondering what would change with this new revelation. Would Harry Potter end up on the Memorial cup team? Or was he good enough for the Quidditch cup? Did it matter in the end? Quidditch surely didn't affect his Voldemort vanquishing abilities.

"First years can play, but they can't have their own brooms." Susan confirms, seeing my questioning look, she explains further. "All Quidditch matches and practices are supervised by Madame Hooch, the flying instructor. So even a first year student shouldn't be able to get into too much trouble on a broom if they're good enough to make it onto a team."

"But a first year with their own broom, might go flying alone, not be nearly as good as they thought, and end up in the forbidden forest or something, right?" I continue the thread to its logical conclusion. Makes sense, a first year bragging about his flying skills might end up doing something really dumb with their own broom…

Susan nods, before continuing. "Usually for the Memorial cup teams, Madame Hooch devises their strategy and trains them from what I've been told, unless they have a really good fourth year or something to take over for her. While the students themselves have a Quidditch captain running the older teams."

"Huh, thanks, Susan. I guess there are some things interesting about Quidditch after all." I say with a small smile.

Hannah rolls her eyes, "Of course you'd like the history of Quidditch but not the sport itself."

"History is interesting." I defend myself, playfully twirling my fork in my hand and deflecting the thrown biscuit I get from Hannah, again. I've noticed the girl likes to throw food at people, no wonder she becomes an innkeeper.

Soon enough we have to wake up Neville for our first class. I'm even nice enough to use Scourgify to clean all the egg off his face. He still walks like a zombie though.

The Quidditch discussion continues in-between classes, providing me with all I'd ever need to know about the sport. The only really interesting tidbit, the fact that the Memorial Cup winning team, and the Quidditch Cup winning team, actually play each other after in sort of a grand finale. An event usually attended by family and guests as well as the Minister of Magic. Usually the older team wins, but there's been several memorable Memorial cup teams that's snagged the win since 1926. The winning team members receive a medal of excellence from the Minister. And a full team photo on the cover of the Daily Prophet, with the minister, of course.

While it was not that much different from canon. Only adding another seven players and perhaps some alternates per house. It did again seem to highlight how the magical world enjoyed to show off, have grand events and make a big deal out of even a school tournament. No wonder they had such a hard on for the Triwizard tournament.

I also realize, watching everyone around me, even the sleep deprived Neville - and the two girls who had said they didn't much care for Quidditch - chat excitedly about tryouts. That I'd no doubt be dragged along.

Whether I liked it or not.

Troublesome.

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After classes, while Neville begs off to sleep, I claim library time as an excuse to ditch the Hufflepuff common room for the Undercroft. Susan and Hannah love our common room, so a trip to the library our first week isn't on their agenda. So everyone's happy. Except maybe Neville, he might still hold a tiny grudge. I would have to make it up to him somehow.

I spend a short amount of time getting rid of the dust and dirt that's accumulated across the Undercroft. Obviously no house elves come in here, due to the Fidelius charm. I make small talk with Sebastian as I do, Ominis still giving me the cold shoulder. I'm not sure how I'll convince him to give me a shot. The truth is more outlandish than any lie. And I'm not sure I'll ever trust anyone to tell them the truth.

Even to a painting that can't leave the Fidelius charmed chamber. For all I know the secret keeper is a Death Eater and will return one day, or tell the secret to his spawn.

It was especially pointless to tell anyone anyway as my knowledge is becoming more and more obsolete for every day that goes by. Can I even trust that the same people are Death Eaters? So much has changed. I've already, somewhere in my mind, given up on my plot to avoid canon. The honest truth is in my face.

Harry Potter will not win.

Not in this world. Not as things stand.

I have knowledge, even if not perfect foreknowledge due to the changes. I have my foray into Divination. My growing magical skills. My soon to be prodigy reputation. I could help.

Scratch that, I should help. I can't afford to let the golden trio scramble along in this kind of world.

Quirrell alone already seems like an insurmountable obstacle. I don't even want to imagine the Riddle Horcrux in second year and the basilisk, perhaps Lockhart was even competent, which would be scary with his affinity for mind related spells.

And above all. If Voldemort actually was marginally intelligent and not a caricature of a villain that just does cruelty for cruelty's sake… Well… I better hope Dumbledore actually fights in this reality in that case.

I look down at the heavy roll of parchment that had been thrust into my hand after Herbology with the Gryffindors earlier today. Hermione Granger's promised questionnaire. As I had thought, she'd somehow managed to find over two hundred questions to ask me. In less than a week. Yet, this was my way into the golden trio. Befriend Hermione.

I unroll the parchment, scoffing in disbelief as I see the neat tiny handwriting covering every inch of parchment. This really was an attempt by her to make friends. Why else would she add questions like what my favorite color is? Trust Hermione Granger to attempt a friendship through a detailed questionnaire about their likes and wants.

Picking up a quill I begin to answer, keeping it serious and concise for the questions on magic. And silly and just me, on the other questions.

Like for my favorite color. I write down; The magical color octarine, only visible to wizards and cats. Unfortunately she was a witch so I couldn't show her. Pity that.

For my favorite food I put down any kind of tooth rotting sugary snack or sweet. And added that I've never seen a dentist, imagining her frustration at my answers.

I have a feeling my answers on magic would intrigue her. And my other answers… Would piss her off. Then again, one of the best ways to catch someone's interest. Was to make them get pissed off at you, in a fun, not mean way of course. It ensures they keep the conversation going at least. As long as Hermione is interested in me, we could become friends.

I roll up the parchment with a sigh, time would tell if I could get along with Hermione. My joking attitude would probably drive her sparse. My studious nature would likewise separate me from Ron and Harry. I had to try. I would prefer there to not be muggleborn concentration camps in the future.

Again, I take out my Mooncalf dice, rolling them through my fingers, as I have every morning this week.

Again I throw the dice. My question is the same, just phrased differently each time to try and tease out all avenues. Can I trust Dumbledore with my secrets?

Again, the answer that comes back from my divination. No.

It was the frustrating thing of utilizing the ability of divination, that you got a pretty singular answer, there was no information on why. Could I not trust Dumbledore because he'll use my information to fuck things up worse? Or because he'll Obliviate me? Or because he'll think I'm a loon? I don't know. I just know that if I tell Dumbledore my secrets and foreknowledge. My divination keeps giving me the answer, nope. Bad idea. Do not.

And I couldn't then follow it up by asking several questions surrounding my first question. Having gone further in Cassiopeia's text, I had found out that, as she put it - the further you peek behind the veil of fate, the less you'll find. Or in plain language. Me using my dice once a day was already probably pushing it. If I used it more, I'd likely start forcing errors and no longer be able to trust the answers. And if my belief faltered. Then Divination would suddenly become less useful anyway.

Divination more than any magic I had found so far, hinged on believing in the answer, and that the process worked. As soon as I start losing faith in my results… I'll be nowhere near as good at Divination anymore. No wonder the class was useless at Hogwarts, really. Someone like Trelawney could not possibly instill belief in the majority of her students.

I open my divination text. Having read through it fully during the nights I've been at Hogwarts. I flip the pages until I land on - scrying.

"You know, for a bleedin' first year, your aptitude for divination is kind of insane." Sebastian says casually, looking down at me from his painting.

"It's all pretty intuitive, not actually that hard." I say, shrugging, finger following along the text as I go over the relevant parts again.

A scoff comes from Ominis direction, we both wait a moment, but there's no more of a reaction than that. Sebastian rolls his eyes, "Well, what I'm sure my grumpy partner means to say, is that divination doesn't work like that. Not normally." Sebastian frowns slightly, "Well… Back in my days anyway. I don't know what you're doing different, but somehow you're making the magic sing to you, when most only manage a whisper."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Hmm, very poetic." I say dryly, eyes back on my divination text. It was all just intent and belief, nothing was singing to me.

Having finished the relevant parts, just refreshing my memory, not that I really needed to. I walk over to the potions area of the Undercroft, grabbing one of the cauldrons, and return to my desk with it. The cauldron is made from the shell of a fire crab, probably brought in here illegally. As only potions masters were allowed to harvest fire crab shells for cauldrons anymore. The jeweled surface of their shells almost saw them poached out of existence at one point.

It is ideal not only for many potions, but for when you're needing to contain a magical effect to say, only the surface of the cauldron, with no bleed off.

It only takes me two tries to get Aguamenti working, as I fill the cauldron with water. It's definitely not a perfect spell yet - shooting water in spurts, but it works, slowly filling it. Luckily, for the next bit. The ingredients needed are preserved in the Undercroft potions lab - I had checked. I wouldn't dare to raid Professor Snape's stores. I am not that insane.

Yeah, talking about you there, Hermione. Good luck to you if you try that in this world.

I take a small scoop of ashes of ritually burned unicorn hair, and sprinkle it in the water. Unicorns represent purity. And for this I needed purity of vision. The ritual burning represented a second touch of purity, the addition of pure clean magicked water was a third. Three might not be as good as seven - as far as magical numbers go, but it still held power.

Purity times three should give me a pure, completely unhindered vision.

I let my wand just barely touch the surface, concentrating, focusing on the blankness of a still lake, the freezing cold of ice, the reflection of a mirror.

I whisper out, "Visio Speculum!" Letting out a pleased huff when the water turns blank and reflective, looking almost silverish. A faint fog leaves the surface in tiny wisps, shimmering in a silver sheen.

"Sure, not at all special at divination… Before performing a Divination ritual." Sebastian scoffs. "If your Professor can even do that I'll eat my canvas!" I can see that he's thinking hard, calculating. Those Slytherin eyes are hard to hide when you're a painting. I ignore him. I have some scrying to do.

There were other, simpler ways to scry. But those could also be deflected easily by most modern wards. They'd most definitely not pierce Hogwarts. Me being inside didn't matter for the wards. A normal scrying would fail. Yet Cassiopeia's text had held a scrying ritual, one that should work. At the cost of no scrying working for me for seven full moons.

It is a ritual. And no rituals come without a cost. None. Or so Cassiopeia intimated.

I tap my wand on the surface, "Show me Tom Marvolo Riddle… Also known as Lord Voldemort."

I need to know whether he is Quirrell or not. Whether he is here for the stone or not. Is the third corridor stone trap real? Or a set up? Or both? And the way to start figuring out answers lay in this simple question. Is Voldemort here, in Hogwarts. The dice wouldn't be enough, someone like Voldemort was likely warded from regular divination. The process of which was unfortunately not covered in Cassiopeia's text.

… Now that I think about it… Dumbledore probably was too. Perhaps the constant no I keep receiving is because the dice can not pierce the wards. Food for thought, later.

The surface shimmers, before changing. The picture seemingly zooms around Hogwarts hallways, it's confirming my fears that Voldemort is here. Before stopping on… the caretakers office? On… Argus Filch!?

Something must have gone wrong with the ritual. I tap the wand on the surface again, Argus Filch's scowling visage disappearing briefly, before stubbornly returning.

There's just no way. Voldemort would not hide as a squib! There is absolutely no way. I can't even picture him spending a day, let alone the rest of the year masquerading as - or possessing, Argus fucking Filch.

My eyes narrow. It is a stretch, to try again, the ritual might fall apart. I tap the wand, "Show me Quirinus Quirrell."

The surface starts to break apart, the water boiling as the picture zooms towards the Defense against the Dark Arts office. Just as it reaches the door, it appears to hit something. And then it shows Argus Filch again. The reflection shatters. The cauldron is once again filled with water.

I bite my lip in thought. Was that proof Quirrell was Voldemort? And somehow shielded even from this obscure ritual. If anyone could do it, it would be him. Why direct it to Argus Filch, though?

The ritual supposedly pierces all veils - in this case meaning all wards and other means of hiding oneself someone could be using. And it supposedly shows the unvarnished truth. Yet… Perhaps I was not as good at Divination as I thought.

Either way… Voldemort is definitely in Hogwarts. I'm not exactly happy to have that confirmed. But I'd rather know for sure. Filch would be easy enough to rule out. If he's possessed, his body should start to reject the possession long before that of a wizard like Quirrell.

And if it's Quirrell… Well… Hopefully Harry Potter's burning hands still work just as well as in canon, or Dumbledore intervenes. Or we're fucked.

On the bright side. With how quick his behavior was stomped down on, I doubt he'll be as ridiculous as trying to murder Harry Potter in front of everyone at a Quidditch game.

Then again, he's more competent… Would it be weird if I made Ron Weasley taste test all of Harry's food from now on? It would be weird right?

Maybe I can find and learn, and then teach, a poison detection spell. Using the excuse that Harry is a celebrity so, better safe than sorry?

I'll have to figure something out.

I spend the rest of the time in the Undercroft on my studies for the winter holiday excursion I've got planned.

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I join the others making the climb up to the Astronomy tower several hours later. Mind troubled. The problem with intervening and helping out the chosen one through canon. Is that canon might not exist, which really leaves me on loose footing. My advantage was supposed to be that I knew what was coming.

This world of magic was absolutely divinely beautiful and amazing. Truly actually magical, more so than the canon one by a mile. And on the flip side, it was dangerous, dark and full of hazards everywhere you looked. I would have to decide soon. The longer I took waffling around. The more of a march whatever bad shit that is going to come down on us all, or on Harry Potter alone, would have on me.

Even while walking, I roll one of my Mooncalf dice between my fingers. The habit is almost soothing at this point. No matter how I look at it. Quirrell must be possessed. I don't rightly know why on earth he's acting suspicious as all hell instead of meek and worthless. But it's likelier than Filch. Although just in case, I might have to actually try and keep an eye on the caretaker. Which is going to be…Fun.

He does love us kids so much…

"You study divination, how curious." A cool voice comes from ahead of us. I look up, and frown. We share Astronomy with the Slytherins, the only class we share. And one of them is speaking to me.

We weren't even at the Astronomy class yet, although I could see the stairs leading up to the last stretch of the Astronomy tower ahead of me.

"Curious?" I ask, not sure who had spoken as it had been said so softly. My fellow Hufflepuffs somewhat hide behind me, exasperating me slightly. We're all first years, what are they going to do? Give me boils?

"Yes, with your heritage, taking up such an artform to study, it's… Curious." The one speaking up is a Slytherin boy with slicked back black hair, a hawkish nose and ice blue eyes, standing with two female Slytherins. One is somewhat brutish looking with copper colored hair, the other in contrast is the shortest person here, even shorter than Su - although not by much. She has bluish black hair and light green eyes. She also looks bored out of her mind.

I roll the dice between my fingers, "Divination like all magical arts has its beauty." I say slowly. Not sure on how to act with the Slytherins with their strange… Politeness, around me.

"Silvanus, I'm not waiting around here for you to talk about divination of all things. I'm leaving." The shorter girl says huffily. Before turning around and doing as she said, starting the climb up the last stretch of the Astronomy tower.

The now named Silvanus, shrugs, turning to me, "What can you do, don't mind Siona, she's a Parkin, if you're not on a broom she couldn't care less." Quidditch nut, alright, avoid that Slytherin for eternity. Got it.

"And to whom am I speaking?" I ask, curious despite everything, not recognizing any of these Slytherins from canon.

He gives me a condescending little smile, "My name is Silvanus Selwyn, yes," He says smarmily, "Of those Selwyns." Prick, I think uncharitably.

The only thing I recognize the name Selwyn from - is Umbridge claiming to be a relation, not exactly a ringing endorsement. I figure it would probably not be polite to mention that, however. I look at the brutish girl at his side, almost as wide as Su is tall. She grunts out, "Amaryllis Runcorn." At my questioning look.

I've found the female Crabbe and Goyle. I think, keeping a polite smile on my face as I nod and introduce myself. "I am Lucas Greenwood as you seem to be aware." I step aside slightly and wave my arm towards my friends. "And these are my friends, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, Neville Longbottom." I pause, "And various others."

Silvanus introduces himself, somewhat superfluously as this is obviously the Selwyn my friends already know. And despises. My friends all give me dirty looks as they're pulled into small talk with the poncy git as we ascend the stairs.

The other Hufflepuffs give us as least fifteen feet of distance before following. This avoiding the Slytherins thing Hufflepuff has going on is going to be a chore with my fellow Hufflepuffs isn't it? From what I've heard and seen so far, when they're not around me - for some reason… Several of them are definitely on the mudblood train, bullying and just being asses in general. Although I don't have blinders like Harry, so I can also tell that half the Slytherin first years aren't bullying assholes. Not that it necessarily means they're fond of muggleborns, just that they probably won't hex any of us they catch in a corridor alone.

Well so far. It's only been a week.

As we enter the last part of the Astronomy tower before we reach the observation floor, I'm again amazed at the magical view of a classroom or its surroundings. The hallway leading to the final set of stairs seems to be made of glass or crystal, the view inside these pitch black walls is the vastness of space with supernovas, black holes and planets - comets traveling across it in full splendor. It's absolutely breathtaking, even the purebloods taking a moment, watching in awe, before continuing on.

This world seems to have gone much further in enchanting and crafting than the canon world ever had. More wizards and witches here actually explored magic. Not just reusing the same old spells.

I stop and gently touch the wall over a supernova, letting out an embarrassing squeak of excitement as it zooms in, and that whole section of the wall changes. I look away, as Susan and Hannah both give me smiles that I am fairly certain would have been followed by monikers such as adorable, and cute, if we weren't in such a breathtaking space that no one was speaking at all.

To the right is an open doorway into a regular lecture type class room, with desks and a blackboard, but that's where normalcy ends. A liquid rainbow colored globe the size of an elephant hangs in the air over the desks, periodically changing into different parts of our solar system - perfect replicas of planets and other astral phenomena, including opening up, and showing the inside of planets! The high domed ceiling of the room is the only reason it even fits inside.

The walls of the room are similar to the corridor, the cosmos pictured everywhere you look. Breathtaking and so very useful if you can touch it and look closer. Whoever enchanted this. I wanted to meet and learn from. It was divine. I am absolutely blown away.

I say it alot, but bloody hell. Magic is so cool!

To the left is another doorway leading into a room with another high domed ceiling, telescopes all lined up against the walls, normal dark colored wood walls this time. The ceiling… It's the cosmos, just like the great hall enchantments, except grander in a way. Because it isn't just the night sky. It's space itself. Close up views of Mars! Not only is it beautiful and obviously incredibly useful, just looking at it makes it obvious the view is controllable. Allowing the Professor to literally zoom in on parts of space! It proves the universe functions on magic in some way. Or they'd never be able to reach so far as to view Mars from up close. No wonder wizards have never bothered with attempting to travel to the moon or that kind of thing. They can literally see it as close up as a neighbor's yard by looking at it from Hogwarts.

I'm reminded again that magic is nothing like the books or even the games. It's so much more, I don't even know how to describe it differently it's just… More.

With all this magical beauty and functionality around us, the actual observation deck itself is plain and boring. Simply a clear view of the night sky and a bunch of desks and telescopes. A beautiful clear view of the sky, to be sure. But downstairs we could watch comets moving from a close enough view that it would be considered harassment if done to a person.

….

If this view can be controlled to look down at the earth too. The marauders totally snuck in here to spy at topless beaches - at minimum. That's now my head canon. I'll have to remember to ask him if Lupin is the Professor in third year.

Aurora Sinistra is a black woman in what appears to be her early thirties, her olive robes have shimmering visions of stars on them, and her hat shows several astrological signs. Throughout the class she proves to be a strict no-nonsense Professor, but one with a ready smile available at all times. And absolutely passionate about her subject.

She's probably pretty popular as a teacher, young, definitely fit, and that infectious passion too. I definitely wish I was my own age and working at Hogwarts instead of a student for a moment there. Puberty is going to be shit. Because there's no way I'll even entertain the idea of as much as kissing someone that's not an adult.

As we end our first lesson, and can now look forward to two lessons a week, starting next week, she goes into one last lecture. Standing by the edge of the observation deck, the night sky behind her.

She paces in front of us, her voice brimming with passion. "Students, There is not much in the world of magic that has not been studied. Quantified. Taken away from its mystical and primeval state and made into a servant for us all." She sweeps her arms out, almost encompassing the night sky seen behind her. "Astronomy still sees the primeval ancient forces, the magic no longer found anywhere else! The constantly changing, constantly evolving. The moving of celestial bodies still affects our magic on earth today. Even though the star that does so, died thousands of years ago!" She smiles, "In Astronomy, magic is alive!"

We stare in silence, and in some cases, the ones not appreciating magic properly - in boredom. Many students are just waiting to go to bed. I'm riveted as I have been for most magical classes. I just couldn't see it as homework and class work. It was magic!

Professor Sinistra smiles mysteriously, "For those of you who understand, Astronomy can be the bridge between simply the extraordinary… And the divine!"

Not a sound is heard as we all take that in. Besides myself, only the Quidditch nut seems to have taken Professor Sinistra's words seriously.

The Professor looks at the time and huffs, "Well, look at you all letting me talk the night away, off you go students, into your beds."

I suddenly regret the fact my studies would likely mean I wouldn't be taking this class anymore in just a few months. The class itself was fairly standard. The location though…. And the Professor. This. This is how teaching is done. This passionate way of loving a subject and trying to impart it on her students.

If only she taught potions or DADA, how the life of every student would be changed for the better.

Fuck it. Even if I stop taking Astronomy, I can still come up here and study. I'm sure the Professor won't mind, not with how crazy she is about her subject.

The view in that space room…

Fucking magic, man.

How can anyone not love it?

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Even with the late night, I'm still up at 6am as usual. Performing my morning rituals and meditation as quietly as possible as to ensure I don't wake Neville up.

It's around 7:30 in the morning by the time I quietly make my way into the sett. I'm not surprised to see it almost completely empty. It's a Saturday morning on the first week back to school. Most students would probably not get up until ten at the earliest.

I am surprised to see Tonks and Ophelia snuggling on one of the loveseats though. Mostly because I've yet to see such a calm and content look on Ophelia's face before. It suits her better than the snarling visage she wore fighting me.

"Up early there, baby claw?" Tonks says questioningly. Ophelia lazily looking my way with a half lidded stare. Obviously too comfortable to bark at me this time.

I shrug, sitting down in one of the amazingly comfortable plush arm chairs across from the friends - or whatever they were. "I'm always up early, it's a habit I don't think will change."

"I love to sleep personally." Tonks says quietly, making a face. "Looove to sleep until noon when I can." She briefly brushes a hand against Ophelia's cheek, the black girl closing her eyes serenely and snuggling into it.

I feel a small pang of loss. I hadn't had someone when I… Died. But I had people, family…. Seeing Tonks and Ophelia brought back some memories of times spent with my own loved ones. How many years until I could do that again? Could I ever? Could I ever be a true friend, or ever find love. With my secrets in the way.

"Guess she doesn't agree with your sleeping habits." I say softly, not wanting to be loud in such a serene and cute scene.

Tonks snorts, making Ophelia twitch slightly where she lays. "She's an insomniac unfortunately. So this is the best she can get some times." The sad, soft expression on Tonks face makes me feel like I'm intruding. I quietly make my excuses and leave the common room for breakfast.

There's only two other students in the great hall when I arrive for breakfast. Both are upper year Slytherins and pay no attention whatsoever to me.

I enjoy some tea and raspberry scones and don't eat much, keeping it to a light breakfast. My mind is still heavy with the quandary of Quirrell and Voldemort. And the strange feeling that something is wrong. Why… Is it so fleeting? My memories of my family and friends. It appeared so strongly when I saw Tonks and Ophelia, but I can't remember even thinking about it for years, except for brief moments of thinking of my sister.

I could remember canon just fine, why was everything else… Elusive. What was going on?

I'm still sitting there, troubled, two hours later when Tonks and Ophelia plop down next to me. My own friends are obviously still sleeping in. Lazy Puffs.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Tonks asks cheerfully, loading up a plate so high that it risks tipping over. Tonks solves this by picking up a rack of toast and placing it next to her plate, so her food can't tip over that way.

"My thoughts are entirely focused on my disgust for your breakfast plate." I say grimacing. For Merlin's sake she covered blueberry muffins in sausages, bacon and scrambled eggs and then put maple syrup and cereal on top.

"It's perfectly acceptable breakfast food." Tonks argues, taking a large bite, cereal tumbling down her mountain of food.

Ophelia gives me a long suffering look, "Don't even try, I've told her for years, her parents have tried. Sprout tried. McGonagall tried! She still eats like this."

"It's impressive in a way." I say, Tonks sending me a pleased look, until I continue with; "In an absolutely disgusting - you can't stop watching, trainwreck kind of way."

"That sums it up nicely." Ophelia agrees dryly, sending a teasing look at the disgruntled Tonks, Ophelia herself - settling for a cup of coffee and a scone.

"It's good you two are so agreeable now, considering Ophelia is going to lead your study group." Tonks says sweetly, pointing her fork at me, a mass of - at this point unidentifiable gloop, drooping off it.

I turn slowly to stare at Ophelia who just smiles at me. I turn back to Tonks, resigned. "She volunteered I imagine?"

"Of course, I asked her too." She answers blithely. Like she can't even remember any particular reason why that might become an issue.

"First of all, why?" I ask Tonks, before turning to Ophelia and point blank asking her, "Do you still want to beat me up?"

Ophelia looks to Tonks whose mouth is too full to answer and the metamorph makes a shooing motion at her to go first. She sighs, shaking her head, "I'm over it. I probably went a little overboard anyway." She gives me a haughty look, "A little." She stresses. "Tonks has been nagging at me, so I guess we're fine."

Well that's a load off my mind. I'd enjoyed our little fight, but I wasn't looking forward to her having it out for me still. Glad everything is settled I turn to Tonks. My eyebrows raised as her cheeks look like those of a chipmunk, as she chews away happily.

"I'm withdrawing my question. I don't want an answer and risk you choking to death." I say in a deadpan.

She gives me the finger, my eyes widening in amusement at that exact moment, seeing the person walking by our table.

"Miss Tonks. That is not appropriate behavior for a seventh year. Ten points from Hufflepuff." Professor McGonagall says sternly, making Tonks almost choke on her food anyway as she realizes the Deputy Headmistress was behind her.

Ophelia hides a chuckle behind her hand as Tonks tries to swallow her food to apologize. She looks my way, both of our eyes filled with amusement at the scene.

A few minutes later as I rise from the table, having spent enough time pondering my own head for the last few hours, Ophelia calls for my attention, "Since you're done anyway, find the rest of the firsties, let them know our study group meeting will be in the sett for two in the afternoon.

I give her an acknowledging nod, before walking off. Running into several of the Hufflepuffs on my way out of the great hall and passing along the message.

Then I head to the library, no doubt my friends will all migrate thereabouts soon. We did have our own little studying session/meeting scheduled for eleven. Although at this rate my Hufflepuff friends might have to skip breakfast if they're going to make it.

If they forget, well, I'll have study time by myself then, or with Padma and Su who are unlikely to have forgotten.

Anything to take my mind off detention with Quirrell tonight.

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Soon enough it was two in the afternoon and all of us little Hufflepuff firsties congregated around one of the many tables in the sett. Ophelia lazily reclining in an armchair she'd dragged over.

The common room was fairly full, but is so large there is enough room for us to have a quieter corner to ourselves.

Many Hufflepuffs are giving us knowing glances for some reason.

As soon as we're all seated and quieted down, Ophelia introduces herself to everyone else and goes through the mechanics of when we're to meet, and what is expected of these study groups. Mostly just an exercise in helping each other out, and ensuring no one fails a class.

So one meeting every Saturday, here in the sett. Usually for an hour unless we need more time or extra assistance. No Hufflepuff is allowed to fail, simply through sheer peer assistance. Honestly the longer I'm in Hufflepuff, the more I can't help but think, fuck Gryffindor. Hufflepuffs forever.

Ophelia leans back in her armchair, putting her bare feet up on the table - which is kind of rude, but okay then - the way Macmillan keeps staring at them too… Someone's gonna develop a foot fetish.

Ophelia's lazily eyeing us as we work on our homework, piping in when someone needs assistance, but otherwise mostly leaves us alone. Seemingly just relaxing at our table, a pleased relaxed expression on her face.

This first week was mostly safety procedures anyway so the homework is ridiculously easy unless you slept through classes. So no one really asks for her help on more then basic writing questions.

She looks at her wrist watch after a while, "Alright kiddos, it's been about an hour, so unless you have questions about your homework or need extra help I'll release you in a bit. First I'll just go over some of the extracurriculars at Hogwarts." She waves her wand and three symbols appear in the air over the table.

A golden dragon head sigil, a golden Hippogriff sigil and and a golden Sphinx sigil.

I remember this! I think excitedly. I'm so pumped they're real!

She waves her wand again and the dragon head enlarges while the other two sink into the background. "This is the sigil for the Dragon society. It's a Hogwarts society that celebrates skills in flying, dueling and subsequently, its members generally excel at DADA and Quidditch. That said they also tend to be the society for the adventurous and the risk takers."

Another wave, and the Hippogriff sigil takes center stage. "This is the sigil for the Hippogriff society, another Hogwarts society, celebrating skills in Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Herbology and Potions. They also tend to have the more outdoorsy and studious lot, those that enjoy the outside and all that entails.

We all watch with rapt attention as the third sigil takes center stage. "The Sphinx society, who it should be obvious by now, has the Sphinx sigil, it celebrates and focuses on Astronomy, History of Magic, Charms and Transfiguration. They accept both those with their heads in the sky or past, as well as those skilled with a wand, generally the creative innovative types."

"Each society of course has other subjects and skills they prioritize, but those mentioned are the publicly known and accepted main criteria." Ophelia explains. She looks at us all, "Everyone got it so far?"

"It sounds fascinating, how do you join such a society?" Justin Finch-Fletchley asks, every Hufflepuff staring at the sigils, pondering.

I can hear Grace Lawang whisper to her seatmate that she's a shoe in for the Hippogriff society already. With her seatmate being Megan Jones, related to Gwenog Jones of the Holyhead Harpies, no guesses as to where she'll probably end up.

Ophelia smirks lazily, answering Justin's question, "You don't. They invite you, if they believe you fit in with them. Each society has a secret club house that is almost like a separate common room. In there it doesn't matter what house you're in, you're a society member. All societies have different benefits and perks, including some sweet things in the club houses. So you'll definitely be happy if you accept an invitation."

"Can you only join one society?" I ask, my favorite subjects being split between the Sphinx and Hippogriff societies annoyingly enough. I am intrigued though. I remember this from Hogwarts mystery, but I wonder how it looks like or works here and now, in reality. Everything else here has been just better and more magical, I can't wait to see how the clubhouse stacks up. Not to mention the magical world having secret societies to add to the whole house rivalry thing. Or perhaps it lessened the rivalry?

Ophelia nods, making my face fall. She sends me a dry look, "Overachiever." She lightly taunts me, before addressing everyone. "If you join a society, you'll be sworn to the secret of their clubhouse entrance, and face the punishments of a magical contract if you purposefully reveal its location. A student might be invited to two or even all three clubs. But once you pick. That one club is the only one, throughout Hogwarts, and beyond."

She twirls her wand in her hand looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully, "I haven't left Hogwarts yet, but society alumni sometimes visit the clubhouse so I am aware that there is a clubhouse outside of Hogwarts for the society, for when you're adults."

"What society are you in?" Zacharias Smith asks curiously.

Ophelia chuckles, shaking her head, the tiny butterfly charms on her braids tinkling quietly. "Weren't you paying attention, Smith. If they keep the entrance to the society secret, why on earth would they make who's a member of what, open?" She crosses her arms under her breasts, "It's actually believed to be quite rude to ask, so after today, definitely don't go asking around about it. You're being informed, so that if you receive an invite. You won't be messing up and talking about it, that said, first years rarely get invited."

"Is it safe? I mean you're talking about signing a magical contract." I ask, not really worried, but also not going into anything without all the information, particularly involving anything about a magical contract.

"He's right, do the Professors know about all this?" Susan wants to know, looking a bit hesitant. Probably heard horror stories about magical contracts from her aunt.

"Most of the Professors were likely members at some point, and therefore still are. The societies all started in the 1800's after all. I can't speak for the other societies but there are professors around all the time in the society I am part of. And not to worry, you can read the contract itself if invited. They only state the punishments you'll be in for if you reveal the entrance to the club house, nothing life threatening." She grins sharply, "But definitely very embarrassing and lasting, if you do betray your society's trust."

"What does getting an invite look like?" I ask, somewhat disappointed the first years didn't get invited often. Perhaps after the new year I'd qualify. Harry Potter's probably been invited to all three already.

Ophelia shrugs, "Each society has its own traditions and way of doing things, I can't really answer that. Just know you won't be approached in person, as that would be revealing a member's identity in case you turn the invitation down."

"As for the rest, Hogwarts also has the chess club, summoner's court club - although they only accept you if you know Accio, gobstones club, dueling club - once you get into third year, broom racing - again third year or up. And various others posted on the common room notice board. So even if you're not part of any societies, you'll still find something to do with your free time." Ophelia explains, giving everyone a small soft smile, she looks very different when she does something like that. It seems to settle the nerves of my fellow Puffs.

I can almost believe she's an actual Hufflepuff when she looks like that. And not a secret Slytherin taking on a Hufflepuff skin like she seemed before.

Ophelia soon leaves us be, and everyone starts chatting about the information.

The question on everyone's mind.

What society they would like to join.

Merlin damn it. Why can't I join all three!? Is my own thought. I want to experience it all!

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