Echoes from the Past

Chapter Five: "Mixed Blessings"

"Well, well, look what we have here," Voldemort stated with a malicious sneer. "If it isn't a Mudblood and his filthy Muggle relatives."

"V... Vol... Voldemort," Winston Firth said as he stepped forward so that he stood between his family and the Dark Lord.

"Winston, what's going on?" Mrs. Firth asked fearfully as she pulled her young daughter to her so she could shield her with her body if necessary. "Who are they?"

"These are those people you mentioned, aren't they?" Mr. Firth inquired as he eyed the robed and masked figures blocking all exits from the room. "Those Dark wizards."

A ripple of laughter erupted from the Death Eaters when Mrs. Firth shrieked as horrified realization suddenly burst across her face.

"I see our reputation precedes us," Voldemort said with a smile which only served to twist his serpentine features into a terrifying mockery of the human face.

"What do you want?" Winston demanded bravely, but the slight tremor in his voice gave away his fear.

"Why, to purge the Wizarding World of your kind and to put the Muggles in their rightful place beneath the purebloods, of course."

"You'll never succeed," Mr. Firth declared confidently.

"Oh, no?" Voldemort asked softly, the hardness in his tone belying his casual response. "And what would you, a mere Muggle, know of my methods and abilities to be able to make such a prediction?"

"Winston has told me enough. Besides, history in both our worlds has proven this time and again. Just look at Hitler and Nazi Germany during World War II. He tried to purge a whole group of people simply because they had a different religious belief and that made them a convenient target. Or in your own world just look at that Dark Wizard a while back... what was his name again?"

"Grindelwald," Winston supplied nervously as he eyed the Death Eaters.

"Yes, Grindelwald! They were all so confident and yet they failed. What makes you think that your fate will be any different than theirs?"

"How dare you compare me to a Muggle?" Voldemort hissed angrily, his eyes narrowing to thin slivers of blood red. "Simply the fact that I'm a wizard and not a disgusting magic-blind being vastly improves my chances. As for Grindelwald, he was an overconfident fool! If he'd only taken the time to plan things out more carefully, he would not have fallen to that Mudblood loving Gryffindor."

"Not so fast," a Death Eater said as he stepped forward to block the slow but steady retreat Mrs. Firth had been making with her daughter. "The fun hasn't even started yet."

"Indeed not," the Dark Lord agreed, sensing the unrest and anticipation among his followers. "I must admit some surprise at your knowledge of our history, although I suppose I shouldn't be seeing how your son is a Ravenclaw."

"Unlike you, some of us approach different and newly discovered ways of life with an open mind instead of simply labelling them as inferior and bad," Mr. Firth snapped forcefully, his voice taking on a frantic edge with the discovery of his diversion tactic and with it the hope that his wife and daughter might escape.

"That's where you're wrong," Voldemort responded. "I have had the great misfortune of having had first hand experience in your pathetic excuse for a world."

"W... what?" Winston inquired, shock written clearly across his features.

"Yes, I suppose Dumbledore would keep that knowledge to himself, wouldn't he? It simply would not do to allow people to know that I have a perfectly valid reason for despising Muggles, now would it? No, that would just detract from the image he's created of me to show his naive students and convince them that what I'm doing is wrong and needs to be stopped, even if it means their deaths," Voldemort said. "He always was a manipulative old coot."

"No, he's not!" Winston countered fiercely. "He's a brilliant and powerful wizard who's earned the respect of most of the Wizarding World."

"Your loyalty to him only makes your death that much more valuable. Another potentially annoying and disrupting Auror eliminated."

"No! Please," Mrs. Firth screamed. "Please don't kill him! Please, I beg of you, show us some mercy!"

"Mercy?" the Dark Lord repeated before turning his attention to his Death Eaters. "Do you know the meaning of this strange word?"

A chorus of delighted 'nos' followed, causing the heir of Slytherin to smile before facing his victims once more. Sensing what was coming, Winston moved to pull his wand out from its hiding place as the snake-like wizard mirrored his move.

"Expelliarmus!" Voldemort cried out just as the young Ravenclaw shouted "Avada Ke-" before his wand was ripped from his fingers and he was flung backwards into the wall.

"Winston!" Mrs. Firth shrieked as she ran to his side. "Are you alright? What did he do to you?"

"Nothing, it was a simple disarming spell," Voldemort explained patiently, amused. "What he was going to do to me, however... I'm sure Dumbledore would be greatly disappointed in you, Winston. Using an Unforgivable, and the Killing Curse at that! Why, you'd have been sent straight to Azkaban if you'd succeeded."

"No, I wouldn't have. I'd have been congratulated to no end."

"Ah yes, if I use it, it's inexcusable, but if you use it, it's praised. Why how perfectly logical and fair!"

"Like he could plausibly have used anything else," Mr. Firth interjected. "There are nine of you and one of him. Besides, it was self-defence."

"Self-defence? I hardly see how that makes a difference. And there are countless other curses he could have employed to incapacitate me. But you wouldn't know them, now would you? However, I digress, it's time for the fun to begin. Nott, if you would."

As he said this, Voldemort took a step back as one of the eight identically robed figures stepped forward with his wand raised.

"Please, no!" Mrs. Firth begged as her daughter began to cry. "Don't hurt us."

"I won't," Nott reassured her as his brown eyes flashed behind the holes of his white mask. "Your husband will take care of that."

"What the bloody hell?" Mr. Firth demanded, only a slight undercurrent of fear emerging through his voice as he moved to stand protectively before his family.

"No!" Winston cried out, his eyes widening in horrified realization of what was to come as he struggled to get to his feet.

"Imperio!" Nott said firmly, aiming his wand at Mr. Firth.

Instantly, the man went rigid before he turned towards his family, his face completely devoid of any emotion and his eyes strangely empty, like those of a doll.

"What did he do?" Mrs. Firth squeaked, her eyes locked onto the blank gaze of her husband.

"Taken control of him," the Ravenclaw replied as he imitated his father's previous protective stance before his mother and sister.

"Kill them!" Nott ordered forcefully.

Mr. Firth moved forwards without hesitation and tried to grab hold of his son.

"Patrick, no!" Mrs. Firth shrieked as she watched the two of them struggle while she covered her daughter's face with her skirt so she wouldn't have to witness the horror. "Stop it! That's Winston, your child, you're hurting! Stop it!"

The fight abruptly ended when Mr. Firth got one hand on his son's face and the other on his shoulder and jerked each in opposite directions, snapping the neck. The now lifeless body dropped to the floor amidst the laughter of the Death Eaters and the gut wrenching screams of Mrs. Firth who began frantically pounding her fists on her spouse's chest when he attempted to wrench their sobbing daughter away from her. Knocking her aside with one arm, Mr. Firth quickly wrapped his hands around the young girl's slender throat and squeezed tightly. The girl opened her mouth in a silent cry as she clawed at the hands cutting off her vital oxygen.

"No!" Mrs. Firth screeched as she rushed forward and attempted to pry free the iron clamps crushing her daughter's windpipe.

It was a minute later that the girl's arms dropped to her sides and her head lolled backwards like that of a rag doll. Mrs. Firth's efforts only increased until her husband dropped the body and turned his flayed hands on her. When she too lay dead on the ground, Mr. Firth's arms dropped to his side and he stood motionlessly amidst the wreckage of his family, waiting patiently for his next instructions.

"Now kill yourse-"

"No," Voldemort ordered, cutting Nott off. "Leave him alive, but erase his memory. He shall suffer beautifully with the evidence that he murdered his family."

Cold laughter filled the room once more as Nott obliviated the Muggle. Making sure they'd left no indication of their presence, the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord apparated, leaving a dazed man to discover the lifeless bodies of his family and to realize his guilt.

* * *

Harry jerked awake, a soft cry escaping his lips before he curled up into a ball, his head just about ready to explode with pain. As usual, it took several eternal moments before the pain diminished enough for him to start processing what had transpired. The instant he did so, he shot up into a sitting position and stiffened, fearfully listening for any noise that would signal that his uncle had heard and been awakened by his distressed cry. The only sounds to rudely disrupt the night's peaceful bliss, though, were the annoyingly loud snores emanating from both his cousin's and his uncle's bedrooms. The noise was like some creature choking to death and it was a wonder to him that Petunia could sleep in such close proximity to it. It disturbed his slumber at times and he was in a different room! The serene bliss of silence was one of the severely limited number of advantages of having been forced to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs.

The soft throbbing of his scar was a harsh reminder of the horrific vision he'd just had the great misfortune of having viewed. Rubbing the offending spot on his forehead, Harry turned to look at his clock only to find that it was just eleven o'clock. Since the Dursleys were going to a show tomorrow, they needed to leave early and thus they'd gone to bed early, meaning that he'd been locked up sooner than usual. With nothing better to do, and knowing that he wouldn't get a lot of sleep as it was his birthday at midnight, he'd gone straight to bed after setting the alarm for eleven fifty.

With a sigh, Harry pushed back his sheet, turned off the alarm, and got up, fumbling for his glasses as he did so. When the visions had first started plaguing him at the beginning of the summer, he'd been uncertain about what to do. Professor Dumbledore and Sirius had both asked him to inform them about any such visions, but he didn't see the point in contacting them every time he had one as he had yet to learn something important and there were weeks when he'd have one every single night. The amount of owls that would be sent and returned would surely be noticed by his relatives and the neighbours and then he'd just get into serious trouble. He'd therefore decided to simply write down all of his visions and hand them to the headmaster when he got back to Hogwarts. Besides, he didn't have Hedwig to begin with, so he couldn't even send an owl if he wanted to!

Harry sat down at the desk and pulled what he'd come to consider his Vision's Journal out of the top drawer. At first, he'd simply written the visions on scrap paper, but when they'd become too numerous he'd come to the conclusion that he needed something else. A quick scan of Dudley's abandoned books on the shelf had led to his discovery of a small, hard cover notebook which suited his needs perfectly. His cousin had probably gotten it from one of his friends as it had Guns N' written in an arch above a skull with two blood red roses on either side of it, and then the word Roses in an upside down arch beneath it so that the words formed a circle on the cover. He knew his aunt would never have purchased it for Dudley as she couldn't stand the music Guns N' Roses produced. He thought it was oddly fitting for his purpose, what with the skull being part of Voldemort's personal symbol. Flipping it open to the first blank page, which was well over half way, he picked up the pen he'd nicked from his cousin's room and poised it at the top of the page, quickly scribbling the date down.

The Boy-Who-Lived then stopped as images of what had transpired came flooding back to him. Unlike dreams, these visions he'd been getting were crystal clear even days after he first experienced them. It was so unfair, why couldn't they be more like dreams? Fleeting and mysterious, vanishing from his grasp seconds after waking up? Why did they have to cling and linger to haunt his waking moments and slither into his nightmares as well? It did, however, seem to help if he put them down on paper, it made them easier to shove aside somehow.

Winston Firth.

Harry shuddered as he saw the older boy's death over and over again, just as he had Cedric's. He vaguely remembered the Ravenclaw from school, he'd been in Oliver Wood's year if he recalled things correctly. A sudden raging anger flooded through him as he thought of it. Why? Why was all of this occurring? Why couldn't Voldemort simply leave people alone? A snort escaped him as he realized this must have been what had crossed the minds of countless wizards and witches before the Dark Lord's fall on that fateful Halloween evening his pare--, his mother and James, had perished and he'd become the hero of the Wizarding World. Or, he thought, through the minds of Muggles during the second World War, if he used the example Mr. Firth had brought up.

Mr. Firth.

Harry felt sick to stomach at the mere thought of the sheer agony the man must be going through at this very instant as he came to the inevitable conclusion that he had murdered his wife and their two children. Momentarily thankful that he hadn't eaten his dinner and instead saved the bread for the owls that would undoubtedly come this evening, he shut his eyes and tried to calm down. If he'd had anything in his stomach, he was sure that he'd have ejected it by now already as he had on a few previous occasions. He just couldn't stand the way Voldemort tended to play with his victims, like some predators did with their prey, before killing them.

Finally regaining control, Harry forced himself to start writing, putting down as much detail as he could. The more he remembered now, the less it would bother him later. The simple process of putting the atrocity onto paper seemed to purge some of it from his system, leaving him better able to cope with it. It did make him less willing to allow Professor Dumbledore to read it, though, as the horrors were graphically described and he knew that the ancient wizard heard enough of it from Snape already as the spy no doubt gave reports to the headmaster upon his return from Death Eater meetings. He paused at the thought of his father. There had been several occasions when he had been able to identify his potions professor amidst the Death Eaters in his visions due to either his voice or his movements. It had disturbed him to see his teacher committing some of the crimes he'd witnessed, the knowledge that he was doing it against his will but nonetheless was required to carry out the Dark Lord's orders so that he could maintain his position as spy, had bothered him greatly. But now the thought that that person was his father...

The panic welled up in Harry's chest. His father; the Death Eater. True, he wasn't really one anymore and hadn't been for decades, since long before his birth even, but having seen first hand what he did in order to help the Light was extremely distressing. He briefly wondered if Snape had told his mother what he was required to do, before he discarded the thought, not wishing to know the answer. Yet he knew that while Snape was forced to take a few lives, he was saving many more by funnelling vital information back to Dumbledore to use against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. His mother had mentioned that much somewhere in her letter.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Harry continued his writing as quickly as he could without making his handwriting unreadable or sacrificing detail to speed. When he'd written down the entire tale, he scanned it once before hastily shoving the journal back into the desk drawer. Glancing at his clock, he was just in time to see the numbers flick from eleven fifty-nine to twelve.

Fifteen.

He was now fifteen years old! Harry smiled at the thought. And since the Dursleys were leaving early to go to that show of theirs, Dudley wouldn't be around to torment him as he often did on his birthday. That was the best present the Dursleys had ever given him! Thinking of the presents was enough to make his stomach growl loudly and he chuckled quietly to himself. Each year Mrs. Weasley sent him food on his birthday and he knew that this year wouldn't be an exception, which was why he had saved his own meagre meal for the owls instead of eating it. Tonight he could afford to forgo dinner as he'd be getting far better fare in a few minutes when the Weasleys' owl arrived. He wondered what Mrs. Weasley had prepared for him this time, not that it really mattered as he always loved everything she made.

The emerald eyed wizard suddenly stiffened as a new thought came to him. Something about his visions had been bothering him, something... but he hadn't been able to place his finger on it. Now he knew why. It wasn't something that occurred, but rather a thing which didn't transpire. Namely the Dark Mark. Mr. Weasley had told him that the Death Eaters used to leave the Dark Mark floating above the scenes of their crimes so that everyone came to fear the symbol as it generally meant that people had died. Harry shuddered at the mere thought of returning home and seeing the snake and skull illuminating the sky above his house, knowing that it signified the deaths of his family. So why had neither Voldemort nor his Death Eaters generated the Dark Mark in any of the visions he'd had? It didn't make any sense to him. He'd have to ask Professor Dumbledore about it when he got a chance to do so.

Harry was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by a soft tapping sound. Looking up, his face instantly brightened upon seeing an owl with a package outside his window. Hastily he got up and opened his window, letting the tired bird in whereupon it instantly landed on his desk.

"You look exhausted," Harry commented as he moved to get out the bowl and water he'd obtained. "Here, drink a little."

The animal drank the precious liquid greedily, causing the green-eyed boy to laugh softly.

"Where did you come from, huh? I don't recognize you."

When it had had its fill, the owl turned its attention to the Boy-Who-Lived and held out its leg so that he could be relieved of his heavy burden.

"Wait here, I will want to send back a reply," Harry informed the poor bird as he gave him some of the bread he'd smuggled upstairs.

As soon as he felt the package, he knew that it was a book. Which probably meant that it was from Hermione, and that would also explain the unfamiliar, not to mention dead tired, owl. It had probably flown all the way from Bulgaria! Harry quickly ripped open the parchment to find that he'd been correct in his guess. Lifting the big, black leather bound book to the light that filtered in through his window from the street lamps outside, he tilted it so as to read the title printed in large elegant silver letters across the cover.

Blood and Crumpets with the Undead:
Vampires; Myths versus Reality

By Alucard Sepet Dalv

"Wow," Harry said as he ran his hand over the cover of the book.

This would probably be a very intriguing book. Although the mere thought that vampires, like so many other Dark creatures he'd once thought nothing more than beings of peasant folklore, were real and prowled about was terrifying, they intrigued him to no end. Though he supposed that it was entirely possible that not all vampires were bloodsucking beasts that preyed on unsuspecting humans. After all, common knowledge would lead one to believe that all werewolves were blood crazed monsters without hearts that loved nothing more than to attack and rip apart humans. Yet his own experience with Remus clearly proved this wrong. If people could be so wrong about werewolves, who was to say that the same wasn't true about vampires?

Reverently, Harry opened the book and wasn't surprised to find a folded piece of parchment between the cover and the first page. Picking it up, he found his name written on it in Hermione's clear and precise handwriting. He quickly unfolded it and smiled as he started to read.

Dear Harry,

Harry Birthday!

How are you? Are the Dursleys treating you alright? I'm having a terrific time here in Bulgaria, it's such a wonderful place with so much to learn from! Viktor's being really nice and is taking me to all the best places. The hordes of fans that often show up are annoying, but he's really patient with them and does his best to make sure that we can avoid them.

I hope you like this book, the moment I saw it I knew that it was for you. Viktor and I were visiting the site of an old vampire colony when I saw it. I remember you once told me that vampires had always fascinated you, so I figured a book that discussed them and the myths about them would be ideal for you. (I might ask to borrow it later as I would like to read it myself. There are so many misconceptions about the undead and you never know when the knowledge about them could come in handy. Besides, I highly doubt what Lockhart taught us was either true or useful!)

Now, about what you asked me. I managed to look for nista and come up empty in Latin, I than tried Greek and several other languages but couldn't find anything. I even asked Viktor as he knows a few languages, but he didn't recognize it either, nor did any of the other people I asked about it. There are a few more things I'd like to attempt (there are some good translators online), but I thought you might want to know. Is there nothing else you can tell me about this word? Anything at all about the context it was found in? It might help narrow the search or give me a clue about which languages to check.

I wish I could write more, but I've got to run. Viktor is taking me to the theatre tonight and I still need to get ready. Anyway, enjoy the book and have a great day.

Love from
Hermione

P.S.: You needn't worry about not mentioning anything to Ron anymore about my trip. He asked me to go visit him at the Burrow and I had to tell him about going to Bulgaria when I said I couldn't go. I think he's very angry right now, but he has no right to be! I can decide what to do with my vacations.

Harry smiled as he read the post script, wondering how long it would take his two best friends to fully realize their feelings for each other. He hoped it wouldn't be too long as the underlying tension only led to pointless fights which resulted in their being angry at each other and that only increased the odds of another fight rather than a reconciliation.

With a shake of his head, Harry put the letter down and turned his attention back to his present. The title page was done in an elegant, cursive print, as were the chapter list and the acknowledgement pages. He was just about to read the first page when a soft hoot interrupted him.

"Shh!" Harry whispered fearfully as he looked up at the owl, hoping that no one had heard the sound.

When he didn't hear any footsteps, Harry relaxed. The bird was done feeding and drinking and was clearly waiting for further instructions.

"Wait a moment while I write a reply," he commanded the animal as he got up to get some parchment, ink, and a quill from beneath the loose floorboards.

Harry needed only a moment's thought before he started writing.

Dear Hermione,

Thanks a lot for the book, I absolutely love it! It seems really interesting and I can't wait for an opportunity to start reading it. Once I'm done with it, you are more than welcome to read it yourself.

As for the Dursleys, it's much the same as usual. They're going to be gone for most of the day, so I'll be able to have some peace and quiet.

It's good to hear that you're enjoying yourself over there. And don't worry about Ron, he's just jealous, but he'll calm down eventually. It may take a while, but he always does so in the end.

As for Nista, no I can't tell you anything else except that it's spelt with a capital n. I really, really appreciate your taking the time to look this up, it means a lot to me.

See you in London on the first of September,

Harry

Quickly checking that he'd said all he needed to and blowing the ink dry, Harry rolled up the letter and attached it to the owl's leg.

"Take this back to Hermione, please," he instructed and then watched the bird fly off.

Harry smiled again as he ran his hand over the book's leather cover. It made him feel good to know that his friend recalled the remark he'd made about his interest in vampires. It proved that he had friends who really cared as he'd mentioned it once on the way to Defence Against the Dark Arts and only someone close would bother to remember such a tiny detail like that.

It was strange that she hadn't found anything on Nista, though. Harry had hoped it would mean something. But if it didn't it would save him the trouble of having to explain how he'd come across a potentially romantic term in a personal letter. Explaining the truth was out of the question at this point and he didn't want to say it was in a letter for him as then Hermione would assume he had a girlfriend, which he didn't. He hadn't even thought about girls like that since the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But that left it sounding like he'd been reading someone else's mail, and their love letters at that, and he could only image Hermione's lecture on propriety and privacy should she think that! So there was a definite advantage to Nista not meaning anything, but the advantages of it actually having a translation were potentially priceless and could definitely outweigh the likely embarrassment.

The soft flapping of wings caused Harry to look eagerly out of his window once more. A dark shape was rapidly approaching and, even though he couldn't quite make it out in the dark, he knew it had to be from his godfather. Sirius was the only one who wouldn't use an owl and it had to be some other type of bird as owls were silent in flight. It wasn't until the animal passed under one of the streetlamps, though, that he managed to make out what kind of bird it was. A raven; his godfather had sent a raven! He laughed quietly as the bird entered his room and landed on the desk. Untying it's burden, he took out some more bread and gave it to the raven.

"Wait here," Harry told it as he gently stroked its feathers. "I'll want to send a reply."

Harry was just about to open the present when a white blur caught his eye. Looking up, he saw what had to be Hedwig in the company of three other owls heading his way. As they approached, he was slowly able to tell that the others were Pig, Errol, and Hermes. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, he wondered what the Weasleys could possibly be sending him to require the use of four owls. A bit of guilt began to creep into his consciousness at the thought. He knew they didn't have a lot of money and he didn't want them to spend too much on him. They were already so kind to him as it was.

Pig was the first to enter the room and he instantly began flying in circles around the young wizard's head, hooting continuously as he did so. It was only Harry's well honed Seeker skills that allowed him to snatch the energetic creature from the air so he could gently but firmly close it's beak with his fingers. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he listened for the sound of his uncle's steady snoring, only to discover that he could only hear his cousin's. Looking at the birds and presents on his desk, he frantically thought of a way to conceal them. He could put the gifts in his closet, but the owls and raven would be a different matter altogether. He was just contemplating sending them off for ten or fifteen minutes when Vernon's snores once again weighed down the air. Sighing with relief, he relaxed before turning his attention to the bird who's beak he still held.

"You need to be quiet," Harry ordered firmly. "Or you'll get no food."

Carefully, the emerald eyed boy released the small bird's beak, ready to shut it again should he make any noise, but he didn't. Relaxing, Harry untied the surprisingly light package from Pig's leg before setting him down on the desk where he instantly began to drink. Harry smiled as he caught the disapproving glares Hedwig and Hermes sent his way from their chosen perches on the desk. Quickly relieving Hedwig and the other two Weasley owls of their burdens, he divided the remaining bread into five even pieces and gave the four new arrivals their fair share before he refilled the empty water dish.

That done, Harry smiled at the packages before him. Unsure of where to start, he grabbed the one lying closest to him. It was the gift Pig had carried. Carefully, he pried loose the letter attached to it.

Hey Harry!

I hope you're doing okay, that those horrendous relatives of yours aren't causing you too much trouble! Mum says Dumbledore is refusing to let you come to the Burrow this year so I guess I won't be seeing you until September. Dad says its for the best as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been extremely active even if the Ministry still refuses to acknowledge his return. The idiots! I'd come break you out if I could, but I don't see how at the moment and Fred and George aren't exactly being very helpful either. They've spent practically the entire summer in their room, something about keeping their investor happy or some such nonsense. I really wish I knew what those two are doing. Maybe I'll sneak up there later and find out.

You're not going to believe what Hermione's done now! She went and accepted Krum's invitation! You know to go spent time with him in Bulgaria. Can you believe it?! Why she'd want to go with that crocked nosed, Durmstrang fool is beyond me, but its her mistake and I hope she comes to regret it! Girls; I'll never figure them out! Honestly.

Anyway, a happy birthday to you and I hope you like your present. I was at a Quidditch supplies shop when I saw it and I just knew it was for you, what with you being a Seeker and all.

Enjoy your summer as best you can and I'll see you on the first of September in London.

Your friend,
Ron

Silently laughing, Harry put the letter down. How could Ron be so clueless at times? He himself hadn't been. He'd known he liked Cho and had gone up and asked her out, after some delay, true, but he'd still realized his feelings. Ron obviously didn't. He quickly pushed aside the thoughts of Cho as they inevitably led to memories of Cedric and the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He doubted that he'd ever be able to look at Cho again and not be reminded of the Hufflepuff.

Instead Harry eyed the other gifts from the Weasleys warily. Obviously the twins had put the winnings he'd given them to use, but he wasn't sure they wouldn't try one of their new inventions on him. Although what Ron had mentioned they'd told him did comfort him somewhat. Though he suspected his friend wouldn't be so lucky, especially if he started snooping around. He'd have to warn him not to do that, even if he knew Ron would probably do so anyway. It would at least give him something to say if his best friend complained about the consequences afterwards.

Curiosity piqued by the mention of Quidditch and his position as Seeker, Harry picked up the package itself. He frowned in confusion as he felt it, trying to guess what it might be. It was light and soft, two adjectives he normally wouldn't associate with the popular wizarding sport. Unable to figure out what it might be, he ripped open the wrapping paper only to see a flash of gold and emerald green material. Blinking in surprise, he looked again but only saw what was probably a shirt, the colour of which matched his eyes. Looking around his room, he could see no trace of gold so what he had caught sight of probably wasn't a Snitch. He doubted Ron would send him a loose snitch anyway as, without magic or his broom, he was unlikely to ever find it again.

Harry shrugged before he lifted the long sleeved shirt out of the package, only to see a flash of gold again.

"What the hell?" Harry muttered, turning the shirt over before he snorted and began laughing.

Across the back, written in black letters, were the words 'Catch It If You Can' and beneath it was a little golden snitch whose wings actually moved. Fascinated, Harry reached out to touch it, only to have the small ball zoom across the shirt to one of the sleeves. Startled, he drew his hand back before attempting to touch it once more. When it moved away, he figured the shirt was most likely charmed so that no one would actually be able to touch the snitch. Shaking his head, he took off the top of his pyjamas and put the new shirt on instead.

"Perfect fit," he noted happily.

This was a shirt he'd definitely enjoy wearing. In fact, he'd put it on under one of Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs the day he returned to school. That way he'd simply be able to pull the rag off as soon as his uncle left him.

With that thought, Harry turned his attention to the parcel Errol had carried. That would most likely contain the food Mrs. Weasley always sent. Although it was pretty small this year, much more so than normal. Tearing away the paper wrapping, he found a small wooden box with a note attached to it.

Hello Harry Dear,

I hope you're enjoying your birthday and I'm sorry you can't come stay with us this summer, but that's what Albus decided and he knows what's best for you.

In this box you will find a selection of pies and quiches I prepared for you. However, in order to make the load easier for Errol and to allow me to send more, I've placed a shrinking charm on them. All you need to do to enlarge them is tap the bottom of each dish three times in rapid succession. That will also activate a heating charm I've placed upon them.

Enjoy,
Molly Weasley

A loud growl from his stomach was all the encouragement Harry needed to open the box and lift one of the top quiches out. Following the instruction, he soon had a mouth watering meal before him. Smiling as he noticed that Mrs. Weasley had cut it up already, he grabbed a piece and devoured it, savouring the taste. Five minutes later there was nothing left of the quiche but crumbs which Pig quickly took care of when he allowed him to do so.

Harry briefly enjoyed the feeling of a full stomach before getting up and placing the box in his closet underneath his clothes as it was too big to fit underneath the loose floorboards. Then he picked up the two parcels Hedwig and Hermes had carried. He doubted Percy would send him something and Ginny still seemed too shy to do so, therefore both were probably from the twins. Sitting back down, he started opening the first of the two gifts before he stopped. Ron had often said how Percy didn't allow his brothers to use his owl, so he doubted that Fred and George had gotten permission to use Hermes.

"Why don't you go home," Harry suggested to the owl in question. "I'm sure Percy will be in need of you come morning."

Instantly the owl took off, swooping out of the window without so much as a backwards glance. Hoping that his absence hadn't been noticed, Harry continued opening his present. Within were a series of small bags and boxes. Opening a few of them, he noticed that they were filled with what appeared to be candy. But he knew better than to taste them for if they came from the Weasley twins, then there were bound to be unpleasant side effects. In fact, one of the bags contained a bunch of sweets all in brightly coloured wrappers that looked suspiciously like the ton-tongue toffees which they'd used on Dudley the previous summer. Unfortunately, look as he might, he couldn't find any indication that Fred and George had labelled what the other items were. Much as he'd cherish discovering their effects by feeding them to his greedy cousin, he knew he couldn't lest the results were obviously magical. That would only lead to very grave consequences. The punishments his uncle dealt out for imaginary transgressions would undoubtedly be nothing compared to those he'd hand out if he had undeniable proof.

With a sigh, Harry put the items on his desk before pulling the parcel Hedwig had carried towards him. This one felt like a box, a suspicion he quickly confirmed by happily tearing away the red and gold wrapping. He smiled with uncontained joy as he opened the box and saw that the container was filled with glass vials of all shapes and sizes and was insulated to protect them. Also, tucked away on the side, was a piece of parchment. Taking it out, he unfolded it.

Hello dear investor,

On this very special day, the humble and eternally grateful benefactors of your supreme and boundless generosity would like to bestow upon you a token of our appreciation.

Harry was unable to prevent chuckling at the twins' antics. Those two pranksters could be so full of nonsense at times that it was unbelievable.

Contained within these two gifts are a sample of the fruits of our intensive labour. A taste of where your money has gone to. You will no doubt recognize some of our old favourites among our newly invented and never before seen creations. For instance, there is ton tongue toffee, but also a new potion which, when ingested, will turn the victim's hair red and gold for a good three weeks and is immune to the regular antidotes for such charms.

The young wizard's eyes widened as he read this last. Yes, he knew that there were charms which allowed one to alter colours, but they were so easily undone that it was hardly worth the effort of using them.

But now...

He could just picture what he could do with this new potion. And if it was indeed a new invention, then Snape wouldn't be able to undo it without some research. He could have so much fun with this, but how to get someone to drink it? It wasn't like any of his rivals would simply ingest it if he either asked them to or handed it to them. Oh, he'd find a way. After all, having one of the Slytherins running around with Gryffindor hair for the majority of a month would definitely be worth the effort. Especially if it was Draco Malfoy.

Another one causes the subject to fall asleep every time their name is mentioned. The bright yellow liquid results in dog-like behaviour. Once they've been dosed with it, they will believe themselves a canine for forty-eight hours. The purple gum makes the consumer crave the weirdest things and they will do anything to get it once they've decided they want it.

Harry shook his head in disbelief as he scanned the rest of the letter, catching words like 'multiple tails,' 'transformation,' 'speaking backwards,' and 'deepest desires' among the list of pranks. He'd have to label his stock so he didn't accidentally confuse them with each other.

Pleased at the thought of all the mischief and havoc he could cause, Harry put the letter back in the box, wrote thank you notes, and turned his attention to his godfather's present. Surprisingly it felt like a book, the last thing he would ever have thought Sirius would give him. Although, perhaps, Remus had been able to influence him. It was possible, though highly unlikely. Unable to guess what it could potentially be, he ripped open the package instead.

"Bloody hell," Harry swore as he caught sight of the book's title, his eyes widening in shock.

Now he knew that it could well have been Sirius' idea to give him this book. It was right up his alley. He only wondered where his godfather had found the book as he was sure Fred and George would have snatched it up long before he'd even heard of the Wizarding World if it was commercially available. But it didn't look like a mass produced product. Instead it appeared old and worn, as if it had been read hundreds of times.

With a smile, the Boy-Who-Lived lightly traced his fingers over the words "A Prankster's Guide to Hogwarts." Although the words seemed to be engraved into the cover, he couldn't feel them. The school name was also written in eight different colours, namely gold, bronze, silver, black, blue, green, yellow, and red. It took him a moment to realize that they were the eight house colours. Shaking his head, he opened the book and found a letter tucked into the inside cover.

Harry quickly pulled the parchment free and unfolded it.

Dear Harry,

How's my favourite godson?

- He's your only godson!

Just ignore him, Harry. But seriously, are those relatives of yours treating you alright? If not, I'll come over there and take care of them for you!

- Don't worry, Harry, I'll make sure he doesn't earn himself a real reason to be sent back to Azkaban.

The two of us are doing fine. Still running errands for Albus, but fine. I'm keeping on the move so don't you worry about me. Have you done anything interesting lately?

- Have you started your homework yet?

Homework? Homework? It's his vacation, Moony! Grr... take my advice, Harry, don't become friends with someone who plans on becoming a teacher, it isn't worth it.

- Hey!

Did you hear (eh... see) anything? I thought I heard a noise just now.

- And I think someone is going to get a flea collar very soon. Say the next time we're out in public.

Blackmail. See what I have to put up with here? Your father was right when he said that it's from your friends that you get it.

- The present, Padfoot.

Ah, yes, your present. First off, a happy birthday to you, Harry! This book is something your father, Remus, and I found back in our Hogwarts days and it aided us on many an occasion. What better gift to give than something to allow you to follow in your father's footsteps? Tell me about any pranks you pull and please use one of the nastier ones on that slimy Slytherin git for me, will you? Enjoy and make us Marauders proud!

- Ignore that part on Severus, Harry. I can assure you that the outcome will be most unpleasant should he find out that you were the one to do it. That said, have fun but be responsible. I imagine that you'll enjoy being about to outdo the Weasley twins, or will you let them in on it?

Figures. Anyway, happy fifteen Harry!

The greatest (- silliest),

Padfoot and Moony

Harry shook with suppressed laughter as he finished reading the letter. He could just picture the two of them sitting next to each other, hunched over the letter as they wrote it. Trust Sirius and Remus to argue even on parchment. It was good to know that they were safe and still able to laugh. He feared that with Voldemort's return that genuine laughter was something he'd see less and less of as time went on if what he'd heard of the Dark Lord's original rise was true. Rereading the letter, he noticed a post script he hadn't seen before.

How is your scar? Has it been bothering you anymore? Make sure to tell Albus if it does!

His smile instantly vanished as he thought of his visions. He knew his godfather meant well, but the reminder was unpleasant. Pulling another piece of parchment towards him, he began his reply.

Dear Padfoot and Moony,

Thanks for the present, I love it! I think we'll be in dire need of pranks once school starts again. Otherwise the mood is liable to become very dark. As for letting Fred and George in on it, I don't know yet. The thought of besting Hogwarts' resident pranksters at their own game is very tempting. I'll see how things go, they did give me the Marauder's Map after all.

I'm as well as can be expected. I'd leap at the chance of getting out of here, but I know I'm safe as long as I remain within the wards. I've done some homework at night, but not a lot as I have to pick the lock on the cupboard my aunt and uncle have sealed all my magic things in (handy trick that, Fred and George taught me how to do it last year!).

Take care, especially you Snuffles. When shall I be seeing you again? I hope it's not too long. And watch out for flea collars, you just never know where they'll show up!

As for visions, yes I have been having them and, before you ask again, I will inform Professor Dumbledore about them.

Harry paused as he thought about what he'd learned in the past week. The references to James in Sirius' lines had hurt, especially the way his godfather had spoken about his real father, but he couldn't blame him. He had originally meant to ask Sirius or Remus about why his mother believed Snape to be dead, but now he didn't know how to bring it up without revealing anything. He couldn't just outright ask them as they'd want to know how he'd ever learned that something had transpired with Snape at all.

Reluctantly, Harry decided that he'd have to either wait until an opportunity presented itself for him to question the two on it, or find the information elsewhere. He signed his letter and tied it to the waiting raven's leg.

"Take it back to those you came from," the young wizard instructed the bird.

Harry watched the raven leave until he vanished into the night before he turned his attention back to the book he'd just received. There, on the first page, was the title and, underneath it in bright blue ink, were three names.

Helena Herly, Leslie Drake & William Greenough.

What caught his attention, though, was the date beneath the names.

998 A.D.

It only took Harry a few seconds to realize that that was but six years after Hogwarts was built! The book dated back to some of the first group of students to pass through the school! Back when the founders had still taught. His eyes were wide in shock as he realized that this book was nearly a thousand years old and likely the most complete guide to Hogwarts there was. These students would have been able to talk with the founders themselves about the school and it's many abnormalities!

Gently, Harry turned the page, surprised at how good a condition the book was in. It had probably been charmed to last so that students of all ages could read and utilize it. On the following page, in normal black ink were a few instructions:

Pranksters hello!

This book was created to ensure that all future students will be able to keep our vital tradition of pranks alive. What would Hogwarts be without practical jokes, after all?

(Shudders at the very thought)

This guide will also serve as an aid by informing generations of students to come of quirks the castle possess that are helpful to know, as well as informing them of other aids that exist in order to accomplish pranks and last, but by no means least, to write down good jokes so that they can be done again (just imagine the teachers' confusion when it happens time and time again even after the original students left and before their offspring arrive!).

In order to be certain that this book lasts to fulfil its duty, we have placed every single charm and spell on it that we know of to prevent its destruction. As time goes on, though, new means will be found to achieve this and we ask anyone who knows of a method to help accomplish this goal that hasn't already been utilized to add it. We have made a list on pages four and five of the spells and charms we used and ask that anyone who adds a spell, writes it down as well.

Harry turned the page and whistled softly at the list which went on for four pages in a mix of blue, green, red, and yellow ink after the original block of blue writing. Looking at a few of the spells, he found all of the ones that came to mind and quite a few he had never even heard of before. He wondered if Tom Riddle had gotten hold of this book and whether it had given him the idea of similarly protecting his diary. It would be a shame if it had inspired him. Turning back, he was about to continue reading when he wondered about the extra two pages the added charms were noted on. Looking ahead, he saw that there were no blank pages between the list and the index. Briefly he frowned before shaking it off. It was a wizard book, new pages probably appeared automatically when the last one was full.

We have also made sure that the guide will be safe from professors by charming it so that if one of them picks it up, that it will appear to be a blank journal. Then you can simply say that you were just going to start it. They will also see a different title. Furthermore, the book will automatically return to the back of the library if it remains in the staff room or the headmaster's office for over a day.

Underneath this, written in dark green ink and clearly by someone else with more elegant handwriting was some more.

The book has now also been spelled to never run out of pages.

The Boy-Who-Lived smiled as his theory was confirmed. He then turned to the opposite page. In the same blue ink as before it said:

This book is intended for all pranksters, regardless of what house they come from as Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff all value qualities which also happen to be useful in pulling off practical jokes.

Ravenclaws possess the intelligence to come up with clever new pranks and find equally good means of carrying them out.

Then the ink became green:

Slytherins possess the cunning to pull off practical jokes and not get caught in the process.

Then the ink became blood red:

Gryffindors possess the courage to pull off any prank no matter what the risk of getting caught.

Then the ink became dark yellow:

Hufflepuffs possess the patience to pull off practical jokes that require time to prepare and achieve.

Eyes lighting up with understanding, Harry quickly flipped through the book and found that the entries were all written in those four colours. It seemed he would need to get some red ink so that his contributions were recognized as Gryffindor ones. He'd have to ask Ron to buy him some when he went to Diagon Alley, or he could pick it up if he managed to go himself.

On a sudden impulse, Harry flipped back to the index and looked to the red entries at the end. Fourth from the bottom was what he was looking for: "The Marauder's Map." Going to the page on it, he instantly recognized his godfather's sloppy handwriting. And there was the password to view it. It made him wonder once more how the Weasley twins had managed to discover the password, he'd have to ask them some time. At least now he knew how the Marauders had intended for successive generations to use the map.

Harry was just about to look at the index when another bird swooped into his bedroom. Looking up, he saw a school owl perched on the desk in front of him. Attached to its legs were a piece of parchment and a medium sized, leather bag that moved. Hesitating briefly, he untied the parchment and instantly recognized Hagrid's untidy scrawl which only served to increase his unease about the wiggling bundle. Much as he loved and trusted Hagrid, he knew the half-giant's idea of what was safe was radically different from that of most people. He was just about to unroll the letter to see if it would reveal the contents of the present before he opened it, when he jumped upon hearing a voice.

*Ssstupid humansss,* it hissed.

Harry looked around quickly, dropping the letter in his hand as he dove for the loose floorboard, hoping to get to his wand as the voice certainly didn't belong to any of his relatives. He hadn't even managed to lift the loose board before it spoke again.

*That rutty bird could have dropped me! I wonder where I am now. With sssome other human no doubt.*

It only took a moment for Harry to process what had been said before his eyes opened wide in realization. There was only one thing which had just been carried by a bird and that was the bag. Could it be that the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts had sent him a snake? He knew they weren't among the accepted pets, but when had that ever stopped Hagrid? And it was the only animal that he could think of which would fit into the bag and which he'd be able to understand.

Slowly, Harry got to his feet and approached the desk once more. Reaching out, he untied the leather bag from the owl's leg, making sure to keep it closed, before he put the last of the bread he'd been given for dinner out for the bird. Putting the bag down on the other side of the desk from the owl, he released it and quickly pulled his hand away lest it was a poisonous snake. It didn't seem to be in the best of moods and he really didn't want to take any chances. He could already see the headlines now "Boy-Who-Lived killed by Snake Bite." No doubt there'd be a whole section commenting on how it was the Slytherin animal that killed the Gryffindor Golden Boy and all that nonsense.

Harry rolled his eyes before focusing them on the leather bag as it moved and a dark red serpentine head poked out of it. As he had guessed it was a snake and she seemed very angry. It's small golden eyes darting around as its head moved from side to side, it's long, thin tongue darting out to taste the air. After a few seconds it turned in his direction.

*Hello,* Harry hissed in Parseltongue.

*Hello,* replied the snake after a few seconds of silence. *You are a talker.*

*Talker?*

*One who can ssspeak our language.*

*Yes,* Harry confirmed, smiling at the way the s was drawn out. He was surprised by this considering that Voldemort did it as well, but it sounded completely differently in Parseltongue than it did in English. It was softer and musical; a pleasing sound.

*Are you the one I wasss intended for?* the snake inquired as she slithered out of the bag.

*Yes. I must apologize if Hagrid unintentionally hurt you, but he isn't used to handling smaller animals. He normally occupies himself with large ones who possess a lot of physical strength.*

*Asss long asss he doesssn't hold me again,* the reptilian stated. *But I am glad to be with one sssuch asss you.*

*Thanks,* Harry responded, blushing slightly. *What's your name?*

*Zera, yoursss?*

*Harry, Harry Potter. I like your name. What type of snake are you?*

*A red milk sssnake,* Zera informed him.

*You're beautiful,* Harry declared as he leaned forward to get a better look at her.

Zera was slender and appeared to be about a hundred centimetres long and was mainly a deep red in colour, only slightly less dark than dried blood. All along her length at various intervals were thin bands of black followed by a slightly larger white band and then another thin band of black. Some of these black and white blotches seemed to go all the way around her body while some stopped at her sides. There was a circle shaped one at the area where the head and body blended together.

*Thanksss,* Zera hissed as she turned to look at the owl perched on the other side of the desk.

*Don't worry. He won't harm you. Can I pick you up?*

*Yesss.*

Harry gently ran his fingers over his new pet's bright shinning scales before lifting her up. Zera quickly coiled herself around his wrist and the young wizard smiled at the pleasant sensation of the smooth, cool scales gliding over his skin. Then her tongue darted out and touched him.

*You sssmell nice,* Zera declared.

Harry chuckled softly at this before he reached down to the floor and picked up the abandoned letter. He'd just unrolled it when another piece of paper fell out. He caught it and, skimming it, he noticed that it seemed to be written in textbook style and the left edge of the page was jagged as if it had been torn out of a book. He sincerely hoped that Hagrid hadn't ripped it out of one of the school books. Regardless of what book it had come from, though, Hermione would have a fit if she knew. The number of times she had told him and Ron to take care of their school texts were innumerable and they had never gone so far as to rip out a page! Although, now that he thought about it, while they had never done so, Hermione had when she discovered the information about the Basilisk back in second year.

Ironically enough, the topic of this book was apparently snakes as well as the page was all about red milk snakes, which were a type of kingsnakes. Glancing it over, he quickly noted that Zera ate a wide variety of things including bird and reptile eggs, small reptiles, birds, mice, amphibians, and some rodents. She wouldn't have a problem finding something to consume when they got to Hogwarts, but until then he'd need to make sure he either got her outside or managed to sneak an egg up to her. As he looked further down the list, he crinkled his nose in disgust as he saw that milk snakes also ate various other snakes as well, including some of the venomous ones to whose poison they were partially immune. They also suffocated their prey as they were constrictors.

*You're nocturnal during the summer?* Harry questioned his new familiar as he read on.

*Usssually, but that can be changed,* Zera explained. *If you want, I can ssswitch.*

*No, that probably won't be necessary. My relatives probably wouldn't be too fond of you if they saw you. In fact, stay away from them, I wouldn't put it past my uncle or cousin to kill you. They already can't stand Hedwig and she's an owl. Muggles, like most wizards it seems, have the tendency to associate snakes with evil. Some religious thing, I believe. Besides, I'll be up most nights anyway doing homework or avoiding nightmares and I'll enjoy your company better then.*

*Thanksss for the advice,* Zera hissed, before continuing distastefully. *Your family mussst be foolsss. It'sss sssilly to make sssuch random prejudicesss.*

*I agree with you, but there's no use arguing with Uncle Vernon, I'd only get punished for it,* Harry informed her.

The young wizard could already see that Zera would be a big help to him, he'd be able to communicate with her in a way he never could with Hedwig or his friends. Ron and Hermione simply couldn't understand everything he'd been through no matter how hard they tried. Zera, however, was used to preconceived judgments and she would probably see what he went through as he planned to keep her with him at all times during school. Perhaps she'd have some advice regarding his current paternal situation.

*I will take you downstairs occasionally so that you can get outside to catch food. I'm afraid it's going to be chicken eggs otherwise,* Harry continued, glad that he hadn't attempted to steal food before, now Aunt Petunia wouldn't expect it. *I should be able to smuggle some up here.*

*Why would you need to sssneak it up?* Zera inquired.

*That's a long story which I'll explain later.*

*Okay.*

With a smile, Harry turned back to the paper held in his hand. The rest of the information was about the milk snake's background and evolutionary descent. Not interested in it at the moment, Harry put the paper aside and turned his attention to his letter.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday!

I hope you enjoy this gift. Thought you might like another familiar, specially one that you can talk to. Don't worry about the Headmaster, I've already asked him and he says that it's fine for you to bring her to school as she's non-venomous.

All the best,

Hagrid

Harry smiled once more as he put down the parchment. It was nice to know that he wouldn't have to hide Zera while at Hogwarts for, permission or not, there was no way he would not have taken her with him. He winced, though, as he thought of what Snape would say when he heard that Professor Dumbledore had made an exception for Zera and, therefore, for him. The man would be mad and see it as yet another example of his fame getting him what he wanted. If only his father knew the truth, knew how much he despised the attention and supposed glory that came with his scar. But he could see why the Potions Master was so relentless on the subject. He probably knew that it was his mother who had truly been the hero and she had died to protect what he thought was the son of the man who had stolen his wife away from him.

*What'sss wrong?* Zera asked, sensing his sudden mood shift.

*Something which also requires a lengthy explanation.*

*Ah, I sssee. You'll tell me later, then?*

*Yes,* Harry smiled. *I want your opinion on the matter as I'm not entirely sure how to proceed.*

*I ssshall attempt to do my bessst.*

*Thanks.*

With a sigh, Harry tried to push the subject aside as he couldn't deal with it at the present. Instead, he thought of how his best friend would react to his new pet. Ron wasn't exactly found of snakes as he'd grown up with the typical associations of Salazar and Slytherins with the creatures, but he believed the red head wouldn't get too upset about it. Hermione, of course, would hardly even blink, simple congratulating him and probably being glad that he had another being to confide in when they weren't around.

Harry pulled another piece of blank parchment before him and began his reply.

Dear Hagrid,

Thanks for the snake, she's wonderful! Her name is Zera and we are getting along just fine. Please thank that Headmaster for me, I really appreciate him allowing me to bring her to school. It will be so nice to have another companion.

How have you been? Not getting into too much trouble with any new creatures, are you? What are we going to be studying this year in Care of Magical Creatures? Since I'm not allowed to go buy my books, I don't know the title or what it's about.

Enjoy your vacation,

Harry

Double checking to make sure that he hadn't made any mistakes, Harry rolled up the letter and motioned the school owl towards him. It eagerly came forward and allowed him to tie the parchment to its leg.

"Take this back to Hagrid."

With a soft hoot, the owl took off. Harry quickly shut the window and put his writing instruments away along with his godfather's book and the rest of his birthday presents so that there would be nothing for his uncle to see when he woke him up tomorrow morning.

*How do you normally sleep?* Harry asked his new pet.

*Underneath sssomething. But I'm not tired, can I explore the room?*

*Sure, just make sure that you're out of sight if anyone enters.*

*I ssshould be asssleep when they wake up,* Zera responded. *I'll make sure to find a nice, hidden ssspot.*

*Good,* Harry said before he swapped his new shirt for his pyjama top and climbed back into his bed, fervently hoping to get some much needed peaceful rest.