Saturday morning 9:34 AM.
Harry descended the spiral staircase with a yawn, freshly dressed, with his hair still wet. The common room seemed to be unusually quiet for a Saturday morning and Harry figured that the students were probably in the Great Hall having their breakfast. But as he came into full view of the room, it was anything but empty. His eyes scanned the sea of students sitting on couches, chairs, even cross-legged on the rugs.
Every single one of them had a book open in their lap.
Not just any book—his book. Not technically his book but the book for his class.
Unlocking Your Magic—A Beginner's guide.
Even though he hadn't officially assigned reading yet, it seemed the first class had sparked a wildfire of curiosity. He smiled faintly with quiet satisfaction. The revolution had begun.
On Thursday, he'd tackled the older students—Seventh through Fourth year. Each demonstration had been calibrated to challenge the limits of their understanding. From chilling without freezing a goblet to heating water without scalding it—he had shown that control, not raw power, defined true mastery over magic.
Friday had been for the younger years—First through Third. The first years were by far the easiest as his job wasn't to dismantle preconceptions, but help them build a solid understanding and foundations. He'd make them feel their magic. Learn its rhythm.
And it worked. Every class ended with stunned silence, then awe. Professors had also attended, quietly standing at the back, trying out his methods.
He walked across the room, quietly so as not to disturb the students who were reading. Some of them looked up and smiled, others didn't even notice him—too absorbed.
Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all.
He won't be needing the help of Ron and Hermione just yet but soon he would. As soon as the real lessons would begin. Casting spells without any wand movement. To be honest, Harry was quite looking forward to that. He would love to see the faces as they are able to cast multiple different spells in a minute without any wand movements. They'd be the first lieutenants in this revolution.
The pureblood students would definitely go and teach their parents and cousins who had already passed out of Hogwarts. And this way soon the entire magical society would be much more powerful than now.
This knowledge will spread. That's the goal.
But it wasn't all good, was it?
The purebloods would take it home. Teach their siblings, their cousins, maybe even their parents. The idea thrilled him—lifting the magical world from stagnation to strength. But what about the other side? What about those who would twist this control into something darker?
If a witch could cast ten spells in a minute without drawing their wand… so could a Death Eater.
The thought left a bitter aftertaste. Power didn't discriminate between good and evil—it simply amplified intent.
Before he could spiral further, something slammed into him like a Bludger.
"Oof—Abigail!"
She'd leapt from halfway across the common room, wrapping her arms around his neck and knocking the wind from his lungs.
"You were brooding again," she grinned, not at all apologetic.
Harry wheezed and gave her a flat look. "I was thinking, not brooding."
"Same thing. Your thinking face is just… darker." She plopped herself next to him, one leg dangling off the armrest like she owned the chair. "What's the plan for the day?"
Harry chuckled, "Eating, sleeping and other stuff."
A few seconds later, Ginny trotted down the girls' staircase, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Her gaze fell on the two of them, and she smiled, stretching.
"Morning, Professor Potter."
Harry groaned. "You too?"
"Hey, you earned it," Ginny said, flopping into the chair beside them. "It's not everyday a second year teaches seventh years and makes them all speechless!"
They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a moment before Harry turned to them with a lopsided grin. "So... how's first year treating you both so far?"
"Both interesting and boring!" Abigail replied. "Interesting to see other students and the new classes. Boring because we already covered a lot during the holidays!"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Charms is still fun, though. And I actually like Astronomy." She paused. "Also... Ron and Hermione are starting to get really smug, you know. I caught Ron explaining fourth-year level shielding charms to a third-year."
"Can't really blame him," Harry said, amused. "You all picked up so fast over the summer. Honestly, I think you're all punching above your years. Gin, you especially—your magic hits harder."
Ginny looked sheepish. "Yeah... I don't get it. I'm a bit slower than Hermione in grasping some of the techniques, but when I cast something, it feels like it slams harder."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Power and control manifest differently in everyone. Yours might be more instinctually forceful."
Abigail elbowed him. "Stop going all wise mentor again."
"I'm not—!" Harry began, then laughed. "Okay, maybe I am."
He fell quiet again for a moment, before turning back to Ginny.
"I'm thinking we all head back home for a bit," Harry whispered to them. "Just for the evening. Thought it'd be nice."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "All of us?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Round up the others, will you? Tell them I'll be in the classroom from where we usually Apparate."
"Where are you going?" Abigail asked, already rising to her feet.
Harry gave them a small, sheepish smile. "The Great Hall. I'm starving. Need to grab something quick before we head out."
With a wave, he turned and walked out, making his way through the quiet corridors toward the Great hall, the scent of food already pulling him in like a charm.
The Great Hall was quiet today, not many students were in there. Then again Harry figured that they would have already had their breakfast by now.
He strode in with quiet ease, heading for the Gryffindor table. He was starving this morning. Then again, lately he has always been starving and food was welcome at any time. He reached over a platter, grabbed a few big sandwiches, stacked two pastries, and took a plate of pies and tarts on top of them was was about to grab a napkin when—
"Morning, Potter."
He froze for a heartbeat, then glanced over his shoulder.
Daphne Greengrass stood there, composed as ever, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Her ash-blonde hair was pinned half-up, half-down, and her eyes carried that same cool clarity—except there was something else today. A glint of curiosity. Or mischief.
"Morning," Harry replied, picking up the napkin and balancing the stack of food neatly.
"Pastries for breakfast?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Sandwiches, Pastries and sweets. I'm breaking the rules."
She gave a light laugh and stepped up beside him. "I didn't take you for a rebel."
"I contain multitudes," Harry deadpanned.
She snorted softly. "Oh, I'm sure. You've got people talking, you now."
"I try to keep things interesting."
Harry didn't meet her gaze as he said that—but he did, quietly, extend a thin thread of Legilimency toward her. It was light, subtle, like brushing his fingers across the surface of water.
I wonder if his hair always falls into his eyes like that or if he does it on purpose... No, stupid, focus—just talk like a normal person—oh Merlin, his hands look nice today—
Harry blinked once, then took a bite of the sandwich to hide his grin. He didn't say anything about what he'd seen—not yet. It was too… endearing.
"So," Daphne said after a beat, "where are you off to? You look like you've got plans."
Harry shrugged. "Library. Or maybe a walk near the lake if it stays cloudy."
"Nice," she said lightly. Then, with a little more hesitation: "Would you mind some company?"
He glanced at her again, eyes warm with that same unreadable calm. "You sure you want to spend your free time trailing behind me?"
She shrugged, a little too casually. "I think I'll risk it."
Harry smiled. "Alright then. Come on. Shortcut."
He led the way through a side corridor, weaving up past a tapestry of the trolls' ballet recital and along a narrow passage that twisted toward Gryffindor Tower. She followed without question, though curiosity prickled in her steps.
"Shortcut to what, exactly?" she asked as they reached a dusty door tucked between two old statues.
"You'll see," Harry said, pushing it open to reveal the empty, unused classroom.
Daphne followed him through the winding stairwell and into the old classroom tucked away behind the Gryffindor tower. Dust floated lazily through the golden morning light, and the wooden floor creaked softly beneath their steps.
She paused in the doorway, looking around with mild surprise. "This place is… oddly quiet. And kind of nice."
Harry didn't answer right away. He walked toward a desk near the window, placing the sandwiches and pastries down with casual precision. "No one ever comes here," he said softly. "It's my quiet spot."
Daphne took a step in, fingers trailing along the back of an old chair. "Huh. Feels like it belongs to someone. Guess that's you."
He levitated to food to a desk, before turning back toward her—and just as she looked up, she found herself suddenly pinned. One of his hands came up, resting flat on the wall beside her head as he leaned in slightly. Not too close. Just enough.
Her breath hitched.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice a notch too soft.
"Just looking," he murmured, eyes meeting hers with a glint of mischief. "You've been staring at me since start of this year."
Her cheeks flushed immediately. "I—have not—!"
"You think about me a lot," Harry added, tone light, but his gaze was steady. "When you're not trying to be all mysterious and aloof."
She opened her mouth, clearly flustered, but couldn't find a single good retort.
He gave her a tiny, knowing smile. "I'm good at reading people."
"You're insufferable," she muttered.
Harry leaned a fraction closer, just enough to let her feel the pull in the air. "But you still followed me."
Daphne hesitated... then let out a breathy laugh, looking away as she tried to regain composure. "You're not fair, Potter."
He pushed off the wall and took a step back with a lazy grin. "Nope. I'm magical."
Daphne smacked his arm as she walked past him, cheeks still pink. "Idiot."
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Harry and Daphne sat side by side on the creaky old bench, a little feast of stolen pastries spread between them. Harry conjured a floating plate to keep the crumbs at bay, then flicked his wand lazily to make a pastry swirl in mid-air before landing in her hand.
Daphne giggled, eyes sparkling. "You're showing off."
Harry raised a brow. "Oh, absolutely. I don't get many chances to impress elegant Slytherin girls in dusty classrooms."
She rolled her eyes but smiled as she bit into the pastry.
Then Harry reached over and casually tapped the table—instantly turning it into shimmering ice before transfiguring it back again.
"Oh come on," she said through a laugh. "You're just trying to make me swoon."
"Am I succeeding?"
Before she could answer, the door creaked open.
"Oi!" Fred's voice rang out. "What's all this then?"
George stepped in right after, eyebrows rising at the sight of floating sweets and Daphne laughing beside Harry. "You're having a date without inviting us?"
"It's not a—!" Daphne began, standing up quickly, face red.
Fred cut her off with a grin. "Relax, Greengrass, we're not narcs. Just surprised Harry's pulling out the dessert charms."
"Completely unfair," George added, grabbing a sweet from the floating plate. "This looks like a proper courtship ritual."
Harry snorted. "It's my waiting for you idiots to get here. I was hungry."
As they settled on the floor, the door nudged open again—this time Hermione and Ginny poked their heads in. Ginny froze at the sight of Daphne beside Harry, her gaze flickering down to the half-eaten pastries and their comfortably close seating.
"Hey," Hermione greeted cheerily. "We figured you'd be here."
Ginny walked in behind her, quieter than usual, her eyes darting between Daphne and Harry before joining the twins on the floor.
"Where's Ron and Abby?" Harry asked.
"Right behind us," Hermione replied.
True enough, the door opened once more, revealing Ron with Abigail clinging to his side, mid-rant about Filch and something about a mop being alive. They both stopped short when they saw the little crowd gathered in the classroom.
Abigail grinned, immediately dashing over to Harry and flopping beside him, stealing one of the tarts. "You got an entire plate?"
Ron just looked around. "What are we doing? And... wait, is Daphne coming with us?"
All heads turned.
Daphne blinked. "Coming where?"
"She is," Harry said smoothly, not missing a beat as he conjured another plate. "Right, Daphne?"
She looked at him, clearly confused but too proud to show it. "...Sure?"
Ginny narrowed her eyes at Harry, suspicious but silent.
Hermione leaned forward. "So are we going in two groups or all at once?"
"All at once," Harry replied, brushing crumbs off his lap.
Fred and George let out low whistles in unison.
"You're the boss, mate," Fred said.
"Bloody legend," George added.
Harry stood up, dusting his robes and motioning for them to get in position. "Form a chain, everyone grab hands. Hold tight."
As they shuffled around, Ginny subtly moved to be near Harry, but Daphne slipped in beside him before she could. On the other side, Abigail was already latched on, cheerful as ever.
Daphne reached out—and as her fingers brushed Harry's, he peeked into her thoughts.
"Oh Merlin—his hand—okay breathe—don't faint—just hold it, don't crush it—wait is my palm sweaty?!"
Harry bit down a grin. "Tightly, Daphne. Don't let go."
She nodded mutely, clutching his hand with the perfect blend of panic and excitement.
With the chain complete and everyone holding on, Harry gave them a warning nod. "Three… two…"
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The Dursley Mansion's living room was serene, with sunlight streaming through the large windows. Petunia Dursley sat in her favourite couch, a bowl of ice crema in hand, her eyes glued to the pages of her book. She was deep in her reading, enjoying the refreshing ice cream alongside it, and the occasional rustle of paper breaking the silence as she turned the page. The atmosphere was calm, peaceful—the perfect early afternoon.
But then, a sound broke through the air, soft but distinct—burst of giggles and a sharp intake of air. Petunia's head snapped up, the bowl nearly toppling over as her eyes widened in surprise.
Before she could even process what was happening, a flash of figures were standing in front of her like they had materialized out of thin air. She blinked, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the unexpected presence in her home.
Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Harry, and then—everyone else. Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Hermione, and Abigail. Her daughter, Abigail, laughing as she landed on the couch next to her, hugging her mother tightly with a joyful laugh.
Petunia's mouth opened in shock. "Harry!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in surprise as she instinctively placed her bowl of ice cream down, a little too forcefully.
Abigail let out another peal of laughter, as she snuggled next to Petunia, her arms around her mother's shoulders. "You should've seen your face, Mum! You're so easy to surprise!" she teased.
"Abigail, I swear..." Petunia shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite the initial shock. Then, with a playful scolding tone, she turned her attention to Harry, her face lightening up with a slight reproach. "You didn't warn me you'd be bringing everyone, Harry! I thought we agreed on a quiet lunch?"
Harry put up his arms in surrender, "I just brought them back so that they can go home.. don't worry Mum!"
Petunia sighed, "Next time, a little heads-up wouldn't hurt, dear. You nearly gave me a heart attack." She patted the space next to her, gesturing for Harry to sit. "How long has it been, hmm?"
Harry smirked as he flopped down on the couch. "Eight days!"
Meanwhile, Daphne—who had been standing quietly to the side, still in shock—stared wide-eyed at the scene unfolding before her. Her lips parted in silent disbelief as she took in the situation. She had heard of Apparition, of course, but nothing could have prepared her for this.
Moreover the fact that Harry Apparated out of Hogwarts and brought this entire group with him. She had not expected any of this. Even the Apparation, there was no sound, no pressure, nothing. It was just as if she closed her eyes in that classroom and opened them here. And now here she was, standing in the middle of Harry Potter's living room, surrounded by his friends and... his family.
Her mouth hung open for a moment longer before she snapped it shut, shaking her head in disbelief. "You just... Apparated all of us here?" she asked, her voice breathless.
Harry glanced at her, in confusion. "Yes? Is it weird?"
Daphne's mind was reeling. No sound. No discomfort. She turned to the others and saw that they had a look that said 'and there he goes, thinking that it's completely normal.'
Petunia sighed and replied, "Dear, don't think too much about this. You would lose sleep if you do."
Daphne turned to Petunia, eyes wide. "But… no sound, no pull. It felt like blinking. That's not normal Apparition. It's not even Side-Along!"
Fred leaned in, smirking. "Welcome to the club, Greengrass. He's been doing stuff like this since first year."
George nodded sagely. "At this point, we just accept it and move on with our lives."
Ginny flopped onto an armchair, tossing a chocolate into her mouth. "He once walked through a wall in our house because he forgot we didn't have moving walls."
Hermione gave Daphne a sympathetic smile. "He thinks it's normal. Because to him, it is. Don't let it drive you crazy. I tried. It's not worth the migraines."
Daphne blinked, taking a hesitant seat on the edge of a nearby ottoman. "How is this normal for any of you?"
Abigail grinned from her place beside Petunia. "You should've seen the time he summoned the clouds—"
Harry interrupted, mouth full of ice cream, "It wasn't the clouds, it was— Never mind."
Hermione reached out and patted Daphne's shoulder gently and whispered. "He's mad as a hatter. But he does things that puts even Dumbledore into thoughts. You'll get used to it after a while. The best thing to do is just enjoy the sweets, sit back, and not ask too many questions."
Before Daphne could digest Hermione's words, Harry suddenly sprang up from the couch, eyes sparkling like a first-year in Honeydukes. "Wait, wait—! I have the best idea ever."
Everyone paused, turning to him as he stood tall with the air of someone about to declare something utterly ridiculous.
"Why don't we just have one massive lunch and dinner together with the Weasleys and everyone? Here. Today!"
Petunia opened her mouth, but Harry was already halfway across the living room, calling over his shoulder, "I'll cook! Flick! Twinkle! Trinket! Come on, we've got a feast to prepare!"
A resigned sigh slipped from Petunia's lips as she exchanged amused glances with the others. "Well… there's no escaping now."
That drew a round of laughter from the room—except for Daphne, who sat blinking at the whirlwind that was Harry Potter.
"…He's really going to cook?" she asked, glancing around in disbelief.
Fred leaned back with a smug grin. "Oh, he's really going to cook."
George added, "And you, dear Daphne, are in for a revelation."
Ginny propped her chin on her hand. "After your first bite, you might question every meal you've ever had."
Daphne's brows furrowed. "Wait—is it that bad?"
Ron snorted. "It's actually the opposite. His food is so good, Mum once cried. Real tears."
Hermione chuckled. "And then swore she'd never enter a kitchen again when Harry's around."
Daphne blinked, stunned. "But… he's twelve."
That sent everyone into laughter.
Fred wiped a mock tear from his eye. "And that, Greengrass, is the most dangerous part of it all."
Ron grinned. "He's twelve, yeah. And he's already better at food, magic, and vanishing acts than half the Ministry."
Daphne sat back slowly, her worldview steadily crumbling around her.
"And I thought I was doing well with my Arithmancy scores," she muttered.
Petunia gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm. "Don't worry, dear. That's usually how it starts."
In the distance, Harry's voice echoed from the kitchen, "Flick! More basil! Twinkle, check the lamb! Trinket, extra chocolate in the fudge—we're going big today! SNAPPY???!!!!"
A soft pop echoed through the house, followed by a startled yelp from the hallway.
"Oh dear," Petunia murmured with a knowing smile, just as a new voice piped up from the kitchen—high, squeaky, and mildly panicked.
"Snappy is here, Master Harry! Snappy was folding socks! Snappy did not expect to be needed for fudge emergencies!"
A chorus of snickers rippled through the living room.
"I don't know what's worse," Fred said, shaking his head. "The fact that he has sixteen house elves… or the fact that each of them actually has fudge emergencies assigned."
Daphne slowly turned toward her, brow raised in stunned disbelief. "Sixteen?"
"Bonded," Ginny confirmed with a grin. "Nicked half from Hogwarts and others from Potter's side."
Ron leaned toward Daphne, voice dropping as if sharing state secrets. "They follow him like ducklings. It's terrifying. And adorable. But mostly terrifying."
"I—" Daphne looked down at her hands. "What kind of twelve-year-old is he?"
Petunia answered with a smile. "The kind that will walk into your life, rewrite every rule, spoil you rotten, and be permanently engraved in your life forever!"
The group lounged in the living room, the occasional clatter of pots, bursts of magically amplified laughter, and the high-pitched chatter of house-elves drifting in from the kitchen like musical chaos.
"—Fizz, we need more rosemary! No, not the shampoo! The herb! HERB!"
Everyone snorted at the voice from the kitchen, and Daphne simply stared ahead, like she was trying to process several wizarding realities at once.
After a while, Ron stretched. "Right. We're off for now—gonna check the house and make sure dad hasn't turned the sitting room into a broomstick testing zone again."
"Plus," Fred added, "the shop might need some twin-shaped supervision."
"And some anti-explosion charms," George chimed in.
Ginny shot Daphne a grin. "We'll be back by lunch. Brace yourself."
With a final round of casual waves, the Weasley siblings vanished into the Floo one by one.