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Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - Strategy and Cheat Codes

Summary: On his eleventh birthday Harry learns that not only is he a wizard, someone has made a video game of his life.


Warning: Spoilers likely in reviews!! Character death imminent! This is a Harry-Hermione fic. Enemies of the pair beware!


Premise: While looking up information in one of the Harry Potter Wiki sites, I noticed that pictures and details from the Harry Potter video game(s?) were given almost as much credence as the films and books. It was as if the video game reality was intermingled with, and just as valid as the books and films and so I thought, why not?


Disclaimer: Harry Potter, his playmates, their adult supervision, and all that they do, and all that they are, and all that they think, and all that they can even imagine, are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, her various agents, publishers, and movie-rights holders. And yet, ironically, we're led to believe that owning house-elves is an immoral form of oppression!

In this regard I hold myself blameless, as I own neither house-elves nor Harry Potter, et al.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


Chapter 1

My name is Harry James Potter, or more importantly, I'm The Boy Who Lived.

Not that I'm bigheaded, or anything, it's just that if I were not The Boy Who Lived, then I would not be Harry James Potter. At least not in the present tense, because you see, had I not lived, I would be dead. 'The late Harry James Potter' has a certain ring to it, I suppose, but it's not who I am.

At least not yet...

On my eleventh birthday a very large, hairy man literally broke down the door to inform me that I could add another bit to my name: Wizard.

So there you have it, my full title: The Boy Who Lived, Harry James Potter, Wizard.

I like the sound of that. Perhaps I should have some cards made up. You know, the little ones that society gentlemen - and ladies, too, I suppose - pass out to one another. It would add a touch of class, I think, to be able to present my card.

The breaking-down-the-door thing happened just past midnight on my birthday. The oaf's name was Hagrid, a simple but honest sort of bloke. A bit clumsy, perhaps, but he had a lot of body mass to keep under control, and fair few spare neurons to accomplish the feat. By noon of that day the giant was leading me around Diagon Alley, an out-of-doors shopping mall of sorts, purchasing various wizardly items that I'd need for my quest.

Yes, the whole situation reminded me of the adventure games that Dudley used to play with Piers Polkiss and their friends - choose a quest, round up a questing party, spend freely (but wisely) to outfit your party, then go off to fight Evil. That was before multi-player computer games, of course, and they never allowed me to join in, but I often overheard them rolling their dice and playing in Dudley's room, so I learned quite a bit about game strategies.

I've always preferred the adventure games that allow you to turn on members of your own party one by one, kill them and then eat them. It sure cuts down on your food budget. Of course, without any allies, you get defeated by Evil in the end, but it's only a game, so who cares? I prefer to enjoy the game, not to stress over the outcome. Life is a journey, they say, not a destination.

But I digress.

Hagrid had taken me to Diagon Alley where our first stop was at a bank - run by goblins, no less! I was shocked at first to learn that an entire vault full of gold, silver and bronze coins belonged to me. And that was only my trust vault! Since it was all mine, anyway, I didn't feel even a slight bit guilty about pocketing several extra fistfuls of gold when Hagrid turned his back to speak with the goblin.

After fetching a small parcel from another vault, the giant abandoned me in a bookstore and ran off somewhere for a bit. I walked the aisles awaiting his return, idly killing time by perusing the shelves of Flourish & Blotts, Booksellers. I was quite surprised to find five entire shelves of books in the second-hand section that bore my name. There appeared to be an entire industry devoted to writing fictional accounts of yours truly fighting evil dark wizards. A peculiar title caught my eye:

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone -- Strategy and Cheat Codes

I stood there leafing through it, enthralled by the book. Someone had made a video game of my life, it seemed, and this helpful book explained how to play it! It wasn't merely the simplistic 'go here, do this, go over there, pick up that' kind of guide, either. It discussed actual strategies, game plans, and possible outcomes, complete with probabilities of success. It wasn't a thin little paperback, either. There were over 300 hard-bound pages!

Yes, the video game of my life was not some simple, scripted adventure with a predetermined story line, little room for maneuvering, and only one eventual conclusion. There were several possible endings - some more gruesome than others - and even a few where I didn't die at all! It seemed that this book held the key to successfully navigating the various pitfalls that awaited me - or at least the video game version of me.

I suppose it would have been too mind-warpingly insane to have the video game version of me discover this book. I'd have to study the book thoroughly to see if that were possible. It's always fun to mess with a video game's logic, pushing the parameters to see if you can break it. Sometimes you find secret Easter Eggs - extra unexpected things that the game designers threw in just because they could. I was big on Easter Eggs.

By the time Hagrid returned I'd added the book to my stack and paid for it all. He'd been off buying me an owl, by the way. Its name was Hedwig and it was a birthday gift. That was very thoughtful of Hagrid and everything, but I would have preferred a chicken. I'd never tasted owl, so we'd have to wait and see on that.

Hagrid had abandoned me again to run another errand. I was being outfitted in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions when I met another quester. His name was Malfoy - Draco Malfoy. I sensed that this was no trivial random encounter - it was a decision point - but I hadn't had a chance to thoroughly study The Book, yet. The quest's outcome could very well depend on whether I elected to:

a) join forces with the blonde and form an alliance,
b) snub him and perhaps face him later as an enemy, or
c) assume he was an NPC (non-player character) and kill him just to watch him die.

I'm only joking, of course. I would not have wasted an NPC like that. I would have eaten him and found good uses for his various body parts, in strict accordance with the laws of the Natural Order of Predator and Prey.

Option c) was out because I hadn't purchased my weapons, yet. The armory (Ollivander's Wand Shop) would be our final stop. I briefly considered an alliance, but the blonde lad had a lean, hungry look about him - much as I suppose I did - and I assumed that he was having similar thoughts about killing and eating me. There was just something about his pinched face and narrow nose that screamed 'Cannibal!' at me. (Or perhaps it was 'Ferret!' I always get those two words confused.)

So option b) it was, then. We would fight to the death when next we met.


-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


I was fortunate in that I had a whole month before my quest would officially begin. I spent the time wisely, playing Super Mario Brothers on my cousin's discarded Nintendo.

And reading my Cheat Codes book, of course.

My fat cousin Dudley had binned a perfectly good Nintendo just because he'd broken one of the controllers by sitting on it. Rather than switch controllers, the idiot whined to my aunt and uncle until they bought him a Sega Genesis.

Okay, maybe he's not such an idiot - he got a new Sega Genesis, didn't he? But then, Sonic the Hedgehog looks like a dork, so maybe Dudley is an idiot, after all.

I quickly gave up any hope of getting my hands on a copy of the video game that bore my name. My only source would be if Dudley bought it and discarded it. So I had nothing better to do for a month than read The Book and prod Mario into ever more daring feats of running and leaping.


-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


My quest finally got underway on September the first. Uncle Vernon drove me to King's Cross station. Thanks to the Bonus Tips on page five of The Book, I'd brought along a box-cutter knife which I used to earn some extra points by casually gashing his front tyre as we left the carpark.

My uncle having abandoned me on Platform Nine and returned to the carpark to discover his waiting flat tyre, I then looked around for the red-headed Weasleys who would lead me to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

The Book warned that I had an important choice to make at this juncture. I could:

a) smile at, or talk to, or shake hands with, or otherwise interact with Ginny Weasley in any trivial way, thereby forming a sudden, inexplicable soul-bond with the girl - or

b) opt to hold out for the ability-laden but quirky ally, Hermione Granger, whom I would meet a little later in the morning.

There was an option c) choose Ron Weasley as an ally, but The Book discouraged it. Not only would the game play be frustrating and depressing, so would the possible outcomes - some more 'gruesomely' depressing than others. I'm not a fan of angst, especially where it directly concerns me.

Choosing Ginny Weasley as my questing partner would lead to a smothering domination by her mother and an inescapable subservience to Professor Dumbledore. I might as well cut off my manhood right then, roast it on a stick and offer it to the cannibal (or ferret?) Draco Malfoy - on a roll with mustard and relish.

If I held out for Hermione Granger, the game play would be a fair bit more difficult, but The Book promised that in a few years when our hormones were raging, the brunette would be sexually quite adventurous - an eager and energetic bed partner.

And let's not ignore the lifetime of free dental care from her parents.

The clincher for me, though? Hermione's natural curiosity would lead her to want to try owl.

So I avoided eye contact with Ginny Weasley at all costs as I approached her mother.

"Hello," I smiled up at the woman. "I'm lost. Is there a Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?"

"Ah! You must be looking for the Hogwarts Express!" she replied, her eyes gleaming at the prospect of engulfing me in her unrestrained mother-love.

I instinctively took a step backwards.

"Yes, ma'am," I nodded, being very careful to not look at Ginny.

"This is my youngest boy, Ron," Missus Weasley pulled her son forward. "He's starting Hogwarts, too, this year! Perhaps you two'll be sorted into the same House," she smiled encouragingly.

"Hi!" I gave him a polite but cautious smile, deliberately failing to properly introduce myself.

"Are you a Chudley Cannons fan?" the boy asked hopefully.

"No! They suck!!" I replied - thanks to Tip #5: 'Do not waste time talking Quidditch with Ron Weasley.'

The two of us stared at each other in an awkward silence until Missus Weasley prodded her family forward in the direction of the magical barrier. I followed behind, quickly averting my eyes when Ginny turned to catch a glimpse of me. The girl was cute, but she carried a lot of extra baggage.

"Solitude!" I muttered as I boarded the train. That was a cheat code from Chapter-1 that would allow me to find an unoccupied compartment. Otherwise I would be sharing with Ron Weasley - for five hours - in a confined space. I shuddered at the thought.

Ron was still being 'mothered' on the platform and now was my chance to ditch the red-head. Instead of searching for a compartment in the coach I'd entered, I turned left and cut through to the coach just forward of it. I quickly found an empty compartment and settled in to await my next strategic decision point.

"H-hello?" I looked up at the sound of a voice in the doorway. "May I sit there?" A round-faced and rather chubby boy nervously pointed to the seat across.

"Sure," I shrugged. If I wanted to meet Hermione Granger, I had to endure a few minutes of Neville Longbottom in the interim. The two were a package deal, The Book had warned.

Fortunately, Neville didn't say much as we waited, at least not to me. He had a toad, you see, and he directed his conversation to Trevor. Trevor was either the quiet type or profoundly deaf. He pretty much ignored Neville.

"Excuse me!" A bushy-haired girl stood in the doorway, interrupting Neville's monologue with his toad. "There are no empty compartments in this coach - may I join the two of you?"

"I guess," I shrugged, budging over a bit on the bench seat. That was a subtle cue that she should sit beside me, rather than next to Neville. The Book had warned that this was important if I wanted her as an ally 'with benefits' later on.

"Thanks," she smiled hesitantly. "Wingardium Leviosa! " her wand carefully levitated her trunk to the overhead rack. She took the seat beside me, leaving plenty of space between us. "Hermione Granger," she offered her hand, first to me and then to Longbottom. I shook her hand but she warily withdrew it from Neville's reach upon seeing Trevor. "Is that a toad?" she asked the round-faced boy. "I've read that they cause warts."

"I haven't caught any," Longbottom held up his hands as proof.

"Yet!" Hermione retorted. "OH!!"

Trevor chose that moment to take advantage of Neville's inattention and make a leap for freedom. There was a bit of a scramble before he was secured once more.

"I'm The Boy Who Lived, Harry James Potter, Wizard," I continued our interrupted introduction. I so wished I'd had the cards made up.

"Are you, now?" she asked, her eyes darting to my forehead. "Lift up your fringe," she commanded.

I merely jutted out my lower jaw and blew sharply upward, giving her a brief glimpse of my world-famous scar.

"Hmm..." she considered, then turned expectantly to Neville.

"Er - Neville Longbottom," he said. "I'm a wizard, too - I hope." He muttered that last part, mostly to himself.

"Well, I am a witch and have read all of the first-year texts," Hermione announced. "Our classes should be ever so exciting, don't you think?"

Neville seemed rather doubtful so Hermione turned to me, hoping for concurrence.

"If they're not, we'll have to see what we can do to help things along," I grinned.

"Mister Potter!" she started, but I cut her off.

"That's Harry James Potter," I interjected. "My friends call me Harry. 'Potter' is for enemies. Just don't ever call me Jamie."

At no time in my entire life had anyone ever called me Jamie, but that was Tip #12 at the end of Chapter 2, so I went with it. 'Jamie' would later become a term of endearment between us, The Book advised.

"Alright, then - Harry," she began anew, "I hope you do not intend to cut up during classes."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I grinned.

She fixed me with a suspicious look, her ample eyebrows knitting together. She looked cute that way - cuter than Ginny Weasley, I considered.

"If I get out of hand, you'll just have to spank me, I suppose," I offered. "Of course, if you become unruly in class, I'll have to return the favor."

"I do not intend to become unruly!" she glared at me.

"More's the pity," I shrugged.

"I don't suppose you've studied your textbooks, yet," she said, the accusation punctuated by the furrowing of her eyebrows once more.

"What's the point? We're not allowed to use our wands before school starts," I countered.

"Well, I've studied the spells," she said, tossing her bushy hair over her shoulder, "and now that we're aboard the Hogwarts Express, we're allowed to use our wands. Everyone else is using theirs, I've noticed."

"So what spells can you do?" I asked.

"Wingardium Leviosa, obviously," she nodded to the trunk that she'd levitated to the overhead rack, "and - hold still for a moment..." She pulled out her wand and pointed it between my eyes.

I feared that right then might be when I started being referred to as 'the late Harry James Potter.'

"Oculus Reparo! " Hermione enunciated carefully.

My glasses shifted slightly but I was otherwise unharmed.

"Well! That worked better than I expected!" she announced, a bit surprised, it seemed, as she stared at the bridge of my nose.

"What did you just do!?"

"I repaired your glasses - just there where the tape was," she pointed with her wand.

I recoiled slightly from the wand tip.

"Sorry," she said, lowering her wand. "How about you, Mister Longbottom?" she turned to Neville, who froze at becoming the object of her attention.

"I d-don't wear g-glasses," he stammered.

"I meant, have you studied ahead or are you waiting until the last minute like Harry, here?"

"Er..." Neville's guilty expression left no doubt. He was a slacker, too.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


Much later as we sped toward Hogwarts, our light banter - or more accurately, Hermione's lecturing to us on the thousands of details she'd gleaned from reading Hogwarts: A History - was interrupted by the compartment door sliding open.

"I've heard that Harry Potter is on this train," my nemesis from Madam Malkin's announced. "Have any of you seen him?"

I started to panic! The blonde had the drop on me! My wand was in my pocket - his was in his hand. If that weren't bad enough, Malfoy had brought his muscle along - two large, thuggish-looking boys who could have squashed me like a bug. While some questers choose mages and healers and thieves for their questing party, Malfoy had obviously picked two warriors. I would not have been surprised to learn that they were concealing full-length broadswords somewhere on their persons.

I was about to deny any knowledge of myself when both of my allies turned on me. Well, they turned to me expectantly. You know how in primary school when you make a rude noise and the teacher asks the class, "Who did that!?" and everyone turns to look at you? Yeah - it was like that.

There I was, helpless. My mortal enemy was flanked by his troops, he had his wand out, and he could easily have ended my quest right then and there! But he didn't! He obviously had not read The Book!

Fool!

Rather than take me out while I was defenseless, the arrogant git launched into a little speech.

"You'll soon find that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." He paused to sneer in Hermione's direction. "I can help you there," he turned back to me.

Hermione was livid at being the object of the git's condescension

Neville cowered into the corner of his seat, up against the far wall.

"I'll bet!" I mustered whatever false bravado I could and laughed in Malfoy's face. Sometimes you have to press whatever advantage you have, and the fact that I was still alive seemed like a pretty big advantage, in my humble opinion.

"Have it your way!" Malfoy's nose rose an inch or two in the air and he turned to leave, taking his goons with him.

"That was close!" I breathed a sigh of relief when the compartment door was latched once again.

"The nerve of that - boy! " Hermione finally found her voice.

It was pretty obvious that she wouldn't be much good in a fight. Not with such a slow reaction time. The danger had long passed before her adrenaline had even kicked in. We'd have to work on that.

And Longbottom! Wow! Completely useless!

The Book warned that allying with Granger and Longbottom would make the game play more difficult, but sheesh! When in a tight spot, I could use a little help, you know?


It was dark when the train eventually pulled into Hogsmeade and we were all herded into a string of rowboats by Hagrid, the giant. The special effects on the castle were awesome I had to concede. Hats off to the game's graphics design team on that one! My allies were in awe, too, as we sat there in our little boat, being magically towed across the glass-smooth lake.

We were seated in the last boat in line. Always wary of a sneak attack from the rear, I glanced over the stern now and then.

"Uh-oh!" I nudged Hermione. "We've got some company back here," I whispered, warily watching the moonlight glisten off the "V" of approaching ripples on the otherwise calm surface of the water. The ripples were rapidly gaining on our tiny boat.

"That's probably the giant squid," she shrugged off the danger after glancing over her shoulder. "I've read about it in Hogwarts: A History. "

"A gi-giant s-s-squid!?" Neville trembled, turning around in his seat.

He was shaking so badly that his toad got loose again. It made a valiant leap for freedom, clearing the side of the rowboat and splashing into the lake.

"Trevor!!" Neville called out, but he was too late. Whatever was following us paused for a moment and there was a small swirling in the water.

Hermione and I remained silent out of respect. I mean, what could we say? A toad is a really stupid pet, but it would have been insensitive to mention that fact in Longbottom's time of loss.


Hoping for more free hand-outs, the squid - or whatever it was - kept shadowing us as the line of boats eventually pulled into a little grotto under the castle. Being the rear boat in the line, we were the last to disembark. The other nervous first-years were already following Hagrid up the stone steps as I held the boat steady for Hermione and Neville to climb out onto the stone quay.

Not all of the first-years had left the little dock area, it seemed. Draco Malfoy lagged behind the rest. He had something to say to me - in private, apparently, as his two thugs were nowhere in sight.

"Go on - I'll deal with him," I turned to whisper to my allies. They wouldn't be of any use, anyway.

I stealthily drew my wand this time, concealing it at my side as I shooed Granger and Longbottom toward the stone steps leading up into the castle.

"I'm warning you, Potter," Malfoy hissed as I turned to face him. "You should think carefully about the friends you choose to make here - and the enemies you choose to make as well."

The fool! He hadn't even drawn his wand!

I briefly considered that I didn't know any spells and so at this point my own wand was of no more use than a long pointed stick. Sometimes, though, a long pointed stick is all you need.

I lunged at Malfoy, ramming my wand into his left eye socket. It went in really far. A lot farther than I expected.

My momentum knocked him backwards and I followed, trying to pull my wand out of his skull. We did a little pirouette at the edge of the dock and Draco toppled into the dark water. There was an ominous swirling beneath the surface and I felt him being dragged under - something had him by the leg. With a final, frantic, two-handed yank on my wand I managed to wrench it free.

The ripples moved away from the dock, back out toward the lake. I watched and waited for several seconds before I felt it was safe to quickly dip my wand and hands in the water to rinse off the blood.

"You killed him!"

I spun around to face the ample eyebrows of Hermione Granger, knitted together in an accusing frown.

"Please don't tell anyone," I warned - very nervously.

"Alright, but I hope this isn't going to become a habit, Harry! "

The way she emphasized my name told me that we were still allies. Friends, even. The girl was made of sterner stuff, as they say. She was better than I'd given her credit for.

She had my back.

"Hurry up or we'll be missed," she hissed, nodding to the stone steps.

She marched off at a brisk pace. I had no choice but to follow her as I reflected on my strategic decision back at Kings Cross. Had I chosen to quest with Ginny Weasley - and her over-protective brother, Ron - Ginny and I would likely be having a mental conversation right about now, pledging our undying love and wondering what quirk of Fate had joined us together.

Fate-shmate! This was a quest and I was playing to win! One enemy had already fallen before my mighty, pointed, wooden stick!


The Sorting Hat sent the three of us to Gryffindor House, of course. It knew better than to split up a questing party, I suppose. It sent Ron Weasley to Gryffindor, too, but all three of his brothers were Gryffindors, so go figure.

There had been a bit of a hubbub when Draco Malfoy's name was called and he was nowhere to be found. No one had seen him since the rowboats. Neville had obediently followed the others up the stone steps, so only Hermione and I knew of the blonde's fate and neither of us were talking.

"We're not telling Neville, right?" Hermione leaned over to whisper in my ear as we sat together at the Gryffindor table.

"Definitely not!" I whispered back.

Longbottom was such a loser. If we ever found ourselves short on food during our quest, Neville would be in deep trouble!

Speaking of which...

"Do you like owls?" I asked Hermione.

"What!?"

"I imagine they taste a lot like chicken, only a bit more gamey," I nodded thoughtfully.


We sat through the rest of the Sorting, then Professor McGonagall hurried off, back the way we'd come - presumably to look for Malfoy.

The following day, Malfoy's wand would be discovered floating in the middle of the lake. Upon further questioning, his two thugs would admit that they were only 'pretty sure' that they'd escorted their charge safely across the night before.

It seemed that with their first sight of the castle and being nervous about their upcoming sorting and such, the first-years had other things to worry about. No one recalled specifically whether the blonde had gotten out of a rowboat at the castle's little quay - not even Longbottom, who clearly had seen Malfoy standing safely on the stone dock.

Neville was distraught about his toad, however, and fretting about the Howler he would get from his Gran - should he be brave enough or foolish enough to tell her, that is. He later admitted that he was terrified that he'd be required to perform magic in order to be sorted, and so he would be sent home straight away. Yes, Longbottom had had more pressing worries than remembering the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy's father would be furious, but ultimately, Draco would be presumed to have fallen overboard and drowned.

The upshot was that I learned a valuable lesson: witches and wizards can detect 'residual magic' somehow. Since I had not used magic to dispatch Malfoy, there was nothing to detect. I wondered if Draco already knew this and that was his reasoning for choosing warriors for his questing party. Hah! A lot of good it did him!


Back in the present in the Great Hall, the Headmaster stood to make several announcements.

"First-years are warned that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students. Also, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a most unpleasant death."

"Alright! " I nudged Hermione in my excitement. "A side-quest!"

"Really?" she whispered back. "Are you talking about an adventure?"

"The Forbidden Forest - it's in The Book," I nodded.

"What about the third-floor corridor?" she whispered, "And what book are you talking about?"

"The third-floor corridor is part of the main plot - we have to beat it if we are to complete our quest," I told her. "It's all explained in The Book."

"What book?" she repeated.

"I'll show you later - in the common room."

I looked up at the High Table just then and Snape caught my eye - at least I assumed it was Snape, given his description in The Book. It was at that moment that my scar exploded in pain.

All I could think of was, 'Why didn't I pick Ginny Weasley?' I'd forgotten about my scar. Had I chosen the Weasley route, my scar could have been Voldemort-free by now, the evil Dark Lord's presence driven out and my scar cleansed by the healing power of love. Or pushed out by Ginny's overpowering presence in my mind. Or by - whatever. Either way, I wouldn't have to be enduring this searing pain. I watched in agony as a vision of a man with no nose rode a horse with no name across a desert where the wind cried, 'Mary.'

"Harry!?" Hermione was gripping my shoulders frantically. "What's wrong, Harry!?"

"Nothing." I shook my head to clear it. The pain ceased as abruptly as it had begun.

"Potter? Are you ill?" Percy Weasley leaned around several other students to ask me.

"I'm fine," I nodded, giving my head another shake. The terrible vision had faded to black and nothing else mattered.

"You're not fine!" Hermione hissed at me, her hazel eyes squinting fiercely into mine. "What just happened? You must tell me!"

"Your eyes are hazel, not cinnamon brown," I remarked, curious that The Book had gotten it wrong. I dismissed the error as a first-edition typo.

"Of course my are eyes are hazel - and yours are green," she agreed. "Now tell me what just happened."

"Later - in the common room," I shrugged off her demand.

"I'll hold you to that!" she warned quietly, her hazel eyes still narrowed at me.

The Book was certainly right about one thing: the Hermione Granger Strategy was not for beginners!


"First-years! Come to me!" Percy Weasley stood to gather his charges when we were dismissed. "First-year Gryffindors! Follow me!"

The fifth-year prefect led us up the confusing staircases to Gryffindor Tower.

"The password is 'Caput Draconis ,'" Percy told us. Prophetic, I considered, since one Draco was now very much caput! The Fat Lady's portrait swung out of the way to reveal the entrance to our common room. "Everyone up to bed, now!" our prefect commanded. "Witches proceed up the right stairway, wizards to the left. Tomorrow will be a tiring day. Off you go!"

Hermione caught my eye as Percy shooed us toward the stairways. She made a point of glancing at the sofa in front of the fireplace. I nodded. We'd meet back here later, we both silently agreed.


"Hey, mate!" Ron Weasley greeted me as I stood there taking in the sight of my dormitory room.

Weasley seemed to regard me as his bosom buddy, although I had no idea why. I'd insulted the Chudley Cannons, hadn't I? What more would it take to convince him that we weren't best mates?

My trunk was sitting at the foot of one of the four-poster beds - the one nearest the door. Weasley's was apparently next to mine. I silently wondered if he'd rearranged them before I arrived.

"I looked for you when I got on the train, but you disappeared," Ron frowned.

"Yeah - I sat with Longbottom," I nodded to Neville, whose trunk was sitting in front of the bed over by the window. As my gaze returned to Weasley's bed, I gasped and drew my wand. "There's a rat!" I pointed to the bed as I made to stab it with my pointed stick.

"No!!" Ron shouted, interposing his own body between me and the rat. "That's Scabbers! He's my pet!"

That caused me to pull up short. "Your pet!??" I exclaimed. "A rat!??"

"Percy gave him to me," Ron nodded, turning to grab the rat off his bed and tuck it safely into his jumper. "Scabbers has been in the family for years," he added, cradling the rat protectively.

I suddenly had a brainstorm. "Say, Ron - would you mind trading beds with Longbottom?" I asked Weasley. "Thanks!" I said, not waiting for a reply.

I dragged Ron's trunk over to Neville's bed before the red-head could think to complain.

"Neville! You're switching with Weasley," I informed the surprised and now toad-free boy. "Move your trunk!"

This accomplished two things: it would keep my ally close and it banished Ron's predicted snoring - and his rat - to the other side of the room.


It was nearly two hours later when quiet finally settled over the Gryffindor boys' dorms. Two floors below us, even the rambunctious third-years had quieted down. I slipped out of bed and out the door, clutching The Book, which I'd promised to share with Hermione.

She was waiting in the common room when I arrived, curled up on the sofa in front of the warming fireplace.

"You brought it!" she greeted me with an eager smile, her hand outstretched. "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - Strategy and Cheat Codes ?" she looked up at me after scanning the title.

"Yeah," I nodded, plopping down onto the other end of the sofa. "It's been very helpful, so far."

I watched as she flipped the pages, pausing now and then to read whatever caught her eye.

"It's got my name wrong," she frowned, looking over at me as if I were to blame.

"What?" I scooted closer on the sofa to read the offending paragraph.

"My middle name is Jean, not Jane - Hermione Jean Granger."

"Are you sure?" I asked, instantly realizing the idiocy of my question.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes at me.

"My middle name and my eye color - I wonder what else it got wrong," she continued frowning, returning her attention to The Book.

"I think I rather prefer 'Jane,'" I said, considering the name. "It rolls off your tongue, you know? 'Hermione Jane'... Puts me in mind of the old American westerns - Calamity Jane."

"How about 'Jamie'? Does that put you in mind of any American westerns?" she looked up from The Book to shoot me a piercing glare, her hazel eyes sending a warning. "Jessie James, perhaps? I wonder if his gang of outlaws called him 'Jamie'?"

"We could make that Janie! " I returned the insult, but with a grin on my face.

Her indignant expression softened gradually, eventually giving way to a small chuckle. Her eyes were now smiling - laughing, even - as she sneered back, "Just for that, I'm calling you Jamie from now on!"

"Janie! " I repeated, trying to match her sneer but failing. I started laughing, instead.

"Jamie! " she shot back, but her giggle belied any malice in the moniker.

"Janie! " I attempted to get in the last word.

"May I borrow this?" she smiled back, holding up The Book.

"Keep it secret," I warned. "Just you and me."

"Just you and I, " she corrected me as if it were her habit. "Only you and I should know about it."

"The secret will remain between just you and me! " I defended my awesome grammar skills.

"Alright," she nodded, her face reddening a little. "We're both correct."

"See you tomorrow, then?" I stood, offering my hand.

"We'll meet here for breakfast," she nodded, allowing me to pull her to her feet.

"Don't stay awake all night reading that book in one go," I warned. "You may keep it for as long as you like."

"Thanks!" she smiled, giving my hand a grateful little squeeze before she released it. "Goodnight, Jamie, " she grinned, then ran for the girls' stairs.

"Goodnight, Janie," I chuckled after her quietly, then turned toward my own dorm, thankful that The Book's presence had sidetracked her from asking about the earlier pain in my scar.


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