On the third of January, Harry returned to King's Cross station accompanied by Remus. His parents had once again been unable to accompany him, as Brian had become "sick" that morning; not that Harry cared. Since Christmas morning, his brother had put on the same little act two or three times; from Harry's perspective, since Brian was unable to take away the gifts he had received for Christmas, he thought to snatch away his parents' attention... Something that would have worked if it wasn't for the fact that it was nothing new.
Harry felt lighter than when he had last been there, and it was noticeable on his face. As he walked along the platform, he greeted his various companions, all of whom seemed happy about the time spent at home, and at the same time, they were happy to go back to school. Much more cheerful than he was, Harry, who was a regular with Remus, boarded the train after saying goodbye to his uncle, to go and find one of his friends, if anyone had already arrived.
"Harry!"
The boy turned at the sound and smiled when he saw Athenea and Jonathan approaching him, both with joyful expressions.
"Athenea, Jonathan... How was your holiday?"
"Very good," the girl replied as she took his hand. "It was very nice to see my parents and my little brothers, although I missed you; by the way, thank you for the bracelet... it's very beautiful and a thoughtful gift."
"It's nothing," the blushing boy murmured.
"Of course it is," Jonathan affirmed. "I absolutely loved the magical paintings you gave me."
Both Hufflepuffs began to pull Harry down the train aisle to one of the last compartments, where they had already placed their respective trunks and luggage. Harry was so embarrassed that he allowed himself to be led without any comment. Once inside the compartment, the other two Hufflepuffs began to ask him questions about his holiday, as well as if he had liked his gifts and what the others' gifts had been.
"Here you were. I've been looking for you all over the train." Draco Malfoy's familiar voice slipped through the compartment entrance, and there, leaning against the door, was the first-year Slytherin. "I hope you had a good holiday."
"Same to you," the others answered while the blonde made himself comfortable.
"Thanks for the potion set, Harry, I can't wait to use it."
"I'm glad you liked it."
"Liked it? I loved it!" he exclaimed. "Did you like my gift? By the way, where is it?"
"Yes, Draco, I liked my gift... And it's here."
Harry stood up for a moment and reached for a wicker basket, from which, after opening the lid, a black kitten emerged. After stretching, it began to demand its master's attention.
"A kitten!" exclaimed Athenea. "How adorable! What's its name?"
"I've named it 'Night'," the animal's owner replied.
"Nice name," Terry's voice answered from the door.
There, at the entrance, were Terry, Neville, and Hermione. Apparently, they had met when they were going to take the train and had decided to look for him together, arriving just in time for the social introduction of the dark-haired boy's newly acquired pet. Without a word, they simply entered the compartment and began to explain how their Christmas had gone; each one different, and yet, all similar.
That night, already at Hogwarts, Harry was called to his Head of House's office to discuss how his studies would proceed for the rest of the term, or in other words, what his classes would be like from now on. Not that it was much different from what he had already imagined: he would have the same type of timetable as during the previous term, except now instead of going with the first-years and taking the first-year syllabus, he would be with the second-years.
"I know it's going to be hard to catch up with the rest of his year, but I have faith that he will achieve it," Professor Sprout said, just before bidding him farewell.
Second-year classes were not much more complicated than those of the first year either; he found that he learned very easily both what the rest of the year group did during regular classes and also what he was taught in the intensive classes where he learned what the rest of the group had supposedly already learned.
"It's amazing, Headmaster. I think the second year doesn't suit his abilities..." McGonagall explained during the meeting in the second week of the term.
"Do you mean to tell me, Minerva, that the material for the second year doesn't even present a challenge for him?" the Headmaster asked sceptically.
"Exactly, Headmaster," Snape said. "Currently, Mr. Potter has already caught up with the rest of his classmates in my class, and he is undoubtedly the best student. The subject being taught poses no challenge for him."
"So, I think I'm not wrong when I assume that you want to prepare him to advance him to the third year. Is that not true?"
"No, you're not wrong, Headmaster. A talent like that boy's only appears once in a lifetime... if his level of learning continues like this... Can you imagine how far he could go?" Professor Flitwick added. "Honestly, I don't understand how he didn't end up in Ravenclaw."
"Who knows what criteria the Sorting Hat uses to make up its mind about how to classify students," Dumbledore said with a sigh.
"So what does the Headmaster say?"
"Very well... if he accepts, go ahead."
Honestly, the Headmaster expected the boy to refuse to follow such a pace of learning, and surely if it were any other student, he would be right. But he had no knowledge about Harry. In spite of all that he might say, he didn't like that the boy was turning out to be so dexterous and powerful; he didn't like at all that he had those abilities, because he had no control over him. For years, he had made sure to have Brian and his parents in the palm of his hand, but he had never bothered with Harry, since his parents assured him that he was just a simple Squib.
Of course, and to the Headmaster's displeasure, Harry was delighted at the idea of being able to learn more in less time and did not hesitate to accept the offer they presented. He had faith that it would turn out well because although he knew it was much more complicated, he had managed to complete the first year in only three months; if he made an effort, perhaps it would be possible for him to repeat the feat.
He was so happy that he wrote a letter to Remus, and then went straight to his room, where he was spending all his time lately and where Night had practically made his home, since that was where Harry spent practically all his time.
Night had turned out to be an adorable little creature; almost everyone seemed drawn to the tiny kitten, who appeared to have a character atypical for a feline. He hated the attention of everyone except that of his master and very few exceptions (which turned out to be Harry and Remus's friends). As soon as he saw Mrs. Norris, he used to run away as if he were being chased by the devil, and seemed to get along wonderfully with any type of bird. Yes, his kitten was truly atypical.
Perhaps, what he liked most about Night was the obvious contempt the kitten felt for his brother; it had been a lot of fun when Brian had tried to snatch him away using an affectionate tactic, and Night had reacted by scratching him with all his might. After that, the little feline had had quite a few "accidents" from which he emerged unharmed thanks to the protective spell that Harry had put on him as soon as he received him from Draco.
The response to Remus's letter came during breakfast the next day, while Harry quietly enjoyed his toast, his pumpkin juice, and his bacon. Wolfy, the werewolf's owl (and named after his godfather as a kind of joke), handed him a rather extensive-looking letter.
"Whose is it?" Jonathan asked, looking up from his own mail. "From Remus?"
"Yes."
"And what does he tell you?" Athenea asked.
"Well..." Harry said, looking up. "The teachers are going to try to advance me another year."
There was a brief moment of silence from his two Hufflepuff friends before they could finish processing the information that had just reached them, then the two of them exclaimed at the same time:
"WHAT?! When did you intend to tell us?"
"Hmm... now?" Harry replied timidly.
"You're a hopeless case, Harry," Athenea said with a resigned sigh. "Well, in any case, congratulations... I really shouldn't be surprised."
"Nor me," Jonathan affirmed. "You have an ease and understanding of magic much greater than that of most Ravenclaws, and they are the brains. By the way, let's see if you stop disappearing so often; I still want to make that portrait of you with the paintings you gave me for Christmas, and for that, you must be in the Common Room for some time."
"I'm embarrassed that you want to paint a portrait of me!"
"Bad luck, because it is not open to discussion! Besides, I've also made one for Athenea, and she hasn't died, or anything like that."
Harry sighed before returning thoughtfully to his breakfast. Remus knew that they were going to try to advance him another year because Harry himself had told him, but his family would surely know it too from the school... It was to be hoped that his parents would not have contacted him to congratulate him, but that did not mean that it didn't hurt a lot. It was best not to think about it, and therefore focus on other things, such as the study of the Wolfsbane Potion.
A couple of days ago, and more by chance than anything else, he had found a book that told him about this potion and also described the recipe. It had been quite a find, to be honest, because at the end of the day, being such a new potion (it had only been discovered four years ago), the books in his library, inside his room, never mentioned it. So, it had just opened up the possibility, not only of elaborating it, but also of studying it and trying to improve it.
For the moment, he had begun by looking for the different ingredients, some of which were quite specific and obviously not commonly used. Some, like powdered Opaleye scales, were not only hard to find but also expensive. He was lucky to have such a good and well-equipped lab, because if not, he wouldn't know how he could perform all his experiments.
If someone had told him, he wouldn't have hesitated to believe them when he was told it was a complicated potion; but now that he could see it for himself, he still marvelled not only at how complex it was, but also at how magnificently structured and studied it was. Obviously, the person who had created it had been someone who had been very close to a werewolf themselves, since they knew things and details that by logic are only learned by living with one.
"Harry... Harry! Can you tell me where your thoughts are?" It was Athenea who took him out of his reflections.
"Oh... in potions."
"Well, look where, that's the class you'll be late for if you don't stop daydreaming and start going there."
"Oh, thank you, Athenea."
After that, and still thinking of the Wolfsbane Potion, he shot off to the Potions classroom, where the rest of the second-year Hufflepuffs would have two hours of study with Professor Snape. Of course, he, for the moment and certainly throughout the term, would not do the same as his peers, either because he was ahead or more advanced.
He sighed happily as he walked into the classroom and sat at what he already considered his own desk, where Professor Snape could keep a better eye on him. At that moment, he was excited; Potions was one of the subjects he liked the most. It was truly a fascinating idea to be able to do so many things with a single potion, that by joining the ingredients in a certain order and form, one could, for example, heal different burns or other ailments of the body. Too bad the teacher always watched him so closely because of his illness; a habit that usually left Harry quite quiet.
"Mr. Potter, you're going to brew a cold-curing potion for me today: the Pepper-Up Potion."
"Yes, sir."
Another thing he liked about the course was the teacher. He knew that for the vast majority, Snape provoked fear (Neville paled at the mere mention of him), but the only thing Harry felt was admiration. He knew Snape was one of Europe's greatest Potions Masters, and to be taught by him was an honour. Of course, he also had to admit that Snape used to behave very differently with him than with the rest of the student body (except for Slytherin, of course), since he, to Remus's bewilderment, used to treat Harry with respect.
Potions brewing had always relaxed and calmed him down, and his actions could be said to be almost automatic. For that reason, it could be said that it was practically a new form of meditation.
Meditation. An activity that he had been doing for months in order to better understand his own power, and that had really helped him a lot. He had already been turning it over in his head for months: if meditation is so good for understanding and expanding your own power—why wasn't it taught or enhanced at Hogwarts? It would be great if it was explained to them or became a class for first-years; that way, they would have a better idea of their power and their potential, avoiding the many accidents due to lack of control.
Thanks to meditation, he had learned many of his abilities, many of which would have taken many years to discover otherwise. Even if the heredity was fortunate, he had been restless for several days during his meditations; there was a strange sense of uneasiness and nervousness inside him, as if something magnificent and extraordinary was about to happen... But what? It remained a mystery, but one that would not be resolved until it happened, and to truly prevent it, he would have to stop meditating, something he wasn't willing to sacrifice: there were too many benefits to lose.
"Mr. Potter, I think you should now add the chopped luminia root, if I'm not mistaken," Snape said, pulling him out of his reflections.
"Of course, sir," he replied, adding the corresponding ingredient.
The rest of the class watched his potion. Had it not been for Snape, the potion would have been damaged and rendered useless; if the Luminia Root was not introduced at the exact moment, it made it impossible to repair the potion no matter what you did.
"You were rather distracted, Mr. Potter. Has something happened?" Snape said worriedly when Harry handed over his potion.
"No, sir, I was just thinking."
"May I know what about?"
"I wondered why meditation wasn't a course, albeit a brief, technical one. There are many branches of magic that become easier and more accessible if practised assiduously."
"Ahhh... I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but that's something I don't know," Snape replied. "I've been asked several times. About thirty years ago, meditation was one of the subjects given to first-year students, but about twenty-five or twenty-six years ago, it was taken out of the curriculum. Even now, the motivation of Headmaster Dippet, who was the one who did it, is unknown."
"Oh... Thank you for the answer, Professor," the boy said after a while of assimilating the information. After that, he gathered his things and left the classroom.