The real Herry Potter

Harry's time after his visit to Gringotts was filled with excitement and accomplishments. The pride he felt as he completed his broomstick project was unparalleled. Standing in the open courtyard of Runestone Castle, Harry admired the broomstick in his hands. He had named it Thunderclap Arrow—a solid and well-crafted broomstick that felt like an extension of his own body. It wasn't as fast as his Comet 260, but that wasn't the point. It had other strengths: a precise and responsive control system, a rapid acceleration that left Harry breathless, and a smooth, steady flight that made long rides feel effortless.

As he mounted the Thunderclap Arrow for the first time, the excitement bubbled up inside him. He kicked off the ground and shot into the air, his cloak flapping in the wind. The broom responded instantly, curving gracefully through the sky. He pushed it harder, accelerating to a speed that made his heart race. Despite its slower top speed compared to his Comet 260, the Thunderclap Arrow felt more secure, more stable. It was as if he and the broom were one, a perfect harmony of mind and wood.

Over the next few days, Harry pushed the broomstick to its limits. He tried every maneuver he could remember from the Quidditch books he had studied—dive-bombing spirals, sharp turns, loop-de-loops. The Thunderclap Arrow performed beautifully, executing every movement with precision. Out of the ten broomsticks he had attempted to make, only six had survived his rigorous enchantment process. The others had crumbled under the strain, unable to handle the complex and powerful magic he had infused into them. But those that remained were sturdy and reliable, each with its unique properties.

Harry stored the extra broomsticks in a hidden room within Runestone Castle, thinking they might come in handy later. For now, though, Thunderclap Arrow was his primary focus.

When Harry wasn't flying, he spent hours in the castle's ancient Potion Room, brewing potions. It was an art form that came naturally to him, a mix of precision, patience, and intuition. He brewed basic potions at first—healing drafts, sleeping potions, and antidotes to common poisons—but quickly moved on to more advanced concoctions. Using the Hogwarts textbooks as a foundation, he dove into the many tomes available in Runestone Castle's vast library.

The castle held a treasure trove of ancient knowledge, books that had been untouched for centuries. Some contained rare recipes for potions that were long forgotten by the modern wizarding world. Harry became obsessed with these, spending hours carefully measuring, stirring, and simmering ingredients. The scent of brewing potions filled the air, a heady mixture of herbs, roots, and magical essences.

His favorite was a potion that granted temporary invisibility. It wasn't as powerful as an Invisibility Cloak, but it lasted for several minutes—enough to escape from a tricky situation or sneak past someone unnoticed. Another was a healing potion that worked faster than any he had seen in the Hogwarts curriculum. It could close wounds in seconds and mend broken bones in minutes.

But it wasn't just potion-making that occupied his time. Harry also began to delve deeper into spellcasting. The more he read through the books at Runestone Castle, the more he realized just how much the current Hogwarts curriculum lacked. It was shocking, really. As he compared the spells from Eldritch Gosling's era—spells that Gosling had learned by his third year—to the current Hogwarts curriculum, Harry found that many of the advanced spells of the past were now taught only in the sixth or seventh year. Some weren't taught at all.

Harry frowned as he studied the two curriculums side by side. What had happened to wizarding education? he wondered. How had it become so watered down? Was it because wizards had grown weaker over time? Had the Ministry of Magic decided that it was too dangerous to teach young wizards such powerful spells? Or was it simply that the knowledge had been lost over the centuries?

It was troubling to think about. In Eldritch Gosling's time, by the seventh year, wizards were considered among the most advanced of their kind. They could cast wide-area charms, transfigure massive objects, and wield destructive spells that could level entire buildings. Warding magic was complex and powerful, capable of protecting entire villages. But now, those same spells were considered too difficult for most students. They were hidden away, taught only to a select few, or not at all.

Harry's frustration grew as he compared the spells he had learned from Gosling's second-year book to the spells taught in the sixth and seventh years of Hogwarts today. Spells like the Summoning Charm, the Stupefy spell, and even the Disarming Charm—basic spells that Gosling had mastered as a first-year—were now considered advanced magic.

The more Harry read, the more determined he became. He decided to follow Eldritch Gosling's curriculum rather than the current Hogwarts one. It was far more challenging, but also far more rewarding. He could feel himself growing stronger with each new spell he learned, each new potion he brewed. He began to incorporate complex spell chains into his practice, blending multiple spells together to create powerful combinations.

One day, while flipping through one of the oldest books in the castle's library, Harry stumbled upon a spell that caught his attention. It was an ancient charm designed to reinforce the body's natural defenses. It wasn't just a shield; it enhanced the caster's strength, speed, and reflexes. According to the book, it was once taught to Wizards during the Goblin Wars, but had since fallen out of use. Harry decided to master it, practicing the complex incantation over and over until he could feel the magic humming through his veins.

He tested the spell in the training grounds, pitting himself against various animated targets and magical creatures conjured from Runestone's enchanted grounds. The results were staggering. He moved faster, hit harder, and endured more than he ever had before. The charm amplified his abilities in ways he hadn't expected, and he felt invincible—at least for a short time.

When the spell's effects wore off, Harry couldn't help but wonder why such powerful magic had been abandoned. Was it because it was too dangerous? Or was there something else at play?

Despite his newfound abilities, Harry knew that he couldn't neglect the present. While Eldritch Gosling's curriculum provided him with powerful spells from the past, he also kept an eye on more recent developments in the wizarding world. New spells and potions had been created in the years since Gosling's time, and Harry made sure to stay up to date with these as well. He subscribed to various wizarding publications and scoured the shelves of Flurish and Blotts for any mention of newer magic.

He found a few modern spells that intrigued him—like a charm that could temporarily disable Muggle technology, and a potion that enhanced a wizard's mental acuity for a short period of time. These were useful tools, and Harry incorporated them into his daily practice alongside the ancient magic he was learning.

Harry also began to experiment with creating his own spells and potions. It was a challenging process, one that required both creativity and discipline. He spent hours in the library, studying the theory behind spellcraft and potion-making, then applying that knowledge in the Potion Room. Some of his experiments were successful—he created a spell that could mend broken glass, for example, and a potion that increased a wizard's resistance to cold. Others were less so—he accidentally blew up a cauldron while attempting to create a potion that would allow him to breathe underwater, and another time he set fire to the Potion Room while testing a new fire-based spell.

But each failure taught him something new, and Harry relished the challenge. The thrill of discovery, the satisfaction of mastering a difficult spell, the joy of seeing his hard work pay off—it all drove him to push himself harder, to reach for new heights.

As he looked around the castle, at the vast library and the ancient Potion Room, Harry knew that he was on the right path. He was no longer just the Boy Who Lived. He was a wizard in his own right, carving his own path, mastering his own destiny. And with each passing day, he grew stronger, smarter, and more powerful.

But Harry also knew that he had to be careful. The knowledge he was gaining, the power he was wielding—it could be dangerous if not used wisely. He had to stay focused, disciplined, and above all, he had to remember who he was and what he stood for.

As the sun set on another day at Runestone Castle, Harry stood in the courtyard, his wand in hand, his heart filled with determination. He wasn't just preparing for Hogwarts. He was preparing for the future—whatever it might bring.

Harry sat in the grand sitting room of the McKinnon Manor, nervously drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. The manor had a haunting beauty, with its high ceilings, old portraits, and heavy, ornate furniture. This was a place steeped in history, and it had once belonged to the McKinnon family, a family he had never heard of until recently. A family that had somehow become connected to him. He could barely wrap his mind around the fact that Marlene McKinnon, who had lived in this very manor, had been his godmother.

Harry was only ten years old, but already his life had taken several unexpected turns. First, discovering that he was a wizard, then inheriting this vast estate, and now learning that there were people who had been close to his parents—people he had never even known existed.

The Lovegoods had just arrived, and Harry found himself hoping that Xenophilius, with his unique knowledge of the wizarding world, might be able to provide some answers. He had so many questions, and this was one of the few opportunities he had to ask them.

Xenophilius and his daughter Luna sat across from Harry, each looking around the room with curiosity. Xenophilius, with his wild hair and eccentric demeanor, had a way of making Harry feel both intrigued and slightly uneasy. Luna, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, her dreamy eyes taking in everything with quiet fascination.

"Mr. Lovegood," Harry began hesitantly, "thank you for coming. I wanted to ask you about… well, about some things I've been hearing. I'm trying to understand more about my family—about the people who knew my parents."

Xenophilius smiled kindly. "Of course, Harry. It's good that you're asking questions. The past is full of stories, some of them wonderful, some of them tragic. What would you like to know?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I found out that this place—the McKinnon Manor—used to belong to a woman named Marlene McKinnon. Apparently, she was my godmother. But I've never heard of her before. Could you tell me who she was?"

Xenophilius nodded thoughtfully. "Marlene McKinnon… Yes, she was a remarkable witch, one of the bravest I've ever known. She fought in the first war against Voldemort, alongside your parents. She was part of a group called the Order of the Phoenix, a secret society dedicated to fighting the Dark Lord and his followers."

Harry's eyes widened. "She fought against Voldemort? And she knew my parents?"

"Indeed," Xenophilius replied. "She was very close to them. In fact, she was chosen to be your godmother, which speaks volumes about the trust and affection they had for her. Marlene was known for her courage and her fierce sense of justice. But, like so many others in those dark times, her life was cut tragically short. Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters, wiped out her entire family. It was a great loss."

Harry felt a pang of sadness. "I never knew… No one ever told me about her."

Xenophilius nodded sympathetically. "It's understandable. Many people prefer not to dwell on the past, especially when it's filled with so much pain. But it's important to remember those who stood up against evil, even if their stories are not widely known."

Harry absorbed this information, feeling a strange mix of emotions. It was bittersweet to learn about Marlene McKinnon—this brave, selfless witch who had cared for him enough to become his godmother, yet whom he had never had the chance to meet.

After a moment of silence, Harry spoke again. "There's something else I wanted to ask you about. I've heard of another person who was close to my parents—someone named Sirius Black. Do you know who he is?"

Xenophilius's expression grew more serious. "Ah, Sirius Black. Yes, I know of him. He was another member of the Order of the Phoenix, and he was your father's best friend. In fact, he was your godfather."

Harry blinked in surprise. "My godfather? But… I've heard that he's in prison. In Azkaban. They say he did something terrible—killed a lot of people. And that he was a supporter of Voldemort.

"Xenophilius's face darkened, and he leaned forward slightly. "That's the official story, yes. But, Harry, there's something you should know. Things are not always as they seem in the wizarding world. Sirius Black was indeed sent to Azkaban, accused of betraying your parents and killing twelve Muggles with a single curse. But…"

Harry leaned in, sensing that Xenophilius was about to reveal something important. "But what?"

"But," Xenophilius continued, "Sirius Black never had a trial. He was captured and imprisoned without ever being given the chance to defend himself. It's highly unusual, even for the most dangerous criminals. The wizarding world has a system of justice, flawed as it may be, but in this case, it seems to have been bypassed entirely."

Harry stared at him, trying to process this new information. "No trial? How can that be?"

Xenophilius sighed. "It's a mystery, one that has troubled many of us who knew him. You see, Sirius was not like the rest of his family. The Black family has a long history of dark magic and pure-blood supremacy, but Sirius rejected all of that. He ran away from home as a teenager and was taken in by your grandparents. He became like a brother to your father, James. They were inseparable."

Harry frowned. "But if he wasn't like his family, then why do people think he supported Voldemort?""That's the question, isn't it?" Xenophilius said with a grim smile. "Sirius was known for his rebellious nature, but he was never a follower of Voldemort.

In fact, he hated everything Voldemort stood for. But after your parents were betrayed and killed, all the evidence pointed to Sirius as the traitor. He was the Potters' Secret-Keeper, the one who was supposed to protect the location of their home with a powerful spell. When they were found and killed, everyone assumed that Sirius had given them up."

Harry's mind was reeling. "But if he didn't do it, then who did?"

Xenophilius hesitated. "There are theories, of course, but without a proper investigation, the truth has been buried. Some believe that another wizard, Peter Pettigrew, who was also close to your parents, may have been involved. But Peter disappeared the same night your parents were killed, and many believe he died in the explosion that killed the Muggles."

Harry felt a knot forming in his stomach. "So, they just assumed Sirius was guilty and threw him in prison?"

"That's essentially what happened," Xenophilius confirmed. "And Azkaban is no ordinary prison, Harry. It's a place of unimaginable horrors, guarded by creatures called Dementors that feed on despair. Many who go there lose their minds within days. It's a fate worse than death."

Harry sat back in his chair, feeling a mixture of anger and confusion. "But… if he was my dad's best friend, if he was my godfather, then… why would he do something like that? It doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't," Xenophilius agreed. "And that's why some of us have always questioned the official story. But without any evidence to the contrary, the Ministry of Magic was eager to close the case. It was a time of fear and chaos, and they wanted to believe they had caught the traitor responsible for the Potters' deaths."

Harry felt a surge of determination. "I need to find out the truth. If Sirius Black really was innocent… if he was betrayed… then someone needs to set things right."

Xenophilius nodded approvingly. "You have a good heart, Harry. Seeking the truth is never easy, especially when it challenges what you've been told. But you're right. If there's more to this story, it deserves to be uncovered."

Luna, who had been quietly listening all this time, spoke up with her usual calm, dreamy tone. "Sometimes, the truth is hidden in places where people least expect it. But it always finds a way to come out in the end."

Harry glanced at her, feeling a strange sense of reassurance in her words. He didn't fully understand what she meant, but there was a wisdom in Luna's simplicity that comforted him.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, looking from Luna to Xenophilius. "I really appreciate you telling me all this. I feel like… like I finally have some pieces of the puzzle."

Xenophilius smiled warmly. "Anytime, Harry. And remember, the wizarding world is full of secrets, but with determination and an open mind, you can uncover them. Just be careful—sometimes, the truth can be more dangerous than lies."

Harry nodded, feeling both resolved and anxious about the path ahead. He had so much to learn, and the truth about Sirius Black seemed like just the beginning.

But he knew one thing for certain: he couldn't just let this go. If Sirius Black was his godfather, if he had been his father's best friend and had cared for his parents, then he owed it to them—and to himself—to find out the truth.

Harry had been grappling with the question of his godfather, Sirius Black, for weeks. After discovering that he had not only inherited the McKinnon Manor but also a deep connection to the wizarding world through his godmother, Marlene McKinnon, Harry's thoughts had turned to the man who was supposed to be his protector—Sirius Black. The stories he had heard didn't make sense, and the more he learned, the more he felt the need to uncover the truth. This quest had led him to the home of the Lovegoods.

Xenophilius Lovegood, editor of The Quibbler, was known for his eccentricities, but he was also known for his relentless pursuit of the truth, no matter how odd or controversial. Harry figured that if anyone could help him dig into the mystery surrounding Sirius Black, it would be Xenophilius.

Sitting in the cozy, cluttered living room of the Lovegood house, Harry explained everything to Xenophilius—his confusion, his doubts, and his need to know more about Sirius Black. Xenophilius listened intently, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of his chair as he absorbed Harry's words.

When Harry finished, Xenophilius nodded thoughtfully. "You've uncovered quite the conundrum, Harry. But fortunately, you've come to the right place. I believe we can help you, and it's much easier now than it would have been even a few months ago."

Harry looked at him curiously. "Why is that?"

Xenophilius's eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned forward. "Ever since we started publishing the story of the Golden Snidgets in The Quibbler, our readership has exploded. People can't seem to get enough of it! We've had so many new subscribers that we've had to expand. We've opened an office in Diagon Alley, hired a new assistant, and even bought two more printing presses just to keep up with the demand."

Harry smiled, pleased to see Xenophilius thriving. "That's great! But how does that help with Sirius Black?"

Xenophilius grinned. "It means that The Quibbler now has a much larger platform. More people are reading our articles than ever before, and if we publish a piece about Sirius Black, it's going to get noticed. We can create enough pressure to force the Ministry to take action, perhaps even grant Sirius a trial."

Harry's heart raced at the thought. "You really think that could work?"

Xenophilius nodded confidently. "Yes, I do. But there's more to it than just that. You see, Sirius Black isn't just any wizard. He comes from one of the oldest and most powerful pure-blood families in the wizarding world—the House of Black. And right now, Sirius is the head of that family."

Harry frowned. "But… he's in Azkaban. How can he be the head of his family?"

Xenophilius raised a finger, signaling Harry to wait. "Ah, that's where things get interesting. After the fall of Voldemort, many members of the Black family either passed away or disappeared. Sirius's parents died not long after Voldemort's defeat, his brother Regulus vanished during the war, and his grandfather, Lord Black, passed away recently. With no other direct heirs, the title of head of the House of Black falls to Sirius."

Harry blinked in surprise. "So he's… still technically the head of the Black family?"

"Exactly," Xenophilius confirmed. "And that gives us a unique angle to approach this. You see, Sirius Black was never actually convicted of anything. He was thrown into Azkaban without a trial, which is highly irregular, especially for someone of his status. If we write an article that highlights how the Ministry imprisoned the head of an Ancient and Noble House without due process, it will cause an uproar. Pure-blood families still hold considerable influence in our society, and if they see one of their own treated this way, they'll start to worry about their own safety."

Harry's mind raced as he considered the implications. "So… you think that if we emphasize his pure-blood status and his position as the head of the Black family, we can make people question the Ministry's actions?"

"Precisely," Xenophilius said with a satisfied nod. "We can frame it as a broader issue of justice and fairness. If the Ministry can lock away someone like Sirius Black without a trial, what does that say for the rest of us? If a pure-blood wizard from an influential family isn't safe, then what chance do half-bloods and Muggle-borns have in this society? It will create enough tension and doubt that the Ministry will have no choice but to respond."

Harry could see the logic in Xenophilius's plan. The wizarding world still held strong prejudices, and the pure-blood families, despite their internal rivalries, would likely rally behind the idea of protecting their own. If they could sow enough doubt and fear, the Ministry might be forced to reopen Sirius's case.

"But what if the Ministry refuses?" Harry asked, still wary of how much power the government wielded.

Xenophilius smiled reassuringly. "That's where The Quibbler's new reach comes in. With so many people reading our articles, it will be impossible for the Ministry to ignore us. And if they try to suppress the truth, it will only make them look more suspicious. Public opinion is a powerful tool, Harry. We just have to use it wisely."

Harry nodded, feeling a surge of hope. This was the first real plan he'd had to uncover the truth about his godfather, and it seemed like a solid one. "Okay," he said firmly. "Let's do it. Let's write the article and get Sirius the trial he deserves."

Xenophilius beamed with pride. "That's the spirit, Harry! We'll get started right away. I'll draft the article, and we'll make sure it's thorough. We'll include everything—the lack of a trial, Sirius's position in the Black family, and the implications for the rest of the wizarding world. By the time we're done, the Ministry won't know what hit them."

They spent the rest of the day discussing the finer details of the plan. Xenophilius outlined how he would structure the article, making sure to emphasize the points that would resonate most with the public. They talked about how to gather additional information and who they might need to interview to strengthen their case. Harry was deeply involved in the process, asking questions and offering suggestions.

In between their discussions about Sirius, Xenophilius also shared updates about The Quibbler's growth. He talked about the new office in Diagon Alley, which had become a hub of activity with the hiring of a new assistant. The demand for The Quibbler had skyrocketed since the story of the Golden Snidgets had captivated the public's imagination, and Xenophilius was clearly enjoying the success. The two new printing presses he had purchased were working around the clock to meet the demand, and he was already considering expanding further.

Harry listened with interest, happy to see Xenophilius's hard work paying off. He also couldn't help but feel that The Quibbler's newfound success was a good omen for their plan. With the magazine reaching more people than ever before, their article on Sirius Black would surely have an impact.

As the day wore on, Harry felt a growing sense of determination. This wasn't just about clearing his godfather's name—it was about justice, about uncovering the truth, and about challenging a system that had failed him and so many others. By the time he left the Lovegood home that evening, he was more resolved than ever to see this through.

The journey ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Xenophilius's help and The Quibbler's influence, Harry knew they had a fighting chance. The truth about Sirius Black was out there, and Harry was determined to find it, no matter what it took.