The real Herry Potter

As the first week at Hogwarts passed, Harry began to fall into a rhythm that, strangely enough, reminded him of his old routine at the Runestone Castle. The Fat Lady in the portrait guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room had quickly gotten used to Harry waking her up at dawn. On the first morning, she had grumbled something about "inconsiderate little wizards" as she swung open to let him out. But by the third day, she merely yawned, waved him off, and went back to sleep.

Harry had explored enough of the castle now to know his way to the inner courtyard, a peaceful, open space surrounded by stone arches and ancient walls. It was the perfect place to practice his morning exercises, far enough away from the sleeping students that he wouldn't disturb anyone, but not so far as to risk getting lost again in the maze of Hogwarts corridors.

He started with a jog around the courtyard, feeling the cool morning air against his skin. Then, after stretching, he went into his routine—push-ups, sit-ups, and various stretches. Finally, he would practice more acrobatic moves, things he'd picked up from watching old gymnastics shows on the telly or just messing around in his cupboard. Rolling, flipping, balancing on his hands—he had always been agile, and it felt good to move freely in a space that wasn't confined to a tiny, dark room.

One morning, just as he was finishing his stretches, Neville Longbottom appeared at the courtyard's entrance, looking unsure of himself. He hesitated before stepping forward.

"Morning, Harry," Neville mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He still looked a little sleepy, as if he wasn't quite used to being up this early."

Morning, Neville," Harry greeted him, slightly surprised to see him there. "What brings you here so early?"

Neville looked down, shuffling his feet. "Well…I've been watching you for a few days now. You always wake up early and go off somewhere, and I just thought…maybe I could join you? You know, get a bit stronger."

Harry smiled. "Sure, Neville. I'd like that."

Neville brightened at Harry's response, though there was a flash of nervousness in his eyes. "I'm not really good at, you know, physical stuff," he admitted.

"Don't worry about it," Harry assured him. "We'll start slow. I've got some extra clothes and shoes you can use, so let's just get you moving for now. You'll improve over time."

True to his word, Harry kept the exercises simple for Neville, who struggled at first but showed determination. They began with jogging around the courtyard. Neville couldn't keep up with Harry's pace, but Harry slowed down to match him, offering encouraging words. Over the next few days, Neville began to improve, albeit slowly, but he never gave up.

As the week progressed, their morning sessions became a regular thing. Harry found it nice to have a partner, someone to share his quiet mornings with. Neville's progress was slow, but Harry could see improvement. He no longer stumbled as much, and though his breath was still labored after their jogs, he looked more confident.

"Good job today, Neville," Harry said one morning after they had finished their routine. "You're getting stronger."

Neville wiped the sweat from his brow, beaming despite his exhaustion. "Thanks, Harry. I feel like I'm not holding you back too much anymore."

Harry shook his head. "You're doing great. Just keep at it."

When they weren't exercising in the mornings, life at Hogwarts moved forward at a steady pace. Lessons began to blur together as the days passed, and Harry, Hermione, and Neville found themselves sinking into the rhythm of their classes.

Hermione, of course, thrived in the academic environment, and Harry often spotted her scribbling furiously in her notebooks, excitedly sharing facts with them from her latest letter to her parents. Hedwig, Harry's loyal snowy owl, had grown used to the frequent trips back and forth to the Granger household, carrying Hermione's letters filled with the wonders of magic. She wrote about everything—classes, Hogwarts' history, the moving staircases, and even her budding friendships with Harry and Neville. Hermione's parents, being Muggles, were utterly fascinated by their daughter's new world, and their enthusiastic replies often brought a smile to Hermione's face.

Harry, meanwhile, found himself fascinated by the lessons in Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall, who was already becoming Hermione's idol, had stunned the entire class on the first day when she transformed from a tabby cat into a stern-looking woman right in front of them.

"That," Harry had thought, "is an Animagus."

He knew exactly what that meant, having learned about it from Sirius, his godfather. Sirius had promised him that, when Harry reached his third year, they would begin training together to become Animagi. It was an advanced skill, one that required immense concentration and magical ability, but Sirius had assured him that they would tackle it when the time was right.

For now, Harry kept the idea tucked away in the back of his mind. It wasn't time yet—becoming an Animagus was dangerous, and Sirius had warned him that rushing into it could be disastrous. But knowing that the possibility lay ahead gave Harry something to look forward to.

In between classes and morning workouts, the trio—Harry, Hermione, and Neville—found time to explore Hogwarts as much as they could. The castle was vast, full of hidden nooks and crannies, and Harry was determined to uncover its secrets. Sunday was just around the corner, and he had plans to venture deeper into the castle, possibly discovering more of its hidden passages.

The week had passed in a blur, but as Harry reflected on everything, he realized that Hogwarts was already starting to feel like home. Whether it was the peaceful solitude of the early morning runs, the bustling chaos of classes, or the quiet moments spent with his friends in the common room, he was finally beginning to settle into his new life.

As the week progressed, Harry began to notice something strange during their classes. While he found himself picking up spells fairly quickly and even Hermione seemed to thrive with her natural curiosity and dedication to studying, Neville was struggling. Really struggling.

No matter how hard Neville tried, his spells were inconsistent at best, and outright failures at worst. Harry watched as Neville practiced again and again, his face scrunched in concentration, his hand trembling slightly as he attempted even the simplest of charms. The incantations Neville used were correct, and his wand movements were precise, but still, nothing seemed to happen. Even Hermione had noticed, offering her own advice after class, but it didn't seem to help.

It wasn't until they were practicing charms one afternoon in Flitwick's class that Harry began to suspect what might be wrong. Neville was trying to cast Wingardium Leviosa—the levitation spell they'd all been learning that week. Harry watched closely as Neville flicked his wrist, just as Professor Flitwick had shown them, and enunciated the incantation with great care. But the feather in front of him remained stubbornly on the desk.

Harry frowned. There was something off about the way Neville's wand behaved. It felt almost…resistant, like it wasn't truly responding to Neville's efforts.

After class, as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry pulled Neville aside, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Neville," Harry began carefully, "I've noticed that you're having some trouble with your spells. Do you mind if I take a look at your wand?"

Neville blinked in surprise, then glanced down at the wand in his hand. "Uh, sure," he said, handing it over to Harry. "I don't know what's wrong with it. It worked for my dad, so I thought it would work for me too."

Harry turned the wand over in his hands, inspecting it closely. It wasn't brand new, that much was obvious. The wood was worn smooth, and there were faint scratches and marks along the handle. But there was something else, something that made Harry pause.

"This is your dad's wand?" Harry asked.

Neville nodded. "Yeah. My gran said it's tradition. You know, to use a family member's wand if you can."

Harry stared at the wand for a moment longer before handing it back to Neville. "I think that I know what might be the problem," he said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" Neville looked confused, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes. "What's wrong with it?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying to explain as best he could. "Well, wands are…kind of special. They're not just any old tool. They're supposed to choose their wizard. If you're using someone else's wand—especially if that person is still alive—it might not work properly for you."

Neville furrowed his brow. "But it worked perfectly for my dad," he insisted. "Why wouldn't it work for me?"

Harry shook his head gently. "You're not just your dad, Neville. You're also your mum's son. A wand that worked for your dad might not suit you at all. And besides, your dad is still alive, which means the bond between him and the wand is still there. Wands have a loyalty to their original owners, especially if they haven't been defeated."

Neville looked down at his wand again, frowning deeply. "But…this wand is all I've got. Gran gave it to me before I came to Hogwarts. She said I had to live up to the Longbottom name."

"You don't have to give up your dad's wand completely," Harry said, choosing his words carefully. "You can keep it as a memento, as a reminder of him. But for doing magic, you need a wand that's yours, one that was chosen for you."

Neville looked uncertain. "But my gran…she won't let me get a new wand. She says I have to use this one."

Harry thought for a moment, then smiled. "You don't have to tell your gran about it. There's going to be a Christmas break soon. We can go to Diagon Alley, and you can get your own wand then. You'll see the difference. And you can still keep your dad's wand with you, but you'll have one that actually works for you."

Neville's eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and hesitation. "Do you really think that'll help? I've been struggling so much, Harry."

Harry nodded firmly. "I'm sure of it. A wand is more than just a piece of wood—it's connected to you. I've seen it with other wizards. You'll see once you have a wand of your own. It'll be like night and day."

Neville bit his lip, clearly thinking hard. "But…what do I do until Christmas? That's still months away."

"I've got a plan for that too," Harry said with a grin. "But you'll have to wait until Sunday."

Neville tilted his head in confusion. "Sunday? What happens on Sunday?"

Harry winked. "You'll see."

Each day brought its own challenges and discoveries, but amid the whirlwind of Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms, there was one subject that stood out, one class that had surprised Harry by how much he enjoyed it—Astronomy.

He had never given much thought to the stars before. Sure, he had seen them in the night sky, twinkling far above the Dursleys' home, but they had always felt distant, irrelevant to his everyday life. That changed when Professor Sinistra took the first-year students up to the Astronomy Tower one crisp, clear night.

The class gathered in the cool night air, their cloaks wrapped tightly around them as they climbed to the top of the tower. When they reached the top, Harry's breath caught in his throat. A massive telescope, polished to perfection, stood at the center of the tower, pointed towards the heavens. The stars above them glittered like diamonds against the velvet black sky, and for the first time in his life, Harry felt a strange pull toward them.

Professor Sinistra, a tall, elegant woman with dark robes that seemed to shimmer like the night sky, greeted them with a wave of her hand. "Welcome, first years, to your first Astronomy lesson. Tonight, we will explore the stars and planets, but not in the way you might have learned in Muggle schools."

Harry's ears perked up at that. He had learned some basic astronomy in his old primary school. The strict, methodical way the planets orbited the sun, the classifications of stars, and the distances between galaxies had always been a little overwhelming. But now, as he stood there with his classmates, peering up at the cosmos, he realized wizards had a completely different way of looking at the stars.

Professor Sinistra continued, her voice smooth and commanding. "Wizards study the heavens not just to understand the physical movements of the planets but to decipher their effects on magic. The stars and planets influence magic on Earth. Their movements can enhance or diminish spells, change the flow of magical energy, and, in ancient times, were even used to guide rituals and create powerful enchantments."

Harry was intrigued. This was something entirely new. He'd always thought astronomy was just about learning the names of constellations and memorizing facts, but here, it was something mystical, something tied to the very essence of magic itself.

"Take this telescope," Professor Sinistra said, gesturing toward the massive instrument. "What do you see?"

The students took turns looking through the lens, gasping at the bright, swirling patterns of stars and distant planets. When it was Harry's turn, he leaned forward, peering through the glass. What he saw took his breath away. The stars seemed so much closer, almost within reach, and there was something magical about the way they shimmered, as though they were speaking a language he couldn't quite understand but felt deep in his bones.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Professor Sinistra asked as Harry stepped back, still dazed by the sight. "Muggles study the stars in their own way—mathematically, scientifically—but wizards have long known there is something more. The ancient wizards believed that the stars influenced the flow of magic across the world. Certain constellations were said to amplify specific types of spells, while others weakened them. And the movement of planets could determine when magical rituals would be most powerful."

"The stars you see now," Professor Sinistra said, pointing toward a particularly bright constellation, "were once used by ancient wizards to chart powerful rituals. When these stars align in certain ways, the magic on Earth becomes stronger. That's why many magical events—especially those related to powerful spells or potions—are timed with the movement of the stars."

Harry found himself thinking back to Sirius, his godfather, who had once mentioned something about magical timing. Sirius had explained how certain moments in the magical calendar, tied to the stars, could influence the success of magic. And Sirius had promised Harry that one day, when he was ready, he'd help him access that knowledge—perhaps even before Harry attempted the Animagus transformation in his third year.

But what Professor Sinistra was talking about now was far more ancient. Harry had heard whispers of rituals performed by wizards of old, spells cast under the right star alignments to summon or banish magical forces, to alter the flow of energy in the world. The idea that the stars were tied to magic itself made sense to Harry, in a way that his Muggle lessons had never quite managed.

Professor Sinistra spoke again, drawing Harry out of his thoughts. "As you continue your studies here at Hogwarts, you'll learn more about how the stars influence our magic. But remember, there's always more to discover. The universe is vast, and even we wizards don't have all the answers."

Harry glanced up at the stars again, feeling that pull deep inside him. He was part of two worlds—the magical and the Muggle—and both had their own way of understanding the stars. He couldn't help but wonder if, one day, he might be able to bridge that gap, to learn both the Muggle science and the wizarding magic behind the heavens.

As the class ended and the students made their way back to the common room, Harry found himself thinking about the stars long after they had disappeared from view. For the first time, he felt a deep connection to them, as if they held secrets he had only just begun to glimpse.

Wizards might study the stars for their magical properties, but Harry knew there was much more to them. Maybe one day, he'd figure it all out. Until then, he would keep looking up at the night sky, knowing that somewhere out there, both magic and science were waiting for him to discover.