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"Ready, Harry?" Susan asked, holding out a small velvet pouch. They stood in Professor Flitwick's office, where a fireplace had been specially connected to the Floo Network for their departure.
Harry eyed the emerald powder dubiously. "You're sure I won't end up in Iceland or something?"
"Just speak very clearly," Anna advised, adjusting her scarf. "And keep your elbows tucked in. And don't breathe too much ash. And—"
"You're not helping," Susan sighed, shooting her sister a look.
"First time with Floo powder?" Professor Flitwick asked, his expression softening slightly. When Harry nodded, he continued, "Simply throw the powder into the flames, step in when they turn green, announce your destination clearly—'Bones Manor'—and keep your eyes closed. The girls will go first to show you."
"Once it starts, it will feel like you are sliding through a long tunnel full of colors."
"Reminds me of that time I fell through Coruscant's lower levels. Minus the garbage pit at the end, hopefully." Anakin couldn't help but comment.
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his invisible mentor. "I'll be fine," he said, more to himself than anyone else.
Susan went first, vanishing in a swirl of green flames after calling out "Bones Manor!" Anna followed, giving Harry an encouraging thumbs-up before disappearing.
"Your turn, Mr. Potter," Flitwick prompted.
Harry took a pinch of the glittering powder, threw it into the flames, and stepped into the surprisingly cool green fire. "Bones Manor!" he called, keeping his voice as clear as possible.
The sensation was exactly as Anakin had described—like being pulled through a tight vacuum while spinning uncontrollably. Images of different fireplaces flashed by as Harry tucked his elbows in tightly, eyes squeezed shut against the dizzying motion.
Just when he thought he might be sick, he tumbled forward onto a polished marble floor, coughing up ash.
"Nice dismount. I'd give it a three out of ten," Anna's voice came from somewhere above him. Hands helped him up, brushing soot from his shoulders.
"First Floo journey is always the worst," Susan said sympathetically, casting a quick cleaning charm that removed most of the ash from his clothes.
Harry blinked, adjusting to his new surroundings. They stood in a grand entrance hall with soaring ceilings and enormous windows that let in the winter sunlight. The space was decorated with elegant evergreen garlands interwoven with magical lights that sparkled like captured stars. A massive Christmas tree dominated one corner, its ornaments moving gently—tiny golden snitches fluttering between branches, miniature dragons that occasionally puffed small flames, and delicate glass orbs that changed colors with soft pulses.
"Wow," Harry breathed.
"Welcome to Bones Manor," Susan said proudly. "It's been in the family for twelve generations."
"At least he didn't end up in the garden pond like you did your first time," Anna teased, nudging her sister.
"That was because someone," Susan glared pointedly at Anna, "told me to say 'Bones Manor Pond' as a joke."
"Good times," Anna grinned, unrepentant.
"This place is beautiful," Anakin observed in Harry's mind. "Notice the strategic placement of windows and doorways—designed for defense while maintaining elegance. Whoever built this place understood both beauty and security."
Harry was about to reply when a new voice spoke.
"I see our guest has arrived safely."
A tall woman with graying auburn hair swept into the entrance hall. She wore practical but elegant robes of deep blue, and though her face held smile lines around her eyes, there was something undeniably authoritative in her bearing. Harry recognized her immediately from Susan and Anna's descriptions: Amelia Bones.
"Auntie!" the girls chorused, hurrying over to embrace her.
Amelia hugged them warmly before turning to Harry, her intelligent eyes taking in every detail. "Mr. Potter. Welcome to our home."
"Thank you for having me, Madam Bones," Harry replied, suddenly conscious of his still-rumpled appearance despite Susan's cleaning charm.
"Please, call me Amelia," she said, her stern expression melting into a genuine smile. "Anyone who saves my niece from a mountain troll has earned that right."
Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks. "It was nothing, really. Anyone would have—"
"Nonsense," Amelia interrupted briskly. "What you did showed both courage and considerable magical talent. But we'll have plenty of time to discuss that later." She gestured toward the grand staircase. "I'm sure you'd like to settle in before dinner. But first—"
A sharp crack split the air, making Harry jump. Where empty space had been a moment before, a small creature now stood, barely reaching Harry's waist. It had enormous bat-like ears, huge tennis-ball green eyes, and wore what appeared to be a neatly pressed pillowcase emblazoned with the Bones family crest.
"Young mistress have returned!" the creature squeaked excitedly, bowing so low its long nose nearly touched the floor. "And this must be the great Harry Potter who saved Miss Anna! Pippy is honored, sir, truly honored!"
Harry stared, momentarily speechless. "Um... hello?"
"Oh!" Susan exclaimed. "I forgot you wouldn't know. Harry, this is Pippy, our house-elf. She's been with the family since before we were born."
"House-elf?" Harry echoed, looking between the small creature and his friends in confusion.
"Pippy, would you please show Mr. Potter to the blue guest room?" Amelia asked kindly. "And perhaps some hot chocolate for everyone?"
"Right away, Mistress Bones!" Pippy bobbed enthusiastically, beaming at Harry. "If Master Harry Potter would follow Pippy, please? Pippy will show the way!"
As they climbed the grand staircase, Harry whispered to Susan, "What exactly is a house-elf?"
"I'll explain later," she promised. "But they're magical beings that work for wizarding families."
"Work...or serve?" Anakin's voice held a sudden edge. "This seems uncomfortably familiar, Padawan."
Harry frowned slightly but kept his expression neutral as they followed Pippy through the manor. The corridors were lined with portrait galleries filled with what must be Bones family ancestors, who nodded politely as they passed. Occasionally, Pippy would point out features with obvious pride.
"Here is the ancestral library, Master Harry! Over one thousand books! And this is the winter solarium where the young masters take their lessons when home! And these," she gestured to nearly invisible runes carved into a doorframe, "are ancient wards against dark magic. Very powerful!"
"The security measures are impressive," Anakin commented, his earlier displeasure momentarily set aside.
"Auntie is Head of Magical Law Enforcement," Anna explained, noticing Harry's interest in a particularly complex set of runes. "Our home has almost as many protective enchantments as Hogwarts. Probably why Dumbledore agreed to let you stay here so easily."
Finally, they reached a door of polished blue wood. Pippy pushed it open with a flourish. "Master Harry's room!"
Harry stepped inside and felt his jaw drop. The room was easily three times the size of his dormitory at Hogwarts, with a four-poster bed draped in blue silk, a private sitting area with comfortable armchairs, and enormous windows overlooking snow-covered gardens. A fire crackled merrily in a marble fireplace, and his trunk had already been placed at the foot of the bed.
"This is... for me?" he asked, unable to keep the awe from his voice.
"Of course," Susan said, looking puzzled at his reaction. "It's just the standard guest room."
Harry thought of his cupboard under the stairs, then of Dudley's second bedroom with its broken toys, and felt a lump form in his throat.
"Master Harry is not pleased?" Pippy asked anxiously, her large ears drooping.
"No! I mean, yes, I'm very pleased," Harry hastened to reassure the elf. "It's perfect. Thank you, Pippy."
The elf beamed. "Pippy will bring hot chocolate right away!" She disappeared with another crack.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Anna said, studying Harry's face. "And considering we live with the Grey Lady at Hogwarts, that's saying something."
"It's just..." Harry searched for words that wouldn't reveal too much about the Dursleys. "I've never had a room like this before."
Something in his tone must have given more away than he intended, because Amelia, who had just joined them in the doorway, exchanged a quick glance with her nieces.
"Well," she said carefully, "we want you to feel at home here, Mister Potter. Dinner will be in an hour, which should give you time to freshen up and rest. Girls, why don't you show Harry around the grounds later if he's interested?"
As the sisters followed their aunt out, Harry sank onto the edge of the bed, running his hand over the silken bedspread in wonder.
"This place is incredible," he thought to Anakin.
"Indeed," his mentor agreed. "Though I'm concerned about these 'house-elves.' The way that creature behaved... it reminded me of slavery on Tatooine."
"You think they're slaves?" Harry frowned, disturbed by the thought.
"I don't know enough yet to judge," Anakin admitted. "But we should find out more."
Harry nodded, but as he looked around the beautiful room prepared especially for him, at the snow falling gently outside the window and the Christmas decorations that spoke of family traditions, he couldn't help but feel a bubble of happiness.
"For now though," Anakin continued, his tone softening, "enjoy this, Padawan. You've earned a proper holiday."
Harry smiled, lying back on the bed and staring up at the canopy above. His first real Christmas, in a real home, with people who actually wanted him there. Despite the questions about house-elves and the lingering mystery of Quirrell's book in his trunk, he couldn't remember ever feeling quite so content.
Harry had just finished unpacking his few belongings—arranging his books on the bedside table and hanging his school robes in the enormous wardrobe that could have easily fit all the clothes from Dudley he'd ever owned—when a soft pop announced Pippy's arrival.
"Master Harry Potter sir!" the house-elf squeaked, carefully balancing a silver tray laden with an elegant china teapot, matching cups, and a plate of chocolate biscuits arranged in a perfect circle. "Pippy has brought hot chocolate, just as Mistress requested!"
"Thank you, Pippy," Harry said, watching with fascination as the tiny creature set the tray down on a small table by the window without spilling a drop.
"Would Master Harry Potter like Pippy to pour?" she asked, gazing up at him with those enormous green eyes.
"Um, sure," Harry replied, still not entirely comfortable with being waited on. "But please, just call me Harry."
Pippy's ears twitched in what seemed to be surprise. "Oh! Master Harry is too kind, too humble!" She poured the steaming chocolate into a cup and handed it to him with a small bow. "Just like Mistress Amelia said! A true hero, Pippy thinks."
Harry felt his face grow warm. "I'm really not—"
"Master Harry saved Miss Anna from a mountain troll!" Pippy interrupted, her voice filled with awe. "Pippy heard all about it! Miss Susan wrote home right away, she did!"
"It wasn't just me," Harry said hastily. "Anna was really brave too."
Pippy nodded vigorously, her ears flapping. "The young misses is always brave. Bones family is strong, yes indeed." She glanced around the room. "Is everything to Master Harry's liking? Pippy can bring more pillows! Or books! Or—" she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper "—Pippy can bring treacle tart before dinner if Master Harry wishes it!"
"This is all perfect, really," Harry assured her, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. It was rich and creamy with just a hint of cinnamon—easily the best he'd ever tasted. "The hot chocolate is amazing, Pippy."
The house-elf beamed with pride, her chest puffing out. "Family recipe! Pippy adds special vanilla beans from Madagascar and just a pinch of magical cinnamon from the southern greenhouse!" She wrung her hands anxiously. "Is Master Harry sure he doesn't need anything else? Anything at all?"
"She seems eager to please," Anakin observed in Harry's mind, his tone carefully neutral but tinged with concern.
"I'm fine, truly," Harry said gently. "But maybe you could tell me a bit about yourself? How long have you worked—I mean, been with the Bones family?"
Pippy's eyes widened even further, if that was possible. "Master Harry wants to know about Pippy?" She looked both shocked and delighted. "Such a delight, you remind me of Miss Bones." She straightened up importantly. "Pippy has served the Noble House of Bones for seventy-three years! Pippy's mother served before her, and her mother before that!"
"Seventy-three years?" Harry couldn't hide his surprise. "But you don't look... I mean..."
"House-elves live very long, Master Harry," Pippy explained proudly. "Pippy is still young! Only middle-aged for a house-elf!" She lowered her voice again. "Pippy was here when Mistress Amelia was just a tiny baby, yes she was! Pippy helped raise her, and then the young misses too, after..." her voice trailed off, ears drooping slightly before she quickly brightened again. "But now Pippy is talking too much! Does Master Harry need anything else before dinner?"
"No, this is perfect. Thank you, Pippy."
The house-elf curtseyed deeply. "Master Harry is most welcome! Just call Pippy's name if you need anything! Anything at all!" With another soft pop, she vanished.
Harry stared at the spot where she had been, sipping his chocolate thoughtfully.
"She seems... happy," he said to Anakin.
"So did many slaves I knew," Anakin replied cautiously. "Contentment can be genuine or conditioned. We should learn more before judging."
Harry nodded, turning to look out at the snow-covered gardens. It was a lot to take in—magic, wizards, and now apparently magical beings that served wizard families for generations. He wondered what other surprises the wizarding world had in store.
For now, though, he had a book to examine and less than an hour until dinner.
After settling in and enjoying Pippy's hot chocolate—which somehow tasted better than even the Hogwarts version—Harry closed the door to his room and turned his attention to his trunk. With the manor quiet and dinner still forty minutes away, now seemed the perfect time to examine Professor Quirrell's gift more thoroughly.
"I still don't trust it," Anakin's voice echoed in Harry's mind as he carefully extracted the leather-bound tome. "A man who releases a troll into a school doesn't give books out of kindness."
"I know," Harry agreed, turning the book over in his hands. "Proper Parthian Practices: Advanced Shield Theory by Atticus Wimbow. Doesn't sound particularly sinister."
"Neither does 'routine diplomatic mission to Mustafar,'" Anakin replied dryly. "Look how that turned out."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Another one of those stories you're 'not ready to tell me yet'?"
"Focus, Padawan."
Harry placed the book on the blue bedspread and considered it. The binding was worn but well-cared for, suggesting it had been read many times. Gold lettering on the spine had faded slightly, and the corners showed signs of use.
"It looks ordinary enough," Harry mused, "but how do we check for curses? I can't exactly cast detection spells." He frowned. "Being underage is inconvenient. Susan and Anna can't do magic outside of Hogwarts either."
"Magic has a presence in the Force," Anakin reminded him. "Close your eyes and extend your senses. Feel for any disturbances, any darkness."
Harry closed his eyes, letting his awareness expand as Anakin had taught him. The Force flowed around the book in gentle currents, unchanged from the rest of the room. No darkness, no warnings.
"Nothing," Harry reported, opening his eyes.
"Try touching it with the Force," Anakin suggested. "Gently."
Harry extended his hand, fingers splayed, and allowed the Force to flow through him toward the book. He sensed the binding, the paper, the ink—all normal materials. The magic within felt... academic. Theoretical. Perhaps a bit advanced, but nothing malevolent.
"I think it's just a book," Harry said, sounding almost disappointed. "A regular, non-cursed book."
"Hmm." Anakin's skepticism was palpable. "Open it. Carefully."
Harry lifted the cover. The frontispiece showed a medieval wizard deflecting multiple spells with an elaborate shield charm, the illustration occasionally moving to demonstrate different wand positions. The table of contents listed chapters with titles like "Fundamental Principles of Magical Deflection" and "The Geometry of Shield Manifestation."
As Harry flipped through the pages, fascination replaced his wariness. Diagrams illustrated the precise wand movements for advanced shield variations. Theoretical discussions explored the magical mechanics of protection and deflection. Margin notes in faded ink suggested previous owners had studied the text carefully, adding their own observations.
"This is... actually amazing," Harry admitted, pausing at a particularly detailed explanation of shield resonance. "It explains why certain shields work better against specific types of spells."
"I'm still not convinced," Anakin said, though his tone had softened. "Keep going."
Harry turned to a chapter titled "Reflexive Shields and Countermeasures." The pages here were slightly more worn than the rest, as if this section had been read repeatedly.
"The Aegis Reflexio charm differs from standard shield spells in its responsive nature," Harry read aloud. "Where Protego creates a fixed barrier, Aegis Reflexio adapts to incoming magical energy, creating a mirror-like surface that reflects hostile magic while remaining permeable to benign forces."
He studied the illustrated wand movement—a swift upward flick followed by a counter-clockwise spiral. The incantation was repeated in bold text: Aegis Reflexio.
"That sounds incredibly useful," Harry said, excitement building. "Imagine reflecting spells back at an attacker!"
"The technique does have merit," Anakin conceded. "Though I notice it requires considerable concentration and precise timing."
Harry continued reading: "Practitioners should note that Aegis Reflexio draws partially on the caster's emotional state, making it unstable when cast in anger or fear. Calm determination produces the most efficient results."
"That sounds like light-side Force techniques," Harry observed.
"Mostly," Anakin agreed, though something in his tone suggested reservation. "Though drawing on emotion for magic always walks a fine line."
Harry turned another page and found a personal note scribbled in the margin in a tight, precise script: "Increased power achieved through focused intent on reversal. Visualize opponent's energy becoming your ally rather than enemy."
"I wonder if that's Quirrell's handwriting," Harry mused, tracing the note with his finger.
"It would explain why he gave you this particular book," Anakin said. "He's studied it extensively himself."
Harry flipped through more pages, absorbing the theoretical framework behind the Aegis Reflexio charm. The book described how the spell created a semi-reflective magical membrane that could be "tuned" to different types of incoming magic through the caster's concentration.
"But why?" Harry looked up from the book, perplexed. "Why give me something legitimately useful? I thought he might be testing me, or trying to trick me somehow."
"Perhaps he is, just not in the way we expected," Anakin replied thoughtfully. "Knowledge itself isn't dark or light—it's how it's used. Maybe he wants to see what you do with it."
"Or maybe he's not completely evil?" Harry suggested, but he shook his head as if wanting to berate himself for saying that. It didn't matter what Professor Quirrell's reason was for letting the troll out was, the said troll had put Anna's life in danger. Harry would never forgive something like that easily.
Harry closed the book carefully. "Well, I can't practice the actual spell until we're back at Hogwarts, but I can memorize the theory and movements." He stood up and moved to the center of the room where there was more space. "What I can practice is my Force techniques."
"A wise use of our time," Anakin approved. "Though be mindful of your surroundings. These walls likely have fewer protective enchantments than Hogwarts."
Harry nodded, closing his eyes and centering himself in the Force. The familiar energy field surrounded him, flowing through the room, the manor, connecting everything in invisible threads of light. He'd been working for weeks on finer control, trying to manifest the light side energy that Anakin had described.
"Electric Judgment is an advanced technique," Anakin cautioned. "Even fully trained Jedi struggled with it."
"I know," Harry replied, extending his hand. "But you said it might be easier for me since I can already channel magic."
He concentrated, visualizing the energy of the Force condensing around his fingertips, trying to shape it into the yellow-green lightning his Master had described. The air seemed to tingle, but nothing materialized.
"Your intent is too aggressive," Anakin instructed. "Electric Judgment isn't about power or destruction like Sith lightning. It's about justice, balance."
Harry adjusted his focus, thinking of protection rather than attack. For a brief moment, he felt something—a spark of something at his fingertips—before it dissipated like morning mist.
"I felt it!" he exclaimed. "Just for a second, but it was there!"
"Progress," Anakin acknowledged, "but that's enough for today. This technique requires careful development. Push too hard, and you risk sliding toward the dark side."
Harry nodded, lowering his hand. A light sheen of sweat had formed on his brow from the concentration, and he realized he'd been at it for nearly an hour.
"I should get ready for dinner anyway," he said, glancing at the elegant clock on the mantelpiece. "But I still don't understand why Quirrell would give me a genuinely helpful book."
"Sometimes the most effective traps are the ones you don't recognize as traps," Anakin warned. "Be grateful for the knowledge, but remain vigilant."
Harry carefully returned Wimbow's book to his trunk. As he closed the lid, a nagging feeling persisted—not exactly suspicion, but uncertainty. Quirrell's transformation, his new teaching style, and now this thoughtful gift... none of it aligned with the man who had deliberately let a troll into Hogwarts.
"One mystery at a time," Harry muttered to himself as he straightened his robes for dinner. "For now, let's focus on not making a fool of myself in front of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement."
"Just be yourself," Anakin advised, amusement coloring his words. "That's usually disastrous enough."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Master," Harry replied with a grin, heading toward the door. As he reached for the handle, he cast one last look at his trunk where Wimbow's book lay hidden.
Useful or not, he couldn't shake the feeling that accepting Quirrell's gift had somehow set something in motion—something whose consequences were yet to be revealed.
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