It had been two weeks since the day Cassiopeia told Harry about her acceptance to Hogwarts. Two weeks since she had made Harry stop and think for himself.

Since then, the two had been meeting when they could - meaning when Harry wasn't locked up and bound to his room and Cassiopeia wasn't in trouble.

They discussed the Hogwarts Houses a bit more, Harry seeming to realize he had made a mistake misjudging the whole of Slytherin House. Any doubts he had were quickly resolved when Cassiopeia, teary eyed, explained that she didn't want to lose him if she were sorted into Slytherin.

Harry had begun to reassure her that she wouldn't be sorted into Slytherin before stopping himself short. He had looked at Cassiopeia so intensely she had thought he could see her soul. Then he nodded, kissed her forehead, and told her she'd be the best snake in the pit and if anyone had a problem, they'd answer to him.

Harry earned himself a tackling hug and that was that.

They also talked about the classes, professors, and his friends and dorm mates. One afternoon, Harry had brought his wand and school books with him, he had snuck out of his room at night and picked the locks to the cupboard that his belongings had been locked into.

Cautiously, and with Mister Ollivanders words ringing in his ears, 'the wand picks you', Harry allowed Cassiopeia to hold his wand. It was surreal - a burst of magic dancing around the two of them, multicolored and lively. Magic blanketed them, was in every breath they breathed. It hummed a song, one that drew both Cassiopeia and Harry closer together without them even realizing.

And once Cassiopeia released the wand back into Harry's hold it stopped.

They had both blinked, slowly shaking out of their stupor.

Neither had an explanation for the experience. Cassiopeia had held the wand again, later on, and it hadn't happened again. So, they decided to push it aside, they'd focus more on it when they had more resources, and continued with their day.

Together they reviewed the material, Harry trying to answer any questions Cassiopeia asked.

To her amusement, it seemed that there were even some subjects Harry either had trouble with or seemed to not even have learnt yet despite it being his previous course work.

He struggled through his explanation of transfiguring live creatures into inanimate objects, something that had caused the two of them to raid his Transfiguration texts until they found the answer.

Reading about the Wizarding Wars had been pretty interesting to them both; apparently the Goblin War had only ended at a stalemate when the wiccans promised to sign an accord to adhere to Goblin Law when appropriate.

Cassiopeia had also learnt there had been six Dark Lords in history, not including Voldemort. Harry had told her about the nickname, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and really, Cassiopeia had to worry about the intelligence of the people in her new world. Giving an already feared Dark Lord a moniker like that would only stroke his ego, affirming that he was powerful to be called so by not only the general population but the ministry and law enforcement as well. Idiots.

Cassiopeia took great joy in pointing out to Harry that three of the Dark Lords hailed from outside of Britain, one in the Americas, and of the last two, one had been a Hufflepuff. The irony.

Aside from the educational aspect, Cassiopeia loved hearing Harry talk about his friends and Quidditch. He spoke with a warmth in his tone, fondness, and care, not yet love, but close enough, as he described his first wiccan friends. Not first friends. That title belonged to Cassiopeia and Cassiopeia only. She didn't share very well.

Harry was also a Quidditch enthusiast and continued to tell Cassiopeia that he couldn't wait to see her flying lessons. Cassiopeia wasn't as thrilled as Harry was, she liked her feet planted firmly on the ground thank you very much.

Being tens or hundreds of feet into the air did nothing but scare Cassiopeia. It may have been from a past trauma, when an older matron had hung Cassiopeia from the fourth story window of Wool's in an attempt to scare the Devil out of the four year old, but Cassiopeia was firm in her belief that flying and especially Quidditch was not her thing.

Of Harry's dorm mates, she was most interested in meeting Ronald Weasley and Seamus Finnegan.

Ron, because he was the first to take the initiative to befriend her brother. Harry had told her of his poorer upbringing, of his family, and Ron's ability to play chess. He had earned her respect. Because for a boy that never had anything of his own, he was able to share his family with his friend. And that's better than any money can buy. She also wanted to know what it was like having so many siblings. Harry was great and all, and she had had a good relationship with her former foster siblings, but it's different to be related and have so many brothers. Were some of them annoyingly protective? Did they like to prank and tease him? Were there games they played together? Was Ron ever overlooked for being the youngest?

Although, Cassiopeia thought with a smirk growing on her face, Ron seems to have adopted himself a younger brother. Based on the way Harry had described his antics and mannerism, it wouldn't surprise her. Especially when Harry complained of Ron constantly adding food to his plate at dinner when he thought Harry wouldn't notice. The faux frustration made Cassiopeia erupt into a giggling fit which was made worse at Harry's mocked indignation.

Seamus, well, Cassiopeia would deny this to her grave, but she wanted to hear his Irish accent. She had heard one on the television one afternoon and had been obsessed with the accent since. She also wanted to meet the pyromaniac, if he could make anything explode, even without trying, that was a friend she wanted to keep.

Of course Harry had deadpanned at this explanation and informed her quite thoroughly and completely done with her antics that she could not keep people as they were not pets.

So? Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at the thought. She didn't want pets, she wanted people. Fun people like ones prone to explosives. Maybe she could find someone that likes poisons, or sharp objects, or deadly plants, or OR exotic animals. Oh! And she could collect pretty accents too. Yes, see that wasn't keeping people as pets - she wouldn't collar them. Maybe she could make friendship bracelets or pendants for them all to wear. They'd be hers, and she could keep them. See Harry, they aren't pets.

Cassiopeia also thought she'd be nice and not pointedly remind Harry that he was still wearing the red and green string bracelet she had weaved in an art class on his right wrist, openly, for all to stare at the frayed, discolored band with pieces of twine poking out at odds and ends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Goodness," a voice cried out, knocking the two out of their bubble. Harry had paused mid-way through his re-telling of the Troll that had entered the school Halloween night when the voice, an older lady, continued. "It's already past seven. We've got to get home soon Tommy."

Cassiopeia's eyes widened, heart beating rapidly as she tore through her roughly patched satchel laying on the grass near her. Pulling out a frayed pocket watch, the glass cracked in several places and the band no longer clipping, Cassiopeia let out a pitiful sound of frustration.

She was late.

"Well," Harry said, getting to his feet. "Looks like you're coming to the Dursley's with me."

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, especially when they were younger and before Cassiopeia had found the pocket watch. Whenever she was late, past six in the afternoon, Cassiopeia would return with Harry to the Dursley's and to Harry's cupboard. The Matrons locked up after six and any child not in the orphanage at that time was left to fend for themselves until the next day. Lovely people in child care.

There were also times that Cassiopeia would sneak Harry into her room at Wools when the Dursley's threw him out for one reason or another. Sometimes, though it wasn't as often, Cassiopeia would be locked out and Harry thrown out, leaving them to search the streets for shelter.

It had only happened a few times, usually they were good at going to each other's rooms, but the few times it had happened had made Cassiopeia slightly thankful she had Wools. Living on the streets wasn't easy, fights for territory broke out each day and every morning was a miracle to still be alive, especially when making it through a winter's night.

Still, this wouldn't be easy. The Dursley's had recently placed bars on Harry's windows. Apparently they were scared Harry would send some 'freaks' after them for his 'alleged' mistreatment.

Because locking up and starving a child, in a cupboard no less, wasn't mistreatment. Neither were the constant breaks and sprains of Harry's bones that they had discovered to be healed by his magic. No, Harry should've been grateful for having the Dursleys. Cassiopeia scoffed, as if they'd allow poor Dinky-Duddikins to be treated in such a way.

The sun was starting to set as they made their way back to Privet Drive. Cassiopeia would never understand why anyone would want to live in a neighborhood filled with identical houses, where was the creativity? The individual styles?

"Rian," Cassiopeia began in a solemn tone waiting to be acknowledged.

Harry hummed in reply, focusing on keeping Cassiopeia from walking off the pavement and into the streets. It was not something that needed to be repeated.

"Do you think we could transfigure Dudley into a baby whale and play it off as accidental magic?"

Harry tripped over his feet, stumbling and sputtering as he released his hold on Cassiopeia's hand.

"W-what are you - how did you -" Harry took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, we cannot transfigure Dudley."

He looked so thoroughly done.

Cassiopeia pouted. Why not? It would be lots of fun and she knew they could do it, they had reviewed Harry's texts for days now! What's a little innocent practice.

"Why can't we?" She most certainly did not whine. It was . . . a mature drawl . . with a jutting of her lips and her tone of voice slightly pitched. Yes, that was it. Cassiopeia did not whine, she just . . . drawled. Was that even a thing?

"Other than the fact that transfiguring humans is something we haven't even learnt yet? Vernon and Petunia would kill me the minute they found out. And no, we will not be able to comfort them with the knowledge that Dudley had always been meant to be a whale and we just put him back into the appropriate body."

Cassiopeia sniffed as Harry didn't even allow her to rebuttal and had dismissed her claim before she even spoke it. Fine, Cassiopeia thought petulantly, we'll be stuck with the mismatched zoo family.

"Piggyback ride?" Cassiopeia asked instead, beaming up at Harry with wide grey eyes that looked as if it was melted silver.

Rolling his eyes fondly, Harry bent at his knees, hooking his arms between Cassiopeia's legs when she hopped onto him. So he was a sucker for the girl, sue him. He'd like to see anyone be able to withstand Cassiopeia's puppy eyes and not give in to the girl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sneaking into the Dursley house wasn't as hard as Cassiopeia thought. Being so small she was able to climb in between to metal bars after Harry and she had scaled the tree near his bedroom.

Cassiopeia was already sprawled along his bed petting Hedwig by the time Harry had climbed down the tree and made his way into the house. Dudley must've already been in his room when Harry entered the house because only Vernon and Petunia were present in the living room. Both paid no attention to the other child in their care, pretending he wasn't even there, as he made his way up the stairs.

"So this is what Dudley's second bedroom looks like." Cassiopeia remarked as Harry tossed himself onto the bed beside her. The girl bounced slightly, before snuggling closer to him, head resting on his stomach while his hand played with her hair.

Harry took a cursory glance around the room that was his for the last year. He drank in the sight of shelves filled with broken toys, ripped books, and other odd ends that Dudley had collected and carelessly tossed aside over the years.

"Yup," Harry said with no preamble, his tone neutral as he discussed the room he had only been given after his Hogwarts letter had been received because dear old Vernon and Petunia thought the house was being watched.

"Tell me about the crazy creature here last week," Cassiopeia asked, moving to grab the blanket and throw it over them before returning to lay her head near Harry's chest.

And so Harry told her the story once more, voice low as to not be overheard, hand combing through her hair. A creature appearing into his bedroom, the noise and odd behavior it displayed. Him, for Harry could assume the creature was a him, telling Harry Hogwarts was no longer safe and trying to get Harry to promise to not return.

Harry wasn't the fool most people thought him to be, nor was he as naïve - at least not completely. He had found books on curses, obscure and not, during his trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid last year and in it had an entire chapter on cursed vows. He knew words held power and there was no way he would promise to not return to the only place that felt slightly like how a home should feel.

He had told Cassiopeia about the encounter after he had been allowed back out of his room and together they had tried to brainstorm what the danger could be and what the creature was. They hadn't made much progress, but both would be vigilant this coming school year.

At some point through the story Cassiopeia had drifted off, her breathing evening out and her fingers laxed from where they held onto his shirt. Harry smiled fondly, it was a trick he had picked up over the years. Cassiopeia didn't get the most peaceful of sleeps, nightmares terrorizing her more often than not. Harry found that the times they slept together she slept through the night. And stroking her head and playing with her hair was the fastest and easiest way to get the girl to fall asleep.

Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight," he whispered against her skin before resting against his pillow again. And then, he too, succumbed to the seduction of sleep.