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The Thinkery by ad astra
Chapter 6 : I Am Potter
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 4

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 “You know what I hate?” Nathan grumbles as we make our way to the university bookstore. “Course outlines. They never fail to scare me.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” I say gloomily. “I’m going to fail this year.”

“Same,” Amber says in a tone that almost exactly matches my own.

“Oh well,” I say with forced cheerfulness. “Only two other courses this semester, how hard can it be?”

“What are your other courses this semester, Lily?” Nathan asks.

“The Voldemort one, and the painting one. What about you?”

“Voldemort one, and the Magic of Music.”

“You’re into music?” Amber asks. “What do you play?”

“Violin,” Nathan says, reddening slightly. “Not very manly, I know.”

Amber smiles. “I’m doing the music one as well, as an interest paper.”

“What do you play?”

“Piano. And a bit of violin, but I’m not very good.”

“I could help you,” Nathan suggests.

Suddenly, I feel like a bit of a third wheel.


My morning lecture is The Voldemort One (as I’ve come to call it) but I don’t really mind because it’s the one I’m actually looking forward to most. All of us except Luke are taking it, and he looks slightly jealous that we’re all going off to the same lecture.

“Oh well,” he says with forced indifference, “You guys can go learn about civil wars and stuff, I’ve got a practical lesson today. Means I get to spend all morning flying, eh Potter?”

At least he’s stopped calling me GinnyPotter’sDaughter, because that got old fast. “Have fun flying on your lonesome, Nelson.”

We’re on a last name basis now, I’ve decided.

I feel strangely proud when we arrive at the Faculty of Wizarding Studies, because it’s my degree and my faculty, even though I’ve never actually had a lecture here yet. Wizarding Studies looks shinier, prettier, bigger – or I may just be biased. I don’t care.

We’re a real oddity in this lecture theatre. Four of us, all sitting together, all friends. I can’t help smiling at that thought. Yeah. I have friends. Four of them. In Greece. Ten points to Lily.

The professor arrives ten minutes later, a tall, bald, black wizard in purple robes.

“Good morning,” he says in a vaguely familiar voice.

Why is it familiar?

Because it’s British, Lily, that’s enough for familiarity here.

“I’m Professor Shacklebolt—”

“Ohmygod!” I shriek. “It’s Kingsley Shacklebolt!”

Note to self: Don’t shriek in silent lecture theatre of five hundred people.

There’s only one option when five hundred people are staring at you – make like your eldest brother and ham it up.

“Sorry folks,” I call jovially to the staring masses. “Old Minister of Magic, got a bit excited.”

Amber and Nathan look like they want to disappear under the desks. Marama’s laughing at me.

“As someone has just pointed out,” Kingsley continues, “I was Britain’s Minister of Magic for fifteen years after the conclusion of what we call the Second Wizarding War, but what most of you will know as the British Civil Wizarding War. This semester’s course will cover the autobiographical details of Tom Riddle, later known as Lord Voldemort, the rise of the Death Eaters, and the resistance movement, including the roles of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s Army and Harry Potter.”

This is too good. I won’t have to do a scrap of work.

Wait a minute.

Harry Potter? Damn! Five hundred people are going to learn who my dad is!

Is it too late to start going by the name Weasley?

I should have agreed to marry Lorcan Scamander when he asked. Granted, I was eight, but I wouldn’t be a Potter anymore.

Kingsley runs through the course requirements, and I have to stop myself laughing when I hear there’ll be an exam on Dad at the end of the semester.

I have to owl him about this.

He’ll be horribly embarrassed.

It’ll be great.


It happens quite suddenly and quite casually, the loss of my relative anonymity. We’re sitting in one of the Hub’s cafes when Marama, flicking through her copy of Dark Marks and Death Eaters, puts the open book in front of me and asks, “This your dad?”

“Yes,” I admit with a sigh. “Yes, Harry Potter is my dad.”

Marama, busy reading Dad’s bio, lets out a whistle. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier? That is cool.”

“Eighteen years of being known only by who your dad is, you kinda want to break away from that.”

“Makes sense,” Amber agrees. “That’s why I left the States.”

“Are your parents famous too?” Marama asks, temporarily sidetracked.

“No, but they both work at the university back home, and I’d rather not study at the same place my parents work at.”

“So true,” I agree. “My best friend back home – well, one of them – her dad’s a teacher at Hogwarts, and he’s Head of Gryffindor as well.”

“You were both in Gryffindor, right?” Amber asks.

“Yeah.” I smile. “All the cool kids were in Gryffindor.”

“Your name’s in our textbook!” Marama suddenly shouts.

“What.” I’m not impressed. My level of impressed-ness is so low, in fact, that I can’t even be bothered putting the inflection on the word to turn it into a question.

“Right here.” She points to the final paragraph.

Harry Potter is now head of the Auror Office at Britain’s Ministry of Magic. He lives in Godric’s Hollow with his wife, Ginevra, and their three children, James, Albus and Lily.

“This needs updating,” I say lightly. “None of us live at home anymore.”

“Like, Harry Potter is now head of the Auror Office blah blah and lives in Godric’s Hollow with his wife, Ginevra. His two sons, James and Albus, have moved out and his daughter Lily is living in room 214 in Plato Hall at the European University of Sorcery in Athens if you wish to stalk her,” Amber suggests.

We all laugh at that, and Nathan offers Amber a high five. She turns slightly pink, and I swear he does too.

I wonder how their music practice is going.


I toy with the idea of going back to my room and studying, but decide that would be a waste of time considering we haven’t been given any assignments or reading to do yet. I’ll write a letter to Abby. I wonder how early I can get her to come stay for a few days. Maybe she has a job. I doubt it, I’ve only been gone for a week.

A week.

Holy Hippogriffs.

“Do you have any classes this afternoon, Lily?” Amber asks.

I check my timetable. “I have Light Arts at four, and that’s it. What about you?”

“Nothing. Hey Nathan, what are you doing this afternoon?”

Nathan shrugs. “Don’t have any plans.”

“Want to do some violin then?”

“Sure,” Nathan says, and Marama and I exchange glances.


When we get back to Plato Hall, Luke’s waiting in the foyer.

“What are you lot up to now?” he asks.

“We’re going to do some violin,” Nathan says, gesturing to himself and Amber.

“Fun,” Luke says sarcastically. “Lily, Marama?”

“I have to Floo my mum,” Marama says, rolling her eyes. “So I have to find the Floo – ”

“There are a few public ones in the Hub,” I offer.

“Oh, good. What will you two do?”

Luke glances at me. “You guys know there’s an inter-hall Quidditch competition?”


“Well, there is,” he says matter-of-factly. “And trials are today, at three, and I’ve signed you both up for it.”

“I have a class at four.”

“You’ll be done by four,” Luke says confidently. “It’s not like there’ll be hundreds of students lining up for a try.”

“Sure, why not,” Marama says, rolling her eyes. “But I still have to Floo my mum. I’ll be back here by two-thirty.”

She departs, and I briefly wonder whether I should make my excuses and do my own thing, or hang out with Luke.

“Shall we go for a fly around campus?” he suggests.

I shrug. “Might as well, I’ve never flown anywhere other than a Quidditch pitch, so it should be fun.”

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