It starts like this: Well, okay, Patrick has no idea how it actually starts. But as pertains to him (in other words, the important part), it goes a little something like so: America, being a nation composed in large part of a melting pot of immigrants who may or may not have taken over land already owned by others using less-than-savory means, doesn’t have much of a magical national identity. Much less a magical continental identity. There’s no grand heritage going back thousands of years. Magical families home-schooled all their kids until, like, the 1800’s, and tough for the muggle-born, apparently. Hopefully you got noticed by someone who knew what to do with you before you got burned at the stake. Since you probably can’t control your powers, sport.

In an alternate universe where Sirius Black never went to Azkaban, Harry divides his life between the Dursleys' house and Mr. Black's bookshop -- until Sirius realises what the Dursleys are doing to him, and takes him away from their care.

In the summer after Harry's sixth year, Harry and Remus uncover a section of the Marauder's Map which has been hidden for the past twenty years, releasing a carbon copy of sixteen-year-old Sirius Black from its depths. As they prepare for the impending war, Sirius must find a place for himself in this new world, Harry must find a way to destroy Voldemort, and Remus must face his own past while trying to build a tenuous future with Tonks.

Harry makes a different choice in King's Cross and is given the double-edged gift of a second chance.

Snippets from lives that Willow's activation spell (could have) irrevocably changed. Drabble collection.

Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.

A collection of ficlet-like rambles and other HP-centric stuff from my tumblr. Ficlet-Ramble #1: Seventh-Year will put Your Name in GOF for a Sickle You’re a first-year who can’t cast Wingardium Leviosa yet? Whatever, sure, just pay up. There’s no way you're going to be chosen against Angelina “Can Probably Crush You With Her Thighs” Johnson, but at least you can tell all your eleven-year-old buddies that you Did A Cool Thing.

“I’m not a reverse werewolf either,” says the man. “I’m your godfather.”

Going to high school maybe wasn't a good idea, but at least the Air Force got him an apartment from a good neighbourhood and with interesting neighbours.

Once upon a time, Harry Potter hid for two hours from Dudley in a chemistry classroom, while a nice graduate student explained about the scientific method and interesting facts about acids. A pebble thrown into the water causes ripples. Contains, in no particular order: magic candymaking, Harry falling in love with a house, evil kitten Draco Malfoy, and Hermione attempting to apply logic to the wizarding world.

“Who are you?” Graves demanded hoarsely. “I’m Newt. Scamander. Err. Pleased to meet you. I mean, I would’ve been pleased to meet you, under normal circumstances.” “Scamander.” Graves frowned to himself. For someone who was supposedly in a bad rut, he seemed perfectly in control. “Your accent, it’s British. Any relation to Theseus Scamander? Head of the DMLE?” “I’m his younger brother.” “Are you an Auror?” “No. I’m a magizoologist.” Graves exhaled, exasperated. “A what? Is this a rescue or are you a hostage?” “Sort of neither,” Newt admitted.

The first time he picked up Gryffindor's sword he had been young and terrified. The second time he fumbled the hilt, he had still been young and he had still been terrified. The third time? He was not much older and no more prepared for the world he had just entered, nor for the enemy he will face in order to win this twisted game of life and death.

The first time he picked up Gryffindor's sword he had been young and terrified. The second time he fumbled the hilt, he had still been young and he had still been terrified. The third time? He was not much older and no more prepared for the world he had just entered, nor for the enemy he will face in order to win this twisted game of life and death.