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The soft breeze was comforting against their sweat soaked skin, as Harry and Callum walked along Wisteria Walk, hands stuffed in their pockets. Callum had asked Harry to tell him about Hogwarts and the wizarding world in general, but Harry seemed to be hesitating. Maybe he was scared that it might affect him the wrong away, because if he was being honest, Callum really was envious of him.

"There are four houses," Harry said at one point. "They put you in a house based on your traits and personalities."

He then proceeded to explain the sorting ceremony, and how the different houses valued different traits. He said he was in Gryffindor, the house of the brave.

"But the hat initially considered putting me in Slytherin," he mused, mostly to himself, looking down at the ground thoughtfully.

"What's wrong with Slytherin?"

"Nothing except the fact that most Slytherins are prejudiced," he answered. "But during my sorting, I asked the hat to put me in Gryffindor, because there seemed to be a lot of prejudice against Slytherin house too. I was told that all evil wizards came from Slytherin, which, I realised later, strictly isn't true." He paused. "I never told anyone about this though. Except Dumbledore."

Callum remained silent, wondering why Harry told him that, if he didn't tell his own friends.

"What house would I be in?" he asked suddenly, bringing Harry to look at him.

"I don't know," he replied quietly. "I don't know you well enough."

Callum thought for a moment, chewing on his lips. Then he turned and grabbed Harry by the arm, before he began to drag him. The wizard looked startled, pushing his glasses which had slid down his nose. "Come on then. Let's know each other better."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked but didn't protest as he dragged him into Magnolia Crescent. "My Aunt would be furious if I don't return home before curfew."

Callum didn't answer, but continued to drag him. Finally he reached his house, and looked at Harry with a smile. "This is where I live. Let's get in. I'll introduce you to my children."

"You know, I'm not supposed to enter a stranger's house," said Harry jokingly, and he snorted.

"Well you are a wizard," he couldn't help the bitter tone in his voice as he said the word. "If I do anything to you, you can hex me or something."

Harry immediately looked regretful, and mumbled, "I'm underage. I can't perform magic outside school," but remained quiet as he took off his shoes and entered the house. It was empty, for his parents were at work, and he led Harry to the guest room where he kept his animals.

The cats and the dog gathered around Callum as soon as he entered the room, but the kitten he had picked up a few days back remained sleeping on the bed. he smiled brightly and sat down on the floor, running his hands over the animals as they struggled to get his attention. Harry came and sat beside him, smiling as the dog went up to lick his face.

"They seem to love you," he said and rubbed the dog's belly. he rolled around on the ground and let out happy barks out of his mouth.

"You have a habit of stating the obvious, haven't you?" Callum asked, scooping up one of the cats in his arms, while the other scrambled over his back and climbed onto his shoulder, leaving several scratches in the process.

"And you have a habit of being rude," Harry said simply, falling back on the ground as the dog climbed over him and continued to slobber him with licks.

"I'm not rude. I just don't see the point of saying something which is one hundred percent observable by anyone with a common sense."

"It's called politeness."

Callum scoffed. Harry was lying on the ground, while his dog - a pug - settled down on top of him, licking his face contentedly. He was laughing, trying only halfheartedly to push him away. Callum leaned forward and began to play with the cats.

"I think you'd be a good Slytherin," said Harry suddenly.

"Why? Because I'm rude?"

He laughed in reply. "No. One of the traits of Slytherins house is that they are loyal. The difference between Hufflepuff loyalty and Slytherin loyalty is that Slytherins tend to be selective about who they are loyal to." He paused and looked at Callum. "You - you don't care what I think about you or anything. If Dudley starts bullying me now, you'd probably turn around and leave. But you care too much about your animals."

Callum remained silent for a minute. "I wish you had said Yes you'd be in Slytherin 'cause you're rude, because I don't know how to take compliments."

"A simple thank you usually works wonders."

A silence ensued and the boys continued to play with the animals. Callum watched as Harry hugged the pug close to him, while simultaneously trying to push him away as his face began to get slathered with dog saliva.

"Did you ever have any pet dogs?" he asked, watching the pug, who seemed to have taken a liking to Harry, which was an achievement in itself because he liked no one except Callum. And he only began liking him three weeks after being brought home.

"No, why?" he answered between his laughter as the dog continued to nuzzle him affectionately. "What did you name him, by the way?"

"I named him Four," he answered. "You -"

"Four?" Harry asked in confusion, pushing the pug - Four - away slightly to look at him. "Very original."

"I don't know whether you are being sarcastic or not because it seems pretty original to me," he said flatly. "He is the fourth animal to arrive here. This," he held up the cat that was chewing on his blonde hair, "is One, because I found him first. This is Two. Three. And that, the one you saw that day, is Five. I always knew my house was going to be filled with animals so I didn't bother looking up names for them."

Harry looked at him amusedly. "That's interesting."

"As I was saying," Callum said impatiently, stopping Harry from speaking any further, "Four seems to like you so much. And you look like you're used to handling dogs."

"Who's stating the obvious now?" Harry asked with a smirk. Callum ignored him and waited for his reply. "Well, I do have a dog," he said with a strange smile quirking up in the corners of his lips. "Except he's not my pet."

Callum arched his eyebrows in reply. "So what is he? Your cook?"

Harry let out a laugh at that. "He could be. I mean, if conditions get favourable."

He stopped and turned to look at the ceiling, the smile vanishing to be replaced by a thoughtful, almost sad expression. Callum stared at him for a minute before saying, "I'm not gonna ask you what that means."

"Have you heard of Sirius Black?" he asked suddenly, bringing Callum to look at him in confusion. He seemed to be acting really odd today and. . .he was stating the obvious again.

"Yeah, he was in the newspapers all over. Is he a wizard too?"

"Yes, he's my godfather."

Callum's eyebrows went up. Even One, who was now nibbling on the collar of his shirt, paused and stared at the bespectacled boy, as if he too, had realised what an odd idea that was. Four, however, now lay down over Harry and drooled over his neck.

"The mass murderer?"

Harry laughed and raised himself to a sitting position, cradling Four in his arms. "Yes. Precisely."

"O-kay." Unable to figure out whether or not he was being serious, Callum stood up and looked around. Suddenly remembering something, he said, "Wait, I want to show you something."

He plucked up Two, who was clinging to his shirt, and placed her on the floor. Callum was making his way toward the door when Harry said, staring at the clock that hung on the wall, "Actually, sorry, but I have to go now. I'm reaching curfew. I'll see it later, okay?"

He nodded and followed Harry to the front door. He walked him down Magnolia Crescent and turned back when they had reached Wisteria Walk. After checking on his animals, he trotted up the stairs and pulled out a sketchbook from the drawer of his table. He wasn't a good painter himself, but when he had started having strange dreams about things that never happened in real life, he made rough sketches of those images to keep them in memory.

He turned the pages. The first picture was of a tawny brown owl carrying a roll of paper in its beak, something which he dreamed about often. The next picture showed a hand holding a cauldron, a green bubbling liquid inside. A small emerald fire crackled beneath it. Callum didn't remember his parents using any cauldron, but they must have done that once or twice when he was too small to remember it.

With a sigh, he closed the sketchpad, putting it back in its place. He extracted a book consisting of crosswords and other word puzzles and absently began to solve them, his mind whirling back to Harry, the wizard that continued to make him question the unfairness of the universe.

_/_/_/

i have a question. what length of chapters do you guys prefer? in my other stories, i'm used to writing ±2000 words. but here, i feel that smaller chapters would be better for this story.

do you prefer longer (2000+) or shorter (±1000, like this book) chapters?