This is an idea that I got one day. What if Harry played more on his muggle roots? He came from a muggle neighborhood, so he would have had to have known plenty about muggle culture, even if he didn't get to experience it with his aunt and uncle.
This is pretty short, sorry about that, I'll make sure the next chapter is longer, but it's only a prologue. Just to see if people like it or not.
Characters are OOC.
Disclaimer׃ I don't own Harry Potter
I am Sparta!
Harry frowned at the note.
Glancing over, he saw Dean wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
The green-eyed boy smothered a laugh. He stubbornly refused to look over at Dean. The black boy's, now red, eyes were cheerfully glaring at everyone – who, oddly enough, didn't seem to notice.
Harry barely brushed his wand against his pewter cauldron.
His eyes scanned the room. Snape was lurking behind Neville, angrily glaring at the bright blue substance. Harry's own substance was a soft white – in a bright yellow cauldron.
Follow the Yellow Brick Road
He had whipped out his Ticonderoga pencil and scribbled his message quickly while Snape was preoccupied. And – making sure that everyone's attention was diverted – he tapped the muggle lined paper with a few whispered words.
The (paper) snake swerved between the student's legs, nipping playfully as it approached its destination.
Dean yelped and stomped angrily on it. Several people turned toward the boy. "Sorry," he muttered with a quick, nervous chuckle, "got a little tingly for a second." The students slowly moved back toward their own work, and Snapes scowl was once again directed elsewhere. Dean lifted his boot up. The snake twitched as he lifted it to his table and carefully opened it – Harry standing annoyingly behind him did nothing to help the tension… Until he snorted at the obvious Wizard of Oz reference and turned to grin at Harry, and promptly dropped the note.
The yellow brick cauldron was a good touch, he thought in amusement, blinking his red eyes.
… Maybe he needed to get his eyes checked… Harry's blindness was rubbing off on him (if that even made sense)…
Dean scanned the room, settling, with a grin, on the chalkboard. His handy-dandy Ticonderoga pencil slipped into his fingers. Taste the rainbow… Follow the Rainbow…
He mad-lipped a little, but whatever.
Dean allowed his wand to tap his table, and a quick spurt of light swerved towards its respective spot. His red eyes practically glowed as he tried to keep the grin off his face – it was a beautiful chalkboard. He was jealous. Maybe McGonagall would like one…
And a whispered spell later, his note transformed into a spider and crawled down the table leg toward the floor, and raced to the boy-who-lived.
The smothered snort and silence alerted him that it was go.
A loud bang echoed in the room. The scuffling of chairs alerted Dean of the mad rush to the door. Neville's cauldron seemed to have exploded again, if what Snape was yelling was true. People raced out of the room, ignoring the Potion Masters murderous glare.
Harry breezed past him, and a note found its way into his hand.
Get Your Head in the Game!
Dean almost growled at the High School Musical reference.