"Any true wizard, faced with a sign like 'Do not open this door. Really. We mean it. We're not kidding. Opening this door will mean the end of the universe,' would automatically open the door in order to see what all the fuss is about. This made signs rather a waste of time, but at least it meant that when you handed what was left of the wizard to his grieving relatives you could say, as they grasped the jar, 'We told him not to." – Terry Pratchett, The Last Continent
It had been a long and exhausting day, and yet, sleep evaded Harry. He twisted and turned in his large four-poster bed but he was unable to calm down and fall asleep. His mind was wide awake, trying to process everything what had happened that day.
He was finally here. After years of self-study Harry would finally begin his formal education. He would study under great wizards and witches, experts in their field, learning all kinds of magic, and explore the magical world around him, its history and customs. He couldn't wait.
The excessive attention, however, which he received from most students, still bothered Harry. He really could do without it. Some students had gotten over their fascination with him rather quickly once they had realised he was nothing special and just another nervous first year. Angelina, Alicia and Danielle, for example, had taken him under their wing and the Weasley Twins already saw a promising prankster in him. Others, however, would need more time.
His fellow Ravenclaws, being a credit to their House, had pelted him with questions during the feast and while most of them hadn't pushed when Harry had refused to answer a personal question, others had thought they were entitled to answers and had become offended. Stephen Cornfoot, for example, one of Harry's new roommates, had practically demanded to see his scar. It was already bad enough that people gawked at him like he was an animal in the zoo but there was no need to be rude about it. Harry really hoped that the novelty of his presence would wear off soon.
There was also the curious incident of his scar hurting when he had looked up to the High Table and had made eye-contact with Professor Snape, Hogwarts' Potion Professor and Head of Slytherin House. Harry had no idea why it had happened but he had a bad feeling about this.
Another issue was the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Harry didn't know what to make of this man. He was considered by many as the greatest wizard of modern times and after reading about his accomplishments Harry had been able to see why. He was also – judging by his opening speech and his warning to avoid the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side – rather eccentric, which supported Harry's theory that studying the deeper mysteries of magic drove people insane. All in all, Dumbledore appeared to be a wise albeit odd man, caring deeply for his students. However, Harry was still wary of him.
He could somehow understand Dumbledore's decision to place him with the Dursleys. They were his only family, after all. The real reason for Harry's suspicion were the articles which had been published about him in the last decade. According to the articles, Dumbledore had repeatedly assured the magical community that Harry was safe and happy, which, of course, wasn't exactly true. This meant that either Dumbledore hadn't bothered or had forgotten to check on him all those years and had just told them what they wanted to hear, or he knew about his life with the Dursleys and had lied. Both explanations didn't show Dumbledore in the most flattering light.
Harry had hardly slept that night but his excitement for the coming day made up for the lack of sleep. Their first class was Charms, taught by their Head of House Filius Flitwick. According to Prefect Robert Hilliard, Professor Flitwick was the best and most knowledgable Charms Master alive in the world as well as an accomplished duelist.
He began his class with explaining what a charm was and outlined the wide range of the subject. He emphasised the importance of concentration, precise wand movements and proper pronunciation of an incantation and ended the lesson with an anecdote about the wizard Baruffio who had said 's' instead of 'f' and had found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.
Hogwarts was a maze. The castle had grown over centuries, expanded multiple times by several headmasters. It was even more difficult to navigate through it since magic was involved. There were stairs changing directions dependent on what day it was, rooms switching places every now and then and corridors connecting different floors. Harry and his classmates were almost late to Transfiguration because they had found themselves in an entirely different part of the castle after climbing up the wrong stairs. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall wasn't here yet. There was only a cat, sitting on her desk and observing the students quietly.
However, something was definitely wrong with the cat. Harry had never seen one sit so stiffly and he had a lot of experience with cats since the Dursleys had always left him with Mrs Figg when they had gone out to celebrate Dudley's birthday. He suddenly realised that the cat wasn't a cat but a human pretending very hard to be one. Harry should have know that his Transfiguration Professor was an animagus. Harry had always enjoyed the idea of turning into an animal and he had researched the topic extensively after his trip to Diagon Alley. He had been a little disappointed that witches and wizard were limited to one animal form though.
Harry smirked. He sat down and played the role of a model student whilst Professor McGonagall continued to observe.
The day he had entered the library in primary school for the first time had changed Harry's life. It had become a refuge. A quiet place where he had remained undisturbed. However, most importantly, the library had given his strange abilities a name and had introduced him to a world where dreams lived and hope still flourished. Harry couldn't help but reminisce when he entered the Hogwarts Library.
"Excuse me", said Harry, trying to get the attention of a tall, thin witch behind the counter. She had a long, hooked nose and kind of reminded him of a fairy tale witch. Minus the warts.
"I've never been to a magical library before, so I wanted to know if they are any special rules to follow besides the regular ones."
Madam Pince eyed him suspiciously, trying to predict how much of a nuisance Harry was going to be.
"If you rip, tear, shred, bend, fold, deface, disfigure, smear, smudge, throw, drop, or in any other manner damage, mistreat, or show lack of respect towards the books, the consequences will be as awful as it is within my power to make them."
"Anything else?", gulped Harry. "Any books that can...swallow me whole or mess with my mind?"
"Not in the public section."
Herbology took place outside the castle. Glass houses of various sizes stood along a small river which entered the Black Lake right beneath the North Tower. Gardening was one of two chores Harry actually didn't mind that much when he had lived with the Dursleys. There was just something about working with living things that made Harry content and happy.
Professor Sprout, their Herbology teacher and the Head of House Hufflepuff, seemed to feel the same way when she enthusiastically showed them all the plants which they were going to study this year. They would primarily focus on common potion ingredients like asphodel, dittany or wormwood before moving to more dangerous plants and discussing them theoretically.
"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity", said Professor Snape softly when he reached Harry's name during roll call. The amount of resentment in the man's voice surprised Harry. This doesn't sound good. Not good at all.
Harry had heard about Hogwarts' Potions Master. Nobody in Ravenclaw disputed that he was a genius but he also had no patience for students who lacked the talent or passion for his subject.
In fact, he seemed to dislike all students, except for Slytherins, and especially despised Gryffindors, proving that the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was worse than Harry had initially suspected and even continued after school. Harry was glad that Hat had put him in Ravenclaw. He wanted no part in this.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making."
Professor Snape spoke in a low whisper, forcing everyone in class to listen attentively. Nobody dared to make a noise, let alone interrupt. The way Snape talked about simmering cauldrons and shimmering fumes was captivating.
"...even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Harry couldn't wait to start.
"Potter!", he called suddenly.
Crivens!
Harry had completely forgotten that Professor Snape didn't seem to like him very much.
"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"I don't know, sir", said Harry immediately. He had only skimmed the recipes.
"Tut tut – fame clearly isn't everything", sneered Professor Snape, causing a few Slytherins to chuckle. "Let's try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat, sir", answered Harry. He had seen a massive one in the apothecary in Diagon Alley.
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?", he asked after a short pause.
Harry thought hard. He could swear he had read about it the other night.
"I think there is no difference, sir?", said Harry hesitantly. "They are the same plant."
Professor Snape fixed Harry with an icy stare, his face was blank.
"One point from Ravenclaw, Potter", he said, towering over Harry. "I expect you to be better prepared next time."
Snape continued to single out Harry. He asked more questions, criticised the way Harry crushed snake fangs and even blamed him when Sally-Anne Perks, a Hufflepuff, managed to melt her cauldron. When the lesson was over Ravenclaw had lost another four points.
"Wow", exclaimed Padma Patil, sending Harry a side glance. "Snape really doesn't like you very much, Harry."
"But why?", wondered Harry, furrowing his brow. What had he done to inspire such hatred?
"Have you met him before?", asked Mandy Brocklehurst.
"I don't think so", answered Harry slowly. "At least...I don't remember meeting him. Are there any spells which can wipe someone's memory?"
"Of course", interfered Michael Corner. "How do you think the Ministry prevents the Muggles from finding out about us?"
"In that case I'm not sure anymore."
"He still hates you", piped up Lisa Turpin.
Harry had been in Hogwarts for four days now but the only non-teaching staff members he had seen were Professor Dumbledore, Madam Pince, Madam Pomfrey, Mr Filch and Hagrid. He hadn't seen any cooks, housekeepers or gardeners, which is why Harry was currently exploring the dungeons. The dungeons beneath the Great Hall, to be precise.
He was looking for the Kitchens, the best place to find out the newest gossip and rumours. Harry considered that magic was probably involved in cooking and cleaning the castle or that Hogwarts was cleaning and maintaining itself but he wasn't sure. He should ask the Weasley Twins. They would know.
Harry had been really looking forward to 'Defence Against the Dark Arts'. He had devoured Trimble's textbook, fascinated by the wide range of the subject. However, while the material was still interesting, the presentation by Professor Quirrel left a lot to be desired. His speech impediment made it difficult to follow his lecture.
The double lesson on Friday promised to be even more tiring. They continued to discuss the differences between jinxes, hexes and curses and the definition of 'Dark Magic' but Harry hardly listened and spent the entire lesson in a half awake state.
"This class is a joke", grumbled Michael once they had left the classroom. "His stutter is giving me a headache."
"You are absolutely right", agreed Anthony Goldstein. "We won't learn anything from him. That's for sure."
"Maybe we should make a study group", suggested Mandy.
Mandy's proposal was readily accepted by Harry's classmates and they made plans to meet up in the library later.
"What are you thinking, Harry?", asked Lisa, moving to his side.
"Mhmm", responded Harry drowsily. "Study group. Sounds good."
"Harry?", said Lisa, trying to get his attention. "What are you thinking about?"
"I'm sorry", apologised Harry sheepishly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I...I just don't understand why Professor Quirrel switched, you know. He's clearly uncomfortable in his new job."
Harry had met him in Diagon Alley. However, back then his stutter hadn't been as bad as it was in class. The man was always on edge, terrified of his own subject.
"One of the older Ravenclaws said that he had been a decent Muggle Studies teacher before he took a year-long sabbatical. So why did he choose to take over Defence Against the Dark Arts?"
"Because teaching Muggle Studies is nothing you can take pride in", said an unfamiliar voice.
They had arrived at the Charms classroom. The Slytherins were already here.
A pale, blond boy came forward and introduced himself, "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Harry remembered him from the Start-of-Term Feast. Malfoy had been sorted as soon as Hat touched his head.
"I would introduce myself but unfortunately, everyone already knows who I am.", joked Harry, shaking the boy's offered hand. Malfoy laughed politely.
"So why is teaching Muggle Studies nothing to take pride in?", asked Harry curiously.
Hagrid had mentioned that some families valued their pure-blood heritage to such extent that they considered Muggles as inferior beings. However, it was the first time Harry experienced this kind of prejudice for himself.
Malfoy looked at him in confusion and said, "It's a waste of time since there's nothing we can learn from Muggles."
The way Malfoy said 'Muggles' oozed with prejudice.
Harry didn't want to antagonise the boy but he also wasn't going to take the comment lying down.
"You would be surprised what Muggles accomplished in the last decades. In some cases their technology even surpassed our magical methods", countered Harry.
"You aren't serious, are you?"
"I'm absolutely serious."
Malfoy gave Harry an appraising look but their conversation didn't continue since Professor Flitwick called them inside.
Hagrid invited Harry to tea after school. The giant lived near the Forbidden Forest, just outside the castle. His home was surprisingly small for a man of his size.
Harry really enjoyed having tea with Hagrid while they talked about his first week in Hogwarts. However, Hagrid's rock cakes were living up to their name. Harry was sure they tasted just fine but his inability to take a bite prevented him from actually tasting them.
Harry steeled himself and said, "Hagrid, I think there is something wrong with the cake."
Hagrid took a bite, chewed and mumbled, "Taste jus' fine ter me."
"They are a little too hard for my teeth", clarified Harry.
"What's wrong with yer teeth, Harry?"
You already started. Just say it!
"Maybe your teeth are just stronger than mine", suggested Harry.
"Never had any complains before", said Hagrid thoughtfully.
What have I done?
"You are stronger and bigger than the average man. It is possible the same thing can be said about your teeth," rambled Harry.
Harry really liked Hagrid. He didn't want to hurt his feelings.
"You know what", he said, trying to defuse the situation. "Next weekend we can try one of my recipes. It will be fun."
Hagrid beamed at him.
"Sounds good ter me."
Harry found the Weasley Twins by chance while exploring the castle on Sunday. The Twins were huddled together in an alcove, examining a piece of parchment.
"Look, George, our favourite Ravenclaw is here", called out Fred, tucking the parchment away.
"Out on a Sunday stroll, I assume", said George.
"Understandable. The weather is pretty marvellous."
"Except in Filch's office."
"The rain just won't stop."
"Good morning, guys", chuckled Harry. "I have a question."
"A question?", said Fred, wide-eyed. "No wonder Harry got sorted into Ravenclaw, George."
"He is bursting with questions, Fred", exclaimed George dramatically. "We've got to help him!"
"We will do our best to quench your thirst for knowledge, little eagle", said Fred solemnly.
"But we won't make promises."
"We aren't all-knowing."
"But close."
Before the Twins were able to go on, Harry said quickly, "I'm looking for the Kitchens."
Fred and George became utterly silent and eyed him calculatingly. They began to whisper into each other's ears but it didn't sound like a real conversation. They just mumbled nonsense.
"Why is little Harry interested in the Kitchens?", asked George finally.
The Twins began to circle around him and observed him through narrowed eyes.
"Someone has to cook and clean the castle but I have never seen any staff besides Filch", answered Harry, feeling like prey.
George urged him to go on, "And...?"
"If you want to know what's going on ask the cleaning and cooking staff. They know most of the gossip."
The Twins laughed.
"I fear the cleaning and cooking staff is a little bit different from what you might expect, Harry", explained Fred. "They love working."
"Even in their free time", added George.
"House-elves have free time?"
"You know what I mean."
"House-elves?", interjected Harry.
"Small magical creatures with bat-like ears."
"They serve old families. Or in this case, Hogwarts."
"Why have I never heard of them?", wondered Harry, shocked. "They weren't mentioned in any book. Not even in 'Hogwarts, A History'. How can someone forget about an entire magical race?"
They shrugged.
Harry loved to learn about different cultures. The realisation that a group of non-human beings lived and worked at Hogwarts made Harry even more eager to find the Kitchens.
"So where are the Kitchens?", he asked.
"What do you think, George? Should we tell him?"
"I don't know, Fred. It's valuable information."
Harry sighted, "What do you want? Money?"
Fred tapped his brother on the shoulder and they retreated back into the alcove. This time they actually talked and came back with broad grins.
"We have decided – ", they spoke in unison.
" – that only a kindred spirit – "
" – a first-class prankster – "
" – a mischief-maker – "
" – is worthy enough to gain such information."
"We've always wanted an apprentice."
"Someone who will take over our duties when we leave this fine establishment."
"You're quite promising."
"But we're not sure if you're already responsible enough to handle this information."
"The location of the Kitchens is a terrible burden", sighted George.
"So...you have to prove yourself", said Fred, grinning mischievously.
Harry didn't like where this was going.
"That's why we dare you to check out the third-floor corridor on the right side."
Draco Malfoy approached him again on Monday after History of Magic.
"Potter, may I have a word with you?"
Malfoy's demeanour was formal and determined. He had prepared himself for this conversation.
"Sure, Malfoy."
Flanked by his minions, Malfoy spoke confidently, "Since you were raised by Muggles you are going to need help with learning our ways. You also may have already realised that some wizarding families are much better than others. I'm offering my help so you won't make any mistakes." Malfoy smirked, eyeing the other Ravenclaws who followed their conversation with unconcealed interest. "Like making friends with the wrong sort."
For a moment Malfoy's gaze rested on Lisa Turpin before he looked expectantly at Harry.
"I really appreciate the offer, Malfoy", said Harry coldly. "But I am rather good at judging people myself."
Malfoy flushed slightly.
"You should be careful, Potter", he hissed. "If you continue to consort with Mudbloods and half-breeds it will rub off on you and you will end up just like your parents."
There were a few sharp intakes of breath around him. Malfoy had crossed a line.
"Again...thanks but no thanks", said Harry through gritted teeth.
He turned around and pushed past his classmates, trying to avoid a confrontation. However, Malfoy wasn't finished. All of a sudden, there was an unpleasant spark behind Harry. He stepped to the right. A yellow jinx barely missed him. Harry reacted instinctively. He tripped Malfoy, drew his wand and whirled around.
Harry looked around. The corridor was deserted. He was alone. Most students and teachers were in the Great Hall, enjoying their lunch. It was the perfect opportunity to do a little investigating. Harry took one last look around and placed his hands on the door. He could feel the magic inside – wild, unstructured. It wasn't charmed. Harry would have no trouble unlocking the entrance to the third-floor corridor. Trying to feel past the door, he closed his eyes and focused. However, no matter how hard he tried, the heavy door didn't reveal what was behind it.
"It's a school", Harry whispered to himself. "And the door isn't charmed. How dangerous can it be?"
First of all, it's a magical school. Anything could happen. And secondly, Dumbledore warned not to enter the corridor.
"Dumbledore has been an educator for decades. The warning was an open invitation. Surely, he knows children better than that."
I don't know. He is a bit mad. Another reason to heed his warning.
"Come on, Harry. Think of the Kitchens. And the house-elves", said Harry, gathering the courage to open the door. "There isn't even a sign."
Just a peek.
"Alohomora!"
