CHAPTER 2.
Harry's usual biorhythm woke him up at five the next day. He blinked away the sleepiness from his eyes and stared into nothing for a few seconds, only because he could.
He had learned the route to the library from every class he took. Today he'd go there during breakfast, and see what it was like.
He got up quietly, tiptoeing around the bed and into the shared bathroom across the hall. All the boys from that corridor – Harry had seen it on the map, and had estimated a number of five other boys – shared the same loo.
He showered quickly and as efficiently as he could, careful to avoid the huge mirror over the sinks, dressed in his new uniform – courtesy of Dumbledore – and tried to put on his tie so that he wouldn't look too incompetent.
It didn't work.
Still, he kept at it for a good half hour until it looked only misshapen, and not utterly pathetic.
"Potter." Theo came into the bathroom. Harry tried to take his time brushing his hair – useless endeavour – so it didn't look like he had fled the bathroom right when the other boy came in.
Theo did not talk as he went about his business, and Harry gladly snuck away the moment the other boy got into the shower.
Finally alone in the room – it turned out his roommate preferred reading to hanging out with friends on a Sunday afternoon, – Harry hurried to take out his two shirts and two pair of trousers and displaying them neatly on the cupboard shelves.
Then he approached the bed and took a while to convince himself to touch it and make it.
He took great care in rearranging the covers just as he had found them, still not quite believing he had slept in it. He hadn't slept well of course, the mattress was too soft and he was not used to having a pillow, but he couldn't very well complain that the bed was too good for him to his Head of House.
He then took out all his schoolbooks – also stuff provided by the Chief of Police – and arranged them on his desk, Chemistry on top.
He kept fussing over his books as Theo came back into the room and then, presumably, to breakfast.
Hogwarts was weird. It had a set curriculum, like elementary school, so you couldn't choose which classes to take. Otherwise, he would never have taken anything that remotely touched science, and by extension, Chemistry and Biology.
Never mind Latin. He had no idea how to go about that one, he had never studied it before.
That trip to the library before lessons started was pretty mandatory about now.
He found the library fine. The librarian, Ms Pince, barely glanced at him when he came in.
Harry took his time observing the shelves and the books and the small tables by the windows where one could read and do homework. He thought it was very peaceful here, more peaceful than his shared room and even more than the library back in Surrey.
Even as he took out a book – Introducing Latin – he kept a close eye on the time. He did not want to be late. Chemistry was taught by professor Snape, and for some reason – not that any professor had ever needed a reason before – he had it in for Harry. The last thing he wanted was to be called to the Headmistress' office or worse, having the school call his Aunt for something he did or didn't do.
It was going to be hard learning the rules here, mostly because somebody had yet to tell them to him, but if it was anything like the Dursleys' household or St Brutus', then he'd have to learn on the go.
He didn't like that at all.
The chemistry class looked... professional. Despite being on the lowest and gloomiest floor, the inside of the lab was very bright. Every surface of the place was white. The smell of antiseptic made his nose wrinkle.
When he arrived, all places were full but the one in the front row on the right, next to a girl with brown curly hair. Harry did not like the front row, he did not like being in such a vulnerable spot, all the more because it was in Gryffindor territory, and while he had nothing against the other House, having to sit with them would surely attract attention. But there was no alternative.
Harry inched his way beside the girl, placing his books on the desk hesitantly, silently asking if it was all right for him to sit there. The girl looked up from her intense study of her notes and looked at him. She didn't really look at him, her eyes didn't rise above his neck, where his silver and green tie was.
She looked behind him, probably at all the taken sits, before she nodded minutely and made some space on the desks, completely covered in her books and notes.
"You must be the new one," she said, matter-of-factly. Harry looked over at her and analysed her tone in his head. It didn't sound like an insult, but to Harry, that was just alarming. For a Gryffindor girl to recognize him on sight... it meant the whole school had been talking about him. Harry closed his eyes and focused on levelling his breathing. Maybe he was just exaggerating. He was a nobody after all, why would a school full of rich kids be talking about him?
"I'm Hermione Granger," she told him.
"Harry. Potter." he whispered back. He was getting better at this introducing thing.
That's when the door of the room slammed shut, and Harry jumped and whipped around to face the threat, instinct taking over. He knocked two books off his desk and upset his chair in the process. Snickers went around.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter, for making a spectacle of yourself." Snape walked into the room and went straight for the teacher's desk. People in the room snickered more. Harry bent down to pick the books up, gripping the covers tightly to suppress the trembling.
Snape began his lecture and Harry hastily found papers to take notes on.
"What do we get if we combine oxygen and silicon... Mr. Potter?" Snape asked at one point. Harry's head snapped up and he stared at the man. He knew the answer of course, it was a first year question but... why had he called on him? His hand hadn't been up and waving like Hermione Granger's beside him.
With so many pair of eyes on him, he couldn't think straight. Just as he decided he might as well give the answer, his tongue became as heavy as lead, and he couldn't remember what the answer was. He couldn't even remember the question.
"Well, Mr. Potter?" Harry swallowed, wishing he could gulp down his tongue and have a valid reason for not answering. He looked down, at his slightly trembling hands and knew he had to calm down. Right now that was the most important thing. He was not going to have an attack during class.
"It seems like Mr. Potter doesn't know what type of reaction comes from oxygen mixed with a non-metal... Mr. Malfoy?"
A voice answered correctly. The lesson went on and Snape called on him two other times. Both times Harry murmured he didn't know, because it was true, those were obviously more advanced questions and it turned out he was extremely behind in Chemistry.
Once the professor dismissed the class, Harry was only too happy to get out of there.
Compared to Snape's class, History was dull. Even not compared to the previous period, History was dull. Professor Binns had a very monotonous and droning tone. Once the period finished, Harry wasn't sure what he had talked about the whole class. His head was too fuzzy and still prone to overreactions after what happened in Chem.
Third period was Math. That he had never liked overly much. Trigonometry was written in bold letters on his textbook. Yet another class he would have to spend time catching up in, apparently.
Harry had always been careful to keep his marks low average, so not to over-shadow his cousin but still be able to pass exams and not get a call for home.
He knew he'd have to study just enough to reach that low average, but even so, after a full period of more letters than numbers in Trig, he wasn't feeling too confident on the prospect of doing low at all. Forget low average.
"So this is the renowned Potter spawn, back from the dead at last," Harry looked up and halted when he saw two huge, bulking figures cross-armed, staring narrow-eyed at him. They reminded him so much of Dudley for a second, his heart stopped beating. Then it started pounding so fast it was painful.
"I can't believe that old witch put you in Slytherin. You look more like a Gryffindork than anything." the two beasts flanked a slim, well-built boy, hair so blonde it was white.
All three of them wore green ties and Harry was positive he had seen them in his classes.
When Harry tried to side step them, one of the Dudleys pushed him back. His shoulders hit the wall and pain flared, spreading like wildfire to his head.
"That's rude Potter, walking away while someone is talking to you. You're right though, I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Draco Malfoy." Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the posh name and sigh at the dramatic introduction. Of course it was too much to assume that being sixteen, people would stop behaving like ten year old bullies.
"What do you want?" he asked, suppressing the wince of pain when he straightened up.
"Oh, nothing really, I just wanted to chat to get to know you. You are the prodigal son of James Potter after all."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry tried ducking around the Dudley on the left but he was caught and shoved into the wall again. This time he couldn't help the gasp of pain as all air left his lungs at the impact.
"You are a pussy, Scarhead, aren't you? Already on your knees after a couple of friendly shoves. You've never experience a real beating, have you?" the boy taunted. Harry risked a glance at the blonde's shiny shoes and gold cufflinks and rolled his mental eyes.
"Leave me alone," he said, getting up and turning to go in the opposite direction. He wasn't going to lunch after all, he had been headed to the dormitories. The library though, would do just as well.
The only problem was, he had to turn his back on the bullies to go that way.
"Hey! I'm not finished talking to you!" Malfoy shouted, and before Harry had time to look back, a blow to his head had him crumbling to the floor dazed.
His glasses ended up somewhere, but right then, he couldn't worry about it. It would take him hours to find them again, and he had to run away now. With cotton in his brain and eyes half shut, he saw a fist heading his way just in time to duck. He rolled and picked himself up, before getting his bearings again and running.
He ran as fast as he could, until he recognized the big doors of the library, which were the only ones of that size in the castle, thank God. He slipped inside and hid among the shelves, sliding to a sitting position, knees pulled to his chest, breathing heard.
Dudley hadn't played Harry Hunting in a while, after his parents had told him off for making Harry late for his chores. St. Brutus was so tightly controlled Harry had learned to avoid the security blind spots and be more or less fine throughout the last couple of years. Apparently his body still remembered how to move and escape. Good to know.
It took a long while of deep breathing to get his pulse to stop beating frantically.
By then his cold sweat had dried and his legs didn't feel like jelly any more.
"Are you alright?" said a voice above him. He immediately got to his feet and looked away, aware he looked pitiful.
"Potter, was it?" she asked. Harry glanced at her and then away, her halo of curly hair making her recognizable even without his glasses.
"Just Harry," he corrected softly.
"Harry then. Do you... need anything?" she asked. Harry shook his head and fiddled with his tie, looking away from her, at the hazy forms that surrounded him.
"I'm good, thanks."
"Where are your glasses?" Damn.
"They-they, ehm, I-I think I lost them in the corridor"
"Do you want me to help you look for them?"
"No!" Harry couldn't see her face very well but she must have flinched at his outburst.
"I mean, no thanks," he tried to amend, "I'd rather... stay here a while before going back" he said. She looked at him funny, cocking her head to one side.
"You're not what I expected you to be." she said, "You're not like the other Slytherins".
"I guess not" Harry replied, already too aware he had never fit in anywhere. The fact that people expected him to was depressing. Only the Dursleys didn't expect anything from him, and they still got disappointed in him sometimes.
"What I mean is, you haven't said anything nasty to me, and you haven't bullied me or anything" she kept on talking.
Why would he do that? He was nothing.
"That's what Slytherins are like," she continued with a shrug, "most of the other houses are like that as well. You know, towards people who aren't 'big money' but come here because they actually had the brains to get in."
"You're on scholarship?" he asked. She tucked her hair futilely behind her ear before shrugging again.
"I'm not the only one, but I am the minority. I just hope I'll be able to do something for myself, like Professor Snape did."
"Snape?" Harry had to learn as much as he could on the professor, if he wanted to survive Chemistry. And Slytherin, he realized. Snape had threatened to throw him out the first chance he got, after all.
"Yeah. He was a scholarship student for all six years. Then he got a PhD in Chemistry and worked for Scotland Yard as well. He managed to get in all the circles with the 'old' and the 'big money' and some say he even had an affair with Narcissa Malfoy. But those are just hallway rumours." Harry leaned against the bookshelves behind him and imagined the tall, imposing professor working for Scotland Yard.
"So, are you sure you don't need any help looking for those glasses?" she said, her tone had brightened considerably during their talk, it didn't sound tentative and wary now.
"I-I could use a hand." or better eyes, he amended in his head.
Harry followed Hermione out of the library, walking with her down the corridors and stopping once they arrived around the place where his glasses had been knocked off.
Harry looked around, but knew he had no hope of locating them unless he went on all fours and started patting the floor.
"Oh, there they are!" Hermione exclaimed pointing after only a couple of seconds. She bent down to retrieve them and fiddled with them.
"These are all broken, Harry. You should take better care of your things!" she told him. Harry took the offered glasses and mumbled nonsense.
"Well, lunch is nearly over. Do you want to walk together to Literature?"
English was taught by the Headmistress, though Hermione explained to him in a whisper it was only temporary, that the old Headmaster had retired quite suddenly and McGonagall had found herself occupying two positions at the same time.
Next was Biology with Professor Sprout. Harry had a deep and rooted distaste for plants and anything connected to it. After Chem, it was probably the class he had hated most that day.
He shouldn't have spoken too soon though, because next was Physical Education.
P.E. had always been pure hell for Harry. St. Brutus' had been a military training camp basically, and Harry had fallen ill more times than not after the three hour workout. Even without the torture-drill, P.E. was awful because he was surrounded by naked and semi-naked people and locker rooms always stank of sweat. Even snob schools apparently weren't exempt from that rule.
While he waited in the gym, he heard other kids discussing 'this year's professor'. Unfortunately, he didn't share this class with Hermione, – Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had another period – but she had told him about it beforehand. The girl liked to talk a lot.
Apparently, the P.E. position was 'cursed' or something, because no professor lasted more than a year. This year's wasn't too bad, according to rumours, only extremely clumsy.
Slytherins found that hilarious.
Harry had to admit it had some irony. He watched as a petite, colourful woman stumbled her way into the gym, divided them into teams and then managed to knock herself on the head with the basketball.
Harry hung back, trying to attract as little attention as possible on the court. He had been one too many times on the receiving end of a basketball. While it was better than a frying pan, it still knocked the wind out of him when it hit him in the chest.
"So you've already found yourself a little whore," a mellifluous voice hissed in his ear, "Good Lord, Potter. I had gathered you were desperate, but that street-beggar is just too low, even for you," Harry spun to take a step away from Malfoy. He wanted to say something, defend Hermione – perhaps he would have too – but someone from the other side of the court called his name. He turned his head automatically, and then all he saw was bright darkness.
When he managed to open his eyes again, ignoring the pain of his probably broken nose, he was surrounded by laughing Ravenclaws and snickering Slytherins.
"Yo, Potter, you really need to be more aware of the ball when you're playing. Constant attention to your surroundings and all that. You alright?" Professor Tonks came to crouch beside him and he flinched when she tried to lift his head.
"That doesn't look too good, someone should take you to the infirmary. Zabini, since it was your wonderful pass that caused this, bring him to Madam Pomfrey, won't you?"
Harry got to his feet immediately, forcing himself not to cradle his nose and give himself away.
"No, it's fine ma'am. I'll just... go to the loo and rest a bit. It's fine." he was fine. He was better than going to the infirmary would make him, anyway.
Without looking back he jogged to the locker room and ran water over his face to get rid of the nosebleed.
He was starting to feel lightheaded and that was not good.
He sat on one of the benches and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the lockers. He didn't move, taking deep breaths, until he heard the professor's whistle signalling the end of the lesson. At that point he got up and locked himself in the loo with his change of clothes. He dressed back into his uniform and escaped the place before the other boys had even set foot there.
Harry was tired by then.
Not that bone-weary tired he got at the Dursleys' in the evenings, when he was so exhausted he could barely remember where his room was.
This was another kind of weariness, soul-deep, that caught him usually after a particularly unjust punishment – because sometimes he really hadn't done anything wrong – or when he realised he was a sixteen year old with absolutely no future. He had no purpose, no direction... his life didn't have any meaning.
It wasn't because of the bullying, he was used to that. Here it was actually mild, whether it was because it was his first day, or because Dudley wasn't there to foment it, or because the student body wasn't made up of 'at risk' (read delinquent) kids… he didn't really care to examine too closely. Either way, the bullying didn't bother him overly much.
It was the crushed hope. It was his own fault for hoping, of course, hoping that this school would be different, that it would treat a worthless creature like him differently from what was normal. But he had been foolish to think he could at least be invisible here, with no one knowing who he was, without his cousin spreading nasty things about him...
But it was not different. It was exactly the same. He should accept it and go on surviving, like he had always done. Even his tentative friendship with Hermione wouldn't last, not if she came to know the truth about him, anyway. Not that he had any intention on telling her.
Harry wished his Uncle hadn't beaten the sense of duty so strongly into him that he couldn't even bring himself to skip his last class.
It was his first day though, and the last class. He could handle Latin. After Chemistry and P.E., how bad could it be?
Harry found he really should stop asking himself stupid questions like that.
During the class he didn't understand a thing, and the whispers going on around him – which he was sure were about him – only distracted him further. Hermione didn't have this class either, they shared with Ravenclaw again.
Professor Flitwick was nice enough. He didn't call on him, he didn't even glance at him during the whole class. That was pure bliss.
It was only at the end, after the final bell had gone, that he gestured for Harry to go to him. He repeated the gesture towards Malfoy.
"Now, I understand from what the Headmistress tells me, that you have never taken Latin before." he started. He was a short man, bald and with small round glasses.
Harry didn't nod, but he took his silence as assent.
"As this is a special case, I've decided the best way for you to catch up is to have a tutor. Mr Malfoy here is top of this class, and you're in the same house. He will help you with your assignments and pass you the notes from previous years, so that you can get on track as soon as possible. I will be lenient with you until Christmas. By then, I expect you to be up-to-par. Does that sound acceptable to both of you?" he asked. Harry nodded minutely. Malfoy did the same, but as soon as the professor's back was turned, he was murdering him with his eyes.
"Try wasting my time, Potter, and you will be running in tears to your dead mummy before you can say 'sorry'." he hissed at him as he gathered his books and walked hard into Harry's shoulder, making him tumble into the desks.
This was going to be more trouble than it was worth.
He met up with Hermione at the library to start working on homework.
It was quiet there, and when she was studying, she didn't talk too much. It was very nice.
Until she reminded him that dinner attendance was mandatory, when she asked him to walk with her to the Great Hall. He had completely forgotten about supper.
He accepted her offer, seen as he had yet to discover where the Great Hall was. She didn't notice his hesitation though, which was good.
Images of food took shape in his mind as they made their way there, and he felt like retching. He knew he'd have to drink a few glasses of water, at the very least, and maybe try some bread, but the prospect of having to sit through all of dinner was daunting.
He and Hermione had to part ways once they arrived, because apparently, dinner tables were divided by house. How mature.
People were staring at him, the whole Great Hall, and then there was the professors' table, set up on a platform overlooking the room, and as soon as he looked up, black, soulless eyes met his, and he recoiled immediately.
There was only one empty seat at the Slytherin table, between Nott and a boyish looking girl. The empty seat was unfortunately across from Malfoy and his ever-present goons, the Dudleys, and the bloke who had knocked him out with the basketball, Zabini.
Harry took his seat with his eyes fixed on the ground, never once lifting them. He didn't want to be there.
"Well well, look who decided to show up at meals" the drawl was unmistakably Malfoish.
Look who shows an amazing interest in what I do, Harry retorted in his head, but didn't say aloud.
"Don't start again, Draco, not at supper," Theo said in his slow, bored tone.
"I just welcomed him to the table, Theo, relax," was the answer, but Harry saw the sneer on the blond boy's face from under his lashes. It didn't prospect pleasantries.
"Besides, Potter and I will see a lot of each other, apparently. Flitwick asked me to tutor him. Aren't I lucky? He doesn't even know the first declination! Who do you think raised him? Swine?" snickers broke out among the Slytherins close enough to hear their conversation.
Harry was inclined to smile himself at the mental image of his Uncle and cousin. Swine indeed.
The conversation, which wasn't really a conversation to begin with, became a pretty passionate monologue on how incompetent and a burden Harry was going to be for Draco Malfoy.
Listening to him complain about it as if he weren't there wasn't too bad. In fact, it distracted him from the stomach-turning smell coming from the food on the table, and there was nothing in his indirect insults he hadn't heard before.
Harry had to physically remind himself to drink, and when faced with the breadbasket had to swallow his grimace and pick up a small piece from it.
It tasted like sand, or paper, he was never quite sure.
He helped himself to a spoonful of peas too, because he knew green stuff was supposed to be healthy or something.
As he played with the tiny green spheres, he listened to Malfoy's drawl still conducting a monologue on him and his incompetence, and then, when he saw more than a few people getting up and heading to the dormitories, he followed.
He still didn't like the idea of such a big and wasted bed-space for him, but settled on it only so he could draw the curtains and pretend to be alone.
Finally.
He would have to look up in the library – now that he had one as furnished as this one – what the opposite of claustrophobic was. He liked dark, closed spaces. If they weren't too small, they felt safe to him. They brought to mind pain, but also peace. He was always left alone in his cupboard, or in his bedroom. That was nice. He had missed the tranquillity after this first, chaotic day. He missed his Aunt's straight, stupid-simple rules he knew how to follow. He couldn't say he missed his Uncle or cousin, but he knew he would soon enough. Without them there to release some of the frustration, he'd have to go back to cutting. That was messier than Vernon's belt.
He had chosen this. Well, not really, but he had given his consent to Hogwarts. Now he was going to have to deal with it.
"Potter?" Harry jumped at the unexpected voice. He was sure the door hadn't made any noise opening.
Harry popped out his head from the closed curtains and waited for Theo to tell him what he wanted.
"Malfoy is in the common room. He's waiting for you" was all he said before he climbed into bed and got out his book.
Harry wondered why the hell Malfoy was 'waiting for him'. He climbed out of bed slowly, suspecting a prank of some kind but not wanting to really offend Malfoy if it wasn't. He looked like someone who could hold a grudge for being kept waiting.
Harry did not like the common room.
He had established that that morning. It was noisy – yet nothing could be worse than the Great Hall – and crowded. Full of girls, with their high-pitched voices, and gruff laughter from the boys, and the squeaks from the younger years of both sexes.
"You took your time! Hurry up, Potter, I'm not waiting for you all night." Malfoy gestured for him to sit at the long table he was occupying, at one end of the room.
"What is it?" Harry asked, not sitting down. He was waiting for the sneer and the taunt.
The sneer came, but the taunt wasn't hurtful.
"Your tutoring sessions, is 'what it is'. You honestly have the memory-span of a chicken. You'll never learn the five declinations and the four conjugations at this rate." he rolled his eyes and motioned for the free chair again.
Harry sat, silently numb at the realisation he was actually going to help him. Malfoy must have seen the dumb expression on him because his sneer became even colder as he explained.
"Do not flatter yourself, Potter. This is just Slytherin's first rule, 'we look after our own'" he sounded as if he was quoting someone else, could it be Snape? "and then you should probably know the second and third as well, 'know your enemy' and 'don't get caught'."
He managed to be extremely posh in the way he took out a schedule and presented it with a flourish to Harry.
"I took the liberty of deciding when we will meet, which will be twice a week, two hours every time. It is the most I can hope of putting up with your presence, and I have most of my time occupied by better things, like soccer, I am the captain, did you know?" he sneered down his nose at him.
Harry looked over the piece of paper. Mondays after supper, Wednesdays after lunch. Harry reckoned it really didn't make much difference to him, he didn't have anything to do outside schoolwork.
"Alright." he said.
"We'll meet here. I will not be seen in the library with you."
"Alright" he said again. He waited politely if Draco had more to say and when he did not, turned around and went back to his too lush bed.
N/A: I'm not mother tongue, so I'm looking for a Beta to help me with syntax mistakes I might miss and to help me with plot and characters... if you feel up to it (or know someone who is) PM me!