Anarchy Machines – Chapter 2
Harry didn't take long to make himself comfortable, and neither did Moon. While he'd initially propped his leg up on the seat directly opposite, he'd found that hurt after just a few minutes, and swung around so that his leg was fully supported by the seat on his side of the compartment. Sure, it meant that less people would be able to sit in there with him, but honestly he couldn't find the inclination to care just then. Soon after he made himself comfy, Moon hopped up and settled on his legs, her body on the normal one, and her head resting on the brace. It didn't hurt him when she did that, so he allowed it, and sometimes her body heat was even soothing.
Not long after, a few minutes after the train pulled out of the station, Ron slid the door to the compartment open and flopped in the seat opposite Harry, though not before chucking Harry's crutches up into the overhead so they were out of the way. "Alright?" He asked, gaze flicking between Harry's leg and face.
"Yeah," Harry responded, nodding as he looked up at his freckly friend. "Bit stiff from sitting in the car for so long this morning, so I'll know about that tomorrow, but for now I'm good."
Ron made a small noise of agreement, and then turned to look out the window. There wasn't much else to say about it really. The concept of being permanently injured seemingly didn't compute with those in the wizarding world, but Harry was grateful that the other boy was at least making an effort. Although he wanted to chat, Harry sensed that Ron was a little uncomfortable without the buffer of his siblings and parents, so Harry left him to it, and started reading a book. Shortly after, Ron followed suit and started perusing a Chudley Cannons fact file. Reading kept his head down, and the longer it took for people to realise that he was Harry Potter, the better. Everyone was going to figure out sooner or later, but a little peace and quiet before that happened wouldn't go amiss. The last thing he needed just then was half a million people ogling him like he was a zoo exhibit. Oh, he was well aware that it was going to happen, but a few extra hours peace? That was a comforting idea. All was quiet, for a decent amount of time.
That was, until the compartment door slid open once again, and a girl peered in. She was small, and had a mane of brown curls, and looked rather annoyed as she took in the scene.
"Shouldn't you be a little more considerate of the other passengers?" She asked Harry, her voice thick with derision and haughtiness. Well. That girl was certainly precocious, and Harry wasn't entirely sure if he liked her.
Harry merely blinked several times at the girl. Who the heck did she think he was? But, instead of responding verbally, he just lifted the kitten off his leg, and pointed to the brace. Moon glared and chirped sleepily, obviously annoyed that she'd been disturbed like that.
"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" The girl exclaimed as she entered the compartment and sat down, looking stricken. "I didn't realise! I just thought you were being like the other kids further down... I'm Hermione, by the way."
Although the situation really wasn't that funny, Harry laughed, and shook his head. It was better to make light and forgive than to be bitter and hate the girl for an honest mistake. "It's fine," he assured with a small wave of his hand. "I'm Harry," he offered conversationally. Was he annoyed? A little, but at the very least Hermione seemed genuinely apologetic.
With that, Ron introduced himself, and the trio descended into an awkward silence. Harry could see that Hermione was itching to ask a dozen and one questions, but refrained out of politeness. Harry was thankful for small mercies.
As the train progressed on its journey, Harry grew more and more nervous. He was all too aware that he was not what the wizarding world was expecting, that was for sure. Ron seemed to sense his disquiet, but couldn't think of anything reassuring to say, so stayed silent.
The remainder of the trip passed in much the same way. Thankfully none of the students passing by their carriage on the way to the toilet recognised Harry. That was a good sign. Wouldn't stay secret for long, but at the least for the moment.
Once they arrived at Hogsmeade Station, and hopped off the train, Harry was surprised by the sheer size of the man waiting for them. By his side was a stern looking woman. They appeared to be searching for someone in particular. And that someone in particular was probably Harry, he speculated dryly. "Ah, Mr Potter," the strict looking witch exclaimed when she saw him, confirming his sneaking suspicion.
"First years over 'ere please," the huge man bellowed.
Warily, Harry broke away from the safety of the crowd, and hobbled off toward the one that had called his name specifically.
"Good evening, Mr Potter," she greeted with an almost imperceptible smile. She motioned for him to follow, and he did so with a certain amount of hesitation. "I'm Professor McGonagall. First years usually cross the lake via boat, however Professor Snape suspected that would be uncomfortable for you, so I came to escort you via carriage," she explained as they came to said carriage.
"Oh. I see," Harry mumbled. He had no idea what to expect going forward.
He glanced at the carriage blankly, but then sighed, resigning himself to an undignified clamber aboard the vehicle. He passed his crutches to McGonagall, and tottered precariously, before hauling himself up with a grunt.
"Severus said you were fairly able, good upper body strength. You've been using crutches for some time, correct?"
Harry huffed, blushing somewhat, though settled down as the Professor hopped up with more ease than he had. That stung a little, but he pushed it aside. Secretly, he was pleased that the Potions Master had been impressed.
"Yeah. Just over four years now," he told her as the carriage began moving by itself.
"Now. I have something very important to discuss with you. Our matron -Madam Pomfrey- is an exceptionally skilled healer, and may well be able to repair the damage in your leg. Is that something you would want?" Although she seemed strict, Harry could tell that McGonagall cared about the students of Hogwarts, and only wanted them to be safe and happy.
"No," he answered abruptly, surprising even himself. However, there was a clear determination in his voice. "Apart from flying, I should be a relatively normal student, right?"
It was clearly not the answer McGonagall was expecting, but she nodded regardless. "I should think so."
"Okay. My answer is no. I'm okay like this. I worked hard to get here. Months of daily stretching that was horribly painful, and multiple operations. If I'm healed now, all of that would've been for nothing. The doctors were happy for me to put treatment on hold, if I was. And I am. They said there was other stuff they could try in the future if I need more mobility. So, maybe I would ask later. But right now I'm fine," Harry explained with a surprising amount of passion.
"Very well," McGonagall responded after a moment of consideration. "You may have some that challenge your decision, they might not understand your point of view," she warned lightly.
"This is who I am. This is how I expected to spend my secondary school years. This is my decision, not theirs. I may be Harry Potter, but I'm still a person, a normal person, dealing with normal problems," he said fiercely, crossing his arms in a bit of a huff.
McGonagall chuckled softly, and then fell silent, seemingly placated.
Just a few minutes later, they were pulling up outside the front doors of the castle. Getting down from the carriage was actually harder than getting on, and he did have to ask for a little extra help. A passing seventh year offered a hand before McGonagall could do anything, and Harry was on terra firma before too long. He thanked the older boy, and orientated himself on his crutches before following McGonagall into the Entrance Hall.
"Oh, hello Severus," McGonagall said, sounding surprised as she looked at her colleague. "Wasn't expecting you to be out here." Despite her words, she really didn't seem that surprised, as she glanced to the Potions Master's companion -a frail looking man with sandy blond hair.
"Erik's nervous," Snape replied curtly, and went back to trying to coerce the other into the Great Hall. "Come on, it's okay," he said softly, clearly trying to be supportive.
Harry tried not to listen, because the conversation seemed intimate in some way. Eventually, the quiet argument stopped, when Snape put his arm around Erik's shoulders and led him into the Great Hall, despite his meagre protest.
"Well then," McGonagall said, but she didn't seem annoyed. If anything, Harry would've said amused. "If you just come through here," she said, and led him into a small room just off to the side of the Great Hall. "I need to get the other first years. Are you going to be alright standing?"
"Professor, I'm fine," Harry assured, smiling as he tried not to be a smart-ass and point out that was the point of having crutches.
Around five minutes later, the rest of Harry's year group shuffled into the room, and many of them were staring at him with interest. Of course they were. By that point they all knew who he was.
McGonagall made her way to the front of the group, and addressed them. "Good evening first years. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, and Head of Gryffindor House. In a few minutes I will take you into the Great Hall to be Sorted," she began, and then went on to explain the traits and names of all of the Houses. Harry partially zoned out, purely because he was so nervous, but also because he could tell that some of the other kids were trying to sneak glances at him. "I will be back shortly,"
As soon as she was gone, the chatter started. Many of them were speculating about which House they were going to be in, but there were whispers about Harry, that was for sure. Ron soon enough fought through the throng of students to stand beside him. "You alright?" He asked, concern written all over his face.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry promised with a grin.
"So, it's true then. Harry Potter is here at Hogwarts, and is a pathetic cripple. The Boy Who Was Lame," a male voice sneered as he shoved his way past many other students.
Harry stared at the boy, his pale, pointed features, and platinum blond hair that was slicked back neatly. Well. That was somewhat painful, he decided. But outwardly, he laughed. "Oh that's a good one, I hadn't heard that one before!" He chuckled.
The blond boy floundered, having clearly expected Harry to get angry. There was no point giving him the satisfaction of getting under Harry's skin, he decided grimly.
Before the boy could try something else, McGonagall returned, and led the group out of the side room and into the Great Hall.
The Great Hall was impressive, Harry decided in just a tiny amount of awe. Behind him, Harry heard Hermione explaining to someone exactly how the enchanted ceiling worked. Whatever it was, it was beyond amazing.
Once they reached the staff table, Harry spied Snape and Erik, and Quirrell, who he'd met in Diagon Alley. Snape was rubbing Erik's shoulder soothingly, while other members of staff tried not to stare. And many students were talking about it too. Apparently Snape did not have the best reputation, which shocked Harry, since the man had been reasonable toward him while he'd shopped a few months ago. He tried not to pay attention to the whispers about him though. At least no one seemed to realise, since no one beside the other first years had been on the platform when McGonagall called his name out. McGonagall herself, swept in from a door behind the staff table, carrying a three-legged stool and a hat. Harry was most unamused. What were they supposed to do with that grubby old thing? Pull a rabbit out of it?
Before their very eyes, McGonagall placed the stool down, and the hat atop it. It sat there, looking quite unimpressive for almost a whole minute. The rest of the students fell silent, sensing that something was about to happen. And then, a tear opened up near the rim of the hat, forming a mouth. Never in Harry's wildest dreams had he expected a hat to start singing at them, but sure enough that was exactly what it did.
Once the song was over, McGonagall pulled a scroll from the depths of her robes, and addressed the first years. "Now, when I call your name, you will sit on the stool, I will place the Sorting Hat onto your head, and you will be Sorted," she spoke clearly. This was clearly a practiced speech.
Harry watched all the kids before him with interest. He learned that the boy that started picking on him was called Draco, and was Sorted into Slytherin almost before the hat touched his head. The first Gryffindor was a girl called Lavender Brown. Harry had no idea where he'd end up, he just hoped it wasn't Slytherin. Although he knew Snape was alright, the boy that had taken an instant dislike to Harry was in that House. Inevitably, his name was called out, and he hobbled up to the stool. That was when hushed whispers erupted from the student body once again. Harry Potter. That weird one who couldn't walk. Yup. That was him alright, he thought disdainfully as the hat was placed on his head. There was a minute or two of deliberation, before the hat yelled out; "Gryffindor!"
Harry wasn't actually that surprised. Maybe the hat knew about the conversation he'd just had with McGonagall. What had surprised him the most was the suggestion that he would've done well in Slytherin. Really? He was thoughtful as he made his way toward Fred and George, since he recognised them. They helped him over the bench, and then stashed his crutches under the table. The rest of the sorting was pretty uneventful. Interesting, but much the same as it had been up until the point he'd been called up. Ron soon enough sat opposite Harry and looking relieved. Privately, Harry reckoned he'd have to try and sit at the end of the table from now on, so that he could prop his crutches up and not have them be a trip hazard. The last thing he needed was someone's face having an abrupt introduction to the stone floor.
As the Sorting came to a close, Dumbledore stood up, and beamed at the student body. "Well, it is a great pleasure to see so many bright and eager faces with us this year. I have a few notices to give before we begin the feast, since I know no one will pay attention with full bellies. Firstly, the Third Floor corridor on the right hand side is strictly out of bounds for the forseeable future. Mr Filch would like to remind everyone of the extensive list of banned items, which can be found in his office. And lastly, you may notice some individuals this year, who are a little different. I should think that the Professors would be happy to answer any questions you may have on the topic, so please do not harass these individuals for answers, and remember that not everyone is cut from the same mould. If we all were, it would be a very boring world indeed. And now; let the feast begin!"
Harry had most definitely noticed the way Erik and Snape stiffened when Dumbledore spoke of differences and acceptance. Well, that was interesting. But, before anyone could really speculate what he could mean by that, the feast magically appeared on the plates before them. Food was a natural distraction, though Harry remained nervous about what was to come.
Another chapter done. I'm really enjoying writing fanfiction again, I'd given it a wide berth for a long time, but this is very therapeutic, since I've been wanting to tell several stories for a long time.
Severus and Erik are a couple, in case I wasn't clear enough, but I doubt that was a problem. And they are just adorable. The rating of this story will go up as time goes on, but for now it will remain K+, just be aware that I am a M/M writer, predominantly.
