Author's Notes: Hermione is perhaps the least non-judgmental character of the Gryffindors. I think it might have been helped by her Muggle upbringing. Also, techno-widget is just about the cutest word for technology.

Much, much later, after Harry had gone to dinner and finished several more sheets of questions, he left the Slytherin common room with his year-mates.

Astronomy was a Thursday night activity with Professor Sinistra. They studied the night skies and learned the names of the stars and movements of the planets.

Harry was knackered when another nightmare of the purple turban woke him up Friday morning. He tiredly dressed himself and stared out the open window as he gently pet Hedwig's soft, downy head. He watched the sun rise and then carried his schoolbag, cauldron set, and box of Potions ingredients downstairs.

Taking a seat in the very same nook he'd taken a liking to, Harry greeted the female selkie who often was around at this time in the morning with a wave. He'd learned a little about merfolk in the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them textbook that Hagrid had gotten for him at Flourish and Blotts. Selkies were not as pretty as sirens, which were the ones Harry thought of when he thought of mermaids, but sometimes she'd whistle or hum at him in a beautiful way through the glass. He tried speaking to her but she didn't seem to understand and likewise he didn't understand her bubbly and haunting gibberish. He gathered that her name was 'Rah-ee-ahtri'. Even if they couldn't communicate directly, his selkie friend would sometimes bring strange plants or water animals to show him and in return he showed her fantastic illustrations of land-based flora from his Herbology textbook. It was a very peaceful friendship, which was why Harry was puzzled that the selkies had chosen to be called Beast and not Being when they were so obviously sentient. Scamander, the author of the magical beasts book, hadn't explained that.

Pressing his back to the glass with a hum, Harry cracked open Magical Draughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger. Four days ago, Harry had struggled to get through the preface and first chapter. Now as he reread it, Harry understood that the author had been trying to connect the reader of magical persuasion to familiar subjects, not leave them perplexed. Begrudgingly, Harry inwardly admitted that Professor Snape's extra reading assignments had come in handy.

In the second chapter, Harry learned that bezoar was a stone harvested from the stomach of a goat which was a powerful antidote against most poisons. He wondered if the passwords so far had been potions ingredients.

Many more Slytherins were downstairs by the time the clocks screamed.

"You ready to go, Harry?" It was Nott.

Harry packed up his potion book. "Ready when you are."

They made it to the Great Hall and sat at the mostly empty Slytherin table. Harry thought it was because many of the Slytherins were night owls. Harry poured sugar on his porridge while Theodore helped himself to some eggs and ham on toast. They ate without talking.

Today the Slytherins would share Potions lessons with the Gryffindors. Harry hadn't run into Hermione Granger since he'd spoken to her in the library the previous day. He thought it was a pity Hogwarts was so large.

The rest of the Slytherins trudged in and took their seats on the bench. In another fifteen minutes, the Great Hall was packed.

Just then the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, watching the owls circle the tables and drop letters and packages into students' laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far, but today she flew in and dropped a note in his lap. She nibbled playfully on his ear and lightly squawked while he read the misspelled note with untidy, thick-lettered handwriting.

Deer Harry,
Do ye want ta come & have a cuppa with me 'rownd three? I live down the hill from the brige. I want to heer all abowt yer first week. Send ansur back with Hedwig.
Hagrid

Harry gave Hedwig a bit of toast, so she would stop nipping his ear. He tore off a piece of scroll and quickly penned a positive reply. He held it out to Hedwig, and she grabbed it with her talons. With a squawk she flew off to deliver the note.

"Hagrid? Isn't that the Gamekeeper?" Nott asked.

"Yes, he's a friendly fellow. He was the first to tell me I was a wizard."

"Ah," Nott murmured, slightly puzzled. Harry gave him a quizzical look, but the other Slytherin didn't ask whatever had piqued his curiosity.

It turned out to be fortunate that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to because Potions turned out to be the worst class that he had attended so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. He (mistakenly) thought that perhaps the Potions professor would be kinder to him, knowing the nastiness he'd had to put up with the Dursleys. At the end of the Potions lesson, Harry knew he'd been wrong to think that. Snape didn't dislike Harry—he detested him.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons, not far off from where the entrance to the Slytherin house was. It was much colder in the classroom, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Professor Snape, like Professor Flitwick, started the class by roll call, and like Professor Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity."

Many of the Gryffindors including Ron Weasley began to snigger loudly behind their hands.

Harry glared at the redhead beside him. He hadn't done anything to deserve that.

"Ronald Weasley, five points from Gryffindor," Professor Snape said with a harsh tone.

"What! What for?!" The redhead yelled. Several Slytherins sniggered, a group that unsurprisingly included Malfoy.

"Another five points for your disrespect."

Ron Weasley scowled at Harry, who blinked in confusion at the ire directed at him for no reason at all. Why would Professor Snape make things worse between Harry and the prejudiced Gryffindor? The Potions Professor continued calling roll in his same drawling tone without interruption. Once he had finished, he stepped to the front of his desk.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Professor Snape began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without much effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Annoyance at the professor momentarily lifted, Harry never realized Professor Snape was so poetic. More silence followed the professor's inflexible words.

"Potter!"

Harry jerked. He hadn't been expected to be called on. "Sir?" Harry answered hesitantly.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glanced back at Malfoy, who inspected his nails unhelpfully. Harry looked around. His fellow Slytherins looked very uncomfortable as if they didn't know the answer either. Only Hermione's hand was stretched high into the air. Harry looked back at Professor Snape. "I don't know, sir."

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything."

Harry was left feeling confused. The room was so quiet that Harry could hear the others breathing.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"

Noticing Harry's silence, Hermione Granger's hand shot straight up into the air.

Thankfully, this was something Harry knew. "The stomach of a goat."

"Very good, ten points to Slytherin," the Potions professor looked disdainfully at Hermione. His eyes raked back to Harry. "If you had bothered to read the fifth chapter of your Potions text, you would have known that asphodel and wormwood create a sleeping potion so powerful that it is called the Draught of Living Death." Professor Snape looked around. "Well? Why aren't you all copying this down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment.

"Sir," Harry said through his clenched teeth, "Why didn't you ask Hermione Granger?"

Snape's coal-black eyes pinned Harry to the spot. "Mind your tongue, Potter, or you will earn a detention."

Harry decided to keep his mouth shut.

The rest of the period didn't go much better. Though Professor Snape acting as Head of House did not have favorites, as Potions Professor he clearly favored the Slytherins over the Gryffindors. Among the Slytherins, the professor noticeably praised his godson for his techniques in weighing and preparing potions ingredients.

It hardly seemed fair to detract a larger number of points from Gryffindor over the barest slights when the Slytherins received no such threat. The environment in the classroom felt absolutely stifling as they all attempted to create a Cure for Boils using powdered snake fang, horned slugs, and porcupine quills.

And then round-faced Neville Longbottom blew up a cauldron. The potion swept across the floor, burning holes through people's shoes. Soon, everyone was carefully perched on top of their stools to get away from it. Poor Neville moaned in pain as boils sprang up all over him.

Professor Snape quickly cleared the potion from the room with a swipe of his wand. "Idiot boy!" Their Potions professor snarled, "I supposed you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered uselessly.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Professor Snape spat at Neville's Potions partner. Then he rounded on Hermione Granger who'd been right beside Neville. "You—Granger—why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's two points from Gryffindor."

It was so completely unfair for it being the first day of class that Harry could no longer stand it.

"Sir, I hardly think it's her fault that Longbottom was careless," Harry said defiantly. "In fact, I doubt Miss Granger's ability is so low that she has to make another student fail in order to look good."

Nott grabbed Harry's arm. "What are you doing, Potter?" He hissed.

Harry shook his hand off. "Anyway, it's not her job. You're paid to teach us Potions, aren't you? I think it's you who ought to have reminded Longbottom to take his cauldron off the fire before adding the quills."

Cold anger was etched on Professor Snape's face. "You've earned yourself detention in this lab at seven-thirty tonight, Potter. There's a backlog of cauldrons that require deep-cleaning without magic." The professor addressed the completely still classroom. "Bottle and neatly label your potions and clean up your stations. Put the flagons on my desk and your cauldrons and ingredients in that cupboard where your name has been neatly labeled." A long, stained finger stabbed towards a shabby pre-opened cupboard built into the wall and then the hand dropped. "You will be docked points should you make a mess. Once you've finished, you may go." In a swirl of black robes, Professor Snape slammed the Potions lab door open and stalked down the hall in the direction that Neville and his partner had gone.

For several moments, nobody moved, except Harry who steadily began to organize his things. Then life began to return to the other students again.

"Why would you challenge a Potions Master in his own laboratory? Are you mad?" Nott whispered heatedly.

Harry refused to answer and hurried out of the stifling, windowless classroom after putting his things away. He happily found himself climbing the several floors of stairs. Quite suddenly the marble staircase moved right and he had to grab hold of the railing so he didn't pitch forward down the center of the stairwell. Unbothered by the challenge, Harry had to walk back down two flights to reach a corridor, when he suddenly found himself surrounded by Gryffindors.

At the sight of one very bright-eyed, bushy-haired witch, Harry grinned. "Hermione!"

"Harry!" Hermione waved and pushed past others apologetically to stand nearer to him. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

"It wasn't right what he accused you of. If anything, Professor Snape shouldn't have spent so much time praising Malfoy."

"I don't bloody believe it," Ron Weasley muttered. "I'm in agreement with a Slytherin."

"I wanted to be Sorted anywhere else," Harry admitted softly, "But the Sorting Hat didn't, talking some nonsense about greatness. Honestly, I don't think I would have minded Gryffindor."

"You? A Gryffindor!?" Weasley said with disbelief.

"May I ask you where you're going?" Hermione asked evenly, ignoring Weasley's incredulous shout. "We're nearly to the Gryffindor Tower and outsiders aren't allowed inside."

"Er, well. I thought you might like to come have some tea at Hagrid's place?"

"Not bloody likely," Weasley retorted. "She has other things to do than to waste her time with a Slytherin."

"Ron, I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself!" Hermione scolded. She turned a broad smile on Harry, who had paid no attention to the prejudiced Weasley's words. "I was only going to study for a little bit, but I'd really like to go meet the Gamekeeper more formally, if you don't mind me coming."

"You're off your rocker trying to be mates with a Slytherin."

"Oh, shush," Hermione snapped testily at Ron. "Not you of course," she said hastily to Harry.

"Of course." Harry grinned. "Let's go, shall we?"

Together, they hopped down the moving staircase as the Gryffindors behind them continued climbing. As they turned ever downward, Harry saw that Ron stared after them suspiciously.

Through Hogwarts and out a large backdoor, Harry and Hermione went. They crossed a covered bridge and then carefully down the sloped hill of neatly tended grass to Hagrid's stone cabin. There they met Fang, a giant slobbering dog that wanted to lick their faces. Harry obliged the hound.

"This is Hermione Granger," Harry announced to Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Oh yeah?"

"Thank you for the tea and cakes," she said politely.

Neither of them wanted to eat the shapeless lumps with raisins that were hard enough to chip a tooth, but Hermione pretended to enjoy them, while Harry told Hagrid all about his lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Then, Harry told Hagrid about the lesson with Snape, about how unfair he was to everyone in Gryffindor and how he seemed to detest Harry, even if he was a student in Snape's house! "Professor Snape can give me as many detentions as he wants, but I'll never suck up to him like Malfoy does."

"Yeh don't need to do that, 'Arry. Snape hardly likes teachin'. If yeh ask me, he'd be better off leavin' Hogwarts to make potions fer a living."

"I too was curious about why Professor Snape picked on you in the beginning of class..." Hermione mused. "Like you were somebody to be tolerated. Does he usually act that way?"

"Well. He glared at me during the start-of-term feast. After that, he hasn't seemed to care one way or another."

"Hagrid, do you have any idea why?" Hermione asked the large man plaintively.

"No, absolutely no idea!"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid had turned away a little so neither of them could see his expression.

"So, are yeh a Muggle-born, Hermione? What do yer parents do fer a livin'?"

That was a suspicious change of subject on Hagrid's part. Harry frowned.

"Yes, I am." Hermione grinned. "My parents are both dentists. They fix teeth for a living."

"Sounds like a dangerous job for a couple of Muggles."

While Hermione explained the art of dentistry to Hagrid, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet. Harry quickly read it.

It was about a Gringotts break-in.

Harry distantly remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but the Weasley hadn't mentioned the date.

He forced himself not to say anything. The Gringotts break-in had happened on his birthday. The very same day that Harry and Hagrid had gone shopping for Harry's school things. The article said that the vault had been broken into some time after it had been emptied. Was that small package that Hagrid had taken from vault seven hundred thirteen what the thieves were after?

As Harry and Hermione headed back into Hogwarts Castle, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Hermione chattered about all sorts of interesting things. Harry only listened with half-an-ear. His head was swimming with questions. Had Hagrid collected the package just in time or was it just coincidence? If so, where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Professor Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

"Well," the Gryffindor said sadly as she stepped up to the castle. "I probably won't see you much until next Friday, will I?"

"Probably not." Harry was careful not to say anything about how likely it was that he'd earn a second detention for 'fraternizing' with someone who wasn't Slytherin.

"I hope we can become friends."

Harry smiled. "We already are."

"Good luck during detention. I suggest you not be cheeky with Professor Snape again or he really might assign more," Hermione said sagely.

"Thanks." They parted ways after they entered the castle. Harry walked down the stairs towards the dungeons.

Deciding that he wasn't very hungry since he'd filled up on tea, Harry chose to do homework and study in the empty common room instead of attending dinner.

Since the common room was deserted, Harry thought it was the perfect opportunity to thoroughly explore the room. Easily finding handholds and footholds, he crawled up the rough stonework and inspected every nook he stumbled upon. Most of them were too small, but he found one that was about the size and shape of his old cupboard with a round window. The green water was very murky now as the sun was steadily setting.

Harry would never admit it to anyone, but he disliked sleeping where he could hear other people snore no matter how comfortable the bed was. He felt exposed in the large shared room, which was why he closed the bed curtains.

Lifting himself up easily, Harry curled into the quiet stone loft. From his vantage point, he could see the common room entrance and most everything else.

Harry pulled Quidditch Through the Ages from his bag and began to read.

As he read about the history of a very unusual Wizard sport, Harry's mind soon wandered far from any concerns or worries about breaking so many of the Slytherin House rules.