Author's Notes: Poor Harry's dealing with culture shock, what with parents acting as matchmakers and deciding which people their children socialize with. The thought of being seen as marriage material bothered him, but not as much as having sham friendships. Snape did warn him; not that Harry wants to listen...
Edit 21/04/2015- RAF is three words (Hence acronym), not two (It was written as 'Royal Airforce'). Thanks Diddleymaz!
The end of summer holiday didn't come quickly enough for Harry's liking. For the three days before Harry had to get on the Hogwarts Express, Snape hadn't been around. As much as Harry had wanted to get away from his Slytherin year-mates, he hated feeling utterly alone, even with regular correspondence from Hermione. He didn't want to respond to anyone else. He wasn't even sure if Sally-Anne had been forced to befriend him as the others had. Of course, no one would want to be friends with smelly, short Harry if given the choice—besides Hermione, who bucked the social conventions of her own house to be Harry's friend.
Harry had never met another person quite like her: intelligent without being small-minded and overly self-absorbed. Harry wasn't sure why others didn't like her. Being naturally helpful, she only wanted to share what she knew with others. Who cared if she got a little overexcited over things Harry wasn't so interested in? He had never once viewed their friendship with suspicion, and at the moment that was the security he needed.
On the last evening of August, Nanua conjured up an extravagant dinner that included all of Harry's favorite things, ending it with mouthwatering treacle pudding. She had transfigured the table into a longer length to hold the feast she had prepared. Despite not being very hungry, Harry stuffed himself, since he didn't want the food to go to waste. He still wasn't in the best of moods, but he appreciated her attempt to cheer him. Afterwards, he packed his things and went to bed.
The next morning was a quiet affair. They had a late brunch with the pickled roots that Harry had gotten rather fond of. Nanua surprised him by giving him a jar of them. "Master Severus prepared these for you and has asked me to tell you not to eat more than three a day or you'll grow purple hair from your ears."
Harry chuckled at that, putting it into his trunk. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Nanua." He dragged the trunk and his owl cage out the back door. Hedwig flapped down immediately, perching on his trunk. "I thought you might like flying ahead to Hogwarts. It can't be comfortable traveling with me in this cramped cage," he told her.
Hedwig looked at him with her amber owl eyes, ruffled her feathers, and then bobbed her head. She however didn't fly away, hooting softly.
"Go on. I'll be fine." He gestured for her to go.
With a parting squawk, she took off, leaving a single snowy white feather behind.
Harry picked up the feather, inspecting it.
"Master Harry, are you ready to go?"
"Yes, Nanua." He turned and was surprised to see Nanua wearing a very large bonnet over her floppy ears and tennis-ball sized eyes and a small plum-colored cloak over her clothes.
"Get a firm grip on your trunk and cage. There you are, Master Harry." Nanua offered her hand and Harry grasped it. Then, Nanua snapped her fingers, and Harry felt the spinning sensation and then sharp squeeze of Apparation.
This time however it was less abrupt and he found he could still stand, even though he had to lean heavily against the trunk to do so. She patted the back of his clothes. "There, there, Master Harry," her voice quivered.
When Muggles passed by curiously, she turned to them with an aside, "It's his health. Traveling makes him sick."
None of them seemed to notice that she was a house-elf as they took her explanation and hurried on.
Harry thought this was curious and looked around. They were inside the open-air train station by the looks of the vendors and crowds of people, only a block away from Platform nine-and-three-quarters. "Why don't they notice anything?"
"Ah, that is because they only see what they want to see. You will find this is the case with most humans, magical or non-magical," she said with a very wide smile. "Now, go on. Hogwarts Express leaves in less than ten minutes. It's only enough time for you to board and get settled in. I put those Honeydukes toffees in the left front pocket of your robes in case you needed a snack. "
Automatically checking his pocket, Harry felt them. "Thanks, Nanua… for everything."
"My pleasure, Master Harry. Now, shoo!"
Harry went to drag his trunk across the ground and found that Nanua had already placed his possessions on a trolley for him. He shoved it quickly in front of him, dodging people and apologizing as he zigzagged around the full terminal. Behind him, he heard the CRACK of Apparation.
The tricky part to catching the train to Hogwarts was getting onto Platform nine and three-quarters, which wasn't visible to the Muggle eye. What someone had to do was walk through the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. It didn't hurt, but it had to be done carefully so that none of the Muggles noticed the vanishing person and luggage.
He swung down the aisles of trains, ticket clutched in hand. The clock that he'd passed read five 'til eleven. A group of Weasleys had just disappeared through the barrier. Harry jogged to reach them.
"Oh, hello, Harry. Running late too? Come along, Ginny." Her daughter's hand clasped with hers, Mrs. Weasley rushed the barrier. Ginny waved shyly at Harry. In a blink, they were gone.
Harry sidled up next to Ron, facing the solid brick wall that was the barrier.
"There's only a minute left. No use making you wait," Ron groused to Harry.
Harry was perfectly confident in his ability to go in. Both of them bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and—
CRASH.
Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; Ron's trunk fell off with a loud thump, Harry was knocked off his feet, and Hedwig's empty cage bounced noisily onto the shiny floor. People all around them stared and a guard nearby yelled, "What in blazes d'you think you're doing?"
"Lost control of the trolley," Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up without any help from Ron. Harry picked up the cage and shoved it on top of his trunk, while Ron put his trunk back onto his trolley.
"Why can't we get through?" Ron hissed at him.
"I dunno—"
Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them. "We're going to miss the train!" He hissed again. "You didn't hex the gateway or anything, did you?"
"No, why would I do that when I need to go through?" Harry whispered back with a glare.
"Well, I don't know why else it's sealed itself—"
Harry looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ten seconds… nine seconds…
He wheeled his trolley forward cautiously until it was right against the barrier and pushed with all his might. The brick wall remained solid against his metal trolley.
Three seconds… two seconds… one second…
"It's gone," Ron said, sounding stunned. "The train's left. I wonder if anyone can get back through it?" The Gryffindor pressed his ear against the cold barrier.
"Hear anything?" Harry asked curiously.
"Not a thing," Ron said tensely. "What am I going to do? I don't know how long it'll take for Mum and Dad to get me."
Harry looked around. People were still watching them, but much fewer. It was the guard that Harry thought would cause the most trouble if they lingered too long.
"I think we'd better go," Harry said. "We're attracting too much atten—"
"The car!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes gleaming.
"What?" Harry blinked. He was sure he remembered that the Weasleys were a pureblood family. "Your family owns a car?"
"Yeah! We can fly to Hogwarts!"
Harry's next blink was very slow. "Your family owns a flying car? I dunno… isn't that illegal? What if Mu—someone sees us?"
"It has an Invisibility Booster in it! No one will see a thing!" Ron gestured for Harry to follow. "We're stuck, right? And we've got to get to school, haven't we? And even Underage wizards are allowed to use magic if it's a real emergency, section nineteen or something of the Restriction Thingy—"
"Section Nineteen of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery?" Harry supplied, walking next to him. "I don't think this case applies. And at any rate, how will your parents get home if we take their vehicle?"
"They don't need a car! They can Apparate! They've probably already left from the platform," Ron said impatiently, gaining speed as he walked. "They only bother with the car because we're all Underage and they can't Apparate all of us…"
"Why don't we wait for them to come back and then have them Apparate us to Hogwarts?"
Ron frowned at him. "Are you mad? My parents can't Apparate us all the way there. That's got to be at least five hundred miles away."
Frowning, Harry supposed he shouldn't mention that Snape had done the very thing when they'd gone to Hogsmeade. At the same time, he didn't think taking the car was a very good plan. If he had Hedwig, he would have sent a note on to Snape telling him they were stranded… He looked grumpily at the empty cage. No good deed ever went unpunished as Harry had learned from several Magical Fairy Tales. He'd let his owl fly straight to Hogwarts believing she'd appreciate not being cooped up for the duration of the trip.
"C'mon! If we hurry, we'll be able to follow the Hogwarts Express."
Not having any better ideas, Harry quickly walked after the Gryffindor as he marched off through a crowd of Muggles and out of the station. Soon they were on a cobblestone side road where an old sky blue Ford Anglia was parked.
Ron unlocked the cavernous boot with a series of taps from his wand. He heaved his trunk into the back of the car and then looked at Harry. "Well? Are you coming or not?"
Harry's instinct told him that this was a bad plan even though rationally it appeared rather solid. And, he had to admit to himself, a flying car was an awfully intriguing notion. He nodded and lifted his trunk, also placing it into the boot next to Ron's trunk.
Harry moved the trolleys to the side of the building, not caring about the two-pound deposit he could have made returning them to their hub. He carried Hedwig's empty cage and put it in the backseat.
They both got in; Harry in the front passenger seat. "Do you know how to drive this?"
"No problem," Ron said confidently. "Check that no one's watching." He tapped his wand against the ignition and the car started. Harry blinked while he manually cranked the window down. He craned his head out the window looking for a red letter that would be delivered shortly, but none came.
"Well?" Ron asked impatiently.
Startled, Harry looked down both ways. Traffic was rumbling along the main road ahead, but their street was empty of cars, bicyclists, and pedestrians as far as Harry could see.
"Okay," Harry said. So were there forms of magic the Monitoring Charms couldn't catch?
Ron pressed a tiny silver button on the dashboard. The car around them vanished—and so did they. Harry could feel the seat vibrating beneath him, hear the engine, feel his hands on his knees and his glasses on his nose, but for all he could see, he had become a pair of eyeballs, floating a few feet above the ground in a dingy street full of parked cars. It was very disconcerting compared to wearing the Cloak of Invisibility.
"Let's go then," Ron's voice said from his right. Harry heard the gears grind a little as Ron shifted the gear-stick.
And the ground and the dirty buildings on either side fell away, dropping out of sight as the car rose.
In seconds, the whole of London lay, slightly smoky and glittering, below them.
Then there was a popping noise and the car, Harry, and Ron suddenly reappeared.
Harry panicked. "Fix it before we're seen!"
"Uh-oh," Ron said, jabbing at the Invisibility Booster. "It's faulty—"
Harry slapped his hand away and pummeled the button, and everything vanished again.
He breathed a moment of relief and then everything flickered around them again. Harry instantly pounded the button to no effect.
"Hold on!" Ron yelled, and he slammed his foot on the accelerator; they shot straight into the low, woolly clouds and everything turned dull and foggy.
Harry stared at the solid mass of cloud pressing on them from all sides. His stomach was queasy. If they had been seen, Snape was going to throttle him.
"Alright then," Ron said calmly to himself. "Now, we need to know which direction to go in. Got to check the train."
"No," Harry said, knuckles braced white against the car's door handle. "We've already broken Section 13 of the Statute of Secrecy. If we're seen—"
"A little dip below won't hurt anything," Ron assured him and dropped the car below the clouds.
"Pull up! We're going to get caught!"
"No, we're not. We're too high up for Muggles to see us, so help me find it, you git!"
Realizing the futility of arguing with the idiot who was the driver, Harry twisted around in his seat and squinted at the ground. Hogwarts Express was streaking along below them like a scarlet snake.
"It's right ahead of us," Harry yelled. "Now pull up!"
"Due north," Ron said unhurriedly after checking the compass on the dashboard. "Hold on—" And then they shot up through the clouds. A minute later, they burst out into a blaze of sunlight. "Now, we'll just have to check on it every half hour or so…"
"Why? To raise the odds of us getting caught?" Harry grumbled.
"Relax; Muggles don't see anything!" The Gryffindor said confidently.
Harry turned towards the window, feeling glum. Muggles might be blind to a lot of magic but a flying car was not something they would miss. He absently wondered if there were Anti-Radar Charms… or would they have to worry about Her Majesty's Royal Air Force…?
"So, all we've got to worry about now are aeroplanes," Harry muttered to himself glumly. Or fighter jets, he inwardly groused.
Beyond the glass pane, it was a different world. The wheels of the car were likely skimming the sea of fluffy cloud, the sky a bright, endless blue under the blinding white sun. However, Harry could not enjoy the fantastical sight, knowing that he'd made a mistake in climbing into the Bewitched car. He thought that if things went too terribly he could always climb to the backseat and get his broom out from his trunk in the boot. Then he'd be able to board Hogwarts Express, hidden beneath the cumulus clouds beneath them.
"Oh, right. Aeroplanes," Ron said, sounding like he knew what those were.
"How do you know what they are?"
"You met my dad. He's crazy about anything Muggle. He's got loads of Muggle photo books, and our shed at home's full of Muggle stuff. Dad takes them apart, puts spells on them, and puts them back together again."
The Slytherin was certain that doing what Ron described was illegal, but since Harry had a Restricted book at the bottom of his trunk and a Bewitched Muggle watch on his forearm he had little room to point fingers. "Oh, right. So, what's your dad do at the Ministry of Magic?"
"He works in the most boring department," Ron lamented. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."
Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. Even without knowing exactly what Mr. Weasley's position exactly entailed, he definitely understood that Mr. Weasley was part of the problem that his office was trying to curb.
"Oh don't you ruddy make fun of me. My dad's brilliant at raiding people's homes. It's not easy finding Muggle-made things that have been Bewitched," Ron said sourly.
"No, no. I wasn't laughing at that. I find it a bit… ironic that your father works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and owns a flying car."
"Oh," Ron said in surprise. "Yeah, I suppose that if he raided our house, he'd have to put himself under arrest." After that, whenever there was a quiet spell in their conversation Ron would giggle to himself.
When nothing happened for an hour, Harry finally began to relax. This, thought Harry, wasn't such a bad way to travel—past swirls and turrets of snowy cloud, in a car full of hot, bright sunlight, with a fat pack of toffees that Harry had saved from Honeydukes. Harry imagined how his year-mates would react when they swooped and landed smoothly on the sweeping grass in front of Hogwarts Castle in a Bewitched car. Being an enchanted object aficionado, Theodore would likely turn green with envy.
Despite Harry's protests, Ron insisted on regular checks on the train as they flew farther and farther north; each dip beneath the clouds showed them a different view. London was soon far behind, replaced by neat green fields that gave way in turn to wide, purplish moors, a great city alive with cars like multicolored ants, villages with tiny toy churches. Harry knew the probability of their being seen was very high, since the Invisibility Booster no longer worked. He tried not to think too hard about being expelled and having his wand broken in half. Coming to a resolution, Harry decided that he would rather live in the Muggle world than try to eke out an existence as The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-Then-Later-Was-Shamefully-Expelled-From-Hogwarts.
Several boring hours later without a single flyby of neither aeroplane or fighter jet, Harry had grown tired of the miserable trip. The toffees had made him extremely thirsty and neither of them had anything to drink. He and Ron pulled off their thick jumpers, but Harry's cotton shirt stuck to the back of his seat and his glasses kept sliding down the end of his sweaty nose. He had stopped noticing the cloud shapes and was thinking longingly of the train miles below, where one could buy ice-cold pumpkin juice from a trolley pushed by an old witch. This is probably how someone stranded in the desert without water feels, Harry mused. He had long changed his mind about getting his broom out. For all he knew Hogwarts Express had enchantments on it so that someone couldn't board it after it left the station.
"Can't be much farther, can it?" Ron croaked, as the sun started to sink into the floor of cloud, staining it deep pink.
"Check on the train again," Harry said in weary defeat.
It was still right below them, winding its way past a snowcapped mountain. It was much darker beneath the canopy of clouds.
Ron put his foot on the accelerator and drove them upward again, but as he did so, the engine began to whinge. Harry knew that this was not a good sound. He exchanged a glance with Ron who looked extremely nervous.
"It's probably just tired," Ron said. "It's never been this far before…"
Harry pretended not to notice the noise grow louder and louder as the sky became steadily darker. Stars were blossoming in the blackness. Chilled, Harry pulled his jumper back on, trying to ignore the way the windshield wipers were now waving feebly, as though in protest.
"Not far," Ron said to the car. "Not far now." He patted the dashboard nervously.
When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew.
"There!" Harry shouted, making Ron jump.
"Blimey, you nearly scared the skin right off of me…" Ron mumbled tartly.
"Look, you! Hogwarts is straight ahead!"
Ron let out an excited gasp.
Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on the cliff over the lake, stood the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts Castle.
Unfortunately, the car began to shudder and then was steadily losing speed and altitude. Of course this would happen with their objective in sight, Harry thought grimly as he reached for a seatbelt that wasn't there. He turned to check behind him and then down at the front benchseat. There were no safety harnesses or restraints in this car. Harry felt lightheaded at the realization. His hands went to grip the car door handle and hanger above the door, bracing for impact.
"Come on," Ron said cajolingly giving the steering wheel a little shake as he had obviously not realized the danger they had found themselves in, "Nearly there. Come on—"
The engine groaned. Narrow jets of steam were issuing from under the bonnet. Harry shoved his foot hard under the glove compartment as they flew towards the lake. At least the window was open in case he had to swim out.
The car gave a nasty wobble. Harry could see the smooth, black, glassy surface of the water, a mile or less below them. Ron's knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
The car wobbled again.
"Come on," Ron urged, like a desperate mantra. "Come on."
Harry let out a little laugh. After two attempts on his life, he was going to die from a car accident. Harry was a fool.
They were over the lake—the castle was right ahead—Harry thought for a moment that they might actually make it, and then Ronald Weasley put his foot down on the brakes.
There was a loud clunk, a splutter, and the engine died completely.
Harry glared at Ron the Berk, who'd gone still as death.
"Uh-oh," he said with a quavering tone.
The nose of the car dropped. They were falling, gathering speed, and headed straight for the solid castle wall. Harry was apologizing to his instinct for not listening to it before he followed Weasley's harebrained scheme. He mentally apologized to Snape and Nanua for dying so stupidly. He should've waited for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to appear. There had to be a different way to Hogwarts if one missed the train—
"NOOOOO!" Ron screamed, swinging the steering wheel around; they missed the dark stone wall of the castle by inches as the car turned in a great arc, soaring over the dark greenhouses and then the vegetable patch.
As many more seconds passed, Harry realized that perhaps the reason the safety restraints had been removed was because of magic. He would have expected the car to drop like a stone ending in their messy deaths; instead, they were gliding as if the car were under a charm that made it much lighter than it appeared.
Fully panicked, Ron the Berk let go of the steering wheel completely and pulled his wand out of his back pocket—
"Are you mad?!" Harry yelled at him in alarm as the car began to swerve sideways.
"STOP! STOP!" Ron screamed, whacking the dashboard and then the windshield as the car began to spin forcing Harry against the door. They were still plummeting. The ground was flying up toward them—
"WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but it was too late—
CRUNCH.
With an earsplitting explosion of metal on wood, the car hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam was billowing from under the crumpled bonnet; a golf ball-sized lump was throbbing on Harry's head where he had hit the windshield and to his right Ron let out a low, despairing groan.
Forehead hurting, Harry wondered if his life would always be terribly exciting. Unable to see since his glasses had flown off, he asked resignedly, "Are you okay?"
"My wand," Ron said with a squeaky voice, "Look at my wand—it's nearly snapped in half."
Blurry long shapes were held towards him. Harry reached towards the dashboard, not feeling his glasses and then ducked down finding them by his feet. They were all bent out of shape and one of the lenses had cracked, but Harry could finally see.
Ron's wand was a splintery mess and barely held together by its core.
Harry opened his mouth, but at that very moment something hit his side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending him lurching sideways into Ron. Before either of them could react, an equally heavy blow hit the roof causing it to crumple inwards.
Grabbing his glasses to keep them from flying off his face again, Harry looked around. "What was tha—"
Ron gasped, raising a shaking pointing finger at the windshield, and Harry looked just in time to see a branch as thick as a giant python smash right through it. He jerked to the left to avoid getting speared.
The tree they had hit… was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach.
Harry's eyes grew big. He recognized it from Professor Sprout's extra lesson the Slytherins had earned for finishing the first year's Herbology curriculum early last year a few weeks before exams were to begin. It was the Whomping Willow and they had run right into it!
Ron screamed as another twisted limb punched a large dent into his door; the porous windshield was now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seemed to be caving—
"PUT IT IN REVERSE!" Harry yelled as Ron moaned from his stupid attempt to open the door and make a run for it.
"I can't turn it on!" Ron wailed. The ceiling sagged, and the Gryffindor cried out, "We're done for!"
Harry pushed him back and tapped the ignition with his wand. The car roared to life. Harry didn't know how to drive it with a useless Gryffindor rocking in the driver's seat.
"Reverse!" He commanded tapping it with his wand again, and the car shot backwards sending Harry sideways into the dashboard; the tree was still trying to hit them. Harry could hear its roots creaking as it almost ripped itself up, lashing out of at them as they sped out of reach.
The car suddenly stopped, throwing Harry back onto the bench seat. He felt blood dribbling down the side of his face.
"That," Ron panted, looking relatively unscathed, "was close." He patted the dashboard. "Well done, car—"
The car however had other thoughts. With two sharp clunks, the doors flew open and Harry felt the seat tip sideways steeply to the left. He tumbled onto the dewy grass. Loud thuds told him that the car was ejecting their luggage and Hedwig's cage.
Harry watched in fascination as the car—dented, scratched and steaming—rumbled off into the darkness, its rear lights blazing angrily. Did enchanted objects… could they gain feelings? He wondered.
"Come back!" Ron yelled after it, brandishing his broken wand. "Oh no," he moaned. "Dad'll kill me!"
The car disappeared from view with one last snort from its exhaust. Harry didn't fault it in the least.
"Can you believe our luck?" Ron said miserably, bending down to pick up a fat gray rat. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get the one that hits back."
Swallowing numerous insults intended for the idiot Gryffindor beside him, Harry looked back at the old tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly. A few looked broken.
"Come on," Harry said unenthusiastically, "We'd better get up to the school…"
It wasn't the easy arrival Harry had pictured. Stiff, cold and bruised, he and Ron the Berk had seized their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope, toward the great oak front doors.
While Ron continued to bemoan their bad luck, Harry wondered who had prevented them from entering the platform… Obviously somebody hadn't wanted Harry to board Hogwarts Express. He guessed it might have been the house-elf Dobby's work, but he didn't know whether a house-elf was capable of what was surely powerful magic…
Inside, they stood at the foot of the steps aside from the Great Hall. Ron dropped his trunk irritably. "I think the feast's already started." He quietly peeked inside. "Hey—we're missing the Sorting!"
Harry though was too tired to be excited.
Every year the Sorting Hat—an old patched and frayed hat—placed first years into one of the four Hogwarts houses: Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff. Harry well remembered putting it on exactly one year ago, and waiting, petrified, for its decision as it muttered in his ear. The dratted thing had placed him in Slytherin, the house that had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other, instead of Gryffindor with Hermione Granger, who'd become his very best friend last year.
Harry sat upon his trunk, while Ron watched the goings-on at the top of the stairs.
"Hang on," Ron muttered. "Where's that greasy-haired git, got off to now?"
"Who?" Harry thought he might be talking about Draco.
"Snape. He's not at the High Table."
Jumping to his feet, Harry scowled at Ron. "I'll hex you if you insult my legal guardian again, you twit."
Ron glared at him. "Oh, wait. I heard about that. You think an ex-Death Eater like Snape really cares about you?" The Gryffindor snorted. "And you think I'm stupid."
"He's not at the table because he probably had to finish something before he went to the feast," Harry said in a reasonable tone.
"I hope he's been sacked," Ron groused.
"Oh, come off it. Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn't fire him without notice."
"Maybe, he's left," Ron continued, "Because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!"
Reminded that Gilderoy Lockhart was their new DADA instructor, Harry glared at him, very irritated, but before he could say anything a very cold voice said behind them, "Or maybe, he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."
Hardly feeling the aches and pains from the car crash, Harry spun around with a smile on his face. "Professor Snape!"
Ron had gone completely silent next to him.
"Follow me," Snape said curtly. "Leave your things; they will be taken care of."
Sending Ron a pleased smile, Harry quickly went after the professor, their steps echoing in the hallway that was lit with flaming torches.
The delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great Hall, but Snape led them away from the warmth and light, down a narrow stone staircase that led into the chilly, dimly lit dungeons. They were heading straight for Snape's office.
"In!" he snapped, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and pointing.
Ron was shivering next to Harry. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars and books. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape closed the door and turned to look at them.
"So…" he said softly, "The train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and the destitute Ronald Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boys?"
Unworried, Harry began, "No, sir; it was the barrier at King's Cross. It—"
"Silence!" Snape said coldly.
Harry's mouth snapped shut. Snape was in a very foul mood.
"Where is that Bewitched Car?"
Ron gulped. Neither of them said a word.
This wasn't the first time Snape had given Harry the impression that he could read minds, but a moment later, his guardian had unrolled today's issue of the Evening Prophet.
"You. Were. Seen," he hissed out, showing them the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. "By no less than seven Muggles." Snape looked at them both furiously.
Harry's face flushed in shame behind his horribly mangled glasses. He clutched his robes in his hands as the dried blood began to itch on his cheek.
"Not to mention the considerable damage you've inflicted to the Whomping Willow, which has been on these grounds since before you were born," Snape said snidely.
Ron blurted out, "Honestly, Professor Snape, I think that tree did more damage to us than we—"
Harry winced, knowing what was coming.
"Silence!" Snape snapped again. "Most unfortunately, you, Mr. Weasley, are not in my house and the decision to expel you does not rest with me."
Harry swallowed. He didn't feel hungry anymore now that he felt sick to his stomach. So, he was going to be shamefully expelled because he'd followed the harebrained scheme of a Gryffindork…
Ron was staring at Snape white-faced. "You… you wouldn't expel Harry, just for going along with me. I mean, I was the one driving! And I had to convince him to come with me. And he warned me that we'd be seen if I kept checking on the train!"
Harry knew it was no use attempting to argue.
"You have risked the exposure of our world," Snape directed at the Weasley. He stood up and prowled around his desk to stand menacingly over at Harry. "You know the law."
"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly.
"And yet you chose to embark on a journey in an enchanted Muggle machine—which any Wizard worth his salt would know is as unreliable as a broken wand." Snape's eyes flicked to the broken thing still cradled in Ron's hands.
Harry kept his mouth shut and stared straight ahead. Snape was right. Harry had learned last year during Charms class that Enchanted Objects were fickle at best and unpredictable at worst. He'd just forgotten until he'd gotten the reminder.
"Sir, please don't expel Harry. The barrier wouldn't let either of us through and it was my plan, and he's the most decent one of your lot," Ron implored Professor Snape.
"My… lot?" Snape sneered.
"Oh—that is—I meant to say—"
"I assure you that Harry Potter is of no concern of yours, and his impulsive decision to trust your judgment has led to this," Snape said with a sneer as Harry looked at the floor in disgrace.
"But—!"
"He will take the train home tonight. Furthermore—"
"Severus, that is not solely your decision to make," the headmaster said quietly.
Harry and Ron turned to see that Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore had appeared. The Head of Gryffindor's house looked very angry with her thinned lips, while the headmaster was unusually grave.
The little bit of hope that had sprung at the headmaster's arrival disappeared. Harry's whole body went numb. Professor Dumbledore stared down his very crooked nose at them, and Harry suddenly found himself wishing he was still getting knocked around by the Whomping Willow.
"Please explain why you did this," Professor Dumbledore said. It would have been better if he shouted. Harry wasn't sure how to handle disappointment.
Since Ron was too afraid to say a word, Harry ended up explaining to his knees. He told the teachers everything, deliberately leaving out who owned the bewitched car. It sounded as if Ron had happened to find a flying car parked outside the station. Harry knew it was obvious even though he never said who the car belonged to, but nobody asked any questions after the car. When he finished, Harry looked up. The headmaster was peering at them through his spectacles.
"Headmaster," Snape began, "These two have flouted the Statute of Secrecy, as such—"
"Severus, I am well aware of our bylaws, having written quite a few of them myself…" He looked over his glasses at Harry and Ron. "As Head of Gryffindor House, it is for Professor McGonagall to determine the appropriate action for Mr. Weasley."
"I'll go and get my stuff, then," Ron mumbled.
"What are you talking about, Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"You're going to expel me, aren't you?"
Harry watched Snape's face as his eyes gleamed. The Potions professor was enjoying Ron's misery.
"Not today, Mr. Weasley, but I must impress—on both of you—the seriousness of what you have done." She looked at Ron with kinder eyes. "I will be writing to your parents, Mr. Weasley. And you will receive detention."
"But Snape's threatening to expel Harry!" Ron exploded.
"Professor Snape requires my approval to expel a student from his own house," Professor Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "It helps… ah, dampen biases."
The gleam was snuffed out and Snape cleared his throat, but he was ignored.
"I must get back to the feast, Minerva. Come Harry, there's a delicious-looking custard tart that I believe you will find most engaging to your sweet tooth…"
Ron shot Harry a jealous look as the Slytherin was swept out of Professor Snape's office. Professor Snape with a look of pure venom followed close after them.
"Professor," Harry began speaking to the headmaster, "I was culpable in the damage inflicted on the Whomping Willow and—"
"I'm sure Severus will arrange detention for you. But first," the old Wizard pulled out his ivory wand and tapped Harry's glasses. "Oculus Reparo."
Harry's glasses were fixed in a jiffy. He took them off and inspected them. They looked as new as if he'd just bought them! Before Harry had a chance to react, the headmaster also cast a Refreshening and Cleaning charm. Harry felt much better. "Thanks, professor." He hesitantly looked over to Snape. "So… I'm not expelled?"
"As my decision has been overturned, this is your one and only warning. One more, and you will be expelled."
"Now, now, Severus. Term hasn't even started yet. No need to scare Harry."
Snape looked as if he'd been forced to swallow something particularly vile. Could he really be that worried about whatever bad thing might happen at Hogwarts? Then Harry wondered why his guardian didn't just pull him out of Hogwarts if he seemed so intent to expel Harry. Harry must be missing something; Snape never did anything without having a reason…
They entered the Great Hall with its floating candles hovering beneath a bewitched ceiling showing a starry night. Most of the students peered at Harry like an exotic animal, since he was the only one without a small pointed black hat and matching black robes on.
Professor Snape pulled him aside after Professor Dumbledore bid them farewell to head to the High Table. "If I catch you bragging about this incident, you will find detention unbearable."
"Yes, sir."
"Go on then." The bad-tempered professor motioned towards the Slytherin table.
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He rejoined his table, who cheered jubilantly to see him. The Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost, floated towards him and personally greeted him.
He was of course jostled and pestered on all sides by the newly Sorted first years about how he'd gotten there and why his clothes were torn and how he'd gotten knocked on the head. Harry answered Pike Lestrange's calm questions first, partly because he wasn't simpering like Peter Reinhardt and partly because there seemed to be space around Pike like he was made to feel unwelcome by his year-mates. This seemed to have an effect on the rest of the group; As soon as Harry had answered Pike's questions, the second year told his younger housemates that he was starving and really wanted to eat something before they were dismissed to bed. Almost immediately Pike found himself peppered with questions on how he was on such familiar terms with Harry.
Draco was all the way down the table with Crabbe and Goyle as was Parkinson, Greengrass, Davis, and Bulstrode. Not caring about appearances or manners, Harry scarfed down the food that appeared on his plate. Several pairs of his young housemate's eyes went to his forehead when they thought he wasn't looking.
Harry drank great gulps of pumpkin juice, promising himself that he would try everything in his power to stay out of trouble this year. Sally-Anne was the first of his year-mates to greet him; Harry carefully responded. She gave him a curious look at his lukewarm reception, but didn't call attention to it.
Not long after, Theodore managed to budge a few first years aside to recount Dumbledore's yearly speech and the notices for that year to Harry. Then, Dumbledore announced that the feast was over. Harry followed his housemates to the portrait of the Thin Lady, who flapped a lacy green fan. "Elodea," was apparently that week's password and the portrait swung open to the common room.
It only occurred to Harry then that the thin woman dressed in emerald might have an actual name besides 'Thin Lady'.
Before a blazing fireplace, Snape stood. "Welcome back to the Vipers' Nest, Slytherins," he said wryly.
Many of Harry's housemates chuckled.
"I trust that you all have managed to stay out of trouble, barring one anomaly," Snape glanced at Harry, who looked away innocently.
Everyone sniggered; Harry flushed.
"As you know, the strength of our house lies in our strong ties to one another. As role models to the impressionable first years, I expect each and every one of you to display impeccable manners and attributes of a proper Slytherin. Failing in that, I will not hesitate to confiscate your time and privileges and send correspondence to your parents or guardians. Do not disappoint me." Snape's black eyes scoured over them, and then he turned to the entrance to their common room and stepped in front of them. "Be ready to properly greet your new housemates."
No sooner had they lined up by house year with second years in the first row, the first years tumbled in looking wide-eyed and tired behind Prefect Gemma Farley and another prefect Harry didn't recognize. Harry remembered the exceedingly long way to the Slytherin common room that he'd taken last year with the rest of his year-mates. Now, he understood that it bought time for Snape to talk to the rest of his house before they arrived.
Snape gave them a brief spiel, practically word-for-word as he'd told Harry's group last year. His robes billowed out around him as he stormed down the hall and the door slammed shut. Head aching and feeling bruises elsewhere, Harry tenderly touched the knot on his forehead. He knew blows to the head could be dangerous, but wondered why Snape hadn't insisted that he go see Madam Pomfrey…
Having been dismissed, Harry and Theodore went straight up the tower on the right before the four prefects began their introductions to the first years. They stopped at the second-to-last landing and poured into the room.
There were different wall-hangings in this room and larger wardrobes pressed up along the walls. Harry also saw the usual ebony desks opposite of the five four-poster beds, beds which had green silk curtains hanging about them.
Harry noticed that his trunk was at the last bed farthest from the door again. He rather preferred that spot.
"Right," Theodore said, breaking the silence. "So, you used an enchanted Muggle Artifact to get here? Pushing your luck aren't you?" His blue eyes flicked to Harry's forehead and then to the side of his head which had connected with the inner windshield of the car. Harry thought he might have nasty bruising and scabs from his tiny adventure.
Harry snorted. "I wasn't left with a lot of options was I? The barrier to Platform nine and three-quarters refused to let me through."
"That's odd," Theodore said.
The door slammed open, and Draco Malfoy walked in looking as if he'd bitten into a lemon. "You've made quite the entrance, Harry. The first years think that the famous Harry Potter is an idiot." Crabbe and Goyle shuffled in behind him. "I suppose I ought to give you this, now that Professor Snape's done using you as an example." With the neutral look on his face, Draco casually offered a vial of potion.
Harry took it and then uncorked it, sniffing the contents. It was a simple healing potion. He downed it in a gulp, and his minor aches and pains faded. He reached up and felt that the knot on his forehead had gone away too. "Thanks."
Without a word, Draco flopped into his bed and kicked off his expensive-looking, shiny black shoes.
"You know, it's not like I want to be famous," Harry admitted, shedding his Muggle clothing.
"Potter, you positively reek from here," Theodore drawled and then pinched his nose. Draco laughed as if he'd made a joke. Obviously they thought something 'stunk'; that is, Harry's declaration that he wanted none of his infamy.
Stifling his frustration, Harry tapped his wand in a predetermined pattern to unlock his trunk and pulled out what he needed. Closing it, he tapped a different place to set a different configuration to unlock it again. Over the summer he'd specifically learned this technique using an unused candle to keep his trunk more secure for the school year. If only he'd known that tapping his wand was a perfectly acceptable form of magic outside of school...
Shirtless, Harry went down the stairs with his arms loaded with clean clothes and his burlap sack to the communal showers. He figured if Draco was able to laugh at him, then maybe they wouldn't be at each other's throats this year.