DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter
Chapter IXStarting HogwartsHarry was back into his melancholy mood by the time they got back into England and had straightened out the situation, the smiles and momentary sparkle in his eyes gone. The Ministry hadn't been impressed with the Weasleys letting him get away that easily – they had revoked emergency custody from Arthur and Molly. After a long deliberation, and it had been long, they finally gave custody to Remus.
Remus sighed and watched the young boy, mildly worried. He liked the Harry he had seen at Innes with his classmates, the Harry he had seen with Jess. He didn't like this quiet, sad boy who simply did as he was told without a word spoken.
"Remus?" Harry asked a few days later at dinner, putting down his spoon.
"Yeah?" Remus answered, the smallest of frowns on his face. Harry had been out of sorts all day, had stubbornly refused to leave his room, even for lunch. Remus had no idea what he was supposed to do, had no idea what had even triggered the change. He was still feeling ill from last night's full moon, and he didn't know if that was what had thrown Harry off, or if it was the fact that it had been Peter who had stayed with Harry all night, instead of him going to Weasleys like he had begged.
Harry had never been particularly fond of Peter, even as a baby. Back then, James and Lily had assured him that it was probably just because Harry wasn't as used to Peter as he was to Sirius and Remus: he came by far less when Harry was up, rarely stayed as long, and truth be told, Peter hadn't been all that comfortable with Harry either.
"Is it true that I look like my dad?" Harry asked quietly.
Remus frowned. That was a really out-of-the-blue question, and Harry had never asked about James or Lily before. "Why do you want to know?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "Just… wondering. People keep telling me that."
Remus sighed, and closed his eyes. "You do look a lot like James did when he was 11."
"Really, really like him?" Harry asked.
"Almost exactly, except your eyes. You've got Lily's eyes, a little bit of her facial structure, but other than that, you look exactly like James."
"Oh," Harry said, studying his half-full bowl of soup. "Was he and Sirius close?"
Remus frowned again. "Why all the questions, Harry?"
"I told you, just wondering," Harry replied quickly – a little too quickly for Remus' liking.
"All right…" Remus said doubtfully. "James and Sirius were more than close, Harry. They were more like brothers. You rarely saw one without the other."
Harry was quiet for a moment. "So why do people think Sirius killed my parents, then, if they were so close?" he finally asked softly.
Harry sat curled up in his chair, casting dark glances towards the thickset man desperately arguing with Remus. He had an abandoned book open on his lap, but his attention definitely wasn't on it.
"Really, Peter, it's not that difficult!" Remus exclaimed in exasperation, brushing a lock of light brown hair sprinkled with grey out of his eyes. "He's hardly a baby anymore! He'll be asleep most of the time, I just can't leave him alone overnight!"
"Remus, I really don't think this is a good idea," Peter replied stubbornly.
"For heaven's sake, Peter! I don't have time to argue with you about this!" Remus sighed and turned away. Harry quickly returned his attention to his book before Remus noticed he had been listening. Ruffling Harry's hair, Remus said, "You behave for Peter, you hear me? In bed by 9, no arguments."
Harry nodded silently. Remus sounded exactly like Sirius when he gave him an order like that. "When are you back?" he asked softly.
"I'll be back in the morning, probably before you even get up."
Harry closed and locked his bedroom door with a quiet click before he changed into pajamas and climbed up onto his bed, taking out his parchment and quill to write a letter to Adam. Remus had told him that as long as he promised not to run away again, he could keep contact with Jess and Adam, and Nicos had arrived two days ago with letters from Adam and Jess. He still wouldn't let Harry see Sirius, but when Harry persisted, Remus swore that he was doing the best he could to get the situation settled as fast as they could. "These things don't just happen overnight, Harry. Questionings and trials take time. It could still be weeks, it could be months. I don't know."
Sighing, Harry finished his letter, gave it to Nicos to fly home with and slid under his covers, listening to the distant sounds of a howl and he shivered. Not far from Solana, there was a pack of 'wild werewolves': men and women who had chosen not to live the way the vast majority of the American werewolves did, as normal human beings until the full moon, when they would lock themselves in basements or sheds or go deep into forests. The wild ones stayed in the forest areas, never approaching cities or villages and often attacked travelers as food, took children and bit them: that was why the children in Solana were forbidden to go into the forest or within fifty yards of it.
He had seen one of them, once, a year or two ago. He and the other children his age were playing Quidditch when Maura had pointed him out. The wild werewolf had come to the very edge of the forest, a lot further than they usually went. Jagger's father had spotted him too, and had ordered them to stay up on their brooms. Nothing had happened, but the adults had all started to keep a closer eye on the forest after that.
Harry had just started to drift to sleep when he heard a soft 'Alohomora' and the click of his bedroom door unlocking. Insides freezing, Harry reached carefully for his wand, lying on his bedside table. "Don't you dare come any closer," he warned in a shaky voice.
"Really, Harry, why are you locking your door?" Peter's voice came. "You certainly don't think there's any danger to you in this house?"
"I mean it, I'll jinx you," Harry repeated, gripping his wand a little more tightly. "Sirius told me about you."
"Did he now?" Peter asked. "And what lies, pray tell, did he relate to you?"
"They're not lies," Harry retorted. "Sirius doesn't lie to us."
"Or so you believe, Harry," Peter replied. "We didn't believe Sirius was capable of something as low as killing James and Lily, not to mention kidnapping you."
"Sirius took me because he knew it wasn't safe for me in England," Harry said stubbornly. "Not so long as you were walking around freely."
Peter sighed. "You know, you're just like James. Just because Sirius says it doesn't make it doctrine."
"Harry, come on!" Remus called tiredly. "We have to get going!"
"Coming," Harry replied unenthusiastically.
"The least you could do is not sound like you're going to Azkaban," Remus said. He was still a little irritable: he wasn't used to not being able to sleep after a full moon. He was exhausted, and he was sick, and Harry's moodiness wasn't helping. "It's just Diagon Alley."
"I wish I was going to Azkaban," Harry muttered under his breath. "At least then I'd get to see Sirius."
Remus bit back a snappish retort, knowing he'd regret it later. "Don't bother with the snide comments, Harry, I'm not in the mood for it."
"What are we doing at Dragon Lane or whatever it is anyway?" Harry asked sullenly.
"Diagon Alley, Harry. And we're getting your school things," Remus replied tersely. "Now, if you would kindly cease the complaints, it would be much appreciated."
"They're all going to be staring at me, aren't they?" Harry continued, a glum expression on his face.
"Get used to it, Harry, you're a legend over here," Remus said tiredly. "People will always be staring and pointing and whispering."
"I don't like it," Harry muttered. "I wish everybody would've just left me alone."
"Come on, Harry, I don't want this to take all day," Remus sighed.
"Oh, come on, I have to wear robes?" Harry complained as he dragged along behind Remus. "Nobody wears robes anymore."
"Maybe in America, Harry, but around here, it's still common," Remus replied calmly, pushing open the door to Madame Malkin's. "And you need them for school. You don't have to wear them outside of school if you don't want."
"Fine," Harry mumbled resignedly. "Adam's going to laugh his head off at me."
"That's only if he knows about it," Remus pointed out with a slight smile. "Just don't tell him."
"I can't just not tell Adam something!" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "I tell Adam everything, and he tells me everything! The brothers thing just doesn't work otherwise."
Remus had to remind himself that it was Harry, not James, he was listening to. It was uncanny, maybe even a little disturbing, just how much Harry resembled James not only in looks, but in behaviour. James had been the exact same way with Sirius: they had never kept anything from one another, no matter how painful it might've been to tell each other. Remus was well aware that there had been some things that he had never been privy to, something relatively major from fifth or sixth year in particular. He hadn't pushed or prodded, thinking that if he needed to know, James or Sirius would let him know. And they never had.
"All right, but you can't be complaining about it, then," Remus finally ceded. "Now get inside so we can buy your robes and go home."
Harry sighed and trudged inside. Remus briefly closed his eyes and then followed him in. It had been some of the longest three hours of his life: people giving him askance looks, dirty looks, as if he had done something wrong. The Daily Prophet had noted Harry's change of guardianship after the whole runaway fiasco – which wouldn't have been so bad, if the Prophet hadn't also mentioned that Remus was a werewolf. His job was on tenterhooks because of it: it had been a straightforward "if something happens to that boy, believe you me, you're going to be gone so fast, you won't know what hit you."
"Ah, yes, our famous Potter," Madame Malkin said briskly as she emerged from the back room. "I thought you'd be by sometime soon. Step up onto the platform, Master Potter, and we'll get your robes done quick as can be."
Remus nudged Harry, who was still seemingly lost in his own thoughts. "Harry. Pay attention."
Harry startled back to the present. "Oh, sorry, you're talking to me." He quickly did as he was told.
"Who else would I have been talking to, dear?" Madame Malkin laughed as she snapped her wand at a measuring tape.
"I don't know, but I don't ever get called Potter, so I'm not exactly used to the name. Master's only used for teachers in America."
Madame Malkin cast a questioning glance at Remus, who sighed and said, "It's a long story. Or at least, that's what I've heard."
"Hey, Remus?" Harry asked as they passed the Owl Emporium, momentarily distracted by the window.
Remus paused, and looking at Harry, he said, "No. Absolutely not."
"But Nicos isn't really supposed to fly long distances like that, he's getting sort of old, we've had him ever since we arrived in America and he wasn't exactly an owlet when we got him too. He can do from Solana to Innes and back, but it takes him days to recover from America to England. Plus he sort of does this circle, because Jess sends him to Innes with my letter and Adam's letter, and then Adam sends Jess' letter and my letter and he goes back to Solana before he goes to England and…"
"I get the idea, Harry," Remus interrupted.
"Please?" Harry added hopefully. "I'm not entirely sure that Nicos knows where Hogwarts is any way."
Remus sighed and shook his head. Harry definitely had inherited James' negotiating ability, and Lily's subtle negotiation tactics like the hopeful expression – there was a reason James could never say no to Lily. "Fine," he said. "But you're using your own money for the owl."
"Okay!" Harry agreed cheerfully.
"Do you have everything packed, Harry?" Remus asked the night before the start of term, looking into Harry's bedroom.
Harry, the snowy white Hedwig perched on his shoulder as he lay on his bed reading, nodded. "Absolutely everything."
"Not your broom, though, I hope," Remus said. "First-years aren't allowed to bring their own brooms."
"Well, aren't I technically a third-year?" Harry asked logically with a grin.
"Technically, you're a first-year. Hand over the broom," Remus replied, holding out his hand. "I promise I'll take good care of it."
"Don't let anybody touch it," Harry ordered as he flicked his wand at his broom and it floated over to Remus. "Anybody at all. I can't promise that Sirius didn't order anti-theft spells on it."
"Why would he have put anti-theft spells on your broom? Who would try to take it?" Remus asked with a slight smile. "And don't use your wand, I've told you twice already tonight."
"School," Harry replied. "They're quite competitive, Innes students. Adam and I both nearly had our brooms stolen by some older students who didn't want us taking their spots on the Quidditch team. Well, they got a bit of a nasty shock when they tried. I still remember them pleading for mercy from the brooms. Ah, that was gorgeous.Headmaster Ambrose said they got enough of a caning from the brooms themselves, they didn't need his as well. But they definitely lost their flying privileges and their outing privileges for two months. One for each broom."
"Why in the world do they cane students?" Remus asked.
"Because a Preparatory has to adhere to such high standards, detentions just don't cut it. Besides, Headmaster Ambrose says that detentions don't really teach you any sort of lesson. The canings are always accompanied by loss of privileges, though, and privileges that pertain to the misdemeanor, because otherwise it's just as useless."
"Well, he does have a point about detention," Remus admitted reluctantly. "Detention never seemed to do much for James and Sirius."
"Yeah, Sirius says they were in detention almost every week," Harry said.
"That's pretty close," Remus laughed. "And they dragged Peter and I into a great number of them as well. I was a prefect with your mum, she nearly ripped my head right off when I got caught with them and given detention."
"Sirius says she was really scary when she was angry."
"Terrifying." Remus paused, looking at Harry. "Has Sirius really told you all of that?" he asked.
"Yeah," Harry replied. "He says it's not really fair to me if I never know anything about my own parents."
"Did he ever tell you what happened to James and Lily?" Remus asked carefully.
Harry nodded. "When I was four. Right before we had to leave Glasgow. And I made him explain better last year when I was having all sorts of nightmares and flashbacks."
"What kind of nightmares?" Remus asked.
"Well, Sirius thinks I'm having nightmares about the night they were killed. They're never really clear, the nightmares. Screaming and a lot of green light. Sometimes I can hear somebody laughing." Harry's face darkened as his expression turned pensive. "My head always hurts when I wake up. When I was little, I had to go find Sirius before I could sleep again. He says I was always crying and shaking, I was so scared. I used to take my blanket with me everywhere for at least an entire day after one of those."
"Ah, yes, Banka," Remus laughed. "I definitely remember Banka. You were very attached to that. Lily had to wash it in the middle of the night, it was the only time you wouldn't notice it was gone. And what about the flashbacks?"
"Those sort of come and go as they please," Harry replied. "The nightmares usually come more around Halloween."
"But what are the flashbacks about?" Remus prompted, mentally making note to ask Sirius about them next time he got out to Azkaban.
"Different things," Harry said. "Usually just normal things. People talking, really, that's about all. Sometimes there's another boy there. It's hard to describe, it's like I'm thinking like a baby again when I have one of the flashbacks."
"That's probably Neville Longbottom, the other boy," Remus mused. "He was really the only other child your age you ever met as a baby. I believe he's starting school this year, too." He sighed. "All right, Harry, get to sleep. We've got to get you on the Express by 10 tomorrow morning."
Harry nodded, sending Hedwig back to her cage. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Harry," Remus replied, closing the door.
"Well, I'm not going to tell you to behave, because I know you won't – you are James' son after all. But don't destroy the castle, all right?" Remus said with a small smile.
Harry gave him a soft smile. "Sirius said the same thing to Adam and I when we started Innes."
"Give it a fair shot, Harry, would you?" Remus asked.
Harry nodded, then waved when he spotted the Weasley children across the platform. "I will," he said.
"And stay away from the Whomping Willow, that thing packs a mean punch," Remus warned.
Harry laughed. "Sirius told me that."
"And don't go near the Forbidden Forest, there's a reason it's forbidden."
"Sirius told me that too. Told me horror stories about the things you guys found in there." He grinned, and for a moment, Remus saw a glimmer of the boy he had seen in America. "Anything else?"
Remus rolled his eyes. "Don't let Peeves rattle your cage. Now get on the train before it leaves without you."
"All right," Harry agreed. He hesitated for a second before he impulsively gave Remus a hug.
Remus was momentarily startled by the display of affection, but he recovered quickly enough to return the hug. "Go, would you?" he teased. "You'd think you were trying to stall."
"Bye, Remus," Harry said and jumped onto the train.
Remus took a deep breath before he walked into the room. The Dementors were still a good distance outside of the questioning room, but he could feel their effect.
Sirius looked horrible, he thought to himself ruefully as he watched his old friend sitting at the table with his head in his hands. His face was pale, gaunt, eyes sunken and dulled. He was unkempt, not at all like the sleek young man Remus had grown up with. He was thin – he probably hadn't been eating. Maybe after two months of maximum security, Sirius would admit what he'd done, if only in an effort to alleviate his own torment.
Sirius looked up momentarily when Remus came in. There was a long, uncomfortable silence before he finally said quietly, in a raspy voice, "Thank you, Remus."
"What for?" Remus asked coolly, leaning back against the wall across the room. He didn't want to get too close – it still turned his stomach to think of what Sirius had done. It made him twitch every time Harry said, "Sirius says" in that adoring voice, made him almost sick to lie to Harry about what was going on. The boy nearly hero-worshipped the man, and that would make it that much harder when Harry realized that Sirius wasn't getting out.
"For taking Harry," Sirius replied softly. Remus frowned; how did Sirius know he had custody of Harry? "Ministry stopped by last week," Sirius explained softly. "Sweet-talked them into giving me a bit of an update."
Remus chewed the inside of his cheek. Then he sighed. "Tell me about Harry's flashbacks."
"Has he been having them?" Sirius asked immediately, a worried tone creeping into his voice.
"Not as far as I know," Remus replied. "He mentioned them last night, that's all. What's the situation with those?"
Sirius sighed, face darkening. "He's been having them for years. They always come with the nightmares. He remembers little bits of conversations, old Order meetings, nothing particularly pertinent to anything at all. Except… there was one, must've been a few years ago he had it."
'Probably building up his story,' Remus thought cynically. "What was it?"
Sirius bit his lower lip. "Ask Harry to tell you, it means nothing coming from me. You'd think I made it up anyhow. Is he okay, Harry?"
"He's fine," Remus replied. "On his way to Hogwarts."
Harry tossed and turned in his bed at Hogwarts that night, aching for the warmth and sounds of Innes; for the sound of his brother's soft breathing across the room, not the sounds of four other boys snoring, snuffling, whistling. He wanted the sounds of New York City echoing outside his window – cars honking, distant music, indistinct conversations from the street level. He wanted the simplicity of Innes: at least there he knew what was expected of him.
Hogwarts was so big. Harry's class at Innes was 12 people – eight boys, four girls. They were the biggest class in the entire preparatory, outside of the professional training class – most of the other classes had eight to ten students. Here, there were eight students just in this one dormitory: there were still three more, each with the same amount of students or slightly more. And passwords, hidden doorways, poltergeists and robes, houses and points… it was all so complicated. How in the world had his parents and Sirius and Remus survived seven years here?
Closing his eyes, Harry tried to will himself to sleep. Finally, he dropped off.
"Step aside, silly girl…"
"No!"
"Avada Kedavra!" The light was coming at him. The sounds of a woman screaming pierced his ears.
And a sinister laugh…Harry awoke with a gasp, clutching at his forehead. The familiar burning pain was searing through his head. Trembling as he leaned forward to wait out the pain, Harry breathed deep and hard. He hated these nightmares, hearing the screams of his mother dying. At least with the flashbacks, his parents were alive, usually laughing.
He had never told Sirius that he heard Voldemort telling his mum to step aside. He didn't tell Sirius that sometimes he heard his dad shouting for her to run. Telling Sirius wouldn't change what had happened that horrible night: one of the most evil wizards in history had come into his house, a supposedly safe house, and had killed his father and mother… all to get to Harry. Why? What had been so special, so dangerous, about him that Voldemort was so determined to kill him?
Almost as suddenly as he had woken up, Harry was plunged into a flashback: the one he hated just as much as the nightmares.
Harry giggled and reached his arms up to Daddy. He and Mama were talking about something. Mama wasn't very happy about whatever it was. "Up, Da!"
Daddy lifted Harry up onto his lap. "Lily…"
"Please, James, can't we just use Sirius?" Mama pleaded, taking Harry from him. "You know he's not the one."
"Lily, I trust Sirius with my life. I trust him with Harry's life. If he suggests that we use Peter, then I trust his judgment."
"I don't like this, James. What happens if Peter's the traitor? You've just given us away to Voldemort. Handed him the key to the house, as it were."
"Lil…"
"No, don't you 'Lil' me! I've been telling you for weeks to be careful around Peter! There's something different about him!" Mama stood up, taking Harry with her out of the sitting room and down into Daddy and Mama's bedroom.
"Mama?" Harry asked timidly, reaching out his hand to touch her face. "Mama?"
Mama sighed and hugged him tightly. "Oh, Harry, you sense it, don't you? You're such a clever child, I'm sure you can tell. If only we could talk sense into Daddy, but he's quite stubborn. Got a loyalty streak a mile wide, your daddy. He doesn't want to believe that the traitor's somebody he trusts. Neither do I, but we can't afford to play with your safety. Come, let's get you down for a nap."
"Lily!" Daddy exclaimed. Mama ignored him, fastening the last button on Harry's overalls and lifting him back up into her arms. "Lily, don't ignore me. Lily, please…"
Mama sniffled, still ignoring him. "Don't even bother trying, James, you can't dig yourself out of this hole."
"What?" Daddy asked. "You can't dig your way out of any hole."
Mama sighed in frustration. "It's a Muggle expression, James. It means you can't sweet-talk your way out of this."
"You're sure?" Daddy asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed the side of her face lightly. "Can I at least try?"
"No, no, it's not going to work," Mama replied, though her voice shook a bit.
"Come on, Lil, what else is it that's bothering you?" he coaxed, kissing her again. "You've been moody for a fortnight."
"You had better be very certain you made the right choice, James Potter," she said softly. "There's much more at stake than just your life and mine."
"As certain as anybody can be in the middle of a war," Daddy said. "Now what's wrong, angel?"
Mama sniffled again, and said softly, "I'm pregnant, James."
Daddy seemed shocked. Laughing in disbelief, he said, "You know, of all the things I expected you to say, I have to admit that wasn't one of them."
"James, don't joke about this!" Mama exclaimed, tears starting to fill her eyes.
"I'm not joking about anything, Lily," he assured her. "Calm down. The second something feels off, you and Harry are going straight to Sirius, all right?" He kissed her lightly.
Mama bit her lip and nodded, setting Harry down on the ground. "All right."
Harry shook his head desperately, trying to rid himself of the sounds of his parents' voices. He hated this flashback. Any other one, he gladly took. But not this one: not hearing his parents argue, not knowing that if Peter hadn't betrayed his parents, Harry wouldn't have lost a sibling too that night.
He had never told Sirius about that, about his mum having been pregnant. He figured Sirius didn't really need to know that – it would only make him feel even more guilty.
"You were up disgustingly early today," Ron commented to Harry as the Gryffindor first-years went down towards the Great Hall for breakfast. "You're always up disgustingly early."
"I'm not used to sleeping in," Harry replied with a shrug. "Classes at Innes start right at 8 AM, so you absolutely have to be in the dining hall at 7:30 when breakfast starts if you want to eat at all before lunch. Plus, the school Quidditch practice is at 5:30, and that's every day, so I just automatically get up that early. Hey, how are we supposed to know what classes we have when during the day?"
"Professor McGonagall's going to hand the timetables out at breakfast," Hermione Granger replied briskly.
"I hope we don't have too many with the Slytherins, I might actually kill meself," Seamus Finnigan commented.
"I hope we don't have Potions first thing, Fred and George told me that Snape's horrible to Gryffindors. Not surprising, seeing as he's a Slytherin and all," Ron added. "Talk about the most horrible way to start your morning."
"Snape?" Harry asked suddenly. "Is that one of the teachers?"
"Yeah, the Potions professor," Lavender Brown affirmed. "I've heard he's horribly scary. I think he's the black-haired one there."
"With all the grease and stuff?" Parvati Patil asked with a wrinkling of her nose. "He's gross!"
Harry looked over at the staff table and burst out laughing. He looked exactly the same as the descriptions from Sirius' Hogwarts stories. "No way!"
"What?" the other first-years asked blankly.
"Oh, he went to school with my parents and Sirius and Remus," Harry replied, turning around when Snape sent him a smouldering look of hatred. "Sirius told me all sorts of stories about him."
"Like what?" Ron asked interestedly. The others all leaned in except for Hermione, who looked highly affronted.
"You shouldn't be gossiping about teachers, Harry," she reprimanded.
"Yes, Halleigh," Harry replied sarcastically before continuing his story. "Any way, Sirius says that when Snape was in school, he was the ugliest little git you've ever seen. Nobody could stand him."
"I can believe that," Ron said wisely.
"Says that he knew more curses when he arrived than most of the seventh-years. He hated my dad and Sirius especially, but he didn't much like anybody else either. He was really awful, too. Apparently he used to call my mum a Mudblood."
"A lot of Slytherins do that, actually," Seamus said, once the colour had returned to his face after Harry's pronunciation of the forbidden 'M-word'. "They don't much like Muggle-borns, most of them are pretty pureblood."
"They can't all be, though," Ron pointed out, "there's not enough of us left and we're not all racist Dark gits."
"I don't imagine it's something they'd publicize if they weren't," Harry commented, just as McGonagall passed with timetables.
Harry frowned as he looked at his. "Um… Madame?" he asked uncertainly.
"It's Professor, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said calmly, pausing.
"Sorry, Professor," Harry quickly corrected himself. "I think I'm missing some classes on here."
"Let me see, Potter," McGonagall sighed, taking the timetable. "No, you have everything on there."
"But…" Harry protested, a confused look on his face. "But there's only three classes today. There's too much free time."
McGonagall couldn't stop a small laugh from escaping. "Well, that's the first time a student has ever told me that." She thought for a moment, and then sighed. "Where did you go in America, Potter?"
"Innes Preparatory," Harry replied hesitantly.
"Oh, that explains it," McGonagall muttered darkly as she left. "School full of slave-drivers…."
"So…" Harry looked at Ron helplessly. "She never answered me."
"Three classes a day is plenty for a first-year student," Ron replied. "We only add a few more in third year. And after OWLs in fifth year, we can drop some again. How many classes did you take in America?"
"What were you doing in America?" Dean asked curiously.
"I live in America," Harry replied to Dean calmly. "And we had six classes a day at Innes. Except Saturday. Saturday we had seven, and one class on Sunday afternoon. Sunday was Quidditch day for me and Adam, though. We had the school team practice first thing in the morning, and then two national team practices – one in the morning, one in the evening."
Seamus shuddered. "That's disgusting. Did you ever have free time?"
"No, not really. If we weren't on the national Quidditch team, then we would've had most of Sunday."
"Hey, if you were always in class, when did you have time to do your homework?" Lavender asked curiously.
"Two-hour homework block in the evening," Harry replied.
"So you played Quidditch at your school in America?" Seamus asked eagerly. "You were allowed to? That's the worst part of Hogwarts, I think – we can't play Quidditch until second year."
"Are you kidding?" Ron demanded. "He's world-famous for it, he is. Best Seeker in North America, maybe even the world."
"No, I think there's a Bulgarian who's still better," Harry replied. "Viktor Crumble or something, I met him at the internationals in June."
"Really?" Seamus asked. "You went to the international level?"
"Yeah," Harry said with a faint smile.
"What kind of broom do you have?" Seamus demanded. "I suppose you had to leave it at home."
"Yeah, I left it with Remus," Harry admitted. "I got a Nimbus 2000 for my birthday this summer. Haven't really had a chance to ride it yet, though."
Seamus' jaw dropped. "A Nimbus 2000?"
"First-years, let's go, you have class," Percy said authoritatively as he materialized at their end of the table.
Harry started to zone out in Potions class, tuning out the smooth undertone of Snape's speech to instead think about what he would've been doing in Potions at Innes. Madame Williams was much more effective a teacher than Snape, he could tell – maybe because she gave off the aura of actually wanting to help struggling students. She was bright, bubbly and she genuinely enjoyed her position. She was one of the few teachers who let Adam and Harry get away with their minor antics, laughing as she said 'Boys will be boys.'
"Harry," Ron muttered, elbowing him in the side.
"Huh?" Harry jumped back to attention. Snape was positively glowering at him. "I'm sorry, Professor, what was the question?" he asked innocently, biting back the smirk as he thought about how furious Snape had to be that somebody hadn't been hanging onto his every word.
"I have no patience for disrespect in my classroom, Potter," Snape replied, spitting his name out as though it were some sort of filthy word. "I asked you to tell me where I would look if I needed a bezoar."
"Goat's stomach," Harry replied, zoning out again. This was all so old for him. "Cures most poisons."
"Very well, then," Snape said. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"No difference, it's the same herb," Harry replied with a yawn.
"If I mixed alethamane and dragonwood, what would I get?"
"Sleeping potion so powerful it's known as the Draught of Living Death. Are we going to do this question-and-answer all class? It's really quite boring."
"Manners, Potter! Fifteen points from Gryffindor."
"Fifteen?!" the other Gryffindors all exclaimed indignantly.
As the students were packing up to leave, Snape came up alongside Harry's table. "I warn you, Potter," he said softly. "I don't care whose son, or godson, you are, I will not tolerate that behaviour."
"Sirius told me you always thought you were bigger than you really were," Harry replied calmly, putting his potions kit into his cauldron with his textbook. "I'm really not all that impressed."
"Your sainted father and godfather had the same attitude, and look what happened to them," Snape hissed.
Harry looked at him. "Are you threatening me?" he asked.
"Warning you," Snape replied. "Precious Sirius isn't here to rescue you should your head inflate too far like your father's."
"Goodbye, Professor," Harry replied pointedly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, am I boring you?" McGonagall called sharply as she paused in the middle of her explanation. Harry continued to absently doodle on the edge of his parchment. "Mr. Potter!"
"Harry," Ron muttered. Harry lifted his eyes up and looked at him in mild confusion.
"Mr. Potter, is my class boring?" McGonagall asked sharply. Harry turned his attention to her.
"It wouldn't be if I hadn't learnt all this two years ago, Professor," he replied, a twinge of apology in his voice.
McGonagall sighed. It was a constant problem of keeping Harry Potter's attention in any class, the faculty had discovered over the last month. It reminded her very much of James Potter and Sirius Black when they had been at school. Such a pair of bright boys she hadn't seen before or since: they were disruptive because they weren't being challenged. At least this boy just noticeably lacked attention, not acted out – probably due to the 'instruction' of the Innes Preparatory masters. "Pay attention, Potter, before I am forced to give you detention," she finally relented, returning to the lesson.
"Albus, you have to do something!" McGonagall exclaimed as the professors gathered in the staff room.
"I'm sorry, Minerva," Dumbledore replied quietly. "I can't do anything. The board will not allow me to place Harry in a higher level. We'll simply have to continue to deal with his distraction as it occurs."
"Has Sirius Black's trial date been set?" McGonagall sighed. "Perhaps he'll settle if he knows that a decision will be made soon."
"I heard that the Wizengamot refused to have a trial for him," Snape spoke up. "They said that the simple fact he evaded custody for ten years and kidnapped the Potter boy was proof enough of his guilt."
"You forget, Severus, that I still sit on the Wizengamot, and no decision of that sort has been taken," Dumbledore said softly. "I'm trying to wrangle a trial date as soon as possible, but it's taking longer than anticipated."
"Why?" Flitwick asked. "I'm frankly getting tired of stopping my class every fifteen minutes to redirect Potter's attention." The other professors all voiced their agreement.
"The other members of the Wizengamot seem to think that a mind-parsing would be beneficial," Dumbledore replied. "I am loath to agree, and as all members must be in agreement before an action of that magnitude can be taken…"
"A mind-parsing?" McGonagall demanded. "That's terribly dangerous, even for a man of Black's age!"
"After three months in Azkaban, his health is nowhere near an acceptable level for a parsing at any rate," Dumbledore agreed, "and they want to have parsing done on Harry as well."
"Absolutely not!" Flitwick exclaimed indignantly. "The sheer audacity… mind-parsing on a mere boy!… Likely kill him as find anything out…"
"As I and Remus Lupin both told them when the idea was brought forward," Dumbledore said.
"I understand the reasoning," McGonagall said, voice shaking with rage. "Even modifications would have differences in recollections. How would they know if Black's memories are correct if they don't have Potter's to compare it to?"
"Harry would have been present at any conversation James or Lily would've had on the subject of Secret-Keeper," Dumbledore said. "The boy was rarely out of their arms, let alone their sight, short of when he was with Black or Lupin. It stands to reason that he would have also heard or seen the decision. However, there is no question that mind-parsing is completely unacceptable in the case of an eleven-year-old boy."