Disclaimer: I don't own HP.

Chapter 10

Harry was of the opinion that Hogwarts was really a front for a loony bin. After all, what could explain having a ghost for a teacher? The first lesson with Professor Binns had been a vast waste of time, especially after finding out from the older students that the Goblin Wars, while only lasting a few years, were the only topic the entire seven years. The only way to pass the upper level tests, he'd heard, was to just read the textbook. Repeatedly.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, or DADA for the lazy, of which he was definitely one, was a disappointment. Hearing the tales told by Theodore Nott, or "please call me Teddy," and Blaise Harry had expected a professor with a no-nonsense attitude and a vast amount of knowledge when it came to hexes. At least he wasn't the only ones disappointed. Harry was amused to see the letters of complaint flying home to their parents the evening of the lesson. He couldn't blame them though. A stuttering fool of a professor that reeked of garlic wasn't really awe inspiring. Or even a nod at mediocrity.

And Harry wasn't even about to go on about that Divination professor. Seeing her was creepy enough. He didn't need to think about her as well.

All in all, with the mad Headmaster, and he had to be mad with the getups he wore, and the others, Harry wasn't all too impressed with the 'veritable institution.' In fact, he would be wondering if he could get his money back if it wasn't for the library. With everything he had seen so far, Harry hadn't been expecting much when it came to the library, but in fact he was pleasantly surprised.

Rows upon rows of books in what seemed to be an endless room. It was completely wicked and Harry knew he was home the minute he walked in. Libraries in primary school had always been a source of comfort, especially since he could often escape his vicious cousin and his cronies during recess. After he'd sucked up to the librarians, they had been all too happy to have him whenever he felt like coming in. It really had been a lifesaver.

And he was determined that Hogwarts would be much of the same. The first excursion had included a visit with Madam Pince; a pinch-faced woman who looked as if she would rather garrote a student then let him took her precious books. A long conversation later and Madam Pince was all too happy to let him visit as long as he wanted. Within reason of course and providing that the books he touched remained pristine.

Several weeks after his excursion throughout the castle and Harry had almost made his niche. His roommates hadn't tried to kill him in his sleep yet and all the older Slytherins had remained less than friendly since the 'incident.' He didn't really have friends and truth be told, he was okay with that. Really. Professor Snape had been less than hostile, which he could completely deal with. Until the man went postal, that is. Harry could tell that the moment the man finally snapped would occur sooner or later. Maybe he should give him candy or something? So that when he did finally kill a student in frustration he wouldn't kill the one who was kind to him? Hmm…worth looking into at least.

And his classes were, well, difficult, but nothing he couldn't handle with a little background information. Which was his purpose in the library this early Saturday. The rest of the school was attending the first Quidditch game of the season, and Harry had used the perfect opportunity to commandeer his favorite corner in the stacks. It was hidden from the front of the room and was set right next to the Restricted Section that he could now easily access with his new privileges from the madam. Offering to restock the shelves for the woman every now and again really did wonders.

With his complete lack of interest in flying, Harry had snuck into the stacks directly after breakfast and had been there ever since learning about the wizarding world. There were so many customs and rules that he was completely unaware of, and he didn't want to be blindsided ever again. So, it was in the middle of the Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Grindelwald was a fascinating man, that Harry became aware of a presence. It wasn't malevolent and it wasn't very loud, but after the staring became slightly more than annoying Harry finally had to address it.

"You know, I'm trying to read here." There, not too rude, and completely lacking in threat. Not bad. "Yes, I can see. Can you leave now? I'd like my spot." Well, so much for not being rude. Snapping the book shut, Harry looked up to see a frizzy-haired girl his age frowning at him. Behind her on the floor he could see a book bag stuffed to the brim with books and parchment. Wonderful. A bookworm.

Frowning, he carefully perused the table. "Funny, I don't see your name on it. So, since I was here first, you can just move along now." He leaned back in his chair and stared at her, waiting. The frown deepened as she thought, and he really thought she was about to either hex him or leave, when she finally grabbed her bag and plopped down in the seat right across from him. "I think we'll share."

Harry blinked in surprise. Alright, then. Moving along. Cracking his book open once again, he lost himself in the 1940s and successfully ignored her barrage of questions that began shortly after she noticed his scar. Lovely. Another fan girl in the making.

Durmstrang…

Abraxas hated the cold. He hated the school. He despised Victor Krum, seeker extraordinaire and apple of the headmaster's eye, and most definitely hated his roommates who knew far too many curses. He wanted to be back at Hogwarts, but he wasn't going to write home about it. His entire family was already up in arms about his failure to act like a proper Slytherin. No less than his death was going to get him out of this hellhole, so he was determined to at least act like he was older than four while stuck at this school.

However, though he couldn't write home, he could write in the strange journal that had been given to him before he left. Oddly enough, no matter how much he wrote the book never seemed to end, and though the words would sometimes stay on the page, other times the diary seemed to swallow the ink. It was decidedly strange, but since a family member had given him the journal, he was sure that it wouldn't do him any harm. After all, he was a Malfoy. And Malfoys only screwed others over, not one another.

Privet Drive…

The decidedly Muggle neighborhood made Severus Snape more than a little wary. Everything was just so similar from the houses, to the gardens, and even to the cars parked in the driveway. It was more than odd and Severus was sure that this complete order was more than likely the cause of the insanity in Muggles. Really, he would rather be anywhere than this waste of space, but a home visit had been required after Potter's visit to the infirmary. He could have been enjoying a nice glass of Firewhiskey with a rather good novel, but instead he would be interviewing Lily's sister and her odious husband. A task he would rather pass up. Really, he should have never agreed to teach. It would have saved him so many unpleasant tasks.

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