Double Charms Class, October 22nd, 1993.
Professor Flitwick stands in the centre of his classroom, eagerly providing feedback on each Slytherin's casting of the Seize and Pull Charm taught today. Although by no means perfect, the average performance is deemed 'adequate' enough by his standards for a new Charm's first session. "Bravo, kids! How about I demonstrate even further?"
As the little Charms master happily flaunts his skill by yanking books around, Harry sits nervously viewing Neville's snatched timetable. His hand ready to pull out the boy's Gryffindor tie at a moment's notice. Seated at the top row, he glances at his desk and then left at Pansy beside him.
"Herbology's done, but no Sprout to accost us of attacking Longbottom?" he asks, while partially focused on Flitwick below.
"That's odd; what did you say they have next?" asks a bored Pansy.
Harry scans over the timetable in his hand. "Double Transfiguration."
Daphne, sitting to Harry's right, yawns. "Oh, yeah, forgot you said that."
Beside her sits Millicent, who speaks anxiously, "Wait for it, folks, any moment now."
Tracey, to Millicent's right, sighs. "Man, Flitwick is boring as hell today."
Charms carries on until a series of rapid knocks sound at the door, which is shoved open to reveal an angered Professor McGonagall. Her eyes searching the rows of Slytherins until finding their target.
"Oh, Professor McGonagall, I wasn't expecting you," says Flitwick, ceasing his demonstration of yanking books.
Up at the top row, Harry whispers to his girls. "Crap's hit the fan!"
Daphne appears confused. "What's a fan, now again?"
"Muggle expression, sorry."
Clearing her throat noisily—and deliberately—McGonagall speaks, "My apologies, Professor, but I believe there's someone here who's in possession of stolen property." Her over-the-spectacle gaze immediately sends chills down every Slytherin seated in class. A murmur of confusion and excitement echoes across the near dozen third-years.
Flitwick gasps. "Oh dear, who?"
"I'm waiting for the culprits to show themselves. In the meantime, fifty points from Slytherin for such gross misconduct," says McGonagall, as she eyes the top rows menacingly.
"What? Come on—"
"Be quiet, Mr. Malfoy," states McGonagall, instantly silencing Draco and any other protesting student. "I'm waiting."
Pansy whispers, "Well, ladies and gent, it's detention time."
Harry swiftly stands up, trembling, and withdraws Neville's tie. "Oh, you mean this, Professor?" He now removes his Slytherin one and swiftly dons the scarlet and red. Looking down and across at the bewildered looks of the guys, Harry raises his hands. "Look at me; today I'm a Gryffindor!" He then proceeds to act out a hilarious display of prancing on the desks that brings much laughter to his Housemates.
"Professor Flitwick, what Charm were you practicing today?" asks McGonagall.
"Seize and Pull."
"Excellent," McGonagall casually withdraws her wand and takes aim at Harry. "Carpe Retractum."
Harry swiftly winks at Pansy while being yanked towards Professor McGonagall. "Ow, my arse."
"That should be the least of your concerns, Mr. Potter. Now, is there anyone else you'd like to implicate in your theft?"
Looking up at the stern McGonagall, Harry shakes his head while getting to his feet. "No, ma'am, it was just me."
She nods and grabs him by the ear. "Very well then, let's pay the Headmaster a visit."
Whistles and sniggers echo across the class as Harry is dragged out by McGonagall, though not without giving a thumbs up behind her back. From here, he's taken to the Gargoyle Corridor where the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office sits at its far end. After McGonagall speaks the correct password, the stone gargoyle opens up to permit Harry and McGonagall passage. They now enter the large circular room which is adorned by many strange instruments on tables, and one weird-looking basin behind closed doors. The only things not baffling Harry are the various portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses, Fawkes the Phoenix, and Dumbledore's private library.
Dumbledore looks up while seated at his desk. "Ah, Professor McGonagall and... Harry?"
"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," greets Harry, showing his usual respect for the old man. Though feeling rather silly with a Gryffindor tie beneath his clearly Slytherin robes.
"Be quiet, Potter. Professor Dumbledore, this boy has been involved in assault and theft—"
Dumbledore calmly interrupts. "I can tell by his rather odd choice of clothing today."
Feeling slightly emboldened in Dumbledore's presence, Harry speaks up, "Maybe I'm a Gryffindor at heart, sir, I did pull the sword out of the hat." He looks up to see the look of disbelief on McGonagall's face at his wit.
"Yes, a remarkable feat for a Slytherin indeed. But I cannot condone such actions in our school," says Dumbledore, in reference to McGonagall's accusations.
"I've already deducted fifty house points. Shall we cancel Potter's first Hogsmeade trip and add detention?"
"Detention perhaps, but let's call Professor Snape first."
Harry patiently awaits as McGonagall goes to retrieve Snape from his classroom. No doubt the Potions Master would be livid at being pulled from his lesson. Still, this leaves Harry alone in the office with Dumbledore and Fawkes.
"I would suggest removing that before your Head of House arrives," says Dumbledore. His advice is swiftly taken by Harry who swaps the scarlet and gold for his usual green and silver. "It is quite admirable that you've covered up for your friends, but I'd prefer that you show them better, Harry."
"Uh, yes, the girls had this idea that nicking a tie would be fun, sir."
"Specifically Miss Parkinson, I presume?"
"Yes, sir."
"Interesting girl with an interesting set of parents," says Dumbledore.
Having never truly had an opportunity to discuss his best friend's parents, Harry eagerly carries on with this topic. "I know Pansy's mother used to be a Death Eater, by the way."
"I see you're familiar with that term. Yes, those were harsh times for many families on either side of the conflict."
"Could you perhaps tell me more about Mrs. Parkinson?" asks Harry, seeing Dumbledore glancing straight at him before responding.
"She was quite aggressive and repeatedly evaded capture from a veteran Auror by the name of Alastor Moody. But regardless of what Mrs. Parkinson had done, I urge you to see nothing but the best in her daughter. As for your friend's father, well, nobody knows what became of him thereafter," says Dumbledore, moments before his office door opens to reveal two Heads of Houses.
"Severus, this boy of yours deserves more tha—"
"I'll deal with it." Snape turns to glare at a nervous Harry. "Having a little identity crisis now, are we, Potter?"
Harry swallows nervously before lowering his gaze to the floor. "Yes, sir, it was a rather foolish thing for me to do."
The Headmaster now speaks, calmly as usual. "I think House point deductions and detention should suffice. Professor McGonagall, you can return Mr. Longbottom's attire."
"Very well," says McGonagall, to whom Harry swiftly hands over the Gryffindor tie.
"Professor," calls Harry, seeing McGonagall turning to leave.
"Yes?"
"I'm, uh, sorry for making fun of your House," he admits, though McGonagall's expression confuses him.
"And I'm sorry that your friends act like a bunch of bambling hooligans," she responds, upon exiting the office.
"Detention tonight, Potter," says Snape. "Fortunately for you, it seems there are no degrading chores to be done in neither the Hospital Wing nor my classroom. I suppose that cleaning the trophy room ought to be sufficient."
Following another hefty helping of dinner, Harry makes his way to the trophy room on the third floor where Mr. Filch awaits.
"Well, well, ain't had a Slytherin here in for quite a while; thought Professor Snape kept you lot in line," says Filch, ushering Harry down the corridor towards the trophy room. The latter opts to remain quiet and simply serve his girls' punishment. Once at the door, Filch all but pushes him inside. "Professor Dumbledore told me to keep your wand, no magic allowed in detention chores. If I see a single cup, medal, or whatever not cleaned properly, you'll be scrubbing past midnight."
After handing his wand over to Filch and receiving a trophy polishing kit, Harry hears the door shut behind him. The caretaker carries on down the distant corridor, en route to his office and due to return before midnight. Hell-bent on earning back his wand, Harry gets to work on the nearest cabinet housing a few awards and medals.
Minutes of cleaning later, he sighs at working like a Muggle once again. But amidst the terrible boredom comes a strange sense of pride in being here. He smiles, emboldened by his unexplainable sense of happiness this evening. With the first cabinet done, Harry swiftly cleans off a few more, uncaring for whoever achieved such distinctions. At some point, he comes across a prominently displayed list of Head Boys and Girls, of which two names bring a smile to Harry's face.
" Lily Evans - Head Girl, James Potter - Head Boy (1977-78)"
Moments later...
"Tom Marvolo Riddle - Head Boy (1944-45)"
If he had his wand he'd surely burn a hole, just a tiny one, big enough to strike this name from such a prestigious list. Moving on with his detention, Harry fervently polishes each award plate until his reflection smiles back at him clearly. Satisfied, he moves on to the next set of awards until reaching a far corner of the room where he picks up a dusty old medal.
"Medal for Magical Merit: Tom Marvolo Riddle"
Perhaps it's getting late, or he's getting tired, but Harry suddenly feels a surge of hatred and hurls the medal across the room. "HALF-BLOOD HYPOCRITE MOTHERFU—"
A voice speaks from the now opened door.
"It was a mistake to send you here tonight, Harry," says Dumbledore, calmly entering the room with Harry's wand in hand. "The past can be a pleasant experience for some, but a terrible recollection for others."
"I really, really, really loathe Voldemort," says a seething Harry, wanting to do nothing but smash Tom's medal into countless pieces.
"Perhaps you ought to get a well-deserved night's rest," says Dumbledore, "Here, consider your detention as 'served' for tonight."
"Wha— Really?" gasps Harry upon receiving his wand. "Thank you, Professor!"
Eventually, he returns to his common room before settling in for the night. And after some much-needed sleep, Harry awakes to a fine Saturday morning.
"Let's make the most of it before the shitty weather kicks up," says Pansy, joining Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, Sally-Anne, and Harry in the common room. By noon, the group splits as Pansy stays with Harry to stroll past various students near the viaduct bridge. "I do so love crossing this bridge!" says Pansy, eyeing the lengthy expanse of the viaduct before them.
"Come on, let's have a race," says Harry.
"That's so Muggle!" laughs Pansy. "Well, come on then; on the count of three! One—Tw—Hey!"
"You know what they say about snoozing?" Harry sprints ahead and onto the viaduct with Pansy right behind. Their race startling passersby who hurriedly step aside with looks of bewilderment and disbelief.
Although Pansy sprints as fast as she can, it's Harry who takes the win at the Entrance Courtyard. With his back turned and leaning over to catch his breath, he finds himself leapt on by Pansy. Once again, their antics attract the attention of a handful of students around.
"Let's leave these two weirdoes alone," says a Gryffindor.
Meanwhile, Pansy sticks her nose up before walking to enter the castle's front doors with Harry. Together, they head up a few staircases and make their way to the fifth floor corridor before stopping at the Prefects' Bathroom.
"I really hope to make Prefect one day," says Pansy, staring at its entrance.
"To use this bathroom, right?"
"Hell yes, so you'd better make either Prefect or Quidditch Captain someday, Mister." She shrieks with laughter at the blushing Harry. "By the way, I've heard that it's more of a communal luxury tub than separate showers. Sounds like lots of fun, eh?"
"I've...heard enough; let's get a move on." Harry leads them away from the Prefects' Bathroom towards the clock tower interior. From here, they make their way out onto the grounds to spend most of the afternoon near the Black Lake. Although Harry's not in the least concerned, Pansy soon discusses the threat of Sirius Black coming after Harry during their first ever Hogsmeade trip
"How the bloody hell can you be so calm when there's a mad follower of the Dark Lord out there?" she asks, to which Harry yawns and shrugs.
"Do you really think an escaped convict's just gonna march through Hogsmeade?" asks Harry, waving his hand dismissively. "I really don't give a rat's arse about this Sirius bloke."