Harry Potter and associated names, places, situations, and events belong to J.K. Rowling.
No infringement thereof is intended nor implied.
Chapter 10
After talking with one of the prefects, and arranging a time during the weekend when he'd get one of the sixth year students to tutor Harry and his friends, and Harry had made sure it was "Harry and his friends" rather than any specific personages, Harry excused himself and met with Pansy.
"Okay, so, what'd you want?" asked Harry.
"Who are you and what are you doing he?" growled out Pansy.
Harry looked at Pansy. If he had no clue what she was talking about, though in truth, he was just waiting for her to reveal the first morsel of information, "I don't know what you're talking about Pansy."
"Don't lie to me Potter. Ever since you got Peter Petigrew tried I've known something's different. That didn't happen last time. Now, you show up here and you've got a different accent, so something's changed," explained Pansy.
"So you're telling me that that traitor shouldn't have gotten caught? Did it mess with your cunning plan?" teased Harry.
"I couldn't care less about that rat," said Pansy. "I just want to know what your plans are for the Dark Lord, and Draco."
Harry smiled, "Draco, well, if I can, I'd like to get him out from the influence of his father, and as for Riddle, I want to see him defeated." Harry had figured that, since he'd been dropping the Riddle-Voldemort connection all over, including to Draco himself, revealing that knowledge to Pansy wasn't losing him anything.
"So, that answers the second half of my question, but not he first," said Pansy, stepping into Harry's personal space. "Who are you and what did you do with Harry Potter?"
Harry stepped to the side, away from Pansy, "As the French would say, je m'appelle Harry Potter, though before my birthday at the end of July I didn't."
"Didn't what?" asked Pansy.
"Didn't call myself Harry Potter," said Harry, explaining the french phrase. "I grew up in America, though I was born here in the UK, as you'd expect. Unfortunately, I can no longer return to my family in America, and so my godfather, Sirius Black, is taking care of me, now that he's been freed from his unlawful incarceration."
"So, you're not going to admit you're a time traveller?" asked Pansy.
"I can neither confirm nor deny that I have travelled through time and or space," replied Harry, smiling at answering so evasively.
"What about the Weasel? He's a Ravenclaw now, he wasn't the first time," said Pansy.
"First time?" asked Harry.
"The first time he got sorted, just like you your first time, he was a Gryffindor," explained Pansy.
"I can honestly say that last night was the first time I've ever been sorted here at Hogwarts, though Ron did insist that he'd been sorted into Ravenclaw previously, so perhaps either he was lying, or you're getting confused," said Harry.
Pansy groaned in frustration, "Could you give me a straight answer?"
"I could," said Harry, scratching his chin, The then looked Pansy in the eyes, assuming that she couldn't read his mind, "But I won't."
harry then clapped his hand together, "Let me be honest with you Pansy, I have no reason to tell you any truth, let alone the whole truth, though I don't believe I've told an outright lie to you, though I will admit to bending the truth and telling riddles. As I said, my goal is to defeat Tom Riddle, surviving to adulthood would be nice, but doing my prophesied duty is all I care about right now. Now, you seem to only care about Draco, and I can admire that. Daphne's my friend, so I'd rather not see her little sister end up with him."
"How'd you know?" interrupted Pansy.
"There are a great many things that I know that I shouldn't, though there is at least an equal number of things I should know but I don't," explained Harry. "I know that your mind, if not your body," and he gestured at her eleven-year-old pre-pubescent body, "is from an indeterminate time in one possible future, a future that changed, I would presume, when you received your wand for the first time."
"So, that's how you did it," exclaimed Pansy.
"Let's me continue," chastised Harry. "We both have goals for the future, and luckily, those goals do not, at present, conflict. I'd like to keep it that way, for I know that you are likely the most knowledgable first year in the school, and depending on your previous success, perhaps more knowledgable than many of our older fellow students. I, on the other hand, have read the first few chapters of most of my textbooks, and as expected, attended a most unhelpful Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, and have subsequently arranged a tutorial with one of the sixth years this weekend. I suspect that you'd likely not require that tuition, but I'd like you to attend, as I believe that your previous education, whenever it was, in Defense was in the same vein as our present situation."
"You talk like a Ravenclaw, are as brash as a Gryffindor, and scheme like a Slytherin," declared Pansy.
"You'll also find that I'm as loyal as a Hufflepuff," added Harry. "Which reminds me, I need to see if I can make friends with a Mr. Diggory, lest we lose acquaintance before he completes his education."
Pansy looked at Harry, "You are a strange boy, Harry Potter."
"Even with all the books I've read about Hgowarts, the truth is stranger than fiction," said Harry. He then gave pansy a short bow, "Now, if you'll excuse me Ms. Parkinson, I've my friends to return to, though you and your perspective husband are welcome to join us this weekend."
"What'd she want?" asked Tracey when Harry returned from his discussion with Pany.
"Honestly, she just wanted to make sure I didn't mess up here thing with Draco," said Harry. "Among other things of little present consequence."
"You know Harry, you seem to have a knack for telling half-truths," noted Blaise.
"I enjoyed reading dictionaries and encyclopedias when I was younger," admitted Harry. "I know a great many things that I probably shouldn't, which means that I need to be careful with what I say, hence the half-truths. Hopefully, one day, I'll be able to explain everything to all four of you."
"I'd like that," said Theo.
"So, who's ready for Charms followed by nap time, otherwise known as History of Magic?"
Charms was with the Gryffindors, and Harry had talked briefly with Neville before the class began.
"So, Nev, how are things in the House of the Lions?" asked Harry, ignoring the glares from the various Slytherins around the room.
"Good, good," said Neville, receiving his own share of glares from the Gryffindors. "Though I'm still not sure I'm very good with magic. I mean, Hermione beat me in transfiguration this morning and she's a muggleborn."
Harry snapped his fingers, "Frak, forgot about her." He looked around and saw the expected frizzy haired brunette, already hiding behind her books with a space around her. "Nev, I need to ask you a favor."
"What?" asked the cowardly lion, unsure of what his friend of one day wanted.
"I need you to sit with my friends," he said, pointing to the grouping of Blaise, Theo, Daphne, and Tracey.
"W-w-why?" stammered Neville, doing a good approximation of Quirrel.
"Well, I need to be friendly with Hermione, and I need to promote inter-house cooperation. Since you're the only person I know in Gryffindor, you got volunteered for the duty," said Harry.
"What's so special about Hermione?" asked Neville.
"She's smart, she's muggleborn, and she's likely as not alienated every Gryffindor and Ravenclaw already," said Harry.
"Well, Ron sat with her, but once she got her matchstick to turn silver and pointy, he asked her for help, and she seemed to get mad," said Neville.
"I had feared as much," said Harry. "Well, I'll talk with Ron in History next period, but right now, you need to get acquainted with my fellow Slytherins. And yes, I know his Theo's father was a Death Eater, and he got off without going to Azkaban, but Theo's not his father. Plus, unlike me, you're a pureblood, which means he's already got more in common with you than he did with me when we became friends last night."
"O-okay," said Neville. He then crossed the room, and Harry turned to the lone, bushy-haired Gyrffindor rather than watch the inevitable confrontation when Neville attempted to join the Slytherins for class.
"Mind if I sit here?" asked Harry, setting his haversack down next to the seat next to Hermione.
She looked up at him, and he tried not to compare her to the actress that played her in the movies. This was a real girl, with real feelings, and that really needed a friend. She wasn't playing a part, but instead really was a bit of a stuck-up know-it-all. Perhaps Harry's fast-talking, wisecracking demeanor would help, perhaps not.
"Um, sure," she said.
"Thanks," said Harry, slipping into the seat. He then extended his hand, "I'm Harry, Harry Potter."
"Hermione, Granger, and I know who you are," she said.
"I know, I'm famous, and not a lick of what you've read is likely true," said Harry, hoping to curtail her canonical diatribe.
"What?" asked Hermione.
Before Harry could explain, Professor Flitwick finally entered the classroom, climbed up onto his stack of books, and called off role. Harry got halfway out of his seat as the half-goblin began, and then rushed across the room to help the diminutive professor when he inevitable fell from the books.
"Why don't you just get a proper sized chair? Or even a nice lectern?" asked Harry.
"You know, you're the second student to ever ask me that," said the Professor, dusting off his robes.
"Who was the other one?" asked Harry.
"Your mother, Lily," said Flitwick.
Harry was gobsmacked, he had hoped that between the long hair, the hat he habitually wore, and the contacts, he'd evade comparisons with James and Lily, but here he was, already getting those comparisons. But at least they were with the smarter and less egotistical birth parent, "Ah, thank you, I never really knew her, what with my adoptive parents living in America."
"That's right, Professor Dumbledore said you were raised there, though Minerva, Professor McGonagall, swore that you would have been with your aunt and uncle here in Britain," said the Professor.
"Perhaps we can talk later, I think the rest of the class if beginning to stare," said Harry.
"That they are," said Flitwick. Harry crossed back to his seat next to Hermione as the Professor finished taking roll.
"What did you talk about?" asked Hermione. "And what did you mean the books were wrong?"
"Well, perhaps after class," said Harry.
After finishing the bureaucracy, Professor Flitwick then began with his first lesson of the year, teaching the Light charm and it's counter, lumos and nox.
While Hermione, as expected, was the first to get the spell, after Harry asked how she did it, beyond just the pronunciation, mainly the visualizing the magic, Harry wasn't far behind. Unfortunately, Neville was the only student unable to get the simple spell to work.
"Stupid squib," said Draco, as the class was picking up and getting ready to leave.
"I doubt that," said Harry, loud enough for the entire class to hear. He got everyone's attention.
"Come on, he can't even do a simple Light charm," countered the blonde.
"Well, if he had been using a matched wand, he'd likely have gotten as fast as you or I," said Harry.
"What?" asked Draco, looking to Neville instead.
"I'm using my father's wand," said Neville. "Gran insisted."
"But, a wizard never gets as good results using another's wand," said Hermione.
"Exactly," said Harry, hoping that any criticism would come to him, rather than Hermione. Unlike her, he knew that what people thought about you in school rarely mattered except for self confidence, which the girl desperately needed, and likely wouldn't get without help, or final grades. "Hopefully he'll be able to limp along until Christmas, when he'll get a wand, even if I have to buy it myself."
"Well, I know I'd never get caught dead using another's wand," said Draco, a bit pompously.
"Well, you didn't leave with the memory of your parents, comatose from the mad witch's spell, for the last ten years," countered Harry. Both Neville and Draco looked surprised. "I mean, it was your aunt and uncle who cursed them, even after the War was over after my birth parents died. That's why they're in Azkaban. Think of how much you'd cling to your parents if they were cursed so much they didn't even know who you were?"
Just then Neville, eyes red, ran out of the classroom.
Harry closed his eyes, sighed, and cursed under his breath.
"Great job Harry," said Daphne sarcastically.
"I know, I'll talk to him later. Hopefully he'll understand that I didn't mean that maliciously, but it would be better if he wasn't know as a squib," said Harry with a sigh.
"I know Harry, but he's not a thick skinned as you are," said Theo. "I mean, none of us, even Malfoy, are as thick skinned as you are. It sometimes seems like you're an adult that doesn't care, and sometimes like a wide-eyed infant who doesn't know any better."
Harry chuckled, "Yeah, that's pretty close, actually." He hefted his haversack on one shoulder, "So, shall we sleep away our troubles in History of Magic?"
"You know, you really shouldn't sleep in that class," said Hermione, overhearing Harry.
"You're right, I shouldn't, but it's easier than trying not to. Plus, he's a ghost, so it's not like he's come up with any original thoughts in the last hundred years or so. I bet you could get a copy of his lecture notes from some enterprising Ravenclaw," countered Harry. "I'll pay attention in that class when the professor isn't dead, otherwise, I'm going to use it as a siesta."
"It can't be that bad," counted Hermione.
"Talk with me next charms class, after you've had your go with Binns, and tell me it wasn't that bad," declared Harry.
Author's Note: So, it took my a long time to get the second half of this written, until I realized that I had forgotten about Hermione, and Charms on Monday was Gryffindor/Slytherin, so it slotted in nicely. The bit with Neville was a bit of "Nice Job Breaking it Hero", though Harry did so with with best of intentions.
Published January 16, 2013