The Story of a Potter
Posted: 1 - 3 – 2015
A/N : Sorry for making this chapter much shorter than the previous one. I'm currently on training miles away from home and forgot to take my laptop along.
** Oh! And thanks for all the positive reviews.
Chapter 13: Plans.
(9th September Harry Potter's Dormitory)
Ring, ring, ring...Click. "Ow, ow, ow, ow", he cried as he retracted his hand from the alarm clock. Everything hurts: every joint, every muscle, every finger, everything. Even the things he didn't know could hurt hurts.
12:30 midnight, it said on the clock. And it was time to take another potion. Even as he sat he still heard the echo of his alarm clock, o how he hates the infernal thing.
The curious thing was that the hate wasn't new; he knew he hated it the moment he held the clock for inspection before he bought it – he figured the more annoying the sound, the faster he'd wake up, but now; his kingdom for a spell to blow up the clock from hell.
According to the clock it was now officially Monday, which meant two full days have passed since his little escapade in the forest. Two full days, but his aches have not gone away.
"Drink these every five hours and the pain will go away in a day or two" said Madam Pomfrey when she gave him several vials of a brownish, foul tasting liquid.
His excuse for visiting the infirmary was – 'Magical exhaustion from attempting second year spells', which; aside from an ear burning lecture about the dangers involved, almost landed him a detention as well.
"Mondays suck" he said and gulped the potion down, immediately followed by him making faces that would've scared most of the other first years.
His roommate was not in the room, an usual occurrence. From their first night since sharing the room the bastard would disappear straight after dinner – be back before curfew – do his assignments or whatever it was he did (During which Harry usually fell asleep) – but will not be in the room when Harry wakes to have a drink of water or to piss.
At first Harry though it was the same with all the other NEWTs students, after all the school permitted them to visit the library even in the dead of night provided they had a permission slip.
And since Mr. Personality was obviously and over achiever he'd be putting in twice the effort that others did, that was his reasoning before.
But now, now that he'd been here for over a week he knew that was not the case. Even the most studious of the other NEWTs haven't begun touching their course material as extensively as he did.
Which meant two things – his roommate was a lunatic obsessed with getting the highest marks possible for an exam he'd be taking two years later, OR; he was up to something. Or it could be both.
He would've dug straight in the bastard's belongings for clues to his erratic behavior if it wasn't for a rather unpleasant memory concerning a prior attempt to burrow a spell-book. The rat-bastard had charmed the books such that they attacked him just as he was grabbing it from his shelf.
He probably did the same to his other belongings as well.
"Why am i wasting my time on him anyway?" he said, getting back to bed. If he was really up to something he'd know it soon enough. Time has a way of revealing things after all.
~XXXX~
(20th September 1991)
Hermione Granger was not in the best of mood, not one bit. In fact, one more push and she would've been in tears.
New school, new people, but same scenario was how it turned out for her. It took just two weeks in her new school for old patterns to reemerge, and by the third week; she was the social pariah again. To make it even worse: unlike her old school, where she was the undisputed queen of the intellectual mountain it was not the case here. As it was she could barely keep herself in the upper half of the class.
She'd been so certain they'd band together – all the muggleborns. But now, two weeks in and even Anwen Jones; a girl she sat with throughout their Ministry classes would only give her a 'hello' should they cross paths.
Maybe if she were in Ravenclaw house like Anwen it might be different, but Hermione could not bring herself to believe it.
"Where was all the brotherhood/sisterhood they were supposed to share? It was clear from the start they were going to be discriminated against, then why weren't they banning together? Why weren't they talking to her?"
She was sure it wasn't just her who had been called a 'mudblood'. Shouldn't they be plotting some heinous revenge on the purebloods by now?
"No, not all of us were muggleborns. There was a half blood as well" she corrected. Thinking about a boy with jet black hair and glasses - 'the creepy one' – she called him, from the way he stared at her. 'Potter', that was his name – Harry Potter. And though the boy was not a pureblood, he was from an old wizarding family.
"He must be laughing his socks off about us".
She wondered, 'had she been sorted in to Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, would she still be picked on as much as she was now?'.
What did the hat saw in her to put her in to the house of Lions? Surely it should've seen that she didn't have the bravery of the Gryffindors-of-old whose portraits hung on their common room. If anything she was defiant, not brave or courageous just plain defiant.
'Should she have begged the stupid hat to put her in Ravenclaw?'.
Friendship was an art that have always eluded her, together with socializing. She had tried the awkward hellos and introductions. Even lowered her intelligence to the level of one Lavender Brown just to spend time with the girl, but it was no use. The girl was trying to use her as a personal homework machine; leaving Hermione no choice but to break it off.
"Stay right there sweetie, we're coming for you – your coming home right now!" her parents would say if she told them how miserable she was. It would be so easy too. All she had to do was head up to the owlery and send a letter, then poof! By the next day she would be back home, back in her old room with Dr. Pickles; her teddy bear.
But then she'll feel guilty. Guilty of being a failure, of wasting thousands of pounds her parents paid for her education. But most of all, she'd be a failure to herself.
£ 12000 her parents had paid for her first year tuition fee. Actually it was £ 8400, but only due the 30% discount granted to first generation wizards and witches.
With the current pound to galleon exchange rate being 100 pounds to the galleon – the lowest in 300 years, it was the best time for muggleborns to attend Hogwarts.
Still, £ 8400 was a LOT of money, and she could never forgive herself if she wasted that much of her parent's money.
"Don't give up Granger, you're a tough cookie! And you've been through much worse" she said with clenched fists.
There was a cool breeze, and from her secret spot she could see the smoke from the groundkeeper's chimney dancing to it.
With closed eyes Hermione breathed deeply, letting the fresh oxygen revive her soul. Nature was kind to those with weary hearts.
"Sniff,sniff" she had a runny nose. She hoped she wasn't coming down with something; she couldn't afford to be sick, not while there was still so much more to learn.
From the second the librarian stamped her seal on her library card, she had been nonstop – reading books after books, her being dominated by the need to know. This resulted in the girl in question getting as little as four hours of sleep a night, sometimes less.
Something warm dripped down her nose and continued to her lips, she ran a finger across her upper lip to find out what it was.
The finger was covered it something, it was red. Oh god it was Blood, her nose was bleeding. She searched her pockets and her bag but couldn't find a tissue – of all the day to be without one.
And that was it; that was the final push she needed to open the floodgates.
With her subconscious repeating the words "Poor, poor Hermione" the muggleborn cried like she'd never cried before, pouring all her heartaches into it.
"Ahem", Hermione heard the sound but didn't pay attention, It was probably her mind playing tricks on her. Besides, this was her secret place and no one was supposed to know about it.
Her secret place was a hollowed out trunk of a huge Oak tree that sat a distance from the path leading to the Groundkeeper's hut. As the tree was on the edge of a steep inclination with the hollow opening facing away from the path, it was reasonable for her to assume that no one would ever come here.
"Ahem", it came again, this time with authority. 'Her mind was mean,' Hermione thought, not even leaving her to weep in peace.
"Granger, are you okay?" someone asked. Hermione almost fainted from shock. And for the person observing her, the gradual realization Hermione had that someone was indeed with her could be seen from the step-by-step removal of her hands from her eyes to the wide surprised look on her face.
"It's him" Hermione's brain told her, "the half blood. How dare he spy on us!". She would've given him a sound tongue lashing if not for a hand covering her nose and mouth.
With no piece of cloth to wipe it with she panicky dug in her bad and fished out her robe, she had no choice but to use it.
"Wait" Potter said. She glared at him – bloody nose be damned, she'll give the arse a proper scolding. But there was no mock or tease on the half blood's face, nor was there pity. The impassive face he sported stopped her long enough to notice the white cloth he held on his outstretched hand.
He was giving her his own hanky to wipe her nose. She grabbed it with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving his. She did not consider him above a cruel prank, even when she was at her lowest. He was a Slytherin after all.
She turned away from him as she cleaned herself. For even in a pitiful state, a lady must be discreet.
When the red was no longer on her face she turned to give him her thanks, with a promise to buy him a new handkerchief at her earliest convenience. Only, he was no longer there.
~XXXX~
He really needs to find a way to get this done faster, Harry thought grumpily. While attempting write at a speed his quill did not agree with.
'There will be no more fooling about' he promised himself, he had given a lot of thought about it too. From now on he will focus only on spells that could cut, maim, or kill.
Still, it didn't mean he could just ignore the other lessons though, which was why he was working on the twelve inch long potions assignment.
His plan was to pay as much attention in class as humanly possible during class, do the assignments then leave the irrelevant subjects for later revision. Like when their exam was near. It was a good plan, but had one big flaw – the blasted assignments took too much of his off-class hours.
He had found a secluded spot the previous day, a cave. It was a few minutes west of Hagrid's pumpkin patch and was perfect for practicing his casting.
He hid as much as he could on his way back to the castle, not wanting anyone to find out about the place. He crouched and crawled in the bushes when he saw people coming. Then finally, he came across a group of upper years on their way to their 'Care of Magical Creatures', but there was not a bush nearby to hide in. He dashed for a large tree that was over on the steep slope and dived behind it, only to find the back of said tree was hollowed out and occupied.
It was none other than the bucktoothed one that was inside too, "what was her name again?" – something Granger. Now normally he would avoid emotional girls as if they were diseased. But Granger, she was crying blood and tears. Which made it had to just walk away.
He hoped he hadn't caught anything dangerous from the girl. They had almost touched hands his when she reached for his hanky; with a hand that was covered in blood.
"Enough of that" he told himself, he didn't have time to waste thinking about the girl. Not while he had problems of his own.
Last night he had his first practice and had positive results. Besides the first years spells he even managed to perform several advanced spells he got from the library. He would've been celebrating this morning if not for his current dilemma – In his haste to start practice last night he had completely forgotten about his Charms and Potions assignments, both of which were over ten inches.
By the time he returned he was in no condition to even think about assignments, he had been too tired to even take off his shoes.
8:30 it said on the clock, and he had just finished. "Fuck me!" he cried, realizing he'd have to go without breakfast today.
"Ahem", he heard from his roommate, which was equivalent to him shouting "No cussing!
"WHEN THE FUCK DID HE GET HERE?" wondered a surprised Harry. No matter how concentrated he might've been on his work he was sure to have heard the door open or close. But behold, here was his roommate in their room; as if appearing out of thin air. The guy was starting to freak him out a bit.
8:35 – Aw hell, he didn't have time to ponder about his lunatic roommate, opening a drawer on his table he grabbed a couple of pasties and gobbled them up with some water. Then he started to get ready for class.
~XXXX~
(30th September 1991)
Monday morning was double charms straight till lunch, and it was the only thing making the day bearable. Their tiny teacher made everything about his subject fun. Harry had heard some of the Slytherin seniors' praise the man's teaching skills, some even went as far as saying – Flitwick could make History the most popular subject in Hogwarts if he taught it.
"Wonder what it'd be like if we had potions at Mondays instead of Charms?" Harry thought with a shudder.
Professor Flitwick had divided the class into two sessions, the first was a theory session followed by the practical; which in everyone's opinion was immensely more fun.
With the clock saying it was 25 minutes to lunch, they were deep in the second session. But unlike previous classes, there was less cheers, less "I did it!" moments.
Today's lesson had been difficult, especially for a third of the class - the muggleborns. As some of them were still stuck on the '50 gems' it made the class particularly slow paced.
And the spells they were studying today: the levitation charm and the other Lumos spell, Lumos Solem. It was the last day of the month and they were still stuck on the vary basics.
"Wingardium Leviosa" Harry said, levitating the white feather on his desk. He was careful to make it look like he had finally done it after three weeks of trying. The guy sitting next to him gave a look that said, "Took you long enough" while he was having an aerial feather battle with another student.
There were frustrated cries of Wingardium Leviosa and Lumos Solem from the Gryffindor muggleborns. And as much as he felt sorry for them, Harry was disappointed. With the amount of time they've wasted on the two spell, he expected them to get at least one of them right.
Being muggleborn was not an excuse for being an imbecile, look at Granger and Thomas; they were able to do both spells just fine. And himself, he was able to do both spells on his first try. His reason for pretending not to was because of his core exhaustion.
They were probably wasting their time on chocolate frog cards and exploding snaps, Harry was sure of it.
When the class was over Harry remained in his seat as usual, today it was not solely his habit of 'sorting' that was keeping him in place. He wanted to ask their teacher a couple of questions without his classmates present.
When it was only the two of them remaining Harry approached his teacher, the man was busy sorting their homework.
"Excuse me professor" he said, as polite and timid as he could. He wanted the man to see him as what he was, an innocent child.
"Eh, it's you Mr. Potter. Can i help you with anything?" the reply was with the usual jovial tone.
Before he got to what he wanted to know, Harry feigned having trouble on some of the material they had studied. He asked questions that were neither too easy to answer – least the teacher would think him a fool, or too hard as he didn't want to give the impression that he was a budding genius.
Then finally he got to the point, "Sir, i was curious. The parchment and notebooks the school gives us monthly, where do they come from?"
"Ah, very inquisitive of you Mr. Potter" said Flitwick, pleased that his student was interested in the workings of the school.
"They were made right here Mr. Potter, in the school. By recycling old parchments and books." Then explained how and why it was done.
You must realize, Hogwarts got the way it is now through great struggle and compromise. There were no uniforms or prescribed textbooks for the students back then. And naturally, those from nobility and rich families had better clothes and books for reference beyond what they were taught. Back then the rich and the peasants rarely mingled, infinitely more so than today – the purebloods and nobles thought themselves above the peasants.
There were even demands for separate classes for muggleborns because it was obvious those from old families were more advanced.
It was change in the outside world that forced the end of the status quo in Hogwarts. Everywhere in the world the old system of Monarchy was ending, and Britain was no exception. What was once reverence for the nobles turned into envy, which then turned into loathing; which evolved into deep hatred. It is only because the wizarding world separated itself so early that the custom still hold sway here.
By the 16th century muggleborns far outnumbered the purebloods in Hogwarts. And the iron grip in which the later used to run the school was fading. Many were the times the two fractions would disagree, and some of those led to bloody duels.
The goblin revolt of the time helped the muggleborns gain a strong footing in wizard society. The two outcasts collaborated in forming what is now called 'Diagon Alley', thus removing the need to suck up to the purebloods to get their wands and daily needs.
At first the Alley was a passing joke amongst the old families. But then the goblins announced that they would be uprooting from Avalon and establish their base in the Alley. This almost led to another war. And it would have if it wasn't for the muggleborns being grater in number.
Then to add to their headache prominent members of the pureblood society started to move their business there as well; Ollivanders being the first. And by 'moving businesses', Flitwick explained; some like the Ollivanders didn't just close their shop in Avalon and started a new one in Diagon alley. No, they moved their entire shop, the whole building.
It is not know exactly date when the school uniform was introduced, but it's believed to be around the 17th century. The purpose of the uniform was to show the students that they were all equal within the walls of Hogwarts.
It even worked for a time but ultimately the gap between rich and poor was still strong in other areas. Yes, the mugleborns now had a place to gather their school supplies, but it was not the same quality as from Avalon or other pureblood cities in Britain.
Bit by bit the school's rules were changed, reforms were made with the ideals of equality. The first accepted textbook for Hogwarts was in the middle of the 18th century. It was a Charms book called Bewitched, translated from a bookwritten by a Romanian researcher – Tănase. And although a great book, some of the materials were difficult to understand without reference from rare books only found in the libraries of old families, thus creating the need for more simplified textbooks.
The introduction one of 'The one parchment one quill policy' for all students was one of those reforms. Though the use of exotic quills or parchments was not outright banned, the fact that the school was giving them out for free made buying them unnecessary.
"In the past it was the teachers that were responsible for recycling used parchments. But with the increase in students and workload the responsibility was deferred to the caretakers. Mr. Filch now runs the task with the help of the house elves." Finished the tiny professor.
Harry had to hand it to the professor; the man didn't do anything by half. He was so happy that his plan to 'Find a way to decrease his homework time' could work that he could kiss the little man.
The professors didn't just vanished their assignment and exam papers after grading them, Harry was certain of it. All he needed to do now was get close to the caretaker Mr. Filch so he could get his hands on all past assignments he could find. And if they were the same topic as his current assignments he would just copy them and submit them as his own.
He had a wide grin on his face as he excitedly left the charms classroom; sometimes he was so clever he even impress himself.
~Chapter End~