AN: Part Three of His First Real Friend... If you haven't read them yet, chapters one and two, His First Real Friend and His First Best Friend, are also in this collection. ... I was trying to decide whether to post this one along with the other chapters as a separate story, but I reckoned I should at least drop in this installment here for now, until I ever get around to writing another one (I haven't forgotten about my other stories - they're just a lot more work for my wrackspurt riddled brain).

His First Real Friend

Chapter Three:

His First Week

"The Sorting Hat tried to put me in Ravenclaw," Hermione told Harry as they followed the other first year Gryffindors and Percy Weasley up the stairs, stopping every once in a while to wait for the stairs to move to the right landing, "But I really, really wanted to be in Gryffindor."

"It really did want to put me in every House," said Harry, carefully not specifying Slytherin and hoping he wasn't going to put his first real friend off him.

She peered at him shrewdly for a minute.

"No way," she said confidently, as if she had just read his mind. "You definitely don't belong in Slytherin at all. I don't know what that stupid hat was thinking." Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, feeling much better—for the most part. He rubbed at his scar again, puzzled.

"Are you alright?"

"Er… Dunno—it's my scar!" said Harry. "It's weird—it never hurt or itched me before—only since that one professor looked at me."

"Are you talking about the mean looking one who gave you the horrid glare?"

"Yeah," said Harry, surprised, but happy to know that he hadn't just been imagining things, and that his glasses were still working. "You saw him giving me dirty looks too?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "I noticed you rubbing your scar then as well, and I saw you both looking at each other—well, you were looking, and he was glaring. But I didn't think much about it until just now when you rubbed your scar again."

"D'you think that means something, then?" asked Harry, feeling a bit worried now.

"I really don't know," said Hermione, scowling as if it hurt her not to know something. "But he really didn't seem to like you—maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Harry was beginning to feel quite alarmed.

"Well," said Hermione carefully, "have you ever met him before?"

"I don't think so, no! … I dunno why he'd hate me if he doesn't even know me—I never did anything to him."

"It's just—" Hermione bit her tongue.

"Just what?"

"It's just that… everyone sort of knows about you," she said sympathetically. "And now that I've met you and got to know you a bit, I can tell you don't really like that—but maybe there's something he knows about you that he doesn't like."

"Oh!" Harry's eyebrows shot up under his untidy fringe. They both peered at each other a moment, neither one of them knowing what to make of that.

"So, what about those ghosts then?" said Harry, his voice falsely bright as he changed the subject. "Cool, weren't they? Nearly-Headless Nick was a bit of a laugh!"

Hermione pursed her lips primly, as if she wanted to stay on topic, but they were distracted by Percy the Prefect yelling at a poltergeist. Harry and Hermione fell silent for the last bit of the journey. They came up short when Percy suddenly came to a halt at the end of a corridor and introduced the first year Gryffindors to the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Well, that's a bit rude, isn't it?" said Hermione, "Doesn't she have a proper name, then?"

"Er…" Percy Weasley looked a bit disconcerted, then he frowned. "That's just what we call her—now never you mind. I'm a prefect, aren't I?"

Ron let out a little snort of amusement, briefly looking even more like one of his twin brothers than he already did. Percy scowled and ignored him.

"Caput Draconus," he snapped at the portrait.

"Temper, temper," the Fat Lady tittered as she swung open to reveal a round hole in the wall.

Half of the first years needed help getting through the portal, which made Percy even more irritable. Ron Weasley hauled his friend Neville through the hole, and Harry gave Hermione a boost before clambering through himself.

It was much warmer in the common room than it had been in the cold stone corridors of the castle—due to the roaring fire in the enormous hearth—and there were lots of puffy, well cushioned armchairs and sofas next to little mahogany tables. Nearly everything seemed to be scarlet and gold.

"All right then," Percy began officiously, as older students entered the common room through the portal behind them, "girls up that staircase there, and boys up that staircase on the other side—first year dormitories are at the very top, and you lot should normally be in bed by nine o'clock, but it's ten o'clock tonight because dinner is so late first night of the term."

"But what if we need to study more after nine o'clock?" asked Hermione, who looked more than a bit upset.

"You'll just have to study in bed then," said Percy, who seemed oddly impressed at the question. "Just remember that breakfast starts at seven."

There wasn't very much time left before ten o'clock, and the common room was filling up with older students. Harry and Hemione had just a few minutes to say good night to each other. They peered at each other awkwardly for a moment, and Hermione looked like she was trying to decide something. Then, to Harry's surprise and embarrassment, she flung her arms around him and gave him a hug. His cheeks felt hot when he heard Parvati and Lavender giggling at them.

Before Hermione let him go, she whispered in his ear, "Thank you for being my friend, Harry. I've never really had a proper one before."

She let him go and beamed at him, her cheeks turning pink, and then she ran up the spiral staircase to the girls' dormitories. Harry stared at her in a sort of numb shock until she disappeared; he couldn't remember anyone ever hugging him before in his life. He supposed that his parents must have hugged him when he was a baby, and found that the numbness faded, leaving him only with the shock, which felt more like a stab of pain in his stomach until it really sank in that Hermione liked him enough to hug him.

Harry followed the other first year boys up to their dormitory, and was happy and relieved to see his trunk waiting for him in the centre of the room. He dragged it to the foot of one of the four-poster beds with red and gold hangings near a window. Hedwig wasn't there; he assumed that she was living with some other owls somewhere else in the castle, and found himself wishing she was with him to keep him company.

As Harry pulled on his pyjamas (which had holes instead of knees) he felt a bit left out of things. Seamus was telling Dean about quidditch teams—apparently Dean was new to the Wizard World as well—and Ron was complaining to Neville about Percy.

Ron caught Harry's eye, gave him an anxious grin, then quickly looked away, his ears reddening. Harry sighed, deciding that Ron was still feeling awkward. But then Seamus and Dean turned their attention to him.

"So what about you, Harry?" said Seamus. "What's your favourite quidditch team?"

"Oh," said Harry, "I, er, don't really know any yet."

"Really?" said Seamus, looking surprised. "I thought your parents were wizards."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "but I lived with my aunt and uncle, and they're muggles. They...er … never told me I was a wizard."

"Oh," said Dean. "What about football then? D'you have a favourite club?"

"Erm, not really," said Harry, his cheeks growing hotter with embarrasment. "My uncle just seems to like which ever club is winning—I don't, er… usually watch…" he trailed off, not wanting to tell them that Uncle Vernon never let him watch unless it was on the television in the kitchen while they were eating dinner.

Dean nodded, then went back to chatting with Seamus. Harry crawled onto his bed, pulled up his covers, and sighed. At least the bed felt a lot nicer than the horrible lumpy one in Dudley's toy room or the horrible tiny cot (which had been getting far too small for him in recent years) in the cupboard under the stairs, and at least he felt full for a change. He lay awake for a while thinking about how nice it was to not feel half-starved, and about how nice it was to have a friend—a proper friend, Hermione had called him.

With that pleasant thought in mind, and the certainty that he would see her again in the morning, he eventually drifted off with a little smile on his face.

~o0o~

Harry woke up feeling more rested than he could ever recall feeling. Other than the odd bit of dream that he couldn't quite remember, the rest had been nice—mostly about eating, flying around on a broomstick, and about his new friend.

Hermione blushed when she saw him again in the common room, and they went down to breakfast together; Harry tried his hardest to ignore the giggles of Parvati and Lavender, and the smirks of Dean and Seamus.

Whispers and stares seemed to follow Harry all day, which he tried to ignore as well. At least he had Hermione to distract him, and most of the classes—which he had eagerly been looking forward to—were really interesting. They were both disappointed that there wasn't much wand waving that first day though.

The rest of the week passed in a happy blur as they began to practice the spells they were learning. Only History of Magic was boring, and that was only because Professor Binns—who was a ghost—put him to sleep almost immediately with his monotonous, droning voice. Hermione had to keep nudging him awake and give him reproachful glares.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said after class. "It's just Binns. He's so—"

"...boring," Hermione sighed. "That's true. But you really should try harder to stay awake and take notes."

"I really like reading the history book though," said Harry quickly. "I'm sure most of what he's teaching is in the book."

"Well," she said slowly, her bossy look softening, "most of the basics are in the book, that's true. But still, there are lots of bits that aren't. I suppose you can always read my notes if you miss a bit here and there."

The only other thing which seemed to annoy Hermione was trying to find their way to classes, as the rooms and doors seemed to move around as much as the stairs did, and were in different locations on different days.

"Honestly," said Hermione, who was thoroughly exasperated when they had to try numerous doors before finding the Transfiguration classroom, "this is ridiculous! How on earth are we supposed to get to classes on time?"

"It's really stupid," Harry agreed. "Still, they must have a sort of schedule to stick to. I expect we'll just have to memorise where they are on different days."

Harry was pleased when Hermione nodded and her frown turned into a smile.

"Of course," she said. "That makes a lot of sense, Harry. And I suppose it is a lot more fun and magical this way."

Harry was also grateful that Hermione had agreed to bring her books along and study outside after classes instead of being cooped up in the castle all day. She had been a bit surprised at first at the idea of actually studying outdoors, which seemed to have never occurred to her before.

"It really is lovely here," she confessed, peering out across the lake at the mountains on the other side. "Hampstead Heath is nice enough I suppose, but it's a big park more than anything, really. This… this is almost like the Swiss Alps. I've been there twice on holiday with Mum and Dad."

Hermione forgot all about studying for nearly an hour as she cheerily told him all about Switzerland, and admired the view.

On Friday morning, Hedwig brought Harry his first piece of mail since the letters that Hogwarts had kept trying to send him during the summer. He wondered who might be writing to him until he saw that it was a note from Hagrid.

"He's invited me to tea after lunch, seeing as we have Friday afternoons free. D'you want to come with me?"

"I'd love to," said Hermione, which almost surprised Harry, as he had thought she might want to spend their extra free time studying.

The morning was taken up by a double period of Potions, and after class had finished Harry and Hermione couldn't get out of the dungeons fast enough. Tea with Hagrid sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world at that point.

"What a horrid teacher!" said Hermione; who still looked on the verge of tears. "He was simply awful! … I can't believe how nasty he was to you after you answered all of his questions perfectly. And he wouldn't let me answer any at all."

"At least he didn't make my scar hurt," Harry muttered, rubbing absentmindedly at his forehead.

"That's good," she said sympathetically. "It is odd how he makes it hurt sometimes during meals when he glares at you."

Tea with Hagrid made them both feel a lot better (though Hermione made a face at first when Hagrid's boarhound, Fang, practically bowled her over as they entered his hut, and drooled over the pair of them when they sat down).

"Bloomin' git!" said Hagrid when they both told him about Snape.

"He was dreadful!" Hermione took another sip of tea from a flowery mug which looked more as if it belonged in an old lady's house than Hagrid's. "He seemed to absolutely hate Harry—"

"Nah!" said Hagrid shiftily, "Why would he?"

Why indeed, Harry thought to himself.

"You weren't there," said Hermione, and she glowered at Hagrid. "He was mean to everyone except Draco Malfoy, but he definitely had it in for Harry. He docked ten points from him and said that it was all Harry's fault that Neville forgot to add porcupine quills to his potion. How is that fair?"

"Oh, er..." Hagrid looked quite taken aback at Hermione's vehemence. "…S'pose tha' does sound a bit much. Dunno wha' that's all abou' ..."

That seemed to mollify Hermione, but Hagrid still wouldn't quite meet Harry's eye. That's when Harry noticed the headline of the Daily Prophet.

"Hagrid, the bank robbery happened on my birthday—when you took me to Diagon Alley. You said anyone'd be mental to try and burgle Gringotts. Who d'you think would try to do something like that?"

"Yeh got me there." Hagrid averted his eyes again.

On their way back to the castle, Harry mulled things over out loud, sharing his thoughts with Hermione.

"...but whoever it was didn't actually manage to get anything, according to Gringotts. What if they were after the thing in the vault that Hagrid got out for Dumbledore? … There wasn't anything else in that vault—and wouldn't all the other vaults have stuff in them worth stealing?"

"Hmm… Maybe," said Hermione, sounding skeptical. "But they must have at least a few empty vaults for new clients. It could be that the robber just got the wrong vault and left before he could get caught."

"Yeah—I suppose," said Harry, sighing. "Still—you have to admit, it's a bit strange that it would happen the same day that Hagrid took something out of that one vault."

"It does seem a bit odd," she agreed, after hesitating a moment. Harry could tell that she still didn't really believe it, but he couldn't help feeling good that she was willing to at least consider the possibility.

~o0o~

If there was any other boy that Harry hated even more than Dudley, it was Draco Malfoy. Harry already despised him after the way he had insulted Hermione that first night on the path down to the lake from the Hogwarts Express, but on the following Thursday, Malfoy had shown what a truly horrible person he really was. It all happened during flying lessons, which the Gryffindors had with the Slytherins.

"Well, this is just brilliant," Harry grumbled sarcastically. "Just what I needed—looking like an idiot in front of Malfoy."

"I'm sure you won't, Harry," Hermione reassured him as she eyed her own broom dubiously. "Remember that dream you told me about—the one in which you were flying? … You seemed so happy about it—I think you might be really good at this."

"Huh! You really think so?"

"I do!" she said firmly. "I'm not sure that I'll be any good at it though—I hate heights. I used to dream about falling a lot when I was little."

Harry had to admit, Hermione did look frightened. The only person who seemed even more scared was Neville. Ron looked a bit nervous, but rather excited as well—for the first time at Hogwarts, he actually looked more self-confident, and more interested in actually learning something.

"Buck up, Nev. It's not so bad once you get the hang of it," Harry overheard Ron saying. "I fly Charlie's old broom all the time at home—I nearly hit a hang glider once."

"That's nothing!" sneered Draco Malfoy. "I dodge those muggle flying things with the spinning things on top all the time—you know, those metal things which look like giant mosquitoes?

"You mean helicopters?" said Harry, smirking, suddenly feeling much more confident. "You're just lucky you didn't fly into the blades and get turned into mincemeat."

Malfoy scowled, looking he was trying to think of a witty reply.

Hermione couldn't help glancing at Harry anxiously.

"Oh no! You don't think that could really happen, do you?"

"Nah," he said quickly. "Malfoy's just being stupid. If he'd ever got close enough to have to dodge it, he'd get sucked into the propellers. … Anyway, there's no way someone with your brains would be that daft!"

Hermione beamed at him and looked a lot less scared.

The flying teacher finally arrived, and she looked even more crabby and no-nonsense than Professor McGonagall.

"Right, hop to it then," she snapped. "Pick a broom and stand next to it."

Harry peered at the brooms on the ground next to him and Hermione; the one she was standing by looked ancient and splintery, and was missing half of its twigs.

"Here, switch with me," he said. "My broom is loads better."

"What? But—"

"You'll have a better chance to get the hang of it with a half-way decent broom," he stated firmly. "There's no way I'm going to let that git Malfoy show me up, no matter how rubbish my broom is."

Hermione frowned and looked she was going to argue; Harry knew he was pushing things because she didn't like to be coddled. But she seemed to think better of it. They switched places and she shot him a grateful smile.

At Madam Hooch's command, everyone shouted, "Up!" at their broomsticks. Harry's leapt off the ground right into his hand. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise when her broom wobbled very slowly towards her own hand.

Neville's broom remained resolutely on the ground, but Ron's drifted up relatively smoothly with only a few shakes—which probably had more to do with the broom's advanced state of disrepair than anything. Draco's broom flew into his hand, but not nearly as fast as Harry's had. The only other ones whose broomsticks barely moved were Crabbe's and Goyle's, but Harry reckoned that was probably because they could barely form a cohesive thought between the two of them.

Madam Hooch grew even more irritable, if possible, while she waited until Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle, finally managed to get their brooms off the ground.

Hermione gave Harry a nervous grin as they both mounted their brooms along with the other students.

That was as far as the lesson got. The next thing everyone knew, Neville was being taken to the hospital wing with a broken wrist, and Malfoy was laughing his head off.

"What a pathetic loser," he guffawed. "He's practically a squib."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry, Hermione, and Parvati all snapped in unison.

"Don't talk about my friend like that," Ron snarled at Malfoy, balling one of his fists, his other hand reaching for his wand.

"Or what? Who's going to make me? You?"

Ron's ears reddened, and he scowled, looking torn between wanting to punch or hex Malfoy and not wanting to get in trouble.

"I am, if you keep flapping your big fat mouth," said Harry, stepping forward when Ron didn't say anything.

Malfoy was about to issue a retort when Pansy Parkinson picked up something which was glittering in the grass.

"Look, Draco... It's that stupid thing Longbottom's Gran sent him."

Malfoy snatched the shiny ball from the air when she tossed it at him. He grinned at Harry and jumped on his broom.

"Right then! If you think you can take me on, come and get Longbottom's toy, Potter!" he jeered, then he sailed up into the air and hovered near a yew tree.

"You're on, Malfoy!" Harry growled, straddling his broom.

"Harry, no!" said Hermione sharply. "You'll get into loads of trouble."

Harry ground his teeth, his blood boiling, and glanced up at Malfoy, not sure what to do. He didn't want to ignore his best friend, but he didn't want to let Malfoy get the better of him either.

Malfoy grinned down at him.

"What's the matter, Potter? Scared? … Are you going to let your girlfriend keep bossing you around like that?"

Oddly enough, that broke the hold that Harry's anger had on him and his fury melted away. He narrowed his eyes and gave Draco Malfoy a dangerous little smile.

"No!" Harry shouted up at him, shaking his head. "I'm not letting you boss me around! If you're so brave, then come back down. Why are you running away from me?"

Ron sniggered, and the rest of the Gryffindors started laughing too. Draco Malfoy's pale cheeks flushed, and he angrily hurled the Remembrall at Harry as if hoping to hit him with it. Harry reached up his hand and deftly plucked the sparkling ball from the air.

"Thanks, Malfoy!" he said, grinning. "Neville will be really pleased."

A loud "OI!" caught everyone's attention and they turned to see Madam Hooch stalking across the lawn.

"Get down here this instant, Mr Malfoy!" she barked. "That's a detention and ten points from Slytherin—and you'll be lucky if I let you get back on a broom before the end of term."

There was more laughter from the Gryffindors, and on the way back to the castle Harry walked up to Ron

"Here, give this to Neville," he said, handing Ron the Remembrall.

"Yeah! Thanks for that, Harry," said Ron, smiling a bit stiffly, "Will do."

Harry supposed that was the best he could expect for now. It was evident that Ron seemed to really like and admire him (and was perhaps even a bit afraid of him), but Ron still didn't like Hermione—Harry had overheard him grumbling to Neville about her being a bossy know-it-all more than once.

And for her part, Hermione had increasingly grown to dislike Ron over the course of the first week when it became clear that he didn't like her.

One evening in the common room, Ron and Neville had been moaning at each other about not being able to understand a single word that Professor McGonagall had said, and Hermione had tried to patiently explain the theory to them.

That had not ended well. Neville had been more confused than ever, and Ron had been furious at her for butting in. Ron hadn't said much to Hermione other than to angrily say, "Mind your own business," though, because he had spotted Harry nearby. And then he'd marched off to the other side of the common room and began a game of Wizard Chess with Neville after giving up on their homework.

"He's such an idiot!" Hermione huffed following that incident. "And he's lazy too. He's not going to get very far with that attitude."

"Probably not," Harry absently agreed while struggling to make sense of his Transfiguration notes and write his essay.

"Oh, that's quite good, Harry," she said, perking up as she looked over his shoulder. "There's just one teensy little mistake..."