Chapter 8: Distrust
The entrance to the Great Hall loomed large over Harry Potter. It was time for the inevitable homecoming, the 'proper' place of the boy who lived. Gryffindor house, the house of the brave and bold. Where Slytherin was cold, he worried they would be heated.
Harry took a deep breath and sunk deep within himself. His impatience lately was the cause of too much trouble. His impatience with his roommates and need to see his new friends, his impatience with his schoolwork, and his impatience with the magical world… He didn't trust any of them to have his best interests at heart. His hero status was a construct of a desperate people seized upon by a government that threw people away as was convenient. Harry knew it was better he let them throw his hero status away now as he returned to the magical world. He was blameless in the creation of it, but if he perpetuated the heroic ideal, the backlash could be intense when he fell short of it.
With his thoughts aligned and emotions in check, he strode over to an open seat next to Neville, as they had planned.
"Neville, thanks for saving me a seat," he said as he sat down and looked around the table. They were smiling at him, which was a good sign.
"No problem Harry," Neville said, "Everyone, this is Harry, I've invited him to sit at our table. I hope we can show we are far more welcoming than the Slytherins."
His announcement caused some cheers by some, and some grumbling by others. Chief among the grumblers was a redheaded boy, in the ginger variety. Ronald Weasley, if Harry remembered properly. Which of course he did, the Weasleys were unmistakable.
"But why is he consorting with the snakes at all?!" asked Ron who then gestured to Harry. "You know they're dark wizards, right? Not a wizard that went dark that didn't come from there."
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at what were obviously not Ron's original words. "I feel I must explain myself to Gryffindor, since you are my parent's house," Harry began, "I don't agree." Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off by gesture and expression. "Dark Magic is a label for magic that is particularly dangerous to the caster or to others. Using magic to hurt is generally wrong, learning a spell is not. There are no light or dark natured spells per se, only light and dark intents which are sometimes structured into the spell. My Slytherin friend has no dark intent, and neither does most of the Slytherin house. I don't agree with them on issues of blood status, and I don't share their anti-muggle sentiments if you're so concerned." Harry sniffed.
"Sounds the sort of waffling done by someone interested in the dark magic!" accused a pale Irish wizard named Seamus, "And how can you sit with em knowing they'd round up me mam and kill my father?" This gave courage to those grumbling who nodded and gave Harry a dark look. Neville fidgeted with his hands nervously off to the side.
"If they did start rounding people up, you wouldn't have the slightest idea of who in Slytherin opposes it. You'd have no allies to get your parents safely out of the country. You'll be relying on me to tell you and you'll thank your lucky stars I had the courage to go where I wasn't wanted, the cunning and wisdom to make friends everywhere without prejudice, and the loyalty to my friends to not abandon them just because they were picked to be in the wrong schoolchildren's dorm!" Harry crossed his arms and gasped for air, having expelled all of his breath making sure he wouldn't be interrupted.
"How do we know you're not just on their side?! You didn't answer about dark magic!" Ron pointed his dirty finger rudely in Harry's face.
This rude- He needed to be calm. The idiot didn't know any better. It wouldn't help to antagonize him. "What will you do if your family gets hit with a dark curse? Do you think you can cure something with no knowledge of it?" Harry replied slowly.
"We'll go to St. Mungos! Neville said you were new, don't you know anything about the wizarding world?" Ron bragged.
"Yes, and they'll bring in me or someone else who ignored you." Harry swatted Ron's finger away with disdain.
"You're Harry Potter though!" a girl who had been listening to the conversation complained. It was unlikely she was the only one. And sure enough, many older kids from multiple tables became quiet and turned to hear Harry's response.
Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. "I decide what it means to be Harry Potter. You can form your own idea, but I have no responsibility to your imagination."
"I like Harry. Just Harry. And Tracey is my friend too!" Neville proclaimed, standing up.
He was like that; Neville was the boy they were looking for and they didn't even notice. Pure intentions, loyal, brave when it counted. Harry knew he wasn't as good a friend as Neville. When Neville had told him about his troubles, Harry had immediately gone to his godfather in prison. It was all about 'Harry Potter' and Neville had rolled with it. Even when he had gone to the Slytherin table with Tracey, even though they were friends first. Even when the repercussions affected Neville's place in his house… Harry admired Neville for being the boy he could not be. Neville would have made a grand boy-who-lived.
"Twenty points for inter-house unity Mr. Longbottom," Professor McGonagall declared as she strode towards them, "Please sit down now. You are making a scene."
Sure enough, Harry felt the eyes of much of the Great Hall was on them. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled from his seat, and Professor Snape appeared conflicted.
"Yes Professor," Neville answered sheepishly.
# # #
The rest of dinner was somewhat awkward. The other Gryffindors never apologized, they only included Neville slightly in conversation as if nothing had happened. They didn't bother Harry, and only Neville occasionally brought Harry into the conversation. Most of their talk surrounded quidditch and brooms, which Harry had no interest in. They complained about Professor Binns and Quirrell. Harry learned from Ron about the curse on the DADA position. It was mysterious the amount of DADA teachers they went through.
Harry looked over to Professor Quirrell, the man had his back turned. Suddenly, his scar burned like after the nightmares. He ignored the burning and cleared his mind. He didn't want to make a scene for all the attention it would bring. Neville noticed Harry close his eyes and cocked his head in question.
"Nothing," Harry mouthed.
# # #
There was scant time after dinner for first-years to walk around the castle. Harry went to the library to check out some books. The structure of the library was fairly standard, a large rectangular room with tables for studying in the center, and a librarian desk off to the left. The rest of the library consisted of shelves arranged in a grid pattern by subject matter. The far end of the library held a gate that led to the restricted section. He noticed Hermione Granger, the girl from the boat, by herself at a library table. He nodded to her and smiled; Harry had a begrudging respect for her intelligence despite her annoying personality.
She must have had the option for Ravenclaw judging by her bookworm status, and yet she wanted to be in Gryffindor… That Gryffindor was even available spoke to something deeper about her. Maybe she would become less annoying in the future and they could be friends? When Hermione caught his eye, she huffed and turned away from him. Many years from now then.
He rushed his way through the library. Regardless of his equal book nerd status, Hermione Granger was not someone he wanted to be compared to. Even Harry didn't like the way she jumped like her seat was on fire whenever the teacher asked a question to the class. According to Neville, it wasn't restricted to Herbology.
With a good amount of time to spare, Harry got through the door knocker with relative ease. Harry's roommates were grouped around the fire doing homework. Snape had assigned a potions essay, but Harry had completed it in DADA. Flitwick's assignment was a sheet of questions based on the reading in the next chapter of the charm's textbook, which Harry had filled out after he was forced from his potions book. He had been ignoring his roommates all day, so he walked over anyway and sat down.
"You can't copy our answers Potter," said Goldstein.
"I already completed the assignments, Goldstein." Harry rolled his eyes. "I wanted to hang out when you were finished."
"You've ignored us all last night and today, and NOW you want to hang out?" Michael Corner threw down his quill in frustration.
"I slept well last night. Got up early to explore the castle so I wouldn't be late-" The boys winced. "-and then spent time with my friends from other houses because I knew I wouldn't be able to see them. And you know the difficulties I encountered there I'm sure," said Harry.
"Go away Potter!" spat Goldstein. Terry and Kevin didn't look up and kept working. Harry left them alone wordlessly with a shrug. He tried.
The girls were also doing homework; so Harry went up to his bed, closed the curtains, and read his library books. It was like Diagon Alley, with the books being free and the ability to do magic. The classes were troublesome when they weren't practical. He'd skip if it weren't a required part of the grade. There was no telling what measures would be taken if he tanked his grades. This wasn't the Dursleys, Dumbledore and his teachers must have a good idea of his abilities. A child skipping classes and failing despite great ability would give Dumbledore the fodder he needed to send Harry wherever he pleased.
Harry reconsidered all that had happened from behind the curtains of his four-poster bed. Dumbledore returned the invisibility cloak; there's no way he had just been given an invisibility cloak. It should have some form of tracking on it.
And the goblin book! The goblin language would bring him closer to Flitwick. It was no coincidence that Flitwick had known he spoke gobbledygook. With the added benefit of bringing Harry to the goblins where Dumbledore probably had spies. Harry initially thought he could enlist goblin help, but Rockgrit had advised against it. The goblins weren't trustworthy in their own ways. Dumbledore had as good a relationship as a wizard with ministry association could have with goblins. A small minority of goblins to be sure, but enough to leak information. Freedom and access to a new language, they were traps Harry couldn't help but swallow whole.
Harry closed his book and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. These were only his suspicions. Now the question was whether to rebuild the trust by asking Dumbledore directly about his suspicions and Sirius Black, or hiding his suspicions and trying to outmaneuver the old man. The second appealed to him more, based on Dumbledore's previous dismissals.
Flitwick was the hinge. He was under Dumbledore's directive, but also sincerely wanted to help Harry. If he could be made an ally—no, Dumbledore had marked Flitwick specifically for a reason. He'd improvise, it was only the first day.
# # #
The next morning Harry somewhat repeated his schedule by getting up incredibly early and obtaining a book using Neville's gift. When he got to breakfast, he sat with Slytherin again. This time he didn't bother with the snipes from Pansy, and treated her like air. He was able to make some headway when the owls delivered a Daily Prophet with a front-page article on a break-in at Gringotts, vault 713. Harry's knowledge of Gringotts and rumors about his goblin connection suddenly made him the center of attention at Slytherin table. Even Draco Malfoy behaved himself somewhat, as they walked to class amicably together.
The first class of the day, History of Magic, was a complete waste of time. Professor Binns, the ghost teacher, basically read from the textbook! According to Tracey, even the older years used the time to catch up on sleep or homework.
Next was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. Harry adored Transfiguration; the possibilities were endless. Instead of using magic to cast spells or give effects, it used magic to change objects themselves. The best part was the practical. Unlike Charms which either had the intended effect or did not, with control and strength being the only variance, objects could be changed in elaborate ways. It gave more for Harry to do.
Harry chose the same strategy as he had with Charms, read something else until the practical part of the class began. If he was caught out, he didn't really care, he'd make an excuse and stop as necessary.
When Harry walked in, he noticed the cat on the desk. Neville waved him over to a seat next to him. Harry obliged while he monitored the cat. Was it like Filch the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris? He had never heard of a different cat around Hogwarts.
Then he noticed the eyes, spectacles. This was an Animagus, McGonagall was using one of the most useful and celebrated pieces of magic within Transfiguration. Impressive too. Animagus were rare, apparently it was a bit of a time sink. Not many wizards and witches had the disposition to want to know their inner animal, or the patience to brew the potion.
Harry nudged Neville, gave him the quiet signal, and glanced aside at the cat. Neville nodded but from his expression didn't know what was happening. Just past the bell ringing, two Gryffindors, Ron Weasley and Oliver Rivers, sprinted into class.
"I thought for sure we'd be caught out! Good thing McGonagall is late!" said Ron.
The cat leaped off the desk and immediately turned into the stern witch. "Tardiness to my class is not acceptable, sit down please Mr. Weasley, Mr. Rivers. And see that you are not late again."
The boys turned red and found the closest seat to the door.
Next, McGonagall jumped into the lecture, speaking about the immense dangers and complexities of Transfiguration. She eyed the class sternly while speaking of safety. Harry knew the dangers, but felt it would be best to pay attention to that much. If she thought he ignored safety she might prevent him from doing practical work. As soon as the lecture turned to theory, Harry began his reading without a care in the world.
His reading was cut short only a few minutes in. "MR. POTTER! Have you paid any attention at all to what I have been saying?"
He looked up and saw the blackboard which had some notes on density versus volume changes.
"Yes Professor. Of course, Professor," he answered.
"Then explain the key differences between density transfiguration and volume transfiguration." Her lips formed a thin line. Hermione's hand shot into the air like a gun. McGonagall was unamused, as she massaged her temple in response to her enthusiasm.
Harry responded, "In the case of mass equivalents; density is easier to maintain as space extension is far more costly and structurally unsound within the bounds of normal transfiguration. The concentration required goes down exponentially the smaller the total volume change, while density is static in easily imaginable concentrations. Anything smaller than a pinky nail and the concentration once again becomes exponential in the opposite direction for volume. Density is constant between the bounds of lead and water and between water and air."
McGonagall put her hands on her hips. "A wonderful explanation Mr. Potter, I can't help but wonder when I managed to explain all of that."
She returned to lecturing; Harry pretended to keep reading, just in case. A few minutes went by, with McGonagall looking up angrily at his spot every minute or so.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Mr. Potter! What did I just say?"
"You said, 'Vanishing and switching spells have extra considerations which we will not cover for some years. This is only to warn you off of attempting Transfigurations beyond certain bounds,'" he mimicked, making sure to not sound mocking while doing so.
McGonagall narrowed her eyes, and lowered her spectacles down her nose. "Mr. Potter, see me after class."
"Yes Professor," Harry answered easily, and then returned to his book without care. If she wanted to interrupt class again just to call his bluff, she was welcome to. Many of the other students would be hard-pressed to do as he had. If he came up short next time, it could be explained by other means other than him reading something completely unrelated to class.
When they got to practicals, Harry changed his match into a needle, changed it back, and then changed it again. Then he did the same with two matches. He was disappointed, as any additional details to needles would make them non-functional. He put his two needles on the desk, and began to read again. From the corner of his eye, McGonagall came over to his desk, saw the needles, and didn't comment on his reading.
At the end of class, Harry waited at his desk for everyone but him to leave. Neville patted his shoulders and shook his head in pity as he left for lunch.
"I'll see you at the Gryffindor table then Nev?"
"Sure Harry… good luck."
McGonagall waited for the last person to leave before she descended upon him. "Mr. Potter, in all of my years of teaching, I have rarely been wrong in my assessment of a student's attention. Once, I may give you, but twice? It is as if you are purposefully giving the impression of not paying attention."
Harry remained silent. There was little he could say in his defense which wouldn't be considered cheek.
"Is there nothing you have to say in response?" she asked impatiently.
"I was paying attention Professor," he said blankly.
"And if I gave you detention?" she threatened.
"Why would you give me detention Professor?" Harry asked calmly.
"Go to lunch Mr. Potter!"
# # #
Harry tucked into a delicious lamb stew at the Gryffindor table, where they had begun to warm up to him slightly. They didn't bother him when it came to Quidditch, but occasionally included him when complaining about the Professors. Thankfully when Professor Flitwick appeared behind them this time, they were on the subject of Quidditch.
"Harry, may I speak with you?" Professor Flitwick asked and gestured towards the exit of the Great Hall.
# # #
They arrived in an office with a simple desk with papers and a few glass objects on it. The office was sparse, probably not Flitwick's regular office. Flitwick got behind the desk, onto a very high chair, and gestured for Harry to sit at the small chair across from him.
"Harry… I spoke with McGonagall at lunch. We are both very concerned about you. I've heard about Professor Snape's attitude, which you completely neglected to mention when I inquired after you. I've also noticed you are receiving quite a cold reception with the other first-year boys. Combined with your behavior in class, I am not quite sure where to go from here. I'm your ally Harry, I want your Hogwarts experience to be happy. Just open up to me a little," Professor Flitwick begged.
Since it went this far, he would alter his plans a little. He still wanted to use Flitwick as a Dumbledore douser, but maybe Flitwick could be relied upon a little. Dumbledore may have not leveled with Flitwick, which was a huge boon for him.
Harry held the arms of his chair tightly. "The truth is I don't trust you or Dumbledore, not after leaving me in that house."
"Dumbledore mentioned you had problems at home, but refused to speak further…"
Harry shot up, frowning harshly at the small man. "I had more than problems at home, My Aunt and Uncle are abusive. Dumbledore knows, but the politics are inconvenient."
Flitwick put his hand to his heart in concern. "Inconvenient? He's surely made alternative arrangements, yes?"
"He would send me back if he could. And we agreed to discuss my living situation some time during the school year. If he is making other arrangements, it is without my knowledge or permission," Harry spat.
"You don't trust me because I work for Dumbledore." Flitwick's eyes widened in realization.
Harry sighed in relief, intelligence he could work with. "Precisely. We came to an understanding during the summer, but I have grown suspicious after thinking on it."
"And you won't tell me why because you think it would get back to Dumbledore," Flitwick concluded sadly.
"He is keeping secrets and attempting to manipulate me. If he thinks he can do so because I am a child, he is mistaken. I have no problem playing that game and keeping secrets! If you wonder why I didn't tell you about Professor Snape, it's because I didn't want to give Dumbledore the leverage. If Professor Snape crosses the line, I have leverage over him instead," Harry explained.
"What secrets could Dumbledore possibly keep from you Harry? Or you from him? Are you perhaps projecting from your experience with your Aunt and Uncle?" Flitwick's face dropped; the knowledge of his abuse made him immensely sad no doubt.
Harry considered what his Professor was telling him. "I am. But I'm not wrong. Tell me, Professor, what is hidden on the 3rd Floor Corridor on the right-hand side?"
Flitwick paled. "I'm sorry Harry, I cannot tell you. But it really has nothing to do with you."
"There was a break-in at Gringotts today, it was for whatever is hidden in the school, I'm sure of it. And a wizard capable of casting a Fidelius brings it to Hogwarts? This means no secret keeper is safe. His desire to send me back to my Aunt and Uncle's is a decision which only considers my protection. Dumbledore is acting as if this is wartime, and yet, for a decade it has been peaceful. You tell me that Dumbledore is not keeping secrets? Why did Sirius Black give me access to his gold after he was supposed to have betrayed my parents? Why did he not receive a trial? Where is Voldemort's body? Why did Voldemort give up a spy of the highest levels to go after a family in hiding with a baby? And then he specifically goes after the baby, which happens to be his downfall? Dumbledore hasn't a clue about any of this you think?"
Flitwick hopped off of his chair and began pacing beside the desk. "Your information on Sirius Black is definite?"
"Confirmed by the goblins."
"What makes you think you-know-who went after you specifically Harry?"
"I have had recurring nightmares about the night before I was even aware of a wizarding world. A man in a cold voice asking a woman, my mother, to stand aside, and her screaming 'Not Harry'. Then a green light consistent with the killing curse."
Flitwick's pacing became frantic and his hands shook. "Nonono… this will not do. Thank you for telling me everything Harry. But why hide this from Dumbledore?"
Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. "None of these things I've told you are worth hiding. He dismissed my conjecture concerning Sirius's innocence."
Flitwick came around the desk and went to touch Harry's elbow to reassure him, but hesitated and pulled his hand back. "You have my strictest confidence Harry, should you desire it. And you have a family here, whether you desire it or not. I meant what I said about your mother. McGonagall feels much the same about your father you know."
Harry felt buoyed by this most recent interaction. And he hadn't had to reveal his fourth language ability to see if Flitwick would leak it to Dumbledore. Parseltongue had far too many political implications. It also created more unanswered questions, as it was supposed to be inherited. Voldemort was a known speaker, the only known speaker in modern history in fact. If he didn't look so much like his father… There was much more to the night of his parent's death than the old man let on to be sure.