Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Hardin Potter. Therefore, all of this incredible universe where this fanfiction will take place belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit, except my entertainment, is being made.

Observation: I've noticed the comments mentioning the similarity between my Harry and Tom and, well, I can say it's intentional. The prologue, especially, will be important for the S3 of this story (which will cover Harry's fifth year and cannon's second year). I'm sorry if you are bothered by this similarity, but, for my story, it is important.

Thank you all very much for all of the reviews, followings and favourites! I'm truly glad the majority of the comments seem to be enjoying my fanfiction. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Mendacium - S1/C3 - The First Day

Hardin Sayre sat at the very end of the Slytherin table, enjoying the very best breakfast he had ever got to try in his entire life. He had never starved in his life, but the food in the orphanage was hardly something to be complimented. They had food, and this was what mattered, but Hogwarts was different - Hogwarts had the most delicious food he had ever eaten.

'First the dinner feast, now the breakfast. I wonder how lunch will be…' Hardin thought as he got some more scrambled eggs and sipped some of his tea - everything was perfect, there was no other way to say it. 'By the end of the year, I'll be ten pounds heavier.'

In fact, so far, everything about Hogwarts had been nothing less than perfect.

Yesterday, after the feast, the Slytherin fifth-year Prefect, Maximillianus Tremblay, and Penelope Padgett had escorted the first-years to the Dungeons, where the Slytherin Common Room was located. To reach it, you had to say the password to a stretch of a damp stone wall.

The common room was truly fantastic - perhaps a little too dark - but fantastic nonetheless. It consisted of a vast rectangular room where multiple blacks or dark green couches and armchairs were displayed. The stone walls contained many portraits of famous former Slytherins - even one from Slytherin himself - as well as various bookshelves containing, obviously, books. However, the common room's very best thing was the Great Lake's view - it was beautiful.

After they got inside the room, the Head of the Slytherin House, Professor Snape, had given them a welcoming speech, although it honestly lacked some emotion, and made some warnings. Between them, Professor Snape had suggested that all of them read their potions textbooks before their classes so that they wouldn't look bad in front of the Gryffindors. Hardin wasn't sure the exact problem between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but both houses seemed to take this matter very seriously.

Either way, the only useful things Snape had said were: the prefects would accompany the first-years for their classes during the first week of school, and the best student of each year would be rewarded with a private room. So far, dividing the dorm with Avery, Bole, Burke, Derrick, and Selwyn wasn't bad, but if he could have a room for his own, why keep sharing? Unfortunately, the room would only be given at the beginning of his second year, as they would pick the best student out of the results of their final exams. At least, this gave him a good amount of time to learn something.

"Bedivere," Hardin heard Daphne Greengrass calling, "Where's Selwyn? Has he overslept?"

Bedivere Avery - who Ren often called Benny - was a tall and burly boy who could frighten anyone with his pouty face. For some reason, Hardin had the impression that he wanted to be anywhere but here, which didn't make sense in Hardin's mind. After all, why would someone not want to be in Hogwarts? Daphne Greengrass, however, was the girl that had given him a Chocolate Frog yesterday, and he was truly glad that she hadn't mentioned it for anyone.

For the few hours he had spent in Slytherin, he had already realised two things were important for them: money and family. Ever since he had first arrived at the Slytherin table, he had observed the upper-years staring at him and making comments. For Hardin, it had been easy to spot the problem: he was one of the only first-year wearing second-handed robes. Perhaps, if he hadn't spent so many years in his muggle school dealing with this same sort of problem, he would be feeling bad. However, he was so used to such treatment that he didn't even bother.

Still, Daphne keeping quiet about her charity act was quite positive for him - it was one less thing for them to talk about.

"No, Flint and Higgs have taken him to a Hogwarts tour," Bedivere replied with no enthusiasm. "Do you know what is the first-class?"

"Potions."

Bedivere sighed, "At least it is not History."

"Have you heard that a ghost teaches history?" Victoria said, and Bedivere rolled his eyes.

"Yes, everybody knows that, Wright." He said it harshly, and Hardin made a mental note never to ask Bedivere anything. "But I guess that for a mudblood like…"

"There's no need to be rude, Bedivere." Daphne interrupted him, and, now, for the first time, Hardin had seen her without her sweet appearance. "And I bet that many students don't know that."

Perhaps, if Hardin weren't avoiding getting into trouble, he would have helped her. However, if what Bedivere had said was true, saying he didn't know that a ghost taught history, it would only raise suspicions about his past - and, obviously, he didn't want that to happen.

"Maybe for you that has been raised almost like a blood traitor, but for us, who have been raised as proper purebloods, it's old information."

"One would think that a proper pureblood would know a thing or two about good manners."

Fortunately, before their discussion could get more heated, about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall, circling the tables until they saw their owners and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. That had been a great distraction.

"Your parents haven't sent you anything, Hardin?" Ren asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Hardin lied, omitting the fact that his parents were either five-foot under the ground or didn't give a damn about him. "The owl must not have gotten here yet."

"Oh, it must get here tomorrow then."

"I'm hoping so."

As Ren turned his attention to his package, Hardin felt relieved. Talking about his family wasn't something he didn't fancy doing.

'You have to find a way to send letters to yourself.' Hardin thought as he observed people finally getting their eyes away from him. 'You can't make up a story each time, and you can't let them know you are muggle-raised. Or else, you'll be like Victoria Wright.'

One of the first things Hardin had asked Ren yesterday, in their dorms, was why the other girls didn't interact much with her. Ren explained that her father was a blood traitor because he had left the Wizarding World to marry a muggle he had met and - the worst part, according to Ren - was that he had dropped his last name and started to use his wife's one.

"My mother said it was one of the biggest scandals." Ren had commented. "Imagine, not only do you go against what your family believes but also states that would rather be known as a muggle than having anything to do with them. No wonder they disinherited him."

Adding this information, with the conversations he had overheard, it was truly clear that if he wanted to be at least accepted by the other Slytherins, he had to hide that he had grown up with muggles. It wasn't that much of a challenge. All he had to do was to act like everything was regular to him whenever he had company. As long as he kept himself quiet, everything would be alright.

"Here, have Chocolate Frog," Ren said, handing him a purple box, "I've just received a box filled with them."

"Thanks," Hardin murmured, placing the sweet inside his bag. He knew exactly what he was going to do with it.

Ren then turned to the girls, "Do you want one as well, Katherine, Alyssa?"

Hardin saw as Ren gave them the sweet, and, in exchange, they gave him some of whatever sweet they had received. Apart from him, all the Slytherins first-years seemed to know each other from before Hogwarts. Although, they were hardly all friends.

For him, it was obvious that Ren was close to Katherine Gamp and Alyssa Rowle, but both girls were closer to each other than they were with him. Daphne Greengrass had talked with everyone from their year. Yet, if Hardin had to guess, he would say she liked Victoria more than anyone else of their house. Meanwhile, Bedivere seemed fine on his own.

Lastly, Edwin Selwyn was a puzzle to Hardin. Yesterday, right after he was sorted, the entire Slytherin table cheered for him, and many of the older students had stood up to shake hands with him. From what Hardin could gather, he was from an important family and, therefore, everyone wanted to be on his good side. In a way, Hardin envied him. There was just an effortless grace in the dark-skinned boy that Hardin wasn't sure if he would ever possess.

After eating, he grabbed his Potion book and revised the first chapter about the Cure for Boils potion. Although he had already read it, he supposed it couldn't hurt to be more prepared - especially considering that his first-class was with his Head of House, Professor Snape. He had almost done re-reading the first chapter when he heard the sixth-year Prefect calling the first-years to guide them to the Potions class. The path until the classroom was very similar to the one that led them to the Common Room - as they were both in the dungeons - but it wasn't as deep as the former.

The classroom certainly wasn't very welcoming, although Hardin thought it looked interesting.

In one corner of the room stood a basin into which ice-cold water poured from a gargoyle's mouth, while in another was a student supply cupboard. Many pickled animals were floating in glass jars all around the walls - it looked rather creep. Finally, there was a blackboard in the front of the class, on which the instructions to the brewing of the Cure for Boils potions were already written. Hardin didn't waste his time, quickly got a table in the middle of the classroom, picked a parchment piece, and took notes on the board.

"Are you any good with brewing?" Ren asked, jerking his head towards the cauldron.

"I dunno. I've never tried before." Hardin admitted, "You?"

"Well, I was counting on your abilities..." Hardin snorted. "...considering I have absolutely none."

"That's great news," Hardin said sarcastically. "Just don't explode my materials."

"I'm not making any promises." He replied with a crooked smile and then returned his attention to his notes. Hardin couldn't help but notice how neat Ren's handwriting was. It even made him feel disappointed with his own. Was there, perhaps, a proper way to hold a quill?

As Ren made no sign of continuing the conversation, Hardin went back to his notes. He was quite happy that, for once, luck seemed to be playing by his side. Hardin had been fortunate enough to befriend Ren during the Hogwarts Express, had been sorted to Slytherin, and - apart from Bedivere - everyone seemed nice enough. Furthermore, he would finally learn about magic, and there was nothing in the world that could ever top this feeling.

Hardin gave a quick look around the room and noticed that most of the Gryffindors hadn't arrived yet. He wondered why they were taking so long. Were they lost? Didn't they have a Prefect to lead them to the classes? Or was it just a lack of preparation?

Meanwhile, the Slytherins had divided themselves into pairs. He noticed that Daphne was working with Victoria, Alyssa with Katherine, Bedivere with Edwin, while Derrick and Bole were together. Hardin had never met people as dense as the former two, but they seemed to have found a good match within each other.

Eventually, the rest of the Gryffindors arrived, looking like they had just participated in a marathon. Their faces were red, sweaty, and the uniforms messy.

A few minutes later, Professor Snape stormed from the entrance door, walking in a fast yet imponent way and with his traditional blank expression. He didn't say Good morning or presented himself to the class. Instead, he went straight to roll call. Only after he finished it, he properly spoke to the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," He began, speaking in barely more than a whisper, but they were able to catch every word, especially because the class was dead silent. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Well, Hardin wasn't going to lie: Professor Snape only got his attention at the end of his speech.

'Bottle fame, brew glory, and stop death.' Hardin mentally repeated. Professor Snape now had Hardin's full attention.

"Today, you will be brewing the Cure for Boils potion, which is covered by chapter one of your books. The instructions are on the board." He made a pause as most students got their books and tried to find the correct page. "You may begin."

Suddenly the classroom was filled with confused looks, but Professor Snape didn't seem to mind as he ignored them and started to write something on a parchment.

"If we only needed our books, I could have learned it in my house…" Ren murmured while opening his book as if every touch was painful for him.

Hardin just had to agree with the boy. Shouldn't Snape show them how to do it? To explain the correct way to make each step? Or at least give them basic instructions about brewing, considering most of them had no idea how to use a cauldron? Well, this might be Hardin's first class, but he already realised that Professor Snape wouldn't be his favourite teacher. Whatever interest Hardin had picked with the Potions Master's speech was now lost.

Sighing, he decided to say nothing and just conform because Professor Snape was a bad instructor.

Not knowing what to do, Hardin opted to begin by preparing all the ingredients to brew the potion later properly - it would probably help him reduce his chance of mistakes. Firstly, he got the six snake fangs and crushed them with a pestle, trying his best to obtain the fine powder required in the book. He separated and prepared the horned slugs and the porcupine quills, making sure to leave the former far away from the cauldron, as he remembered it had explosive properties. After re-reading the brewing instructions, he finally created the courage to start preparing his potion properly.

As he added the right ingredients and stirred the potion, he couldn't help but think it was a rather easy subject. There was no secret about it. Simply follow the instructions. After almost fifty minutes of waiting, Hardin took his cauldron off the fire, added the porcupine quills, stirred it five times clockwise, and finished the potion by waving his wand over the cauldron.

Taking a good look at his newly finished potion, Hardin thought he had done a good job. According to the book, if the potion had been correctly prepared, pink smoke would rise from the cauldron, which was happening, although the colour was not as strong as it should have been. Taking a quick look at Ren's cauldron, Hardin saw a potion with a moss green collar, a consistency that resembled mud, and Hardin was sure it had moved on its own. However, the very best thing to look at was Ren's reaction. The boy was staring at it with crossed arms, a disgusted face, and he was just perplexed with his creation. A part of Hardin believed that Ren was uncertain if he should laugh or cry with his results.

Hardin wanted to laugh, but it only came out as a chuckle - as he was sure that Snape wouldn't appreciate the laughing.

"Have you also noticed that it moved?" Ren asked Hardin once he realised Hardin was observing him. "I don't think it should move."

"I think it's trying to escape from itself, you know."

"Probably." Ren nodded as the potion moved again, making him send Hardin a desperate look. "When grandpa told me Burkes were bad with potions, I thought he was exaggerating."

Hardin snorted again as Ren took a spoon and poked the potion, which moved once more. "This is so weird."

Ren was going to say something else, but he was interrupted by Professor Snape's unnoticed arrival, which made quite a scare on the boys.

"It is an acceptable potion, Mr Sayre. Not perfect, but it can be used without any serious complications. However, this would never be used by any healer." He said, making a movement with his wand, making the potion disappear. Hardin thought it was an interesting demonstration of magic, although it pained him to see all of his hard work disappear as if it was nothing. "Have you cleaned the horned slugs before stewing them?"

"No, sir," Hardin answered calmly and respectfully, although his heart was racing.

"Then we have found your mistake. Never place an unclean ingredient in your potion unless the book specifies it." The Potions Master said, and Hardin quickly noted it.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

He then moved to Ren's cauldron, and his face was just remarkable. He didn't even bother to say something about the potion. He just looked at it, then stared at Ren with pure disdain - as if Ren had just offended him - and walked out. Hardin was truly fighting the urge to start laughing, something he had never done before.

Once Professor Snape was far enough, Ren turned to Hardin. "I hate potions."

Hardin said nothing but smirked. He wasn't sure what to think about this class. Potions wasn't a very appealing subject. Sure, there were many useful potions that he could learn how to brew, but it wasn't a fun thing to do. Hardin didn't know if he liked Professor Snape's method of teaching. Why couldn't the man previously explain it to the class? Perhaps he believed in the method of learning from your mistakes?

He looked around the classroom and saw that most students didn't seem to be having any success. There was a dark smoke coming out of Bole's cauldron; Katherine had made her spoon melt, and Derrick's potion was dragging itself out from the cauldron - it was even worse than Ren's potion. If this was bad, Gryffindors were having even more trouble. Professor Snape had criticised every single potion made by a Gryffindor and took points from those who had done something wrong.

"Not very fair, is he?" Ren commented.

"No." Hardin agreed. "Blishwick's potion is better than yours, and he lost two points."

"Perks of being a Slytherin, I guess." Ren shrugged and then whispered, "Do you think his hair is greasy like that because of all of this smoke? Or just lack of showers?"

This time, Hardin couldn't control it. He ended up laughing, which caused Professor Snape to look at them with a scolding look. "Mr Sayre, I'll expect you to hand me a two-foot essay about the importance of the preparation of the ingredients to the successful brewing of a potion for next class."

"Yes, sir."

"Whereas you, Mr Burke, Bole, and Derrick, along with the Gryffindors, will be making a three-foot essay regarding the historical development of the Cure for Boils potion, the propriety of each ingredient, and its correct brewing steps."

Ren said, "Yes, sir."

A part of Hardin was mad that, because of Ren, he had been punished. However, the other part thought it would not harm to write this essay as it would probably help him in the future. Besides, he wasn't about to fight with the only boy that talked to him.

"At least we haven't lost any points," Ren commented, and Hardin nodded.

It was only when Professor Snape stopped by at Daphne's station that the class heard, for the first time, a compliment coming out of his mouth. After hearing him criticise the majority of the class, Hardin couldn't believe he could say nice words.

"Class, take a look at Ms Greengrass's potion. A perfect exemplar." He praised as, with a move of his wand, he started to bottle the potions. "Madam Pomfrey will be very glad about your work." Professor Snape turned around, and, looking straight to the Gryffindors, he added, "Five points to Slytherin, for perfection."

Hardin saw that Greengrass had a slight blush on her cheeks and seemed very satisfied with herself. Victoria, on the other hand, had received an Exceeds Expectations.

By the end of the class, Gryffindor lost another five points because some Gryffindor boy had exploded his cauldron, and Slytherin gained five more points for Selwyn's also perfectly brewed potion. While Greengrass seemed to have been quite shy because of her praise, Selwyn received with pride, and the arrogance on his posture was noticeable. But, well, considering he had received a perfect in his first class, he could be proud of himself - Hardin knew he would have been.

Once the class was over, Hardin and Ren were the first to leave the place, while the Gryffindors were a close second.

"Great Hall?" Ren asked.

"Yes."

"I hope you have memorised the path, 'cuz I have no idea on how to get back."

"Well, I was counting with your ability." Hardin quoted, on a failed attempt to imitate his voice.

"Then we are screwed."

The duo quickly realised that neither of them had the slightest idea of walking around Hogwarts, which was why they ended up inside the Armoury, located on the third floor. They had been lucky enough that Professor Quirrel - of Muggle Studies, Hardin learned - coincidently passed by that area and escorted boys back to the Great Hall, just in time to enjoy the final moments of lunch.

"What do you want to do now?" Ren asked.

"I dunno." Hardin shrugged. "Maybe start making the essay?"

"Are you for real? On our first day in Hogwarts, you want to do homework?"

"Well, if we don't do it now, we'll have to do it later," Hardin argued. " Is better to do it now and be freed, then leave it to accumulate."

Ren shook his head, "I'll explore the castle. I can do the essay on Thursday or Friday before his class."

"Alright then," Hardin said, "I'll see you later."

"Bye."

At first, Hardin had considered going to the Library and doing his homework. However, he remembered he had another priority: be even with Daphne. Few people would ever understand why it bothered him so much, but it felt as if she was trying to show her superiority for him. She had money to even spend with a stranger, while he had nothing. It harmed his ego.

Now, why was her situation with him different from Ren's? Daphne had helped him because she saw he was poor and did it out of pity. On the other hand, Ren had treated him as he had treated everybody else. Maybe she hadn't done it on purpose nor had the intention of being inconvenient. Perhaps she was just a truly kind soul, and he was judging her too harshly. But, in his opinion, people like this weren't real - they were utopic.

Therefore, after walking outside the castle, he ended up in the Owlery. Taking a parchment piece, he wrote a small note thanking her and wrapped it around the Chocolate Frog he had received from Ren. He didn't know if it was morally correct to give a gift he had received from one person to another. But, who cared? As long as neither of them knew, no harm would be done.

Unsure, Hardin approached an owl and said, "Huh...Can you take this to Daphne Greengrass?"

Leaving a dumbfounded Hardin behind, the owl got his package, hooted, and then flew outside of the Owlery. Were animals smarter in the Wizarding World? He thought so.

'You can't forget to come here again earlier tomorrow and send yourself a letter.' He reminded himself. 'If you don't receive anything, people will get suspicious.'

Later, Hardin went back to the castle aiming for the Library, but only after he asked for help from one of the ginger boys he had seen in the Diagon Alley - a Weasley, he remembered - that he finally got the right directions. When he reached the Library, he became sure that Hogwarts would never stop surprising him. It was beautiful, even for someone that wasn't a big fan of books. There were thousands of shelves, filled with books, hundreds of narrow rows, along with study tables nestled throughout red-carpeted rooms crisscrossed. It looked like a giant and incredible labyrinth

Finding which section was related to Potions had been quite the challenge as the sections didn't seem to make much sense. At least, the assignment wasn't complicated, and he could bet that Snape had only given it to him, so it wouldn't seem that the Slytherins could do anything during his class and go unpunished. Hardin wondered if the other teachers would be like him - he hoped they weren't.

On Monday morning, they had their first Charms class.

Sat on a desk in the back of the room, Hardin was flicking through his book while ignoring what Professor Flitwick was saying about wand movements. Professor Flitwick was far away from being a bad instructor, but he was repetitive. Ever since he had finished the roll call, the tiny master had been talking about the differences between a swish, a flick, a twirl and a wiggle.

For Hardin, it was unnecessary to repeat it so many times. However, that didn't seem the tiny's master opinion, as he refused to move forward in the subject until all the class's doubts had been cleared. Specially after Professor's Snape class, Hardin knew this was a good characteristic for an instructor. It showed that he actually cared for their knowledge. Still, Hardin had given up paying attention to his explanation and had decided to explore his book instead.

While in the orphanage, Hardin had given the school's books a look, but he hadn't been able to try anything, as he couldn't use his wand. Besides, he had dedicated more time to the Potters situation rather than school. However, even if he could have used the wand and studied more, he wasn't sure if he would have made such progress, considering he had no idea how to pronounce the enchantments properly. He was quite certain that most of them were written in Latin.

Right now, he was reading about the Wand-Lighting Charm, which was said to be one of the simplest and easiest charms to learn, according to the book's author. However, Hardin was still struggling to figure out how to say the incantation Lumos correctly.

"Lumos." He murmured, flicking his wand and placing more intonation into the ending of the word.

Nothing happened.

"Lumos." He murmured again, making the same movement, but pronouncing the Lu part as in luck.

Not a single light beam came out of it. Hardin wondered if he was actually making the wrong movement instead of mispronouncing the enchantment. But he was confident that he had mastered the flick. Remembering the sixth-year Prefect that had helped them get into classes, Lucian Lowe, Hardin decided to change the pronunciation, saying Lu as in Lucian - a name with Latin origin.

Without much confidence, Hardin flicked his wand, murmuring, "Lumos."

Immediately, from the tip of his wand, a powerful jet of light came out, lighting up the back of the class. The entire class turned around, finding a red-faced Hardin, who was trying to figure out how to cancel the Charm.

'Shite, Hardin,' He thought, flicking his wand again, trying to extinguish it, 'How could you not read how to stop it? You idiot!'

"Mr Sayre," Professor Flitwick called, and Hardin could only think of how much trouble he was, "That's a great demonstration of the enchantment I've just mentioned. Take a point for Slytherin. Congratulations." Professor Flitwick beamed and then turned to the other students. "Class, take a look at Mr Sayre's progress. We will be covering the Wand-Lighting Charm in two weeks."

Hardin, still embarrassed for not being able to extinguish the light, said, "Thank you, sir."

"Now, Mr Sayre, do you know how to extinguish the charm?"

"No, sir."

"You shall make the same movement, a simple flick, and then clearly say the incantation of the Wand-Extinguishing Charm: Nox," Professor Flitwick demonstrated, "Don't mind if you don't get it right in your first attempt."

Trying to mimic the tiny Professor and wishing for it to work, Hardin said, "Nox."

Hardin felt a rush of relief as he saw the lighting disappearing.

"Bravo!" Professor Flitwick cheered, clapping. "Take another point for Slytherin, Mr Sayre."

As the tiny master proceeded with his class, using his demonstration as an example of a spell and a counterspell, Hardin tried to be as quiet as possible. For some reason, some of his housemates were still staring at him instead of paying attention to the explanation. Edwin Selwyn, for one, hadn't taken his eyes off Hardin for a single moment, while Ren had merely given him thumbs up and then returned to the class. Fortunately, the rest of the class passed uneventfully and soon they were freed.

Before he could leave the class, however, Professor Flitwick called, "Mr Sayre, if you could stay for a moment..."

With his head down, expecting to be given a scolding, Hardin approached him. Instead, Hardin quickly saw that he was friendly-looking at him.

"Mr Sayre, it was a great control over your magic you've displayed for the class. Few students can get the spells correctly on their first attempt." Professor Flitwick said calmly, "Therefore, I was wondering, have you been instructed on magic before Hogwarts?"

Hardin shook his head, "No, sir."

"Have you been raised in the Wizarding World?"

Hardin wanted to lie but replied, "No, sir."

Professor Flitwick looked intrigued, "Was this the first time you've performed either of the spells?"

"Yes." Hardin said, "I'm sorry for interrupting your class, sir. I didn't mean to."

"That's hardly a problem, Mr Sayre. You are not the first nor will be the last student to be bored by simple explanations," He said, chuckling, "Now, would you mind demonstrating both spells for me one more time?"

Hardin shook his head and later performed as it had been requested, being glad that, again, both of them worked out correctly.

Professor Flitwick looked at him every move, attentive. At last, he said, "Well done, Mr Sayre. The movement, the pronunciation and the execution are great. Certainly above your age's average." He made a pause, "Have you found any struggles while trying to perform them?"

"The pronunciation, I guess. I've never studied Latin before."

"I see," Professor Flitwick said, getting out of the pile of books he was in and started to search for something in a drawer. "Would I be correct to believe you would like to study other spells in the following weeks, rather than learning the theory of the Wand-Lighting and Wand-Extinguishing Charms?"

"Huh...Yes?"

Professor Flitwick wrote something on a piece of parchment, "If you have the interest of trying any other spells from your book and I'm not around to help you with the pronunciation, this book might help you with it. It's a splendid book for beginners, although I strongly recommend you try learning Latin. It's a very useful ability for those who seek success in Charms. "

Hardin smiled, "Thank you, sir."

"And, whatever doubts you have, you can solve them with me either before or after class. My office is always open for those who search for knowledge." Professor Flitwick said, "Keep up with the good work, Mr Sayre. Have a nice day."

As Hardin left the classroom, a feeling he had never felt before was taking over him. The first time he had been praised by something, and no denying it was a great feeling. Once in the Great Hall, he took his usual seat by Ren's side and couldn't help but notice the subtle glances he was receiving from the other Slytherin table students.

"What are they looking at?"

"You, of course."

Hardin frowned, "Why?"

"Edwin told them you got two spells right on your first attempt and gained Slytherin two points." Ren said, while serving more roasted beef, "They might be thinking you are a wizard now."

"Very funny."

"I know," Ren smirked, "What did Professor Flitwick want with you?"

"He gave me the name of a book to help me out with Latin if I decide to try other spells before class."

Ren looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "You don't know Latin?"

"No," Hardin said, "Do you?"

"Yes," Ren said as if it was obvious, "I had a Latin tutor for years. Didn't your family teach you anything?"

"No."

"That sucks. Most enchantments are in Latin, you know."

"Yeah, I've noticed…" Hardin murmured, "Did you have a tutor for another subject?"

"Plenty of them." Ren said, and, for a moment, Hardin thought he was complaining, "My parents hired me one to learn English, Latin, History, Astronomy..."

"Did the others have tutors as well?" Hardin asked, a bit jealous for not having the same opportunity. He hated being behind the others.

"I know Edwin had even more than I had - his parents are quite strict. Alyssa, Katherine and some other girls had classes together." He made a pause, "I don't know if Daphne had any, though I'd say her parents taught her."

"Have you learned spells in these classes too?"

"No, just theory. As selling wands to kids under eleven is prohibited, most of us had little time to learn spells." Ren explained, "I found a lost wand in my house a few years ago. My grandpa taught me a couple of spells. But it's really hard to use a wand that isn't yours. It feels like the wand refuses to answer to you."

"An incorrect match."

"Exactly." Ren agreed, "What about you? Did you know any spells before coming here?"

"Not really."

"I guess it doesn't really matter. Most of us don't know a spell, either way." Ren shrugged, "If you need help with Latin, though, I'm here."

"Thanks."

For a couple of days, Hardin noticed that some Slytherins had started to treat him differently. A few had attempted to talk with him, while others would greet him. It wasn't much, but considering during the first four days, he had only spoken with Ren - sometimes Alyssa and Katherine as well - and was ignored by the others, it was a significant change.

What Hardin truly thought was happening was that he was being analysed. When he had arrived, he had nothing to offer anyone. He wasn't rich like Bedivere Avery, neither from a famous family like Edwin Selwyn or socially popular like Katherine Gamp was. No, he was just the first-year, that had hand-me-down robes, from an unknown family, who Ren Burke had befriended for whatever reason.

Perhaps this was only his imagination working, but he had the impression that if he showed himself to be good at magic, he would be accepted by them - regardless of his other traits. After all, what was more important for a wizard than magic itself?

Therefore, over the next few days, Hardin had dedicated himself as much as he could for the only class he wasn't truly looking forward to: Transfiguration. From what he had heard, Transfiguration was said to be one of the most complicated branches of magic because you were either good at it or not. You couldn't fulfil the enchantment without making every step correctly. So, he believed that people would treat him a bit better if he showed himself to be good at it.

When Thursday arrived, Hardin was with crossed fingers that he would do well in his class. He had to prove his worth - he needed it.

Professor McGonagall had made quite an impression when she turned her desk into a pig and then back into a desk. Even though she and Hardin had started on the wrong foot, he just had to admit that she was a truly incredible teacher. Unlike Professor Snape that hadn't given any proper instructions or taken time to explain how his subject worked, Professor McGonagall had taken out all of their doubts before the beginning of their practical lesson.

Which was why when Hardin decided to attempt turning his match into a needle, he had no doubts of what to do. He had previously studied the theory - as he was afraid that she would pick up on him due to their shaken relationship - and, once he heard that the first class was to turn a match into a needle, he had practised the enchantment pronunciation. So, it came with no surprise for Hardin when he successfully transfigured each of his matches into perfect examples of needles.

"Mr Sayre," Professor McGonagall said once she came by his table, "Would you care to enlighten me why aren't you practising the spell?"

"I've finished it, Professor."

Professor McGonagall gave him a suspicious look, "Give me your box, Mr Sayre."

The entire class had gone dead silent as Professor McGonagall opened the matchbox and removed, one by one, the needles from inside it. She had made a very rigorous inspection into every single one of them as if she was trying to spot the slightest problem with his work.

At last, Professor McGonagall whispered astonished, "A point to Slytherin."

As the class looked at him dumbfounded and Professor McGonagall rewarded him with a point, Hardin smirked proudly. He now knew exactly what to do to be accepted in the Wizarding World.

Author's Notes

First, I would like to apologise for any grammar mistakes, especially because English is not my first language, so I may commit some flaws.

Magic: I'll try to talk more about magic in the next chapters. Right now, Harry doesn't have much magical knowledge. He's barely entered the Wizarding World. He's still learning about it. Give him some time.

Thank you for reading. Please comment and give me your thoughts. I hope you've enjoyed it.