We accept the love we think we deserve

Chapter Eleven

Friend

When Harry arrived at Hogwarts, walking into the grand castle filled with talking portraits, funny ghosts, food that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and magic so thick he could almost feel it in the air as he walked, he didn't expect to be wishing that Professor McGonagall had never shown on his doorstep that fateful day. The moment the enormous wooden doors emanated a loud creak as they opened, and he stepped into what felt like a different world, he thought that his life would never be the same again - but it only proved to be just as bad as it was with the Dursleys.

Not everything was terrible, some things were actually better than his life at Privet Drive. The food in the castle was nothing short of spectacular, the taste of it so exquisite it almost seemed to be imbued with magic. His dormitory, even though he shared it with four other boys, was much better than his old cupboard, and all of his possessions were actually his. No more over-sized shirts Dudley had stretched out completely years ago, no more gigantic shoes that were mostly ruptured and only had one lace (if he was lucky), no more broken and chewed over toys that were the only thing to distract him from the spiders and cockroaches inside his room. Finally, he had his stuff, and it was actually new and his.

He loved living in the castle much more than he ever loved living at the Dursley's, he didn't have to spend hours of his day doing chores, instead he could spend his day inside the mythical castle and its vast grounds. He had made it his mission to exploring everything in sight, every single classroom and broom cupboard in the castle, every rock and tree of the nearby grounds, and even the gamekeeper's shack.

However, besides that, Harry couldn't find anything to really gush about. He was never an idiot in school, he was even a bit proud of some of the above average grades he got during his time in Privet Drive. But it seemed that he just wasn't cut out for this magic thing.

Classes were extremely, even the easiest class at Hogwarts was much harder than the hardest class at St Grogory's. Every time Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick or any of the rest tried to explain anything to him, it felt as if they were trying to teach Chinese to a small puppy. He couldn't understand anything they were saying, and often had to read and research on his own time just to even understand what he was meant to do. The only subject that wasn't as hard as the rest was History of Magic, but with all the names and dates he had to memorize and the way the Professor seemed to have died while giving a lecture and hadn't realised he was dead yet, it was almost impossible to keep himself awake during those classes.

However, the classes were the least of his concerns, as the teachers were much worse than anything he'd experienced before. Binns was far from the worst, in fact he was one of the better ones - at least you could enjoy a nice, refreshing nap in his class. Professor Quirrell stuttered so much, that he could barely get through a couple pages of the chapter before the period bell rang. Professor Sprout was far too obsessed with plants for Harry's liking, one time he had touched one without permission and Sprout almost had a heart attack. Professor Flitwick was nice and encouraging, but he showed a clear favouritism for the smart students and barely paid attention to the others - most of his time often went to Pansy, Hannah, or Ernie. Professor McGonagall, while not having a Gryffindor bias - or any bias for that matter - was an extremely stern teacher who would be displeased if a student wasn't performing to perfection, frequently giving an obscene amount of homework to the unlucky ones who weren't born with genius understanding of Transfiguration in their blood.

But by far the worst of them all was his Head of House, Snape. There was no day when he didn't dread having a Potions class, no hour when he didn't fear the thought of running into Snape, or for the Professor to suddenly barge into his dorm room, destroy all of his stuff with some sort of exploding potion, and telling him he was expelled from the school. Every single class with the ill-mannered Professor was hell, any small mistake led to a full five minutes of Snape screaming at his face about how worthless he was and how much of an embarrassment it was that he was a Slytherin, and it always ended with a stinging Dreadful written above his paper as his potion was ungracefully vanished.

Snape's grudge against him seemed to grow with every second they spent together, and Harry had no idea why the Professor even had this consuming hatred for him. One thing he'd noticed was that Snape brought up his father every chance he got, but Harry didn't understand why. He had wanted to ask about his father and mother, but he doubted anyone in Slytherin even knew about them, much less had anything to say about them.

Ever since he learnt about the Wizarding World, he had been filled with wonder and excitement about magic; what it was, how it worked, what a world with magic would look like, the myriad of ways in which he could use it, how it would change everything. But it had also filled him with a void he'd never had before, it was hard missing what he never had. But now, he often wondered how his life would have been if his parents were still alive - how a life growing up with magic, raised by people who actually loved him. He began creating stories about how his childhood would've been: Would his father have taught him magic before he went to Hogwarts? Would he have seen his mother using magic around the house?

He could picture it perfectly, he could see his mother washing the dishes with a simple flick of her wand as his father fixed the television room - popcorn and soda serving itself into bowls and glasses as they got ready to watch a film together. They'd curl up together, there was a small dog with them, sometimes it was a cat - and the snow outside wouldn't fill their house with cold because they'd use magic to prevent it. Sounds of laughter rang in his mind as he pictured a night with his parents.

And suddenly, it became more about his parents than it ever was about the magic.

Hundreds and thousands of fake memories suddenly filled his head, the life he could've had, the life he would've had. It wasn't real, he knew that - in fact, it was even more of a fantasy than any magic he could imagine, but in his mind, it was just a tiny bit real to him. But even then, he knew that all the imaginary scenarios he came up with would never live up to even the slightest glimpse of who his parents were.

With absolutely no knowledge of who his parents were, Harry was left to wonder what could've possibly happened between Snape and his father that made the Professor hate him so much.

And then there were his housemates. None of them seemed to particularly like him, no matter how much effort he placed into becoming friends with them. He'd tried everything, he tried teaming up with them for the school assignments, he tried talking with them during the Great Hall, he tried hanging out with them after school was over - but every time they'd either ridicule him or blow him off.

Even the others like Crabbe, Goyle, Tracey, and Millicent treated him like rubbish, even though they seemed to want the others' approval as badly as he did.

Harry didn't know what he was doing wrong, Dudley wasn't here like he was at St Grogory's, there was no one threatening every other kid if they even looked at him with anything but hatred. This was supposed to be his second chance at life, where he would finally make friends, go on awesome adventures filled with magic and excitement, where he would finally belong somewhere.

Had he being lying to himself, using Dudley as an excuse to make himself feel better about not having any friends, about never being able to make anyone like him? He didn't think so, but at the same time, nothing had proven otherwise.

It was a slightly chilly October afternoon, the month had just begun and teachers were warning about the upcoming midterms next month like those people on the street, with a large sign hung on their body and a loud bell, crying out about the upcoming apocalypse. It was funny how the teachers handled the upcoming series of demanding exams, instead of lowering the homework so that the students could study, they tripled it and then warned them that just doing the homework wasn't enough.

Snape was the worst of them, as he basically told them to study all the potions that they had seen, and the other potions they would see later in the year, and even then, he told them the exam would include other potions outside the curriculum to challenge their critical thinking and problem-solving abilities. And even with the benefit of actually being able to use the potion instructions rather than being forced to learn them, Harry didn't think it would make a single difference for him.

This day had been the longest so far since classes began, not because of the schedule, but because of everything they did. He was exhausted, starving, and had just been humiliated by Snape for the past two hours. At this point, a part of him had given up on trying to befriend his fellow Slytherins, and had even considered trying to go talk with Ron and Neville, but he was always too scared to actually go forward with it. So he wanted to go to the Great Hall and have a big dinner before he went to his dormitory and fell asleep for twelve hours straight.

But as he was exiting the Potions classroom, he was brusquely shoved to the side by Theo. Harry yelped slightly as he crashed against the cold rock, and he could hear all the other Slytherins laugh as they huddled around them. Harry turned back, undeterred, and adjusted his glasses as Snape passed right by them, pretending to not see the mass of Slytherins ganging up on him.

During the first couple of weeks, Theo had been the one who was the lesser jerk of the Slytherin boys. He often just watched and laughed, but never said anything. At least that was until last week, when he suddenly became just as bad as Malfoy and Zabini. He had even begun to target him specifically, taunting him and even physically hitting him at times. Harry had tried to fight back, but the second he did all the other boys would jump on him - and the times he'd tried to run he'd been mocked as a loser and a coward, which only made sure the last thing he wanted to do was run away.

"Sorry," Harry muttered as he ran his hand over his aching shoulder.

The others laughed derisively, and he took that as his chance to quickly escape, only to be stopped by Goyle who roughly pushed him, forcing him to land on his bum. Harry blushed as even the girls began giggling at his predicament, and wished he could instantly transport himself to the farthest corner of the school.

"Ooooh, don't cry, Potty," Theo said snidely. "It's just a game."

Harry forced himself to chuckle awkwardly as he stood up. "Yeah, good one, guys."

But as he stared at the people surrounding him, he didn't feel like laughing with them, he didn't feel like even being with them. He wanted to punch them, wanted to shout back to leave him alone, wanted to stand his ground like he had always done back at the Dursley's. But that would only leave him off worse, maybe he'd even have to go with Madam Pomfrey like last time. Besides, it was just a game, right? Maybe this was how he could start building a friendship with them - maybe this was how things were in Slytherin.

"What's going on here?" A loud voice echoed through the hallway, instantly spooking all the Slytherins and leaving an open path to the direction where the voice came from.

Strong footsteps were the only thing audible in the tense silence that had been created before someone stepped into view. The boy was tall and lanky, he had curly black hair that was cut haphazardly and covered his ears. A Slytherin tie almost shone against the white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, the sweater and cloak completely missing from his outfit.

The boy looked around with a stern look before his eyes settled on him, inspecting him with a look he'd never received before.

"Am I speaking Spanish? Someone answer the damn question!"

All the Slytherins began to murmur incoherently, but they all stopped when Malfoy stepped forward and looked up directly at the older Slytherin.

"What's it to you?"

The boy raised his eyebrow before he crouched slightly to be on level with Draco. "Why don't you drop the act, tough guy, and leave before you get hurt."

The wicked smile the boy was wearing almost scared Harry.

"W-What?" A nervous laugh escaped Draco. "You can't threaten me. Do you know who my father is?"

"Daddy isn't here, and I can do a lot of damage before your owl reaches your precious manor, so why don't we just call it a day and all of you leave."

"You can't order us around! Who the hell do you thi-"

Malfoy was interrupted when he was suddenly sent flying across the hallway, landing on his arse. Draco fumed, standing up and immediately pointing his wand at the older boy - who only laughed back.

"What are you gonna do, junior? Your red sparks will barely even tickle me, so unless you have something else under your sleeve, I'd recommend you step away."

Malfoy blustered and in a flash, the older Slytherin trained his wand against Malfoy and a second later, the first-year's wand flew out of his hand and crashed against the ground loudly.

"Anyone else wanna try something?"

All the other Slytherins shook their head fervently.

"That's what I thought. Now leave - and the next person I see even as much as roll their eyes at…" he turned towards Harry expectantly.

"Umm… Harry." He said with a blush.

"The next person I see even as much as roll their eyes at Harry will receive more than the harmless warning I just gave to little Malfoy over there. Clear?"

All the first-years nodded before leaving faster than Harry thought possible, with Malfoy left to awkwardly grab his wand and glare at the older boy, though he didn't say anything, before leaving towards the Great Hall.

The older Slytherin gave a heavy sigh as he rolled his eyes and played with his hair before he turned towards Harry.

"Ignore them, they're not worth it. Besides, their bark is worse than their bite, just take down the biggest one and all the other will fall too."

Harry laughed nervously, looking at his foot as he felt his face flush completely.

"Oh, yeah, I haven't even introduced myself. Montage," the boy - Montague - extended his hand. "Graham Montague."

"H-Harry," he said as they shook hands. "Harry Potter."

"Well, Harry," Montague smiled broadly. "Something tells me we're going to be good friends."

This was a shorter chapter than my usual, but I wanted to dedicate a full chapter for the events of the next flashback chapter rather than cramming all of it here and having it feel rushed. I hope you liked this chapter, and thank you so much for all the kudos and reviews you guys are giving, I appreciate every single one of them!

Next chapter will finally have the first meeting of the DA at Hogsmeade and more interactions between Harry and Hermione, Harry, Pansy, and Theo, and Harry and Neville.