History of Magic took place in the massive tiered semi-circular lecture hall, and was the only class which included all four houses.
Harry didn't have high hopes. Quirrell's letters had made it quite plain that Professor Binns was barely competent and quite behind the times, but his contract hadn't made any provisions for the unanticipated eventuality of his continuing to teach as a ghost. Which meant that as long as he showed up on time and actually taught the subject, it would be a very long time before Hogwarts was rid of him.
There were now clauses for newer teachers that forbad their ghosts from continuing to teach without a contract renegotiation, but legally there was nothing to be done until Binns's lessons grew so outdated that they could remove him for failing to teach the subject to modern standards. And that would be another thirty years at least.
Professor Quirrell had suggested that Harry simply treat the session as a study hall and bring his own history texts to read while ignoring the teacher. Harry didn't quite have it in him to be so blatantly disrespectful in class without at least giving Binns a chance.
But he'd brought his history books and supplemental reading, just in case.
Professor Binns seemed hardly to even notice that Harry was late, he simply continued droning on without once looking up from his podium.
Professor Quirrell, it turned out, had been right in every particular. Binns had a calm, somewhat scratchy voice that nonetheless seemed pitched at exactly the right tone for inducing drowsiness within minutes. The lecture hall was kept cool and well-lit, but that did little to counteract the professor's dull monotonous droning.
Harry struggled to pay attention for nearly a quarter hour before giving up and tuning out the ghost teacher's voice to focus on his own books. Even that proved difficult, however; by relegating the sound to the background, it became a soothing murmur that made Harry tired and lethargic. He wondered if Binns would notice if Harry jumped up from his chair and started running laps around the room to wake himself up, but decided it was better not to risk it.
As soon as History of Magic ended, Harry and Pansy returned to the common room only long enough to drop off their books. At Harry's suggestion, they ran off to explore the castle together. After the dreadfully dull and boring class, he had a keen desire to be moving.
Harry found his eagerness echoed by Pansy as they poked around behind tapestries, practiced moving from each major stairway to each other stairway on multiple levels, and tried to keep track of which secret passages led which places.
One passageway led upwards from the second floor to the fourth, or downwards from the fourth floor to the sixth. When trying to enter from the sixth floor, the door simply wasn't there; only an empty wall through which students emerged but could not re-enter. Harry didn't know how any of the castle's shifting layout was possible, and just chalked it up to 'magic'.
They ran into Peeves twice, and Harry found he liked the poltergeist less with each encounter. The first time he had floated at a run down the corridor, blowing raspberries excessively loudly and upending inkpots ahead of them.
The second time, Peeves giggled maniacally and started shrieking loudly about firsties wandering alone.
A squinty-eyed cat peered down the hall at them, glared at the students for a brief moment, then whisked herself away. Peeves continued cackling as the caretaker, Mr. Filch, came puffing around the corner.
"What's this, students wandering the corridors alone? Shouldn't you be with your house? I'd just love to hear what your head of house has to say about this."
"We just got here yesterday," Harry protested. "We wanted to know our way around, that's all."
"A likely story. Trying to get into the forbidden corridor while the teachers are at dinner, eh? Just like everyone else. I tell you, the dragon is off limits and you're fools to try."
"Just so you know," Pansy said, putting every ounce of her ancient-bloodline arrogance into her tone, "the forbidden corridor is down a level and three corridors in that direction. I understand if a worthless squib wouldn't be able to find it, but from here you can sense the strength of its presence."
Filch's face twisted into a scowl so furious that Harry wanted to turn and run. But he wouldn't abandon his friend, so he stepped forward to Pansy's side.
"We really just wanted to find our way around, sir," he said, trying to placate the man.
But Filch was having none of it. He marched them straight down to Professor Snape's office, muttering the whole way about the terrible punishments that he would love to see revived for just such occasions as this.
Harry didn't remember any rules about attending dinner the moment it was open. There was nothing wrong with exploring instead of hurrying to eat. Surely not.
Professor Snape was clearly not pleased to have two first-years shoved into his office, interrupting him as he carefully added drops of a blueish-green liquid to a cauldron. He flicked his wand at the potion, then whirled on the intruders with a glower that made Filch's look downright amateurish.
His gaze fell on Harry instantly, and his expression grew harder still. Harry could almost feel the hatred radiating off their head of house, and felt instinctively that he ought not do anything to upset him further.
"Potter," Professor Snape said coldly. "Why am I not surprised that you've gotten yourself into trouble within the first day of your arrival?"
"We were only trying to become more familiar with the castle, sir," Harry said. "Nothing nefarious, I promise."
Professor Professor Snape narrowed his eyes, watching Harry with a look of clear distrust. "Nothing nefarious," he repeated slowly, then snapped his attention to Flich. "Where did you find them?"
"Fourth floor, lurking about near the prefects' bathroom." Filch turned a nasty leer on the two students. "What were you trying to find in there, eh? Privacy?"
"I will not be addressed so crudely by a mere squib," Pansy said, fully maintaining her air of superiority. "Apologize at once."
Filch's hands balled into fists, and if Professor Snape hadn't been standing right there Harry wasn't sure he would have hesitated to strike Pansy for her insolence.
Harry glared at the man, his own hand tight around the wand in his pocket. If Filch tried anything. . .
Professor Snape tapped his wand once on his worktable with a quiet tick that nonetheless drew instant attention. "Thank you, Mr. Filch. You may leave them to me."
Filch glared at them in clear indication that he would be watching for them particularly, then departed the office with his cat slinking along importantly at his feet.
Professor Snape tapped his wand once again, bringing their attention to him. "Subtlety, I see, is something that is lost on you both. I suggest that if you are uninterested in dinner that you go to the library and direct your attention to 'The Everyday Wizard's Guide to Not Being an Idiot,' which I understand contains a good overview of how to avoid tactless errors such as you have demonstrated so readily here. Pausing to consider your actions even a moment before continuing is a valuable tactic."
"Why is he allowed to stay here?" Pansy demanded. "House-elves can take care of the castle without needing someone so worthless to hang around."
"Aside from the fact that the caretaker's appointment is one made by the Headmaster and not one that you or I have any say in, he amuses me. Your antics, on the other hand, do not. Though you have not precisely broken any rules just yet, you have certainly made a negative first impression. I suppose it is too much to expect for you to remain where you are supposed to be?"
"No one said we couldn't explore," Harry pointed out reasonably. "It's not curfew yet, and dinner will be going on for ages."
Professor Snape looked at him sourly. "Our rather thorough orientation tour was intended to familiarize you with the castle."
"It's very easy to get lost, sir," Harry said quietly. He didn't want to say aloud that the tour had been rushed, poorly handled, and of little actual help. "I thought it would be a good idea to learn my way around rather than being lost and late to every class. I'm sorry."
Professor Snape watched them a moment longer, then inclined his head toward the door. "Watch where you step, not everyone will be as forgiving of errors in judgment." He turned his gaze sharply on Pansy. "And I expect you to behave more respectfully. Whatever you may think of Mr. Filch personally, you must respect his position as Hogwarts faculty."
Harry and Pansy left the office, any good mood stifled. Harry was glad to have avoided punishment, but annoyed that they'd been hauled in to their head's office for something so trivial and not had the charge instantly dismissed as ridiculous. They'd broken no rules.
Pansy was still fuming, incensed that Filch could get away with treating them so badly, that he was still allowed to work there, and wondering aloud just how dismal the other European magical schools could possibly be if this was supposed to be the best.
"Should we actually go to the library, do you think that's a real book?" Harry asked.
"Oh, I'm sure it is," Pansy fumed. "Severus has a reputation for cleverness and I'm sure he was making some absolutely scathing point by directing us to find it. I say we skip the reprimand as we clearly don't deserve it, and go back outdoors. I would dearly like to hex something."
Harry didn't like the idea of defying their head of house on the first day, and since he knew relatively little about the wizard world he thought it might actually be a good idea to read a book about not being an idiot.
But Pansy's pride had been affronted, and he was still too uncertain in their relationship to risk arguing with her too far. He could always find the book on his own later if he had the time. And it was doubtful Snape would actually bother to check if they had read it. Surely he didn't keep such close track of every minor conversation with students.
They walked out toward the lake this time, found a small stand of trees closer together and more wild than the well-kept ones scattered through the castle's sprawling yards. Pansy cast a spell Harry was not familiar with rapidly and forcefully, pink-red light splashing off the targeted trunks or scattered across the yard behind.
She didn't speak except to cast, the same spell over and over. Harry wondered if it was the only one she knew.
Harry tried to practice as well, but even with a simple spell like lumonitio his wand continuing to flicker between marginal success and outright failure, and his heart wasn't really in it. It made his moderate success earlier seem impressive in comparison.
Harry watched a turtle waddle slowly by, but wasn't in the mood to start recording his personal observations for his transfiguration homework. He hit its shell with a lumonitio and it began glowing feebly, the light flickering and fading as the turtle slowly wandered away.
He felt discouraged. Evening began to show in the sky, but he didn't want to go to dinner yet. His first day had started out so well, but he'd already ended up on the wrong side of both the caretaker and his head of house.
And the day wasn't over yet.
Once Pansy had worked off most of her aggression and calmed down a bit, they walked back to the castle for dinner, though it would be nearly over. As they reached the entrance hall, they nearly ran into the Gryffindor Quidditch team who were bantering and laughing as they left the great hall.
Harry ignored the louder older students at first and kept walking, only to have someone catch his shoulder. He stumbled, turned halfway to prevent himself from falling, and found himself face to face with a burly fifth-year standing in his way. He looked at Harry with an expression that could best be described as disappointment.
"Now what?" Harry snapped, not in the mood for putting up with anything more. "I'm not allowed to come to dinner without an escort?"
The Gryffindor boy narrowed his eyes slightly, and Harry realized he wasn't actually a prefect. "Slytherin?" he asked quietly. "Why?"
Harry blinked, taken aback.
The older boy shook his head, an almost pained look in his eyes. "I've been thinking about it, all night, all day. I can't stop wondering. Why?"
"Because that's where the best go, obviously," Pansy said. She pushed closer to Harry's side, chin defiantly in the air, staring down her nose at the much larger boy. "Of course, you wouldn't know that."
Harry resisted the desire to sigh or slink away in shame. As much as he wanted to avoid any conflict, he would stand by Pansy even if her temper kept getting them both in trouble.
"I'm not asking you, Parkinson," the Gryffindor growled.
The rest of the team had gathered around them now, making Harry feel confined. His defiance melted instantly. He didn't like being surrounded by people, had to fight down a rising instinct to dodge through and run while there was still a chance.
"I want to go to dinner," Harry said, his voice shaking. "Please let me by."
He knew his fear was obvious, hated himself for showing just how helpless he felt, but had far more experience in exaggerating weakness than feigning strength.
"And here we thought the Potters were a Light house," said an older girl, glaring at him. "Why would you hang around an arrogant cow like her?"
"Because the Boy-Who-Lived has more sense than to associate with blood-traitors like you do," Pansy said, glaring at the red-headed twins who stood behind and to either side of the largest boy. The two Weasleys had been hanging back, looked at least a little uncomfortable, but their expressions darkened at Pansy's words.
"Is that really the best you can do?" Fred asked, unless it was George.
"The Boy-Who-Lived has to settle for an angry shrew like Parkinson?" demanded George, or possibly Fred.
"Really, Harry? Even in Slytherin, I'm sure you can do better."
Harry felt tears building in his throat, he wanted to run away, he wanted to scream and hit the Gryffindors, he wanted to sit down and cry. Again. He glanced at Pansy, her face bright red with outrage, and his anger blazed up to match hers. Frustration twisted away and was consumed in a moment, his fear evaporating under the heat.
"Leave her alone!" Harry snapped. His hand was gripping his wand tight. "My friends are none of your business." His voice trembled, but with anger instead of fear. He held onto his protective fury like a shield.
"Come on, Wood," one of the twins muttered. "Let's go."
Shooting one last glare at Pansy, the twins broke from the group of Gryffindors and started toward the stairs. Their departure was enough to break the group, and the rest started following.
Wood hesitated, still standing in Harry's way as the rest of the team left, watching Harry with that look of barely concealed disgust. "Some hero you turned out to be," he muttered. "Joining the enemy right from the start. You're really going to betray everyone who put their hope in you?"
"I never wanted to be a hero," Harry growled. "And I never asked anyone to pin their hopes on me."
He stalked around the older boy, and Wood made no move to stop him. Harry heard Pansy's voice behind him, no doubt delivering a final taunt, but he wasn't paying attention. The babble of voices around the great hall seemed to roar in his ears.
He found an empty spot near the middle of the Slytherin bench, flopped his face and arms onto the table in front of him. Hero. Savior. Powerful. Wealthy.
None of it mattered just then, in the face of their disappointment. Breaking their expectations, choosing to defy his closest family in favour of his more distant lineage, had been a choice with more repercussions than he'd have guessed.
His emotional thoughts traitorously wished he could go back and change it. Just let him be stuffed in Gryffindor, play along with their expectations of heroism.
Until his rational mind caught up.
Give up on his own life for their whims? No. That was how he'd lived with the Dursleys, letting them decide who he'd become. Letting them put him where they wanted, not where he chose.
Never again.
Harry blinked away the tears, firmed his expression, and sat up straight. He did his best to remain aloof, ignoring Slytherins and the other houses alike. If they wanted nothing to do with him, then he would have nothing to do with them, and do it better. He didn't need any of them.
Pansy sat down beside him, close to his side, and he blinked over at her.
"Looks like we've missed everything but dessert," she said. "Looks like these biscuits would be hearty enough, though, practically granola."
"Thank you," Harry said quietly. He accepted the cookie and stared at it. "You're the first person my age to just unconditionally be my friend."
Pansy looked taken aback. "That can't be right," she said, with a stuttering laugh. Her expression was still clouded, her face still red with anger, but now she looked a little shocked too. "You must have had lots of friends wherever you grew up."
Harry shook his head. "The only people I knew there were muggles," he said.
Pansy looked properly affronted by the revelation. "Muggles? You're right, they don't count at all. Stupid filth, not worthy of you or I."
Harry nodded agreement. "They liked to hit me, the muggles my age," he confided, hesitantly. "I had to run, I didn't know about magic. Sometimes I'd get away mysteriously, but more often they caught me."
Pansy looked livid. "You didn't know about magic?" she asked, lowering her voice. "How could that have been allowed? Everyone knows about you, and you didn't even know your own power? And you let muggle children hit you?"
"I was raised by muggles, to keep me safe from Voldemort's followers." Harry's tone turned bitter. "No wizard would think to look for the great Harry Potter living with muggles."
Pansy frowned more deeply still. "That's nonsense of the highest order," she snapped. "Everyone says your parents used a Fidelius charm to protect themselves, obviously your next of kin should have done the same for you."
This, Harry had not heard of before. "Fidelius charm?"
"It's a very advanced ritual, I don't know how it works, but it binds the knowledge of a person or place to a group, the secret keepers. Then they are the only ones who can reveal the information, even if lots of other people already know. It's very powerful, almost undefeatable. Hiding out with muggles is hardly close to equal."
Pansy's face hardened. "Especially if it meant you'd be subjected to their primitive violent behavior. I can't believe this could be allowed to happen."
Harry's old fears of being unwanted came flooding back. If such powerful protective magic existed, why had no one in the wizard world been willing to take him in? Why had he been left with the Dursleys?
His gaze flicked to the head table without his conscious thought, to where Dumbledore sat with his calm smile and twinkling eyes, then just as quickly darted away.
The Watcher had much to answer for.
The students casually finished their plates after the food disappeared from the serving platters. Most of the teachers left, while groups of students loitered about. Over at the Gryffindor table, Hermione Granger had formed a study group and was reading aloud from one of the schoolbooks.
Harry thought that he should probably do some studying ahead himself, but in view of his repeated failures at spellcasting when not borrowing the professor's wand, he supposed the most important thing to do would be find a way to bond it to him better.
"Pansy," he whispered, leaning toward her. "Do you know anything about wands?"
She shrugged. "Not much. They focus our magic, allow greater and more powerful spells than could be done without them. They're registered with the Ministry when created, and can be Traced if used in unauthorized ways."
"I mean, like, Mr. Ollivander said 'the wand chooses the wizard', like they're alive."
"They aren't alive," Pansy said, sounding disdainful. "Different materials are better for different purposes, and different witches have different strengths so wands can be better or ill suited for you. If I were good at charms and transfiguration, and then my wand were best suited for healing and potions. . . it wouldn't work as well. That's the only reason."
Harry took out his wand, felt the warmth of magic, the quiet sense of expectation and waiting. "I really feel like it wants something from me, something it isn't sure I can give."
"That's your own uncertainty being reflected," Pansy said. "Your mind and emotions and magic are all combined. My father says that being able to control your desires and your passions are as important as perfect wandwork."
"Really?" Harry asked.
Pansy nodded. "A lot of the advanced magic is dependent as much on emotion as on magical strength and precision of motion. All the unforgivables are like that too."
"Unforgivables?" Harry asked.
Pansy nodded. "Imperio, Crucio, and Avada Kedavra. The three curses that can't be excused. No matter if it is for a good cause, if you get caught using any of them you go straight to Azkaban." She smirked. "If you get caught. My sister won't tell me the wand and mental parts of them. I'd love to peg that mudblood down a bit."
Harry followed her gaze to Hermione's impromptu study group. A few students appeared to have become bored and left, but she was gesturing as enthusiastically as ever.
"Why?" he asked.
Pansy stared at him. "Are you joking? She's a mudblood, and she thinks she's better than everyone else. What more reason do you need?"
"Well, she's just trying to help the other students," Harry said. "Like you're helping me."
Pansy stood up abruptly. "Take that back," she hissed. "I am nothing like her."
Harry hunched lower, shook his head quickly. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry."
"Just remember," she said, staring down at him. "We are far superior to them, and you would do well not to offer insult to your equals and betters by comparing them to anything so worthless." She glanced at the group, her eyes going cold and hateful. "I wish I knew any proper hexes."
Harry couldn't help thinking that it was probably a good thing that Pansy didn't.
It was a relief to return to the common room, away from so many faces. In the crowded great hall Harry could feel them all judging him, even when it seemed no one was looking at him.
He didn't want to start his homework yet, knew he was too stressed to focus. He went straight to bed, ignoring Draco and his gang as well as everyone else in the common room. Pansy said she wanted to continue her attempts at creating allies among the girls, Harry wished her the best of luck and got out of her way.
That night, Harry dreamed of being locked in his cupboard while all the other houses jeered at him for being the Heir of Slytherin. He tried to protest that he was just there to learn like them, just another student, but he could only talk in parseltongue and they just keep laughing and pointing because the other side of his cupboard opened onto the great hall. It was like his sorting, but he was wrapped up in heavy curtains and couldn't move, and they were all watching and laughing.
He woke with a gasp, wondered what time it was, then lay back down. The windows above were deep dark, no glimmer of dawn light yet. Any memory of the dream faded, but he still slept restlessly until morning.
Author's Note: I'm somewhat hesitant about this chapter; I'm not sure it's quite right, but I can't pin down why.
My sincerest apologies for missing last update, I got distracted by yet another side-project. Inheritance Trials is a shorter, goofier AU about an overpowered smart version of Ron, who is the Heir of Hogwarts and must pass four trials to claim his true power. Year One is complete at around 18k, and that's all I intend to write at present; I have plenty of stories already and need to avoid getting sidetracked any more than necessary.
If this month has shown me anything, it's that I can't actually update regularly every three days. I will have to reduce my update schedule to accommodate for my many stories, though I'm still in the process of working out what that reduction will end up looking like. Between work and life in general, I just don't have the time or energy to put out as much content as I'd like to. I wish I didn't have to do this; the schedule I devised is quite ideal, apart from the simple fact that it's completely unsustainable in my present state.