Once again, Harry was the first awake in his dorm. He washed up, dressed, made his bed, and nearly trod on a silver-wrapped parcel set just inside the door. He set down his bag of books and leaned over to examine it. The tag read 'Harry' and nothing else. He frowned at it a moment, then slowly untied the green silk ribbon, unfolded the paper.

Inside was a steel pocket watch on a chain, ornate workings around the letters 'HP' on its cover. Its surface was cool and smooth, the inlays and raised patterns protected beneath a clear firm coating.

He turned it over. The back was just as smooth to touch, but beneath the overlay he made out three intricate serpents, each scale delineated perfectly, twisting around each other in an elegant almost-symmetrical tangle. It would take minutes of directed effort to trace each snake from head to tail.

The snakes formed a triangle, while around them lay three smaller ovals with individual icons in them. A flame, a bird, and a mountain, if Harry was interpreting the stylization correctly.

He popped the lid open, unsure what to expect. Wizard clocks sometimes did what you'd expect, and other times were completely foreign. This one only had four hands. The face was marked with numbers like a muggle clock and dots for the half hours, but also had a white-to-orange colour range on the left side and a blue-to-white colour range on the right side. The hour and minute hands were ornate and looked like normal clock hands. The right-side extra hand was shaped like a teardrop, while the left-side hand was shaped like a flame.

There were no instructions with it, and no indication of who had left it for him. He tucked it into his left-hand pocket, the one opposite his wand, and collected his bag before continuing down to the common room.

It was completely deserted, though he did notice the purple-banded serpent coiled in a corner. It glanced up when he stepped closer, but didn't speak. Harry guessed that Professor Quirrell didn't have time to meet with him every morning, even though he had so many questions to ask.

Mostly, though, he needed help with his mental fortitude. He'd broken his composure twice, on his very first day of classes, and that was an unacceptable status quo. He would not remain that weakling.

How many times did he have to make the same resolutions before they'd stick? How much of his life would be spent fighting the same mental battles again and again?

He couldn't bear thinking about it. He would push it away, make himself forget about the Dursleys as completely as time and distance allowed. He would immerse himself in Hogwarts, in open fields and magic and freedom and power.

He nodded to himself, then chose a table and spread out his books and parchments. In the quiet of the morning, he might have a better chance at finishing his homework without distractions.

Harry had written nearly an inch about the four basic wand positions - his Charms homework - when Pansy shuffled into the common room. She was yawning, one hand over her mouth, and her own book-bag slung over her shoulder.

Harry stood, grinning. "Good morning, Pansy!"

"Morning," she said, collapsing into the chair opposite him at the table. "You found my present, I trust?"

Harry pulled out the watch, rubbed his hand fondly across its smooth surface. "This was from you?"

"I was going to save it for Christmas, but I noticed you didn't have a watch of your own and wouldn't want you to be late for classes. I don't know when your birthday is, but consider it a start for all the ones you were forced to spend with muggles." She grinned and leaned closer. "First, turn it over."

He did so, and startled. The three entwined snakes were now outlined in glowing green.

"It's a very special watch," she said, pulling a matching one from her pocket. It had different carvings, but the back was the same serpentine triangle. Hers too was glowing green.

"This middle one represents us. When it's glowing, we're both touching our watches. Set it down."

She set her own on the table, and sure enough, the middle snake went dull. The ones on either side now glowed faintly white.

"That means we're awake. It only makes the connection when we're both within a certain distance of each other. I don't remember the exact limits. Maybe a mile? But that's how I knew to come down so early."

She yawned again, trying and failing to conceal it.

"How late did you stay up?" Harry asked.

"A few hours more than I should have," Pansy admitted. "But Reiko was telling us about Mahoutokoro and it was absolutely fascinating. Did you know they have classes from the age of seven and fly on giant birds to get to their castle? It sounds beautiful, to hear her describe it."

"What's Mahoutokoro?" Harry asked, completely lost.

"The Japanese school of magic, of course. That's where Reiko is from. Her family moved here only last year."

Harry's mind suddenly made the connection. "She's the one who had trouble in Charms."

"Yeah. She knows English pretty well, but never spoke it much before this year. She'll get better." Pansy hesitated a moment. "She's pureblood, you know, and the Mahoutokoro wizards are known for their intelligence and high ability. I wouldn't be surprised if she's top of the class by third year."

Harry idly flipped open the watch, which now indicated the time to be around 6:39, the blue level to be mostly-white, and the red level to be somewhere near the middle.

"What do these indicate?" Harry asked.

"Humidity and temperature, obviously," Pansy said. "I wanted to have extra spells built in, but that would have taken even longer. We can have it upgraded during the summer, if you want."

"It's perfect already," Harry said. He wished he knew of anything he could get for her. He supposed if he had the names of any shop owners, he could send Hedwig with an order, but he didn't.

Ignorant halfblood, raised by muggles. Never before had he felt quite so ashamed of what he was. Though completely outside his control, Harry felt he couldn't stand it.

"When is your birthday?" Pansy asked. "Mine is April 9."

"July 31," Harry answered.

School would be out by then. He didn't know what would happen to him. Would he be forced to return to the Dursleys? Perhaps he could stay at school instead, and Professor Quirrell could continue training him.

"We should have a party!" Pansy said. "Upper Woodfordshire is so dull in the summer, but it's a beautiful spot for a party."

"I've never heard of it," Harry said.

"It's a very respectable wizarding community, about a dozen families. Us, Crabbe, Travers, Hanley, and Stretton are the big ones. Down the hill are newer families like Bletchley and Widdon, trying to establish themselves, or foreigners like that Lementeur bloke or the Singh family. It used to be bigger before the war, but it's still pretty expensive to move into. Miranda and I used to sneak into the unowned manors to explore."

"Miranda?" Harry asked.

"Vincent's sister. She'll be starting in another year or two. You should have seen her face when she realized both me and her brother would be leaving her all school year. She refused to talk to either of us for a week. Of course, after that, it was all you could do to get away from her for five minutes. Trying to pack the whole school year into those last weeks." Pansy shook her head, smiling fondly.

"Do you have any siblings yourself?" Harry asked.

"Primma, I mean, Primula, is my sister. She's starting her NEWTs this year, so I doubt I'll see much of her." Pansy scowled, making that ugly-dog face that Harry was beginning to grow fond of. "Not that it stops her chasing half the boys in the school," she muttered more quietly.

"I don't think I've seen her," Harry said.

"You wouldn't have. Not for another couple years, yet. If she were a year or two younger, she'd be after you like a monkey after a fruit-seller, but she's too old. She'll be graduating after next year, and you still only my age." Pansy grinned. "So you're all mine."

"Ah," Harry said, not sure where to go from there. The conversation didn't seem to be going anywhere particular now, and he didn't know enough to direct it himself.

Pansy stifled another yawn.

"Maybe you should sleep a little longer?" Harry suggested.

"No, everyone else will be up soon, this is our only chance to talk privately. I have the notes copied for you, too."

She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a scrolled parchment bundle. "That includes the list of students and relationships, mostly only in our year so far, and the descriptions of who wanted what from you."

Harry unrolled it briefly, caught a glimpse of a vast diagram, and rerolled it hastily. "I'll look at it later when I have time to read it properly," he promised. "Thank you."

She beamed. "My mother always said, the way to become indispensable was to anticipate what would be needed and do it without hesitation. Just wait and see. By the end of the term, you won't know how you lived without me."

Harry wasn't sure if that sounded like indispensable or taken for granted, but since it was him he knew there was no risk of that. He would never take Pansy's friendship and help for granted.

It meant more to him than anything else in his entire life. Though Professor Quirrell was a very close second, with Mrs. Figg barely relegated to third. His first protector, his first teacher, his first friend. They each had their own claim on his loyalty forever. And Harry wouldn't forget that. No matter what.

"That's already true," he said. "You really needn't worry, and you don't have to keep doing things for me."

He rubbed his fingers along the cool smooth steel of the watch Pansy had given him, the surface calming and bolstering. While his wand reminded him of power and his individual future, the watch reminded him of his friends. It seemed a good balance to him. He only wished he knew a way to repay her, a way to show her how much she meant to him, as she'd already shown his worth to her.

"You should come with me sometime to meet Professor Quirrell," Harry suggested eagerly. "He's teaching me magic."

Pansy scowled at him. "That worthless bookbird? He was enough of a disaster as a Muggle Studies teacher from what Primma told me. I can't imagine the purpose of putting him in charge of Defence. We'll be lucky to learn a single thing this year."

"He's not like that," Harry protested. "He's really smart, knowledgeable, and can teach really well. He already showed me the cast light spell yesterday."

"Cast Light?" Pansy asked, sounding irritated. "Is that what you were trying to do last night? What a pointless spell. Lumos isn't good enough for him, he needs to get clever and fancy with his magic. Ugh, Ravenclaws."

"He's not a Ravenclaw," Harry insisted. "I'm sure he's a Slytherin. He certainly acts like it."

"Oh? And what would you know about acting like a Slytherin? You've been here two days if we count the one spent on the train."

Harry stiffened, anger trickling through him. And hurt. He knew he wasn't the most familiar with wizarding customs, but Professor Quirrell had been teaching him as much as was possible with their limitations.

"He's the best teacher in the whole school, maybe in the whole world," Harry said firmly. "I don't need to know more than that. He was the only one who cared to come see me while I was trapped in that nightmare. He's the only one who even tried to save me."

He immediately felt bad excluding Mrs. Figg, but she really couldn't count. She was nice, but ineffective. A safe haven, but not a rescuer.

"Well, won't we just see that in a few hours?" Pansy demanded. "He's our first class today, we'll be able to find out first-hand whether he's really any good or if you're just prejudiced."

Harry was angry now. He wanted to prove to Pansy that Professor Quirrell was worth her time and his, but he didn't want to keep arguing with her. It made him sad, made him feel uncomfortable in new and disquieting ways. He felt. . . betrayed. How could she say those things? Didn't she trust his judgment at all?

"Yeah," he retorted. "We will see."

Did she only see him as someone to tag along after her, someone to drag along, a charity case? Or did she even consider him a friend at all? He cared so much about her, even only after a couple days, it really hurt to think that she may not even care about him after all.

He wanted to turn and run, to hide in his cupboard - no, he had a dorm bedroom now - and to leave her to her grouchy refusal to listen. What did it matter if she hated Professor Quirrell, after all? But the thought of leaving made him even more uncomfortable than staying.

"Looks like I have a new data point to record then," Pansy said, snatching away the pages she'd given him. She spread out the Slytherin chart and fumbled her quill out of her bag. With a thick, angry stroke, she drew a line from 'Harry Potter' to a blank space, then wrote 'Quirrell' in big, violent letters. Harry was surprised the parchment didn't rip under the assault. She drew a heart around it, then shoved the parchment back into Harry's chest, smudging the damp ink.

She stood up primly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to continue my endeavors to build alliances and make observations within our class. I suggest you try doing the same."

Harry blinked after her as she stormed off to the girls' dorm, and wondered if that was it. Had he just lost his first friend, already?

"I just want you to give him a chance," he muttered angrily, though she was too far away to hear.

He stared after her a few minutes, holding the watch, torn between anger that she was being so unreasonable and the fear that she was actually done with him. The sense of betrayal cut him in a way nothing else ever had.

He turned the watch over, but it only showed two snakes glowing pale silvery-white. He jammed it back into his pocket, then hissed, "Lumonitio!"

The spell failed, despite the spiteful amount of force he tried to inject into the spell, his wand only letting out a feeble flicker of light that dripped from its tip onto the ground, vanishing the moment it touched the common room floor.

Furious, Harry flung the wand across the room. It bounced off a sleeping portrait, who awakened with a grouchy start of surprise.

"You throwing things now, young'un?" the portrait demanded in a scratchy, wavering voice that was nonetheless clearly used to being listened to.

"Yes, I am!" Harry snapped. He stalked over to the portrait, snatched up his wand, and aimed it at the irritated old painted man. "My only friend just refused to so much as listen to sense, because she has preconceived notions about my teacher that her sister told her secondhand about a different class that he used to teach, and now she's gone off and I don't know what to do."

Somewhere in the middle of that tirade, his anger had mutated into muffled crying. But this time, Harry wasn't going to let his emotions have their way. He'd survived the Dursleys for too long to become a weakling crybaby the second he was free of them. Stiffening his resolve, he nonetheless leaned his forehead against the portrait.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

"In my experience, young women like to be apologized to and bought expensive presents," the wizard said. "Though admittedly, my information is about a century out of date by now. I doubt women have changed that much."

"But I didn't do anything wrong!" Harry protested. "I just wanted her to give my teacher a chance."

"Nonsense," the wizard said, waving his hand about airily. "Apologizing is the only way to get anywhere. If she's worth half the attention you're giving her, she'll be ashamed of her own behavior enough to apologize too, and then everything will be fine. If she insists on carrying a grudge, then you should find yourself another girl."

"But she's the one being unreasonable here! Why do I have to apologize?"

The portrait sighed. "Young fellow, the truth is, it's always easier to stay apart than to come back together. If neither of you makes a move, you could well just leave this simple argument between you forever. Let it fester and grow into a bottomless chasm, and you may well be estranged forever."

Harry shook his head miserably. "I don't want a bottomless chasm between me and Pansy."

"Good. Then you know what to do. And would you mind pointing your dripping wand somewhere else? It's making it hard to sleep."

Harry frowned at his wand, which continued oozing little faint flickers of light at a slow rate, dripping toward the floor and vanishing shortly after disengaging from the wand. He supposed he had pushed rather a lot of force into his failed lumonitio. It was a very interesting side-effect for a failed spell, he'd have to talk to Professor Quirrell about it.

If he ever had the time. The list of things to ask the Professor grew longer every hour. Harry doubted he'd even remember half of it.