I open my eyes and instantly, I know I'm in the wrong place.
And my eyesight's gone to shit.
I find a pair of glasses, and something about the way they're held together with tape, rings a mental bell faintly.
Within a minute, I've worked out I'm a small boy in a scruffy bedroom. White ceiling, plain coving. This is not my house.
"Boy, get up and get ready!" yells somebody male, English and angry.
I worked out where the bathroom was – admired the eighties tapware, and washed my face. Oh… I'm Harry Potter.
"Get moving we have to get to London to drop you off" yells the man.
"Yes Uncle Vernon" I say as politely as I can.
My uncle Vernon really is very fat and definitely hates me.
My trunk was pulled out from the cupboard under the stairs; I got a quick look inside… I see some childish drawings on the walls. Aunt Petunia is… glad to see the back of me. She's decorated in a style I can only call 'I read design magazines and copy them slavishly.' At present there's floral wallpaper, and in a year or so she'll do stripes, then… everything white and ercu napkins.
I cook them breakfast; I might not be Harry Potter but I can fry rubbish.
Uncle Vernon takes me to London by car; It's some UK only Ford. I have no idea about the UK and I'm instantly totally lost.
He turfs me out at Kings Cross station and I put the trunk and Hedwig on a trolley; It's a bit wonkey but I get to the main platform concourse, which is all boring and white-painted-over and take off to platform nine.
I quickly poke my arm through the bricks in a likely looking place and sure enough, there's a magical doorway. I get into platform 9and three quarters, which is victorian irnwork, soot and old-fashioned seats, and I've got half an hour. The Hogwarts Express hissses gently, the carraiges crimson livery making me suspect somebody up there hates train buffs.
Harry/ I am really weak and I struggle to get the trunk onto the train. I take Hedwig in her cage to the first empty compartment; and they mostly are this early. There's crowd forming, but Harry's on the train and in a compartment, there's no way I'm getting the trunk on the overhead rack.
I open it up and get my wand; up my sleeve and gosh it feels like … magic holding it.
My arm is warm and I feel like I'm more comfortable than I've ever been. Well, the horsehair brocade seataare more hard-wearing than comfy, but they set off the wood panelling and brass everything nicely.
The standard book of spells comes out, and I close the trunk. After stroking Hedwig for a bit; she seems to appreciate it. I start trying to learn magic.
The writing's designed for children; so that's easy, but I don't understand any of the concepts and it takes me ages to read the first chapter.
Someone slides open the compartment door, I look up
"Hello" I say to some red haired boy who's dragging a trunk. "I'm Harry,"
The boy asks "Can I come in?"
"Sure" I say "Can you help me put my trunk up?"
The boy's name is Justin. Justin Finch-Fletchly. His accent makes him some kind of aristocrat.
I help Justin pull his trunk; which is a lot nicer than mine and Justin and I barely get my trunk on the brass overhead racks. Justin's trunk is lighter than mine. He takes out a neatly packed lunch and a small juice carton.
"Are you from a magical family?" asks Justin.
"Sort of. My mum and dad were, but they died, and I live with my aunt and uncle. They aren't magical and don't like magic." I said.
Justin looks upset; he's only eleven after all "I"m sorry" he says.
"I don't remember anything about it, I was only a baby" I say.
"Oh" said Justin. I'm bad at people, but I try changing the topic "I'm trying to learn a spell, have you got anywhere with it?"
"The books are quite… hard" said Justin politely.
"I can't work it out… my uncle locked my trunk away, so I'm starting today" I say.
Justin looks thoughtful at this.
"How are your family taking all this?" I asked "Being magical?"
"Well, mother was quite shocked. I've been down for Eton since I was born" said Justin.
I nod "And your father?"
"Father is amused." said Justin "Though he insists I have to learn the family business too"
"Oh, what do you do?"
"We're investment bankers, have been for centuries" said Justin.
I smile thinly "Is your father a Peer?" I ask.
Justin looks annoyed.
"Yes" he says "Fathers' The Earl of Peebles"
"You're… Lord Justin then" I say.
Justin looks frustrated "All because great-the sixth grandfather loaned the kind a lot of money at reasonable rates"
"You secret is safe with me, your lordship" I say, trying to be humorous.
Justin frowns "Don't" he says. "What's your last name anyway?"
"Potter" I say "Common as mud."
"Harry Potter" said Justin, "You're in the history textbook"
"Yeah" I say "Leaves out the bit where I live in suburban Surrey with my relatives who hate magic"
We start discussing the ideas in the spells textbook and its… fun.
A long time later, the door opens and a small red haired boy in worn clothes comes in "Can I sit here, everywhere else if full?" he asks. Red hair, secondhand clothes; this must be Ron.
I stand up and feebly help Ron with his trunk.
Introductions are made "Justin Finch Fletchly" "Ron Weasley" and "Harry Potter"
Ron asks "Can I see the scar?"
I hold up my fringe and he looks. "Cor" he says.
I decide to roll with it.
"Ron, are your family magical?" opens Ron's mouth, and he keeps talking. Justin and I struggle to keep up. The accountant is mentioned in passing. I make eye contact with Justin, and he doesn't mention it.
Ron eventually takes out Scabbers the Rat and I can hardly resist killing the bloody thing. I'll need a plan to deal with Peter.
Fate has some sort of sense of humour and Hermione turns up looking for Nevilles toad.
She's abrasive and overbearing and really has very large teeth and really is… a very plain, clever girl with no social graces. Makes me feel… like she'd be a good friend for me. For Harry.
Ron tries to demo the fake spell and Hermione stomps all over Ron's tiny ego.
"Your brothers are really mean, teaching you a fake spell" I say.
Hermione looks at me like and suddenly sees her part in Ron's shame.
"I'm sorry" she says.
Her parents mustn't be complete monsters.
I get up and go with her into the corridor. The walls are mostly sash windows, the doors have glass, and the floor is unvarinshed, faded pine and scratched by decades of trunks being dragged.
"Go see a prefect; or an older student, they can summon the toad" I suggest to Hermione "My school guide to Diagon Alley did it. It was brilliant" I lie.
She buys it and goes off.
Ron and Justin assume I was talking to her about manners or something.
I sit down and think for a bit
Griffindor? Can I even get in there. I'm… not brave. Well I don't think I am. I've got the life expectancy of a mayfly in Slytherin. Which as I'm calculating, lying cheating bastard… is probably where I'm going.
Fate, once again aims for my balls, and a blonde boy with grey eyes and two hulking 'friends' turns up.
"I heard Harry Potter was on the Train?" he says.
"That's me" I say.
"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy" said Draco "These are Crabbe and Goyle" The thugs nod.
"Potter, you've got a Weasley in your compartment. Some people are much better than others, you don't want to associate with the wrong sort."
Harry Potter gets all brave at this point, but I've been a small kid getting bullied. I know how this has to go, unless I want to get pounded.
"I'm on my first day in wizarding Britain" I say "I'm still learning, my muggle relatives told me nothing."
Draco wasn't expecting that reply, and he visibly has to think… he's eleven and his father didn't give him a script for this.
"Well, once we're at school, I can show you who the right people are" he says, rehashing a line he's been coached for.
I nod "Of course, mister Malfoy" I say. "By the way, this is Lord Justin Finch-Fletchly, though his family are muggles, so I'm not sure if they're the right sort or not?"
Justin is clearly annoyed, but He's a born Hufflepuff, and I'm not… Hufflepuff material. Justin should have been at enough political things to realise his role here.
"Mister Malfoy" says Justin. Bless his upbringing.
"Mister… Finch Fletchly" says Draco, intentionally rudely.
"We'll see you at school" I say to Draco.
Once the door shuts, Ron goes off. Malfoys are all evil and Slytherins and not to be trusted. And dark wizards, because Slytherin.
I nod along. "Um Ron," I say "You've got brothers at school to look out for you, right?"
"Yeah, I suppose" says Ron "They mess with me though, Fred and George taught me that fake spell..."
The bit where they tried to trick their baby brother into a Wizards oath is… in repetition, in person, horrifying.
"Well Ron, It's just… I've got no family there and Malfoy was already going to pick on me" I say "I have to be mostly civil or Crabbe and Goyle will beat me up."
"We're your friends Harry, we'd help stop Crabbe and Goyle" says Justin, bloody Hufflepuff.
"Really" I say "Are you my friend. I haven't had friends before" I say. Not true in my life, but in Harry's it is. Justin the Hufflepuff will have all the Hufflepuffs in my corner by the end of the week. Maybe. Depends on the hat I suppose.
"You're okay, Harry" says Ron "Were you raised all alone?"
"I went to muggle school like Justin," I say "But my cousin Dudley, he likes hitting me, and his gang hit anyone that talked to me" I say. It's probably true. Ron looks suddenly horrified. "Bloody Hell!" he exclaims. "That's awful"
Maybe the first year Griffindors will be in my corner too?
After a short pause, I ask Ron how Hogwarts works.
The topic of sorting comes up and Justin's read Hogwarts, a history ; thought he has the nous to say his mother made him read it.
Ron raises the troll theory.
"Are trolls big?" I ask.
Ron unpacks all that, then the trolley witch arrives. I buy one of everything and three choc frogs and Justin looks horrified, till he gets eating. We're eleven, after all.
Chocolate frog cards come out... and I take the lot: Giving Justin my duplicate card. Agrippa is really common apparently.
"People collect these?" asked Justin. Ron explains his huge collection.
Maybe that's why the Weasleys are so poor? It's good chocolate though.
We're tired and hungry at Hogsmeade. It's a small slate-roofed station with granite walls. As it's not got bluestone quoins, I'm not dying of homesickness, not quite anyway.
Hagrid is wider than I expected ; films once again unrepresentative. But the coats impressive, and reeks of animals. To me expected, I suppose.
Hagrid says "hello Harry" and I try to look familiar. "Hi Hagrid" I reply nervously.
The boats are actaully weird brown leather coracle things. The lake is cold, and the castle… is absolutely bloody amazing. Mostly basalt, with white limestone for decoration.
It has more towers than any graphic artist ever put on Hogwarts.
As we get close, I feel something brush over my body, like… a big warm hug. Must be the magic of Hogwarts. It's… so nice I never want to leave. And now I'm getting sentimental about a building.
The arch over the pointy-topped gothic door is limestone; and carved with leaves and berries. I'd bet there's a green man carved every few yards. The door opens eventually with a creak.
Professor McGonagall is a stern and tired looking fifty-year-old. Sadly I'm eleven; she looks… nice.
She's about my age before… whatever happened.
This is going to be a wee bit awkward. She leads all us first eyars into a room with three windows, looking out on the night. It's lit by torches on the walls. Which are basalt, and the floor looks like basalt flagstones. But the window sill's white. I'd guess more limestone. The roof, quite high up is arched and… limestone and carved with berries and leaves and stuff.
Then she starts talking in a Scots brogue and I'm... I'm in love. This is going to be very embarrassing. She explains about the houses, and it sounds like she does this speech every time the same.
She leaves, and then glowing white ghosts accidentally on purpose swoop through, chatting. I want to know all about ghosts. Do they retain all their memories? I could learn so much from them if they did.
We get led into the great hall… and it's miles bigger then the films. Vast. The house tables, multiple tables end on end are … about one quarter full. The Wizarding population must be declining; the wars I guess… The walls are basalt blocks, the floor flagstones, and Hermiones right about the roof. It's fabulous, and looks like a cloudy night sky. You can faintly see hammer-beam rafters as part of the illusion.
The hat sings… a hat sings. It's… incredible. And the hat sings… like somebody's trying to sing badly, but just can't bear it. The hat is…. Bored. It's probably a thousand years old, so it's not surprising.
Finally they get to "Potter, Harry" and I walk over, really nervous and put the hat on.
There's no voice in my head, just… a feeling of a really heavy hat.
"Quite done worrying?" asks a voice inside my head.
'Er yes" I think to myself.
"Well, lets see… not very honest, are you?"
"Sorry, no" I think.
"And lazy?"
"My brains sort of carry me" I apologise.
"And… you ... want to save the world?" the hat says, sounding surprised.
Hell, I'm surprised.
"I didn't know that," I think.
"Lets see...are you brave?" asked the hat.
I tried not to think of times I've done cowardly, craven things.
"Braver than you think you are" said the hat.
"Well, I think, Slytherin" thought the hat.
"Please… I won't last a week" I thought.
"Well, you're too cowardly for Griffindor, and you care about what you do with knowledge, and aren't a friendly sort... Slytherin it is!" thought the hat.
"Slytherin!" roared the hat.
I'm so dead. I took the hat off, Professor McGonagall gave me a look. A suspicious, untrusting look. Not a look I wanted from such an attractive woman. History repeats itself, I guess.
I walked dejectedly over to the Slytherin tables. I noticed that the hall was a bit quiet.
Oh, everyone's shocked.
The Slytherins are glaring at me. I'm basically a black person coming to a Klan meeting at this point. Strike that, baby Martin Luther King going to a Klan meeting.
I sit at the next able down, out of thrown cutlery range. On a polished oak bench all by my self.
I look up at the staff table and Professor Dumbledore, on his throne is looking at me like I'm a lab experiment that's gone horribly wrong. The young black haired man in black robes with a big nose glares at me. That must be Professor Snape. My new head of house, who hates me because I look like the prat that got the girl he was obsessed with. I can't swim very well, but I think the lake's cold enough I'll die quickly once I'm thrown in.
Oh, I'm feeling depressed again. Great. I'm me, wearing a Harry suit.
Maybe a trip to Madam Pomfrey tomorrow, if I'm still alive.
The turban wearing wizard looks at Snape, Professor Snape and I get a stabbing pain in my head that makes the worst headache I've ever had feel like a kiss. I collapse onto the table. Harry Potter's much tougher than I am, I guess.
The food appears at the table after a speech I miss, busy wishing I was dead. The table's oak too, I think.
I get a table worth of food; just like college. I start eating. It's great and I'm thin, so I'm feeding this Harry suit lots of protein. The stomach I inherited isn't very big.
The fifth year prefect rounds up all of us first years and takes us down into the dungeons. I've always liked caves and dungeons, and my mental map is filling itself in. There's days of fun to be had here if I'm not beaten to death for being the wrong kind of person.
The walls are grey basalt blocks, lit by black wrought iron torch brackets, barrel vaulted ceilings, flagstone floors.
The common room password is pure-blood. Of course it it.
The common room is reminiscent of a paid airline lounge. Without the food. Green leather couches, black stained wood tables, green glass lamp shades, mostly green Turkish rugs – and the rugs are rather worn. This is for all its magical-ness, a school.
The window into the lake is… like a brilliant fish-bowl.
There are a lot of carved stone snake things on the wall and ceilings of the room.
I surreptitiously whisper "wake up" to a carved snake on the wall. Its eyes blink lazily.
Oh… I might live though this. Draco and co. mightn't. I've never been terribly nice.
"Protect me" I tell it quietly, and stand around trying to look innocent.
The prefects herd us to chairs, not near the fireplaces; those couches have fully-grown humans in them; seventh years I guess. They're looking at me in away that makes me very nervous.
Much later, clearly much later than expected, Professor Snape comes in and does a spiel about Slytherin.
At the end he says "And our new celebrity, Mister Potter"
"Yes Sir?" I say as respectfully as I can. He's only thirty, looks like a kid.
"Potter, for political reasons is not to be harmed" said Professor Snape. "The headmaster feels that he might not fit in with ... our culture."
Well, that's… very blunt and good and bad.
"The headmaster's instructions to me were that Mr Potter will arrive safe and sound at classes tomorrow, and every day" said Professor Snape, using the old following orders excuse. "I will be casting protective spells on Mr Potters bed. If any of you feel willing to attempt it, I expect Madam Pomfrey will be less than kind in her treatment of you."
"Potter, stay back" said Professor Snape.
He took me to his office down the hallway in the dungeons. His office is decorated in early mad scientist, heavy on glass jars of icky stuff, and a desk covered in paperwork.
"You Potter, are a spoiled little brat" said Professor Snape. "I will be wasting my time making you a little safe bed. You will not antagonize my other Slytherins, do you understand?"
"Yes Sir" I say.
"Why did you come to Slytherin, Potter. Surely you already knew it would be difficult" said Professor Snape, fishing for information.
"Well, the hat said I wasn't brave, or friendly and care about using knowledge, not just acquiring it" I said, honestly. Let the man have a marlin instead of a minnow.
"You admit to being a coward?"
"I am sir, I'm small, weak and there are seventh years students. I'd be an idiot not to be a coward" I said.
Professor Snape crossed his arms and looked at me, thinking.
"You're not stupid" he said.
"No sir, but raised by muggles who hate magic. My aunt" I said.
Snape, as I expected, twitched. He was a hell of a poker player, but I'd just poked him right in the soul.
"Petunia?" He said.
"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon" I said "My cousin Dudley is my age but Crabbe's size and likes to hit me, sir"
Professor Snape was less of a bastard than I expected. He was actually moved.
"I will be discussing your domestic arrangements with the Headmaster" said Snape looking murderous
"Can I just stay here" I said "It's nice."
I took off my glasses and looked myopically at Professor Snape. As I expected, he was agitated; I look less James-ey and more Lily-ish.
"Come along Potter" he said "You need a bed"
My trunk was open, and my crappy possessions scattered about wrecked, when Professor Snape took me into the first year boys rooms. Green bedcovers on brown four-poster beds, mostly green carpet runners, and bare basalt walls without windows. He simply waved his wand and my trunk repacked, the broken and torn repairing as they went. Snape is kinda awesome.
"Detention, all of you" said Professor Snape calmly.
He cast some spells verbally on the four poster bed. "Salvio Hexia" I knew what it did, "Protego Totalum" "Cave Imicium"... all ones Hermione would use in seventh year. Then he started casting in Arabic. Clever bastard.
I got changed into my pyjamas; with Professor Snape snorting at the scars on my back. It's not too bad. I think.
I went to sleep... well I lay in bed, unable to sleep from fear. I knew I was safe-ish but my monkey brain didn't believe me.
I fell asleep at some point. I woke up to someone, Blaise Zabini I think he was brown and bald, yelling "Potter, you need to get up."
I thanked him, got up, washed my face and got dressed. I retraced my mental map to the great hall and ate breakfast my own table. Food arrived. I looked over at the younger Slytherins, the boys were ignoring me and the girls were clearly curious but not prepared to break ranks about.
I had a protein rich breakfast, determined to make my Harry suit stronger.
Professor Snape breezed past and gave me a timetable. His robes swoosh. They've got to be charmed to do that.
Potions is Friday. Days to cram.
Charms this morning.
A prefect led all of us to charms. Up the big staircase, that doesn't move (movies were wrong) then along a stone hallway, decorated with suits of armour, paintings and the occasional tapestry. I don't think anyone could forget we're in a huge old castle.
The charms classroom had banked wooden seats like a old-time lecture theatre, all wood and wood framing. The ceiling was a long way up, a four-way barrel vault, with scorch marks. As I sat down, it was all clearly stained oak. Quite soothing really, unless you were a tree. I stared at the desk.
'Pucey is a maggot' was carved in the desktop.
Professor Flitwick, who's about four feet tall, freaked out at roll call at "Harry Potter." He nearly said something, saw my Harry-suit was thing and stuff and didn't.
We're going to learn to make a light, apparently.
Lumos was… much harder than just stick up, words. There was all this stuff you had to do in your head.
Harry Potter managed to get Lumos working before most of the class. Being mentally fifty had its upside.
My wand glowed pretty damn brightly too. Professor Flitwick was impressed and gave me a point for Slytherin.
He also showed me the page in the book for Lumos Solem and Lumos Maxima.
I got right into it and lost track of the room. Of course, someone took the opportunity to throw ink on my textbook.
Professor Flitwick noticed me getting upset by this… lets' be honest I'm having a meltdown and he hit me with a cheering charm… and that blew my brain clean., then he charmed my book clean.
"See Madam Pomfrey before lunch" he said quietly and gave me a quill "It will lead you there."
Up one floor and over a bridge to a separate wing, in a pair of double-swung double doors with brasss finger-plates. That seemed very hospital-ish.
The Infirmary, or whatever it's called, has a white, double barrel vaulted ceiling, covered in decoration, and windows down both sides. It's quite light and airy, for a hall in a castle.
The rather institutional iron-framed beds – and there are like twenty, are all empty. Do we get plagues?
Madam Pomfrey, who dresses like a nineteenth century nurse, all white starched robes, cast some diagnostic charms and made grumpy noises.
She gave me a potion to take, and a vial of same to take tomorrow; they tasted like crap.
"Come back in two days, I'll have a potion to fix you up properly" she said "Children your age shouldn't have these sort of problems."
I felt better.
I went to lunch in the great hall, which was showing a cloudy sky, and sat with my non-existent friends, and avoided the poisonous glares from Slytherin.
Before History that afternoon, I read half the textbook. It was written for children, after all.
History class happens. Professor Binns was interesting. I'm a poor Harry impersonator. The classroom's got desks in rows, a black board, and Binns. Who can't hold chalk. Hogwarts is not trying very hard, I think.
I took… illegible notes. Fuck. I clearly can't write with a quill, my left hand's covered in ink.
After class I went and washed my hand in the bathroom – all plasterd and painted rather institutional green. I got intercepted by some boys. I feared for the worst.
"Why did you get ink all over your hand?" asked the small brown haired boy.
"I've never used a quill" I admitted.
The boy seemed confused
"I was brought up by my muggle aunt and uncle" I explained.
"Oh, he said "and you're sinister, you can't really write sinister."
I shook my head. "I can't write with my right hand" I explained "I can't control it"
"My parents would have beaten me for that" he said. "Theo, Theo Nott."
"Harry Potter, and I'm sorry, but I will have to go" I said and started leaving the bathroom
"Why are you sorry?"
"I'm sorry I'm in Slytherin where everyone either hates me or is afraid of those that do" I said "But I'm afraid of them too, so don't take it personally."
I waited till Theo left and practised Lumos Solem. It took me till almost time for Herbology, but it was very bright.
Herbology was easy; it was at the greenhouses. There are lots of them, the frames are painted white, and in some of the one further away, the plants are moving. I assume they're carnivorous and stuff.
I got to Herbology class almost late and hurried in. Professor Sprout is er, stubby. And covered in dirt.
It was mostly practical, and I tried to pot Mandrakes. Small taracotta pot, with Mandrake, larger pot, potting mix, slatted benches, hand tools. But it was also a group thing and I had no group.
The bloody mandrake didn't go in the pot. It's squealing, and squirming around.
I resorted to bashing it senseless on the side of the bench and potting it.
Professor Sprout held me back after class and explained loudly that that sort of behaviour was inappropriate and that I should get a friend to help me.
"I have no friends, Professor" I replied. She didn't like that answer and I got a point off.
A bunch of Slytherins tried to attack me down in the dungeon coridors, on the way back to the common room.
I closed my eyes, covered my face with my arm and cast Lumos Solem.
The light was very bright. They squealed.
I dropped the spell after a few seconds and went to the common room, not even bothering to kick them, I think they were third years. The torches seemed not very bright for a while.
On the way to dinner, Professor Snape dragged me off to his office. There really were little pickled animals in some of the jars.
"Potter, a number of students are in the infirmary with eye damage" he said.
"Rather them than me" I replied.
'What did you do?"
"Lumos Solem" I replied.
"When did you learn that?"
"This morning. Is there any way I can write with a quill and not get ink all over my left hand?" I asked.
Professor Snape sighed "Are you in the habit of torturing animals or other children?" he asked.
"No Sir" I replied. "I'm not a psychopath, I only know Lumos and Lumos Solem, and there were four of them, and third years."
"Potter, this is going to be a long seven years, make some friends" said Professor Snape.
"Never had any sir, how is it done?" I asked; I'd had friends but Harry hadn't.
Professor Snape's poker face is improving.
"Potter, you are not to cast magic on your housemates, is that clear?"
"Yes Sir" I replied
"Well, be off with you"
"Sir, one thing, tomorrow I expect I'll either be dead or expelled."
"And why is that, Mister Potter?"
"I read the history textbook. The children of prominent families whose parents were charged with being supporters of Lord Voldemort , well my first year dorm is full of them, and the class lists for all this higher year Slytherins, sir. They were on the other side in the war, and I'm the little boy from the other side who killed the boss. I'm toast, sir."
"You have an over-active imagination and an inflated sense of your own importance, much like your father"
"I wouldn't know sir, my parents were drunks who died in a car accident that gave me my scar, Sir. That's what may aunt told me."
"You read the history textbook"
"Which is why I'll either be expelled or dead tomorrow, Sir" I replied. "I know two magic spells, and you've told me not to use either of them. Goodnight sir."
After Dinner, as I expected, because people suck, all of Slytherin in the common room was waiting to teach the uppity Potter kid what bleeding felt like.
"$awake, protect me$" I hissed and every carved stone snake in the common room moved suddenly. It was far more effective than I thought it would be.
Some of the seventh years dropped their wands.
I decided to go with a bluff I'd thought of talking to Professor Snape.
"Isn't it strange," I said, trying to sound confident. "That baby Harry Potter survived and Lord Voldemort, the greatest Wizard who ever lived, died. There were no witnesses, of course" I said.
Some of the smarter and more gullible seventh years lowered their wands. "Then Harry Potter gets sorted into Slytherin, and somehow, turns out to be able to speak to snakes, and make the Common Room wake up and protect him"
I waited for the dumber ones. It was a long wait.
"I am deathless" I said, bullshitting for Britain now "And I am in disguise, I need to be in the castle and I need to be unnoticed." I'm even telling the truth. Sort of.
"I have killed many, but the children of my loyal followers have nothing to fear" I continued, hoping the dumb ones will get the hint. And the smart ones won't see the man behind the curtain.
Clearly, I don't sound like I'm eleven. And I can control snakes. They actually buy it.
Some of the seventh years bow.
"No bowing, no My Lording" I say, hissing a bit "Anyone could see or overhear"
I go to bed. I've got to learn to charm my bed curtains silent, so I can cram spells, because all these dummies think I'm Voldemort.
An hour later a winesome seventh year girl opened my bed-curtains "My Lord" she says "Would you like to use me?"
"You're a bit young, I'm older than your parents" I say; again, telling the truth. She leaves. Creepy paedophile in an eleven-year-old body, I'm not.
I check again with what Harry's left me in the groinal department. I'm pre-pubescent so… this is not a thing. Puberty again. This is going to suck. Oh, and my whole scam will fall apart if the cursed diary starts using anyone to open the chamber of secrets.
I go to sleep worried.
It's two days later, a peaceful common room, dimly lit, comfy leather seating, of people definitely not bowing, and I'm getting hassled in the third floor hallway by Ron Weasley. I'm a slimy snake apparently.
"Ron" I say "We were friends on the train, I'm in Slytherin because I'm smart and not brave and ambitious. Houses are for house points, and quidditch. I'm the same person I was on Sunday."
Maybe not the same one I was in Saturday, but let's not pick nits here.
Ron looks unhappy with me being reasonable.
"You're being sneaky" he says.
"Yes, I'm sneaky." I admit "My cousin used to beat me up, so I learnt to run away, to hide."
"You're in the same house as all those death eaters children" he says. Someone older has fed him ideas.
"Yes and it's hard to not get beaten up" I say "I'm having to be really sneaky"
"You're a coward and a Slytherin" said Ron, not continuing the quarrel.
"Ron, you were my second friend ever. Thanks for being so loyal" I said sarcastically.
Ron doesn't get it, but stops picking on me.
Professor Snape took me aside me for a chat after dinner. In his office, sitting on the wobbly wooden chair, surrounded by shelves covered in things in glass jars of preservative. Snape steeples his hands from behind the desk. It's designed to unnerve me, I think.
"Potter, you've implied you are the Dark Lord" he says.
"I insinuated it" I reply "Protective colouration."
"And speaking parseltounge?" he asked.
"I've always been able to do it" I replied. "I think I get it from mum."
"You mother did not speak to snakes" said Professor Snape sternly.
"Sytherins banner the snake has Green eyes" I observed.
"You mother was a muggle-born witch" said Professor Snape angrily.
"The gene complex for magic is large and strongly preserved" I said. "Or more simply, there are many genes, and you need all of them to be magical. Squibs can interbreed and give birth to muggleborns."
Professor Snape stared at me; my head started to hurt.
"Genius level IQ and a university level vocabulary." I said "I spent all my spare time in the public library, where my cousin can't hit me."
"If you are actually a genius, you take after your mother" said Professor Snape. "I will expect near-perfect marks in final exams. Do Not disappoint me, or I will have you in detention for all for first term next year."
"Yes Sir" I replied. "Sir, I'm left-handed and hopeless with quills. What can I do?"
Professor Snape rummaged in his desk drawer and threw me a cheap biro. "It's charmed to never run out, don't lose it" Which is a bit surprising, but don't look a gift bat in the mouth.
"Thank you sir, ah one more thing"
Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose "What"
"Can you teach me a silencing charm, so I can cram spells in bed? The Slytherins all expect me to know all magic."
Professor Snape is really good at magic and a lousy impatient teacher. I took ages to learn the charm, finally he just said "Detention, Wednesdays and Thursday nights till you get it."
"Thank you sir."
-==0==-
On Friday in Potions class (the dungeon is well, it's like a chemistry lab but with more creepy stuff in jars. ) Snape asks me the exact same questions as the book; so I give him the right answers. The Slytherins smirk and Snape is frankly impressed. I've been cramming potions recipes into my eyeballs until I can do a silencing charm on the green bed-curtains. He could come do it for me, but wants to help with my masquerade. I'm really suspicious that Snape just likes putting creepy things in jars of coloured preservative. They're everywhere he is.
Hermione Granger and I end up working together. She's… very bright for an eleven-year-old and as abrasive as I have ever been. I think. People would tell me right?
I quietly ask her if she'd study with me in the library.
-==0==-
The Library has implausibly tall bookshelves, like, forty feet tall. but I suppose that when you can bend space, too tall is a matter of opinion. The lights – glowing white spheres, hang down on chains between the implausibly tall shelves. I assume there's a ceiling up there somewhere. The study desks are ink-stained, and carved with names, images of things, and the odd loveheart. Madam Pince clearly doesn't transfigure the desks smooth every year. We sit down at hard chairs, which turn out to have cushioning charms. Which I suppose are harder to mess up than padding.
We start studying. Hermione Granger is clearly quite bright. She has read several of the textbooks already.
She's disgusted to discover I can read a chapter of a textbook in an hour.
Then harshly critical that I don't have perfect recall.
It's… good. I'd be getting lazy otherwise.
When I skim a book, she just about becomes apoplectic "You're not reading it properly" she says.
My handwriting is cause for her to sniff dismissively. She's picking up quill and ink really well, and writes neatly. I feel annoyed by that.
My year-mates in Slytherin all try to a greater or lesser extent to at least be known of by me.
Draco is a nasty little racist shit who needs, I think about 5 grams of lead, intercranially stat.
Blaise is polite. Crabbe and Goyle are really almost human when not being Dracos minions. They're both thick and born ass kissers. Pansy is the most annoying little girl I've ever met. Millicent's bullied into being the thug, simply for being bigger than the rest of the girls. She's got anger issues. The four other little Slytherin girls are... well, cringefully subdued. Tracey and Daphne are joined at the hip; neither speaks, though they think I'm Voldemort, so it's hardly a fair test. Lilith Moon and Sally Anne are apparently ordinary girls who are now scared spitless by me.
I'm not a good influence on the young.
It's nearly Halloween when the masquerade goes off the rails. Seventh years turn up in my dorm room, wanting to mark a new convert. Obviously the real children ran off immediately.
I go to see Professor Snape, supposedly to check what detection spells the Headmaster's got going.
The seventh years who are definitely junior unmarked death eaters are impressed I clearly know who they think Snape works for. Professor Snape is unsympathetic.
"You have single-handedly made things worse." he says, smiling. "Come clean and take your punishment."
"I'm scared of dying" I whine.
"I'll ensure you don't die" he replied, in a tone that clearly means, you've irritated me, and I'm going to watch you get the shit beaten out of you.
I uh, go back to the common room and wake up my snakey sculptures.
Then I try to come clean.
It goes really well till the seventh years realise I've made them look like idiots.
Bone breaking curses hurt: I've never broken a bone before. Fortunately, compared to Kidney stones, it's merely painful. At the point where people are queuing to kick my in the guts, I lose consciousness.