Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
The Misplaced Potter
Chapter 10
In which Henry is questioned
Professor McGonagall had told Henry that he would find the study of magic challenging. Henry discovered her words to be true. What the professor failed to mention was that Hogwarts castle itself would also be challenging. The unexpected was the norm in the thousand-year old castle.
The castle had a great many floors and the classes, dormitories, and the great hall were scattered throughout the huge school so Henry and his classmates did a lot of walking up and down the scores of staircases and running down hallways. Henry, raised in a rural setting, was accustomed to walking and running a great deal and even city kids like Chris and Hermione were pleased to discover that their stamina was increasing daily. A problem that the kids faced was that the staircases, which provided so much exercise, would also randomly move. The stairs that Henry took to transfiguration class would not be there when his class was over.
Peeves the poltergeist was the bane of all the students. He could show up nearly anywhere and knew a million and one tricks to harass the kids. Henry arrived at Charms class soaking wet one day after Peeves dumped a bucket of what Henry truly hoped was just dirty water on him and Justin Finch-Fletchley, a fellow Hufflepuff classmate. Fortunately, Professor Flitwick was able to get them dry and clean with only one spell.
Henry found that trying to use landmarks such as portraits or suits of armor to help him navigate through the castle was useless. The suits of armor stayed in one place even less often than the stairs. They were bolted to the floor, however, when compared to the portraits. The painted figures had a mania about visiting other paintings. Henry was not surprised to discover that magically painted portraits could also move after seeing the animated photographs in the book he bought at Flourish and Blott's. He was also sympathetic to the figures' boredom. They had, after all, been hanging on a wall for several centuries but it was hard to remember to turn down the left hallway when you passed the painting of the two reapers when the two reapers refused to stay in their frame.
Most of the classes were very demanding. The foundation of magic, Henry learned, was a set of principles every bit as rigid as was anything in the scientific world. There was a right way to do something and an infinite number of ways to do it wrong and attempting to do magic the wrong way could have severe even fatal consequences. Learning those principles required hard study.
Transfiguration and Charms proved to be the two most difficult classes for Henry because the subject matter was so alien to him. Primary school language arts and arithmetic had not prepared him in any way, shape, or form to attempt to levitate a feather or transform a matchstick into a pin.
Professor Binns, the History of Magic teacher, was a ghost who spoke in a coma- inducing monotone but the history itself was fascinating to Henry. He wondered how the magic folk managed to fight so many bloody wars with trolls, giants, and goblins and still kept muggle Britain in the dark as to their existence.
Professor Quirrell, a pale, nervous, man who spoke with a stutter, taught the Defense against the Dark Arts class He always wore a rather peculiar smelling turban on his head. Henry did not mind the stutter and he made allowances for the odor that lingered about the professor but he did not understand why it was that the professor did not in fact teach anything remotely resembling self-defense. He would ramble on about dangerous creatures without actually saying anything about what to do in an encounter with one.
Henry enjoyed Herbology because it was hands-on and very practical. Professor Sprout, a plump, buoyant woman of indeterminate years, taught it. She always wore a large floppy hat from under which her salt and pepper hair flow out in every direction. The plants that grew in the greenhouse were key ingredients in many potions or used in healing salves. Many of the plants were commonplace such as mints or spices but many others were nothing like the vegetables that Henry's mother raised in her garden. None of the plants in greenhouse number one was dangerous Professor Sprout assured the first year students. Yet more the one unwary student had turned to move only to trip because some plant had wrapped several vines around his ankles.
Astronomy and potions were the two easiest classes for Henry. His mother was an astrobuff and had been pointing out stars, constellations and planets to Henry since he was a very small child. The Porters never missed viewing an eclipse and meteor showers were an excuse to picnic under the stars so Henry came into that class with more knowledge about the night sky then most of his classmates.
Potions class was also comparatively easy for Henry because to him it was a matter of just following instructions. Professor Snape, the potions teacher, was a black-haired, black-eyed, black-tempered man with an intimidating personality. He was quick to berate and ridicule any student who made an error in brewing and only grudgingly passed along an atom of praise.
Henry did not care for the harshness of Professor Snape's language but he found it hard to be sympathetic to his fellow students at times. Professor Snape would have all of the steps in brewing that lesson's potion clearly written on the chalkboard. He would explain the process before hand and the potion recipes, as Henry thought of them, were in their textbook.
"What more do you want?" Henry thought when another student managed to fill the room with smoke or melted his cauldron because he skipped a step. "You have to try tomess up to do so."
It was after the third class when Professor Snape first spoke to Henry beyond the occasional phrase or a grunt that he would utter as he prowled amongst the students during the brewing process.
"A moment of your time, Porter," Professor Snape said as everyone was filing out at the end of class.
Henry sat his bag down and straightened his hat and robe.
"Yes, sir?" he asked as he stood before the teacher's desk.
"I am curious about you, Porter," Snape said. "How is it that an American is here at Hogwarts?"
"I know I don't sound like it, sir, but I am English," Henry told him. "It's just that I spent most of my life in America."
"Your parents immigrated to America to escape the troubles with the Dark Lord, I take it?" The Potions teacher asked.
"The Dark Lord? If you mean Voldemort, no sir," Henry replied. "I never even heard of him until I got here. My dad's a horse trainer and he got hired to work at a stable in Kentucky so that's why we moved there."
"You are not from a wizarding family?" the professor asked staring intently at Henry.
"No," Henry said. "I thought that magic was just something in storybooks until my cousin and me got selected to come here."
"You have a cousin here at Hogwarts?"
Henry nodded. "Chris Gallatin. He's a first year like me except he's in Gryffindor. His mom and my mom are sisters."
It was Professor Snape's turn to nod. "You are doing well in class," he said. "You show some promise as a brewer. At least they taught you to read in Kentucky. Some of your classmates lead me to believe that it may well be a dying art here in Britain. That is all, Potter. Good day."
"It's Porter, sir,"
"A slip of the tongue, Porter," Snape said.
A frowning Snape watched the small boy as he gathered his bag and left.
"He told the truth," a curious Snape thought. "Nothing but the honest truth."
Chris, Henry, and Hermione were walking together to the library the following evening. Henry had told them during lunch that the ten Hufflepuff first years gathered every night after supper in the library. There they would review their lessons and study for the upcoming classes. Chris and Hermione, who had been studying together on their own, quickly asked to join in with them.
"The more the merrier," Henry said. "But don't the Gryffindors do this?"
Hermione snorted. "Them? A study group? I don't know why half of them bothered to buy the textbooks. I have yet to see any of them open one."
"I guess that the kids from the wizarding families already know a lot of the basics," Henry replied.
"If some of the answers I have heard in class are a sign of anything," Chris said. "We muggleborns don't start out as far behind as the wizard kids like to make out."
"Just because we never heard of quidditch they act like we are mouth breathing drool monkeys," Hermione growled. "Playing catch on broomsticks, honestly."
"By the way, Professor Snape was asking me about you today," Chris said quickly to head off another Hermione tirade about quidditch. "He wanted to know if we were cousins and if you were truly English."
"I assume you denied all knowledge of me thrice," Henry joked.
"I should have but I didn't," Chris replied lightly. "No, I told him our mothers were sisters and that you were born in Surrey. I did point out that I was more mature, of course, seeing as I was born July 30th and you are two days younger."
"Well, we really don't know that for sure, do we?" Henry said pushing open the door to the library.
"Oh no, you don't," Chris said. "The evidence is clear. I am older."
"If age is an indication of maturity," Hermione said. "I must say that I'll turn twelve next week."
"What a sly way to hint for a birthday party," Chris teased.
"Hey, everyone," Henry said as he approached the table of Hufflepuff first years. "I got a couple of Gryffindors who want to join us."
"The more the merrier," said Ernie MacMillan, unknowingly echoing Henry.