"But Professor—!"
"I'm sorry, but if you fail to tell me your actual name I will be forced to give you detention!" Harry looked helplessly down at Professor Flitwick.
"Sir, I'm telling you the truth," Harry persisted. "My name is Harry Potter, my parents were Lily and James Potter, I only just found out a few days ago that they were murdered by—."
"That is quite enough, young man!" the tiny professor squawked at Harry. "Off to Professor Dumbledore's office with you!"
"Professor!"
"Out, young man!"
An incredibly rude blonde boy in the back row—a Slytherin—drawled, "I'm sure he's Harry Potter. Him and every other boy who participated in that competition!" All of the Slytherins in the classroom erupted into laughter.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor Flitwick chastised. "If you can't control your tongue, I shall send you to Professor Dumbledore's office as well!" Malfoy shut his mouth at this, but continued to give Harry an angry glare.
Harry saw Ron and Hermione smiling at him supportively as he walked out the door. When he got out into the hallway, Harry realized he didn't know the way to Professor Dumbledore's office.
Well, one thing's for sure, Harry thought, I'm not going back into that classroom to ask where Dumbledore's office is!
Harry began aimlessly wandering the corridors, stopping in every boys' bathroom he came across, hoping to find someone who could tell him where Dumbledore's office was. There was no one in any of the bathrooms that Harry came across, and the hallways were deserted; Harry was lost and alone in Hogwarts.
Harry jumped when he heard the sound of cackling laughter coming up from behind him, and turned to find a rather devilish-looking ghost about to yell into his ear. Harry yelled out, not used to ghosts sneaking up on him.
"Now who might this be, that screams at poor Peevsie?" the ghost cackled, delighted to have caused Harry some alarm.
"I didn't scream!" Harry protested.
"Whatever the little student says," the ghost said, unconvinced. "Would you like some gum? Two nice Weasley's gave Peevsie this gum!"
Two nice Weasley's…Harry thought. Ron's a Weasley, but I'm pretty sure there's only one of him… he's got twin brothers though, Fred and George. Harry tried to remember what Ron had told him about Fred and George, finally remembering that they were tricksters. And for this ghost to be calling Fred and George "nice"…
"You're a poltergeist!" Harry figured out.
"Excellent deduction, my wee little student! And who might you be?"
"I'm Harry Potter."
The poltergeist cackled harder than ever. "But you can't be Harry Potty!" the ghost announced, blowing a loud raspberry. "If you were Harry Potty, you would have a most sightly blemish on yon forebrow."
"Er, do you mean 'forehead?'" Harry asked, not quite sure what the poltergeist was trying to say.
"Aye, little laddie o mine!"
"Well, I had a scar," Harry began explaining, "but—."
"PEEVES!" Professor McGonagall had poked her head out of the classroom. "Which first-year are you terrorizing now? Get away from the boy, Peeves!" When Peeves decided to give Harry a wet willy instead of leaving, McGonagall raced down the hall, drawing her wand as she came. "Peeves, how many times have I told you to leave the students alone?"
"Would you like me to count each individual occurrence, or give you an estimate?"
"Peeves…"
"Twelve this week," Peeves said proudly. "And it's only Monday! Just imagine what tomorrow will bring!"
McGonagall looked murderous while she considered what to do with Peeves. Finally she seemed to settle on something. She looked at Peeves and said threateningly, "If you don't leave this boy alone right now, I am going to call Dumbledore down here and have him get you to stop. Or perhaps…" Now McGonagall was waving her wand through her fingers in a hypnotic way, as if she was insinuating something with the action. "Perhaps the Bloody Baron would like to come and sort this out…"
Peeves's eyes widened with the threat, but he didn't look afraid. He stuck out his tongue as he zoomed off into the distance.
"Professor McGonagall?" Harry began. "I wasn't trying to get into trouble. I was just looking for Professor Dumbledore's office… Professor Flitwick won't believe me when I tell him my name and he wants me to see the headmaster to get the truth. Where is it?"
McGonagall looked Harry over with a slightly analytical look on her face, as if she was taking Harry's measure. She looked Harry in the eyes and said, "You know, Mr. Potter, you look exactly like your father… except for your eyes; you have your mother's eyes."
Harry was slightly stunned for a moment, but then he realized what this meant. "You believe me?" he asked, slightly incredulous.
"Of course I do, Mr. Potter. The Sorting Hat would never have sorted you if you weren't the real Harry Potter." McGonagall pointed back the way Harry had come. "Now get back to your Charms lesson. And tell Professor Flitwick that I have full confidence in your identity as Harry Potter, and so does the headmaster."
Harry hurried back to his classroom, happier than he had felt since the train ride to Hogwarts. How he managed to find his way back, he had no idea. All he knew was that someone—someone influential—believed him. And if that someone was right, then that would mean that the headmaster himself even believed that Harry was who he claimed to be.
Now if only he could figure out what that Malfoy kid had meant about a competition…