Chapter Three – First Week of Lessons

(A/N: Bored. So very, very bored. For some reason, I'm writing this WHILE my Internet connection is WORKING (for once).

So…yeah. Third chapter, then…)

Last time...

Perhaps it was all the food he'd eaten, because he had a very odd dream. He dreamt that he was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once – which didn't make sense, he was already in Slytherin, wasn't he? – because it was his destiny. He tried to pull it off, but it grew tighter and tighter on his head, giving him THE worst headache – then he saw Draco, laughing at him – why? – then he became Professor Snape, whose laugh became high and cold – well, that made sense, sort of – there was a bright flash of green light and Harry woke up, sweating and shaking.

He fell asleep again, and when he woke up again the next morning, he didn't remember the dream at all.

'There, look.'

'Where?'

'In between those two with the blond and black hair.'

'Wearing the glasses?'

'Did you see his face?'

'Did you see his scar?'

For some reason, Draco scowled even harder than he already was at the last one.

Harry wasn't used to everyone whispering about and staring at him, and was rather glad Draco's father had taken him on a trip around the school several times before, because, as Draco said, 'It's just not done for a Malfoy to get lost.'

'What, get lost as in get lost, or get lost as in…get lost?'

Draco stared at him.

'Uh…I mean as in someone telling you to get lost or actually getting lost?'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Both.'

'Oh.'

As Harry learned in the Slytherin common room that morning, although he had already accepted Draco's offer of friendship, it would take a while for the other Slytherins to get used to him, not that he hadn't noticed the night before. He kept telling himself, Just try to ignore them, try to ignore the glares, try to ignore that they look like they hate you…

Now he was thinking alone the same lines for his current predicament, except not 'hate you' but more like 'idolise you' and more 'stare' than 'glare'.

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays they walked down (or up, as the case might be) to the greenhouses for Herbology. Harry noticed that Draco had a little difficulty in this class, though he tried not to show it, so he didn't mention it.

In their first Charms class, Professor Flitwick took the register, got to Harry's name, gave an excited squeak, and fell off his pile of books. Harry noticed some people were scowling in an annoyed fashion.

Transfiguration was taught by Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House. She had the gift of silencing a class with just one look. Sometimes it took less than that, with the other houses. Harry had the strong impression the other Slytherins didn't like her very much. He wondered why.

Harry was being unusually observant. Of course, he had a right to be, since he'd almost fallen through a trick stair in the morning.

Slytherins had that class right after the Gryffindors, and he noticed Hermione Granger looking very proud of herself as the Gryffindors walked out. Ron didn't even look his way.

After giving them a traditional start-of-year speech and a really long lecture, in which everyone took notes, Professor McGonagall gave them each a match and told them to start trying to turn them into needles.

Harry read and reread his notes over and over again, but he couldn't make any difference to his match. By the end of the lesson, his match was still a match. No one else had either, though, Harry noted. Professor McGonagall was somewhat displeased.

'Defence is stupid,' Draco announced after they'd had their first class. 'Quirrell's an idiot.'

Harry looked around nervously. 'Uh, maybe you shouldn't say that so loud.'

Blaise snorted. 'Think that bothers him?'

Blaise had taken to hanging around them. He seemed to know quite a lot about Draco, and Harry discovered that their fathers were 'acquaintances', as Blaise put it, and 'I used to go over to Draco's ma…house a lot'. Crabbe and Goyle were usually nowhere to be seen now. Draco had told them to go away when he saw that Harry was a bit unnerved by them. Harry thought this was very nice of him. It was a bit out of character.

There was also another boy in their dorm, besides Crabbe and Goyle, Theodore Nott, but he seemed a bit of a loner, and responded with short answers when Harry tried to be friendly. They didn't talk to him much.

At the end of his first day, Harry was a little put out that he seemed to be a bit behind everyone else in general knowledge of the wizarding world. Of course, in classes, everyone seemed to be about the same skill level as he was, except those who sometimes displayed a certain aptitude for a particular subject.

On Friday, the last day of the school week, Harry looked at his schedule to discover that they had Double Potions with the Gryffindors first.

Great. Just…great, he thought. He knew about the strong rivalry between Slytherins and Gryffindors. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't noticed Ron's extremely obvious hatred for Slytherins, and the look Draco had given Ron on the train.

Draco and Blaise were quite happy about Potions, though. When Harry asked them why, Blaise just said, 'You'll see,' with a sort of evil smirk on his face, and Harry had slowly backed away.

At breakfast, Harry ate ravenously…as usual. When the post arrived, Harry just looked up uninterestedly and continued eating breakfast. On the first day it had given him such a shock, and Blaise and Draco had laughed uproariously at his reaction.

Draco and Blaise both subscribed to the Daily Prophet. Back at the Dursleys, Harry didn't take much interest in the news, not that he'd ever had a chance to. But when he saw that the pictures in the paper were moving, he'd immediately written for a subscription, after browsing that day's paper first, of course.

Hedwig dropped two items, which was a bit of a surprise. One was a note from Hagrid, apparently, and the other was the Daily Prophet. Harry let her have a bit of his bacon before she flew off back to the owlery. He scanned through the pages of the Prophet first, mostly still gazing at the moving pictures, when he caught sight of a small article on the third page:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely
believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown.
Gringotts' goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault
that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.
'But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if
you know what's good for you,' said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this
afternoon.

'31 July…' Harry muttered to himself. Then it hit him and he turned to Draco. 'The Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday!'

Draco looked uninterested. 'So?'

Harry had opened his mouth to explain but remembered that he wasn't supposed to mention this to anyone, so he shut it again. 'Nothing,' he said.

Draco gave him an odd look.

Next, he read the note from Hagrid, with some difficulty:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come for a cup of tea with me round about three? I want to hear about your first week. Send an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

When they finished their breakfast, they started down back to the dungeons again. Harry reflected that if they could have breakfast in the common room, they could just go straight to Potions instead of going up to the Great Hall and back down again.

Harry had got used to the cold by now. They chose desks near the front of the classroom and sat down.

When the entire class had assembled and was chatting quietly, Professor Snape walked in and the class fell silent at once. Snape sort of radiated an aura of strictness.

Professor Snape, like Professor Flitwick, started the class by taking the register. Professor Snape, unlike Professor Flitwick, did not pause at Harry's name. He did, however, seem to say Harry's name with a certain tone of dislike. He went through the register calmly and smoothly and when done, set it down on his desk.

Then he began his speech.

'…if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach,' he finished a while later.

Harry felt this comment was more directed at the Gryffindors. He looked over to their side of the classroom and found Ron glaring at Snape with intense dislike. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving she wasn't a dunderhead.

Snape put them into pairs. Harry was with Draco, and Blaise was working with Theodore Nott. Their assignment was to make a simple potion to cure boils. Harry wasn't paying much attention when he'd said the name of it, and he was afraid to ask him.

He criticised almost everyone except Draco, whom he seemed to like, and who lapped up the praise with a smug smirk on his face. The Slytherins smirked a lot. Harry didn't think he would do that too much. It made him look…odd. Sort of wrong on his face.

However, he did not even speak to Harry, look at him, or even acknowledge his presence, even when he was praising Draco.

He was taking points from Gryffindor left and right, especially Neville, who seemed to be absolutely terrified of Snape. However, when he looked down at Hermione and her partner's potion, he seemed to have nothing to say. He sneered and stalked away to take more points from Gryffindor elsewhere.

By the end of the lesson, Gryffindor had lost five points and Slytherin had gained five, because of the 'perfect way Malfoy here has stewed his horned slugs'.

Snape completely ignored Harry when he took their bottled potion up to his desk.

They left the class, Draco's ego having been inflated just a little more, they went back to their dorm and put away their things, Harry preparing a quill, ink bottle, Transfiguration textbook, and a scroll of parchment to do his Transfiguration homework later.

Harry informed Draco and Blaise that he was going down to Hagrid's and asked if they wanted to come with him. They both declined, and he was halfway out the door when Draco said, 'Wait.'

Harry turned. 'What?'

'You remember how I told you that you wouldn't want to go making friends with the wrong sort?'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah.'

'Well, Hagrid is definitely the wrong sort.'

Harry frowned. 'How?'

Draco looked at him. 'He's the gamekeeper,' he said as if it was obvious.

'So?'

Draco sighed. 'You have a lot to learn, Potter.'

In their many conversations, Draco and Blaise rarely called him by name, surname or otherwise.

'Uh, you can call me Harry,' said Harry.

Draco looked at him again and shrugged. 'Doesn't feel right.'

'Oooookay…' Harry nodded very slowly, wondering why.

'Don't worry,' said Blaise from his bed, where he was reading. 'He's like that. I'll call you Harry, if you like.'

'I don't really mind,' said Harry.

Draco cut off their conversation. 'Potter.'

'Oh, sorry. What were you saying?'

Blaise rolled his eyes at being interrupted, but went back to his reading.

'Do you know what a gamekeeper is?'

Harry shrugged. 'Not really, and I don't particularly care.' Anyone else who had said this to Draco, but well, he was still alive, wasn't he?

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Gamekeeper: noun. One who is employed to protect and maintain game birds and animals, especially on an estate or a game preserve; a person employed to take care of game and wildlife.'

Harry stared. 'Did you memorise the dictionary, Draco?'

Blaise chuckled. 'Not to mention the thesaurus as well.'

Draco scowled at him, but with a slight hint of amusement.

'So what if he's a gamekeeper?' Harry asked.

Now it was Draco's turn to stare. 'You don't get it, Potter?' he asked in disbelief.

Harry shrugged.

Draco clapped a hand to his forehead. 'You are hopeless.'

Harry frowned at him.

'No no, Harry,' said Blaise. 'You supposed to scowl. You're a Slytherin, remember?'

Harry rolled his eyes.

'Huh…well, not a scowl, not a smirk either, but it'll do,' said Blaise, grinning.

'Slytherin! No grinning!' Harry reminded him, grinning as well. He couldn't help it. Blaise was an unusually cheerful Slytherin, from what he'd heard about the house from Hagrid.

'Hypocrite.'

Draco cleared his throat loudly, glaring at Blaise.

'Potter. Hagger, or whatever his name is, is a gamekeeper. Gamekeepers are below our station. Got it?'

'Hagrid,' Harry corrected him. 'And are you really that much of a snob, Draco, to not talk to someone just because they're "below your station"?' Harry said, making the quote marks with his fingers.

Draco glared at him. 'I am not a snob. It is not done, Potter, okay?'

Harry glared back. 'I don't care. I'm going down to see him. Hagrid is my friend, Draco, okay?' he said, mimicking him.

Draco glared at him even more angrily. 'Don't talk to me like that – you aren't even pure-blooded. And I was the one kind enough to offer you help, remember? Even though you are also below my station? Don't think that just because I was nice to you once means that you can be cheeky.'

Harry had had enough. 'Draco, you deserve this.' He drew back his fist and punched the boy.

Draco stumbled back, clutching his jaw and glaring at him venomously, bleeding a bit.

'I'm not sorry,' said Harry furiously, before stalking out and heading down to Hagrid's hut.

Blaise knew better than to comment. He quietly drew his curtains, but peeked out at him, because he was curious.

Draco was still standing there holding his jaw in place, still glaring at the spot where Harry had stood, still bleeding.

'Draco?' Blaise said timidly. It wasn't often he used this tone of voice. He was a Slytherin after all, and he had some pride.

Draco seemed to wake himself. 'What?' he snarled, whipping around to glare at Blaise.

'Uh…you might want to get that looked at,' said Blaise helpfully.

Draco glared at him some more, then turned around and stormed off to the hospital wing.