The transfiguration class was on the first floor of the school, in a well-
lit classroom, with a more inviting appearance than his common room. He
arrived just when the bell rang, running into the classroom at last minute.
After his late exit from the cafeteria, he had made the mistake of going up
to the second floor, and realized his mistake only when a painting of a
stern looking witch yelled at him to get to class, and pointed him towards
McGonnagal's downstairs when Harry asked her how to get there.
Professor McGonnagal looked at Harry disapprovingly, but turned her back,
writing on the blackboard at the front of the class as Harry took his seat.
His own Slytherin first years were already there, and paired off at tables
in the classroom. He was happy to see that at least he wouldn't have to
find an excuse for not sitting with them, besides the truth. Because he was
quite sure that if he told them he wasn't sitting with any of them because
they were arrogant prats, it wouldn't end well for him. They had class
today with the Hufflepuffs. Harry looked down the rows of desks and saw
that tuffs had already empty seat. Three Hufflepuffs had already sat down
here, and were looking wearily toward him, attempting to arrange their
supplies on the empty seat. He recognized only one of them. Hannah Abbott,
who had been sorted first. He knew the other two by face, but didn't know
their names. He had been too preoccupied during the ceremony to take much
notice of everybody.
Harry made to sit at the empty seat next to them, despite their frantic movements to occupy the seat. "Er..." he said, looking at the three of them, and then down at the empty seat. "Would you mind if I...?" he gestured toward the seat, with a slightly sheepish grin. He had felt fine and confident this morning during breakfast, but some of his old nervousness seemed to be taking hold of him again. His courage of confrontation seemed to have been used up. But he knew he had to try. Besides, it's not like he or they had a choice. There was nowhere else to sit, unless he sat by himself, and he didn't think the professor would like that. The Hufflepuffs seemed to realize this as well, and, resentfully, began clearing the seat once again for him. He helped them and sat down at last. Professor McGonnagal had already begun teaching. She was talking them through the basic concepts and practical uses of Transfiguration. Harry listened intensively, taking down notes as fast as he could. Everything sounded so new and fresh and magical. He wanted to absorb all of it as fast as he could. However, he was still slightly distracted. He wished he could get to know his table partners better, especially since the seating chart was passed around, labeling them to that particular spot for the ret of the year. He was, at least, able to learn the names, finally, when it came around. They were Amelia Bones and Ernie Macmillan. He looked at both of them, attempting to permanently attach the names to the faces. He heard a sharp rapping noise at the front of the classroom, and saw McGonnagal with a ruler, gazing impatiently at him, apparently irritated that he was no longer taking his frantic notes. He quickly grabbed a piece of parchment and began again.
By the end of class, Harry realized just how difficult this whole magic thing was going to be. It was far more complicated than he would ever have imagined. He cradled his hand, massaging it as they exited the room, trying to rub some life back into it. He had taken three and a half feet of notes in one class! Harry knew that this was why the Sorting Hat had put him in Slytherin. Had it not said he had a 'thirst to prove himself'? 'I shouldn't be so worried,' though Harry, still caressing the pained hand, 'didn't it also say that I had talent?' It was that loud voice saying this that he had heard in Diagon Alley. And once again it once followed by the same small voice, though louder this time. Harry had become friendly with this voice of his. He came to thin of it as his conscience, or his reality check, more accurately put. At last he had gotten through the hustle at the doorway and burst freely into the corridor. Now was his chance to make a better impression on his Hufflepuff tablemates. He found the three talking in low voices by a statue of an ugly, warty looking witch. They had been joined by another Hufflepuff boy, who had been sitting the next table over. Harry walked up to them, determinedly, smiling. "Er--hi," he said, hopefully; he was greeted by a less than enthusiastic group 'hello'.
Harry smiled at them. "Well, um, since we're going to be sitting together for the rest of the year, I, um, well, I just thought we should get to know each other a little better, you know?"
The four exchanged looks. Ernie and Susan seemed weary, but Hannah and the boy Harry didn't yet know looked as though they thought this was the right thing to do, even if they weren't looking forward to it. Harry saw the boy he didn't know make to shake his hand, but found Ernie had gotten there first. "Quite right you are, Harry Potter!" he said with a very pompous air. "Yes, we must get to know each other, as we're already stuck with each other"--he chortled slightly--"so, anyway, my name is Ernie Macmillian, and this," he turned to his friends with each introduction, not once letting go of his hand, "is Amelia Bones,"--he pointed to a short, skinny brown-haired girl on his left--"Hannah Abott,"--he pointed to the girl with straw- colored hair in braided pigtails, who curtsied slightly--"and Justin Finch- Fletchly," he finished, pointing to the boy Harry hadn't known.
Harry smiled at each of them in turn, and inclined his head slightly in affirmation. Ernie still hadn't stopped shaking his hand. "We're all very pleased to met you, too, of course. Who wouldn't be! Harry Potter, after all. You're famous, you know. Oh my, though! We're going to be late for class. Come on!" he said, at last letting go of Harry's hand, and bustling up his friends, "See you, Harry!" and he had disappeared around the corner before Harry could say goodbye.
Harry gaped after him, his hand still raised in front of him, red from Ernie's endless ringing. That hadn't been nearly as hard as he thought it would be. It required a lot less of him talking than he had imagined. He stood there in shock for a moment, and then jumped when he heard the tardy bell. He had Charms to get to! He ran off to get to class, knowing that this wasn't a way to make a good impression with the teachers on his first day.
He was upset to see that he had Charms class with his fellow Slytherin first years, only. No excuses for wherever he sat. Resignedly, he picked a seat in the front row, next to a very thick girl, who looked as though she could snap Harry in two. He recognized her as Pansy Parkinson. He didn't like this, and neither did she. He was glad he had decided to sit at the front. The way he figured it, the closer he was in eyesight and earshot of a teacher the better. He was pretty sure that he wasn't going to like his Charms class too much.
"Hello class!" called a happy, high voice.
Harry started a little at hearing it, because he couldn't see who had said it. He heard Pansy snicker at him. He looked around for the teacher, who was still talking happily to him and the rest of the class about Charms, and he eventually had to see where everyone else was looking to figure it out. Harry realized he had been skimming the air about two feet above his teacher's head. He looked down at the tiny Professor Flitwick and smiled at the grotesquely cheerful face. Flitwick smiled back, at went to the front of the room, where he had a stack of books to stand on so that he could be seen. "Ah, that's better. Now, class, I realize today is our first day, but I've decided to dive right in. Which is why today we will be practicing the wingardium leviosa spell."
Flitwick rolled up is sleeves and raised his wand, directing it a feather on his desk. "Now, class, be sure to listen to how I say this, and to watch my wand movement. Ready? Wingardium leviosa!" The feather twitched, and then began floating into the air. Flitwick guided it over the class with his wand before setting it gently down onto his desk again. "Now class, you try."
The class became suddenly loud as everybody attempted the spell, some causing their feathers to roll, and others to singe. Harry looked at his feather and thought. 'How did he say it? Wing-aar-dium levi-O-sa. Okay, I think I got it. And how did his wand move again?' Harry practiced the flicking motion with his wand. 'Swish and flick,' he thought to himself. 'I heard him say that, I'm sure. Swish and flick.' Harry stared at his feather intently, and tried it for the first time. "Wingarium leviosa!" he said, moving his wand with his words, pointing down to the feather.
To his shock it twitched and rose a few inches off his desk into the air. He pulled his wand back in surprise and it floated down again.
Pansy had turned to watch him, and he heard her sniff at him before turning back to her own feather. "Mr. Potter!" cried Flitwick happily from across the room, "Oh yes! That was it! You did it! Class watch! Mr. Potter has made his feather float! Give it another go, Harry!"
Harry blushed uncontrollably. He didn't want to do it in front of the whole class. But then he thought about what that fifth year Slytherin had said to him earlier that morning. 'Harry, we know that you're only a halfblood..' echoed the boy's voice. 'That's what they all think,' said his own, 'that you can't do it. That you're not wizard enough!'
"Wingardium leviosa!" Harry heard his voice cry out.
His hand had moved automatically, and he looked and saw his feather floating upward, now several feet above his head.
"Good show, Mr. Potter! You're only the second person I've had who could do that all day! Ten points to Slytherin!" said Flitwick with smile before he began bustling around the classroom to help other students with their spells.
Harry heard the students begin with their incantations again, which were still being said wrong. He could feel their hateful eyes burning into him. He didn't care, until it began to feel like more than just eyes. "Ouch!" he cried, jolting out of his chair, his hands flying to the back of his robes, where a curl of smoke was rising from. He smothered it out with his hand, hearing the laughter rise around him. He turned on Pansy who was watching him laughing the loudest.. "Yes, that's something to be proud of," he hissed at her, taking his seat again. "You can start small fires when you're trying to make things fly. Bravo." Her eyes flashed momentarily, but she continued on snickering, her feather now smoldering on her desk with each renewed attempt at the spell.
At last, they were dismissed from Charms. Harry sighed with relief, since he couldn't have known that Herbology class would be much worse. Herbology was his class with Ravenclaw. A tiny, tubby witch by the name of Professor Sprout taught the class. She seemed good-natured in general, but didn't seem too pleased to be teaching at the moment. She appeared that she would have been much happier to care for her plants alone than leave them in the care of this particular batch of students. Looking around, Harry couldn't blame her. He wouldn't have trusted any life within the reach of Crabbe or Goyle, who were both on their third potted Fire Pod Fern, having already broken two of theirs in half after causing them to spit fire bubbles at them after setting of their defenses. He didn't meet anybody in this class. The Ravenclaws seemed determined to ignore anything that was in green or black, which, Harry noticed, was making it difficult for them to work with their plants. Harry was beginning to get the feeling that either he was going to have a very lonely school year, which would not be a new concept to him, or he would have to try to talk with his own first year Slytherins. The idea appalled him, but, then again, what was the point of uniting the houses if you didn't get to find out the good side of the bad ones too?
'Besides,' thought Harry, 'No one else is going to take the initiative to do it. If they don't meet anybody but those like themselves, they'll never change. And if it has o be someone, who better than me?' 'Then again,' his own thoughts added, 'do you think you're up to the job of changing that?' He was watching Malfoy and his cronies, who were currently placing a beetle down a Ravenclaw girl's neck, who's preoccupation with her fern, and the dazzled look on her face as she watched the fiery bubbles, told Harry that she was probably Muggle-born. When Malfoy and the others went back to the pots to watch safely from a distance, Harry scooted over toward the poor girl. Luckily, Professor Sprout began telling them how to handle their fire ferns properly without making them angry (necessarily as Crabbe and Goyle had snapped two more), giving him cover, and Harry grabbed the beetle out of her hood, just as it was making to crawl down her neck.
The girl flipped her head around suddenly, as soon as he had withdrawn his hand, and glared at him. Harry jumped back in surprise, and took on a rather guilty look, knowing that he would be caught for having removed the beetle, and the other Slytherins would know. The girl looked first up at his forehead, then to his guilty face and his open hand, in which a gleaming beetle was making its way up his sleeve. She pursed her lips at him. "Well maybe you won't try that again! How immature! Then again, you Slytherins probably never learn. It's a shame they make you go to school with is! Well, at least you're getting what you deserve!" she smirked as she watched the beetle disappear entirely under his sleeve, "Looks like your little, half-wit plan backfired, didn't it?"
Harry, who had attempting to defend his innocence in a series of incoherent sputtering suddenly gasped, rolled up his sleeve, and pulled a beetle, its clamps tight on his skin, off of his arm. The greenhouse filled with laughter, and Harry blushed, realizing just how many people had seen what had happened, and yet none of them probably saw the truth. He expected it all to slowly die down, and he cheeks to cool again, but h felt them growing only redder, hotter. He looked down at his hands, and saw they had turned as red as a hot tamale. He gasped, and jumped up, and tugged on Professor Sprout's robes, who was too preoccupied with her unheeded instructions lecture to have noticed. "Professor Sprout!" he attempted to cry, but instead of his voice, there emitted a loud, high pitched whistle like a tea kettle. Almost all of the class had keeled over in laughter, now, doubling up and clutching their sides. Professor Sprout looked down at him from her stance up on the table top, and jumped so much that her hat nearly fell off, and she had to grab it back on. "Great Scot!" she cried, "You've been bitten by a Kettle Bett---I mean a Keetle Beet- I mean a bug!" she fell clumsily over her words in the excitement. " Haven't had one around her in years! Won't start having them now! They do terrible things to the Mandrakes, poor dears! Come now! Everybody grab a pesticide! We'll get the little bug.er."she looked back at Harry, as though just remembering, "well, just nip yourself off to the infirmary, will you? Good dear!"
And, leaving the hubbub in Greenhouse 1 behind him, Harry made his way to the hospital wing. On the first day. Known as a trouble-maker already.
Harry made to sit at the empty seat next to them, despite their frantic movements to occupy the seat. "Er..." he said, looking at the three of them, and then down at the empty seat. "Would you mind if I...?" he gestured toward the seat, with a slightly sheepish grin. He had felt fine and confident this morning during breakfast, but some of his old nervousness seemed to be taking hold of him again. His courage of confrontation seemed to have been used up. But he knew he had to try. Besides, it's not like he or they had a choice. There was nowhere else to sit, unless he sat by himself, and he didn't think the professor would like that. The Hufflepuffs seemed to realize this as well, and, resentfully, began clearing the seat once again for him. He helped them and sat down at last. Professor McGonnagal had already begun teaching. She was talking them through the basic concepts and practical uses of Transfiguration. Harry listened intensively, taking down notes as fast as he could. Everything sounded so new and fresh and magical. He wanted to absorb all of it as fast as he could. However, he was still slightly distracted. He wished he could get to know his table partners better, especially since the seating chart was passed around, labeling them to that particular spot for the ret of the year. He was, at least, able to learn the names, finally, when it came around. They were Amelia Bones and Ernie Macmillan. He looked at both of them, attempting to permanently attach the names to the faces. He heard a sharp rapping noise at the front of the classroom, and saw McGonnagal with a ruler, gazing impatiently at him, apparently irritated that he was no longer taking his frantic notes. He quickly grabbed a piece of parchment and began again.
By the end of class, Harry realized just how difficult this whole magic thing was going to be. It was far more complicated than he would ever have imagined. He cradled his hand, massaging it as they exited the room, trying to rub some life back into it. He had taken three and a half feet of notes in one class! Harry knew that this was why the Sorting Hat had put him in Slytherin. Had it not said he had a 'thirst to prove himself'? 'I shouldn't be so worried,' though Harry, still caressing the pained hand, 'didn't it also say that I had talent?' It was that loud voice saying this that he had heard in Diagon Alley. And once again it once followed by the same small voice, though louder this time. Harry had become friendly with this voice of his. He came to thin of it as his conscience, or his reality check, more accurately put. At last he had gotten through the hustle at the doorway and burst freely into the corridor. Now was his chance to make a better impression on his Hufflepuff tablemates. He found the three talking in low voices by a statue of an ugly, warty looking witch. They had been joined by another Hufflepuff boy, who had been sitting the next table over. Harry walked up to them, determinedly, smiling. "Er--hi," he said, hopefully; he was greeted by a less than enthusiastic group 'hello'.
Harry smiled at them. "Well, um, since we're going to be sitting together for the rest of the year, I, um, well, I just thought we should get to know each other a little better, you know?"
The four exchanged looks. Ernie and Susan seemed weary, but Hannah and the boy Harry didn't yet know looked as though they thought this was the right thing to do, even if they weren't looking forward to it. Harry saw the boy he didn't know make to shake his hand, but found Ernie had gotten there first. "Quite right you are, Harry Potter!" he said with a very pompous air. "Yes, we must get to know each other, as we're already stuck with each other"--he chortled slightly--"so, anyway, my name is Ernie Macmillian, and this," he turned to his friends with each introduction, not once letting go of his hand, "is Amelia Bones,"--he pointed to a short, skinny brown-haired girl on his left--"Hannah Abott,"--he pointed to the girl with straw- colored hair in braided pigtails, who curtsied slightly--"and Justin Finch- Fletchly," he finished, pointing to the boy Harry hadn't known.
Harry smiled at each of them in turn, and inclined his head slightly in affirmation. Ernie still hadn't stopped shaking his hand. "We're all very pleased to met you, too, of course. Who wouldn't be! Harry Potter, after all. You're famous, you know. Oh my, though! We're going to be late for class. Come on!" he said, at last letting go of Harry's hand, and bustling up his friends, "See you, Harry!" and he had disappeared around the corner before Harry could say goodbye.
Harry gaped after him, his hand still raised in front of him, red from Ernie's endless ringing. That hadn't been nearly as hard as he thought it would be. It required a lot less of him talking than he had imagined. He stood there in shock for a moment, and then jumped when he heard the tardy bell. He had Charms to get to! He ran off to get to class, knowing that this wasn't a way to make a good impression with the teachers on his first day.
He was upset to see that he had Charms class with his fellow Slytherin first years, only. No excuses for wherever he sat. Resignedly, he picked a seat in the front row, next to a very thick girl, who looked as though she could snap Harry in two. He recognized her as Pansy Parkinson. He didn't like this, and neither did she. He was glad he had decided to sit at the front. The way he figured it, the closer he was in eyesight and earshot of a teacher the better. He was pretty sure that he wasn't going to like his Charms class too much.
"Hello class!" called a happy, high voice.
Harry started a little at hearing it, because he couldn't see who had said it. He heard Pansy snicker at him. He looked around for the teacher, who was still talking happily to him and the rest of the class about Charms, and he eventually had to see where everyone else was looking to figure it out. Harry realized he had been skimming the air about two feet above his teacher's head. He looked down at the tiny Professor Flitwick and smiled at the grotesquely cheerful face. Flitwick smiled back, at went to the front of the room, where he had a stack of books to stand on so that he could be seen. "Ah, that's better. Now, class, I realize today is our first day, but I've decided to dive right in. Which is why today we will be practicing the wingardium leviosa spell."
Flitwick rolled up is sleeves and raised his wand, directing it a feather on his desk. "Now, class, be sure to listen to how I say this, and to watch my wand movement. Ready? Wingardium leviosa!" The feather twitched, and then began floating into the air. Flitwick guided it over the class with his wand before setting it gently down onto his desk again. "Now class, you try."
The class became suddenly loud as everybody attempted the spell, some causing their feathers to roll, and others to singe. Harry looked at his feather and thought. 'How did he say it? Wing-aar-dium levi-O-sa. Okay, I think I got it. And how did his wand move again?' Harry practiced the flicking motion with his wand. 'Swish and flick,' he thought to himself. 'I heard him say that, I'm sure. Swish and flick.' Harry stared at his feather intently, and tried it for the first time. "Wingarium leviosa!" he said, moving his wand with his words, pointing down to the feather.
To his shock it twitched and rose a few inches off his desk into the air. He pulled his wand back in surprise and it floated down again.
Pansy had turned to watch him, and he heard her sniff at him before turning back to her own feather. "Mr. Potter!" cried Flitwick happily from across the room, "Oh yes! That was it! You did it! Class watch! Mr. Potter has made his feather float! Give it another go, Harry!"
Harry blushed uncontrollably. He didn't want to do it in front of the whole class. But then he thought about what that fifth year Slytherin had said to him earlier that morning. 'Harry, we know that you're only a halfblood..' echoed the boy's voice. 'That's what they all think,' said his own, 'that you can't do it. That you're not wizard enough!'
"Wingardium leviosa!" Harry heard his voice cry out.
His hand had moved automatically, and he looked and saw his feather floating upward, now several feet above his head.
"Good show, Mr. Potter! You're only the second person I've had who could do that all day! Ten points to Slytherin!" said Flitwick with smile before he began bustling around the classroom to help other students with their spells.
Harry heard the students begin with their incantations again, which were still being said wrong. He could feel their hateful eyes burning into him. He didn't care, until it began to feel like more than just eyes. "Ouch!" he cried, jolting out of his chair, his hands flying to the back of his robes, where a curl of smoke was rising from. He smothered it out with his hand, hearing the laughter rise around him. He turned on Pansy who was watching him laughing the loudest.. "Yes, that's something to be proud of," he hissed at her, taking his seat again. "You can start small fires when you're trying to make things fly. Bravo." Her eyes flashed momentarily, but she continued on snickering, her feather now smoldering on her desk with each renewed attempt at the spell.
At last, they were dismissed from Charms. Harry sighed with relief, since he couldn't have known that Herbology class would be much worse. Herbology was his class with Ravenclaw. A tiny, tubby witch by the name of Professor Sprout taught the class. She seemed good-natured in general, but didn't seem too pleased to be teaching at the moment. She appeared that she would have been much happier to care for her plants alone than leave them in the care of this particular batch of students. Looking around, Harry couldn't blame her. He wouldn't have trusted any life within the reach of Crabbe or Goyle, who were both on their third potted Fire Pod Fern, having already broken two of theirs in half after causing them to spit fire bubbles at them after setting of their defenses. He didn't meet anybody in this class. The Ravenclaws seemed determined to ignore anything that was in green or black, which, Harry noticed, was making it difficult for them to work with their plants. Harry was beginning to get the feeling that either he was going to have a very lonely school year, which would not be a new concept to him, or he would have to try to talk with his own first year Slytherins. The idea appalled him, but, then again, what was the point of uniting the houses if you didn't get to find out the good side of the bad ones too?
'Besides,' thought Harry, 'No one else is going to take the initiative to do it. If they don't meet anybody but those like themselves, they'll never change. And if it has o be someone, who better than me?' 'Then again,' his own thoughts added, 'do you think you're up to the job of changing that?' He was watching Malfoy and his cronies, who were currently placing a beetle down a Ravenclaw girl's neck, who's preoccupation with her fern, and the dazzled look on her face as she watched the fiery bubbles, told Harry that she was probably Muggle-born. When Malfoy and the others went back to the pots to watch safely from a distance, Harry scooted over toward the poor girl. Luckily, Professor Sprout began telling them how to handle their fire ferns properly without making them angry (necessarily as Crabbe and Goyle had snapped two more), giving him cover, and Harry grabbed the beetle out of her hood, just as it was making to crawl down her neck.
The girl flipped her head around suddenly, as soon as he had withdrawn his hand, and glared at him. Harry jumped back in surprise, and took on a rather guilty look, knowing that he would be caught for having removed the beetle, and the other Slytherins would know. The girl looked first up at his forehead, then to his guilty face and his open hand, in which a gleaming beetle was making its way up his sleeve. She pursed her lips at him. "Well maybe you won't try that again! How immature! Then again, you Slytherins probably never learn. It's a shame they make you go to school with is! Well, at least you're getting what you deserve!" she smirked as she watched the beetle disappear entirely under his sleeve, "Looks like your little, half-wit plan backfired, didn't it?"
Harry, who had attempting to defend his innocence in a series of incoherent sputtering suddenly gasped, rolled up his sleeve, and pulled a beetle, its clamps tight on his skin, off of his arm. The greenhouse filled with laughter, and Harry blushed, realizing just how many people had seen what had happened, and yet none of them probably saw the truth. He expected it all to slowly die down, and he cheeks to cool again, but h felt them growing only redder, hotter. He looked down at his hands, and saw they had turned as red as a hot tamale. He gasped, and jumped up, and tugged on Professor Sprout's robes, who was too preoccupied with her unheeded instructions lecture to have noticed. "Professor Sprout!" he attempted to cry, but instead of his voice, there emitted a loud, high pitched whistle like a tea kettle. Almost all of the class had keeled over in laughter, now, doubling up and clutching their sides. Professor Sprout looked down at him from her stance up on the table top, and jumped so much that her hat nearly fell off, and she had to grab it back on. "Great Scot!" she cried, "You've been bitten by a Kettle Bett---I mean a Keetle Beet- I mean a bug!" she fell clumsily over her words in the excitement. " Haven't had one around her in years! Won't start having them now! They do terrible things to the Mandrakes, poor dears! Come now! Everybody grab a pesticide! We'll get the little bug.er."she looked back at Harry, as though just remembering, "well, just nip yourself off to the infirmary, will you? Good dear!"
And, leaving the hubbub in Greenhouse 1 behind him, Harry made his way to the hospital wing. On the first day. Known as a trouble-maker already.