Harry got into class just in time to beat the bell. Harry sighed and took
his seat. The teacher wasn't there, yet. Harry took out his book, some
parchment, and his quill, and wrote down the date and class at the top of
his notes.
"Harry! Ooh, Harry!" came an eager voice from behind him that Harry found faintly and irritatingly familiar.
He turned around in his seat, and was forced back by a force of bushy brown hair. "I just wanted to talk with you, Harry! I found out something that I think you'd be very interested in hearing!" said Hermione. "So meet me after class-oh!"
Harry turned to the front of the classroom and quickly saw what had startled her. The teacher had appeared in the classroom without making any noise. The door definitely hadn't clicked open and shut, and it seemed to Harry that the old school had a tendency to creak. But Harry wasn't particularly surprised that the teacher hadn't used the door. He was a shivering silver, and oddly opaque. Harry took him to be a ghost, and his assumption was affirmed as he watched him glide through his desk.
Harry took notes throughout the class, but found it particularly boring. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to survive a year in this class, but he would have to try. He was determined to live up to his name in the wizarding world.
Harry's mind wasn't with him in class. It seemed to him he'd left most of the bits of his mind back in the third corridor, and with Fluffy, and at the Slytherin table, with Malfoy. When the bell to class rang, Harry stood up automatically, and headed out of the room, searching for his next class.
"Harry! Oh, Harry wait up!"
Harry stopped. He had forgotten that Hermione had wanted to speak with him. He groaned inwardly. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't know her well, but he had a bad feeling that this conversation was just going to scatter his mind around the school even more.
"Thanks!" she breathed, catching her breath. "Oh.anyway, Harry, I just wanted to tell you that I extend the hand of friendship from Gryffindor to you and any willing Slytherins! You see, I read Hogwarts, A History and did you know the school was never meant to be segregated into Houses like this? Turns out that Godric Gryffindor and Salazaar Slytherin were actually good friends! And I just wanted to start that friendship again!"
Hermione beamed at having taken such steps as to speak with a Slytherin. Harry felt a little flame flask inside of him. 'What made her think that she would be able to make any difference? She wasn't famous!'
Harry listened to the voice and smiled. He looked Hermione full on, watching her happy eager face, awaiting his response to the offer. "Hermione," said Harry, "it's truly an honor. I have some people for you to meet. But we've got to get to class!"
"Oh no!" cried Hermione. "I've got to get to Herbology! Oh thanks Harry! Bye!"
Harry called goodbye after her, but she was already well out of earshot. Harry smiled. Not only had he apparently made a friend, at last, but he had conquered that voice. He was feeling quite content when he headed off to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
The class was held in a dimly lit room on the first floor that reeked of garlic and some other, rather unsanitary smell. Harry recognized Professor Quirrel and smiled at the shivering man who was waiting by the door to greet the students, his wand at the ready, and a wooden plank in the other hand. He looked terrified of every student who entered, as though the thought that he might have to use either weapon in his hand was one of the most horrible speculations. Quirrel jumped at Harry's acknowledgement, not looking at him, and keeping his back pressed to the wall by the door. Harry took his seat, and awaited the beginning of the lesson. Harry was, surprisingly, one of the first to enter, and had sat down at an empty table. Harry watched the classroom fill around him, his own table staying depressingly empty. They had class with the Ravenclaw house. Nobody wanted to sit with him, after Herbology earlier that day, and the Slytherins had had more than enough of him for the time being. So he sat alone as Professor Quirrel took to the podium near his desk at the front of the classroom. "H-hello c-c-class. My n-name is P-professor Q-q-quirrel. I am your D-defense Against the-the-the Dark Arts t-teacher." He gave a weak little smile. "P-please open y-your b-b-books to page 3 and read the intro- troduction. I will d-d-direct your attention to the b-board afterwards for your n-n-notes."
The class was basically uneventful. They learned the basics to the concepts of counter-jinxing and some laws regarding some of the more controversially 'dark creatures' such a s werewolves and vampires. It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that anything strange happened. Quirrel, froze at the chalk board, his back to the classroom, and Harry felt a twinge of pain in his scar. Much like what he had felt in the hospital wing. Harry had almost forgotten the incident with as much as had happened today. He turned in his seat, the momentary pain subsiding, and saw Professor Snape standing in the doorway. "Professor Quirrel! I have a class in five minutes, and I need the vial I let you borrow returned immediately."
"Of-of course, P-professor!" stuttered Quirrel, looking more scared than usual. "I-I-I have it r-right here somewhere!"
Quirrel disappeared behind his desk, and papers began flying to the sounds of Quirrel's rummaging. This went on for the last five minutes of class. Snape growled, his patience worn. "Never mind! I have to get to my room and teach! But I'll be back after my last class! You better have it!" And he left the room in a sweep of his cloak.
The class began to leave the class, but Harry lingered behind the rest. He had another incident brought to mind that called for immediate attention, and dragged it away from him like the rest of today's events. He now had to share more of his mind with the incident at the hospital wing and now in his last class. Harry was glad that his own classes were over for the day. He found himself heading back to his dormitory, but stopped part way there. He didn't want to return there. He was tired, and needed to sleep. But he also needed to sort out the day's events somewhere quiet and away from the rest of the school. So Harry headed toward the library.
When he got there, a bird-like woman at the front desk sniffed at him. Harry smiled at her quickly, and looked away, going off to find a table among the shelves that was likely to be undisturbed. Once he found a likely looking table, he sat down, putting his head in his arms and clinching his eyes shut, causing fireworks to show before them.
He sat there, breathing fiercely, clenching and unclenching his muscles in sequence in a calming routine he had learned in his years of dealing with the Dursleys. Soon, he was breathing calmly, steadily, feeling altogether relaxed. So he began sorting through his thoughts. The pain..he had felt it in his scar twice in a day. He had never felt it before he came to Hogwarts. Harry was getting suspicious of the pain being possibly connected to a person.the cloaked man on the grounds, skulking, sidling.and his lurking, prowling Potions teacher. But Harry couldn't see how Snape could be the cause of the pain.
Then, the corridor. He had been so distracted by the voice, that he had gone there without even knowing he had. This voice.it sounded like all of the Slytherins he despised to him. But worse. It was a good thing Sean had followed him, to help him out of there, so he wouldn't get caught. A very good thing.very convenient for them both...
Harry struggled to stay awake. He felt like he was on the break of connecting the dots; understanding something important. But a fog was drifting into his mind. A sort of dull thudding sound was pounding rhythmically in the back of his skull. Harry began breathing to the dull rhythm. He didn't know when, but Harry had soon drifted off to sleep.
"Harry! Ooh, Harry!" came an eager voice from behind him that Harry found faintly and irritatingly familiar.
He turned around in his seat, and was forced back by a force of bushy brown hair. "I just wanted to talk with you, Harry! I found out something that I think you'd be very interested in hearing!" said Hermione. "So meet me after class-oh!"
Harry turned to the front of the classroom and quickly saw what had startled her. The teacher had appeared in the classroom without making any noise. The door definitely hadn't clicked open and shut, and it seemed to Harry that the old school had a tendency to creak. But Harry wasn't particularly surprised that the teacher hadn't used the door. He was a shivering silver, and oddly opaque. Harry took him to be a ghost, and his assumption was affirmed as he watched him glide through his desk.
Harry took notes throughout the class, but found it particularly boring. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to survive a year in this class, but he would have to try. He was determined to live up to his name in the wizarding world.
Harry's mind wasn't with him in class. It seemed to him he'd left most of the bits of his mind back in the third corridor, and with Fluffy, and at the Slytherin table, with Malfoy. When the bell to class rang, Harry stood up automatically, and headed out of the room, searching for his next class.
"Harry! Oh, Harry wait up!"
Harry stopped. He had forgotten that Hermione had wanted to speak with him. He groaned inwardly. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't know her well, but he had a bad feeling that this conversation was just going to scatter his mind around the school even more.
"Thanks!" she breathed, catching her breath. "Oh.anyway, Harry, I just wanted to tell you that I extend the hand of friendship from Gryffindor to you and any willing Slytherins! You see, I read Hogwarts, A History and did you know the school was never meant to be segregated into Houses like this? Turns out that Godric Gryffindor and Salazaar Slytherin were actually good friends! And I just wanted to start that friendship again!"
Hermione beamed at having taken such steps as to speak with a Slytherin. Harry felt a little flame flask inside of him. 'What made her think that she would be able to make any difference? She wasn't famous!'
Harry listened to the voice and smiled. He looked Hermione full on, watching her happy eager face, awaiting his response to the offer. "Hermione," said Harry, "it's truly an honor. I have some people for you to meet. But we've got to get to class!"
"Oh no!" cried Hermione. "I've got to get to Herbology! Oh thanks Harry! Bye!"
Harry called goodbye after her, but she was already well out of earshot. Harry smiled. Not only had he apparently made a friend, at last, but he had conquered that voice. He was feeling quite content when he headed off to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
The class was held in a dimly lit room on the first floor that reeked of garlic and some other, rather unsanitary smell. Harry recognized Professor Quirrel and smiled at the shivering man who was waiting by the door to greet the students, his wand at the ready, and a wooden plank in the other hand. He looked terrified of every student who entered, as though the thought that he might have to use either weapon in his hand was one of the most horrible speculations. Quirrel jumped at Harry's acknowledgement, not looking at him, and keeping his back pressed to the wall by the door. Harry took his seat, and awaited the beginning of the lesson. Harry was, surprisingly, one of the first to enter, and had sat down at an empty table. Harry watched the classroom fill around him, his own table staying depressingly empty. They had class with the Ravenclaw house. Nobody wanted to sit with him, after Herbology earlier that day, and the Slytherins had had more than enough of him for the time being. So he sat alone as Professor Quirrel took to the podium near his desk at the front of the classroom. "H-hello c-c-class. My n-name is P-professor Q-q-quirrel. I am your D-defense Against the-the-the Dark Arts t-teacher." He gave a weak little smile. "P-please open y-your b-b-books to page 3 and read the intro- troduction. I will d-d-direct your attention to the b-board afterwards for your n-n-notes."
The class was basically uneventful. They learned the basics to the concepts of counter-jinxing and some laws regarding some of the more controversially 'dark creatures' such a s werewolves and vampires. It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that anything strange happened. Quirrel, froze at the chalk board, his back to the classroom, and Harry felt a twinge of pain in his scar. Much like what he had felt in the hospital wing. Harry had almost forgotten the incident with as much as had happened today. He turned in his seat, the momentary pain subsiding, and saw Professor Snape standing in the doorway. "Professor Quirrel! I have a class in five minutes, and I need the vial I let you borrow returned immediately."
"Of-of course, P-professor!" stuttered Quirrel, looking more scared than usual. "I-I-I have it r-right here somewhere!"
Quirrel disappeared behind his desk, and papers began flying to the sounds of Quirrel's rummaging. This went on for the last five minutes of class. Snape growled, his patience worn. "Never mind! I have to get to my room and teach! But I'll be back after my last class! You better have it!" And he left the room in a sweep of his cloak.
The class began to leave the class, but Harry lingered behind the rest. He had another incident brought to mind that called for immediate attention, and dragged it away from him like the rest of today's events. He now had to share more of his mind with the incident at the hospital wing and now in his last class. Harry was glad that his own classes were over for the day. He found himself heading back to his dormitory, but stopped part way there. He didn't want to return there. He was tired, and needed to sleep. But he also needed to sort out the day's events somewhere quiet and away from the rest of the school. So Harry headed toward the library.
When he got there, a bird-like woman at the front desk sniffed at him. Harry smiled at her quickly, and looked away, going off to find a table among the shelves that was likely to be undisturbed. Once he found a likely looking table, he sat down, putting his head in his arms and clinching his eyes shut, causing fireworks to show before them.
He sat there, breathing fiercely, clenching and unclenching his muscles in sequence in a calming routine he had learned in his years of dealing with the Dursleys. Soon, he was breathing calmly, steadily, feeling altogether relaxed. So he began sorting through his thoughts. The pain..he had felt it in his scar twice in a day. He had never felt it before he came to Hogwarts. Harry was getting suspicious of the pain being possibly connected to a person.the cloaked man on the grounds, skulking, sidling.and his lurking, prowling Potions teacher. But Harry couldn't see how Snape could be the cause of the pain.
Then, the corridor. He had been so distracted by the voice, that he had gone there without even knowing he had. This voice.it sounded like all of the Slytherins he despised to him. But worse. It was a good thing Sean had followed him, to help him out of there, so he wouldn't get caught. A very good thing.very convenient for them both...
Harry struggled to stay awake. He felt like he was on the break of connecting the dots; understanding something important. But a fog was drifting into his mind. A sort of dull thudding sound was pounding rhythmically in the back of his skull. Harry began breathing to the dull rhythm. He didn't know when, but Harry had soon drifted off to sleep.