HP & TPS – Part II
Harry was tossing and turning as he tried desperately to go to sleep.
He was now regretting that he was sorted into Gryffindor. After the meal and Dumbledore's warning about the Third Floor Harry and his new housemates were escorted to the Gryffindor Common Room. The room was beautiful, but Harry was tired so he just went to bed.
However, the snoring from Ron Weasley, Fred and George's brother, was keeping him from falling asleep. Harry really wanted to hex him but didn't want to face Fred and George's wrath if he attacked their brother.
Ron stopped snoring for a few minutes. Just when Harry felt dreamland about to claim him a thunderous noise reverberated throughout the room.
"Damn it," Harry practically roared. He couldn't understand how his roommates Neville, Dean and Seamus were able to sleep through the noise.
Harry decided he'd had enough. He figured he would try to sleep down in the Common Room on the couch. He put on his dressing robe and went downstairs. Feeling quite tired he didn't notice his surroundings and climbed onto the couch, stretching himself out.
"You feeling comfortable there Harry," said a familiar voice.
Harry opened his eyes and noticed Fred and George looking down at him. He had climbed into their laps. He embarrassingly got up and sat in the recliner, pushing it back so he was laid out.
"Do you not like your bed, Harry?" they asked.
"The bed is extremely comfortable, thank you," growled Harry. "The only thing uncomfortable is listening to a high powered machine snoring his guts out."
"Ah, so you met our baby brother," they laughed softly.
"Does he always snore like that?" queried Harry.
"Only when he overeats," said Fred.
"Which is basically everyday," George chipped in.
Harry closed his eyes in horror. "I should have asked the hat to put me in Slytherin."
"We'll show you what to do," said both twins.
"Do you have your wand on you Harry?" asked one.
Harry took his wand out.
"What now?" asked Harry.
"Remember this word well, Harry," smiled one twin. "Silencio."
"Silencio?" asked Harry, confused. Then he got it. "You can actually mute people with magic."
The twins looked at him. "What does mute mean?"
"It silences sound from Muggle devices," said Harry.
"Ah, we see," they said. "Anyway, Harry this is the wand motion."
They showed him the wand motion.
Harry pointed his wand at the twins. "Silencio."
The twins immediately started acting like they were dying. They both pretended to collapse on the floor and didn't move. Harry laughed at their antics.
"Very funny," smiled Harry. "Now get up."
They didn't move.
Harry went up close to see if the twins were okay.
That was a mistake. The twins tackled Harry and held him against the ground. Harry felt terrified for a moment, then the twins silently laughed riotously.
"Um, how do you reverse the spell?" asked Harry.
The twins wrote two words in the air with their wands. Finite Incantatem.
Harry reversed the spell. The twins stopped laughing and helped him up.
"You've been pranking us all day Harry," said Fred. "Did you really think we wouldn't prank you back for that?"
"We're going to make a great team," said Harry, a devilish smile on his face.
IlIlIlIlI
In his bedroom in the dungeons, Severus Snape woke up startled.
Hot sweat pouring down his face, Severus Snape suddenly felt like he was doomed.
IlIlIlIlI
As they were eating their breakfasts the next day, Harry and his dorm mates received their class schedules from Professor McGonagall.
"So, what's your timetable like Harry," asked George.
"I have Transfiguration first and Charms later," said Harry.
"Transfiguration first eh," said Fred. He leaned down and whispered in Harry's ear. "That's McGonagall. Don't get on her wrong side. She can turn into a cat, remember that."
The next day when he entered the class for the first time and on time he saw the cat perched on the desk. He hid a smile as he walked up to the cat. He had developed a plan that would hopefully get McGonagall on his side. He just had a feeling she would protect him and maybe have a soft spot for him, but he had to do it right.
"Hello kitty," he spoke calmly. The cat hissed at him. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to pet you. You are a beautiful cat and I love cats. Just let me pet you. I'll give you a nice scratch behind the ears."
That worked. The cat nuzzled into his touch and started purring.
"You must be Professor McGonagall's cat," spoke Harry softly, continuing to pet the animal. "I met your owner when I was sorted. She scared me at first but now I think she is lovely. She must be about thirty-five years old. She looks so young-" the cat preened "-and she clearly has amazing tastes in animals."
Harry continued scratching the cat's ears. "After all, you're a friendly cat, and also the cutest cat."
"I'm going to sit down now so I need to stop petting you. I'm looking forward to this lesson."
And with that, Harry sat down. The cat jumped off the desk and left the room. Twenty seconds later McGonagall showed up at the door. Despite remaining stoic and forbidding, Harry could see her eyes were smiling.
The lesson went great. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. Harry managed to do it on his first try.
"Well done Mr. Potter." a voice said from behind him, making Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall looking at him, "Now try turning that needle back into a match."
Harry turned back to his needle and said the spell again, not forgetting to focus on his will and magic, and the needle became a match again.
"Wonderful Potter," Professor McGonagall said with a small smile on her face, "I never had a student that was able to do both of the transfigurations on the first class, 20 points to Gryffindor. Continue to transfigure the match until the end of class, try changing the needle, try adding a pattern to the metal or something similar. The spell is the same, it's just a matter of visualization."
Having said that, Professor McGonagall continued walking around the classroom helping the students that needed it.
He focused on his match again and cast the spell. However this time he focused not only on his will but also on visualizing the needle, he imagined that the needle had a rainbow pattern. He was quite happy when the match changed into a needle with a pattern on the metal. However when he inspected the pattern he noticed that in some places it was more blurred and not as defined. He supposed that he needed to have a clearer image of the whole needle for it to work as it should. Having a better understanding of what he had to do he proceeded to change the needle back into a match and try again and again and again, until he achieved a result that he was satisfied with.
At the end Harry handed in a needle that looked like a cat, it had beautifully detailed fur, and had it's mouth open, which was the eye of the needle, and it's tail was the point. On the cat's head were his initials in a beautiful script. All in all it was an amazing work. Professor McGonagall spent almost a full minute looking at it until she reacted.
"Ten more points to Gryffindor, I have never seen a student do something like this with a needle much less on their first class. Very well done Potter. But why a cat."
"Because cats are the most beautiful animals known to man," said Harry. "And I was inspired to do a cat after meeting your beautiful cat. What's her name?"
The professor's lip twitched upwards slightly. "Her name is Minnie."
Before Harry left the room he knew he had basically pocketed his teacher. She was truly amazed at his talent and given his compliment at her age he knew she would support him in anything.
He smiled. He was very much enjoying Hogwarts.
IlIlIlIlI
As he walked into his Defence Against the Dark Arts class, he noticed Professor Quirrell once again had his back to him.
Harry smiled. The man should know better than to have his back turned while he was at Hogwarts.
Just as he was two feet from the man he was caught.
"S-sit down, Mr P-Potter," he said.
"Ah," said Harry. "So you finally got eyes in the back of your head after what happened last time."
"WHAT," roared Quirrell.
Harry's scar felt like it was exploding from an intense heat. He managed to sit on a desk before he could possibly collapse. Throughout the rest of the lesson he could feel the Professor's curious and questioning gaze directed at him.
This teacher is a weirdo, Harry thought as he continued to write on the parchment.
IlIlIlIlI
Now he had found something he hated about Hogwarts. He had gotten through the first week enjoying his classes… until Potions.
Professor Snape was a deeply unpleasant person who revelled in torturing students. Harry hadn't even said a word to the man yet he kept taunting him over and over hoping to get a response as Harry tried to brew the cure for boils. He managed to complete the potion without incident.
Poor Neville though completely botched his potion. His cauldron had melted and a thick glutinous fluid spilled out among the floor. A particularly large blob was next to Harry on the ground.
Snape rounded on Harry. "You — Potter — why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
Ever since his trip to Diagon Alley, Harry had stocked up massively on prank items. There was one item he did get called an arm shooter. It was basically a cylindrical gun that could be attached on his forearms. It would take only liquidised items as ammunition.
When Snape turned his back Harry leaned down and surreptitiously picked up Neville's potion blob. He managed to load the blob into the cylinder without anyone noticing. He noticed that Snape almost reached Malfoy's potion.
"Fire," he whispered. The blob left through his sleeve and did a perfect landing in Malfoy's cauldron. Ten seconds later Snape arrived at Malfoy's desk.
BOOM!
Everyone ducked at the explosion. Harry managed to remove his cylindrical gun in the confusion and slipped it into Neville's bag, who stared at him in horror. Harry brought his finger up to his lips, signalling the other boy to remain quiet.
When the smoke cleared Snape and Malfoy both had yellow skin and several purple boils erupting ooze on their faces.
"Who did this?" he spoke dangerously. His voice cut through the air dangerously but no one was scared. They were all too fascinated with the teacher's appearance.
"Potter did," screeched a dark haired girl from Slytherin. "I saw something come from him before the potion exploded."
"Empty your pockets, Potter," he said dangerously.
Harry shrugged and emptied his pockets. He never kept prank items on his person in case he was spotted so he knew he was in the clear.
"Where is it?" Snape growled, coming very close that the pus from his face started falling down onto Harry.
Harry leapt out of his seat before the pus landed on him. It landed on the chair and the seat melted.
"Don't come any closer, sir," he growled. "You almost killed me with that hideous monstrosity." And he pointed at Snape's face.
The class burst into laughter, unable to contain it any more.
"How dare you, Potter," the man growled.
The man turned away. But Harry had the obvious feeling the man was going to complain about him.
IlIlIlIlI
Before dinner that night he reloaded the gun with wizarding laxative. The wizard's version was much more potent and he wanted his revenge on Ron Weasley.
Although he had cast Silencio on Ron to block out his snores, the effect would eventually wear off. Harry had always been a light sleeper, so he woke up every time the sound returned. He was going to put the laxative in Ron's dinner.
But he never had the chance. Before he put it in Headmaster Dumbledore came over to him.
"Harry," he started. Harry suddenly had a bad feeling. "I'd like to see you in my office after dinner. There is something to discuss."
"Where is your office, sir?" asked Harry.
"Fourth Floor on the east end," he responded. "Look for stone gargoyles. The password is sherbet lemon."
Harry had a nasty feeling that Snape was going to be there, given that the man glared triumphantly at him during dinner. He knew he needed backup in the room, but who would back him up –
Harry smiled back at Snape, who now looked perplexed. After Harry had eaten his food, he walked up to the head table straight to McGonagall. Snape and Dumbledore had already left the hall.
"Professor," he mumbled, looking at the ground. "I think I'm in trouble for something I didn't do."
"What have you been accused of?" she asked. "Tell me the full story."
So he told her. Fifteen minutes later he was in Dumbledore's office watching the shouting match between McGonagall and Snape. McGonagall had taken his word on what had happened in the Potions class. He'd even told her how unwelcomingly cruel Snape had been to him.
"HE DID ATTACK ME," Snape roared. "HE'S JUST LIKE HIS FATHER. BRASH AND ARROGANT."
"YOU STARTED THIS FIGHT THOUGH SEVERUS," McGonagall roared back. "TO AN ELEVEN YEAR OLD CHILD."
Harry glanced at Dumbledore and smiled. The man looked ragged listening to the two teachers fight. It must be a regular occurrence to him.
"THAT IS ENOUGH," shouted Dumbledore, finally silencing the bickering teachers. "Minerva, sit down. Severus, shut up for five minutes."
Professor McGonagall sat down next to Harry. Snape however didn't move.
"Headmaster, expel h-" started Snape.
"I SAID THAT IS ENOUGH SEVERUS," roared Dumbledore. "SIT DOWN."
The Headmaster turned to him.
"Harry," he asked quietly. "Can you tell me what happened?"
So Harry repeated the story he had told McGonagall, word by word. At the end of his explanation Dumbledore did not look happy.
"Severus, leave. We will speak later," the Headmaster said in a tone that brokered no argument. Scowling, Snape turned around to leave. "And Harry will receive no punishment for what happened. Understood? And take a shower. That pus on your face is starting to smell bad."
The door slammed as Snape left.
"I'm sorry about all this, young Harry," sighed Dumbledore. "This should have been handled more professionally."
"You looked like a teacher scolding two students," smiled Harry.
"It feels like that sometimes," chuckled Dumbledore.
McGonagall glared at the man. "Albus, remember what I told you at the Opening Feast, about Mr Potter not being with the other first years. Maybe you should do that now instead of him coming back later."
"Of course, Minerva," he smiled. "I'll handle it myself. There's no need to wait."
"What is this about?" asked Harry as McGonagall left the room.
"Harry, have you ever heard of underage magic?" asked Dumbledore.
Harry shook his head.
"It goes like this, it is not allowed for a student to practise magic during the holidays. However it is not done automatically. New students when they start here have to take the boats to Hogwarts. They would be taken to an Antechamber room which is magicked to cast this thing called 'the Trace' on those students which would monitor their magic usage outside of Hogwarts. A warning is issued for the first and second time, a hearing with the heads of the Improper Use of Magic Office and of the Magical Law Enforcement is done on the third attempt."
"So I'm here for you to take me there," scowled Harry.
"Nonsense, Harry," smiled Dumbledore. "Once I apply it your address will be registered at the Ministry. As you are a much sought celebrity here in Magical Britain, I would rather your address remain private. However, you are not to use magic at home. Understand?"
"Why wouldn't I? I can't be tracked." asked Harry.
"It's more for your family's safety than yours," smiled Dumbledore, but there was a grimness in his eyes.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Harry, getting the message and understanding right away that this old man knew how he was treated.
"Huh, mean about what?" asked Dumbledore.
"Don't play daft with me," exploded Harry. "What do you know of my home life?"
Dumbledore didn't respond.
"Hagrid already told me you left me with those monsters," said Harry. "And you also had my bank key. Care to explain any of my questions?"
Dumbledore sighed. "The bank key I will explain first. Your dad James must have visited Gringotts that day as the key was in his pocket. It wasn't wise to lay it to rest with him so I kept it. I always intended to gave it back to you when you returned to our world."
Harry didn't see a flicker of lying or deceit in those blue eyes of the man. He was telling the truth.
"Why did you leave me at the Dursley's?" asked Harry.
"That tragic night your parents died and you didn't I knew another problem right away," said Dumbledore, now looking frail. "No one had ever survived the Killing Curse. When the unexplained normally happens, it is very much researched to find out why. You do know of lab rats, do you Harry/"
Harry recoiled in horror, realising exactly what would have happened if he had remained in the wizarding public light at a young age. He would have been nothing more than a lab rat to scientists in this world, whatever they were called.
"Okay, I understand your reasons," concurred Harry. "I'm not happy with them, but I understand them."
"Thank you for understanding, at least," sighed Dumbledore reproachfully. "Anyway, Harry would you like a sherbet lemon. They're my favourite sweets."
Grabbing a sherbert lemon from the bowl in front of him, he whispered so quietly "fire". The laxative immediately left his sleeve onto the sweets in the bowl. As the laxative was invisible, Dumbledore did not see it falling from Harry's sleeve.
"Tasty," Harry mumbled, letting the flavour sit on his tongue before swallowing. "I suppose you'll be having one too."
"It's been thirty minutes since my last one, another one won't hurt."
IlIlIlIlI
Four days had passed and Albus was thoroughly annoyed.
He had spent practically every waking moment on the toilet. His bowels kept screaming and Poppy Pomfrey had been no help. She had told him he needs to let it run its course and not to eat any big meals. So he stuck to his sherbet lemons most of the time.
Currently he was in the Hospital Wing, which had to be sealed because of the smell. The whole school knew the reason why it was sealed. He was in too much pain to try and control the spread of information.
"Come on, Albus. Let's get you into bed," said Poppy.
She supported him to one of the beds wearing a Hazmat suit. He was highly insulted when she started wearing it. A young Muggle-born witch had suggested it to the Mediwitch the other day. Poppy had immediately left the castle and returned wearing one. When Dumbledore complained about it she simply said, "I just want to survive. You're currently worse than giant excrement." That line made him cry.
"I need a sherbet lemon," he groaned, reaching out for one only to realise the bowl was empty.
He burst out crying.
Two days later Poppy released him with a clean bill of health. But he was only allowed to leave on two conditions. He had to clean up the stench in the ward, and he had to come back weekly for a Muggle medicine technique called an enema for the next year
Late next week he stumbled into his quarters embarrassed and furious. The enema was deeply painful and humiliating. Afterwards he had asked Poppy why did she use a Muggle medicine technique.
She showed him a book called Greatest Medicines of the 20th Century.
"Why did you get this?" he asked her.
"Harry Potter gifted it to me the other day. He said there might be something in there to help you. He's such a good boy."
Dumbledore screamed in pain as his rear landed on the bed.
Good boy indeed, he growled in his mind. That boy had pranked him, of that he had no doubt. But how did he do it. By Merlin it was driving him mad.
IlIlIlIlI
At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry made his way down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the for bidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broom sticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Fred and George had complained about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!' "
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Theo Nott and Tracey Davis of Slytherin had theirs firmly in their grasp. He was the only Gryffindor.
Seeing Malfoy trying to call his broom up, Harry decided to 'help' him.
Everyone turned to look at the whining Malfoy whose broom had promptly slapped him on the face. Harry hid a satisfied smirk.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"
Before she blew her whistle however, Neville Longbottom had already started rising, frightened out of his mind about using a broom. He got twenty feet into the air before he lost his grip, falling onto the ground with a nasty crack.
Madam Hooch proceeded into the castle with the injured boy, threatening dire consequences for anyone caught flying.
Then Malfoy decided to show his idiocy, taking Neville's Remembrall and taunting Harry to come and get it.
Eager to get one over on the prat again, Harry got on his broom.
"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move — you'll get us all into trouble."
Harry ignored her. He honestly couldn't stand Granger, considering her a teacher's pet. The girl was highly jealous of his talents as she was always glaring at him in class when he managed a spell first.
He kicked off the ground and proceeded to do several loops in succession with a few barrel rolls towards Malfoy.
Malfoy stared at him, utterly flummoxed at Harry's flying.
He tried to reach for the Remembrall but Malfoy came out of his stupor at the last moment and threw the ball as far as he could.
Harry raced after it as it started its descent towards the ground, he stretched out his hand, a foot from the ground he caught it, and gently landed the broom with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.
"HARRY POTTER!"
Harry's triumphant smile as he saw Professor McGonagall vanished. Now he was worried.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he said meekly. "But at least I'm not injured."
She gave him a stony glare, but he just smiled back at her.
"Follow me," she said, in a softer but still strict tone.
Harry followed her.
"You're not going to expel me, are you professor?" Harry asked, though he knew the answer. "I don't want to leave Hogwarts. The nicest people I know are here."
She stopped. "Walk next to me, Mr Potter."
So he did.
"Was that your first time on a broom?"
"Yes."
"That was honestly astounding flying, I must say," she continued. "Have you heard of the game Quidditch yet?"
"I have," he said, beginning to have an inkling where this was going.
"You certainly looked well at home on that broomstick for your first time," she continued. "Would you like to try out for the Quidditch team as a Seeker?"
"Seeker?" questioned Harry. He knew what Quidditch was, but he didn't know the terms.
"The captain will explain better than me, who I'm bringing you to meet."
So Harry met Oliver Wood, a burly fifth-year boy who was delighted to meet him. They scheduled a private training session for next Friday.
IlIlIlIlI
"Fred, George," said Harry. "I need your help."
"What is it Harrikins," they said in unison.
"Malfoy challenged me to a duel," he responded. "But I know he's setting me up. Probably by Filch."
"Hmm, well let's see," they said. "You already gave Dumbledore a bad smell, so repeating it isn't a good idea. Malfoy is certainly obsessed with his hair. You think you can work with that, Harry."
Harry smirked. They opened the Marauders Map and figured out the best route.
The next day Draco Malfoy woke up happy. He was hoping to see the Gryffindor hourglass at the bottom for points and Potter shamed that day. So lost in his thoughts, he never noticed the odd colour of his shampoo as he washed that morning.
When he reached the Great Hall he looked at the hourglasses and scowled. Apparently Potter got away with it if the points were anything to go by. Scowling, he stormed into the Great Hall and sat at his usual place and piled his plate with his breakfast.
"Weasley," came a hard voice. "What are you doing here, and why are you sitting in Malfoy's chair."
Draco looked up at his cronies Crabbe and Goyle who were glaring at him menacingly.
"He's even charmed his freckles to disappear," muttered Goyle.
"And his face pale white," finished Crabbe.
"GET HIM!"
Draco suddenly found himself on the ground as Crabbe and Goyle started beating him viciously.
He felt his hair fall down all around his face as Snape finally dragged his cronies off of him.
"Malfoy," glowered his Head of House. "Why is your hair RED?"
Later that day as he was in the Hospital Wing, he received a visitor.
"Potter, what are you doing here," he growled.
"I just wonder. How did someone manage to sneak in your Common Room and tamper with your shampoo? It's a mystery isn't it."
Draco turned his head in horror. "You."
"Shouldn't have challenged me Draco," said Harry. "I must say though I didn't expect it to go this far."
"Why though?"
"For the fun," smiled Harry. "Pranks make the world go round. Life would be very boring without it. And because you tried to set me up last night in the Trophy Room."
Draco's eyes widened, betraying him by that action.
"Ah," breathed Harry. "So you were trying to set me up."
"Listen, Draco," said Harry. "I enjoy you. You're excellent prank material, and soon enough everyone's going to realise it. Surely you realise you're one of the most disliked students here. Have a good day."
And with that Potter was gone, leaving Draco in a cold sweat.
Once he made sure he was alone he burst out crying.
Life wasn't fair.
IlIlIlIlI
A WEEK LATER while sitting at the Gryffindor table having his breakfast, Harry received a long and narrow package from six owls. He chose to open the letter first.
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.
Professor M. McGonagall
So that night when everyone else was in the castle Harry was learning under Oliver's thumb about Quidditch and what his role would be. Wood nearly cried with relief when Harry caught the snitch nine times in fifteen minutes.
Putting his arms on Harry's shoulders, he spoke, "You are my new best friend."
Harry smiled back at him. Although he found Oliver Wood rather over-emotional, he was a friendly guy and he liked him.
"Oliver, can you help me with something?" asked Harry. "I'd like to get Professor McGonagall something nice for gifting me the Nimbus. Do you know of anything?"
Oliver smiled. "Let's go to Hogsmeade."
IlIlIlIlI
Minerva McGonagall tiredly corrected her third-years students homework.
"Seriously," she muttered, glaring at Samantha Harwick's answer. "Ducks cannot be transfigured into a flesh eating human."
Wondering at the brains of her third-year student, she heard a knock at her door.
"Enter."
Harry Potter walked in to her office holding a small parcel.
"Mr Potter," she breathed a sigh of relief, glad it wasn't Albus. "How was your lesson with Wood?"
"I loved it," he beamed. "It was great fun."
"What brings you here?" she queried.
"I just wanted to thank you for your gift of the broomstick," he answered. "It's the greatest present I've ever had."
"Surely you've received great presents before?" she asked.
The boy snorted. "From who, my relatives," he muttered. "The only thing they've given me is a hanky."
"Anyway, I wanted to get you something as a thank you," he said, handing her the decorative bag. "Thank you."
And with that he was gone. She rummaged through the bag, only to find a rather large bottle of Elgar's Mead and she smiled. It was her favorite. And just because she got him a broomstick?
Then she remembered his words about his relatives. Furious, she got up and made her way to Albus' office.
When she came back she ended up drinking with her left hand, as her right was rather sore from having slapped Albus twice.
IlIlIlIlI
On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the class room.
Harry himself was desperate to try it with a wand, as he had only done so without a wand before. Regretfully though, he was partnered with Seamus Finnegan -although nice- who already had a reputation for blowing things up in class whether he had a wand or not.
"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."
Harry intoned "Wingardium Leviosa" before Seamus could utter a syllable, not wanting to be caught in the likely blast. His feather floated far. Remembering how he did it growing up, he kept his eyes focused on the feather, and floated it towards Flitwick's outstretched left hand.
"Well done, Mr Potter," the diminutive man said excitedly. "I've never had a student do it on the first try. Very well done indeed."
Harry smiled. He saw Granger glaring at him again. He finally decided to go for broke.
"I can actually do it without a wand, Professor," he said. "I've done it before."
"Really," said Flitwick, coming up to him. "I must see that. Give me your wand and show me."
Harry handed his wand to the man and turned his gaze on the feather. Focusing on his will and his inner magic as he had done before, he managed to lift the feather with his eyes. Seeing Granger glaring at him furiously, he motioned the feather to land on her desk with a soft and gentle glide, coming to rest on her book.
"My lord," Flitwick spoke mesmerized. He handed Harry back his wand and went down to Granger's desk. He lifted the feather and gazed at it for over a minute.
"Wandless magic is a gift only given to exceptionally strong wizards," he spoke as if in a trance. He looked up at Harry with pride. "You are a great wizard Mr Potter. I hope you realise that."
"Thank you, professor," he said.
After class he left the room only to be confronted by Granger.
"You're a cheat," she thundered. "Wandless magic isn't practiced until sixth-year."
Harry sighed. He was honestly sick and tired of Granger's jealousy.
"Let me tell you something Granger," he said angrily. "Some people have the gift. Some do not. It doesn't surprise me you don't have it. You're a Muggle-born with no known magical relatives. But me, I'm a wizard of one of the most noble and ancient lines in the Wizarding World. I don't have anything against you but get this through your thick skull: there are people out there better than you, whether you like it or not, so why don't you grow up and stop condescending to us as if we're stupid. The world doesn't evolve around you."
The girl was close to tears. Harry suddenly felt regret. He had been too harsh to her and didn't want her to cry.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said.
Hermione tried to run away, so he grabbed her by the arm.
"Get off me," she sobbed.
"No," he said firmly. "We're going to the library. It's time we had an intelligent conversation."
So they went there for lunch. Hermione tearfully confessed to him that learning was her only friend.
So they made a pact. Harry had never had friends in his childhood and now felt like Hermione was his kindred spirit. They would sit together in every class and work with each other, teaching the other everything they knew.
"But know this though, Hermione," he said cheekily. "You can only be bossy if you have employees, okay."
Hermione gave him a smile and they went to their next class, arm in arm.
After classes had ended, they went back to the library. Harry didn't feel like joining the feast as today was his parents' anniversary.
"Harry," she asked. "What do you think about Yarmaine's Law?"
Harry took a look at her book and snorted. "I don't think it exists. I highly doubt anyone could be skilled enough to conjure electricity. Not even me."
"What about me?" she asked with a smirk.
"If you can, don't practice on me," said Harry, faking a look of horror.
Hermione laughed quietly.
Suddenly there came a thunderous crashing noise outside the library.
Harry sighed. "Sounds like Fred and George have found me."
He got up and reached his hand out to Hermione, who softly giggled and let Harry pull her up.
"After you m'lady," he said, indicating the door.
"Oh sure," she snorted. "Like I'm going to walk into Fred and George's likely trap."
"I'll go then," he said, making his way out into the corridor.
"What is that smell?" asked Hermione, making her way to his side.
"Seems Snape must be in the hall."
"Harry!"
Then he saw it. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, gran ite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.
"How did a troll get into Hogwarts?" asked Hermione, flabbergasted.
Hermione speaking got its attention. The large creature turned to face them, its grotesque face scrunching up in anger, its fist raising the club high as if about to squish them.
But Harry was prepared. The troll was directly under a glass chandelier. Harry took careful aim, and fired.
"Diffindo."
The spell slashed the supports of the chandelier. With a loud creak and groan, the chandelier fell down on the troll, exploding its head from the impact, showering him and Hermione in a tremendous amount of blood.
Hermione screamed at the sight of the blood, which brought the teachers running.
"What in the world happened here!?" roared Snape.
Hermione shrunk back at his anger, but Harry stood his ground.
"The troll was about to attack us so I cast a Diffindo at the chandelier support and it came crashing down on it. What you see is the result."
"So the Boy-Who-Lived now claims to have downed a troll," he sneered. "Utter rubbish, tell the truth."
Harry smirked inside, spotting a remaining shard of the chandelier support above Snape.
"Diffindo."
The last of the supporting rod fell down and hit Snape on the head, who promptly fell on the ground screaming bloody murder.
"Is that a good enough demonstration?" he asked Flitwick.
To add insult to Snape's injury, Flitwick clapped. "It is, five points to Gryffindor for the demonstration."
"And a further five points for your quick thinking and looking out for your fellow student," said McGonagall.
"Why weren't you brats at the feast?" moaned Snape angrily from the ground.
"We decided to spend the evening studying in the library," said Harry. "After all, knowledge is power."
"I'm glad to hear that," smiled McGonagall. "But head back to your Common Room so we can clean up."
"What about detention?" groaned Snape, still clutching his head.
"You're not a student anymore Severus," said McGonagall. "Why would I give you detention?"
"Not me, them."
"For what."
"Attacking a teacher."
"They were demonstrating Severus," said McGonagall in a clipped voice. "We needed to know what happened. And now we do. Now get up off the floor and help us clean this mess. I'm not letting you slack off. You two head back to your Common Room and get yourselves a shower. There's blood all over both of you."
Harry always had a strange sense of humor. So he and Hermione, covered head to toe in blood walked straight into the Common Room to everyone's shock.
"What happened to you?" asked Fred and George.
"Piece of advice," said Harry triumphantly. "Don't mess with Hermione Granger."
Everyone looked at Hermione who managed a small smile.
"Bloody hell," the twins said.
IlIlIlIlI
Albus Dumbledore was one of two minds as he stroked the material in his hands.
In his hands was one of the most desired objects known to Wizardkind, and he wanted to give it to Harry for Christmas.
But he wasn't sure it was a wise decision. Harry was undoubtedly a prankster given what happened to him, but it had been in the Potter Family for over six hundred years, and Harry was the rightful heir.
"Maybe the gift might calm him down," he muttered. There had been multiple incidents since the boy had arrived in Hogwarts. Young Draco Malfoy and Severus were often admitted to the Hospital Wing for cauldron explosions and he had found a few more tricks on his person. Somehow last week a mountain goat managed to get into his office and ate all his sweets. The gargoyle that guarded his office was decorated in pink the previous month.
His mind drifted back to the Staff Meeting a few months prior. Minerva was openly thrilled that Harry was apparently a Transfiguration prodigy. Filius was deeply impressed with him. Pomona had called him a charming little boy who often brought her flowers. Every teacher was practically in love with him except Severus and Quirinus. The boy was excellent in Potions and DADA, but Quirinus didn't like him, and he had a good idea why. He was also a magnificent Quidditch player. The game last month had been a success with Gryffindor winning for the first time in years.
Remembering Minerva's fury from a few months ago from finding out Harry's treatment at the Dursley's, he made his decision. He had the cloak wrapped and ribboned. He called Trippy and the House-elf brought the gift to Gryffindor Tower.
IlIlIlIlI
"BOO!"
Fred and George jumped, looking around wildly but seeing nothing.
Then they heard it. Loud laughter by the window.
"What on earth?" Fred muttered, walking over to the window only to collapse on top of a figure.
The cloak had moved and a leg was sticking out.
"Harry," said George. "Come and join the big boys."
And with that they pulled the cloak off the laughing child.
"Where did you get this?"
"Someone my dad knew before he died," said Harry.
"Excellent."
"My friends," said Harry, putting his arms around the twins. "Pranking just got easier."
IlIlIlIlI
Dumbledore was about to drink piping hot tea when his hand suddenly trembled, spilling tea all over himself.
He stared at the cabinet where the cloak had been in horror.
"What have I done?"
AN: There is no bashing in this story. I'm just going to portray Dumbledore misguided and a little foolish. Honestly, I'm tired of the bashing fics. They're too out of hand and there's too many of them. Besides, this is a pranking fic, not a revenge fic.
UPDATE AN: This is just an update to this chapter. I rushed this chapter last time and missed some parts to the story. I'll have the next chapter posted some time next week.