Like I said, this is a bit AU from the beginning, and it's only gonna get more so as we go on.
It took me a good chunk if the year to fully start in on this, as I wanted to complete another story before starting on this one, but as it has been a while since I got this request, I'm starting it now. Hopefully this doesn't snowball out of control like CG or Clandestine has. But even if it does I think I'll still love it just the same.
That being said, if you like this please leave a review, and enjoy!
-Xenia
Chapter Two: Meet Again
There was a sudden disruption as a chubby faced child ran towards the train car they were in, asking everyone frantically if they'd seen his pet frog, Trevor.
As the train pulled in to the platform closer to the school, Harry stood in awe. Everything was still so new to him, despite the bushy haired girls lectures about the world they were now apart of. They were put into groups by Hagrid, when the man had come up to them he had no idea, but they were sorted nonetheless. After each group waddled their way into the little boats, they were immediately off to the castle that they would be spending most of their school years within.
The second part of their trip lasted well into the evening, and most everyone who gathered at the foot of the imposing building could agree that hunger was prominent. Once all of the other first years were gathered, they were lead into the building by an older woman with grey hair and stern features.
She explained a bit about the school and the houses, their attributes and founders while bringing them to a large room at the front of the castle. As far as Harry knew they would stay in here until they were called in to be 'sorted'. They were lined up in alphabetical order in the meantime, and Harry could see that the Granger girl was closer to the front, followed by the boy with the frog, the blond Malfoy boy, Harry himself, then further back was his first ever real friend. between them were several kids he didn't know, and he wondered where they would be placed.
Honestly he felt so foolish for thinking that Slytherin was a house somewhere in Surrey, it was a part of Hogwarts! He wondered how the man knew not to go into Slytherin? but it didn't matter right now, since the group were soon being ushered into what was a large dining room like space with four large rectangular tables. The ceiling was beautiful, as it was showing the clear night sky, several other children were staring at them as they shuffled in, nearly pressed up against a wall. A tall man dressed in bright clothes was standing at the head of the long head table and as everything started Harry was standing in a blur.
It didn't matter that the ceiling was breathtaking, or that the whole room was lit by warm sconces. It didn't matter that the woman-- Professor McGonagall-- he reminded himself was standing beside a stool with a weird hat on it, or that she was reading off names one by one as the children were sorted into their respective houses. What did matter to Harry were the dark eyes that stayed on him as soon as he walked into the room.
The man was at the head table so he must have been one of the teachers. Was his subject Potions, or did he just know a lot about them? the man seemed to be fighting something as Harry looked at him, before sneering and looking away.
How weird, the man had a lot going on with his face, but there was so little to examine expression wise, so Harry decided not to read too far into it. The boy looked away as well and he listened to the people he somewhat knew get sorted. Hermione, he remembered her name with a bit of difficulty, was sorted into Gryffindor, so was the frog owner, Neville Longbottom. Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin, within only a second of the hat being on his head.
That was another thing, the hat was alive! It seemed to joke and be just as serious as the other Professors, but he doubted that the hat taught a class. He was reeling, and by the time it was his turn, Harry had to take a breath. His name was called, which caused a long unnerving silence to spring up throughout the room. He took the path one step at a time, blushing at the unwanted attention and whispers from everyone. Or most everyone as the same man he saw upon arrival had yet to even look back his way.
The hat was placed on his head, and for a while he wasn't sure what to expect, but when he heard the voice in his head he almost jumped.
'Hmm... Mr. Potter.' He heard throughout his mind. 'Difficult, very difficult indeed.'
Harry had been smiling as the hat seemed to hem and haw, taking it's time to make a decision. Though as it dragged on, he could hear the school outside of his mind whisper and gasp at him. He was truly starting to get uncomfortable, but he kept listening to the hat.
'I see vast courage, and plenty of talent. A lust for knowledge as well as immense loyalty. Very cunning Mr. Potter, now where to place you is the question...'
It seemed to be leading him on, as if it wanted to place him anywhere.
'Exactly Mr. Potter. You will fit in in any one of these houses, yet which is the most perfect place for you?'
'Anywhere but Slytherin, please!' Harry thought.
'Oh? But the house of snakes and its head of house will guide you admirably on your path.'
'No! Please not Slytherin. He told me it wouldn't end well.' Harry pleaded vehemently. He fidgeted in his chair, as the longer he sat the more he wanted to just disappear. He could hear the other children and even the professors talking now, they were wondering what was taking so long, but overall did not intervene.
'He? Oh I see, Severus will guide you well despite your house differences, so trust him.' The hat said, and Harry agreed, but asked once again not to be left with the snakes. 'Well if you're sure, better be--'
"GRYFFINDOR!!"
The hat gave him a bit of advice before being lifted, the words echoing in his head as he walked to the table silently amongst the harsh cheery applause.
'Go to him if you have any problems, Mr. Potter, he may never show it but he will always listen.'
It was such a strange parting statement, and he thought on it while the Headmaster, a man named Dumbledore, started a speech.
He half listened to the man as he spoke the rules, and Harry almost snorted when he heard the Forbidden Forest was just that, forbidden. As if the name didn't scare him away enough, he mused. The Professors were all introduced, and as the man in all black robes stood, he remembered that he now knew the mans name.
Severus, he thought. Adding to it the mans last name which Headmaster Dumbledore spoke out to the hall. Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin house, and resident Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
It was weird to him, that he had started thinking about this man so clearly throughout the week. Neither of them knew one another, but he felt like he could trust the angry looking man. There weren't very many adults he trusted, other than Hagrid, Snape, and his third year primary school teacher. Snape would have been his head of house, so that was probably why he thought about the man, he shrugged.
Professor Mcgonagall was to be his head of house though, so hopefully he could learn to trust her as well?
Either way, they were served super, which popped up on the table, startling many of the other first years including Harry. He wasn't the only one in awe of the castle or his new life, nor was he the only one looking up at the head table throughout the meal.
HPSSHPSSHPSS
That night after they were escorted to their new dorms, Harry and Ron were trying to get to know one another and their dorm mates better. In there room was three other boys, Neville Longbottom was one, as well as two boys named Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.
They spoke as they put their things away, and settled in for the night. The shaggy haired boy was glad that they lived in a cozy place, that didn't have mold in the corners, or spiders on the ceilings like most thought a castle would be. He wondered who kept it all clean, and if they could tell them what they used to do it all.
The night passed quickly, Harry was one of the few children who were homesick, as he hardly counted the Dursleys house as his home.
That very next morning the first years were sluggish, especially when getting into a new routine in a new place. Harry was sluggish for entirely different reasons. He had not expected to have such easy uninterrupted sleep, and thus had overslept from his natural 5 o'clock morning routine. That and he was set no tasks but to learn and learn well, so he would put his all into that, and clean when possible.
Breakfast was a slow, yet lively affair as everyone fully woke up, and Harry was eager to find out what his schedule would be. He took a sip of his orange juice, then almost gagged, unprepared for the weird taste he'd gotten. But the more he sipped it, the better it tasted. The night before he had stuck to water and a small portion of food, unsure of what he was allowed, but this morning his plate was already set up, unlike anyone elses. It was a normal proportion, small for most children his age, but big for Harry himself.
His breakfast was simple; buttered toast, scrambled eggs, a generous amount of sausage, and a small cup of yogurt. He was happy to see that it was just enough to settle his stomach without making him sick.
Still he was unsure if this was really all for him or just a really mean joke, so he ate a bit of everything, savoring the flavors he only ever got the scraps of. As he looked around, no one noticed his full plate, no one even commented, so now he worried if it was normal here or if he was expected to thank someone in particular.
Instead his musings were caught by the sounds of flapping in the distance, and as the new students looked up they watched as in fluttered hundreds of owls and other flighted birds. He watched as some of the kids beside him got mail, and gasped at the cool message system the wizarding world had.
He thought it was just to send to the families, or really for a large portion of the birds, to his relatives. He didn't know that it was this intense.
Which was why he was startled by the sound and sight of a mostly white owl coming down to land near his plate. It reached out its leg, offering him a small note, before nuzzling his cheek. It kept close, even after he took the piece of paper, taking a sausage and settling down for the moment.
Harry read the note, which while others tried to look, he found none of them could read it.
It said;
"Mr. Potter, I realize that you may or may not be accustomed to larger portions, but as you will soon learn, casting magic takes up much of your energy. Eat and eat well. This is a snowy owl, she will aid you in sending whatever correspondences you may have, in both the magical and muggle world. She is yours to name, and I have been told that she is partial to sausages.
Do well, Mr. Potter both for yourself and in your studies. I expect your attention in these classes and coming years.
Signed, S.S."
Harry knew who this was, and a soft bubbly feeling caught in his chest at the impossibly smooth, spidery scrawl. The man was still helping him he smiled, and knew that if nothing else he could repay the man by taking notes and paying attention.
Tucking back in, Harry finished his food thoughtfully. He wanted to give this owl a unique name, one that the man at the head table might like. Speaking of, he chanced a glance at the head table, and noticed that the Potions Master who did this gave no other indication of acknowledgment beyond a lifted brow.
It was oddly nice coming from the man that people fearfully ran away from in the street. Breakfast went on, and they were soon given their schedules. Harry compared with his newfound friend, and reluctantly with Granger as well. He had nothing against the girl, but she was too forward, and he knew from experience that liking something so much and without reservations got him in a lot of trouble.
He would avoid her for now, try to be nice, but not get too close right away. Ron on the other hand did not seem to like her, pulling Harry away as soon as he could so they didn't have to talk to the bushy haired know-it-all. Harry was a bit affronted at his friends dislike, but knew that not everyone would be friends, as he had his fair share of bullies in school and at the Dursley's house.
The day went on, and Harry learned quite a few new things. They had a short lesson in every class so far about how to write with a quill and ink, and while his writing was not up to his normal standards with a muggle pen, he still managed to get some good notes.
The word muggle still made him laugh inwardly, as it was said in a way that made his relatives seem abnormal instead of him. He felt a little more powerful, and as he made his way to his final class before dinner, he remembered his mental promise. He would use all his skills to take good notes and show this Professor that he could do it.
He did not know just how disastrous that class would be.
First he watched as all of the first years made their way to the class with him and Ron in the back. Granger was somewhere closer to the front, clutching her bag close and eager to learn despite the lack of friendly looks meeting her. She was not mean, or dead set on reminding teachers of homework, but she seemed to actually know it all. This made the teachers give some of the less prepared students, including Harry since his books had been locked away until yesterday, a look.
They were expected to read at least a little about their subjects, which Harry had done, but it was in things they hadn't touched on that day. He had been doing well up until his first Defence Against the Dark Arts class, in which he found he suddenly had a huge headache.
It was like a buzzing had started up in his head as the stuttering Professor started his lesson. The man was jumpy and overall probably not very good at teaching, but once the class was over the emerald eyed boy was left with a lingering headache that did not fully go away.
Back to the matter at hand though, Harry was watching as his new Potions Professor stalked up to them from the now open classroom door. He looked at them all with a glower and addressed them at once.
"Silence." His voice carried cutting off the chatter around them, including Ron who blushed heavily at being caught. The boy had been telling Harry that Snape was a mean man, with a hatred for Gryffindors and any house but his own.
"See!" Ron had exclaimed in what he probably thought was a whisper.
"Five points from Gryffindor Mr. Weasley. One would expect you to listen, despite all of your siblings rattling around in this school." His words weren't particularly harsh, but his tone was, so Harry could understand where Ron was coming from.
The Slytherins on the other side of the hall snickered quietly at the red head, and yet Snape said nothing. He clenched his jaw and bade them intrance into the room.
Harry knew that tick, it was the one his aunt had when he walked in any room with her or her family in it. It was the look that said-- I'd do more than kick you out of it weren't against my reputation.
But was this the same look Snape had given the snakes? Harry couldn't quite tell as it was only a fleeting expression on the dour face.
The lesson started off well enough, taking notes, meanwhile practicing their handwriting. Snape had said that they had enough time to practice it, and launched straight into his opening speech. It was one of great love for his subject, hidden behind a hatred for those who disregarded it.
He talked about stoppering death, and brewing glory, about how to bewitch the mind, and ensnare the senses. Harry was hooked. He had already reach a good portion of the first chapter of his potions text, but was still woefully unprepared for the man to possibly single him out with impossible questions.
"Ah, our resident Celebrity... Potter!" The man had snapped, pulling Harry out of both his thoughts and note taking, hardly registering the words as he heard the mans angry tone.
Uh oh. He felt like just thinking it had brought his fears to life.
"Yes sir?" He answered respectfully, trying to keep his fear hidden. The man was scary, despite his first impressions of the man in the shops.
"What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?" This stumped the eleven year old. He had no idea what the two would make, and he only knew one of them as a flower in his aunt's favorite floral shop. It was the one flower she herself would rip from the garden and stomp on until the plants were mush.
"I... I don't know." He said softly, trying desperately to ignore the snickers coming from the other side of the room. They likely didn't know either, but knowing it wasn't them being questioned made it funny.
Harry tried not to let his head down, but he did look just to the side of his professors face to alleviate the instinct to do so.
"It would result in the Draught of Living Death. A sleeping Draught so powerful, the drinker looks and essentially is in a dead state until an antidote is administered." The man growled, it was hardly human, but then again Harry didn't know what to expect from this world and its people.
"And where would I find a bezoar stone?" He asked almost impatiently. This time from the readjustment in his view Harry saw Granger's hand, still in the air, go even further up.
But the man had asked him a question, one he actually knew the answer to this time.
"The stomach of a goat sir." He said, then tried to mentally fade away as those deep eyes caught his.
The man was likely going to ask more, or say something else, when suddenly he merely sneered and turned away. Harry sighed a deep breath of relief, and nearly crumpled against his desk from it.
He was ignored from that point on, a Snape explained that a bezoar could be found in many animals stomachs, though most commonly and accessibly in that of a goat. He went on to say that it was the most basic form of protection from a poison, which the medieval muggles had unexpectedly been smart enough to figure out. He set them a potion to brew, the instructions on the board and in front of them.
After telling them where the ingredients were stored, he left them to their work, stalking around the class like a bird of prey, watching for any mistakes.
Snape saw as an ingredient flew from the slytherin side towards Harry's cauldron, deflecting it softly with a simple flick of his non dominant wrist, causing the bit of intact snake fang to fall just beside his foot.
"Five points from whomever tossed that fang." He did not say who it was or from what house, but it was obvious that one of the snakes had done it.
The class passed and at the end Harry was glad to leave. His boil cure potion came out ok, as he'd had trouble getting the flobberworm mucus to cooperate. His potion was a bit dull in the end, but he felt he had done well enough for his first real lesson.
The class was told of their assignment, which was to read up on this particular potion, the ingredients, and preparation, and take notes to be given to him next lesson.
Harry was respectful as he left, not running out, but not taking his time either.
Dinner passed easily, so to did the first months of classes and school life in general. He had a few run ins with Malfoy, and alternately spoke to and ignored Hermione, but mostly kept to himself with the exception of Ron.
He had been called up to the Headmasters office a few times during term, and during one of those visits he was given a cloak of invisibility, told a little bit about his parents, and then let go. It was normal at this point for Harry to not know what was going on around him, but he was not clueless. Most days he was collecting data, trying to see what connections he could make from what he was given.
Tonight was no different.
