Previously: Harry partook in the joys of Hogwarts and the room of requirement. After encountering the Weasley Twins, Harry's high collapsed into a spiral of frustration and anger. After 'spying' on two lady Slytherins in the common room Harry felt his magic waver and to further worsen his day Harry came face to face with the weakened form of Hogwarts.
xXxXx
Book I :: Chapter 7 :: Potions and Flying
Harry sat cross-legged that Sunday evening within his trunk significantly peeved. The interior of his trunk was pretty empty. It was a rectangular room with three doors no larger than a king-sized bed and no higher than ten feet high. A roped ladder dangled limply from the ceiling were a trunk sized trap door was clearly visible in the ceiling. Harry was sitting comfortably as he organized his books in odd geometric structures, constructing with them like they were building blocks.
His mind wasn't behind the action at all though. His focus was on watching a shimmering glowing wisp zoom around and through the books he was using to make a miniature castle for the entity to play in. In the first month since he had arrived everything in his opinion gone far worse than he would have liked.
Harry had learned that his magic was outrageously unpredictable and only presented a larger problem since practical magic, the casting aspect of his class load, was planned to begin the next week.
His fellow Slytherin's had essentially fallen in line behind Draco Malfoy and thus almost his entire year was out for him, no surprise there. That was to be expect what with the background of his family and the fear that could almost be tasted within the house. Harry for the life of him couldn't figure out why that was though, and that bugged him. The 'attacks' on his door stopped a week after his arrival which matched in line with his application of more… combat focused defensive runes around his dorm. If the shiner on Crabbe the next morning said anything, then he was at least one of the individuals that took to his door like a lover.
Interestingly enough, it was after said week that his fellow first years aside from Malfoy and crew, also took a very firm stance to avoid interactions with him.
While this wasn't a big deal for him, what with the number of introductory courses coming to a close meant to ease students into Hogwarts, this would become a problem once they took up classes like Herbology and potions in the next coming of days. Classes that had you partner up with another. What really bothered him was the hostility born over the first week. That had Harry's intuition in heated speculation. Harry didn't believe in coincidence. Their actions to him and the assault on his door ending were linked. How or why he didn't know and that he didn't like. And while he could read their minds with ease, Harry refused to do so. He already regretted and hated his lack of focus and doing so until now as it was. It was a sign of weakness in his own skills, something he couldn't allow and was a mark of shame for him, even if it was useful. And even if he did, the only thing he could learn was thoughts passing through a person's mind at that moment. Just like the thoughts of those who passed him in the halls, or how Ron Weasley remembered his meeting with Dumbledore about Harry when he saw him, or even those thoughts revolving the wand maker when said individuals were coming from Ollivanders. Sure, his legilimency could read their minds, but passively Harry could only read their thoughts if and only when he willed it or let his barriers slip, the latter of which usually involved a painful headache afterwards.
As for the rest of his house mates who weren't classmates distancing themselves from him, there were also a large group, mostly older, more experienced, and in Slytherin that were becoming more miffed at Harry with each coming day. Not that he cared really, as far as Harry was concerned their reaction was expected even if it didn't manifest from his active decisions.
Their chagrin and agitation were entertaining as well as predictable. After all several times said house members tried to corner him in an abandoned corridor and failed. Other times they were trying to spy on him only for him to disappear, and at other times they made a short insult expecting a retort they could make use of or for him to draw his wand only for Harry to laugh at them and in turn get punished themselves. There was no weakness in Harry's defense both socially and physically and it was clearly pissing them off.
One of the perks of knowing the layout of Hogwarts's and her secret passages made their attempts impossible. The beauty of it was that it worked in Harry's favor and thus why he didn't do anything about it. The Hogwarts rumor network was already spinning tales of Harry being a powerful and mysterious wizard who even the upper years couldn't touch. Talk that really hurt their supposed reputations. Harry the Untouchable. Harry chuckled at that as it wasn't even close to true. He did have several close calls, and should he have to draw his wand, Harry knew they'd know just how untouchable he was.
What really troubled him was the fact he was unable to speak with Hermione that entire month. After Ron Weasley's outburst in the great Hall on their first day it seemed most if not all of Gryffindor house had turned on her. Harry wasn't sure what was happening but what he did know was she made to speak with him several times only to be called out to by some upper year Gryffindor. After the first week she all but avoided him. A month later it seemed that most of her house was ignoring her, specifically those of her own age group. She looked incredibly sad and alone and aside from Fred and George who rarely talked with her, Hermione had no one around her. Trying to rectify this Harry made several attempts only for her to politely, mind you curtly, turn him down.
Anytime he was making progress however either Ron and his posy intervened and prevented him from talking with her driving either him or Hermione away. While the previous week showed a change in the house which seemed to re-accept her and she herself began to actively avoid him, Harry couldn't help but suspect that the isolation was worse now more than ever. Her actions seemed to confirm this as much against her nature Harry found her going so far as to give him wary and cautious glares whenever he attempted to approach.
Several times he felt tempted to read her thoughts to find out what was wrong, but he knew doing so was an invasion of her privacy and his respect for her wouldn't allow him to do it without her consent or his own incompetence. For someone like Draco he wouldn't hesitate to read him like a book, enemy action demanded that information was to be known, and Malfoy made no quiet effort to show his dislike of Harry Potter. Hermione on the other hand, at least she was within his line of sight. He would watch over her from afar for now, his first friend as well as an long lost love, would be under his protection and he'd be there when she needed him, when she wanted him.
It was still a contrasting feeling to him. Wanting to befriend the same person that he had loved. Harry wasn't looking for love with her, not yet anyway, but he did miss the atmosphere they had enjoyed on the train.
Sighing into the air Harry got up to make his way to his scheduled detention. As he walked to the Hospital Wing to clean all of the equipment. Harry had to admit his month was all that bad. He did have problems, but they were small in his eyes. Things could have been a lot worse. Slytherin's, small time, Hermione, an issue to keep an eye on, Him leaving Snape comatose, yeah… that was his beef.
Thinking back on it this was probably the best possible outcome that could have happened. All the same as Harry thought back on it, he wondered if things could have gone differently.
– First Potions Class, several days earlier–
Harry walked into the dungeon and spotting an open bench. He sat down on the cold hardwood, as he made a quick gaze of his surroundings. The room was enclosed, stone walled, and warded. The only exit was behind him and there were four points in the room that were obstructed form Harry's line of sight, The wall and doors behind him, behind the instructors desk, a blackboard created a large blind spot to his front left, and the cabinet to the far right of the room hid the right corner from his view. The number of blind spots did nothing to easy Harry's tensions in being in a room with one exit. As he waited for the rest of Slytherin and Gryffindor to gather for their first Potions lesson Harry pulled out Slytherin's Diary in an attempt to ease his consciousness and paranoia.
While he waited, he read, and as he read Harry felt himself loosen up just slightly, the dreary dungeon evicted as he did so from his mind. Slytherin was fascinating and nothing like what he had known or heard. The man had a deep love and acceptance of the world as well as an even deeper love for family. Harry was also coming to understand as he read, that Slytherin, the house not the man, was greatly misunderstood, especially by its inhabitants. Harry turned another page.
March 12
Maria and her family awoke early this morning, restless and irritable. They seemed to take it out on me, having me fetch water for them, and ordering me to scrub the kettle. I couldn't blame them, rather I understood why. Because of myself and my family they were forced to flee from their safe and peaceful home. I blame myself but Maria still reassures me that it was gonna happen anyway.
She's right though I don't want to admit it. It felt oddly comforting to hold the blame. It was awful, but it meant only one of us suffered as much. I was okay with that. I wanted that, less suffering. In the end I have to admit, Maria was right, it wasn't our fault, it was inevitable.
The pursuers don't care if you can perform magic or not. Just thinking you can was enough for them and all they really cared about. Maria joked that if you stared at them incorrectly, they would hunt you regardless of magical ability. The joke was more fact then either of us would have liked to admit. The mood grew dark after she said it. There was also the fact that Marie's little sister, just happens to be able to use magic as well, something that again meant nothing to the pursuers. They likely didn't even know but it certainly would dissuade them. That thinking scares me. What would they do if they knew? The images of what they would do to her haunted me for nights. They haunted Maria's as well, something she tried to hide.
Around luncheon today I continued to teach Adela how to use her magic. Maria watches, a smile on her face. No sign of anyone nearby, no signs of the pursuers. It is a good day. Maria hugs me as she thanks me for teaching her sister. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. I can feel my face flush slightly.
It was a very good day.
The sounds of footsteps triggered Harry as they sounded from behind him. Closing the diary Harry watched as the rest of the class filed in a trickle at a time. Spotting Hermione Harry noticed she seemed down and even more distant from her house. She didn't even spare him a glance. She looked mad at him, though Harry hadn't a clue as to why. The rest of Gryffindor seemed to be equally upset with her as she seemed with him.
Looking around the classroom the entire class could be cut cleanly in half, the division of the houses blatantly apparent. Gryffindor's on the right, Slytherin on the left. Even Harry who was distanced from his own housemates, having arrived first, apparently dictated to the rest of them that today, the left was their side. The first sign of unity with him aside from the green on their robes. Harry would have laughed if the room wasn't keeping him on edge.
When the rest of the class had their potion's equipment set, as if staged, the doors to the classroom burst open again Harry felt everyone jump. He himself had gotten lucky as instead of reaching for his wand, his instincts shot his hand down for his revolver, which thankfully he didn't have. Berating himself Harry turning slightly, meticulously slowly, to eye Professor Snape glided down into the room. The man radiated hostility, the last thing Harry needed right now.
In a cold, almost slimily dreary voice he practically whispered to the class in a mock groan, every syllable degrading and mocking. Despite this the entire class was silent and clung to each word.
"Put your wands away." Snape began, trailing out his words with a brisk pause. "There will be no foolish wand waving in this class. I doubt any of you ignorant children can understand the subtle and powerful nature that is the majestic art of potions making. I guarantee you ingrates within here will think yourselves above such a subject and believe the is no magic needed within this art."
His words held no warmth and there was a subtle cruelty that didn't feel subtle at all. His eyes black as coal and reminded one of a dark tunnel that swallowed the class into his tempo. Harry however was thankful, as at least three students, all unfortunately Slytherin, spotted the hypocrisy of no wands, followed by the comment of there is magic involved.
"I can teach you how to heal the impossible. Teach you the means of preserving life after death. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper on death. However, I am sure most of you will not put in the effort nor respect to do such things and not even potions can save you from your own stupidity."
Swinging around her glared straight into Harry's eyes and shouted, "Potter!" Harry bit his tongue to stay his response. The taste of iron coating his mouth left a bitter but welcome reminder that helped focus his actions.
The class on the other hand jumped and Harry had to praise the blonde haired Slytherin girl next to him. To her credit she made no motion of surprise or unease and kept an emotionless mask on her face the entire time. She didn't even seem phased as Snape towered over them, something that impressed Harry.
"Harry Potter," Snape drawled out. "Our. New. Celebrity."
His stare hardened and his voice rose. "Tell me Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Hermione's hand shot up, tense and eager. An action that was equally ignored by Snape with equivalent ease, the man who's focus instead was directed at Harry with such intensity and animosity that it left Harry worried that his robes would end up combusting spontaneously.
Unlike Hermione, Harry hadn't a clue to the answer. He knew that asphodel was usually used in curing snake bites and could when infused with wormwood was used for harmful agents, such as poisons. The problem was that wasn't all it could do. Depending on what it was combined with that particular combination could be used in fourteen different potions and three elixirs. Wanting to avoid further confrontations, Harry decided that the best answer was to give the man the answer he wanted.
"I don't know, sir." Harry lied, allowing Snape to have the win he clearly wanted.
Snape sneered still ignoring Hermione's hand. "Tsk. Tsk. Clearly fame isn't everything, is it. Another one. Mr. Potter, where would you look if I told you to procure me a bezoar?"
Harry smirked at this and opened his ingredients box. Pointing at the small round stone on the top he said, "My ingredients chest, sir." Harry lifting the bezoar for all to see. "That's one for me," Harry thought "Your move Professor".
The Gryffindor's were desperately stifling their laughter. A flare of hatred burst to life in Snape's eyes which turned to bare directly on those suffocating on their laughter.
"Five points from Slytherin, for your cheek Potter." Snape growled out, his voice expressing conflicting feelings even as he detracted the points. Snape slowly drew his eyes back onto Harry's. The show of conflicting thoughts turning to malice of greater intensity as those black holes turned back unto Harry's green. Even under this cruelty why did Harry feel respect and admiration for this man. In the last five minutes, he had given Harry more reasons to hate him then even Malfoy had. Considering the last month that was impressive.
Collecting his outwardly disapproval he asked, "Then how about this. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?
Hermione's hand shot up for a third time.
"I believe they are the same plant sir."
Snape's sneer returned, the cheek that was present banished as if by a wand.
"It appears you have taken the initiative in Herbology. Let's try another Potion question. What is the first step that results in many failings to produce a functioning Polyjuice Potion?"
Now this was a question Harry knew the answer, a clear concise answer. Something that finally irked Harry. It removed any doubt, Snape was fishing to embarrass him. First with questions a first year should have no knowledge about, and now with a question even a journeymen practitioner would struggle with. If evidence was needed one need not look further then Hermione Granger who for the first time didn't raise her hand and instead took a scrunch facial expression of deep thought, eyes down and pointed hard at her desk.
"The first step resulting in failure varies, Sir. Polyjuice is complex and easily botched. 80% of the time it's botched by using fluxweed not picked on a full moon. 12% statistically speaking its failure to place exactly 3 measures of fluxweed and the remaining 8% comprises several other careless mistakes, the more common being corrupting the potion with foreign contaminants. The answer, to the best that anyone can give, is in the act of collecting the ingredients, is where most fail sir. This is the answer to your question that one could possibly encounter in their search for a Mastery in Potions and something no normal first year would know." Harry retorted glaring at Snape. He made no effort to hide his disdain for the Professor this time. Irritation, frustration, and insulted, Harry's own self-control was further diminished by his confusion of why he subconsciously respects a man who by all appearances should be given none.
Harry wondered why his other self-held such respect for the man. The man in the first few minutes had demonstrated a lack of care and respect for those he should be guiding in his subject, a blatant bias and hatred for a student upon their first meeting, and a clear desire to humiliate a novice that to his knowledge was twenty years his lesser, even at the expense of the other students. They only had seven years to learn potions, those that struggled would only have five, and here this man wasted several minutes of their lives on some hatred that came from almost nowhere. Despite his subconscious views for the first time in his return Harry disregarded his instincts and directed his own hatred back.
Everything went to hell a second later. Snape glared at Harry to which he returned with equal force.
"5 points from Slytherin!" the words left his lips with greater ease then before, no longer biting or restrained. "You Mr. Potter, are a novice. Just like your father you appear to face Potions with the same disrespect towards your betters as he."
His words were lost on Harry. Harry was instead distracted by the feeling of a slimy tendril inching deeper into his mind, pressing firmly against his barriers, delving deeper still.
Harry's eyes had gone wide with shocked realization.
"Legilimency!" Harry realized. Instantly Harry's calm anger, exploded into a furnace fury. This fury was not born of the illegal act however. Harry could repel the intrusion as easily as breathing. A scene of learned amber eyes and blazing red hairy lay just beyond the tip of the tendril's reach. A treasured scene. A scene kept pure and precious, neither happy nor joyful, but more powerful than any other to Harry. Amber eyes resting on his shoulder telling him that she too cared. A scene where they, together, remembered the women with flaming red hair. A treasure, untouched, unpolluted, and on the verge of being violated. A scene that Dementor's told to their kin for generations. A scene that brought forth a power that instilled pain and suffering that forced their retreat time and time again. Eyes greener then a killing curse blazed and scorched back into Black. He dared…
"HOW DARE YOU! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD!" Harry all but yelled in cold fury that demanded death. How dare he touch… try to defile that moment that was so precious. Rage blazed through his emerald eyes. Inside his mind Harry called upon all his mental barriers and forced them to converge on the intruder. Reaching out Harry mercilessly grabbed the source of the tendril, Snape, and pulled. Taking hold of the tendril Harry had ripped control from the man and pulling him into his mind. Even without speaking the words, the result was no different from a Legilimens spell. With no ounce of concern Harry felt Snape crash headlong into his defenses with greater force then Snape could possibly be prepared for.
The result was visually violent. Snape's mental self was ripped asunder under the weight of Harry's mental barriers. All of his magic converged and ling a mill press, crushed, shredded and ground the man into dust under its weight. The man's body shook, shivering silently under the result. The man wasn't prepared by any means.
To the rest of the class Snape appeared to become visibly dumber while standing. No sooner did Harry yell, Snape stumbled slightly before a prominent nose bleed appeared. A second latter the man collapsed on the floor, curling up into a ball in phantom pain as Harry threw the man from his mind. What felt like a minute within Harry's mind, was only seconds long to everyone else.
The class was speechless, confused, and stunned.
Not taking a second glance Harry grabbed his bag and ingredients box and left the classroom. He'd pick up is Cauldron and other utensils later. Harry had to prepare for the fallout and knew Albus as Headmaster would be involved. Harry needed to prepare himself, both mentally and physically.
That event was the talk of the school and made Harry an unsung hero to the rest of the students, his house excluded. Fred and George practically worshipping him even as they retold his tale incorrectly for the twentieth time. At the same time, he was worshiped quietly Harry was subtly feared by his fellow students. Something Harry didn't want.
Ever since the event Snape had been a resident of Saint Mongo's mental ward. So great was the damage Harry's retaliation was that Madam Pomfrey admitted she couldn't do anything to heal him. The rumors that Snape performed Legilmency caused quite a stir.
Interestingly enough, Harry wasn't charged with attacking a Professor. Apparently using Legilmency on a student was a criminal offense and not just spoken about as being a crime. Apparently, the damage done to Snape was so clearly identified as the result of a mental retaliation, a byproduct of Harry dragging the man headlong into his barriers, was so violent that it left no evidence to any contrary.
Unfortunately, Snape had dodged the law thanks to Dumbledore. Harry heard that Dumbledore covered for the man saying it was a practiced bout between himself and the man as he prepared himself with facing Harry alone. If rumor was to be held true, his father and Snape were mortal enemies who hated each other. That didn't matter to Harry at the time thought. It didn't matter to Harry. The man got away legal but not scot free, Harry had left him message loud and clear to everyone. If the man touched his mind again, Harry swore he'd trap the man inside his mind and leave his body to catch up with his rotting hair. That thought might have been a result of his own anger, but Harry truly felt the response was well deserved should he reappear.
The fact that Harry had repelled Snape however revealed to everyone that Harry was what they considered a natural Occlumens. Technically Harry was naturally gifted in the skill, but more accurately he had nearly 10 years of developing the skill unintentionally on top of all the near one thousand years prior to those that made him a grandmaster at the art. However, his lack of control over that experience and skill did give the impression that Harry was a natural unseen before in the wizarding world.
It might have been this revelation or something else, but whatever the cause Harry was left under the suspicion that it was the reason that at no point during the whole appear did Albus Dumbledore, approach or summon Harry to reprimand him. That or the man was to busy putting out the fires necessary to save his potions master.
In the end everyone was of the believe that Harry was a prodigy at mind magics, a natural, and Harry didn't bother to correct anyone about it. The milk was dropped, the spell was cast, no point crying over either. Leaving everyone to believe he was a gifted natural just worked out better, and changing it was too much trouble. If anything, it would make Dumbledore think twice before entering his mind and that benefited Harry just fine.
What was irritating was he was still punished for defending himself against the professor. On the bright side it was a detention that resulted in helping the school healer, Madam Pomfrey. Something Harry was completely okay with.
What Harry wasn't okay with was the fact Snape was to return to teaching tomorrow, the next day. A fact Harry was dreading even as he walked down the halls to the hospital wing. Yup Snape would return just in time for Tuesday morning, right before his scheduled potions class. Even worse was that that harry was sure event solidified him in Hermione's book as someone dangerous and a villain to avoid actively and glare at angrily whenever close enough. Merlin, he missed her. The worst of it all, is he had no one to talk to about any of it.
Literally he was alone, the only soul who knew of the fate they all shared, and worse, the fate of their grandchildren who were yet to be born. None of them endured the same experiences and suffering he did. None who could berate him for his actions, because none of them had the knowledge to do so. There wasn't anyone to anchor him, to provide him guidance. Perhaps he had already changed everything, maybe he hadn't. In the end did it even matter, was their any hope for a better future.
The doubts Harry had, resurfaced again, and once more Harry stomped them down even as he himself questioned his own validity. The attack on his professor, that was not the act of a child, but of a skilled wizard. Again, Harry had to ask, was he Harry Potter of the future, or the past?
Walking into Pomfrey's office she provided him with a welcomed distraction as she directed him towards the important task of cleaning all the beakers and vials, she had on hand that weren't in use. Starting immediately with welcome abandon, Harry started cleaning them and after two hours had passed had finished his task with his mind focused on his next class and the fears, he possessed repressed once more in the recesses of his mind.
oOoOoOoOo
Minerva McGonagall was tightly round up that evening. News of Snape's return to Hogwarts with nothing more than a slap on the wrist by the Headmaster and this infuriated her to no end. It also was apparent for all around her too that Snape had dodged the law and wasn't even being properly punished for it. For real, attacking another students mind, it was outrageous, a scandal for the ages. Worse was she had to accept it as for the best. Like with the rest of the teachers at Dumbledore's command, they had to keep the attack secret or risk having the reputation of Hogwarts crumbled. Hogwarts was important to all of them and having it closed was simply unthinkable. As much as she hated it, and as odd as it felt to her, they couldn't have Hogwarts close.
Relocating her center McGonagall simply reinforced her decision that she would keep an eye out and ensure that such a thing could never happen again. She would protect her students. Especially Lily and James's son.
Putting those thoughts aside, McGonagall reinforced her decision as she put it into active practiced as she guided one of her students that trailed behind her to the infirmary. A female student, if one had asked, who had been practicing in her fifth-year transfiguration homework. The poor girl trailing her professor had come to McGonagall earlier the evening having accidentally transfigured her arm into a horse's leg. While fearful of what her professor might say in regarding her homework and her botched at it she unknowingly caught McGonagall in self-reflection. Knowing she needed professional help, the girl bit to bullet just as McGonagall realized how distant she was with her own students. Instead of berating her student's carelessness coldly she had her explain what had happened and reiterated her mistakes as she guided her to the nurse after de-transfiguring her arm.
Instead of feeling worse the girl felt better about her failure and felt content beside McGonagall who had calmed her down and re-transfigured her arm. Her Professor's act of escorted her to Pomfrey's office was the proverbial cherry on the cake and in that evening made the women her favorite professor, even above Flitwick.
Reaching the hospital wing McGonagall and the girl saw Harry leaving and walking down the hall towards them.
"Mr. Potter, finished helping with Madam Pomfrey?" McGonagall asked politely albeit sharply.
Harry's smile towards her, sending a shiver down the fifth years spine as she looked at the young man. Thoughts of how handsome he'd be in five years scratching the back of her head. For McGonagall the smile had settled her restless mind and calmed her down more than any potion had all week.
"Yes Ma'am. Heading to Flying class with Madam Hooch now." Harry answered.
"Excellent. I hope your planning on excelling in your first flying lesson?" McGonagall commented, hinting at her own high expectations of him.
Smiling Harry grinned at her. "Well I'm certainly not planning on intentionally failing."
Bowing his head politely Harry passed them by with a swift walk and rushed off to class.
Walking into the ward, McGonagall guided the fifth year towards one of the beds. With a quick scan of her arm clarified her as completely healthy even as Pomfrey asked the girl if she felt any discomfort.
When she said no and that nothing felt off, Madam Pomfrey let her go. The girl left happier then she was before she failed, eager to give her homework and McGonagall's advice a try.
McGonagall was about to leave when she noticed the odd behavior her old friend was displaying. She was fidgety and overly interested in several empty beakers.
"Is something wrong Poppy?" she asked in concern.
Pomfrey shook her head. "Just curious. I just had Mr. Potter with me for his detention."
"Yes," McGonagall nodded. "I just passed him a moment ago. Is something the matter with him?"
"No, I just had him clean my beakers and vials just now."
McGonagall jaw nearly dropped at this. In all the years she knew Poppy, never or rather rarely did she ever let a student clean her equipment unless she was behind on their maintenance. If anything wasn't cleaned properly it could lead to harm to an unknowing student should the contents be corrupted by the improperly cleaned vials.
"You let him clean your equipment? Should I request my seventh years to transfigure wings onto pigs for the evening?" McGonagall joked.
Poppy laughed an earthly and warm laugh. "No, no. Mr. Potter is quite impressive. And very meticulous in his work. With a proper presentation I think he might even have him whip up some of the easier potions I need when I start to run low."
McGonagall stood stunned, this time letting her jaw fall loosely. "Surely you jest Poppy, he is a first year. He barely focuses in class as it is. Do you think he really is that capable that you'd risk your patients?" McGonagall asked.
"Never my patients. Surely you know better Minerva." Pomfrey retorted with a snort but then paused.
"No, but I watched Mr. Potter while he worked. He treats each vile with care and adapted his method of cleaning depending on what contents each vial held. A precision I have only seen dedicated or skill potions practitioner perform. Keep in mind, I never told him their contents. None of them were harmful but even so he recognized each vial's previous contents and cleaned them in the most effective matter possible. That's not something learned or taught here. Only after making several potions does one pick up that meticulous dedication and usually after a terrible mistake is made while making a difficult potion."
McGonagall listened carefully. Was Harry actually that skilled in potions. She recalled Lily having a similar fortitude in Potions, so it wasn't impossible, just unlikely. When would he had gotten the time to learn it? If he did possess the same aptitude as Lily did, she found herself wishing he'd show a similar interest in her own subject like his father did.
"Oh dear." Pomfrey muttered picking two books up, both of which rugged from use and splotched with ink. As she picked them up, she took note of the contents within one of them and stopped abruptly leaving both her thoughts and the book aloft.
"Is something the matter Poppy?"
Turning to McGonagall Poppy was about to answer but stopped short. She was transfixed with the open book in her hands.
"Poppy?" McGonagall asked again, a bit more concerned and curious this time.
Pomfrey turned a page, and then another, ignoring McGonagall and her growing concern. McGonagall was starting to worry for her friend, so much so that she failed to register the book in question, nor its name and title.
"Poppy!" McGonagall called firmly. When she receives no response, she summoned the book with her wand caught it in mid-air. This drew Poppy's attention to her, finally. Not feeling any dark magic from the book in her hand McGonagall focused on her friend.
"Are you okay. I feared this book might have charmed you." McGonagall explained.
"Well… you're not entirely wrong. It was… enlightening." Poppy voiced at no longer reading but thinking hard while staring at the floor. Her hand latching onto her arm as she thought.
"What do you mean?"
Pointing at the book Poppy gestured for her to read it. Looking down at the book McGonagall cautiously opened the book. It was a copy of Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger. The required text for first year students' potions.
Opening it up McGonagall was left starstruck and dumbfounded by the numerous scribbles and notes that decorated the book. Instructions had been crossed out, rewritten. The Order of some recipes had even been rearranged. One potion was completely rewritten leaving none of the original steps behind, coming out with nearly half the steps it previously required with nots explaining why. On the margins where more tips, notes, observations, and even reminders when making the potions in question. This was not the work of an average student in potions but someone well versed and experienced in the art. Reading some of the notes she realized why Poppy had been so transfixed on the book. Turning the pages through the book she realized that the further in she read the fewer notes where present.
More amazing was that the notes declared some outrages things such as cutting brewing times or increasing effects or removing side effects. But most of all it showed a clear and solid understanding of each potion and their ingredients. All in the hand writing of one of her newest students.
"This..." McGonagall stumbled out recognizing the hand writing of the notes. "Mr. Potter's?"
Poppy nodded. "If I'm not mistaken so is this one as well."
Handing it to McGonagall she realized it was A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch. The same one he had with him, earlier that morning during Transfiguration. Opening it she found the same thing, thousands of scribbled notes but less numerous then in the potions book. Notes regarding proper transfiguration tips and trials. Contemplative reflections and speculations of transfiguration methods, notes of what manner of focus was most efficient, wand movement, streamlining experimentation results, the book was loaded. One note in particular explained in great detail what characteristics of a match stick a wizard should transfigure first and what traits to visualized thereafter to most efficiently transfigure a match stick into a sowing needle. Order of transfiguring characteristics, statistics regarding the success of certain visualizations when transfiguring, the results of practice, and questions regarding ease or difficult of different transfigurations practices done, it was more thorough than anything she had ever done herself.
Again, the comments and rewrites spoke leagues of understanding. What's more it showed a peak at how Harry could have possible wrote some of the things in his potions book. The boy was a data miner. Every detail, failure, and thought were written in the book's margins. Were as most students took her words as law, Harry took them and the results he experienced and learned from it all, comparing and contrasting them with equal respect.
The comments expressed his inquisitive minds nature and showed that he had an understanding of the text that bordered that of Mastery.
"What does this mean, Poppy?" McGonagall asked. She had no idea how to respond to this revelation. The boy was smart, possible even a prodigy unseen before. Regardless of if he knew the subject or was actively absorbing the subjects, he was already well past the understand of his year. His knowledge and speculations on the subjects might even rival her Hermione's knowledge on the texts. Where one specialized in the known, the other specialized in the unknown.
"I believe Mr. Potter's lack of attentiveness in your glass has less to do with interest and more to do with aptitude. At least in regard to theoretical magic if that book has anything to say."
So, these really do belong to –" McGonagall commented in understanding. Poppy nodded in response.
"Yes, these belong to Mr. Potter. They are not mine Minerva. It seems he forgot them when he rushed out to make it to his next class."
"Yes - I believe I should have a talk with Mr. Potter before his next class." McGonagall concluded. "Do you mind if I return Mr. Potters text books to him, Poppy?"
Smiling Poppy Pomfrey shooed her away with a smile after handing McGonagall the books. Her own mind reviewing some of the contents of his potions book. Earlier she had made the comment of having Harry make some of her more used potions. Now she was seriously considering testing him in that regard. It would be nice after all, regardless of how skilled Snape was, the man irked her to no end.
Following similar thoughts, McGonagall rushed down the stone halls with a sharp clap of her heels as she let one student rattle freely in her head. Walking towards the courtyard were Rolanda should be teaching an incoming object caught Minerva's eye through one of the windows. Just beyond the clear stained styled glass, she watched terrified and spellbound as Harry Potter flew headlong at the castle and just inches away before tucking and rolling out of danger, recovering inches away from the wall. It looked like he was holding something, and with a bit of strain on her eyes McGonagall made out the reflective shine of a small nearly invisible sphere in his hand.
"That boy is just like his parents" McGonagall huffed frustrated further both in pride and annoyance. Harry Potter, prodigy and troublemaker all rolled up in one. He wasn't Lily or James combined. He was worse. That boy was everything they were, only squared.
oOoOoOo
Harry glided down on his broom, Neville's remembrall firmly in hand, safe and undamaged. With a firm touchdown he walked back to the rest of the crowd. He wanted to glare holes into Draco but first thing first was returning Neville's gift from his gran.
"Here Hermione." Harry said handing it to her. "Can you give this back to Neville when you get the chance?"
She nodded quietly stunned and spellbound by what he had done. She appeared confused as to how to act and that confusion stayed her feet. For now, her reaction was secondary.
Turning on the spot wand in hand, Harry Potter flashed both teeth and wand at Malfoy.
"Let me make this perfectly clear Malfoy. Next time you decide to be a Gryffindor and blindly act without thinking, I won't be here to save you from the consequences."
Malfoy merely sneered and turned his nose up on his warning. "What the hell are you on about Potter?"
Ignorant as the day he was born Harry thought.
"What I'm saying is that you are a foolish idiot Malfoy. Do you even know what the consequences are for damaging let alone destroying the possessions of a Noble and Ancient House, much less the possession gifted to another by the Lady Longbottom. I just saved you arse from a world of hurt and political trouble you dumb as doors git. Now stop acting like a stereotyped Gryffindor."
Turning to glare at the rest of the Slytherin's Harry continued to rant, "And sitting back and passively allowing it to happen makes all of you accomplices. Don't think you'd have been spared when you could have stopped him" Harry said, pointing a finger at Malfoy.
Before he could say anything more a stern voice called his name. Dreading what was about to happen Harry resolved himself to his fate. More Detentions. At least he did the right thing in stopping Malfoy from stealing and destroying Neville's remembrall. It was a double win now that he actually put some thought behind his actions. He demonstrated he wasn't a right git to several Gryffindor's and shot down and proved Malfoy to be a complete idiot and a treat to their well being. Harry doubted the latter would be recognized for long though.
"Mr. Potter. Come with me." McGonagall said calmly as he approached.
"But Professor Harry was just – "Hermione interjected but was cut off by her favorite professor's stare.
"Later, Ms. Granger. Potter. Follow me."
Her order was final. Harry fell in line and walked with her as Draco's gang snickered at his suffering. A few Slytherin's however seemed to be contemplating Harry's words and where giving glances of doubt towards the self-proclaimed Slytherin king.
The journey was a short and quiet one, no dialog exchanged between the two of them. Walking inter her class room they continued into her office. Harry looked around and was fascinated by all the odd objects and structures around her office. Several animals he noticed were even perched in cages from the ceiling. Everything from matches, to needles, to pin cushions, to jars, cubs, tacks, and all assortment of random treasures decorated the walls, shelves, and tables. Many Papers, books and scrolls littered the wall and floor behind her neat and tidy desk which housed a small basket of biscuits. A black chalkboard in the back of the room appeared to be enchanted as the chalk floated and marked several intricate designs into the board.
"Sit Potter." There was no warmth in her voice. Harry knew he was in trouble or at least she was very frustrated or disappointed, possible all of the above. Was she going to expel him? The possibility was there. Hooch had said as such and he did disobey her. But this was McGonagall, she couldn't. She wouldn't, right. He hadn't even practiced casting magic in class yet. He hadn't even made it one year. He had survived attacking Snape he couldn't lose because of something like this. He couldn't be expelled, not form this, it was too much of an insult. He couldn't return to the Dursely's, to the mundane that scorned him so much as a kid. "Wait, what happened to them anyway?" Harry asked himself, startling his panicked mind and calming down surprisingly quick.
His stress and fear must have shown as well as McGonagall placed her basket of biscuits in front of him, edging it closer.
"Have a biscuit Harry."
Stumped and confused he reached for on and ate it slowly. It registered she said Harry, not Potter. At least he wasn't going to be crucified if that was what she was calling him.
"It's not potion'd Mr. Potter." McGonagall stated as she shuffled through some files. Pulling out a few sheets of parchment and mixing them together.
"Considering Madam Hooch was gone, she surely had to have told you that you shouldn't fly without supervision." McGonagall muttered while busing herself with her unknown task.
"None of you are to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come along, dear." Harry quoted, word for word what Hooch had said to them. His accent even matched which had McGonagall slip a small chuckle of approval.
Turning to stare Harry in the eyes, Harry shrunk a little in his chair under her gaze. It was not lost on him how her gaze upset him more than Snape's ever did. Her mouth twitched into a slight smile.
"Yes, that does sound exactly like Madam Hooch." she said as she placed several sheets in front of Harry.
"For now, your punishment is as follows. Complete these questions to the best of your ability. Some will and are far above your level." she stated handing him a quill. "Start"
It was a word of finality. Just as if he would take a test Harry flipped the parchment over.
#1: What is the most important thing to remember to do when Performing a transfiguration spell.
Harry wrote, "The mental image and process where you envision the end result and imagine the process step by step from object a to object b."
The questions where easy, and mostly theoretical but Harry had a feeling that a few were above his year's skill level. After about an hour had passed. Harry handed McGonagall the first three pieces of parchment. If she was pleased, she made no mention or motion of it.
#86: When vanishing an object what is the first and most important aspect to remember.
"Complexity and simplicity. An object with greater parts or functions require greater magic and contemplation to vanish than a simply object with no complexity."
Harry continued all the way. The numbers were out of order now and some of the questions where clearly beyond his grade level. Why were all his teachers now tasking him with performing and answer questions no first year could answer.
Harry paused for a second in thought just as he handed McGonagall the last sheet of paper, she had given him. Even though he could have lied about what he knew Harry felt doing so would be an injustice to McGonagall who he trusted as well as an injustice to magic which he swore never to reject again. Lying and not giving the test his all just felt wrong. Not to mention it would have contradicted several of his pledges. He had an understanding about magic that others lacked, particularly in regards to Potions, DADA, and Runes. Withholding that just felt wrong. Plus, Harry had to admit he was kind of having fun learning about questions he didn't know how to answer yet and trying anyway. As Harry thought this he started to wonder if that biscuit he had was drugged.
Looking up fearing McGonagall's response to his answer's Harry wondered if having one-thousand years of experience, self-taught or not, could be considered cheating or not. Then again, they were his answers, but Harry was still in doubt about it. One thought and doubt in particular, that one thought, was growing like a cancer and haunting him in the back of his mind.
"Well Mr. Potter. I think I should return these to you first." Handing Harry, the two textbooks he had left in the Hospital wing.
"My Textbooks? Oh... I forgot them in the Hospital Wing." Harry said realization hitting him and like that it clicked. "That explains the tests." Harry thought to himself.
"Yes, and the contents of your book make them very special."
Pausing for a moment McGonagall seemed to be collecting her thoughts and act Harry didn't disturb as he wasn't sure if this was good or bad for him. "Harry, I wish for you to be honest with me. Why do you not display the same level of skill in class that I have seen in your texts?"
Harry felt shame for the first time. Ever since he watched those two girls in the common room Harry had noticed and accepted that he was struggling with his magic and was not able to wield it properly. It was becoming difficult to manage and thanks to the Everyone vs Slytherin mindset, he had no friends to really talk to about it. In reality Harry didn't think the later would really have made a difference. Before he had no trouble with his magic, and it wasn't like he tried to cast magic for those first eleven years. Plus, he couldn't say, "I used to be magically stable then I took a ritual to my knee now my magics like Robert Williams on pogo sticks." One they'd probably not get the reference. Secondly, if Harry was honest with himself, he felt ashamed that his magic was troubling him, and he couldn't solve it himself.
Harry didn't want to admit it. Somewhere in his mind, the thought that he was an anomaly, a freak of nature case, haunted him, that his magic's instability was affecting him both mentally and physically was so different, haunted Harry even if he refused to admit it. It was a badge of shame and failure for Harry especially during practical application. Thanks to the Dursely's the reward for failure and over achieving had been beaten into him and Harry was torn between doing his best and hiding his all. Thus, Harry mulled over his problems privately and kept it to himself. It was what he was used to doing. Being that last wizard not casting spells at him, tended for reinforce self-study, and private introspection. If you had a problem, you solved it. In the end it wasn't all that different from the Dursley's teachings.
Still Harry knew he needed to say something. He needed to explain why. To get it off his chest and talk with someone. One of the few people who knew what he had become because of the Dursely's and could understand him was now asking for him to open himself to her. Harry knew he didn't know everything, that was why he was there. To learn… and maybe… now was the time to learn a new way. Harry parted his lips, unaware of how much time really passed by in silence.
"Well, my magic has been feeling off. It's, I don't know how to explain it well but, well its... um uncontrollable. Even spontaneous. When I practice magic sometimes the spells work and then they fail and I..." Harry monologue trying to word it just right.
"Your ashamed that you can't control it." McGonagall realized coming to understanding his reasons. "You're afraid that you might lose control again and end up hurting someone."
Harry nodded, that wasn't not true. "More shame really. I'm not repressing my magic since I know better. More than anyone really. It's just slightly unbearable at times. As for why I don't perform in my classes, well. I'm still working on breaking that habit."
"Habit, ?" McGonagall asked.
Harry nodded, "Yeah, If I succeeded more than my cousin, I was punished for it. I know you wouldn't but I'm still trying to break it."
McGonagall nodded in understanding grinding her molars before speaking. "I understand Mr. Potter."
Pulling out a pass she wrote down on it a date and a time before handing it to Harry.
"With your permission Mr. Potter, I would like to inform Madam Pomfrey to have a chat with you in regards to your magic being 'uncontrollable'. Please meet with her on Monday after Charms classes. I believe she might be able to figure out why you are having difficulty with your magic."
Apprehensively Harry looked at her, that was on Halloween, that wasn't ominous at all. "She is bound to secrecy as you will be a patient Harry. You can trust her." McGonagall continued realizing his hesitation, she spoke in an attempt to ease his worries misunderstanding the cause of his concern. Staring at the sheet Harry nodded, taking it from her on silence.
"Good," she said before letting out a sigh. "Now tell me Harry why were you flying when you were told not to."
Harry smiled as he hadn't expected her to ask him for his side of the story. He had actually forgotten that was the reason he was even there. Harry went and explained what had happened. He told her how Neville had lost control and panicked on his broom, how he fell and dropped his remembrall. Malfoy picking it up and the Gryffindor's yelled at him to return it. How he confronted Malfoy and flew off after him when no one bothered to stop him.
"And then Mr. Malfoy threw it and you dove after it. Why?" McGonagall asked.
"Well, it just felt like the right thing to do. And Malfoy just rubs me the wrong way if I'm honest." Harry explained.
McGonagall could understand that, Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, rubbed her the wrong way too.
"5 points from Slytherin Mr. Potter for disobeying a Professor." She said professionally before smiling "And ten points to Slytherin for standing up to your house's members in defense of another house's."
"Thank you, Professor."
Nodding McGonagall let out a sign and rubbed her head, cursing her luck.
"Everything okay, Professor?" Harry asked as he noticed the ridges forming under her hands.
Shaking her head, she grimaced. "Not completely, Harry, if I'm honest I just find it regrettable. It's just here is a student with such incredible natural talent for the role of Seeker, a position that the Gryffindor team needs filled, and you just had to be in Slytherin." She complained before catching herself and sucking in a deep breath.
"Forgive me Harry. I didn't mean to complain about your house nor should I have." she apologized. "That was unbecoming of me as a teacher."
"Its fine Professor, I don't really feel any of that House spirit in the Snake Pit. Besides its more fun going against my house." Harry laughed out.
McGonagall just signed out. He really was his father's son.
"By the way Professor, why can't you just have me join your house's team?" Harry asked.
"Because it is the Gryffindor Team, Harry."
"But that's just who you team represents right. I've overheard a bit about Quidditch and the teams from my classmates. Is there a rule stating team members must be from the House their team represents?" Harry asked.
"Yes, Harry they... don't..." McGonagall stumbled out thinking about the rules regarding the teams. Pulling out a school handbook she skimmed through it and to her shock found out there where no rules stating that a team's members must be a part of their represented house. Looking up at Harry she was dumbfounded.
"You don't mind representing another house's team?" McGonagall asked cautiously not wanting to destroy the dream like hope that was now taking root before her.
"I'd like to think I'm supporting the calling of my House. Getting back and showing up Malfoy by getting caught then being accepted on another team just in time to beat them at their own game. Sounds down right Slytherin by their definition. However, to be honest I just want to fly again, and I doubt Snape would ever let me on the Slytherin Team." Harry informed a mad smile endearing his face.
"Very Cunning of you Mr. Potter" McGonagall teased.
Harry grinned widely. "My classmates usually say, 'How very Slytherin of you."
Following McGonagall, she guided him to the Professor Quirrell's classroom.
"Sorry Professor, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
A second later a fifth-year student, twig-like but muscular stood before them.
"Wood, as unusual as the situation might be, I think I have found you a Seeker." Mcgonagall said as she was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. Harry smiled, oh Harry might not have been the vindictive type, but boy was Malfoy going to flip when he learned of this later.
xXxXx
How very Slytherin of you Harry, how very Slytherin indeed. This one was kind of short, but I hope you all enjoy it.