Waiting in line to board the boats, Ron spotted Draco in the crowd and hissed to Harry, "Careful about that one, he's probably going to be a Slytherin. There's never been a witch or wizard who went who wasn't in Slytherin."
Harry gave a wry grin and replied, "You know that's not true, Ron. I've met Draco and he told me everyone who has magic in his blood is worth something. Does that sound like someone who'd go bad?"
Ron looked troubled and shook his head reluctantly. "Well no, but his family are Voldemort sympathizers!"
Hermione cut in, shaking her head and saying, "The sins of the father, Ronald."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Hermione blinked in surprise, "You've never read the Bible?"
"What's the Bible?"
Before Hermione could respond, Harry said, "What Hermione means is that you shouldn't judge people based on their family backgrounds."
"Even so, we don't know him very well. We can't trust that he isn't as bad as his dad," Ron persisted.
"He did tell me he likes quidditch," Harry said crossing his arms.
"Oh, well then he's probably a good bloke after all," Ron said, all prejudices melting away like ice on a Weasley's flaming hair. Ron and Hermione got shoved ahead of him and Harry found himself in a boat with Draco Malfoy.
"Oh, speak of the devil," Harry said in greeting.
"And he shall appear," Draco said in response, accepting Harry's outstretched hand with a smug smirk, "Hi, er-"
"Harry Potter, sorry I never gave my name when we met."
"Blimey. You're Harry Potter? Wicked. No, it's my fault. I ran off before you could give it. What were you doing talking to the Weasley?"
"I met him on the train, why?"
"His family's the worst sort of company."
"I think he's actually pretty good company. What makes you say otherwise?"
"They're poor, and what's more, they support Dumbledore."
"Hmm I can see why that would be a problem. So your family does support Voldemort?" Harry was blunt. Taking it in stride, Draco laughed at Harry's forwardness and replied, "Please, Harry, I know who you are. Even so, it isn't so much Voldemort who we support, but the preservation of the wizarding world. I'm not an expert on the politics, but you can rest assured knowing that my family didn't side with Voldemort because of his winning personality."
"Thank you for your honesty, Draco. Do you really have to dislike Ron because of the beliefs of his family?"
"I suppose not, I mean, you don't dislike me for mine," Draco sighed, "Fine. I won't despise him, but don't expect me to be chummy with him. He eats like a pig."
"Fair enough. Your parents won't be upset that you're my friend?"
"No, I think they would think it an advantage. They're trying to bolster their image as a recovering dark family. Otherwise, I don't think they would mind who I play with in the school yard. I'm only eleven, after all."
They laughed good naturedly, ignoring the stares aimed their way from the other students. Their conversation was cut short by the doors of the Great Hall grinding open, admitting them into the cavernous dining hall bedecked with floating candle sticks and the night sky projected onto the ceiling. The floaters seemed amused at his astonishment and spoke encouraging things to him as he approached the sorting chair. Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor as expected and Draco was sorted into Slytherin, also as expected. Harry didn't know what to expect for himself and it scared him.
When Professor McGonagall finally called his name, "Harry Potter," the clamour of the hall died down as if it had been physically cut off with a knife. He could feel the eyes on him as he walked up to the chair and struggled to perch atop the tall stool.
He closed his eyes as one would before execution as the hat was lowered gently onto his head. The hat spoke to him, a gravelly voice sounding in his head.
"Well, Mr. Potter, you have me stumped. A great mind, yes, a great deal of courage and loyalty as well. You're a powerful one, too, with a tactical mind."
"Where were my parents sorted?"
"They were both in Gryffindor, lad. It's quite sad what happened to them. They were both brilliant, but decidedly belonged to the lion's den. You, lad, would do well in Slytherin. You could be great, you know." At this, the floaters intervened.
Sorting Hat, you know the expectations of him. While he is suited to that house, it would put him in great danger.
The hat grumbled, obviously disgruntled that the spirits of all things were present in this boy's mind. "My duty is to the students and I suppose putting him in danger would be a dereliction of it. Well, lad, what do you want?"
"I wish to be in the house my parents were in. Please." It was the only thing Harry ever wanted, to feel closer to his parents. The Sorting Hat, who heard his silent plea, complied and shouted, "Gryffindor!"
Hermione welcomed him to the table. He looked up to find that Hagrid was clapping for him from the staff table. As the last few students were sorted and Ron jogged triumphantly to the Gryffindor table to join the rest of the Weasley sons, Harry caught sight of a man at the staff table whose hard, black eyes seemed to follow him darkly.
"That's Snape, nasty one that is," one of the Weasley twins said, "Potions professor. Hates Gryffindors." The other twin piped up, "Yeah, everyone swears he's a death eater. Personally, I think his mother was some sort of toad. It would explain why he's a slimy git."
Percy, the eldest Weasley brother at the table, rapped his brothers on the head. "Boys, Professor Snape is an esteemed member of the faculty. You will do well not to speak ill of him."
The old man in the center of the staff table stood and called everyone to attention. He said a few words that made no sense to Harry at all, but the other students seemed unphased. The floaters, who'd been quiet since the sorting, were suddenly louder than thunder in his head. It is him. Stiffening, Harry directed his gaze to the mad old man he knew now to be Albus Dumbledore. "The headmaster?" Yes. Avoid him. He is powerful and must not be underestimated. We can do little to protect you from him. As they spoke, Dumbledore turned and made direct eye contact with Harry, who diverted his gaze quickly. He was interrupted in his thoughts when a Weasley twin forked a turkey leg onto his plate. "Eat up, Harry, before Ron gets all of it."
"Thanks, Fred," Harry replied, shoving a spoonful of something that was probably some sort of vegetable into his mouth. He didn't really care the retching noises Ron was making, whatever it was, it was wonderful. Fred looked gobsmacked and George poked his head to peer at Harry from Fred's other side.
"How'd you know-"
"-that he was Fred?" The twins asked, mischievous smirks on their faces. Harry swallowed and shrugged. "What, is that unusual? Clearly you're two different people." The twins shared an amused glance and returned their attention to the food.
Later on, when they'd all been lead to their dormitories, Harry found that he could not sleep. He took Hedwig from her cage and sat on the window sill, contemplating just how much his life had changed in these short days. As he sat in his very first pair of real pajamas stroking his very first pet feeling warm and full of food for the first time in his life, he could scarcely hold the tears that flowed freely from his eyes for the first time in years.
Professor McGonagall passed out the first year time tables at breakfast the next morning and Harry found himself taking notes instead of practicing magic. He supposed that it made sense since the first day of school should consist mainly of introductory material. Snape entered the room like an angry hornet, robes billowing behind him. He came with the expectation that his students were all miscreants and established rules Harry could remember from a visit to Stonewall Secondary. Mindlessly taking notes, he wondered if Snape would try to flush his head down a toilet and looked up to find Snape staring down at him over his hooked nose.
"Mr. Potter. Our new celebrity. Care to tell me why you think you can ignore me in the middle of my class?" Snape sneered.
"I'm sorry sir, I was taking notes." Snape looked down to discover he was telling the truth and sighed.
"You will address me as professor, boy. Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Hermione's hand shot up into the air as if the rest of her body was tied down to the chair. Snape ignored it pointedly, waiting for Harry's answer.
"Draught of Living Death, professor. I did read before I came to class." There was acid in his voice. Harry grew more and more confused as to why this man would purposefully seek conflict with him. Snape grilled him on more senseless facts until the man finally left him alone.
The floaters spoke then, admonishing him for his temper.
Look in his stream of magic. What do you see?
Harry looked and found that there was a strand of magic that tied his pool firmly to his own with another magical energy signature that he did not recognize.
Your mother. Harry looked up into Snape's eyes again, this time in schock. We do not know the details, but this man cares for your safety deeply. This connection is one of protection. Think on his words.
Asphodel and wormwood. Harry jerked as he remembered something he read. Asphodel was a type of lily that conveyed regret and wormwood meant bitter sorrow. Simply interpreted, it meant "I deeply regret Lily's death." Harry felt guilty then at reacting so vehemently when Snape's intentions were so obvious. He decided that maybe he would give Snape a chance before labelling him "a slimy git," as the twins would say.
Harry's first flying lesson had him bristling with excitement. He didn't care how weird it was that he'd be riding atop a broom. The mere thought of flight excited the hell out of him. Madam Hooch looked like an ex-army sergeant and lined the students up by the school's brooms. All the first years were out and Harry found a broom between Ron and Draco. He called his broom as instructed and it shot up, smacking the palm of his hand slightly. Draco had the same success and they looked at each other excitedly. Ron and Hermione were having more trouble.
"It's not a dog, Granger," Draco said, "Talk to it like it owes you money." Hermione sneered at him, but tried it anyway.
"Up!" she said more sternly, yelping in surprise when the broom finally obeyed. Ron looked over and tried again. "Get up, you stupid broom!" He was rewarded with a whack to the forehead.
In true Longbottom fashion, Neville had his accident and Madam Hooch had to escort him to the infirmary.
"Hey, the tubby oaf's dropped his rememberall," Draco said as he bent to pick up the object Neville received that very morning. "I don't think he'll mind if I return it to him later," he said with a smirk.
"Draco, forgive me if I don't believe you," Harry said as he strode over, "Why don't you hand that over to me and I'll get it back to him?"
Draco pouted. "Really, Harry, you must have more faith in me. I will give it back to him. I just want to look at it." A glint came to his eye. "How about a race?"
Just before he was about to agree, Hermione stalked by and said, "Harry, no! Madam Hooch said to remain on the ground."
"Relax, Hermione, I'm just getting Neville's remembrall back." Malfoy came over and placed a placating hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, don't worry about it. I promise if he gets in trouble, I'll take the fall."
Hermione huffed, but saw no way to prevent them from doing what they were clearly determined to do. Draco and Harry mounted their brooms and Rom launched the remembrall as far as he could. The two of them sped off, leaving small craters in the ground where they kicked off. Harry examined the broom and found that the broom rode the magical streams like a muggle underground rail. Harry pulled his broom up, riding a faster current up while Draco struggled against the wind and then turned his broom down at a steep angle, gaining speed with the help of gravity. His hands closed around the remembrall and he spun to stop himself from crashing into the castle walls, an astonished Draco fast on his heels.
"Blimey, you look like you've done that before," Draco said breathlessly, "I've never seen anyone fly like that. You looked like a man unafraid for his life!"
"Well yeah," Harry replied, touching down and starting his walk back, "The falling, I've done before, but the flying is new. I think I might love it more than chocolate or grass jelly beans."
Draco pulled a face, but soon turned to Harry with a concerned frown on his face. "You're not trying to be funny, are you? When did you have the chance to fall from that kind of height?"
"Well, when I was a kid, I sort of accidentally got myself onto the roof of the house while I ran from my uncle and decided, you know, it would be a better idea to hurt myself jumping off the roof than letting my uncle see me there and beat me anyway."
Draco gave Harry a strange look that wasn't sympathy or pity, which Harry appreciated, but still made him squirm a little. He stayed quiet the rest of the walk back. They returned to find a red-faced McGonagall waiting to reprimand them. Later on, when they were released from McGonagall's care, Hermione, Ron, Blaise, and Pansy met them with angry looks. Pansy looked the most incensed. "Only you two would get to play Quidditch for breaking the rules!"
The work at Hogwarts was surprisingly note-heavy. The curriculum focused on magical theory that was explained so that eleven year-olds might understand it. There was a lot of mental imagery and wand movement imitation. McGonagall often referred to transfiguration in terms of knitting, as bizarre as it was. Transfiguring objects, she explained, was much like unravelling a knitted blanket and re-knitting it into something else. Flitwick explained charms in terms of music. Wands were like conducting batons that manipulated magic the way that batons manipulated tempo. Harry's favorite was Snape's cooking analogies.
"Come now, Weasley, if you can stir soup, you can stir a potion," Snape admonished as Ron failed yet again to stir his potion the right number of turns and melted a hole through his cauldron. It was double potions with Slytherin. "You act like you've never held a spoon before."
"That's because his mum probably spoon feeds him all his food," Draco yelled from where he was sitting with Harry. The class erupted into giggles as Ron threw a leech at Draco in retaliation.
"It's not my fault I wasn't born with one in my mouth, you ponce," Ron bit back.
"WEASLEY. No throwing in my class, ten points from Gryffindor for the cauldron you owe me," Snape snapped, putting an end to the laughter. After class, Ron directly engaged in a shouting match with Draco in the courtyard. They were trading obscenities when Harry found them. Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini were attempting to hold Draco back while Hermione and Neville were trying to hold Ron back. Harry cast a silent, wandless full body-bind and both Draco and Ron fell into a heap with their friends. He discreetly terminated the curse and ran over to the group to help his friends to their feet.
"What happened? Why were they fighting?"
Blaise and Neville looked reluctant to answer while Pansy and Hermione wasted no time explaining.
"Well," Hermione began, "Ronald called Draco ferret-faced Slytherin scum-"
"-and Draco called Ron a Gryffindor Weasel," Pansy continued, "Then they both started flinging insults at each other-"
"-and then drew their wands on each other-"
"-so naturally, we had to step in to prevent these oafs from getting themselves detention-"
"-or worse, expelled," Hermione finished. Both girls kept firm grips on the offending boys' robes, but nodded to each other in understanding.
Harry looked from Draco to Ron and laughed. Sneering, Draco asked, "What's so funny?"
"Yeah," Ron joined in, "What's got you in such a good mood?"
"Don't you see? Weasel, ferret, they're both from the same family." They still looked confused. "They're practically the same animal. It's a really funny coincidence and the way I see it, it doesn't matter which house you're from if you're the same rodent." The boys looked at each other and shrugged, blushing at the revelation and losing some of the anger. They parted ways again, with curt apologies. Pansy winked at Harry as they turned to leave. Harry couldn't suppress the full-body shudder.
"That one scares me, Hermione," Harry said.
"I don't know, for a Slytherin, she does know a thing or two about putting these idiots in their places." Harry stared at Hermione and shuddered again.
On their way back to Gryffindor Tower, the trio got completely lost because the staircases moved erratically, altered by a magical signature that felt out of place within the castle's energy stream. Despite his best attempts to turn them away from the altered staircases, they ended up in front of the one door out of thousands that was forbidden for students. Stranded on the platform with nowhere else to go, they entered the corridor despite Hermione's whines about expulsion being a "worse fate than death". Ron was oblivious to her whines and pushed ahead, either curious as to what lay behind the door or too hungry to care where he was going. The floaters whispered urgent warnings in his ear, but Harry knew that someone wanted to find this corridor. It would arouse more suspicion if he didn't follow along. He knew what lay behind the door before they opened it. Facing the three mugs of the ferocious three headed dog sent them screaming in a panic out of the corridor and down a series of mysteriously placed staircases that lead them directly to the Fat Lady's portrait. After giving the Fat Lady a half-assed excuse, they were admitted, little hearts still pounding. Hermione was the first to regain her words and asked, "Did anyone else notice the trapdoor under that thing's feet?" Harry shook his head in wonder and Ron groaned, flopping onto the common room floor.
On Halloween, Professor Flitwick finally gave his class a chance at actually performing magic. He spent a solid hour describing the proper swish and flick, drawing out the proper diagram and the phonetic spelling of the levitation charm. Harry spent some time pretending to practice and watched how the others were getting along. Ron's attempts were no more graceful than his attempts at potions. Hermione was sitting with her arms crossed smugly over her chest. Obviously, she'd gotten it down ages ago. He examined the students and found that though the incantation was correct for most, little things like the wrong wand movement or lack of understanding of the spell itself caused their attempts to backfire. Harry ducked when Seamus Finnigan's wand movements started whipping his magical energy into something resembling an incendio and looked up to find that Seamus's eyebrows were gone. When the class was over, Harry huffed to himself, wondering how he was ever going to learn enough to defend himself if he knew everything a first year course had to offer. The floaters sensed his distress, soothed his anxieties and spoke assurances to him. All will come in time with patience.
"I know. I can't ask the professors for help because it would be dangerous." Alone in the classroom, he grasped his wand lightly in his hand and silently cast the charm on all the feathers left abandoned on their desks. "I feel like I'm wasting my time here." The feathers floated airily around the room as he watched, running his dilemma through his head over and over again. Harry left the room when the dinner bell rang, feathers still floating behind him. He passed Professor Flitwick in the hall and made his way down to dinner, lost in his thoughts.