Knowledge is Power
Disclaimer/Plot/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER
Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to my many good friends and loyal fans: my recommended reads are Saviour of Magic by Colt01, For Love of Magic by Noodlehammer, Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality by Less Wrong, Partially Kissed Hero by Perfect Lionheart, Harry Potter and the Daft Morons and Angry Harry and the Seven by Sinyk, Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man, Harry Potter and the Rune Stone Path by Temporal Knight, A Study in Magic and A Study in Magic: The Application by Books of Change, Dark and Light by Pleasedial123 and Harry Potter: My Life Is My Own by Sashian
Key Pairing: Eventual Harmony;
Other Pairings: To be confirmed
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
/Parseltongue/
Review Answers:
FalcoD: There is a reason and here's a hint: Harrison never forgets anything…
WhiteElfElder: Or Option C: There's a lot more to our hero and his destiny than meets the eye;
Deathmvp: Thanks for the very funny idea;
However, as the hat's rim brushed Harrison's fringe, everyone gasped when the old hat made its choice as quickly as it had done for Mr Malfoy;
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Cheers erupted throughout the Great Hall, though as they did so, even Harrison gasped when the hat spoke again;
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Cheers died down, whispers rose up and people stared in disbelief and confusion, but the hat didn't seem to be done;
"RAVENCLAW!"
"What on earth is going on?" demanded a sharp male voice from behind Harrison's right-hand side, almost as though he knew what might be about to happen before, sure enough, the hat finished;
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Well, this is going to be an interesting seven years."
Chapter 8: Four, Three, Two, One
Even as Harrison made his way towards the Gryffindor Table – a part of him thinking that, seeing as how that was the first of the four House names that had been shouted out, he might as well humour them – he could feel the eyes of almost-every member of staff and student on him. Many of them were whispering among themselves and making less-than-subtle glances and gestures in his direction, while others just watched with bated breath, wondering more to themselves about the mystery surrounding Harrison and his Sorting.
As the young boy took a seat between Neville and Hermione, the latter of whom was staring at him with a mixture of surprise and relief when she saw how calm he seemed about the whole thing, he idly plucked a loose strand from his robe before he leaned forwards, resting his head on the palms of his hands while his elbows propped him up on the table.
For a moment, silence filled the Great Hall before, to Harrison's slight relief, he heard the familiar voice of Professor Flitwick as he asked, "Perhaps we might continue with the Sorting now, Minerva?"
'Amen, Professor,' thought Harrison, once again choosing to tune out the remainder of the Sorting as he closed his eyes, his mind more-focused on the mystery of the how and why he was sorted into not one, not two, but all four Hogwarts Houses.
Nothing he'd read in Hogwarts: A History or any of the other books he'd bought had ever spoken of such a thing.
All right, he'd never considered such a thing was possible, so even the Mystica had remained shut on that subject, but now?
Now Harrison was curious and, perhaps for the first time in his life, he was actually worried, if not a little intimidated by the prospects of what the future held for him.
Or was that adrenaline-fuelled excitement running through him?
Kind of tingly…
As he pondered on the mystery and possible options for figuring it out, Harrison's train of thought was derailed when he heard a voice, "Oi, move it you: only the best mate of the Boy-Who-Lived gets to sit with him. Not weak little Squibs like you, Longbottom!"
"Don't even think of moving, Neville," argued Harrison, earning a surprised look from Neville before he opened his eyes and, looking up from his musings, his eyes darkened when he saw one of the redheads from King's Cross standing near Hermione. A quick scan of the scarlet-dressed students' table also revealed the Twins he'd noticed as well as the stuck-up git who'd boasted about being a Prefect and yet done nothing to stop the potential exposure of their world thanks to his tactless, narrow-minded Mother.
Looking back to the remaining redhead, Harrison indicated a spot next to Hermione, on her other side, which would have put the boy away from Harrison, as he asked, "Now, do you have some sort of ocular impairment, Mr Redhead? Because I'm sure there are plenty of empty seats along the table for you to sit at. Seats that don't require either one of these two to move anywhere, just so you can slump down like some inbred sloth expecting the world to bow to your every whim."
For a moment, silence gripped the Gryffindor Table, though as he kept his eyes on the tactless twit, Harrison heard low sniggers coming from the Slytherin Table while he heard two more sniggers from the Gryffindors, which he guessed came from the Twins.
As for the redhead, he looked at Harrison as he told him, "Don't worry, Harry; I'll get rid of these two for you. And what's with trying to sound like some smart person? You don't need that…"
"No, but clearly, you do," drawled Harrison, earning more sniggers from those who could hear him before looking away from the redhead as he returned to his earlier position before he added, "I'll say it again, Neville? Hermione? Don't you dare move from your seats: I sat here because I know you're capable of respecting my choices, not because of some stupid title that a nursery kid probably came up with…either that or Stan Lee. Definitely sounds as weird, if not stupid, as many of his heroes' aliases."
While the other two did exactly as he suggested, remaining where they were seated while they, along with everyone else, waited for the start of the Sorting Feast, Harrison hid a smile when he heard McGonagall's voice, "Mr Weasley, will you sit down? Some of us are waiting to get on with the feast and the last of the evening's festivities!"
"Quite right, Minerva," drawled another staff member, whom Harrison later learned was Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, "In fact, I think five points from Gryffindor should be enough to convince Mr Weasley not to hold everybody else up."
"For once, I agree with you, Severus," replied McGonagall, earning a roll of the eyes from Harrison.
Were points meant to mean something?
He thought this was meant to be a school, not the Eurovision Song Contest.
Despite his thought, Harrison still noticed the redhead, Weasley as he now knew, finally got the hint as he sat down next to Hermione, thankfully putting some distance between him and Harrison, but not enough as far as the aforementioned emerald-eyed youth was concerned.
Once he was finally sat down, Weasley's mood soon changed when McGonagall passed control of the evening to Dumbledore, who declared the feast beginning, which also caused the tables to fill with a wide variety of food and drinks. While many of the students were in awe, Harry was in a state of revulsion that almost made him throw up when he saw how, as soon as the food appeared, Weasley began reaching, snatching and, subsequently, scarfing everything he could get his hands on.
Clearly, the overbearing matriarch hadn't taught the idiot the delights of table manners and, from the looks of things, the Prefect and the Twins were perfectly willing to ignore him.
'How someone like him is meant to be brave at heart or anything like Godric would have expected, I'll probably never know,' thought Harrison, trying to ignore Weasley's habits as he fed himself enough to sate him, though not before he added, 'And yet I don't care that I'll never know…weird.'
While everyone seemed content to help themselves to all they could eat – and a bit more besides, in the case of Weasley, who never seemed to stop eating, even when talking, as he displayed everything he was eating as a disgusting pile of mush that soon left him without anyone to talk to, not even Hermione, whom Harrison felt sorry for – Harrison picked up conversations about family and school ideas.
More or less everyone on the table, if not the Great Hall as a whole, had their own conversations, though Harrison did his best to keep his eyes on his meal and tune out the rest of the world. At one point, however, his restraint was seriously tested when Weasley, deciding to try again to get to know Harrison, spat a large globule of food at Harrison just by addressing him.
Setting down his knife and fork, Harrison looked around for a napkin or a tissue or something he could use to wipe away the mess.
To his disbelief, however, he couldn't see one, which only made him wonder, 'What idiots have I cursed myself to being around?'
Drawing his wand, Harrison pointed it at the mess on his face before he hissed, "Evanesco!"
Once again, his wand and his magic obeyed his will as the mess vanished from his face, though the use of the spell seemed to have attracted some attention from other students, particularly Weasley, who scoffed, "How'd you do that?"
"Practice and reading," drawled Harrison, looking up at the aforementioned redhead before he added, "Here; let me give you another example, you disgusting swine wannabe: Evanesco!"
To Weasley's horror, the food on his plate soon vanished, though Harrison wasn't done.
Aiming his wand at the redhead's face, Harrison flicked it once as he added, "Scourgify!"
Bubbles flew from the tip of Harrison's wand, causing Weasley to gasp before he coughed and hacked as they filled his mouth; however, to the shock of those who watched the magical display, as the food also flew from Weasley's mouth, Harrison managed to hit each of the messes with a well-aimed Evanesco, causing them to vanish before they made any more mess.
"Mr Potter!" exclaimed McGonagall, drawing Harrison's attention to her as she asked, "What is the meaning of this disturbance?"
"Where do I start?" asked Harrison, holding up one hand before, counting off his points one by one, he went on, "First, Mr Weasley thinks he can sit there and eat like he's never seen food before, resulting in manners that make wild pigs look civil by comparison. Then, when he's not eating, which seems to be all the time, he's spitting food everywhere because he can't be bothered to close his mouth when he's chewing. Third, when he decides to get involved in whatever it is we were talking about…topics I don't know, probably because I was busy enjoying my meal…he practically covers my face in his mulch. And then, finally, I decide to do what, apparently, even his Prefect brother won't do and help him clean up his act…literally! I mean, there's not even a napkin to offer him…oh no, here they are."
Sure enough, it was then Harrison noticed the napkins tucked under the plates rather than in a conveniently-placed rack or even in a pile for the students to help themselves to, just like they helped themselves to everything on the table.
As he used his napkin to wipe the last dregs from his face, Harrison looked back to McGonagall as he added, "Now, I apologise on my own behalf if I disrupted the feast in any way, but I refuse to sit here and let this moron disgrace Gryffindor further than he already has done. Personally, even with my unique circumstances, I'd have thought the Head of Gryffindor would have been a little more grateful? Unless you'd rather lose to Slytherin again for the supposedly treasured Holy Grail of Hogwarts: the House Cup?"
McGonagall looked like she was ready to burst a blood vessel.
However, as he saw the look, Harrison shrugged ruefully as he said, "You did ask."
With that, he turned his attention back to the remainder of his meal, leaving McGonagall red with rage while, down the table, Professor Snape suddenly seemed to be somewhere between curious, outraged himself and just a little amused – not that he'd admit being amused by a Potter's antics – at how Harrison handled himself.
However, as Harrison went to pick up his next bit of food, he looked back to McGonagall as he added, "Oh, and one last thing I forgot to mention."
Sticking the food in his mouth, Harrison mulched it up in his jaws before he spat just like the redhead idiot as he explained, "My name is Harrison Potter, not Harry; next time, Professor, get your facts straight."
Not only did he spray his food all over the Great Hall floor when he said the words, but, by the time the evening was over, Gryffindor was already in the negatives with the number of points McGonagall took from Harrison.
But did he care?
Ha…does he ever?
So, a short aftermath Chapter 8 and it looks like Harrison's back to being independent and insolent, but what will this mean for him at Hogwarts, especially given his unique circumstances?
Will he be able to survive the seven years without being dumbed down by how pathetically-backwards they seem to be?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Following the feast, Harrison talks about his Sorting result with the only member of staff he can trust to be honest and open with him, which also results in a strange, but not unwelcome offer on his accommodations, but what about lessons? How is a student of all four Houses meant to attend lessons with all four Houses?
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