[A/N: So apparently my Worcestershire joke fell flat… Well, I chalk it up to the fact that I can't pronounce it and not sufficiently doing my research to know how close Surrey was to Worcestershire or how popular the Lea & Perrins brand was. I've gone back and fixed it so I won't get any more hassle from reviewers who like to nitpick. (I did ask for y'all to review so I'm not too upset.) I also would like to credit TendraelUmbra and Stargon1 with the inspiration of Sorting differently than canon as well as showing off a certain 'Janus twins' true personalities (I think y'all know whom I'm talking about.)
One more thing then we'll get on with the story. I've found the lack of world building in canon to be appallingly lacking. I can understand the movies being light on the subject simply because of filming and budgeting issues but for the book to miss out? Shameful. Here's my opportunity to fix that and add a few details of my own.]
Chapter 8: Well, this is unexpected: A new flavor
During the Sorting Ceremony…
"Draco Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall called out. Draco strutted up to the stool and perched like a pompous bird with a self-satisfied smirk on his pointy face.
"Well, Let's see here… Mister Malfoy… Quite the brazen attitude towards everyone and everything else; Butting into other people's conversations? Charging into conflict with no real plan? Strutting around like a peacock? Openly and loudly voicing your opinions that everyone else who is not within your social circle, especially the muggleborn, as unworthy to study magic? Thinking that daddy will bail you out with money and family influence every time you open your mouth to say or do sometime stupid? That is not what a Slytherin makes."
"So what? I am a Malfoy, we deserve the best regardless of what it is and I don't strut. Those mudbloods don't deserve to be here; they stomp all over our proud traditions and everyone should bow down before me." Draco sneered.
"That is your father's rhetoric; you will need to learn to accept that there are others who might have a different way of learning and progress beyond your history. Your grandfather and father knew how to act like Slytherins but you expect it simply because of your last name? I hardly think that is where you should go."
"You WILL sort me into Slytherin! Malfoys only go to Slytherin! My father is on the Board of Directors and he will make sure that you are dropped into a shredder if you don't sort me into the proper House."
"Proper House? I agree. You will be sorted into the proper House. You're a spoiled little loud brat and there's only one place for someone like you to go though I pray for their forgiveness. Better be… "GRYFFINDOR!"
The Great Hall was silent. So silent that if there had been crickets, they'd be chirping. A hesitant clap was heard before dying away again.
Draco leapt off the stool and ripped the hat from his head, "Stupid hat, you will resort me to Slytherin! That jumped up piece of cloth is clearly defective! No Malfoy has gone anywhere other than the Noble House of Salazar Slytherin! I refuse to sit amongst the blood-traitors and muggle-lovers! I demand that you resort me! My father will hear about this!" His voice grew whinier with every demand.
"Mr. Malfoy! You have been sorted, now sit down!" Minerva thundered, pointing off in the direction of the House of the Lions.
"No! I don't wanna! I won't!" He crossed his arms petulantly across his chest and glared at the Deputy Headmistress.
Minerva's lips thinned dangerously, "Then you have the option of being sent home in disgrace. Be warned that everyone here sees you acting like a brat and will be sharing this with their families and even perhaps the papers. By morning, your father will most definitely have heard about this as the Malfoy name will have been dragged through the mud because you are acting like a spoiled brat! Now sit down!"
With one last act of defiance, Draco stomped his foot and slunk over to the nearest seat and plunked down. Every Gryffindor was aghast (or angry) at his behavior and resolved to make sure that he fell in line, even if it killed him…
"Ronald Weasley!"
"Ah! Another Weasley! How many are there of you? Your family breeds like nifflers."
"What? There's Bill and Charlie and…"
"Be quiet, Mr. Weasley; I was being facetious. I know how many there are of your family; I sorted each of them so far. You are definitely not the sharpest tool in the box so Ravenclaw is out. You're nowhere even close to being loyal and you constantly shirk your duties around your home so Hufflepuff is out."
"Shirk? What's that? Who'd want to be a duffer or a know-it-all anyways? I'm gonna be a Gryffindor! Where the brave dwell at heart!"
"Yet I see here in your mind that you desire to be better than your brothers. You want to outshine all those above and around you. Your skills in chess outstrip everything except your atrocious table manners. That would suggest Slytherin."
"No! Weasleys go into Gryffindor! Why the bloody hell would you send me to those slimy snakes? Gross, I'd rather go home then."
"A Gryffindor would 'suck it up' to use the modern parlance and make the best of a challenging situation. Do you really want to be in the same House as a Malfoy? Were you not paying attention to his sorting? I know how much your families hate each other and if you truly want to return home to be with mummy, I can certainly accommodate you."
"Parl…parsley? Accomo-what? Whaddya mean a Malfoy is in Gryffindor? Get off it, a Malfoy would never get sorted into the best House in the school and I was wondering when I was going to eat next, I'm hungry. If you don't sort me to Gryffindor, my mother will hear about this!"
"Seriously? First Malfoy with his father now you with your mother. What is it about you spoiled, entitled brats? The pair of you are like the Janus Twins…"
"The who? Are they anything like Fred and George?"
The hat let out a pained sigh and peered deeper within the redhead's mind trying to solve the mystery as to why the kid was so dimwitted but couldn't find any real reason other than he merely went along with whatever his mother screeched her overbearing opinions about. The boy had no talents in being crafty or sneaky except for his talents for tactical and strategic planning in his chess games. Maybe being amongst those who desired ambition to be more than their stations in life could assist this lout of a child? Either way, Gryffindor was NOT the right place for him, neither were Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. "SLYTHERIN!"
Ron Weasley sat there on the stool with a blank expression on his face. It wasn't because he was shocked as to where the hat sorted him. He was, in his own dimwitted way; but he was still waiting to hear the words of 'Gryffindor.' It took a nudge from Minerva to get him to finally blink and look up at her.
"You've been sorted, Mr. Weasley. Please head over to the Slytherin table," she intoned stiffly.
Again with the blank expression, "Huh?"
She sighed internally, 'Dimwitted fool, he just proves my point to Molly about coddling her children.' She pointed over to the table, "Go there. Green table. Sit. Be quiet."
"Buh, Weasleys sit there," he whined out dumbly, pointing to where his brothers were sitting with aghast looks on their faces.
"Not you, now go."
A look of anger flashed over his face, "No! Weasleys' go into Gryffindor! My mother will hear about this!"
At the Hufflepuff table…
"Wow, I knew he was an idiot but this is taking things to the extreme," Hermione commented to Harry who slowly nodded his head in agreement as they watched and listened to Ronald Weasley making a fool of himself in front of everyone.
"It's almost like Draco but in reverse. My mother versus my father."
"It happens sometimes," a fourth year said as he rubbed his nose, "You grow up listening to the stories from the older generation about how great a particular House is or how bad another one is. Molly Weasley is legendary in making her opinions known loudly and to anyone who she thinks needs to hear it, whether they want to or not. In both of Malfoy's and Weasley's cases, they're probably just in shock most likely. Hopefully they'll come around and realize it. With any luck, Ron's brothers won't allow him to embarrass their family or their mother just may send one of her infamous Howlers."
"Howlers?"
"Red letter, screams out whatever you wrote as if you were there to yell it in the recipient's face. It's not pleasant," the fourth year rubbed their ears sympathetically.
Humming in response Harry commented that he'd hate to be each of the boys' parents when they found out.
The Teacher's Table…
The students weren't the only ones who were surprised by Ron's and Draco's sorting. The teachers were whispering amongst themselves about this new development. One teacher, the man at the end with the sallow-face and the big nose, Potions Master Severus Snape, sneered at full blast when he heard that the youngest Weasley had been sorted into his House.
'A Weasley in Slytherin? Hell must be freezing over. I could see perhaps the eldest Weasley here being a Slytherin. The boy does have the drive to become the biggest brown-noser and stick-in-the-mud in the school. Even the twins, if I'm being honest with myself, could've potentially have become Snakes. Their potions talents while lamentably geared towards pranking is quality work I've not seen in many years.
James Potter's spawn is a Hufflepuff? What the hell is going on here? He should be amongst the rest of the loudmouthed dunderheads in Gryffindor. Well, we'll see just how idiotic and talentless he is when he gets into my class. He snorted internally, 'I can only imagine how Lucius is going to react when he learns that Draco got sorted into Gryffindor. I wonder who's setting this year's betting pool? This ranks right up there with allowing that Goblin to be the High Inquisitor. This bears further investigation…'
Albus was also in shock. 'What happened here? Why did the hat not sort these children where I instructed him to? No, this must not be allowed to happen! It goes against my plans for the Greater Good!' He was about to stand and set things right when he received a slight tingle from a necklace he was wearing. He let out a low grumble and sat back down and laced his fingers together to keep from crossing his arms like a petulant child. 'Blasted Goblin and his damn rules! I shouldn't have to wear this damn pendant like some rabid dog! I do need to get the feast underway.' He experimentally rose from his seat to begin the feast and found that the anti-ill-intent enchanted pendant didn't respond; he breathed a sigh of relief and gave his announcements before waving his hand and ordered the elves to serve the food.
Back at the Hufflepuff table…
"…Next, the Third Floor Corridor on the left hand side is off-limits to all those who do not wish to die a most painful death and finally, this year Hogwarts will be introducing several new subjects such as Wizarding Customs and Etiquette, dance, music and physical education as well as general muggle education classes in mathematics, English reading comprehension and writing amongst others for this year's incoming students. Further information about them will be discussed in the morning at breakfast. Thank you."
Harry glanced at Hermione and Neville to see if they were as puzzled as he was, "He does realize that this is a school full of kids, right? Giving a warning like that is just going to make the adventurous students more likely to go investigate."
Hermione could only blink and look pensive, "Maybe you ought to write to your aunt and uncle about this? What about Daggerclaw? He should know too."
The next morning, Hufflepuff Common Room
Harry dragged himself out of bed like he always did in the morning. His morning routine done, he ambled out to the Common Room and flopped down on a couch and waited for everyone else to get moving. A few minutes later Neville came out and sank down next to him, his eyes still glazed over with sleep.
"It's too early to be up. It's Sunday for Pete's sake!" Harry grumbled. Neville was in too much of a daze as well to respond beyond an incoherent grumble. Hermione appeared in a cheerful mood and bounced over to them.
"Hi, Harry! Good morning!"
"Ah! Cheerful person! Run and hide!" he growled and feebly swatted his hands at her even though he knew that she knew that he didn't mean it. She just scrunched her nose up cutely, patted him on top of his head, grabbed his hand and tugged him off the couch.
"Come on! We've waited for so long and now you just want to sit and wait for everyone else?"
Harry finally relented and allowed her to yank him out of the Common Room, "Where are we going?"
"Breakfast."
"But the kitchen's that way," he pointed in the direction he'd been told about last night.
"Harry," she hooked her hands on her hips and gave him her usual exasperated glare when he was being particularly dense about something, "The kitchen staff isn't going to just let you use their stoves without being properly introduced. We'll go in there later when Professor Sprout has some free time like she promised."
"Fine…"
The three kids made their way up to the Great Hall where they saw some other early risers seated at their respective tables. Neville sat down at his spot from last night and pulled over a cup and a steaming tea pot. Harry peered up at the ceiling which had reverted back to the underside of the rafters, "I guess they turn off the ceiling enchantment at the end of the night?"
Hermione wandered around the Hall taking in all the sights. She climbed up the step to the Teacher's table and just out of brazen curiosity, sat down on the Headmaster's throne. She giggled at what sort of spectacle she must be making. 'A tiny bushy-haired first year sitting in the seat belonging to the most important person in the school?' (Never mind the fact that Dumbledore was a bad person, it was the office she referred to.)
Harry approached and with an overly dramatic flourish; he bowed before her and wished his Lady a good morning. She giggled at his display and thanked him in an officious voice she could manage.
"Does milady wish to begin her breakfast now?" He inquired in a nasally officious voice then clapped his hands, "Let milady's food appear!"
It surprised both of them when a plate of toast, butter, kippers and a bowl of porridge along with a pitcher of juice and skim milk appeared on the table before her. Hermione yelped in surprise and scooted back; Harry's bugged out, he was just amazed that it worked!
"That was…unexpected. Um, may I have my breakfast as well?" Harry said aloud as he took a seat next to Hermione. With a tiny pop, the same breakfast appeared in front of him. "Thank you! I wonder how the table knew what I wanted?"
Hermione giggled and wiggled her fingers mysteriously, "Oooh, it was probably the elves."
Harry looked puzzled for a moment before it dawned on him what she said, "Oh, yeah! I met one at the Ministry before Dumbledore's trial. Funny little thing, I suppose it's possible for the castle to have a few as well."
Hermione was curious about that, "Really? Elves exist? What are they like?"
"The one at the Ministry stood about chest height on me, and had large bat-like ears, tennis ball-sized eyes and seemed to be timid and ever happy to please. Got upset when it thought it made a mistake like it was afraid that I might punish it for doing something bad."
Hermione's face dropped into one of dismayed horror, "That's terrible! I hope you were nice to it?" Harry nodded silently as he reached for his spoon.
They ate in near silence. Not because they were out of things to say but because they were both mentally comparing the quality of the kitchen staff's cooking to Harry's. After finishing her bite of kipper, Hermione laid her fork down, "Not bad though it is rather difficult to mess up when making kippers. I like your seasoning blend better though."
Harry agreed, "Yeah, I would've done something a bit more…elaborate, I would think? This is about as basic of a breakfast as one can get. If it were me, I would've had a bowl of freshly sliced berries, stuffed waffles if it were a weekend or a layered breakfast bowl if it were a school day along with the juice and milk."
Hermione's eyes widened, "A breakfast bowl! That's what I was missing! A bowl of scrambled eggs, crumbled bacon, sliced sausage with chopped bell peppers and shredded cheese…mmm… plus that homemade spicy sauce you make. You really need to be introduced to the kitchen staff. That bowl is just absolute heaven."
When the rest of the school started showing up for breakfast, the two firsties were quickly made an example of how not to blend in on their first day of school. With a look of amusement, Professor Sprout quietly suggested that they return to their table so the headmaster and Professor McGonagall could sit down. Blushing madly, they scampered back to the proper table amongst peals of laughter from the other students.
Breakfast finished rather quickly as there was a lot of new information to be passed on. Albus stood and announced that the new classes were part of an effort to offer a more rounded education to the students at the request of many parents who felt that Hogwarts standards were slipping (anyone who knew Albus, knew how much it was costing him to admit that out loud.) "It has been made patently clear to me by the newly formed Parent-Teacher Association that by not offering classes in Basic English reading and writing, mathematics, physical education and the like; our future graduates and leaders of magical Britain will be unable to excel like we would wish them to. Additionally, there will be a new class covering the subjects of Wizarding Customs and Etiquette. I have been remonstrated that with so many new muggleborn entering our world each year, it behooves us to teach them how to navigate the intricacies of our world. The new classes will be mandatory to all incoming first year students while our second through seventh years have the option of taking a remedial course over the weekends." He then proceeded to introduce the teachers for the new subjects to a general applause.
Pomona came down to hand out their schedules early so as to allow the first years time to acclimate themselves to the vagrancies of a magical castle. Both Harry and Hermione eagerly took their slips and began to compare them.
"Ooh, look! Flying lessons, I can't wait to try that out," Hermione commented excitedly, "Do you think I can find some green face paint and a black cat quickly?"
Harry laughed and shook his head, "I dunno but I'm looking forward to Tuesday's Herbology lessons," He turned to where Neville was sitting and examining his own schedule with his tongue peeking out between his lips, "Hey Nev, Herbology is on Tuesday. You up for seeing if we could check out the greenhouses early?" Neville eagerly agreed to the suggestion.
"I'm kind of curious as to what they're going to teach in that customs and etiquette class and how it would differ from what Moony and Padfoot taught?" Harry side spoke to Hermione as he continued to take in his class lineup. Since she was sitting next to him, he felt her shrug her shoulders but remain silent.
Because it was a Sunday, it had been decided by general consensus to spend it exploring the castle and the grounds. Harry wanted to immediately dash over and introduce himself to the kitchen staff but Hermione remonstrated him that there was more to life than just the kitchens, "Harry! You're going to be here for nine months of the year and seven years total. That's plenty of time to make friends with the kitchen staff and demonstrate your talents."
"But Hermione…" he whined pitifully but she wouldn't be swayed.
"No, we are going to see the rest of the castle then we can go to the kitchens if there's any time left in the day; now come on." She finished imperiously with her nose cutely stuck in the air. Harry quickly realized she was just teasing him and relaxed. If Hermione was being this bossy, it meant that she was just as curious but refused to act childish in front of so many new people. He gave her a 'Harry Potter Classic' and let loose with a 'guaranteed to turn her insides to mush,' lop-sided smirk and turned his eyes on her to show off those luscious green orbs she loved so much.
The result was as always, hilarious; Hermione tripped over her feet and careened off the wall as she turned to lead him away from the kitchens.
Gryffindor Dorms
Draco Malfoy was not a happy Gryffindor. He had made that quite clear the previous night and now he had to deal with the fallout in the morning. He tried to get up out of bed but found himself stuck beneath the sheets and unable to move. He tried yelling for help but found that there was either no one in the room or his voice had been silenced (or both). He was getting desperate and in dire need of the loo. Just as he was about to scream in despair, the door to his dorm opened and admitted an older red-haired teenage boy.
"Mr. Malfoy! What are you still doing in bed? It's past time to get up already."
Draco tried to respond but couldn't make himself heard. This clued the older boy that there might be something amiss. A wave of his wand and Draco could suddenly move and speak.
"Gah! I'll be right back!" Draco yelled as he dashed off to the bathroom. When he returned, his ire was stratospheric, "Someone did this to me last night while I was sleeping and when my father hears about how they treated his heir, there will be hell to pay."
The teen with a prefect badge on his chest, Percy Weasley sighed in disdain and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'Why couldn't it have been someone else to deal with this brat this early in the morning? I don't have time for this.'
"Mr. Malfoy, you have approximately ten minutes to get ready for the day so I can escort you to the Great Hall for breakfast and morning announcements. Get moving." He ushered Draco off. 'I never thought I'd live to see the day when I would prefer to deal with the antics of the twins over putting up with the mouthy attitude of a Malfoy.'
Slytherin Dorms
Ron Weasley was not a happy person either. While he'd not gotten the same sort of rude treatment that Draco did, he was being treated as some sort of interesting bug to poked and prodded to see what his reaction would be. The older years ignored him for the most part; there were still one or two from the darker families that made an occasional snide comment about something that had to do with his family's honor...he thought. Unfortunately for Ronald Weasley, they always used big words and refused to explain what they meant. He tried to get loud like his mother since he knew that when she got that way, she got the results she wanted but in his case; all it resulted was a silencing charm, a stinging charm and a mild banishing hex thrown at him.
As he was still new to the Art of Magic, he didn't know how to dispel the silencing charm so he had to wait until it wore off. The next morning, he had to be physically dragged out of bed and practically kicked into the showers before he finally got himself underway. It was only the promise of food that he showed some signs of life.
His rat, Scabbers, ducked under the bed and cowered in fear…
Headmaster's Office
Albus sighed once again as he re-entered his office and sat down in his chair. This was shaping up to be the most vexing year and it had just barely gotten started! New classes, new teachers, progress happening faster and without his input! It was intolerable and flew in the face of his vision for the Greater Good. He scrubbed his hands over his face and looked over his desk to see what that blasted Goblin had in mind to torture him with today.
There was a stack of forms that needed to be filled out, topped with a note stating that these new forms superseded the ones he'd just wasted nearly half the day yesterday on. Grumbling once more about the injustice being heaped upon him by the universe, he pulled out his quill and got to work.
In Daggerclaw's office next to the Gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office…
Daggerclaw was, surprisingly he realized, having the time of his life. Sure, he had to put up with the near constant grumblings and other whiny outbursts of perceived indignations by that blowhard, Albus Dumbledore but by and large the opportunity to 'stick it to him' was just too good to pass up.
'It makes me wonder why I tried to get out of it all those months ago? Why did I not see this as a good thing? It's almost like a vacation! I get to find the most obscure rules and make Dumbledore dance to my tune. Those contradicting forms for example, idiot wizards think they're the Masters of convoluted paperwork? Ha! This morning's stack ought to cause the old goat to have an aneurysm.'
He rose from his chair and swept into Albus' office, striding across the floor carrying yet another sheaf of useless forms. "Have you completed the new IN-D-DO/2 forms yet, Albus? I don't have all day."
Albus tried to glare at him but Daggerclaw had seen worse, "I just got into my office and sat down! Give me at least an hour to try and get through this before you start barking at me. Why do I need to deal with these forms anyways? They contradict the ones you had me fill out yesterday."
"The IN-D-DO/2 forms supersede the IN-D-DO forms which state that the H2-IK requests need to be processed first. If they are not then the ID-10T rules come into play."
Albus just growled once more and returned to filling out the forms.
Harry knocked on Daggerclaw's door and waited to be called in. When the door opened and Daggerclaw ushered him in, he gazed around the room and noticed how stark and austere it was.
"Good morning, Daggerclaw. How are you settling in?"
Daggerclaw chuckled, "I'm doing quite well. It's funny but when your aunt and uncle first suggested this position, I thought I was being punished for something I did but as it turns out; I'm having the time of my life. This job really isn't all that stressful, I've had worse back in Gringotts. The most tiring part is trying to come up with new methods of torturing the headmaster with inane assignments. This week I've got him going around in circles with fake forms he needs to fill out in order to receive imaginary equipment the school would never need."
Harry wrapped his arms around himself as he started hiccupping from laughing so much, "That's…hic, that's great! Have you written to my aunt…hic, about what you've done to the headmaster so far? I bet she'd love to know what you've accomplished."
Daggerclaw clicked his fingers, "Good idea, Mr. Potter. Now, how are you doing?"
Harry's laughter subsided, "Pretty good. Hermione and I got sorted into Hufflepuff just like we'd both hoped. Did you know that our House is right across the hallway to the kitchens? I'm really looking forward to seeing the legendary kitchens my uncles told me about. Today Hermione and I spent a couple of hours wandering about the castle trying to get a sense of what's where. Those moving portraits are awesome! The greenhouses were locked unfortunately so we couldn't get in. The Grand Staircase is incredible! It moves back and forth sending you off in another direction sometimes."
Daggerclaw shook his head at the continued inanity of wizarding architecture though he did admit that the moving staircase was a potential tactical advantage he should suggest to Director Ragnok. "Anything else you think I ought to know about?"
Harry thought for a moment, "Oh, yeah! Do you know why the headmaster would tell everyone not to go near the third floor corridor on the left hand side 'unless we wished to die a most painful death'?"
Daggerclaw's eyes widened briefly then narrowed in anger and glanced in the direction of the man's door, "No, I do not. I don't know why he would say such a thing. That's very suspect, Mr. Potter and I thank you for bringing it to my attention."
Monday morning, 3 September 1991 Great Hall
'Once more unto the breach' would've been Harry's thought if he were dreading the outcome of the day. Fortunately for him he was looking forward to getting his class schedule and start learning magic! It had been only two days and in that time, he'd had to put up with the near constant stares and whispers surrounding his appearance and celebrity status. Hermione plopped down next to him and gave him a brief hug before reaching out to snag the plate of bacon.
Neville, Susan and Hannah appeared a moment later and joined them for breakfast. Susan was really looking forward to seeing what the muggle education stuff was all about while Hannah was interested getting started with the dance class.
Harry bit into his slice of breakfast bruschetta he'd whipped up on the spot with sliced sausage topped with a soft-boiled egg and a slice of Swiss cheese and a smear of mustard he'd brought from home on a slice of toasted white bread, "Dance? Ugh, I thought we were going to be done with that."
Hermione giggled, "Just because Padfoot was done teaching us doesn't mean that there aren't other styles of dancing to learn. Besides, I don't know why you're complaining; it was fun learning to dance with you." Harry blushed at the compliment.
Transfiguration classroom
When the Puff contingent entered the classroom, they wondered where the professor was. Susan spotted the cat sitting primly on the desk but there was no sign of McGonagall. Harry paused and narrowed his eyes after setting down his backpack. He cocked his head in thought and slowly walked up to the cat who peered back at him.
"Harry?" he distantly heard Hermione calling him.
"Something strange about this cat… There's no wariness in its behavior when I approached. A real cat would've pulled back in case I was a threat. If anything, I'd say that this cat isn't a real cat but more like Uncle Sirius." He murmured mostly to himself though the cat's ears did perk up.
The bell rang and he gave the cat one last contemplative stare before rejoining the others. The cat blinked once and jumped from the desk, transforming into Professor Minerva McGonagall halfway through the arc. There was a bit of excited chatter and light applause from the students which caused the teacher to twitch her lips in faint pride.
"Congratulations, five points to Mr. Potter for your thorough analysis of determining if I were a real cat or not," She turned serious on them, "Transfiguration is the study of changing one object into another. I will stress that joking around, horseplay and lack of attention to what you are assigned will have you quickly dismissed from my class. As this is a core required class, if you are dismissed you will have to explain to your parents why they must now pay for a private tutor. Do not test me on this."
Over the next forty-five minutes, the professor had them taking a copious amount of notes. When they only had about fifteen minutes left, she demonstrated the incantation and wand movements to transform a matchstick into a needle. "I want you to understand, you must visualize what the final product will look like in your mind. Once you have that, I want you to imagine channeling your magic from wherever you think it is within you, down through your arm and out of your wand. You are asking your magic to accomplish this task. Without that visualization, you will accomplish nothing."
Harry picked up his matchstick and examined it carefully. He placed it down again and pulled out his wand. He thought about one of the many needles in Aunt Petunia's pincushion back home and cast the spell. He thought he could feel his magic trickling through his arm and beamed brightly when the matchstick wavered a bit before morphing into a bright purple needle with a sharp tip and a rounded eyelet at the rear.
Defense Against the Dark Arts
This class was rapidly shaping up to becoming the most aggravating class they'd ever taken. The teacher had a terrible stutter, stunk to high heaven with heavy amounts of garlic stuffed in and around his turban (the teacher claimed it was to ward off a vampire who was supposedly stalking him) and seemed jumpy around his own shadow. Harry wished that the windows could open to let in some fresh air to counteract the garlic stench but it wouldn't.
With an aggrieved sigh of defeat, he settled into his chair and tried to take as many notes as he could before his eyes became too watery and his nose stuffed up to where he couldn't breathe. 'I need to speak with Daggerclaw about this!'
Broom flying class, Quidditch Courtyard
Both Harry and Hermione were understandably nervous about this lesson. Neither one had gone flying before unless it was in an airplane and strapped into a seat going on a vacation. Because they lived in a muggle area and even Wolf's Bay was populated with enough muggles; Remus and Sirius couldn't take them flying.
The brooms appeared to be relatively new and unscathed unlike the ones they'd heard about from the older students. Harry mentioned in an aside to Hermione that Daggerclaw must have done something to override the Board and Dumbledore to get the existing brooms replaced. He noticed that her hands were shaking slightly.
"You okay? Your hands are shaking."
Hermione squeezed her hands into a fist then shook them out, "Just nervous. I know what I said at breakfast but now the idea of flying around on nothing more than a tree branch is unnerving me."
Harry made a face in agreement, "I'd rather just keep my feet on the ground like nature intended."
When the Flying Instructor, Madam Rolanda Hooch arrived, she demonstrated on how to approach the broom and to get it into their hands by sharply stating, "Up!" She then had everyone mount their brooms while she wandered between the students, adjusting their grip or seating position. Madam Hooch led them through the basic patterns of controlling the broom handle; pushing forward or back to make the broom go up and down, rolling to the side to go left and right and leaning forward to make the broom go faster. Then it was just the matter of letting the kids go and slowly get used to flying without wings.
'This is SO much fun! I thought I'd be terrified but this is so much better than I could've hoped for!' Hermione squealed in her mind as she soared through the air at about fifty feet above the ground. She experimented with the broom's (and her own) capabilities for acrobatic maneuvers and was pleasantly surprised at how natural it all seemed to be. 'Maybe I could get used to this! I wonder if there's a team I could join?' 'I wonder if I can do a loop?' She chattered excitedly in her mind while screaming in delight with every dive and barrel roll she made, her hair whipping in the wind behind her.
When they all landed (some more gracefully than others); the kids were congratulated by Madam Hooch and reminded that they would have another flying class come Wednesday then dismissed them.
"So? How was it for you, Hermione? Did flying around like a classic witch live up to your expectations?" Harry inquired with a knowing smirk on his face as he took in his 'glassy-eyed in a happy sort of way' female best friend.
"Oh, Harry! It was wonderful! I can't wait to do this again. I wonder if there are any flying clubs I could join?" she gushed.
Wizarding Customs and Etiquette class
"Welcome everyone to your first class into the fascinating world of customs and etiquette. My name is Professor Elaine Bainbridge and it's my mission to make sure that you all will learn what you need to know to navigate the sometimes confusing and yes, even outdated, rules and regulations of magical Britain."
Professor Bainbridge, it turned out, was a cheery half-blood who'd been raised in the muggle world up until receiving her own Hogwarts acceptance letter. Her parents were professors in their own right; her muggle mother taught cultural anthropology while her magical father worked in the Ministry's Department of International Magical Cooperation as a diplomatic attaché. Her parents were aghast at the utter lack of proper teaching of what their daughter (and others) needed to know so as to not offend the more conservative members of society so they took it upon themselves to teach their daughter how to act and behave in this new world.
She began her class with an overview of what sort of behaviors were expected in her class as well as some of the things they could look forward to. "If all goes well, we might even be invited to a Ministry gala closer to Yule so you can practice what you've learned in a real world setting!"
General Education class – English
This was a class that all the muggle born and raised were quite familiar with and therefore wasted no time in getting settled with the way their new professor taught. The magically raised on the other hand, struggled a bit. Writing with pencils or pens instead of quills was a steep learning curve. Each of the magically raised kept looking for the inkwell bottle to dip their pens into which slowed them down. It wasn't anything bad per se, more funny than anything else. When Justin Finch-Fletchley was heard sniggering at Wayne Hopkins' struggles, their teacher took away two points and his pen before handing him a quill.
"If you think you've mastered the ability of writing with a pen, let's see how well you do with a quill." Justin just paled while Wayne sniggered back at him.
First up was a short warm-up activity of copying out a list of vocabulary words from the chalkboard into their workbooks. Next on the agenda was writing a short essay on what they thought of the magical world so far. Finally, there was a round robin reading activity where each student was given a paragraph to read aloud to the class to test their ability to sound out and understand any difficult words they came across.
Hogwarts Kitchens
Harry finally managed to corral Professor Sprout during their scheduled free time and asked her if it would be okay if she would show him where the kitchens were.
"Why?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Because I love to cook and would like to be introduced to the kitchen staff so I can demonstrate my ability."
"You cook?" Harry stopped himself from grumbling at that annoying phrase everyone used when they found out he liked to cook.
"I've been cooking since I was five years old. I started out by helping my aunt with making a simple salad, tearing the lettuce and chopping the vegetables under her close supervision."
Professor Sprout showed him the painting of the bowl of fruit that guarded the entrance to the kitchens and demonstrated how to tickle the pear to get the handle to appear. Once inside, Harry's brain shut down and his mouth slowly dropped open at the majesty that was the kitchens. Here was where the magic happened, in his opinion! Everywhere he looked, he saw those little beings known as elves scurrying around baking things, manning the stoves, cleaning or moving equipment around like a precision watch. Pomona chuckled understandingly at his dumbfounded reactions. He was puzzled that he didn't see anyone in charge.
"Um, excuse me?"
There was a flurry of squeaks of surprise from the elves and a bunch of them rushed over to him, "What does little sir be wanting? Does he require more food? How can we be helping?"
Harry worriedly glanced over at Pomona for help. She smiled warmly and explained that the kitchen elves were ready to make nearly anything he could wish for.
"They are the kitchen staff? I thought they were just the helpers; like that one elf in the Ministry that brought me a cup of tea before Dumbledore's trial?"
The other elves suddenly parted to allow an older female elf with a different style of tea cozy uniform to approach. The elf dismissed the others to go back to their duties, "Tiny is being Tiny. Tiny is the Head Kitchen Elf, how can Tiny be helping little sir?"
"Um, hi Tiny. My name is Harry and I was wondering if I could come in on occasion and do some of my own cooking? I really enjoy the practice and would love to show off my talents."
Tiny's eyes cocked her head, "Little sir be cooking like elves? That is most strange. Does little sir not be having elves at home?"
Harry shook his head, "No, I grew up in a muggle home and my aunt and I shared the cooking for the most part."
Tiny thought about this strange new development, "Well, Tiny supposes little sir could show her what he knows. This way…" She led him and Pomona off to a cook station set apart from the main group, "This being a station that new elves be learning to cook on before they is being allowed into the main group. Little sir be showing Tiny what he can do."
Harry examined the cook station and utensils noting their quality (and with the knives, how sharp they were) before asking where the pantry was. He was shown where the dry goods and where the cold storage was and began formulating an idea as to what would showcase his best work.
Deciding against anything too fancy, Harry decided to go with a hearty Scottish fish dish. He pulled his recipe notebook out of his backpack then hunted around in the pantry and cold storage for the ingredients for a recipe he'd made once.
Pomona and Tiny took a seat and watched as Harry began preparing the ingredients for his dish. "What are you going to be making, Mr. Potter?"
"Cullen Skink, ma'am. I figured that since we're in Scotland, I ought to make a signature national dish. Would you like me to explain as I go or would you just like to watch without the commentary?" Both requested he explain as he went.
Harry started his explanation while he finished tying on an apron, "So, the first thing any chef needs to do is wash his hands thoroughly to prevent the spread of outside germs and whatnot. No one wants to taste whatever you were touching before you got into the kitchen," he put action to words by washing his hands with soap and hot water in the sink, "Next, prepare all the ingredients beforehand so you're not racing to get something peeled, chopped or whatever while the food is being cooked. That's very important because if you don't prepare beforehand, you run the risk of ruining the meal. I have here one medium sized onion and it needs to be finely chopped." He expertly handled the knife and quickly and efficiently chopped the onion into small pieces. He reached into the cupboard and retrieved the white pepper.
"Next, I shall peel and slice these potatoes. As a gardening side note, I like to save all of my vegetable peelings and off-cuts to add to my compost heap. At home, I have two compost bins; one is the traditional 'pile it all in and let nature take its course' while the other is known as vermicomposting which utilizes earthworms to eat and break down the compostable materials like grass clippings, newspapers, leaves, kitchen scraps but not meat, grease, plastics or the slick newspaper inserts." He finished peeling and slicing the potatoes and put them aside.
"Next, I need to inspect the smoked haddock fillet for any signs of discoloration and rot. If there is any sort of rotting smell, you should discard it immediately. Fresh fish should still smell like the ocean. I also need to roughly chop some parsley and a bit of scallions." Out came a container of fish stock, single cream and milk, he put those to the side.
He moved onto the range top and pulled out a pan, "In goes fifty grams of butter into the pan and it needs to be heated until the butter coats the surface. Once that's nice and hot, I add the onion and cook it gently for about seven to eight minutes until it is soft but not browned. I'll pour in three hundred milliliters of fish stock and milk each and bring it to a boil. Once that's in, I add the sliced potatoes and let it simmer for about twenty minutes until they are really soft."
Both Pomona and Tiny were flabbergasted at the professional way Harry explained the steps needed to make the soup and how efficiently he was at preparing the ingredients. Pomona couldn't wait to get him in her greenhouses given his clear talent with gardening, what with the tips and tricks he kept interjecting into his demonstration. Tiny was shocked to learn that there were wizards who knew how to cook as well as the elves; it worried her that if this young wizard knew how then maybe there were more and they wouldn't need the elves.
"With the twenty minutes done, I add the smoked haddock and continue to simmer for another three to four minutes until it is cooked and will flake easily. Carefully lift the fish out onto a plate and leave to cool slightly. Meanwhile, crush some of the cooked potatoes up against the side of the pan with the wooden spoon to thicken the soup a little." He carefully lifted the haddock out and set it aside.
"When the haddock is cool enough to handle, break the fish into flakes and discard the skin and any bones. Return it to the pan and stir in the parsley and some of the seasoning to taste. Stir in half the cream while leaving the rest for a garnish." He scooped soup out of the pan with a ladle into three bowls and garnished them with a swirl of cream, a little more chopped parsley and a couple of chopped scallions before sliding the bowls in front of Pomona and Tiny. They reached for their spoons and took a bite of the fish soup. Tiny's ears drooped in evident pleasure while Pomona moaned lightly in delight.
Harry grinned at their responses. Their dining pleasure was music to his ears.
"Mr. Potter, this is exquisite! I still can't believe that you created this. You seem too young to have had much experience yet this soup belies that assumption. How much cooking do you normally do at home?" Pomona asked in between bites of the soup.
Harry absently wiped down the counter with a rag and shrugged, "I do most of the cooking when I can. It relaxes me and makes my family happy. That's not to say that my aunt no longer does the cooking, she'll do it if I'm too tired or have some sort of school activity that runs too late."
"Tiny is loving this soup but Tiny is worried that if little sir is good at cooking, he won't be needing the elves," she finished sadly.
Harry paused in his wiping, "Tiny, I would only be doing my own cooking on the weekends when I have free time. During the weekdays, I'll be too busy to try and make food; besides, the elves can do what I can't and that's feed the entire school. At best right now, I can make enough for only about thirty people."
End of the first school day, teacher's staff meeting…
Albus trailed behind Daggerclaw as the Goblin led the way into the teacher's lounge. That alone would've been enough to set off another round of temper tantrums on an ordinary day but Albus was too tired to care anymore. Endless form filling could do that to a person. He was also sullen from the dressing down he'd received after the Goblin had ripped into him for announcing that the third floor corridor was off limits to, as he'd put it 'those who did not wish to die a most painful death.' It took all of Albus' persuasion that the corridor in question wasn't dangerous per se but did hold a number of personal experiments he was conducting and just didn't want to have any of the children snooping around and potentially getting hurt.
Daggerclaw fiercely grinned internally at the old goat's reaction (or lack thereof) to entering in first and brazenly sat down at the head of the table. This raised some eyebrows of the teachers as they searched for their own seats. Minerva came in last, escorting Elaine in while finishing some conversation they'd had on the way in.
She paused to take in this new change of dominance being displayed before dismissing it with a facial shrug.
"Let us begin the meeting," Daggerclaw announced, "Does anyone have anything they wish to announce first? Questions about anything?"
Filius Flitwick, the Charms professor raised his hand, "Yes, where's Argus Filch? I thought this was an all-staff meeting?"
Minerva knocked on the table to draw attention, "He's dealing with a busted pipe on the first floor. I promised to fill him in later."
Daggerclaw made a note of that, "Was the busted pipe a student related incident?"
"Not as far as I know. I'm sure he'll update me as soon as he can."
Daggerclaw accepted that and moved onto old business, "Next…"
After the meeting concluded, Minerva, Pomona and Filius gathered together in Minerva's office for a nightcap. Pomona started things off by waxing philosophically about the sheer culinary talents of one of her new students.
"Ah, sampled some of Harry Potter's cooking have ye?" Minerva smiled at the dreamy expression on her colleague and friend's face.
Filius looked confused, "Harry Potter cooks?"
"Nay, what Mr. Potter does transcends the mere description of cooking. What he does is orchestrate a symphony of tastes and sensations that play with your emotions."
"What sort of cooking does he do? Does he have a specialty?"
Minerva replied that he seemed to be talented in just about everything, "According to his aunt, he's made everything from breads, snacks, desserts, main courses and cuisines from around the world. Pomona here is so lucky to have him in her House and for the kitchens to be so close."
The rest of the week passed along as well as any first week in a new school could. Hermione thrived in their next flying lesson as she had in the first. She did get around to asking Madam Hooch if there were any first year flying clubs available. Madam Hooch informed her that such clubs were usually announced in their respective Common Room Bulletin Boards. Defense continued its downward spiral of interest with how badly the teacher continued to stutter and the overwhelming stench of garlic coming from his turban. History of Magic turned out to be an absolute bore. How could anyone make the history of their world boring? Well, their ghostly teacher, Professor Binns managed it. His droning manner of speaking put them all into a stupor; the weaker ones of the students actually fell asleep. Hermione vowed to speak with Daggerclaw about coming up with a possible solution.
The general education classes passed by with nary a complaint from the muggle born and raised. English, mathematics were easily accepted by the magically raised but when they got started with the mundane history of Britain and the sciences; that's when the denials were heard though fortunately not from anyone in the Puff contingent. Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley were the most vocal opponents of what was trying to be taught. Between the two of them, the two loud-mouthed brats managed to beat the record of the number of detentions in a single day.
Their Tuesday and Thursday class of Charms was fun and made all that more memorable by the tiny teacher who seemed thoroughly enthused by his topic. When Professor Flitwick called the roll, he ended up toppling off his stack of books when he looked up after calling Harry's name. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. For a moment there, it looked as if your father had returned to my class."
Harry just shook his head in exasperation.
As with their other classes, they had to take a huge amount of notes and listen to a lecture on proper behavior in the class. The first charm they got to try was a wand-lighting charm, 'Lumos' and its canceling companion, 'Nox.' Harry would suppose later that because he and Hermione had had previous instruction into the theory of the wanded subjects, it was easier to actually perform them. Visualizing was apparently key to getting a spell or charm to work properly.
"Professor Flitwick?" Harry raised his hand to get the man's attention.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"I've noticed through my own trials as well as the instructions you and Professor McGonagall have given, that visualization is a key component in getting our magic to work properly. If that's true, why say the incantation at all and could I use any language I wanted to get the same result?" The rest of the class looked interested in this. Professor Flitwick was however, beaming in pride.
"Very good, Mr. Potter! Take five points for a logical supposition! Yes, visualization is a primary ingredient in making your magic do what you want. Without it, anything could happen. It would be akin to turning on a garden hose and not holding it in the direction you want to water. As for the different languages; the words are merely a guide to help your mind think, and yes visualize, what you want to have happen. When you get to sixth year, you will be taught to not verbalize your intent with the spell or charm and just use silent casting."
On Thursday, they had their second Herbology lessons. The first day covered an introduction as to what they could expect and be expected of to learn about plants and their uses in the wider magical world. This time however, Harry shared the limelight so to speak with Neville Longbottom. While Harry's gardening talents were destined to lead to cooking; Neville's talents with all things floral were more specialized towards magical plants destined for the potion brewer. Pomona was overjoyed to discover two extremely talented and budding (pun intended) herbologists in her class. So it was when they entered the potion's laboratory, Harry and Neville were itching to show off what they'd learned in the greenhouses.
Friday Potions class
If it weren't for Professor Snape's overbearing tendencies and scathing commentaries, potions might've actually been enjoyable.
Neville collapsed into a fit of nerves from the outset, unable to process the verbal criticism Snape kept throwing at him. Severus loomed over the boy and berated him for his screw-up when the boy in question failed to remove his cauldron from the heat before adding the porcupine quills. Severus whirled on Harry and yelled, "And you Potter! Thought you wouldn't tell your friend he was about to make a mistake? Thought you were too good for that? You wanted the limelight for yourself?"
Harry failed to respond to that rant other than raising a single eyebrow. This infuriated Severus to no end, "Answer me!"
Harry stood slowly in careful determination and stared directly into the man's eyes, "Potions Master Severus Tobias Snape; your tirade is not becoming for a man of your station and training. It was clear even to those focused on their own work that Neville was suffering from your overbearing attitude. I would hate to think that the man that my mother knew to be a potentially wonderful brewer and teacher had devolved into this spiteful, hateful creature I see before me."
Severus stood stock-still, eyes wide in fear, Harry's words reverberating in his mind and those eyes bored into his soul. 'Damn, I had hoped he wouldn't know about my relationship with his mother. Those eyes…How did he know?' "Um…my, my apol…apologies, Mr. Longbottom," He stammered and dropped his eyes, swallowing hard, "You are of course, correct…Mr. Potter. That behavior was uncalled for... If you have finished, please escort Mr. Longbottom to the Infirmary for treatment." He immediately turned from Harry, strode up to his desk, sat down on his stool and refused to look at anyone.
When Harry and Neville were excused later from the Infirmary, Harry led Neville to the kitchens where he whipped up a batch of hot mint chocolate topped with whipped cream and a sprinkling of nutmeg.
"You going to be okay, Nev?" Harry asked as he blew on the top of his drink.
"Ye, yeah. I think so." Neville took a fortifying sip and smiled warmly at Harry who laughed at the sight of the other boy who now sported a whipped cream mustache.
"I don't think anyone's ever stood up to him before. How, where did you learn to say what you said?"
Harry licked his lips and set the cup down, "I've had prior education in etiquette and wizarding customs before I came here to Hogwarts. My uncle Remus and my godfather Sirius taught Hermione and myself the 'Art of Berating Someone While Looking Calm and Collected.'"
When they got back into their Common Room, both boys were set upon by nearly everyone who'd heard about the altercation in class. Even the older years congratulated Harry on his successful verbal smackdown of Severus Snape.
[A/N2: So how was it? Too much? Not enough? I hope I showed just how self-entitled Ron and Draco were. This Harry is not going to be the shrinking violet that canon would have us believe he was in first year. While he won't have the Gryffindor bravado; as a Badger, he won't take crap from anyone either. If you're wondering why Molly never responded to Ron getting sorted into Slytherin during the first week, remember that all correspondence addressed to her goes through Arthur first. Lucius, we have to assume, may have had a reaction off-screen and sent his son a letter berating him but I'll leave that up to your imaginations.
Recipes:
Breakfast Bruschetta (Pinterest)
Breakfast Bowl (personal)
Cullen Skink (Yummly)
Hot Mint Chocolate with whipped cream and nutmeg (personal)
Daggerclaw's phony forms and their meanings:
IN-D-DO = Indeedy-do
IN-D-DO/2 = Indeedy-do too
H2-IK = Hell If I Know
ID-10T = IDIOT
