Sorry for the delay! This chapter took forever to come out, and I kept rewriting Harry's various conversations, and...
Anyway, thanks to everyone who's reviewed! The Obliviator, Arnold Peasegood, was only charged with wiping all CHERUB Muggles' memories of magic, and not Harry as a whole; he was assuming, as per the agreement between Jenna and McGonagall, that there would be no paper/electronic records of magic. And regarding accidental magic, Tom Riddle's not the only one who's performed magic while not experiencing strong emotions - Lily Evans floated off the swing set and made the flower petals open & close under pretty normal circumstances, and Neville adjusted his blankets tighter around him when he was a newborn. Not to mention Dee, like Harry, has had 'strange things' occur around her, which she has practiced to control.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or CHERUB... but you already knew that. If you didn't, I'd be (not Siriusly) concerned.
Chapter 5: Conversations and Qualifications
2 September 1981
Hogwarts
0815 Hours
Of the first year Slytherin students, it was Draco Malfoy, the weedy-looking fidgeting boy, the honey-blonde girl with an intelligent gaze, and, Harry supposed, the haughty-looking Blaise Zabini, who'd drawn his attention initially, but he needed more information to make better decisions. Thus, as Harry watched the other students gradually trickle into the greenhouse for Herbology from the seat he'd chosen at the center of the long row, he subtly drew the attention of Draco, who he'd noticed had been at the center of the Slytherin social structure, pushing him to find a seat besides Harry. Because, as Harry had noticed in earlier interactions, it wasn't only that he wanted to find out more about the blond boy. Draco wanted to analyze Harry, too.
"Hello again, Potter," Draco sneered, though there was no malice in his tone.
"Malfoy," Harry greeted politely. "I'm afraid I didn't catch the rest of your names, though," he added, to the others who, as he'd expected, had followed to their station.
"Malfoy," Harry greeted politely. "I'm afraid I didn't catch the rest of your names, though," he added, to the others who, as he'd expected, had followed to their station.
"Well, you know Crabbe and Goyle," Draco said, nodding to the two bodyguard-like boys. "This is Blaise Zabini," the haughty, dark boy, "Millicent Bulstrode," a square-jawed girl with black hair, "and-"
"Draco," a pug-faced, dark-haired girl hissed in a sort of warning. Harry raised an eyebrow, and she turned to him, smiling sweetly. "I'm Pansy Parkinson," she said, her tone proud.
"A pleasure to meet you all." Harry wanted to say more, but Pansy's warning reminded him of what Draco had said, on the train. He couldn't be seen as Harry's friend, so long as Harry remained allies with Muggle-borns like Hermione; Harry supposed that was to appease his family and whatever other blood supremacists who might be watching. So he waited.
Pansy was the first to speak. "I hear you sat with a Mudbl-" a quick jab by Blaise stopped her from finishing the word, and she corrected, "Muggle-born on the train."
Harry nodded. "Hermione Granger." She'd been sorted into Gryffindor - he'd seen her besides Neville during the feast - but he didn't mention that, which would only be another strike against her, and by proxy, him.
"So you're friends?" Pansy pressed.
"Allies," Harry answered. "Despite her Muggle origins, I have found her to be rather useful, and I certainly don't believe in losing any potential opportunities based on differences in ideology." Just as he'd told Draco, on the train. Though he found it unlikely that everyone would understand his reasoning.
And, visibly, some didn't. Pansy sniffed haughtily and looked away, while Millicent frowned at him angrily. Vincent and Gregory looked at him as though confused, though he was fairly certain Draco made their decisions for them, anyway. Neither Draco nor Blaise showed any visible reaction - the former made a small movement that might have been a fidget, and the latter merely looked at Harry as though filing that piece of information away for further reference.
"And I would caution you against setting three-quarters of the school against you, with careless statements," he added. It didn't help; Pansy's expression turned, if possible, frostier, and Millicent's frown turned into a glare. Internally, Harry sighed. So much for an alliance with these two.
Though it was clear from their reactions that the two girls were headed down the same dark path as their parents. So Harry wasn't that eager to ally with them. Gathering intel on their parents through them wasn't his primary objective, and he'd value usefulness above any dubious connections.
"Settle down, settle down, class!" It was the professor at the front of the room, the stout little witch Sprout, whose timing was so perfect, it was almost amusing. Though the Slytherins around him obviously wanted to say more, they remained quiet, as the conversation around the greenhouse dimmed.
Sprout beamed at them. "Welcome to Herbology!"
She introduced herself and the class for a few minutes, before diving in to the practical portion of the lesson: planting seeds of asphodel, a 'member of the lily family whose roots can be used for potions', apparently.
And it was then that the girl to the other side of him, the intelligent honey-blonde who Harry had been intentionally not granting more than a few curious stares, spoke.
"You aren't likely to win many friends with your current path."
"On the contrary," Harry replied, as though continuing a conversation between friends, "I hope to win many allies with my current path. But I won't take sides until I have more information."
"Even so, they didn't appreciate your warning. Not when it implied that you thought yourself as wiser than them."
He did think himself as wiser than them, but shrugged. "If they felt that way, perhaps they were not allies worth having."
"How Slytherin of you," the girl appraised. "Yet you're a Ravenclaw."
"The Sorting Hat did give me the option; however, in the end, it was decided that Ravenclaw would suit better."
"By who?"
Harry found himself smiling - she'd caught what he hadn't said - and changed the subject, rather obviously. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name?"
"I'm Daphne Greengrass."
He nodded. "A pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise."
A question was nearly burning up inside him. "My earlier statement didn't drive you away?"
"Are you suggesting that my family, as you said, differs in ideology?" Daphne returned, a gleam in her eyes. Harry could have cursed. A stupid mistake - because he wasn't used to playing this game for so long, but that was no excuse.
"Don't we all?" he asked rhetorically, careful not to let the response sound too defensive. "We all have our own opinions, after all. Nonetheless, I know that the Greengrass family is…" How to phrase it? "A very esteemed and well-respected one, that must be seen in a certain light."
Daphne raised an eyebrow, but looked pleased all the same. "We are renowned for being neutral, and have been neutral in nearly all matters and conflicts, including the past wizarding war."
Harry would respect that commitment… even though it was decisions to stay neutral and to let others solve the problem that let villains win. Personally, Harry could never stand to the side or stay neutral, not when there was still evil in the world, not while people were still hurt due to others' actions.
He wondered if that neutrality would keep him from recruiting Daphne to his intelligence organization. But, surely, even the most neutral of families would want to gather intel about others. Perhaps it would be even more necessary for a neutral family to know as much as possible about others, without definite allies and enemies.
Though he didn't know too much about politics.
"You must know a lot about the other families, the other students, then," Harry said instead. If he could find out more about the other students, and analyze Daphne Greengrass himself, he'd consider the herbology class very productive.
"And what made you come to that conclusion?" Daphne asked, amused.
"Merely the thought that a neutral family must know a lot about their potential allies and enemies, and that your family must be quite well-versed in such politics, to be so respected."
"Mmm," she responded, still not giving more. "But what makes you think that I would tell you any information I might know?"
"Are you saying you don't know it, then? No, forget that. Perhaps I expected too much," Harry said, turning his attention back to his asphodel.
He could feel Daphne's glare on his back as she spoke, her voice biting. "You were speaking to Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode, earlier - and those are their names, in descending order of family importance. All except Bulstrode are purebloods; though formerly an old pure-blood family, recent generations have both squandered whatever fortunes they previously possessed, and lost respect through their marrying of Muggles and Muggle-borns. The Bulstrodes commonly work within the Ministry - Bulstrode's parents are part of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The Malfoys, meanwhile, have kept both their fortunes and their pure bloodline, as well as their prominent influence, especially within the Ministry, and the Minister himself. The Zabini family - though it's really only Zabini and his mother, here in Britain - is Italian, and though Lady Zabini has had seven husbands, six of whom have died of mysterious circumstances, the Zabinis are well connected, both in magical Britain and in Italy. The Parkinsons, meanwhile, are old and wealthy and powerful, but not the best at making decisions, nor getting out of the sticky situations their poor decisions put them in. The Crabbes and the Goyles have basically done whatever the Malfoys tell them to do, for the past three generations, in part because they have nearly no ideas of their own, and in part because the Malfoys pay their Wizengamot dues and whatever other fees they find themselves incurring.
"Around the room, there's Theodore Nott, of another Noble and Most Ancient House, whose father is reclusive to general wizarding society and whose mother died about five years ago; Abigail Runcorn, who's a pure-blood with family members high in the Ministry, though they're not an old family; and Tracey Davis, a half-blood who won't speak much of her background."
The words were spoken rapidly in a low hiss, as though Daphne were reciting something she'd memorized long ago. Harry found himself surprised, and delighted, at the sheer quantity of what she knew, though he got the feeling she knew much more, about the students themselves, in addition to their families.
From this, it would seem that Daphne Greengrass would make a brilliant agent. If he could convince her to join.
"I'm impressed," Harry admitted. "And the Ravenclaws?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Daphne retorted, her frigid mask returning as she, no doubt, realized how she'd been manipulated into revealing what she knew.
Harry shrugged. "I was not the one who grew up in this society."
"Then where did you grow up?"
He merely smiled at her, as though asking whether she really thought he would answer that. Daphne huffed, annoyed, just as Sprout called for their attention, speaking for a few minutes before dismissing the class a minute early.
Inconspicuously, Harry joined Morag Macdougal and Lisa Turpin as they left the classroom… and found them discussing magical creatures. Again. This time, it was which magical creature they thought was the 'best'.
He was just debating whether to enter their conversation when Lisa seemed to notice him, calling out. "Potter! What do you think?"
"Sorry?"
"Which is the better magical creature, phoenixes or demiguises?"
"…Define better," Harry said. He knew what both were, from the textbook Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but not exactly enough to form an opinion. And 'better' was a subjective word, anyway.
"What?"
"He means, what do you mean by better?" Morag told her. "Because creatures can be 'better' in many different ways. Better as in more likeable? More powerful? More useful?"
"Why are you asking me? You were the one who brought up the topic, Morag!"
"Well, actually, I was the one who brought up demiguises. You were the one who started arguing that phoenixes were 'better'."
"Because they obviously are. It's a phoenix Professor Dumbledore owns, and not a demiguise."
"That only proves one wizard's preference, though," Harry pointed out. Lisa rolled her eyes at him.
"Yes, but their tears have healing powers! And they're immortal! And they can carry immensely heavy loads! And sing soul-touching songs!"
"Do you even know what that means?" Morag asked drily. "Meanwhile, demiguises can, as you would say..." She cleared her throat, then adopted an overly high-pitched tone. "They can turn invisible! And see the future! And are used in the runic alphabet! And have a peacable temperament! And have hair that is highly prised in invisibility cloaks!"
"That's not necessarily a good thing, for the species," said Harry.
"Yeah! Why would using their hair, and thus killing them, be a good trait of demiguises?" Lisa agreed.
By the time they reached the doors of the library - it was a free period, and of course the majority of the Ravenclaw first years had gone directly to the library - Harry had decided that neither Lisa nor Morag would likely be interested in joining him. Both were determined to work with magical creatures, in magizoology, though Morag was also fascinated by Healing, and Lisa also wanted to write a book, like her hero Newt Scamander. Either way, not the best recruits.
After all, a desire to help the world and an interest in gathering information was vital in working in intelligence.
Though he'd still work on them. If he could persuade them to join his intelligence organization, then he had no doubt that they could be helpful.
Still contemplating the other students, Harry entered the Hogwarts library. He stared. And then, he began to grin.
It was brilliant.
Learning and reading had always, for Harry, served the greater purpose of discovering more information that could further his goals, but he supposed he was Ravenclaw as well as Slytherin, for he couldn't help the thrill that came from seeing the library, with its seemingly endless shelves, all bursting with books and knowledge, just waiting to be uncovered.
He loved libraries.
Now, what was next on his reading list?
-oOo-
2 September 1991
Great Hall
1130 Hours
"Harry! There you are!" Harry was pleased to see Hermione Granger running towards him, as she entered the Great Hall for lunch. Pleased, but also slightly annoyed, as he watched the other Gryffindor first years glare at the girl. Had she already managed to make enemies, and in her own House?
"Hello, Hermione," he greeted warmly. "Congratulations on your sorting." She'd said she'd wanted to be in Gryffindor, but he hadn't expected the Sorting Hat to actually put her there.
"Thanks, you too!" she said cheerfully. "Oh, and how have your classes been? You had Herbology, right? With Professor Sprout? I heard that she's a pretty good teacher - what did you do in her class?"
"She explained her class a bit, and then we planted asphodel," Harry answered, somewhat surprised that she'd given him the time to answer.
"Asphodel? Oh, that was in our textbooks, wasn't it? It's used in a sleeping potion, and in that healing potion, the Wiggenweld Potion. But isn't it fascinating, how asphodel can be used both magically and non-magically? I did some research, at home, and found that it's also used to treat skin conditions and as a cough remedy, for Muggles."
Harry nodded in agreement. "And you have to wonder, given its cultural significance, what role magic might have played in that."
"Oh, you mean how the ancient Greeks associated it with death and the underworld, and thought that it was sacred to that goddess, Persephone?"
"Yes. Perhaps that has something to do with its usage in the sleeping potion, the Draught of Living Death."
Hermione seemed fascinated by the idea, and Harry wondered again how she wasn't a Ravenclaw. "I never thought of that! But yes, that does seem possible… Then, could there be other things in Muggle culture impacted by magic?"
"It seems plausible - the Statute of Secrecy was only instituted in the late 1600s, after all."
"1689," Hermione corrected absentmindedly. Harry stared, and it took her a few moments to realize that. "What?"
"Do you have a photographic memory?"
She blushed. "Actually, there are some that say that true photographic memories don't exist, since outside of that experiment with the scientist Charles Stromeyer III and Elizabeth, it has never been proven that people can have photographic memories. And I don't remember things as images, anyway. Facts - interesting facts - just… stick to me."
Still, quite a useful trait.
Hermione, obviously uncomfortable at his attention, switched topics abruptly. "We had Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning, with Professor Quirrell, and the Hufflepuffs. It… well, it's only the first day, right? He was probably just nervous, since it's his first year teaching DADA, though I heard he was the Muggle Studies professor before. I think I'd like to take Muggle Studies, when I'm a third year, though I haven't entirely decided what classes I want to take. All of them sound so interesting!"
"One moment. You wish to take Muggle Studies?" Hermione nodded. "But you're a Muggle-born."
"Yes, but I think it would be fascinating to study Muggles from a wizarding perspective!"
For the third time, Harry wondered how Hermione wasn't a Ravenclaw. This time, he said it out loud.
"Well, the Sorting Hat did consider putting me in Ravenclaw, but it decided on Gryffindor, in the end," Hermione told him cheerfully. He smirked - that was nearly the exact sentence he'd told Daphne, earlier. "Er… Where do you want to sit?" Harry glanced at the long tables across the hall, which were all, mostly, segregated by House.
A bit of movement on the side caught his eye, and he recognized Ron Weasley, surrounded by some other Gryffindor, waving to catch his attention. And thought they would have Transfiguration together, after lunch, there was no guarantee of time to talk, as there had been in Herbology. So he shrugged. "Perhaps with the Gryffindors? I haven't met them yet." Hermione pursed her lips, but nodded, leading the way to the group of Gryffindor first years.
The conversation, which seemed to be an explanation of Quidditch for the Muggle-borns, halted as Harry and Hermione drew near. He recognized Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley, as well as the kind-looking black boy, Dean Thomas, and the girl who'd sauntered to the stool, Sophie Roper, from the sorting, and Padma Patil's twin sister.
"Hi Harry!" Ron said enthusiastically. Harry was certain it wasn't an accident that he was ignoring Hermione.
"Hello Ron, Neville, though I'm afraid I haven't met the rest of you. May we sit here?" Harry greeted.
"Sure!" Ron exclaimed. The others echoed the sentiment.
"It's a pleasure to see you again. I'm Harry Potter, and this is Hermione, as you no doubt already know. And you are?"
"Seamus Finnegan," said a sandy-haired boy. He grinned at Harry. "I've heard a lot about you, but I'm gonna assume that's all not true, 'cuz no one said you'd be a Ravenclaw."
"Oh?" What had they expected, Gryffindor? Since that was the House his parents had been in?
"Dean Thomas," Dean Thomas said. "My parents are Muggles, so I can't say I've heard of you before."
"I'm Lavender Brown," introduced a girl with curly blonde hair and a cheerful smile. She giggled nervously at the group's attention.
"My name's Parvati Patil," said Padma's sister. "My sister's in your House."
"Padma." Parvati nodded.
"Sophie Roper," said Sophie Roper brightly.
"And I'm Liliya Moon," said the last girl, who had long dark hair and olive-toned skin.
"Well, it's nice to meet you all," Harry told them earnestly.
There was silence for a moment, before Seamus spoke. "D'you follow Quidditch, Harry? Which team?"
But Harry was shaking his head, a small smile on his face. "I'm afraid Quidditch was not a huge part of my childhood, growing up," he told them. A non-existent part, more like.
Seamus and Ron gaped at him for a long moment before Ron spoke. "Don't worry!" he said cheerfully. "We'll make a Quidditch fan out of you! And you, Dean!"
"I still think football's better," Dean mumbled.
"You haven't even seen Quidditch yet!" Seamus protested.
"And you've never seen football!"
"Well, honestly, how interesting can it be? There's only one ball!" argued Ron. That, it seemed, had been the wrong thing to say.
"Only one ball? Only one ball? Football's the best sport in the world, and you're concerned about how many balls it has?" Obviously a rhetorical question, and Dean didn't wait for a response. "It's easy to understand, there's near constant gameplay, it's fun to watch, and it's just a beautiful game! It's football!"
"And it's Quidditch!" Seamus mimicked. "It's on brooms! There are four balls, the Quaffle, the Bludgers, and the Snitch, so it's a lot more interesting!"
"But the rules don't make any sense!"
"They do!" said Ron. "What part of 10-points-per-Quaffle-scored and 150-points-and-the-game-over-if-the-Snitch-is-caught doesn't make any sense?"
"That!" Dean said. "The fact that one player both ends the game and pretty much determines whether a team wins or loses!"
"Not necessarily!" Ron argued quickly. "If the other team's 150 points ahead-"
"And how often does that happen?"
"A lot!" said Seamus. Dean looked disbelievingly at him.
"It actually does," Lavender confirmed. "I mean, from the few Quidditch matches I've gone to…"
"Usually in the professional games," said Neville, somewhat nervously.
"And then there's leagues and tournaments!" Ron added. "Since you add the number of points a team scores to find out how well they do in a tournament, when the Snitch is caught matters a lot, and so does how many points the Chasers score!"
"But that doesn't take into account recreational games," Harry pointed out thoughtfully. Dean grinned at him, evidently glad that someone else was taking his side. "And then, couldn't the two worst teams in the league agree to not catch the Snitch until both had accumulated high scores? That would defeat the purpose of the tournament."
"No team would do that!" protested Seamus.
"Yeah! That's just not right," Ron agreed. Harry blinked. Of course, any good, righteous person would never do such a thing… but he knew from experience that many people weren't good or righteous. If given the chance, he knew that many would cheat and do wrong.
Still, he let the idea slide with a shrug. "My first point remains."
"…What?" asked Seamus.
"Recreational games!" Dean told him. "Ones that aren't part of leagues."
"Well, no one really takes those seriously," said Ron.
"But they still exist," said Dean. "And what about championships and stuff?"
"Well, it's all just a game, anyway," interjected Hermione. "I mean, it doesn't really matter that much, does it?"
Harry was beginning to understand how Hermione had made the entire group of Gryffindor first years hate her in the space of a day; the expressions of Ron, Seamus, and Dean, as well as, to a lesser degree, Lavender, Neville, and Parvati, told him that the statement bordered on sacrilegious.
"Doesn't matter? It's Quidditch!" Ron said in a strangled voice.
"Which is just a game," Hermione said again. She looked around the table, seeking support, but evidently found none. "I mean, it's not like it's life or death."
"It might as well be!" Seamus declared fervently. "It's Quidditch!"
Hermione stared at him, concern and disbelief in her gaze. "…You need to sort out your priorities," she said at last.
-oOo-
2 September 1991
Transfiguration Classroom
1230 Hours
Double Transfiguration, with the Gryffindors, came after lunch. As Harry had predicted, there was not much time to talk - McGonagall lectured for the first hour on the basics on transfiguration, and they spent the second hour attempting to change a match into a needle.
It took Harry exactly five minutes and ten seconds - three attempts - to complete the assignment; he'd first not drawn enough power, then spent too long on the visualization.
He couldn't understand why everyone else seemed to struggle so. The transformation, match-to-needle, was literally the first practical example in A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration? The theory was simple enough to understand, at least in Harry's opinion, and he doubted that he was that far ahead of the other students. And the rest was simply a matter of visualization, of the match morphing into a needle, and focus of magical power. Sure, he'd had experience in focusing his magic, back when he'd thought of it as his 'strangeness', but wouldn't the others, as well? Especially those raised in the wizarding world, who knew of the existence of magic, before attending Hogwarts?
Harry couldn't say he was particularly surprised, though, when, twenty-two minutes after seeing his needle and adopting a determined glint in her eyes, Hermione succeeded in transfiguring her match. They were the only two finished, by the end of the class.
As he experimented with transforming the additional matches McGonagall had provided into different materials, Harry considered the group of Gryffindors. Who was worth allying with?
Hermione, almost certainly. She was intelligent, had strong values, and, as this Transfiguration class showed, was at least somewhat talented with magic. Only… there was the problem of her sociability, or lack thereof. Even now, as she bossily corrected Liliya Moon, who sat besides her, he could see the gap between her and the other Gryffindors widening. If she couldn't befriend a target, she couldn't exactly be of much use. Not to mention the downsides of allying with her; the distaste of many pure-bloods for Muggle-borns was not something Harry wanted to shove in his potential allies' faces.
But the only other Gryffindor who'd stood out to Harry was Neville, and the boy was too shy and unsure of himself- though, now that Harry thought more about it, that could be the perfect disguise. Neville was unassuming and easily overlooked, at the moment… But he'd only be effective if that shyness was a guise, and not his true personality.
So Hermione and Neville, from Gryffindor; Morag and Lisa, from Ravenclaw; and Draco, Blaise, and Daphne, from Slytherin.
Only the Hufflepuffs left, before he would start looking into the older students.
The older students. Right. Six years' worth, with an average of fifty students per year, so three hundred students. Suddenly, Harry's task was looking enormous.
How was he going to do it all, and keep up with his coursework, and learn as much as he possibly could, and look into that mysterious third-floor corridor and blood-red stone?
But he pushed the thought aside. He had all year, after all.