Oh my gosh, thank you all for reading and reviewing! I will say more at the bottom of the chapter, so please enjoy.
Chapter 3: In Which Romano Annoys and Is Annoyed By Malfoy
"Where? Do you see him?"
"Over there. Next to the tall kid with red hair."
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
Whispers followed Harry from the moment he set foot outside Gryffindor Tower the next morning. Lovino scowled at all the gawking people. Couldn't they tell Harry was feeling awkward and uncomfortable?
"Lovino? Mate, what's wrong?" Ron waved his hand in front of the Italian's face.
"Nothing, just…" Lovino gestured at the onlookers. "It's kind of annoying, isn't it?"
Ron shrugged. "A little. But there's nothing we can do about it."
At breakfast that morning, the morning post arrived via a large flock of owls, quite clearly startling Harry and Lovino. Ron gazed at them enviously as Hedwig and Chiara flew down to their respective owners.
"Wish I had an owl," Ron mumbled.
"Don't feel so down," Lovino replied, feeding Chiaro a sausage. "I have to share Chiara with my brother."
Said brother shot into the Great Hall and dashed over to the Gryffindor table like a rocket. "Lovinoooooo! Buongiorno!" Feliciano threw his arms around his older brother.
"Ack! Get off me!" Lovino swiped at Feliciano, Chiara hooting as she took to the air to avoid the Italians.
Harry and Ron managed to pry Feliciano off of Lovino. "What're you doing here, Feliciano?" Harry asked, acutely aware of the questioning and suspicious looks they were getting from the other Gryffindors. It was pretty clear they didn't like having a Slytherin anywhere near their table, even if said Slytherin was a bit odd.
"I just came to say good morning!" Feliciano said. He smiled cheerfully and gave them a wave before skipping to the Slytherin table. Harry could see Malfoy glaring at the Italian. Oh, Feliciano…
If breakfast was strange, it was nothing compared to the classes. They received their timetables at breakfast.
"Ugh, we got Potions with the Slytherins," Ron groaned. "Oh, uh, no offense, Lovino."
"None taken," Lovino replied. "Is having Potions with the Slytherins bad?"
"Snape's head of Slytherin house," Ron said, pointing to the hook-nosed, greasy-haired teacher. "They say he favors them."
"Wish McGonagall favored us," Harry said. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor.
Lovino huffed as he tucked the timetable away into his bag. "At least my brother will be there."
Three times a week, they headed out to the greenhouses for Herbology. The teacher was a chubby woman called Professor Sprout, who was also head of Hufflepuff house. Once a week, at midnight, they would head up to the Astronomy tower to look at the stars and planets in Astronomy. History of Magic was easily the most boring class, and also the only class taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been rather old when he lay down to sleep in front of the fire. In the morning he got up to teach, leaving his body behind. Binns wasn't one to let something like death stop him from droning on and on about goblin rebellions. Strangely, Harry noticed that Lovino seemed to have no trouble in History of Magic despite the fact that he rarely paid attention at all.
Transfiguration was taught by Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house. She had the ability to keep a room quiet just by speaking normally. McGonagall started class with roll call. She then proceeded to turn her desk into a pig and back, which got the class excited (except maybe for Lovino). Their enthusiasm was dimmed, however, when they learned they would not be learning to turn furniture into animals for a very long time. They all got matches, which they were supposed to turn into needles. By the end of the class, only Hermione and Lovino had succeeded. Professor McGonagall showed everyone how Hermione's match had gone all silver and pointy, and gave her a rare smile. Lovino's didn't receive quite the same praise, as somehow it had turned out to be a gold needle rather than a silver one, but McGonagall gave Gryffindor some points anyway.
Charms was taught by Professor Flitwick, a tiny teacher who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. Like McGonagall, he started with roll call, and when he reached Harry's name, he got so excited he toppled off the books and the chair, disappearing behind the desk.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was the class everyone had really been looking forward to, but it turned out to be kind of a joke. Professor Quirrell's classroom stunk of garlic, and he stuttered and trembled so much they couldn't learn much anyway. Professor Quirrell claimed that he had received his turban as a gift when he rescued someone from a zombie, but when asked for the tale he had turned pale and started rambling about the weather. The Weasley twins said that he had been traumatized by a vampire, and kept garlic in the turban to ward off any other vampires.
Potions, as Ron had said, was taught by Snape. Not only that, the classroom was in a dungeon, adding to the already apprehensive, tense atmosphere. Snape too, started with roll call. When he reached Harry's name, he paused and said mockingly, "Ah, Harry Potter. Our new celebrity." Malfoy and his goons snickered.
When Snape finished calling roll, he turned to the class. "Welcome to Potions. There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, if you are one of the few who possess the ability, I can teach you to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death. Potter!" he suddenly snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry was visibly startled. "I don't know, sir." Hermione, a Gryffindor girl who had been helping Neville to find his toad on the train, shot her hand in the air.
"Tut, tut, fame clearly isn't everything," Snape said mockingly. "Where would you tell me to look if I wanted to find a bezoar?"
Feliciano and Lovino both cringed. The last time they had seen a bezoar, it had been very messy. That goat had been rather nastily butchered. Harry was looking more and more flustered. "I don't know, sir." On the other hand, Hermione was starting to look like Italy surrendering, as if she was waving an invisible flag back and forth.
"Thought you wouldn't look in a textbook before coming, hm?" Snape sneered at Harry. Harry felt a little indignant at that statement; he had looked through his books, but did Snape expect him to remember everything from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?
"Potter!" Snape snarled again. "What is the difference between wolfsbane and monkshood?" Hermione stood up, her raised hand practically shooting for the ceiling and vibrating like a bowstring.
"I don't know, sir," Harry said. "Why don't you call on Hermione, she knows."
Snape glared at him. "When powdered root of asphodel is added to an infusion of wormwood, it creates a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone that can be found in a goat's stomach. (Feliciano whimpered at this, and Lovino gently hushed him, whispering, "It was over a thousand years ago, don't worry," in Italian to him) As for wolfsbane and monkshood, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you copying all this down?" There was a sudden rustling as the students scrambled for their quills and parchment. "And one point from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter," Snape added.
They were put in pairs to create a potion to cure boils. Feliciano was paired with Harry, the latter looking immensely grateful, and Lovino had to put up with Malfoy.
Malfoy sneered at Lovino. "So you're that idiot's brother, huh?"
"So what if I am?" Lovino growled back, measuring out the nettles for the potion.
"Let me do that," Malfoy said snobbily, shoving Lovino out of the way. "You'll just mess it up."
Lovino clenched his teeth, but simply walked around Malfoy to crush some snake fang before the blond could protest, carefully keeping his anger under control. D***, he's even worse than the Potato Bastards…
To Harry's surprise, Feliciano turned out to be a genius potion brewer. When Snape walked over to inspect their potion, he couldn't find any fault in it. Or maybe it helped that Feliciano was a Slytherin, and if Snape wanted to deduct points he would have to deduct from his own House as well.
They were just adding the final ingredients when they heard a yelp. Neville, who had been working with Dean Thomas, another Gryffindor, had somehow melted their cauldron into a twisted blob. Neville's arms were covered in boils, and the potion was rapidly spreading through the room, setting things on fire. Within a few seconds everyone was standing on their chairs, except for Neville, who whimpered and moaned with pain.
"Idiot!" Snape hissed. ("Ooh, I thought that insult was only for me~" Feliciano whispered to Harry.) "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Neville didn't respond, only whimpering again.
"Potter!" Snape rounded on Harry. "Why didn't you tell Longbottom not to add the quills?" He turned back to Neville. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor. Now go get yourself cleaned up in the hospital wing."
"I didn't know you were so good at Potions, Feliciano," Harry said as they walked out of the dungeon after that disastrous first class.
"Ve~ I'm good at cooking, and brewing potions is pretty similar," Feliciano said. "Lovino's okay, too."
"Or I would have been," Lovino growled, walking up behind them, "if that idiot Malfoy hadn't messed up my every move. And Snape didn't deduct any points!"
"Malfoy's in his House, fratello, why would he?" Feliciano said.
"McGonagall would do it to us," Ron broke in, joining the group. "She's one scary woman."
"What do we have next?" Lovino asked.
"Free time," Harry replied. "We should probably start our homework just in case."
"Ve~ can I come with you?" Feliciano asked.
"To where?" Ron replied, confused.
"Gryffindor Tower," Feliciano said. "None of the Slytherins really like me, and the common room gets kind of creepy sometimes. And if I'm there Malfoy is just going to pick on me again."
"I suppose you could," Harry said. "The other Gryffindors won't like a Slytherin in the common room, but it should be fine once they get to know you."
Harry's prediction proved correct. The moment someone spotted Feliciano's Slytherin badge, suspicion filled the room. Glares were shot at the cheerful Italian, who didn't seem to notice.
"What's a Slytherin doing here?" Another first year named Seamus spat. "He should go back to his nasty friends in that dungeon of theirs."
Before Lovino or Ron could tell him off, Feliciano said, "But I haven't got any friends in Slytherin! So will you let me stay with my brother?"
There were dark mutterings in the huddles of Gryffindors. Feeling intimidated, Lovino took Feliciano and left for the library, saying, "At least my Housemates won't be glaring at us there." Harry and Ron followed, not wanting to abandon their friends. The quartet took to doing their homework in the library from then on, to avoid the distrusting looks of the other Gryffindors. Not that none of those looks were shot at them in the library, but the pressure was lessened by a lot.
"No way," Ron groaned, looking at a notice pinned to a board. "Flying lessons are this Thursday, and we've got to do it with the Slytherins!"
Lovino scowled. "At least my brother will be there. But we'll have to deal with Malfoy."
Since Feliciano was Harry and Ron's friend, classes with the Slytherins were not quite as bad as they could have been. But on the downside that meant Malfoy was always there as well. Harry was disappointed to hear the news; he had been looking forward to flying more than anything, since flying was one thing you couldn't learn by heart out of a book. Of course, that didn't stop Hermione, the book-lover that she was, from trying. On Thursday morning at breakfast she bored them all silly with tips from Quidditch Through the Ages. Lovino finally growled at her to shut up, even though Neville was hanging onto her every word.
"Shut up and let us eat our breakfast!" Lovino snapped at Hermione. She pouted at him and scooted further down the table before continuing.
"That girl is going to marry a book someday," Ron said through a mouthful of toast.
Harry just shook his head. "Let's go out to the field."
When all the Gryffindors and Slytherins were lined up next to the lines of broomsticks, Madam Hooch, the Quidditch coach, said, "Welcome to flying lessons! We'll be using these brooms today." Harry looked down at his broom. The twigs were frayed, dirty, and disorganized, and the handle was scratched. It definitely didn't look very reliable, and glancing around, he concluded that Lovino and Feliciano had the same thought.
Harry was correct in his prediction, although Lovino's thoughts were more along the lines of That looks horrible but I've been on worse while Feliciano was thinking, I hope I don't get shot down. Ah, wait, calm down, this isn't World War Two anymore…
"Hold your hand over your broom," Hooch instructed, "and say 'Up!'"
"Up!" Harry's broom leapt into his hand at once, although he was one of the few who did. Hermione's broom rolled over, Lovino's broom had risen partway and fallen back down, Feliciano's broom actually appeared to have scooted away from him, and Neville's broom hadn't moved at all. Maybe a broom could tell whether or not you were nervous, like a horse; Neville's quavering voice said, quite clearly, that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
"Up!" Ron commanded next to him. His broom flew up and smacked his face with its handle. "Ow! Oh, shut up, Harry," he said, seeing Harry snickering. [1]
Once everyone had their brooms, Hooch showed them how to mount them properly without sliding off. Harry, Ron, and Lovino were very pleased when she told Malfoy that he'd been doing it wrong for years. Harry noticed that Feliciano had a very strange expression on his face; he looked like he was both freaking out and trying to calm himself down at the same time. He wondered why Feliciano was doing that. Was he scared of heights or something?
"When I count to three," Madam Hooch instructed, "push off hard from the ground. One… two…"
Before she could say "three", Neville, already nervous and not wanting to be left behind, pushed off as hard as he could.
"Come back, boy!" Hooch shouted as Neville rose into the sky like a cork shot out of a bottle. But he was already too far. With a shout, Neville lost his grip on the handle and tumbled to the ground. A sickening snap was heard as something in his body broke. When Madam Hooch inspected the groaning boy, they heard her mutter, "Broken wrist. Come on, boy, up you get." She glared around at the other first years. "None of you mess around while I'm gone or I'll have you out of this school faster than you can say 'Quidditch'. Understood?" She led Neville into the castle.
The moment she was out of sight, the Slytherins (except Feliciano, of course) broke into laughter.
"Did you see him?" Malfoy guffawed. "Ridiculous, even for a wizard!" His goons laughed right along with him.
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron growled.
Malfoy sneered at him. Then his eyes alighted on something lying on the ground. Like a hawk, he swooped in and grabbed it, holding up his prize. It was Neville's Remembrall, which he had received at breakfast. It must have fallen out of his pocket.
"Ooh, it's Longbottom's toy!" Malfoy crowed. "I have an idea: Why don't I leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find? How about...up a tree?"
Harry stepped towards Malfoy, anger boiling up inside of him. "Give it here, Malfoy." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Italian brothers tense, but he didn't think anything of it.
Malfoy grinned snobbily. "Come and get it then, Potter!" He leaped onto his broom and pushed off.
"No, Harry, don't –" Ron called too late. Harry grabbed his own broom and pushed off without a second thought.
It was wonderful. Flying felt totally natural to Harry as he shot up after Malfoy, who looked surprised to see him in the air. Harry faced Malfoy on his broom.
"Not so strong without your henchmen here," Harry said. Malfoy paled as he realized that Harry was right. They were alone up in the air. Malfoy tried to put a smirk on his face.
"Well, if you want it," he said, raising the Remembrall, "go get it!" He threw it.
Harry followed the arc of the orb as it sailed through the air. He dove after it, stretching out his hand as the ground grew nearer and nearer. He grasped it in his hand and barely managed to pull out of his dive in time, landing gently on the ground.
"Potter! POTTER!" Professor McGonagall came running out to the field, her face tight with indignation. "Never – in all my years-"
"It was Malfoy, Professor-" Lavender Brown, another Gryffindor, said,
"Yeah, he stole Neville's Remembrall, and-" Ron broke in.
"Silence!" McGonagall commanded. "Potter, come with me. The rest of you, continue the lesson when Madam Hooch returns." Harry gave the others nervous looks as he followed McGonagall back into the castle.
"S***," Lovino cursed in Italian. "What do we do now?"
"We'll just have to see what happens," Feliciano replied. "He probably won't be expelled or anything bad like that."
Lovino frowned at his brother. "You looked kind of freaked when we first started. What's wrong?"
"N-Nothing," Feliciano replied quickly. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," Lovino insisted. His gaze softened. "Were you remembering World War Two?"
"Fratello, not here," Feliciano said, glancing around.
"No one here speaks Italian," Lovino said. "At least, not in Gryffindor."
"Yeah, well, Blaise Zabini does," Feliciano replied. "That guy over there." He pointed to a nasty looking Slytherin who was laughing at one of Malfoy's jokes. "He's not anywhere near fluent, but what he does understand might be enough to expose us."
Lovino scowled. "We'll talk later then. In the library."
Feliciano only nodded. They didn't have any chance to talk any more anyway, as Madam Hooch came out a few seconds later and yelled at them all to get back on their brooms.
buongiorno - Italian (duh), good morning
[1] This is actually a movie reference, in the Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone movie Ron's broom does this.
Oh my gosh, I've gotten so many reviews! And I barely hit 3000 words with this chapter. Phew. Anyway, thank you all so much! Let me answer a question I've gotten:
Lillian Forest, yes, I am basing this off the books, but I may throw in a movie reference like I did in this chapter.
I would like to let everyone know two things:
1. I am writing this from memory, with the help of other fanfictions in terms of events. I don't actually have the book with me.
2. Don't expect me to update this quickly! Once school starts I will get very busy.
I have also received a review that said the reviewer was not really sure how Italy got into Slytherin. I have two reasons for this, one of which is a personal headcanon. The other reason is: process of elimination. Italy isn't brave. Not loyal either (for those of you who don't know, Italy actually joined the Allies in 1943, during WWII!) And not particularly smart. Cunning is probably the closest I can get.
Alright, author rant is over! See you all in the next chapter! Ciao!
