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Harry Potter/Granger and the Philosopher's Stone
As the news spread across the school that flying lessons started at the beginning of their second week, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly let down at the arrangements for the lessons. By sheer bad luck, Slytherin and Gryffindor had their lessons together, and Harry was dreading the prospect. He'd spent most of the time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts hearing about various flying stories, ranging from Ron nearly hitting a hang-glider on his brother Charlie's old broom to Malfoy's more elaborate and doubtless false tales of escaping muggles in helicopters, and was more than dreading the idea of providing Malfoy with even more potential 'blackmail' material, especially since this stuff would actually be accurate…
"Great," Harry groaned, as he and Hermione walked down to the grounds for their first flying lesson. "Just what I always wanted; to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."
"You don't know you'll make a fool of yourself!" Hermione said, looking critically at her brother as they rounded a corner and headed down the stairs. "Anyway, I'm sure Malfoy's just putting it on; he reminds of a hot-air balloon when it's on the ground and nobody's bother to deflate it at times."
Harry chuckled slightly at the analogy. He had to admit, it did seem like an effective comparison; all that talking Malfoy did, and he never seemed to say anything that someone might find useful. If it wasn't insults about Harry and Hermione's parents, he was going on and on about how great his parents were, and all the items they sent to him in the owl post (Although he didn't do this that much since Harry and Hermione started to exchange letters with their parents on a more regular basis, accompanied sometimes by a muggle treat they had found themselves missing in Hogwarts).
Neither of them were entirely sure why Malfoy was making such a big deal about his home life whenever either of them were around; Harry thought that Malfoy was just trying to 'prove' how better wizards were when compared to muggles, while Hermione just believed that Malfoy was an arrogant idiot.
"Too much hot air, huh?" Harry said, chuckling slightly. "That's an understatement."
Sighing, he stared ahead at the steps leading to the grounds, where a few Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years were already walking. "Just wish I didn't have to do this now…"
"You'll be fine, Harry," Hermione assured him, smiling at her brother. "After all, I'm the one who always takes the isle seat when we have to fly anywhere, remember? I sometimes feel like it would take an elephant to stop you positioning yourself at the window seat on aeroplanes!"
Harry chuckled slightly as he remembered the flights in question. It wasn't that his sister was a bad flyer, per se, it was simply that a part of her preferred to keep her feet on the ground unless all other options were exhausted. It was part of the reason why she preferred the isle seats on flights; it gave her greater freedom to get up and walk about the plane, thus allowing to feel more like she was still on the ground rather than flying several hundred feet above the ground.
"Yeah, that's a good point, I guess," Harry said, as the two of them began to walk down the stairs towards the school grounds. As the various first years emerged from the castle onto the grounds to see the broomsticks laid out before them (Unfortunately, the majority of the Slytherins were already there), the last of Harry's earlier fear vanished, to be replaced by a more simple anticipation of what would happen. True, Fred and George Weasley had told him that the school brooms had their problems, but since Harry had no previous broomstick experience to compare them to, he wasn't that concerned about the broom's performances in the air; he would just be satisfied to get off the ground and start flying.
A moment after the last students filed in from the castle, their flying teacher, Madam Hooch (A tall woman with short grey hair and hawk-like eyes) arrived, glaring slightly at the pupils.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she asked, looking around at the pupils. "Everyone stand by a broomstick; come on, hurry up!"
As the students dashed over to the brooms, Harry spared a brief glare in Malfoy's direction as the Slytherin smirked mockingly at him; evidently the git already assumed he could fly rings around Harry and they hadn't even started yet. Admittedly, the broom's raggedy appearance didn't inspire confidence in its aerodynamic abilities, but given that Malfoy's broom would be in a similar state, that didn't strike Harry as being much of a problem, so the Slytherin's confidence really had no basis in reality as far as Harry could see.
Then again, Harry thought to himself, as he positioned himself over a broomstick near the bottom of the line- he didn't want to attract attention to himself unless he had to-, when did anything that idiot thinks have any bearing on reality?
"Stick your right hand out over your broom," Madam Hooch said, at the top of the line of students, "and say 'Up'."
"UP!" everyone said.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand instantly, but his was one of the few that did; Hermione's broom leapt up about halfway, and Neville Longbottom's hadn't moved at all. A part of Harry wondered if brooms, like animals, could somehow tell when you were nervous; Neville's tone of voice made it clear that he'd prefer to keep his feet on the ground.
After the initial problems were over and everyone had successfully summoned their brooms to their hands, Madam Hooch went along the line and began to instruct everyone how to mount the brooms. Harry was pleasantly surprised to learn that he got it right on the first try- it was a lot harder than it looked- while Malfoy (Much to Harry and Hermione's amusement) was told that he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground as hard as you can," Madam Hooch said, glaring around at the students. "Keep brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle- three… two…"
Then everything went wrong; Neville, apparently unwilling to be left on the ground, pushed off the ground before the whistle and touched Madam Hooch's lips. Before anyone could do anything Neville had already reached a height of twenty feet, resembling a cork shot out of a champagne bottle that had been under a ridiculous amount of pressure, and then, as he looked back and saw just how high he was, his face became pale, he lost his grip on the broomstick, and was sent tumbling to the ground. Harry and Hermione, along with a few other students, tried to pull out their wand (Although what charm they would have used was anybody's guess) but it was too late. With a loud thud, accompanied by a sickening crunch, Neville hit the ground, and most of the students ran over to look at him; the Slytherins, naturally, just laughed at his misfortune.
"Broken wrist…" Madam Hooch sighed, as she leant down to examine Neville. "Well, come on boy; I'd better get you to the Hospital Wing…"
She turned to look at the rest of the students. "As for you all, you are not to do anything. If you do not leave those rooms where they are, you will be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'."
As soon as Neville and Madam Hooch were out of earshot, Neville holding his wrist and fighting back tears, Malfoy burst out laughing.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?" he chuckled, prompting hoots of laughter from the other Slytherins.
"Shut up, Malfoy!" snapped Parvati Patil, an Asian girl with long black hair.
"Oh, sticking up for Longbottom, are you Patil?" teased Millicent Bulstrode, a Slytherin girl who reminded Harry of some kind of female version of his fractured memories of his uncle. "Never thought you'd be the kind to go for crybabies!"
"Look," Malfoy said, diving for the ground and scooping something up, "it's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
As Harry and Hermione turned to look at the object in Malfoy's hand, Harry groaned slightly as he recognised it from breakfast this morning. It was a Remembrall, if he recalled correctly; held properly, it glowed red if you'd forgotten something…
"Give it back, Malfoy," Harry said, stepping forward as he glared angrily at the boy who was rapidly becoming his Slytherin 'nemesis'. Everyone stopped talking to watch as the 'Boy Who Lived' stepped forward, his wand clutched in one hand as he glared at the other boy, but Malfoy only smirked.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect it. How about- up a tree?"
"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had already leapt onto his broomstick and was tearing off into the air. A part of Harry noticed (Much to his annoyance) that Malfoy could fly really well, but the rest of him was now uncaring about that, and just wanted to catch the berk.
"Harry…" Hermione hissed at her brother as he reached down and grabbed his broom, "don't do anything rash… you don't know what to do on a broom…"
But Harry didn't even hear his sister; slinging one leg over the broom, he kicked hard against the ground and tore up after Malfoy, leaving the other students staring after him, air whipping through his hair as his robes billowed out around him, and, in a flash, Harry realised that this was something he didn't even need to be taught; he could do it almost instinctively, as though he'd been here before and had only needed to get back on the broom to remember it. He heard screams and gasps from behind him, accompanied by an admiring whoop from a few of the other students, but he couldn't waste time to look back and find out who it was; he had other things to worry about right now.
As the initial euphoria of flight faded, Harry pulled his broomstick to a stop opposite Malfoy, who was hovering in the air and staring at Harry with an expression of mingled shock and confusion; probably surprised that a 'mudblood-raised half-blood' could be better than him at anything…
"Care to hand that over?" Harry asked, glaring at his opponent with a small smile on his face as he jerked his head towards the remembrall in Malfoy's left hand. "No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, remember?"
"Oh, yeah?" Malfoy said, trying to sneer at his opponent, but failing miserably at his attempts to sound convincingly threatening. If Harry hadn't been so focused on getting the remembrall back, he would have chuckled slightly at the proof of a pet theory of his; without his hired gorillas, Malfoy lacked the nerve to be really arrogant…
"Catch it if you can, then!" the Slytherin yelled at Harry, as he threw the glass ball high into the air and then dived sharply towards the ground. Harry didn't even stop to think; as he watched the ball fall, apparently in slow motion, he lowered his broom handle and dived after it, gathering speed as he approached the ball, wind whistling in his ears mixed with the screams of the students still watching in the courtyards…
The ball was getting closer…
He stretched out one hand…
Then, with barely a metre to go before the ball hit the ground and shattered, he grabbed it in his right hand, pulling the broom up straight as he reached the ground, and then rolled off the stick, the remembrall clasped in one hand, as the rest of the students towards him, yelling stunned approval as Harry staggered to his feet. As soon as he was standing up, a bushy-haired figure had grabbed him around the neck and was hugging him hard, sobbing slightly into his shoulder as it yelled at him.
"IF YOU EVER DO SOMETHING THAT STUPID AGAIN, HARRY POTTER!" Hermione yelled into her brother's ear, shaking slightly from fear at what she had just witnessed, "I'LL-"
"HARRY POTTER!" another voice called out from off to one side, and Harry's heart sank faster than the rate at which he'd just dived; Professor McGonagall was running towards them.
"Never- in all my time at Hogwarts-"
She was almost speechless with shock as she grabbed Harry's arm and began to walk back towards the stairs. Harry briefly saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle's triumphant expressions from off to one side, but before they had even reached the stairs, the two of them found Hermione baring their way.
"If you want to expel my brother, you'll have to expel me too!" she said, glaring up at the teacher. "I didn't come this far just to lose the first person who actually bothered to talk to me!"
"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall said, looking at Hermione in surprise. "Your devotion to your brother is laudable, but unnecessary; I assure you, I have no intention of expelling your brother."
"WHAT?" Malfoy cried out from behind them, but the only thing that could be heard after that was a mumbling sound; a quick glance from Hermione ascertained that Seamus Finnegan and Ron Weasley had clapped their hands over Malfoy's mouth, and was resisting any attempt by Crabbe and Goyle to allow the self-proclaimed 'Slytherin Prince' to continue speaking.
"What?" Harry said, unwillingly echoing his adversary. "But… but…"
"If you just come with me, Mr Potter, everything shall be explained," Professor McGonagall said, as she looked between Harry and Hermione, both of whom were growing ever more confused about what was going on. "If you wish, Miss Granger, you can come along with your brother; he would doubtless tell you what is about to take place even if you weren't there."
"Um… OK…" Hermione said, as she and Harry exchanged a momentary confused look as they continued to walk into the castle. As they marched deeper and deeper into Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione reached over to grab each other's hands and give the other a brief, reassuring squeeze before they finally stopped in front of a classroom and McGonagall opened the door and poked her head inside.
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, might I borrow Wood for a moment?"
As the classroom door opened fully, 'Wood' walked out of the room, revealing himself to be a fifth-year Gryffindor who was looking at Harry and Hermione with a confused expression.
"Potter, Granger, this is Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor House Quidditch team," McGonagall explained, as she turned back to look at the fifth-year. "Wood- Mr Potter, I believe, is your new Seeker."
Wood's expression changed from confusion to delight.
"Are you serious, Professor?"
"Absolutely," Professor McGonagall said crisply. "I've never seen anything like it; the boy's a natural. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"
Harry could only nod, as he and Hermione looked at each other in surprise. They'd read a bit about Quidditch while preparing for their flying lessons, and Harry in particular had enjoyed the descriptions of the sport, but to be told that they were actually interested in having him play it…
"Yes, he looks just the build for a Seeker, too," Wood said, checking Harry over approvingly. "Light, speedy- he'll need a decent broomstick, a Nimbus or a Cleansweep, I should say… Don't you agree, Professor?"
"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and ask if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows we need a better team- flattened in that last match against Slytherin, I couldn't look Professor Snape in the face for weeks…"
Exchanging a brief glance at that comment, Harry and Hermione chuckled slightly at the thought of giving Snape something else for the Potions Master to be annoyed at Harry about…
Back down in the Great Hall, Harry's continued presence at the Gryffindor table met with mixed reactions; the Gryffindors and the Slytherins may both have been unable to believe that he was still here, but the Gryffindors were mainly impressed while the Slytherins just seemed shocked. Harry was just grateful that nobody knew about what had happened during their time away; Fred and George, Ron's twin brothers, had come up to congratulate Harry, but since they were on the team as well, that only made sense as far as Harry was concerned.
Then, just as he was finishing the last of his steak, Malfoy showed up again with Crabbe and Goyle, his arrogant swagger now restored.
"Having a last meal, Potter?" he said, glaring the typical 'Malfoy meets muggle-borns' glare; the one that reminded Harry and Hermione of someone who'd only discovered they'd been walking in dog's mess after they got into the house. "Wanting to stock up on decent food before you have to go back to disgusting old muggle dining?"
"Actually, Malfoy," Harry said, glaring back at the other boy, "not only is my mother's lasagne pretty much to die for, but I'm not going anywhere; I'm staying right here at Hogwarts, thanks very much."
"A lot braver now you've got your little friends around you, aren't you?" Hermione put in, leaning forward to smile at Malfoy in a mocking manner. She knew this was a bit of a risk, of course, but given that they were in the most crowded room in the castle, she doubted even these three idiots would try something.
Malfoy evidently didn't care for that comment; he quickly turned to glare at Harry, his 'confident' expression on his face (Harry was always reminded of his uncle's odd attempts to appear a figure a firm but likeable figure of authority; both were so obviously fake he was amazed that the rest of the world didn't see through it at once).
"I'll take you on any time, Potter-" he began.
"Really?" Harry said, glaring back at Malfoy. "Then why don't you suggest the duelling tournament to Quirrell? Maybe we can get some extra credit for it!" A part of him was fairly sure that Quirrell wouldn't be too open to such a suggestion- in all fairness, the man stuck to a curriculum that seemed to take a long time to get its point across- but the point of the 'threat' still stood.
Harry had heard all about wizard duels, and, as far as he was concerned, he was not going to get into a fight with Malfoy just because this git wanted to show off. When he was sure he was ready to get into a fight, then maybe they'd draw wands…
Until then, he wasn't going to give Malfoy the satisfaction of provoking him.
Malfoy's face paled slightly, but, to his 'credit', he didn't show any more reaction; he just turned around and walked away from the table, silently fuming as he did so.
Glancing over at each other, Harry and Hermione chuckled briefly.
"What's his problem?" Ron said, from where he was sitting just a couple of feet down from them, indicating Malfoy with his knife.
Harry shrugged casually as he looked back at Ron. "Just annoyed that his 'cunning plan' to get me kicked out didn't work," he said off-handedly, before looking curiously at Ron. "Uh… you wouldn't happen to know any decent books about Quidditch, would you? Just… well, long story short, I'm not too sure on the rules, and with the Quidditch season starting here, I'd like to know more about it…"
"What?" Ron said, looking at Harry in surprise. "You've never learned about Quidditch?"
As Ron launched into an animated discussion about the game, Harry smiled slightly as he and his sister listened. It was moments like these that he hoped would allow Ron to see that Harry wasn't interested in his 'celebrity status' and was just as mortal as everyone else…
Maybe then people would stop treating him like he was the reincarnation of Merlin and start treating him as a normal person…
As they walked back to the common room, Hermione insisted on taking a detour to the library to borrow a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages for future reading. Ron, still eager to discuss the specifics of the game, had accompanied them on the way, and was currently providing them with a detailed description of some of the games that he often played back at his house with his brothers. He was just in the middle of describing some of the positions of the game- Fred and George's Beater skills had been constantly applauded- when, all of a sudden, the stairs the three of them were on moved from its original position to line itself up with another doorway, on the opposite side of the hall and at least two storeys down from the doorway that led to Gryffindor tower.
"Great…" Ron groaned, as he glanced at his watch before looking back at the door. "We'll never make it back to the common-room in time now…"
"Don't worry; we'll get there in time," Harry said, glancing over at Ron reassuringly before looking back at his sister. "You're the one with the photographic memory, Hermione; any ideas?"
Hermione stuck her tongue out at her brother in a teasing manner, but nevertheless nodded and quickly checked their new surroundings.
"Uh… this way, I think", she said, indicating the left-hand corridor. Shrugging casually, Harry and Ron hurried after her, constantly glancing around to try and spot anything that they could use to 'navigate' back…
Then a faint purr struck their ears from a corridor that they'd just been about to turn down, and the three froze.
If that wasn't Mrs Norris- the cat belonging to the well-loathed caretaker Argus Filch- Harry would be very surprised…
Hermione didn't need to say anything; instantly, the three of them turned and ran back the way they'd come, praying that they'd manage to get away from Mrs Norris before she saw them and 'summoned' Filch…
"This way!" Ron yelled, grabbing a nearby door handle and tugging on it, only to be horrified when it didn't open.
"Oh for crying out- Alohamora!" Hermione cried, waving her wand. The door opened, and Ron, Harry and Hermione quickly dived into the room, Harry shutting the door as quietly-yet-quickly as he could, and the three of them then pinned their ears to the door to wait. For a few moments, none of them could breath, wondering if Filch would tear the door open and have them all marched off to detention- never mind that there was still at least half an hour before they had to be in their dorms- but luck seemed to be on their side; nothing happened.
They were safe.
"Phew…" Harry said, glancing over at Ron and Hermione before turning back to look at the room they had entered…
And his jaw dropped in horror.
Standing behind them, drool hanging from its jaws, teeth bared that would have put a sabre-toothed tiger to shame, was a large, three-headed dog about the size of Harry's room back home. A part of Harry's mind registered that there was some kind of wooden door in the floor under the dog's paws, but the rest of him was focused more on the immediate problem he, his sister, and his… acquaintance, for lack of a better term… now faced.
This place wasn't a room.
It must be the forbidden corridor on the third floor.
And now the three of them knew why it was forbidden…
"RUN!" Hermione yelled, as the dog lunged towards them, its jaws wide open as though preparing to bite them. Harry and Ron didn't need telling twice; grabbing the door-handle, they dived out into the corridor, uncaring of the consequences if Filch would catch them, but, as Hermione shut the door behind them, the corridor appeared blissfully deserted. Evidently Filch must have missed them and just gone on past the corridor, but right now, they just wanted to put as much space as possible between them and the dog. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who, gratefully, had remained in her portrait; she was known to wander off at times.
"Where have you three been?" she asked, looking at them critically.
"Never mind that- pig snout, pig snout," Harry said, breathlessly. As the portrait swung open, they scrambled into the common-room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs, before Ron spoke.
"What do they think they're doing, keeping a dog like that locked up?" he said, staring ahead at nobody in particular. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does!"
Hermione sighed slightly as she glanced over at Ron.
"You don't use your eyes, do you?" she said, leaning forward to stare critically at Ron. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
"I wasn't looking at its feet!" Ron said, staring incredulously at Hermione. "I was a bit preoccupied with its heads!"
"No, she's right…" Harry said, nodding thoughtfully as he looked back at Ron. "It was standing on a trap door. It wasn't there by accident…"
He clicked his fingers as inspiration struck. "It's guarding something…"
"What?" Ron said, staring at Harry in confusion. "What could be worth guarding like that?"
Harry couldn't be certain, of course, but he thought that he had an idea as to the answer to Ron's question. After all, it had been nearly three months, and there'd been no sign of the package that Hagrid had taken from Gringotts… and Hagrid did say that Hogwarts was the only place safer than the aforementioned bank…
It looked like the contents of vault seven hundred and thirteen had finally been located.