CHAPTER 5: Living with Fame

"There look!"

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"With one eye hidden behind his bangs?"

"Yes, next to the Malfoy kid."

"Did you see his scar?"

"Did you see his brother?"

Whispers followed Harry, Ron, Draco and Dante from the moment they entered the Common Room that morning. People would double back in hallways to get a better look, trip in front of him just to have pick up their books so they could try to see one of his scars, even bump into him just to touch him.

Bye the end of their first class Harry had his shield up and holding strong. As he navigated the hundred and forty-two staircases and watched his layouts, locating the hidden passageways and avoided the ghosts Harry quickly learned that no matter how much offensive magic he had he couldn't fight these people like he could his dummies. Draco kept catching his hands as he pulled out small daggers. Vexation was continually hissing Cool it! from his place in Harry's pocket, but his words had little effect.

Despite his ever mounting annoyance at the masses of muggleborns and purebloods, which he was quickly learning where just as bad, Harry found it easy to mesh into the classes and daily life at Hogwarts. When he wasn't shielding himself from an attack that would never come, he was reading by the lake with Ron and Dante as Draco flirted aimlessly with Ravenclaws studying on the banks or practicing his magic in the common rooms with Draco while Dante began to show Ron the basics of sword play.

The classes themselves were pretty simple for the three and they spent more time teaching Ron the correct wand motions than they did performing the spells themselves. In History of Magic the boys would send paper airplanes sailing magicly through the air to each other, making the planes do marvelous tricks, dives and spins and spectacular crashes, all of which went unnoticed by their ghost teacher. The whole class enjoyed the break from the boring class and even more so that the three always had notes explaining things better that Binns could ever hope to.

Charms was interesting as each boy tired to out do the other in creativity or time in their charm work, and gained Gryffindor a multitude of points for their ideas and craftsmanship. Transfiguration was much the same only less flash and faster times. The stern Professor McGonagell fought every day to contain her smiles and gave out rare points for their more detailed works. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a joke. Their teacher, Professor Quirll was a bumbling idiot that seemed too timid to fight a pixy let alone a troll or vampire like he claimed to have done. This class was less flashy from the three boys not only because the lessons were pratical but because it seemed that after every class Harry exited with a headache that followed him through till dinner.

No one minded the flashy ways of the trio, as they were quickly called, for two reasons. One, the never boasted or flaunted their talents. Two, they taught anyone willing to learn how to do it. On Friday of the first week, Gryffindor House had become the most skilled and detailed in their work, pleasing all the teachers but one.

As much as Severus Snape loved his Godson, he resented Gryffindor house. It was for this reason that on his Friday classes, he put on a seething sneer and set about drawing on their weakest link.

Harry walked into the dungeons already plagued by a persisting, fast become trademark, headache from DADA and only managed to stay positive by remembering he was going to visit Hagrid that afternoon to talk about how he'd saved the boy.

He flopped down in his seat and buried his head in his arms. Draco sat down worriedly beside him as Dante took up his seat with Ron on their left.

"Harry." Draco said soothingly rubbing the youth's back. "Maybe you should have Pomfery take a look at you? You don't want this to get too far if you're sick."

"I'm not sick Draco. Just goddamn headaches." He swore violently and rubbed at his scar throwing his hair out of place so Ron could see the deep scar over his eye clearly. He bit back a gasp and silently reached over to replace the hair. Harry smiled at him thankfully but had no time to say so as the door at the front of the classroom had swung open and Snape had walked through.

"There will be no wand waving or silly incantations in this class." He started menacingly. "As such, I highly doubt many of you will be able to wrap you incredibly small minds around the beauty that is the softly simmering cauldron or the brewing of potions that can bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I could teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death."

Harry ached an eyebrow.

"Potter!"

Harry sighed audibly, infuriating the man.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphidel to an infusion of worm wood?"

Harry was about to answer when a titanium steel fist slammed into his mental barriers. His only reaction was to flinch slightly and blink as a few scattered images of his uncle escaped his hold. "The Draught of Living Death, Sir." He answered icily, proving the man hadn't rattled him too much.

"Tell me Potter, where would I find a bezoar?" The fist was back but Harry was ready and took a steadfast hand of pointless memories and caught it before it made contact with the walls.

"In the stomach of a goat sir." He replied smirking a little.

To the people around him, that couldn't feel the two men's mounting auras, it looked simply like a round of question and answer but inside their minds, raged a battle that made them brake out into a sweat as they continued the game.

Finally Harry gave a little push back with the one memory of his father he still had retained from his infant years, one of his father holding his mother who was looking down on Harry. Then his father leaned in to kiss his mother and it was too much for Snape.

He pulled out, forfeiting the match. He left them to brew their potions. Everything was fine till Harry heard Hermione grabbing Neville's hand to whisper "Take the cauldron off the fie before adding the quills." He smiled and looked over at her. She blushed and returned to her work.

The rest of the lesson went down with out a synch but by the time they made their way out to Hagrid's for tea, all Harry wanted to do was curl up in his dark bed and die. He put on his hero face and walked down to the small hut.

The giant of a man greeted them with his giant of a dog who went straight for Ron, slobbering over the boy as the rest watched, smothering their laughter.

Introductions were made and tea was served as stories of previous generations began to fly, starting with Harry's parents and ending with Ron's brother Charley. Harry, nursing his cup of tea while trying to support his pounding head, spotted a newspaper from the odd angle he was look at.

Pulling it out he quickly skimmed the article.

"A brake in?" He whispered.

"Draco." He took Draco's attention from Ron who was taking a gulp of tea at the moment. "This happened on my birthday. We went there the day after. You think Uncle saw the damage?"

"Couldn't hurt to ask." Draco responded.

Harry mulled over the paper and why his Godfather/Uncle hadn't said anything about it. He soon forgot it, however, as it made his pounding head throb like there was a bludger beating against it and soon they decided to leave, thanking Hagrid for the stories and tea, promising to visit again.

"Strange that Father didn't say anything about it." Dante brought the topic around as they headed to the castle in the dying winds, his face bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun.

"Normally he'd make a simulation out of it. You know?" Harry nodded bust stopped short. He groaned a little left the other two at the foot of the stairs. "I'm not hungry. I'm going up to read and maybe write Uncle Sirius a letter. If I don't fall asleep."

Draco nodded looking concerned and Dante simply waved him off dragging the blond into the Great Hall where he force fed him before the two sprinted up the stairs with Ron to find Harry asleep in his bed, books and papers in a heap around him.