# So it only took me a lifetime to update. Sorry about that. But exams are here so this provides a useful distraction to studying. As always, I own nothing at all.

The first few weeks at Hogwarts were not exactly what Harry had expected. There were a number of reasons for this.

Although Harry had been aware that he was, in some sense, famous, he hadn't realised to what extent. He most certainly had not been prepared for the stares and whispers that seemed to follow him wherever he went. For someone who had spent most of his life relatively unnoticed, it was a bit of a shock. Not to mention hugely annoying.

This strange ailment of being so utterly star-struck seemed to affect most of the students, and not a few of the teachers. His own dorm mates, most particularly the redheaded Ron (or Ronald, which made Harry laugh inwardly), were in awe of his presence. They would talk hesitantly, and, indeed, the toad boy (Harry couldn't seem to think of him as anything else) seemed hesitant to talk at all. Much to Harry's relief, however, it wore off to some extent after they realised that being Harry Potter didn't mean he didn't eat and piss like the rest of them.

The adoration from the rest of the school mostly went away as well, chiefly due to the fact that Harry had the skill of making himself unnoticed, developed over his long years of thievery and law-breaking. When some of his teachers felt they had to point out his fame, Harry became exasperated. As teachers they should practice equality. Professor Flitwick, though cheery and a fair enough teacher, did not help with his over enthusiastic chirps.

The other thing about Hogwarts that surprised Harry was the sort of things he was learning. Coming from a non-magical upbringing, he had expected to be worse than the other students. They had the advantage, as they were born into magic and had grown up around it. Harry had only known of magic for one month, and had hardly spoken to magical people before Hogwarts.

This, however, was not the case. In fact, Harry found himself better than the magic-born, or purebloods and half bloods as they were called, a lot of the time. There were a few, of course, that boasted of being able to perform spells before they could walk. Harry could believe some of these stories, but when he heard Vincent Crabbe (or Troll 1 as Harry had christened him) telling Gregory Goyle (Troll 2) about his magic skills surpassing his reading skills aged five the usually composed Harry Potter burst out in laughter. As far as he could tell, Troll 1 didn't seem able to read, so what that said about his magic…

So when the first classes came around Harry was pleased. The material wasn't challenging at all. In fact, it was downright easy. Transfiguration, though easy, was proving to be the most interesting.

On the day of his first lesson he had followed the transfiguration teacher, McGonagall, from the Great Hall after breakfast, so as to avoid getting lost. He followed very discretely though. It would not do for people to see Harry Potter reliant on someone else to find his way. Harry Potter, or, more importantly, Bolt, needed no help. After finding his way the first time he would know the way ever after. His mental map, only increased by his beginnings of occlumency, would lead the way ever after.

Once in the classroom Harry took a seat in the back corner, furthest away from the teacher's desk and half hidden in shadows. It was also near the door, Harry had noted with satisfaction.

The class soon filed in, with a few desks still noticeably empty. When the redhead and Harry's Irish dorm mate (Seamus Finnegan) marched in five minutes late, clearly out of breath, Harry frowned. Idiots, he couldn't help think. Hadn't they noticed the cat?

Harry had. As soon as he walked in the classroom and sat down he had recognised the uptight tabby sitting on the desk for what it really was. He then realised the strange music he had heard from McGonagall at the feast. Then, there had been a different strand of music woven into her usual music (which was of a nice complexity). In the form of a cat, her usual music was woven into the different music. In different forms, different magic took preference, but it was always the same magic.

It didn't take Harry long to realise McGonagall was an animagus. He had read about them over the summer, and knew the immense difficulty involved in becoming one. He could learn things from her, no doubt.

What made Harry wonder, however, was the fact that no one else in the class seemed to know the cat was the teacher. Indeed, Hermione Granger was staring at her wristwatch and tssking really quite loudly. Couldn't they hear that the cat was McGonagall? It was obvious! Perhaps they couldn't listen as well as he could…

So when Professor McGonagall changed back to human form, although impressed, Harry wasn't surprised. The rest of the class seemed to be, as did Harry's dorm mates, who got told off quite firmly. McGonagall was not one to cross.

"Transfiguration" McGonagall began once the class settled down, "is one of the most difficult arts you will learn at Hogwarts, and you will be expected, by the end of your schooling here, to be fairly proficient. For that reason, I expect all of you to take this class seriously".

And so the lesson had started. After outlining some principles of the subject, matches were handed out to be turned into needles. Harry was a bit unimpressed at the level of complexity, but figured it was an aptitude test of sorts.

Needless to say, Harry transfigured the match on his first shot, becoming a needle with a perfectly formed point and a good shine.

Professor McGonagall, who had been strolling around the class, giving tips and correcting mistakes, stopped at Harry's desk and stared for a good minute, or so it seemed.

She wordlessly picked up the needle and looked at it. She then said to Harry "I must say Mr. Potter, this is the finest first attempt transfiguration I have ever seen. The details are flawless, and the metal composition… Well done indeed. Show me the spell again and I shall reward Gryffindor house five points if it is just as good a piece of spell work."

Harry raised an eyebrow in disdain. It was quite obvious she wanted to be sure he wasn't cheating. Ever since he had arrived at Hogwarts people had been treating him like an imbecile. It was getting tiring.

He didn't say anything however, and, his mask firmly in place, simply transfigured the new match she had produced. He once again performed it effortlessly. The five points were duly handed out, and Harry had also received a particularly vicious stare from Hermione Granger, whose hair seemed to get bushier as she got more irritated. It was definitely a theory Harry wanted to follow up.

To Harry's slight surprise all the classes followed this vein. Charms was easy, astronomy was easy, herbology was easy (quite boring though), defence against the dark arts was disappointing and also boring. In fact, most classes were boring. Harry sat through them organising his mind according to his occlumency books or reading his much more advanced spell books.

There were two exceptions to the rule. One was potions.

Potions, Harry had initially thought, would be an ok class. The potions he had read about in his numerous potions books, including certain poisons and deceptions, had certainly been interesting, and also quite useful as well.

The process, on paper at least, seemed simple. In fact, the closest muggle comparison Harry could think of was actually cooking, and that had never been a hard task from him, although he did acknowledge that many, many people struggled to make at the least edible toast. Nonetheless, potions did promise some entertaining mixtures and reactions.

Indeed, Harry had thought of many applications of certain potions to assist him on a few endeavours. Yes, potions had promised many things. Harry had not, however, factored in one crucial component- Snape.

On the day of his first class Harry entered the class quietly, slipping into a desk near the back. Even from that point it hadn't looked promising. The dark, dingy dungeon was dirty, smoky and smelt pretty awful- generally an unpleasant place altogether. A poor location did not bode well for the experience as a whole.

Harry's gut instinct had been right (as it always was). Just as the last person had seated himself (Weasley again) there was a resounding bang as a door in the back flew open. Out swept the teacher, one Severus Snape.

Harry's first impressions weren't great- the man obviously loved himself. The dramatics of the door and the black cloak swirling up behind him were the mark of an arrogant man.

As Snape talked about potions in a very theatrical manner, Harry couldn't help but feel foreboding. He was right to do so.

Severus Snape, for no reason that Harry could tell, absolutely detests Harry Potter. On that first day of class he sneered, deducted points and generally attacked Harry.

He attempted to enter Harry's mind, something Harry was absolutely furious about. But, per usual Bolt reactions, he didn't show that anything was off, and merely avoided the man's eyes. But, Harry thought, he now had a reason to hate Snape right back.

There was also something strange about his magic. It seemed… like there was another magic, a strong, tainted magic that was controlling it, setting the beat, the chords. It made Harry shiver.

Potions itself was easy. Harry was paired with Neville Longbottom, however, which made it slightly more difficult. The boy was terrified. He was shaking, and barely paying attention to the fairly easy potion.

"Calm down", said Harry. "Just go slowly and think. He's not that scary. I'll look out for you, don't worry". Harry felt sorry for the poor boy. Even their fellow dorm mates picked him on, along with everyone else. He needed a friend.

"S-sorry, Harry. I'm just rubbish at this", the boy stuttered nervously.

"You're not rubbish, it's only our first lesson. Now just do as I say and it'll be fine."

With these words of comfort they made it through the lesson. The potion they made even turned out nicely, much to Snape's disgust.

As they walked to the Great Hall for lunch, Neville said, "How do you know the way around here, Harry? I always get lost. I'm just so forgetful".

"You get used to the routes. I can help you round if you like? We can find our way together". The look on Neville's face was so grateful, Harry found it pitiful. Did he really have so few friends? Harry decided at that point that he would help Neville as much as he could. No one deserved such a pitiful existence.

That day Harry and Neville ate lunch together. As he was eating, Harry further observed Neville's music. He had thought, when he first heard it, that it was weak. And it was, but there was something else. He couldn't tell what- he didn't really know enough about magic to tell yet. He would learn though.

Being surrounded by the beautiful music of Hogwarts, Harry was learning more and more everyday. The music just swirled around him, and made so much sense, more sense than anything else Harry had ever experienced in his life. The longer he spent at Hogwarts, the more he knew he was meant to be there.

Lessons continued much the same. In Charms he once again stunned the teacher when he performed an incredibly easy, mundane spell. Harry was beginning to realise how much better he was than everyone else. In fact, he would sit with Neville after every lesson and attempt to teach him what they had learned once again.

It was during these times they really became friends. It was strange for Harry, who never really had friends, more acquaintances, but Neville was so grateful to Harry for helping Harry, and Harry enjoyed Neville's quiet, unassuming company. It was also good to have a wizard's perspective on life.

With Harry's help, Neville soon became quite good, and Harry could tell he was gaining some quiet confidence. Together they did their homework, which was really very easy, and worked through the classes.

One class, however, that Harry absolutely refused to attend, was History of Magic. After the first excruciatingly boring lesson, Harry just stopped turning up. He could learn just as well by reading the subject material. One person who had a problem with this was Hermione Granger.

"You can't just skip lessons! It's against the rules! We'll lose house points!", she hissed.

"Of course I can. And we won't lose any points", Harry answered without looking up from his book. They were in the library, and Hermione was trying to staying quiet as well as portray her fury. The effects really were quite interesting. On par with Harry's previous theory, her hair just got frizzier and frizzier. Neville looked mildly perturbed by the whole look.

"I'll tell on you! I will! What you're doing is wrong!"

"If you tell on me then we will lose points. And you will be known forever as a little snitch. So just keep quiet about something that doesn't really affect you, and get on with whatever you do", Harry bit back. He needed to pacify, however, so he invited her to do her homework with them.

The one word that could truly capture Hermione Granger was 'homework'. She stood for a second, red-faced, and then sat down promptly, starting a discussion with Neville on the latest herbology homework. Herbology was the one subject Neville showed natural aptitude at, and so the discussion was a good one.

At the end of his first few weeks at Hogwarts, settled in and fairly content with the situation, Harry looked back on the summer, and how much his life had changed. He was on his way, and ready for whatever life threw at him. And what was getting thrown next, according to a note on the notice board, was flying lessons…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Albus Dumbledore had spent the first few weeks watching one student very closely.

He smiled when Harry was sorted into Gryffindor, though glad there had been some time in this decision; Harry appeared to have qualities from more than house, always a good sign.

He watched Harry make his way around the school, confident yet quiet.

He listened to the teachers' reports on the first classes; Harry exceeded all his expectations on his skills and intelligence.

He notice with concern Harry's cold demeanour, but was soon reassured when the boy showed unusual compassion for an eleven year old when he befriended and helped young Neville Longbottom. Their further friendship pleased him greatly.

He observed Harry's glee of the magic around him- the way he settled so completely into Hogwarts, becoming a part of the castle.

All in all, Albus Dumbledore mused, it was going well. And Harry was such an interesting character, everything he could have hoped and wished for. Indeed, perhaps he should introduce himself to the boy, find out more…