Disclaimer – If by reading this story, you find elements that are similar and/or about something you wrote, then you are either JKR (who owns the Harry Potter Universe by the way) or another fanfiction author who I chose to compliment, criticize or mock somewhere in here. Enjoy.
Warning – Very long chapter ahead.
Chapter 5: Harry's Second First Week of School
"Firs' years! Firs' years, over here!"
On the crowded platform of Hogsmeade's station, Harry Potter pushed his way towards Hagrid's booming voice. The half-giant was clearly visible under the light of the big lamp he held in his even bigger hand. The evening was plunged into darkness and cold, and the first years seemed to gather there for protection from them both.
Soon, Harry found himself standing right next to Hagrid, and he had to crane his neck upwards in a very uncomfortable manner to look at the hairy face. The game-keeper of Hogwarts was restless, watching every face in the little group assembled around him intently, with an almost panicked expression. He seemed to be searching for someone, and Harry had a good guess for whom.
Sure enough, when the half-giant's eyes lowered on himself and Ripcage, his searching glances stopped. Tears started appearing up there in that moved face, and Harry was pretty sure the half-goblin to his right, and perhaps himself as well, were about to be crushed to death in a bear-like hug. Instead, Hagrid simply made to talk but seeing as he was being watched by all the midgets surrounding him, he just turned around on his spot and with a broken voice said, "Follow me – sniff – and mind yer step."
Everyone complied, exchanging some interrogative or awed looks. Ripcage turned towards Harry with a wary, slightly worried expression, but the dark-haired boy just grinned, mouthing the word 'Later' and gesturing with his hand.
They followed Hagrid as he started strolling down a narrow, muddy path. Keeping up easily with the large steps of the half-giant, Harry skipped happily and surely on the familiar – though slippery – ground. The other students took it more slowly, staring at their own feet so intently that it took them some seconds longer than necessary to notice the smashing sight of Hogwarts' castle.
When the first 'Ooooh' started, there was no stopping them. Soon enough at the edge of the Black Lake, an abrupt intake of breaths and whispered exclamations of awe resonated. The various noises coming from the nearby Black Lake and the near Forbidden Forest completed that metaphysical symphony.
Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight. Merlin bless the four Founders for choosing this place for their school! The castle seemed to be a light fest to which they were all invited, and the lake's waters glimmered under it in a breath-taking kaleidoscope of colours, and even the almost full moon in the sky seemed to pale in comparison. A cold breeze slithered through the students, making the warm-looking castle appear even more inviting.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Hagrid asked nobody in particular, lost in a contemplative state. "Hogwarts…"
A half-giant's contemplative state doesn't last long apparently, because his voice turned from reverent to business-like in less than a second. "No more'n four to a boat!" he called, pointing to some little boats shored near the water.
Harry made his way towards the first one, and boarded it together with Ripcage, Ron, and Neville, who was still clutching his toad for his life. Wormtail instead was nowhere to be seen. Pity... a little bath in the cold lake waters would have been interesting. Can rats swim? Probably. But can they do it with knees on the wrong side of their legs? Stunned all the while? Harry found himself very eager to find out.
"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, checking the shore and the boats- Harry's and Ripcage's twice. "Right then. Forward!"
When they started moving, Harry advanced to the very tip of his boat and knelt there, reaching with his hand and seemingly patting the empty air. His friends watched him curiously.
"Err... what are you doing, Harry?" Ron asked.
"I'm just greeting and thanking the White Accolate," he answered, turning his head around.
"The white what?"
"How do you think these boats are moving, Ron?"
"Uhm... magic?" the red-head said with a chuckle.
Harry stood up and gestured for his friends to approach him. "Come here, but just one of you at a time."
Ron gingerly advanced on his already abnormally big feet till he arrived beside Harry. The dark-haired boy made him crouch and told him what to do. Ron complied and he soon found himself patting something wet and soft with his hand. Much to his astonishment, he even heard a strange gurgling sound as if something was making little bubbles under the water.
"Wicked!"
Harry nodded. "Very."
"White Accolade, you said?"
"Accolate."
"What is it exactly?"
"Well, it's a very intelligent magical creature, with the characteristics of an amphibian," Harry started explaining while Ripcage and Neville both experienced what a White Accolate felt like. Soon enough, the nearest boats were doing it as well. "It's actually an honor that they accepted to drag our boats to Hogwarts. They made an accord with the Headmaster, I think."
He started patting the one in front of their boat again. "They stay here in this lake only from the middle of August till the end of September to mate and lay their eggs. Then they go away to less cold places."
Harry noticed that Hagrid was now regarding him with wide eyes from his own boat. "Yes, Hagrid?"
"Yeh... yeh can see 'em?" he stammered, and everyone in ear-shot observed them curiously.
"Course not," Harry lied.
"Ah, okay," the half-giant sighed, apparently relieved. "Because yeh can only see 'em if yeh had sssssssssss–" he trailed off in the end, glancing around at the other young, innocent students listening in. He abruptly turned around towards the approaching castle and ignored everything else.
"Only if you had what?" someone, sounding suspiciously like Hermione, asked from another boat.
Harry chuckled a little as Hagrid started whistling to himself in an attempt at seeming busy that really worked.
"I'll tell you when you're older," Harry said, and someone grumbled. He sure wouldn't be the one to give all these kids The Talk.
"Why are they invisible?" Neville asked. "I mean... what is it that makes them invisible, exactly?"
Harry seemed thoughtful for a second before smiling. "I think Ron knows why."
Neville and Ripcage both turned towards the red-head who was grinning sheepishly. "Err... magic?"
Harry just grinned back at him.
They soon reached the harbor that seemed to lie underneath the castle itself, and climbed out of the boats. Hagrid checked them, and whispered something to a White Accolate, probably the leader. The half-giant then shuffled his feet towards Harry, lowered his eyes to his shoes, and whispered something the boy first made an effort to hear, and then to accept.
"Yeh know... I... I can't see 'em either..."
The dark-haired boy was somewhat flabbergasted. Hagrid had never had sex? Well it wasn't so impossible to believe now that he thought about it. His, ah... size could represent a problem in that particular instance. But why the hell was he telling him?
"You can't?" Harry asked for clarification, too loudly for Hagrid's tastes.
"Shhh," the half-giant hissed nervously, twisting his hands self-consciously.
"Oops, sorry."
"How... do yeh know what they look like?" he asked.
Harry smiled, and gestured to the gamekeeper to followhim to an isolated corner, far away from prying ears. "Hagrid, have you ever been to Beauxbatons?"
The half-giant finally lifted his eyes to meet Harry's. "Beauxbatons? No," he said, confused.
"Well," continued the boy, "the Headmistress there... I think she could be your type, if you get what I mean..." Hagrid furrowed his brow furthermore, clearly not getting it. Not exactly the brightest of all, Hagrid. But a great man, or half-man, all the same. "Never mind… just ask Headmaster Dumbledore about it, okay?" he added, starting towards his fellow students again, until a strong hand on his shoulder stopped him short.
When he turned around, he found himself face-to-face with a crouched and clearly moved half-giant. "Harry... I wanted to tell yeh... sniff... thanks... sniff... fer Ripcage, I mean... and..."
"It's quite alright," little Harry Potter said, patting a crying Rubeus Hagrid on the head in a scene that would be remembered and recounted at Hogwarts for years to come. When the half-giant recomposed himself, after a last weepy glance at Ripcage and the help of the ever-present handkerchief, they both joined the group of students and started walking up a stone staircase until they reached a big oak door.
Ron stepped to Harry's left, and looked at him with wide eyes.
"You're not normal, you know that, right?" he asked.
"Aw, you say the sweetest things," was the dark-haired boy's reply.
"No, seriously. You're not normal," he insisted.
"Naaah…" Harry shrugged. "I think it's all a matter of perspectives."
"Okay," Ron said pausing a little. "Then you're not normal by human perspectives." Neville nodded next to him.
"If it helps," Rip added, falling to Harry's right, "you're not normal by goblin perspectives either."
Harry opened his mouth to answer that, but whatever defense he was about to offer, it was interrupted by Hagrid who, after sniffing a couple of times more, knocked three times on the castle door. It swung open immediately and Professor McGonagall appeared in the entryway, her stern expression quickly turning into an interrogative, slightly concerned one.
"Hagrid, is everything okay?" she asked, seeing his puffy red eyes and the handkerchief in his hands.
The half-giant mumbled something incomprehensible, gave another sniff, a little embarrassed, before stating in a clearer voice, "The firs' years, Professor."
The woman spared a last somewhat skeptic glance at him, before turning to the young students. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
She pulled the door wide, and spun on her heel, expecting to be followed at once. The first years did so, looking all the while at the big Entrance Hall and at the magnificent marble staircase. Many turned towards the doors leading to the Great Hall, their attention drawn by the sounds produced by the older students already gathered in there, but they were forced to follow the stern-looking Professor towards a smaller room on the other side of the entrance.
Harry stepped in and found himself squeezed between Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones in a Hufflepuff sandwich. In four or five years the experience would have been very, very pleasant, but at the moment it just felt constricting. He bumped into the red-head a little when the blonde pushed him from behind, apologized, and then finally managed to slip out of the horde of children and into an empty corner. He waited roughly ten seconds for the other students to spread about in the little room, before reaching Ron, Rip and Neville again.
Professor McGonagall began her speech, but the dark-haired boy didn't pay attention to it. He instead mused about the sorting ceremony ahead. He had finally made up his mind, after whole seconds and seconds of thinking. Harry Potter would be a Hufflepuff this time. It was decided. He didn't know the exact reason why he had come to that conclusion, but he was almost sure that it had something to do with sandwichs... Anyway, he would convince the Sorting Hat once the magical artifact asked him about it. It wouldn't be easy and could take a while, but he had the perfect way to reach his goal;
Anything but Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Anything but Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin.
He rehearsed the sentence a couple of times and found it satisfying. Yep, it was perfect. Surely the hat would be convinced by such a persuasive argument.
McGonagall's voice was soon replaced by the first years', who started speaking in hushed tones as she stepped out of the room. Theories about the sorting flew all around, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle at some of them. When a particularly fancy one involving carnivorous plants and poisonous snakes was offered, Harry decided to put in his two cents.
"No, guys, it's nothing of the sort," he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. "You just have to put a magical hat on your head. The hat then rummages through your mind and then…" He noticed how all the students were watching him intently, and he concentrated on hiding a grin before continuing in a voice perfect for a ghost story around a fire at night. "And then, it searches for your most terrifying fears and makes you live them time and time again until you pass out. Depending on how long you resist, the hat places you in the proper house. I really hope you're not Gryffindor material, because they usually live that hell the longest." He saw his audience gulp as an eerie silence descended in the room.
After a couple of seconds, he smiled cheerily. "Just kidding!"
The young students exhaled a relieved sigh all at once, only for screaming and startling the next second, at the sudden appearance of the Hogwarts' ghosts from the back wall.
A ghost story indeed.
More than a dozen translucent figures floated through the small room in a more or less compact group speaking to each other, and seemingly unconcerned about the young impressionable minds they were scaring to death.
But there was a mind among the others that wasn't all that impressionable. It was Harry Potter's.
The boy ran towards and through the Hogwarts ghosts at high speed, taking them all transversally and eliciting exclamations of shock and shouts of outrage.
"What the–"
"How dare you?"
"How rude of you!"
"It's not proper behavior, young man!"
Harry ignored it all as he stopped in front of the wall, shuddering and shivering to the bone at the sensation, and giggling like a madman. He rubbed his arms underneath the Hogwarts uniform as he turned around with a huge grin on his face, the malicious gleam in his eyes fixed on the affronted ghosts. He giggled once more before launching again towards and through the pale shades, who scattered around wildly, trying to avoid contact with the insane boy.
"Why is he doing that?"
"What a despicable little boy!"
"Ah ah! Missed! Friar, you're too Fat for these games!"
"You're one to talk, Nicholas! You too were hit twice!"
"Yes, but I escaped the third time!"
Soon enough, in the small room, the scampering ghosts of Hogwarts started to inevitably float through the other students, and force them to dive away and occasionally through other ghosts. Some of the most prudish and snobbish ones decided that the situation was too childish for them and exited the little room using the walls, complaining about foolish mortals. At the same time some first years as well, either too scared or too proud, found shelter in the corners of the room. At some point a rather frisky Fat Friar took advantage of all the ruckus to pry under the Grey Lady's skirt, much to the amusement of Seamus Finnigan and Ripcage who were the only ones to notice it.
Harry continued his shivering run through the ghosts, pushing Ripcage, Ron, and Neville with him. He saw Hermione in a corner and answered her disapproving look with a disapproving pout. He crashed against other students more times than was possible to count, but he went through the Hogwarts' ghosts even more so.
That was the sight that greeted Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, when she came back into the room.
A swarm of chuckling and giggling ghosts and students chasing each other, while others crouched against the walls with frightened faces or amused smiles. She watched all this, wide-eyed behind those glasses of hers, and open-mouthed, lost in a transfixed state of sort.
That was, until a very daring Sir Nicholas floated through her.
The Gryffindor Head of House shivered and stiffened more than ever, like she had just been drenched with a bucket of ice-cold water. She then closed her lips in a thin line, and regarded the room with one last furious look.
"ENOUGH!" she shouted, and all the people present, both dead and alive, slowly calmed down to a halt. However, they couldn't wipe those silly grins off of their faces.
McGonagall's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What is the meaning of this?"
"We were just having a little fun, Professor," said Sir Nicholas who clearly wanted to die for a second time.
"Having... fun?" she hissed, burning a hole into the translucent ghost with her glare.
The Gryffindor's ghost shifted uncomfortably, his grin nowhere to be seen now. "Uhm... well..."
"Are you the one responsible for this, Sir Nicholas?" she asked in a frosty voice.
"Of course not!" he replied, utterly outraged that she could think that, really.
"Then who is?"
Students and ghosts alike looked around the room, searching for a mop of black hair, and raised their arms, hands and forefingers to point them in its precise direction.
Harry Potter let out a last giggle.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The first year students entered the Great Hall five minutes later, amidst thousands of floating candles and the curious looks from both the House and Head tables. They were noticeably late after all, fashionably so according to one Harry Potter, who, by the way, was the main cause of this delay. Professor McGonagall had tried and failed to assign him detention on his very first day of school, both because of the defense the boy had received from students and ghosts, and because of her own reluctance. Anyway, a long and stern lecture couldn't be avoided. When the Deputy Headmistress had felt like Mr. Potter had learnt his lesson, she chased the ghosts away and ordered the students to form a line and follow her.
However, that line was bound to be short-lived, and sure enough it was disrupted immediately upon stepping into the large dining room of Hogwarts. The first years couldn't help but look left, right and up, turning around to try and take everything in, and occasionally bumping into each other in their awe-struck states. But they couldn't help but freeze on the spot when Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of them, and a second later, a dirty wizard's hat on top of it.
They all turned, very slowly, towards an expressionless dark-haired boy, their eyes wide with fear and wariness. Someone whimpered softly.
"Don't worry about it," Harry said with a soothing voice. "Remember, I was just kidding."
He turned his head to hide his grin and to look at the Head table, scanning the people seated there and noticing the absence of any new face. No DADA Professor yet? Pity, it would have been good to have a different target than Snape for his Quibbler's articles, and Gilderoy Lockhart could have been the right man for it. He nodded at Dumbledore and vaguely at the other teachers before giving his attention to the Sorting Hat.
He enjoyed its song a lot more this time around, appreciating its amusing lines and precise rhymes. He made a note to himself to tell the Hat just that during their predictably long conversation about the Hufflepuff rightness.
When the magical artifact ended the first part of its job, accompanied by the cheering and clapping of the older students, Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a scroll in her hands.
"When I call your name you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Hannah Abbott!"
Despite the Hat's song, the pig-tailed girl tossed an almost pleading look at Harry, as if she wanted him to save her from this possible torture. The boy just showed her two thumbs up and a reassuring grin, and finally she shakily advanced towards the stool, sat on it, and with trembling hands put the hat on her head. They all had to wait for maybe five seconds, before it shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!", and the table on the right started cheering and clapping.
One by one, all the first years were sorted into their proper Houses without any noticeable difference if not in timing – Hermione for example lasted longer on the stool than what Harry remembered from his first life. But in the end, she too ended up in the same House as the first time around, and he found himself eager to break this course of events. 'Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff!' was the mantra in his head. He checked again his convincing argument to offer the Hat and when his time came, he stepped forward, ignoring the whispering of the Great Hall, and jammed the magical artifact confidently on his head. There was blackness for just a moment and then–
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The shout of the hat deafened and shocked him, and he could just stare open-mouthed at its inside. He tried to say something, but it only came out as a useless stammering of "B-but... b-but I..."
The cheers of one of the tables helped him get out of his stunned stillness. He took the magical artifact off his head, gave it a reproachful look and pout, and made his way to the students wearing red and gold. The warm greeting he received there made him temporarily forget about all that Hufflepuff affair. He shook Percy's hand vigorously, grinned at the twins and their chant, and sat in front of Neville.
Hermione looked at him from a couple of seats away. "So you are Harry Potter," she stated with an eager expression. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
"Do they say why my scar is lightning-bolt shaped?" he asked Hermione, stopping her in her tracks.
She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head and Harry continued.
"Couldn't it have been… I don't know… yin-yang shaped, or… pi-shaped, maybe?"
The Weasley twins looked grim.
"I wouldn't complain about that if I were you…"
"You should be grateful you didn't end up with a–"
"Heart-shaped scar!"
Harry thought about Dumbledore's fancy interpretation of the prophecy and the supposed 'power of love', and grinned wildly.
"Ripcage!" Professor McGonagall shouted, and the room fell into a shocked silence. The half-goblin advanced slowly and uncertainly towards the hat, his yellow eyes fixed on his feet, his hair long and sickly green. From all around the hall, wild whispering broke out, even more so than there was during Harry's sorting. The dark-haired boy frowned a little as he heard some unpleasant comments from his fellow Gryffindors. He continued to look at Rip who continued to look at the ground until he put the Hat on his head, almost disappearing from sight. The whispering stopped there, only to start again, and then double when the sorting went on and on for almost a minute. But then the Hat's shout cut through the buzzing like a blade of sunlight in a dark room.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Seeing as his table didn't seem intentioned or maybe lucid enough to clap, Harry decided to be the first one to start. As the half-goblin took off the magical artifact from his head, revealing short blonde hair, Harry stood up and cupped his hands to the sides of his mouth.
"WAY TO GO, RIP!" he yelled, beginning to clap loudly, hesitantly mirrored by the rest of the table. If he had looked up at where the teachers sat, he would have seen Albus Dumbledore beaming down at the scene.
Ripcage gave them a quivering smile and plopped down on the seat next to Harry, trying to ignore all the stares he was receiving. He failed miserably judging by his purple hair and eyes, but he at least tried.
Harry patted his shoulder.
"The worst has passed."
The half-goblin took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I really hope so."
They cheered as first Dean and then Ron were sorted into Gryffindor, and then fell silent when Albus Dumbledore stood up from the Head table. However, before the old man could say anything, Harry whispered loudly enough to be heard at his table... "Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment and Tweak."
Everyone turned around for a moment to look at him curiously, but then brought their eyes back on the Headmaster.
"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" he said cheerily, his arms opened wide. "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Babbler! Oddment! Tweak!"
While every other table answered with happy "Thank you!", the red and gold one just stared at Harry Potter.
"Babbler, dammit!" the boy complained for his mistake. "And I was so sure..."
"How did you know?" Neville asked from right in front of him.
"Know what?"
"That he would have said those words?" Ron followed.
"What words?"
Ron, Ripcage and Neville just groaned.
"Nitwit, Babbler, Oddment and Tweak!" Hermione half-shouted with her high-pitched voice from further down the table.
"What?" Harry asked with a skeptic expression on his face. He then looked around before nudging Ripcage to his left. "Do you understand her?"
Ron, Ripcage and Neville just started eating.
"You said 'Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment and Tweak,' right before the Headmaster did," Percy countered with his eyebrows furrowed. The Gryffindors started filling their plates without getting their eyes off the scene. Sir Nicholas hovered near.
"What? Me?" His faked-confused expression would have deserved an Academy Award. "What's this? The traditional prank on the first years?"
"No!" Hermione yelled, blushing at the attention she was getting. She turned towards the apparently not interested boys near Harry. "Why don't you say anything?"
Ron, Ripcage and Neville just sighed. Seeing as an answer of some kind was expected from them, they paused eating long enough to say respectively "No use", "Time wasted", and "Leave it be, Hermione."
The bushy haired girl blushed even more, but let the matter drop. Percy seemed to want to say something else, but in the end kept quiet.
Harry just stabbed a sausage and bit on it as one of the twins leaned towards Ron and whispered from the corner of his mouth. "Is he insane?"
The insane boy in question grinned behind his fork. "I heard you."
The twin shrugged with a grin of his own. "Well, are you?"
Harry shared a look with his new-old friends. "Apparently I am, both by human and by goblin perspectives."
"Well, every Gryffindor is, at least a little. I guess Mr. Potter here is more so than others," Sir Nicholas said, floating over the food. He then added with a grin, "But you proved to be very brave as well, during the chase."
"What chase?" Katie Bell asked curiously a couple of seats away, and Sir Nicholas turned his translucent head towards her. Very slowly.
"What chase?" he asked softly before roaring. "The Chase!"
The ghost laughed merrily and recounted in high tones the 'battle of flesh and shadow' that took place in the Great Hall's antechamber, arriving to the point of giving a visual demonstration of some of its phases amidst the Gryffindors' laughter. Soon enough, the Fat Friar hovered near to start boasting about his own exploits. At some point during that, Seamus and Ripcage turned to each other and grinned two identical idiotic grins, but they wouldn't say what they were about. Coincidentally, the Fat Friar started hovering casually back to the Hufflepuff table.
"Hey Ron, why don't you feed Scabbers?" Harry asked after a while as the topic was finally dying down.
The second phase of the plan 'Sirius Black out of Azkaban' had started.
"Yeah," the red-head answered. "He always eats like a whale."
He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out from it what looked like a pink furry ball with insect-like limbs. He held it in front of his frowning face. "Maybe we should change him back to normal."
Harry was about to answer when Percy glanced up from his plate, looking in their direction, and let out a high-pitched yelp that resonated throughout the hall. "What did you do to Scabbers?"
The twins, attracted by their brother's not-so-manly scream, and ready to tease him for it, took a look at what supposedly was their brothers' rat and burst into loud laughter. In the meantime, Percy had snatched his old pet from Ron's hands and had started waving his wand to counter the spells on him. He progressively calmed down as the little jinxes disappeared from Wormtail, only to then frown when he tried to reverse Scabbers to his original color and failed. He tried again. And again. Then used a more advanced counter spell. And then another. But it was of no use.
Ron was watching his brother's now frantic attempts with a half-amused, half-worried expression. He hadn't really had the time to grow fond of the rat, but he felt a little guilty about the situation nonetheless.
Harry just focused on not grinning, but couldn't help the gleam in his eyes as the Gryffindor Prefect, not knowing what else to do, finally tried an advanced detection charm.
Wormtail glimmered yellow, grey, and blue.
Percy frowned for an instant, and then realization descended upon his eyes which in answer widened in shock.
"An animagus?" he whispered, incredulous, but very few at the table heard him.
"An animagus?" Harry Potter asked much more loudly, attracting a lot of attention.
The red-head tried the spell again, certain that he had mistaken something, somehow. Not at all, instead. The rat continued to glow yellow, indicating the presence of a jinx, grey, indicating the presence of magic to stop a counter-spell, and blue, indicating the presence of an animagus.
When even the third attempt produced the same results, Percy continued to stare at his old rat with a horrified expression on his face. He stood up.
"What?"
"What is it, Perce?"
"What's with Scabbers?"
"I..." he stammered, before visibly steeling himself."I have to go and speak to the Headmaster."
He walked away briskly, leaving three stunned brothers and a gleeful first year Gryffindor behind. They watched him reach the Head table and lean slightly towards Dumbledore, shaking the rat in his hand and whispering in hushed tones. The Headmaster showed surprise for a moment before he drew his own wand out, took Scabbers from the Prefect, and cast a detection charm on him. After seeing the result he told Percy something, and then stood up, immediately mirrored by his Deputy Headmistress. His blue eyes wandered for an instant through the Great Hall and, unsurprisingly enough, stopped themselves on a serious-looking Harry Potter. The dark-haired boy met the old man's gaze for just a moment, and nodded almost imperceptibly before returning to his food. It was up to the Headmaster to interpret that gesture however he wanted.
"Ron, follow me." Percy was standing behind his seated little brother now.
"What? Where?" he asked warily, probably thinking he had done something wrong.
"Just follow me." Percy's nasal voice didn't leave room for any argument.
The youngest Weasley complied hesitantly, not much heartened by Harry's encouraging smile. Everyone in the Great Hall watched as the two red-heads, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Dumbledore exited the room at a quick pace.
Harry Potter grinned wildly as the last thing he saw before they disappeared was a familiar red spell flying from the Headmaster's wand to the pink form of Scabbers.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The next morning, Ron Weasley was a real mess. He had come back sometimes during the night and dropped exhausted on the only empty bed of the first year male dorm. His face was haggard, his hair sticking each in its own direction, his eyes sunken over a pair of dark bags. He wouldn't – and according to Harry, couldn't – talk about what had happened, no matter how much the twins pried. Percy wasn't any less tight-lipped. Fred and George tried to get Harry's help, but the boy just tossed them a smirk that left them wondering if the boy did already know the whole story.
Unlike his red-head friend, Harry moved around with a huge grin on his face, greeted everyone cheerily, and skipped through the corridors of Hogwarts humming to himself. The first year Gryffindors followed him more sleepily- especially Ron-, but with almost as much enthusiasm. The dark-haired boy led them to the Great Hall through a haze of stairs and hallways without getting lost, not even once, and that impressed them a lot.
When they stepped into the large room, there was silence for a moment, before an incredible amount of whispering started slithering among the students already present for breakfast. For once, the Boy-who-lived shared the status of main topic with both Ripcage and Ron.
"It's Harry Potter!"
"Did you see his scar?"
"Look at him!"
"Did you see how his eyes change color too?"
"What do you think was the matter yesterday?"
"Professor Dumbledore seemed really grim. I thought he would have expelled both Weasleys."
Harry ignored it all but watched his embarrassed friends closely. Rip's hair was now bright red, just like Ron's, and Ron's face and ears were bright red, just like Rip's hair, and Rip's face and ears were bright... err, not red this time... more like brownish.
They made their way towards the Gryffindor table and took a seat. Harry found himself between Neville and Lavender Brown, and started filling his plate with eggs and bacon, after showing Headmaster Dumbledore a large beaming smile, receiving back a somewhat tighter one. But a tight smile couldn't even get near to worry Harry Potter.
"Want some, Lavender? Neville?"
The girl squeaked something affirmative, while the boy simply thanked him.
"I'm sitting next to Harry Potter..." she then said looking at him with huge blue eyes.
"It's just Harry," the boy intercepted smiling.
"Harry..." she repeated with a dreamy voice.
The dark-haired boy just chuckled. He had forgotten how everybody reacted to him during his first days of school.
"S-so..." Neville stammered clearly uncomfortable with the weird situation. "What do you think it will be our first lesson?"
"Charms in three hours," Harry said with certainty.
Neville blinked. He was about to ask the dark-haired boy something else, but Professor McGonagall appeared out of nowhere and silently handed out their course schedules. Everybody checked their own eagerly and did a double take in seeing that the first lesson was indeed Charms three hours later. The first years all turned towards Harry who just placed the scrap of parchment into his pocket without even glancing at it, before starting to eat again. Hermione was about to ask something along the lines of 'How did you know?', but remembered the similar conversation of dinner the previous day and simply knew better.
They talked about Charms and about the tiny Professor who taught it, about their first night in Gryffindor Tower and about their first impressions in general. The twins kept on bothering Ron and Percy, but to no avail. At the same time, a couple of curious Ravenclaw students approached the table and rudely stared at Ripcage who glared back at them with red eyes.
"Maybe you should make an announcement, Rip," Harry suggested with a grin and much to his surprise, the half-goblin seemed thoughtful. "Do you want me to do it for you? We could use that fancy Sonorus charm Hermione read about and–"
"No, no, please no," Ripcage said quickly with frightened eyes.
Harry chuckled. "When one talks about trust, eh?" He drew his new wand from the right holster. "Maybe something subtler." He grabbed an empty plate and tapped it with his wand thoughtfully. "Hmmm... how about something like this?"
He started waving his wand in an intricate pattern and then with a last flick, the shiny white plate turned into a black baseball cap. With another swish from Harry's part, a writing appeared on the hat's front. It read: 'Metamorphmagus Half-Goblin Here – Stay Away If You Like Having a Head'.
Harry showed it to a stunned table with a proud expression. "Hmmm? What do you say?"
"If you call that 'subtler'…" Neville murmured.
"Give me that!" Ripcage growled snatching the cap out of the boy's hands. He glowered at Harry for another second before eyeing the cap clutched in his hands seriously. He failed to hide the grin that was starting to appear on his goblinish face. "It's not that bad," he then admitted. He tried it on after shortening his black hair and turned almost expectantly towards the other Gryffindors.
Ron grinned for the first time that morning. "You look good with those big ears sticking out of it," he said and the table nodded politely. They didn't know what to do or say around Ripcage, yet. Most of them had already guessed what he was, while others had actually asked him about it, but there still was that lingering uncertainty often caused by what's different.
Ripcage scratched at the back of his head, a little embarrassed.
"Maybe change the last part of the writing?" Hermione offered hesitantly.
Harry seemed thoughtful. "Yeah, maybe you're right. That's a little too harsh," he said and the girl smiled, relieved. He then swished his wand towards the cap still on Ripcage's head and nodded approvingly. "That should do."
The students at the table looked at it and groaned all at once, making him frown in confusion.
"What? What's wrong?"
Everybody shook their heads.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The first year Gryffindors entered the classroom right as the bell rang. They took their seats, speaking excitedly to each other and waiting for the Professor to arrive. Harry was seated next to Ron and Ripcage, who was sporting the new approved version of his cap. Harry could not look at it without pouting. His last modification, "Metamorphmagus Half-Goblin Here – Stay Away If You Like Having Arms" had been gently but firmly put out.
"You can't go around threatening to sever people's arms," they had said, "and that's not really much less harsh than threatening to behead them."
Harry had tried to convince them otherwise but his arguments of "Whoever talked about severing?" and "With a little practice, legs can do almost everything arms can," had been of no use. Not even Ripcage's complaints that he preferred Harry's versions helped in the matter. In the end, Hermione, backed up by Percy, chose the pathetic version Rip was currently wearing.
Harry turned away from it when the office-door behind the teacher's desk opened and Filius Flitwick stepped out. The man was really tiny, roughly as tall as Ripcage who among the first years was the shortest. His beard could have given Dumbledore's a run for its money for what concerned its color – a shiny silvery white almost blinding when a light fell upon it – though his was thick more than long. His dark blue shirt and trousers hung a little loosely on his body, making him appear even tinier and furthermore concealing the athletic body Harry knew the man sill had.
The Charm Master climbed gracefully on top of a pile of thick books behind his desk and regarded his class with warm smile and eyes.
"Good morning, young Gryffindors. This is your very first magical lesson at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm sure you all feel excited," he said with his squeaky voice, and it seemed that he was the most excited one. "Let's start by calling the roll so I can learn some of your names. Age is getting to me and my memory is not what it used to be anymore."
He gave the students a smirk as he drew his wand and pointed it at the office behind him.
"Accio roll-call!"
Soon enough, a roll of parchment flew out of the little room and into his outstretched hand, eliciting excited gasps and murmured "oooh"s.
"Isn't that the charm you used to find Trevor on the train, Harry?" Neville asked in a low voice, turning slightly towards him. The dark-haired boy just nodded, wondering if it was only his impression, or if Neville really was less shy in this new life than in the previous, asking this many questions and in general speaking way more. He banished the thought out of his mind as Professor Flitwick, having picked out Neville's words, fixed a tiny pair of bright eyes on him. The dark-haired boy just smiled, wondering if it was only his impression, or if Neville was really just as clumsy and foolish as in his previous life, asking this many questions and in general speaking way more.
The Charm Master, however, didn't comment on that, and instead started calling the roll. When he got to Harry's name, after a little inconvenience involving Neville and a knocked over ink bottle, the tiny man grinned at him.
"Ah. Mr. Potter, of course. It's nice to meet you again after that day. I hope the rest of your summer went on in a less... exciting way."
"Actually, that was an ordinary day in that chaos that is my life, but I like it that way," Harry answered with a grin of his own. "But call me Harry, sir. Mr. Potter does not suit me at all."
Professor Flitwick chuckled. "Of course, of course." He lowered his eyes on the roll again and called the next name. "Ripcage."
The half-goblin nervously raised his long-fingered hand, fidgeting on his seat as if it was scorching hot, and his hair and eyes turned to a pale yellow colour. Flitwick's smile was still on his face, but it wavered a little as the man read aloud the writing on Rip's cap. "'Metamorphmagus Half-Goblin Here – Miscreants Beware.'" He chuckled. "Catchy."
Harry just made a gagging sound and Hermione tossed him a smirking look.
"Mr. Ripcage, we'll have to talk about your abilities later on," the Charm Master said ignoring that childish behavior. Rip's eyes went wide.
After the roll call and a nice chat about Hogwarts and their first night there, they started to talk about the actual lessons. Harry was very excited about it. Not only Flitwick was a great teacher and an incredible duelist, but Charms was definitely his favorite subject. How couldn't it be? The spells that fell in that category were interesting, useful and, on top of that, responsible of his survival in the final battle against Voldemort. How could you not love them when that's the case?
"Charms is certainly the most useful course at Hogwarts," Professor Flitwick said echoing Harry's thoughts. "And I'm not saying that because it's what I teach, but because it's true. Ask the other teachers if you want." The tiny man grinned. "And do you know why?"
His question was a rhetorical one but Harry raised his hand nonetheless and the old man gestured for him to speak after a moment of hesitation.
"It's because charms are the most various and practically useable spells," the dark-haired boy said. "And because they're what make transfigurations and curses more efficient."
"That's right!" Flitwick agreed excitedly. "Care to elaborate, Harry?"
"Sure." The boy nodded grinning. "Charms are so many it's actually impossible to know every one of them. They take life from people's needs, and people's needs are far too many to count. Need to clean something? Scourgify!" He drew his new wand and cast the spell on the ink spots staining the ground and Neville's hands and cheeks, making them disappear. "Need to repair something? Reparo!" The broken ink bottle lying on Neville's desk pieced itself together. Harry grinned at the stunned wide-eyed boy and placed his wand into his right holster again, noticing that Professor Flitwick was almost in tears. "Want your transfigured dog to attack your opponent? A Compulsion charm will make the trick. Want that pesky, dodgy Death Eater to stay still for a moment, just enough to let you Stun him? Conjure a gallon of oil and spray it at his feet. See how he'll fare dodging then."
Harry fortunately didn't give a demonstration of the last two cases. He didn't want to set a rabid dog on anyone in the room, and he was short of Death Eaters to use at the moment. Maybe during Potions...
"Anyway... curses and transfigurations are fun and all. But charms are what make it better."
The class was completely shocked into silence by the time he finished. Their wide eyes and opened mouths told him they were impressed. Plus, Hermione was staring at him, licking her lips all the while, as if she wanted to swallow him whole, together with everything he knew.
Harry brought his gaze back on Flitwick and found him with his head ducked down, his hands clenched into tight fists, trembling all over and emitting little noises like a boiler about to explode.
And that's exactly what he did two seconds later with his squeaky high-pitched voice.
"ONE HUNDRED POINTS TO GRYFFINDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR!"
In Hagrid's hut, Fang's ears stood at attention.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Draw your wands and repeat exactly what I just did," Minerva McGonagall said to her youngest Gryffindors, starting to walk slowly between their desks for the second part of her first afternoon lesson.
Every student complied and she nodded approvingly. It was a promising class. Ms. Granger had already earned her House twenty points during this lesson, and she heard from her colleagues that the girl had done very well during the morning too. There was another Weasley – Merlin saved her – but he seemed definitely calmer than those two nightmares that went by the interchangeable names of Fred and George. Mr. Longbottom seemed very shy and nervous, but her heart couldn't help but soften a little in seeing Alice's and Frank's son.
And then there was him, of course.
Harry James Potter.
She didn't know what to think, really. The day before, she had been a step away from punish him for all that ruckus in the Great Hall's antechamber. On his very first day of school! It would have been a record probably. Now she was doubly glad she didn't assign him detention, considering the recent events involving one Peter Pettigrew found alive and- according to Albus' latest news- guilty of betraying the Potters in that fateful night. Then, there was what the other teachers had told her about him during lunch, especially Filius who was swearing left and right that the boy was a real genius with immense talent in Charms, more so than his mother had been, and that he had given him and Gryffindor House more than one hundred points in a single lesson. Add to it what had happened that day of June with Quirinus Quirrell, and the result was that she was extremely excited to see how he fared in her lessons.
She turned towards him and watched as he tried to turn the match into a needle in the exercise she always assigned to the first years the first lesson of school. She frowned. His wand movements were completely incorrect, not at all fluid, graceless. There would be no way to succeed in the transfiguration like that.
She... she felt disappointed. She had expected better from James Potter's son. Still, it was the first lesson, there was no need to be hasty and overreact about it.
She turned around towards the rest of the class. Mr. Longbottom was almost as bad as Mr. Potter, but he was making too much of an effort. He was biting on his lower lip and craning his neck in a too rigid fashion, sweating profusely all the while. But Transfiguration is the Art of Grace. Force has very little to do with it. She glanced at the other students and found them decent, mostly. Not surprisingly, Ms. Granger was doing the best of all, very careful and precise in her waving. It wouldn't take her long to succeed.
She looked at Mr. Potter again, with the intention of giving him some pointers, but her eyes widened in shock when she did.
There was a needle on his desk. It seemed perfect. Pointed, silver, eyelet included, the real thing.
"Mr. Potter, you managed the transfiguration," she said drawing everyone's attention with her almost disbelieving voice.
"Yes, Professor, but it's Harry, please," the boy replied with a concentrated expression continuing to wave his wand with jerky, clumsy movements to turn the next match.
She took the needle in her hand and checked it thoroughly. "A perfect transfiguration, Mr. Potter," she added ignoring the boy's request in address. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for having succeeded in this little time."
She wanted to ask him how had he done that, using such incorrect wand movements, but she refrained, thinking it wasn't the best thing to ask in front of the entire class. She bit her lower lip, instead, turning again to the other students and putting the matter aside as a stroke of luck. A very strong one. She glanced at the dark-haired boy once more before approaching Mr. Longbottom to help him with his match.
When Alice's and Frank's son seemed a little less imprecise, though much more nervous, she walked towards Mr. Potter again, only to stiffen in surprise when she saw what laid on his desk.
Three more perfect needles.
The dark-haired boy was still waving his wand around clumsily, swishing it with as much fluidity as a newbie's golem could. She watched him transfixed for another second before narrowing her eyes.
"Mr. Potter, how did you manage to turn three more matches into needles?" she asked with a stern voice. She could have sworn Mr. Weasley and Mr. Thomas next to him were hiding grins.
"Oh?" the dark-haired boy asked looking up at her and away from the match he was trying to transform next. "I just followed your instructions, Professor. And please, call me Harry. Mr. Potter does not suit me at all."
"Mr. Potter," she said forcefully through gritted teeth, ignoring the boy's reprimanding "Harry," as he resumed his graceless attempts again, "please then, continue with your efforts and don't mind me standing here and watching you."
She thought she saw the flash of a smile on his face before it was wiped off by a concentrated expression again. The boy kept on jerking his wand left and right, not breaking eye-contact with the match on the desk. Ten seconds had probably passed by when an excited cry resonated from behind her, and she instinctively turned around to find out what was that about.
A beaming Ms. Granger was holding in her hand a silver, pointed match in a partially succeeded transfiguration.
Minerva was pleased and was about to tell the girl so, when she heard Mr. Thomas and Mr. Weasley snicker. She spun on her heel immediately, understanding her mistake too late.
There was another perfect needle on Mr. Potter's desk but he was still moving his left hand in those useless, pathetic waves.
She huffed, annoyed, glaring at the boy. She was starting to say something when she finally noticed it.
She looked at the needles, at Mr. Potter's concentrated face – faked, now she was sure – and then at the wand holster on his right arm and at his jerky wand in his left hand.
She narrowed her eyes
"Mr. Potter," she hissed, "aren't you right handed?"
"Oh?" the boy said, his expression turning confused and then shocked in realization. "Oh! How careless of me! Yes of course, Professor. Thank you for pointing that out."
He switched hand and waved his wand in a perfect, graceful movement with a last flick in the end. The match turned into a needle immediately. "I did it!" he shouted excitedly and his fellow Gryffindors laughed, shaking their heads.
Minerva's eyes narrowed furthermore.
"Again," she said with a stern voice, her hands behind her back.
The boy complied and a new needle added up to the others. She nodded approvingly. "Switch hand again, Mr. Potter."
He fixed his eyes on hers for a moment before nodding back.
She turned around quickly and reached Ms Granger. She checked the girl's attempt carefully before smiling a little.
"Ten points, Ms. Granger, for your partial transfiguration," she said as she reached her desk. "Ah, and Mr. Potter?" she added with her back to the class. "Detention the day after tomorrow at seven in this classroom. Don't be late."
The boy replied swiftly and she could hear the grin in his voice. "Yes, Professor."
Minerva McGonagall grinned as well, pleased that nobody could see that.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The fourth of September, when the first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Albus Dumbledore was already standing in front of the teacher's desk. It wasn't a surprise. Not at all. Hogwarts had been buzzing with that news from the second day of school.
Albus Percival Whatever Dumbledore was teaching Defence.
At least for now. The Headmaster had pointed out numerous times during his lessons that it was just a temporary decision. As soon as a new adequate applicant offered for the job, the position would pass to him. Then again, considering how much sought-after the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was, the students suspected that Dumbledore would probably end up stuck teaching it for the whole year.
Still, the classroom was pretty much bare, very little personalized unlike Harry was used to see, as if the Headmaster wanted to make clear the point that he was to be there only temporary.
The Supreme Mugwump smiled as his new students paraded in front of him and into their seats with wide eyes and excited voices. He wore a bright purple robe and hat with greenish little... somethings flying left and right on them. He had probably slept very few hours in the past three nights, but his face was bright as always. Harry, however, couldn't get tired of saying that his long white beard and hair were an unfair advantage in masking his immediate appearances and reactions.
The dark-haired boy sat down near Ron and Hermione, at the edge of Gryffindor's portion of class. The day had gone very well till that moment, with some nice Charms and Herbology double lessons, and later in the evening, Harry could look forward to a detention with Professor McGonagall that he was sure would prove highly entertaining.
All the whispering and staring was finally lessening for both Harry and Ripcage – also thanks to the half-goblin's cap – and Ron was already enjoying Hogwarts' indifference.
The red-head had been very uncomfortable with all the attention he received mixed with the difficult situation he found himself into regarding Harry's parents and their traitor. There was a lingering tension from his part when talking to the dark-haired boy, a tension that said boy didn't miss.
There still wasn't any news about Sirius on the Daily Prophet, but Harry wasn't worried in the slightest. He had, in fact, legilimenced his Transfiguration Professor- inadvertently of course- and found out that his Godfather was out of prison already, and under medical attention at St. Mungo's. In the meantime, his old dark cell in Azkaban had been let to one Peter Pettigrew.
According to Minerva McGonagall, Minister Fudge didn't know what to do. What he did know was that a decision was to be reached shortly, before the inevitable leaking of news happened, and the Wizarding World discovered the truth from the wrong source – the press. To reveal it or not to reveal it? That was the question. And if not, how to cover everything up? By bribing all the involved people into silence? Maybe, but that could cost a lot.
Poor Minerva was worried about him, about how this big mess could mess furthermore with his already messy brain. Aw, sweetheart...
He grinned like an idiot as he waited for all those Hufflepuffs that had followed his lead to the classroom to take their seats. Dumbledore's smile was making them fidgeting as if he was glaring at them. And they still hadn't experienced what those twinkling eyes of his felt like on you!
"Why is he wearing that thing?" Ron whispered nodding towards the old man. "Watching that purple robe is worse than getting a punch in the eye."
"That's exactly it," Harry answered smirking. "It's another defence against the dark arts."
Ron chuckled and Hermione snorted despite herself. She tried to glare at the disrespectful boy anyway.
"More like a crime against humanity," Ron whispered back right before Dumbledore started talking.
"Welcome to your very first lesson in Defence Against the Dark Arts. As you should have understood by now and probably knew already, I am Professor Dumbledore and I'm teaching the class until a capable substitute will make himself available." He smiled. "We should all thank Mr. Potter for that, I think."
Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike turned towards said boy to find him grinning. Dumbledore blinked at him a couple of times.
"Why the pillow, Mr. Potter?" he asked gesturing at the soft-looking cushion Harry had brought in class and laid on his desk.
"History of Magic is next," he replied nonchalantly and Dumbledore and the Hufflepuffs chuckled a little, while the Gryffindors knew already and just shook their heads. "And it's Harry, sir."
"Ah yes, of course." The old man nodded agreeably with an amused smile.
After the roll call, Dumbledore gave them an introductory lecture about the Dark Arts and his so called "first line of defence" – love. Harry had rolled his eyes at that, smiling at the Headmaster like you do to an old barmy man. The next hour was spent discussing what the dark arts were, what made them dark, and why were they forbidden and punishable by law. To Harry, it seemed like a decent lesson, mostly, if a little simplistic in the outlining of its most complex concepts, but that was to be expected when talking about "good" and "bad" to a bunch of children. Dumbledore, however, often put in some amusing stories from his long, full life to give an example or to make a point, and all the first years were soon laughing, joking around, and in general going through the lesson in a more active way.
"So you see, that was how old Ferguson learned that not everything that looks dark really is, and that is not a good thing to mix skimmed-milk and a perfectly working Swelling solution," he finished lightly and the class laughed.
"Poor Ferguson, he didn't know what hit him," Dean said chuckling.
"Oh no, Mr. Thomas, I assure you," Dumbledore replied mischievously. "He did know very well what hit him."
The Headmaster was about to resume his speech when a long thrill resonated into the room, and a ball of fire blazed behind his back. The old man sighed without even turning around.
"Dear students, may I introduce Fawkes, my disobedient Familiar and friend?" he said in a resigned tone. He watched as the Phoenix flew about the class before hovering over the head of one single student.
"Hey there, Fawkes, long time no see!" Harry Potter greeted the crimson bird, extending his left arm to let him rest on it. Hermione jumped back as if afraid the Phoenix would attack her, but the magical creature just landed on the offered perch with another happy thrill. Hermione's mouth became perfectly 'O' shaped.
Harry noticed how the magnificent bird was staring at him like last time, and he sure couldn't ignore that both his wands in their holsters were growing warmer by the second. He tried to pay no attention to his pleasantly heating forearms, and instead, shot the Headmaster a sour look.
"Do you always starve him, Professor?" he asked producing a lemon drop from his right pocket.
Dumbledore answered while eyeing the wrapped candy and licking his lips. "I assure you, Harry, Fawkes often takes more than his fare share of lemon drops leaving me without, like I currently am." He thought the hint was pretty strong, but with the weird boy you could never know.
Sure enough, Harry Potter seemed to ignore the Headmaster's not so veiled request in favour of playing with the Phoenix. His fellow students looked on in baffled amusement as the boy kept the unwrapped candy out of Fawkes' reach, forcing the bird to try and take it by leaning towards it. He was starting to dangle dangerously at the edge of Harry's arm, when the boy finally gave in, and let Fawkes have his earned sweet. The following delighted thrill made someone chuckle.
"May we pet him?" Hannah Abbott asked Harry, backed up by a blushing Susan Bones.
The dark-haired boy smirked at Dumbledore. "I think you should ask the Headmaster."
The old man just rolled his pale blue eyes before gesturing that, yes, they could. Half of the girls practically jumped out of their seats, Hermione, more hesitantly a couple of steps behind.
Dumbledore sighed again.
There. The lesson had obviously ended. Forty-five minutes wasted. Oh, he had warned Fawkes, threatened him not to come. "You'll see the boy another time," he had told his Familiar. "If you really have to, then make your appearance five minutes before the ending bell. Five minutes surely are enough for you…"
Forty-five minutes, instead. Forty-five. 45. Forty-freaking-five. And nobody was even calculating him anymore. And he didn't even get a lemon drop, dammit!
Albus Dumbledore started glaring at the Phoenix happily basking in all the attention, thrilling a joyous song all the while. He then plastered a fake, grandfatherly smile on his face.
"Perfect timing anyways, Fawkes. We were just about to start the practical portion of the lesson," he stated in a sweet voice.
A pair of wary bird-like eyes fixed on him in between all that caressing hands, and the Headmaster's smile started assuming the connotations of a wolfish grin.
"We could really use a moving target."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Double Potions with the Slytherins had always been a dangerous affair for one Harry Potter. Snape's biased behavior and absolute loathing towards him made sure that he always went out of the classroom in the dungeons on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Malfoy and his cronies were a reliable support in providing that, and Harry's growing hate for the subject had certainly helped in the matter.
Though, things had started going better at some point during his first life, point coinciding with what the Wizarding World had defined at the time as "Harry Potter's Snapping". After that, he had started to care less and less about what Snape and his students did or said, and in the end, he found out they didn't affect him anymore.
It was with this same state of carelessness then, that Harry Potter was enjoying the Potion lesson despite Snape's acid comments and the Slytherins' sniggering.
"Ah, yes," Snivellus said softly, looking over the roll of parchment in his hands. "Harry Potter, our new… celebrity."
Harry just yawned behind his hand while some Gryffindors looked at each other, a little put out by the sneering and ice-cold voice the Potion Professor had used when calling their housemate's name. Harry continued to feign boredom, while inwardly, he was bursting with anticipation because of the plan about to start.
Though rather annoyed by the apparent lack of concern or even interest from the brat's part, Severus Snape continued reading the roll with his usual expressionless face. Once finished, he looked up at the class again and started his usual introductive speech, the one he had created after countless of sleepless nights and meal-less days. Hmmm… Maybe it was because of all that lack of rest and food that it hadn't come out as derisive as he had wanted.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stop death, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Severus Snape was pleased to notice that there was complete silence in the classroom at the end of his speech, and every student was looking at him with wide-eyes. Well… when they weren't looking somewhere behind his shoulder. Someone coughed softly from the back of the class and another one from the right, and the Potion Master had the awful impression that those coughs were covering the pesky things people called chuckles.
He frowned slightly and some more not-quite-like-cough sounds resonated through the classroom.
He glared at Ms. Greengrass who sat in the front and had the typical expressionless face Slytherins used to hide amusement. He growled at that, and seeing that many students were glancing over his shoulder again, he spun on his heel, ready to unleash his wrath on whomever or whatever was there.
His eyes scanned the room for a second as the students began sniggering more openly now, and after a moment of puzzlement, he finally noticed what was wrong. A writing had appeared on the blackboard of the class, and he started reading it in his mind.
You are here to watch me fail to teach the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, for I'm not capable of doing it, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the dangers of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes that make your hair greasy, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins giving your skin a pale, cadaveric color, bewitching the brewers' mind, ensnaring their common senses. I can teach you how to battle fame, throw glory away, even stop death in its tracks with just ugliness, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I am.
Severus Snape stared at the writing open mouthed for a long second, before his cheeks gained a somewhat pinkish color, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. He turned around like a beast about to pounce, his furious gaze fixed on one student.
"Potter, you are the responsible of this!" the Potion Master exploded, angrier than ever, and the class grew silent.
"Me?" the boy asked completely puzzled, looking around the room. "I thought you had done that, to try and be funny, sir."
Someone giggled softly.
"Look at me!" Snivellus shouted, getting into Harry's face.
An instant later, their eyes met and Snape forced himself into the brat's mind. To say that the image that greeted him left him flabbergasted was the understatement of the century.
A little monkey blinked at him from his seated position as he ate a ripe banana in a peaceful clearing under the moonlight.
Severus Snape blinked twice and staggered back, stunned. He hastily exited the boy's mind and plopped down on the ground, vaguely aware that someone was by his side.
'What the hell?!' summarized perfectly his scampering thoughts.
Harry smirked as he watched Malfoy and Hermione trying to help the dazed Professor.
So Snivellus had been the one in this new life to first experience his peculiar Occlumency Shield. It could only have been him or Dumbledore – considering Voldemort didn't know about their pesky connection, and was still short of a real body with real eyes with which to legilimence someone. Sadly, till that moment the Headmaster had stayed into his own barmy mind and away from his. Pity… it could have been interesting to see his reaction this time around. The Headmaster had, in fact, helped Harry come up with that mental defense during his first life, mostly by acting as the attacking legilimens. When the Headmaster had started waking up chuckling after every attack, they had finally declared the Shield perfect and spent a couple of weeks having a little fun with it.
When the Potion Master passed out on the floor between the panicking students, Harry Potter winked at his wide-eyed and/or amused friends, wondering all the while if Albus Dumbledore would enjoy his Occlumency Shield this time around as well.
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It was the eighth of September, and the first week of school had just passed by. Harry James Potter was sitting on the cool grass near the Black Lake, with a smile on his face as the sunlight fell upon him. Surrounding him, some of his friends were speaking quietly to each other, enjoying the warm morning and the much appreciated pause from lessons.
Students from all years crowded the big lane outside Hogwarts, their happy shouts filling the air along with Fanged Frisbees or balls of every size and shape. In short, happy children and teenagers playing around.
No, it wasn't one of Argus Filch's most annoying nightmares. It was just a Sunday morning.
Harry's second first week of school had gone pretty well, according to him. He had a lot of fun, made a lot of friends, helped a lot of Azkaban prisoners… well, just one, really. Anyway, all in all, he could consider himself satisfied.
Lessons were surprisingly interesting, if a little easy, but Harry found himself eager to get to them, and even to write his essays and do his homeworks. He was praised a lot- and that always felt good-, and he was slowly getting better in using his wand with his left hand – though he only practiced with the most basic spells.
Transfiguration was a little of a challenge in that matter, with all those minimal flicks and changes of grip, but it was the most fun of all. Professor McGonagall assigned him two more detentions after that first one, and the woman was trying to understand the depth of his knowledge and skill without asking or testing him outright.
Snape had been wary of him since that first lesson, but that didn't stop him from taking a lot of points for whatever reason. The Legilimency incident had been filed away as just that – an incident. Nevertheless, Albus Dumbledore had felt almost compelled to enter Harry's mind, and had tried just that on the previous dinner, experiencing something only slightly different than what the Potions Master had. Rumors had him chuckling when he woke up in the Infirmary some minutes later, in front of the concerned staff members.
Hagrid had been more friendly and kind than in Harry's first life, if that was even possible. He had invited him and Rip to have a cup of tea in his hut, and when they went there bringing five more students, he hadn't as much as batted an eyelid. His rock cakes were as hard as the first time around, though. He had eventually found the courage to take Ripcage aside and weep everything about his sympathetic situation of half-giant to the half-goblin. After a little uncertainty from his part, the Metamorphmagus had finally given in and wept into Hagrid's handkerchief as well. The cloth ended up unusable after their talk.
The news Fudge had been afraid of leaking, appeared on Friday- and the Ministry was still in an uproar at the very moment-, when the Daily Prophet reserved its first three pages to one Sirius Black, one Peter Pettigrew and the terrible miscarriage of justice involving them, and four more pages to the umpteenth summary of Harry James Potter's life. Much to the Weasleys' chagrin and outrage, some of the most inventive reporters- cough Skeeter cough- hadn't hesitated in portraying their 'involvement' in an ambiguous way. Harry hastily put out whatever malicious rumor was starting to make its way through the school, reassuring his best mate all the while. He also succeeded in calming down some quite panicked red-heads who were ready to beg him on their knees not to believe what the Daily Prophet was hinting at. If he hadn't already known the truth from his previous life, Mrs. Weasley's honest tears would have easily convinced him of the innocence of her family.
Speaking about Sirius Black, the man had been judged to be in good physical and mental condition and released from St. Mungo's Hospital that same Friday. Coincidentally, Harry had seen a big- though somewhat scrawny-, black grim three times since then, always outside school. The dog had stayed a little distant, watching him with intent eyes, and every time Harry tried to approach him, the big grim had fled into the outer woods of the Forbidden Forest, disappearing from sight.
It was starting to get a little annoying, and the situation required him to take more forceful measure.
"Hey Harry," Ripcage said, interrupting his musings. "There's that weird dog again."
The half-goblin nodded towards the forest over Harry's shoulder, and all the first year Gryffindors present there turned around. The dark-haired boy didn't bother.
"I don't understand," Hermione said as the grim started advancing towards them, before stopping suddenly as if afraid of something, and deciding to just coast them on their right. "Why is he doing that?"
"I think he's trying to find the courage to ask Harry out," Ron said grinning. "Another one of your fans, eh mate? You really hit on anything."
Harry grinned back at his friend before standing up. "Maybe," he said, stretching his arms and legs. He sighed contentedly and then started walking towards the Forbidden Forest, away from them and from the dog as well. "See you at lunch, guys."
"Where are you going?" Parvati asked him but she didn't get an answer.
The others shrugged but watched with furrowed brows as the Boy-who-lived stepped into the forbidden woods. Their brows furrowed even more when ten seconds later, the scrawny grim followed him hesitantly.
"I guess that means Harry made the first move," Seamus chuckled mirrored by the others.
Hermione Granger wasn't amused. "He shouldn't have gone in there! He will end up in trouble with the teachers, and it could be dangerous!"
Everyone turned again to look at the Forbidden Forest, dark and sinister even in the morning sun.
"Yeah, maybe we should call Hagrid…" Rip agreed grinning. "All the deadly creatures living there are in for some serious trouble."
This time even Hermione couldn't refrain from giggling a little at the paradoxical truthfulness of the statement.
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Sirius Orion Black was an idiot. Really, he was. Maybe not the biggest or the ugliest – that surely was Snivellus' title – but an idiot nonetheless.
Sirius Orion Black was an idiot. If not, how can you explain the fact that he was running deeper and deeper into darker and darker areas of the Forbidden Forest? Oh, he had already been in it, of course- the appeal of entering the prohibit woods had been far too alluring to resist in his wild past-, but it had always been every one of them, every Marauder, and not even half as deep as he found himself into now!
Sirius Orion Black was an idiot. There was no other explanation.
He jumped over some high bushes, his four legs landing on the soft ground with barely a sound. He circled an old oak, sniffed it, and then pissed on it for good measure. You can never know.
He looked around and among the trees, and saw just that, trees. And more trees. And more trees beyond them. Still, his Godson's scent seemed near, just a little ahead and on the right, so he hastily resumed his run.
He should have called someone upon seeing Harry stepping into the woods. He should have stopped him. He should have sunk his fangs on that skinny ass of his, and dragged him back to Hogwarts!
Sirius Orion Black growled at himself.
He should have talked to him.
The natural path he was now following presented clear signs of Harry's passing. There were a couple of broken twigs and a faint footprint on a slightly muddy part of the ground. He checked them just to be sure they were from his crazy Godson and nodded satisfied.
It was then that he noticed them.
Huge, round marks just two feet away from him. There were a lot of them, far too many to count, and belonging to things big and heavy enough to leave prints on hard, dry soil. He looked around and noticed how they surrounded Harry's path completely, on both sides, in the unmistakable manner of predators. Many, many of them.
Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. No!
He started running wildly, at top speed, his recovering muscles straining and aching uncomfortably after years and years of atrophy during his stay in that blasted place. Wind battered at his dirty muzzle and dangling tongue, and he had to narrow his eyes to keep on seeing something. Soon enough, he started hearing little clicking noises at little distance over the pounding in his chest. Dodging trees after trees, he finally reached the end of his path, sensed something and stopped.
He found himself on a high rock, looking down at a somewhat more spacious area. The trees there, were definitely sparser but much bigger and higher than the ones he had left behind, arriving to the point of almost matching them in height, despite they dipped their roots more than ten feet lower. Sunlight filtered from more places though, giving Sirius a perfect picture of the sight below.
Harry James Potter stood between two immense sequoias, his head held high to look right at him with a pair of green eyes bright with mischief. His legs were a little splayed, his arms hanging to his sides, and each hand held a long, dark brown wand pointing to the ground. His chest was rising and falling regularly in slow, relaxed breaths under his black Hogwarts uniform.
Surrounding him in a uniform circle of blackness were dozens and dozens of spiders, hairy, long-legged, gigantic spiders, swaying around in a deadly dance and advancing ever more slowly towards him.
"There you are Padfoot," the dark-haired boy said to the already stunned dog, stunning him even more. "Right on time."
Harry turned left and right, regarding the approaching Acromantulas with something akin to amusement. He then looked up at the grim again.
"Hope you brought a wand or two, Sirius," he said grinning. "'Cause you will need them to kick some of these hairy asses."
Harry James Potter then winked playfully right as the giant spiders started descending upon him.
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Author's notes – I caught a cold some time ago and took a couple of days from work. I had a lot of time on my hands and decided to use it on this story. The result? A 13 k, gigantic, unreadable chapter that I liked nonetheless.
If while reading this chapter, you were wondering why it made much more sense than the previous ones, the reason is that the former was graciously corrected by Just an Avid Reader and Brackets, whom English and I thank.
I also thank all the reviewers. I corrected those mistakes you pointed out to me and appreciated your opinions.
And last but not least, a "Thank you!" and a "Please don't shred my fic to pieces!" to the infamous DLP forum for adding my story to their renowned Library, though I don't know how long it will last there… I assure the interested DLPers that this story has a plot, dozens of subplots and countless of pointless idiotic scenes ready to be used. All I can say is that a somewhat frantic Voldemort will be in a lot of those scenes, especially after a while. I guess his first and second encounter with Harry scared/scarred him a little… poor Tommy!
Uncle Stojil