A/N: I hate, hate, HATE flash drives. I seem to be cursed by them. I have no luck where they're involved and they seem to constantly break or become lost, so my apologies with this late update. Classes and college got in the way as well. I'll try to be more disciplined.
*super aggravated*
Since I lost roughly two chapters and my general notes… I had to rewrite all of these chapters. I hope you in joy them.
Again, my apologies.
Rating: K-T as usual
Warnings: None, language perhaps? Slight bashing of Hermione Granger.
Chapter 7:
Harry felt rather impressed at how imposing Professor Snape made himself and did his best to assist his housemates in keeping calm and not cause any accidents while brewing.
Severus Snape, on the other hand, was just relieved that Lily's son had her knack for potions and had taken it on himself to assist and watch over his fellow Hufflepuffs. It seemed that Longbottom, much like his father and mother before him, was far too nervous to be a decent potioneer if left alone. Wincing, the Potion Master watched as the tall first year stopped another accident from happening.
Once again, thank Merlin for Harry.
"Don't add the quills yet!" Harry yelped as he stilled Neville's hand before smacking another Hufflepuff's shoulder pausing them. Severus hid some of his own exasperation and amusement as the tall quarter-giant was immediately the center of attention to every table around him. "You have to take the potion off the fire and allow it to cool for five minutes and then add exactly two quills…" He demonstrated moving his off the fire with his heat-resistant dark blackish-brown dragon hide gloves before turning over a five minute hourglass, one of a set for beginner potioneers Severus had advised him to get. The others immediately copied and when the hourglass' top portion emptied he began adding the quills followed by five firm stirs clockwise. He carefully waved his wand over it and he was finished, the pink smoke rising off of it. Neville copied him painstakingly and grinned when his cauldron's smoke turned salmon, as near as correct as he could get it. Professor Snape was rather terrifying, but Harry was very calming to be around.
"Good," Severus drawled as he trailed past. "No explosions," his voice was tinged in well-hidden relief. His gaze shot across the room.
"Do not add those quills yet!" He snapped at a nervous Ravenclaw who jerked back in surprise. "Are you trying to blow yourself up, you ignorant twit?! Or are you merely deaf and blind, thus incapable of properly following the instructions presented to you?!" The girl, Mandy Brocklehurst, nodded hurriedly and yanked her sweaty hand gripping the quills back, dumping them onto the table before accidentally knocking her pestle and mortar into the cauldron. Her face dramatically paled when it bubbled ominously. Harry, having watched in equal horror, already guessed what was going to happen, his summer, supplementary reading coming in hand, and blanched.
"DOWN!" Harry yelled and all of the first years dropped as the professor cast an immediate dual containment ward and shield around the cauldron with an almost angry snap of his wand. They heard the rather disconcerting explosion that issued moments later and Neville cautiously peeked over the preparation table in muted surprise and shock. Where there once sat a new cauldron gurgling with its first potion was a blackened crater and a rather disturbing green and purple smoke wafting up from some strange gelatinous ooze that seeped down what remained of Mandy's half of the metal and stone preparation table.
Severus noted the need for a headache-relieving potion with a single face rub filled with irritation.
"That," Severus said pinching his nose tiredly and in clear aggravation, hoping to relieve some of the pressure building up, "is why I expect you to only get what you need from the supply room! Twenty points from Ravenclaw and a six inch essay on why the explosion happened! I expect it by next class, no extensions or exceptions!" She squeaked and bobbed her head. He swung and faced Harry who was still rather pale. "Twenty points to Hufflepuff for recognizing the dangerous addition to an already volatile potion, and another ten for properly alerting fellow students to imminent danger, Mr. Potter."
"Th-thank you, Professor Snape," Harry said a bit shakily.
"Credit where credit is due, Mr. Potter," the man said simply before stomping over to the Ravenclaw side of the room and watching them all like an overly paranoid buzzard.
The rest of the class was even more stifling after that.
"I think I need more practice," Oliver said face white. His potion's smoke was much darker than Neville's, though luckily in the right color spectrum, and the potion a bit too watery. Hannah and Susan immediately nodded, remembering their conversation on the train with Harry, and seeing the proof first hand. The rest of the Hufflepuffs immediately turned to Harry, with their newer Ravenclaw acquaintances and friends glancing towards him as well. Harry took one look at their pleading expressions and sighed, rubbing his own forehead before drawing his hands in frustration through his hair.
"I'll see what I can do." He said in defeat.
Severus only felt a small well of sympathy.
Harry immediately glanced at him and the well turned into sour annoyance before he too sighed, giving in.
Anything that prevented explosions was good in his book.
Hermione Granger was on a mission. Bushy hair billowing behind her, she hunted her prey like the lioness she was. Striding down the hallways, lugging her uncharmed and weighty leather shoulder bag behind her, her honey colored gaze darted around rapidly searching for her target.
'He's not here,' she thought in desolation as she searched for what should have been an easily found and identified figure. He was taller than practically everyone in the school after all! Hearing some rather young sounding laughter and chatter, she instantly followed it, eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally coming to a window she looked out it and down finding a group of first year Hufflepuffs picnicking in a meadow-like area between the Hogwarts Greenhouses and the Quidditch field overlooking the lake. Catching sight of the tallest male student in the school, her brain instantly mapped the quickest route to get to him.
"Found you," she whispered and sped off.
Her prey, meanwhile, flipped through another book on wandlore while silently enjoying the company of his fellow students and Housemates.
Though they'd only known each other for a little over three weeks, the Hufflepuffs were a tight-knit group that slept, ate, played, and studied together. All of them were either friendly, hardworking, loyal, or a combination of the three. Neville sat quietly next to his new best friend as they both read the books Ollivander sent to Harry, fascinated by the different woods used. He wanted to read up on as much of it as he could before he got his wand over break. His grandmother having conceded after being 'brought to the light.' His grandmother had finally been jointly visited by the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Head of Houses and subsequently reamed out for her negligence and magical stunting.
It had led to a very long and tear splattered letter arriving the next day as well as a rather awkward Floo call that evening. Neither was especially good at expressing themselves to the other and stumbled through the conversation. Luckily, Professor Sprout had mediated though the hour and a half long session and repaired some of the damages between the two family members. It seemed that Dowager Longbottom had, and was, suffering from a form of acute depression that left her largely unable or prepared to care for a young infant after her only son's death. Never the healthiest of women or the luckiest of mother's, the grayed and wrinkled matriarch had the roughest of times in her pregnancies, four of which that ended in miscarriage and two that resulted in a stillborn. Her dedication, and the need, for an heir for the Longbottom line had resulted in her precious Frank.
The loss of him had struck her so hard she'd been unconsciously substituting her own son's image over her grandson's. Due to the fact Frank had been largely raised by her husband and an au pair, since she had been severely weakened by the birth for a number of years, Augusta had no idea how to properly look after her grandson thus leaving it up to her house-elves and her brother, since she was unable to trust any foreign presence around her grandchild. This proving to be the mixed blessing since Algie had dropped Neville 'accidentally', Harry wasn't at all convinced it hadn't been on purpose, from a window when he was younger.
Harry's situation, however, was much different. Reconciliation, in all of the Head of Houses' and school nurse's opinion, was impossible, no matter what Professor Dumbledore tried to say. Professor Snape had, just like he thought to himself during their day at Diagon Alley, immediately recommended to Professor Sprout that Harry could use a full medical check as well as an eye exam the day after he learned what house the Potter heir was in. Thus the following week the tallest first year, along with Neville who needed his core checked out to see if anything had happened to it over the years of forced attempted activation, had been brought to Hospital Wing. Harry's eyesight, while rather terrible, had been actually fixable with a modern potion for correcting the eyesight of those under the age of magical maturity (the age of magical maturity being seventeen for males and fifteen for females). The nurse Madam Pompfrey had sat both boys down and done deep intensive medical scans before beginning a heavy regiment of potions, to both boys' mutual disgust.
Harry had a number of nutritional deficiencies due to his magical creature heritage and the Dursley's long term abuse. He was also treated to a full array of medical vaccinations the Dursley's had missed, both Muggle and Magical before an extensive diagnosis charm. The matronly women had been startled to find a large amount of magical residue lingering on him, something Neville had in small amounts, due to his necessary and near constant use of wandless Magic to keep himself alive during his younger years. Most of the residue was non-harmful, like the one that kept his hair from being cut unless he wished for it; however, Madam Pompfrey had blanched terribly at the overtly black and malicious residue that resided in and around Harry's lightning bolt scar.
"That will need to be removed," she had stated quite hotly.
"How?" Professor Sprout asked with trepidation. Neville was on another bed unable to listen in but watching attentively. The obvious distress on both women's face worried him, and Harry's confused but equally concerned look merely confirmed it.
"I don't know." She admitted, warily running scan after scan and coming up with no definite solution. "I'll have to talk to Severus and perhaps a specialist…This is far outside of my expertise." Pompfrey stated as her mouth firmed and she glared at the black spot on the rather blue cloud laced with gold that represented Harry's magic. Amazingly a barrier like protrusion had formed around the nasty tumor keeping whatever the residue was separate from the rest of Harry's, as the hippies would put it, 'aura.'
"Very well," Pomona said, not at all pleased to know her tallest, and youngest, 'Puff would have to put up with it for the time being. As a gardener she recognized malignant growth when she saw it and she wished her handy garden shears could clip it free of Harry like the blackened or dead growth she cleaved free of her precious plants. Harry then had a full medical work up that left the usually formidable and stonewall Poppy Pompfrey cursing and worked up to a frenzy.
"You're done, Mr. Potter," her voice stated with the faintest of quivers and Pomona had left the room briefly, furious as the parchment detailing Harry's injuries grew to a sickening length. She immediately returned with the other female head of house, who looked just as pinched and distraught when she saw the length of the roll.
Harry had then been given some potions that knocked him out and all three older women acted highly unprofessional and knocked back a mix of a calming potion and Scottish whiskey in front of an impressionable student.
Neville merely watched this in astonishment before being subject to the same thing and his own nap, courtesy of a potion.
Neville's treatment and medical exam went better, slightly. It turned out that Neville's magic was largely active when interacting with plants, much like his maternal grandmother's Joselyn Smith nee Shrewhold. It's only act of visible active magic was, to the group of women's dismay, when Neville had been dropped from the third story window right after his ninth birthday and had thus activated to bounce him to safety. His blood sugar and weight was a little high for someone is age, but that was easily fixed with a healthier diet and more exercise. However, what set all three women off again was the beginnings of irreparable damage the chubby blond's core had suffered. McGonagall had exploded into angry Scottish Gaelic while Sprout's usually kind smile had vanished to be replaced with a heavily disapproving flat line of rage. Pompfrey looked ready to renounce her healer oaths and go after someone with her wand.
Thus both boys were subjected to a large amount of potions; Neville's to correct the spider-web thin cracks in his core and even out his sugar levels, while Harry had the misfortune of a large series of nutrition potions for his barely above emancipated status.
All of that had been two Fridays before.
However, let's get back to the lioness about to pounce on her chosen gazelle.
"Found you!" a triumphant voice hissed. The relaxing Hufflepuffs glanced up sharply, in surprise, stilling in their activities; Ernie, along with Justin, Oliver, Zacharias paused in their game of Gobstones while Susan, Hannah and Megan paused in making the flower jewelry they'd been piecing together while gossiping. Wayne glanced up from an essay while Harry merely arched a brow and used his finger to bookmark his spot before shifting into a better position to meet the steady and rather irritated glare of the bushy haired and first year know-it-all, Hermione Granger.
"Granger," Harry said, semi-cautiously. The fizzy haired girl continued to scowl at him, her heavy bag dumped to ground in a tired heap before her as her shoulders bounced with each heavy and gasping breath, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the cloth strap. She looked quite tired, he noted.
Neville glanced up from his book as well, a bit annoyed with the girl who was busy forcing herself on the group. Granger's mere presence was grating. She nagged, badgered, interrupted, hand-waved, and made herself a general annoyance in and out of class. Several Gryffindors had complained about her, while a number of Ravenclaws had taken exception to being compared to her. Yes, they were interested in knowledge, but they weren't obnoxious teacher pets like the girl seemed to be trying to be.
They like learning. They didn't, however, flaunt theirs like it was about to go out of style, thank you very much.
Quite frankly, none of the Hufflepuffs were all that happy to see her. Their general kind natures kept them from out-right saying so though.
"Can we help you with something?" Neville asked in an impatiently polite tone. She growled at him for a second, her gaze flitting to him before wrenching back to Harry determinedly.
"I heard from Professor McGonagall that you have the highest grades in Potions in the entire first year." She stated blatantly, her gaze sharp and assessing. Harry blinked at her.
"So?" He queried. He was a bit surprised by that little tidbit, but then again he did lead a study group under the stern man's gaze once a week every Saturday night, bringing all of the first year Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's Potion skills up. The man was considering make it a requirement for all first years to have such a session, but hadn't come to a decision yet.
"I want to be the best I can be in the class, but I haven't gotten higher than an EE yet on anything I turn in to Professor Snape, I barely scrape an Acceptable sometimes." she snapped.
"And that's Harry's problem how?" Zacharias interrupted. Since the beginning of school he had grown fonder of the quarter-giant, and while not the nicest person, he was more than willing to direct any animosity towards those outside his house in protection and defense of those in it. Plus, both Harry and Neville were surprisingly able at their different respective fields. Harry dominated in Potions, was surprisingly good at DA and Charms, a prodigy even in the former, never mind Quirrell's sputtering, and had a firm grip on Transfiguration. Neville was similar having a dominating presence in the greenhouses and a surprising grasp on both History and Astronomy. His theory and practical was a little weak albeit at time, however, they all blamed having a wand that wasn't a perfect match. He was, indeed, catching up in leaps and bounds compared to that first Transfiguration class.
"I was hoping you could help," her light brown eyes grew in size and turned watery, an obvious attempt at puppy-eyes, her hands clasped under her chin. Harry stared at her not at all moved.
"Uh, Granger, not to sound rude or anything, but it doesn't sound like you need any help," he said hesitantly. She huffed and the scowl returned.
"I don't get how you're doing better than me though!" She said angrily.
"Are you saying it is impossible for someone to do better than you Granger?" Susan asked sharply. The Gryffindor instantly backpedalled.
"N-no, I'm just frustrated! He never calls on me in class, even though I know every answer!" She huffed. The whole group exchanged a look.
"Professor Snape doesn't call on Harry either, y'know," Oliver chirped, "He picks the least knowledgeable person usually." He grimaced remembering when he got caught one day with a flurry of question. He'd squeaked by barely and earned an EE on his potion. 'Thank Merlin for Harry,' he thought glancing at the quarter-giant gratefully. The other boys snickered in agreement before Ernie nudged Justin playfully.
"Which means Justin," Ernie said with a snicker. His Muggleborn friend scowled at him good-naturedly, although it was true. Usually the other Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws got chosen besides Harry, namely him. After their second class of this, and one tutoring session, Justin had complained during the general study session all first years were required to attend, this time Professor Sprout heading it, and Harry had speculated on it. Overhearing the comment, Professor Sprout had only nodded. Severus had, along with the other teachers to some lesser degree, had complained about Granger's determined hand waving. Something about having no interest in teaching someone who had no imagination outside of a book and school work, or what not, had been his sneered opinion. Harry's conclusion that the teacher knew he was able to, and that others might not, was mostly correct.
"Some teachers just don't choose a student when they know the kid can answer, it lets them see who truly doesn't understand, or needs help," Wayne said with a nod. The know-it all's mouth dropped open.
"So you're saying… I'd do better if I wasn't constantly trying to answer questions in his class?" She asked in disbelief.
"You'd annoy him less, most likely," Zacharias muttered. Wayne nodded before studying her bushy hair.
"Maybe it's her hair?" Wayne asked Harry. The quarter-giant had gone over proper safety procedures; something that was at the back of one of is supplementary books, with all of the Hufflepuffs after their second lesson. Especially since Padma Patil's hair had nearly caught on fire accidentally when she leaned too close to her cauldron and the ends had brushed albeit dangerously close to the open flame.
"My hair?" She said dryly, not getting the point.
"You do pin it back when you're in lab right?" Wayne queried. She shook her head.
"Reckless endangerment of life and limb or possible interference in potions with use of an unnecessary or neutral ingredient," Harry said with a nod, quoting two different comments from one of his books. Professor Snape was just like a chemistry teacher, albeit those teachers would have thrown her out of the class until she rectified the matter, and just as hard-up about it. However, since this was a magical Professor Snape didn't have that privilege it seemed to evict someone based on how they dressed. "That's a demerit for you right there. Hannah got a potion knocked down from an EE to an A last week for wearing her hair loose. It's too dangerous to leave long hair free or long sleeves and loose jewelry on in the Potion classroom."
"Never doing that again," she grumbled. That would teach her to oversleep and ignore Harry's warning on a Potion day. She and the rest of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls carried extra hair ties in their bags from then on.
"So you're saying…" Granger tried to surmise.
"Hold back on the hand-waving and keep your hair out of the way and you might do better." Neville advised. He paused then continued, "You could also stop in to ask him some questions as well, just don't badger him." Neville manfully ignored the accidental pun that had some of their group giggling. "He does expect a different kind of written essay than the other professors." They'd learned that tidbit when Harry and Susan had gone to see why she'd done so horribly. The regular five paragraph essays other teachers accepted, albeit a bit grudging apparently, were not what he expected. Instead he wanted a summary of the effects on any potion he assigned for class or homework, followed by a brief history and the listing of the ingredients with the student going into greater detail over each one and their interactions via the type of cut, order they went into and with the other ingredients. "He does have office hours posted on the supply room door." With that the group dismissively turned away from her.
The oh-so-mighty and knowledgeable Hermione Granger stomped away embarrassed. All of the things they'd said had been obvious once she thought of it, and even more something she'd done before with her advanced classes and summer studies.
Plus one more thing struck her, digging into her craw. Her mother had always told her that her over-exuberant attitude would put some people off.
"You need to understand that not everyone is as curious or as knowledgeable as you, Hermione Jean," her mum had commented during one of her tantrums when she was younger over a brush off by a prospective playmate. "You need to take others into consideration and tone it down, or they'll ignore you."
She had never taken that to heart however, though it poked up in her mind from time to time when people quickly cut ties from her.
She'd also never thought a teacher would do it as well.
Draco Malfoy fumed. While he was able to one up that blasted Weasley fairly easily, he sneered at the memory of the redheaded buffon, he hadn't been able to do anything to or with the Boy-Who-Lived as of yet. The blasted half-breed was always surrounded by those bloody Hufflepuffs!
While he wasn't scared of those duffers, he knew better than to take them on with only Crabbe, Goyle, and maybe Pansy backing him up. There was ten of them and only four of him. He knew when he was outnumbered!
Grumbling unhappily he stalked through the hall with his two companions, read bodyguards, worrying over his placement in school. While the fifth and seventh years depended on their OWLs and NEWTs for grade confirmation, the other years had magically spelled boards informing them of their status in the grade year. There were also a few boards for each year showing who was at the top of each class.
However, these only updated at the end of each month thus, unless you spoke to your Head of House or the specific teacher for your grade, you had to wait for them.
Stepping into the hall he sneered at the visible lack of Gryffindors, the notable exception the ever irritating, walk-encyclopedia that was that mudblood Granger. Glancing around he strode past her, she was busy studying her placement in History it seemed, and allowed his gaze to seek out the board he wished for. Seeing the board with a large cauldron with a one emblazoned in silver on the center he smirked.
There was no way he wasn't the best in potions in the entire year. His godfather was, after all, the instructor and a potion master. Filled with remarkable arrogance and certainty only being a pureblood could bring out, he stepped in front of it and looked at the very first name on the list.
Harry Potter.
Instant double-take.
If Draco had been drinking he would have spat the liquid out like a plebian due to the shock.
He wasn't able to prevent the indignant shriek of disbelief and rage however.
Harry and Neville were busy on their Transfiguration homework, diligent in their attempt to understand and keep up since it was their second most difficult class. Working on getting the theory and wand motions down, neither noticed the presence bearing down on them in their comfortable little alcove where they could look out and see the lake.
"Potter!" The figure's voice snarling at a decibel that was sure to give Madam Pince a headache and the owner a detention caught both Hufflepuff boys' attention though. Almost as if planned, their heads shot up in sync and surprise as the irate figure of the ponce Malfoy came at them in a fashion both were astonished at. His lumbering bookends stumped rather quickly after him.
Who knew the usually rather slothful noble sons' could move faster than a lazy swagger or weary lumber?
"You cheater!" The blond scion snarled.
"Excuse me?" Harry asked in surprise.
"How can a filthy half-breed like you be at the top of first year Potions?!" He roared.
"I study." He looked pointedly down at the books and scrolls of parchment that littered the paper. "I also do weekly revision with Professor Snape during his first year Potions review and tutoring session held for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw." That brought the blond up short.
"Weekly revision and tutoring session?!" The blond repeated his mouth dropping open. The next part of the sentence caught up with him, "For Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?!"
"Yes," Neville answered this time, the pale gray eyes turning to him, "Our whole period wanted to get better grades and learn better preparation and potion habits so asked Harry for help. He in turn told us he couldn't handle twenty or so students and turned to Professor Snape to see about setting something up. We meet weekly after lunch for two hours of revision and homework help. We even split our time between essay writing and potion preparation sometimes."
"He helps you with your essays?" Draco thought only Slytherins got that sort of help.
"He is quite willing to give out what he expects on his essays if you ask him. Harry and Susan learned it when they went to his non-house office hours." Neville continued explaining.
"If you and the other Slytherins want to review with Professor Snape or an early look on how the potion is supposed to look, you could set one up with him." Harry suggested before looking over their shoulders and wincing. "You'll probably want to wait until after Madam Pince is done with you though." The normal pallor of the Slytherin, that appeared when the anger drained out of him due to the two Hufflepuff's explanation, turned a pasty white then green when a claw-like hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"Shouting in the library, as well as doing so with vulgar words," she hissed before taking hold of his ear earning a yelp of pain and dismay with the disciplinary maneuver. "I think we need to have a talk on proper decorum and courtesy in a learning environment, Mr. Malfoy." Crabbe and Goyle were left behind rather fruitlessly as their bold leader was dragged away like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Both Hufflepuffs kept themselves from snickering, barely.
"Anything else?" Harry asked quite calmly.
Both just glanced at each other, and then shrugged.
"Y'know about any study groups for any other subjects?" Goyle, well they thought it was Goyle, they couldn't quite differentiate between Malfoy's muscle, asked.
"Which class?" Harry asked. Hufflepuff had a general one that was hosted by the two sixth year Prefects as well as a weekly revision class for both Charms and Herbology that was run by some NEWT level seventh years.
"All of them." Crabbe said plainly.
Both Harry and Neville sweat-dropped.
Harry and Neville left the library rather late that night after ending up inviting the rather formidable-looking Crabbe and Goyle to their study session. Both of the boys, apparently, were struggling with their course loads, and Harry realized why almost immediately. In Crabbe's case there was very little he could do. Harry suspected the other boy had a reading disability known as dyslexia. This learning disability switched the letters in a word or sentence around while he was reading, thus making it more difficult for him to understand the topics or follow the line of thought or even comprehending some things when spoken or speaking. Crabbe on the other hand, had difficult focusing which Harry suspected might be ADHD or AHD. He was barely able to read without quickly losing interest. Both boys were better with verbal explanations or hands-on exercises because of this. However, their homework and test taking ability would suffer from it. This lead Harry to suggesting that both boys join their sessions on Saturday for Potions and practically ordering them to tell Professor Snape, under threat to do it himself, of their difficulties.
"You can't expect to do well if you don't allow yourself and others to insure you do," Harry said quite firmly. The unofficial head of Hufflepuff first years was instantly listened too and they both agreed. The duo had left after that leaving the two Hufflepuffs to return to their own separate work, since they were a day ahead of their compatriots in certain classes like History and Herbology.
"I'm surprised," Neville said as the two climbed down the center stairs to get to the dormitories, "I didn't know you could have learning difficulties like that."
"It's quite commonly diagnosed in the Muggle world," Harry replied. "I used to have classes with those that suffered from what Gregory and Vincent had."
"Really? Why?" Neville asked in surprise.
"Because of my height," Harry answered. "I didn't know I was part-giant, I thought I had a medical condition called Gigantism caused by a faulty pituitary gland. I was relieved when I found out I wasn't to be honest." Harry answered quietly.
"Eh?" Neville's surprise was apparent on his face. The taller first year smiled a bit bitterly.
"Those with Dwarfism or Gigantism, like I thought I had, usually have numerous medical difficulties Neville. Most people who suffer from Gigantism suffer all their lives. Their bodies can't support their enhanced height and weight and it kills them or creates complications that eventually do." Harry finished explaining. "The tallest man in the world in history was like this, he had to get special metal instruments added to his legs since they couldn't fully support his weight. The instruments eventually led to a small injury that caused an infection and fever resulting in his death at the age of twenty-two."
"Medical knowledge nowadays helps elongate ou—their lifetimes, but it doesn't always make it better." He finished.
"Oh." They were quiet for a few moments when suddenly the landing beneath their feet suddenly jerked.
"Whoa!" Neville nearly shouted and he stumbled back almost falling off. Harry's quick grab, however, hauled him away from the perilous edge and against the tall boy protectively.
"Close one there, Neville," Harry said a bit shakily. "I didn't think the stairs moved this late at night," the boy stated glancing over the edge warily. The staircase swung until it stopped them in a place that had both of them surprised and wary.
"Isn't that the left hand corridor landing?" Neville asked nervously.
"For the third floor?" Harry replied, "Yes, yes it is. However, this staircase, to my recollection, never maneuvered itself to that landing ever."
"What are we going to do?" Neville queried, glancing around worriedly. "This is the only way down. If we go back up we'll be late for curfew."
"We'll be late," Harry said firmly, "Let's go see if we can't find a Prefect or something and report this. This doesn't seem right. We can use the excuse of being out later than we're used to and a bit lost. We are first years," he said. Neville nodded shakily and they went back up the stairs and found themselves on the left hand fourth floor not too far from the Charms classroom.
"There's Professor Flitwick's office, let's go talk to him," Harry stated. Neville nodded and they both went to the door and knocked.
"Come in," the familiar jovial voice called out.
"Professor Flitwick?" Harry said as they stepped in.
"Oh! Hello boys!" The Charms professor said happily as he motioned them to come closer to his desk. "How can I help you?" He studied them carefully, knowing the difficulties they both had struggled against, and feeling a bit of camaraderie with the young Potter due to his creature status.
"We were wondering if you could give us some directions," He answered, "the stairs moved quite unexpectedly and nearly directed us to the third floor corridor we're forbidden from going to." The professor startled at that.
"That's impossible," he said hopping down from his stack of books and waddling quickly from the room. "I charmed those stairs to only move at the Headmaster's or a teacher's direction when not on my specified schedule."
"I'm sorry sir, but we were on it when it swung around." Neville said as the two followed the diminutive Head of Ravenclaw out of his classroom. The Charms professor reached the landing and scowled as he watched the stairs move.
"I not understand this at all!" He growled, "I organized the charm to move only at certain times and in certain directions to keep the third corridor left hand passage properly restricted. There should be no movement after dinner until an hour after curfew! And even then the stairs shouldn't move in that direction! I'll have the head of whoever dared to go against my specifications!" Both Hufflepuff first years exchanged a surprised glance.
"Stay here, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, while I see to this." Professor Flitwick ordered sharply.
"Of course," Harry said worriedly, while thinking, 'it was too convenient that it moved while I was on the stairs with no witnesses but Neville, but was this a conspiracy or am I over thinking it?'
A/N:
I am not ashamed to say I didn't think of the fact Harry would probably be thought to having Gigantism until now and subjected to Muggle pituitary medicine. It was a bit of inspiration that just struck my fancy here and now. The fact that the medicine wouldn't be working, since it wasn't a pituitary problem or at least nothing that could be fixed, meant that Harry would be faced with the realistic problem and eventuality of passing away from the genetic disposition of the disease. It is an actual death causing condition.
I think this would contribute to his general humbleness and quietly mature attitude. The slip of tongue further relays this, since he is still dealing with the fact he isn't going to up and die from the fact his body is betraying himself.
There are very few eleven year olds who top six feet after all, if any at all.
In fact, comparative to the tallest man in history, Robert Wadlow, he's a bit shorter, the former Illinois native having been 6'11" (2.11m) tall at eleven. Of course, Harry weighs less, but is a respectable 170 lb, which is just on the edge of the recommended weight 181-227lb and on the small side, but it's the Dursleys of course.
Also! The plot thickens! Dun dun dun! Very proud of that cliffhanger, enough said.
Please Review and send any questions you may have! I do apologize once more for the late update.