Chapter 24
By the end of the week Harry had come to the conclusion that Hogwarts could be a very hard place for misfits.
"But I wrote the essay!" Hermione Granger was almost crying. "Truly I did, Professor Flitwick! I worked ever so hard. I don't know where it is!"
At his seat beside Sally in Charms class, Harry studied the Ravenclaw girls. Two of them, Morag McDougal and Mandy Brocklehurst, were smirking. They looked at each other, and seemed hard-pressed not to burst out laughing. Mandy saw Harry glaring, and gave him a quick shrug. He narrowed his eyes until she looked away.
Yesterday, Hermione had come to breakfast without her tie. One of the Hufflepuff prefects told him that it was an old and bad tradition among the Ravenclaw girls to hide the possessions of dorm mates who failed to fit in.
"They say it's good for their education-just another riddle for them to solve-but I call it mean," said the prefect with a sniff. "Ravenclaws can be very cruel."
"Can't you talk to a Ravenclaw prefect?" Harry asked angrily.
"That's not a good idea," she told him. "The Ravenclaw prefects must know all about it. Things would just get worse for her. She'll have to learn to handle it herself, poor thing."
"It might be easier," Harry snapped, "if she had a clue what there was to handle. She doesn't know what's happening. She doesn't know about stupid Ravenclaw traditions. She's muggle-raised, like me. I hate bullies, and that is just cowardly bullying."
Now they were hiding her essays. They were a nasty lot, and probably jealous, too. Hufflepuffs traditionally had classes with Ravenclaws, and knew all their tricks. Hermione was clearly a very bright girl, and the teachers had already noticed her talent. It would probably not sit well with the other Ravenclaws, full of pride in their own intelligence, to see a muggleborn come out of nowhere and top them in class.
"If I were in Ravenclaw," Sally whispered to him, "they'd probably do the same to me."
Harry nodded. It was a nod meaning, "I hear what you're saying," rather than a nod of agreement. He did not think the Ravenclaws would have treated her the same at all. After all, Sally was doing well enough in class, but was not showing up-every single day--the rest of the House renowned for intellect. Sally was a very pretty girl and had a nice way about her. Harry had noticed, even in muggle school, that both students and teachers often favored those who were the most physically attractive. It wasn't fair, and it certainly had nothing to do with one's ability as a student, but there it was. Harry, scrawny, bespectacled, and poorly dressed, had never been a teacher's pet, or even attracted other classmates to the degree they would think him worth braving Dudley and his bullies. It was different for him here at Hogwarts, but it made him a little sad to wonder if that was due to his contact lenses, his fine boots, and his dragon-hide trunk.
Even when Sally did things in the dorm that Hannah and Susan found rather mad-most especially the strange exercises she performed for an hour every morning-they laughed it off and were friendly to her. Hannah and Susan were close friends, but were gradually warming to the new girl. There were certainly confusions and misunderstandings. Sally knew nothing about the wizarding world, and Susan and Hannah practically nothing about the muggle one.
Harry faced similar problems in his own dorm, when he and Ernie and Justin talked together. Complicating the matter, he and Justin came from such entirely different muggle backgrounds, that they too had little in common. There must be a way to bridge the gap.
It was in the library on Saturday morning that he had his brilliant idea. At least, he was given the credit later on. The idea was actually Hermione Granger's, of course.
The six first-year Hufflepuffs found that they fit nicely at a library table in a corner near the Charms section. Harry dutifully completed his fifteen inches for Herbology, and let his mind wander. It didn't seem fair. If Professor Snape hadn't given him that book about wizarding customs, he would have bumbled about like an idiot...
"I am an idiot!" he announced, apropos of nothing. The table dissolved into muffled laughter.
"You're expecting an argument?" Susan asked archly.
"No! I mean-oh, belt up!" Grinning himself, Harry told them about Professor Burbage's book in an undertone, looking warily toward Madam Pince's desk. "When Professor Snape took me to Diagon Alley for the first time, he gave me some books to help me understand the wizarding world. They really helped. Manners and family histories and all. Draco Malfoy's father keeps proposing that those of us raised muggle should be given a special class, but nothing's come of that."
"We'll teach you manners, Harry," Hannah promised with a giggle. "Trust us!"
Justin fastened on Harry's idea right away. "Could I borrow that book, Harry? Professor McGonagall told my family a few things when she visited, but I can tell there's a lot more to know."
"Me, too, Harry!" Sally whispered. "These two-" she mock-glared at Hannah and Susan "-won't tell me why they think I'm funny."
"It's because youre so cute and adorable," Susan teased her. "What's the name of the book, Harry?"
"So Youve Found Out Magic is Real! by Charity Burbage. She teaches Muggle Studies here. It helped me a lot."
"Charity Burbage!" Ernie considered. "My family knows her family-or did. When we had the troubles with You-Know-Who-well, they up and left-left the country entirely and went to New Zealand! There are only a handful of magicals there, and Professor Burbage was the eldest of her brothers and sisters, and the only one who finished Hogwarts before they left. The rest were taught at home and took their N.E.W.T.s through the ICW."
"What's the ICW?" Sally wondered.
The wizard-raised at the table stared at her in utter astonishment.
"International Council of Wizards. It's in the book," Harry promised her. "Professor Snape says she's pretty smart, but she's upset because she has to use this old book for Muggles Studies that was written about a million years ago, and it's no good at all. A relative of one of the governors wrote it, and she can't change it. Anyway her book is brilliant-"
At the next table, he saw Hermione Granger, trying to overhear without being noticed. He raised his voice slightly, "I don't mind lending the book, as long as I get it back. Take a look tonight, if you like."
Hermione slipped from her chair and came over to their table. "I think," she declared, "that there should be a study group or a club for those of us new to magic. We could share what weve learned and help each other."
"Sounds good to me," Sally agreed.
Hannah and Susan stared in surprise. Ernie opened his mouth to speak, but then thought again.
Justin nodded. "Sometimes I feel thick as a plank. Everyone assumes I know what they're talking about, and I don't. I talked to Terry Boot in Ravenclaw, and he agrees. Did you mention this to him?" he asked Hermione.
She sniffed. "Terry doesn't talk to me."
"Here, now!" Hannah protested. "What this about a club for muggleborns? Are you saying we aren't invited?"
"Of course you can be members," Harry told her hastily. "You can be special guest speakers, and give lessons about the wizarding world."
"If it's a real Hogwarts club," Hermione said, "we'll need a professor to sponsor us. Professor Snape is your guardian, Harry. Could you ask him?"
Harry grimaced, imagining what the Professor would say if Harry asked him to spend yet more time with a lot of 'dunderheads and nitwits,' his usual description of Hogwarts students. But it was such a good idea...
"I'll ask him," he promised. "He can find us a place to meet, at least, and we can look at Professor Burbage's book all together."
"We can have treats after," Susan suggested. "Everyone likes treats."
"Treats?" Ernie considered. "Maybe I should come too. Represent the family and all that. I can tell you my family history. That sort of thing. What sorts of treats, anyway?"
Snape scrubbed at his tired eyes, and slumped back into his worn leather chair. The pitiless book stared up at him, mocking him. Since returning to Hogwarts, he had spent hours in the library, trying to understand the nature of Harry's mysterious scar, and its link to Snape's Dark Mark. The results of his studies were not encouraging.
The Hogwarts library was one of the best in the wizarding world, and yet there were disturbing gaps in its Dark Arts collection. An essential reference book was missing from the library, and had been for many years. The subject was so shocking that he had hesitated to ask Lucius if he owned the book himself. Finally, he had lied, claiming to be studying inferii, and Lucius had lent him the fabulously rare volume, after exacting an Unbreakable Vow to return it within one month.
A horcrux? Could that be the answer? The Dark Lord, his soul shredded by countless murders, had cast the Killing Curse at Harry, and somehow a bit of that tattered spirit had become lodged in the intended victim.
His mind probed the horror of it fearfully, timid as a man who fears his leg is broken touches his bruised, swollen flesh. Snape shrank from the idea. The thought of a piece of that vile creature inside Lily's son was more than disturbing: it was repulsive-abominable.
He dared not make notes. He dared not hint at it to anyone. He doubted that Minerva had ever heard of such anathema, and Dumbledore...
Snape was particularly uneasy at the idea of revealing this to Dumbledore. It might certainly cause the Headmaster to see Harry in a new and possibly dubious light. Snape was already concerned about Dumbledore's cavalier attitude toward the boy's physical safety and emotional health. If Harry's innocence seemed tainted by the existence of a shred of Voldemort's foul being within him, Snape could well imagine how much more likely Dumbledore would be to regard Harry as expendable. Snape had been expendable in his day-no, it was foolish to flatter himself. He was still entirely expendable if the game was deemed worth it. He would not allow Dumbledore to treat Harry in a similar way. He must proceed without the Headmaster's help.
But Snape was a grown man and a powerful wizard, and he could not shrink from such a challenge. If he could free Harry from this monstrous curse, it would redeem his lifelong interest in the Dark Arts. It would even seem the design of Fate for his path to cross with Harry's own. Who else had the knowledge to understand Harry's danger, but Snape himself? Who else the cunning, the power, the resources to identify and conquer this threat?
A horcrux. He must not hide from the truth, but face it rationally. It made all sorts of sense. It could explain, above all, why a ghost of the Dark Mark lingered, why Dumbledore sensed that the Dark Lord, though disembodied, still existed on this mortal plane. It certainly would explain why Harry was a parselmouth. A thread of alien intelligence, lurking unsuspected in the innocent boy...
It could not have been intentional, surely. Why in the world would a being seeking immortality hide a portion of himself in the fragile shell of a child? Perhaps the Dark Lord brought something with him that night that would have been the real horcrux. Or could it have been an attempt at possession? Why? Could it have been an accident? A bizarre happenstance? Did the Dark Lord cast the Killing Curse at Harry at all? Perhaps his soul was already compromised when he cast the curse at Lily. It was just one Killing Curse too many, and his soul fell to pieces. A stray fragment was blasted into the child-
Or perhaps the Old Magic Lily had come across had given her certain powers. Not to shield herself, but to protect her child. Perhaps that was why the scar was in the shape of that mysterious rune of power. There were hints in other books. Perhaps somehow Lily had tricked the Dark Lord into an implied contract. Snape accepted that he might never know. Minerva refused to discuss the book they had found at the cottage. She said only that she was sharing the contents with certain friends of hers. Female friends, obviously. Well, good luck to her.
If Lily had cast such a protection, how could a shred of the Dark Lord enter into the child? He was a very powerful wizard, of course. A shred, then, had survived, but the protection was also powerful, and had largely sealed the intruder off from the boy's consciousness. However, the parseltongue ability had leaked across the divide. What else? And how-oh, how?- to rid Harry of it?
That was the sticking point. There were a number of possibilities. Exorcisms, cleansing rituals, potions-all dangerous in the extreme, especially because of the length of time the soul fragment had dwelt within the host-nearly the boy's entire life. Removing it could do unimaginable harm, especially in these formative years. A failed attempt could drain Harry's magic-even kill him. The fragment of the Dark Lord might fight back and seize control of the boy. Or the soul shard might emerge and immediately attempt to fasten on another host...
He made a mental note: Must research containment charms/magical traps...
A knock at the door. A light, quick knock, lower down on the door than any of his prefects.
"Come in, Harry."
The boy looked older already, after only a week at Hogwarts. More assured, more comfortable with himself, at ease in his uniform. Snape put his concerns aside, and set about enjoying the boy's company.
"Hogwarts seems to suit you," Snape remarked.
"Too right it does!" Harry grinned. "I love it here. Even if some of my classes aren't the best-" He shrugged at Snape's severe expression. "Professor, I'm not going to pretend that History class is anything but a snore. And Defense is a joke."
"Defense ought not to be a joke."
"I agree, sir, but there you are. Professor Quirrell has us reading the first chapter out loud in class. I think I know every word now. Shall I recite it for you?"
"None of your cheek," Snape grunted. "When you come to tea next week, bring Viridian's book with you and we'll work on some hexes. Between us, it's useless to depend on Defense teachers. A sorry lot they are."
"Because the position is cursed," Harry said. The professor had told him about the curse weeks ago. "Why doesn't Professor Dumbledore break the curse? Why doesn't anybody?"
"I don't honestly know how hard the Headmaster has tried. Perhaps he likes the infinite variety of yearly instructors. What I can tell you is that the curse has proved remarkably persistent and elusive. So elusive, in fact, that the fact the position is cursed is not accepted universally, though I agree with the Headmaster in this case. However, in order to lift a curse, one needs to know which curse was used and how it is grounded to the cursed object or individual. In the past, the Governors contracted with Gringotts for some cursebreakers, but that proved unsuccessful and quite disastrous for the individuals involved. I think that the Headmaster now simply wants to wait until the Dark Lord is utterly and completely gone."
Harry scowled. "But lots of curses outlive the caster," he objected. "Like the curses on all those Egyptian tombs in the Path of Darkness. The casters have been dead for thousands of years!"
"True. Once again, it depends on the curse used. It is entirely possible that the Dark Lord used a variant that was tied to his life force. He often did so. We can but hope."
Harry's expression caused Snape to snort a laugh. They talked of other things: about the pleasures of Hufflepuff house with its study groups and the promise of its Games Nights and Talent Nights; about his housemates and their many virtues; about how Muffy had come to visit in the dorm and had brought a platter of sausage rolls; about Cedric Diggory and how he was helping Harry find his way around the castle; about the exciting prospect of the first flying lesson.
"I've spoken to the mediwitch about you," Snape told Harry. "Madam Pomfrey. You'll like her. She's quite competent. She wants to have a look at you Monday before class."
"I'm fine," Harry complained.
"You're better, I grant you, but hardly fine. You're only just over a month past the privations of the Dursleys. Monday. Eight o'clock. Be there."
"OK, OK. I'll be there."
There was a brief, comfortable silence. In a moment, Harry spoke again. "Professor-" Harry asked, in that tone Snape recognized: the tone Harry used when he was attempting to talk Snape into something. Snape raised a brow. Harry grinned self-consciously. "I won't play games. There's something I'd like to ask you. Me and my friends-"
Snape frowned.
"-uh-my friends and I were talking, and some of us need to know more about wizarding things. Could you help us start a club?"
"A-club?" Snape mentally cringed at the thought of supervising a group of horrifyingly enthusiastic children. He cleared his throat. "What sort of-club?"
"A club for kids who are new to magic," Harry explained seriously. "We thought of calling ourselves 'The Outsiders,' or the 'Explorers,' or maybe 'The Newbloods.' We're going to study Professor Burbage's book, and our friends are going to teach us things they know."
Snape's mind raced to a comfortable conclusion. "Perhaps I can help-"
He strode to the fireplace and called out, "Charity Burbage."
A green face appeared in the fire.
"Severus?"
Harry's eyes opened wide. This he hadn't seen before. It was cool, but sort of creepy. The face was distorted, but the voice was certainly a woman's.
"Professor Burbage," Snape asked politely, "do you have a moment to step through to my quarters? I have a student here who might profit from your advice."
"Well-I suppose-" The face appeared confused, and then said, "Just let me-in a minute-"
The face disappeared. Snape told Harry. "I believe she was out rather late last night. Perhaps we awakened her."
Rather scandalised, Harry said, "It's four oclock in the afternoon!"
"I heard that!" A witch stepped through the fire and emerged into the sitting room, brushing herself off. Harry thought she must nearly as old as Professor Snape. She had a rather nice face: roundish cheeks and snapping brown eyes. Her dark blonde hair was done up in intertwined braids. Harry thought it looked interesting, and sort of like the styles he had seen in books about ancient witches. She gave Harry a bemused nod. With a touch of irritation she told Snape, "I've been up since ten, for your information. I was engrossed in a book."
"So sorry to impugn your honour. Professor Burbage, allow me to introduce Harry Potter. I am his wizarding proxy, and Mr Potter has some questions that relate to your book."
The witch's eyes brightened. "My book?" She asked Harry, "Did you read it?"
"Yes, Professor. I liked it a lot. I'm happy to meet you."
"Oh-yes-happy to meet you, too." She put out her hand and shook Harry's vigorously. "So you're Harry Potter!"
"I believe he knows that," Snape grunted. "Would you take some tea with us?" He motioned her to a chair, and Harry to another. "Muffy! Tea for three! Master Harry is with me!"
The little house elf popped in, eyes huge and soulful, carrying a tray. "Master Harry! I has little treacle tarts for you like you likes best! Blackberry scones, too-"
"Hullo, Muffy!" Harry called out. "This is brilliant! And Justin says thank you for the sausage rolls!"
"That's all, Muffy!" Snape interrupted. The elf popped away, and Snape continued. "Professor, Harry here was raised in the muggle world, and I bought your book for him, hoping it would be of use."
"And it was?" the witch asked anxiously. "There's not much interest in the subject."
Harry felt a little sorry for her. "Yes, it was, Professor! All my muggleborn friends want to read it, but since I only have the one copy, we want to study it together. That's why I was asking Professor Snape here if he would sponsor a club for us."
Professor Burbage was more than a little surprised. She glanced at Snape, who shrugged.
"Much more in your line than mine."
Her brows knit in puzzlement. "You want to start a Muggle Studies club?"
"No, professor!" Harry told her earnestly. "We want to start a Wizard Studies club. There's so much we dont know. Some of the other students-not so much me, but other first years-well-they're having a hard time. If we understood more about the wizarding world, we wouldn't make so many mistakes. And some of my housemates want to join too, even if they're purebloods, and they could share what they know. We can't meet, though, unless a professor agrees to sponsor us. It would be brilliant if you did!"
Snape forbore to smile at Harry's artless flattery. It was hardly surprising that Charity's book had sold so poorly. The small number of muggleborn students would not make for much demand, even had they known about it. He studied the witch. She was heaping clotted cream on her scone, visibly pleased and excited. It must be an agreeable surprise to find someone so interested in a field that seemed ridiculously obvious and unnecessary to the majority of purebloods-and even to most halfbloods. He congratulated himself on his cunning. Harry would have his club and Snape would not have to lift a finger.
A half-hour passed with finger sandwiches, scones, tarts, and plans for the new club. Charity said she would speak to the Headmaster directly.
"He'll be thrilled, I'm sure. Children from different backgrounds coming together like this! What a splendid idea!"
Snape cynically wondered if Albus would think it splendid. For all his talk, Snape did not see that Albus had done much to improve relations among the houses or among students of "different backgrounds." He certainly had not expended much influence to rid Muggle Studies of the albatross of a textbook that Charity constantly complained of. However, he might find it difficult to refuse her proposed club. It would be interesting to see if Harry managed to make a success of it.
Harry wiped his fingers hastily. Professor Burbage wanted to shake hands again, and then she bustled off, looking much happier than she had when she first arrived. He drank his tea, enjoying the lingering taste of the treacle tart on the back of his tongue.
Snape studied him thoughtfully, and then asked, "Are you thinking about asking Draco to join your little group?"
Harry looked up quickly, with a tiny smirk on his face. Snape reminded himself that Harry was not as simple as he sometimes appeared to be.
"Why not?" Harry asked. "I'm sure he could tell us a lot. Draco likes to show off what he knows. He's worse than Ernie that way. I'm going to ask Neville, too. I like him, and he hasn't hit it off all that well with the Gryffindor boys. He knows a lot about magical plants and wizarding remedies. Susan says we should have treats. I think that's a good idea. What do you think?"
"I think tea will prove irresistibly attractive to the masses. If you don't take care, you'll have the entire first year in attendance. Now, tell me more about your Defense class."
N.A. Ive been a bit taken aback by some reviewers' acid comments about "Mary-Sue" Sally Perks. How can she be a Mary-Sue? She's certainly not brilliant or exceptionally magically gifted. However, she is indeed very pretty. I am attempting, as you may notice, to use that in this chapter in thinking about Hermione Granger's first year problems. Emma Watson in the films, though she is spirited and charming, has always been, in my opinion, pretty in a way that Hermione never was, or at least was not until she grew into her looks (and had a bit of magical orthodontia) a few years later.
My point is that a rather ordinary girl with normal social skills and better-than-average looks, is going to have an easier time than a very brilliant girl with very average (or somewhat odd) looks and poor social skills. It's human nature. Since canon has Sally-Anne Perks disappearing from Hogwarts sometime in the next few years, I intend to make use of that, too. Is magic the only gift worth having? I think that's a question worth posing. I pose it to myself, along with the eternal "Would I want to go to Hogwarts?" or more uneasily, "Would I want my child to go to Hogwarts?" My answers generally are no, yeah (maybe), and certainly not.
I have to remember that if I take my eleven-year-old self, as I was (and I was no better looking or socially well-adjusted than Hermione at that age), and drop myself into Hogwarts, I'm not going as Harry Potter's new best friend. I will be alone, far from friends and family, among a lot of very parochial people who know each other very, very well, and me not at all. They will despise my background, while knowing next to nothing about it. There will be nothing familiar to soften the difficulties either: no music today and no prospect of any tomorrow (no piano at Hogwarts to my knowledge), no art, no dramatics, and only a few other students from a similar background who may or may not share an interest in the books I like best.
In fact, I experienced something parallel to it about that time in my real life when I moved from Chicago where I attended a progressive school for the gifted, and two months later found myself going to a somewhat less progressive institution in a tiny rural town in Kentucky. At first, I had trouble even understanding what was being said to me (even by the teacher in the course of spelling tests!) The parents of classmates I was introduced to would squint at me in a puzzled way, wondering out loud "who I was kin to." There was much "good-natured funnin'" about "Yankees" and "furriners." I lived there for years and never penetrated more than the outer shells of social life. How well I did in school, the awards I won-even the offices I held- were all completely irrelevant. I was not one of them, and I never could be. I am not saying that that town in Kentucky was a terrible place or that I was superior to the people there. What I am saying is that it's really, really hard to be dropped without any orientation into an alien culture, and sometimes one never does fit in. It's not impossible. If I'd been a good football player, they might well have taken me to their hearts!