Chapter 5 - The Feast and Conspiracy's

The Gryffindor table seemed to literally explode into cheers. The other tables gave a polite applause as well, although it was impossible to hear over the noise from the Gryffindors. Harry set the hat down on the stool and without a backward glance, walked down the steps to where the four main tables were and made a left. He walked around to the side of the table that faced the other three houses and found a place among the other first years. They were still cheering.

"Way to go Potter!"

"Harry our man!"

"We got Potter! We got Potter."

When the ruckus finally died down, Professor McGonagall called the next name and the sorting continued. When she was done, Gryffindor had two more students including Ron Weasley who came to sit next to Harry. Professor Dumbledore stood up from his place at the centre of the head table. The student body fell silent.

"Before we begin, I would like to say a few words. And they are, Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak. Thank you." He sat back down. As the food suddenly appeared on the tables, Harry was sure he was the only one that caught Professor McGonagall rolling her eyes.

Harry's eyes roamed the table before grabbing a little bit of everything. He watched the other first years as they also put food on there dishes. Ron put everything on his plate except for green beans, Neville didn't touch the cranberry sauce. The boy Seamus Finnegan served himself plenty of potatoes. Dean Thomas grabbed some extra chicken. Harry himself left the peppermint alone.

"Keeping tabs on food preferences?"

"We are dear. Hey that's Nearly-Headless-Nick."

"Oh you mentioned him."

The ghost had floated his way down the table in front of Harry. His eyes looked down to the food.

"My that does look good," he said sadly.

"How long since you've eaten? You look a little pale." Harry joked. The boys snorted. Ron in particular sprayed a little bit of food.

"I haven't eaten in nearly four hundred years," Nick said. "I don't believe I've introduced myself, I'm Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, at your service, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.

Ron suddenly spoke up, "I know who you are! You're Nearly-Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer it if you would call me…" began the ghost but he was interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?" asked Seamus.

"Like this." said Nick irritably. And he reached up and pulled on his ear. His whole head swung off his neck and onto his shoulder which was only connected by a tiny bit of skin.

"Well… somebody had the world's worst executioner."

Nick seemed pleased by their stunned looks. He flipped his head back up.

"Well, new Gryffindors, I do hope you are going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindor's never gone so long without winning. The Bloody Baron is becoming almost unbearable, he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible looking ghost there, with a blank face, gaunt eyes and a robe stained with slivery blood. He was sitting beside Draco Malfoy who didn't seem pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus.

"I've never asked," Nick replied delicately.

Harry studied the Slytherin ghost with interest. He robes were indeed covered in blood. He looked back to Nearly Headless Nick and then looked back at the baron again.

"Harry? What are you looking at?" Dean asked, seeing that Harry had stopped eating.

"Do you find it odd," Harry started, "that the Baron's robes are covered in blood, but Sir Nick's robes are not, even though Sir Nick was nearly beheaded?"

All the boys minus Harry turned to look at Sir Nick and then the Baron.

"Blimey, you're right!" said Ron. "Why do you think that is?" he asked.

"Actually, it's not just Sir Nick, Harry said. "When we saw those ghosts in the hall before the sorting, not one of them had any blood on their robes."

'You noticed that?" said a surprised Dean.

"Not all of us were screaming," Harry replied and some of the boys blushed red. "Anyway I do have a theory…it may be wrong of course, but it's still possible."

"Well, what is it?" said Neville.

"Yes, we are intrigued as well."

Harry glanced down the table both ways, before motioning the boys to lean closer together.

"Alright," he lowered his voice dramatically, "the theory is based on this idea. Imagine that you did something really horrible."

"Horrible like…stole some money?" Neville whispered.

"Horrible like…killed your parents in a fit of anger. Maybe with accidental magic," Harry whispered seriously. Neville gulped. "But of course, you didn't mean to do it on purpose. You get so distraught and feel so guilty you can't bear to live a minute longer. So you a grab a butcher knife, you close your eyes and then…" He mimed, plunging a knife into his own chest."

The boys paled, there eyes wide.

"That's awful," hissed Dean. "But what does that have to do with the Baron?"

"Well the story doesn't end there," Harry whispered, "You see, I believe when you die you can choose if you want to…move on. Or you stay behind and become a ghost. Now back to my theory, when you die, you feel so guilty that you don't feel you deserve to move on. So instead you stay behind as a ghost. But that's not enough. You want the blood to stay on the clothes you died in because you want the world to know that you still feel horrible about what you did, that you still haven't gotten over it. It's your own way of repentance."

He leaned back in his seat. "Anyway," he said, talking normally again, almost cheerful even. "It's just a theory, no way to prove it one way or the other." He helped himself to the mashed potatoes. "Boy this food is grand."

"I suppose that's a possibility," mumbled James

"Where do you come up with this stuff Harry?" Lily sighed

"No idea."

The boys were watching him with wide eyes and none were looking at their food.

"You think…that the Baron killed himself?" said Ron in disbelief.

"Shh!" Harry looked around but no one looked over. "Keep it down will you?"

"Sorry," Ron said and dropped his voice. "You think that the Baron killed himself? And the blood is on his robes cause he wants it to be?"

"Like I said, it's just a theory. I wouldn't think on it too much. So… Who here didn't grow up in a magical household?"

Dean Thomas regaled them all with his life back home in West Ham. Pretty soon they were all sharing stories about there families and lives. Well most did. Harry mostly kept quiet and enjoyed the food, he didn't particularly care enough about the Dursley's to poison the conversation with talk of them. All too soon it seemed, the food vanished from the serving plates, stopping poor Ron from grabbing another bread roll.

"Dang!" he said, "I was going to eat that."

His disappointment turned into sheer joy however when suddenly, the serving plates were loaded again, this time with desserts of all kinds from cakes to pies. Bread roll forgotten, he reached forward and grabbed a couple slices of pie. Harry himself grabbed a treacle tart and was about to take a bite when one of the girls kitty-corner from him asked a question.

"Hey, umm Harry," she said and blushed a little when Harry turned and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Yes?" She was of Indian descent, he noted, with shiny black hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"We were just wondering," and Harry noticed the blond girl next to her following there conversation as well. "what happened during the sorting. Oh I'm Parvati, this is Lavender."

Harry glanced at Lavender and looked back at Parvati.

"Well, I got sorted." he said, with amusement. The boys laughed, though they to looked interested. Parvati looked a little flustered.

"Well, of course you did, I mean…" she took a breath. "It took you the longest to be sorted and…well it almost seemed like you were talking with the hat." She laughed a little until she realized Harry wasn't laughing with her.

"So?"

"Wait you were actually talking with it?" she asked amazed and everyone within earshot was listening now.

"Of course."

Whispers broke out among the Gryffindor table.

"Well?" she continued. "What did it say?" The students leaned in to hear better.

"Why Miss Parvati, that's a rather personal question don't you think?" Harry smirked. "A conversation between myself and an animated item that can see into the darkest recesses of my mind?"

"Oh." she said a little taken aback. "I guess it is a personal question. Is there anything at all you can mention?"

"Well I suppose it wouldn't hurt to mention that it thinks I'm one of the more, shall we say, well-rounded people that it's had to sort. That said, I don't think there's much else I care to mention. Dean pass me that tray of treacle would ya? Ron ate all of the one's on this tray."

"Sure thing man."

"Oi, you had some too!"

"Thank you Dean. And Ron, I haven't even eaten the only one I grabbed off that tray yet."

"Did you really choose the house rather than the hat?" Lavender had spoken up.

He looked back to her. "Heard that did ya?" she nodded. Harry nodded. "I did."

"Why would it do that? And well, why choose Gryffindor?"

How could he explain that? That his parents had told him the tales of sleeping in the highest towers, of red and gold beds and couches. His dad and his friends staying up late doing homework by the fireplace cause they had been too busy playing pranks to bother with it. Of his mom shooting down his dad's attempts to go on a date to Hogshead with him in the Gryffindor common room.

"In the end we all choose the house we go to, whether we realize it or not. The hat just needed me to make a decision, because I didn't feel strongly about any of the attributes that represent the houses. As for why I chose Gryffindor?" he gave a small sad smile. "My parents went there. I thought I might see why they like it…er, liked it so much."

"Oh you know, I would have guessed that." she smiled at him.

"Is that the only reason?"

"Nah, I want to keep an eye on that rat. And I figured Ron would go to Gryffindor."

"Be careful honey, if that's Peter, well, there's no telling what he might do when cornered."

"I'll watch myself."

"Hey look up at the High Table son, I want to see who's teaching this year."

Harry casually stretched and looked up at the High Table.

"All right so there's the regular faces. You know I don't see Slughorn. Who would be teaching— oh you got to be kidding me!"

"What?"

"Of all the stupid ideas. Who's braindead idea was it to make him a teacher anyway!"

"Really James, I'm sure it won't be that bad—"

"GUYS! Who are you talking about?"

"NOT THAT BAD!" James was shouting now in rage and Harry grimaced and held a hand up to his head.

"You all right there Harry?" Ron was now looking at him in concern.

"Headache." he breathed out.

"It's Snape we are talking about here! He hated me and I guarantee you he will take it out on Harry."

"He wouldn't now, if he's a teacher I'm sure he knows that wouldn't be allowed.

"Just like the dark arts aren't allowed? Didn't stop him anyway did it now?"

Harry was now picking up on what was going on. "Wait, that's Severus Snape? The Severus Snape that you hung upside down in fifth year?"

"That's the one."

"By the way, you have to teach me that spell. Alright so he's a teacher now. I'm sure he won't try to kill me or anything would he?"

"Of course he wouldn't do something like that, Harry." his mother said. "If he does do anything, you just give me a minute with him."

"Or you could give it to me." James suggested.

"Not a chance, James. I don't trust you to talk first and shoot spells second."

"Fine." he said grumpily. "But if you need to wipe the floor with him at any time, you know who to call. Now who else is up there?…Professor Flitwick, of course…."

"Looks like Grubbly-Plank as well, and there's Kettleburn, oh it looks like Charity got herself into teaching…"

"Looks like we know everyone on staff, there's Pomfrey, except…" James paused for moment, "who's that beside Snape?"

Harry looked closer. For a Professor the man seemed on the young side, he wore a purple turban wrapped around his head. It may have been Harry's imagination, but he also seemed a bit nervous. That's when it happened. The Professor looked up at Harry at the same moment Harry felt a burning sensation on his head, where his scar was in particular.

"Ouch!" he slapped his hand to his head and looked away from the high table.

"Wow that's quite the headache you're getting there," Ron commented.

"You have no idea. Guys, what the bloody hell was that?"

"I was wondering that myself," said James.

"Mom?" There was no reply. "MOM!" he mentally shouted.

"I'm here," she said weakly.

"Lily are you all right?"

"I'm..ok I think. That was horrible."

"Mom what happened?"

"It was so fast. When that man looked in your eyes, I felt such pain. It was a brutal attack on the mind" she trembled.

"What? That doesn't make any sense," James said, "I'm right here too, why would you be worse off than me?"

"I … I can't say."

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" Harry asked concerned. "What if he's one of our teachers?"

"Just don't look him in the eyes for now," she pleaded. "Not at least until we know why this is happening.

"Ok I won't."

"See if you can figure out who he is," James asked.

Casually Harry glanced around to see if anyone could answer that. As luck would have it, there was a Prefect sitting near him talking to Hermione.

"You'll be starting small," the prefect was saying, "turning matchsticks into needles and such."

Harry sensed his chance and leapt into the conversation.

"Sounds like you know a lot of what goes on here." he said looking at the student. He looked over and his eyes widened a little seeing who was talking to him.

"Oh er yes, well I am in fifth year," he said, adjusting his glasses and talking importantly. "And I am a Prefect as well. It's our job to know a lot about what goes on here."

Hermione looked between them. "Harry this is Percy. Percy, Harry. Harry takes enjoyment out of giving people the wrong name and leading them on. Isn't that right, James?" she said haughtily.

He grinned sheepishly. "Well I figured I would enjoy my anonymity as long as I could," looking at Percy who seemed confused. "Otherwise the lasses might not leave me alone." Hermione huffed.

"Anyway, question for you Percy, who might the professor be that's wearing the turban?"

Percy took a quick glance up at the head table. "Oh, well that's Professor Quirrell, of course. He taught muggle studies, although I hear he's taking the Defence Against the Dark Arts post this year. Not sure why he's wearing a turban actually, he wasn't wearing one last year," he mused.

"Really? How interesting." Harry said thoughtfully.

Soon the desserts too disappeared. Professor Dumbledore stood up from the head table and the students went quiet.

"Ahem, just a few more words now that we are fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. It is why we call it the Forbidden Forest. And I believe a few of our older students would do to remember that as well." And Harry was sure he was looking at the Gryffindor table.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term, I would suggest contacting Madam Hooch if you are interested in playing on your house team." A younger obviously physically fit, middle aged woman with short cropped white hair stood up briefly before sitting again.

"Harry you got to try flying, you're gonna love it!"

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out-of-bounds to anyone who does not wish die a painful death."

A few people laughed but not as many as Harry would have thought.

"Blimey," Harry said, "He's serious isn't he"

"Must be," said Percy. "Which is odd because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere. I would have thought he would tell us prefects at least."

"And now before we leave, let us sing the school song!"

It was then that Harry noticed a lot of the teacher's smiles became quite fixed. Actually forget that, Snape was outright scowling. Dumbledore gave his wand a flick and suddenly what looked like long ribbon flew out the end before twisting itself into words.

"Everyone pick your favourite tune, and off we go!"

It was awkward. It was madness. Harry was sure that if you took ten different orchestras and played their music all at once you couldn't reproduce the awfulness that was the school song. When it ended, with the Weasley twins finishing their funeral tune, Harry let his head fall against the table.

"You guys thought Enter Sandman by Metallica was bad, but you would sing to that?"

"Well…in our defence it sounded better when we were younger…"

"I doubt that."

"Ah music," said Dumbledore, "A magic beyond all we do here at Hogwarts! And now bedtime. Off you go!"

—

Hermione and the other Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the crowds and up the winding corridors and staircases. Harry, Neville and the boys were on one side of her, while the girls were on the other. She was so tired that she almost didn't even notice how portraits actually moved inside there frames until she heard them talking to the students. She still was awake enough, however, to notice that they seemed to be moving through hidden passageways behind panels or tapestries as they moved upwards.

"This is amazing." she marvelled. "Don't you think Neville?"

"My Uncle Algie always told me Hogwarts was pretty amazing." he said in agreement. "Guess he was right."

Suddenly Percy stopped and all the first years had to stop too. Up ahead of Percy, a bunch of walking sticks were floating in midair. As Percy went to take a step forward the walking sticks began throwing themselves at him. He jumped back and turned to the first years.

"Peeves, a poltergeist." he whispered to the first years and then turned back to the sticks. "PEEVES! Show yourself!"

A rude sound like the air being let out of a balloon was what he got in return.

"I'm warning you Peeves. The Baron will hear about this!"

There was a pop and a little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared sitting cross-legged in mid-air, holding all the walking sticks.

"Oooooh." he said with an evil cackle, "Ickle firsties, what fun!" And he swooped towards them.

"Peeves I'm warning you right now, leave now or the Baron will hear about this!"

Peeves stuck out his tongue before vanishing and dropping the sticks on Neville's head. They could hear him zooming down the corridor, hitting coats of armour as he passed.

"You'll want to watch out for Peeves." said Percy as they set off again. "Only the Bloody Baron can control him, he won't even listen to us Prefect's. Here we are…" he started to say but cut himself off when he saw that there was a Gryffindor already at their destination. There at the end of the hall leaning against a wall was Harry Potter, looking for all the world like he might have been waiting for a bus. He was talking to a portrait, a painting of a lady in a pink silk dress.

"Harry?" said Percy in surprise. "How did you get here so fast? Heck how did you even know where to go?!"

Hermione turned to look at where Harry had been not even sixty seconds ago, almost willing him to appear beside her where logic told her he was supposed to be. Of course it didn't change the fact that he wasn't beside her and she looked back to where he was. He looked up at them and smiled.

"Hey Percy, just thought I'd take the scenic route. Although," he said looking at his wrist as if there was a watch there. There wasn't one of course, but that was besides the point. "It would seem you took a longer route than even I did."

Percy sputtered and some of the first years chuckled. "Well…we were held up by Peeves! And how did you know where to go?" annoyed he was being shown up by a first year.

"Oh I was just told to look for a lady wearing a pink dress and that her portrait would open to our house room. Unfortunately a password is needed, but I'm sure that if I work the Potter charm a little longer she let me through, won't you Ms. Elaine?"

"Oh you're a charmer aren't you?" she giggled. "Though I'm afraid you're a bit young for me dearie."

"You know if we add our ages together we are probably older than her."

"Oh give it up."

"And you just happened to find the right portrait?"

"Well I am good like that." he smirked.

Percy rolled his eyes. "Alright then. Caput Draconis."

The portrait swung open wide. Harry disappeared inside, Percy and the other first years following quickly behind. Hermione whispered to Neville.

"Did you see him leave? I swear he was just beside me!"

"No I was too busy being pelted with sticks," he said annoyed.

Inside, the common room was warmly decorated with red and gold accents everywhere. There were a couple desks set up where homework could be done or games could be played. The centrepiece of the room was a beautiful fireplace with couches and love-seats laid out in a semicircle around it. Hermione saw, somewhat annoyed that Harry had already claimed an armchair by the fire.

"Well, right then," said Percy leading them further in. "Through these doors is the girls dorms. And through this door is the boys dorms. Boys are not allowed in the girls dorms and vice versa understand? Right then well, I suggest you all get to bed. Classes start tomorrow at 8:30."

The first years boys and girls separated and went to their dormitories. Hermione trudged up the stairs with four other girls. It led them to a room with five poster beds all laid out pristinely. Beside each bed was each girls trunk. They glanced at each other before making there way to their corresponding beds. Hermione sank into her bed. As she lay there she thought about how her first day at Hogwarts met. She had been insulted, but made a friend. At least she thought Neville was a friend. She had ridden a train to a castle in the Scottish hillside. And on said train she had met Harry Potter. He was smart. He was bold. But behind his green eyes she was sure he was hiding something. For how could he have found his way to the Gryffindor Common room so fast? Or have known how they would be sorted? And the way he talked about his parents, she was sure something was fishy there. She determined herself to find out whatever it might be that Harry was keeping secret. And with that thought, she drifted off to sleep.