I Want to Go Home
Chapter Three: Robes, Maps, Classes and Malfoy
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Gordon Korman's "I Want to Go Home". Anything you recognize does not belong to me.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, alert and fave! You guys are super awesome! As a reward feel free to read on!
Harry woke several times throughout the night with bad dreams and so when he shot up in bed for the third time in as many hours, drenched in cold sweat and with the echo of cruel laughter ringing in his ears, and noticed that the sky had turned from navy blue to a washed out grey that signaled the dawn he decided he might as well get up.
Fuming and scowling at the hour he fished around in his trunk for a pair of uniform pants, shirt and tie, deciding to forgo both the nerdy sweater vest and the robes that made him look like a girl, and laid them out on the bed.
A long hot shower went a long way to improving his mood and Harry was able to calmly gather his books for the day's classes without any of the banging, cussing and snarling that had accompanied his time in the bathroom. First up was Herbology with the Slytherins, then History of Magic with the Gryffindors, Transfiguration also with the Slytherins, then there was a two hour break for lunch and Double Charms in the afternoon with the Gryffindors.
There were also fifteen minute breaks between classes to give students time to get to their next class should it happen to be on the other side of the school. Harry mused that he might have to take to jogging in the morning to keep in shape for the many cross-campus dashes that were sure to ensue trying to make it from the greenhouses to the classrooms on the upper floors or in the dungeons. Dinner was served from six to eight and then curfew was for ten unless there was an Astronomy class going.
Harry brought out his new book bag from his trunk and loaded it up with the supplies he'd need for the day. He glanced at his watch as he strapped to his wrist. It was quarter after six and his stomach was complaining that if he was going to be up this early he might as well feed it. He glanced at his dorm mates debating whether or not to wake them, before deciding to be nice and exiting the common room alone. Just because he couldn't sleep didn't mean that everyone else should have to suffer, he thought rather magnanimously.
There were upper year students already awake, and some that had never gone to bed if the bruises under their eyes and the ragged state of their hair were any indication, working on unfinished summer homework or doing their readings before class. One of those people, unfortunately, was fifth year prefect Penelope Clearwater.
She glanced up from her place curled up in one of the armchairs took one look at him and immediately closed her large potions tome with a sharp snap, setting it down on the chair and rushing over to him.
"Just where do you think you're going dressed like that?" she demanded hands on her hips.
"To the Great Hall, for breakfast," Harry answered calmly.
He had a pretty good idea of what was making her so upset. Though he was in fact dressed in his uniform, his tie was loose, his shirt was un-tucked and he'd substituted his robes for a bulky button down sweater his grandmother had knitted for him two Christmases previous. That was to say nothing of his hair which was over-long and in its usual state of disarray.
"Where are your robes?" she demanded in a low would-be calm sort of voice, confirming his theory.
"In my dormitory."
"Well you march right back there and put them on!" she ordered making shooing motions with her hands, "I'm not going to have one of my first years losing points for Ravenclaw on the first day with something as silly as not following the dress code!"
"This is a violation of my right to freedom of expression, and stifles my creative spirit," Harry warned her.
"Robes!" she ordered through gritted teeth, "Now!"
With a long-suffering sigh Harry turned on his heel marched back to his dorm and slid into his robes. One glance in the mirror confirmed it. He still looked like a girl in the damned things. His mutinous demi-expression upon his return to the common room earned him a personal escort to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Harry had just sat down and was picking at a few slices of whole wheat toast and a bowl of fruit salad while Penelope sat down across from him with her potions tome, occasionally pausing to throw him a suspicious look over the top of the dust cover, when Hermione came bouncing up to him a cheery Terry and more asleep than awake Neville Longbottom trailing in her wake.
"Good morning Harry!" she chirped.
"Oh joy, a morning person," said Harry flatly.
"Hey Harry, what's for breakfast? I'm starving," greeted Terry dropping into the seat next to Harry without a second thought and reaching for a slice of toast.
"Oh joy, two morning people."
"Well, look on the bright side, it'll never be three, practically had to give up an arm and a leg to get Nev out of bed this morning. Let me guess, Mikk's still sleeping."
"I refuse and yes, he is. I envy him greatly," said Harry taking a sip of water from his goblet.
There was no way he was ever drinking pumpkin juice without the threat of bodily harm being applied.
Penelope gaped, her mouth opening and closing as though she had no idea what to say or she was trying to imitate a goldfish, as Neville too sat down at the Ravenclaw table despite the fact that he was clearly dressed in the red and gold of Gryffindor house.
"We've been up and about since five thirty. I don't know how anyone could sleep with so many new and exciting classes to look forward to! I was re-reading my copy of Hogwarts: A History this morning while I waited for Terry and Neville and did you know that there are one hundred and forty two staircases at Hogwarts? The three of us got ever so lost this morning on the mains ones because they move every so often and the route was different from the one I memorized last night," squealed Hermione bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet seemingly too excited to sit.
"Had to fish Neville out of a trick stair at one point," Terry added taking a bite of an impossibly red apple.
"M'not asleep," muttered Neville in response to his name, even though he was leaning rather heavily on Terry's shoulder and his eyes were firmly shut.
"I'm so glad that they give us a map to our classes, aren't you? I'd never be able to find my way otherwise with the portraits and armor always moving around, not to mention the false doors and trick staircases, you know, the ones that lead nowhere or you climb up them for four flights only to find yourself in the basement?" Hermione bowled past the question not giving him time to answer, "I'm ever so excited for our first Transfiguration class, where we'll learn how to turn something into something else, McGonagall looks to be a wonderful teacher!"
"What are you three doing?" demanded Penelope shrilly, finally able to find her voice it seemed.
The three Gryffindors blinked only just seeming to notice Penelope's presence.
"Got yourself under guard already, eh Harry?" chuckled Terry.
"Maximum Security," explained Harry solemnly.
The fifth year prefect flushed darkly.
"Boot!" Penelope barked rounding on Terry, clearly feeling ill-equipped to deal with Harry at the moment, "You really ought to know better! Now the three of you, back to your table. Really, what is with the first years this year? And where the devil is Percy? Oughtn't he be keeping you in line?"
"Don't be mad Clearwater," said Terry with a charming grin that Harry thought was way over the top but that had Penelope Clearwater blushing slightly, "It's not like anyone else is up and about yet anyway, and besides there's nothing in the school rules that says we can't sit at other house tables. It's not like we're making trouble, right? So it's fine, right?"
Penelope bit her lip fiddling with the corner of her book.
"Well…I suppose it would be fine," she said slowly, "But only until the teachers come down for breakfast and only if the three of you sit quietly and don't make trouble. One toe out of line and it's back to your own table, you hear me Boot?"
"Yes ma'am," agreed Terry with a blinding grin.
"Oh, are you reading Advanced Potions I?" asked Hermione, not giving Penelope time to answer, "I picked up all six volumes over the summer but I've only managed to read the first two so far. Potions is ever such a fascinating subject, isn't it? I'm thinking of setting up a lab in my parents basement so that I can practice brewing over the summer seeing as how Potions is the only subject not subject to the regulations set down by the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Sorcery. But a standard ward stone for a potions lab is terribly expensive so I suspect it will take a bit of convincing. Have you gotten to the chapter on healing potions yet? I found the author's elucidations on the effects of potions on the resting chemistry of the human body positively inspired!"
Penelope didn't seem to know what to make of Hermione as she rambled on at high speed, but while the bushy-haired first year was paused preparing a bowl of porridge that was more brown sugar than anything, she took the opportunity to answer.
"Professor Snape always sets the fifth years an essay on the Draught of the Living Death as an introduction to the unit on sleeping solutions so I was getting a head start on the research," she said faintly.
"Ooh, that is a tricky one, I wouldn't want to attempt it just yet, it seems to be far beyond my ability. I mean the last step is simple, adding the asphodel, but creating the wormwood infusion…"
"Yes, it's easy to prepare asphodel with the proper equipment but I would absolutely dread stewing the wormwood, even a minute off in the timing and it's completely ruined!"
Penelope Clearwater warmed up to Hermione after that and the two of them kept up a back and forth dialogue about technical elements of magic far above the boys' heads while the three of them tucked into their breakfast, Terry occasionally nudging Neville awake and shoving bits of food into his mouth.
By time McGonagall had arrived at the Head Table and was eying the mix of robe colors suspiciously Hermione was extracting promises from Penelope to meet for breakfast every Monday even as Terry herded her and a slightly more awake Neville over to the Gryffindor table.
"I'll say this for you Potter," said Penelope turning back to her book looking happier than Harry had ever seen her, "You certainly chose your friends well. What a lovely bunch."
Harry chose to have another piece of toast so he wouldn't feel obligated to explain that he hadn't decided to be friends with anybody and that these people had just appeared and he hadn't yet found a reason to get rid of them.
An hour later at around half past seven, Dave Hatton appeared with two of his own friends and the rest of the first years in tow. Harry had bowed to the inevitable boredom and was reading through the first chapter in his Herbology text when Michael dropped into the seat formerly occupied by Terry.
"You're down for breakfast early Penny," Dave said genially in lieu of a more traditional greeting.
"Blame Potter," Penelope said serenely taking a sip of her tea and flicking to the next page in her book.
"What did you do?" demanded Michael grumpily heaping his plate high with eggs and bacon and proceeding to wolf them down as if he thought he'd never see food again.
"I merely exercised my own good judgment about whether or not I should wear my robes. Penelope just doesn't approve of creativity," said Harry shaking his head sadly.
Penelope scowled at Harry but didn't bother to comment.
The first year Ravenclaws managed to bolt down enough breakfast to tide them over until lunch within fifteen minutes and then trudged out into the overcast morning to work in the greenhouses. The majority of the Slytherin students, easily identified by their green and silver accented uniforms and bored expressions, were all already gathered in groups of two and three outside greenhouse number one and seemed to be waiting for Professor Sprout to put in her appearance.
Almost immediately upon arrival Harry caught the attention of one of the Slytherin students. A pale boy with silver-blond hair that was slicked back from his face with what looked to be some kind of gel, emphasizing his pointed features and a pair of eyes such a light shade of grey that they were nearly silver. His uniform was impeccably neat and he was flanked by two hulking figures about four times his size sporting buzz cuts. These two put Harry rather strongly in the mind of hired thugs.
"Heads up Harry," Stephan warned.
"Looks like Malfoy's ready for a confrontation," agreed Michael with a sneer.
Harry assumed that Malfoy was the blond boy because he was striding towards him purposefully, his thugs trailing slightly behind him.
"Corner, Cornfoot," greeted the blond sparing a short nod for Stephan and Michael his eyes passing over Kevin and Anthony as if they didn't exist.
"Malfoy," chorused the two dark-haired boys, returning the nod with a shallow pair of their own, for politeness' sake only if their expressions were anything to go by.
"So," drawled Malfoy, giving Harry a slow, thorough once over with his unusual eyes, "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."
"So he has," agreed Harry.
"This is Crabbe and Goyle," said Malfoy gesturing to his human bookends carelessly, "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
"You already know Stephan and Michael it seems, that's Anthony Goldstein over there and the perpetually cheerful one is Kevin Entwhistle."
Anthony gave Malfoy a cool nod of his own and Kevin spared a hesitant smile and a wave not sure where all the hostility was coming from. Truth be told, Harry wasn't entirely sure where it was coming from either but he'd dealt with plenty of hostility from his peers in school over the years and at least had a fair idea about how to deal with it.
"You've got yourself quite the little following, Potter."
"Thank you," said Harry solemnly, "I quite like your Neanderthals, did you grow them yourself or were they special order?"
Michael and Stephan joined Malfoy in being obviously confused, but Kevin and Anthony both burst out laughing.
Malfoy sneered.
"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, I can help you there."
He held out his hand to shake Harry's.
"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," said Harry coolly, making no move to reach for the offered appendage.
Malfoy didn't exactly go red as his hand fell back to his side but a faint pink tinge appeared on his cheeks.
"Careful Potter," he hissed, obviously furious but containing himself admirably, "Unless you're a bit politer—"
"Politer?" interrupted Harry, getting his back up, "That is rich coming from the one who just finished implying I was incapable of deciding with whom I wish to associate."
Malfoy's silver eyes flashed with surprise, and then showed a fleeting grimace as he realized his error, but the arrival of Professor Sprout saved him from having to respond.
"Well played, Harry," said Stephan under his breath as they sat to take a few notes on safety procedures in the greenhouses and on the Laughing Lilies they would be studying for the next few classes.
"What a twat," complained Kevin, "You saw the way he looked at us, yeah? Like we were dirt."
"That's the Malfoys for you," said Anthony, "Their part of the set that believes that those with muggle ancestry are second class. A very traditional, hide-bound lot."
"Lucius Malfoy has the Ministry in his pocket though," said Michael under his breath, shrugging as he pulled a quill, ink and a bit of parchment from his book bag, "He's rich as Croesus, probably richer actually, and Fudge, the Minister for Magic, is a bumbling idiot who can't see when he's being manipulated."
"Worse than that of course is that they've been neck deep in the dark arts for generations. Rumor had it that Lucius Malfoy was one of You-Know-Who's most loyal followers, but after he—er…"
"Made an unfortunate error in judgment," said Harry calmly pulling a green spiral bound notebook and a pencil from his book bag.
"Alright, we'll go with that," agreed Stephan, "Anyway in the aftermath he avoided time in Azkaban by claiming that You-Know-Who was controlling him and having the money to prove it."
"What are you writing with?" demanded Michael, frowning at Harry's note-taking setup.
"A pencil."
"I thought we were supposed to use quills and ink, drat, if I'd've known I would've brought my own pencils and notebooks. I'm absolute rubbish with this medieval nonsense," Kevin said gesturing at his quill with a look of deep disgust, "I even splurged for the self-inking kind and it didn't help a bit."
Wordlessly Harry pulled an extra pencil out of his bag and handed it to Kevin.
"Sweet! You are officially my new favorite person!"
"But we're supposed to use quill and ink," Anthony protested.
"Do what you want. I'm here under duress and see no reason to torture myself further."
The Ravenclaw boys shared a look but bent their heads to their notes without another word. After a half hour of lecturing Professor Sprout had them break off into small groups and count the buds on the Lilies and then measure them and carefully record the values in the tracking chart. They also ended up trying to police some of the inter-Lily bullying going on as the larger Lilies laughed mockingly at their smaller or slower developing counterparts.
It was without a doubt the strangest kind of class Harry had ever attended.
After Herbology, the Ravenclaw boys met Hermione, Neville and Terry in History of Magic where Hermione told them all very proudly about how she'd managed to partly transfigure her matchstick into a needle and had earned five points for Gryffindor from McGonagall and Neville moaned about the homework McGonagall had assigned them even though it was only the first day.
Stephan and Michael were giving Terry and Neville a mostly accurate accounting of how Harry had dealt with Malfoy that morning when Professor Binns floated in through the blackboard.
Professor Binns was the only teacher who was also a ghost. Apparently he was already very old when he took a nap in the staffroom one day and got up to teach that afternoon leaving his body behind. He barely seemed to realize that he was dead, immediately starting in on a droning lecture about the first Goblin War and the students were forced to try and desperately scribble down names and dates as they tried not to fall directly asleep.
Coming out of the classroom the first year students looked like they'd been run over by a truck and Harry was regretting both not jumping out of the Hogwarts Express yesterday when the idea had occurred to him, and promising his mother he would make an effort at school. It didn't help his overall sour mood to find that the people in the halls were pointing, staring and whispering to their neighbors about him again.
"Did you see him?"
"I think he looked this way!"
"In that knot of firsties there, the short one!"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
He even caught sight of a few students doubling back to get a second look at him. He more than halfway wished he knew a few decent hexes and jinxes.
"I'm never gonna pass that class," said Kevin fatalistically, interrupting Harry's internal grumblings.
Kevin had fallen asleep within the first fifteen minutes and drooled on what few notes he had managed to take.
"We'll have to find a curriculum outline and a few good textbooks," agreed Stephan with a wide yawn.
"Study group on Wednesday after lunch?" suggested Terry.
"For sure," Michael agreed.
"It wasn't that bad," said Hermione rolling her eyes.
"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that," said Anthony.
"Maybe Terry can charm my jailer into handing over her notes. She seems like the type to have them all filed away neatly somewhere," suggested Harry.
"Did any of you get the dates for the bit about Emetic the Evil and the Race for the Mace of Throklar?" she asked riffling through her notes.
"No," was the resounding chorus from the boys.
Hermione sighed.
"I thought not, I'll have to do some cross-referencing."
"Bloody hell woman! It's the first day!"
"Aren't you five supposed to be Ravenclaws? Ready mind. Wit and learning. Ringing any bells?" asked Hermione archly.
"Alright Mione, let's not alienate the nice boys in blue," Terry intervened before any of them could deliver their stinging retorts.
"We have to go this way now anyway, and we'd better hurry or we'll be late," Neville said suddenly, looking up from where he'd been consulting his map, "See you guys at lunch, or in Charms."
The three Gryffindors parted way with the five Ravenclaws dashing to catch a staircase that looked like it was gearing up to move. The boys continued up another short flight of stairs and most of the way down a corridor to the Transfiguration classroom. The Slytherins were all mostly there already and had claimed the side of the classroom near the windows.
At precisely half past eleven McGonagall strode through the door and shut it behind her and then started her class with a few words of warning.
"Transfiguration is one of the most difficult and dangerous branches of magic you will be studying at Hogwarts," she said seriously, "Anyone found messing around in my class will leave and they won't come back. You have been warned."
Then with a few sharp movements of her wand she turned her desk into a pig and back. The first years were then informed that they wouldn't be doing inanimate to animate transfiguration until much later in their studies. This preceded a round of long complicated note taking and a half-hour of frustration as they tried to turn matchsticks into needles.
Thanks to Hermione and her long-winded ramble before History of Magic class the five Ravenclaws were each able to get their matchsticks pointed, though only Michael managed to turn his silver as well, and they earned ten points all told.
Malfoy spent the entire class scowling at the side of Harry's neck making it prickle uncomfortably and Harry took a certain vindictive pleasure in imagining the frustrated look on the blond's face even as he continued to ignore him. He didn't know what Malfoy might try next, or whether it would be an act to win his friendship or cement their status as enemies this time, but he did know that it was going to be highly amusing to watch his reactions as Harry continued to play hard to get. Stephan and Michael were more concerned and kept on shooting nervous glances between Harry and Malfoy.
Lunch was just as grandiose an affair as the feast the night before and breakfast that morning had been and Harry wondered just who was cooking all this food and how on earth they found the time and what they did with the leftovers. Inquiries to the purebloods in the group revealed that the culprits were creatures called House Elves.
Since Penelope was giving them all warning looks from where she was sitting with a group of upper year girls the Gryffindors didn't even attempt to sit together with the Ravenclaws at their table. Instead they all took their lunch out into the brisk September air and sitting huddled on the stone benches in the courtyard, vowed to learn warming charms as soon as humanly possible.